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redhead-batgal · 6 months ago

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Type: One-Shot (First part- Drabble) {If you want things to make sense you probably should read it, the first part, 😁😁😁}

Pairing: Fem! Student! and Soulmate! Reader x Damian Wayne/Robin

AU: Soulmate! Reader

Content: Swearing, angst, teenage stupidity, aged up kiddos 16/17, technical talk about soulmates, lowkey frustrations, some much angst yall, some fluff, mythology, toxic parents, and soul crushing

Word Count: 7,233

(P.S: Okay so this is going to be continuing from the I Feel a Sin Coming On drabble, I've been getting a few comments on it asking for a part two and someone sent in a request for a Shy and Smart Student! Reader with Damian and let's just say the gears in my head started turning. Anyways this could go on if you guys want it to, but it could also end like this! It will break you. I hope you all enjoy! :D)

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While, unfortunately, it's true the somewhat cruel existence of soul mates was around and kicking, love- true love was still there. Or at least it was believed to be there. It supposedly thrived even more for some reason. Some speculated that it was because there was a standing of everyone deserving love. Whether they were good or bad or in-between, they got someone who would love them for the rest of their life regardless of all the mistakes they made or continue to make. Others said it was because the universe deemed people good enough to have someone for the rest of their lives. Which seems a little close minded for a society in which everyone has a soulmate. But maybe that was because of the belief that if things didn’t work out with your soulmate- if you didn’t love them as you should or didn’t get the love you thought you deserved- it was because you weren’t good enough. Weren’t good enough to get the right kind of love. But in the end soulmates do exist. They exist and are for everyone. For each person you pass on the road, there is someone out there for them. Just as there's someone out there for you.

But the daunting notion that you have to be the right kind of good to get your perfect love chilled you to the bone. After all, if it wasn’t perfect what did that say about you? Because in the end weren’t they made for you? Maybe that’s why some still believed in true love, that it was real. Both because of and not because of soulmates. Rather because of the concept. Someone made just for you. Even if that person was flawed-if you are flawed, just as they were made for you, you were made for them. But sometimes, what is made for you can harm you a lot more than what’s not.

It was why you believed that the reason true love might still exist was actually because some people fell for their soulmate before they realized they were fated to be. Before that dreaded bond-that agonizing pull kicked, of their own free will they fell in love. Because they didn't have to suffer through the pull of a bond they never wanted, these people were blissfully ignorant of what forced love was like. They did not know the horrors of those forced to stay with someone their heart loved but mind did not. And despite all your animosity towards soulmates, despite your fear and hatred, what made this all the worse-all the more ironic-was that you were technically one of those people.

Before you even knew what a soulmate was to you-before you were old enough to recognize the pull, to feel, it’s dark and fervent demand for attention-you fell for him. For his laugh: in the way he tilted his chin back as if trying to suppress its joyous sound and his smile: in the way the corners of his would curve showing a slight dimple in his left cheek and revealing the softness his eyes could have. For his kindness: in the way he disregarded what others said and lived his life freely as himself despite the demand of society for him to be like the rest-to be normal. For his mortality: in the way he would never allow bullies to pick on others around him, even if he thought they needed to toughen up. But most importantly for the way he tried each and every single day to learn more and be better even if you’re the only one who noticed. For the way he seemed to be all what you dreamed, something that should have caused you suspicion but instead drew you in.

That is until your 13th birthday and, much like many before you, you felt the tug of that dreaded bond.

You were six when you decided to loathe soulmates. Six when you swore on your very soul- your existence that you would never love your soulmate. You swore to live in misery of your own making rather than fates. No matter who they were, you would hate them.

But fate... well fate hated to be tested. So, fate did the worst thing it could. It made you fall for the one person you swore never to.

Your soulmate.

Your very own soulmate who seemed like the only light in the dark and suddenly you began questioning whether or not these feelings- these emotions you had thought were your own and genuine- were actually yours. Or if they were just fate pulling its strings and making you dance and dance and dance.

To say you were upset was an understatement and... well let's just say fate might be prideful, but you were twice as petty.

At age thirteen you shoved the emotions you had so dearly cherished so deep in your chest they seemed like nothing more than echoes of naive mind. You distanced yourself from him and only let yourself feel in your loneliest of moments.

Four years, it had nearly been four years since you had begun your battle against fate. And- and and fate was getting stronger... as you have been told. The older you get- the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the bond is.

Those moments... those lonely moments happened more often, and those stupid annoying emotions rose up with the beating of your traitorous heart.

Which is exactly how you ended up in the last place you ever wanted to be. Face to face with your soulmate... with them recognizing you and what you were to them.

"I'm your soulmate." Damian Fucking Wayne said his eyes locked on you as you felt your heart jump to your throat and all the color drain from your face.

"Fucking shit, " You whispered, unable to break his gaze.

Shaking-hand shaking and heart pounding at your rib cage demanding you acknowledge him-that you give in and tell him he’s right. That you are soulmates and let fate drive you. But there was something fate and your treasonous heart seemed to forget. You were one petty bitch.

Weakly smiling you let out a nervous laugh and turned, avoiding eye contact. Eyes darting around they finally settled on your bare wrist as your other hand scrambled to gather your things against your trembling chest.

"Oh- my,” Your voice cracked as you shoved your things into your bag, “would you look at the time! I need to get going."

Fingers racing over the items in your bag you went to zip it close and make your escape when your eyes rested on your final item. The book you were reading earlier. Which just so happened (damn you fate) to be right in front of Damian. Eyes raising to him, gazes latching for just a moment you did the one thing you should not. You looked down, down and back at your book before making the stupidly impulsive decision to lunge for it. Your fingers brushed the cover, nails barely scraping lines into it when a hand-warm and firm clasped around your wrist. Pulling you back towards the table in a quick tug that caused your stomach to slam against the tables side. Wincing you stabbed your nails into your palm, not daring to look up. You had fallen for his trap, the oh so obvious trap you could have avoided had you just not looked at him.

"I'm your soulmate," He said again, his voice clear and stanch as he gently pulled on your arm, clearly trying to get you to meet his eyes, "and you are mine."

Soulmate- God why did you have to care about him. Why- why-did it have to be him? Why-

why couldn’t fate just leave you alone?

Something about the tone of his voice made your heart shatter. It was almost desperate, but you couldn’t-you couldn’t allow yourself to be weak. After all, you would not let fate win. Petty- you were so violently petty and prideful- oh even fate knew this yet- it still tried... this- you wouldn't let this stand. You could-no would not allow fate to get away with even attempting this. Taking a breath in-a deep breath- you raised your chin. Steadying your mind with the thoughts of your parents, of how you needed to be around them. Calm, poised, emotionless. Ignoring the well of tears in your throat and the pressure behind your eyes you finally met his gaze.

Green. All you could see was those beautiful green eyes, wide and desperate. Yearning-yearning for you to give a reply. But the one you were about to give would only hurt those eyes, regardless, it needed to be done. One pain- one moment or time of pain and sorrow was far better than a life of them.

Slowly letting out the breaths you previously let in you tilted your head, feeling his grip on your wrist lightening.

“I do not have a soulmate," You began instantly seeing the surprise on his face-the confusion, so you continued, “I won’t have one. Not you. Not anyone. You see, I don't believe in soulmates. So, I do believe you are mistaken.”

His grip dropped but seeing the broken look on his face made your facade crumble in an instant as your heart screamed to stop. To comfort him. To take back your words and press yourself into his arms. But you were smarter than that, even if you weren’t strong enough to hide the tears anymore. Throat bobbing, you felt your mouth tremble as your eyes stung and something warm began spilling down your cheeks.

Pulling yourself away from him, you smiled a bitter smile, not even daring to acknowledge the tears you were shedding. Head high, you turned.

Voice cracking, you bid farewell, “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get going.”

Feet scrambling you nearly dashed out the door, leaving the book that got you into this mess behind. After all, it was now only going to hold harish and painful memories.

As soon as your feet touched the gravel, you ran. Tears freely spilled down your cheeks and you sobbed and panted. Mind trying it’s best to soothe the heart that had just torn itself into pieces. But there was nothing it could do. There was nothing you could do but cry and run. Run away from him. From all the pain you had and were going to feel. It was hell, yes. But at least it was yours. At least you knew how and why it had happened, at least you knew what was to come. At least you were still you right?

By the time you had finally calmed your tears-though your heart was still howling, you had made it home. Wiping your tears you took a deep breath in and held it, hoping it would steady your mind and breathing enough to face what was about to come. You hesitated for a moment, then let the breath out wiped your face again and walked up to the door. It was then you heard the shouting. The rage filled voices cursing at each other, dishes and shoes flying, shattering and knocking things about.

Hand trembling you pushed down the doorknob and walked in. The barrage of insults and dissonance of things being thrown slammed into you. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you saw the shadows in the kitchen, too caught up in their most recent argument to even acknowledge your existence-that is until they came into view.

“God you never listen!” Your father roared

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing all day!” Your mother countered

Quivering you slowly moved towards the staircase as their fight pushed into the living room. Your father’s hands waved as your mother rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed.

“Really that’s how you’re gonna be?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Fine then, I’ll just take this lazy ass of mine and leave!”

“GOOD!”

With that your father turned and stormed past you straight out the door, slamming it behind him. You flinched and turned to see your mother staring at you.

“Ugh! I can’t believe him,” She hissed before she shook her head, scowling, “absentee father, sitting on his ass all day while I make the money and take care of the needless kid. God, pregnant at 18- now married to that loser! My life went down the drain. If only it weren't for you...”

Those words stabbed at your heart, sinking in their little daggers in the spots they knew best. You knew she didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you always did. It wasn’t the first time you had heard things like this, but it did seem to hurt all the more due to what happened earlier this afternoon. Sniffing slightly, you lowered your head and your voice cracking as you had to fight off more tears whimpered,

“I’m sorry mom.”

As if a flip switched your mom’s brown furrowed and scowl dropped. She looked you over, concern in her eyes and she took a step forward.

