#I hope this is alright

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: after you and Eddie get...acquainted, it seems that he's everywhere. there's nowhere for you to hide when Eddie is on a mission to make your Christmas break miserable.

wc: 3.6k

cw: bickering, smoking

fic title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

if you spot the movie reference in here, i'm giving you a kiss on the cheek

Best Teacher Ever.

Your favorite spiral notebook sat in front of you, pink and white stripes lining the cover with an image of an apple and golden lettering. It was a gift from one of the fifth grade students you subbed for at another school. You traced the words with your fingers as you wondered if the child even knew what that meant.

It was five minutes to one and Eddie wasn’t here. You’d gotten here fifteen minutes ago, always keen on punctuality (and having the advantage of choosing where to sit.) Nerves crept up your neck, settling in the emerging headache you knew he was about to cause.

It would be so easy to start working on the book club without Eddie. To open the notebook and start your list. But you refrained, maintaining your self-respect. If he walked in and saw you already at work, you knew he’d start making a big deal about it. Then it would be an entire pissing contest with little to no meaning behind it. And you weren’t going to give in to his antics. Not today.

The wind chimes above Java Bean’s front door clanged against the frame as it swung open. You glanced over and found yourself inside an alternate dimension.

Eddie Munson stood there, sure, but you weren’t sure if it was him or some twisted doppelgänger sent here to confuse you. He was clad in a white shirt that read Vote For Pedro in red across the chest with black jeans and combat boots. On top was some combination of a leather jacket layered with a denim vest, littered in enamel pins. When he removed his hands from his pockets, you saw rings adorning almost every finger. 

Something churned in your stomach at the sight of him like this, hooked on the way he grabbed at his black Sony headphones, pulling them down to his neck and glancing down at his iPod. 

Maybe you could run away. Find your way to the bathroom and out whatever dingy window they had. Break it if necessary. Would they take a twenty to cover the charges?

Eddie stayed paused in the doorway, eyes scanning around the room before they found you. 

Something cranked your nerves up to one hundred as you realized there was nowhere to escape to now. Especially when he flashed you a bright smile that seemed a far cry from genuine. What a prick.

He approached you slowly, agonizingly. Placed his ringed fingers on the top of the chair across from you before asking, “Are you early?”

Your eyes kept flickering back and forth from him and the chair, seriously wondering if he was going to sit down or not. You hated the advantage he had of towering over you. 

“Uh, yeah,” you responded, trying not to cower away. 

“You would be.”

That snapped you out of your trance, furrowing your eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You look like a real person today.”

Looking down, you reassessed your outfit of a v-neck crimson sweater, dark blue jeans, and white Converse. On the back of your chair was a green parka. What did he think about your outfit? Why did you care?

“Did you think I wasn’t?” you asked, looking back up.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Just interesting to see you like this.”

You swallowed the urge to say the same, releasing a stifled breath as he finally sat down. You noticed his hair was frizzy for once, twisted into a half-assed bun. It was downright criminal that he still looked good.

“Who’s Pedro?” you asked, changing the subject.

The look he shot you made you wonder if he thought you’d shot a puppy. 

“You haven’t seen Napoleon Dynamite?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

That movie came out, what, three years ago? Approaching four? When you thought back that far, you remembered exactly what happened. Your ex boyfriend, Jason, had been reluctant to go see it with you. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do anything with you at all. But the movie theater? Yeah, forget it.

You’d dumped him a couple of months later after you caught him cheating on you. It was safe to say you never got around to renting the film.

“I was busy,” you said with a shrug.

“It’s been almost four years!”

You scowled. “So?”

“So,” he started, shrugging off his jacket. “you have no excuse.”

Oh.

Eddie…had tattoos. Six or seven up and down his arms, varying in size and intensity. You were no different, sure, with tattoos mixed and matched around your body. But he had tattoos. Perfect, cleancut Eddie Munson had tattoos. 

This felt like an ambush. There was no way he was this outside of work. All he’d ever worn were those nice button-downs. He never even rolled up the sleeves. He wore his outfits like he was some waiter at an upper class restaurant or a pretentious English professor that thought he was Hemmingway’s prodigy.

But, no. This was who he was underneath it all. 

You felt something stammer in your chest before it popped and fizzled in your stomach. 

“While this is riveting,” you said, doing everything you could to distract yourself from whatever the fuck was happening to you. “I really do think we should focus on choosing the first book.”

“I actually think we should get some coffee and food. Emphasis on the food.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, trying not to get annoyed. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you awkwardly waited in line together. You didn’t technically stand next to each other, his figure tucked behind yours. But your shoulders touched.

Your throat closed up at the contact, unsure as to why merely standing next to him felt so overwhelming. Maybe it was because he was an annoying asshole who never gave you a moment’s peace. Maybe you were just crabby without food or 

You ordered a peppermint latte—ignoring Eddie’s snort—and a blueberry muffin. Stepping aside, you watched Eddie get a black coffee—pretentious idiot—and a blueberry muffin. 

And what did you know? There was only one muffin left. It was rightfully given to you, with a promise of being heated up and left at your table. 

But as soon as you made it back to the table and the barista placed it in front of you, Eddie said, “Give me some of your muffin.”

You scoffed, pulling the plate closer to yourself. “No, go find your own!”

“Come on,” he continued, grabbing onto the other side. “Give me some of your muffin.”

You tugged on it again, simmering with frustration when it barely budged. “No, I’m fucking starved. I didn’t get to eat anything this morning.”

His grip tightened as he tried to take the plate.

“No, come on,” you grumbled, putting your other hand on the plate.

But Eddie did the same.

And in the process of fighting for the plate that was undoubtedly yours, Eddie gave a final yank of the ceramic before the muffin toppled over and onto the ground.

“Ugh,” you said with a scoff. “Gross.”

He gestured to you with the plate still in his hands. “Look what you did, idiot.”

“What I did?” you exclaimed, noticing a few pairs of eyes looking your way. You lowered your voice. “You’re the idiot.”

“You don’t know how to share,” he chided.

