#I can’t tell you the physical rage I feel in my body thinking about this

[ovaryacted]

honestly, I think that the whole bullshit with my upstairs neighbors from this morning has just made my anxiety living here that much worse. I’m always on edge anyway because of living with my family still and dealing with all of the noise in the household. But the fact that this bitch quite literally threatened to call the cops on me and my family for being a nuisance when all I asked was for this fucking demented puta to stop the kids upstairs from slamming into the godamn floor at 1 am when my sisters are trying to sleep is just insane?? There’s like a nagging feeling that hasn’t gone away since I woke up, and I already took evidence of the conversation, the voice notes, everything. But it’s just ridiculous how far people are willing to go when they’re not alright in the fucking head, and thank god I’m not insane enough to snap cause I will crash out and it won’t be a pretty sight.

[soodoonimin]

Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage. 

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

[suiana]

Can we get a delinquent yandere fic?

I love your writing so so much, I can’t get enough of it!<3

sounds super interesting! btw I'll be doing headcanons instead of a fic because headcanons are more of my speciality 🥲 I'll try writing a fic soon though

✎ yandere! delinquent headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― violence, possessiveness etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! delinquent who absolutely hated your guts. fucking hell! why did you, the student council president, have to always interfere in whatever he's doing?! don't you have better things to do???

✎ yandere! delinquent who always has a scowl on his face when he comes to school. god damnit! why were you the one on duty checks almost every single day?? you keep making him tuck in his shirt and it looks fucking nerdy! you're such a pissy president, god!

✎ yandere! delinquent who always lands himself in detention because of his violent actions against you. but he didn't expect you to be so strong? how can you, a tiny and annoying president, block his slap??? he's so much bigger than you too??? how do you have so much strength in your body??? why does he find it sort of hot??? must be the hormones...

✎ yandere! delinquent who fell for you after you absolutely demolished him in a taekwondo match. what the fuck?! how the hell did you manage to win against him?? you even have a black belt??? that's so hot???

✎ yandere! delinquent who doesn't really hate you that much anymore. he starts treating you with more respect and a hint of gentleness. he still hates you but not like he used to. when I tell you, this delinquent absolutely LOVES people who are physically stronger than him

✎ yandere! delinquent who is always requesting for a rematch. like he would literally just barge into your class in the middle of a lesson to get you to fight him. and then he gets humbled. badly. it's a vicious cycle unfortunately. delinquent must be a masochist or something...

✎ yandere! delinquent who is always rejecting the idea that he fell for you. he just finds you interesting, that's all! he's a big tsundere.

✎ yandere! delinquent who, despite claiming he has no feelings for you, is always beating up people who are infatuated with you. why does he feel so much rage when someone other than him likes you? it's cause you like them dumbass!

✎ yandere! delinquent who tries to impress you by showing off new skills during your rematches. he thinks it'll win against you but he's horribly mistaken. like, hah! take that president- *gets pummeled down by someone way shorter than him*

✎ yandere! delinquent who now looks forward to school, his daily detention sessions and your frequent taekwondo rematches. god, you're so hot??? just fucking beat him up already???

✎ yandere! delinquent who always wants your attention on him at all times and uses his status as the school's troubled delinquent against you. like, hello??? he's causing, uh, trouble!! he never thought he would be this needy for someone he supposedly hates...

✎ yandere! delinquent who threatens everyone who tries or even thinks of hurting you. like, only he gets to do that to you! got that? though it's usually him that gets hurt but whatever.

✎ yandere! delinquent who is just so in love with you but totally rejects that idea. you're just his cool sparring partner...who's super hot...and sexy...wait, why's he thinking about you like this?!

✎ "oi president! I demand a rematch! right now!"

[hiyashortking]

Lucifer's Jealousy

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Lucifer has a tough time with jealousy, but you’re tired of waiting for him to settle down on his own. It’s time to talk!

On the first day, you told yourself Lucifer is entitled to his feelings. You’d known the devil to struggle with jealousy based on his unnecessary conflict with Alastor. Even on the second day of pouting, furrowed brows, and mumbling to himself, you had patience. But on the ninth day, you wondered how you ended up in hell when you had the patience of a saint.

“Lucifer, honey,” you begin, settling down next to him on one of the couches in the lobby of the hotel, where he sat with his arms crossed, fuming. His eyes turned fully red a few days ago. His horns came out sometime last night while you slept.

You could see how physical touch helped to settle him. Some of the tension in his face and body seemed to dissipate when you snuggled up against him. You sometimes tried to make yourself seem smaller than him, even though you weren’t, because when you did this he switched from bumbling dork to nurturing daddy. You hoped that’s what would happen but you hadn’t seen the reasonable daddy from him in days.

And why was the King of Hell so upset? At first you worried your casual flirtiness would offend him, but you’d been yourself since y’all started fucking and though you’d seen some challenge in his glare, it didn’t seem like jealousy to this extent. You saw each other every day. You took turns doting on each other. Him with his money, power, charm, and experience. You mostly with your words.

You: Sweetheart, what can I do? How can I help you get through whatever is troubling you?

Lucifer, sighing: I’ll be fine. Thank you for checking in with me.

You: But wouldn’t it be nice if we figured this out together? I hate seeing you like this for so long. I want to see you smile again.

Lucifer softened a bit more. Were you finally getting through to him, or was he only just becoming exhausted by his feelings?

You: Can you please at least tell me what happened?

Lucifer sighed again. With every sigh, you could feel him loosening up against your body.

Lucifer: I’m sorry I’ve been so unfair to you this week.

You didn’t add that this was his behavior last week as well.

Lucifer: I don’t know what it is about her, but I just can’t stand it when–

You, against your better judgment, since interrupting him when he’d only just started to open up was not your best idea: Her? Her who?

Lucifer: Huh? Charlie, of course.

You: Charlie?!

Lucifer: Yes, I don’t understand how Lilith-

You: LILITH?!

Lucifer: Yes, and the bus boy-

You: ALASTOR?!?!

Lucifer: Wha- yes, honey. Are you feeling well?

For nine fucking days you thought his pouting was about you! You thought he was so madly, obsessively in love with you that something strange and minor, something you didn’t even notice yourself, drove him into a jealous rage. Once the shock and, what, disappointment? had their turns in your head, you started laughing.

Lucifer: What- what is happening right now?

You, holding your stomach as you laughed: This whole time, I thought you were jealous over ME.

For as many millennia as he’d been alive, Lucifer’s ability to process hadn’t evolved at all. He sat dumbfounded as you laughed at yourself and how foolish and self-centered your thinking had been.

You felt him put his head on your shoulder and an arm around your back. You heard him sigh again, though did it sound a little happier? You wiped the tears from your eyes and looked at him resting against you. His horns were gone. His eyes were closed.

Lucifer: “You make me feel so safe that even when I think I would normally get jealous, I just trust you and feel happy for you instead.”

You: “Wha-”

Lucifer: “When you flirt with people, I just somehow believe that you’ll still be with me a moment later, and you have been so far. I mean- I get my hiccups here and there, and I think sometimes I even like getting possessive over you, but it’s been mostly sexual. With you, I don’t stay up at night wondering if you’ll kick me out or leave me, I just … sleep.”

You: “Lucifer …”

Lucifer: “Just one more comment and I’ll shut up. Seeing you laugh made me feel so much better. I want to make you laugh as often as I can.”

This sweet, tender little man was going to destroy you.

But also, NINE DAYS JEALOUS OVER CHARLIE AND LILITH, AND CHARLIE AND ALASTOR?

Now it was your turn to act like a baby for days.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

The Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD:

WARNING: FUCKING LONG.

Scout:

- He nods along slowly as you explain this. He might be incredibly childish and confrontational towards everyone but he’s not short of knowledge he learned in college, and personal experience. He seems to understand.

- Scout looks beyond terrified as you describe what happened to you. He doesn’t understand why something so terrible would happen to somebody with so much value.

- He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s had childhood trauma himself. He goes “My brothers weren’t nice when we were little..” He then refuses to elaborate. This was his attempt to empathize with you.

- He sits there on the side of your bed with his head in his hands. Bouncing his knee restlessly. You could’ve swore you heard a sniffle.

- He’s trying to make his emotional state unnoticeable. But it’s clear to you that he cares. The attempts to hold back his tears say it all.

- If you ask for physical comfort he won’t hesitate twice. His petite body surprisingly feels muscular. He’ll lock his arms around you in a huge hug and won’t let go. He rocks you like a small baby.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Freezes up. Like straight up goes stiff. You swear he’s cosplaying as a statue. He’s facing away from you with his hands behind his back as you explain your trauma. You can’t see his expression.

- You think he might not understand and you give up on trying to explain. But then he turns around and goes “No, private. I understand how you feel.”

- Wait what??? Not to be rude or anything but soldier isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to certain stuff. He’s mostly focused on complete chaos of war and the mayhem he so blissfully causes to his targets. With little room for stuff like psychology. But he sounds surprisingly stoic and understanding.

- As it turns out, whilst he didn’t serve in the US army directly nor has PTSD from the war, his nazi killing spree gave him some pretty horrible insight on what tragedy can do to people. Seeing the look on your face.. It’s the same exact look that young children had when he freed them from camps. (Via blowing the camps up of course.)

- He sounds surprisingly mellow as he comforts you with hugs and reassuring back rubs. Unlike his usual loud and vibrant way of speaking. This is vulnerability you didn’t even know soldier was capable of.

- He has a deadpan look once you finally catch a glimpse of his face underneath that helmet of his. Almost distant and exhausted. He experienced empathy burnout instantaneously.

- “I’m sorry. I know.” Is all he can think of saying. Repeatedly.

————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He’s pissed. Not at you, but at the people who directly or indirectly caused this. You can see righteous anger flaring in his remaining eye as you explain all this baggage to him. He taps his finger on the table impatiently.

- “Bloody hell, this world has nothing but injustice after injustice. And den’ dey wonder why it’s so fucked up. oh, I don’t know lad! Maybe it’s because people like you are stupid as shit!” He goes on a rant about the people involved. He spews drunken threat after threat, waving his bottle around as he talks about all the different ways he could play jump rope with their intestines.

- He immediately drags you into a bear hug. You can hear the venom dripping off his words as he swears that nobody will ever hurt you that way again — Not on his watch. You can hear him breathing heavily against his vest. His breath sounds like a growl. He’s had explosive rage before at the enemy team (pun intended) but this seemed to be his worst yet.

- He puts his entire weight on you, and shields you with his large bulky body. It was like having a giant great dane lay across you protectively. Ready to snap at anything that came near.

- God forbid somebody actually attempts to talk to you today after this revelation. He’ll be watching them closely to ensure your mental state is at ease. The last thing you need right now is another stressor. He becomes increasingly overprotective for the first few weeks.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Similar to soldier you can’t seem to understand the expression under his goggles at first. It’s rather unreadable. He sits across from you in his workshop with his hands supporting his head in relaxed position. But as you go into more detail his body language becomes more and more tense. He stops relaxing and instead sits up in the chair and crosses his arms to self soothe.

- He pinches the roof of his nose. His head down in thought. At this rate he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s distressed about something.

- The gears are turning in his head. “Pardner, are you tellin’ me you had all this shit on your back, and you never even thought of telling me?”

- You profusely apologize, mistaking his behavior for anger. But he’s far from angry. “Hush now, hush.” He wipes your tears away with his gloved metallic hand. You could feel the hardness of the mechanism underneath.

- He sits there with you for an extremely long time. Wrapping you in a blanket that his mom knitted him, and lovingly rubbing your tummy, sides, and back. He seems to know the surface layer concepts of comforting someone with severe trauma. He let you know he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. That it was in the past and it will remain there.

- You are loved. He really wants you to know your value. He’s hooked on letting you know, in fact. How much you didn’t deserve such terrible things.

- He whispers kind and loving things in your ear. My god, it sounds like velvet to your eardrums. If ears could cum then yours would. His southern drawl is enticing you to relax.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Uh oh..

- Yeah, no. quite possibly more pissed than Demoman. You can tell because he’s dead silent and staring out into space with the most malicious intentions in mind. Usually an angry heavy is a loud one, but you were kinda nervous seeing the boiling kettle of a man.

- But unlike Demoman he doesn’t voice his intentions. Let’s just say whatever they are; I recommend you keep him far away from the people involved. Because they’ll likely end up the most gruesome crime scene imaginable. He doesn’t take kindly to stuff like this.

- Due to being a very family oriented person he immediately introduces you to his sisters and mother over the payphone. Because that was usually the thing that made him feel safe. His sisters immediately take a liking to you, and you can hear girlish giggling over the phone. They think you’re cute. No wonder Heavy felt so safe around them.

- “You will become like Heavy’s family. Da?” He asks. Offering you a place amongst them. He knows stuff like this calls for community. He knows it heals people. “And heavy will protect you.”

