#anyways i really don't want any “but what if the comm is not at all related to the event at all” because we've had active confirmation

[demodraws0606]

What Cyberpunk DeadBoy Means and What it's Potentially Foreshadowing (aka very complicated analysis that makes a lot of sense and could happen depending on how colorpalet is feeling while writing the story)

Now I'm seeing so many people like running around wondering what this event could mean for the future for multiple reasons and like I've made like one post throwing my hat into the ring.

I've been frustrated with people's unwillingness to realise that this comm is prob foreshadowing because this is not the first time Colorpalet has hidden foreshadowing into comms weither subtely or not

Exemple's being :

-Akito's second comm foreshadowing his third event

-Lower's cover art literally foreshadowing what would happen to Mafuyu's phone in her event

-88 vocals being emurui and nenekasa foreshadowing the kind of dynamic the disbandement arc had with nenekasa wanting to move forward with emurui being scared of isolation

-Probably way better exemples that I forgot

I've seen people make Some assumptions which I don't agree with but there is one thing I think is true

There is 100 pourcent gonna be struggle between corporation/reality and WxS.

Purely because that's been WxS's entire theme since the beginning. They constantly bash you over the head with the theme of compromising with reality and the importance of dreams. In fact the pick of Maiki-P is not at all surprising as he basically has the same message WxS has just... well harsher.

The Big thing people have ignored however is by focusing on the lyrics, they've ignored something that's personally to me even more telling and that's the line distribution

We know for a fact colorpalet loves to mess around with line distribution, weither it's to make characters say lines that fit them or to kind of foreshadow their headspace.

Now something Big happens with the line distribution of Cyberpunk Deadboy that i've seen NO ONE notice and that's in the last chorus (that and also Tsukasa's lines which people have pointed out but it works less on it's own which is why I'm gonna analyse his lines afterwards).

This is the only time the chorus is like that, the others have a much more even distribution.

In fact the distribution choice makes it look like the rest of WxS is Talking to Rui.

It's even more evident considering the lines they chose to make WxS sing compared to only just Rui

Emu/Tsukasa/Nene saying kimi (you)

Rui saying boku (i)

Which honestly makes me think this is colorpalet foreshadowing some kind of issue reguarding specifically Rui. Remember Emu's second event ? The story of Rilley whose imagination was crippled by the industry to the point where he didn't really have any artistic vision until Emu's grandpa helped him.

In fact remember how the flashback that showcases that has Rilley working on a film

Now we get to Tsukasa's line which have been pointed out to be kind of sus but it's not just his lines.

Tsukasa refuses to sing with Rui (unless it's a line they all sing together but i consider those exceptions). In fact pretty much everyone has a duo line with each other except those two.

In fact in the section where Rui has duo lines with everybody, Tsukasa is the only one he doesnt sing with and the visuals make it clear that it's something that we're supposed to find strange

And then we of course have Tsukasa's solo lines

Tsukasa is the only one that say "fuzakeruna" outside of Rui (of course ignoring entire group WxS lines) and i've seen some people pointed out how it sounds like he's saying it in response to Rui's lines. Which I agree with.

Then we got his big boy solo lines

These lines will make more sense with my theory/analysis but right now if we go with the idea that WxS in the last chorus were speaking to Rui and Tsukasa in this comm refuses to sing with Rui then this implies those lines are Tsukasa speaking to Rui.

And this is where the insanity begins because people have pointed out a concerning trend with Ruikasa that I know some people use for shipping fuel but for me kinda feels more so like foreshadowing.

IGNORING all the ARG ass weirdness of the Fixer 2dmv, this choice to switch Ruikasa's colors have to mean something in my opinion outside of just wholesome shipping influence especially considering the two songs they do this are less than jovial.

What this kind of color switching signifies to me is that, Ruikasa somehow are/or will switch places.

And with that let me bring back Tsukasa's lines

These lines stand out because Tsukasa before remembering his dreams was extremely shallow only doing things for fame and probably the money that would come with it.

Now if you think about everything I've layed out I think you can gain a pretty clear picture.

Of Rui falling into the trap Rilley did, becoming jaded and losing the true motivation of his dream (or at least starting to have doubts). Becoming stuck with the struggle of managing dreams and reality.

Rui's costume even has a mask which can be a metaphor for his artistic voice and individuality being silenced .

Which now you get into the line distribution where WxS is implied to be talking to Rui.

And you get to Tsukasa, who is refusing to sing with Rui and in fact seems to be arguing with Rui if we really want to overthink it. In fact almost switching their roles from the main story.

Because Tsukasa has grown now and how else to show that growth than to switch Rui and Tsukasa's perspectives/roles.

Now how this would happen really depends since there are multiple ways they can go about it with the time they have.

There is obviously mystery dude dude (who i know now is sakaki) who still gives me bad vibes. However there is actually two way they can make mystery dude trigger this sort of plot :

-Mystery dude is malicious and actively manipulates/confronts Rui to make him rethink his worldview

-Mystery dude isn't malicious but instead is just jaded/has been through a lot of industry bullshit which ends up rubbing off on Rui accidentally

But you can even just not have mystery dude involved with this at all (which i doubt but still) because you know what loose plotpoint is still lingering over WxS, fucking Asahi

Rui still has not talked about Asahi to WxS, in fact Curtain Call ends on an explicit cliffhanger which is never really emotionally concluded (at least in Rui's own events, technically the arc ender did but there are still a lot of loose threads from that arc). Why would Colorpalet make Asahi come back after Rui graduates, they could've just had him disappear into the sunset but instead they hint at his potential comeback.

Unless Rui will be forced to again confront similar feelings he did during Curtain Call this time with possibly an added layer of whatever happens during WxS's freelance arc.

Anyways yeah this is overly complicated but then again colorpalet is not being easy with us so...yeah.

[jetii]

Always

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!Reader / Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 16,083

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, hurt/comfort, forbidden relationship, a very heartfelt reunion, Hunter is a crier no I won't be accepting any criticism, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, marking, primal kink, scent kink?, breeding kink

Summary: Months after you went into hiding, Hunter hasn't stopped hoping, waiting for the day when you can finally be together again. Now that it's here, and there's no reason to hide his feelings for you anymore, he can't help but be a little overwhelmed.

A/N: I'm sure no one believes me at this point but I had no intention of writing this much. I was possessed by the spirit of romance, true love, etc. etc. Anyway, please enjoy some very soft, very protective, very affectionate Hunter. Thank you so much to @dindjarins1ut for the prompt!

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Hunter is nervous.

He tries his best to hide it, keeping to himself while Tech and Echo bicker in the cockpit, but he can't ignore the butterflies in his stomach, nor the clammy hands threatening to soak through his gloves. It's ridiculous. He's faced off against far worse than this. He shouldn't be getting worked up over something so small.

But it isn't really small, not when you think about it. He hasn’t seen you in months. No comms, no messages. Nothing. He knows you’re alive, and even that was a miracle. The last words he said to you were in person, when you were standing right in front of him and he told you he loved you, and he'd kissed you and then left with the promise to come back as soon as he could.

That was before the Republic fell, and every Jedi across the galaxy was marked for death. Before the purge and the Empire's reign began. Before you were forced to go into hiding on your own.

And he hasn't spoken to you since.

You haven't seen each other in months, and Hunter is terrified that the feelings aren't mutual anymore. That you've grown apart during your time away, and what he had thought was love, you now see as nothing more than a fling. He's scared you'll look at him differently, scared you won't look at him at all.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you don’t want him anymore. If he loses the best thing that's ever happened to him.

It's stupid, Hunter knows that, because even if you don't love him the same way you used to, you'll still be friends. He should just be happy you're alive and not worrying about something so trivial as his emotions, but he can't help it. He can't shake the feeling, and it's eating him up inside.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he jumps.

Hunter hasn’t been startled like that in ages, not since he was a cadet, but here he is, nearly falling out of his seat at the sudden contact. It takes him a moment to get over his shock, his heart pounding, before he looks up to see Wrecker looking down at him with a frown.

"Hey, we're almost there," Wrecker says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and Hunter swallows the lump in his throat.

"I'm fine," he says, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm fine."

Wrecker’s eyebrows raise, and Hunter realizes a moment too late Wrecker never asked how he was doing. But his brother doesn't call him out on it, only gives him a look, one that Hunter recognizes as his attempt to look serious.

“You sure?”

"Yeah," Hunter replies automatically. He can feel the anxiety creeping into his gut, and he pushes it down, looking away. "Why wouldn’t I be?”

"I dunno," Wrecker shrugs, leaning back against the bulkhead. "You've been real tense all day."

Hunter sighs. He should have known Wrecker would notice something was wrong, even if the others hadn't. He'd always been perceptive, despite what people thought of him, and Hunter’s never been able to get away with hiding his feelings, not even when they were kids.

"I just..." he hesitates, wondering how to explain his feelings without making himself seem pathetic. Wrecker might not care, but Hunter still has his pride. He still has the strong desire to protect you, to keep you secret and safe. He knows Wrecker would never betray his trust, but still, he doesn't want to admit how anxious he's been, or how much the anticipation is killing him.

"It's nothing," Hunter decides. He turns back to look out the viewport through the doors of the cockpit. They’ll be landing in a few minutes, and he doesn't want to miss the moment you step into view. "Just... worried, is all."

"What for?"

"I..."

He can't say it, can't get the words past his lips, but the hand on his shoulder squeezes gently, and the unspoken encouragement makes the admission easier.

"It's been a long time," Hunter says finally, and the rest comes tumbling out of him, unable to be held back anymore, “We haven’t seen her in months, Wrecker. What if she's... I don’t know. Things have changed, is all. For her. For us."

"So?" Wrecker scoffs, and his dismissal of the problem only makes Hunter feel worse. He scowls, glaring up at his brother.

"So," he echoes, trying to sound stern, but he can't even bring himself to look mad, not really. His shoulders slump, the fight leaving him, and he looks away. "It might not be the same anymore."

For a moment, the silence is deafening, but then Wrecker lets out a laugh, loud enough to echo throughout the ship, and Hunter bristles, his eyes darting to the cockpit. Tech and Echo are still arguing about the finer details of landing, but he doesn't doubt they can hear every word they're saying.

"What?" Hunter snaps, glaring at his brother, but Wrecker only laughs harder.

"I'm pretty sure she won't have changed that much," he says, nudging Hunter's shoulder hard enough to make him sway. "I bet she's gonna be so happy to see us, she'll probably forget how to talk. Just like last time."

Hunter huffs, but he can't help the twitch of his lips at the memory of your first meeting, of how nervous you'd been, unable to string two words together without stumbling over your own tongue. You always did tend to trip over your own words when you were flustered. 

You had been rendered speechless after he'd told you about his feelings for you, your face flushed red, mouth hanging open in surprise, and he hadn't been able to keep from grinning at your reaction. You couldn’t form a single sentence until after you'd kissed him, and by then, it was his turn to be caught off guard.

He can remember the look on your face like it was yesterday, and the thought of seeing you again, of seeing your eyes light up as you smile up at him, fills him with a familiar warmth. He wants so badly to believe that your reunion will go well, that things haven't changed and that your relationship is the same, but a part of him, the pessimistic part that's kept him alive all these years, knows that it can't possibly be true. 

And Wrecker has no idea what you mean to him, because Hunter has never told him, has never told any of them. You're his secret, his one solace in the galaxy, the one thing he keeps from his brothers, the only thing he's ever wanted that's completely his.

And you were taken from him.

It hurts just thinking about it, knowing you were alone, afraid, with no one to turn to for help, while Hunter was hundreds of thousands of parsecs away. They'd spent weeks trying to find you after the Empire was established, scouring the holonet and every contact he could find, but it was like you had fallen off the face of the galaxy.

Hunter had never felt so helpless in his life.

So yes, he's a little scared of how this is going to play out. You were taken from him once, and it broke his heart. He's terrified that if you don't want him anymore, he won't survive losing you a second time.

"Yeah," Hunter murmurs, glancing out the window. Your home planet is starting to take shape in the viewport, the blue and green and brown and white all blending together. "You're probably right."

Wrecker chuckles, patting his shoulder.

"You know I am," Wrecker says cheerfully, and then he's walking away, back towards the cockpit to interrupt the debate Tech and Echo are having.

Hunter stares after him, not sure if he should be offended by the comment or not. He chooses not to dwell on it, pushing himself out of his chair to follow his brother. Tech spares them a quick glance, rolling his eyes when he sees Wrecker is already pushing his way into his space.

"Would you mind," he grumbles, elbowing the bigger clone, but Wrecker is unfazed, squeezing into the small space behind Tech's chair.

"Nah," he says, grinning down at him.

"Then could you at least wait until we've landed?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It would certainly make things less complicated."

"Guys, come on," Echo groans, his head hitting the back of his seat. "We're almost there."

"And what a relief that will be," Tech grumbles, pushing his goggles up his nose, and he looks at Hunter, his brow raised. "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Hunter says, but he's a little too fast to reply, and Tech doesn't buy it. His gaze turns suspicious, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shoves Wrecker's hands away from the controls and starts his descent, taking the ship down in a controlled spiral towards the planet's surface.

Omega drops into the seat beside him and secures her restraints, and Hunter follows suit, though he can't help the nervous energy building in his limbs. He can't keep still, his fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm against his thigh, and when Omega's small hand covers his, he startles.

"Are you excited?" she asks him, and Hunter hesitates for a moment before he nods.

"Yeah, kid," he answers, and it's not a lie. Not really. He is excited, in his own way. "I'm glad we get to see her."

"Me too," Omega smiles as she pulls her hand away, and she turns to watch the clouds disappear as they sink below the atmosphere. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She's gonna love you," Wrecker says, his arms braced on Tech's chair. "You're gonna love her, too. She's real nice."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Hunter replies, leaning back in his seat. He can't keep the fondness out of his voice when he speaks, the memory of your laugh echoing in his head. "She's one of a kind."

Tech glances over his shoulder. "It has been some time since we last saw her," he says, and Hunter feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows Tech doesn't mean anything by it, but he can't help but hear the implication in his words.

It's been a long time, and people change.

"Well," Echo says, turning in his seat to grin at Hunter. "Let's hope she hasn't forgotten all about us."

Hunter swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile, nodding along with the rest of them, but he can't ignore the pit in his stomach. He wants so desperately to believe they're right, that your reunion will go well and it won't be awkward, that everything will be just like it used to, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the feeling.

"It'll be... nice, to see her again," Tech says. "Even if it has been awhile."

"Aw, you missed her too, huh?" Wrecker grins, clapping a hand on Tech's shoulder, who swats him away irritably.

"She was a competent general, and she is a valuable ally," Tech replies, adjusting his goggles. "I didn't say I missed her. Simply that it will be nice to see her."

"It's okay to admit you like her, you know," Echo teases. "We won't tell anyone."

Tech shoots him a glare, but he doesn't say anything. He's focused on the descent now, the ground growing closer and closer, and when they break through the cloud cover, the land below them comes into focus.

Hunter leans forward in his seat, eyes straining against the sun. You live on a small colony in the southern hemisphere, surrounded by a large forest. It's isolated, and perfect for someone trying to lay low, but it's also a bit difficult to find, and Hunter doesn't spot your house until they're nearly on top of it.

It's small, a cabin tucked neatly among the trees, with a yard and a path that leads to a dock down by the lake. There's a ship parked outside, a tiny thing, and Tech guides the Marauder down beside it.

"There she is!" Wrecker booms, pointing out the viewport. Hunter stands up, ignoring the nausea building in his stomach, and scans the house.

And there you are.

You're sitting on the porch, a datapad in your lap, and you glance up with a hand shielding your eyes. It's impossible to make out your expression, but when the Marauder slows to land, you're already standing and hurrying down the dirt path towards them.

It's been so long since he's seen you, and even though he knows your face, has it memorized and replayed in his head so many times it's burned into his mind, the sight of you is enough to knock the wind out of him. You're smiling, waving up at the ship, and you look so happy that he can't stop himself from mirroring your expression.

You're here.

Hunter has dreamed of this moment for months, the day he gets to see you again, and the reality of it is even better than he'd hoped. He's barely aware of his feet moving, taking him towards the hatch as soon as the ship has touched down.

"Hunter?" Wrecker's voice is far away, barely registering in Hunter's mind as he practically runs towards the exit. "You okay?"

"Fine," he calls over his shoulder, his hand slamming into the button. The door hisses as it slides open, and a rush of warm, fresh air washes over him. The second his feet hit the ground, he's moving, his legs carrying him as fast as he can.

"Hey!" Wrecker shouts, but Hunter doesn't answer. He's halfway down the path, his eyes locked on your figure as you hurry towards him, and when you're close enough to touch, he's pulling you into his arms.

Your hands slide around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he crushes you to his chest. He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears you whisper his name, but then you're laughing, soft and beautiful, and all he can do is hold you tighter, your scent enveloping him as he breathes you in. He can't keep himself from pressing his lips to the skin behind your ear, needing to feel the warmth of you, the solidness, the realness of you here, alive, with him.

"Hunter," you whisper, and his name has never sounded so sweet. Your voice, your hands, the sound of your breath as it ghosts across his skin, the way you say his name. All of it is like a balm to his soul, soothing his worry, and for a moment, everything feels right again.

Hunter lifts his head and cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and you do.

Your eyes are shining, tears brimming along the edges, and when you blink, they spill over. He thumbs them away, smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"Hi," he whispers. You laugh, a sob escaping with it, and he feels his heart soar at the sound.

"Hi," you say back, and then you're surging forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It's a desperate kiss, the kind that says how much you've missed each other, how afraid you were of never seeing the other again. It's the first kiss you've shared in months, and it's the best damn kiss Hunter's ever had. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists, not the trees or the ship or his family watching from the hatch, their jaws hanging open.

It's just him and you, finally, blissfully, reunited.

He kisses you hard, and you return the pressure, clutching him close. His arms slip around your waist, lifting you off the ground for a moment, and you gasp against his mouth, laughing when he sets you down again.

"Miss me?" you ask, a teasing note to your voice, and Hunter pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Yeah," he replies, and then he's kissing you again, softer this time. Gentler. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and your fingers tighten their grip in his hair. 

He doesn't know how long it's been since he's started kissed you, or how long you've been kissing him, but it doesn't matter. It's not enough, could never be enough. He needs more of you, needs every part of you pressed against him, so close he can feel your heartbeat.

You hum, your hand moving to cup the back of his head, and the kiss deepens. Hunter's hands drift, sliding down the curve of your spine until his palms are pressed flat against the small of your back, and he pulls you closer. Your body molds to his perfectly, and you're warm and soft and so unbelievably real, and he never wants to let you go.

"Uh..."

The sudden intrusion startles him, and he pulls away from the kiss with a jerk, looking over his shoulder. The rest of his squad is staring at him, dumbfounded, and he can't keep the blush from creeping up his neck.

"Uh," he repeats, his face flushing. "Hey."

Wrecker's jaw is hanging open, and so is Tech's. Hunter doesn't think he's ever seen either of his brothers at a loss for words.

"We, uh..." Hunter clears his throat, glancing back at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, but you're grinning up at him, your eyes dancing. You give him a little nod, a silent permission to tell them the truth, and his heart flutters. "We were going to tell you, but things... got in the way."

Wrecker is the first to recover, his surprise shifting into a massive smile.

"I knew it!" he yells, pumping his fist in the air. "I told ya, didn't I? Didn't I?"

"That you did," Tech replies. His mouth is still open, but he closes it quickly, pushing his goggles up his nose before reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, this is... certainly unexpected."

"That's an understatement," Echo mutters. He glances at Hunter, his brow raised. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"Uh..." Hunter's eyes dart to you, but you only smile at him. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. "It's been a couple years."

"A couple years?"

"Yeah."

"Years," Echo repeats. "Right. Okay."

"You could have told us," Tech says. He's looking at Hunter now, his face impassive, but Hunter can read the hurt in his eyes hidden behind the mask of indifference. "We wouldn't have betrayed your trust."

