#You could replace it with mind control/possession and would have same result that would make way more sense and wasnt this cruel

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Honestly yeah! I can imagine, Shiro trying to logic his way out of not processing it? Like just going, "Black had to do what she had to do! And really I am still alive! It is fine! This is fine! I am fine!! 🙃🙃🙃" but like Shiro buddy, pal, trauma doesnt work like that. This is also just so much worse cause yeah Shiro Died. He has come close to death so many times before but this time, he actually died and came back. And the process of being unmade and then remade just has to be awful. But no! Shiro is fine! He needs to be fine, because the team needs him to be fine and the universe needs him to be fine, and therefore he IS fine!

And i also feel Black would feel guilty about this so much. Like really really Really guilty. Black panicked and made a snap decision and that decision nearly cost her paladin his life. It is breaking the pride apart, her paladin is now trapped inside of her and they dont even know and it is all her fault. And she cant believe she failed like this, she is supposed to protect her paladin, and her pride and be the head, the one who bears the weight of all, and with one wrong decision she ruined everything, just like how her choosing Zarkon put him in power! And there could have been something else, something better, she should have done! Could have-! Could have-! Could have-! Should have-! Should have-! Should have-!

And just all of this causing a bit of friction in their bond, because they care about each other but are so obviously traumatized and trying to take responsibility for what they believe to be a failing on their part. And the only way to get back on track is to confront and process their trauma and guilt and try to heal and support each other and also learning to let others support you.

And yes no dead clones

We can still play with Shiro being “dead” while still surviving as particles within the BlackLion because Panicking Overprotective TeleportingLion Botched A Partial Teleportation

Because being broken down and removed even if he could technically be reassembled again (and reassembled without the implants Haggar stuck in him) functionally is Death...at least until he is actually put back together again and returned to the physical plane.

Shiro can get to grieve. And we can get to have Shiro. And NO dead clones.

[egginfroggin]

hi! i’d be interested in hearing more about the dying of the light AU if you don’t mind sharing any thoughts or details!

Hi! I don't mind, just lemme scrape my brain real quick (so many thoughts).

Honestly, the Dying of the Light AU has been giving me some issues as far as the ending goes, but other than that, I have a few ideas.

This got. so long. so, again, there's a break put in place further down.

We're dragging Kyurem into this, first of all

after Emmet "snaps," you could call it, and completely loses control of his powers, Reshiram amplifies it to the point of halting the ongoing autumn, replacing it with summer-like heat and causing a massive drought that starts to spread out from its epicenter around Nimbasa/Route 4

Once Reshiram's involvement is confirmed, it's decided that the other dragons will be brought into this

Ingo, chosen by Ideals, will pursue Zekrom, and hopefully that will help tip the scales in his favor, helping him root out the deceit Reshiram speaks of and reinstating Truth without Unova crumbling

Iris and Drayden both go after Kyurem, and do eventually find it; however, Kyurem will only help them if they give it something in return

They both wind up being roped into a bond with it, agreeing to give it their time and attention, which it seeks after a long time hidden away from people and its own siblings

The intent is to essentially use Kyurem's ice and cold to combat Reshiram's heat -- winter is summoned against summer, and the result is a sort of flaky half-season, somewhat like spring and autumn at the same time, though the cold is more extreme around Kyurem's location and the heat is more extreme around Reshiram's location

Content warnings for burns, claustrophobia, and possession under the cut! And thank you very much again for the ask, Anon! I hope you have a very good day! ^^

Reshiram is definitely doing some possessing by the way

In Reshiram's defense, Emmet can't be trusted to not run off and mess up its plans, so. yeah

Also, speaking with mortals is far easier when one has the approximate appearance of a mortal so there's that too

Zekrom doesn't so much as possess Ingo as it does reside within him/follow him around. It will speak through him at times, and certainly bolster him, but it rarely if ever just up and snatches his body to go do something

Kyurem does not care about possessing people it just wants a friend and thinks its siblings are being overly dramatic

I somewhat implied it in And Learn, too Late, but the twins actually have a few dislikes/phobias related to their respective Dragons! Ingo dislikes having his Ideals and intentions restricted, and has a mild case of claustrophobia; this is mean to reflect Zekrom's weakness to ground, as being enclosed makes Ingo feel restricted and like he's being put under pressure (i.e., a coffin or being entombed) Emmet's aversions are more prominent due to the strength of Reshiram's gift/influence on him; detecting deceit and lies makes him feel physically ill, and he has a severe aversion to deep water and pouring rain

Drayden and Iris don't really have any issues after they connect with Kyurem, as their dynamic with the Dragon differs from the twins' and their respective Dragons; it's more of a mutual agreement that they're bound to, rather than a direct piece of power being imbued as a gift and a connection

Going off of this logic and that of the above point, I suppose that that would mean that after Ingo finds Zekrom and his own gift is strengthened, he would have worse claustrophobia

Similar to the accident that happened in Iced Tracks, Emmet accidentally hurt Ingo when they were little; only, in this case, it involved fire, and Ingo's clothes caught, leading to pretty severe burns on his arm, side, and part of his jaw; they healed well, but the trauma of the situation combined with him passing out made him forget :< Emmet had no such "luck," he just dead-up remembers ("Dragons, Truth irrefutable, Truth before him, he knew how skin melted," from The Sun in Flight)

Emmet is not immune to his own powers, though the worst damage is done when it manifests physically, such as when he forms flames or embers

Much of the damage that he's unintentionally inflicted on himself comes from accidentally setting his cuffs on fire, burning his wrists and arms, or from conducted heat searing his palms when he's holding something

He doesn't wear gloves anymore

He doesn't leave fingerprints anymore, either

(He's not made to contain so much power, he's kindling for a pyre he has no choice but to light, and only the power of Reshiram itself can keep him safe from its own curse of a gift)

On a lighter note, someone asked in a comment on The Sun in Flight if Emmet wore gloves or not, and if his powers affected his clothes since he can burn things so easily

For the sake of his decency -- and my sanity -- I'm basically handwaving the matter of his powers not just burning off all his clothes as magical interference; if his cuffs caught, maybe it could spread if he let it, but that would also hurt, so he doesn't

This being said, though, Reshiram basically fireproofs his body when its possessing him

And with that being said, I couldn't resist this entirely silly mental image: Reshiram: ugh, mortal's clothes are so restricting, why do you even bother with such a nuisance -- Emmet: IF YOU BURN MY CLOTHES OFF AND MAKE ME RUN AROUND UNOVA NAKED I WILL PERSONALLY STRANGLE YOU YOU STUPID BALL OF FEATHERS

So Emmet gets to keep his clothes (thank goodness)

Thank you, Anon! ^^

[aikoiya]

Danny Phantom Friendly Fentons AU: What if Danny’s Parents were more open-minded and slowly realize that the Phantom Boy isn’t evil?… What if by the end of Season 1, they finally see Phantom as a hero?… What if Vlad turned Valerie into an angry Ghost-Hunter, because Danny’s Parents had stopped hunting him? 💚

It'd certainly be interesting. And it'd definitely put a lot of tension between Danny & Valorie.

Though, I think it should be pushed back to season 2, personally. But that's just me.

I also feel like it should take longer for Maddie as I just generally see Jack as being more open-minded.

I tend to hc that her family was haunted by a poltergeist when she was very young & she ended up having to figure out how to get rid of it herself using science & used up ectoplasm left behind by said poltergeist because the people that her family hired to get rid of it all ended up being scam artists.

This was later reinforced when her nephew was kidnapped by ghosts while her sister's family was visiting.

This could eventually result in interesting character conflict between her & Jack. In fact, I don't see her changing her opinion until after she's learned about Danny's identity & went through the science of it. Whether by examining his DNA herself or what-have-you. Otherwise, she'll just think he was being possessed or that he was legit killed by a ghost & was replaced by whatever ghost killed him or died & came back as a ghost. The last one, she tries not to think about.

And even when she does finally believe it, she'll have this belief that he's the exception to the rule due to him being half human.

Like, my thoughts are that though she's very smart & the core thing that she falls back on is science when everything else in her life fails her, she's actually very biased. By this I mean that while she spouts out that ghosts are incapable of feeling emotions or really thinking & are just the imprint of a post-human consciousness, in the same breath, she calls them scum & evil. But the thing is that, if she really believed these things, then much like animals, she'd believe them incapable of evil or malicious intent because evil is defined by actively choosing to do bad things. It isn't something that anything without a true consciousness or freewill could be.

In this way, I see her as using that sort of language to take out her aggression on ghosts to make herself feel better. At the same time, I believe that the true root of her anger as ghosts is in the powerlessness she felt at having been unable to save her father, who in my hc, was a police officer who died fighting against the KKK. (This is based on the Grandpappy Walker fanfic on Fanfiction.net.) She was only a little girl at the time, but it still left an impact on her. That helplessness became a poison that turned into frustration & anger.

After his death, her mother & sisters moved up north, but the house was haunted. Part of why she latched so hard onto ghosthunting was because getting rid of the poltergeist allowed her to feel a sense of control over her life & like she was keeping her daddy's memory alive by keeping her family safe.

Anyway, it would take a lot of deprogramming & exposure to get her to admit that she was wrong. Partially because, much like Jazz, I see her as having a bit of a need to be right.

[chromes-corner]

I see your requests are open, so I was wondering if it would be okay to request some Werewolf Cookie relationship/dating HCs?

YESSS OMG THE WOOWOO i love this guy sm. more appreciation for og characters yes yes yes

---

Werewolf/Reader

Notes: fluff headcanons

Content Warnings: none

A/N: motivation to write really went adios for a while

Werewolf isn’t exactly “shy,” but he will go out of his way to avoid any and all social contact. Getting close to him is tricky, but persistence and patience (and some tender sympathy and understanding) will eventually wear down those stubborn walls of his.

He is very averse to touch at first. Physical contact makes him flinch, but as he starts to become more comfortable with your closeness, his opinion on the matter will do an entire 180.

^^He’ll let you touch his hands and arms first, then he’ll let you slowly work your way up to touching other areas as he gets used to the contact, such as his chest and torso, as well as his face and head.

^^^Werewolf finds out that he REALLY likes it when you cup your hands on his face. It puts him into a very calm state.

He is also a bit reactive to your scent, and his nose becomes attracted to things endowed by it. Leaving an old shirt or blanket with him to snuggle with at night helps him sleep peacefully.

^^Your scent helps him calm down when his emotions (and, as a result, his beastly form) start to take control.

Werewolf is very self-conscious about the black pepper ingrained into his dough. He’ll apologize every time you sneeze and offer to back off, even if it’s not because of him.

Werewolf sheds profusely in the warmer months. Have fun unclogging the shower drain!

^^He doesn’t quite mind being hosed down in the backyard, however (he rather enjoys sprinklers, too). This could serve as a replacement if you don’t want to scrub wolf hairs out of every crevice of the bathroom.

Werewolf has very sharp canines that he’s also self-conscious about. He’s the same way about his nails, which naturally grow into claw-like points. He worries that they make him look too scary. Reassure this poor pup.

Loud noises scare him. His solution? Bury his face in your chest until they stop.

His nightmares become less and less frequent the more you stick around.

While his wolf form leaps out when he’s feeling potent fear or anger, he also involuntarily turns every full moon. Werewolf will isolate himself during this time, usually by locking himself in a room, or by running off into uninhabited forest.

If you happen to cross paths with him while he’s turned, Werewolf will still recognize you and his “protect” instinct will kick into high gear.

^^That instinct causes him to be extremely clingy and borderline possessive for as long as his wolf form has a hold on him. Expect to be practically drowning in fur while he attaches himself to you at the hip and growls at anyone or anything that comes near.

When he returns to his cookie form, Werewolf is both physically and mentally exhausted, as well as sore from the significant alteration in physique. Having you around to help take care of him while he’s recovering only makes his lonely heart anchor itself further into you.

When he misses your presence, his knee-jerk reaction is to start howling. Neighbors hate him.

^^This reaction isn’t reserved for when you’re far away. You might be sitting in a different room, and a sad howl will erupt from the room next to you.

The “stay away from me!”s and “leave me alone”s begin to shift into “I like when you’re close”s and “please don’t go”s pretty quickly.

Glassy eyes and shaky hands turn to still breathing and even heartbeats when you’re near.

Sometimes a pack is the company of just one other person. This lone wolf certainly doesn’t mind that.

[aminiatureworld]

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

 Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

 Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

[transformedyt]

Hadestown is SUCH a good musical! I’ve listened to the entire soundtrack dozens of times, and my favourite songs so many more. And through that, I’ve noticed some messages that may or may not have been intended, and i keep noticing more. I wanna share some of my favourites because it’s so good and i wanna talk about it. (Spoiler alert if you haven’t listened to it. You should. It’s good.)