“Are you okay honey? You don’t sound too good.”

Raising your head you tightly smiled and nodded, “Of course, just stressed cuz of school. I’ve got some exams coming up and it’s causing my emotions to be all over the place.”

She nodded eyes raving over you, resentment heavy in them as she plopped onto the couch with sigh, “Okay, you better be doing good in school alright? Don't want you to end up like that louse of man your father is.”

You nodded again, “Of course! Actually I was about to go and study.”

“Good, you do that.” She replied as she picked up the remote and flipped on the T.V.

You paused, for just a moment watching her as the resentment began to slide from her eyes, her face softening. She was so pretty, yet harsh lines from constant scowls and frowns bore their way onto her cheeks. Line surrounded her eyes from the tears and sleepless nights. And it was all because of you. Turning, your hands tight on your bag, you raced up the stairs, dashing towards your room where you collapsed onto the ground the second the door was closed. Hand against your face you pressed your head against the door and bit your lip. You did not have the luxury of more tears.

Turning you found yourself looking at your own reflection. The combination of your mother and father. The perfect combination. It made you wonder what they saw when they looked at you. Did they see a reflection of themselves? Or just an echo of the person they loathed to love. You knew for a fact they never saw you, just you. It was always tied with one or the other. You could tell because today your mother avoided your eyes, that was because you had your father’s eyes. So today, she must have seen him in you. At least until your hair covered your face-her hair- and she saw herself. Maybe that’s why she softened; you didn’t truly know. They loved you, yes. But only because they saw themselves in you. Because on the good days, they saw each other. Because in a way you were them. What hurt the most though, was not when they saw each other or themselves in you. But the fact that they would never see you. And if your parents, the people who were supposed to love you the most, the people who brought you into this world could never see you, who could?

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It had nearly been a week since you last saw and denied being soulmates with Damian Wayne. In said period you spent your free time dodging Damian and all his friends as well as digging your nose into every soulmate lore, history or origin you could find. While you didn’t want a soulmate, that didn’t mean Da- you soulmate should suffer because of it. So, you had made it your mission to discover if there was any way you could break the bond now. Research had told you that if one party ignored the bond for long enough it would fade for the other. But you didn’t know how long that would take and merely telling Damian you weren’t soulmates tore you up so badly that the mere sight of him sends you into tears. Therefore, you needed to find a way to break the bond. Both for yourself and for Damian.

But as far as you could tell it was impossible. Every single myth, origin and lore of soulmates explained them as the other half of each other, inseparable even incomplete without the other. Part of you hated that thought. That you were incomplete without your soulmate. Because weren’t you a person, able to function live, laugh and love all on your own? Without a soulmate? Only Greek mythology even considers you as whole without your soulmate. Though it does say that they are meant to be together and once they meet they will not want to part. Which did not read well for your plans. In Chinese mythology there was the Red String or Red Thread of Fate

A tangible string, perhaps it was something that could be broken. But from what you read it could not, at least you could not cut it or tear it with your hands. It cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It can-

Taking a deep breath in, you rubbed your brow. It didn’t really make sense to you that the string or thread or whatever it was couldn’t be broken. It also didn’t make sense that a soulmate was to be bound to you for life. Logically speaking there had to be a loophole. Afterall no one feels their bond until they are thirteen. If you were truly bound for life, you would always feel it. Therefore, there must be a workaround. A way to break the bond or someone- or someone to break it- to remove it.

Since it is not there from the beginning it cannot be like in the Greek, Jewish or Hindu myths. But it might be connected to that string of fate theory. And there was one person who you could think of that might be able to remove or break the bond. The very person who put it there. And if the Chinese myth is right it’s Yuè Xià Lăorén or Yuè Lăo. But as far as you could tell no one was meeting old men at night right before their thirteenth birthday.

It felt like a lost cause. You doubted anyone actually ever seriously tried to break their soulmate bond. No one ever seemed to have your determination or rather stubbornness. Most people would have surely given up by now, but you desperately needed a way. Because despite how much you hated it, how much it made you hate yourself. You couldn’t help but love him. And it terrified you.

Your parents started out in love and now they were-... it’d be difficult to say what they had was anything other than torture. Day in day out fighting. Yelling and screaming. Shouting. Such anger at someone they were supposed to love. It made you wonder, were they really in love? Were they really supposed to be each other's happy ever after? Each other's eternity? If so, what did that mean for you? Did that mean you were doomed to be stuck in the same cycle of love turning to hate? Did that mean that you were going to lose a love you always told you had? Did that mean that you were going to die unloved? It was a fear- your biggest if you were being honest. That the person who was supposed to love you forever, doesn’t really love you. And you could take the chance. Not with what you knew- what you’d seen. There was no way in hell you were ever going to let that happen.

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It was truly unfortunate that you just so happened to have a mother deeply involved in her job. One that resulted in her dragging you to a gala because she needed to show she had the perfect little family. What a joke. A cosmic joke as said gala was happening at none other than Wayne manor. And its host? You guessed it, Bruce Wayne himself with his gaggle of children all in attendance. How did you know this? Well, your eye caught one of the many children. The one you were trying your hardest to avoid.

Damian Mother Fucking Waye.

And it seems you caught his eye as well, because the second he looked in your direction his face lit up. That is until you turned away from him, the next you saw the color drained from his face and he practically stormed out of the room. Though any random bystander would have thought he calmly exited, you knew better. Which was valid considering you had basically spit in his face and said he wasn’t good enough. But it still hurts. Nowadays it seems that everything hurts. Though it was all probably due to the bond you were so determined to reject.

So, to dull the pain you clung to the walls of the ballroom. Heavily nursing the glass of champagne you snagged from an unassuming waiter. It had been probably close to two hours since you arrived and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through it, however you most definitely did not want your parents to see. You were underaged and they wanted to keep their ‘perfect’ image intact. Which is partially the reason why when the people began to make their rounds around the ballroom, you decided to slip out. Though you abandon your drink, you thought wandering around the manor’s halls might help you relax even if it was only a little bit.

Wandering down the darkened corridors you listened to the faint music that trailed after you as you got further and further away from the ballroom. Night encompassing each hallway you turned down it wasn’t long till the sounds of the strings playing was nothing more than a faint humming like the buzz of a fly. Darkness and silence swallowed the area-well near silence. The creaking and settling of the manor seemed to be the only sound. That is until you hear a clattering and an all too familiar voice cursing in another language.

Maybe, it was due to the slight buzz those sips of champagne gave you-maybe it was the exhaustion from the days of fighting off your feelings-or maybe it was because the pull was just too strong; you walked towards the sound and pushed a door open to find a disheveled Damian Wayne sitting in on a couch, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands, a crystal glass at his feet with half melted ice cubes surrounding it.

He did not seem to notice your presence, so you slowly began to venture closer. Noticing his messy hair, unbuttoned shirt and missing tie. Why did he have to look so damn beautiful? Better hearing his mutterings which were half in English, you pause to listen.

“Seems like Todd was correct,” He mumbled as a hiccup stalled his sentence, “this does improve everything… or perhaps not.”

His body shifted as he hiccuped again, and had you not seen it yourself you would not have believed that the high pitched sound came from him. It almost made you laugh, but you were able to restrain yourself and move closer. This time, it seems Damian heard you as his head snapped in your direction. He blinked a few times almost as if he was trying to get water from his eyes. Head tilting he narrowed his gaze, voice slurring as he asked, “Y/N?”

Sighing you nodded and walked even closer until you stood in front of him. Smiling slightly you waved and took a deep breath in before replying, “Hi Damian.”

He blinked more, brow furrowing as he muttered something you could not catch. Sinking deeper into the couch he gave you a blank look.

“So have you come to inform me of our ‘non-existent bond’? Because I assure you if you do not wish to discuss it with me I will leave it alone.”

You raised an eyebrow and crouched so you could be eye level with him. Meeting his eyes you found yourself once again admiring their beauty.

“Really? Then thank you. I appreciate that.” You paused concern stirring so strongly in your chest you couldn’t help but let the worry take hold, “ But I’m not here for that.”

Damian sat up glaring at you and you did not move, swallowing as he got a bit closer.

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m worried about you.”

As if it was instinctual, he replied, “And who's fault is that.”

Though he winced afterwards despite you merely sighing at his comment. Resting your chin on your knees you gave him a sad smile and nodded.

“You’re right… I owe you an explanation.”

Heart in your throat you met his eyes again and asked, “Would you let me give you one?”

Silence thrummed between the two of you for a lot longer than you would have liked. His gaze not leaving your face as you took a deep breath in and let it out. You should have done this from the start and at the very least if things go awry he probably won't remember any of this.

His hand gesturing to the place next to him he said, “Sit.”

You snorted and rose to your feet. Then the seat next to him shifted a bit awkwardly before you turned to him. He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle. It stung far more than you would ever admit seeing him like this. But- but it would fade. It will fade. He won’t be like this forever. He won’t.

“So… I should probably tell you why I don’t believe in soulmates.”

He grunted in reply, and you weakly laughed, “I-hmm… this is rather hard to explain. You see my parents are soulmates and they-”

You stopped yourself, watching as he stared across the room. Realizing that telling him about this was letting him in. And you could not let him in. Biting your lip you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you once again fought off tears.

“I really don’t like their relationship. I hate it. And and to me it seems everyone with a soulmate is miserable. They aren’t happy. Shouting, arguing, fighting. I will not risk the chance of being like my parents. I refuse.”

He was looking at you now. Brow furrowed and the bottle slipped between his fingers. Your voice cracked and you winced, swallowing as you shrugged.

“I- i am a coward. I refuse to take any chances because I don’t want to get hurt.”

The unspoken ever again hung on your lips as your parents' rage flashed through your mind. Fingers picking at one another you looked down. Unable to keep eye contact without crying.

“I’m scared and- and worried and and I- I’m so sorry. You deserve better and i-”

His hand was over your mouth and you blinked in confusion looking up to see him pinching his nose, bottle still in hand.