- You randomly find gifts of food on your bed stand if you have a particularly bad PTSD day. Especially honey cake. His mother always made him that whenever he was upset. They always have little notes attached to them. Small poems about self love.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Responds in a very “WHAT THE FUCK??!!” type matter. They’re disgusted and shocked. They immediately hug you without second thought and squeeze you. (A little too tightly.)

- Out of all the mercs, Pyro has to be the most outwardly emotional. They can’t stop bawling about how terrible they feel. They’re crying so much over the thought that that a delicate anomaly of nature had their heart stomped on repeatedly and destroyed.

- Their love language in this situation is nothing but physical affection and kisses. They are so worked up at this revelation that not a single word of encouragement can come out of them. They know they can’t take back what had happened to you. All they want to do is just that.

- Over the next few days, Pyro’s mourning for your mental health quickly manifests less as sadness and more as hyper caregiving. They protect you more fiercely on the battlefield and Spycheck on the regular. They seem more committed to their job and less dissociated than usual. They don’t seem very up to jokes right now.

- Pyro knows trauma is no joke. They know that full well. They become more responsible and ask their colleagues to leave you alone if you feel too stressed. They’re capable of detecting a potential flashback and immediately take you into their quarters to relax from triggers. The expression on your face says it all. You can’t hide anything from Pyro.

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Shit. god dammit. Fuck.

- He’s laying in his camper van’s bed with his face staring at the ceiling. The entire time he has a look of complete dismay plastered across his face.

- Sniper isn’t exactly the most vocal Merc, but to your surprise he has a lot of things to say about this. Primarily how confused he was that someone like you could be handed such misfortune in life. At least in Sniper’s case he felt like he deserved it.

- His first initial reaction is to get your mind off it. Acknowledging your problems, he pulls out a camera from a box underneath his bed and retrieves a slide viewer. Slipping photos into it and showing you the pictures of Australian wildlife he took before entering the gravel wars. Attempting to ground you back into modern day by reminding you these animals are indeed still around.

- “Ya know, there’s animals everywhere. Isn’t it crazy to think that while we’re in here, a bloody tiger is goring a boar and whatnot? And the boar is absolutely shitting itself? Sometimes it’s hard to imagine we were part of that world once. That we’re still animals. Just really intelligent. It’s easy to mistake ourselves as unlovable gods when our nutty piss mongrel asses can’t even remember a time where we weren’t atop the food chain. We set unrealistic expectations for ourself.” He says, giving an example that everybody is worth while. (This is the same guy who kills anybody by the way.)

- “Just.. What i’m saying is that it’ll take a while for you to heal. I’m here to help with that, mate.” He mutters. He seems pretty against being emotional but it’s not like he has much of a choice in this situation. He deeply cares about you. You’re nice to him.

- There is content silence after a while. After looking through the photos by himself one last time he sighs and plops the device back into the box. You were laid neatly on him, cuddling tightly. He put one hand on your back and rubbed it. His other hand dangling off to the side.

- “S’aight mate.” He says, having no clue how to process the fact you somehow ended up atop him.

————————————————————————

Medic:

- He takes intrigue to your situation. He stops dissecting the specimen he was eagerly studying the anatomy of, and has two fingers on the screw of his glasses. Giving you a raised eyebrow. His curiosity is evident and you can practically hear him thinking. Moving his lips as he tried to internally go over the symptoms of PTSD listed in his brain.

- He’s not surprised that you have PTSD. At all. Somehow he suspected something was wrong the moment you joined the team. No mentally healthy person acts like you do. But that’s okay. His overanalyzing of your mannerisms and behavior seemed to have paid off.

- “Ah yes, post traumatic stress disorder is actually very common with people from your situation. It is treatable.” He says, going for the route of reassuring you this won’t be forever. Dr. Ludwig refuses to show his true emotions to you. Trying to adopt a professional demeanor. He’s losing his mind on the inside and devastated. You catch a glimpse of his smile faltering once or twice.

- For some reason as you’re talking he’s moved away from his project and began writing down notes. Something akin to what a therapist would do. You can see he’s jotting down some of your experiences and symptoms to himself.

- “What medication do you take?” “Oh. Mhm.”

- He puts the temple of his glasses between his teeth and takes his gloves off. Heading towards his pill cabinet above the sink and setting down a bottle in front of you. The label is in german and it somehow looks.. Homemade. This is a terrible idea but this is Medic we’re talking about here. A man who is capable of fixing every problem inside a human body with just a simple snap of his fingers. Maybe if you’re lucky this won’t kill you.

- The medication doesn’t kill you, luckily. It’s very similar to prozac. It’s really a flip of the coin whether or not this aids you, but in the meantime you catch him pacing around his office reading self help books and books from psychologists. He seems eager to understand you. He SWEARS he doesn’t care. He’s just — uhm — doing this by habit because he’s paid to! Yeah! Wow, he really doesn’t want you to know he cares.

- While you’re asleep in bed he periodically begins cracking your door open and taking a peak at you, to make sure you haven’t awoke from a nightmare, or are lagging behind your sleep schedule. the shine of moonlight reflecting off his glasses makes him look rather horrifying. Sometimes if he thinks you’re fully asleep he’ll sit on the bed next to your unmoving body for a while and crosses his arms, looking at the floor. Like an incredibly anxious parent would keep their baby company when sickly.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Stands silently in the shadows of the base, you can barely see his slim figure. But you can tell he’s listening intently. Unlike the others, you’re the only one he can truly tolerate. There’s a slightly depressed expression on his face as he takes drags of his cigarette. Looking down at the ground.

- “…Pour l’amour de dieu.” (For fuck’s sake.)

- He says nothing afterwards. He lets you vent however long you like. Let out your emotions, even cry. Which you eventually end up doing. He doesn’t complain and paces a little. His eyes still at the floor. Finally after a while of hesitation he raises his arms and offers an embrace. If you choose to hug him, he will do so in what can only be described as an incredibly grandpa-like matter. Back patting, rocking, and mumbles of sweet petnames in french.

- He baby talks you. Take that as you will. He sees you as incredibly adorable individual and because of this new problem he discovered you have, he feels a sense of responsibility that he must aid it in any way he can. Especially considering this man had caused unholy amounts of trauma to people in the past.

- He asks you what you need. Where you need it, and when. How can he make this recovery process easier for you? He even politely offers to kill the people involved. Elegantly going “I assure you, if it is repent for their sins you want, I can arrange that.” Wow thanks Spy.

- Depending on the trauma, he may react more strongly to daddy issues. Prepare to hear a series of new made up slurs specifically created for your father, by yours truly! If any parents are involved in general he’s going to become sickened and repulsed. Jewel-clutching type repulsed. He bares his teeth and shrinks away. nervously fixing his tie. “Ack.. And people think I have a horrible moral compass? Not even I would do something as distasteful as that.” He hisses.

[221bshrlocked]

Saw This Coming

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 3790

Warnings: It's angsty but there's fluff in the end. Mention of blood and violence. Reader is a little bit of a Gray Jedi so if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read ahead. Some angsty confessions. One kiss. Happ ending :)

Prompt: “Each time I look at you // I'm limp as a glove // And feeling like someone in love.” (Like Someone In Love, Ella Fitzgerald)

A/N: This is for @sinfulsalutations who is partaking of this Song Fic Exchange. I hope you like this friend. As always, I would like to thank @cloneficgiftexchange for being the only person who is keeping me writing until now. I have no ability to write whatsoever except when you hold these exchanges and even though the stories may not be my best, I am happy that I can still find the energy and interest to write.

He couldn’t see anything, let alone feel what was unfolding around him. There was only chaos, the kind of madness that was reminiscent of his years at the GAR. For a moment, he thinks that the war is over, but as his senses slowly return to him, he pieces together where he was and what he was meant to be doing. His eyes blink tiredly, and as he tries to get out of bed, a hand shoots quickly and pushes him back. He flinches hard, only to realize that it’s not his body that’s shaking but the earth beneath him.

“Stay down Rex,” your voice pulls him away from the battle raging around him, and he turns his head to the side, eyes blown wide open and brows furrowing in anger at the sight that meets him. It takes him far too long to accept that you are crouching beside him, and his expression must be intense because you avoid his gaze and look out the cave you’ve managed to pull him into for shelter. 

“How…how are you here?” His voice breaks, in turn making you wince at the hurt laced in his question. Even though you still have your hand resting against his sternum, Rex ignores the faint warmth seeping through his clothes and sits up, barely managing to hold back from screaming in agony at the pain that shoots through his shoulder. You take notice of the deep grimace on his features and turn your full attention to him. 

“Could you, for once, listen to me?” You make the mistake of meeting his eyes then, the rest of your lecture dying in your throat when you see tears threatening to roll down his dirt-stained cheeks. He says nothing else, and you hate how miserable he looks, mostly because you know it has nothing to do with the physical pain draining his energy and everything to do with how things turned out between the two of you. 

“We need to lay low until Hunter gets here.” A sudden silence fills the space in between the two of you, and you can tell that he is shocked by your casual mention of his brother’s name, maybe even ask how Hunter knows where you are but he chooses against it. Again, you glance at the opening of the cave, watching the stormtroopers run around while two AT-ATs fire into the distance and continue to destroy everything that comes in their line of sight. There’s so much you want to ask Rex, perhaps even yell at him about. But you know this is neither the time nor the place to lecture him about how he shouldn’t have come to an Empire-infested planet, let alone with only a handful of other rebels.

The explosions only increase as minutes go by, and you hate having to wait beside Rex instead of fighting, but you know you can’t leave him by himself, especially since he was hurt and barely able to move. You sneak a look at him every once in a while, wanting to make sure that he was still awake and breathing. When the sounds of destruction grow near, you leave him in the back of the cave and make your way to the front, wanting to check whether there was anyone nearby. There are less stormtroopers walking nearby, and you notice that one of the transports stopped firing altogether. Thinking they must have realized there weren’t more rebels that attacked their camp, you make your way back inside the cave to tell Rex that you’re safe for the time being. 

Except as soon as you get there, your heart drops at the sight that meets you. You hand shoots to your lightsaber instantly, but the two stormtroopers point their guns instantly, one at you and the other at Rex.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You don’t move a muscle, afraid they’d get a shot right once and take his life then and there. 

“How did you get in?” You ask calmly, knowing not to make any sudden movements for his sake. They don’t answer your question, but you’re counting on one of them saying more than he intends. You glance at Rex and find his chest rising and falling much slower than before, his eyes barely managing to keep your gaze. 

“We knew you were coming and knew where you could hide.” Rex perks at the response, and you notice the smirk on his face, letting you know that they may have just revealed something they shouldn’t have.

“I’m going to give you one chance to walk away. It would be wise to listen to me.” There is false confidence and serenity in your voice, but you try to remain as calm as possible, unsure of whether or not your plan will work. 

“Don’t be stupid. You’re outnumbered, and he’s injured. This is an easy kill.” One of them responds with a laugh and you instantly know whom you will kill first. 

“I’m sorry.” You know that Rex hears the apology because he looks at you the same way he's gazed at you the last time you were in a similar situation. You’re not sure if it’s a look of disappointment or anger, but you know well you’ll never be able to forget it. 

“You should-” Before the armed man can finish his sentence, you ignite your lightsaber and send it swirling through the air, managing to cut his hand off before forcing it to go through the other’s torso. Both bodies drop to the ground, except one of them is dead while the other attempts to scream in agony. You don’t give him a chance to let out a single sound, running to him and taking the helmet off instantly to avoid unwanted visitors. Your hand is on his mouth immediately, a warning of what could happen if he decides to make any noise.

You stand up, and retrieve your lightsaber near the dead body, walking back to the stormtrooper laying beside Rex. You crouch down and stare at him, never once breaking eye contact to let him know that you were serious about your suggestion. 

“You should have taken the warning.”

“I- I thought Jedi don’t kill unarmed men.” His voice shakes with fear, and you hate the power that courses through your veins with each little, unsure breath he takes. 

“Haven’t you heard? All the Jedi are dead.” Not wanting to make this last any longer, you light your saber one last time and watch as life drains from his eyes, the buzzing sound of your weapon ringing through the cave for a moment before you shut it off. You turn around and bite into your lower lip nervously when you see the way Rex is staring at you. He winces when he tries to sit up again and you crouch beside him, not bothering to explain yourself as you check his wound. 

“Sit still, this will feel a little strange.” You rip the fabric down his chest, ignoring the harsh grasp he has on your forearm. It’s only when you place both of your palms atop his wound that his hold increases. 

“You c-can’t.” His voice is hoarse, making you wish this was all a nightmare. 

“Rex, they might be close but they’re not close enough. Let me heal you.”

“If you heal me, you…you won’t be able to protect yourself.” You cringe at the way he breathes the last word, and a part of you wants to shake him awake, tell him that you couldn’t care any less about yourself and only care for him. But you say nothing, shaking your head at the absurdity of his beliefs before shutting your eyes. 

