#being deadweight if only for one short while

[satellitedarling]

haha god listening to music and having scenarios in your head is so fun, yes the scenarios are about a hypothetical good relationship with my parents why do you ask

[write-here-n-now]

What to do when you've crossed a line?

C.(S). Jeonghan x Reader | WC. 1218 | G. Angst| Pt. 3/? | *Jeonghan's POV* |

Part 1 | Part 2

When someone you care for deeply, tell all your secrets to and want to spend all your time with blurts out a love confession to you in the middle of the night, what possible responses could you come up with? 

You could tell them thank you. You could maybe get by with an awkward “oh”. If you weren’t completely caught off guard you could maybe start questioning them. When? Where? How long? Why? And with just their luck you could respond with “finally” but none of those responses came out of Jeonghan when Y/N confessed to him.

Why? Well because…

Why? Why? Why? Because, because, because had been swimming around in his head for days. He didn’t dare to stop you from walking away or chase after you and he stood there, frozen and shocked, watching you walk away from him. 

You needed space, he reasoned with himself, so he walked away, towards his apartment, repeating your words over and over in his head 

“I’m in love with you” “You don’t even care”

He always had an answer for everything. His tongue short, witty, ready for any comment, but never had he felt like he had escaped the ability to think of words much less get them out of his mouth, only yours stayed, knocking around in his head. 

He was a coward, that much evident that he couldn’t even pick up the phone to press your contact. Fear and worry were holding him back but at the same time limiting him. How long can you avoid speaking to your best friend? His friends tried to pry why he suddenly became AWOL for the last three days; he couldn’t even give them an answer.

*Ping* “Where have you been the past few days?” - Mingyu *Ping* “There is a new restaurant near campus, I’ll pay” - Jun *Ping* “How long are you gonna be cooped up at home?” - Seungkwan *Ping* “Are you good?” - Hyungwon *Ping* “You haven’t been to class for a while…everything ok?” - Joshua *Ping* “It’s literally midterm season, are you studying or avoiding exams?” - Woozi

Not a single notification interested him, he knew none of them were yours. How had he taken your presence for granted and now all he wished were for you to message him, even if it was to curse at him, call him names; anything at all would have worked.

Jeonghan hadn’t been hurt in love. He’d fallen in love and fallen out. He’d had his fair of crushes and partners, but you can never prepare for falling in love with your best friend. Losing your most cherished friend comes with a feeling of hollowness, one that leaves you feeling restless and alone. He couldn’t lose you, not like this anyway. He hadn’t eaten, sleep wouldn’t come easy no matter how much he wished it to. He checked his phone despite knowing full well you would never in a million years reach out after the situation he had created for you two. 

Four days was how long it took for Seungcheol to bust down his door and drag him out of the house. 

“You can’t be inside for this long. You need to get out of the house…maybe even clean it up”

Walking up to his bed, Seungcheol pulls off the covers and grabs a hold of Jeonghan’s arms, pulling the man towards him haphazardly trying to get him to a standing position.

Seungcheol’s strength was unmatched, and the most Jeonghan could do was continue being deadweight and cause him enough resistance until Seungcheol let him be, but his friend was nothing if not fucking persistent. Any other time, Jeonghan would appreciate it but he couldn’t find it within himself to face the world, what if everyone laughed at him?

Letting him go, Jeonghan falls back into the lying position Seungcheol had found him in, attempting to sleep without avail.

“She’s on campus today,” Seungcheol mentioned in a tone so nonchalant, hands on hips as if Jeonghan wasn’t mentally beating himself up all week trying to figure out how he could see your face. “Don’t lie to me” “Why would I need to lie to you? I know you probably haven’t seen her in the last four days like a coward,” he replies as he walks towards Jeonghan’s closet. “I saw her as at the campus café after my morning lecture.”

Despite never properly admitting how enamoured he was by you, Jeonghan had spilled everything from the day of the party over the phone to Seungcheol two nights ago. From the dejection in his voice, yet the coolness of his words gave away the façade he was still trying to put up; he was only hurt that his best friend confessed and stopped speaking to him, which was also his fault for enacting by not even a weak effort to leave a voicemail.

The wheels were turning in his head, maybe if Seungcheol could get them to see each other there could still be some salvage to their friendship and perhaps a potential beginning to a future being something more.

Wide-eyed and frozen, Jeonghan’s face is met with a thump of the hoodie and jeans.

“Here, put this on and get down to the car in the next 15 minutes,” Seungcheol yells out walking out of the room.

Never in his life had he rushed to dress faster. He had to see you today and clear up everything, if he didn’t, he could kiss you and your friendship goodbye. 

Seungcheol had said 15 minutes as a courtesy, he hadn’t expected Jeonghan to surge into his car, 7 minutes later, hair a mess, shoes untied (were they on the wrong foot?), phone in hand, yet not even a pencil on him—if he hadn’t picked out the hoodie himself he would have thought a random stranger burst into his car. 