1. There’s an anti capitalist message. This is strongest in Chant, but it appears throughout most of the musical. In Hadestown, you live to work, and lose yourself in the process. You lose your memories, your identity, and your freedom. All while the boss rakes in the money at your expense. And to deal with that, you pay someone else, the wife of the boss, to give you a glimpse of what you’re missing. Stars, flowers, the moon. Things that are free are suddenly locked behind a paywall, which makes you keep working to get the things that let you tolerate all that working. That sounds an awful lot like capitalism…

2. It shows that you need to let your significant others be their own people, not hold them to you and never give them space. Hades wanting to be with Persephone all the time nearly ruined their marriage, and the world with it. He grew obsessive and possessive, viewing her as an object he should be able to control. Which ended up driving her to driving in order to put up with this. He even made artificial replacements for the things she loved on the surface to try and keep her from returning. And by the end, he seemed to have learned. He learned to be patient and to trust his wife. And i like to think he didn’t fall back into old habits.

3. And while you definitely shouldn’t be overbearing with your loved ones, it also says not to neglect them. Orpheus didn’t pay attention to Eurydice when she said there was a storm coming, and she ended up dying as a result. That’s obviously taking it to the extreme, but it’s good to listen to your loved ones when they tell you something is wrong.

4. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Orpheus walked halfway to Hell and back using sheer determination. The road may be scary, but you’ll never know if you can make the trip if you don’t try.

5. Wait and see if you can’t change the outcome. Orpheus was told that if he looked behind him, Eurydice would go back to Hadestown. He began to grow paranoid that she was not following him. If she was not there, looking behind him wouldn’t change that. If she was, it would. So logically, he should have finished the trip instead of looking behind him. If she wasn’t there, he could go back. He got there before, he’d be able to do it again. But because he looked, she was sent back and he was unable to save her again.

6. “The meanest dog you’ll ever meet, he ain’t the hound dog in the street. He’ll bare some teeth and tear some skin, but brother that’s the worst of him. The dog you really gotta dread is the one that howls inside your head. It’s him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing.” I interpret this to mean that you are your own worst enemy. That little voice in the back of your head that puts you down or says things to scare you is worse than anyone else. Because it knows you. And it follows you. And it is so much worse than some random person saying those same things, imo. I personally view this, along with another bit later on in Wait For Me (Reprise) about the hardest road to walk, is about mental illness. Depression. Anxiety. Disorders that make that voice so much worse. And through that, there’s this hopeful melody. They sound a little scared to me, but hopeful. Which just makes what comes next that much more tragic. Because sometimes people stumble. Sometimes they fall back into that thinking and do things that they might regret. For me, it was losing touch with so many of my friends. But it can be different for everyone. But try to remember that hopeful melody is still going, even when you can’t hear it.

7. Times are tough. There are a lot of people who can barely afford to eat, if they can at all. People who are so focused on surviving that they don’t have time to focus on living. There is a difference.

8. Weddings are expensive.

I know it got kinda heavy there, but it’s a heavy musical. I’d love to know your own interpretations, things that you noticed, favourite songs/lyrics, character breakdowns, and anything else! It’s my favourite musical, but i don’t know anyone else who likes it, so I’d love to be able to discuss it with someone!

[kindaeccentric]

When I was writing my university bachelor's degree thesis (that I'm still to defend) about Penny Dreadful as a modern adaptation of Frankenstein I noticed how the original novel's homoeroticism is realized by the series in an interesting way.

In the way he is presented, it seems to me that Victor secretly desires men, but thinks that only through creating a perfect one by himself he's allowed to touch other man's skin. His endeavour to pierce the veil between life and death is an excuse, since Victor from the series grew up lonely after the death of his mother and he searches for companionship, for someone who would love him unconditionally, like his mother used to. He believes he can find such love only in a person he creates himself, brings from the dead, and who would see him as his only friend, calm and obedient. Yet his first instinct is to make a man, not a woman, and a handsome man at that.

I can imagine both Rory Kinnear and Alex Price are not everybody's cup of tea (I do find them attractive, they are quite charismatic), but the way the original Creature and Proteus are shown makes them attractive. Proteus we see through Victor's eyes, when he is tending to his body before its even reanimated, when he sketches him (a sure sign of affection) and when he teaches him how to eat in a way that becomes seductive, because of how the camera lingers on his lips and then, in a closeup, on his fingers running down his long throat, immediately bringing to mind erotic imagery. Some may argue that Victor tries to emulate the relationship between his mother and himself taking the parental role and projecting onto Proteus the role of his childhood self, and as much as it is partially true, their relationship bears these marks of hidden desire on Victor's part from the start. The image at the end of the first episode when Proteus is born shows Victor trembling, teary-eyed, looking at the body, a torn and stitched back together, but human body, of a naked man. He's afraid, but not necessarily of the man, but of finally getting what he wanted, it's a fear resulting from excitement. Then the man is touching his face tenderly and Victor, still trembling, cannot stop himself from a little smile. Their faces are softly illuminated by the orange light of the gas lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere of a warm bedroom. Victor practically gasps hearing his own name smoken by Proteus. I doubt all of it was intentional in the way I read it, but it doesn't change the fact that the final scene can be easily interpreted this way.

Then the original Creature, with the violence surrounding his return, presents him as highly masculine, smart, powerful, a direct opposite to the delicate, clueless Proteus Victor could easily form into whatever he wanted. The Creature throughout the entire series is perceived as ugly by some and easily tolerated by others, making his ugliness purely subjective, since, despite his small deformities he remains strangely alluring with his gothic qualities (black long hair, black lips, white skin, yellow eyes, proportional features) of a dark brooding gentleman. With blood on his face he becomes vampire-like (vampires always a symbol of hidden desires and 'depraved' sexuality, the Creature and Victor becoming a mirror image of Vanessa and vampire Mina, both Creature's and Mina's monstrosity an indirect result of Victor's and Vanessa's desire towards having a same-sex companion). The Creature touches Victor's face, a callback to Proteus doing it, but the Creature is not gentle, he smears blood all over Victor's face (blood in vampire narratives was always a symbol for other bodily fluids, that's why it seems so sexy, it also gained another meaning in the 80s, due to the HIV epidemic, which no filmmaker can shake off if they tried, I could discuss it more with The Lost Boys, but no time for that right now).

The dynamic between Victor and the Creature is a reversal of Victor's budding relationship with Proteus, experience winning over innocence. Victor is under another man's rule, and it terrifies him, because it would force him into a position of having to admit his attraction, whereas as the one in control he could have still easily deny it. The Creature, with all his attributes, symbolizes carnal love, he's all 'body', where Proteus was virginal, pious love (to an extent). In one of the scenes where we see Proteus he looks up into the skylight at Victor's apartment and appears angelic, as if in a halo of white light.

It's revealed Victor never had a woman, and the series wants the viewer to believe it's because of his awkwardness and passion for science that consumed him, but his dedication to creating himself male companions instead of searching for a living female one is exactly what makes him seem more queer coded.

It's clear that the lack of paternal figure results in Victor quickly becoming close with older men he encounters (Sir Malcolm, Van Helsing), but it also puts him into a position where he's constantly surrounded by men, with whom he feels more at ease, and is intimidated by women. The rivalry between him and Ethan is that of siblings, until the moment when Ethan teaches him how to shoot a gun. It might be a stretch (it is a bit of a stretch, I admit), but a gun often, especially in horror, alongside a knife, represents manhood and masculine power. Victor allows Ethan to touch him and encourages him to show off with the gun, which is a scene all too familiar from many other movies where the role of Victor is reserved for a woman and the interaction is flirtatious (can't pull examples out of thin air, but if you saw over 1400 movies like me you know I'm not lying). All this adds to the general image of Victor.

The Creature and Victor, when they are on a walk, have a very revealing conversation in which the Creature points out how quick Victor was to grow attached to his more perfect man, and Victor doesn't deny it, he admits that he did in fact feel affection towards Proteus, although the meaning of it as the scorned past partner expressing jealousy over the love he didn't get while someone else did is largely subtext. When the Creature says that he's lonely, Victor answers 'I cannot love you' (paraphrase, because I can't find the exact quote right now) and the Creature, disillusioned, mocks him, 'I do not want what you cannot give' suggesting that Victor, by making himself a meek obedient man, is selfish, cruel, manipulating, and a coward, therefore could not have loved Proteus truly. Then again, Victor cannot bring himself to love his original Creature, because he's not the ideal man he envisioned and by then the Creature being too aware of his flaws of character. The Creature/Caliban/John Clare knows that Victor is 'monstrous', not just because he's someone who desecrates dead bodies, plays God and abandons his creation, but because of his queer desire. It's important that in the case of Penny Dreadful 'monstrosity' signifies many different things, literal (being a vampire werewolf, witch, and so on), metaphorical (bad deeds, like letting your son die a horrible death, cheating, killing etc.) and wholy subjective, merely condemned by ignorant society (Sembene's blackness, Brona's sex work, Lily's want to be equal or greater than men, Vanessa's want for sexual freedom, the Creature's ugliness, Angelique being transgender and other cases), so it's NOT that much of a stretch this time.

We also have the whole problem with Lily. Victor is so attached to Lily (who takes up both Elizabeth's and creature's bride parts in the novel) because he believes that only by possessing a good woman he'll be redeemed for his 'sinful' desires, but he's foolish to think that. This belief reduces a woman to a semi-maternal, semi-virginal angelic ideal with no sexual urges or agency, like virgin Mary. Lily is a true replacement for Victor's mother, and his imagined redemption. As long as she's similar to Proteus, in that she's not sexual, and pure like an angel. Yet Lily is not a woman in that sense. She is another of Victor's creatures, so she partially also takes over the role of the original Creature from the novel, a male. She's not an ideal of a Victorian obedient wife, she has power, or tries to have it, but power in the context of patriarchal society is masculine by nature. The moment she drops her pretenses of a weak delicate wife-like girl Victor does not want her like this. He doesn't want a woman that is sexually liberated, because he doesn't like women in this way, and yet, by being similar to the first Creature (from Victor's perspective, from hers John Clare is similar to Victor-a man, I could delve into Brona's sexuality, but later, this thing is already way longer than I intended) she's 'the man' he wanted.

There is also Henry. Henry Jekyll takes the role of his namesake in the novel, Henry Clerval, Victor's closest friend, and a character most often cited to have homoerotic tension with Victor. It's true that some of the eroticism might be accidental, stemming from the prevalence of homosocial interactions in 'Frankenstein' which in turn is a result of misogynistic nature of 19th century Genevian society and in-novel universe reflecting it, but like I mentioned before, it still feeds into the queer reading of the text and translates beautifully into Jekyll and Victor being both extremely misogynistic towards Lily and their mutual homoerotic tension. In the scenes where Henry purposes his plan to Victor he practically seductively purrs it into his ear, Lily becomes merely a female buffer that allows for that interaction, a female presence which is an excuse for male closeness (here I have a couple of examples actually: Dead Ringers, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Scream (in a roundabout way, through murder) and a couple others, but that deserves its own article). I won't even mention more references to the novel, because that's a lot already.

Penny Dreadful, although I believe largely unintentionally, expands on what is already there through the changes it introduces in relation to the novel's plot. I have nothing else smart to say, I just think it's worth considering.

*I use the word 'queer', because that's the umbrella term we use in academic writing for years now and even our lgbt+ group at university is called 'queer', so don't come at me with stupid takes

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 14.5

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,701

Warnings: angst, dialogue heavy, language, angst, Violence, plot plot plot, did I mention angst? Cuz it’s here

Author Note: Texas weather is no laughing matter and never have I hated snow more than these last few days. This is definitely more of a transition segment so I wrote shorter snippets as a result, but there is some serious plot development nevertheless. The response to last chapter was so amazing I can’t thank everyone enough for all the love and support 💖💖💖

Links to Part 1 and Part 14 and Part 15

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Ahsoka hijacks the Razor Crest as soon as Din teleports her aboard the ship. She pushes Din out of the cockpit, refusing to let him so much as glimpse the coordinates of the destination she inputs into the nav computer. The Oracle hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t trust him going alone to rescue his soulmate.

Bo-Katan hadn’t been phased by Ahsoka’s arrival, adapting to her presence with the same ease as a duck to water. However, Din couldn’t help noticing the moment her mask of cool indifference slipped when Ahsoka asked the reaper to stay in the cockpit with her, claiming they had important matters to discuss. 

Din climbs down the ladder into the hull, recognizing that the conversation about to ensue is not one he needs to be involved in. Fingers twitching restlessly, he commits himself to checking each of the weapons in his armory, sharpening his vibroblades and loading a set of whistling birds into his vambrace. He’d made a promise to Ahsoka against killing Moff Gideon, but he’d made no vow against scarring the Seraph beyond recognition.

When Din’s finished with him, Gideon will be a warning to the rest of the galaxy what happens if you steal from Death. 

He stills at the thrum of satisfaction that runs through his body at the thought of pressing Gideon’s eyeballs out with his thumbs. The darkness within him has grown stronger since he killed Hess and it’s becoming an increasingly harder challenge denying its craving for bloodshed. If not for Ahsoka’s intervention, he would have reaped Xi’an’s soul, breaking another sacred rule. He should feel grateful, but the darkness expresses annoyance instead, upset to have been denied its kill. 

There is a thought that has been plaguing the back of his mind, shackled in the same corner as his other doubts and regrets. He once had iron control over his powers and emotions, but now he’s holding onto his human façade by a mere thread. So slowly he hadn’t even been aware it was happening, his darkness has usurped his morality. 

