#I was just pointing this out but now it sounds like a fanfic

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part II (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade, and is determined to get out. But Solas' Prison has more than one trick up its sleeve.

Word count: ~ 4200

Veilguard endgame spoilers ahead

“You died”

A simple truth leaves her lips, as Madeleina Mercar looks upon the body of her fallen friend. And now that it has been spoken, it cannot be hidden behind a memory or become unknown so as to ease a troubled conscience. It is a truth, as much as the sky is blue and snow falls in winter.

In shifting hues of grey the scene at the ritual site is recreated in a tableau of death and despair. Two old friends, in their own right.

Solas stabbing Varric with his Lyrium dagger. Varric’s choked gasp as the blade pierces his chest, and blood fills his lungs. Bianca drops from his grip and slides down the steps, followed by her owner shortly after. She watches herself stand over his body. His dead body. Hears him call her name one last time, before his eyes close forever.

Madeleina’s lips quiver as her vision grows blurry with tears, threatening to spill like a waterfall. She clutches her chest, as if it could keep her heart from sinking any lower. This crushing loss she tried so desperately to ignore so she could keep going, could not be ignored anymore. Would not be relegated to the tricks of the mind any longer.

Varric comes to stand next to Madeleina and regards his lifeless body with her. He gives her a small, sad smile.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, kid”

She clutches the fabric of her overcoat tightly, and a strangled sob escapes her lips. Madeleina quickly wipes the tears away with the back of a gloved hand and stifles a sniffle.

“I … I’m so sorry Varric” Madeleina whispers.

Varric does not seem confused by her apology.

“For what” Varric says. He pointedly asks her for clarification, because he already knows what she’s trying to do, and he won’t have it.

“For not saving you” Madeleina answers, her voice shaky and uneven and struggling to even form the words.

Varric clicks his tongue and shakes his head. She watches carefully as the dwarf walks a few paces, then slowly turns to face her again.

“Shit, didn’t you learn anything from this place?” He sounds more surprised, or exasperated, than disappointed. As if the lesson was beating her over the head with a stick and she had kept her eyes and ears closed the entire time. He points to his chest with his thumb to emphasis the point, “I made the choice. To try to talk to him. To try to reach him, even knowing the risks. Because he was my friend. My decision. My sacrifice. And you don’t get to take that from me”

“But – “

“You know better than anyone, Rook, that every story has an ending” Varric quickly interjects. He gives her a knowing smile. “This one just came a little earlier than I’d planned. Come on. Walk with me, kid”

Varric jerks his head to the side and begins walking through the remnants of the ritual site. Madeleina can do nothing but follow silently, her thoughts and feelings twisting around each other to become some Gordian knot – impossible to parse out, and just as confusing.

She follows him through the main path and beyond the statues of the Evanuris, rising towards the sky, ascending like the Gods they were. Or, pretended to be, at least.

“How am I supposed to lead this team without you, Varric? I can’t do this alone. It feels like all I do is make things worse” Madeleina says. Visions of Minrathous drowned in Blight, Venatori taking control of the Magisterium, and a Dragon decimating the city replay in her mind. She’ll never know if saving Treviso was the right call in the long run. What the world might have looked like if she chose differently. And that terrifies her still.

“I can’t do this alone” She adds, her voice hitching. She’s afraid. She’s so very afraid of facing the world out there without him. Without his wisdom, his guidance, and the levity he effortlessly brings into even the shittiest of situations.

Varric shakes his head, almost in disbelief they’re still having this conversation. He gives her a pointed look and gestures towards her, “What do you think you’ve been doing all this time?”

Madeleina doesn’t have a good rebuttal, so, she merely stands with her arms limp at her side and looks at the ground because she can’t bear to face him right now. She feels like a dog without a sense of smell, a horse that can’t gallop.

A pawn without a purpose.

“Look at me, kid” Varric says, ducking his head low so he forces himself into her line of sight.

Madeleina’s eyes slowly drift upward. She’s biting on her lip to keep more tears from falling.

Varric gives her a gentle, reassuring grin, “You’re the leader they need, Rook. And you’re not alone. You never were”

The dwarf continues walking down the path in front of them. He pauses when the cobblestones drop down into the void of nothingness below them, their path momentarily cut off. Grass and dirt form below their feet, giving them new ground to tread on. The ritual site crumbles to pieces behind them, like a wetted sand castle crushed under someone’s hand.

Great sycamore trees spring to life, growing and maturing a hundred years over the course of seconds. A mountain range stretches along the border of the forest, opening like the maw of a great beast.

They’re surrounded by tiny wooden houses with thatched roofs. The small Chantry near the town square. The butcher’s shop, the Blacksmith’s forge, the apothecarist’s lab. All there, as she remembered them.

Arvanitum, frozen in time, stretches out before her.

“W-what …?” She whimpers, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Madeleina’s head swivels desperately, so fast she’s giving herself whiplash. But all she sees is her old home. “Varric …” Madeleina swallows the bile threatening to rise in her throat, “What is this?” She turns to him, confusion and hurt and fear writhing across her delicate features, vying for dominance.

Varric puts a spectral hand on her shoulder and looks out over a perfectly preserved Arvanitum with her. Although she can’t feel solid touch, there is still the same warmth and comfort she knew in his presence when he lived.

“The final lock in a prison meant to cage Gods” He smiles gently, and lets his hand slide off her shoulder.

Madeleina takes a hesitant step on familiar roads she trod a thousand times in her youth. She half-expects to see her footprints lingering in the dirt, up the winding path behind the Chantry that would take her to the lone house on a small hill. The town bakery. Her home.

“It’s time to finish this story, Rook. Your story” Varric takes a step back. “Sometimes, we need to go back to the beginning, to get our ending”

Madeleina whips her head around, so quickly the tears fly off her cheeks.

“Varric – wait!” She calls out after him, her arm outstretched, grasping for empty space. She wants to run after him, but her feet stay planted in place as if roots have grown over them.

Varric already has his back turned to her as he walks away.

“Good luck, kid” He gives her a small wave, and a confident smirk over his shoulder.

“I just know your ending’s going to be killer”

And with that, he was gone. Disappeared into the thick foliage of the forest.

Madeleina doesn’t know how long she was left standing there, alone in the town square.

It was empty. There were no villagers milling about their daily lives. No clerics in their vestments standing outside the Chantry soliciting donations and reading out verses from the Chant of Light. No children making trouble in the street. No clanking from the Blacksmith’s hammer. No raucous laughter from the tavern down the road. No stray animals lingering by the food stalls, waiting for their chance to scavenge the scraps of the day.

Empty.

No people, no animals, just her.

She turns again to the winding path behind the Chantry. There is a pull towards her childhood home she can’t explain. Something deep in her chest grasps for it, yearns to go there like a flower turning towards the sun.

Before Madeleina is even aware, her feet are moving. One step at a time, she begins walking that familiar path back home.

Anxiety winds itself into knots in her chest. She is terrified of what she might find there.

Will the prison make her relive the day she found her parents dead? Relive the moment she was nearly possessed by Despair? Madeleina doesn’t know if she can handle that. It was enough to go through it once. To see it again might very well destroy her, she thinks.

Then again, she would expect nothing less from a prison designed to trap a God. And she is no God – she’s just a person. Back in this village, she’s just a little girl.

Her feet continue moving of their own accord, carrying her home.

She sees it soon enough, that house on the hill.

The same thatched roof in desperate need of repair. The same flowers in the window box – daffodils, snowdrops, and hyacinths. A warm, orange glow from the windows on the second floor. Her mother has lit her favourite candles, most likely. The ones she buys from the Orlesian merchant who comes once a month. Scented like lavender. Familiar and comforting, just like her.

Madeleina lingers at the door, frozen in place. She wants to move. To reach out, push the door open and step inside. But she can’t bring herself to do it. Her chest tightens, so much so that she feels like she’s going to implode on the spot.

Venhedis, I can’t do this.

Her palms start to feel sweaty. She flexes her fingers back and forth in an effort to relieve some of the tension.

“Darling, is that you?” A familiar voice calls from inside the house.

Her mother’s voice.

Oh.

There’s movement from inside the house. She has time to run. She wants to run. And yet, she remains as still as a statue. Her heart thuds quickly in her chest, so loud she can hear its rhythmic thrum in her eardrums.

The door swings open, and she’s greeted by the sight of Eurydice Arcturion. Her mother is exactly how Madeleina remembered her in her dreams and memories. Warm, whiskey-brown eyes, long auburn hair tied over her left shoulder, and the same upturned nose as her own. Her crow’s feet are more prominent – signs of a life filled with laughter and smiling. She’s wearing a familiar light blue linen dress. Her white baker’s apron is powdered with flour and spices. The same dress and apron she was wearing on that day. The only noticeable difference is that Eurydice is somewhat shorter than Madeleina remembers.

Her stomach forms an endless pit. She swallows thickly, as words try and fail desperately to form on her tongue but end up unwinding like a ball of yarn dropped to the floor.

Mother.

I missed you so much.

I saw you … I saw your …

You’re here.

How?

Eurydice smiles sweetly at the sight of her daughter, “There you are, love. Did you have fun picking the elderberries in the forest?” She ushers Madeleina inside, and before she can think, her feet are moving on their own again.