"I know," Hunter sighs, running a hand over his head. "We just... we wanted to keep it quiet."

"It was my idea," you say, and Hunter's surprised to see you look guilty. Your eyes are fixed on the ground, and he watches the way your bottom lip wobbles before you suck it into your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes, and he offers you a reassuring smile. You return it, but it's hesitant. "The Order's views on attachment were... a little different, to say the least. It would have put both of us at risk if anyone found out. So we kept it secret."

"Well, now you don't have to," Wrecker grins.

"No, I suppose not," you reply, smiling at him, but there's a sadness to your expression that makes Hunter's chest tighten. He can only imagine how difficult the last few months have been for you, what it's like to be in hiding, constantly looking over your shoulder. His arms ache to wrap around you again, to pull you into his chest and hold you close, to protect you from everything and everyone.

But he can't.

The Empire is everywhere, always watching. The war might be over, but the danger isn't gone, not yet. Not for him, and not for you.

"Can I come out now?" a voice voice drifts from the ship, and Hunter looks up, surprised. His eyes land on Omega, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks irritated, a frown pulling at her lips, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, kid," he says, nodding his head towards the ramp. "Come on."

Omega wastes no time in running out of the ship, her irritation forgotten in her excitement. She skids to a stop a few feet away, her eyes wide as she stares at you. You kneel down, a warm smile spreading across your face, and Hunter feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Hey," you say softly. "You must be Omega. I've heard a lot about you."

Omega steps forward, holding her hand out for you to shake, and you take it.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely.

"And you," you reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Your eyes are soft as you study her face, a fondness to your expression that Hunter's only seen a few times.

He knows how much you love children. The Order never allowed its members to have families, but that hasn't stopped you from falling in love with kids everywhere you go. He's seen the way your eyes light up when you're around them, how gently you speak to them, like they're the most important people in the galaxy. 

He knows it's just the way you are, but sometimes, he wonders if it's something more. If maybe, someday, you'd want to have kids of your own.

And the thought terrifies him.

Not because he doesn't want a family with you, but because the world is changing, and he's not sure there's any place for it. You're in hiding, and he's a traitor to the Republic. How would it ever work?

He knows you wouldn't care about the dangers, though. You'd risk everything for a chance at a normal life, a family, and while he'd give anything for that too, he doesn't think he can allow himself to get his hopes up.

Not now. Not yet.

He's lost in thought, his gaze drifting to the trees surrounding the house, when a tug on his arm brings him back. You're looking up at him, an eyebrow raised, and when he blinks, you roll your eyes, a fond smile twitching at your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "What did you say?"

"I was asking how long you're staying," you repeat, but he can tell by the look on your face you know what's going on in his head. You're giving him a moment to compose himself, a distraction to keep him from slipping into another spiral.

It's a common occurrence these days.

"Well," Hunter starts, glancing at the rest of his team. "We're kind of... between jobs, right now."

"That's putting it lightly," Echo scoffs.

"So we figured we could use a little vacation," Hunter finishes. He looks back at you. "If you'll have us."

"Of course I will," you smile, and Hunter doesn't miss the way your shoulders relax, the relief in your eyes. "Stay as long as you want."

"We don't want to intrude," Hunter says, his gaze softening. "If you need some space, we understand. We can—"

"Don't be ridiculous," you huff, nudging his shoulder. "I'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," you nod, glancing at the others. "All of you."

"Good," Hunter breathes, unable to keep the sigh of relief from escaping his lips. "I didn't really wanna leave anyway."

"Good," you say, leaning into his side. You rest your head against his shoulder, and Hunter's arm wraps around you almost automatically, pulling you against him. "I've missed you."

"Yeah," Hunter says softly. "Me too."

"Oh, yeah," Wrecker grins. "He hasn't shut up about you."

"Wrecker," Hunter hisses.

"No, really," Tech nods, adjusting his goggles. "Ever since we lost contact, he hasn't stopped talking about you."

"Not that he wasn't always talking about her," Echo teases.

"Hey," Hunter protests, but he can feel his cheeks burning, and he knows the blush is starting to creep up his neck. You're smiling, a knowing glint in your eye as you glance up at him, and Hunter rolls his eyes. "They're exaggerating."

"We are not," Tech says, frowning at him.

"Maybe not," Echo smirks, his gaze settling on you. "But now we know why he's been so weird about seeing you again."

"He's been weird?" you ask. You're trying to hold back a laugh, but Hunter can see the mirth in your eyes.

"He hasn't stopped pacing for days."

"He nearly fell over his own feet trying to get off the ship."

"Oh, yeah, he was nervous all right," Wrecker chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Never seen him like that before. I was startin' to get worried."

"Guys," Hunter grumbles. "Come on."

"Well," you smile, patting his chest. "I'm glad you came. All of you."

"Us too," Omega says. Her face is scrunched up, like she's trying not to laugh. "Hunter was so nervous he forgot how to breathe."

"Alright, that's enough," Hunter huffs. He can feel his ears burning, and he shoots Omega a pointed look. "Everyone, inside."

"Aw, but—"

"Now," Hunter snaps, cutting Wrecker off. He's not mad, not really, but he can't help the embarrassment. "We'll be there in a minute."

Wrecker opens his mouth to protest, but Echo nudges him, nodding his head towards the house. Tech doesn't wait for either of them, heading inside without another word, and Wrecker reluctantly follows after him, grumbling under his breath. Omega casts one last look over her shoulder, waving at you before disappearing inside.

The silence that settles over the two of you is heavy, and Hunter lets out a long breath. He runs a hand over his hair, avoiding your eyes.

"I can't believe they told you that," he mutters, but he can feel your gaze on him, the smile in your eyes, and his irritation fades.

"They're only teasing," you say, resting a hand on his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin, and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replies, opening his eyes to look at you. Your smile is soft, gentle, and he melts under your gaze. "Just a little overwhelmed."

"Me too," you chuckle, dropping your hand. He quickly grabs it, pulling it to his chest, and your expression shifts. "I've been so worried, Hunter. I thought..."

"I know," he whispers. His grip tightens on your hand. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you whisper back. Your voice wavers, and Hunter tugs on your arm, bringing you closer.

"I'm here now," he murmurs, tilting his head down. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod, but the fear is still shining in your eyes. He knows that feeling all too well, the uncertainty, the constant worry, the doubt. And it's hard to believe him, he knows, when the past few months have been nothing but fear and anxiety. But he's determined to make it better, to do whatever it takes to ease your mind, even if it's just for a little while.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, and the contact makes you sigh.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. He strokes the skin with his thumb, his fingers gentle, and his heart stutters in his chest at the way your eyes flutter closed. "You don't have to worry anymore. I'll make sure nothing happens to you, I promise."

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he cuts you off, brushing his nose against yours. "But I'm going to. We're gonna protect you, sweetheart. All of us."

"Thank you," you whisper, opening your eyes. He's startled by the emotion swimming in your gaze, the tears pooling along the edges, and the sight breaks his heart. “But I can’t put you guys in danger. The Empire—”

"The Empire won't do anything," he assures you. "You're safe. We'll keep you safe."

"But what if—"

"Listen," he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You suck your lip into your mouth, chewing on the flesh, and he gently pries it from your teeth. "None of that. I won't let anything happen to you. Neither will they. You're part of the team, and we take care of our own. No matter what."

"You don't have to do this, Hunter."

"I know," he says, his voice low. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to force you to come with them, but he needs you to believe him. Needs you to understand. "But I want to. Please. Let me take care of you. It'll be good for all of us."

You're quiet for a moment, your brow furrowed, but then you let out a soft sigh, your shoulders slumping, and your eyes drop to the ground.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

"Hey," Hunter says. His free hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Trust me, alright? You're safe now."

You nod, but you don't look convinced. He sighs, leaning forward until his lips brush against yours, featherlight, barely there.

"We can talk more later," he murmurs. He's desperate to kiss you again, his whole body aching for it, but he doesn't want to rush you. He's willing to wait, no matter how badly he wants you. "If you're okay with it."

"Yes," you breathe, your hands coming up to clutch at his armor, and you press a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'd like that."

He lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to press his hips into yours, but then your hands slide up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair, and he groans. You chuckle, a sweet, breathy sound that has his blood singing, and Hunter's restraint crumbles.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, and his hands are moving on their own. He lifts you into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You're pliant under his touch, letting him guide the kiss, and he licks at your lips, begging for entrance. You give it easily, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours.

His hips press against yours, and your body is hot against him, so soft and perfect. You taste so good, and feel even better, and the sounds you're making, the little whines and gasps, are driving him crazy.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss. He's breathing hard, his pulse thrumming, and he can't keep the smirk off his face. You look beautiful, flushed and breathless, and his desire spikes when your fingers tug at his hair.

"Fine with me," you smile.

"Good." He kisses you again, deep and slow, and his hands drift lower. "I've got a lot of time to make up for."

"Mmm," you hum, your head falling back. Hunter can't resist the urge to kiss your throat, his teeth grazing over the delicate skin, and you shudder. A breathy moan falls from your lips, soft and quiet, but Hunter hears it. He always does.

"Fuck," he growls. "You sound so pretty."

"Hunter," you sigh. His name is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and he has to fight the urge to take you right then and there.

"We should go inside," he murmurs, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear.

"Mmhmm," you reply. You're nuzzling his neck, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine, and his hold on you tightens.

"Sweetheart," he groans. "I can't think straight when you do that."

"That's the idea."

"Come on," he says. He's reluctant to put you down, but he does, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment.

You look at him, your eyes bright, and your smile makes his chest ache. He wants so badly to stay with you, to pull you into his lap and bury himself in your warmth, to have the freedom to kiss you, touch you, love you, without having to worry about getting caught. He's never been able to do that before, always keeping you a secret, always worried about being found out, but the Order doesn't exist anymore, and now he has the chance.

And he's going to take it.

He's not going to hide his feelings anymore. You deserve more than that.

You reach up and touch his cheek, the gentle gesture enough to calm his racing heart.

"Let's go," you say, your thumb stroking over his skin. "Before they get suspicious."

"I'm pretty sure they're already suspicious," he chuckles, glancing towards the house.

"It's a little obvious, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admits, his face heating up. "A little."

You laugh, taking his hand in yours. You're leading him towards the door, but he stops, giving you a gentle tug.

"Hey," he murmurs, waiting for you to turn around. You do, a small smile tugging at your lips, and he can't help the way his eyes dart down to your mouth, the memory of your kiss sending a thrill down his spine.

"What?"

"I love you," he whispers. He's not sure why he says it. You know how he feels, you've known it for a long time, but something about it feels different, now. Like it means more than it did before.

Maybe it does.

Your expression softens, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards, and he can see the happiness in your eyes, the fondness. It's a look he's familiar with, one he's seen many times, but the knowledge that he can see it as much as he wants now, without having to hide or sneak around, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"I love you, too," you whisper, a smile spreading across your face.

"Come here," he says. You're in his arms again before you can say a word, his mouth finding yours, and you're melting into his touch, the kiss deepening, turning desperate. He has to pull away before his brain completely shuts down, and when he does, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Later," he promises, his voice a rasp.

"Later," you agree.

He lets out a long breath, nodding his head once before stepping back. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, and he gives you a gentle nudge, nodding towards the house. You smile, reaching up to straighten his bandana, and Hunter can't help but chuckle at the action.

"Lead the way," you say.

"Always," he grins, and then you're walking up the path, the warmth of the sun enveloping you as you step onto the porch.

The door slides open before Hunter can even reach for the panel, Wrecker's smiling face poking out.

"Oh, good," he says, looking at the two of you. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us."

"Of course not," you reply.

Wrecker's grin widens, and then he's stepping aside, his arm sweeping towards the inside of the house.

"After you, General."

"Thanks," you smile, nodding your head in appreciation. Hunter follows behind, his hand hovering at the base of your spine. Wrecker doesn't miss the movement, his eyebrows shooting up, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, a knowing look in his eyes, and Hunter rolls his own.

"Not a word," he warns.

"Wasn't gonna say anything," Wrecker smirks, his gaze flickering to the hand resting on your back. "Not sure I need to."

"Don't start," Hunter sighs. He slows to a stop, crossing his arms over his chest, and you keep walking, a laugh spilling from your lips as you head towards the kitchen.

"Hey," Wrecker raises his hands in surrender, but the grin doesn't fade. "I'm happy for you. Both of you."

Hunter blinks. "Thanks," he says slowly.

"I mean it." Wrecker smiles. He claps a hand on Hunter's shoulder, a silent confirmation of his words, and Hunter returns the gesture. "You two deserve each other."

"Yeah," Hunter says, looking over at you. You're already in the kitchen, Tech at your side, and the two of you are talking rapidly at each other with Omega sitting on the counter between you. Tech's arms are waving wildly, a datapad gripped tightly in his hands, and you're grinning at him, the excitement obvious on your face. Echo is stirring a pot of something, the delicious smell of dinner drifting through the house, and he chimes in every now and then, his smile growing wider each time.

Omega glances up at him, and she gives him a little wave, her grin so wide her cheeks must ache. Hunter smiles back, his heart swelling, and he can't help but think, maybe everything is going to be alright.

You look so at home with his family, like you've always been a part of it, like you've always belonged there. And maybe you have. Maybe, this was where you were supposed to end up all along.

It's funny, how things work out sometimes. How, even after losing so much, even after having nearly everything taken from him, he somehow still managed to find something good.

"I guess we do,” Hunter finally replies, his gaze settling on you. He can't tear his eyes away, can't stop looking at the way the setting sun dances over your face, lighting you up in the most beautiful glow, the way your smile makes his heart beat faster.

Wrecker follows his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "So, does this mean she agreed to stay with us?"

"Yeah," Hunter sighs, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, she is."

"Good," Wrecker says. His smile widens. "That's good."

"It's going to be hard, keeping things quiet," Hunter says, glancing at his brother. "We've got a target on our backs, and I'm not sure how much longer we can hide. The Empire will find us eventually, and when they do—"

"It's okay," Wrecker interrupts, holding his hand up. "I know. But it's worth it, right? To keep her safe? And Omega?”

"Yeah," Hunter says without hesitation. "It is."

"Then we'll do whatever we have to," Wrecker replies. He nods towards the kitchen. "They'll understand. ‘Sides, Omega's gotta have a mom at some point. Might as well be her."

Hunter's breath catches, his chest tightening. "Wrecker—"

"You're happy," he continues, ignoring Hunter's protest. "You haven't been happy since... well, not since I can remember. And she makes you happy. And she's good with the kid, too. I can see how much she loves you, and how much you love her. So, what's the problem?"

Hunter stares at him, the surprise clear on his face.

"I, uh... nothing. There's no problem," he stammers, his brow furrowing.

"Good," Wrecker grins. He nudges him with his elbow, giving him a wink. "She's good for you, Sarge. And we're not gonna let anyone take that away from you. No matter what happens."

"Thanks," Hunter replies. He swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the sudden moisture in his eyes. Wrecker squeezes his shoulder, smiling down at him, and Hunter takes a shaky breath.

"Don't mention it," Wrecker says. "Come on. I‘m starving."

"You're always hungry."

"Well, yeah," he scoffs. "We gotta keep our strength up, right? Especially if we're gonna be fighting off Imperials."

He mimes a punch, his fist slamming into his palm, and Hunter chuckles.

"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "Let's go eat."

The two of them walk into the kitchen, Wrecker immediately making a beeline for the pot Echo is stirring, and Hunter makes his way over to where you're standing with Tech.

He stands beside you, close enough for his arm to brush against yours, but he doesn't touch you. He keeps his hands at his sides, his fingers curling into his palms, but the desire to wrap his arms around you is overwhelming.

He knows you'll let him, but it's only been a few hours, and he's afraid if he touches you again, he won't be able to stop.

Tech is explaining something to you, his hands moving rapidly as he talks, and Hunter watches, his head tilted to the side. He's only half listening to what his brother is saying, but he's content to just watch the two of you interact. You're so invested in the conversation, asking questions, listening intently as Tech answers, and Hunter can't help but smile at the sight.

"So, what do you think?"

Tech's voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, forcing his attention back to the present.

"Uh... sorry," he mutters, glancing at you. "What was that?"

“Tech wants to gut my ship for parts like a bantha carcass," you huff. You're smirking at him, amusement shining in your eyes. "He's trying to convince me to let him take it apart."

"It's not as though we have much use for it," Tech argues. "And besides, it would give me something to do while we're here."

“Aren’t you all supposed to be relaxing?”

“I happen to find tinkering with electronics quite relaxing," Tech replies. "Especially old ones. And it will keep me busy, which means I won’t be pestering you. So really, you would be doing yourself a favor by allowing me to do this.”

Hunter smirks. “He’s got a point.”

“Traitor,” you mutter, nudging his shoulder.

He nudges you back, his grin widening, and you roll your eyes.

"Alright, fine," you sigh.

"Excellent," Tech smiles. He turns his attention back to the datapad in his hands, his eyes darting across the screen. “Omega, would you like to help me dismantle this ship? It will give you a chance to learn more about the components of different models."

"Sure," she nods. She jumps down from the counter, landing with a soft thud. 

Hunter watches the two of them disappear into the living room before looking at you. You're smiling softly, your head tilted to the side, and he can't stop his gaze from wandering, taking in every detail of your face.

"You're staring," you murmur. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, and the hint of a smile tugging at your lips betrays your feigned irritation.

"Can’t help it,” he replies. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hip. The simple touch is enough to send a spark shooting through him, a warmth blooming low in his stomach, and his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

"Hunter," you laugh, your eyes widening.

"Hmm?"

"We're not alone."

"We're not?" He arches an eyebrow. "Didn't notice."

"Hunter," you hiss, but there's no bite to your words, just a soft laugh. "Stop it."

"No," he grins, leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. You shiver, goosebumps erupting across your skin, and he feels a rush of pride at the reaction.

"You're impossible."

"Only because I can be," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your cheek. You sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut, and Hunter can't resist the urge to brush his mouth over the soft skin, trailing gentle kisses down your neck. You let out a soft whine, the noise so quiet only he can hear it, and his body reacts instinctively, his hands tightening, his hips shifting closer.

"Hunter," you gasp, your voice low.

"You smell so good," he groans. His nose brushes against your throat, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a burst of heat washing over his body, and he nuzzles the skin, his lips ghosting along the edge of your jaw.

He doesn't want to stop. He wants to keep going, wants to drag his mouth across every inch of you until there's no part untouched, until the taste of you is burned into his memory for good. But he's aware of the others in the room, and he forces himself to pull away. He puts some distance between you, enough so that he can breathe, but he can't bring himself to move too far away.

"Tonight," Hunter says, his voice rough. He glances over his shoulder, making sure the others are still distracted, before continuing, "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Mm," you nod. You look dazed, your cheeks flushed, and Hunter feels a surge of satisfaction knowing it's his fault. "You'd better."

"Oh, I will," he smirks. "All night, if you want."

You bite your lip, your eyes sparkling. "Promise?"

"I—"

"Alright, I’m no chef, but I think it’s ready," Echo calls, Wrecker already heading towards the pot with a stack of bowls. He turns around, a spoon in one hand, and Hunter catches a glimpse of a wicked smile. "If you can pry yourselves apart long enough to eat."

"We were just talking," you argue, but your face is red, and Hunter has to bite back a grin.

"Right," Echo laughs, his gaze flickering between you. "Just talking. Got it."

"Echo," Hunter warns.

"I didn't say anything," he replies innocently. He waves his spoon at the two of you, his grin widening. "You can have your little chat after dinner.”

“Enough talking,” Wrecker groans, snatching the spoon from Echo’s hand and shoving him out of the way. "Food first."

"We'll finish this later," Hunter whispers, and you nod.