He’s meant to be a neutral entity, but when he looks at his reflection in the fresher mirror all he sees is a weapon. 

Obsidian orbs have replaced brown eyes. Flawless tan skin has become dissected by lines of ink that once were blue veins. 

Darkness is corrupting him from the inside out, making him a slave to the power he once mastered.

And he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to stop it. 

~~

Bo-Katan joins him in the hull an hour later. She doesn’t say anything , just leans against the wall across from him, and Din continues cleaning the barrel of his amban rifle as if he doesn’t see her. 

The silence isn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he feels her gaze trying to penetrate his helmet. He knows the reaper well-enough to tell there is a question on her mind, but her hesitance to voice it unsettles him. Bo-Katan rarely holds her tongue around him, preferring blunt honesty over sugarcoating, which means whatever is on her mind must be serious. 

He bites back a sigh when she starts restlessly shifting in place and pauses his task. “Ahsoka told you,” he says at last.

“That Moff Gideon fucked with our lives?” Bo-Katan snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, she showed me everything.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. But it’s...good not being in the dark anymore. I needed to hear the truth,” she replies stoically, but the pointless adjustment of her headband betrays her internal strife. There is a moment of pause before she looks at him again. “I heard about your promise,” she says, and it’s not really a question, except that it is.

Din’s fingers tighten around the rifle. “Did she make you swear the same one?”

“No.” Bo-Katan shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

He’s not surprised by the answer. He actually thinks he should have expected it, considering the universe has always held him to a stricter standard than other entities. 

“Ahsoka made it clear to me that this is something between you, Gideon, and your angel alone. I cannot interfere just like you cannot kill him.”

There is bitter resignation in her tone. He recognizes it because he felt the same when he made his promise to Ahsoka. No one likes being told no when they want something. But this—knowing with absolute certainty Gideon is the one responsible for hurting their loved ones and being told you can’t do anything to avenge them? This is the kind of pain that will linger for years to come as an ache in their bones and a scar over their hearts.

It isn’t fair. But Din’s lived long enough to know the universe never intended life to be that way.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bo-Katan asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her, realizing this is the question she’d been withholding since she came down the ladder. Never has she asked him a request before. “What is it?”

“You must separate Gideon from the Darksaber,” she answers, expression one of absolute seriousness. “The Armorer warned my people if the Lightsaber was ever mishandled, it would turn against the wielder by transforming into the Darksaber. Instead of empowering you, it deceives you. Fills your head with delusions until you lose your grip on reality entirely.”

“And you want to spare Gideon’s sanity?” Din asks slowly.

“Of course not. The son of a bitch deserves to be punished for his crimes. Even if I did want to,” her lips curl into a snarl at the thought, “there’s no way of undoing the damage done to his mind. What I want is for the weapon to be returned to the Armorer. She’s the only one who can properly dispose of it.”

“Right,” he agrees quietly. Anything that comes out of the Armorer’s forge is built to last the length of eternity. He could toss the Darksaber into the center of a sun and it’d remain whole and unaffected, waiting to twist the mind of the next wielder. Nodding his head, he assures her, “I’ll take care of it, even if I have to cut off his hands.”

“Good.”

~~

Din paces the length of the hull, each thud of his boots making contact with the metal floor blends with the low hum of the engines. Usually he’d ignore the creaks and groans of his home, but the metallic symphony is the only thing capable of drowning out the thoughts in his head urging him to storm the cockpit and retake control from Ahsoka.

“Pacing isn’t going to make us arrive any quicker,” Bo-Katan tells him, not even bothering to open her eyes as she lounges atop one of his storage crates. “Ahsoka said it will be another hour at least.”

He has a retort ready on his tongue when a voice calls out his name from somewhere beyond the Razor Crest.

“Din!”

Din freezes in place as unexpected, heart-wrenching hope slices through his chest. He knows that voice. It’s his favorite in all the galaxy.

“Death?” Bo-Katan asks, concerned by his stillness. “What’s wrong?”

He tentatively reaches out towards the bond, giving it the slightest of tugs. When he feels the distant flicker of a reaction on the other end from his angel he nearly forgets how to breathe.

“The bond,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and relief. “I can feel it again.”

Longing fills his chest where the hollowness used to reside now that the invisible block separating them is gone. It wraps around his heart, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls to his knees. Din pulls at the bond again on impulse, possessed by the all-consuming need to see her, to have her at his side where she’ll be safe.

The bond protests the harsh treatment, too weak to physically bring them together across the vast distance separating them. He snarls a curse under his breath, hating being helpless to protect her. It’s unfair, he finds himself thinking for a second time. Unfair how it hurts more now being able to feel her presence compared to when he couldn’t at all.

A paper airplane flickers into existence on the horizon of his mind, flying straight into his hand when he reaches out for it. I can’t leave this place. Not yet, the note says. The words themselves are unsettling, but it’s the strength of the emotions she’s attached that has him reeling with shock. For one crazy, electrifying moment he thinks he’s passed onto the afterlife. 

Another note arrives. I miss you, Din. I want to see you so much it hurts. And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously. 

As he sends a message of his own, never has he been more certain that if anyone can put an end to the darkness inside of him—it’s her.

~~

“The Moff is an expert when it comes to defensive warding,” Ahsoka says as the three of them stand looking up at a canyon wall that extends in either direction as far as their eyes can see. “But even he can’t hide from my sight.”

Din scuffs at the salt-covered ground with his boot, still coming to terms with the fact all this time Gideon’s been hiding out on Crait of all planets. As much as he wants to believe Ahsoka’s right, his powers can’t detect even the barest hint of the Seraph’s presence.  

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows arch with skepticism. “You’re sure this is the right place? It’s kind of remote.”

“Perfect for building an army,” Ahsoka replies without missing a beat.

Din exchanges a look with his reaper, realizing this is the first time either of them are hearing about this. 

“Gideon has an army?” he asks. “Who—”

“Mercenaries,” she interrupts, turning around to face them. Her blue eyes are distant and cloudy, entranced by a vision. “When I break the warding, all but one will meet the end of their mortal lives attempting to overpower us.”

“All but one? I don’t think so.” Bo-Katan rests her hands deliberately on her blaster pistols. “Anyone who works for Gideon is an enemy in my book.”

“Migs Mayfeld is not to be harmed.” There is steel in Ahsoka’s voice as she blinks back into the present moment.

Din nudges Bo-Katan with his arm when it looks like she wants to continue arguing. The reaper huffs a quiet breath of annoyance, but eventually jerks her head in the tiniest nod of compliance. 

Ahsoka grabs her twin sabers from her belt and ignites their blue blades. She handles her weapons with deadly grace, altering her appearance from peaceful Oracle to fierce and cunning warrior. Turning back to the canyon wall, her gaze trails over the red-brown rocks only to pause and narrow at seemingly random points.

Bo-Katan tries and fails to follow her line of vision. “What are you—”

The Oracle leaps into the air with surprising agility, lashing out with her sabers against the rock. Blinding light bursts forth from the point of collision followed by a flickering glimpse of a gigantic metal door. 

“—looking at,” Bo-Katan finishes quietly, watching Ahsoka swing herself higher to attack another portion of the canyon wall where the next segment of warding is hidden. 

There is something undeniably satisfying about seeing the door materialize as the wardings cloaking it are destroyed. Every precise strike of Ahsoka’s sabers brings Din one step closer to reuniting with his soulmate.

As if spurred by the mere thought of her, fear ripples across the bond like a gust of icy wind, stopping his heart cold. His angel is terrified. Din reaches out as far as the bond will allow in its fragile state, trying to get her attention by pulling at it and shouting her name, but none of his attempts breach the storm of panic. 

“She needs me,” he mutters to himself, stepping forward with clenched fists. His vision narrows until all he can see is the door in front of him, an obstacle that must be dealt with. “She needs my help.”

“Wait,” Bo-Katan calls out, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from thousands of miles away. “Ahsoka isn’t finished with the warding yet!”

If he were capable of rational thought in that moment, he would have heeded her warning. As it is, he summons his power into the palm of his hand, the darkness inside of him crowing in wicked delight. He winds his arm back, preparing to slam his fist against the door, only for a whipcord to wrap around his wrist with an audible zip. 

He’s pulled backwards onto the ground, breath knocked from his lungs as he lands with a heavy thud. Bo-Katan appears not a second later and pins him in place by straddling his waist. The darkness is demanding he push her aside, knowing with absolute certainty the reaper is no match against him, and it takes all his strength to wrestle the urge under control. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She glares at him, eyes resembling green flames eager to incinerate him.

“I—” he rasps, breathing heavily. His hand starts trembling, a burning itch under his skin. “I can feel her fear. She needs me.”

Bo-Katan blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, shit.” She jostles him then, forcing his head to momentarily clear as his helmet smacks the ground. “Look, soulmates are soulmates for a reason, right? I heard it’s like being two halves of the same whole. So if your soulmate is anything like you, she’s not going to give up without a fight. You have to trust she can take care of herself right now. That she’ll be fine.”

Din bristles. Trust is not the issue here. There is no one he trusts more than his angel—not Bo-Katan, not Ahsoka, not even Kuiil. The issue is he’s being asked to deny the instinct to shield her from danger which is woven into every cell of his being.

“She’ll be fine.” The words come out sounding sharp around the edges, cutting his tongue like shrapnel. “Everything will be fine.”

Bo-Katan disconnects the whipcord and rises to full height, apparently satisfied by his agreement. Din pushes himself onto his feet at a slower pace, his hand still shaking as if it's electric. He looks down at it, noticing for the first time the flesh is gone, replaced entirely by shadow. His expression tightens as he observes the change, realizing the black tendrils are slowly creeping up towards his wrist. 

An alarm rings out, reverberating off the canyon walls like an explosion. Din’s gaze snaps up just as Ahsoka lands on the ground in a defensive crouch. Now that it's been fully unveiled, the door bears a striking resemblance to ones he’s seen at military fortresses across the galaxy, ridiculously massive to intimidate enemies and impenetrable from outside attacks. It makes sense, he thinks with a scoff, someone as power-hungry as Gideon claiming an abandoned base as their lair. Without the wardings, Din is able to detect the massive number of souls gathering on the other side, resembling vermin crawling over one another in their haste to arm themselves. 

He searches for his angel’s soul, even just a glimpse of her bright light, only for his powers to instead encounter a massive cloud of dark, negatively-charged energy within a distant corner of the underground tunnel system. It fills an entire room, prohibiting him from sensing if anyone is inside. There is something strangely familiar about the energy, like he’s encountered its essence before, but he can’t recall the specifics of when or where. 

“It’s time.” 

Ahsoka’s voice reels his focus back to his physical surroundings. He notices the way her grip on her sabers tightens in anticipation and out of the corner of his eye Bo-Katan withdraws her blasters from their holsters.

The bottom of the door begins to raise with an earsplitting groan, but the mercenaries only wait the minimum amount of time it takes to pass under without hitting their heads to start charging forward. 

Every mortal has a beginning and an end just like everything else in the galaxy. These mercenaries are no exceptions, having long sealed their fates when they agreed to accept Gideon’s payment. So when Din’s shadowy hand phases through a man’s chest and tears his heart out of its cavity, staining the white salt under their feet crimson as blood bursts from the vacant hole, Din tells himself he’s simply fulfilling destiny. 

He repeats it when he discharges an assault of whistling birds, each one puncturing the throats of each target they encounter with a shrill warcry. And also when he rips a devaronian’s horn out of his head, a fragment of skull and bits of brain matter still gruesomely attached. 

Again and again, with each permanently silenced voice and every shattered fragile bone, destiny is fulfilled. 

~~

Din would be lying if he said he’s never wondered what it would be like to die. To pass on from this world into a new realm for him to explore. He’s imagined the idyllic afterlife mortals have written poems and novels about, describing it as a blissful safe haven where sorrow and tragedy have no definition because they do not exist. He’s familiar with their opinions of damnation’s appearance, too, as an infernal place of fire and brimstone and screaming.

They were wrong about that.

Damnation is not a distant hell. It is found in an underground lair on Crait. 

Instead of flames and sulfur, a Cupid’s blood is split and a soulmate bond is snapped in half. 

Instead of screaming, a madman laughs.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gideon says through his chuckles, hauling himself onto his feet. His voice is an abrasive rasp, as if he’s shredded his vocal cords by screaming. “I’ve had to be patient, wait to find your weakness so I could catch your attention. It’s a shame, really, she had to be the one you fell for. She was quite the little spitfire.”

Din stares at his soulmate’s motionless body, frozen in place. Please, he pulls at his severed half of the bond, resolutely ignoring how cold it feels. Open your eyes, angel. Don’t leave me. Please.

There is no response. Just heartbreaking silence.

“I sense your anger, your hurt, and grief. Those are mortal emotions.” The Seraph grimaces in disgust, then lets out a low hiss when he agitates the wounds on his face. “By living amongst their kind you’ve forgotten your true potential. You are not their equal, Death. You are their superior. Immortals are meant to be better than them. To rule over every aspect of their pitiful lives.”

“I don’t want to rule anyone,” Din says, dragging his eyes away from his angel to glare at Gideon. Both his hands begin to shake as his mind plunges into a gaping abyss of remorse and despair. “I just want a life with her.”