Elderberries?

Madeleina looks down, and in her hands, her bare hands, is an old wicker basket full of purple berries. Her armour is gone. She’s traded it for a simple beige tunic and pants. Eurydice is taller than her now. Just a moment ago, Madeleina was practically towering over her.

When did that happen?

“Love?” Her mother touches her shoulder with a calloused hand. Despite her hands being worn from the day’s work, Eurydice’s touch is as soft as silk, and warmer than wool. She smells like flour and cinnamon and lavender.

“Hmm?” Madeleina looks up at her mother with a blank stare. “Oh … yeah, it was fun” She answers, as a small, mischievous grin creeps onto her features when she remembers her adventures in the forest, “I chased a few rabbits. Ended up finding some babies in a burrow!”

“Did you now?” Eurydice smiles and quirks a brow, “Did I not teach you better manners than to terrorize new parents?”

Madeleina pouts and stares down at the floor, embarrassed, “I just wanted to see the babies …”

“Rascal” Her mother pinches her cheek and gets her moving again with a hand on the small of her back. They maneuver to the back of the shop and walk past large bags of flour, the woodfire oven, and clay pots. Up the familiar creaking stairs, and through the door at the top, is the small den of their home.

A sweet aroma drifts from the adjoining kitchen. Familiar. Something she hasn’t had in a long time. Had almost forgotten about entirely, until she’s practically salivating with anticipation.

“I made Dolmades, your favourite” Eurydice grins as she takes the basket of Elderberries from Madeleina’s small hands. “Go wash up for dinner”

Madeleina and her empty stomach don’t have to be told twice. She hurries to the restroom and takes a bar of soap from the counter, then uses it to hurriedly scrub the dirt from her hands and fingernails in the wash basin.

She catches her reflection in the mirror. The young Madeleina, about twelve year’s younger, all wiry limbs and wild curls, stares back at her. Scrawnier. Covered in cuts and scrapes reflective of the recklessness of youth.

There’s a smear of dirt on her left cheek, and after wetting her fingers in the wash basin, she rubs it off quickly. Mother doesn’t mind her getting dirty, so long as none of it makes it to her dinner table. Satisfied, Madeleina gives herself a small smile.

After walking back into the kitchen, she spies her father lounging on a cushion by the fireplace. Judging by the way his salt-and-pepper curls seem extra curly, he must have just woken up. He’s usually asleep during the day, as he plays at the tavern in the evenings. Her mother busies herself with setting the table while she makes her way towards her father.

“Ahhh, there she is” His kind face splits into a wide grin at the sight of Madeleina. She wraps her arms around her father’s neck. He places a gentle kiss to her cheek, and ruffles her hair, mussing her own curls.  “Hello, little love”

“More like little terror” Her mother chimes in, as the sound of pots and pans clinking fill the kitchen. “If the forest animals are to be believed”

Orpheus grins, and hugs Madeleina tightly against him, “Humm, wherever did she get that tendency from”

“Father…” Madeleina mumbles, trying to pry her way out of his grasp. It only makes his grip tighter.

He chuckles, “Now, now, I’m sure you had a perfectly good reason for making trouble in the forest, hmm?”

“I wanted to see the baby rabbits…” The young girl answers sheepishly, avoiding his bright green eyes. Sharp, keen, intelligent – like a hawk’s. She can never look at him when she’s trying to lie, so she doesn’t bother lying anymore. He picks them out like weeds in a garden.

“Oh, and did you?”

“Orpheus” Her mother’s voice is stern. “Don’t encourage her. One of these days she’s going to get herself in trouble, running around the wilds like that”

“But I didn’t!” Madeleina protests quickly. Her father’s grip has loosened somewhat and she’s able to pry herself out of his grasp. “Get in trouble, I mean. I found the path again – I dropped berries so I could find my way back in case I got lost…”

Eurydice sets the Dolmades on the table, along with three plates. There’s a spread of other grilled vegetables beside them. A small bowl of Tzatziki sauce with a spoon sticking out of it is the last thing to be put on the table.

“Alright, alright – enough of that for now, come and eat dinner” She wipes her hands on her apron, before untying it and placing it on the back of her chair.

Her father pinches her cheek and guides her towards the dinner table.

Eggplant. Augh.

She makes a sour face when she spies the offending purple vegetable next to the carrots. Madeleina knows her Mother won’t like her being picky, so she’ll settle for pretending to nibble on the slices slowly, while subtly reaching for the carrots that are furthest away from the eggplant.

Madeleina grins and piles the stuffed grape leaves onto her plate.

“Whoa, slow down there, where’s the fire?” Orpheus chuckles, as he loads his own plate.

“Picking berries is hard work” She pouts, before dipping a Dolma into the Tzatziki and shoving it in her mouth. A content sigh escapes her lips as the sweet and savoury flavours mix on her tongue. “I was at it for hours” she adds, speaking around the stuffed grape leaves.

“Oh, my apologies” He places a hand on his chest with dramatic flourish. “I’ll be more mindful of your laborious duties from now on, my darling”

“Good” Madeleina grins and continues eating her dinner, picking from Dolmas and vegetables alike.

Eurydice smiles and shakes her head, pointing to Orpheus with her fork, “She gets her attitude from you”

“And all her best qualities from you, Amatus” Her father blows her a kiss from across the table, and Madeleina makes a sour face as her mother’s cheeks flush.

Ew.

As much as she may pretend to be disgusted by her parent’s displays of affection, she’s always loved seeing them… in love. Since she was a young girl, Madeleina dreamed of finding someone who would cherish her the way Orpheus cherished Eurydice. A love like something out of a fairytale.

Something familiar tugs in the back of her mind.

Bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye.

Where has she heard that before?

The scent of chocolate and coffee curiously fills her nostrils, but there is none on the table.

Strange.

“Darling?” Her mother’s voice snaps her out of it. The thought is forgotten as quickly as it came, and the smell of chocolate and coffee fades away. Her head quickly whips to attention.

“Hmm?”

“Is everything alright?” Her mother raises a concerned brow, “You’re unusually… pensive today”

A very polite way of saying you keep spacing out. But it was just like her mother to put a polite spin on everything.

Madeleina nods, and picks at her vegetables, “Yes mother, I’m fine, I promise. I … I guess I’m just tired, is all”

Her father sees it for the lie it is, but mercifully doesn’t call her out on it.

Orpheus gives her a warm smile and leans in closer, “Not too tired for a story, I hope”

Madeleina rolls her eyes but can’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

He sticks a thumb to his chest and laughs, “I’m the only bard for miles around, what are they going to do? Fire me? Half the patrons only come to hear me play”

She goes to take another Dolma on her plate before her mother’s hand gently slaps her own away, “Ah-ah, finish your vegetables first. All of them” She eyes the unfinished eggplant on her plate.

Madeleine frowns, withdrawing her hand. She folds her arms over her chest, “Actually, I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll take that story, father”

“No, you’re going to sit there and finish your – “

Orpheus lifts a hand to stop his wife mid-sentence, “Amatus, she’s had a long day. Picking berries is such tiresome work after all”

Eurydice looks like she wants to protest, but realizes she is effectively outnumbered on the matter, and resigns to finish her own dinner. “Unbelievable, these two” She murmurs around mouthfuls of Dolma.

Her father pushes his chair out and leaves the room for a moment. Madeleina knows exactly what he’s gone to do, and bounces eagerly in her chair, vibrating with anticipation.

She quickly stuffs one last Dolma down her throat before her mother can get a word in edgewise and runs away from the table. She takes her usual seat on the cushion closest to the fireplace. Her mother sighs, finishes her own dinner, and then begins clearing the plates.

Her father returns a moment later, scratching his beard.

“That’s odd” He says thoughtfully, putting a hand on his hip. “Amatus – have you seen my journal?”

Her mother is by the kitchen sink now, washing the emptied plates from dinner. “No, dear. I haven’t. Isn’t it on the bedside table?” She calls over her shoulder, above the gritting noise of the sponge tearing grease from the dish.

Orpheus looks about the den – he checks the fireplace mantle, under the cushions, between the couch cushions, the bookshelf. And yet, he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

Faded red leather. Yellowed pages. Black ink spots. No, dried bloodstains. The acrid smell of must and mothballs.

Her father’s journal doesn’t look like that. Doesn’t smell like that. It never has.

Stranger still.

Madeleina shakes her head and gets up from her spot, first inspecting under the coffee table, and then under the cushions once more to make sure her father didn’t miss anything.

“Darling, can you check your bedroom? I might have left it there last night” Orpheus calls, as he ducks beneath the dinner table to ensure it didn’t fall there from his pocket.

Right. He had been reading Swan Lake to her last night. Madeleina wastes no time jogging to her small bedroom.

Nothing looks out of place. She sees the same stuffed rabbit and teddy bear lying on her bed, well-worn and well-loved with age. Hand-me-downs from one of the older girls in the village.

Octavia. That’s right - she married a soldier from Ventus. She’s gone now, and the tailor’s hours were reduced since their only daughter wasn’t around to help anymore.

She checks her little writing desk and moves the clothes she’d left on the chair to the floor. Madeleina can already hear her mother chastising her for that.