You scowled, leaning over to start cleaning up the mess Eddie made. “You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself!”

It took another ten minutes for you to stop arguing and start talking about the books. But then it stirred up another argument, him vetoing your choice of The Giver and you vetoing his choice of The Hobbit.

“That book is long,” you argued. “They’re teenagers.”

“Uh, I read it as a teenager,” he said with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He opened his mouth to protest but you beat him to it. “So no.”

In the end, you settled on a newer release, Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. Eddie protested that the novel was too short while you told him that that was the point. And as you bravely attempted to settle on the second book, it ended in chaos. You hated Catcher in the Rye. Eddie hated The Great Gatsby. There was nothing you could do.

You threw in the towel first in first, grabbing your things and half-heartedly wishing him a Merry Christmas before leaving. 

At last, you were left with two more blissful weeks without having to be anywhere near his insufferable presence.

But the thing about hating someone is that the more you hate them, the more you see them. Everywhere. 

A few days later, you’d been weaving in and out of the grocery aisles to garner inspiration for a healthy Christmas meal that would cancel out the eggnog and cookie coma you were likely to fall into. But as you stood in line to check out, you noticed Eddie strolling in with a shopping cart. 

You instinctively ducked, peering through the cashier behind yours to watch as he walked further and further away. Sure, the bored teenager bagging your groceries looked at you weird, but this had been life and death. And you’d chosen life.

Two days after that, you were making your way into the gas station near your apartment to get a few packs of cigarettes. You’d primarily smoked them in college before swearing up and down that you’d quit. And you did.

Until you started working full time at South Jefferson and realized just how stressful teaching teenagers all day every day was. So now it was back to the nicotine haze, barely satiating an oral fixation you’d had since birth.

There at the checkout counter stood Eddie Munson, currently sifting through coins in his hands with two packs of Marlboro Reds sitting in front of him. He was still in that leather jacket and denim vest combo, hair messy and chaotic. This time his bun sat on top of his head, stray hairs dangling down the back of his neck. There was a tattoo there too, something you couldn’t quite see from your vantage point. 

You thought about leaving but you couldn’t just go. Eddie was the exact reason why you’d gone through the rest of your pack. At home, you’d pace around and have arguments with him in your head until you won. You didn’t see that going away for the foreseeable future.

Before you could make up your mind, Eddie was thanking the cashier and turning away. As his eyes met yours, you felt that same stammer in your chest from Java Bean.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted, a faint smile on his lips.

“You’re a smoker,” you noted, glancing at the pack he was starting to open. 

He nodded. “You caught me red handed.” You rolled your eyes. “Get it? Red?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you replied, walking past him to the counter. 

He followed suit, standing too close for comfort again, boldly nudging your shoulder with his. For obvious reasons, you did not return the gesture. 

Before the cashier could greet you, Eddie stated, “Get the Marlboro Reds.” 

“No,” you said before turning to the cashier. “Two packs of those blue Newports, please.”

As you pulled out the five dollar bill from your wallet, Eddie shook his head at you. “You’re so wrong and you don’t even know. You don’t even know. I feel sorry for you.”

You ignored him as you paid and immediately walked outside. Eddie kept up with you, shoulder colliding with yours with every step. You needed to leave. You had to get away from him, especially two days out from Christmas. There was a promise of a holly jolly atmosphere waiting for you in your shithole apartment and that’s the way you liked it. No friends, no obnoxious family. A solitary affair with reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life and a new Maya Angelou poetry collection you’d snagged at Goodwill. 

But you couldn’t help yourself. “You know what your problem is?”

He was grinning. “What’s my problem?”

“You think you’re right about everything all the time.”

Eddie nodded. That fucker nodded. “That’s probably ‘cause I am.”

“You live in delusion,” you scoffed.

Lifting the cigarette box, he shook it in front of your face. “You should smoke one of these with me.”

“Yeah, right,” you replied with a snort before walking toward your car.

“You can’t spare five minutes to smoke with me?” he shouted after you.

Refusing to stop, you called over your shoulder, “Five minutes I can spare. But five minutes to share? With you? No, thanks. Happy Holidays and all that.”

Thankfully, he didn’t follow you.

There was this thing you did when you were thinking too hard about something. It started with furrowed brows, clenching together with intensity. Your lips didn’t purse, rather they scrunched up until they were barely visible. 

Usually, it was directed towards Eddie. But tonight it seemed you were focusing your mental energy on movies at Blockbuster. You looked torn, seemingly trying to decide between 28 Weeks Later and Music & Lyrics. Horror and a romantic comedy. Fascinating.

Eddie was browsing his usual slew of horror for the night when he’d looked over to spot the New Releases stand and instead found you like this. A DVD was already clutched to your chest, but you were looking back and forth from these two other films. You looked pretty, in a white sweater with faded pink sweatpants.

He wondered what you were thinking. How you were making your decision. What kind of snacks you’d pair with them, especially a few days after Christmas. The crashing blues that ensued after the holiday were apparently getting to you too, needing an escape. Just like him.

He could just ask you about your decision. It was going to backfire. He knew that. It’d been something he’d accepted weeks ago. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t like to have a little bit of fun pissing you off. It was just so easy to work you up until you stormed off. 

Eddie couldn’t understand why his presence set you off so viscerally. You seemed almost angry that he wanted to make any kind of conversation. Even if he lightly teased you, it was enough pressure to set off a landmine.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you looked at him. With that same wound up expression, eyebrows inching closer together as you prepared to explode. It might’ve been crass of him to say, but he really wanted to kiss you whenever you made that face.

And it might’ve been a bit vulgar of him to say, but he really wanted to grab your hips and push you up against a wall as you devoured one another.

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for that shit. Blockbuster was not the right place, either. He collected himself before throwing on a casual smile.

His steps were intentionally quiet, slow and steady as he came up behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You jumped, letting out a yelp before a hand flew to your chest. “Oh my god, you’re everywhere,” you breathed.

He couldn’t help his chuckle. “I’m sure you just love seeing the sight of my dashingly handsome—”

Groaning, you shook your head and said, “No.”