Before either of you can say anything, you fall over against Rex, breathing a sigh of relief when his arms wrap around you and keep you in his embrace. 

“Mesh’la, please.” The petname nearly makes you sob but you tune him out, wanting to prioritize his safety over your own desires. You don’t respond to him, focusing on the slow beat of his heart in an attempt to match your own with it. It’s not faint, but it concerns you, scares you enough that you don’t follow your late master’s advice on what is necessary to be done when healing another. It happens quickly, much faster than it should, but you feel the Force twist and turn within your body until it moves into him. It’s not as it should be, but you continue regardless, knowing there was no other option, no other way to ensure his safety. Only when you feel his grip soften on your skin do you finally open your eyes and look down at his shoulder. It’s completely healed, but the skin is still inflamed, making you wish you were a little more patient. 

“What have you done, sweetheart?” His voice is soothing now, not as angry or hurt as before, and you hate that it’s only because he feels guilty for making you expand your energy for him. You smile at him, marveling at how captivating his hazel gray eyes can be after all those years of knowing him. But the thought slowly dies out as you watch everything turn dark. If there is a confession that shocks you to your core, you don’t really register it, too busy surrendering to the warmth engulfing you.

It seems unfairly short, the heat that allowed you to rest for a moment suddenly getting ripped away from you. It goes as quickly as it comes, and you force your eyes to open in search for it, only to find yourself in an empty room, riddled with nothing but a handful of scraps. 

You study the small sleeping area, and only when you turn behind you do you finally realize where you are, whose room you’re in. The helmet looks back at you, a reminder of where this journey began, how long you’ve been carrying this secret. A part of you wishes you could tell him, but you’re not sure where you can even begin, or if he would feel the same way. You’d always had an inclination, but you didn’t want to meet the consequences should your intuition be wrong.

The sound of the door sliding open catches your attention and you already know who it is before you can look at him. You expect him to ask where you’ve been, or even how you knew where he was. You’re even waiting for him to discuss why Hunter knew where you were all along and he didn’t. But he says none of that. In fact, he says nothing at all as he takes a seat on his cot, instantly taking your hand in between his own and rubbing your wrist. 

The two of you breathe in unison, as if you’ve both been waiting for this moment for so long. You look down to where he’s touching you, and you wonder if you’ll ever feel anything remotely as intimate as this instance. 

The softness with which he touches you, along with his sweet, concerned voice, makes you want to tug him beneath the covers and forget the galaxy around you. But you reel back your emotions, and clear your throat in an attempt to keep yourself under control, afraid he could see right through you. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. You?” Rex smiles at your concern, remembering all those times you were bloodied and beaten but still prioritized his safety. 

“I’m good…thanks to you.” His thumb circles around the skin of your hand, the sensation feeling like a heated rod rubbing against your joints. A small part of you wishes to remove your palm from his hands, but you don’t want to upset him, or have him misunderstand why you can’t bear his touch all of a sudden. It’s only later that you’d come to realize why you really didn’t want to stop touching him, but for now, you convince yourself it’s to avoid hurting his feelings and not because you can’t find it in yourself to let go of him. It’s difficult to focus on anything else, but as he continues to massage strange figures across the back of your hand, you figure this may be the only time you’ll be able to apologize for what you’ve done all those months ago.

“I’m sorry.” The two words are enough to snap Rex out of whatever haze he’s fallen under. He slowly looks up at you, stopping the circular patterns but continuing to hold your hand in between his. His gaze doesn’t waver for a moment and you know he’s silently asking you to elaborate on the strange outburst.

“Rex, I’m so sorry. For everything.” His impassive expression shifts then, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you see his eyebrows twitch in irritation before resting once more. 

“What happened on Corijn wasn’t your fault.” Rex finally breaks his silence, and you shake your head impatiently, annoyed that he knew what you’re referring to but was choosing to take the higher road for your sake. 

“That’s not what I mean.” You attempt to take your hand away then, but Rex doesn’t let you move another inch, keeping a tight hold on you and tugging you closer to him. You’re not sure if he’s intentionally trying to drag this out or was simply refusing to blame you for what you’ve done.

“Tell me.” You hate how calm he sounds, how caring and patient he’s being with you when he should be angry with you for knowingly hurting him. 

“I’m sorry for…leaving without an explanation. For ignoring your messages.” A sigh of relief leaves your lips, but is quickly interrupted when you understand that there is something much more important you should be apologizing for. You look away for a moment to collect your bearings, and when you think you can handle looking into his sad eyes again, you turn your attention back to him and finally let go of your pride.

“For showing you what I’m capable of.” If you think he’d say anything to confirm your hunch, he disappoints you and remains silent. But as the seconds roll by, you learn that his quietness was not out of judgment but out of meditation. The thought makes you uncomfortable because even though he owed you nothing, he was still trying to choose his words carefully so he doesn’t end up saying something that upsets you.

“I never meant for you to…see what you have seen. To know that I can take life so easily and without hesitation.” Whatever you thought Rex’s reaction would be, you never expected him to let go of you as if you’ve burned him, let alone frown at you in sheer anger. You sit up slowly when you see him take a few steps back and face the opposite wall, and you don’t dare say anything else until you figure out what exactly pissed him off so much. 

“Is that what you think I care about?” His voice is calm, but you can practically feel his wrath radiating off of him like deadly waves, as if he was barely managing the facade he was putting up. You’re confused at the abrupt and dramatic response, and only when his response registers in your mind that you finally lose control and snap at him in return. 

“Rex, don’t look at me and tell me you don’t care because I know you do. I cared…or used to at least.” He turns around then, and you hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you had stabbed him with a vibroblade and twisted it. He walks back to you and grabs your shoulders, pulling you towards him so you can focus on nothing but his words. 

“I only ever cared about you. You- you threw yourself into harm’s way for me, as if your life wasn’t more precious.” Like before, you’re shocked by his response and look at him with a confused expression.

“It’s not.” You answer instantly, and Rex curses beneath his breath at how adamant you are, how wholeheartedly you believe your own thoughts and continue to ignore his own. 

“Cyare, please. I- I’ve lost everyone I love. My brothers are broken, and so am I. Do you think I could survive your death too?” You shake your head at him, once again attempting to push him away from you. But Rex slips his hold around your wrists and tugs you even closer, until you’re both breathing the same air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, mirroring your own in fear and anger. For a moment, you see his eyes shift down to your lips and only when you let out a quiet sob does he return his attention to your gaze once more. 

“You don’t understand how much I changed.” The confession is whispered with wariness, and you look away from him, too embarrassed to explain to him why you were so much different than the Jedi he once knew. 

“So your lightsaber is orange. That means nothing to me.” The mention of your weapon steals the air out of your lungs, and you don’t notice you’re crying until you feel Rex’s calloused fingers wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“The color means so much more than you realize.” You can barely stand at this point, and Rex must notice the toll this conversation is taking on you because he pushes you back to his cot and sits you down with ease, remaining in your space in an attempt to calm your mind. He parts his lips to relay a confession of his own, but when he sees you avoiding meeting his eyes again, he cups your jaw and pushes it up until he’s in your line of sight. 

“I know what it means. I know why it changed, and I don’t care. You’re so much more to me.”

Rex would tell you later that it took you way too long to understand what he was trying to tell you at this moment. You look at him closely, trying to come to terms with the reality of what he just said. Time seems to stand still as you blink confusingly at him, and it’s only when his other hand cups your cheek as well that you truly comprehend the revelation he’s just thrust upon you. 

“You don’t mean-” Your voice cracks, and it’s the first time in ages that you feel shy in front of Rex. Not embarrassed, or awkward. Just shy and hopeful.

“Each time I look at you,” he leans forward and shuts his eyes, nudging your nose with his own as he takes in a deep breath to commit this moment to memory, “I’m limp as a glove.” The ease with which he murmurs those words sets you mind at ease, and you allow yourself to disregard everything horrible that transpired before this second.

“I’m desperate for you cyare,” Rex shakes with anticipation as he feels your hands finally reach for him, grabbing onto his forearms to make sure that this was real, and he was telling you what you’ve yearned to hear from him ever since you first laid eyes on him all those years ago. 

“And feeling like someone in love.” A shudder courses through your body, sending you into Rex’s embrace and forcing you to break down in his arms. You wrap yourself around him, afraid this is all a dream and that you’d wake up all alone on your ship. Rex lets out a chuckle, one that lets you know he understands the striking reaction to his confession. 

“I can’t go through life without you, not anymore.” He whispers into your ear, praying to the Force that you finally allow yourself to believe how much you matter to him, or at the very least, trust his judgment. 

“Trust me baby, that’s all I’m asking of you. Trust me to know what I want…what I need to keep doing this.” The reassuring sentiments wash over you like the early morning dew, managing to send you into a state of serenity you have not known in a long time. You want to say so much to him, describe what he makes you feel, or even how often you think of him. But your throat is dry from the intensity of the conversation, so you figure you can put him at ease for the time being, until you are brave enough to tell how much you love him. 

“Okay.”

Neither of you say anything else for what feels like hours, relishing the comfortable silence that replaced years of heartache and unspoken feelings. It’s only when you wipe your nose thatRex figures he can joke a little with you. 

“And for kriff’s sake, don’t drop off the face of the galaxy again.”You giggle at the sudden outburst but pull back to look into his eyes as you make him a new promise. 

“I won’t.”

The two of you smile at each other, but you notice the hazel in his eyes quickly become overshadowed with much darker pupils. The easy expressions turn heated, and before you know it, you’re pushing forward and molding your lips with his. It’s a chaste kiss, one that took wars to finally come into existence, and you decide then and there that you’d like to begin and end each day with the touch of his lips. Rex parts his bruised lips to deepen the kiss, smiling to himself when you let out a little gasp and give him a chance to grow even closer to you. 

Your hands twist in his clothes, muscles relaxing as you feel his hands comb into your hair and tug a little. He pulls your head away to give you a chance to breathe, and when your eyes flutter open, he lets out a sigh of relief at seeing them just as dazed as he his heart feels.

“Kriff…I’ve wanted to do that for years.” Rex mutters against your lips, giving you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you back into his arms. You’re about to tell him that you probably wanted to kiss him long before him when you sense a pair of eyes staring at you. 

“Well, the whole of the Rebellion saw this coming.” Gregor laughs when the two of you jump at his laugh, and you can’t help but giggle at Rex when you turn to him and watch as his cheeks turn different shades of red. 

“Took you long enough.” Hunter shakes his head before saluting the two of you and walking away, wondering how long it’s been since he’s seen either of you smiling so peacefully. 

[trans-axolotl]

Image description: [Screenshots of pages from Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare. Text reads:

Your Suicide Haunts me.

Bear, it’s been over a decade since you killed yourself, and still I want to howl. I feel anguish and rage rattling down at the bottom of my lungs, pressing against my rib cage. If ever my howling erupts, I will take it to schoolyards and churches, classrooms and prisons, homes where physical and sexual violence lurk as common as mealtime. I know many of us need to wail. Together we could shatter windows, bring bullies and perpetrators to their knees, stop shame in its tracks.

Once a week, maybe once a month, I learn of another suicide. They’re friends of friends, writers and dancers who have bolstered me, activists I’ve sat in meetings with, kids from the high school down the road, coworkers and acquaintances, news stories and Facebook posts. They’re queer, trans, disabled, chronically ill, youth, people of color, poor, survivors of abuse and violence, homeless. They’re too many to count.

Bear, will you call their names with me? It’s become a queer ritual, this calling of the names—all those dead of AIDS and breast cancer, car accidents and suicide, hate violence and shame, overdoses and hearts that just stop beating. The names always begin wave upon wave, names filling conference halls, church basements, city parks. Voices call one after another, overlapping, clustering, then coming apart, a great flock of songbirds, gathering to fly south, wheeling and diving—this cloud of remembrance. Then quiet. I think we’re done, only to have another voice call, then two, then twenty. We fill the air for thirty minutes, an hour, a great flock of names. Tonight, will you sit with me? Because, Bear, I can’t sleep.

I remember your smile, your kindness, your compassionate and fierce politics. I remember our long e-mail conversations about being disabled and trans. I remember a brilliant speech you gave at True Spirit, a trans gathering in Washington, DC. I remember you telling me about how you’d disappear for months at a time when your life became grim, how you’d do anything not to go to a psych hospital again. I remember your handsome Black queer trans disabled working-class self. And then, you were gone.

The details of your death haunt me. You had checked yourself in. You were on suicide watch. I imagine your desperation and suffering. I know racism, transphobia, classism colluded. The nurses and aides didn’t follow their own protocols, not bothering to check on you every fifteen minutes. You were alive and sleeping at 5:00 a.m. and dead at 7:00 a.m.; at least that’s what their records say. Did despair clog your throat, panic coil in your intestines? In those last moments, what lingered on your tongue? I know about your death as fleetingly as your life.