Still, there’s no journal to be found. Not on the desk, under the desk, nor under her bed.

Madeleina sits cross-legged in the middle of her room and releases a soft breath. Well, if the journal was somewhere in this house, it wasn’t in here.

As her thoughts drifted towards her father’s journal, there was a strange feeling that took root in her chest. Like she was attached to a string being tugged at from some far away place. A marionette being pulled towards its puppeteer.  

She looks through the window to see the setting sun, washing the mountains and forest in pinks, oranges and golds.

The tugging sensation in her chest grows stronger. Enough to no longer be considered a trick of the mind. It turns sharp, almost painful. Madeleina winces and grasps her chest where she feels the sensation.

“Ahh …” She hisses, closing her eyes, her brows drawing tight. Madeleina looks down at her chest, and where her heart should be, she sees a faint, blue light flickering in and out.

“What the -…?”

“Darling?” Her father calls from the den.

Madeleina’s head snaps towards the sound of his voice. She looks back down at her chest. The blue light is gone, no longer flickering like a candle in the wind. There’s no more tugging in her chest.

I must have been more tired than I thought. She thinks, before standing up and rejoining her family in the living room.

Her father is sitting on one of the cushions on the floor, next to the fireplace.

“Did you find it?” Madeleina asks, as she comes to sit next to him.

Orpheus shakes his head, and black-and-grey ringlets fly about him as he does. “No – I must have left it at the tavern, I’ll check later tonight.”

Madeleina’s face falls, too tired to hide her disappointment, “Oh. So… no story tonight?”

Her father chuckles and pats her softly on the back, “Of course there’ll be a story tonight. The journal is just for show,” He leans in closer and turns his index finger against his temple, like one might turn a key into a lock, “Everything’s stored right here, anyway”

Orpheus pulls his daughter in closely, and she settles against his side, leaning her head on his broad shoulder.

“Which one are you going to tell me tonight?” She asks quietly, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Which one do you want to hear?”

Madeleina thinks hard for a moment. There’s so many to choose from. She’s heard them all at least a dozen times. Thinks she’s even memorized a good chunk of them.

She can’t explain her choice, only that she feels it’s an important one. There’s a distant feeling of familiarity with that story, one that goes deeper than all the times it’s been retold to her by her father.

“The Sleeping Princess, please”

“Ahhh, an excellent choice, little love” Orpheus smiles widely, and collects his weary daughter into his lap.

Madeleina rests against his chest and lets herself feel the exhaustion she’s been ignoring until now. Her breathing slows, and her eyelids grow heavier.

Her father begins gently stroking her hair, and it lulls her towards sleep even more.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away, there was a small kingdom. And in that kingdom, there lived a King and Queen, much beloved by their people…”

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Yay, another chapter done. This time I'd like to thank @hawkeish for giving me some angst fodder by playing around with the idea that something in the fade prison from Rook's past would make her more resistant to leave! >:)

As usual, do enjoy the story!

Thank you in advance for your comments and reblogs, I appreciate everyone who takes the time to do so and I do read all of them <3

[orangez3st]

What actually happened to Rex's batchmates?

Here's my take on this, because atm I'm writing a fanfic about Cadet!Rex as well so I'm appealing for his fanon cadet fate.

I respect both "Rex's batchmates are all decommissioned because the whole batch is defective but Cody and the others saved him so now he's got PTSD from child ab**e" and "Rex got bullied because of his mutated blond hair" fanons (uh hey where did this begin? Had those been widely accepted headcanon that it became fanon eventually? I'm revisiting this fandom and am just stepping my foot into the fanon so maybe safe to say I'm kinda-but-not-really new) but... Hear me out.

(Future me, approx 2 hours after starting this post: okay this post turns out to be so long you might wanna sit down)

Disclaimer again; I don't hate those fanons but it's kinda bothersome to me (so cruel omg idek if he'd been really strong for, what, just 10 years haunted by child ab**e trauma, based on majority fic depiction? and said trauma lasted into the clone wars even? uh, really? more in 10) that I've pieced the puzzle myself on how one may approach this matter from another angle.

Facts i (we) know about clones

As far as we know, they have batchmates and squadmates.

Not only are they genetically engineered with accelerated physical stamina, they are also capable of withholding more stress than the average natborn. This is due to the fact that war soldiers generally suffer PTSD and the Kaminoans wanted to create Tupperware clone army. Thus, to a certain extent, genetically, clones prove to be more emotionally stable – mind you, that doesn't mean they're not immune to PTSD and other related traumas. There were clones who defected from the army just because they couldn't handle it anymore. As cruel as this might sound, yeah; there's something wrong with their programming.

There are 3 known mass-produced clone types: CT (Clone Trooper), CC (Clone Commando), and RC (Republic Commando). Each type is made? cloned? bred? separately. Obviously.

Clones are engineered to be obedient and submissive to order and structure. CT has the most extreme levels of this alteration, meanwhile CC has less, due to their supposed strategic position in command they have to adjust to every possible scenario thrown at them, eventually concocting tactically effective battle plans.

Mutations and defective traits are different. Mutations are uniquely positive and genetically induced or by experiment, while defective traits pop up due to poor maintenance or accidents. Kaminoan scientists are willing enough to tolerate mutations as long as it causes no further problems (like Blue Eyes), while they deem the ones with defective traits totally unfit for combat (like 99).

So, to stress and/or narrow them down:

Clones, regardless of type, are capable of handling more stress and adapting to situations quickly.

#GodlikeKaminoanEngineering (or so they say): Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't suffer trauma and/or related disorders. (Idk if this hypothetically would apply irl. If there's any legit research about this particularly, point me to the journal article lol I'd love to check it out tho I'm not a huge bio fan. Intriguing all the same.)

Nothing wrong with programming = wouldn't defect. Clone Force 99 is a special case, though. (This point is completely unrelated to Rex but I think still worth mentioning)

CT's aren't that much capable of putting all hands on deck in strategy talks (that's what the CC's are for). All they know is to wait for orders from command and follow them thoroughly and make sure the job's done. However, they may or may not develop those traits themselves and finally take initiative basically becoming a kriffin badass CC intern, like Rex.

Genetic mutations, as we know or may assume, consist of change in physical appearance. This could mean lighter skin tone, not-Jango-Fett eye color, or not-so-Jango-Fett hair color. This is due to recessive genes. Jango's sister Arla has natural blond hair, you guys.

Therefore, from my perspective, Rex is in possession of genetic mutations and definitely not defective traits.

Combined with his standard CT emotional intelligence, excellent combat skill, his (pre-Skywalker) undying love for order and structure, and if not little acts of valor that undeniably has to show during his cadet years (I mean it would carry on into his ARC training and first months of the Clone Wars that he's given jaig eyes), I see no reason why he would be bullied and shunned by the rest of his batch.

If any, they regard him with so much respect because he shines – gloriously – throughout his training and essentially be the local pride. He's their brother, after all! Their vod! That's how he would've caught Cody and the other's attention too.

☝🏼🤓 I do accept the fanon that he's a batch behind them. I can't think of a reason. Might as well be freeform. And it's cute.

So.

That's the baseline, for clones.

Now we move on to the man himself.

(on gif above) That is so Cody-coded, Rex.

(1) Decommissioned batchmates

Tbh not sure what being decommissioned means, but given the generally grim and threatening implication that it strikes enough terror and neck-breaking amount of trauma to Rex of this fanon, it's gotta mean being terminated(?). Correct me if I'm wrong, but for now I'm rolling with that.

Rex exhibits excellent capabilities on field during his training that it easily captures his trainer's attention. A transfer to the CC command training sounds possible, I think, since y'know, Ponds is a CT as well and I'd like to think he's above Rex that the rank Commander is permissible for him (yes yes Rex is given the Commander promotion but he turned it down because he favors fighting up in the front with his men I am a firm believer of this as well). So he just gets separated from his batchmates and situated himself in the new brotherhood.

Also here's my baseless debunking because I just don't know any of those biology-related stuff.

I just don't think every single of his batchmates are so defective that the Kaminoans pulled the genoc**e card. It's just... Not possible. Math and probability, anyone? Hello?

Assuming the only reason for being decommissioned is for possessing defective traits so bad that it's worse than 99, the Kaminoans have no excuse to pull the genoc**e card just because a clone gets blond hair instead of Jango's black hair. As much as I support them being the most ultimate of assholes, I don't think they'd waste resources just like that.

So, in conclusion of this one; I think not. Rex's batchmates are very much alive and well and kicking droid ass during campaigns :)

(2) Traumatized Rex

Fanon: Rex with child ab**e trauma and, in conjunction, PTSD because he witnessed his batchmates get decommissioned.

I shall assume he carries this trauma even to the Clone Wars period.

Oh hang on, okay, he's defective because he's traumatized? Or is it the other way around; he gets traumatized that it somehow affects his already-defected emotional intelligence? What about his coping mechanism, is it defected as well? If the decommissioning of his brothers affects him so much he couldn't cope and carries with him the trauma, I don't think he'd be fit to go further since the start, or even earn those jaig eyes.