“Please silence your excuses.” Damian snapped, “I will not hear anyone talk about you that way.”

Something jolted in you and you froze, tears springing to your eyes, you nodded and he removed his hand. Fingers darting to wipe away tears you began to turn from him. His hand batted your fingers away and cupped one of your cheeks. The other still clutching the whiskey bottle half cupped the other. Damian pressed his forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes.

“I care not that you are a coward. I care not that you are running away. I understand your unease, I understand your logic. But I disagree. I can do no better than you, my soulmate. My other half. I will be here for you and will ease your fears, I will drive your worries away and treat your scars. Emotional or otherwise. I am here for you. I do not know what I have to do for you to understand I am yours. Whole and solely yours. As you are mine. Please- I beg you. Tell me what I must do for you to allow me to love you to my fullest capacity.”

Unable to look away, your heart taking control as that bitter bond turned soft and sweet you began to cry. Tears spilling down your face, you pressed your forehead more against his, words slipping from you before you could even think.

“Be forever mine and let me be forever yours,” You whispered.

Something softened in his eyes, a warmth in them you desperately wanted to see but hoped you never did. He began to lean in a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands shifted, the bottle falling from his grasps as he muttered,

“Was that ever in doubt?”

You tilted your head and his lips pressed against yours. He tasted of bitterness, a darkness that burned so sharply it had you clinging to him. Hands bunched in the cloth of his shirt you found yourself leaning in. His arm wrapped around your waist and as he pulled you in tighter, body shifting as he couldn’t get you close enough. As if there wasn’t a way to hold you where he was near enough. It was as if he wanted to shift-sinking-melting completely and totally into you.

Air, you had no air left, but who needed air? He was here. His touch gentle and constant, reassuring as he pressed against you, gripping you as if he was terrified the second he let you go, you would disappear. And he was right.

You broke apart both gasping for air and his grip loosened. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiled, a smile that sent your already raging heart racing. His hand rested against your cheek, fingers playing with your hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he muttered,

“I love you.”

Your heart skittered and-

Tug, there was a tug a mother fucking tug that made your whole-body ache. One that stole the air you had just barely regained. One that sent shivers up your spine and knocked some sense into you.

You couldn’t breathe. Standing up suddenly, your head spun. Blinking a few times as tears sprang into your eyes you shook your head.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry.”

And with that, you bolted from the room. Faintly hearing Damian calling after you, you rush down the hall brushing past a butler whose name you think is Alfred. He gives you a soft smile and you nod, quickly wiping away the tears. He paused but you kept moving. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of here now. No matter what it took.

Feet nearly tripping over the other you stumbled back into the ballroom. There would be hell to pay later, you knew it. But if you stayed any longer you could get hurt beyond repair. Allowing the feeling of everything that had just occurred loose, you promptly burst into tears as you stumbled towards your stunned parents. Your mother frantically moved to you as your father’s eyes widened and he began speaking to the people before them.

“Y/N, Y/N honey we’re in front of a lot of people. Can this wait?” Your mother whispered as she got closer.

Sniffling you collapsed into your mother’s arms, feeling her embrace again for the first time in nearly a decade. Trembling as sobs escaped you, you were able to get out.

“I want to go home. Please. Please. Let me go home.”

At first, she didn’t reply, then she began moving you towards the door.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

She did not even turn in your father’s direction. After all, they had done what they always do, taken separate cars. Unable to quell the tears, you let your mother guide you out the door before he came to pull you back into fate’s vicious plot.

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Two days, you hadn’t left your room in two days. Not that your parents had noticed, not that anyone really did. You doubted anyone noticed your absences from class. You hoped no one would notice truthfully. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face again. It was driving you crazy. So you locked yourself in your room and hoped-prayed-that these growing feelings would just die. Or maybe you could just die. That sounded like a solid solution as well. It was part of the reason why despite the late hour, despite living in Gotham you had unlocked and opened your window.

There was a sound that awoke you, yanking you from the nightmares that never seemed to cease. And as you opened your eyes to the familiar shapes and silhouettes in your room you found one that did not belong there.

"Who are you?" You whispered to the woman hiding in the shadows, not really caring if acknowledging her would lead her to strike.

After all, who would lurk in the shadows of someone's room while they were sleeping unless you planned to kill them. It was a relief of sorts, that you were more than likely going to die soon. It would help you feel less guilt about Damian, about the situation that occurred a few nights before and the feelings that refused to listen to reason.

Stepping into the moonlight the woman towered before you. Half her face tilted towards the light and you blinked twice almost recognizing it- but- but that couldn't be possible. There was no way you knew this woman. You hardly knew anyone, let alone an murder or assassin who would sneak into sleeping peoples rooms.

"You don't have to worry about that.” She replied in a soft voice, her accent reminding you of something-something…something!

You just couldn’t quite place your finger on what though. It nagged and nipped at your mind, tugging and swirling in faint recognition you could not connect.

The woman took a step forward, her black hair swaying as she crossed her arms, her tone sharp and barbed, “I think who you are is a more important question.”

Her gaze did not leave you and you adjusted your blanket before glancing towards the open window almost blankly saying,

"Nobody special I can assure you."

This caused the woman’s posture to relax a little. She hummed slightly as you crossed your legs and set your elbows on your knees.

"Hmm, really?"

Nodding you rested your face in your hands as you looked at her shadowy figure. She seemed kind, in a way. She was at least talking to you before killing you. That was something was it not?

"Just the byproduct of fate's meddling and destructive hands."

"Ah, your parents are soulmates?' Her stance relaxed even more and you noted how from what you could see her outfit was nothing like the things the Gotham vigilantes wore.

"Unwilling but yes, soulmates."

It was more of a snort than a reply, but it didn’t seem to phase the woman as she rested herself on your desk the moon light allowing you to see the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose. Familiar features that made your gut churn.

"Oh, oh. I see. They did not choose-"

"To have me?” You interrupted with a sigh, shrugging you nodded, “I guess you could say that."

Silence followed and you saw the woman’s eyes narrow. She crossed her arms again, stance tightening.

"... you do not seem the type to share your innermost troubles with a stranger, why are you talking to me?"

Pulling your face from your hands you gave her a shrug as a yawn slipped from your lips, "Well, for one I think you're here to kill me and two... I've needed to tell someone for a while. Why not a perfect stranger?"

"Your parent's fate troubles you that much?" Her voice seemed to begin carrying concern, which only troubled you because it made you think there would be a possibility she wouldn’t kill you.

"They are living proof- hell I am living proof that soulmates shouldn't be forced together…” You paused crossing your arms with a scowl, “and because fate is cruel, I have a soulmate too. Despite how awful they are."

"Your soulmate is awful?"

Something in her tone said she did not believe what she was asking in the slightest. Which was true, yet it still caused that buzzing familiarity to ring just a bit louder.

"n-no, he's not.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed deeply, running your hands along your face, “ He's kind and- and all I could ask for but- but... how do I know he's all I want? How do I know any of this- any of my feelings are mine? How do I know that it isn't fate pulling my strings and wanting me to dance? How do I know he won’t leave? That the bond will only become apparent when we fight and won’t exist otherwise? When the love is gone and only the bond remains? How will I know that I won’t be abandoned again? That I won't be hurt again? That I will gain a love that will last? I won’t. Not to mention even if I didn't like him... I would have to be with him."

"No,” The woman scoffed, “you wouldn't, dear."

"Yes, I would. My parents- they tried and now- now I live in the shambles of a home. They are together because of that damned bond even though they hate each other." You were crying now, of course you were, "fate does not like to be ignored and I don't like to be told what to do."

Angrily grabbing a tissue you blew your nose, faintly hearing the woman laugh. From what you could see, she had a look in her eyes that seemed soft- understanding. One you most certainly did not expect your killer to have.

"Oh my, really?" She mumbled head turned towards the window.

"Yes! I'd rather live in a hell I have control of, a hell I made rather than one fate forced upon me. If- if I ignore it enough... I heard it will fade for him, I- I will still feel it but- but because he tried, he will be spared. He'll have a chance- one I never had. And though- though I can't truly tell if these feelings are mine, it's all I want. I love him. I love him”

You stopped yourself trembling as you said it yet again, “I love him.”

Nodding you continued on, “and… I want him to be happy without me. Because- because I won't give way to fate, not even for him."

"Hmmm. I have a question for you.”

“Yes?” You pulled the tissue box closer to you sure more tears would come.

“Do you really want to die?”

“Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, waving a hand, “It’s just, it hardly seems to me that you want to die. Rather it seems like you want to live.”

"What- I, I’m sorry I-." You were at a loss for words.

She was smiling as she replied with a shrug, “You have told me of a cause you wish to live for, no? To fight against the soulmate bond. While I personally disagree with your choice, I hardly think dying will do anything other than let the bond win.”

“Wha-... I-,” You sputtered, mainly because what she said made sense.

It made an insane amount of sense. So much so that it had your head spinning. Why exactly did you think dying was the best option? You may not have the best life, but it was yours right?

“I’m-I’m sorry.” The whisper escaped not entirely directed at the woman but rather just as a declaration in general.

The tears on your face felt silly and you blew your nose again as the woman sighed. Causing silence to spin about the room until she remarked,

"I believe I should be the one apologizing."

You laughed, wiping the tears from your face, "Why?"

"Because I'm not here to kill you."

Something in you skipped a beat and you shook your head. Of course she isn’t. Who would want you dead after all. You hadn’t done anything that would cause a reason to be killed.

"Oh darn." You snorted, rubbing the back of your hand across your face, "Here I am looking like a fool asking for something I don’t even want from someone who can’t even give it to me. Fate is cruel… Though life does seem crueler."

"Yes," She muttered looking over her shoulder at the window, "indeed it is."

A figure loomed where she looked, a familiar figure in green, yellow and red. The woman smiled at you again and she moved towards him patting him on the shoulder before climbing out the window.

“It was nice to meet you Y/N.”

Blinking in confusion you latched onto the vigilante who was now looming in between your room and the outside, "Robin? What are you doing here?"