Bear, I’d do almost anything to have you alive here and now, anything to stave off your death. But what did you need then? Drugs that worked? A shrink who listened and was willing to negotiate the terms of your confinement with you? A stronger support system? An end to shame and secrecy? As suffering and injustice twisted together through your body-mind, what did you need?

I could almost embrace cure without ambivalence if it would have sustained your life. But what do I know? Maybe your demons, the roller coaster of your emotional and spiritual self, were so much part of you that cure would have made no sense. You wrote not long before your death, “In a world that separates gender, I have found the ability to balance the blending of supposed opposites. In a world that demonizes non-conformity, I have found the purest spiritual expression in celebrating my otherness.”

Yes, Bear. I know that truth. Your otherness was a beautiful braid— your hard-earned trans manhood looping into your Black self, wrapped in working-class smarts and resilience, woven into disability, threaded with queerness. I saw you last in an elevator at True Spirit. You told me that you were spending the weekend hanging out with trans men of color. I can still see your gleeful smile, sparkling eyes.

Friend, what would have made your life possible with all its aches and sorrows? I ask as someone who has gripped the sheer cliff face of suicide more than once. Calling the names exhausts me. Your death exhausts me. The threat, reality, fact of suicide exhausts me. Its arrival on the back of shame and isolation exhausts me. Bear, will you come sit beside me tonight? I’m too exhausted to sleep.]

From Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure by Eli Clare, pages 63-64.

This passage has stuck with me since I first read it and I find myself returning over and over, especially in the times I want to be gentle to my grief.

Thought I'd share it with you all right now <3

[docholligay]

The best thing about this episode is the way it plays out the unique pain of grieving someone you do not love. Or worse maybe even, someone you did love, once but they disappointed you so intensely that all you can feel is rage and despair.

Bojack actually doesn't have to be giving this eulogy at all. That's not a requirement. There's no rule that says you have to have any kind of funeral at all.

But he does. And he keeps going on, even after he says that he has nothing more to say about his mother. Because he does. He has so much more to say, and there is no other place in his life where he will ever just be allowed to talk about his mother and the way he felt about her, outside of the therapy that he is absolutely not going to go to.

Complicated grief is an interesting thing, and for my money it's harder than "normal" grief (if grief is ever really normal) and that's why this is one of my favorite episodes of anything ever, is I'm not sure I've ever seen it dealt with where the emotions are so much more than just sorrow. Sorrow isn't easy, but it is simple.

But, what Bojack goes into, is anger, and disappointment.

It starts with him continuing to joke, with telling his mom to knock once if she's proud of him, and him saying how nice it is to be in a room with his mother and just be able to talk without her telling him to shut up. It's this knife tip, just working its way out of Bojack's mouth, and the jokes keep coming, but they are less funny and more this weaponized humor.

Then even that breaks down, and he starts to realize what the problem was, what the problem has always been. Even while he's realizing that he is perpetuating this same set of problems, he's thinking about the grand gesture. And how Tv convinced him that someday, he would see the one thing that let him know his parents loved him.

But it's the consistency. I love the way here, he basically yells at the coffin.

To love someone who has consistently disappointed you, to be joined with them, and the rage that comes out of that, it's so real. And Bojack can't even look at his parents and say, 'You tried" because they didn't. They didn't try even one day in their lives. Not with him. But there are so many people in our lives we allow to disappoint us over and over again, and when they die, or leave your life completely, you have this realization, that, they were never ever what you needed. You convinced yourself that maybe someday they would be, but they were never going to be, maybe they even couldn't, and then YOU feel like the fucking idiot. For wanting it. For thinking that it could happen. And then we're all Bojack here, yelling at a dead body, and it's worse than pointless, and that is part of the complication of this grief, is, not only is it not going to get any better, but you can't even offload it back onto that person. You have to swallow your role and their role in it all, forever.

And then we come back to that "Knock once." asking her if she loved him and wanted him to know that he made her life a little brighter. He knows she won't knock, he knows she can't respond. It's still a joke but it's a joke he's playing on himself.

This anger, that she was never going to be the mother he needed, comes around at the end in some of the best stuff, and this is the kind of stuff that gets it so right that it causes me physical pain.

The worst part, of someone dying, that you have a difficult relationship with, is that it will never get better. Someone disappoints you, and they disappoint you more, but then someday, they die, and they can never ever get better. They can never turn it around and they can never make it right. "My mother is dead, and everything is worse now, because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from across a room and says, “BoJack Horseman, I see you." WHile someone is alive, they could always get better. At one point in my life, I was a selfish, mean-spirited person who spent my days doing whatever I wanted and my nights drunk, and doing whatever I wanted. I didn't do anything that would put me out. I got better, because I lived long enough to pull my head out of my ass.

But when someone doesn't do that. When you wait for them to have some epiphany, and hold out their hand, and do better, and then suddenly, they can't, and, everything is going to be stuck, the way it is. It is the death of possibility that makes this sort of complicated grief so painful. Someone who was wonderful dies, you miss what they were, but someone difficult dies, you miss who they could have been, and that's so impossible to describe to someone that I had never seen it well done, before this episode.

[seungfl0wer]

Hey gorgeous! I wanted to know if you could tell us more about the pack? Any little snippets or lore I’d just love to know I absolutely love your series so much! Thnkn you!

-🍓

*Lore of the pack members*

Thank you so much! I’m so happy you like it and I’d love to give you a little lore lol. Here’s a little more about them.

I wrote a lot more than I thought I was gonna so hope you enjoy it lol.

(Chan & Felix)

When Chan found Felix it was late at night, he was doing his usual walk through in the woods behind the housings. When he found Felix he was laying under a tree all curled up. He had bruises covering his body from how his family mistreated him. When Chan approached Felix almost started crying. “Please, don’t take me back- I can’t” he cried out.

Chan knew it then that he had to do something. Being one of the only alphas born in the housings he had a sort of presence to him. After taking Felix home getting him all cleaned he went to his house. After confronting his father the brunt of most of the abuse he told him he was taking him. When the man went to argue he just glared at him “he’s apart of my pack now, and I’ll be damned if he comes back here” he said.

After that Chan said his goodbyes to his family. Taking Felix with him to the beat up house in another town. He got Felix into martial arts, helping him get better at fighting. Felix wanted nothing more to be able to stand his ground. He excelled at the fighting. It helped him heal almost knowing if his dad ever came back he could kick his ass.

Chan quickly realized Felix had a mean streak to him as well. Not in the way of his father’s in the sense he’d do anything to protect him. He found that out first hand when another alpha tried to challenge him. When Felix saw the other man running full force at Chan, before Chan himself could even blink he had him on the ground. Felix wouldn’t stop either not until Chan yelled that it was enough. He beat the man an inch of his life.

—

(Minho & Jisung)

They have been good friends for a while, growing up beside each other. Their pack was one that followed older tradition. As soon as they become of age their family was quick to find them someone to marry. Arranged marriages still being a big part of their pack even though out dated.

The women they had found for Minho wasn’t all bad. She was an omega, one with a very wealthy father at that. However jisung not so lucky. Probably because he wasn’t an alpha. The women they tried to pair him with must have crawled from hell itself. She was the worst human he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. She was loud, aggressive and thought she was above everyone. She told jisung how ‘she was the best he could ever get. No one wanted a beta man especially not one so sensitive with those foolish omega tendencies’

The day it all came crashing down was when they had a big fight. Arguing over him being ‘to close with Minho. How he needed to focus on his pack. That he was lucky enough to have her’ That’s when she started physically abusing him. She was already mentally doing so. Tearing him down any chance she could. One night when Minho had snuck to his house to check on him he found him curled up in his bed. A busted lip, claw marks all over. The rage that consumed him was like a fire spreading through dry woods. He had to think fast so he slunk back to his house grabbing the bare minimum before knocking on his window.

They ran away that night, ran far away. They found themselves in the same town Chan was in. Felix noticing them first at the park. When he approached Minho quickly growled at him telling him to get lost. However Felix wasn’t going no where. “Come with me” he said. His sweet eyes making Minho feel at ease a small bit. “To where?” Jisung asked softly looking at the boy. “To my place, to my pack”

“How do you know he’s not gonna rip us to bits hmm?” Jisung said.

“He won’t. He saved me. Plus Chans a big baby” the boy laughed.

When they got there Minho kept himself between Jisung and the other alpha who was strutting towards them. “Who’s your friends?” He asked.

“Chan, they need a place to stay. They’re like us” he said with those honey eyes.

“Yeah? You guys good at working?” He asked peering over at Minho. When they didn’t answer he just chuckled. “The house still isn’t that good however if you can help fix it up with us, you can stay. I mean either way I’m not gonna turn you away.” He said with a smile.

And that was that. They stayed there. Working to get the house better, getting to know one another. Minho quickly softening knowing they were gonna be safe. Feeling a bit of admiration towards Chan.

—

(Changbin)

Changbin had moved from his old pack trying to find himself. He found his way to the same town as the others. He felt a draw there like something was pulling him.

He bumped into Chan one day at the gym, quickly helping him with his form. As they talked Chan found out he didn’t have a pack. They bonded quickly, their love for the gym bringing them close. Chan asking if he’d want to hang out one day and Bin happily expected.

When he came over he felt a sense of belonging. However as the day went on he became a bit sad. Realizing he was gonna have to leave. To go back to his house. All alone. “Y’know if everyone’s alright with it you can- you know stay.” Chan said nonchalantly. Bins heart skipped a beat almost at his words. The others happily excepted him. He fit like he was meant to be there and maybe he was.

—

(Hyunjin)

Hyunjin was born in the town they all lived in. However he didn’t go out much, like almost at all. He was confined to his bed a lot of his life. He was sick a lot, having something wrong with him since he was born. His body was always weak, always in pain.

Changbin is actually the one who met him first, helping him at physical therapy. As he started to get better, getting stronger with Changbins help he ventured out more. He took the world in with such fondness. There was a point in his life he had just wished the sickness would take him. But now. Now he was seeing how beautiful the world could be.

Changbin told Chan about him, almost begging to let him ask him to join. So next time he had gone in for therapy Chan was there with him. Changbin was so giddy, he really cherished Hyunjin. He made him see things in a whole new light. When Changbin asked him to join he was almost taken back however without a hesitation he said yes. He lived with no regrets and this was the same.

He gave the house a much needed face lift. Making it feel like a home. He was so happy to do what he loved, something he wanted to do for so long.

—

(Seungmin)

Seungmin had found himself in the territory of the pack. He was a drifter, a loner. However like changbin he was almost drawn to the place. He kept his distance finding it funny when the members got his scent trying to find him. He played little tricks on them like knocking over some plants. Making himself known around.

A faithful day, Minho of all people found him. He pinned him down to the ground snarling at him “you’re the little fucker who keeps coming around”

Minho dragged him by his neck to where Chan had been standing. “I got him” he said throwing him towards the older man. When seungmin looked up meeting his gaze he blinked almost dumbfounded. “Who are you and why do you keep coming around?” He said sternly. Unlike Minho he had an almost calm demeanor.

“I really don’t know” Seungmin admitted.

“Don’t you have your own fucking pack to bother” Minho hissed behind him.

When Seungmin didn’t answer Chan realized he didn’t. He felt his heart soften looking down at him. “You don’t do you?” Chan asked.

Seungmin shook his head “no.” Is all he said softly.

Chan sighed “let’s go” he motioned the boy to follow.

“You can’t be serious Chan!” Minho growled. He was quickly shut up by the look Chan had given him.

After talking Seungmin admitted his pack turned their back on him, for a stranger “more mature” alpha. Shunning him. So he just wondered, wondered around trying to find his place. He found himself there somehow and he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Chan smiled “the gods were just bringing you to us I guess”

Minho was cold to him for a while especially with his antics but he did enjoy having someone else to carry the load of being another alpha.

—

(Jeongin)

Jeongin grew up in a pack almost similar to Minho and Jisungs. They were super old school. They kept Jeongin in the dark a lot. Not letting him beyond their walls. This made him quiet, always afraid of doing something bad and when he did. He was punished hard.

Chan had come there to do some work for them, when he found jeongin he was drawn to him. While taking to him or trying to talk to him. The boy was so nervous like he was afraid of saying something wrong. “Do you wanna be here?” He asked softly in almost a whisper. Jeongin shook his head slowly his body tensing up.

Chan made a deal with the elders, doing the work for free in exchange for Jeongin. They didn’t seem to really care that he was leaving knowing he was just a beta. He wasn’t “something to lose.”

Jeongin was so shy coming there. He stayed quiet, however when Chan had him go with him. To experience the world he couldn’t help but smile. He was experiencing things he never had before. Being around happy people, having fun. It was all new.