One thing about Rex is that he's brave. Since we're working with existing materials to create this headcanon, and that the jaig eyes itself is important, the jaig eyes still gotta be there. He earns it because he commits acts of valor in the battlefield – because he is a man of honor. Rex is very much aware of his emotional state, aware of the proper time and place; when to break down and when to put on a strong façade, because he's that selfless. He puts his men first. He cares about his men. He regards every single troop as his brother. First in, last out. An inspirational figure with strong will, always trying his best being the prime example and morale to his men.

Aside from the genetic stress inhibitor traits, Rex is a strong man, physically and mentally. In line with my previous point about how implausible and improbable it is that every single of his batchmates gets decommissioned, with this fanon scenario, I don't think Rex would be some guy who easily succumbs to trauma. He'd push on through and survive, and lo and behold. Canon-wise, he does. Still does.

(3) Why is he bullied 😭

My poor little meow meow of a heart can't take it. I don't know what this version of Rex is supposed to be bullied for? But if it's because of his blond hair IT'S NOT DEFECTIVE TRAIT it's genetic mutation. Even the majority of the clones sport black hair and brown eyes Jango style and only some of them sport brown hair or lighter, and even fewer of blond hair. And the Kaminoans allow it, as seen in 302.

Look at him he's precious. Some may think he's overrated, but he's just being him. No wonder he's majority's favorite. So with all that said, I rest my case.

Sorry that took so long and much of your time, but for my part, I'm glad I got those out of me. I might write my Rex and the other's headcanon in the future. Mentioned I'm writing a Cadet!Rex fic, so there's the link, if you're interested.

And don't get me started with the natural vs dyed blond thing. I'm a firm believer that Rex is a natural blond, and I've written the reason somewhere above.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. You may use this headcanon in your adaptations if you'd like. Cheers!

[uhavedemons011]

Just thinking about the scene where Dustin, Lucas, and Mike get pulled out of the AV room to talk to police, and Dustin and Lucas are arguing at some point, and Mike is just sitting in between them, staring at the floor. Looking absolutely depressed. Fucking empty.

They’re asking the kids about Will, and Mike is glaring at the floor because holy shit, his best friend isn’t at school and no one knows where he is.

Lucas and Dustin are arguing about something that doesn’t fucking matter, because Will is gone, and nothing matters more than that.

[evilkitten3]

someone's been liking a lot of my old posts relating to my attempts to rewrite fairy tail.... which, and this may astound you, is not actually a cancelled project in spite of the fact that it's been nearly a decade since i first started trying to figure it out

[sockdooe]

I feel like I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like the little bits of joy I get are immediately followed by an eventual sadness.

I’ve been getting this feeling in and out ever since I’ve been here at uni but I just don’t know.

I love interacting with a community and making art but I feel like I’m just waiting to be “seen” but never do. :(

Maybe it’s because I’ve been stuck in my room for 3 days cause I’m sick but idk.

Just the feeling of never really being accomplished or seen is really getting to me.

[aflirtingaccident]

life is strange fans once again prove themselves to be children

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[reinanova]

hmm i wonder if the fact that i’m in a really bad reading slump and can only read fanfics or reread favorite books (where i’m consuming media with familiar and comforting characters and worlds) says something about my mental state

[askyofexplodingstars]

"Cancelling plans is like heroin" - John Mulaney

(Sebatian x reader, they're married)

[snekdood]

ig my biggest issue with fandoms is the almost... false closeness thats there in them? ig since i was a kid and wasnt good at enforcing boundaries and was just excited to find ppl with the same interest I didn't really think about it but be real like, there was a vibe that it was "okay" and "fine" to expose a lot about ourselves to eachother that... i think if we knew eachother irl... we'd hafta be a lot closer than that to see or hear about that stuff...

[paperclipninja]

I'm gonna sound very old person yells at cloud but I don't care, I feel like I need to say this. We all (well most of us) know that messaging Neil with any headcanons/theories/wishes/hopes/dreams to do with the show is a no-go because it could potentially compromise the story he wants to tell or ends up telling. And yes, he is a grown up who chooses what to respond to etc and I think it's wonderful he engages with fans and answers a lot of lovely and interesting questions about his process, writing and journey etc.

However, there is another reason not to send theories and ideas about how the show should go to the show creator in the hope of a response: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether a theory is correct, or a speculation may or may not play out. That is why fandom exists.

Online fandom is where we all come together to yell and cry and throw around weird-ass ideas and theories and look at art and read fanfic and unite in our love of characters and a show. A huge part of being in fandom, is the way fandom theories become like an understood little bit of fanon lore that some people attach to, others disregard. But it doesn't matter. And part of the fun of fandom, is when a new season or a new episode of the show comes out, you have this collective catalogue of ideas and theories and headcanons and you get to yell and scream, "omg it happened1" or "lol that that thing was ever talked about" or "thank god that theory didn't come to pass".

Wanting to know now (not that we ever will) and not wanting to wait until the next season to find out the answers diminishes the fandom experience. I cannot stress enough how much we are in the absolute peak of the fandom experience right now. The between seasons time is the ultimate time to be a part of a fandom (as I'm sure many people are well aware), knowing there's another season coming energises everyone to create and connect and speculate and it's glorious! I know it feels like it'll be like this forever, but it won't. Next season is the last and yes, there will be a flurry and uptick of all the energy and excitement once again, and I absolutely believe Good Omens fandom will live on and remain active and thrumming. But there won't be theories and what ifs and hunting for clues for the next season, and over time it will dwindle a little and plateau and some people will fall into other fandoms, and while it will probably bubble away, there won't be the anticipation that sits with us now.

My point is, fandom is where we get to throw around ideas and flail and be ridiculous and also serious sometimes, but it's all for us. For the fans. Showing Neil theories or getting in a flap about a particular speculation and asking if x, y, or z might happen isn't just about putting the creator in an awkward spot, it takes away what fandom is about. Just let this time be ours. If you haven't been in fandom before, enjoy it! Don't be in a hurry to seek definitive answers or know things either way.

It doesn't matter if any or none or all of the things that float around end up being correct or incorrect. Fandom isn't about being right. It's about being a part of a community and being able to share ideas and it's about it being FUN.

So TL;DR Stop sending Neil fan ideas because that is for fandom, not for the creator.

[dewwinchester]

done. | d.w.

summary: you wake up to an empty bedroom, which isn't usually a good sign. but what you might find might not be too bad. OR, dean wants a normal life.

pairing: dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.7k+

warnings: fluff, surprise sam appearance, no specific pronouns used, no use of 'y/n'

a/n: it has been years since i've written any kind of fanfic, so please be gentle with me.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you knew something wasn't right.

The air was a little too still, and your bed was a little too cold. There was no noise except for the gentle drip, drip, drip of the tap in your bathroom and the occasional rumbling of the bunker's old pipes. The light from your alarm clock illuminated the room in a dim red glow, and after rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you could just make out the time: 03:26.

You sat up slowly, squinting through the darkness to make out your surroundings. Your bedroom was in the same state you had left it in when you'd gone to bed, but there was something missing.

Rather, there was someone missing.

Dean's side of the bed was empty, the sheets strewn around haphazardly. There was no sign of him anywhere, not even the slightest thing to point you in his direction. You wondered if he'd had a nightmare and left the room to clear his thoughts.

You threw the blankets off your legs and shivered as the warmth from the covers instantly left you. Sliding your socked feet into your slippers, you wrapped your robe around your body, sighing in relief as the newfound warmth spread through you.

Despite being the only one in the room, you made sure to sneak out, careful not to make any noise. You tiptoed past Sam's room, knowing the smallest sound would wake him up—pure instinct.

There was no one in the library. Nor was there anyone in the kitchen. For the first time in what felt like a very long time, the bunker was empty. Normally, you were lulled to sleep by the faint clicks from Sam's keyboard or the light chatter from Cas or Jack, both of whom never needed to sleep –

A pang in your heart caused you to stop in your tracks.

Things were different now. The bunker was different. Two of the most important people in your life were gone, and you had no way of seeing them again. Despite your success in literally killing God, you couldn't help but mourn what used to be. You missed your little family, the little life you all made with each other.

You saw a faint flickering light from underneath the door to the "Dean-Cave" and heard a few familiar voices that made a smile creep onto your lips. Pushing the door open, you were greeted with the sight of just the person you were looking for.

Dean was fast asleep on one of the recliners, legs stretched out in front of him and neck craned at an awkward angle. A beer barely rested in his grasp as an episode of Scooby-Doo played on the flatscreen TV. Miracle was protectively curled around his feet, his big brown eyes staring up at you curiously.

You knew better than to wake Dean outright. For all you knew, there was a weapon expertly concealed and within arm's reach. Instead, you tiptoed into the room, reached for the TV remote, and turned down the volume slowly. Then, you took the beer from his hand and placed it on the side table before resting a gentle hand on his pyjama-covered knee, careful not to step on the dog.

"Dean," you whispered, thumb tracing gentle patterns.

Ever alert, Dean's eyes flickered open slowly. He looked around, confused for a moment, before his green eyes landed on you. For a moment, you worried that waking him was a mistake—he needed all the sleep he could get—but the faint smile that tugged on the corner of his mouth told you that you had done the right thing.