He sighed, the woman disappearing as he rested on the window frame, "I am afraid it is quite difficult for me to explain at the moment."

"Wha-.... wait-wait."

In the silence of the night, with the slight breeze trailing in from the window where Robin was perched, you felt a tug. A heart wrenching tug you had felt just the other night. A tug that sent aches all over and made your throat tighten.

"...you're-oh."

Biting, you lip you fought off tears as he slowly entered your room. Breathing deeply, you began picking at your fingers before you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

He was right in front of you as tears spilled down your cheeks and through sharp stabs of pain you tightly smiled remarking,

"...hi Damian."

He was silent and you bit down harder, weakly you took in a breath. His voice was soft in reply,

"Y/N... are you- are you alright?"

You didn't know what to say. After all, he must have heard something... then again, he might not have but-

"How-" Your voice cracked as you avoided looking at him despite him being so close, but it was hard as you could feel the heat from his body, "how much... How much did you hear?"

His was quiet and you squeezed your eyes shut, heart dropping as you tasted blood. Pain dancing across your lips and air fighting to leave you. A tiny sob escaped you and you took a ragged breath in as you opened your eyes facing him. Rob-no Damian raised a hand and brushed it against your face before he leaned in. His lips almost pressed against your ear he said,

"I heard everything."

Tag List: @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @legendarylearner18

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artunderwraps · 4 months ago

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oh my god guys i need more relativity falls art and fics i love this au so much jkrsbkhkhsdvbihsdfbs

reblogs are always appreciated :D

#gravity falls #relativity falls #relativity falls au #stanford pines #bill cipher #gravity falls au #hngggggggg i need more of this au carnally #its such an interesting concept with so much potential #image quality got decimated lol #anyways #hope yall enjoy #:D #auwart #art #digital art #il

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a-cakehound-or-critter-a-day · 8 months ago

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4/26/2024 cake hound and sugar fox meeting! ^^

#if you see me posting mannnyyy things late no you dont <3 /v silly #I hope yall dont mind the spam and enjoy the critters while I catch up posting though <:'D /gen #{❤️Critters.exe💗}#<- block this tag if you dont want to see these!#{❤️Critters.png💗}#{❤️2024 Art💗}#{❤️Cakes💗}#{❤️Sugar foxes💗}#cake hounds #sugar foxes #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #red velvet cookie #strawberry cream cookie

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miserable-something · 4 months ago

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listener + yapper (interchangeable)

based off of my fic I will hold you close (for the minute) on ao3!! feel free to check it out!!

#sabolaw nation how we holding up!!!!!#hope yall enjoy the food #i bought a csp license so i'm trying out brushes #sabolaw #law x sabo #sabo x law #revolutionary sabo #trafalgar d water law #one piece #my art <3 #my fanfiction #oh i'm in uni now btw

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bunnithechubs · 1 year ago

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Rotation: Multiple

Chris and Vinny's Spooky Party was a hit! The last person Cain would see there was his neighbor Kitty all dressed up. She rarely went out if Issac wasn't in town. So Cain immediately knew something was up and got a bit too close for Kity's comfort. But he was successful in planting a seed in Kitty's mind.

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 #gameplay2 #game play 2 #the sims 4 edit #ts4 edit #slate #rotation: penny #rotation: cain #rotation: kitty #:D #i told yall this one one would be long #hope you enjoy\

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kvynx · 13 days ago

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oh you have my heart in a vice grip mr monkey d luffy

#💌 : monkey d luffy #one piece #op #monkey d luffy #luffy #txt.box #✏️ : kevarts #i also hope yall enjoy my lil opoc keychain there

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drspencerweed · 14 days ago

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Caller ID

summary: Spencer really needs to learn to check his Caller ID.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

tags/content: fluff, so much fluff, it's just all fluff, negative self talk (very slight), friends to lovers, mentions of canon typical violence (all in the background, they are working a case)

word count: 5.6k

author's note: Happy New Year y'all! surprise! I haven't written a fic for CM in so long but I came across @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Receiver challenge/prompt and was very inspired. I've wanted to write something for Ralvez for a long time and this just felt correct. shoutout to my irl bestie for proof/beta reading all my fics, you never see these posts but you keep me going <3

read on ao3

Spencer Reid was usually adverse to any and all major changes. He knew that he couldn’t completely avoid it, because that’s not how life works, but he always hated it when his routine was upended and he had to rewire expectations for his daily life.

Morgan leaving the BAU was one of the biggest changes he had ever dealt with. His best friend, his brother, someone he saw everyday for over a decade was suddenly not there anymore. And sure, they still texted and hung out every so often, but Derek was a new father and Spencer was still in the BAU and that made things so much harder.

So when Hotch announced there was a new team member being hired to replace him, he should have been stand-offish. Snippy. His anxiety and discomfort was hard to hide, and the added stress of everything changing would make it nearly impossible. Garcia wasn’t helping - talking his ear off about how no one could ever replace Derek and it had only been two months and also how dare Hotch?

In spite of all this, when Luke Alvez walked into the BAU conference room, Spencer felt at ease almost immediately.

“Your reputation precedes you.” He had said - waving instead of offering a handshake. Spencer was shocked, and smiled despite himself.

“So does yours!” He replied, only to go on a ramble about Luke’s achievements and qualifications. What a way to make it clear you’d been cyber stalking with Penelope.

But instead of being weirded out, Luke just listened. He smiled. He didn’t even cut Spencer off.

Which is why, for the first time ever, Spencer was embracing change.

(And it doesn’t hurt that Luke is easy on the eyes.)

Much to Garcia’s chagrin, of course. Her partner in hate had been converted to the dark side, she said. Spencer was supposed to be on her side - pushing away the new guy because he sucked. And Spencer was happy to let her rant to him about whatever small thing Luke had done that day that had pissed her off, but he simply couldn’t find it in him to join in. Luke was kind, and gentle, and handsome, and one of the only people he’d ever met that didn’t immediately treat him like some kind of alien genius boy. It was hard to find anything about him that he didn’t like.

Spencer liked how Luke always listened when he talked. He even sometimes asked follow up questions, and never tried to stop his rambles. He liked how Luke had such a strong sense of justice, and how willing he was to fight for the people on his team. He liked when Luke brought him coffee in the morning, even though it was never sweet enough. He liked Luke’s love for Roxy. He liked Luke’s ability to maintain a sense of humor even when the cases were so so dark. He liked how gentle Luke was with everyone; from the victim's family members to the UnSubs they arrested. He even liked how Luke snored on the jet home after a long case; head falling into the window or sometimes even onto Spencer’s shoulder.

He liked a lot of things about Luke. And sometimes he found himself thinking about those things even when he wasn’t around Luke.

They were out somewhere in the Pacific Northwest - somewhere wet and rainy and cold - chasing a killer with a signature of burning the crime scenes to the ground. Which made profiling particularly difficult as most of the evidence was burned away. Spencer was staring at the map, trying to come up with a geo-profile but coming up empty. He pressed a palm into his eye and shook his head out, vision blurring as he tried to maintain focus.

“Reid?” A voice called from the doorway. Spencer turned to see Luke there, looking at him inquisitively. “Everything alright in here?”

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and sat at the table with the case files laid out haphazardly. “It’s just not coming together. He’s all over the place. There isn’t enough information to triangulate - plus the crime scenes are so spread out in the first place I don’t know if that would really matter. He doesn’t seem to have a comfort zone. He’s kidnapped victims everywhere from the central business district to the outer suburbs, and none of the burn sites match up either. I know we need the geoprofile for this guy because of how much has been burned but I don’t know if there’s anything there.”

In the time that he spoke, rambled really, he moved pictures around in new ways as if maybe they would reveal something he hadn’t seen yet. Luke crossed the room and stood next to him, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked at the photos as well.

“Hey man, I’m sure you’ll get there. Is there anything to the randomness?” Luke offered. Spencer watched as he turned to the map pinned to the board. “Like, does it seem disorganized or is it a counter measure?”

It wasn’t something he had considered yet. He was so worried about finding patterns, he hadn’t been thinking about what it would mean if there truly was no pattern. “Huh.” He stared down at the smaller map in front of him on the table, labeled only with the burn sites.

Something clicked. Disorganized, Luke said. It didn’t feel disorganized. It almost looked like the unsub wanted it to look disorganized. But the burn sites were increasingly further from the last one, in a different direction from the one before that. It was almost like an automated randomization system - not truly random, but trying hard to look like it.

Spencer stood up with a marker and started marking things up on the map. “It’s almost like he really wants us to think it’s random. I don’t think it’s about comfort, the burn sites mean nothing to him. But he isn’t disorganized. He’s not even an arsonist. That’s a counter measure as well as a way to make sure the bodies are found. He doesn’t stick around to watch. He wants us to think he is. I think he wants us to think he’s not as intelligent - but he is. The meaning must be in victimology.” When he’d finished rambling and marking things off on the map, he turned to see Luke watching him with a smile.

“See, I knew you’d figure it out. How did you get all of that from the burn sites?” Luke asked, stepping closer and looking at the map again. Their shoulders brushed as Spencer pointed and explained his conclusions. Luke’s eyes burned into the side of his face, but he pretended not to notice. If he thought too much about it his skin would flush red and he was already increasingly embarrassed.

“I know you know, but you really are a genius, Spencer.” Luke said, awe in his voice. Well, fuck. There goes any hope he had of not blushing. He had been called that a million times, but coming from Luke the word made his palms sweat and heart pound. “It’s like magic how you figure this stuff out.”

“I was completely stuck in my head until you came in. So, it’s not without help.” Spencer knocked their shoulders together, and chanced a glance in Luke’s direction.

The other man was smiling at him warmly, and didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be caught staring. Their eye contact held for a moment until Spencer felt like he could feel his heart behind his eyes. He cleared his throat and turned away, focusing back on the table and beginning to reorganize the files there aimlessly.

“I’ll go let Hotch know you found something.” Luke said.