He clung to Chan a lot, feeling the safest with him. The others took him under them making him feel loved and like he belonged.

[seradyn]

Royal Respite and Midnight Melody!

The two I’m most excited about 🤤🤤

I’m going to start with Midnight Melody cause I wAnT tOO

This is a short one shot I thought of when I reexamined some of Astarion’s lines post Cazador. When the player asks how he feels directly following the event, he explains he feels ‘numb’. From my own experience and what I’ve learned about surviving abuse, often people can struggle coping with a world where their abuser is out of the picture, because so much of their life was consumed by them, either physically or mentally. We see this not only in Astarion, but in Karlach too, who has similar feelings after Gortash’s death, because all the rage she built up around him has nowhere to go. It’s still there, but now it’s trapped inside without an outlet, instead of being healed when her abuser went away like they think it should have.

Astarion is the same way; without Cazador, where is he supposed to direct all his energy, his hatred, his rage over what happened to him? It’s still there, even though he’s dead, and it’s not fair. I wouldn’t be surprised if he struggled with his purpose after Cazador’s death. This happens with real survivors too; their whole world revolved around their abuser for so long, once they’re gone they just feel so empty and lost.

This fic is a take on that, where reader helps reassure Astarion that he doesn’t have to know what he wants right now, and they’re more than happy to help him figure it out. He tells them he doesn’t have a heart to guide him, but that’s not true. Is it not reader’s blood that flows through his veins? Does reader’s heart not beat for him? They remind him, hold his head gently to their chest so he can listen, can hear the heartbeat that is not only theirs, but one they give freely to him, too.

Basically more tooth rotting fluff and non sexual intimacy. Baby boy just needs to be held and I’ll be damned if I don’t smother him in affection. He deserves it.

Here is snippet:

~

“It’s nothing serious, of course…” he said quietly. Another lie, but you didn’t say anything, simply cradling his hand to your chest, a precious and fragile part of him. It gave him time to work up the courage to continue.

“It’s just that…When I was under Cazador,” he hissed the name, fangs poking out over his bottom lip, “every thought I had, everything I did was for him. He dominated us, mind, body and soul, and used that dominance to make our whole world about him.”

His eyes were wild with anger, that grimace back on his face, because it was so much worse to say it out loud, to acknowledge how much of his life belonged to his old master. You squeezed his hand to encourage him to keep going. This needed to come out, lest he push you away to protect you from the rot that did naught but burrow and consume down into his being.

“Even after the nautiloid, he inhabited so much of my thoughts,” he went on, his voice slightly rasped and shaking. “Though instead of fear or obedience, it was anger and determination to kill him. Even when he lost control of me, all I could think about was him. Even with his body rotting in the dirt, I cannot get him out of my head.”

“And now that he’s gone…I can’t help but wonder…what am I supposed to do?” His eyes filled with sorrow then, displeasure with himself. “With Cazador dead…I find myself losing all sense of direction.”

Your heart broke for him, jagged pieces of it left on the floor for you to step on. You cupped Astarion’s cheek, lifting his face to look at you. His eyes were wide, glistening in the dim candlelight as they filled with pain and worse: self loathing. You didn’t need the tadpole to hear that treacherous little voice in his head, one you knew like an old friend that whispered pathetic, worthless, weak. You knew he wanted to protect you, wanted to give you the life you deserved, yet he hadn’t the faintest idea how to do that, where to even start, and it pained him.

Gently, allowing him to pull back if he so desired, you led him into your arms, wrapping them around him so you could rub at the tension in his back. He nearly collapsed into your embrace in relief, immediately wrapping his own arms around you and crushing you to him. You massaged his shoulder blades while he pressed needy, frantic kisses into your hair, afraid you might pull away and leave should he stop.

“It’s okay not to know,” you said into his chest, kissing his sternum. “We can figure it out together. I’ll always be here with you, no matter what future you decide you want.”

He let out a tense breath, burying his face in your neck. “I know,” he mumbled. “I know whatever future awaits, I want you to be a part of it.” He leaned back, just enough that he could meet your eyes, so you could see into the dark abyss where his mind lingered. “The problem is, I don’t know what I want our future to look like. What I want it to look like.”

It was then you fully realized that what Astarion had been feeling since the confrontation with Cazador was lost. So, so lost, in a world without his master to contend with. The hopelessness you heard on his tongue was a knife piercing your tender heart, a sharp pain burning through your chest as it tried to beat around it, blood gushing from the wound and radiating out across your skin. What was freedom to one who didn’t know how to live with it, didn’t know how it felt? Though his chains had been broken, the memory of them still pulled him down and suffocated him. You wished so deeply to spare Astarion this pain, for he lived so long in the shadows of the world, you wanted to shower him in the light until he was blinded.

Abruptly, he shook his head, a growl ripping past his lips as he pulled himself away from you. It should be so easy, to move on and enjoy life now that he was allowed to. His desires could be fulfilled, instead of remaining the desperate wishes of a slave who longed for escape. The world was his for the taking, his life his own once more.

So why did he still feel so broken?

“Now that I’m free, I’m supposed to be able to do whatever I want. Follow my heart, as our companions said.” He spit the words; they tasted foul in his mouth.

“How am I supposed to know what I want without a heart to guide me?”

~

I’ll send you the full version once the first draft is done. Hope you like it 💕

Royal Respite has a similar vibe, and is also pure tooth rotting fluff/non sexual intimacy. It’s a one shot in which reader gives Ardyn a massage after he delivers the peace treaty proposal to the Lucian council. Just letting reader dote on him while he talks about his day, and letting him relax before everything goes to shit, basically. Ardyn has been working to make this plan come true for literally decades. I think he deserves some rest before it fully comes to fruition.

No snippet for this one yet, since I’ve been hyper focused on some of my Astarion fics *cough* see above *cough* but hopefully it doesn’t take too long to get on paper. You’ll be the first to know when there’s a rough draft 💕

[singingcicadas]

Want to do a post-LL25 pseudo megarod/megop relationship where Optimus doesn’t die in the battle with Unicron but somehow gets spat out of the black hole with a reinstated body and matrix. Rodimus tries to save Megatron during the victory lap by persuading him into a sparkbond, b/c of that really common fanon trope of sparkbonds tying lives together so the death of one partner would mean automatic death for the other (it’s a myth but he’s grasping at straws here). Megatron refuses at first, saying that it’s Not A Good Idea and Rodimus would regret it. Eventually Rodimus wears him down but Megatron has no idea what he’s planning and thought it was just going to be a regular sparksharing for goodbye. 

So Rodimus seizes his chance as soon as Megatron’s spark's open, plunging the bond really really deep (way deeper than is safe). It doesn’t work, obviously, he almost drowns in Megatron’s memories of anger and hate and loss, if not for Megatron breaking them out before it got too far. But not before he got to experience some real fucked up shit of Megatron being a sadistic genocidal psyco from a first person front seat pov. And seeing the way Optimus stands out as a constant among all those years of rage-clouded carnage, first as an anchoring point for hatred, then as a source of close companionship and comfort in the Functionalist universe. Megatron is quiet and gentle when he says see, I told you you’d regret it. Now you know why I deserve my fate.

And Rodimus can’t even reply b/c he’s so shaken by the slapping reminder of the true extent of Megatron’s guilt and crimes and the inconsequentiality of his own feelings in comparison. 

Megatron leaves with Prowl but Rodimus can’t let go of him in his head. He keeps thinking obsessively over the sparksharing incident. Then he sees Optimus and has an immediate flashback to Megatron’s Functionalist universe memories. That’s when he realizes oh it’s not entirely the moral issues about Megatron’s past that’s got him all hung up. It’s jealousy. 

Here’s where the megop part is pseudo b/c it’s all in Rodimus’ head lol. They don’t actually have romantic feelings about each other, at all, in any universe. Functionalist Orion was important to Megatron but they were never A Thing. But Rodimus doesn’t know that and he’s torn between jealousy and his own loyalty towards Optimus, his anger at Optimus for not doing anything to save Megatron who clearly loves him, his logically knowing the unfairness of that anger, his recognition of the well-deservedness of whatever Megatron’s fate and his own bias and just the absurdity of his own feelings in general. He tries to visit Megatron in prison to sort things out but megatron won't see him. He wants to leave Cybertron on Thunderclash’s ship but can’t bring himself to go without knowing what’s going to happen to Megatron.

Meanwhile Optimus is just disappointed that he survived yet again and is too tired to care about anything other than his job. Everyone else is super joyous and in awe at both his survival and the restoration of the matrix, he’s the only one who’s Not Happy with the way things turned out. But he can’t say anything, not when the miracle has everyone so hopeful and united. Bumblebee is the only one who notices that something’s wrong when he starts showing physical symptoms, but there’s no way Optimus is able to tell him the truth; by that point his accumulated mental barriers of guilt and denial and subconscious self-preservation are so thick that it’s next to impossible for him to ever open up to another.

Optimus busies himself with governance stuff. he doesn’t visit Megatron. He appoints new council members and new Senators, most of whom knew Megatron as the AVL leader. Rodimus is automatically granted a seat at the council but he never shows up. Nobody’s seen him in office since the Lost Light landed, except for an endless flow of charges for illegal engex consumption, drunken misconducts and truancies. Optimus tries to contact him, tries to get Ratchet and Magnus to keep an eye on him and set him up with therapists and the like, but Rodimus ignores every attempt at contact. 

Deep down Optimus knows that those aren’t actual helpful solutions, Ratchet and Magnus haven’t been able to get Rodimus to listen forever and there isn’t a therapist left alive who can even begin to understand the stuff they’d been through, but most days he can barely bring himself to summon enough energy to do his duty as is. He can’t deal with Rodimus’ problems on top of his own. Bumblebee and Roller do the best they can but there are times when their care becomes a burden in and of itself. So he pays the fines and files away the charges, and with that also files Rodimus away to the back of his mind (as well as Megatron, he knows it has something to do with Megatron, Megatron’s always at the bottom of his grief one way or another, but that’s another thing he can’t deal with, not right now)

Eventually the Galactic Council demands for Megatron to be handed over as part of reparations. Everyone knows what’s going to happen to him if they do. Unlike the last time Optimus doesn’t have the will to make that arbitrary decision himself. He tosses it up to a senate vote.

That’s when Rodimus bursts into the room screaming

Stuff Happens and they get Megatron out on parole, Somewhere along the middle of that Rodimus’ megop misconception gets cleared. But Megatron’s time’s still ticking down cuz idk the Galactic Council really really hates his guts. Rodimus insists that it doesn’t matter, he’s determined to make the most of whatever time he can get. Megatron thinks this is just going to make it more painful for Rodimus for both of them when the time comes but after ten thousand words of angst finally decides to go along to make him happy.

Optimus would sometimes unconsciously pause to watch them with each other, the playing, the banter, the easy affection. The sometimes-exasperation and good-natured tolerence. He'd feel happy for them but also envious, not because he wants to break their ship to do megop or rodiop (is that even a ship name) but because he's wistful for the affection between them knowing it's something he'd never have for himself. Worse, he knows that he could have it in an instant if he wants to, with someone who cares for him deeply and he cares back, it's just one step away from his fingertips—but it's a step that he knows in his heart that he's too weary to take, at least in this lifetime

He swears to himself that he would find a way to ensure that their happiness lasts.

weirdest fake love triangle i have come up with ever

[jackalopesao3]

What are your headcanons for how the brothers and undatables react to an MC who’s a worse cook than Solomon? (To the point that even Solomon gets food poisoning)

Well, if they survive a worse cook than Solomon…

Note: Some of these are long

CW: symptoms of gastrointestinal illness, maybe some swearing, general feeling unwell, a touch of chaos

Characters: All

Lucifer

He doesn’t physically punish MC but this is the one and only time they are strung from the ceiling. It’s not because he took one bite, gagged violently, spat it out into his napkin, and needed three bottles of the strongest flavored Devildom seltzer to knock the taste out of his mouth. It’s because MC’s cooking made his brothers cry and made them physically ill.

“MC, if your cooking was truly that abominable, why did you not just say so?”

Mammon

Mammon is one of the brothers that cried. He tried not to let MC see by putting his shades on at the dinner table. He was the only one of his brothers to go for another bite as he didn’t want to hurt their feelings. The boy somehow forced down a few bites before finding a reason to excuse himself so he could sneak away to vomit. He called off sick the next day. Lucifer surprisingly let him stay home.

“It’s *hrk* great, MC!”

Leviathan

Also cried. He also projectile vomited immediately, coating whoever had the misfortune of being in front of him. Unfortunately for everyone, that was Satan. No one had ever seen Leviathan move so fast. Before anyone could blink, you heard his bedroom door slam shut.

“MC, please don’t ever cook again! That was worse than the one time Ayane-chan made devil-buffalo autumn crunch rolls on How I Leveled Up My Pet Slime To The Max!”