“Even dead, she continues to blind you.”

Din snarls viciously in response. His control is pushed closer to the brink, holding on by mere fingertips, and darkness engulfs the entire room as a result. 

The glow of the Darksaber persists, reflecting off his beskar and Gideon’s armor. It reminds him of moonlight, and he thinks for all that Bo-Katan warned him about the weapon’s sinful qualities, she did not mention its beauty. Even Ahsoka’s vision had failed to truly capture its radiance, just as a holovid can never compete with a face-to-face conversation. 

His powers are drawn to the Darksaber. The energy it emits matches the one encountered earlier when searching the tunnels for his angel’s aura. This close, there is no ignoring its familiarity, not when his brain feels seconds away from exploding. 

“I used to believe love conquers all,” Gideon prattles on, seemingly oblivious to Din’s torment. “I chose it as the Cupid motto because I thought there was nothing mortals cared more about than the health and happiness of their loved ones. Only after our fateful encounter did the Lightsaber reveal to me the truth.”

Lightsaber? Din’s head jerks up to stare at him, biting back a wince when the throbbing in the back of his mind intensifies at the movement. Does Gideon not realize the weapon has transformed? 

By connecting Ahsoka’s claim that Gideon didn’t fully understand the consequence of corrupting the Lightsaber with Bo-Katan’s explanation that the Darksaber deceives its wielder, the answer is an obvious one: he doesn’t.

Gideon mistakes Din’s confusion for interest and his lips slowly curl into a smile. “Mors aeterna. It means—”

“Death is eternal.” The translation slips unbiddenly from Din’s lips before he even realizes his mouth has opened.

“There is no one more feared or respected than you. But for what reason? What have you done to earn your reputation?” Gideon demands, spit flying as his anger flares. “You are no more than the universe’s favorite puppet. Mindlessly obedient to its every demand.” 

Hearing the truth always hurts, but hearing it from Gideon is especially torturous. Din’s creed to the universe has dictated his actions the entirety of his existence. He never fought against its orders, never thought of his own desires as more important than what it wanted.

Until he matched with his soulmate. She changed his priorities and shifted the center of his entire world by revealing to him even Death could experience love. 

There had been no hesitation when he broke his creed for her.

And he doesn’t hesitate breaking Ahsoka’s promise now.

“I just murdered your soulmate right in front of you and you do nothing. Did you ever love her at all?”

“I do.”

Din summons every trace of power and darkness he possesses and combines them together within his core—a volatile, pulsating mass of pure chaos. His beskar armor starts to crack and chip away, unable to withstand the increasing pressure. 

He thinks of his angel’s smiling face, the sound of her laughter, how bright her soul shines, and he thinks all those things are gone now. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

“More than anything.”

And Death lets go.

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[khaotic-kitsunes]

Alleyways

...I have absolutely no regrets over this. None what-so-ever and neither should anyone else because this glorious scenario was freaking fun to write. Probably even better to read, I dunno, I can never read a scenario that I’ve written again until I’ve forgotten it completely. Otherwise I start to remember the words a second before I read them and honestly it’s infuriating.

Anyways~

I hope you like the Dabi dose of today and again, sorry about the mishap! One was put in drafts by accident and this one I just forgot to press the post button until I went back to my tumblr tab to scroll through my dashboard...hahah

Whoopsie?

🥃 AO3 🥃

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 “Hey there, little cutie…what’re you doing with a guy like that huh? Why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you what a real Alpha is like!”

 .

 Dabi let out a low growl of displeasure from beside you as you walked through the dimly lit street together, his arm wrapped around your waist and keeping you close to his side; allowing you to soak up the warmth his quirk allowed him to produce.

 “You’re letting them get to you…” You trailed off softly, peeking up at your grouchy boyfriend when you felt his fingers dig into your waist and while it wasn’t painful, it certainly brought you no joy to see how upset he was getting over a few drunken morons cat-calling you.

 “Drop. It.” The words came out as an angry snarl of annoyance, not necessarily directed at you; yet at the same time, you felt the effects of your Alpha’s displeasure, a low whine spilling past your lips that still showed signs of a faint bruise. It was from Dabi’s most recent rut; he had gotten a little carried away with you and bit harder than usual. Nothing that wouldn’t heal.

 “Don’t whine at me, (Name). You know I hate walking around here with you” He spared you a quick glance, his brows furrowing when he noticed how displeased you looked with his current mood; earning a quiet click of his teeth. An upset Omega was never good, even he knew that much.

 “So, what? I’m the problem?” His eyes widened partially at your whimpered-out question, a string of uttered curses escaping him before he stopped walking to face you properly, calloused and scarred hands gripping your arms tightly.

 “Oi! That isn’t what I meant, stupid little…” He trailed off into a growl before loosening his grip on your arms, his shoulders slumping as he let go of his anger at the people that tried to take you from him; he needed to be calm to deal with you. Both of you knew that.

 “I don’t like sharing you with everyone. You’re mine. Those assholes are lucky I don’t murder them for even looking at you!” His possessive growl calmed you almost instantly, a soft snicker escaping you and while the noise settled Dabi’s fear of having to deal with an emotional Omega; he didn’t appreciate your laughter.

 “Think this is funny? Little shit” He scowled, reaching up to pinch your cheek, pulling firmly until you let out a noise of discomfort; resulting in him releasing you and moving back beside you, his arm returning to its’ place around your waist. Keeping you close.

 “…Hey, hey, if you’re getting so wound up about this, then that must mean you love me. Right? Alpha?” Your questioned received a grunt in response, the two of you slowly making your way through the almost empty street; the few people that were around, staring directly at you with looks you recognised from before Dabi had claimed you as his Omega.

 .

 “If even a single one of those fuckers says anything to you, fucking anything, I’ll burn them alive…”

 .

 You snapped your head up quickly at his words, surprised at the vicious promise behind them; your Alpha was a strange one. He wasn’t overly kind, nor was he a good person, but you found that he took good care of you, as best he could really and every time he threatened such a degree of violence; it sent shivers down your spine. You did love when your Alpha used his quirk for you, there was nothing better in your mind; his greatest show of love was slaughtering people that he decided weren’t good enough to even look at you.

 “Alpha~” You purred out the word softly, leaning into his side heavily while your hand went to his stomach, nails dragging over his muscles through the thin white shirt he had chosen to wear for your stroll throughout the neighbourhood.

 He opened his mouth to respond to you as he turned his head to look down, but the moment he looked into your eyes, the words appeared to have escaped him. Instead, they were replaced with a deep, rumble of a growl that you hadn’t heard outside of the safety of your small apartment before; a growl that meant you were about to have his knot buried inside of you.

 “Seriously?” Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation the instant the question left your Alpha’s mouth, causing an eager grin to tug at the corners of his lips; it appeared as though your Alpha wasn’t against the less-than-subtle hint that you had given him.

 “Such a naughty little thing you are…come on baby, you want my cock? You’re gonna fucking get it.” His words were a hushed promise as he tightened his hold on your waist, practically dragging you over to a nearby alleyway, not a care in the world that the two of you were in a public place; in fact, it almost felt like this was Dabi’s own way of telling the other Alphas where to shove their offers.

 “Is that a promise, Alpha?” You squealed when Dabi dropped his hand to slap your arse roughly, causing you to stumble into the wall he was about to fuck you against, the sound echoing down the empty little spot he had chosen; a reaction he seemed to appreciate, if his hungry stare was anything to go off of.

 “You know damned well that it is…now lift that fucking dress for me if you’re really that desperate for my knot” Your cheeks flushed in response to his demand, hands moving to tug at the edge of your dress; it hadn’t been the best choice for the walk, considering how cold it was currently. However, it was working out for you currently.

 You jolted in surprise when you felt a weight on your shoulders, looking back to see that Dabi had dropped his jacket over your shoulders, his scent enveloping you almost instantly and causing slick to start dripping down your folds.

 “Keep it on” His words were a quiet, concerned instruction while his hands went to your arse, squeezing until you spread your legs for him as best you could, giving a cheeky little wiggle until he slapped you once again; a soft noise of pleasure slipping out. Though Dabi had heard it loud and clear, the sound making him grind himself up against you through his pants; his erection made painfully clear.

 “Alpha…don’t tease me? Please…” Your whimper had him chuckling while he buried his head into the crook of your neck, his hands moving from your arse to deal with his pants; adjusting them just enough so that his aching cock was free and rubbing against you. Your panties were now the only thing keeping him from fucking you senseless and in that moment, you absolutely hated yourself for wearing them. Unnecessary things that they were.

 .

 “Are you beggin’ already?”

 .

 You huffed in response, pushing yourself back against him firmly in order to show your annoyance with him; a soft squeak echoing around the area when he tore your panties away from your body, allowing him to properly rub against you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your folds, nudging and rubbing just enough to let you know he was there but certainly not enough to satisfy you and your needs.

 “Dabi, come on…that isn’t fu-” His hand covered your mouth while his other arm went around your waist, pressing you further into the wall as he began to bite at your neck; the parts he could access since his jacket was partially in the way.

 “Shut up. You don’t get to tell me how to fuck you, (Name). You get what you’re given and you’ll fucking take it like a good Omega” He buried himself inside of you once he made his point, causing you to arch your back, a moan of relief muffled by his warm hand; preventing anyone else from hearing the noises that your Alpha refused to share.

 “That’s better…fuck, that’s it, move your hips like that baby…make your Alpha happy” Dabi groaned quiet praise into your ear while he rocked his hips, trying his best not to completely lose his control with you. As much as he wanted to do such a thing, if he were to lose control out in the open like this, it might cause problems for the both of you and Dabi preferred to avoid that kind of situation.

 You whimpered into his hand, grinding your hips back against him each chance you got, the feel of his not yet inflated knot against your folds driving you insane; you knew how good his knot felt and it was hard to resist the urge to sink yourself back onto it. The only problem with that plan, being that if you did dare to do such a thing; he would punish you for it.

 Dabi liked his control over you, disobeying the unspoken rules between the two of you wouldn’t end well.

 .

 “Shh, I know baby. Believe me, I know how bad you want my knot…but you need to be a good girl, otherwise your next heat is going to be a hard one”

 .

 Your entire body shuddered from the warning he gave you, muffled moans beginning to grow louder as his control began to slip, his thrusts and bites getting rougher with each passing minute that he fucked you in the alleyway. He was finding it to be an impossible task, holding back with you when your body was so inviting; welcoming every little thing he did to you.

 “Shit…shit, damn it!” Dabi cursed out loudly as he began to bite at the bonding mark you wore proudly on your neck, the sensitive and bruised flesh an instinctive target for his little shows of affection; alerting you to how agitated he was beginning to get.

 “Fuck it. I’ll just fucking kill anyone that tries to fuck with us when I’m stuck inside you” Dabi groaned out his resolution before removing himself from your body, quickly spinning you around to face him before suddenly, you were lifted into his arms, legs going around his waist and your back slammed up against the brick wall you had just been pressed up against; his throbbing cock buried inside of you once again.

 “I want to hear you baby girl. Moan for me, scream for me!” He snarled out his demand as he pressed his face against your chest, his teeth surprisingly sharp despite the material of your dress getting in the way of his bites; making you cry out loudly from all the pleasure he was showering you with.

 “Dabi…Alpha! More, I want more…please!” You whined out loudly as he continued to thrust his hips, his hands remaining on your arse so that he could keep a steady pace; though his grip was tight enough to leave you whining in need. It was times like this you loved being with someone that had no morals, your Alpha didn’t care that he was fucking you where other people could hear and smell what you were doing, the only thing he was paying attention to; was the way you felt wrapped around his aching cock.

 “Fucking hell…you’re such a greedy little Omega!” Dabi groaned out a laugh, throwing his head back as he pushed his knot inside of you, your loud shout of bliss music to his ears, he would never admit it sober; but he loved your reactions to his touches.

 You weren’t like other Omegas that he had fucked, you weren’t just after your own pleasure, you weren’t just an easy slut. He had to work his arse off just to get in bed with you in the beginning and when he finally managed to, well he had been shocked to find out that you could take everything he had to give.

 You were his perfect match and he had kept you ever since.

 .

 “Louder baby, I want the entire block to know whose cock is making you feel this good!”

 .

 You screamed out his name in response, baring your throat to him in submission while he continued to fuck you senseless; his knot throbbing and growing bigger as time passed, signalling that your Alpha was close to finishing. Just like you were. You could feel the familiar warmth beginning to build in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure rocking through your body; it was too much, having Dabi fuck you like this with the knowledge that everyone knew what you were doing but no one would be stupid enough to interrupt the two of you.

 “That’s it…close, aren’t you? Squeezing down on me like that already? Is it that good a fuck, baby? Can’t keep up tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at his groaned-out taunts, tangling your fingers into his dark locks while your orgasm got closer and closer; you weren’t in the mood for him to be a complete asshole to you and you were about to make that clear.

 “Just…shut up and knot me, Dabi! I wanna go home and nest…” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes shut tightly while giving a harsh tug to his hair, screaming out his name when your orgasm finally hit; his knot swelling up inside of you once you started to squeeze down on him even more, his hot, thick seed filling you in a sudden rush.