“Oh, I get it.” Eddie put a hand on his chest and flashed you an even wider smile. “You’re just charmed by my riveting conversational skills.”

You did something odd. Your eyes squinted softly as you swallowed and held his stare. What were you holding back from him?

“Not in the slightest.”

He gave up, pointing at the DVD in your hands. “So, what’re you watching tonight?” You went to hide the DVD behind your back but Eddie was a step ahead of you. He easily snatched it from your hands and held it up.

And he had no problem letting out a howl of laughter.

“Did you really grab Napoleon Dynamite because I told you to?”

You nearly gasped as if you were being slighted.

“Told me?” you grumbled. “You berated me.”

“It was just some light teasing,” he countered.

“Oh, sure. Of course you’d think that.”

Something clicked in his head and before he could even think about it, he smirked and said, “So you were thinking about me, huh?”

Never again would he see a sight so incredible.

There was that gasp he’d wanted, hitching in your throat before you puffed out your chest. Then your stare intensified, the one he was so fascinated by. It sparked a low-burning flame in his stomach.

He really liked the way that felt.

“I don’t spare any of my thoughts on you.”

Liar.

“So you decided on Napoleon Dynamite immediately but can’t make up your mind about 28 Weeks Later or Music & Lyrics?”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you settled on, “I only have enough to get one more.”

Another lie.

He decided to let you off easy. For now. “Well, they’re all good choices, if you ask me.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” you said bluntly.

Finally, the truth.

“You should be,” he said. “I’m the horror connoisseur of your dreams.” You opened your mouth but he beat you to it. “Because you do dream of me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You scoffed, grabbing both movies off the stand and walking away.

Okay, maybe a little too far. Noted.

“Woah, hey,” he called out, following behind you. “You can’t go. We haven’t chosen which one you’re getting.”

You looked at him like he was stupid. To be fair, he knew he was. But he really enjoyed that look on your face, too.

He enjoyed all of your faces. 

“We aren’t choosing anything,” you corrected. “I am choosing to get both and I am choosing to go home.”

“Just hold on,” he said, reaching a hand out to your elbow.

You whirled around and stopped. He nearly collided with you but stopped just in time, rocking back on his heels.

“What?” you asked.

He didn’t know what. Something kept him coming back, kept him leaning in closer just to try and understand you a little bit more. Despite having these distinct facial expressions, he still couldn’t figure out just what they meant. 

Or why you’d even think he wasn’t a good person when you barely understood him either.

An intriguing idea crossed his mind. “What if we, like, hung out?” he suggested.

Immediately, something thawed. Your eyebrows smoothed out and your lips dropped open into a small o. And he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes soften.

“You want to hang out with me?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I just assumed you had other friends. Like, um.” You looked away. “Chelsea.”

He tilted his head. “Chelsea?”

Why Chelsea? he wondered. He only really spoke to her at lunch and in passing. It was friendly, but they weren’t friends. Did you watch him at lunch? Did you think they were best friends?

Why did you care so much? And why did he care about what you thought?

“Yeah,” you whispered, going back and forth from looking at him to the DVDs in your hands.

“Hm,” he responded, looking around the store before coming back to you. “Well, I think we should go bowling.”

“Bowling,” you repeated.

He nodded, smiling as he quietly whispered, “Oh, yeah.”

Confusion spread across your face. “You want me to go bowling with you?”

“I think you said that earlier.” Eddie watched annoyance return to your face before adding, “Consider it a New Year’s resolution.”

The annoyance dissipated, replaced by your previous confusion. “How is bowling a New Year’s resolution?”

“It’s a blank slate, you know?” You shook your head. “Let’s call it a ceasefire between us. We can start over and, I don’t know, be friends.”

For a moment, you went quiet. Your eyes danced around the room, as if you were weighing your options. “How do you know I want to be friends with you at all?”

“Oh, come on,” he said with a sigh, still holding that smile. He couldn’t help it around you. “It could work, you and I. Friends. Buddies. Companions.”

You paused, your eyes assessing his. What the hell were you thinking? Why couldn’t he read your mind? There was this habit of yours to go quiet, to keep him on his toes until he went crazy.

And right now, he couldn’t keep standing here like this. 

“Well?” he asked, eyes still searching yours. “What’s it gonna be?”

A long moment passed before you sighed. “Fine. Yes. Let’s…go bowling.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I could pick you up next Wednesday around, what, seven?”

“I think we should drive separate,” you stated.

“Why? You don’t wanna be in a car with me?” All you did was nod. “You wound me, honestly. I’m not even a bad driver.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you asked, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “We’ll meet up at Lanesman next Wednesday.”

You gave him a quick nod. “Okay.”

“At seven p-m.”

“No, yeah, I got that.”

“See you then. Oh, you know what? You can tell me all your thoughts on Napoleon Dynamite while we bowl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, I’m leaving now,” you said, lazily waving at him before walking towards the checkout line.

Eddie had successfully survived another interaction with you. It was a whiplash for sure. But there was a shift. He felt it, but he wondered if you felt it, too. When you quickly turned to glance at him on your way out the door, Eddie couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

If you hadn’t noticed it yet, you surely would soon.

requested tagging: @anukulee, @twihard28, @doorlesscub00, @whisperingwillowxox

thank you to @littlexdeaths for always having the cutest dividers!!!

[forgettable-au]

Would you say Sans and Papyrus are closer than Sans and Wingdings?

Ehhh I wouldn't know what to say honestly

The dynamics are different

I guess Sans and Wingdings were closer, but Papyrus and Sans have a better sibling relationship (Though they keep a lot of things secret from each other and that's not great...but they might work that out eventually, they're just trying to protect the other)

Hmm I'm more of a show don't tell person so you're all gonna have to wait and see

Just know that both dynamics have good and bad parts!