“Let's go,” Jeonghan breathes out, clearly spent from sprinting out of his apartment. “Whoa, hold on, are you going to go to campus like this?” “Nobody is going to care, just drive” “...ok…don’t say I didn’t give a chance to change,” Seungcheol reprimands as he starts the car and begins to reverse out of the parking lot.

The ride to the campus is silent save for Jeonghan’s fingers drumming against in thigh, then the dashboard, then the edge of the door, then again on his thigh.

“Can you maybe not use my car as a drum set?” “I can’t help it. What if Y/N doesn’t let me explain?” “What exactly do you plan to say?” questions Seungcheol.

He knew Jeonghan could likely talk himself out of a literal court case but if he hadn’t been able to face his feelings for you before…His hopes were low.

Pin drop silence. He had been planning all the possible scenarios and speeches he could utter the minute he found the presence of your face in his vicinity, promising himself to not let you walk away again.

“..i..”

The ever-infamous smooth talker Yoon Jeonghan was once again brought into debilitating silence, as if speech was foreign to his lips and thoughts vanished completely.

What was he going to say to you, could he even say anything to you that would make up for how he ghosted you since that night?

Worst of all, would you forgive him?

[marytunno]

-read below-

THE WOODS HER ONLY HOME

Hot Pie was practising the bird calls Kurtz had taught him before, before he had left them too, the wound on his shoulder taking him in a fever.

- Shut it!- grunted Gendry, he had been helping Lommy walk since a lance had broken and pierced his leg.

- I’m a blackbird…- explained the boy trying to keep up 

- Well, you just sound stupid!- said Arry, the little crying girl following him like a shadow.

Hot Pie bit his tongue and kept going, he didn’t want to fight with Gendry or Arry, they were the only ones that hadn’t left him or Lommy behind.

 In those brief moments when they forgot about their quite tragic situation it was almost nice being together. If they had met before leaving Kingslanding they could have been friends, he would even have given some of his mother’s pies to them… he didn’t even remember how those tasted like… the only taste in his mouth the foul one of acorn paste… 

A sound through the woods. 

- That was a good one, Pie! Were you trying to be a thunder?- spoke Lommy, his dirty hair sticking to his pale forehead

Hot Pie blushed.

- It was his stomach, stupid…- explained Arry

- Well, I’m hungry! If only you listened to me… we will die if we keep walking circles in the woods, if we go on the road maybe…- 

-No!- said together Gendry and Arry, sometimes it seemed they thought with the same one brain.

- But why? We did nothing wrong…- started Lommy - If only Yoren had yielded to the guards nothing bad would have happened! If we ask for help they will give us food or maybe…- 

Gendry stopped for a moment and looked at his blonde deadweight

- Maybe they kill us - he said more tired than actually annoyed 

- But my leg hurts and we are starving, there are wolves everywhere and we are probably lost!- continued the blonde boy

- We are not lost!- Arry turned around and looked straight at the others

- And if you are so hungry you could eat some bugs or worms, I could dig them up for you!-

Lommy made a disgusted noise, there was no way he would have eaten one of those disgusting little things.

- You can keep those for yourself wormbreath… we should look for an inn where they can make us real food! Ouch…- 

Lommy now sat with his ass on the ground.

- Why did you do that, Bull?- cried the boy 

-I’m tired and you are getting heavy…- spat Gendry 

- Maybe we can stop for a while to rest…- tried Hot Pie ready to let his body fall to the ground, he saw Arry and Gendry look at each other, one of their silent conversations.

- Fine…- said Arry - But we’ll have to walk some more before nightfall…- 

The sun was still high in the sky, its light piercing through the leaves turning the ground into a constellation of lights and shadows. Lommy had closed his eyes but kept complaining in his sleep, Hot Pie had placed a hand on his friend’s forehead, it was burning like an oven, that wasn’t good. 

- Where are you going?- asked Gendry, his eyes on Arry

- I’ll be back in a second…- he explained with an annoyed tone

- What about the little girl…- 

- Well she is not crying now… and she is distracted playing with that rock… she’ll survive a second without me!- said Arry hurrying away

- Where do you think he is going?- sked Hot Pie

Gendy had a weird expression on his face, he probably was thinking about something, he always made that face when he was thinking. 

- Probably needs some quiet and peace before having to deal with you all again…- he said flatly 

- But he is going to be back, right?- 

Gendry scowled and rolled his blue eyes.

- Of course… Arry doesn’t leave anyone behind… but if you keep talking I will and you’ll have to help Lommy walk yourself!- 

Hot Pied swallowed his next question and stretched himself on the ground for a moment, waiting for Arry to return.

Arya went back to the other as quickly as she could, a smile on her lips. 

- Fucking finally!- grunted Gendry, he seemed a little distressed holding the little girl from the ground, Arya almost laughed, it was clear he had never been around babies much during his life.

- She was eating dirt again…- he explained holding the girl toward her direction as if to say that now that was Arya’s problem.

Arya smiled as softly as she could at the little one, she must have felt so confused and scared, so young without her mother… 

Arya made the little girl spit on the ground what had been in her mouth, some dirt, a leaf, the rock she had been playing with before.