 Dabi bit down on your bonding mark roughly, chewing on the spot while rocking his hips as best he could while stuck buried balls deep inside of you, his mind slowly processing the words you had uttered.

 .

 “Nest…? Are you going into heat baby? Fuck…don’t worry, I’ll get you home soon. You can get nice and comfy so I can fill you up even more.”

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3 

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

--

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

--

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

--

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

--

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

--

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

--

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

--

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

--

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result.      Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.”      They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly. 

     “Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work.      “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?”      Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.”      Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.”      “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

     The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either. 

     As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

     Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

     Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake. 

     Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so. 

     Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her. 

     The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock. 

     At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

     Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

     Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

     Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

     Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough. 

     “We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time.      “Me first,” Dean demands, childish.      “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.”      “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

     Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him. 

     “That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?”      “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.”      “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly.      “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

     “And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again.      “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

     Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal.      “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

     “You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone.      “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns.      “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

     Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years,  and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at?      “How?” he questions, suspicion rising.      “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states.      Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

     The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.”      “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers.      “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

     Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke.      “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant.      But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.” 

     Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. 

     “Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone.      “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him.      “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

     “You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

     “You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!”  he continues cynically.      “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.”      “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

     Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

     “I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

     Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's.      “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

     For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two.      “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

     Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride. 

     Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father.      Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

     Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

     The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again.      “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

     But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.       “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

     His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him. 

     Take care of Sammy. 

     He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

[fortune-fool02]

Silent Dreams

Funny Valentine x daughter reader

Requested by: anonymous

Please enjoy.

If there was one way someone could describe Valentine’s daughter, it was sweet. Always a warm smile on her lips that made anyone else smile just by looking at her. She rarely did anything without being told to, which Valentine had tried to teach her that she could tell others what to do as well, but she never did. Mainly because she never spoke.

Throughout her life, [Name] had never uttered a word and that resulted in lessons in sign language or to carry a small notepad in her pocket. None of this bothered her nor her parents. With the lip-reading lessons they gave themselves, [Name] often didn’t need to sign nor use her notepad to talk to her parents. Valentine was not going to let something like this stop him from loving his daughter, she was his flesh and blood, and her inability to speak was not going to change that. 

Valentine could easily recall times where he had walked into his office to find [Name] sitting with one of his followers tending any injuries they had gained. Her expression was soft and comforting as she moved her mouth to give encouragement or praise -all of his followers knew how to lip read for her sake, something Valentine demanded of them- to them. His followers treated her with the amount of respect they did him and that made him happy. [Name] was above them and they did not need reminding of that. 

[Name] often followed her father around like a lost puppy, looking up at him with those wide, innocent [Eye colour] orbs of hers with such admiration. It was sweet. She would look around his office in wonder, looking at the flags and the large design on the floor. 

“That is our country’s flag, [Name].” her father told her, holding the flag out fully for her to see. He will never forget the way her eyes lit up when she saw it for the first time, how his heart swelled with pride at that. “This is what I stand to protect. To bring our country to greatness is my job and my life duty as President.” It was that moment that [Name] felt the world change, in the sense of she knew what she needed to do. Ever since she was born, she was an observant person, able to read people good and understand things that one wouldn’t expect her to. 

She grew up into a strong teenager; her compassionate nature never faltering and only grew as she did; like a beautiful, deadly flower, thank to her own Stand she had developed. When she was a child, she asked her father to teach her about her country and its history, he did. He taught her everything he could about their country. That became one of their father-daughter times that no one was allowed to disrupt, not even her mother. [Name] never missed a lesson, always eager to learn everything her father could teach her. 

He even taught her how to control her Stand. From how to summon it to the abilities it possessed. It was not the same as D4C, as one would expect, but they were able to learn many things of her Stand. One being that it seemed to be able to give life to the dead, as when [Name] saw a dead tree in a park and placed her hand against it, her Stand materialising and breathing life into the tree again.

With the knowledge of this ability, [Name] would often go to parks and nature-related areas to breathe life back into them, wanting to do whatever she could to make her country better. Much like her father. Nothing had made him smile as proudly as that moment did when she signed,

I want to help make the country better, like you. That moment was forever imprinted into his mind, along with every other treasured memory he cherished with his daughter. 

Though, one day when she had reached the age of eighteen, she surprised both her parents. One of his followers had told them [Name] wished to see them alone. When they found her in the room in front of his office, the secretary left them, closing the doors behind him. 

“What is the matter, [Name]?” her mother asked, sounding somewhat concerned as her daughter was standing by the window, looking out at the city. Her usual soft, sweet expression was absent and in its place was a serious, almost stern expression that her parents did not recognise. 

“[Name], what is it?” Valentine asked, taking a step towards his daughter by instinct. The [Hair colour] woman turned to her parents and took a breath, moving to stand in front of them. She could do this. She could so this. 

Taking a breath, [Name] locked eyes with her father. “I-I...wh-whant...to be... the f-first... f-female Pr-President.” Silence hung in the air after that. Her mother almost fainting at the fact her daughter -who has been a mute since the day she was born- had just spoken her first proper words. Her father stood there, frozen in shock at his daughter’s words. She wanted to be President like him? 

Light worry began to draw itself on her face at her parents’ reactions. Had she done something wrong? Had she disappointed them somehow? She lowered her head, trying to spurt out apologises for something she was unaware of she had done when her father pulled her into a hug. 

“For you to say that...I could not have asked for a better daughter.” Those words stuck to her, wiping away any worry she had of disappointing her parents and replacing it with a warmth. Everything in her life, every moment she had spent with her father, had built up to her wanting this. She wanted to make her country great, just like her father. She wanted to make him proud. That was all she ever wanted. 

She will make America great for her father. 

[sourbat]

39 for hammertooth if you'd like to...? 8)

Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Wow. So, this turned out big. There’s a kiss before the main one, but trust me when I say it doesn’t compare to the main course. 

I really hope you like this one. Thank you. 

Warning: set post Galaktikon 2

Toki dreamed. He dreamed he was in space, floating aimlessly amongst the vast black sea of nothingness. In his dream, he carried no physical form, no arms or legs to paddle through the weightless current, and no mouth to call his brothers who floated alongside him, there in spirit, and just as formless as he. In his dream, they sailed across earth’s outermost layer, drifting peacefully, coating the planet in a veil that soothed, healed it from the damage of a battle between gods. Toki stared outwards, at the distant stars, twinkling bright. He paid no mind to his spreading consciousness, instead taking delight in how he could stare the sun head-on without his eyes hurting, the glowing fogs of distant galaxies that radiated new colors Toki never knew existed, and the gorgeous purple and white swirl of their own milky way.

In his dream, he saw the earth beneath him, massive and blue. Eyeless, but all-seeing, Toki watched the glitter of city lights, the gathering of clouds, and the graceful turn of the planet. He saw how day transformed into night,  and in doing so, remembered a distant, faded memory. A promise he made. Something important. Toki watched the planet spin, days and weeks go by, trying to remember what it was, the promise, but couldn’t breach anything past those final moments before falling asleep. So he stopped, turning away from earth, and to the stars that flickered, at his nonexistent form, and went on, floated further into his beautiful, but admittedly lonesome dream.

…

He sailed further, vanishing into space,  consciousness never fully wavering despite the everlasting silence, the darkness and the unending sense of loneliness…

…

Something cut through the emptiness. A flat note ripped through space, waking Toki, startling him out of his peaceful state. An inkling, a sharp, painful reminder that he left something behind. With his mind now spread across the greater part of the galaxy, it took awhile just to wake up, to realize what was going on. The stars twinkled around him, and his brothers, just as equally spread and silent, quivered at the terrible sound. In his dream he was nothing more than a cluster of atoms, but the song somehow tore through Toki, attacking him, yelling and pleading for him to put himself back together. A terrifying noise. A mournful sound. An unending, unwavering rip of chords that called him forward, back to earth, to the atmosphere.  

And then came a dream of rain, of thunder and lightning, and Toki picking up each piece of himself, of Nathan and the others and, following the instruction of the grief-stricken, but now familiar tune, fixed them together and cast them into the storm clouds.

Toki dreamt of water, of falling into it and becoming one with the atmosphere. He dreamed that he was drowning. He feared he was, until a new sensation took hold. He was falling, away from the blackened sea, from the weightless joy of space, and was tumbling back to earth, falling, falling, closer to that frightening noise. The moment pieces of him sank into the clouds, collected and readied to be carried off into each droplet, the song became more rapturous, beautiful. Toki felt himself start to reform, and he could feel the fragments of a promise, and memory of him playing, helping orchestrate the music that now consumed his drenched, ailing soul.

He reached out with an arm that wasn’t entirely there, at the source of each trembling, wretched note. Each wonderful note. That familiar melody. 

His song.

 …

Toki woke to the gentle patter of rain hitting a window, and the sound of a monitor providing a steady, repetitive beep. Senses still trapped in a fog, Toki pushed a breath of air through his lips, and was surprised to discover the chapped edges and nerves stinging from the brief expulsion of air. The drizzle outside called for him to remain still. Toki couldn’t figure why, but thought he should listen to it. Still, he parted his mouth, breathing in the alien atmosphere, the strange, medicinal taste that lingered under each shallow inhale. In the distance, he heard footsteps, clicks, beeps, and voices.

Toki tried opening his eyes, to get a better sense of where he was, because he knew he wasn’t in his room. The bed underneath was too stiff, and the sheets so thin. Everything felt heavy and rigid, and whatever attempt he made to move, to wriggle in place, was met with an impossible weight. His legs were stones, and his throat was dry. His mind was alert, but his head was still fuzzy, and trying just to turn, to rub his face into the pillow made his brain feel stuffed and sick. His right arm was disturbingly numb.

The rain’s patter grew silent, and Toki possessed just enough strength to open his eyes, to meet with the harsh light right above him. His muscles squint, recoiled at the sudden change. The world was a massive, white blur, and as Toki wrestled with his consciousness, pulled himself awake and tried to focus his tired eyes on a shape, heard the monitor and turned towards it.

It was his monitor, he realized, staring wearily at the indistinct figure of a squiggly line jumping in tandem with his heartbeat.

He was…in a hospital?

Then came a sound. Something hard hitting the floor, and liquid splashing as it collided with a surface. Startled, Toki slowly turned his head, this time more capable, but felt a terrible ache that crawled up his spine and settled across his skull as he tried to locate the source of the noise.

He blinked. Standing before him was a dark, blurry figure.

“Toki?”

A pain filled Toki when he heard the voice. Magnus. He knew. Toki swallowed a lump, trying to make sense of why it hurt so much. He squinted his eyes, barely catching the outline of Magnus’ figure, the wild and indistinct form of his hair, and the long, thin design of his encroaching form. 

“…Ma–”

“Toki!” A sad, desperate cry.

Magnus approached, stepping over whatever mess he concocted, and hurried towards the bed before Toki could effectively focus on him. His bed shook, and Toki knew Magnus was there, gripping it, trembling above him. He stared at the blurry figure, barely making out the man’s silhouette, but spotting the rich color of his iris set upon him.

“You’re awake…”

The shaking of the bed ceased, now replaced with warm, shaking fingers outlining Toki’s face. Toki closed his eyes at the touch, racked with a terrible ache as hands cupped his jaw. Each touch was so affectionate, so tender, and for whatever reason, Toki felt starved of it. Warm hands. A thumb rolling over his cheek. He detected every distinct movement, no matter how soft, how subtle, and the pain that nestled in his chest grew bigger, heavier, and a terrible feeling, one Toki couldn’t put into words, gripped him. As if he had read Tokis’ mind, Magnus now hovered over him, and his lips gently applied soothing reminders across Toki’s forehead that this was real; his frantic, uneven breaths hitting Toki’s face was real; each pained touch that warmed Toki’s weakened state, reawakened nerves and filled Toki with energy, was real. It was supposed to calm him, but Toki shuddered, terrified by the thought that arose, the thought that this was real, that he was finally feeling something. 

Like he was waking up from a very long sleep.

Toki stared into the dark mass of hair and shadows. “Magnus?”

“Yeah,” his warm voice spoke, trembling and reverberating that same fear as it sank into Toki. Magnus pulled back. “H-how you doing, buddy?” 

Toki stared at the reconfigured form, of Magnus slowly coming into better view. Toki could make out the red surrounding Magnus’ eye, the blurry line that made up his smile. 

He swallowed again. “…tired.”

Magnus chuckled above him. “I’ll say,” he said, voice stressed and hoarse. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a week.”

Toki went silent. A whole week?

It would explain why he felt so tired, muscles and joints stiff from a lack of movement, and body sore and weighted from underuse. Toki blinked, a little pleased when he reopened them to see some loose strands of Magnus’ hair finally begin to solidify. He could make out Magnus’ face better, and with it, could see what his long sleep had done. The man looked so worried! So concerned. So…so tired.

“Ams…awakes now,” Toki said, surprised by how a week-long rest could result in his voice so faint, lungs exhausted from a simple inhale.

Oh, but they had a battle! Right… a battle in space. No wonder he felt so weak.

“Magnus,” Toki called, heaving the man’s name out. “Dids we...”