[dipperscavern]

Can i request Robb Stark with reader who doesn’t like the cold/gets cold easily?

absolutely!! thank you sm for the ask <3

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

you’ve always hated the cold. ironic, considering you live in the north, but it’s true. the heat you can handle. sure, it’s annoying, but you can function. but when you’re cold, all you can think about is the last time you were warm.

the only times you’ll brave the cold are to go to the godswood (and pray for warmth), to hunt, and to ride. anything else can either wait until the sun makes its appearance, or can be done inside the warm halls of winterfell. those are your exceptions.

okay, well, when you said hunting — you meant by yourself. maybe theon. you did not mean the entire royal hunting party of winterfell.

your first response was to deny the invitation to the day-long affair of bracing the cold, but you’re the best archer in winterfell. they need you. and ned stark himself asked you to come, so here you were. trudging through the wolfswood, draped in furs & freezing your arse off.

“I can’t believe she’s doin’ it. Look at her..” theon murmurs to robb. robb nods, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smirk as he watches you.

you’re tightly wound, trying to conserve what little warmth you have. you practically radiate dislike, and theons got bets on how long you’ll last until you call upon the old gods to strike the entire forest down (midday). your horse doesn’t carry your disdain for the snow. having been bred for the cold, it dutifully marches on — allowing you to hug yourself tightly, conserving what little warmth you have.

robb’s brows pinch in sympathy knowing your misery, but he can’t help the silent thanks he gives to the gods for dragging you out here. to rectify that, he sends a silent prayer to ask that the stag that was spotted is caught quickly, so you can retreat back to the heated halls of winterfell. he’s not entirely selfish.

apparently the gods are not taking prayers today.

every time the scent is picked up or tracks are spotted, they’re lost just as easily. even greywind isn’t having any luck — but then again, he’s barely the size of a dog. even so, robb can see your resolve withering. he attempts to fix it, draping his outermost layered fur coat over you. you lightly shiver, sighing as you feel the extra layer work to trap more of your warmth.

“I owe you my life.”

“You’ll be alright. ‘S not too bad out ‘ere.”

his attempts at making the cold seem better than it actually is only result in you sending him a glare, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen such hatred. your conversation is interrupted by shouts, and the scent is picked up once more. they’ve spotted the animal running off, and ned orders for people to go around & enclose it.

you’re eager to get it over with and be done, ready to return to the fur blankets in your room. ready to be warm.

you tie your horse, getting off & trudging to where you guess it’ll be forced to go. most of everyone is focused on pushing it in this direction, and you can only hope there’s a weirwood around here to hear your prayers. you hear shouts, the hooves of horses, and something tearing through the trees. you raise your bow, notching an arrow & waiting.

“Atta girl!” ned says, arm wrapped around your shoulders.

the stag lays on the ground, dead, with an arrow in its skull. you offer a polite smile, but really, you’re just thanking the gods it’s done with. there’s snow in your boots, you’re shivering, your knuckles are red, and you can feel the cold in your bones. you saunter over to robb and theon, muttering under your breath.

“Curse the cold. Curse the cold. Curse the cold…”

theon snickers to himself, and you have half a mind to knock him off his horse. you’re feeling merciful, and instead choose peace. you untie your horse, eagerly starting the journey back to winterfell.

thanks to your arrow, everyone eats well that night, including you. the hall is warm, the atmosphere filled with laughter & your belly is full — a right reward for getting frostbite on your liver. you decide to retire to bed early, the days activities having you beat. robb walks you to your chambers, and you lean into his warmth. he’s always run hot, and he’s happy to share the body heat.

you arrive to the door, and turn to robb to say goodnight. you subconsciously chase his warmth, grabbing one of his hands & playing with it, feeling your cooler ones heat up from the contact.

“Y’did good today.”

you shrug. “Wasn’t horrible…” you’re lying. it was. robb knows it too.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still. Know you hate the cold.”

robb’s hand goes to your jaw, tilting it up as he kisses you. his lips are soft, and warm. he’s caught you off guard, and you can feel him smiling against your lips. once the kiss breaks, you both linger in each others presence. has he ever been so charming?

he’s out to prove you right when he leans in, kissing your temple & murmuring a soft “Night, pretty.”

he turns & walks down the hallway, knowing if he looks back he won’t be sleeping in his room. you watch him leave, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you open your door & step inside.

maybe you’ll have to brave the cold more often.

[killerqueenwidow]

🛑 + REVERSE

send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours.

add + to reverse so receiver is the one cleaning blood off sender.

Natasha looked down at the boy and arched an eyebrow, grabbing another rag. "I could have taken care of that. Why would you do such a thing?" she asked calmly, even if her tone had a bit of a worried edge to it.

@manymusesbym

[jinx-xxed]

Chasing the Light

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N: Kylo Ren my one and only 🤞 I have a lot of stuff I can post about him so stay tuned (hopefully)

Summary; Your nightmares become your reality when the man who’s been terrorizing your mind finally appears before you to see who you really are.

Content; AFAB reader (barely mentioned), reusing some scenes from Rey (sorry queen), Force user hunted by Kylo Ren, mind probing, fight scenes

Wc; 3.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Your dreams have become haunted.

Haunted by darkness, haunted by the screech of an unstable, red blade. Haunted by a dark helmet, visor rimmed in silver, cape wavering in the wind. The figure appears in flashes, darkness surrounding him so thoroughly that it’s suffocating. The scene is different each time; once it was on a rain soaked field, bodies of those cut down by that blade laying around your feet. Another, you were in a forest where it was cold and harsh. Whoever it is, he knows you’re there. He’d came for you once, lightsaber brandished, like he wanted to cut through you before the dream ripped you away. You wake up in a cold sweat each time, a deep panic settled into your bones that follows you for the rest of the day and makes you dread the coming night.

So that’s why, when those dark ships blot the sky, you know what it means.

“Go, take my ship at the end of town and get as far away from here as you can.” You say sternly, ushering your family towards the back door of your home. The streets are in a panic, people running about as darkness descends, desperate to escape. “Try to get to Atrisia, the coordinates are already set into the system. You’ll be safe there.”

Your mother turns in your grip, her hand cupping your cheek, brows creased. “Come with us, my firelight. Please.”