Satan

Being well cultured on most things, he recognized what dish MC made and that it did not look or smell like said dish. He took a forkful up to his mouth and cautiously tasted it with the tip of his tongue before instantly dropping his fork and gulped down a glass of water. As he stood up, he felt something hot and wet collide with his chest. The room fell eerily silent as he looked down to see vomit and hear Levi’s door slamming shut. He closed his eyes, body trembling with rage as he counted to ten before walking to the bathroom to clean himself up.

“MC, you will repay me by helping me with laundry this week,” he says this with a smile but anyone who can hear can tell that’s a threat in his voice.

Meanwhile, Levi discovers a curse on one of his favorite RAD shirts that makes the buttons on it scream loudly in different octaves whenever he starts to think about Ruri-chan during class. He gets detention multiple times that day.

Asmo

“Awww! MC you’re so sweet cooking for us tonight! I can’t wait! It looks so yummy!” Asmo chirped as he sat down at the dinner table, totally unaware of the lovecraftian horror that awaited his tastebuds.

One bite and he was convinced this was the end. The poor demon was coughing, heaving, and wailing all at the same time. Between sobs and coughs, everyone heard shouts of, “Help! I think I’m dying!” alternatively, “I’m too pretty to die! Help me!” Asmo was so hysterical he ended up wearing himself out and passed out on the floor.

“MC, how could you! I almost diiiiiieeeed!”

Beel

Beel wasn’t at the dinner table, which wasn’t unusual at first because he’d get impatient and pre-game by munching on food in the refrigerator. The brothers used this time to get a plate of food before he realized it was dinner time and everything on the table.

What no one knew was that Beel had snuck an entire plate of MC’s dish from the abyss, before they had brought it out. He was so excited that he had to be the first one to try it. Hungry boy gobbled it all down, shoveling it all into his mouth at once.

MC is so lucky they never saw the absolute look of betrayal on his face - it would have killed them. He had never tasted anything so horrible before. He had already swallowed half of it and his body was covered in a thin glaze of sweat. The avatar of gluttony was torn between swallowing the rest of this truly terrifying concoction or spitting it out. He hardened his resolve to not let food go to waste and swallowed the remaining glob in his mouth. A sharp pain ripped through his abdomen and he quickly looked down to see if he was stabbed, his demon form coming out on pure instinct. No stab wound, just pain from whatever MC cooked. The room spun around him as he gripped the counter for support. He couldn’t even call for MC, Belphie, or Lucifer for help before he passed out.

“MC, if you’re hungry or need to cook let me do it or we can order out!”

Belphie

Belphie was nearly falling asleep at the table before you placed the food in front of him. He gave MC a sleepy smile before taking a bite. His half-lidded eyes snapped open in complete horror as he spat the food out and took a glass of water to rinse his mouth out right at the table, spitting the water back on the table, much to Lucifer’s dismay.

“Is this revenge for me killing you? Is that it? Is this poison?” He asked, tears welling in his eyes with guilt.

When he saw the genuine confused look on MC’s face and heard their apologies he realized the truth, that they were a nightmare of a cook.

“Wait…Beel’s normally here by now. Oh no!” Like Levi, MC had never seen Belphie run so fast in his life.

“Beel?! BEEL!!!!!” Belphie’s anguished cries come from the kitchen where everyone finds the unconscious demon.

As Beel slowly woke up, everyone relaxed.

“MC, Beel almost died! No more cooking unless it’s for Lucifer!”

Diavolo

“Oh! MC, you brought food to afternoon tea! How splendid!”

Before Dia can even take one bite Barbatos swept in like demon butler dressed in a shining apron set of armor.

In the future, Barbatos saw Diavolo taking one bite and choking it down with a fake smile. Despite both his and Dia’s best efforts, nobles saw it as an attempt to poison the future king and MC was facing a possible execution.

“Pardon the intrusion but it appears as if some fiend-flies landed on this dish as soon as it was uncovered. This is inexcusable. My apologies to you both,” Barbatos explained with a quick bow before he replaced the monstrosity with something much more edible.

“I’m I couldn’t try your cooking this time, MC. Maybe next time!”

*If Dia ever did have the chance to try MC’s cooking without Barb saving him he’d likely be in shock at first. He’d cough and swallow it. Then he’d ghost MC like he does Solomon anytime they say they’re cooking.

Barbatos

After saving the day, Barbatos pulled MC aside before they could leave. He smiled but it was a smile that was making the temperature drop around them.

“MC, a word, if you have a moment,” he didn’t wait to hear their response and with a firm hand on the small of their back he guided them into the kitchen.

“What in the three realms were you thinking serving this to the young master?” Barbatos gestured to the abomination MC made, that he brought back to the kitchen.

“What is in this….concoction of yours could kill a human and make a demon fall seriously ill. Were you intent on causing harm today?” MC could feel the temperature in the room dropping lower and lower as Barbatos spat the question at them.

They shrunk against the door and shivered from both the cold and fright, absolutely bewildered. Their lower lip wobbled and their legs gave out. Amidst the whimpers of apologies Barbatos could make out, “cook like this all the time” and “didn’t know it was bad”. This left Barbatos equally bewildered as he never thought someone could surpass Solomon in bad cooking.

It took him a moment to recover from shock before he grabbed a box of tissues and was kneeling beside MC while the temperature of the room returned to normal. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment before MC weakly laughed.

“That bad, huh?”

“You managed to surpass Solomon in worst cook in all of the three realms. That is quite the feat, MC,” Barbatos gently placed a hand on their shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, before helping them up.

“I apologize for scaring you. I honestly thought for a second this was…poison.”

“If you truly wish to learn and do better, I can teach you.”

Solomon

He didn’t notice how terrible it tasted. This man either doesn’t have taste buds or his tastes are just extremely weird. To him your food tasted normal, good even.

It wasn’t until after dinner, when he notices he’s been sweating more than usual, that he realizes something’s wrong. Chills followed the sweats. Confused, he stepped away from the potion he was about to brew, a wave of lightheadedness hit him and he caught himself on his desk.

“Maybe I should rest,” the sorcerer thought to himself as he settled down on his bed.

He immediately sat back up as the most unimaginable pain ripped through his digestive track. He sprinted to the bathroom, summoning a bucket along the way.

If any of you have ever seen the photo where the person is on the toilet having diarrhea and also puking into a bucket at the same time, that’s Solomon after eating MC’s cooking.

If it weren’t for Simeon having had the intuition to check on him, Solomon would have crashed on the bathroom floor that night. Lucky for him that Simeon helped clean him up and tucked him into bed after that. Both him and Luke kept watch on the poor guy throughout the night.

“Hey MC, ummm….last night wasn’t revenge for anything was it? …oh? Never mind! Why don’t I do the cooking next time? You want to order out instead? Okay!”

He couldn’t believe this wasn’t revenge for his own bad cooking. He chuckled. His cute apprentice was even more like him than he thought. This just makes him more fond MC.

Simeon

He took one bite, did his best not to cough, and discreetly spat it out in a napkin. He looked puzzled at the food and then at you before taking a sip of water. How could you be a worse cook than Solomon? Being used to feigning politeness and dealing with the abominations Solomon comes up with, Simeon maintained a great poker face. It was when Luke started violently coughing that Simeon saw an out.

“Oh no! Luke! You must be allergic to something!” He exclaimed as he came to Luke’s aid with a glass of water, whispering, “just go along with this and we can get out of here alive.”

The frightened child nodded and Simeon ran out of the room to grab an “allergy pill” aka a child’s multivitamin and has Luke take that.

“I’m so sorry MC. Luke has some rare allergies we are still figuring out, let me treat all three of us to dinner at Hell’s Kitchen instead!”

Luke

Immediately started coughing and wrenching violently. He cried. Simeon covered for him by blaming it on an allergy.

After Simeon took them out for dinner and disposed of the toxic creation he checked up on Luke who was still shaken from the earlier events.

“I-is MC actually a demon?” He asked, wide and glossy eyes peered up at his elder from under his sheets.

Simeon shook his head with a soft smile and handed him a plate of cookies with a glass of milk.

“Not at all, Luke. Remember how we keep Solomon out of the kitchen?”

Luke groaned in response. What was it with humans and cooking?

Thirteen

Considering she hates Solomon and a big reason for that is because of his cooking, she got pretty angry when MC gave her some food they made.

“What the?! How are you a worse cook than that idiot sorcerer?! I know there are good chefs in the human world! I oughtta get you good for that, you know!” She threatened after spitting the food out but then an idea struck.

“Actually I’ll forgive you! Let me take the rest of that off your hands and cook for me whenever I ask you but no questions, okay?” Her eyes twinkled and she shot MC a mischievous grin and MC couldn’t find themselves saying no.

Thirteen utilized MC’s cooking as a weapon. MC even joined in on the fun in some of Thirteen’s pranks. Diavolo even got a kick out of it until Lucifer made him put a stop to it.

“We had a good run! Didn’t we?” Thirteen grinned and put her arm around MC before she whispered, “we’ll just wait until this blows over. Maybe I’ll even let you name my next invention that I’m designing to shoot your food out like a cannonball! It’ll go straight towards their mouths so there’s no way some of that is not getting in!”

Mephisto

MC was helping him with something for the newspaper and was on snack duty that day. Mephistopheles normally just ordered food for himself since he’s a spoiled wine aunt but forgot his wallet. “Well, the human did bring snacks and if they’re eating it must be edible” he thought with a resigned sigh as he went to grab a sandwich.

Hesitantly, he took a bite and went completely rigid as the horrid flavor assaulted his tastebuds. His reaction is one swift, thorough cough into a napkin. Mephisto grabs his thermos and downs the rest of his coffee to get the rest of the taste out of his mouth. How is MC eating that and not dying?!

He tossed the remaining snacks in the garbage and snatched the one MC was eating right out of their hand. They just stared in confusion as Mephisto stormed back to the trash can and threw it in before he turned on his heel back towards them.

“Human! What in the three realms is wrong with you?!” He didn’t give MC a chance to answer before stomping out of the room.

MC was used to him being dramatic at that point so they weren’t bothered and continued working on the project.

About thirty minutes later a nice takeout meal along with a drink is placed on their desk.

Mephisto sat down with his own meal at the desk across from their’s, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Well that took nearly an hour of my time going home to get my card to buy us edible food, the least you could do is say, ‘thank you’ you know,” he tutted.

“Thanks,” MC replied, stunned that he actually bought them something too.

“Oh don’t act so surprised, human. Whatever you were eating before was going to kill you and you’ve actually become quite the asset to the club. If you haven’t noticed, membership has been….lacking.

Besides, despite the fact that you’re human and have terrible taste in roommates, I find you tolerable. No making yourself sick or dying from your own abysmal cooking, alright? While you are here I will take care of food. I trust those awful brothers aren’t stupid enough to let you cook at home, right? Good.”

And that’s when MC realized they finally made Mephistopheles their friend. Talk about plot twist!

Raphael

This weirdo (I do mean that affectionately) actually likes Solomon’s cooking. Even if MC is somehow worse, I’m assuming he has tastebuds of steel.

Raphael finished his plate and asked for seconds, leaving everyone else horrified yet in awe at his indestructible digestive system. (Theology states that he has healing powers so maybe he’s just immune idk.)

“That was really good, MC! Feel free to cook for us anytime when you visit Purgatory Hall!”

He did not feel the glares of his hall mates on his back when he said that but he did get goosebumps.

[curlyheadangie]

The making of an Alpha..

“Yooo, the boss wants to speak to you for a minute,” Cy says apprehensively, “He doesn't look too happy..” 

“Ughhh what does that jerk want now, it's always something. Did he at least say what he wants to see me for?” y/n inquires hesitantly. 

“Nope, he just said he needs to see you… like… right now, sounds pretty serious.” 

y/n sighs as she gets up from a swivel chair that's probably older than she is. 

“Wish me luck, I'll probably need it knowing O’Hare.” 

The click clacking of her plain black heels echoed throughout the empty hallway as she made the trek to Aloysius’s office. She could already tell her ass was about to be handed to her by her short tempered asshole of a boss. Working for Aloysius O’hare leaves very little room for error. 

After what seems like an eternity, y/n finally reaches the door to his office. After hesitating for just a second, she raps the door with her knuckles, twisting it open with her other hand, “you wanted to see me sir…” 

Aloysius glares at her from his hi-tech floating desk creating an intimidating atmosphere. “Have a seat dollface” he says with a tone of condescension 

“Y-yes sir- t-thank you sir” Y/n scrambles to plant her ass on one of the pleather chairs Aloysius gestures towards. In her head she knows this charade can't continue between the two of them, and yet she can’t stop the pulsing between her thighs. 

“Tell me hon, why do you think I called you here”, he says eerily calm. 