“You did it, man,” Magnus said, voice falling to a barely controlled quiver. The space between them vanished once more, shadow returning to cover Toki. Magnus’s hands cradled his head, returning and supplying Toki with a touch that was still so intense, so refreshing despite only being away from him for a week. “You saved the planet. You all did…”

Toki smiled at the news, felt the ends of his eyes burn as Magnus continued to feed and refill his hungry, empty body with his touch. Toki closed them, choosing to focus on the relief of knowing it was finally over, and sighed under each welcoming sensation, the warmth of Magnus’ presence finally reentering his life after spending so long dreaming of the stars. He listened as Magnus informed him it was alright, that everyone was alive, that the others were waking up with each passing day. Toki sniffed, elated to hear that everyone was safe, that Skwisgaar would wake up soon after him, and they’d all be able to celebrate. Abigail was here. And Charles. His arm was broken, and he suffered some burns here and there, and he’d have to stay in the hospital for a little while longer to run some tests, but he was alive. Everyone was alive, and he made it back in one piece.

Suddenly, his smile started to burn, and Toki felt a minute rip spread across the center of his upper lip. He licked it, tasting the parting of his chapped skin, and winced at the sting of his own dry tongue. He swallowed. “Ams…thirsty.”

“Gotcha,” Magnus said, and parted from him to retrieve some water. The instant he did, the ache returned. It was less than a minute, but the yearn for touch, for someone to acknowledge and speak with him quickly consumed Toki’s thought. It was the same, unending feel of loneliness that had started to fill his dreams, and was returning with a vengeance for each second he spent alone.

But Magnus returned, cup and straw in hand, and the pain quelled long enough for Toki to get the first eager sips of liquid down his throat. His slip lip ached, but a few licks from his now moist tongue helped ease the pain. 

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Toki answered, smiling up at Magnus.

Magnus leaned close and carefully placed a finger on top of the cut lip. “Here, let me get you some more,” he said after a quick check, and left his seat to refill the cup. As he did, Toki cast his tired eyes on the man, and he noticed there was something off about his appearance.

He was thin. Magnus was noticeably slimmer, enough that Toki could point it out despite his vision not being his best. There was that fine blur that suggested it might not be the case, but when Magnus returned to his bedside, Toki could see the finer details. His cheekbones were more pronounced, and Magnus, though happy, looked emaciated.

“You hasn’t beens eatins,” Toki stated, frowning. He tried lifting his left arm to touch Magnus and  feel the sharp counters that he had worked so diligently to fill with hearty meals and love, but could barely bring to lift it. 

Magnus took Toki’s hand into his own. “I’m sorry, Toki,” he said, smiling terribly at him. “It was…rough. I’ll regain it all back, man. Just you wait. You just…” Magnus paused, lowered his head and inhaled deeply. He glanced up. “You just focus on getting better, alright?”

Toki gave a weakened nod, but struggled to hold a smile. Magnus looked unwell. He almost looked as bad when Toki visited him in the hospital, right after he recovered from his surgery. He looked so much thinner! Exhausted. Broken down. It… hurt. Toki remembered working so hard to get his weight up, and Magnus lost it all in such a short period. He must have been so stressed, so worried looking after him. 

The threat of tears arose, and Toki shut his eyes.

“Something wrong?” he heard Magnus ask.

Toki shook his head.

“What is it?”

Toki sniffed, opening them. “You must... have beens so... w-worried,” he said, whimpering out the words. “Must… have beens a… really scaries week.”

Magnus stood up to get closer. He pressed his head gently against Toki’s. “You’ve no idea. But don’t worry; I’ll be ok.” He got closer, arms wrapping around Toki’s lying body, carefully sliding underneath him and stopping whenever Toki jerked from the random jolt of pain. Somehow, he managed to produce a recognizable hug. A strange, distant hug, but one Toki realized he desperately needed. The moment Magnus affirmed it, Toki wanted nothing more than to return it, to break whatever space remained between them and experience the entire embrace. He wanted to feel Magnus hold him, enjoy the fastened pace of his heart and the sheer joy of just having him close. But even this awkward, incomplete hug felt so good. So refreshing. New. Like he hadn’t…

Like he hadn’t hugged Magnus in a very, very long time.

Toki blinked. Tears began to roll down his face as he revisited his dream and saw himself, not quite alive, but not dead either, floating in space, watching the earth slowly spin with the passing days. How many times did it spin? Toki lost count, and his attention had turned towards shooting stars and far away galaxies once he grew tired of the revolving earth. He spread all over the cosmos, getting lost, forgetting, and it was only because he heard the song…

Toki sniffed. “M-Magnus?”

Magnus held him as close as he could. “Yeah, Toke?” 

Toki closed his eyes one final time to try and stop the tears, to fight the horrible realization that was unfolding before him. “H-how longs…how longs has Toki beens gone?” he coughed. Magnus shuddered at the question. Toki wriggled in place, even though it took up so much of his energy. Even though it hurt. He needed to see Magnus. He needed to know. Toki continued moving, pushing Magnus away until he had no choice but to face him. Trembling, Toki asked, “How longs did it… takes me to gets backs home?”

He saw the anguish in Magnus’ eyes.

“M-Magnus?”  he pleaded, shaking in his bed. He inhaled a deep breath, fighting through the soreness to get a full sentence out. “H-how longs haves you and everyones been waitins for us?”

Magnus recoiled at the question. Toki watched as Magnus brought a hand to cover his darkened eyes, to hide away a drop of the pain that was now emitting from him. Magnus trembled,  his lips curled into a thin line as he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. Finally, after some time, Magnus dropped his hand, letting it fall on top of Toki’s, while the other gripped the bed’s metal railing.

“You’ve…well, you’ve been away for a while, buddy,” he said, voice fighting between keeping a gentle composure, and wanting nothing more than to break and fall into a state of piteous cries.  Magnus’s mouth remained opened, and Toki watched as he sucked in a staggered breath. Magnus squeezed his hand.  “A little more than two months.”

Toki sank. “W-what?”

“You arrived just in time for New Years,” Magnus said, forcing a laugh. He squeezed Toki’s hand again, adding a little playful shake. “D-don’t worry…I’ll sneak in some champagne.”

Months.

The word hit hard. Months. He’d been away for months. He’d been dead for months!

No wonder Magnus was so thin. It’s been months. He waited for months. Abigail and the others…

Months.

“Oohhh…” Toki’s lips curled, bearing teeth before parting further. A pain stabbed at his heart. He let out an airy gasp, then broke into a weak cry.

“Hey, hey.” Magnus lowered, letting go of the railing to pet Toki, and then gave him a more affirming squeeze. “Hey. Shhh. It’s alright.”

“N-no ams not!” Toki wailed. He coughed, choking on uneven gulps of air. “I…I has been gones for… t-two months. I…”

Magnus pressed his face into Toki’s crown. “It’s ok,” he whispered into Toki’s messy hair. “I’ll catch you up on everything.” Another haughty laugh. “Spoiler alert: nothing important happened.”

Toki stared at Magnus’ heaving chest. “B-but, Magnus...”

“Toki, it’s al–”

“I l-left you all alones…” More tears fell, and Toki let out a staggered whine. “Yous waited f-for two months…and Toki… m-missed your…”

Magnus’ hand shook.

“…I m-missed your birthdays!” Toki bleated, and let out another whine once Magnus pulled him into a hug. A real hug.

His arm, though in a cast, ached. It burned, stung like nothing Toki ever felt before, but when faced with the pain, all he could think to do was bring his one good arm up to return the favor. He lifted it as high as he could, barely making it over Magnus. More tears fell as Toki felt the effect of their embrace, the warmth that he’d been deprived of for months.

“I missed y-your birthdays…and Christmas…” he bawled. His heart stung, racked with guilt. “I gots you n-nothings!” 

“Oh, no, Toki.” Magnus pulled away, breaking the hug in the process. He stared down at a wretched Toki, face ruined with tears, saliva and snot. Magnus shook his head at him. “No, you…”

He cupped Toki’s shaking jaw. Thumbs rolled over Toki’s cheeks, wiping away a few of the tumultuous streams of tears covering the younger man’s face. Toki winced, squinting each time Magnus tried, but failed, to cut off a stream, then felt another burst of heartache when Magnus gave up, succumbed and let a gentle flow begin to fall from his hardened face. He dipped forward, face covering Toki’s. Toki felt the sharp prickle of Magnus’ unkempt facial hair rub against him. Magnus drew his lips upwards, kissing Toki’s tear-stained cheek. The first stung just as bad as the hug, but then came the second, kissing another stream away and leaving behind an inkling of relief. Then, a third. A fourth.

Then Magnus parted. “You gave me the best damn gift of all,” he said, voice hoarse and raspy. He looked Toki in the eyes. “You came back. Like you said you would.”

Toki hiccuped a weak cry.

Magnus wiped away some of his own tears with his sleeve, then smiled. “Gift just…it arrived a little late,” he said, stuttering an awkward laugh that was far more genuine than the last. It was real, and although it sounded so off, and it ended with a sharp, staggered inhale, the truth that filled each word before it, the smile that lifted it, and the lighthearted beginning of its treble was more than enough to let Toki know Magnus meant it.

Hearing it, Toki sniffed, squinted his sore eyes, and then broke into another, more uncontrolled cry. He bobbed his head, trying to agree, trying harder to smile, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Magnus returned to him, attending to the opposite cheek, and kissed at the tears that wouldn’t cease flowing. With his weakened arm, Toki held on to Magnus, fighting whatever pains it brought him to have him close, even after his monitor warned him to stop, and the nurses raced in to demand what was going on and tell Magnus to have better control of himself.  He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go even after the nurses threatened to put him under, and another called for Mr. Offdensen. Toki held on, waiting for that moment when Magnus kissed all the tears and inner turmoil away, leaving nothing behind but the pain from a long battle and the promise that, that too, would soon be soothed by him.

[sweetness47]

Bringing Her Back

Based loosely on the film “50 First Dates”

For the Marvel Diversity Challenge hosted by @allaboardthereadingrailroad

Pairing Bucky x Indigenous Native American Female Reader (sorry if the term is wrong)

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, mild language, possible hinted smut? Kissing, some angst, amnesia RATED PG

Word count: 3336

Summary: A tragic car accident leaves YN with amnesia, and stuck in a loop of one single day. Every day she wakes up, she believes it’s Saturday, May 13, 2017. Three years have passed. The town lets the illusion play out daily. But when someone new steps in and uproots everything YN thinks to be true, will the result be devastating or something else?

The air was crisp, but refreshing as Bucky got out of his car. The quaint little town was the perfect place to relax after all the shit he’d gone through with the Avengers. He just needed to start over, but before that, he needed to unwind, release the tension that had been building up in his head.

A vacation. He needed a damn long vacation.

He found a cabin for rent here, and had immediately booked it.

The café before him looked nice and friendly, and hopefully had something to eat that wasn’t stale jerky and bad coffee. The aroma of fresh baked cinnamon rolls and strong dark roast greeted him as he entered the establishment, almost causing him to drool. His stomach rumbled at the thought of homemade pastries and decent java, and as he stood there looking at the menu, he found himself thinking about a dozen fresh pastries and a turkey BLT on whole wheat to go with it. And a large black dose of caffeine.

He relayed the order to the cashier and waited off to the side. A few minutes later, the waitress brought out his order, thanking him for his business.

No sooner had he turned to leave, not even making it to the door, when a man came in and said out loud, “She’s coming!”

He watched, stunned, as the crowd switched newspapers and magazines, all dating May 13, 2017. The door chimes rang, and Bucky’s heart stopped as the most beautiful woman walked through the entrance, eyes wide with delight, smiling like everything was right with the world.

“I’ll have the usual Patty.” The girl waved to the cashier.

“Sure thing YN.” Came the reply.

The whole exchange, including waiting for the goods, paying, and watching YN leave, took maybe ten minutes total, but it left Bucky more than a little confused. When he asked the waitress, she told him about the tragic accident that had claimed the poor girl’s memories. How her father had tried everything, sought out every medical expert he could find, but no one was able to find a cure for her. She woke up every day, happy, healthy, but reliving the same day, every day.

When Bucky inquired as to why no one had ever told YN the truth, they told him that the few times they had tried, she had a breakdown, refused to speak to anyone, and locked herself in her room. But the next day, everything from the previous day had been forgotten, and she was back to the same day. She never retained anything from the previous day.

He left, making his way to his cabin, his mind still thinking about YN. She struck him as intelligent, beautiful, and sexy as hell. There had to be a way to break through the barrier, to get her to move forward with her life. It couldn’t be easy for these people to watch her day after day, not being able to help her, especially since they seemed to care deeply for her, like family.

The next day, near the same time, Bucky made his way to the same café, and ordered his coffee, and another turkey BLT, and a few cupcakes. Then he waited till YN came, ordered, and left, then followed her out.

“Good morning.” He said as he caught up to her.

She turned to smile at him. “Hi. You new around here?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, renting a cabin down the road. I’m Bucky.”

She smirked. “Bucky?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. Friends call me Bucky.” He chuckled.

She stuck out her hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you James.”

“Call me Bucky, please.”

“Ok. If you insist. I’m YN.” She winked at him.

Making small talk, the two walked down the path from the café to the cabins, where YN parted ways with him. “I’m heading this way. Catch you later?”