You hesitate, eyes tracing her face as if you can burn it into your memory. Hair like yours, lines on her skin marking her age, bright eyes—eyes wet with tears. You lean into her touch, your hand eclipsing her own, her skin warm and calloused. A sigh blows through your nose, eyes closing briefly to hold back what you feel building at the edges. “I can’t, momma. It’ll only put the rest of you in danger.” Your voice is quiet, like it’s not even yours.

“I don’t care! Don’t make me leave you!” She begs, clinging to the off-white fabric of your robes.

Your father gently pulls your mother away before you break. The whir of engines can be heard outside. “Come on, dear, we need to get going.” He keeps an arm around her, whispering things into her ear. Something about how they knew a day like this would come.

You sniff harshly and bring them in, trying your damndest to wrap your arms around your mother, father, and brother. “I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll find my way back to you as soon as I can.” You try to make yourself believe your own words too. You look at them all one last time as the ground begins to shake. You practically push them out of the door. “Go, go! Please.”

You ignore your mother’s protests as you turn away, hurrying towards the front door. You rip it open, looking to the sky and watching the TIE fighters come screaming in. They’re already shooting, blowing holes in the earth and sparking flames to life. They’re not targeting civilians yet, instead firing off target on purpose, like an intimidation tactic. Your teeth grit, anger boiling in your blood. These intruders, these murderers that act more robot than human, coming to my home and ripping everything apart.

A TIE fighter explodes in the sky right above you.

You jolt, broken out of your haze as smoking metal falls to the ground. Shit. Shit, shit, shit-! You did not mean to do that. You practically just put a massive beacon on you, telling these bastards that what they’re looking for is here. You feel a strange buzzing in the back of your mind, an intimidating pressure, something that’s oddly familiar and has you wincing. You recall your dreams—the ones that have caused you so much terror for the past two weeks—and panic flares up, worse than it already was. Your lightsaber feels like it’s burning a hole into your side.

You break into a run towards the trees just as a massive ship touches down. A command ship.

Your breath comes in desperate pants to your lungs as twigs snap beneath your boots, underbrush catching on your robes as you shove it aside. Maybe, maybe if you can just get far enough away, if you keep running, they won’t find you. Or, you can at least draw them away from the town—away from the people you’ve known all your life. You can only hope and pray to whatever gods may be watching over you that your family made it out of here safely.

That pressure you felt only grows the further you get, which only serves to confuse you. It should be the opposite, so why-

A red lightsaber ignites before you.

You jump back in fear, entire body tensing as his dark form emerges from behind a tree. He’s huge, both in height and build, looming over you with muscles encased in the darkness of his uniform. There’s a hood pulled over his helmet, resembling something like death itself, that same silver rimmed visor catching the sunlight. Kylo Ren, something in your mind hisses like a warning, Commander of the First Order. Jedi killer. Your breath hitches in your throat. “How did-“

“You. You’re the one I keep seeing.” His voice is low, made lower by the way it crackles through the modifier in his helmet. He takes a step forward, you take two back. “Why?”

“How the hell should I know?” You snap, teeth bared. You know just how precarious this situation is, with him being a hardened soldier trained in the Dark Side and you being… nothing of that sort. You can feel your Force powers clash, smacking against one another as he tries reaching forward and you recoil. He wants into your head, but you refuse to give it to him, using your Force like a shield against his sword.

Blue is fighting red before you can register what’s happening.

Your lightsaber is secure in your hand, blue blade coming out to defend against his red. Little bits of plasma spit from cross guards he has built into his handle, making it look like nothing you’ve ever seen before. His blade sputters and crackles, made unstable by some type of injury within the kyber crystal that powers it. Dealing with such a damaged crystal can be incredibly dangerous and volatile; you’d have to be insane to willingly use one.

He’s strong, but you expected no less. You struggle against his saber, hands shaking from the force. He moves you back with ease, boots skidding against the dirt of the forest floor. He jerks suddenly, twisting his saber to bring yours forward and grip your wrists into immobility. “Where did you get something like this?” He demands, his helmet tilting ever so slightly towards your weapon.

“I made it, you ass-“ you snarl, kicking one leg out and forcing him away so you can widen the distance between the both of you. It’d taken you almost two years to get a hold of all the parts you needed to make your own lightsaber. The Force had guided you through the process, willing your weapon into creation without the usual guidance you’d get from a Jedi master. It’d been a struggle, that’s for sure.

He comes at you again, swinging up from your feet towards your face, making you bend backwards to narrowly avoid it. He moves quick, with the efficiency and deadliness of a warrior. You’re able to hold your own—barely—parrying hit after hit, retaliating where you can and moving your body in tandem with his attacks. The trees around you become scarred from your battle, gashes glowing orange burned into the bark. You spin around, putting your arms up to put your lightsaber against your back to block one of his swings and then twisting around to catch him on his thigh.

He grunts in pain, distracted for the briefest of half seconds, and you take your chance. You bring your leg up, swiveling on your other foot to knock him in the side and then the stomach, but when your bodies connect, your mind suddenly spins, and you’re no longer in the forest. You feel like you’re suspended in some type of unfamiliar space, overwhelmed with emotions and memories. Fear, anger, hurt, betrayal; the consoling voice of a mother to a young boy, a promise of better things, the whisper of dark voices.

You choke on your breath as your back slams against the ground, bones seeming to rattle from the force. Kylo Ren stands over you, shoulders hunched, body shaking as his breathing comes as ragged gasps through his modifier. You look at him with wide eyes, lightsaber on the ground next to you, with no idea about what in the hell just happened.

“How did you do that?” His tone is almost feral, deep with a tremble to the back of it, like he’s… scared.

“I- I don’t-“ you stutter with your words because truthfully, you have no clue either. It’s like when you touched him, you broke through his Force and saw into his mind without even meaning to.

“You need a teacher, someone to show you the ways of the Force.” He insists, taking a step towards you. He extends his free hand. “You’re untrained but stronger than you know. Let me help you-“

You smack him away, scrambling to your feet and gripping your lightsaber. “I will never take help from the likes of you.” You spit. “I won’t let myself become a monster like you have.”