As the door closed behind Luke, Spencer collapsed into a chair at the table, taking deep breaths to try and calm his heart.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Spencer hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever, if he was honest. He was in love with Maeve, of course, but that had gone from 0 to 100 with little in between. Very little room for flustering and flirting and - oh god, having a crush.

Which is of course what this was, a crush. And if Spencer had been thinking about it for longer than a few seconds at a time he would’ve recognized it earlier and been able to stomp it out, but instead he’d simply pretended it wasn’t happening, until it grew and grew into whatever this was. Sitting at a conference table in a random city surrounded by horrible crime scene photos trying to get his heart under control because he and Luke Alvez bumped shoulders.

Because Luke called him a genius. And it was affecting him as if no one had ever called him that before. It was so silly and so stupid. Luke was just being nice; he was one of the kindest people Spencer knew. There was no reason to give this any real thought. He just needed to not act like a fool.

He was broken out of his trance by his phone ringing.

“Reid.”

“Spencer! My love! My darling! How’s it going out there?” Garcia’s voice rang out through the line.

“It’s good, you know. Slow. I just worked out the geoprofile with Luke’s-”

“Do not say the name to me. Traitor!” Penelope accused. Spencer chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“He’s on the team, Pen. You’re gonna have to hear his name sometimes.”

“Well of course, but I thought at least you would have been kind to me and talked around it.” She mumbled. “You know how I feel about that rascal.”

Spencer wasn’t actually mad, and he knew Penelope’s feelings were mostly playful, but something about her tone struck a chord. “He really is lovely. You just haven’t given him a chance.”

“Oh what because he has a dog and big muscles I’m just supposed to think he’s a good person?” She sneered. “No siree - I can see right through that. There’s something sinister under there.”

Spencer sighed. “Seriously! It’s not just muscles and Roxy, he’s incredibly kind to everyone, and never cuts me off, and he’s really good at his job. He’s learning profiling so quickly, it’s really impressive. I think his time in the army probably helped him with that. But really, he’s just a good person. He’s got a warm heart and-”

“Spencer Reid.” Penelope cut him off, and he realized he had gotten a bit lost in himself, talking about Luke. “Do not tell me you have a crush on Luke Alvez.”

“Of course not!” His voice squeaked, and he winced.

“Oh my god, you do!” Garcia was aghast.

“No, c’mon, seriously-”

“Do not lie to me and make this worse. You just went on for a whole minute about how kind and warm he is.” Spencer put his head in his hands. “This is the ultimate betrayal. I will give my news to Emily.”

The line clicked as Penelope hung up and Spencer groaned and dropped his head down on his arms. How was he going to function like this? Sure, he had been functioning fine with all these thoughts swimming around for months, but he hadn’t acknowledged them. He hadn’t addressed the fact that he had a crush. An all consuming one, if he was honest with himself. He looked to Luke first in every room. He waited for him to respond whenever he presented a theory to the team before he really felt good about it. He was thinking about how he would react to his outfits when he got dressed in the morning. He had even started enjoying the bitter coffee Luke brought him, and making it that way when he was home because it made him think of Luke.

This was going to be a disaster.

His phone rang again, surely Penelope calling to yell at him some more. He answered without looking - “I’m sorry Pen! It’s not my fault I like him, and it’s gonna be a disast-”

“Like who?” A voice decidedly not Penelope’s came through. So not Penelope’s, in fact, it was the man of the hour. Luke Alvez himself. Asking Spencer who he was talking about. It was playful, of course. Lovely and sweet and barely teasing but not in a mean way. Spencer didn’t think Luke could be mean if he tried.

“Uh-uhm, I thought-” Spencer stuttered, swallowing thickly.

“That I was Garcia? Is your phone really so old it doesn’t have caller ID?” Luke asked. Spencer could hear his smile through the phone, and his cheeks burned with his embarrassment. Somehow his mind was totally blank as a way to get out of this.

“It has it, I just didn’t check it.” Spencer admitted, ignoring the elephant in the room and the original question. It was just his luck that within the same moment Spencer even realized he had this crush, he would fumble his way into admitting it.

“Of course. How silly of me to assume you would read.” Luke teased. Spencer bit down on a smile.

“Well, you know what they say about assuming.” Luke’s laughter on the other end made Spencer let the grin overtake him.

“I didn’t know you had jokes in you, Doctor.” Spencer scoffed, ready to reply, but Luke cut him off before he could start. “I’m outside, Hotch wants us to follow a lead JJ found in the last victim’s house.”

“Gotcha, be right there.”

As the phone clicked shut, Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief. He had successfully avoided the embarrassment of being pressed about his crush. Now he just had to act normal in an enclosed environment with Luke and also do his job and hope that Garcia wasn’t actively telling the entire team about it right now.

Grabbing his bag and racing out of the precinct, he hopped in the black SUV next to Luke. He held his satchel in front of him, hands tight on the bottom of his bag. His gun pushed against his hip and he was hyper aware of how his legs didn’t quite fit in the space between the passenger seat and the glove box. He felt too long, too thin, too everything in that moment. It felt like Luke was watching him try and figure himself out. Like a baby deer who had never used his legs before.

When he finally chanced a glance in Luke’s direction, he found the man smiling at him. His eyes turned to the road quickly. “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Spencer said, sinking deeper into the chair. Be normal. You’ve been normal this whole time. Why can’t you just keep being normal?

“No apologies needed, man.” Luke pulled them out of the parking lot and filled Spencer in on where they were going - a bookstore that the team believes may have been the last place the victim shopped before they were kidnapped. Spencer contributed here and there, but was more focused on breathing than being helpful. Was his nose always this loud when he breathed? Did he usually breathe out through his mouth or his nose? His chest felt like it was moving a lot. Was his voice always this shaky?

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” Luke asked - a non sequitur from the discussion of the case. Spencer looked at him for the first time in a while - how often do I normally look at him? - and saw a shit eating grin on Luke’s face even as he continued facing the road.

“Talk about what?” He asked. Playing dumb, maybe, but also playing hopeful. He really really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or at all.

“C’mon, Spence.” Luke laughed lightly. “‘It’s not my fault I like him.’ Who’s this mysterious him?” The eyebrow raise at the end of the sentence really sealed the deal, and Spencer’s fate.

They stopped at a red light, forcing Spencer to either look away awkwardly or make eye contact awkwardly. He went with the latter, against his better judgment. Luke continued to waggle his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you're talking about.” Dear god, what is wrong with me?

Luke just looked at him, tilting his head. The light turned green and he was (thank god) forced to look back at the road. It wasn’t enough to stop the line of questioning. “What, only Penelope gets to know the hot goss?”

Spencer swallowed and flicked his eyes at Luke. God, that jawline. He squeezed his eyes shut quickly. Oh my god, focus. “She wasn’t supposed to know either.” He mumbled out.

They pulled into a parking lot in front of the book store, and Luke cut the engine. Spencer hopped out quickly, gripping tightly on the strap of his bag. “Whoa, slow down Doc!”

Goddammit. “I-I just would like to keep working on the case, please.” He pressed a palm into his eye. It was too overwhelming - realizing he had these feelings and being confronted about them all at once. He just kept moving towards the bookstore. Even if he couldn’t avoid it forever, he could avoid it for now.

Footsteps approached him from behind, and then a hand on his bicep stopped him in his tracks. “Hey, I’m sorry for teasing.” Luke said, trying to move Spencer to face him. Spencer shrugged him off and curled further into his bag. He bit down on the inside of his lip with anxiety. Looking at Luke was dangerous, he was afraid he might give himself away. Luke might not be the most adept profiler, but he was picking things up quickly and knew Spencer better than some of the people who had been working with him for a decade.

“Seriously, I’m sorry for prying. You said something meant for Garcia, it’s not my business.” Luke asserted. Spencer finally looked at him, still biting down hard on his lip. Even now, when Spencer wanted to avoid his feelings more than anything, the sincerity in Luke’s eyes made his heart soar. It was clear he felt genuinely bad at the idea of upsetting Spencer.

“No I-I understand. It’s okay.” Spencer finally said. He moved his hands down his satchel strap and took a deep breath. Steady.

“But for the record, I am not immune to the pull of gossip.” Luke smirked. Spencer smiled back. “Or, if you just need some advice. I don’t have as much success courting men as I do with women, but I’m open to being a sounding board.”

Luke was bisexual, that was news. Be normal, Spencer. Don’t react weirdly.

“I, uhm. Might take you up on that offer sometime.” He smiled and nodded, and Luke winked at him before turning to head into the bookstore. Deep breath. Winks don’t mean anything. Fuck.

They continued on, asking the book shop owner all the questions they needed. Spencer’s anxiety calmed a bit as he focused on work. It was easier to be normal when he was doing things that were normal.

The rest of the case passed without incident - even though Penelope was still giving Spencer the cold shoulder. Getting on the jet to go home was a welcome solace, the team leaving as soon as the UnSub was in custody. No one wanted to stay an extra night when it wasn’t needed.

He sat on the bench on the jet, reading over a book about Northern Pacific birds that he had picked up during the case. He was taking his time with it, reading slowly and trying to commit the photos of the birds to memory.

It was hard to ignore his hyper awareness of where Luke was on the jet - first at a table playing cards with JJ, then moving to the small cafe to pour him and Rossi a drink. That’s where he sat now, next to Rossi sipping on a short glass of whiskey. Spencer kept his focus on the book in front of him, tucking his feet up on the bench. He would not allow this silly crush to take over his brain. At least, not any more than it already had.

“This seat taken?” Luke asked, glass freshly full and gesturing to the other end of the bench.

“N-No. Not at all.” Spencer answered, swallowing thickly as his voice shook slightly. His eyes went back to his book, but as Luke sat within inches of his feet he struggled to actually take in any more information.

“Excited to get back home?” As he took a long pull of his whiskey, Spencer could barely look away from his strong jawline and soft lips.

Spencer nodded slowly, coming back to himself. “Yea, you know. Hotel beds are never as comfortable.”