“I–uhmm, it could be the…” she frantically tries to search her thoughts for the right answer to appease Aloysius, the pulsing sensation in her pussy growing stronger by the second. 

He rises from his chair, effectively shrinking a couple feet in the process. He scampers close to where y/n is trembling in her chair. Hands behind his back as if to restrain himself he saunters remaining only a few feet away from y/n. 

“Do you think im stupid” he scowls, his voice dangerously close to a growl, the sound sending chills up her spine, seemingly echoing in her tight walls.

“N-n-n-no sir, I would never say that! I don’t know where you got the idea that I would ever say that about you! You know I respect yo-” just as y/n begins rambling her apologies, O’hare quickly cuts her off. 

“There’s no other explanation, you must think im fucking stupid. Do you think I don’t see the way you flirt with Cy like a fucking whore of the street?” Aloysius glowers at y/n restraining himself from fully unleashing his rage on her, also feeling the beginnings of A HARD ON.. 

The pulsing sensation has now become a full on hammering! Her pussy is begging for Aloysius’s three foot long cock. (we should probably mention the fact that y/n is quite tall, maybe bordering on six feet… okay pretend like we didn't just break the fourth wall *wink wink*.)  

“Aloysius please, it was a one time thing! It means nothing!! You know i'm your good little kitten~” 

Furiously unbuckling his belt Aloysuis groans from relief, finally getting to physically unwind his three foot long fat uncut girthy cock with a pink tip. This is without a doubt his favorite part of the day, it’s too bad his kitten is behaving so badly. “Sadly” this means he’ll have to punish her. 

“Bend over the fucking chair NOW.” he leaves no room for compromise.

“Yes, Daddy alpha” she says wiggling her office siren mini skirt off her fat skibidi fat GYAT. To any outside observer this clearly isn’t y/n’s first rodeo. 

“Look at you, you’re drenched for me.” he whispers grabbing her ass with both hands scratching her pussy before giving it a deep inhale, #scratchnsniff. 

The action makes her SQUIRT only adding to the tsunami that is her pussy. 

“Ahhh now that's my good little omega, but sadly for you that little trick won't get you out of this.”

She whimpers, pleasure rippling throughout her body, she comes to terms with the fact that theres not much she can do in this situation and that her alpha will be tearing her ass up. 

He whips his belt out from the loops of his pants and begins restraining y/ns hands. And if you’re reading this right now and wondering how the skibidi is Aloysius gonna tear that ass up? Just you wait.. 

#parttwo? Maybe? Maybe Nick Wilde cameo idfk. I'm so high right now. I should also note this was a two-man job @stankilicious

[xdarkestdesirex]

When Faith Meets Juvenile - Chap 3.5

This is a Dale Holt x reader story. There's no (y/n) insert. I'm just avoiding the use of the reader's name, and it is female-based. There are hints of physical appearance but nothing in-depth.

This writing contains highly sensitive content like violence, drugs, the use of weapons, abuse, mental illness, hostage situations, talk of suicide, religious abuse, smut, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT.

I do not allow anyone to copy, alter, or repost my work as their own.

2193-word count

prev

Dales POV

I got woken up this morning by Tyler pushing me awake. My head pounded from all the beers I drank last night. I swatted at the guy towering over me and pulled my covers over my head. But he just ripped them off, exposing my almost naked body underneath. 

“Get up. We have work to do.” Tyler’s voice was low and demanding. 

I put my hand in his face and flipped him off. The last thing I wanted to do was get up early and work. But I did despite my raging hangover. I wore a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and old work boots. When I exited my bedroom, I saw Pa slung back in a recliner with his hat covering his face. He must’ve come home late last night, so Ma made him sleep in the living room. It was his punishment if he was wasting his nights gambling. I quietly snuck past him and slid out the door. I walked a little ways away to where a barn sat on our property. The building was unused and run down, but we’ve been fixing it for the past year. Our Pa was the one who started it and bossed us around on what to do, but lately, he’s been gone for days on end, leaving all the work to us. Now Tyler is the one bossing us around. Though I would rather it be his ass telling me what to do than our old man. 

We had a radio hooked up to a few speakers, and we blasted music as we worked. The sun beat down on us, creating droplets of sweat on my body. We’ve been outside for a few hours and are progressing slowly. With Tyler and I doing the work, things don’t get done as quickly. Jay offers to help, and we let him, but the poor kid isn’t handy with tools. So Tyler only lets him help when he’s in a good mood. It would be good to have him out here with us every day. The only way he’s going to learn is by doing it. I reached into my back pocket to pull out a pack of smokes to see I only had one left. I put the end of the cigarette to my lips and lit it up. Instantly, the nicotine calmed the jitters I was starting to feel. 

We finished our work for the day and headed back to the house. To my surprise, Pa was still in the house. He had the refrigerator door open and was bent over, looking for something. I knew he was looking for his leftover beers from a few days ago. The ones I drank last night. 

“Who the fuck took my beers?” Pa questioned, his voice stern. 

“Who cares? You weren’t home to drink them.” Tyler said. He saw me take one last night and warned me against it, but at the time, my want to get drunk was more than worrying about my ass getting beat. 

“You probably drank them and forgot,” I said. I know it isn’t a good idea to provoke Pa, but sometimes the words flow out of my mouth without thinking.

“I bet you took them,” My Pa said, stepping closer to me.

I puffed my chest out, ready to start a fight with him, “I didn’t touch your fuckin’ beers!” I spat. Before I knew it, my Pa’s first was swinging in the air, colliding with my eye, knocking me to the floor. Tyler stepped up, getting between Pa and me, pushing the older man towards the door.

“Get out now!” He yelled. 

“You can’t kick me out of my own damn house!” All the yelling dragged our younger brother out of his room. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” His soft voice broke the chaos. 

“Nothing, I was just leaving.” Our Pa said, fixing his vest as he stepped out the door. 

I stayed there on the ground, recapping what happened in my head. Sitting up, I reach for my back pocket again, looking for my cigarettes to remember I don’t have any left. I rip the empty pack out of my jeans and throw them across the room, “Fuck!”

“Hey, Bro, why don’t we go to the store?” Jay asks.

“I ain’t got any money.” I slump back onto the ground. My eye was beginning to throb. 

“I can buy your cigarettes.” The younger boy stares down at me. The kid is too kind for this family. 

We get into the truck, and I drive us to the mini-mart. Before we entered the store, Jay gave me the cash I needed for my smokes. I didn’t bother looking around; I only wanted a stick between my lips, giving me a slight high to take the edge off. Once I got what I came here for, I returned to the truck and lit my cigarette while waiting for Jay to finish. I glanced at the review mirror to see a familiar figure looking at the truck. My heart stopped for a second when the figure started walking towards me. When she stopped not too far from the truck, she stood there for a minute, and I had to fight to hold back a chuckle. 

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me, Doll?” I said, blowing out more smoke. Her uneasy voice made it hard not to look and see her embarrassed face, “Did you want something?” I turned my head to finally look at the girl I hadn’t seen in a few months. She wore a long floral print dress over a white tee and a pair of white Converse. Her backpack was slung over her shoulder, looking like it would bust at the seams. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she took a few careful steps towards me. For a second, I was confused about what would warrant that look, and then I remembered the reason why I was here in the first place. To get smokes to calm my nerves from my Pa hitting me. Shame washed over me, and I could feel my face harden. The last thing I want is for her to know what happened and get pity over it.

“Are you okay?” She said while reaching out to my face. I wouldn’t hesitate to have her slender and soft fingers touch my skin at any other moment, but right now, I just wanted her to back off. So I pushed her hand away from me before it could make contact with my broken skin. 

“It’s none of your fucking business.” I took another drag from my cigarette. She stumbled backward, and a flash of hurt glazed over her eyes. For that split second, it was tempting to grumble out an apology, but why the fuck would I care about hurting her feelings? I was getting angry at the thought of caring and more furious by the second while watching her fumble around with things in her bag. Then I was shocked when she handed me a piece of paper with her phone number. I could only stare at the numbers, dumbfounded over what was happening. Wasn’t she upset? She wants me to call her if I need to talk? Before I could even comprehend a thought, she walked away. My eyes shifted back and forth from watching her leave to the paper in my hands.

“Who was that?” Jay’s voice ripped me out of my trance. 

“Nobody!” I responded faster than I should have and shoved the paper into my pocket. Jay didn’t question me further and silently sat as I smoked the rest of my cigarette. I snuffed it out on the dash and threw it out of the window into the street. 

I spent the past hour and a half pacing back and forth in my room. Jay left to explore the forest like usual, so I didn’t have to worry about him lying in bed across from mine and watching me have this mental dilemma. She just gave me her number. Do I call her tonight? Should I wait a few days? It would be weird to call her after being rude to her. But that means I must call her and apologize for how I acted. Fuck! I’m not supposed to care about that! I grabbed my black Motorola phone and the keys to the truck. I needed to drive somewhere, clear my head, and take a private call. It doesn’t matter where I am, in the house or on the property; someone would manage to interrupt me and hound me on who I’m talking to. As soon as the truck starts, I whip out of the driveway and fly down the road. I rolled the windows down, allowing the wind to hit my face. I’m making sure not to go too far over the speed limit because if I get pulled over, it’s back to the cell for me. I found an empty parking lot close to town, so my phone is still in service. I pulled out the crumbled paper shoved into my pocket, and taking a deep breath, I punched in the numbers scribbled before me. After three rings, I hear a voice on the other end. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice spoke on the other end that I wasn’t familiar with. I almost hung up, thinking she gave me the wrong number when I remembered what she told me.

“Hi, I’m working on a project,” 

“Oh! Luca, right?” The woman’s voice cut me off, “My daughter was just telling me about your project!” 

“Uh, yes, I’m Luca,” I paused momentarily. What if she’s expecting some dude named Luca to call her? “Is she available right now?” Fuck it, I’m just going with it.

“Yes! Of course! Let me get her!” This lady on the other end is way too excited. A minute goes by, and I hear muffled voices on the other end of the phone. It goes quiet for another minute, and I’m scared she hung up. When finally, the sound of her voice flowed through my ear.

“Hello?” She spoke softly.

“Uh, hey, it’s Dale,” my voice came out stiffly. “I hope you weren’t expecting some Luca guy to call you.” I heard her giggle on the other end, causing my cheeks to tingle with heat.

“No, I was expecting you. I had to come up with some guy in my class to tell my mother so she wouldn’t be suspicious.” Right, I thought, because telling her Ma she’s talking to me wouldn’t be a good idea. “I wasn’t expecting you to call me so soon,” She spoke again.

“I wanted to apologize for being rude earlier. I had a shitty day, so I was in a shitty mood.” I picked at the loose fabric on the truck seats. 

“I forgive you, but maybe next time, just let me know you’re having a crappy day?” 

“Doll, I can’t promise that,” I said, pulling a string from the spot beside me. I can’t imagine myself ever holding my anger back. I always lash out before thinking; sometimes, my thoughts are so dark they cloud my judgment. 

“I didn’t ask for you to promise me,” Her voice dripped in hot sauce, which surprised me.

“Damn, look at you being spicy.” I chuckle into the phone and hear her soft laugh blend into mine.

“S-sorry,” she paused to regain her composure. “What I mean is, all you have to do is try.” 

“I might be able to do that.” Wait, what did I just say? I barely know this girl, and she already has me agreeing to try to be a better person. I quickly changed the topic, so we’re not talking about me anymore. “You ever think about breaking the rules?” I deadpan myself. This girl is trying to make a saint out of me, and the first thing I can think of asking her is if she thinks about breaking the rules. A deep sigh comes from her end, and I can just hear the lecture coming on already.

“I often think about doing things that would get me in trouble, but honestly, my parents scare me too much.” Even over the phone, I can tell her voice has shifted into sadness.

“Do you want to take a risk?”

“What kind of risk?” 

“Hang out with me tonight,” I’m not sure what the hell I’m thinking, but it would be nice to take her driving. To just keep her out later than curfew and see how she is when she lets loose.

“Tonight!?” Her voice squeaks, “I-I don’t know.”

“All you have to do is sneak out, and I’ll meet you in the truck right outside the cul-de-sac.” 

“What would we even do?” Her voice is quiet.

“Drive around blasting music, find a field, and yell at the stars.” Something simple for her first rule-breaking, “And I’ll make sure you’re back before the sun comes up.” There was a long pause on her end until she finally said,

“Okay, what time should I meet you?” 

And this is the moment she started changing my life.

next

AN:

I honestly could've kept chapters 3 and 3.5 together as one full chapter like I originally had them, but I felt like separating them to make it more exciting, lol (Is it more exciting?). Be ready for some more romance in the next chapter! But only a sprinkle, maybe 👀. Everything in this story is a bit of a slow burn, so feelings are developing, but it'll take a while to really go somewhere. Then being intimate is a slow burn, too, but hey, those baby steps will be steamy (yes reader is 18+ when smut happens) 🥵. With that being said, if you're not 18+ (As stated at the beginning of every chapter), please don't interact with this story! AND, one last thing, this all does lead up to the robbery and hostage situation at the motel. But will this be a happy ending? Or will it end just like the game?