He stiffens, like your words snapped him back into the cold, unfeeling murderer he’s supposed to be. You feel his anger simmering, coming off of him in waves. His fists clench. “We’ll see about that.” And then he’s on you again, faster than you can react, stronger than you’re prepared to handle. You try to retaliate; you block and you parry and you dodge beneath the screech of his saber, but it’s not enough. That lack of training and lack of fighting spirit comes back to bite you in the ass, earning you more than a few nicks and bruises. What seemed like a proper fight before now just becomes unfair and he knocks you down with ease, making you wonder if he was just holding back earlier. Your body slumps against a tree, bark biting into your back, vision wobbling as your consciousness is tugged and pulled away from you. Blood trickles down into your left eye, your head hits the forest floor; the last thing you see before the world fades is his black boots walking towards you.

» ☆ «

The cold makes a home in your bones.

Everything is stiff and heavy, like you couldn’t move your limbs even if you tried—and you did try, which is how you discover you’re strapped to some kind of device that’s more of a flat metal board than it is a chair. It’s like a torture device you’d see in history books. Panic floods through you, fully waking up your systems and sending them into overdrive. The grogginess is gone in an instant, and the memories of what got you into this situation come flooding back. Lightsabers, sparks flying, the Force, seeing into his mind, dark helmet, dark cape, dark, dark, dark- you jerk your wrists and ankles, making a desperate attempt to get yourself out of the cuffs holding you in place. You ignore the bite in your muscles, the ache of the wounds littered across your skin; you can feel the dried blood on your forehead.

“I wouldn’t waste my energy on that,” a voice speaks, low and mechanic and familiar.

Your breath hitches, your body tenses. There’s heavy, intimidating footsteps on the polished metal flooring before Kylo Ren rounds the chair, walking around you, gloved hands behind his back while not properly looking at you. You lurch forward on instinct, cuffs digging roughly into your wrists, teeth snapping and a harsh growl rumbling in the depths of your throat like a rabid animal. “I’ll kill you, I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you-“

You hear him huff, though faint through the modifier. “Quite the fiery temper for a supposed Jedi.”

You relax in your seat, trying to return neutrality to your expression. “I’m not associated with the Jedi.”

That helmet turns to you then, and you feel his burning gaze behind the darkness of the visor. “You’re not?” Then he eases his shoulders back, rolling them, and decides to answer his own question. “No, you’re not. That would explain why you’re so unknown, so untrained.” You don’t like the way he says “untrained”, like it’s a disgrace of some kind to him.

He leans in suddenly, his form looms, darkness incarnate. He’s close enough that you can see each ding and scratch littered across his helmet’s surface, left battle-scarred and damaged on purpose. His head tilts slightly to the right, like that of a curious animal, and you continue to feel his eyes on you rather than see them. “Who are you?” He asks, tone neutral but you can hear a note of frustration behind it, like your existence is a nuisance. “Why do I keep seeing a nobody everywhere I go?”

You try to get away from him, but being strapped to a board doesn’t leave you with a lot of places to go. So instead, your body shifts, pressing uncomfortably into the back of your seat as your chin lifts. “I don’t know. It’s not like I want to see you either.” You snap. “I barely even know who you are.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead studying you. You hate the way it makes you squirm, only made worse by the fact you can’t see his face. He backs off and there’s a pause, like time is frozen, and then he reaches a hand forward, fingers slightly curled in. “If you won’t answer my questions, then I have other ways of getting what I want.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

It’s seconds after that you feel it.

Your entire body seizes, uncomfortably tense against your restraints as a buzzing begins in the back of your mind. It’s simple at first, like the drone of a fly, but it quickly grows in intensity from a buzz to a drum to a violent pounding, beating around your skull and making your ears ring. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, your mind feeling like it’s being dug into and pulled apart by unkind fingers. Your nails eat into your palms, the tang of blood just barely whisking across your nostrils.

Memories are uncovered and brought forward against your will, appearing in flashes and whirs of voices. The first strawberry harvest of the season, your mothers laughter, your fathers stupid jokes, your brothers stern yet comforting silence, the time you broke your leg falling out of a tree. Those kind are shoved aside quickly, though they fill most of the space where memories are stored; he doesn’t want those ones. Sweat drips down the side of your face, mouth open as you pant. Pain feels both so acute and so distant, like you’re half in and half out of your own body.

You’re tossed through memories like you’re within an ocean, barely able to stay afloat as you’re tugged one way and then the other. The first appearance of the Force, the way it’d shot out from you without control, the fear you’d felt when it ended up injuring your brother. That one sticks for a while, made to replay over and over by the one controlling this ride that you so desperately want off of. Having to learn all alone, your only teachers being the books you had to buy from black markets, the isolation from your peers, your solitary journey to Ilum, the construction of your lightsaber. The loneliness that has built over years and years surges up, taking over your senses, amplified by the pain you feel.

“You’ve been by yourself all this time. No one’s ever understood you.” Kylo says curiously. His hand tilts slightly, like he’s turning a knob. “You hid yourself away, you felt terror at what you could do, simply because you didn’t understand it. You’ve denied who you are.” You would say something if you could, but any words you try to muster come out as choked air.

His head lifts just a hairsbreadth. “I see it. You want so badly to learn, but you have nobody to show you.” He breaths out. “And yet, somehow, you were able to compete with me. I don’t get it; you’re worthless. You’re a girl from a nowhere planet with a nobody family, a family that would’ve betrayed you in the end anyway. Your powers would grow to overwhelm you because you don’t know what to do, and they would cower away, scared of their own daughter.” There’s something about the way he says those words, like there’s a familiarity to them that runs deeper than the surface. Like he’s said them before, heard them before.

Fire rages beneath your skin, threatening to tear you asunder, your eyes starting to roll. This is not what the Force should be used for—this pain, this display of power. Or maybe it is, maybe those books you used only ever showed one side of the story. There was always a mention of balance, the light unable to exist without the dark. As memories become skewed and watery in your mind, delirious with agony, you begin to realize you don’t know anymore. Your thoughts no longer feel like your own, so scrambled and incoherent that you’re unsure if you’re even able to think properly at all. His hand withdraws suddenly, like he’s been burned, and everything ceases completely. Your body goes slack, your head lolling, but there’s at last silence in your mind.