“You could have dinner with me tonight.”

She turned to face him. She studied his facial features, biting her lower lip, then tilted her head to one side. “How about 7:00pm? I’ll meet you here.”

Grinning, Bucky nodded. “It’s a date.”

~

The hours flew by quicker than Buck thought they would. Digging through his bag, he withdrew a pair of black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. After showering and brushing his teeth, he donned the clean clothes and fresh socks before putting his shoes on. Once done, he walked to the spot where YN had promised to meet him.

She was 10 minutes late, but made her arrival. Her mind had been so hung up on having a date with the handsome stranger she’d completely lost track of time. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun, then took a bath, scenting the water with rose bath oil. After picking out a simple pink blouse and her favorite light blue faded jeans, she picked out a cute pair of pink flats to complete the outfit.

Then, realizing the time, she bolted from her house and almost tripped when she reached the spot where Bucky waited. He easily caught her, saving her from embarrassment, neither of them moving right away.

“Thanks.” She said as she gazed into his eyes.

He gave her a shy smile. “Anytime.”

It was then she noticed his arm, or rather the metal limb that had replaced his arm.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Really long story. Short version? Bad accident.”

“Can I touch it?” she asked as she reached out.

Bucky raised a brow and shrugged. “Sure.”

Her fingers gingerly traced over the metal, her eyes filled with wonder. He understood her reaction. After all, it wasn’t your average everyday artificial limb.

“I’ve never seen something so intricate. Can you feel anything when I touch it?”

He wanted to say yes, because, truthfully, her touch sent shivers through his body, as if thousands of tiny electric sparks suddenly attached themselves to him. Stemming right from where she touched. Never in his life had something felt so damn satisfying.

“No. But I have full movement, full control of it.” He couldn’t help but throw in a small joke. “I feel almost like a super hero.”

Her laughter was like music to his ears. She nudged him with her shoulder. “I’ve no doubt you would be the strongest.”

His heart warmed at her words. She didn’t judge him or treat him like a freak. They walked to the beach, grabbing some hotdogs and cans of Coke on the way, making small talk and genuinely having a good time.

When the hour grew late, the two made their way back to the road where they’d met up. He offered to walk her home, his grin widening as she accepted.

He dropped her off at her door, and was surprised by her reaching up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time.” She waved and blushed as she watched his gaze. If the way he was looking at her was any indication, he wanted to do more than kiss her goodnight. And truthfully, she wouldn’t have said no.

But, being the gentleman he was, Bucky returned her goodbye with a chaste peck on her own cheek. Then he turned and went back to his cabin, his heart melting at the idea that she liked him, because after tonight, he sure as hell liked her. A. Lot.

The next morning, he went to the coffee shop and waited for her to come in. Once she came and left, he went out to greet her again. The conversation started the same as the day before, him introducing himself, her introducing herself, but today, instead of dinner, he invited her out for the day.

He set up a picnic on the beach, where they swam in the cool water, and enjoyed time together. He asked her what her favorite food was, her favorite color, and what her favorite flower was. Not thinking anything of the questions, she answered them all, then turned the tables and asked him the same questions.

Bucky found YN so easy to talk to, so easy just to be around. He was falling harder by the second, even though she would think this was their first date. But she kissed him first this time as well, and unlike the previous day, he found himself leaning into her soft body. He cupped his hand behind her neck and deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, moaning as he tasted her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

But no, he had to go slow. He had to help her remember her life. He finally pulled away, and she frowned, confused by his sudden coldness. “Did…Did I do something wrong?” she asked, almost tearfully.

Immediately, Bucky shook his head and pulled YN close. “No, nothing like that. You’re very special to me YN, and I don’t want to push you into anything.”

She smiled. “You’re really a gentleman, aren’t you?” He chuckled as he nodded. “You’re a rarity, Bucky. There aren’t many guys who would pull back like you did.”

He shrugged. “I’m not most guys.”

“I can see that.” She giggled.

The sun set as they slowly began to pack up their things, stealing kisses in between, then heading back to the town. He walked her to her door, and this time, he pulled her flush to him and took possession of her lips. She melted into his strong embrace, and she found herself wishing he wasn’t such a gentleman. Because, at this moment, she wanted him to take her, possess every inch of her body.

When Bucky pulled away and bade her farewell, she sighed and went inside, thinking how lucky she was to have met him, and she looked forward to another date.

Bucky, meanwhile, walked back to the cabin and immediately took a cold shower, willing his cock to settle down. Fuck, he wanted her bad. He honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he would last before he threw his manners out the window and fucked her senseless. Her memories wouldn’t forget him after that. He’d make sure of it.

After a week of ‘dating’ her, her father confronted him, warning Bucky to stay away. There was no future with YN, her father had told him, because she would never remember him.

Buck didn’t buy it. There had to be a way.

A few days after being warned to stay away, YN’s father called him to the house, and took him to the shed, where they silently watched YN paint a wall. But that wasn’t why the father had called Bucky. YN was happily painting, but she was singing as well, something she hadn’t done since the accident. And the only thing that had changed in her life was him.

After another week, YN was having breakfast at the café with Bucky, after he’d charmed his way into her routine, the two laughing and talking about beaches and fishing and anything else that came to mind. She happened to look out the window and noticed a cop writing her a parking ticket.

“Oh my god, wait right here, there’s a police officer writing me a ticket.” She raced out of the café, with Bucky and a couple of staff following, hoping to defuse the situation before it got out of hand, or worse, revealed the truth about what day it was.

“Why are you writing me a ticket?”

The officer glanced over at YN. “Ma’am, these plates are expired.”

YN frowned. “No they aren’t. They’re current. There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

The cop shook his head. “No misunderstanding. These plates expired three years ago.”

“What? That can’t be right. It’s May 13, 2017.” She turned to Bucky and the waitress she’d known her whole life. “Tell him. It’s a mistake, right?”

Everyone just stayed silent. The cop handed her the ticket. “Have a nice day.”

No one made a move or said anything. She looked over at another license plate, and saw a different sticker. Horrified, she ran to the newspaper dispenser, grabbing one out, seeing the date, and dropping it. “What’s going on?” Tears stung her eyes as she tried to make sense of her world, or at least, what she thought was her world.

She got in her car and drove off like a mad woman. Bucky glanced quickly over at the others. “I’ll go after her.” He got in his car and took off in the direction of her house, where he’d seen her go.

YN’s father met him at the door. “We just need to give her some time. She’s out by the dock.”

Bucky walked casually out to the dock, sitting down by YN, his heart breaking at the tears and the confusion he saw on her copper-skinned face. Her charcoal hair blowing in the breeze, grazing along her shoulders. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to pull her to him, kiss away her fears and her tears, and whisk her away forever.

“You ok?” he asked gently, though he already had guessed the answer.

“No…yes? I don’t even know anymore. How did this happen?” Brown eyes glistened as new tears brimmed on the surface, threatening to cascade down once more.

Her father came to sit down beside YN, bringing with him a scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings, photos. She read the articles, about how her father and her had been in the car, swerved to avoid hitting a cow, then crashed into a tree. Pictures of her battered and bruised face, bandages around her head greeted her.

“I want to go see the Doctor. I want to hear this from him.”

“I’ll go too. I also want to hear what the doc has to say.” Bucky added.

YN’s father relented. “Ok. Let’s go.”

They drove to the clinic in the city. The doc explained how her short term memory had been affected by the crash. She could remember everything leading up to the crash, but, because of the swelling of the brain that had occurred, her brain could no longer store new information. Every night while she slept, her brain would reset, and it would be as though the previous day had never happened.

Night had come by the time they got home. YN just went to her room, and Bucky said goodnight to her father before going home himself. But, before he left, he grabbed the scrapbook to take with him. He had an idea, one so crazy, it just might work.

Two days later, he showed up at her house with a bouquet of lilies and a small present, pretending to be a delivery person. When YN’s father gave him a questioning look as YN went inside, Bucky shrugged. “I want to try something new. If it doesn’t work, we’ve only wasted one day.”

Her father nodded and went inside, where YN was setting up a DVD. She played it.

The words “Good Morning YN” greeted her. This was followed by Bucky, talking, then a slideshow of the same newspaper articles, pictures, reports from the doctor, greetings from her friends and the people at the diner.

She bore tears, laughter, bewilderment, and when it was done, she simply stared at her father, then at Bucky, then back to her father. “You reset everything every day for me? Washed my clothes? Let me cook you the same meal day after day?”

Her father smiled sadly. “I would do it every day for the rest of my life for another day with you YN. You’re my daughter, my baby girl. No matter what, you’ll always be my princess.”

They hugged, and for a moment, Bucky felt like crying. It was beautiful the way father and daughter talked and embraced.

Bucky invited her out for the day, and she accepted, the video taking away all the need for reacquainting themselves. They talked, held hands, walked. The two explored the beach, the hiking trails, the forests near the reservation where her family was from.

But, every day, without fail, they would always kiss. YN never shied away from Bucky, she never acted different around him. He could be himself and she wouldn’t bat an eye. She was in love with him as much as he was with her.

The first time they made love, Bucky swore he’d died and gone to heaven. Her bronze skin was smooth, flawless, kissed by the sun and by genetics. She was his new favorite color. Her scent enveloped him, hints of vanilla and jasmine wafting through the air as they came together. He would never get enough of his YN.

They never let themselves fall asleep after making love, knowing that YN would be confused and scared. But, as luck would have it, after a very passionate night of sex, neither could keep their eyes open. It didn’t help that it was way past midnight, and that they had been out exploring all day either.

Bucky woke, smiling, his mind foggy with sleep, but still high from the night before. YN opened her eyes shortly after he did.

“Morning, beautiful.” His husky voice filled her ears.

“Morning.” She said, smiling.

Suddenly, she was screaming, jumping from the bed. Shit! Bucky scrambled to find clothing while YN had grabbed a sheet and was backed against a wall. Her father came in and, upon glancing around the room, took control of the situation, giving Bucky a chance to get out, and giving YN a chance to calm down. Bucky waited downstairs, the DVD all ready to play for YN.

YN came down with her father, looking mildly confused and somewhat sheepish, taking a seat on the couch. Bucky pressed play and went to grab coffee while YN watched the video.

When it was finished, YN came to the kitchen and sat down beside Buck. “Um, sorry about the screaming.”

He shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for. I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep there, but I did. Hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“I won’t.” she giggled. “Although, I wouldn’t mind spending time with you, go on another date and stuff.”

Now he grinned. “Anytime, anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

~~

(Three months later)

YN woke in her soft bed, smiling as she always did, and looked beside her to see a DVD set up, and a sign on it saying to press play.

“Good Morning, YN.” The man on the screen said, dressed in a tux. “This is your life in a nutshell, and at the end of this, I want you to come out and meet your family.”

The video was comprised of stories from the accident, her dating the guy in the tux, and, a wedding, where she was marrying that same guy. She also noticed the baby bump under the flowing gown, one that was still present on her now.

She got dressed and went out onto the deck of the beach house they’d bought. There, staring out to the ocean, was her husband and her father.

As Bucky turned to greet her, giving her a long, deep bruising kiss and a warm hug, she knew that her world was perfect, no it was better than perfect. He was perfect. And he was hers.

@allaboardthereadingrailroad​

[illegalastrology111]

KARMASTARS: APRIL 25TH - MAY 1ST

ARIES

MONEY: If joint financial partnerships can’t be restructured you have to think about moving onto “greener pastures”. Knowing or having some idea of what you want to do will help you plan, what next?

SEX: Be careful of jealousy in love, whether from you or your partner. Feelings of discontent need to be openly discusses.

POWER: Your vision of prosperity may need an overhaul and/or reboot, because the path you’re on at this time probably won’t bear fruit. However, you have to know and realize you have the power to move past current experiences, and with Pluto retrograde until October 6th, use this cycle to face old karma, fears and secret enemies and become the Phoenix arising out of the ashes.

TAURUS

MONEY: Watch your purse and spending this week because there is a danger of over-spending and wasting money on items you really don’t need. At the same time, there’ll be those who try to manipulate you to spend and move towards directions that aren’t in your best interests.

SEX: In order for love to prosper a deeper understanding between you and your partner is needed . Love them for who they are, not who you want them to be.

POWER: Trying to move forward isn’t always easy, but in order for your efforts to work you must pay attention to the signs and guidance from the universe pointing you in the right direction.

GEMINI

MONEY: To increase prosperity a change of location is needed on some level. You can’t fear stepping out of your comfort zone into new territory. This week’s Full Moon in Scorpio and Pluto its ruler is retrograde in Capricorn. As a result you’ll be confronted with internal doubts, people holding you back, in addition to seeing what’s broken in the area of work and things that need to change so that money can increase.

SEX: Avoid seeing only the worst aspects of your partner “feeding” in to unnecessary negativity. Realize that everyone isn’t perfect and the best you can do is to help your partner overcome their shortcomings.

POWER: While Pluto is retrograde you’re likely to experience power struggles with people who don’t support you openly/secretly. Use this cycle positively to renew your mind, research new ideas and getting rid of old ways of thinking, by deepening your outlook.