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

"Did I wake you?" His voice was laced with sleep, low and gravelly. If it wasn't three o'clock in the morning, your heart would have skipped a beat.

Oh, who were you kidding.

"No, no. You're okay," you smiled, standing back as Dean readjusted his position on the couch. He sat forward and winced as he stretched out his neck, finally rubbing his eyes. Miracle stood up, leaving the room with a huff, no doubt going back to your bedroom. "I woke up and you weren't there. I got worried."

"I'm good."

You raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I'm good, promise," his tired eyes softened. "Just couldn't sleep before. Couldn't switch off."

You nodded in complete understanding. "Right."

You were going to try and get him to come back to bed—selfishly, you slept better when he was with you—but he just looked so damn comfortable in the recliner, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"You stay here," you said, voice still soft as a whisper. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm gonna go back to—"

"No, I'm awake now," he said, shooting you a pointed but playful look. He sat back in the recliner and patted his lap before stretching out his arms. "C'mere."

You used every ounce of energy you had to not run over and completely melt into his arms.

You moulded into him like a perfectly crafted puzzle piece, your legs and arms finding the most comfortable position almost instantly. Your head found its perfect spot somewhere just under the dip of his shoulder, and you couldn't help but breathe him in: smoke, beer, linen, and Dean. Your Dean.

"What were you thinkin' about?" you asked gently, wrapping one of your arms around his neck, your other hand intertwining with his. Dean was never really one to share his feelings, and though (with your help) he was starting to get better, there were times when you had to fight tooth and nail to bring down the steel walls he had put up.

According to him, it was one of your best strengths—being able to accept someone in their entirety, despite their faults, no matter how large. Your ability to empathise was beyond anything Dean could imagine. It was one of the reasons he loved and trusted you so deeply.

"Everythin'," he said with a sigh.

"Everything?" you repeated with a furrowed brow.

"Just," he began. "Everything that's happened. To Sammy. To me. To you. It's been a hell of a ride."

You nodded, trying to let your mind flick over the happier moments instead of the darker ones.

"It's been a lot," you agreed.

It was the understatement of the goddamn century.

"And I think about the people we lost," he paused, looking down at your interlaced fingers. "I think about every single one of 'em, all the goddamn time... And I wonder sometimes why I keep goin'."

You frowned, lips parted as you attempted to find some kind of response.

"But then I realised," he continued. "It's you."

You blinked. Once. Then twice. "Me?"

"After everythin', you're still here. I mean, you look at me like I'm some kinda hero or someth—"

"You are, Dean," you reassured. "I mean, you saved the entire world. More than once. You gotta stop saying you're not."

Dean sighed, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "See? All of that, and I’ve got nothin’ to give you."

"You give me everything just by being here. By coming home every day."

"You deserve more."

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to look at him directly with a firm, but loving look. This wasn’t a new conversation; in the past, the two of you had argued over whether or not you deserved Dean, or whether you deserved a life that was a little more sane… a little more normal. A life where you could wake up every day knowing that you didn't have to look over your shoulder and defend your every move.

These arguments usually resulted in screaming matches between the two of you.

Dean raised his hand, stopping you before you even got the chance to speak. "I didn’t mean that... I’ve been thinkin’... after tomorrow, that’s it.”

“What?”

“After tomorrow’s hunt. I’m done.”

You shook your head, disbelief quickly washing across your features. “You mean—?”

“I’m done.”

It felt like the air had been completely knocked from your lungs.

Done? You didn’t think such a concept existed for Dean. He had lived one way his entire life. Hunting was all he knew, all you knew. The idea of starting anew, starting fresh, was… oddly terrifying.

“I got a job application. I’ve filled it out—gonna hand it in at the end of the week.”

You could only shake your head in utter bewilderment.

“I’m tellin’ Sam tomorrow. He’s been thinkin’ about hanging it up too... for a while, I think.”

You had officially forgotten to breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, disguising your shock by clearing your throat. With wide eyes, you looked at Dean, thousands of words on the tip of your tongue, but none of them amounted to what you truly wanted to say.

You couldn't imagine it—waking up in the morning, working a 9-to-5 job, then heading back to a two-bedroom apartment in the middle of some city, drinking coffee, and going to meetings. You couldn't imagine leaving it all behind.

But then you looked at Dean, and for the first time, you noticed a hint of something different in his eyes. A spark of something that you just couldn't put your finger on. It was a look that made your insides buzz with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Okay," was all you were able to say. "One more tomorrow. Then we're done."

"Deal."

You fell back into Dean's embrace and listened to the steady thump of his heartbeat. Your brain was filing through a hundred different thoughts at a million miles an hour, but the heaviness of your eyelids began to take over.

After tomorrow, everything would be over.

But everything would begin.

+++

When Sam woke that same morning—mind you, at a way more reasonable time than 3 a.m.—he also woke to a quiet bunker. There was no quiet chatter from you and Dean in the kitchen, no breakfast being made or coffee being brewed. It was silent.

He eventually found the two of you, curled up together on one of the recliners. He couldn’t imagine the position you were in being comfortable in any way, all squished together on the tiny couch, but the peaceful looks on both your faces made him pause.

It was still early, and you hadn’t planned on leaving for another few hours anyway. So Sam left you there. He could get everything ready himself.

Besides, it was only a simple vamp hunt.

a/n: that job application will continue to haunt my dreams

[abbysbug]

— violent nature

pairing : dark!ellie x fem!reader

summary/request : Ok expansion pack: reader is leaving Ellie because of her violent nature for like the 3rd time, but Ellie tracks her and thinks a little rough sex is all she needs to fix reader's attitude, despite reader wanting out

content : noncon, stalking (kinda), breaking skin, bleeding, gun threats, degradation, fingering, clit rubbing, manipulation, overstimulation, finger sucking, cum eating.

note : this fanfic is pure fantasy and i do not encourage this behaviour happening inrl.

masterlist | discord

Your heart beat violently in your chest and your legs burned with each movement, but you couldn't stop running; you had to get as far away as possible.

You hadn't planned on leaving Jackson, but after multiple arguments with Ellie, you had to go.

Your face still stung from her slap and your bruised body ached.

You didn't take many things. Just enough food and water to keep you going until you found a shelter, and your gun, which you kept tucked in your pants.

It took you two days to find shelter. It was an abandoned neighbourhood that would have been swept through in the early days. The house you camped in had broken windows, doors, and furniture. But, there was a basement that would keep you warm throughout the night.

You felt safe there.

Until the sixth day.

You woke to the sound of a gunshot and a loud muffled cry. The person was close.

You reached for your gun and made your way out of the basement. You silently crept around the house, peering outside but couldn't see anyone.

You swallowed roughly and licked your lips.

They've probably moved on.

You turned around to make your way back to the basement but were met with a gun pointed at your face.

With Ellie's gun being pointed at your face.

Your immediate thought was to run, but your feet stayed glued to the ground. All you could do was pathetically stare at her with fear-stricken eyes.

Ellie chuckled.

"Did you miss me, baby?"

Ellie didn't give you time to respond. Her palm roughly met your cheek and she grabbed onto your throat, shoving you into the wall. You cried out and your gun was knocked out of your hand.

You tried to fight back and clawed at Ellie's hand. She ignored you, keeping her hand wrapped around your throat and her other on your hip, keeping you pinned.

"Little fuckin' bitch." She snarled as you broke her skin.

You kicked her in the leg and Ellie grunted. She threw you to the ground and straddled your waist, pinning your arms above your head.

"Why are you like this?" You wiggled relentlessly under Ellie.

Ellie sighed, leaned down, and kissed your neck "Because I love you."

She slowly shed your clothes, kissing every inch of your bare body. You didn't bother resisting her. She was too strong.

"If you try to run." Ellie used her thumb to wipe your tears away "I'll shoot you."

You nodded and stayed quiet.

Ellie released your arms and moved to lay between your thighs. She placed a soft kiss on your clit and two fingers propped at your hole. You shuddered as she slipped inside and her thumb rubbed your clit.

Ellie has memorised your body like the back of her hand. She knows what places make you scream and what places hurt. She knows how to force you over that pleasurable edge or keep you from it.

You whined, rutting your hips into Ellie's palm. It was pathetic how quickly Ellie made you chase that pleasure. She followed you for 6 days and once she finally found you, she threatened to kill you.

Now, you lay on the floor of an abandoned house letting her fuck you dumb.

A guttered moan escaped your lips as Ellie replaced her thumb with her lips, sucking and licking at your clit.

You clenched around her fingers and covered your moan, embarrassed by your loud moans. Your fingers threaded through Ellie's hair, pulling her closer to your cunt.

"You getting close, baby?" Ellie mumbled around your clit, vibrations going through your body.

Your words got stuck on your tongue as your orgasm washed over. Your back was arched and your toes curled. Your vision speckled white and you whimpered.

Overstimulation came quickly and you had to push Ellie's head away to stop her.

She chuckled and climbed back up your body. She pushed her slick-covered fingers against your lips and you opened. You both moaned as you sucked her fingers clean.

Ellie cupped your cheek and kissed you softly.

"You gotta stop running, sweet girl."

You swallowed roughly and nodded your head, whispering out.