“Don’t I know it.” Luke chuckled. “I swear my neck takes a full week to feel normal again after a case.”

“How about you? Any big plans for our return?” He finally closed his book, committing the page he was on to memory. He could be normal, he could make small talk.

“Nah, nothing. Just happy to be back with Roxy.” Luke responded. The smile he gave Spencer was sincere and captivating. Spencer couldn’t help giving one in return.

“How is she?”

“Good, you know. She’s still adjusting to how much travel we do, but she’s always happy to see me when we get back.” Luke smiled into his drink. Spencer’s heart warmed watching this man become soft about his dog. It was shocking it had taken him this long to realize his feelings; everytime he and Luke talked he felt like this. Warm and comfortable and happy.

“Well of course she is. Maybe you should talk to Hotch about bringing her with us.” His eyebrows raised in suggestion, trying to be playful and funny and normal. Normal. Like before, when I had a crush but didn’t know about it and everything was fine.

Luke smiled back and shook his head. “She hates flying, I couldn’t put her through that so often.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to be helping you with anxiety?”

A chuckle, “In theory, but she’s a scaredy cat. Well, dog.” Silence lapsed over them for a comfortable moment. Just as Spencer was ready to turn back to his book, Luke’s hand reached out and touched his foot. “You still have to come meet her, you know.”

“Dogs don’t like me.” Spencer protested. The warmth from Luke’s hand somehow permeated through his shoe, and he could swear he could feel it deep in his bones. Even this small point of contact was enough to make him blush.

“Roxy likes everybody, but especially the people I like.” Luke reassured. “I’m serious. Come grab dinner when we get back, she’ll be even more amenable because I’ve been gone for so long.”

He could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest. The smile on Luke’s face was genuine, inviting, almost - nervous? That can’t be right. Despite his pulse racing and every instinct in him saying run, run, run, he found himself actually saying “Yea, that uhm. That sounds nice.”

Luke’s face bloomed into a huge smile, no hint of whatever small trepidation had been there before. “Seriously?”

A chance, now, to back out. And Spencer was so tempted to take it. What was he thinking? Going to Luke’s for dinner, meeting Roxy, being alone with him? On purpose? It made his heart race, and he was having a harder and harder time deciphering whether that was because of his nerves or his feelings. But the way Luke was smiling at him - such genuine warmth and happiness overtaking his features - made it impossible for Spencer to take that away. “Yea, I can pick up some take-out?”

“No need, Doctor. I’ve got it all covered.” Luke nodded and bit down on his bottom lip around a smile, and squeezed Spencer’s ankle. Spencer felt his cheeks flush and hoped his excitement wasn’t too clear on his face. It kind of felt like they were planning a date. That is not the way to think if you’re going to be normal.

The rest of the flight was business as usual; Spencer was able to read his book and even take a short nap. He was shaken awake by Emily when they landed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he pushed up off the bench.

“C’mon, sleepy head. We’re back and it’s not even 5:00.” Emily grinned at him, and he nodded and gathered his things. Towards the front of the jet, Luke was lingering, and Emily had to move past him as she left. “Need something, Alvez?”

“No, no. I’m right behind you.” Luke nodded.

“Okay well, have a good one! I don’t want to hear from either of you for at least two days.” She warned, pointing back at Spencer as well.

He laughed a little, “Of course, Em. We’ll see you on Monday.”

“And not a second earlier!” She shouted as she left, and then it was just the two of them.

Luke stood by the door and Spencer gripped tightly on his bag as he walked towards him. His nerves felt unreasonable. Dinner, it was just dinner. But somehow the way Luke was waiting for him, and smiling at him, made it feel like something more.

God, Spencer really needed to get a grip.

They left the plane together, making small talk about the team and the case and Roxy and everything in between. The more they spoke, the more relaxed Spencer was. He could handle casual dinner with a friend. Luke offered to give him a ride to his place, and against his better judgement Spencer said yes.

“You know, Belgian Malinois are particularly sensitive to the emotions of their owners and other humans. They’re known to pick up on changes in mood faster than most other dogs - like spikes in anxiety, sadness, and even happiness.” Spencer rambled as they drove. “Because of how smart they are, they also don’t do well if they’re understimulated. I hope Roxy has lots of enrichment toys - I was looking into it earlier and found out there are so many different ways to feed a dog to make sure they get mental stimulation. Does Roxy eat anything other than kibble?”

Luke looked like he was fighting a grin, listening to Spencer. “Yea, I use one of those slow feeders for her dry food but she also eats some of that fancy stuff that has to be kept in the fridge. And don’t worry, Doctor, I make sure she gets all kinds of enrichment every single day.”

“That’s good! I was thinking that if she likes me-”

“When she likes you.” Luke interjected, but Spencer was on a tear.

“-I could design some sort of puzzle for her. I’d have to do more research on her capabilities but it would be an interesting challenge.” Spencer couldn’t see the way Luke smiled, watching him gaze off into space as he ranted about Roxy.

“That would be really nice, Spencer. I’m sure she would love that.” Luke said. They pulled into a parking space at his apartment building, and Spencer went to get out of the car before it was even off. A hand on his bicep stopped him, turning him back to face Luke. “Sorry, I’m sure you already knew all that.” Spencer shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut in a tight blink. He was being normal, he supposed, his version of it anyway. But maybe his version of normal wasn’t the most attractive, if he was trying to attract Luke. That was a lost cause, be logical. Luke was....Luke.

“I did, but I liked hearing you say it.” Luke admitted. Spencer was unable to hide his surprise at the sentiment.

“Why?” He asked, eyes darting around as he tried to connect the dots in front of him. Of course, Luke had never once cut him off before, but he assumed that was just him being nice. Luke was always nice to everyone. But saying he actually liked hearing Spencer talk? That was unheard of.

“Because I like you, Spencer.” Luke’s voice was quieter, nervous, hesitant. But his eyes were genuine when Spencer’s met them. It felt real, like Luke actually was saying those words to him. That couldn’t be right, though. Guys like Luke didn’t like guys like Spencer.

He stared at Luke a moment too long, trying to piece together what to say, how to respond. This was fake, right? A prank, a dream? He must still be asleep on the jet. He closed his eyes tight and tried to make himself fly - a test of his dream theory. If he was dreaming and became aware, he should be able to control the fantasy. Fly away, fly away-

His eyes opened to see Luke still in front of him, a slightly amused smile on his face. He had not flown away - and instead was still seated strongly in the chair. This was real - somehow. “Why?” He finally squeaked out.

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Because you’re you, Spence. You’re kind, and lovely, and funny, and you never fail to make me feel better after a case. And you’re stronger than anybody should ever have to be, and you’re still you, somehow.”

Spencer was blinking faster than he maybe ever had, blushing deeply. People had told him these things before, but never like this. Never in this space where he could feel the tension growing, where their eyes were locked and their gaze was loaded.

Apparently he had taken a bit too long to respond, and Luke’s face started to fall, closing off again. “Of course, if you don’t feel the same way, we can just forget-”

“No! No.” Spencer protested. “I-I do. I think you’re wonderful, Luke.” His face split into a brilliant smile and Spencer matched it. Luke reached a hand out slowly, giving Spencer plenty of time to back away. His palm cupped Spencer’s cheek, his thumb rubbing his face softly.

Spencer’s heart was racing, beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. He tried to keep his breathing in check but he was sure Luke noticed his nerves.

“I never thought someone like you would be into someone like me. And when you said you liked someone to Penelope, I was sure it couldn’t have been me.” Spencer went to protest, but Luke gave him a short look to let him finish. His hand moved down to his neck, fingers twisting in his hair. “But the more I thought about it - I didn’t know who else you would have had to apologize for liking. And once I started letting myself think that maybe, maybe it could’ve been about me-”

“You profiled me.” Spencer accused.

Luke smiled shyly. “A little.”

Spencer blushed, and leaned into Luke’s touch. His hands were gripping the strap of his bag, and had only gotten tighter as he and Luke had gotten physically closer. “I guess I’m glad I didn’t check caller ID. I would never have told you if you didn’t tell me. You- you’re not the only one who thought there could never be a chance.”

“You’re too smart, you would’ve figured me out eventually.” Luke chuckled. His hand left Spencer’s hair to touch his hand, pulling it off of the tight grip on his bag.

Their fingers folded together, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. Spencer stared at where their hands joined, tongue glancing out to pull his lip into his mouth. For once in his life there were no statistics on germ transfer or the risks of touching coming to mind, all he could think about was the feeling of Luke’s soft skin on his.

Luke’s other hand reached up and touched his chin, guiding Spencer’s eyes back to meet his. “Is this okay?” His voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper.

Somehow Spencer hadn’t noticed how close they had gotten over the course of their conversation. The center console was the only thing between them, they were practically sharing breath. It was clear what Luke was asking, not about the touch, but about what came next. Spencer closed his eyes, thinking fly, fly, fly just to test out his dream theory one more time. When he opened his eyes to see Luke there, he nodded slightly.

Luke’s fingers guided his chin closer, and their lips melted together.

Spencer’s eyes closed and he breathed deeply, reveling in the feeling of Luke’s lips on his own, and his fingers on his jaw, and his hand in his hand. He let go of his bag and reached up to push his other hand into Luke’s hair, running his fingers through it. Luke’s lips were soft and pillowy, but he kissed with confidence. Fingers brushed down Spencer’s neck and Luke hand found his hair again, twisting and playing with the curls at the base of his head.

When they pulled away after a few long moments, Luke held Spencer close, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re still coming up to meet Roxy, right?”

They both started giggling, giddy and happy. Spencer licked his lips and could taste Luke on them, and he felt lighter than he had in years. “Yea, of course.”

Luke smiled, giving him one more short kiss before turning and exiting the car. Spencer followed, and took the hand offered to him as they walked up to his apartment. “Now you definitely have to make that enrichment toy, you know.”