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper, brushing a kiss against his cheek before you pull away, stepping towards the counter. You glance over your shoulder at him, a sly smile curling your lips, and Hunter has to force himself not to follow after you. He waits until you're busy helping Wrecker dish out the food before moving, and even then, he makes sure to keep his distance.

It's difficult.

The need to be near you is overwhelming, and he can't stand the thought of leaving you for even a moment. But he doesn't want to crowd you, either, and he has to remind himself that you're not going anywhere.

You're here, and he's here, and nothing is going to take him away from you. Not again.

The thought settles over him, calming the ache in his chest, and he finally allows himself to relax, falling into an easy rhythm with the others as the six of you gather around the table. He takes a seat next to you, his leg pressed against yours, and his arm is draped over the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. You lean into his side, your body fitting against his like it was made to, and the warmth of you is enough to ease the last bit of tension that's been lingering beneath the surface.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Hunter loses track of how many times his hand drifts to your side, or his fingers slip into your own, or his lips press against your temple. Every time he does it, he expects a reaction from you, a protest or an admonishment or a roll of the eyes, but each time, you simply smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and he finds himself doing it again, unable to stop himself.

It’s easy, familiar, like this is how it was always meant to be, and the fact that he can finally hold you without fear of getting caught is a relief that's impossible to put to words. There's no more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more worrying about being seen standing too close together or his hands lingering too long. It's freeing, not having to hide how he feels, not having to pretend like his feelings don't exist.

It's the most natural thing in the world.

And he's going to enjoy every second of it.

Eventually, the meal ends, the food vanishing into Wrecker's stomach, and Hunter helps you clean up while the others disappear outside. The setting sun guides them toward your ship with Tech in the lead, and Hunter watches them go, his eyes lingering on the door for a moment before returning to you. You're scrubbing at a pot, your brow furrowed in concentration, and he can't help the fond smile that spreads across his face. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, content to watch you work.

"You're staring again," you mumble, not bothering to look at him.

"How did you know?"

"I can feel it," you chuckle. You set the pot aside and dry your hands before hanging up the towel. "I always know."

"It's not my fault," he says, pushing off the counter. Hunter closes the distance between the two of you, his hands resting on your hips. "You're hard to resist. And I can't keep my eyes off you."

"You're such a flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it's true."

You shake your head, a smile spreading across your face.

"What?"

"Nothing," you laugh. "Just... the way you're acting. It's kind of cute."

"Cute?" He frowns, his nose wrinkling. "I don't know about that."

"It is." Your arms snake around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, and you tilt your head to the side. "I'm used to the serious, stoic Hunter. I like this one, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," you hum. Your lips press against his jaw, a soft kiss that has his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide down to grip your thighs. He lifts you onto the counter, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, and you kiss him again. This time, it's lower, right where his pulse is jumping under his skin, and he groans, his eyes falling shut.

"I didn't know you liked him so much," he manages to say, his breath hitching.

"I love him," you murmur. "As much as the other one."

"Well," he chuckles. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. "I think I can live with that."

You lean forward, and he meets you halfway, his mouth finding yours.

It starts off slow, a lazy kiss, his hands moving from your face to tangle in your hair. But then your lips part, and the soft sound you make is enough to light a fire in his veins, and he's kissing you with everything he has, pouring all his emotion into it. You return it eagerly, matching him stroke for stroke, and when his tongue brushes against yours, the groan he lets out is so loud he can't even hear the others yelling outside.

It doesn't matter, anyway. Nothing does, except the two of you.

"Bedroom," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "Now."

"Yeah," he pants. He grabs your thighs, pulling you off the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist, his arms hooking under your knees.

He doesn't say anything else. He can't. He just kisses you, his tongue sliding past your parted lips, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a desperate moan spilling from your throat.

He carries you through the house, navigating the halls blindly, too focused on kissing you to care where he's going. He nearly trips over a chair, but he manages to keep his balance, and you laugh, the sound vibrating against his mouth. He breaks the kiss long enough to shoot you a playful glare, and you beam back.

"In a hurry, are we?"

"You have no idea," he mutters. He kicks the door to your bedroom open, shutting it behind him with his foot, and strides across the room. "Been wanting this for too damn long."

"Mm," you sigh. You're kissing his neck now, your tongue lapping at his skin, and his pace quickens. He feels the softness of the mattress hit the back of his legs, and he sits, his hands shifting to cup your thighs.

"Missed you," he rasps as you settle into his lap. You're straddling him now, and the heat of you against him is driving him crazy. "Missed you so much."

"Missed you too," you whisper, and your hands are cupping his face, pulling him towards you. Your fingers trace the outline of his tattoo, your touch gentle, almost reverent. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling, and his breath hitches as you brush your lips over his temple.

"I can't believe this is real," he admits, his voice low. "I keep thinking it's some kind of dream, that I'm gonna wake up and find myself back on the ship."

"It's not a dream," you promise. You press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his nose, and then, finally, his mouth. It's soft, chaste, but no less intense, and Hunter sighs, his hands sliding up to curl around your waist.

"You're really here," he whispers. "I didn't think..."

"I'm not going anywhere," you assure him, and the conviction in your voice makes his heart ache. Your forehead is resting against his, your lips barely an inch apart, and he can feel your breath ghosting across his skin. "I love you."

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "For not coming to you sooner. For not—"

"Hunter, stop," you cut him off, your fingers pressing against his mouth. He quiets instantly, his gaze locked with yours. "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've tried harder," he protests. "Could've tried to find you."

"You couldn't," you sigh, shaking your head. "You know that. I didn't want to be found. I'm not even supposed to be here. If anyone finds me, I'm as good as dead."

"I won't let that happen."

"I know," you smile. Your thumbs rub gentle circles against his cheeks, and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And I love you for it. But we can't change the past. We just have to make the most of the time we have now."

"Right," he nods. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to push away the guilt, the anger, the regret. "I just..."

"What?"

He lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. "Do you ever think about what it could've been like? If we hadn't lost each other? If...things had gone differently, and the war had ended the way it was supposed to?"

"Yeah," you admit, and you give him a sad smile, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. "Sometimes."

"Me too," Hunter whispers. He pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. You hold him there, your arms wrapping around him, and his hands drift up to clutch at the back of your shirt. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of you, letting it fill him up, ground him.

"Sometimes I wonder," you murmur, your voice low, "what would've happened if we'd met in a different life. If we were just people, with no obligations or duties, no expectations or responsibilities. No wars, no battles, no death. Just us."

"A life together," he mumbles, the words muffled against your skin.

"Yeah," you say, and you sigh, a wistful sound that sends a pang through his chest. "A life together."

"We'd have a place like this," he says. He glances up at you, his chin resting on your chest. "A home."

You hum in agreement, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "We would."

"We'd be happy," he continues. He smiles at you, a small, sad thing, and your fingers trace the curve of his lips. "We'd have a family. Maybe even kids. And we wouldn't have to hide."

"We wouldn't," you agree, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reaches up, catching it before it can fall, and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness.

"I would've married you," he whispers. His voice breaks on the word, and he has to pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If I could. I would've married you, and given you everything I had."

"Hunter," you whisper, your voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "I just—"

"No, no," you cut him off with a shake of your head. You kiss him again, and he melts into it, the feel of your lips against his enough to soothe the ache in his chest.

"We could still have it," he breathes, his mouth moving over your jaw, the skin so soft and warm and inviting. "We could."

"I know," you reply, and you tilt your head back, allowing him access to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin, and you shudder, a whimper falling from your lips.

"Do you want it?" he asks, his voice low. He's not sure why he does, not sure what he wants the answer to be, but the question falls from his mouth without thought.

"More than anything," you admit, and Hunter feels his heart skip a beat.

"Then we'll make it happen," he promises. "If you'll have me."

"I already do," you whisper, and then you're kissing him again, harder this time, with more desperation, like you need to prove how much you mean it.

His hands wander, mapping out every curve, every contour, every inch of your body, and your own exploration isn't far behind, the two of you touching and caressing and stroking in a way that leaves him panting, his heart racing.

"Please," you whimper, and the sound goes straight to his cock.

"Anything," he rasps. "Whatever you want."

"I just want you."

"You have me," he breathes. "You'll always have me."

You're kissing him again, the desperation in your touch increasing with every second that passes. He feels like his entire body is on fire, like the slightest touch could set him off, and he groans into your mouth, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your lips.

He knows what you want, and he gives it to you without hesitation, his mouth opening wide as he dips his tongue inside, his fingers digging into your hips. You gasp, and he swallows the noise, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

He pulls it up and over your head, breaking the kiss for only a moment, and he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his gaze sweeping over every inch of exposed skin.

You're so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at you.

You stare back, your chest heaving, your eyes dark with lust. You're biting your lip, and his own mouth falls open, his eyes widening.

He doesn't say a word. He can't. His brain can't seem to form a coherent thought, not when you're looking at him like that, and he swallows, his eyes darting to the swell of your breasts. You're wearing a bra, but it's not much, a scrap of lace and silk that leaves nothing to the imagination. He can see the outline of your nipples, the stiff peaks pressing against the fabric, and he can't help but reach up and run his thumb over one, the contact making him shiver.

"Hunter," you whimper, your eyelids fluttering shut. He repeats the action, watching in fascination as your chest rises and falls, and he does it again, the soft whine that falls from your lips spurring him on.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand cupping your breast. "So perfect."

He leans down, his mouth closing over the soft mound, and he sucks gently, his tongue lapping at the hard nub through the fabric. Your back arches, a broken moan escaping your lips, and Hunter feels a rush of heat shoot through him, his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

"Fuck," he curses, his breath hot against your skin, his hands moving to undo his belt. It's a struggle, his fingers shaking, but he manages, tugging it free and tossing it to the side. As soon as it hits the ground, you're pushing his hands away, taking over, and he grins, letting you take the lead.

"Here, let me," you murmur as your fingers work to unclip his armor. He nods, sitting back on his hands and admiring the view as you remove each piece, dropping them to the floor. The way your brow furrows in concentration, the softness of your skin, the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with every breath, the warmth of your hands, the gentleness of your touch, all of it sends another wave of heat crashing through him.

It's breathtaking, the sight of you, and Hunter can't help the pride that swells in his chest. It’s not the first time he’s felt it, the rush of joy that comes with seeing the woman he loves, but it still catches him off guard.

He wonders, briefly, if he'll ever get used to the feeling. If he ever stops being amazed by how incredible you are, how lucky he is to have found you.

"What are you thinking about?"

You're kneeling in front of him now, your hands resting on his knees, and the question startles him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," he says, and you tilt your head to the side, giving him a knowing look. He chuckles, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking along your jaw. "Just admiring the view."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he replies, his gaze dropping to the exposed flesh of your chest. He can't stop himself from leaning forward, his fingers skimming along the lace, before brushing over the delicate skin of your cleavage.

"Hunter," you whimper, arching into him.

"Beautiful," he says. His eyes meet yours, a wicked grin pulling at his lips. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

You blush, the heat creeping up your neck, and Hunter chuckles, pulling you towards him. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your chest.

“But first,” he murmurs against your chest. His lips brush over your sternum, his nose skimming the tops of your breasts, and his hands find the waistband of your pants, tugging the fabric down. “I want to see all of you.”

You moan, letting him pull the material down your thighs, your eyes slipping shut as his hands glide along your legs. You step out of the clothing, them aside, and he takes the opportunity to remove his pants and shirt, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes.

You stand between his legs, staring down at him in nothing but your bra and panties, and Hunter has to take a deep breath. The sight of you is almost too much, the need coiling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him, but he manages to rein himself in.

"Gorgeous," he whispers. His hands are on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the sensitive flesh. "Come here."

He pulls you into his lap, guiding you to straddle his hips, and you go willingly, settling yourself onto his thighs. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing the skin, and you sigh, tilting your head to the side, granting him access.

"You smell so good," he murmurs. His nose traces the column of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a wave of desire surging forward, and his hips jerk involuntarily, grinding against yours. His cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear, aching for release, and he can't stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck," he rasps, his teeth scraping against your collarbone as you shift. You're moving against him, a slow roll of your hips, and Hunter can feel his restraint slipping.

"Hunter," you sigh. His mouth moves down, his lips trailing over the swell of your breast, his tongue darting out to lap at the lace covering your nipple.

"You're driving me crazy, sweetheart," he breathes, his breath hot against your skin. "The things I wanna do to you."

"What do you want to do to me?"

He can't stop the groan that escapes him. He grabs your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh, and tugs you down, grinding his clothed erection against you.

"Everything," he growls. His mouth moves along your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. "Anything you want. I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Mmhm," he murmurs, nuzzling your chest. He can't stop himself from licking and sucking, the taste of your skin intoxicating. His hands are roaming up and down your sides, squeezing and caressing, and you arch into him, your body reacting to his touch.

He slides a hand down your spine, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. He makes quick work of it, unhooking the latch and pulling the straps down your arms. You sit back, letting the fabric fall away, and he can't help but stare, his mouth hanging open.

Your nipples are hard, pebbled and straining, and he can't resist the urge to flick his tongue across one, teasing the stiff peak. You let out a whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Oh," you gasp. Your eyes are closed, your head tipped back, and Hunter smiles against your skin. He continues his assault, licking and sucking, his teeth grazing over the stiff nub.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he purrs. You nod, a soft moan falling from your lips. He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, and you squirm in his lap, your hips rocking against his.

"Force, yes," you pant, tugging at his hair. "I missed this. Missed you."

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmurs. His hands move to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading, and you let out a shaky breath, rolling your hips against his. "I missed touching you, kissing you, being inside you."

"Yes," you whimper. His fingers are plucking at your nipples, pinching and tugging, and you grind down on his lap, desperate for friction. "Please, Hunter."

"Don't worry," he promises. He kisses his way up your chest, along the curve of your neck, and nips at your earlobe. "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Good," you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I've waited long enough."

"Too long," he agrees. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours. "But we've got all the time in the world."

You smile at him, cupping his face. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, neither saying a word. He can see the desire in your eyes, the need shining bright, but there's something else, something deeper, and his heart swells, his chest filling with warmth.

Then, without warning, Hunter flips you over, pressing you down into the mattress. He hovers above you, his weight resting on his forearms, and he smirks when you let out a surprised squeal.

"Hunter!"

"Hmm?" he hums, dipping his head to kiss the underside of your jaw. You arch into him, a soft moan escaping you.

"What are you—mm, that feels good," you sigh, tipping your head to the side.

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," you murmur. Your arms are draped over his shoulders, your fingers threading through his hair. He presses a kiss to your throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, and you groan. “Keep going.”

Hunter chuckles, his hands sliding up your thighs. He reaches your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear.

"Lift your hips for me," he says, his breath ghosting across your ear. You obey, lifting yourself up off the mattress, and Hunter pulls the fabric down your legs. He tosses it over his shoulder, not bothering to see where it lands, before turning his attention back to you.

"Perfect," he breathes.

You're spread out in front of him, completely naked, your cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and he's mesmerized. It's not the first time he's seen you like this, but it's been too long, and his memory can't compare to the real thing.

He traces a finger along your inner thigh as he settles between your legs, his hand gliding over the soft flesh, and he watches as goosebumps erupt across your skin. You're trembling, the anticipation clear in your eyes, and Hunter grins, enjoying the effect he has on you.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his fingers ghosting along your slit. He's not surprised to find you wet, the scent of your arousal thick in the air, and he inhales deeply, relishing the familiar aroma.

"I want you," you whimper, your hips bucking upwards. He places a hand on your stomach, holding you down.

"How do you want me?"

"I don't care," you pant, reaching for him. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the skin, and he bites back a groan. "I just need you. Please."

"Soon," he promises. He kisses your thigh, his lips trailing over the smooth flesh. "Let me take care of you first."

"You don't have to," you insist.

"Oh, I want to," he murmurs, his mouth inches from your center. "So badly."

"Oh," you moan, your back arching as his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin. You're trembling beneath him, and Hunter can't help but smile. It's intoxicating, knowing how badly you want him, and he can't stop the pride that swells in his chest.

His tongue flicks out, teasingly brushing against your folds, and you let out a breathy sigh, your body tensing.

"Stop teasing,” you plead.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says, though he can’t find it in him to sound apologetic. His fingers part your folds, and his tongue slides through your slick heat, circling your entrance before dragging up to flick over your clit.

"Ah, fuck," you moan as your eyes roll back. Your hands are clutching the sheets, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. You gasp, your hips jerking, and he grabs them, holding you in place as he begins to lick and suck.

He wastes no time, his tongue and lips reacquainting themselves with your folds, and the taste of you is enough to make him dizzy. It's sweet and salty, familiar and unfamiliar, and Hunter can't get enough. He buries his face in your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue probes your entrance.

"Oh, Hunter, yes," you pant, your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair. He grins against you at the praise, his tongue plunging inside, and you let out a strangled moan.

He eats you out with enthusiasm, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He's not sure how long he spends there, his face buried between your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your cunt. It could be hours, or mere minutes, but he doesn't care. It's perfect, the feeling of you underneath him, the way your body writhes, the noises falling from your lips.

He fucks you with his tongue, his grip on your thighs tightening, and your back arches, a desperate whine escaping you.

"Fuck, yes, Hunter," you cry out, your legs wrapping around his head, locking him in place. He moans, his tongue plunging deeper, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He can't stop himself, his movements becoming frantic, desperate.

He needs more, craves it. Wants to feel you come apart, to know that it's his name on your lips. That it's his touch making you lose your careful composure.

"That's it," he groans, his breath hot against your pussy. "Come on my face, sweetheart."

He's not sure if it's the words or the way he thrusts his tongue inside, curling and stroking, but something sends you over the edge, and he's rewarded with a choked cry and a gush of slick heat as you clamp down around him.

Your toes curl, your back arching off the bed, and Hunter has to hold you down, his grip tightening as his mouth continues its relentless assault. Your walls pulse around him, clenching and releasing, and he lets out a growl, his tongue pushing deeper.

"Kriff," you moan, your hands clutching at his hair, pulling and tugging. He lets out a muffled groan, his eyes slipping shut, and he savors the feeling, the taste, the smell.

The fact that it's you, that he's the one who got you here, who made you come undone, is enough to send a wave of pleasure coursing through him. It's addicting, the feeling of having you like this, and he can't help the surge of satisfaction that comes with the knowledge that no one else has ever seen you this way. And if he has his way, no one ever will.

"Force, I missed that," he says once you finally relax, your legs falling from his shoulders. He licks his lips, grinning, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

"Me too," you breathe, propping yourself up on your elbows. "That was incredible."

"Yeah?" he asks, crawling up your body. He plants a kiss on your sternum, moving higher until his mouth finds yours. You return his messy kiss eagerly, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

"Mmhm," you sigh.

"Good," he murmurs, kissing you again. His tongue probes your mouth, searching for every last drop of sweetness. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunts, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Need you," you whisper, breaking the kiss. Your hands slip down, coming to rest on his ass. You give him a squeeze, a playful grin on your lips, and Hunter can't stop the smirk that pulls at his mouth.

"Patience, sweetheart," he says. "We've got all the time in the galaxy."

"No," you shake your head, hooking your leg around his waist. You pull him closer, the hard line of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit, and you moan, grinding against him. "I need you now."

"Kriff," he groans, his head falling forward. The heat is radiating off of you, and he can't stop himself from pushing against you, seeking relief. "Yeah, alright. But I wanna take my time with you."

"We can take our time later," you promise. You tug at his underwear, pulling the fabric down his thighs, and he kicks them off, sighing in relief as his cock springs free. A pleased noise escapes you at the sight of him, hard and straining, and your other leg wraps around him, urging him on.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, his hips rolling. His cock is trapped between the two of you, sliding through your slick folds, and the sensation is almost too much.

"Please," you beg, tilting your hips upwards. You're soaking wet, the head of his cock sliding through the mess, and it's all he can do not to sink inside you.