CANCER

MONEY: With creative plans and objectives don’t be surprised that some don’t like what you’re doing, or don’t like you as a person. This maybe upsetting, but it’’s also a sign to not allow them to dictate your financial prosperity or success. With the Full Moon in Scorpio this week, “endings” really are the focus, which you need to make happen so new doors can open.

SEX: A week to be most sensitive to your partner’s needs and avoid being too emotionally insecure or possessive.

POWER: Try not to forget lessons from the past connected to being a martyr. However you may still find yourself in this position or repeating these experiences from the past, so you can understand and integrate the issues confronting you once and for all. A time to rid yourself darkness affecting your life.

LEO

MONEY: Your foundation of life connected to prosperity is now due for an overhaul. Not only with the Full Moon in Scorpio on the 26th, but also Pluto retrograde, April 27th - October 6th. During this time domestic instability and security will come to the forefront and seem out fo your control. Realize, this is happening because there are people and situations you need to remove, in addition to renegotiating agreements.

SEX: A week to at least clarify true feelings to you partner even though there could be problems with certain emotionally unhealthy people in and around your life that need to be dealt with.

POWER: An intense week when you have to be careful of manipulating others with guilt or moral projections as jealousy cones to the surface. Your digestion could be affected as a result, because of dealing with too much stress. A visit to a nutritionist might be necessary.

VIRGO

MONEY: Projects, plans and ideas you have in mind should be kept secret from those who would steal for their own wealth and success. Foresight to be aware of this before it happens will spare you having to go through negative situations that divert you from your goals. The Full Moon in Scorpio on the 26th, marks the end of old ideas and ways of thinking that need to be discarded and replaced by something more empowering.

SEX: Your partner may need help, support or counselling even though you may feel ill -equipped to help in any way. But you might be pleasantly surprised by the outcome, if you at least reach out to offer what you can .

POWER: Pluto retrograde in Capricorn April 27th - October 6th, brings to your attention issues, that are considered overwhelming in nature, requiring you to become a lot stronger.

LIBRA

MONEY: If you’ve been attached to making money a certain way, Pluto retrograde in Capricorn April 27th - October 6th, is here to cause upheaval, confrontations, power struggles and issues of self-worth, preparing you to let go of things that no longer serve a positive money-making purpose.

SEX: I you don’t fully love yourself, it will be hard to love another and with the Full Mon affecting self-love and self-worth, it’s snow time to end this self-depreciating cycle.

POWER: Pluto retrograde highlights home, family and foundation of life, indicating it’s time to look at this area of life in reality, to see what is broken and cannot be fixed, leaving you no choice but to let go. However, your own fears and doubts are in the way of transformation so you can move on.

SCORPIO

MONEY: In order for some type of prosperity/success to manifest you’ll need to change the way you deal with others, so they can perceive and treat you differently. The Full Moon is in your sign on the 26th, indicating overpowering events/circumstances will need your full attention and energy.

SEX: Regardless of events that occur through the week, remember to be kind and gentle towards y9our partner.

POWER: A week to quietly act from behind the scenes regenerating Self. A time to focus on renewal of health and well-being. With Pluto your ruling planet, now in retrograde, look within for many of the answers and problems that are still perplexing.

SAGITTARIUS

MONEY: The ability to overcome circumstances.people in the way of achievement will be at your disposal this week. As a result you’ll be able to transform aspects of home and foundation of life in order to increase prosperity . Being realistic is a key component part to your success. Therefore use discernment in all decisions.

Sex: Keep things simple and uncomplicated in love this seek bye following the Golden Rule.

POWER: With great power, comes great responsibility and you have a chance to implement great change for improvement that helps you and others. Be mindful of Cause and Affect.

CAPRICORN

MONEY: A week of either fulfillment of hopes and wishes and/or of them ending. This depends on which side of Natural Law you’re on, mainly certain friendships and people detrimental to your success. A tine to break free in order to progress in life, goals and finances. An empowering, decisive moment to implement large changes in work, security of life and the way you give and receive knowledge.

SEX: As your life goes through major change, keep love balanced and even ,making sure your partner is is aware of what you’re going through.

POWER: With Pluto retrograde in your sign April 27th - October 6th, confronting deep innermost fears that cause you to become powerless in the world, reveal themselves. The Universe is presenting you with this week’s Full Moon in Scorpio, highlighting an end of an era in your life and the start of new beginnings. These changes won’t happen overnight, but will open the door for you to deal with issues that have been bothering you for some time.

AQUARIUS

MONEY: Let the Universe help and support you this weeks certain cycles end that have affected the success of career, goals and ambitions and undermining influences. As you see things unfolding go with the flow and don’t ry to force outcomes until the time is right, especially with Pluto now retrograde in Capricorn, April 27th - October 6th.

SEX: Maintain compassionate love and understanding towards your partner .Even though you’re faced with major alterations occurring in your life, don’t try to “force” them to go through change as well.

POWER: Deep slow transformations that have been buried deep inside now emerge and affect long overdue changes . This is your time of empowerment, from a cocoon of hiding, to now being exposed for all to see and know. The caterpillar transforming into a butterfly.

PISCES

MONEY: Expansion of horizons has been setback for some time by certain individuals who have blocked your path of learning, growth and good fortune. The stars are aligned providing you with the momentum to get rid of them, as the Full Moon in Scorpio brings the cycle to a close. Vast changes in work, finances, home and friendships are ready take shape and form.

SEX: Consider a retreat with your significant other and/or a relaxing experience you can both enjoy with ease.

POWER: A change of home or in the home environment, fixing , restoring and repairing things, creating a better space for health and prosperity is now the focus. Watch out for secret enemies who wish you to fail in your objectives, but there will be others ready and wiling to help. At some point you’ll need to forgive others but not to forget the experience/lessons learned, so you don’t have to repeat such debilitating negative experiences again. A time for introspection, re-evaluation of Self and future intent.

[solohux]

So after staying away from A/B/O for a long time (idk why i just figured it wasn't for me) someone got me into it and tbh I kinda need more now? 😅 So anyways, do you happen to have some good omegaverse kylux recommendations? Thank you in advance!

Of course! Luckily, the Kylux fandom is truly blessed with some amazing ABO writers so I’ve put this list under a Read More because it’s a bit long! ❤️

Enjoy! （　´∀｀）☆

◾ Unexpected Avenues by @sinceyouaskedmeforataleof​ (WIP)

No one wanted to take this particularly grisly task, but Dopheld is glad it fell to him when he realises that all is not as it seems. Can he make a new life on the run with his ex, now that everything he thought he knew has been turned upside down?

◾ Safety In His Arms by @redcole​

Kylo knows it's time to bond with Hux, he just wants to make sure that his intentions are clear. After all, it isn't often that an omega courts an alpha.

◾ Heat Sink by @sparrows-trashcan​

Kylo Ren is an omega but so is General Hux. While Hux doesn't mind everyone knowing that his preference is limited to male omegas Kylo Ren is shamed to feel the same. Everything changes after the Starkiller incident: Kylo Ren is in heat and there is only one person on the Finalizer who could possibly help him...

◾ Lighting The Fuse by hey_honey

"What is going on?" Phasma asked when Hux returned from his meeting with Leia looking pale. He stared at her."The Queen's son agreed to marry a First Order official on one condition," he said."And?" Phasma encouraged."That official has to be me," he said.

Alternatively, in which a political alliance is made between mere Lieutenant Hux and Ben Organa, soon to be queen of Naboo. Leia is about to get more grey hairs. And Snoke is an asshole.

◾ High Risk, High Reward by Alexandra_Savile (WIP)

My take on the entirely unoriginal premise of demanding and possessive Alpha!Hux attempts to court a confused and skeptical Omega!Kylo.Feelings are caught, supreme leaders killed, and heats satiated. Story begins a little before TFA.

◾ What We Did For Love by Lady_Faulkner

They were both born wrong but that’s what made them perfect for each other. Hux is a slim Alpha and Kylo is a bulky Omega. Neither thought they would ever find a mate, but after the destruction of Starkiller, Kylo goes into heat and Hux finds he can’t resist him.

◾ Falling Stars by @huxative​ WIP

Armitage Hux is the omega son and ever present shame of Lord Brendol, overseer of the Arkanis region. That was, until King Snoke arranged a marriage between his adopted son and Armitage.

◾ Hadopelagic by DustOnBothSides After a life of staying pharmaceutically heat-free, Hux has to allow his body to go through at least one natural cycle, lest there be consequences. He takes a shore leave and travels to a former omegan retreat, abandoned and all but forgotten after the fall of Old Republic. Ren, not knowing of Hux’s predicament, decides to follow, suspecting treason. He finds something else instead.

◾ Bodies, Can’t You See? by sual When Hux sees the positive result on the pregnancy test scanner, he comes to several alarming realizations all at once. One: that his birth control has been tampered with. Two: that the baby is Kylo’s. Three: that this is his true punishment for Starkiller’s failure. And quietly, in a weak, tiny voice in the back of his mind, the unsettling conclusion that he wants to keep it. He’ll die before he lets anyone near his child. He’ll tear apart anyone that tries to get in his way. Even Kylo.

◾ The Emperor’s New Consort by @redcoleThe First Order is in control of the Galaxy, in a last ditch effort to save those who are left, they request negotiations. Only to find that for the Resistance to survive they only need to give up one thing small thing -  the angry Senator Ben Organa.

◾ Babe, I’m Here Again by @sinceyouaskedmeforataleof It’s 2008 and graduate student Armitage Hux has no idea why hes still hanging out with that nerd of a second year Ben Solo. Surely he had better things to do that sit around planning Dungeons & Dragons adventures with this not-at-all-attractive Alpha who he definitely doesn’t think about constantly.

◾ Flame by bastila_s

On their way to an important meeting with Snoke, Hux and Kylo become trapped when the elevator breaks down. To make it worse, Kylo goes into heat.

◾ Shades Undimmed by @longstoryshortikilledhim  Hux is a bounty hunter who teams up with renegade Jedi Kylo Ren for a hunt. They’re determined not to let their biological needs intervene with the integrity of their mission. They fail.

◾ Fields of Gold by @ mssdare Ren and Hux crash on a planet full of strange flowers. Soon, Hux starts feeling the effects of the pollen.

◾ Unexpected by @gonna-pop (WIP)After twenty years together, Ben and Armitage have gotten comfortable. There are no surprises left in their marriage, and nothing new to learn about each other. That is, until Armitage unexpectedly goes into heat while they’re vacationing on a resort world — and a few days of renewed passion changes the course of their lives.

◾ no hope, no quarter by @thethespacecoyote  Stolen away to a temple on Moraband, Kylo Ren finds himself at the mercy of an obsessive, sinister captor. Only one person can hope to save him, and would even dare put their life on the line against such insurmountable odds—Armitage Hux, his general and lifelong mate.

◾ To Build A Home by @reluctantly-awesome  Ren is truly a hopeless alpha and Hux helps him reluctantly and not because he wants a home himself, not at all.

◾ In Your Debt by @pangolinpirate  Things work a little different in the Order then they do in the Resistance

◾ need you baby (more, more, more) by @thesunandoceanblue “Ren?” “Yes?” Hux traced his finger down Ren’s jawline. “You’d do anything for me, right?”

◾ Alpha You Are Knot by @darktenshi17 Alpha Kylo Ren has finally found his perfect mate, now they can begin a family together. There’s only one problem; that’s not how human reproduction works at all.

◾ Amnesia by @bubbaknowlton  Hux wakes up on an unknown ship, seven months pregnant with a baby crying in a crib. The last thing he remembers is leaving Kylo Ren at Snoke’s citadel. Not knowing what alpha has bred him, nor the fate of the First Order, he takes the baby, some supplies, and runs.

◾ Checkmate by @thez1337  Alpha Kylo Ren strikes down Omega General Hux’s alpha. Then he takes his place. With omega Hux’s pup in tow, will Kylo keep them or make new rules for the den?

◾ Stress Relief by orphan_account Kylo helps his omega settle after a nightmare.        

◾ I’ll Even Call You General by @asexualavenger  Without a mate, Kylo turns destructive during his heat. Snoke tasks Hux with finding him a partner.

◾ Not a Mistake by @redcole  Hux was just looking for a good time when he met the strange man named Ben, but he ended up finding a lot more.

◾ It Feels Right by @deluxekyluxtrashcan After the destruction of Starkiller Base Kylo finds out that Hux is an omega, and tries to help him by finding suppressants to replace the ones Hux lost. It turns out that there are three others omegas on board the Finalizer, and, much to a somewhat jealous Hux’s displeasure, Kylo ends up getting better acquainted with one of them - Petty Officer Thanisson - just a day before Hux goes into heat.

◾ If You Can’t Be with the One You Hate by @tethysian  At Snoke’s request Hux has always helped Kylo through his heats, albeit reluctantly. Then Kylo happens to go into heat while a prisoner aboard a resistance ship. Poe is the lucky(?) alpha chosen to take care of him, and Kylo discovers he might prefer an enthusiastic partner. Hux discovers something else about himself.

◾ time whets the fang by @thethespacecoyote  As an alpha, Supreme Leader Snoke believes he has free reign to do whatever he wishes with the omegas beneath him, including his apprentice and top general. He may wind up regretting his arrogance.