“I’ll get started right away.”

fin.

thank you so much for reading! you can find my other fics (mostly Spencer x fem!reader) here

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x luke alvez #ralvez #ralvez fanfic #my fic #my post #i hope yall enjoy!#it is so much longer than i meant it to be #i do not know the term brevity #:D #mentioningmargins #wrong receiver challenge

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majorproblems77 · 10 months ago

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Sacred Realm updated which means im actually so excited to be making this omg

Hi there Sacred Realm fans! :D

It is I, the one who makes the analysis posts on various comics on the internet. (With permission course) Because I love doing them and they bring me joy.

If you are unaware of what Sacred Realm is, it's a Legend of Zelda AU about a new Link who gets a little medallion that makes him a badass, also it can hold the spirits of heroes from across the realms (Including my fave boy ever okay)

Before I begin, I'll get the important stuff done, This is done with permission from @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. Please do me a favour and go and check it out because it's a wonderful comic and extremely well-drawn and written.

Now, grab some popcorn, and a drink and please enjoy me rambling about a comic that I enjoy so much. :D

Lets begin!

First, some sass

Damn, possessed Link got a mouth on him. Low key I love him, he looks like he could go for round two like right now. Wouldn't be surprised if he went for the hero of time next.

My eyebrows shot up at this.

Time KNOW's

let me repeat that

TIME KNOWS. HE KNOWS WHATEVER IS IN THE MEDALLION CAUSING THIS.

(More on this later)

He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows

I can hear the mocking voice of Link while he is saying this. Time has experience with this particular entity before.

Okay, so here is when it gets interesting.

Possessed Link or this entity I suppose, referring to Time and in turn Hylians as 'Your Race' Tells me a couple of things.

This thing in the medallion isn't a Hylian spirit. So as much and as fun as a dark link theory is, I dont think it could be.

Time arguing that we're not perfect, again referring to Hylians sounds very much like an "I'm speaking with a god speech"

I present my theory on what is in the medallion.

An extra spirit, a god of some description, from the spirit realm. Out to get revenge on Hylians.

Time has been to the spirit realm, in his games. (I am under the assumption that those still occur in this canon please do correct me if I'm wrong here.)

I'm convinced that this thing in the medallion is a deity of some kind because of the eye colour. I can't get over it.

This style of blue, with no pupils.

We've seen it before.

On Hylia.

From Chapter 2 fate PT2

And here is the first time we see it on Link for comparison, With Sky's alongside him for comparison for what Hylian eyes look like.

From Chapter 2 Fate PT3

The colour isn't exact so it can't be Hylia herself I dont think, but, i believe that there is a spirit trying to escape the sacred realm and is using Link to do it.

Okay, enough of my conspiracy theories moving on!

Link you gotta wake up!

Sky thinks so, I love the coloured speech bubble, what a good idea.

OH BOY I LOVE THESE PANELS

You know those scenes in video games when you're fighting off something that's trying to possess you and you have that ominous-sounding echo that seems to reverberate through your head. But is also muffled at the same time?

(If I find a game example I'll link it)

This. Put that noise you think off over this.

KICK ITS BUTT LINK GET IT, GET BACK IN HERE.

These five panels tell so much when it comes to how much effort Link has to go through to fight off the medallion possession. I wonder if its going to be easier or harder for him to fight it off as he gains spirits in the medallion.

You can really feel his struggle and I just love it. The visual storytelling is incredible in this comic and I will fan girl about it all day because I just love it so much

I'm thinking he says this to gauge just how bad this possession is. time seems like the guy who would, especially as he already seems to know what this is.

I wonder if he really is the hero of realms?

Yes, Time. Yes, he is.

The face he dosent remember any time he's possessed by the medallion is a little worrying.

Makes me think that could be used later.

Like, Link dosent remember fighting this ice comet now. What if he fights an enemy while possessed, breaks the possession then has to relearn how to defeat it because as possessed link he's not gained any information.

Man Link is a cinnamon roll sometimes and I love him dearly okay.

Alrighty, thats me finished with my rambling. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this! And thanks again to @zelda-the-sacred-realm for the permission to do these i really appreciate it.

Please please go and check out the rest of the comic if you haven't it's amazing :D

Thats me finished for this chapter, so I'll be headed out!

Hope you have a wonderful day! :D

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theguffbin · 1 year ago

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youtube

The collector's edition for Eastward came with a fun little cd soundtrack and there's like three bonus tracks included. These bonus tracks are absolutely no where online except in-game and in this collector's cd and like, for two of them its not a huge issue for me...

But like this one track is missing and its literally my favorite track in the whole fucking game.

It's just an alternate version of "Strange Quest" that plays during gameplay but it deviates from the main track in such a blissfully emotional way that it just makes me so goddamn happy I can't explain it. The fact it's not online and no one can look it up made me sad and now I have to fix that :'D For reference I'll put the main track below that's in the official digital release, cause it's still really fantastic y'all like this soundtrack is just full of fucking bangers mate aaaaaaaaaaaaa

#eastward #eastward game #eastward soundtrack #eastward ost #joel corelitz #pixpil #chucklefish #game soundtrack #game ost #collectors edition #cd #bonus track #seriously hope the video stays up like I just want people to hear this masterpiece please #if yall like it please support the official release #even if this isn't in it #its still fucking godly #hope you all enjoy :'D #Youtube #SoundCloud

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brandwhorestarscream · 3 months ago

Note

alright let’s hear you horrendous D-16 torture idea

Oh I am SO GLAD YOU ASKED-

SO! This takes place within the idea of "D-16 and Orion never make it to the surface, and the quintessons eventually invade Iacon" idea. The two of them are separated during the invasion, Orion ending up on the run with a group of stragglers, and D-16 is taken back to the quintesson ship.

Aboard the ship, he and all of the other cybertronians they've caught are immediately sent in for processing: sanitized and vaccinated, branded and collared and chipped, those that still possess transformation cogs forced to undergo surgery to have them removed. Then, they're split into groups for conditioning, to have them broken in and gentled, preparing them to be molded into good little quintesson slaves.

I could wax poetic about the horrors of the conditioning + brainwashing, but that's more in line with worldbuilding (and also I don't have all the details ironed out yet. If you have any ideas about how the quints treat their trainees, hmu! I'd love to hear lol). We're not here for worldbuilding on this post, we're here for D-16 angst!

For awhile, Dee keeps his helm down. He's not yet had the spark of rebellion lit in him. He has no information to work with, no hope for escape, and no faith in his own abilities. Getting away from the quintessons is impossible: there's no way to defend themselves, they'll never be able to outrun them, and they're given the bare minimum of fuel to keep them from dropping into stasis lock, nothing more. With gauges constantly in the red and on the brink of starvation, he barely has enough energy to do the work they demand of him. For awhile, he's helpless, and it does a great job whittling away at his spirit.

He works hard to avoid punishment and hopefully to earn extra energon, and the overseers take notice. Its not long before Dee is dragged out of the physical labor stocks and instead thrown into the entertainment stock: bloodsport is a favorite of the quintessons. He has no formal training but has good reflexes and decently athletic body. Putting him up against some cosmic beast or other in the quintessons' gladiator arena is sure to be entertaining. Oh yeah, we're doing gladiator D-16 up in this bitch

Days turn to weeks turn to months, he has no idea how long he's in there or how many dead bodies he has to climb over, but he refuses to die and give them the satisfaction. It feels like an eternity, time passing in a blur, before he's officially named their unofficial champion. His matches are always extremely well attended and he's very popular. The quintessons love watching him disembowel their various beasts and even his fellow mecha.

Here's where we finally get to the fucked up angst. D-16 is considered a wild cybertronian, but wild bots suggest the existence of domesticated mecha. The cybertronians bred in captivity are considered much higher quality, living longer with more mellow temperaments and much easier to train. And as great as Dee is, he'll never be as good as a cybertronian bred in captivity

They drag him in to the reproductive facilities, and through a very robotic procedure, have him artificially inseminated. That's not the horrible part though

For the first several decacycles, Dee is left alone. They don't make him do any fights, they give him enough energon to keep his topped up and full. They actually let him recharge as much as he wants, even give him a comfy little room with a cushioned berth. They want this sparkling to be born healthy, after all, and a healthy carrier is tantamount to that end.

During his unexpected break, Dee tries so hard not to get attached. He knows he can't keep them. Knows that, once they're born and their wee little spark can stabilize, they'll be taken away. As soon as they can survive without him, he'll lose his newspark, and never be able to see them again. They'll be carted off to a designated wetnurse, then start their conditioning just as soon as they're weaned. He can't keep them, so he cannot get attached to them. Surely his spark couldn't bear the suffering

That all goes out the window the first time he feels their little spark fluttering against his, feels the very first blip of their consciousness. Nothing but a bare, ghostly imprint, the faintest hint of "warm-content-nice" nestled close against his soul. And the second that sensation leaks through, love swells in his spark, more intense than anything he's ever felt. He pushes back what he can through the fragile bond, trying to tell them that he's there and he loves them.

It happens after the bitty's spark descends. Once it separates from his spark chamber and transfers to the protoform growing in his belly. With their body and soul merged, the baby kicks for the first time, and Dee is once again overwhelmed. He loves them so much it hurts.

The day after the sparkling starts kicking, he's suddenly brought into the medical wing. The quintessons sedate him with no warning, and when he wakes up there's a fresh incision on his belly. Precisely done welds under his fingers, already cold to the touch as he sleeps his hands over the expanse of his abdomen.

He feels lighter. He's so sore and stuff but he feels lighter. The sparkling is frightfully still inside of him. He can still feel their carrier-creation sparkbond, distantly, and when he reaches out for them he gets a flicker of "cold-afraid-wrong".

He pats and rubs at his belly, trying to get them to respond. To kick back, to squirm around the way they always did when their sparks connected.

Unfortunately, he's never going to get to feel his sparkling kick again 😌 he's the quintessons champion pitfighter, after all. They can't have him out of commission just to bear a single sparkling to term. So they've taken measures to expedite his recovery, performing very premature cesarean and putting the sparkling protoform into an external incubator to continue it's growth. Dee can go back to work and they'll still reap all the benefits of his bloodline, and he's forever scarred, knowing that they knocked him unconscious, slit open his belly, and stole his precious sparkling before they could even be born >:)

...