Oh and don’t judge me for the “dripped in hot sauce” her tone was spicy so that’s the best way to describe it, lol!

[jeongyeonluvr]

Hey!! I'm not sure if you're still active here, so if not, sorry. Can you write about Nd!Yuqi being ashamed of herself and Shuhua helping her with this? Also sorry for my bad English, and if you don't want to do it or can't do it, that's okay too

slamming doors

|| cg!Shuhua little/nd!Yuqi

•CW: anger issues, hitting pillow, swearing

i am active just a bit busy rn !! ur english is fine chickpea don’t worry

Yuqi furiously slams the door behind her. Frustrations are too quick to build these days, with work being so constantly demanding of her, both emotionally and physically, it gets harder and harder not to become upset.

She immediately storms to her room, and throws her belongings on the ground, in a fit of anger, belongings be damned. Yuqi stands in the middle of the room, angrily staring down at the ground. There are so many emotions swirling, not just the anger that’s so blatantly shown on her face.

She doesn’t want to acknowledge any of them, she just wants to seep in her anger, and be upset. Everything fades around her as she clenches her fists, climbs onto the very neatly made bed, and starts to hit at the pillows.

She practically sees red, as she sits there, mindlessly hitting the pillows as frustrated tears stream down her face. She’s let everything build and build without ever bringing attention to the way she feels. A bad habit she hasn’t been able to break yet.

Yuqi keeps hitting, even as her arms grow weary and tired. On one hand, all the rage boiling in her blood feels right. She wants to be angry forever, to never have to face her problems and just yell, and scream for the rest of all time. But on the other hand, she’s tired, her anger always leads to some sort of mass exhaustion. She lets out a shout, as her arms finally grow too tired to continue on. Yuqi hangs her head low, as she angrily wipes away the tears flowing down her face, as she sniffles. All the emotions she’s let bottle up inside for the past months, is finally coming to a crescendo. Before she can dissolve into a fit of sobs, there’s footsteps coming from the doorframe. 

Yuqi freezes, as her blood runs cold. She knows whos footsteps those are. 

“Yuqi-” Shuhua’s voice rings in the silence of the room. Her voice is a mix of concern, and comfort all at once. 

“Don’t.” Yuqi growls, her hands balling into fists for the second time tonight. Her head still hangs low, as she takes a shaky breath.

There’s more footsteps quickly approaching the bed, and the last thing Yuqi wants is Shuhua to be here while she’s having this... fit. This meltdown that’s simply been waiting to happen for months on end. She doesn’t want Shuhua to coddle her through this. To hold her, care for her... to make things better. No. She doesn’t need this, she doesn’t need Shuhua.

“I said don’t!” Yuqi yells, not daring to face the other woman in the room. There’s no way that she’s going to cooperate tonight. Not without a fight. 

“Yuqi, what is the matter?” Shuhua questions, moving closer to the bed. Yuqi can tell that she’s right behind her. Looming, waiting for an answer. 

Yuqi doesn’t have a witty, or snarky remark, so she goes for the simplest thing she can think of right now.

“Go away.” She mutters bitterly, crossing her arms in front of her chest, as she almost fully curls in on herself. She doesn’t want Shuhua to see her like this, to have to be here when her anger is so palpable, so seethingly coursing through her body to the point where she just can’t control it.

Having control over her emotions is a task that’s all too laborious at the moment. She hears Shuhua take a deep breath behind her, and somehow, it sets her off.

“I know I’m just a fucking nuisiance, so why don’t you just leave?!” She shouts, a bitter venom in her voice, part of her knows, that what she just said isn’t true, but the other half of her truly does believe it.

“Yuqi. If you know what’s good, you’ll let me help you.” Shuhua says softly, but there’s a sort of edge to her voice. An edge that makes Yuqi flinch.

“Why should I?” She challenges, finally turning around to face the other. She’s met with a fairly disheveled Shuhua. Her clothes are all wrinkled, the buttons of her blazer haphazardly buttoned up, some buttons even in the wrong place. Her hair is all messed up, and almost poofy from the humidity of the rain today. Her appearance is a stark contrast to the look on her face. 

“Yuqi-“ Shuhua starts again, but Yuqi interrupts before she can get another syllable out.  

“No. No, why should I listen? Why should I stop what I’m best at? Causing problems!” Emotions rise high, as Yuqi laughs bitterly. “Why would you ever want to help? You should just pack your shit and leave like Soojin did! There’s no fixing me. I’m done playing games, it’s stupid! It’s stupid and you know it.” She snaps, fists clenching so hard her nails are about to break the skin. 

She sees something akin to anger flash across Shuhua’s face. Finally. Something in her facade is about to break. Something other than Shuhua’s unconditional love, her tenderness, her care. Whatever’s about to occur, Yuqi is sure she’s ready for it.

“Listen to me dammit. I care about you alright? I care about you so much but you saying all this is so selfish. Do you know how much it hurts? It hurts to see this? It hurts when you shout at me like this, like I’ve done something wrong?” 

Oh. Oh no. 

There’s a sound akin to a sniffle. “I just want to help.”  

Yuqi doesn’t think she’s ever heard Shuhua sound so defeated. So beat down. Now her face truly matches her appearance. There’s barely any sounds coming from the room now. Yuqi feels trapped, until finally, another sniffle breaks the silence. And that’s when it all finally clicks. When Yuqi finally realized everything she’s said, it comes crashing down faster than she can process, she feels small. Everything she’s said…everything she’s done tonight. Shameful tears well up in her eyes, and not for the first time tonight, do tears roll down her face. 

“Shu.” She calls, so simple. She has to apologize, she has to make things right, right now. She can’t stand the murky feeling in the pit of her stomach anymore. All the rage has vanished, in favor of sadness, and shame instead.

“M’ sorry.” She says quietly. “M’ sorry, m’ sorry.” She whispers again. What else can she say? She doesn’t know how to express it in any other way. 

There’s a dip in the bed, and before she can look up, she feels Shuhua’s warm arms around her. She feels Shuhua’s shoulders shaking, a sure sign of crying, right now she can’t help but cry along with her. All these big emotions have taken so much out of her, especially her outburst. Now she just feels sad, and worn out.

She eventually feels Shuhua stop crying, and she hears soft, shushing noises. Yuqi feels enticed to quiet down, as the noise comforts her, and makes her feel sleepy all at once. After she calms down, Shuhua pulls back from the embrace, until they’re face to face.

“There you are.” Shuhua says with a familiar smile, “There’s my girl.” her eyes look red, no doubt Yuqi’s look the same, but there’s something strangely comforting about it, something Yuqi can’t quite place. Shuhua wipes her face, as she takes a deep breath. “Let’s get comfortable, and then we can talk, ok?” She asks, her voice a little wobbly, as she takes another few breaths.

Yuqi nods sleepily, as she feels Shuhua wipe her stray tears away. In no more than a few seconds, Shuhua is up, and gathering items. Yuqi’s eyes stay glued to her form, as she watches Shuhua go back and forth between drawers in all different places. When she gets back, there’s some pajamas, her stuffed puppy, and a pacifier, still in its case. Yuqi doesn’t say much, as she lets Shuhua move her around, and get her in pajamas. Eventually, Shuhua leaves the room. Yuqi whines, but focuses on her puppy, she plays for a bit, until she hears footsteps fast returning. 

“Time for baba honey.” Shuhua says softly. Yuqi perks up, as she tries to sit up, but everything is so heavy at the moment, it feels like she’s trying to lift weights, and there’s a thick fog clouding her senses. Shuhua quickly rushes over to help her up, as she gently holds her in her lap. “Open.” She whispers, and Yuqi does just that. The perfectly warm milk starts to make her even more sleepy, and her eyes all the more heavy. Once she finally finishes all of the bottle, Shuhua gently sets it aside on the nightstand. Shuhua hands Yuqi her puppy once more, and changes herself, and in a few moments, they’re tucked in bed. 

The lights are dim, providing a cozy, but quiet environment. That is, until Shuhua speaks up. “Yuqi, chick, what’s the matter?” She asks quietly, petting Yuqi’s hair waiting for a response. 

Yuqi, in a very young headspace, responds as best as she can. “Sad, and mad. I tired Shushu.” She says simply, hugging her puppy closer. 

Just like that, Shuhua seems to understand, and somehow, in some nonverbal way, Yuqi knows that. Shuhua snuggles up closer to the little one, as she wraps her arms around the girl, and begins to rock them gently.

“I’m sorry that things are really hard.” She starts, taking a breath. “But you know, no matter what happens, in this whole wide world, you can talk to me. Shushu will always, always help, and make things better for you. We’re a team, right honey?” 

Yuqi smiles, and nods, cuddling impossibly closer. As she smiles, she taps her cheek with her finger, knowing exactly what the gesture means.

“You want kisses?” Shuhua laughs earnestly, a noise Yuqi is very happy to hear. “How could I say no to that sweet little face.” She coos softly, pressing butterfly kisses to Yuqi’s face. She laughs, and gives her own kiss to Shuhua.

[eego0]

You know I love hearing your opinions on MCD stuff.

Thoughts on Shad?

Correlations between Shad/Irene and their relationship vs Aphmau/Aaron?

Opinions on Shad and his relationship with his daughter Alina?

Conflicts in Aaron over his past family (Lily and Jacob, I believe?) and his relationship with Aphmau?

This one is for a potential future fic, depending on the opinions of the rest of aphblr on my most recent poll: If Aaron ever asked Aphmau to marry him in MCD, would the stone in the ring be red or light lavender?

Sorry to ambush you with all these questions, but I couldn't help it. Take whatever time you need to answer <3

1. FUckkkkk Shad is SUCH a good character. Like he’s THE embodiment of a villain. Hero gone bad. And as much as I hate how he used Aaron’s body not only for a physical form but for his voice to manipulate Aphmau, it was brilliant and it added to how fucked he is. He’s like a top 5 favorite Aphmau character for me.

2. The characters having these powerful past lives and becoming powerful reincarnations is interesting in of itself, but even more interesting when you see how similar they act and their similar storylines. (How much do we want to bet that Irene also woke up in the middle of nowhere and suddenly had a conscious? Or would that be pushing the bounds of this time loop too far.). Irene makes a playful atmosphere when battling with Shad. Aphmau and Aaron’s relationship is serious to the naked eye but has an underlying playfulness, if that makes sense. Irene and Aphmau are both nonchalant, playful, extroverted, but most importantly, willing to help anyone who needs it even at the expense of their own mental and physical health. With Shad and Aaron, they both face a situation that leaves them scarred, distrusting, and angry. They solve everything by making others feel similar hurt, or as Aaron says, he solved everything with his sword. The difference is that Aaron found someone to make him a gentle and full being again, but Shad stayed consumed by his rage and continued to hurt others. Aaron changed, Shad got worse.

3. I honestly don’t know. Everyone seems to believe that Shad had a deep love for his daughter, showing when Irene turned her into a relic, but not only do we not really know anything about WHY she was turned into a relic, I just can’t place my finger on why Shad seemed so upset. “That’s his daughter too!” Is the argument but in mcd, Shad only focused on Alina being the keeper of his relic. He actually dehumanized her so much that he called her “my relic”. The only times he called her Alina was when he was attempting to manipulate Aphmau into telling him when Alina was. Maybe he could understand that Alina meant something to Aphmau in a way that didn’t connect to her holding a relic, but I don’t really think he cared about her in any other way. This is a controversial topic in the Aphmau community tho and I haven’t watched in awhile so feel free to educate me if you know more

4. There doesn’t seem to be much conflict about Aaron’s past family besides confronting his grief and allowing himself to love again. I would say that maybe Aphmau felt like she was competing against Lily for Aaron’s love but Aphmau was more mature than that. Aaron loved Aphmau separately from his late wife. Aaron loved Lilith separately from Jacob, so any conflict was likely internal.

5. OKAY. THIS QUESTION. I LOVE POTENTIAL FANFIC QUESTIONS BECAUSE IT GIVES ME INSPIRATION OF MY OWN <333 So personally I think he’d give Aphmau a light lavender ring. He knows she’d love the color and she’d love to wear it. I was originally going to say red so that she could always have a reminder of him with her but theres nothing more telling of the love someone has for their partner than picking a special accessory out in their favorite color. BONUS PIECE THO, a garnet ring to say “Lilith Garnet brought us together in a way no other situation or person could’ve”

TYSM FOR ALL OF THE QUESTIONS MWAH MWAH MWAH! I HOPE MY ANSWERS WERE HELPFUL! I’D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE SAME QUESTIONS AS WELL!