His fingers rub together as he contemplates something. “You have a great amount of potential, strength that can be brought out with the right training. Leader Snoke will be interested in you.” He mutters. “I feel the Dark Side within you, it’s what you were meant for. So easy to anger and hatred, consumed by your isolation, it will make you more powerful than you could ever imagine.”

You shake your head, but the action is weak. Your words are forced, sapping the last of whatever remaining energy you have. “N..No, no, I won’t- I won’t join you-“

He hums, as if considering your answer, his hands clasping behind his back. “I wonder what your family would think about that? Atrisia, was it?”

You jolt, ignoring the way your muscles smart, lunging forward as your exhaustion is replaced with a pure, snarling anger. It’s just what he wants, but you can’t find it in you to care. “You stay the fuck away from them, you monster-“

“Then I believe we’ve come to an agreement.” He says, helmet seeming to gleam with his cruelty. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to fight someone so badly before, even if fighting him is what got you here in the first place. He turns, typing something into a data-pad built into the wall. “Course will be set to see Leader Snoke shortly. Enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

You don’t get a chance to spit a final fuck you before he’s disappeared and the doors are hissing shut behind him.

[lover-of-mine]

Oh baby, why did you run away?

for @steadfastsaturnsrings

[thecooler-scrollsforetold]

"Hey, Juno! I've always wondered... how do your people conceive of the differences between Mara and Dibella? As an Altmer Priest of Mara, we see Dibella as a deity within Mara's sphere, extending and expanding upon her domain. I'm curious about the liturgical differences between our people! Lovingly, Oridiil."

[crownjewel123]

Not a Reader/Fifteen request, but I am STARVED for Fifteenth Doctor/Jack Harkness!

Some sort of scenario where they meet up again somehow and this time… this time something in this Doctor wants Jack. And Jack is shocked the Doctor is flirting back finally, and he is not at all complaining, not in the slightest. Wherever you wanna take it after that 👀

Bet! Do forgive if it’s not the greatest I’m still trying to flex my creative muscles out of their dormant state.

Another day, another adventure.

Ruby Sunday was glad she had followed the Doctor out of her mum’s flat on Christmas day. Different eras, saving music, meeting space babies, stopping goblins, the mysterious Timelord never seemed to stop moving. It was nice, after having lived such a mundane life after so many years.

Not that she would complain, she loves her family. She loves helping people, seeing new people, saving people, seeing new things.

This though, this was new.

She hadn’t seen the man flirt since the colony of horrible dot users. Wasn’t even sure he was completely capable of it in a face to face setting, before this moment.

They were on a planet, 500,000 light years away from earth and 4000 years in the future. The Doctor called it Talbot, a society that existed outside of the capitalist sphere ‘for about a hundred or so more years before the colonists arrived and ruined it’… or something like that.

It was so intricate, the cities design. And the people, welcoming, helpful, kind. And incredibly charming- well, this man was.

He strode over to her with a smile, holding out a hand. “Hello, Captain Jack Harkness.” He winked at her, and she felt her cheeks warm, before she was wisked to the side.

“Jack, always a pleasure,” the Doctor spoke, raising one of his hands to his lips to press a chaste kiss. He stepped back with a flourish of his coat. A mix between a bow, and a curtsy. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my companion, Ruby Sunday.”

Jack gaped at the man before him a moment, blinking before his smile split into a grin so wide she wondered if it hurt.

“Doctor, you look good,” Jack remarked, shrugging off his coat and tucking it into his elbow. “To what do I owe such a pleasure?”

“Well, you’re breathing aren’t you?” The Doctor winked with a chuckle, “Would you care to catch up with some refreshments?” He too, shrugged off his coat, revealing his colorful shirt beneath that revealed a bit of his barren chest. Jack’s eyes filtered over his form a moment.

Ruby suddenly felt quite misplaced. Though, she didn’t say it as she watched owlishly. She found herself interested in finding the connection between the two.

The Doctor offered a hand to Jack, who looked at it with some sort of suspended disbelief. Before, relief seemed to overtake him.

“Oh Doctor, I thought you’d never ask.” Jack took his hand, trailing beside him as they sauntered toward the nearest bar.

Ruby’s lips parted in her silent surprise, before she smiled, following behind them.

[ryderthornton]

Closed starter: @makaylahoffmann

Ryder was woken up by a very bright light. He groaned and threw the blankets back over his head knowing who it was. “The bell hasn’t gone off yet. You said I could get a little nap in before I started on checking the truck before our next call.”he mumbled underneath the blanket.

[sillyjokes]

“You’re kinda hot”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖩𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒. 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗒𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅. Are 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾? '𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖨'𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒? 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾. "

[daily-rgbtrio]

Like the real life Charlie dying in a glue trap thing, from the cabin? That's what I meant when I said that.

Much love,

Hcperson.

day 43

can you imagine being literally anyone in the control room and just hearing this go on? horrific /pos

i also really liked this version

[blackcatxmagic]

Closed starter for Aristotle McIntyre ( @veilxstars ) Location: Downtown Cardinal Hill

It was because of the dreams he'd been having. That's what Copper told himself when he saw him passing by outside The Twilight Cauldron. There was simply no way it could be him, and Copper knew it was because he'd been dreaming about his family so much lately. For the last several days, Copper had been dreaming what felt like the entire night long every night, and many of those dreams featured his family. Of the ones that did, they were usually more like nightmares, and Copper was always so troubled when he woke from those ones. But sometimes Copper dreamt happy dreams about his family (as well as his friends and especially Damon), sometimes memories, sometimes dreamy scenarios that had never actually happened. When he really thought about it, Copper realized that Aris in particular was featured in his dreams, and what was more, he seemed to be growing clearer and clearer each time. It was like Aris was walking through a fog toward him, his features clearing as he got closer and closer - like he was coming toward him. It was like watching a movie where everyone else was hazy, but Aris was clear as day. It was peculiar, but Copper hadn't made much of it, and he knew that was why he thought he had seen Aris.