"Fuck," he hisses. His grip on your waist tightens, and he presses a kiss to your neck, his lips tracing a path along the curve. You moan, arching into him, and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another messy kiss. He can feel the desire pouring off you, the need coursing through your veins, and it's overwhelming. He doesn’t even notice your legs tightening around him, not until you flip him over, and suddenly you're on top of him, straddling his lap.

"Shit," he gasps, his eyes wide. "That was—"

"Fast?" you finish. He nods, swallowing hard, and you laugh, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “I think you forgot what I am, Hunter."

"Never," he whispers, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. He takes in the view, his eyes trailing over the length of your body, from the flush on your cheeks to the way your breasts sway with every breath, to the glistening wetness coating your thighs and the base of his cock. "You're incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he hums. His gaze drifts up, meeting yours, and he smiles, the sight of you making his heart swell. "You're perfect."

"I love you," you say, and Hunter can't help the warmth that spreads through him at the words. He's heard them a hundred times before, but each time, it still feels new. Like the first time.

"I love you, too," he replies. His fingers brush over your clit, gathering the wetness, and he slides his hand down, taking himself in his fist. "Ready?"

"Yes," you breathe.

You rise up onto your knees, placing a hand on his chest for balance, and Hunter guides himself to your entrance. His cock slides between your folds, the tip nudging at your entrance, and you both moan, the sound mixing together.

Hunter has to fight to keep his eyes open, to keep his hands steady. He wants to watch as you sink down on his cock, to see the pleasure wash over you as he fills you. He knows what it feels like, to be buried inside you, and it's always been intoxicating, but now? After everything that's happened, after the fear and the pain and the longing, to have you back in his arms?

It's beyond words. Beyond comprehension.

He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve you.

But he'll never stop trying.

You let out a gasp as he pushes inside, his cock stretching and filling you, and Hunter has to grit his teeth, his hands tightening on your hips. The heat is incredible, the feeling of being buried deep inside, and he groans, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart," he grunts. His eyes are locked on where the two of you are joined, watching as you slowly slide down the length of his cock. "You're so tight."

"It's been a while," you say, your breath coming in short pants. Your brow is furrowed, your teeth biting into your bottom lip, and Hunter has to bite back a groan.

"I know," he breathes. His hands caress your sides, his fingers skimming over the soft skin, and he feels your body relax. You're fully seated on his cock now, and Hunter can feel the way your cunt flutters around him, squeezing him tight. You tremble, and he reaches up, cupping your face.

"You alright?" he asks, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You nod, the corners of your mouth curling upwards.

"It's been a long time. Need a minute."

"Take all the time you need," he says.

"Thank you," you smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

You sit there, staring into his eyes, the two of you just existing. He doesn't mind it. Doesn't care about anything other than the feeling of being inside you. He can't believe he forgot what this was like, how perfect it is, how much he loves it. How much he loves you.

The urge to keep you here, to never let you go, to keep you safe and warm and loved and happy is overwhelming, and he can't help but reach out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. He wonders if this is what it feels like to drown. If this is how people describe being swept away, pulled under the waves by the current, never to surface again.

He wonders if this is what they mean when they talk about being lost in someone.

Because he is. He's completely and utterly lost. Lost in you. Lost in the warmth of your gaze, the softness of your touch, the scent of your skin, the feeling of your body surrounding him, your heart beating in sync with his own.

He knows, in this moment, that he's not just in love with you. That he's not just madly infatuated with the woman in his arms. He's lost, and there's no coming back. He's yours. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you belong to him. That the two of you are bound together. That there's no one else for him. No one else he wants. Just you.

It's not the first time he's felt it, this overwhelming sense of love. But it's the first time it's hit him so hard. Maybe because it's the first time it's been this intense, this all-consuming. Maybe because it's the first time he's actually understood what it means. What it truly means.

Maybe because it's the first time he's truly believed it.

"Hunter?"

You're staring at him, concern etched across your features, and he realizes, with a start, that tears are rolling down his cheeks. He hadn't noticed.

"Sorry," he mutters, hastily wiping his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "Because I've never seen you cry before."

"I'm okay," he says, smiling softly. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed, I guess."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he nods. He sits up, bracing his back against the headboard as his hands cup your cheeks. "I'm more than fine."

"Okay," you say, giving him a worried smile. His thumb smooths the crease between your brows, and he presses a gentle kiss in its place.

"I promise," he murmurs as he leans his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"Love you too," you whisper. You place a hand on his chest, just above his heart, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

"I don't say it enough," he says, his voice hoarse. "But I mean it. Every time."

"I know," you assure him. You kiss his cheek, your lips trailing over the curve. "You don't have to say it. I know. I can feel it. I always have."

"Good," he sighs. His hands move up and down your back, the tips of his fingers gliding over your spine. "Never forget it."

"I won't," you promise.

He holds you there, your foreheads pressed together, your noses touching. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of you wash over him. It calms him, soothes him, and he feels his heart slow, his breathing evening out.

You shift, lifting your hips, and he gasps, the feeling of your cunt gripping his cock sending a jolt of pleasure through him. You smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'm okay," he whispers, his hands moving to grip your hips.

"Good," you say, your lips brushing over his. You start to move, rising up onto your knees before sinking back down. You both groan, the feeling of being joined sending a surge of warmth through him.

"Kriff," Hunter rasps as your hands find his shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle, and you lift yourself up again, repeating the motion. His head falls back against the headboard with a dull thump, and you smile, your teeth scraping over the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

"How's that feel?"

"So good," he breathes.

"Yeah?" you hum, rocking against him.

You're moving slowly, the pace torturous, and Hunter can't help but grind his hips upwards, trying to speed things along. You're having none of it, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the bed.

"Slow," you order.

"Can't," he groans. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he pulls you down, forcing himself deeper as his hips buck up into you.

"Why not?"

"Need more," he pants.

"Hmm," you murmur, nipping at his throat. "I thought we were going to take our time."

"Changed my mind."

"Too bad," you smirk.

Your lips find his, capturing him in a heated kiss, and Hunter moans, his mouth parting for you. Your tongue sweeps through his mouth, seeking his own, and he can't stop the desperate noise that escapes him as you taste him. He tries to move, to thrust up into you, but a weight presses down on him, holding him in place. He knows without looking that the Force is holding him down, keeping him still, and a thrill runs through him, the realization making him even harder.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"What was that?"

"Kriff, I hate when you do that," he mutters, glaring up at you.

"Do what?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"That." He jerks his chin towards the invisible pressure pinning him to the bed. "You know exactly what."

"No idea what you're talking about," you grin. You're still moving, the movement slow and steady, and Hunter lets out a low whine, his eyes slipping shut.

"You're insufferable," he huffs, his head falling back.

"I think you're the one being insufferable," you tease, placing a hand on his chest. You run your fingers through the coarse hair, dragging them down until they brush over the base of his cock. "If I recall, you were the one who said we should take our time."

"Well, maybe I was wrong."

"Oh, I don't know," you say, your fingers tracing the edge of his hip bone. "I think it's nice."

"It is," he concedes, hissing as you squeeze his balls. "But it's not enough."

"No?"

"No," he says, opening his eyes. He looks up at you, taking in the sight. Your skin is flushed, your lips swollen and parted, your eyes glassy and filled with desire. He swallows hard, his hands tightening on your hips. He knows there will be marks tomorrow, a reminder of what happened tonight, and the thought makes him twitch inside you.

"So impatient," you tut.

"Yeah," he agrees. "You're so kriffing gorgeous. And I want you so badly. Always. I can't get enough of you."

"Hunter," you gasp, grinding down on him.

"Yeah," he breathes, his eyes drifting down to where the two of you are joined. Your cunt is stretched tight around his cock, and Hunter lets out a moan, the sight making his mouth water. He's always loved watching you take his cock, loved the way it looked as it slid in and out of your wet heat, loved the way it felt, being inside you. But now, after everything? After almost losing you?

"Force, I can't get over how beautiful you are," he whispers.

You're moving faster now, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, and the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing.

"Fuck," you cry out as he hits that spot deep inside, and Hunter lets out a grunt, his hands finding your breasts.

"There you go," he says. He palms the soft flesh, his fingers finding your nipples, and he pinches them, rolling the stiff buds between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh," you moan, arching into his touch. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you nod, rocking against him. You're bouncing on his cock, the bed shaking with each thrust, and Hunter can't tear his eyes away. He's transfixed, unable to look anywhere else. You're a vision, sweat beading on your brow, your body trembling as the pleasure builds.

His hands find your ass, pulling you down onto his cock, and he can feel the muscles flexing beneath his fingertips. He can feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening, the pressure building. He's not ready for this to end, not yet, so he grits his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he pants, his hands roaming over the curve of your ass, squeezing and groping.

"Mmhm," you nod. You're leaning forward now, your hands braced on his chest as you ride him. Your nails rake across his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake, and his hips twitch, trying to thrust up into you. The weight keeps him in place, and he lets out a frustrated groan.

"That's it," he coos. He can feel the tension in your thighs, the way your legs are shaking, and he knows you're close. He grips your ass tighter, helping you keep pace, and you whimper, your movements becoming erratic.

"Please," you plead, and he can't deny you, not when you're begging.

His fingers find your clit, his thumb rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves. Your head falls forward, your hair falling over your face, and Hunter reaches up, brushing the strands aside.

"Come for me," he says, his voice hoarse. “Come for me, and then I’m gonna fill you up."

"Yes," you gasp.

"You wanna feel it, don't you?" he murmurs. He's barely holding on now, the heat pooling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him. "Want me to fill you up, mark you as mine. Make you mine."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, grinding against him. "More, please, please, please, I need—"

He flicks his thumb over your clit, pressing down hard. Your breath hitches, your walls fluttering around his cock, and Hunter watches, mesmerized, as you shudder above him. You're staring at him, your pupils blown wide, your hair a mess, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

"There it is," he growls. The weight pressing down on him disappears, and he grabs your waist, flipping you over. Your back hits the mattress, your legs wrapped around his hips, and he pounds into you, chasing his own release.

"Yes," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your mouth finds his, swallowing his moans, as his cock pistons in and out of your dripping cunt.

He fucks you, hard and fast, the bed creaking underneath the two of you. You're clinging to him, your nails scratching his back, and he knows there will be marks, knows that he's probably hurting you, but he can't stop, can't slow down. He's so close, the pressure building, the pleasure coiling deep inside, and he's desperate for it, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"Gonna fill you up," he gasps.

"Please," you beg, and that's all it takes.

His orgasm hits him hard, and he cries out, his hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking, and you whimper, your legs tightening around his waist.

"Fuck, yes," you groan, and Hunter can feel the warmth of his spend leaking out of you, the mess coating his cock, dripping down his thighs. It's intoxicating, and he can't stop himself from thrusting deeper, trying to make sure every drop is buried inside you.

"Oh, Hunter," you moan. Your hands are on his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. He grinds his hips against you, and you sigh, a lazy smile spreading across your lips.

"Good?" he asks, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Perfect," you whisper. You cup his face, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering as he savors the feeling.

He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to let go. He's perfectly content to stay like this, holding you, his cock buried deep inside you, your hands stroking his face. You're watching him, your eyes roaming over his body, and he preens under the attention, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he huffs, "I hope that was worth the wait."

"It was," you nod. You pull him closer, his head resting on your chest, and he lets out a sigh, his body relaxing.

"You alright?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the swell of your breast.

"Mmhm," you nod. Your hands are tracing patterns over his skin, fingers trailing across his back, and he can't help but shiver, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all," you say. Your fingers move up, combing through his hair, and Hunter practically purrs, a low rumble rising from his chest.

"Good," he sighs. He tilts his head, his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, and he inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal still thick in the air. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and he shivers, the sensation sending a tingle down his spine.

"Hey," you murmur, and he hums in response. He shifts his weight, settling his elbows on either side of your head, and kisses your cheek.

"Hi," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your skin. He leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. You return the kiss eagerly, a soft moan escaping you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he goes willingly, his hips grinding against you.

"Mm, again?" you giggle, your teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

"If you're up for it," he says, grinning.

"I'm always up for it," you smirk. You roll your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. He's still half-hard, his cock slowly swelling, and he can't stop the groan that rumbles in his chest.

"Good." Hunter grins, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."

"Well, we've got plenty of time," you breathe.

"Plenty," he echoes, his hands finding your hips. "Let's make the most of it, then."

And he does.

He spends the rest of the night worshiping you, his mouth and hands mapping every inch of your skin. He leaves no part of you untouched, his lips and tongue and fingers exploring every inch, and you do the same. The two of you take turns, exploring and teasing, pleasuring and loving, until you're both too exhausted to continue.

Afterwards, you lie together, his arm draped over your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck. Hunter inhales deeply, the familiar scent filling his nostrils, and he lets out a content sigh. He can feel the ache in his limbs, and he's suddenly aware of how tired he is. He doesn't remember the last time he slept, and he can't even recall the last time he was able to relax. It feels like forever since he's felt this good, this safe.

This happy.

"I love you,” you murmur as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you, too," he whispers, his voice thick.

"I know," you chuckle, and he smiles against your neck.

You're both still breathing hard, chests heaving, bodies sticky with sweat, and he revels in the feeling, his arms tightening around you. He can't stop himself from kissing you, peppering your neck with gentle kisses, his lips ghosting over the delicate skin.

He makes his way up to your jaw, then your cheek, before finally meeting your mouth. It's slow, tender, filled with a sense of intimacy he hasn't felt in a long time, and it's enough to make him tear up. His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin, and he closes his eyes, savoring the moment.

He never thought he'd have this. Never thought he'd get a chance.

And now that he does? Now that he's got you here, in his arms, where he's meant to be?

"I'm not letting you go again," he mumbles, his forehead pressed against yours. "I don't care what it takes, I'm not letting anyone or anything take you from me."

"Hunter," you start, but he cuts you off.

"I know. I know, you can handle yourself, you're more than capable. I know all that. But I'm still going to be there. I'm always going to be there."

"I know," you say, your hand cupping his cheek.

"Do you?"

His eyes search yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, any sign of doubt. He finds none. Just warmth. Just love.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Good," he nods. He pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing you like this, bare and vulnerable, looking at him like that. Like he's the only person who matters.

"I meant what I said earlier," he says. "About wanting a family. A future."

"Me too," you smile.

"Really?"

"Yes," you nod, placing a hand on his chest. Your fingertips trace over the curve of his collarbone, and he shivers. "I want that with you. I always have."

"Even after everything?"

"Especially after everything," you assure him. "I've always wanted a future with you, Hunter. Ever since we met. I know you're scared. I am too. But I love you, and I want this. Us. All of it."

"Okay," he says, smiling.

"Okay," you repeat, returning the smile.

He pulls you into another kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck, and the two of you stay like that, kissing and touching and loving, until exhaustion takes over. You curl up against him, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and he feels his eyes begin to droop. He can't remember the last time he was this relaxed, the last time he was this comfortable. The last time he felt so safe. So loved.

And for the first time in a long time, Hunter doesn't worry. He doesn't stress. He doesn't plan.

Instead, he closes his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, and he lets the world fade away.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[commsroom]

OK I need you to point me to the nearest entry point into this fandom. I don’t know what this is, but you popped up on my dash.. and I need to know what this is. Please lead the way.

oh!! that's exciting. yes. okay!! wolf 359 is a science fiction audio drama about the isolated and questionably competent crew of a deep space research station, the u.s.s. hephaestus. the initial four characters are comms officer doug eiffel, 'everyman' pop culture guy who really, really hates his job; commander minkowski, who cares about her job and the rulebooks that come with it a little too much, and desperately wants to feel like she's keeping everything under control; dr. hilbert... eccentric? station medical officer and mad scientist whose methods and mission objectives are not entirely above board; and hera, the station's mother program, who struggles with her job and the ways she's perceived by others.

there are other characters who show up later - i would say only three of the above characters are "main" characters, while the actual fourth main character is introduced in s2 - but that requires way more context, and i don't want to get into spoilers, obviously.

wolf 359 is a character drama - it's my personal gold standard for character writing - and the brief descriptions i gave you are the most surface, surface level parts of them. the writers once said something about it, like... that they weren't interested in subverting typical sci-fi character archetypes so much as looking at them and asking "why would a real person behave that way?" and i think it really worked. whether i like them or not, they all feel like real people to me. it has great sound design and a lot of "physicality" in the performances for an audio-only show, which i think comes down to gabriel urbina's film background and the way the scripts are written and performed. (and alan rodi's incredible soundtrack and sense for music cues.) you can't see a lot of what's in the scripts, but they're acted out in a way that you can kinda feel it anyway. i love that.

here's a fan made trailer that i think captures a lot of the right energy. it's a show about a lot of things, but some of the primary themes are communication + music, and i think the collaborative nature of the show itself adds something very sincere to that. it's also about corporate and medical exploitation, resisting dehumanization, what makes us human, connection, identity and autonomy, guilt and accountability, the stories people tell themselves to justify who they are or what they feel it's necessary for them to do, and, of course, the enduring philosophical question: "what's wrong with handcuffs?"

you can check it out at the website i linked above, or anywhere you can listen to podcast feeds! it's free, but they added ads a few years ago, which i hate, so you can pay a dollar here for the ad-free feed if that'll make a big difference in your ability to enjoy it: https://www.patreon.com/Wolf359Radio

it's a sequential story, nothing you really need to know about listening order except that i recommend not skipping the mini episodes (they have important character context and are where they are in the feed for a reason) (with the exception of mission mishaps ones near the end; those are comedy bonus episodes you can listen to whenever) and that you should definitely watch the live show after ep 26 and listen to special episode change of mind between s3 and s4.

i also have a folder here of every recording script where i edited any parts that were different from the show's dialogue + added transcripts for the ones that didn't have available recording scripts, if that's something you'd find useful! i also recommend checking them out just to see what i mean about how they're written.

the first season is pretty short, so i'd say stick with it until at least episode 12/13 (two part finale) if you can - i love the first season, personally, but that's the point it really becomes serialized, and so that's where i think you can safely say if it's something that's going to capture your interest or not. ... and that's it! sorry this is kind of an essay, but i got excited about it. i hope you love the show, please keep me updated, and let me know if there's anything else!!

[lizhaoyu]

Why so shy? PART 2

(A/N): Hello, gaymers. I'm back at it again. Sorry for the late update, I've been busy malding in VALORANT lately. Thank you for all of the support in part 1, it means the world to me. Now, some of the things here are referenced to that one casual Iso fic. Huge thanks to whoever wrote that, I'm in love with that fic. I physically gagged and cringed at the part where I made the reader channel their idk to do sum shit I can't do this. Enjoy thirsting, gaymers.)

(I also accept requests, please request about Iso)

(Iso x Shy!GN!Reader)

Part 1

Part 2 (You are here.)

Part 3

Part 4

Nervous.

That's exactly what you were feeling right now.

Not nervous for yourself, but for Iso.

Today marks the day of Iso's first ever mission in the VP. To your advantage, you were assigned as Iso's lead comms.

You were busying yourself with taking breathing exercises in KJ's command room.

Iso was gonna be hearing your voice, following your orders and intel, counting on you to tell him what to do at the right moment and he's probably gonna fall inlo-

A knock on the metal door of the command room broke your trail of thought. It opened, revealing Iso.

"Hey." Iso walked in with a small smile, nodding to you.

You look up from the mission brief that Brimstone gave you and look at Iso. This time, you actually managed to train yourself to try and not stutter in front of Iso. You're not exactly there yet, but you're trying your best.

"Hi, Iso. Ready for your mission?" You offer him a small smile, feeling a little nervous for him and his safety.

"Yeah. I made sure to read the brief at least five times." Iso nods.

"Better safe that sorry." You smile, typing in the last command needed to start the mission.

"Right, uh... I just wanted to say that I wish you a very good luck on your first mission." You try to smile despite your nervousness.

"Thank you, but... I don't understand why I have to do this mission alone." Iso sighs, shaking his head.