Hi this is unbeta'd so please forgive my fuck ups lmao. Press F for poor Dee. You want more of this fucked up jaunt? Want this AU to ever see the light of day and not die as a half-baked brain baby? You know what to do aksjskaka-

#this was such a fun mean thought to ramble about 😌#i hope yall enjoyed #d-16 #crimes against cybertronians #maybe thats a new tag. crimes against cybertronians for whenever i wanna torment them and hurt them

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ahhhh-118 · 10 months ago

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🐍🍎THE RATTLESNAKE AND THE JESTER🎭🎪

Page 1-2

Page 3-4

#it’s finally done #hope yall enjoy it :D #lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc #boozecats #oc #lackadaisy cats #lackasona #maríanne villanueva #oc art #lackadaisy ocs #the rattlesnake and the jester #I hope time will allow me to finish 😭

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setacin · 7 months ago

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Asphodel

A k!pyro send-off, and an alternate ending to his s3ep4. What if instead of being able to rest, he was forced to reckon with his actions? warning for major character death (2025 words)

“No more,” Pyro swung his glaive to fend off Rae and Clown.

“It’s all led to this,” he backed away from them, inching ever closer to the pillar, and farther away from anything that could get between him and his goal.

“Why did you have to make things be this way? Why did you have to ruin it all?”

“This is the only way that things can truly end.”

As he ran towards the floating gem holding up the nether and tackled it to the ground, the whole nether began to shake.

The whispers surrounding him grew louder. The voices overlapped with one another, muttering about the end of the nether, about the souls that were sure to result from their actions, about how Pyro was doing exactly what he was meant to be doing.

He had always lived life with his head held high, his pride as a Wastewalker driving him forward. But something had changed, hadn’t it? He had felt the gentle caress of death as he lay on the ground in that cave. He knew what it felt like to want to die. He had faced his honorable defeat as a warrior and yet something had prevented him from moving on.

Pyro’s hands began to shake, though he was unsure if it was due to the ground, the withers, or simply the gratification of the perfect execution of his plan. Those that he had used to consider his allies, his enemies, his friends, all reduced to nothing more than ants beneath him, scurrying towards the sweet taste of survival. He would crush them all. Finally taking his revenge on Clown for humiliating him not so long ago. He would take everything from him, even if it meant that he lost himself in the process.

He hadn’t known that the actions he had so thoughtlessly performed at only 15 would have set him on this path. That killing that wither and taking its head for a trophy would impact him even now. That even with all that he had done in the last few years, his fate was already sealed.

Even if he could go back and warn his younger self of the consequences of slaying that wither, would it have changed the course of history? Or would he have charged in just the same, believing that he was above the warning of the withered specter that he had yet to become.

He took a step forward.

“At last, this realm’s misery will finally end.”

Pieces of the ceiling fell down, crashing into the lava below. The walls began to crumble, clouds of dust and debris rising over the blackstone floor. The pillar had been toppled- the nether roof no longer had any supports. The nether would be crushed by the ceiling, and now there was no one left to stop it. The sense of something looming behind him grew stronger than ever before.

One of his glaives fell to the floor, the sharp sound of metal hitting the floor drowned out by the low rumble of falling stone.

“No more wars, no more suffering, no more death.”

He could just barely see a flash of black and bright blue out of the corner of his eye. The faint rattling of bones joined the chorus of whispers, all chattering in anticipation of the nether’s imminent destruction.

How could the other Wastewalkers not see the grand plans laid so easily at their feet, the obvious solution for the problems that had been plaguing the nether since the dawn of civilization?

“Every living soul finally released.”

He barely noticed his other glaive joining the first on the floor, staring up instead at the last moments of the temple. The glow from the wither’s eyes was almost blinding, the voices now deafening as they reveled in the power flooding towards them from those that had already been killed by the collapsing roof.

“Finally, we’re free.”

Even as his world crashed down around him, it felt like a weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. No longer would he need to lead those around him- he had played his part and he had played it well. No longer would Clown be able to rule the nether and exploit its citizens. No longer would he have to look into his allies’ eyes and see reflected in them all the ways that he had failed.

“I’m… free.”

He took a final gasping breath as he was crushed under the weight of the world. A fitting fate for any legend, to be immortalized in stone.

His eyes closed, and all was silent.

—

It was just like last time. He felt the strength leave his body, an almost painful coldness setting in to all of his limbs. There was no more fighting anymore. However, unlike last time there were no voices, no tether to the material world to drag him back from the brink. The wither was gone. The pressure of the roof no longer weighed on him, the netherian smell of metal, fire, and smoke faded away along with his warmth.

His consciousness drifted. Was this all that awaited wastewalkers after death? A dark, cold nothingness?

Maybe he was no longer a Wastewalker to the world. He had forsaken their creed, their oath, their bond as Wastewalkers. And for what? A twisted sense of revenge? The desire to single-handedly make any sort of impact on the world?

Some legacy this would be, not the savior of the nether but its executioner.

For the first time since he had been saved from the brink of death, his mind was empty of the wither’s murmuring voice in his ears. He had gotten so used to its suggestions, to the information that it provided him during his 6 months in the void that he had almost forgotten what this felt like. With his mind fully to himself for once, he began to regret.

Had it really been worth it, the cleansing of Clown’s influence at the cost of the innocent people of the nether? He had fed the voices that cried for revenge, only for the wither to be crushed just the same as everyone else. The rest of the Wastewalkers had died for their sense of justice, but Pyro couldn’t say the same about himself.

And what of those that he had left behind? Of Rae, who he had watched over for years; of Kae, who was just now learning how to heal; of Ash, who had only just discovered himself? He thought he might have seen them get out alive at least. Hopefully his death will hurt less than how they saw him twist and warp under the wither’s influence in life. Hopefully Sushi and Nirox could find it in themselves to forgive him for pulling them back from beyond the grave.

There was something grating at the edge of his consciousness though, a faint sound of rustling, like wind through a wheat field. Distracting him from his reflection, the sound drew him in, quickly joined by a sweet floral smell that he couldn’t quite place.

It seemed to be getting closer, louder, and-

—

Pyro opened his eyes.

All that met him was a world in various shades of dull grey, the sky a shifting haze devoid of color. As he lay on the ground, the feeling returned to his limbs, though the piercing cold never left. He moved one of his fingers ever so slowly, working his way through the rest of his body until managed to sit up.

His hand shook as he lifted two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. Nothing. He let out a sigh.

Slowly rising to his feet, Pyro took inventory of his surroundings. A field of white flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, a faint breeze blowing a few of the petals around. His whole body ached.

The stalks of the white flowers varied in height, with most reaching to around his shoulders, with others coming up only to his knees, or stretching up a few inches above the top of his head.

The sharp grey stones that seemed to make up the ground crunched underfoot as Pyro stepped towards the closest plant, one of the smaller ones. As he knelt down, he held his breath, hand stretching out to touch the flower, fingers lightly making contact.

“Mom, I’m scared,” a faint voice whispered through the breeze. “I don’t want to die.”

Pyro stumbled backwards, the rocks on the ground digging into his hands as he looked around for the source of the voice. Fear washed over him, an emotion not entirely his own. Who was this person?

He reached out to one of the other nearby plants with trembling hands.

“We could have had a life together,” the flower cried to him, like a confession.

Something clenched in Pyro’s chest as the feeling of longing threatened to overwhelm him. He choked out a sob as he looked at the vast expanse of white flowers that stretched out in every direction.

He sat there for a few minutes, losing himself in the memories that were being shared with him. His hand laid gently upon one of the flowers, as this person’s last moments flashed out before him. A sound like rolling thunder interrupting their work, a massive boulder crashing through one of the walls of their commune, the sound of screams as more stone began to fall. Their lover rushing towards them only to fall victim to the crumbling of the nether. They still had their whole life ahead of them, until they didn’t.

These were the souls of the people killed when the nether roof fell.

His breathing ragged, and face streaked with tears, Pyro gritted his teeth together and picked himself back up off the ground.

He made his way, one foot after the other, into the fields, running his hands along the flower stalks on either side of him.

“This way! It’s safer over here!” They told him.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” came the voice of a father.

“Our home…” another cried.

Their dying moments, their final wishes, their final words. All spoken to him without the knowledge that he was the one that had put them here. He had caused this. It was up to him to remember them all; he was Atlas, and this was his new burden to bear.

The fields seemed to stretch on forever, Pyro attempting to snap himself back to attention every time the cries started to blend into each other, becoming a tapestry of sound, an elegy to what could have been.

“Watch out!” came a desperate voice.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” a young soldier mumbled under their breath, an unwilling soldier in Clown’s army.

“Katie! Katie, where are you!” called a mother.

A wave of exhaustion set over Pyro as he heard story after story, soaked in their grief, their anger, their despair. All while the sickly sweet scent of the flowers floated through the air. He needed to keep going though, to push through and atone to these people for his actions. Despite how the wither had managed to cloud his judgement, it was still his hands to blame.

He paused for a second, and looked behind him. The path that he had traveled was indistinguishable from any other direction. He was dwarfed by the sheer scale of the fields of flowers before him. Funny, how a man who had spent his last moments regarding himself as greater than those around him was reduced to nothing more than the ant that he had envisioned the others to be.

He would keep walking, keep listening. As long as it took to get through the field, he would do it.

The white flowers rustled in the breeze, as if acknowledging that vow. Breathing in, he finally placed that sweet smell that pervaded the air around him.

Asphodel. That’s what the flowers were. Maybe one day he would be allowed to join them, too, to finally be able to rest. He was a Wastewalker, he was Pyroscythe. And for once, he needed to bring honor to that name.

#kaboodlesmp #kaboodle smp #pyroscythe #seta writing :)#<- NEVER thought i would have that as a tag but here we are #i hope yall enjoy my first foray into writing stuff i had a lot of fun with it :D #tw major character death

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