So Copper forgot about the faux sighting of his brother, convincing himself - well mostly - that he had imagined it, that the guy was someone who just looked like his brother. But he thought about Aris all day, missing him and his family and everyone he had left behind in Maine, and he wished he could see them again. He talked to them on the phone sometimes, never telling them where he was, but it wasn't the same - Copper wanted his family. This is for their own good, he told himself, sighing. He had run to protect the people left in his life. Even so, Copper couldn't ignore the small twinge of disappointment at the fact that the person he'd seen wasn't his brother.

The next time was harder to rationalize. Copper was leaving The Twilight Cauldron later that day, walking toward Shadow's Curiosities (it was on his way to where he was going), and as he got nearer, Copper saw someone duck inside the shop. It was that same someone he had seen earlier. What the fuck? Copper thought. Reaching the shop, he was tempted to go inside and get a closer look at the man, but he was almost afraid, unsure if he wanted it to be Aris or not. So many thoughts and feelings rushed through him, and Copper decided to push them down, instead going to the gym to workout all his troubled thoughts.

It wasn't until Copper was leaving Pure Leaf Alchemy later that day that he knew enough was enough. The moment he stepped outside, Copper saw the man across the street. Though his back was to him, Copper was getting serious Aris vibes from the guy, and whether this was his brother or not, it seemed like the universe wanted them to run into each other; he couldn't ignore three times in a single day. So Copper hurried across the street - almost getting hit by a car in the process - and just before he reached the man he realized with certainty that this most definitely was his brother. "Aristotle Locke McIntyre, what the actual fuck are you doing here?!" Copper exclaimed, grabbing Aris's shoulder and spinning him around. Now his dreams made sense, at least the ones with Aris: they were foretelling his arrival in Cardinal Hill, and Copper thought he should have known that was what they meant. For a moment, Copper just looked at his big brother, overcome with a variety of conflicting emotions. While he was glad to see his brother - so very glad - Copper was also troubled. The whole reason he had run from Maine was to protect his family, knowing Neil would follow him, and now Aris was putting himself in the line of fire just by being here. "I...I don't even know what to say," Copper said, and it was true: he was stunned. But despite the fact that part of him was angry, Copper couldn't help himself: he hugged Aris tightly, letting out a months-long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I told you not to look for me," Copper said quietly as they hugged, though there was no malice there.

[cursedwanderer]

“You’re scary and yet I’m attracted…”

@ubrias-court-wizard

“Are you afraid of what I am and does that also entice you?” She sniffed the air while slowly circling around him. The stench of Oden’s blessings was strong and caused her nausea. Silly little human to search the hanged God’s wisdom when he barely walked in this world. Nature was formed by Fenja and others of her kind. People feared the Allfather as much as they dreaded what was hiding in nature. “And what is your wish as you entered my domain?” She inched closer and whispered into his ear. “I am no farm girl and I choose who will warm my bed.” 

@ubrias-court-wizard

[hxuse-of-muses]

@darkenigma32

{♚}—; Freddy stepped out of his green room and headed towards the atrium but took a detour to go to a staff meeting room, the Pizzaplex was currently undergoing cleaning and making sure the place remained presentable for when it would be opening soon. Freddy wanted to be ready for when the place would be flooded with kids and all manners of guests alike.

He was told along with the rest of his friends that a new security staff member was joining the Pizzaplex starting today so that he would know her when he saw her. There was still time before the place opened but he was enthusiastic to meet a new member of staff, hoping that they would enjoy their time here and he would get a chance to see them soon.

[toruloloo]

[that-angry-noldo]

Sauron catches a glimpse of his prisoner's memory and of a man he calls "father". this discovery, of course, is exploited as soon as possible. (cw: torture)

some finrod shapeshifting whump for @actual-bill-potts! i hope you enjoy >:)

In the end, it is hard for Finrod to keep them separated.

"Atar," he cries. "Atar, please! Please-"

The person before him is not his father. They cannot be his father. His father turned back, his father left them all - this is not his father - not his father - and yet-

Finarfin tilts head as Finrod shakes and cries. His blue eyes are sharp, cold, calculative; he takes Finrod's chin.

The Maia's touch burns. Finrod sobs.

"I am listening," his father says, and Finrod jerks. The voice is painfully, so painfully accurate, and yet so twisted, so horribly wrong. The quiet, calm tone is sharpened with a cold edge to it; soft, kind eyes burn with malice and evil.

He trembles. "Please," he mumbles again. "Please."

His body burns where Finarfin peeled long stripes of his skin off. Now, he looks at Finrod patiently, the knife still in his hands. "You know i do not wish to do this," he states, calmly. "And yet, you leave me with no choice."

"No!" Finrod screams in terror as the knife creeps to his skin again, and it is useless, because Sauron knows no mercy, but this is his father, his father, his own father - "No, no, no, please-"

"Do you not know any other words besides these two?" Finarfin hisses, and the knife cuts into the skin of Finrod's back, and he cries out. "Have I not taught you?"

"Fa-" Finrod chokes on the word- wrong, wrong, wrong; "Please- please-"

"You know the rules," his father whispers into his ear, and the knife moves slightly downwards, and Finrod cries. Not his father, he repeats. Not his father. "Though I am ready to change them, just for you; so you see how great is love of the father. I do not need your name. But do you remember mine?"

Finrod sobs, again. He does. Of course, he does; but the person behind him is not Arafinwë, is not his father. His eyes are cold and calculative, voice sharp and hands cruel. It is not his father, no matter how much he wants him to be.

The tip of the knife sinks deeper inside of him.

"Tell me," Finarfin whispers. "Does son not love his father? Tell me my name, if you remember it."

"Sauron," Finrod whispers. "Sauron the Abhorred."

There is a second of a dark silence, and then the knife slashes all the way down his back.

Finrod screams his throat hoarse.