"Brimstone says that he thinks that you're strong enough to handle it yourself, but I think he just doesn't want to admit that everyone is busy with everything else, so they can't go with you." You stifle a laugh.

"But I agree with Brimstone, whether or not he thinks you're strong enough. Your abilities are really powerful and you handle yourself pretty well. I think you got this." You smile at him, trying your best to hide your blush.

"Thanks a lot for your encouragements, it helps a lot." Iso smiles.

"And our training sessions, too. They're really helping me improve." Iso adds.

That alone was enough to make your heart race faster than normal.

"A-Anyway, I'll be the lead, and only, comms for today's mission. If you have any questions, calling for backup, or need help locating the target, I can help." You explain, turning to the table behind you.

You carefully took an earpiece from the table, turning to Iso and offering it to him. He follows your gentleness, taking the earpiece with careful hands.

In the process, his fingers brushed against yours. It was enough to give you butterflies on your stomach.

"This is what we use to communicate to each other from great distances. You can talk to me or hear me through it." You explain, snapping out of your thoughts.

"We have two trackers on you. One on your phone that we requested you to add, and one on your earpiece. Although you can turn off your location trackers, I advise you not to, just in case." You smile at him, hoping he'd understand what you were trying to say.

"I got it. Thanks for explaining it to me." Iso nods, taking off his left earbud and replacing it with the earpiece.

You took note of his actions, observing him closely.

"By the way, if I did ask for backup later on..." Iso paused.

"Yeah?" You tilt your head with a smile.

"Since you said that everyone else is busy, will you come?" Iso asks.

IS HE IMPLYING SOMETHING????????? AM I JUST DELUSIONAL OR WHAT, you thought.

"W-Well, yeah. I'm still responsible for you and your safety, according to Brimstone." You nod, pushing the thoughts to the back of your head.

"I'm glad." Iso nods, smiling.

WHAT DOES THAT MEANNNNNNNNNNNN???, you thought.

"Can I only talk to you about anything related to the mission?" Iso asks.

"Not necessarily, as long as you're not in the middle of a gunfight." You shook you head.

"Great. Uh, one last thing." Iso rubs the back of his head.

"After my mission, do you think we can go out for hotpot? My treat." Iso smiles, looking at you.

WHATWHATWHAT OHMYGOD IS THIS REAL FUCKFUCKFUCK, your thoughts raced.

You had to take a moment to process what Iso just asked you. Was this some kind of prank? Maybe Phoenix told him to prank you? Was this just a friendly gesture-

"You okay? You don't have to say yes, or we can get different food. Anything you like will do." Iso smiles.

"I- No! Hotpot is fine... A-Anyway, yeah, we can go out after your mission as long as you come back unscathed." You nod, your face turning visibly red.

"Then, I'm looking forward to it." Iso smiles.

"A-Anyway... The jet should be ready to transport you to the mission site. You can head to the departure wing now." You look back to the screen.

"I'm going, then. Thanks for your help." Iso nods.

You look back at Iso and smiled.

"Good luck on your mission, Iso." You nod as Iso walked out of the room.

You turn back and sat on the chair, all while letting out a shaky sigh. Was it just a friendly gesture or something more?

Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by Iso's voice in your earpiece.

"Hey, can you hear me?" Iso asked through the comms.

You snap back to reality and let out a small huff.

"Yeah, loud and clear." You nod to yourself.

"Right, thanks. I'm in the jet right now, heading to the location." Iso says.

"I got it. I'm writing the report for Brimstone right now." You reply, typing out a document.

After a moment of silence, Iso speaks up.

"Hey, when you first arrived in the VP, how was it?" Iso asks.

"Huh? Well... It wasn't really easy." You say, recalling back to your newbie days in the VP.

"I was kind of an outcast and everyone thought I was creepy and stuff." You shrug, still typing.

"Why's that?" Iso asked.

"Well, just like Omen and Fade, I have abilities related to shadows or darkness." You paused.

"I was really quiet and stuff, so some were afraid to even look my way, because I can just merge myself with their shadow without them knowing." You shrug.

"But hey, I managed. Omen became my very first friend. He understood me." You smile.

"Wow... Omen? That's kind of him." You hear Iso hum.

"How about your first mission? How did it go?" Iso asked.

"Back then, I had little to no control of my abilities. I was merging myself to shadows back and forth because I didn't know how to control it." You laugh.

"But I learned how to control it, thanks to Omen. He knew exactly how I felt and why, and he taught my how to control it, even if he can't control his own." You sigh.

"My first mission went really well because Brimstone paired me up with Omen. He was really helpful, teaching me how to defuse the spike." You explain.

"Anyway... How about you? How are you feeling? This is your first mission, after all." You ask.

"I was kind of hesitant when Brimstone first told me." Iso says.

"But when I found out that you're gonna work closely with me, I feel much better." You could almost hear Iso smiling. Wait, was that even possible?

You could feel your heart beating faster and your face turning red. Surely, he didn't mean it that way. Maybe it was just a friend thing?

"I think I can handle this mission." Iso continues.

You quickly shook off the lingering feeling.

"I'm sure you'll do great." You nod.

"By the way, what kind of milk tea do you like? Sorry, that was a random question." Iso chuckles.

"Me? Well, I like heavy oolong milk tea with tapioca pearls." You paused for a moment.

"Jett and Phoenix often made fun of me for being so basic, but I think it's really good." You smile.

"What about you? What do you like?" You ask.

"I actually like the same thing. I get it all the time." Iso replied.

"Whoa, really?" You smile.

"We have a lot of things in common, hey?" Iso says.

"That makes me really happy." Iso added.

It was starting to get hard trying not to think of this as a gesture of interest and not just for friends.

"Oh, we're landing now." Iso says.

"Be careful, Iso. You'll just need to eliminate the Omega Earth Radiants and defuse the spike if planted." You nod.

"You'll come if I ever need help, right?" Iso asked again.

"Yes, I will. Don't worry." You assure him.

"Okay, I'm heading out now." Iso says.

For the past hour, you've been helping Iso locate the enemies and giving him instructions. You watched his location attentively while writing a report, all while talking to Iso.

"Iso, there's one enemy left. Do you think you can defuse the spike until half?" You ask.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll try." Iso replies.

On the other end, you can hear Iso running to the spike. You heard beeping, which means that he was defusing now.

"Don't let your guard down. Don't rush, there's still plenty of time left." You remind him.

"Almost half, come on..." You hear Iso mutter.

A few seconds later you could hear a Vandal being fired, then Iso grunting.

"Iso?!" You stood up from your seat.

"Spike is half... I got shot on the shoulder..." Iso groans.

In the background, you can hear Iso firing his Sheriff, presumably at the assailant.

"Okay, okay... He's down, I can still defuse with my other hand..." Iso coughs, followed by the beeping sound again.

"Iso, listen to me. Just hold on and keep defusing, okay? I'm coming." You connect the comms to your phone, running out of the room.

"Really? You're coming...?" Iso asks, his voice low and pained.

"Yes, I'm on my way. Just a little longer, okay?" You ran to the departure wing, getting on the jet.

"I'll wait for you." Iso grunts.

"Keep talk to me, Iso. I need you to stay awake." You frantically went through the jet's storage for some medical equipment.

"Put some pressure on the wound to prevent excess bleeding. I'm on my way." You say, your voice shaky.

"Will we still go out for hotpot after this?" Iso asks, his voice low.

"Yes, I promise we will when you get better." You promised.

The jet hovered over the mission location. You shout for the pilot to open the door, as it'd take longer if you waited for the jet to land.

The door opens for you and you look out from it. Your eyes scanned the mission area from above, looking for any kind of shadow you can merge with. Once you do, you stepped back to prepare yourself to jump.

"I see a jet in the sky, is that you?" Iso asked, coughing.

"Yeah, it's me. I'll be with you soon." You breathe out shakily.

"What are you planning to do?" Iso asked.

But before you can answer, you dashed out of the jet. Your eyes locked onto the shadow of the building, preparing to channel your ability. You closed your eyes, letting your shadow take over.

In seconds, your body turned into a shadow-like orb, heading for the shadow of the building. Your body reached it immediately, merging with it. Once you did, you jumped away from it and ran to Iso.

"Iso! Hey, I'm here." You pant heavily, kneeling beside Iso.

"Hey..." Iso grunts, sitting up slowly. Beside Iso was the defused spike.

"Don't move, stay still. I'll do my best to help you, okay?" You mumble shakily.

How will you even do this? You weren't a healer, you weren't even trained for this. You look at Iso's pain expression and you knew you had to do something, anything.

You could make use of your abilities, the shadows. You remember what Omen told you, about how if you channel enough energy to your shadow, you could make it do what you desired. If you could do it, you could use them to absorb the wound, the pain and the bullet and save Iso.

Could that even work? Were you crazy? But you knew you had to try.

"Iso, listen to me." You hold his bloody hand shakily.

"This'll hurt a bit, okay? Do you trust me?" You squeeze his hand gently.

"I trust you." Iso nods.

"Stay with me." You mumble, letting go of his hand.

You place your hand over his wound and your other hand on your shadow. You close your eyes, channeling your shadow to your hand. You press your hand firmly on Iso's shoulder, your shadow entering his open wound, earning a pained hiss from Iso.

You focused your mind into commanding your shadow to absorb whatever it would have to absorb in order to heal Iso. You didn't know what you were doing, you were going crazy.

You let a few minutes pass, with your palm pressed on Iso's wound. You didn't know if what you did worked, but you were growing lightheaded.

pleaseworkpleaseworkpleaseworkpleasework, you chanted in your mind.

Once you feel your shadow disappear from your hand, you opened your eyes, slowly removing your hand from Iso's wound.

It was gone.

The would was no longer there, just the skin of Iso's shoulder through the hole of his hoodie. All that was left was Iso's blood.

"It... It worked..." You let out a shaky sigh, still not believing in what you did.

"What?" You hear Iso ask as he looks at his now-gone wound.

"It's gone? How did you..." Iso looked back at you.

"I don't know, I..." You mumble, looking at your shaking hands.

"No, I... It doesn't matter right now. Let's go back to HQ." You shook your head, shakily standing up.

"Can you stand? Do you need me to support you?" You offer your hand for him to take.

"I think I can." Iso nods, using his other hand to take your hand as you pulled him up.

"How did you do that? You never told me you could do that." Iso asked, looking at you in awe.

"I didn't even know that I could do that." You shook your head.

"Let's go back to the extraction point. I'll definitely need to write a detailed report about this..." You mumble, walking with Iso.

You and Iso walked for a few minutes, before finally arriving to the extraction point. You both got on the jet as it took off.

You plop down on the seat, still feeling a little lightheaded.

"Are you okay?" Iso asked, sitting beside you.

"I should be asking you that. How are you feeling? No more pain?" You sigh.

"I feel fine. It doesn't hurt anymore." Iso shook his head.

"Hey, thank you." Iso says.

It was enough to catch your attention, so you look at him.

"You came to save me, and I'm really thankful for that." Iso smiles.

"We can't have you dying on your first mission, Iso." You smile.

"But you hurried here, you tried your best to use your ability and ended up learning that you can actually heal me." Iso shook his head.

"Can I be honest with you?" You ask.

"I came to you despite knowing that I couldn't help at all." You admit.

"I had no medical experience and I wasn't anywhere near Sage's level." You sigh.

"But I still came to you. It was... an urge." You mumble.

"But now, I'm glad I came, after all. I learned a lot." You smile.

"I'm glad you came." Iso smiles.

-

After that, Iso was sent to the medic wing, where Sage checked Iso's health.

Brimstone informed you of this, so you went to check up on him for your hotpot with him later.

As you were about to slide the door open and walk in, you heard Iso talking with Sage.

"I'm glad you're okay, Iso." Sage says.

"Thanks a lot, Sage." Iso replied.

"Hey, do you think we can go out for milk tea later today?............" That was all you heard before your ears blocked out every other noise.

And here you thought that you were making progress. You really thought that Iso liked you back? Of course it was Sage.

You thought back to his interactions, how he'd look at her, how he'd call her his senior. But you were dumb and ignored all of it.

Now, here you were.

You had hoped for something when he talked to you earlier today when he asked to go out for hotpot with you and only you.

Maybe it really was just a friendly gesture.

[southparktexts]

HEY TOBESS!!!

ok so i maybeeeee want main 4 ( or main 3, i really don't care for cartman ) x reader

but like them playing BOARD GAMES (or video games) with reader

like pure fluff and it's so cute and yadadada

I'M NOT CREATIVE OK.

anyways LOVE U TOBES

– an🎱n 🤭🤭🤭

( i'm lttr requesting u every 2 seconds keeping u on ur toes fr. ur never getting rid of me HAHAHAHA )

ANONNN FINALLY I GOT UP TO THIS REQ OF FUCKING COURSEE

main 3 playing games

kyle :

- okay i better not hear ANY fucking complaining in the comments because i play this game

- he plays valorant.

- NOW I KNOW IT SOUNDS BAD BUT HEAR ME OUT

- having you sit on his lap as you watch him play

- giving you kisses in between rounds where he dies or buying

- if he’s playing competitively and he’s losing the ONLY and only reason why he’s still calm and not losing his shit is because of you.

- if you’re getting bored he’ll purposely die just to cover you in kisses

- i feel like i should add some valorant and kyle headcannons so LET. ME. COOK.

- clove // killjoy main

- he loves playing support, not a duelist type of guy

- doesn’t like playing heals

- rank is definitely bronze

- peak at one point was probably gold

- prob spent all his allowance on skins

stan :

- whoever disagrees on this, fuck you

- hear me out

- league.

- HEARRRR ME OUT.

- toxic league boyfriend and supportive girlfriend dynamic

- he likes you on his lap, not facing the screen but him.

- like when hes playing and your head is buried into his neck.

- you’re also probably one of the thing that keeps him calm at this point

- … and not loud

- literally if he’s alone he will scream to fucking loud at teammates

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING??”

- besides that.

- the toxicity on him is crazy insane when it comes to league

- one time some girl tried to hit on him and he literally got comm banned for being toxic..

- whoops?

- he is one of those people who will whisper i love you in your ears during rounds and plays with your hair if he died.

- knowing him, hardstuck bronze 3

- peak silver 2

- watches dantes ngl

- main Vayne or Darius

kenny :

- as much as i hate to admit it. this man is poor.

- his favourite game is roblox

- unlike stan and kyle he actually wants you to play with him

- as much as he prefers you to sit on his lap, playing with you is so much more fun

- i can see him having those new avatars with face tracking

- definitely plays a lot of arsenal

- 1v1 ‘s between him go crazy

- blames every death on ping.

- HE HAS ROBLOX VC

- hear me out dahood vc with him would go crazy

- once there was an ‘deep voice’ eboy trying to hit on you.

- lets say that ended up with a community voice chat banned for 3 days and also a bunch of stomps

- hes so protective of you

- literally FORCES you to wear matching fits with him in roblox

- you guys get called edaters.

- kenny also unironically plays dress to impress and royale high

- he also unironically MAKES THE BEST FITS???

- hes special like dat ;-;

[charlieisannoying]

A perfect case for my certain skillset

Part 1 | Next Chapter >

Platonic CF 99 X Jedi!GNReader Summary: Clone Force 99 is getting a Jedi, as if that could ever work out for the band of misfits. The worst thing? They're not even getting a General. First meetings will always go a little sideways, but the Force will right things in the end (Or so Hunter is told.) Word Count: 2,215

Hunter was tired.

He could feel a headache slowly blossoming under his skull, burrowing itself deeper and deeper, setting alight every nerve–

This was not the right moment for this. He had a mission to do.

It was simple, really.

They haven't been on the field that long anyways and they were a special case anyways. Their assignments, although they wrecked absolute havoc on the world around them were successes. They were still tasting the small bits of freedom between each missions, still overwhelmed with the fact that this was their life – the four of them against the world. While their... fondness over the regs was tested each and every time they came in contact with them, Commander Cody was a special case.

Even Crosshair was silent around that man, his snark nowhere to be found.

So when Commander Cody had commed him, letting him know that his pack, his own Clone Force 99, was supposed to get a handler... Well, Hunter was glad he wasn't alone when he received the news. He did not want to be the one to break the news to his brothers.

Still.

Getting a Jedi General was something even he was supposed to get used to.

It's not that he didn't want a superior officer or that he didn't like Jedi (although, truth to be told his experiences with other Jedi that Master Ti were rather... closer to 0 than any other number), but...

... he wanted to keep his brothers safe, close to himself and only himself. He heard through the ever evolving vod grape-vine that the Jedi were kind and understanding and they were all normal beings, not gods. His mind told him he was exaggerating, that it was in his very nature to protect his brothers...

But would his Jedi not only understand, but also listen to Tech's need to always fix something and explain and research? Will they leave Crosshair be and just exist in the presence of his brothers after a particular rough mission? Will they see how smart Wrecker is or will they just see his bulk and write him off.

Well. Clones were nothing if not adaptable.

'You don't have to be nervous about it.'

Cody's eyes were kind when he said it. They also seemed sad, but that couldn't possibly be true. Commanders knew how and when to say things. Commanders gave orders that no other clone could. Commanders swallowed their grief.

'I am not in the position to reveal anything but...' the Commander's nose flared and he bit on the inside of his cheek, as if searching for the right words. '...this assignment of the Jedi to your batch is more for the well being of themselves than a punishment to you boys.'

As if.

Look, Hunter could agree that their plans were wild, reckless and often enough sputtered into nothingness as soon as a mission started. But they accomplished their missions. They always were successful.

But siccing a Jedi on them?

This would never solve their... creative solutions for their already dangerous missions.

'When should we expect to report under our Jedi then, sir?' Tech's voice was crisp and perfectly measured, skilfully hiding how he felt in that moment from everybody. Well, everybody except Hunter. He could hear Tech's heartbeat skip in a pretty concerning way every so often and could start smelling his anxieties over the matter.

At that question, Cody allowed himself once grimace.

'That's your first job. Your Jedi Commander has... left our ship without telling us where they were going and we were called to aid the 501st.' What? Hunter's impending headache must have messed up his hearing, because why would a Jedi just... leave? Cody continued on, bringing Hunter back to the briefing. 'Their comm was last online in one of the lower levels of the city. It would be wise to check first some of the bars without attracting any unwanted attention.'

Lower levels? Bars? It seemed that all of his brothers were having the same reaction because they all had the what in Prime's tits is doing their Jedi in a bar face.

Something must have taken the Commanders attention away from them and their bewildered faces, because he didn't comment on their lack of response. Before he closed, he did wish them good luck, and that must have meant something, right?

By the sound of Tech's tapping on his data pad, Hunter was sure that every tidbit of information over their Jedi would be soon in their hands. He could always count on his brother's

'Wait, what did he mean by Jedi Commander?'

—

His headache was definetly getting worse.

This was the fifth? Or was it the sixth bar they searched? The vibrations of the bass and drums sent painful spikes from his skull down to his finger tips. This was promising some very painful next few days. And if they wouldn't find thei Jedi, his headache will become even worse and then Crosshair will see it, because of course the little shit was just as observant as his eyesight was perfect and–

'I just say we leave this damn Jedi find us instead. We're soldiers, not babysitters.'

Ah, kark it.

This was absolutely perfect. Now he also got Crosshairs snark to add of the things that were annoying him in that moment.

The lights were blinding him.

The music was getting louder and louder and he couldn't think, his brother's arm on his shoulder was like sand paper on his skin, although he had both his blacks and his armour on and why was the music so karking loud–

'You okay there buddy?'

If Hunter was at his peak he would notice that you were holding a fuzzy, colorful drink in your hands, the type that would come with small umbrellas and would wreck anyone in two gulps. Except he couldn't smell the alcohol. At all.

Your clothes seemingly resembled Jedi robes, the teal outer robes mixing with a tan tunic and brown pants. Small dots littered your sleeves, as if they were painstakingly embroidered, slowly combating the simpleness of normal Jedi apparel. Your hair was stuck to your forehead as if you'd been jumping the whole night and your eyes–

Maker, your eyes.