"Okay."

-

a/n: so i would honestly make this darker but i know this fandom doesn't really like dark fics and i don't wanna be cancelled sooo :p

@ashandsweets @mystellenia

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hi!

I’d love a part two to your hit me hard and soft fanfic. Maybe Y/N continues to avoid them as a romantic relationship but begins to accept a platonic one liking eating with Dick or hanging out with Jason at school, etc… but the Batfam gets impatient and talks about why they are afraid (and maybe hunt down the ex which could gain their trust?)

Hit me Hard and Soft: Whispers in the Shadows

Synopsis: The relationship between the batfam gets broken after mistakes lead to accusations, and accusations lead to contingency plans.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: Poly!Yandere; All characters aged up; Possible betrayal; Bad father Bruce, but is he actually the asshole here?; Arguments; Mentions of killing and torture; Possibly ooc batboys: English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Not much action between Reader and the batboys here, but definitely something. Read the end to answer my question👀

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

— You can't be serious.

The tension was at its highest point. Only a few times priorly did the conflict between all of them get this bad, and as always, they feared things couldn't go back to the way they were.

— I am being serious. That's how things work. — Bruce stated darkly and Dick narrowed his eyes. — We tried it the nice way, I trusted you to behave, but you couldn't do that. — Bruce raised his gloved hand and pointed at Damian. — First, Damian can't control himself. He spent a decade acting right. Justice, not vengeance. But now, he's using (Y/N) as an excuse to defile orders and act as an assassin again! — Damian hissed and clenched his fists, taking a step forward.

— If you really cared for them, you would understand, father! But as always, you put your so-called mission above everything, even us! Even them! — Bruce clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in his direction, then turned to Jason.

— And you! How many chances do I have to give you? Both of you! You don't change. You will never change. And until you do that, you will never deserve (Y/N)’s or mine trust. Or their love. — Jason's heart broke in two, but he didn't react on the outside. Just kept his hard, Red Hood’s exterior. As he always did every time he and Bruce had a falling out.

— Bruce… — Dick muttered, a mix of a warning to remind him of not going too far, and betrayal by what he was witnessing. Bruce didn't look phased. And the fact he was still wearing Batman's suit, minus the cowl, just made this whole situation more genuine. He was neither Bruce Wayne, the persona, nor Batman, the vigilant. He was just Bruce. Their boss and their father.

— You hunted down that man, tortured and killed him! And you… — He took his gaze away from Jason and glared at Damian again. — Knew about it, and didn't notify us!

— I did know about it. Todd, you should have told us before. I also wanted that scum’s blood in my hands-

— ENOUGH! THE BOTH OF YOU WILL STAY AWAY FROM (Y/N). FOREVER.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

— Sound’s convenient. — All head’s snapped in his direction.

— What do you mean, Tim? — Dick asked. All muscles on his body tense. Tim gazed at him for a moment, then at Damian and Jason, then at Bruce again, staring directly into his eyes. — I just think it's very convenient that Bruce's getting rid of two of them. While your reason checks with past conflicts we had, with your morals and mission. It's also good for you that you wouldn't have to share (Y/N)’s attention with so many people in the future. Right, Bruce?

Silence took hold of the room.

— What are you implying? — Bruce stomped forward until he was face to face with Tim, their nose’s almost touching, daring him to say more. Tim didn't back down.

— Yeah, Tim, what're you implying? — Jason raised an eyebrow behind his helmet and took a step forward. The others copied that action.

— I’ve been watching you, Bruce. Just like you've been watching us. I know you’ve been upgrading contingency plans, more specifically, our contingency plans. I think he's been trying to keep us busy. To rile us up to commit mistakes. While he hogs all of (Y/N)’s attention. He said Damian could be trusted again if he proved himself, that was a year ago, and he still didn't give Damian permission. I bet he knew Damian would get restless and get more violent with criminals. Until he had an excuse to kick him out. And Jason, he let you spend time with (Y/N) at university. But as soon as (Y/N) started calling you their best friend, hanging out with you outside of classes and even confiding in you about their trauma, proving that our plan to make them trust us was finally working, suddenly (Y/N)’s ex receives an offer to transfer to GCPD, while everyone here has a… Weakness, when it comes to losing people we love and avenging their suffering, it's a known fact some are more… Trigger-happy than others.

Dick shook his head.

— Tim, that's something serious you're accusing him of.

— Let him continue. — Bruce growled darkly.

— I don't have anything to accuse you of, Bruce. I just don't trust you. — He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

— So you're ready to brush off what they did? — Bruce accused and Dick started to feel even more restless seeing that the distance between them didn't change, feeling the urge to get in the middle and defend his little brother.

— I didn't say anything. But I wouldn't be surprised if me or Dick were next. — That made Dick snap.

No, he can't.

He can’t keep me away from them.

After everything I did.

We're just so close now.

Just earlier today we were having lunch together.

He can't.

He can't do this to me.

Is that how Jay and Dami felt? Is that why they snapped and started killing people? Is that why Jason killed that guy? Just for the idea of losing them forever?

Is that why, even with how heartbreaking and horrible it sounds, any possibility of someone trying to take them away from them made Tim voice out his paranoia? Thoughts Dick had when everything was quiet, when he just brushed it off as intrusive thoughts?

It isn't… Logical… But it also is…

The only thing stopping him from believing Tim wholeheartedly is the lifelong trust he had on Bruce. But those are just feelings. And they all feel. Intensely. For you.

And as much as they tried to make it peaceful, everyone having a piece of you and being happy. They were having problems, and a traitor was always a possibility.

Either way, he couldn't take that chance.

That night, Wayne Manor slept almost completely empty. All of the sons were gone. And you would know it too.

It's been a week. They've been meeting at the apartment just beside yours. It was empty, until Damian bought it, and started living there after cutting ties with his father. He wasn't happy that the others were also using it as their nest, a place to meet and talk about strategies. And keep an eye on you.

Damian was slowly steering his tea, mind elsewhere, not really paying mind to the conversation. While it was important, his stomach was full of butterflies and his heart pounded hard every time he thought about earlier, something he couldn't stop doing. After a whole year of being almost completely away from you, finally spending time with you was like a dream. That just made his resentment towards his father grow worse, even if he didn't do that on purpose, it still felt like injustice.

He knew since he was born, his way of doing things was always better.

He just told you he didn't know that part of the town much, and you, sweet you, already acquainted with his brothers, invited him to show him around. A bad taste came to his mouth whenever he thought he was the least close to you, even if he knew everything there was to know about his beloved. He got left behind. He let himself be left behind.

Because he was weak. Because he was submissive. Because he trusted his father.

His mother did send him to his progenitor's home saying that he needed to learn from him.

— We could use the League.

All heads snapped to him.

— Huh?

— We are talking about contingency plans for our father. We could have the League of Assassins on our side. Infinite resources against one single man. (Y/N) would live in luxury. And they did tell us… — His heart warmed at the sensation of finally feeling included in your life. — … Multiple times that they despised the cold weather Gotham always seems to have. Eth Alth'eban is always hot.

— We are not joining those fuckers, and you shut down that idea before I start believing what that old man said about you and kick your ass into your grave, demon brat. — Damian kept stoic after Jason's response.

— We could use the League for something good for once. I could. As the Head of the Demon. — He retorted with confidence.

Dick shook his head in disbelief.

— Dami, I think that's too much. It would only prove what Bruce was trying to say. — Damian leaned forward, as if getting closer would make his point come across as more genuine.

— I could do it! Not as a dictator like my grandfather! But as something actually good! Not just for us, but for everyone! The whole world!

— Does that megalomaniac plan of yours have an actual strategy? — Damian rolled his eyes.

— Of course it has. Kill anyone who gets in the way of my rightful place at birth. — Damian tilted his head at Tim, who looked at him in disbelief.

— Even Ras? — Damian frowned. What a dumb question. Damian would do anything for you.

— Especially Ras. — A fist hit the table and the oldest got up with a scowl in his face.

— No one. Is going to kill. Anyone. And we are not going to use the League. — Damian got up too.

— What is stopping you? This is for (Y/N)! It is not just some fucking petty act to annoy father. He acted behind our backs and he will take my beloved from me! From us!

— We don't know that yet! — Even with Dick's exclamation, it was clear not even him was totally sure about Bruce's intentions.

— … Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. — Tim muttered. They all observed he had a distant look on his face, it was the look he had when he was planning something. After a few seconds, he looked up again and got up, facing Damian. — I'm with you. It’ll be nice to see Ras look when he realizes he lost to me one last time. And to have whole guardianship of my spleen he keeps on his bedside table again.

— What? — The other three sputtered.

— I won't kill anyone. But I will help you and be an ally. Even if that means losing the Titans and leaving behind everything I build here. All for (Y/N). — Tim spoke. Jason got up.

— Tim, you can't be serious too. — He received a glare in return.

— I am. You're invited to join us. Or to become our enemy.

Damian was staring at Tim, the brother he always had a strange relationship with, full of fights and sarcasm, but they always knew they could count on each other in the end. Because they were family.

Of course, it would be nicer to have you all to himself, but he also needed more allies, and brilliant minds like his own. It would also hurt to lose every person he loved while choosing you, even if he would always choose you in the end.