He could say that they were pretty because they were surrounded by blue glitter, and lined with black as if you were trying to capture everyone around you. You didn't break contact with him, as if trying to scan and read and see right through him, a small glint in your eyes indicating nothing but trouble.

But no.

Your eyes were sad. As if you knew something he didn't, as if you've lost and lost and lost, and you couldn't quite believe that you won't lose again. Hunter just wanted to bundle you up and take you far away from the war that just takes from beings.

Where were these thoughts coming from?

There was something else.

All he could focus was that the sounds were...gone. All those terrible sounds that were scratching the inside of his brain did not make him want to keel over and cover his ears.

He could still hear his brother's heartbeats, Tech's tapping, Crosshair grinding his teeth over another toothpick (where was he getting them??) and Wreckers fiddling with bits of an explosive.

Even those accursed lights seemed dimmed.

'You with me, Sarge?' Your brows were furrowed, as if you were trying to read him. And in the end, who even were you, why would you care–

Oh.

You were his Jedi. Were you the reason this place was more bearable now? Could the force even do that?

Wrecker snorted. Wait, why was Wrecker laughing?

That weird glint returned to your face, a small smile pulling over your lips. 'It's a Force Bubble. Helps me with my own migraines, and I though it would help you too.' You continued, the frown making an appearance once again. 'You were projecting your pain quite...hm...strongly across the lower levels. And anyways, what is Clone Force 99 doing here? We were supposed to meet tomorrow.'

Did he say that out loud?

That admittedly subdued headache was going to be the end of him.

'Technically, it is tomorrow.' Tech's voice was a bit harsh, not like his usual calm and calculated cadence. Were his brothers also starting to feel the simmering anger rising? They were out there, trying to find them, and... what? Their Jedi thought that giving Hunter a small respite would fix everything?

Before his thoughts could spiral even further, you had the decency to look... not ashamed, but guilty.

'Ah, my apologies then. I just wanted to...' You mulled over your words, trying to find the perfect one. You seemed to do that a lot, as if being able to choose your own words was something new, something not yet experienced. '...well, just be a Jedi for one more night and not a Commander.' You're eyes crinkled slightly as you smiled, as if laughing at a joke.

Hunter wasn't aware Jedi's sense of humour was so subtle. In fact, he heard quite the opposite from various other Commanders. Returning his attention back to you, you seemed to be already thinking about something else. Your face was already angled towards the back of the bar, where a small raised platform was created. A guitar was nestled against a box pretending to be a stool. A microphone completed the set, as if beaconing courageous drunks to sing something.

It seemed not only Hunter noticed your divided attention.

'Something else you've got to do, Jedi?' Kark Crosshair and his big mouth. Hunter was not in the mood to fight a decommission report to save his dear, dear brother. His headache was threatening to become a migraine once again.

This seemed to catch your attention once again. Shoulders pulled back, the blue robes did not seem to swallow you anymore. A small quirk of your eyebrow betrayed your amusement.

'You've crashed my set, actually. You guys are not exactly low profile.' Set? Did you sing? Is that your drink was all for show? All sadness was gone for a moment from your eyes, a fierce glint taking its place. 'I'm sorry you're tired and cranky... Crosshair, is it? So why don't you get a nice little drink from the bar and enjoy the show, yes?' Paired with a sweet little smile, you took your leave towards the makeshift stage, blue robes trailing like a blaze behind you.

This did not feel like getting a handler anymore.

This was going to get much, much worse.

—

Despite his worse fears, no decommission request landed in Hunter's pile of folders or in his inbox. After the incident at the bar, Crosshair finally fell silent, which meant that Hunter was free to fall into blissful sleep in their barracks. They did not stay to see you perform, much to Wrecker's dismay, but he was sure Tech already sliced through the bars shoddy footage, only to satisfy his curiosity, if nothing else.

You took the closed quarters of the Marauder in stride, your face betraying nothing. Your heartbeat though...? Well, that told Hunter everything he needed.

It seemed that not only Clone Force 99 was anxious about this change.

'Anything I should steer clear off?' You're eyes were still darting around, as if you were taking it all in. Your question though, it warmed Hunter somehow. He knew viewed clones as people, but other nat-borns had other ideas, that were not nicely viewed in the GAR.

'Our lives?'

Even with his back turned around the momentarily least favourite brother, he could feel Crosshairs sneer.

Before even taking a breath to reprimand Crosshair again in less that 24 hours, Wreckers boisterous voice bounced against the ship's walls.

'HA, as if you could beat a Jedi, Cross.' Wrecker's huge form seemed to eclipse you for just a moment, before draping an arm around your shoulders. You seemed to dip a bit, before finding your footing and righting yourself again, without shrugging Wrecker off. This seemed to encourage Wrecker, as he quickly continued, a sharp grin forming on his face.

'Technically, don't touch anything of Crosshair's. Don't mess up my workspace.' Tech's eyes were glued to his data pad, but his finger was pointing to various parts of the ship.

Thank you, Tech and your perfect interruptions.

You're impassive face was slowly breaking apart, your cheeks twitching slightly. Even your heartbeat seemed to slow down, and you even seemed to lean more and more into Wrecker, as if you were leeching his body heat. You risked a glance towards Hunter, but quickly looked away when you noticed him analysing you.

He wondered if you were going to burst from trying to keep in your laugh.

'You can always take Lula!' Reaching towards his bunk, Wrecker dragged you along a bit, without realising that you were still somewhat trapped underneath his arm. He offered you the tooka doll, and Hunter really hoped this was not the moment Wrecker will get heartbroken from your response.

A genuine smile lighted up your face instead.

'Thank you.'

If it weren't for the proximity alarm going off in the cockpit, Hunter was sure of there was more to be said.

For now, they all had one job.

Complete the mission.

Next Chapter >

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I am very sad we didn't get to see more of Autobot Knock Out. So much I even have a fan episode idea. It's pretty garbage, but anyway.

Mb I'll write a fic about it *cough cough*forget about operation:redemption I literally can't finish stuff.

It's basically about how KO would get accepted into the team.

At first red finished bot will be distrusted, naturally. And he'll try to win them over. But millions of years working with Decepticons do change a bot. So what seems normal to KO is absolutely unacceptable to Autobots. For example, if someone loses their arm, a bot obsessed with his paint job will just find some vehicon and take their arm instead. Or actively take prisoners and interrogate them (like he did with Smokescreen). And when Optimus (in this timeline he hasn't died yet because I said so) gives him a pep talk, KO genuinely doesn't understand what is he doing wrong? Because, when you're a Decepticon, you don't bother much with ethics. It's either you complete your mission successfully, or you might be on the receiving end of Megatron's anger. So seeing Optimus disapproving of his "success" And yet forgive others failed missions made KO resent team prime a little bit.

Then, he was demoted to "nurse" despite being qualified enough to do operations without supervision. And it's even if Knock Out is lucky enough to be allowed to operate at all. Ofc, their reactions are more than understandable, but it still hurts. Ratchet watches his every move, because they spend all their time in the base.

That's the third thing that pisses KO off. He has to stay in base because of his "misconduct". And red finished bot hates having to stay inside. He loves going to drive in theaters or race with others, but now he isn't allowed even a step out.

The tipping point of the situation is when whole team prime (-Ratchet) go on a mission to fight decepticons. This mission is very important, but despite KO's desire to help, Optimus eventually asks Knock out to stay. He says it's because they "are in no need of another scout, but a second medic will be necessary if we wish to end this mission with no losses". When the team left, KO stayed for a bit, before quietly sneaking out. He is very infuriated and tired of playing Ratchet's little helper, and if team prime doesn't accept him, then he's free to do whatever he wants.

Once the gang gets back, mostly in one piece, Optimus notices KO's absence. Autobots have no way of getting through to ex decepticon, because they didn't have his comm nor have his location. Despite some bots being fine with his disappearance (Bulk and Smokey are still very distrustful), leader decided to meet up with him and talk things through.

Turns out KO went to the nearest drive in theater. OP comes up to his new subordinate, and watches the movie for a while, before asking if KO would like to talk. When smooth talking and flirty jokes didn't get "sweet rims" To go away, red bot finally decides to tell the truth. Optimus understands KO's frustrations and gently points out that stay at the base and absence from any too risky battles weren't meant to make KO feel unaccepted, but to keep him safe. Now that he has betrayed Decepticons, he is pretty high on "to kill" List. Yet his cruel actions still aren't accepted, because Autobots aren't like Decepticons, and team prime isn't like Megatron's gang. They do not use violence unless it is necessary.

This talk eases a lot of KO's concerns and after they get back to the base, he'll try to behave better.

Sorry if this post is very messy. I really wanted to get this idea out of my head and make it sound interesting.

[justladders]

Hello! I’m Ladders :)

I'm just here stylizing some fnaf characters and mostly drawing the evil green rabbit like an animated villain.

Basically, I always loved animated shows and movies. They're why I started drawing when I was little, and I still watch and pull ideas from that kind of stuff to this day. Classic Disney's my fav, so you might see me talking about it sometimes. Anyways, since villains are my favorite and since I've starting drawing fnaf stuff, it's mainly been art of Springtrap, which you'll see a lot here.

If you're ever just looking for my art, the tag is #laddersarts. More tag stuff at the bottom of the post. Also, love asks, but please be considerate about the ask box, ty.

Do not repost my art anywhere, even with credit. I'm fine with it being used for things like a profile picture/banner as long as it is credited.

vv FAQ / TAG GUIDE vv

Q: What art program do you use? Krita. It's free and it "works," which is all I ask for.

Q: Do you do commissions? This answer will change around: currently, no. I've been meaning to, honestly, but just haven't felt collected enough to make a comm sheet and whatnot. Hopefully I'll be able to update this soon though.

Q: What are your other socials? I currently don't have any others, so if you see my art somewhere else, it's stolen :)

Q: Why do you draw [insert character] like that? I normally get this question about Springtrap, but I like to make designs that lend themselves more to 2D animation, which means simplifying a lot of things and hopefully still being able to get the point across. Too much detail and it becomes complicated very quickly. Fnaf animatronics/characters lend themselves really nicely to stylization because of how simple in concept they are overall. They're also left up to a lot of different characterization potential, not just from their simple designs, but the fact that they don't really get super hard-established personalities. Basically, all of that comes together into me enjoying taking a base concept and turning it into something you could potentially see in some older hand-drawn cartoon. As far as *specific* choices for how I draw *specific* characters, I feel like those would each need their own posts especially for Springtrap since I draw him the most. I know I'll have to make that sometime.

Q: Can I draw fanart of your designs? Of course! I'd just like to be credited and tagged so I can see it and reblog it :D

Tag Guide laddersarts and not my art - arts that I post or ones that I reblog (my art tag is all stuff since I got back earlier this year, art before that I just tagged as "my art") justtalks and talkin disney - indulgent tangents justfrens - things from peeps I know and whatnot answered ask - stuff from the inbox goofies - silly stuff midnight magma things - arts from group canvas drawing fanart for me :0 - fanarts of my designs!!!!! :0 present for springtrap :) - ask series where y'all wanted to give Springtrap something nice (there's a line formed and I just get to them whenever I'm up for it, but feel free to add to it) alt springtrap - art of goofy alternate versions of Springtrap I make sometimes: there's currently Vamptrap, Mothtrap, Jackotrap, and ERRORtrap (suggestive, eyestrain, flashing, gore, and all that stuff some people might not want to see I will hopefully remeber to tag)

[eliotlime]

End of September Update

Just as a heads up, I'll be closing my commissions after the first week of October (06/10/2024) just so I can focus on other projects! If you'd like to order a bug from me or get any of my other regular commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I made a really brief post on twitter about what I'm up to but since tumblr supports more text I'll just go into more depth on what projects I'm working on at the moment and general life updates!

I used to write blog posts on wordpress for school and it's just hilarious that I stopped doing that considering it feels like I was born to blog!

In general, I've been trying to crawl out of this very odd mood swing-y state I've been in for the past year. I've been semi-public about it but I graduated with a degree in animation same time last year and have sort of been recovering from the absolute burn out of that as well as watching the animation industry essentially collapse just as I left college.

I'm hoping to get into UI/UX design this coming October and try to piece what little control I have of my life back together. I don't really know what I'm doing to be honest and it feels like I'm just pawing in the dark with a lot of this stuff.

In lighter news I've been trying to get into something I've always wanted to for years which is comics! I'm not sure how much I can speak about it at the moment but I just got into an anthology which is very exciting.

I applied to shortbox last year but didn't get in :( but fingers crossed I'll get in next year! On a related note I've made a Cara profile which I'm using as a comics portfolio and archive.

--

Those of you who've been following me for years know that I've had a webcomic project called, Happenstance (which I've restarted endlessly for about 10 years at this point). While I don't really have a concrete update of that for you guys I will say that the story is more or less fixed and whatever version of it I have now is most likely the version I'll proceed with in the future.

I did try to get the ball rolling with this at the start of the year with a pilot comic but it made me so miserable to work on it I abandoned it and started making an unrelated zine instead haha

I do have plans on finishing this eventually and it'll be up on my itch.io and gumroad like everything else!

Speaking of the zine, I'd just like to thank everyone who purchased Cute Thing! I think for my first independent book project it did pretty well! It was incredibly embarrassing and nerve wrecking to promote it but I'm glad I did it.

I don't know why there's an 18+ warning on this considering this zine is pretty tame.

I guess it also helped that that stupid ass diary comic i made blew up at the same time so I got to shill my wares in relation to it. Even though I think it gave me some kind of psychological damage but every time i gain minor internet fame i shrink back into my shell anyway, this is just the first time i really felt so much.. vitriol from randos lol.

It's just hilarious it overlapped with whatever guilty gear obsession I had at the time as well. Thank you to everyone who stuck around and uh.. sorry! I walk wherever the wind takes me and it's frequently towards my own characters.

But! Speaking of Guilty Gear, I am working on an Abacelsus zine I briefly talked about on twitter a couple months back. The title is sort of pending at the moment and while I did say it might be free as a digital download, I'm probably going to charge a couple of dollars because of how much effort I'm putting into this.

On the plus side that means I'll probably be putting more effort into it! I'm aiming for 24 interior pages of stuff and hoping to release a digital version of it by Halloween 2024!

I'm trying to work on more prints and stickers for conventions as well and I never posted about my convention escapades here all too much but you can check out this instagram post for what I had up the last time I boothed!

That's kind of all for the stuff I'd like to get done within this year but other projects that I'd like to aim to get done by 2025 is a continuation of my Cute Thing zine that I'm aiming to collate by Valentines Day, hehe how romantic.

There's nothing terribly concrete for that at the moment but I do know I want it to have more pages than Cute Thing. It's called My Boy and yes it's named after another Car Seat Headrest song.

I've got a lot of irons in the fire and another iron is that I'm also planning a 4-panel comic series for my band characters that I've posted some pilots about before!

Pretty messy planning but most of my long form stuff looks like this.

A 4-panel comic series is just less intimidating than a fully coloured webcomic series (Happenstance) that I know will be finished decades later. I've also seen a lot of webcomic artists I've beloved just.. abandon their years long project and it's kind of scary to me that will definitely happen to me!!!

--

The long and short of it is that I've got a lot of projects and a majority of it is not making me any money. I'm extremely lucky to be surrounded by people that support my work but it gets hard to just do all of this by yourself with no guarantee that it'll go anywhere.

Patreon's a beast I've tried to tackle but it's kind of an ass of a website to use so I'll probably try to use ko-fi a bit more. I've kind of never really liked the subscription model and really do prefer to launch curated PDFs of my work every few months, but again I'm really just clawing at the dark and grasping at anything I can.

Let's wrap up this long post by mentioning that I might want to give streaming a shot! I used to stream a little when I was a teenager but I'd like to give it another go!

I don't think I'm going to have a dedicated persona or vtuber avatar but a small little png-tuber would be frankly hilarious. Maybe something casual to start of with, it gets pretty lonely spending everyday working on images alone.

--

Thank you for reading! It's an extremely long post to all but say that I'm scared but working on projects still! If you'd like to support me, here's my ko-fi page and while I'm working on getting more stuff on there here's my itchi.io & gumroad as well.

As I mentioned before I'm closing my commissions on the 6th of October to work on my Abacelsus zine so if you'd like to get a bug or any of my regular style commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I'm hoping to make more update posts like these in the future and not psyche myself out every time because they're really good for me to collect my incredibly jumbled thoughts. Thanks again to everyone who's followed, supported or even just looked at my stuff it really means the world.

If you have any questions or just generally want to talk to me about my characters, my DMs and askbox is always open! Any professional enquires can be shot towards me email as well: eliotlime@gmail.com

XOXO, Stay weird!

-Eliot :)

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

-

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

-

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[maverick-werewolf]

Daily Werewolf Thoughts - Days 10-16

More not super prettily formatting werewolf thought posts that I've been doing daily!

Day 10- You don't really love werewolves if you don't enjoy terrible werewolf movies. Which the vast and overwhelming majority of them are terrible, at least if you ask me. But I just love werewolves so much I am driven to watch them (I also love movies with all my heart and soul), and even if the film is beyond terrible - again, as most of them are, even the ones people say are good - there's going to be a few moments that make it worth it, because werewolves are so badass, and I absolutely love studying how they created the werewolf for any film. Here's a bit of a rant for today...

One such film and series is Underworld. I hate the Underworld movies. Yes, stone me. They're terrible. The only one I enjoyed in its own right at all was Rise of the Lycans, since it had a far more compelling story than Selene's tight black leather (I understand why men enjoy this, in their defense) and absurd motivations that only extend as far as what the director wants for the next action sequence - and it was set in the Middle Ages, which is way better as a werewolf story, imo. Anyway, regardless of how I feel about the movies, I LOVE how they handled the practical effects on the werewolves.

The Underworld werewolves are unmatched. I'm not crazy about the design of the main "lie-kans" - I will never forgive the movie for the "lycans" thing btw - because they were specifically designed to be more "cat-like" or even more like a pitbull. For some reason people like to use things like cats, bears, etc to design something called a "werewolf." So I think those initial ones, like in the first film, frankly look pretty stupid. But the "feral" lycan "breed" or whatever they're called that have the more wolfish heads are a very cool design, and ultimately what I'm talking about here is how they were created and put to film. Sidebar: I'm not one of those people who thinks that the instant a movie uses any CGI, it should be condemned; CGI is a tool like any other filmmaking tool, and it can be used to achieve things we otherwise could never film and that are artistically beautiful and creative; but yes, I do prefer practical effects where they can be used.

The werewolves in Underworld were created using bodysuits, animatronics, and creature actors. They wore leg extensions, got big guys in the first place, and had extensive work for muscle, hair, and especially the faces and facial animations. The entire face is created using servos that respond to controllers held by workers off-camera to animate the werewolf costume in real time, while it's being worn by a person. The entire face, eyes, mouth, lips, etc were fully animated using a complex system of animatronics, and a comm system so the actor can be given instructions from the lead puppeteer so everyone can properly sync their work - and the final effect is such a step beyond anything we've seen from werewolf designs of this size in film before - or since.