— … What if (Y/N) doesn't trust us after this? — Dick mumbled, trying to see both sides before making a decision.

— We’ll explain to them. About how we got rid of every single individual who wanted to isolate and steal them from us. How we want to care for them. Keep them safe. And how I- We, made the world a better place in the process. — Dick glared at him halfheartedly.

— We have a solid plan here, Dick. We Just have to form our strategies based on what we have. It will work!

Dick sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He started walking around the apartment, contemplating, listening in on your apartment and Tim and Damian in the background, trying to convince Jason.

When even Jason seemed convinced, Dick knew what he had to do.

Everyone turned to him when he came back to the table again, in expectation.

He looked Damian in the eyes and put his hand on his little brother's shoulders. So grown. So different from what he was before meeting you. You brought the worst out of him. Out of all of them. And you didn't even know it. That was the worse part.

But Dick was always known for being a manipulator.

— Congratulations, you're the new Demon's Head.

Extra note: I'm curious to if you guys think Bruce was actually planning something and not just being regular canon Batman putting his morals above family👀

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

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[scoopsahoy]

need

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1k

✰  tw ⋰ mentions of violence

❍  cw ⋰ swearing, dirty talk, sex + fingering

✐  masterlist

៚  a/n ⋰ i can't believe i haven't written any spn fanfic on this blog lol

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

Being in a relationship with a hunter wasn't easy. Many lonely nights were spent at the bunker, and you were convinced that you'd ace nursing school at this point with the amount of wounds you've patched up.

But the worst thing was seeing the emotional toll that hunting took on Dean. He wasn't much of a "let's talk about our feelings" guy, so getting him to open up about what happened on hunts was a difficult task. Usually he just opted to drink and forget about it.

But there were rare occasions when what happened shook him so badly he had to tell you about it. And quite a few of this had happened recently.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights, and you could tell immediately.

You were asleep in bed when you awoke to hear the heavy doors open and footsteps come down the metal stars leading to the main study. There was something off about the footsteps - they sounded exhausted and weary. Not to mention Sam and Dean weren't supposed to be home for a couple more days. But you recognized the step pattern and knew it was them.

The door to the room you shared with Dean was left open, as there was no need for you to close it when you're alone. You rolled onto your back to be able to look at the door, a small comfortable smirk forming on your face when you saw Dean's face. Sam walked past and waved at you as he headed to his room.

Dean stepped inside and closed the door, kicking his shoes off before leaning back against the door and closing his eyes. You could tell something was different about this hunt. Maybe it was kid related, he always had a hard time with those. Or maybe Sam was threatened. Either way, you knew you weren't getting the information out of him tonight.

When he finally opened his eyes, you lifted your arms to silently ask him to come to you. He didn't even change out of his torn flannel and jeans before he crawled into your arms like a child. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, as if he was afraid of losing you.

His head was tucked under your chin, his face buried in your chest.

"Dean, honey, are you okay?"

"I will be."

This was always the answer he gave you. This just meant "I will be after I drink enough to forget it".

He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, his stubble rubbing against your skin. His fingers lightly caressed your back as he did so, and you knew what he was asking for.

"Dean," you whispered. "You need sleep."

"Please," was all he could muster. "I just... need something."

You weren't trying to get him to sleep for your sake, you just knew that this wasn't what he needed right now.

"Why don't we wait until the morning?"

"Please," he repeated.

You sighed and said, "Okay."

Sex was his favorite form of stress relief. That was the main reason you guys had sex was because he was constantly stressed and it helped temporarily. And the days he couldn't even get words out to ask, you knew the stress was bad.

It didn't take long for your bottom half to be bare, your underwear being the only thing you were wearing. He stripped completely as he needed to change anyway, his nearly destroyed clothes in a pile on the floor.

The second he slid into you, you could feel stress lift from his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. He kissed you deeply but gently as he thrusted, swallowing your moans.

His slow and easy thrusts soon picked up. He wrapped his arms around the backs of your shoulders, holding your body still against his. Your neck was covered in wet kisses, some which would leave hickeys.

Before you knew it, he was slamming into you. Normally he didn't do this unless he was upset about something, so you knew some shit went down during this hunt. You didn't mind it though, sometimes even preferring it to the slow and gentle sex he liked.

You pulled your legs closer to your chest, allowing him deeper access into you. This didn't last much longer though, as him thrusting roughly into you caused him to finish much faster than he wanted to.

"Shit," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"That was super short."

"It's okay," you said with a tired smile, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. At the same time, his hand slipped between you two, almost as if it was a magnet drawn to your clit. You let out a quiet gasp and accidentally pulled his hair a bit. "You don't have to."

"I know." He continued, his fingers feeling much better than the vibrator you'd been using in his absence. "I wanna feel you finish while I'm still inside of you."

This dirty talk only turned you on more, your smile growing.

This man was a master with his fingers. He knew exactly how to use them on you, like a maestro of fifty years. He knew what to do with them at exactly the right time, and he loved to watch your face as he did.

You normally liked to keep eye contact during sex, but you couldn't when he did this. Instead, you screwed your eyes shut and threw your head back, wiggling your hips up just right to feel good.

"Shit, Dean, I'm already close." This made him moan happily. You reached down and gripped his wrist as you inched closer and closer to that high.

"Look at me," he whispered, tilting your head down with his other hand. "Open your eyes."

Going against your instinct, you followed his commands. You looked into his eyes, and the second you did, that wave of pleasure overwhelmed you, a long and satisfied moan filling the room. He kept going until you physically pulled his hand away, unable to take any more.

When you caught your breath, you asked, "Feel better?"

He nodded. "More than you could ever know."

[pitchsidestories]

lovers II Keira Walsh x Williamson!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2468

a/n: Hi, we realized that it's our 100th oneshot which sounds absolutely wild, so enjoy. For the readers who wait for the Emily Fox fanfic it will come out next. <3

You were in love with Ibiza.

In love with the beaches and the sunshine, the palm trees and the blue of the ocean.

You were in love with the clubs and bars, your sister and her friends took you to.

But above all, you were in love with your sister’s best friend.

The afternoon sun painted the hotel room in soft golden light as you slipped into a short dress. You could still feel the salty air and the sun from earlier that day on your skin as you began applying mascara to your eyelashes. Except for a bit of hunger, you felt fully content.

“Ready for dinner? You look gorgeous by the way.“, Keiras voice said from behind you.

You hadn’t noticed her coming in.

You flinched, almost stabbing yourself in the eye with the mascara wand.

Keira smiled apologetically at your reflection in the mirror.

You watched as her gaze started to travel down your body, taking in every curve in your tight-fitting dress.

With a smile you turned towards her and bridged the gap between the two of you.

“Are you kidding? Look at you… Your curls are so pretty and soft.“, you whispered, gently running her fingers through her reddish brown hair.

You loved the way the salt water had restored Keiras natural hair texture.

“My curls? I just didn’t straighten my hair.“, she laughed.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, barely visible through the light sunburn on her skin.

Completely enamoured, you beamed at her: “I love it.“

You were about to lean forward to kiss her when someone cleared their throat behind you.

Your heart stopped while you pulled apart. You ran through possible explanations for this situation in your head, just in case you would turn around to face your sister.

Instead, Alex Scott watched the two of you with a knowing grin.

“You do? Oh hi, Alex.“, Keira greeted the former football player.

“Little Williamson is right though. She could have done something with fashion but…“, Alex said without finishing her thought.

You rolled your eyes, she had always tried to convince you to work in the fashion industry but you wouldn’t trade your job as an English teacher in Barcelona for anything in the world.

“She chose to teach people English in Spain and honestly, it was the best decision ever.“, you finished for Alex.

Keira laughed: “I agree with that.“

Leah appeared next to Alex in the doorway. Subconsciously, you tried to put more distance between yourself and Keira.

“Of course, you do, Kei. Because that way you can talk to someone in your mother tongue almost every day. How did the Catalan interview go again?“, your sister teased.

Her best friend released a tired groan: “Don’t remind me.“

Alex changed the subject, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder: “Now that everyone’s dressed up, let’s get some dinner in before we go clubbing.“

“Sounds like a good idea.”, you agreed in a good mood, the sea air made you hungry.

At the restaurant Keira studied the menu thoroughly before looking at you with an innocent smile on her lips.

“Everything here sounds so good, do you want to share?”, she asked.

“Sure.”, you replied happily. Above your heads the fairy lights were switched on and you could hear the waves crashing on to the shore in the background.

The romantic atmosphere was quickly disturbed by your older sister.

“Excuse me? I thought you’d share with me!”, she pouted, sending glances at the Barca player which could kill.

“What about your girlfriend? Doesn’t she want to share with you?”, Keira asked in return, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, Lee, no need to be that dramatic about it.”, Alex Greenwood intervened laughing.

“I’m not dramatic.”, Leah countered smirking.

“That’s just how she’s.”, you explained cheekily.

“Why don’t we order food for the table so we can all share?”, your girlfriend suggested hoping this would calm the Blonde Arsenal defender down.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’m in.”, the two Alex’s declared grinning.

“Same, you too, Leah?”, you turned around to investigate your sister’s face, waiting for her reaction.

“Sure.”, she nodded, sounding much calmer already.

 “What about a first round of cocktails?”, Jess wanted to know.

“Please.”, Leah answered.

A few minutes later the drinks arrived at your table, beaming you toasted with her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”, she responded grinning.  

The sweetness and the alcohol sparked the desire in you to touch your lover’s curly hair again.

“Stop it.”, Keira demanded giggling.

“I’m not doing anything.”, you remarked in a not guilty tone.

“Yes, you’re. Stop it.”, she bit her lip nervously.

“Fine.”, you sighed defeated, quickly finishing your cocktail.

After the last sip you stood up smiling delighted at the other girls. “Girls, are we ready for the club now?”

“Let’s go.”, Alex Greenwood chirmed.

The sun was long gone now, the moon and the stars shown brightly as you and your sister former and current teammates joined the Ibizan night life.

Something your sister and you both shared was the passion for music. While Leah preferred to sing you would take every chance you could get to dance. Before Keira your first love has been rhythm and beats.

“Come on, Kei.”, Alex nudged the red-haired woman who admired you from the distance.

“I don’t dance. I’m here for the drinks.”, she waved the sports journalist off.

“But I do. Come on, Alex.”, Leah remarked cheerfully.

“Coming.“, Alex laughed and let the defender pull her into the direction of the dance floor.

The other Alex jumped up as well, following closely behind: “Hey, wait for me.“

You caught Keiras eye from across the room and danced your way over to her. You were not ready to stop yet but you also didn’t want to leave her alone.

Keira reached for your wrist with a laugh: “Stop twirling around, y/n.“

“Why?“, you asked, spinning out of her grasp.

“Just because.“

You stopped for a moment, studying her face. There was something serious and pleading in her eyes that you didn’t understand. You only wanted to continue dancing with your friends. “Keira…“

You interrupted yourself, taking in a sharp breath in surprise as two hands laid on your hips and spun you around.

A man in his mid-thirties and clearly drunk grinned at you. His gaze traveled down to your neckline while he asked you something that your brain didn’t seem to comprehend. Apparently he wanted you to dance with him but everything about him made clear that he had other things in mind than just dancing.

You froze in place, not sure if you felt disgusted or disgusting.

Just when you were about to say something, your sister squeezed between him and you and pushed him back: “Sorry, no. That’s my sister!“

“And she’s already taken.“, Keira added. You hadn’t noticed that Keira had gotten up from her seat as well.

Leahs head whipped towards her best friend: “What?“

“Uhm…“, you mumbled as you watched the man retreat with his hands raised in surrender.

You desperately tried to find a good reason to change the subject but you just couldn’t come up with one.

“Who is it, y/n? One of your colleagues or one of the Barca girlies?“, Leah asked, her voice tinted with anger.

“It’s…uhm…“, you started and forced yourself not to look at Keira. Lying would be so easy right now. But did you actually want to keep hiding?

Your sister got impatient: “Just tell me.“

“Keira.“, was all you could get out and prayed that you made the right choice.

The two best friends looked at each other. Keira nodded slowly: “It’s me.“

“Wait, you?! When? How? She’s my little sister!“ Leahs eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Keira shrugged, trying to keep her voice calm: “In Barcelona… it just happened.“

Your sister turned towards you with her jaw set: “We’ll talk about this tomorrow morning!“

She stormed off without waiting for an answer and you quietly wondered where she would go.

Keira and you ended the night there and went back to your hotel room.

You walked out on the balcony overlooking the ocean, Keira followed right behind you.

“She’s really mad.“, you said nervously into the night sky.

The midfielder wrapped her arms around you and rolled her eyes: “She can’t be mad about this.“

You knew she had a point.

“No, Lee is more upset about the fact that we didn’t tell her.“

“Still. I can talk with her if you want me to.”, Keira offered while you kept watching the waves come and go which was scarily similar to your older sister’s temper. Deep down you knew she would eventually calm down.

“No, I’ll do it, it’s fine.”, you assured the Barcelona player before kissing her temple softly.

For a moment she closed her eyes under your touch. “She’ll be fine.”, the midfielder whispered in a convinced tone as her lips touched yours in a heartfelt kiss.

“What was the kiss for?”, you raised an eyebrow at her curiously.

“For good luck.”, Keira replied smirking.

“But she said tomorrow so maybe we could just go inside and..”, you begun rambling.

“You think that’s a good idea?”, your girlfriend interrupted you with a doubtful look on her face.

“No, I’ll do it now.”, you sighed, knowing fully well that some things shouldn’t be put on hold. Although you’d miss the comforting hug of the midfielder who pretended to hate them but always made an exception for you.

Cautiously you stood at the entry of the hotel room your sister and her girlfriend were staying in. “Lee, can we chat outside?”

Without a word the older blonde got up and put on her shoes, signalling that she was ready to talk to you outside.

For a while the two of you walked silently on the sand which felt still warm under your naked feet.

“So, you and Keira, huh?”, Leah broke the silence, sounding more curious than mad this time.

“Yeah.”, you answered timidly.

“Since when?” the defender continued asking.

“We got closer when she came to Barcelona.”, you confessed.

“That was forever ago.”, she noted slightly hurt by your reply.

“Yes, but we just started dating a few months ago.”, you added quickly. This much was true. Undoubtedly, you always had a soft spot for your sister’s best friend. The more time you two spend together, the more it became obvious that there was more than just friendship.

“And you didn’t tell me.”, Leah swallowed hard through that realization.

“You didn’t ask me.”, you reminded her.

“If you’re dating my best friend? How was I supposed to know.”, she retorted.

“No, in general, it’s mostly about you when you call me.”, you countered.

“I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. But I thought you’d tell me such things.”, the defender apologized, her skin despite the tan turned pale.

“It’s okay. I guess we weren’t great sisters for each other recently.”, you admitted guiltily.

Leah nodded in reluctant agreement: “I guess we weren’t.“

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable but thoughtful.

“But we could do better now.“, you said determinedly,

Your sister stopped walking. You only realized that wasn’t on your side anymore after a few more steps.

You turned towards her and caught her staring at you.

“Y/n?“, she asked.

“Yes?“

“Are you happy?“

You smiled at her: “Very.“

“With Kei?“

“Yes.“, you confirmed again.

Leah studied your face for a moment, searching for any indication of a lie before she finally nodded once: “Okay.“

“Okay?“, you echoed with hopefulness in your voice. You didn’t want to fight with your sister. You wanted her and Keira in your life.

Leah kicked up some sand with her shoe: “Yes, okay. I think I can live with that.“

“Good.“, you beamed and slowly continued your walk, waiting for your sister to take her place by your side again.

You thought your talk was over when your sister suddenly spoke up again: “Y/n?“

You looked at her, signalling her to continue.

“Just because you live a life outside of the public eye doesn’t mean I’m not interested in your life or I’m not proud of you.“

Her words caught you by surprise. You frowned at her in confusion. “Wait, you’re proud of me?“

“Why do you sound so surprised? Obviously I’m proud of you.“

You stared down at the fine sand under your feet: “Sorry.“

Another break in your conversation arose. Apparently, struggling to express your emotions properly ran in your family.

“Not everyone has the bravery to go abroad for work… I would not.“, Leah continued.

You looked back up at her: “Really?“

She nodded slowly: “You know how much I love home. And Arsenal. I just couldn’t.“

Hearing this filled you with pride but at the same time, you had to suppress a smile because you really couldn’t imagine your sister anywhere else.

“True, you’re such a homebody.“, you laughed.

Your sister smirked and gave you a small shrug: “See, we’re just very different.“

“Yes, but that’s okay.“, you assured her. You could feel the tension dissolve slowly.

Leah raised an eyebrow: “I will still have to talk to Keira though.“

You let out a groan: “Oh no, not the big sister talk.“

“Oh yes, even for my best friend.“

“Fine, but try and be nice, okay?“, you asked innocently.

“Of course.“

“Thank you.“

She reached over and ruffled through your blonde hair: “Anything for my little sister.“

You tried to get revenge. You two were laughing like children while you chased her down the beach.

You never heard anything about their talk. Both Keira and Leah refused to tell you anything and stubbornly maintained their silence. You didn’t care anyway. They seemed closer than ever and that was all that mattered to you.

The next days were spend at the beach, enjoying the sun and the refreshing coolness of the sea.

“No. I’m not going into the water.“ Keira shook her head determinedly. She had spend the morning straightening her hair but to you, that was not a reason to miss out on swimming.

“Come on.“ You impatiently pulled at her arm.

Leah appeared on Keiras other side, pushing her forward. “You better go now.“

Together you barrelled towards the sea, falling over each as soon as you reached the water. The rest of your friend group burst out laughing,

Keira pushed her now wet hair back. It started to curl at the ends already.

“I hate you Williamsons!“, she laughed.

You kissed her cheek: “No, you don’t.“

“Not really, no.“, Keira admitted and pulled you towards her by your waist to kiss you.

Leah grimaced in disgust: “Okay, but you don’t have to kiss in front of me.“

“Stop complaining.“, you rolled your eyes.

Keira grinned at her: “You better get used to it, Lee.“