There are better videos of the later films that had more advanced technology, like Underworld: Evolution (terrible movie but great werewolf effects), but here's one on youtube that has a lot of what was involved: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jWIF8lSlxg&ab_channel=IsaacKoo

*: "feral" by definition most often specifically refers to domesticated animals that have gone wild again and sounds very odd when used to refer to something like a wolf (but it always happens anyway because people don't care about the English language; ask any video game about their "feral wolves")

**: "breed" specifically refers to controlling the birthing of animals to produce a desired outcome, as in domesticated animals, such as dogs, cats, sheep, etc., and it makes me want to become a hermit living alone atop the Himalayas when I see people use it for werewolves

Day 11- I've often wondered what exactly set me down this path of being completely and hopelessly obsessed with werewolves. I've never really had an answer. I've speculated it was just Halloween itself, seeing the very rare and occasional werewolf around, since that's always been my favorite "kind" of werewolf. I have distinct memories of a little werewolf statue in a Hallmark; I really loved looking at that thing (never got it, though, sadly). I've occasionally wondered if it was watching Scooby Doo at my grandma's house - but in retrospect, the werewolves in Scooby Doo of that era weren't much to write home about, so that probably wasn't it. I do know for a fact I've been obsessed with them for as long as I can remember, certainly by age 6, so whatever it was, it started early. I was reading Sabine Baring-Gould's The Book of Werewolves when I was 8, searching for werewolves in video games forever, and I'll never forget the first werewolf figure I got to decorate my desk.

If you ask one of my favorite professors, who sat on the committee that passed ultimate judgment upon what became my book The Werewolf: Past and Future, she would tell you I was led to love werewolves because of "dream visions" (she is a professor and lifelong student of Old Norse, Old English, and the cultures, many sagas, and histories thereof). I told her about how my earliest memories of werewolves and the start of my obsession with them were actually long series of dreams and nightmares I had - a white werewolf would always crop up in them, sooner or later. Sometimes he was on my side, sometimes not. My dreams and nightmares are... very detached from reality in the first place, but the white werewolf became consistent for a long time. What put the idea of a werewolf into my head in the first place? I'm really not sure.

Some of my favorite experiences with werewolves come from playing as them in classic RPGs, including ones where you aren't technically supposed to be one. I loved playing a werewolf in Neverwinter Nights using character editors, cheat codes, and scripts on the big roleplaying server I played on. Now THAT was fun, but that's a whole separate story.

Anyway, I really don't even know. All I know is, I've loved werewolves for as long as I can remember, and I always will, no matter how silly that might seem.

Day 12- Remember when video games called RPGs had actual roleplaying elements in them? Some of the only games that have ever let you play as a proper werewolf are the Elder Scrolls series, specifically Daggerfall and Morrowind: Bloodmoon, the latter being my absolute favorite werewolf game ever. Why? Because you actually played as a werewolf - and all that came with it - instead of lycanthropy being a cool thing and/or awesome button.

In Bloodmoon, if you are a werewolf (having either become one from surviving a werewolf attack - werewolves spawn with INSANE rarity, trust me I found one naturally and it took me weeks, in the wild of Solstheim or you can become one through the main Bloodmoon questline), you will transform each night. You must devour 1 humanoid (playable race) NPC or suffer from hunger and exhaustion the following day, lowering your stats. The transformation will break any armor you have equipped. If someone witnesses the transformation, word of your true nature will spread, and you will be hunted. You are also attacked on sight - but NPCs will often run away rather than dare attack you. Your stats are insanely boosted, you run like the wind and leap to the point of almost flying, and you can destroy nearly anything in your path. It is one of the single coolest things in all of gaming and nothing like it has ever been recreated (I have biases).

Being a werewolf became part of your character and changed your entire gameplay experience rather than just being an "ability" or "race."

Many of these systems were also in place in Daggerfall, Morrowind's predecessor. But Morrowind was the last game of the ES series to incorporate proper werewolf mechanics. In Oblivion, we got exactly nothing, which left me crushingly disappointed as a child. In Skyrim, you have an awesome button werewolf mode wherein you must continually devour enemies in order to maintain the werewolf form. It's cool and it's fun, and I'm very glad Skyrim had werewolves playable at launch, but it doesn't have anything approaching the same feel as "being" a werewolf in Bloodmoon, where it is a curse. It can be an inconvenience, it can be an advantage, and it's something you have to plan your gameplay around - and something you must hide from everyone around you. That is what playing as a werewolf should be. I'm likely to make another post soon talking about that some more, because it's a favorite subject.

Anyway, therefore, Morrowind's expansion pack Bloodmoon is easily one of my favorite games ever made. It is really the only game where you can really play as a werewolf instead of a reasonably cool and fun but ultimately far less interesting alternative.

I also recently wrote a big ol' article about the best video games that let you play as a werewolf: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/werewolf-articles/werewolf-article-play-as-a-werewolf-video-games/

Day 13- A werewolf's transformation sequence is one of the single most important things in any werewolf story. It might even be -the- most important. After all, the crux of werewolves is that even a man who is pure at heart (etc) can become a monster - and back again - and the sequence undergoing such a traumatic change is quite a thing to tackle.

I've seen it approached many ways. Painfully (obviously), painlessly, slow, fast, as something undesirable and as something desirable, as something controllable and uncontrollable - I swear this isn't innuendo. Anyway, personally, my favorite will always very easily be the most classic concept of the werewolf transformation: painful, traumatic, and very, very bad. I am not here for cuddly or happy werewolves. I'm also a fan of the werewolf not remembering what happened, but I'll ramble about that one later.

This also actually has basis in legend, as well. Even in antiquity, witnessing a werewolf transformation would potentially bring one to madness. This is mentioned in several stories, including but not necessarily limited to Niceros's story, in which witnessing the werewolf transformation freaks him out beyond reason. When he realizes the soldier he'd traveled with was a werewolf, he swears never to go near him again: "I couldn’t have eaten a crumb of bread with him, no, not if you had killed me!"

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, oft hailed as one of the "first werewolf legends" (that we have recorded, anyway), we also get our first proper werewolf transformation ever in the form of the legend of Lycaon...

"[Lycaon] howled his heart out, trying in vain to speak.

With rabid mouth he turned his lust for slaughter

Against the flocks, delighting still in blood.

His clothes changed to coarse hair, his arms to legs—

He was a wolf, yet kept some human trace,

the same grey hair, the same fierce face, the same

Wild eyes, the same image of savagery."

I've always found it interesting to note that his clothes became coarse hair, rather than him tearing his clothes off. Just a little difference there between this and many other legends.

Lots more on the ancient Greek tale of King Lycaon here: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-fact-66-the-legend-of-king-lycaon-of-arcadia/

There are a few legends, of course, that don't make it quite this dramatic. But popular culture carried over the painful transformation sequence for those with the werewolf curse, by and large, and it's incredibly effective. Everyone remembers seeing the first transformation in An American Werewolf in London (as much as I think the movie itself frankly just sucks), and likewise no one was exactly taken by a guy jumping really high and painlessly CGI'ing into a wolf in like .3 seconds.

I obviously have a lot of opinions on werewolf transformations, just like every other werewolf thing. The best and most memorable werewolf transformations are painful, dramatic, and traumatizing - because, after all, being a werewolf is neither a fun thing nor a good time... not for anyone involved.

Day 14- There's something I deeply hate in media, and it's when someone says "a werewolf scratch can turn you!" What on earth?

I have a lot of thoughts about all of this, obviously, and I'll get more into the whole werewolf bite thing later, but let's entertain if you will this notion that becoming a werewolf is like rabies. This is an extremely Early Modern concept, following the rise of scientific thought and the dismissal of all things mystical, religious, magical, mysterious, and allegorical, but even then, a werewolf spreading lycanthropy (in itself an Early Modern concept, as it was viewed as a disease, not a curse) via bite has no basis in folklore already. Does that make it bad? Nonsense, a werewolf bite is a classic storytelling element - that, once again, almost certainly comes from The Wolf Man (1941). It's so classic that for some reason zombies later completely lifted it and now everyone acts like it's a zombie thing, which is completely unfair.

But a werewolf scratch? Really? Even if we're equating it with rabies, that still doesn't work. And how stupid is it for someone to be like "oh no! the werewolf SCRATCHED you!" When I hear "scratch," I think "my cat got a little too excited about the tummy button," not "I've been mauled by a giant twisted man-beast and now I will inherit its curse." How does a werewolf even "scratch" someone without taking an entire limb off or raking red rivers through your torso? Are we sure it was a werewolf, or is it a chihuahua*?

I really wish this "werewolf scratch" thing would stop. It's just bad all over. Bring back werewolf bites exclusively.

*: what pains me is that some people would find this hilarious and make this their exclusive takeaway, because werewolves have just become jokes

Day 15- I love a wide variety of werewolf designs. If the werewolf is presented well, the design doesn't always matter that massively, as long as it doesn't look incredibly dumb and/or doesn't even resemble a man or a wolf. Unfortunately, it's amazing how often this happens.

Many monster design classes do actually say, when designing a werewolf, absolutely don't use a wolf as a reference. Artists are told by everyone under the sun, including filmmakers: use dogs, cats, bears, mandrills, hyenas - I've even seen mules, foxes, bats, badgers... and above all, they are told explicitly: whatever you do, don't use a wolf as inspiration. That'd be like, expected or cliche or bad or corny or something, because it's a WOLF monster. And we can't do anything "expected."

Werewolves are two things: human and wolf. If you're drawing the majority of your inspiration from a bear or a cat or a fox or hyena or whatever else, why even call it a werewolf? Why not make a different creature entirely, like the Beast of Gevaudan?

(more on that remark here: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/the-beast-of-gevaudan/ )

I can understand the desire of some to have some particularly "memorable" or "unique" design (although I have never been taken by any of these attempts, nor do I remember them fondly), but ultimately, it baffles me that someone would choose to draw more directly from animals that aren't wolves for a werewolf design. Then again, you can also go too far in the opposite direction and just end up with fluffy wolf-people, and those can look far too cuddly (at least to... modern audiences; no one thought the werewolves in Dog Soldiers were cute even just a few years ago).

It's a careful balance to walk. When I was very young and innocent, I hated that many designs removed the tail from a werewolf (which they have in legend and I think it looks cooler), but I completely understand now. I also understand wanting to change the head shape, ear shape, etc, but all of this can be achieved without making the werewolf look like some other animal or like nothing in particular. There's a reason the Underworld werewolf design that became ubiquitous for so many werewolves afterward - Skyrim, for example, and World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, just to name two - was the one with the wolfish muzzle and head shape, not the "cat pitbull" design from the first film.

Call me old-fashioned (I am), but I want a werewolf to look like what it's called. Note: I'm also not knocking the quadrupedal but still part-man looking designs, although those are far from my favorite, but it should still have wolf features. At least a few.

Day 16- Another werewolf folklore lesson! How about "curing" lycanthropy? What was that like in folklore - lifting the werewolf curse?

As per usual for my discussions, I have to mention that being a werewolf was not considered a "disease" until relatively recently; it was a magical curse, not an illness that could be "contracted" or "cured," and individuals were not "infected." Likewise, there weren't exactly a lot of examples of a werewolf curse - as per traditional "transforming between man and beast on a regular basis" definition of "werewolf" - being lifted in folklore.

There are some examples of more unusual variations of the curse being lifted, however, namely with those who end up stuck in a more seemingly permanent wolf form. Removing a magic item that cursed you to become a werewolf is fairly common, such as the magic skins donned by Sigmund and Sinfjotli in the Volsunga Saga; when they wore them, they were wolves, and only returned to human form when they managed to get the skins back off again. Another example is Melion (titular character of a British lai), who was trapped in the form of a wolf when he put on a cursed ring.

And in at least one story, that of Guillame de Palerne, the werewolf returns to his human shape when the one who cursed him is killed. This is a special case in that the werewolf never actually returned to a human form and was in fact stuck as a wolf, so it's not quite your typical werewolf example, but it is still from a French story whose title was translated as William and the Werewolf - and it's a good story.

However, in the vast majority of cases, especially with the werewolves that are more in line with what we think of as proper werewolves (transforming back and forth, instead of stuck in a wolf form), either the werewolf stayed a werewolf and it wasn't really that big of a deal (such as in several ancient Greek tales and some medieval tales, for example)...

Or else the werewolf was killed. Popular culture sometimes insists the only cure for lycanthropy is death, and that also often held true in many legends. It's also quite fun and dramatic, of course, although I do get tired of the werewolf predictably getting wasted.

There is, of course, a Werewolf Fact for this: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/how-to-cure-lycanthropy/

[bloodyodyssey]

(Repost) Comms still up with 8 slots, 3 for busts, 3 for half body, and 2 for full body! Each listing also allows for up to one extra character to be added on at half price!

***If you don't want to commission me that's also fine i'd apreciate just a regular kofi dono or just sharing this around bc my finances are low, I've been averaging on $20 a month and struggling to pay hospital bills from earlier this year. i will also be considering opening a google doc or some other order form to allow payments via cashapp if there's any interest. Anyways heres a general breakdown of the pricing system and my will's/wont's under the cut:

So how do I (you, the buyer) choose what I want?

SO when you open up the request form it should look something like this!

We're using the bust order as our example here. At its base price, $15, it is set for the black and white option. If this is what you would like, then you don't have to worry about the add ons at all and you go straight to submitting your request! Now, if you're choosing add ons, it'll look something like these:

The first would be an example of an order of a flat color bust + an extra character bust with flat coloring as well. The color option adds the extra $10 (to match the listed price on the poster for $25), and the extra character with flat coloring adds half of that $25 to the order (well a little less bc i knocked off the .50 cents) which is why it comes out to $37.

The second would be an example of a black and white bust order with an added black and white bust character. This just adds an extra $7 to the price totaling $22.

What will you (the artist, me Brutus) draw?

If you want me to draw your oc or fanart of your favorite character I GOT U!!!

I'm also comfortable drawing blood and gore though I'll have to keep it on the lighter side (I enjoy blood if it isnt obvious by my url though so depending on what you want we might be able to go a little further with that).

I can do characters with armor as well, however I will require a reference of some sort from you, the client, as I'm frankly not going to attempt armor off the dome. I won't design armor myself either.

Pinups (not full nsfw due to how much of a struggle it is to navigate different site policies) and other suggestive works are also a-ok! a tity does not bother me if that wasn't made clear by my commission card 👍🏽

What will you (the artist, me Brutus) NOT draw?

Im not comfortable trying to draw real people as of right now sorry! I'm just not really a caricature or realistic portrait artist but this may change in the future.

I also won't do furry/anthro just because that isn't my forte as I haven't practiced drawing animalistic characters. There r plenty of talented furry artists for you to choose from and I could talk to someone to guide you to a few .

(I CAN do more humanoid fantasy characters however. like mermaids, satyrs, etc)

More extreme gore and body horror is also off the table. (so like spilling guts stuff like that)

I may love mecha but as it is like armor and a bit more extreme, I'm not drawing it sorry. And also as stated above I'm not drawing armor regardless without a good reference.

Certain fandoms are a no-go for me due to my own comfort. A quick list would be: mogeko games, omori, south park, hetalia, attack on titan, mcyt, hazbin hotel/helluva boss. if you're not sure just ask!

I reserve the right to decline any comission request for any reason. Getting paid is nice but my comfort is nicer yknow.

And that should cover everything! If you still need to ask me anything, my messages are open. Thank you so much for reading and a little extra thank you if you decide to commission me ❤️

[heademptie]

Thinking about Ghoap x Comms!Reader

(This is unedited ramblings at 10pm, this may end up being something, it may not)

(Also don't know if this is an actual job, but it makes sense to me that it would exist. But this is fanfiction so who cares)

Reader works for the military as well but their job is to monitor and transcribe communications during ops. Maybe they tried to be a soldier but got denied for some reason, maybe injury, maybe because they couldn't cope with directly taking lives or loosing them.

And readers been at it for a while, is good at thier job, keeps their head down, keeps what they hear to themself.

Reader is loyal, so they get a bit of leeway with their work. Gets assigned to monitor some of the 141's comms and becomes a detatched form of familiar with the team. They don't know who reader is, that they even exist, that most of their radio chatter is being heard by one person at a desk in a government building so far away.

Typically reader just zones out when working, purposefully trying to forget the confidential things they hear once they leave the building. But the 141 is... entertaining. The way they speak to each other with such familiarity and how they can make jokes without loosing sight of the mission, and how at the drop of the hat they hone in and get serious. They start to look forward to 'Price's paternal exasperation, 'Gaz's quick wit, 'Ghost's dry dad jokes, and 'Soap's cheeky comments. Occasionally they're graced with 'Laswell's easy verbal volleys with each member of the team. (Thinking about including Roach too)

And its obvious to reader, absurdly obvious, that Ghost and Soap are together. The thinly veiled, and the very not thinly veiled, flirting between the two is a giveaway. But what really sends it home is the panic. Reader was the one to transcribe the recoding from Las Almas. Right at the beginning, when Ghosts voice called out to Soap, he was calm in that call. But then Soap didnt answer. And reader heard the concealed panic when Ghost called out again, and they heard the relief when he did.

So reader figures out that they're together. Assumes as much. And takes a bit of joy from it. Takes some joy that people in such a brutal line of work have someone who understands and cares for them.

Maybe circumstances lead to reader needing to be saved. Or maybe they end up on base at the same time the 141 is there. And they run into the team some way. Readers smart, so they keep thier mouth shut about being privvy to their comms. Keeps to well known facts about the 141, the stuff soldiers outside of the team would know through reputation and minimal meetings.

Maybe they go out drinking, or maybe reader ends up bonding with the team some. They're all chilling somewhere together, and someone starts hitting on Soap and reader brushes it off. He's an attractive guy, charming too, its understandable. But Soap doesnt turn them down and reader looks over to Ghost who's watching the interaction too. And reader, without thinking says something about an open relationship. Ghost whips around on them in carefully concealed shock and asks them to repeat. Reader explains slowly, not yet realsing their error.

Its not until later, when Soap has left with the pretty thing who hit on him and Ghost had left quickly after readers comment, when Price is chuckling over his drink after reader has explained what they said, that they learn.

Ghost and Soap are not in fact in an open relationship. They are not even in any kind of relationship, romantic or sexual. And reader is shocked, if not a little disappointed, maybe even hurt. It's their own fault, really, they built up this false relationship between real people in their head only for it to remain in their head.

Later on, reader finds Ghost. Wanting to apologise for, stepping over the line? making the unsolicited comment? they're not entirely sure but they feel they should apologise anyway.

This is kinda where my thoughts end. I do have some I haven't mentioned but I don't know where to put them. Nor do I know exactly where this is going. Just some brain rot I've had.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Kinda curious on how you would rate the escapability of yandere Alucard, Anderson, Walter and Captain from hellsing

Look up -> this <- post if you want closer information about the respective Yandere type!

Alucard

Sadistic and Self-Indulgent

"That sure was amusing, but it's time to come back now. You have one last chance to return by yourself, but please, I dare you to make me come for you."

While the vampire is incredibly strong, he is not omnipotent.

We also don't really know to what extend the Hellsing organization can control him, so I figure if you somehow manage to make it to Integra she'll definetly try to help you.

Given it's difficult for him to cross the ocean this might also be worth a try.

To Alucard your defiance is more like a pastime for him, and in a twisted sense he finds it hilarious. He might intentionally let you escape to raise your hopes, just to see your mind scatter a bit more every time you fail.

Surely you'll come around eventually, but until then it is so entertaining to watch you writhe!

Escapability 1/5

Anderson

Delusional and Overprotective

"Found you, my precious little lamb...you should never leave your shepherd, don't you aggree?"

Despite the circumstances, I think Anderson would be very careful to keep your mind as intact as possible. So you're allowed to roam outside a lot - all in the safety of the Vatican and under his direct supervision, obviously.

I can see Maxwell trying to get his hands on you somehow, to have a lever he can use to control his Paladin.

Shall you ever manage to escape however, he will definetly be relentless in his task to retrieve you. Too bad for you that he loves nothing more than hunting his prey, and more often than not he'll lose the self-restraint he usually shows around you.

Let's just say after the first time that he shows you what 'divine punishment' means, you aren't willing to risk and try again.

Escapability 2/5

Walter

Manipulative and Obsessive

"My, my...it hurts me too, you know? But there was no other way. It's your fault they're dead anyways. Next time you better not leave any witnesses."

Walter's biggest asset is how trustworthy he appears on the outside. No one will suspect a thing.

You might even officially appear as his partner in public, having been made obedient through a mixture of threats and other mind-games.

A problem would most likely be to hide it from Alucard, and once he finds out it heavily depends on his reaction. Sadly I think the vampire will be passive and enjoy watching how this plays out.

Will be very paranoid and definetly resort to violence on the regulary, not even stepping back from murdering innocent bystanders just to be sure. He'll blame you for it too.

Escapability 3/5

The Captain

Possessive and Impulsive

"Captain, we found them in the storage room, tryna steal a comm. Poor thing."

[...]

Unlike the others, his organization would 100% support him in any way. So there's no use in trying and plead to anyone for help.

Schrödinger will find you anywhere, anytime, so there's no place on the world where you can't be brought back to him.

Better not enrage him, since he's the most likely to physically lash out, even if unintentional due to his species' nature. Hurts you a lot in fits of rage, even when unprovoked.

You're the only thing making sense out of his cursed existence, so he just can't let you go - even if it means breaking you in the process.

Escapability 0/5

[stellar-constellations]

I really enjoy your fanfic (Yuri Brair x fem!spy! reader) !! I always giggles everytime I read it. I got really excited when I saw your Tumblr too! You're a good writer tbh.

I just wonder to see an usual date between spy!reader and Yuri! I prefer an oneshot more but headcanons would be okay! If you're going to do an oneshot then I'd love to see the first date.

You don't have to this rq. I hope you have a good luck day<3!!

Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader (Date Headcannons)

        Beware! This fic DOES contain SPOILERS for the manga and for the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series: An Alliance (part 1)!

        This can be read with or without reading my Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series: An Alliance (part 1).

        Series information: Setting is AFTER the reader rejoined WISE (so Yuri and [Y/N] are married and [Y/N] becomes an official double-spy).

        This is NOT a replacement or part 10 for the Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader series!

        Warning: Reliving PTSD (shell shock they called it in 1950's) from war.

        Wordcount: 3,700+ words

Yuri and (Y/N)'s dates are surprisingly very down to earth and mundane. For two people that are almost always spending their time together in playful bickers and working together, they don't really go on dates often. Part of it is because they're always around each other anyways so there's little point, but it's also because the two of them have a hard time being vulnerable around one another. Even if they've been living together with months and are officially engaged, they still started out as enemies and have hidden barriers they've set up without realizing. 

A big part of Yuri and (Y/N) is how limited they both are when it comes to expression. Yuri grew up alone alongside his sister, graduated college at 14 without even finishing high school, and put his sister and studies above all else, so he's always been a little limited when it comes to expressing his feelings, relaxing, and social interactions (though he gets better as he goes along).

(Y/N) always had a problem with feeling inferior to others, whether it was because of her short stature due to carrying around heavy military equipment at seven stunting her growth, or it was because of her strength after the military's hardships. Growing up in the military and spy industry didn't leave her any time to play or bother with friends, something she does regret putting on herself at such a young age due to naivety and a thirst for change. She was busy in an adult world doing adult things as a kid that she forgot how to act her age, so sometimes those moments peak through in her everyday life because she starting to feel okay and that her feelings are validated thanks to Yuri. A huge part of her personality is to overshadow that feeling of insecurity and loss of worth, her confidence and humor is merely a facade, but Yuri knows better than that. That's why over time we can see (Y/N) mellow out, starting to calm down and unwind, over the series; starting to accept that she's safe with Yuri. 

Yuri and (Y/N) don't go on dates often because they have each other, what more do you need? Flowers and chocolates and candlelit dinners and entertainment tickets and pets, all of that can't replace the love they have for one another, whether they show it or not. There's always moments where they let their guards down and can feel comfortable with one another, such as when Yuri proposed to (Y/N), or when (Y/N) gave Yuri his Christmas present she made, or when the two set aside each others differences to work together as a co-workers and a couple.  

A major thing they both do at night before bed is talk about each other's day. They might've spent the whole day together, but they want to know how the other felt during the day. What could've been better? What did the other enjoy? What did they dislike? How did they feel? It's a major part of their relationship because it makes them both feel like their feelings are important and that they're communicating healthily with one another to make their relationship work because they care for one another. 

For Yuri, his ideas of dates are going to amusement parks, seeing movies in the theaters, candlelit dinners, and picnics in the park as dates simply because he's unsure what else could be a date. All those things are society's expectations as dates and he's just adopted it because he has no figure to ask for dating advice, his parents are dead and Yor isn't too great of a help due to her limited experience in relationships (and her current relationship being a fraud). 

For (Y/N), anything can be a date. Some simple things to cooking dinner together, taking work off together to sleep in, running errands together, visiting Yuri's sister and family together, anything is a date to her because she understands the importance of time. (Y/N) values every moment she has with Yuri because she's not sure when it'll be their last. Servicing in the Westalis military taught her how easy it was to lose everything so fast, from her friends to her most of her family, all it took was a few minutes to lose it all. (Y/N) doesn't want to make the same mistake and take another person in her life for granted. She values every mission, every hug, every kiss, and every word Yuri gives her and takes it with open arms because Yuri is what she cherishes most. 

The first date the two of them can actually agree was a date, was a simple day shopping after work. Even though the two were dreadfully tired after their mission, they were still responsible adults that needed to complete their adult chores, even if it was now dark outside. They didn't see the clouds since it was too dark outside, and shopping for groceries ended up being longer than they thought it'd take (after trying to find a store open that late), so they missed their bus. 

        "Damn it." Yuri groaned, walking back to the bus stop after trying to chase the bus down like a madman in the dark. "Did we really have to get groceries today? Couldn't we have waited tomorrow on our day off?"

        "Sorry. I didn't want to have to leave the house tomorrow. I figured we could've just stayed home and relaxed." (Y/N) sighed, plopping down on the metal bench. "You know, being an SSS agent is much harder than I gave you guys credit for."

        "Shh! Don't just say that in public!" Yuri hissed, looking around cautiously, before taking a seat on the cold bench next to her. "Who knows who is around, there could be spies or hidden bugs." 

        "Oh, don't be such a worry wart." (Y/N) groaned, exhausted.

        They sat in silent for a couple minutes, before she noticed a smile wafting in the air. It didn't smell like the city's fossil fuels or any cooking from restaurants or such.

        "Hey Yuri, I think it's about to—" 

        A few droplets of water fell on the ground and their heads, causing them both to look up.

        "Seriously? Out of all the bus stops in Berlint, this one has a leaking roof?" Yuri groaned. 

        As if on cue, the rain poured harder, before the bus stop's roof busted open like wet cardboard, dumping the water on them and their groceries. 

        "Damn it!" Yuri hissed, the paper bags wet and falling apart as they both tried to salvage their groceries from falling on the ground. 

        "Well... the worst has happened, right?" (Y/N) spoke, trying to smile positively since Yuri couldn't at the moment. 

        Nobody likes a Debbie-Downer, especially two Debbie-Downers.

        Once more, as if the weather heard her, a flash of lightning struck nearby, followed by the powerful hiss of thunder. (Y/N) yelped, jumping up from the bench and almost dropping the food in her hands. 

        "Hey, calm down. Now it's official, there really can't be anything worse to happen." Yuri sighed.

        As the universe heard their optimistic views once more, it felt the need to rain on it (literally), and it turned off all the lamp posts, the power lines being struck by lightning as the streets were instantly engulfed in darkness. (Y/N) jumped at the noise, 

        "Wow, Lady Luck must really hates us." (Y/N) commented, unsure if she should be angry or sad, but mostly a feeling of dread lingering in her. 

        "Let's just get home..." Yuri sighed, not even having energy to sound angry, just disappointed. 

        (Y/N) followed behind him, observing his quick footsteps as he kept his head low, the rain pouring down his face. He used his coat to try and keep the grocery bags in his hands dry, especially the baguette since it would be a shame for it to go to waste. 

        Even after the long day of work. and grocery shopping, they would still have to go home and make dinner and do laundry. Something Yuri didn't seem to want to do anymore chores today, he looks ready for bed. 

        The streets were dark except for the occasional lightning from the thunder, so really they were just guessing where to step and hoping they wouldn't trip. (Y/N) noticed him making use of his coat for the bags he held, so she decided to make use of her own. (Y/N) placed her bags on the ground, not caring that the bottoms got wet and started falling apart. She shrugged off her coat (really, one she stole from Yuri) and threw it over his head, adjusting it so he could see as the fabric prevented water from getting in his eyes.

        "What are you doing?" Yuri questioned, looking at her confused. "Are you catching a cold? Why are you acting stupid?"

        "I'm trying to do something nice for you, stupid!" she hissed, starting to regret her kindness. 

        Maybe it's not too late to trip him, or drown him in a puddle...

        "Why don't you just ditch the groceries?" (Y/N) questioned. "They're already ruined now thanks to the rain."

        "But we spent money on it." Yuri groaned.

        "C'mon, it's not like we don't have the money to buy more. Next time let's just carry an umbrella whenever we go grocery shopping." (Y/N) spoke.

        Yuri looked at her, then the groceries, before sighing and placing them on the ground. 

        "Oh well... maybe someone desperate enough will find good use for it." Yuri spoke. "Still, what a waste." 

        "Let's hurry up, we still have a bit to walk, and I want to get out of this weather." (Y/N) spoke, ignoring that feeling of dread in her stomach. 

        Every lightning strike caused a zap of light down the streets, like the flash of grenades, or the light from the rifle's muzzle. Her eyes traveled the streets, searching for any enemies being revealed by the fleeting light. Every bang sounded similar to a trigger being pulled and a bullet firing from the sudden explosive pressure, the sound reminding her of the ringing in her ears after she fired on some poor soul who didn't notice her hiding. The white flashes were replaced with red, the blood on her hands and in her ears, the painful stabbing sensation in her leg and rib as the bullets made a home embedded in her flesh. 

        "Hey, are you okay?" Yuri questioned as he noticed her unusual quietness.

        She was quiet, unusual for her rather talkative personality with Yuri, but it wasn't a comfortable silence. Yuri looked concerned as her face was pale, her arms motionless as she walked, and her pace slowing down despite being adamant about escaping the rain. 

        It took him a second, but then he realized it; shell shock. Of course, flashing lights and bright noises would make them remember the trauma that took place in the battlefield for a veteran, it doesn't help she was a child when she was in the war either. Even if Yuri disliked Westalis, she played a part and fought for Westalis in the war, and it brought a pity and sympathy for her to experience such a traumatizing event, much less take part in it.

        Yuri gently took her arm, being careful not to make any quick movements, and with his other hand he turned her head to face him. There was an almost glazed-look in her eyes, her expression almost emotionless.

        "Hey, (Y/N)." Yuri spoke, making sure to keep his tone calm and gentle as he moved his hand down to hers, eloping their fingers together. "Let's go home and get out of this rain."

        Rain, right! It was just rain and thunder, not any dirt hitting her from the explosions or the boom of gunfire.

         "Oh! Y-yeah... I don't really like thunderstorms..." she mumbled, regaining some sense of the present reality.

        Yuri took her coat off his head, instead placing it on her head, covering her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the flashes of light. Unfortunately, he couldn't cover her ears or anything while he walked, but he could at least prevent any visual flashbacks hopefully. 

        "Hey, what are you doing?" (Y/N) questioned, blindly following Yuri as he held her hand. 

        His pace quickened as he hurried home with her, doing his best to see since the power was still out so the lampposts didn't work. Eventually, he got to the apartment complex and took the stairs since the elevator was down. He took her to their apartment and unlocked the door, closing it behind them. 

        The light switch didn't work, though that wasn't a shock since the whole building's power was out. Yuri sat (Y/N) down on their couch and closed the curtains so no lightning could be seen, then rummaged through drawers around the apartment. He found candles and lit the wicks, at least providing a bit of light for the two. Yuri took the candle and guided them to their bedroom. He sat (Y/N) down on their bed as he picked out pajamas for the pair of them.

        He looked back at (Y/N), unsure if she'd be able to actually change into the clothes herself or not. She seemed a little better now that they were in the apartment, still obviously shaking and on edge, but at least she gave out short responses when he spoke to her. 

        "Here, change into these. I'll be right back." Yuri spoke, grabbing his clothes and walking into the dark bathroom to change in the dark while she stayed in the candle's dim light.

        He quickly changed out of his after-work clothes and into his pajamas, knocking on the bathroom door. "Hey, I'm coming out. Are you finished changing?"

        "Yes." (Y/N) spoke quietly, almost muttering. 

        Yuri opened the bathroom door, relieved to see she was still present enough to be able to do a task such as changing clothes. Yuri grabbed a towel and dried off (Y/N)'s hair, then proceeded to brush it and use whatever products he's seen her put in it before. When he finished doing (Y/N)'s hair, he took the candle in one of his hands and took her hand in his other, guiding her under their bedsheets. He tucked her in all snug and cozy, before sitting down next to her.          

        Even with the flashing light covered, every explosion outside left an explosion inside her mind, debris from that day piling up on her as she hit the tree, disoriented and confused why the falling star just destroyed her home. Or the sound of dirt being crunched as military tanks rolled in, the Westalis military trying to aid Luwen's survivors from the bombings, as the shouts of civilians and crying of injured children just like her could be heard from afar. The buses transporting the survivors to shelters as they wore gas masks to prevent themselves from enhancing the chemicals from the nukes, or trying their best to speed out of Luwen to avoid excessive exposure to radiation. 

        There was no power, so he was unsure how to distract her of the noises going on outside. Her expression seemed troubled, her eyes glazed as they tried to figure out what was the past and present. It was almost like she could feel that heavy gun strap digging into her shoulder again, or how she needed to use both index fingers to apply enough force to pull the trigger and add another fatality to her ever-growing piling count. 

        "Do you want to read a book?" Yuri questioned, unsure what else to do.

        There was no TV, no radio they could listen to since he had a plug-in that needed electricity, no chance of going outside for a walk or even just people watch. It wasn't like they had a pet to entertain (Y/N) with, though he's unsure if he'd even like a pet wandering the house while they're out working. 

        "No..." (Y/N) muttered, resting her head on Yuri's shoulder.

        Every boom sent a jolt in her chest, her body reflecting the feeling as she jolted too. Her hands shook, not from the lingering cold of outside, but from the cold silence in the battlefield. The sudden shouts on the radio channels breaking the noise, static voices crying for help after being shot by the enemy or being stabbed by a knife bayonet to where they couldn't stitch the triangular-wound. 

        "You like music, right?" Yuri questioned.

        "Yes?" (Y/N) answered, confused on what music had to do with thunderstorms in a power outage.

        "Ilse Werner... she's one of your favorites, right?" Yuri questioned. "You have her vinyls."

        "Yeah. I guess you could say she's one of my German favorites..." she nodded.

        "Do you wanna sing?" Yuri questioned, his face dead serious as he looked at her. 

        "Sing?" she parroted, cracking a smile.

        "Yeah. Do you wanna sing with me?" he repeated. 

        "Sure..." she hummed, smiling. "Can we sing 'Ich hab dich und du hast mich' (I have you and you have me)?"

        "Of course you'd choose that one." He spoke, playfully rolling his eyes. 

        (Y/N) grabbed his hand and looked up at him saying the first words as Yuri quickly followed, falling into a symphony together. 

        "Ich seh’ die Welt seit heute

        In rosarotem Licht

        Es haben alle Leute

        Ein glückliches Gesicht

        Es sehen alle Dinge

        Bunt und verzaubert aus

        Zwei kleine gold’ne Ringe

        Und schon ist das Glück im Haus."

        (From today on I see the world

        Through rose-tinted glasses

        All the people

        Have happy faces

        All the things seem

        Colourful and magical

        Two little gold rings

        And that's enough to keep us happy)

        Sure, their rings weren't gold, instead a pretty silver with rubies on top, but that's fine with them. It's not like a color would deter the two of them, their love was still as pure as gold even if their rings weren't.

        "Ich hab’ dich und du hast mich

        Was brauchen wir noch mehr

        Einmal Freud und einmal Leid

        Zu zweit ist’s halb so schwer

        Ich bin jung und du bist jung

        Und vor uns liegt die Welt

        Man erreicht ja alles leicht

        Wenn man zusammenhält"

        (I have you and you have me

        What else do we need?

        Both happiness and pain

        Are easier to bear when they're shared

        I'm young and you're young

        The whole world lies at our feet

        Well, it's easy to achieve anything

        If we stick together)

        Both happiness and pain, a vow shared between the two once Yuri proposed that ring and (Y/N) accepted. Even if they originally hated each other, coming from two separate sides of this ongoing Cold War between Westalis and Ostania as the Iron Curtain blocked them, they still had each other whilst the rest of the world was under them. 

        "Ab heute ist mein Leben

        Von Grund auf renoviert

        Du hast außer der Wohnung

        Auch mein Herz frisch tapeziert"

        (From today on my life has been

        Changed from the ground up

        Not only the walls, you've also

        Wallpapered my heart)

        Not only have the two fought each other countless times through bickers and arguments and even missions (Yuri's poor jaw), it never deterred the other. Somehow along their fighting, they managed to fight their ways into each other's hearts, keeping an iron fist to never let go of one another. 

        "Ich hab’ dich und du hast mich

        Was brauchen wir noch mehr

        Einmal Freud und einmal Leid

        Zu zweit ist’s halb so schwer."

        (I have you and you have me

        What else do we need?

        Both happiness and pain

        Are easier to bear when they're shared)

        Hardships will always be apart of one's marriage. Is it truly love if you don't fight for it? 

        "Ich hab’ dich und du hast mich

        Was brauchen wir noch mehr

        Einmal Freud und einmal Leid

        Zu zweit ist’s halb so schwer."

        (I have you and you have me

        What else do we need?

        Both happiness and pain

        Are easier to bear when they're shared)

        Love will never be easy, there will never be a perfect happy ever after. After all, love has lessons you must learn. In order to care for another, you must first care for yourself. You can't expect to care for someone if you can't even take care of yourself. You deserve to be placed on a pedestal too. You shouldn't tear yourself apart trying to sew another together. 

        "Ich bin jung und du bist jung

        Und vor uns liegt die Welt

        Man erreicht ja alles leicht

        Wenn man zusammenhält"

        (I'm young and you're young

        The whole world lies at our feet

        Well, it's easy to achieve anything

        If we stick together).

        Suddenly, the explosions outside didn't exist in her mind, but her heart instead. She smiled at Yuri, resting her head on his shoulder as she hummed. 

        "Thank you, Yuri..." she spoke.

        "Anytime, (Y/N)." He smiled, leaning back and placing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

        What's there to be scared of when (Y/N) had Yuri and Yuri had (Y/N)?

        Thank you for being patient as I work on this! At the moment, I do have more requests in, however I believe I'll finished the Andrew Graves x reader: Star Patient series before I continue working on requests. I know I always complete requests extremely late and a good part of that is not having any time to write and not having any motivation to write, so I appreciate everyone who continues to read my work and engage in my writing hobbies! Thank you to all my stars for supporting me on our journey through the galaxy together!

        Want more Yuri Briar content? Check out the Yuri Briar masterlist!

        By the way, the song was "Ich hab dich und du hast mich" (I have you and you have me) by Ilse Werner. The original song is in German. Lyrics was translated and used from the website lyricstranslate.com

Inbox is OPEN for requests!

[tapeworrmart]

I'm really working on not drawing because I feel I HAVE to. But it is hard to then not feel like I'm doing anything productive lol. I'm still here!! Comms are open and prints available etc, but also I welcome anyone who wants to just chat to me too via asks or whatnot like. Sometimes it's hard to not just feel like I'm an art machine. and I don't really know what to do about that since I do support myself through my art so I can't exactly afford to not think that way at times. But this then makes art no better than a job which steals all your self worth to make u the best worker. I don't want art to be that for me all the time, I want self worth to be seperate from productivity.

Anyway that being said, I am also thinking about opening my own shop that isn't etsy cuz they take way too much off me (and are awful). Idk what to try but I was thinking of shopify or big cartel. Any advice, esp in the UK, would be great!