- Like that, little one…- she said, using her hand to clean the small face… The girl complained a little bit but in the end she left Arya clean her up. 

- You are good at this…- Gendry was now looking at them 

- I mean with babies and…- he continued his trail of thoughts out loud 

- I’m good at a lot of things…- answered Arya meeting his gaze, the sounds of the woods the only thing around them for a moment. 

- And you!- Arya went back to focus on the young girl - You can eat only what I give to you! No more dirt!- the baby just made a little shriek and hugged Arya as she often did. 

- You are being so loud! I need to rest!- complained Lommy, his face so pale he hardly looked alive. Arya felt too sorry for the boy to talk back at him… she had no idea what she would have done if she had got hurt… wounded wolves rarely survived for long.

- I have good news if you care to hear it…- she said catching everyone’s attention 

- Not much from here I found some trees… they had crabapples on them… if we go there we can have some…-  

Hot Pie jumped on his feet, the weariness from the long walk forgotten.

- You sure it’s not dangerous? Could be part of a farm or something…- started Gendry 

- I say we go!- stated Lommy 

- I saw no one there and there wasn’t a wall around the trees… sometimes the seeds just travel in the wind… I think it’s safe. - 

Gendry nodded, some food would have been good for them, it was worth the risk.

Arry had climbed barefoot on the tree making the green fruits fall to them, they were sour and in some they found some worms but for a moment they had felt like kings before a banquet. 

Gendry had helped Arry down from the tree, not because the small boy needed his help but like, he did it just to do something nice. Arry finding some food had been the first good thing happening to them in a long time.

- What?- Arry’s voice woke Gendry from his thoughts, he had been looking at the small boy cutting a crabapple in smaller pieces to help the little girl eat.

Gendry looked at him confused.

- You were looking at me…- he said, his grey eyes waiting for an answer, not many people had grey eyes in KingsLanding

- And? Is it forbidden?- he joked taking a bite from his crabapple, sour but still good. 

Arry just blinked and then shrugged.

- I just thought you wanted to ask me something, I don’t know…- the conversation died there.

Lommy knew a cool trick where he could catch a piece of fruit after he had thrown it into the air, Arya had tried to do the same but her crabapple had fallen on the ground instead… she had eaten it anyway and the little girl had laughed at it… it was nice… the sound of laughter… 

- You think she had a name?- asked Arya after a while looking at her little friend jump around the roots of the tree

- Maybe…- said Hot Pie 

- Her mum died without telling us tough…- continued the boy, some sadness in his small eyes 

Arya sighed, she knew that look, she missed her mum too… 

- We should give her a name…- proposed Arya thinking about the way Sansa had been so good at naming her dolls… Arya knew good names too… she had learned most of them from old Nan’s stories… 

- Why?- asked Gendry

- Well, she is not crying anymore… we can’t keep calling her crying girl…- explained Arya as if it had been obvious 

- To me, she looks like a little weasel, we should call her that…- said Lommy, his leg was now resting slightly raised on a stone

Arya frowned 

- That’s unkind! She looks nothing like a weasel!- 

- I can see it...- 

- Shut up Hot Pie!- continued Arya, she wondered if the little girl understood what they were talking about, it had hurt being called Lumpyhead or Wormbreath by Lommy…

- Hey Weasel, come here! I can give you an apple!- continued Lommy catching the girls attention 

- I think she likes it…- he said 

-Am I right Weasel?- smiled Lommy giving her the crabapple, she started sucking on the peel all happy

Gendry noticed Arya’s pout, she had been biting her lip too 

- Can you think of a better name?- he asked

Arya’s mind for a moment filled of names, names she had loved, names she missed, names she wanted to call again… 

-Err…- she started

-Then Weasel it is…- Gendry ended the discussion and then moved a bit on his right to leave some place for Arya to sit with her back to the tree trunk.

- Fine…- she said sitting close to him, Weasel was better than “crying girl” anyway.

After a while Arya felt Gendry’s eyes on her again, she gave him a questioning look.

He sighed and then whispered under his breath 

- I can’t keep carrying Lommy…- he seemed almost sorry about it.

- But, you are strong… you can! You are saying this just because he is annoying you!- whispered back Arya keeping an eye on Weasel walking toward them with some grass between her small fingers

-I’m not… at first he could at least walk a bit… carry his own weight… but now it’s getting worse…- 

Arya looked at him for a long moment 

- What are you saying? That we should leave him behind?- she scolded him 

- If he keeps complaining maybe we should…- answered Gendry, he wasn’t serious, Arya was sure he was just tired. 

- There has to be a way! We are not leaving him!- 

Gendry sighed, of course Arry was being stubborn about it, whoever had called Gendry bullheaded had never met Arry. 

- Why do you care? He called you mean names and he is never useful…- he said looking at Arry 

- Please! It’s just the right thing to do… Yoren would have wanted us to stick together… It wouldn’t be right to leave someone behind, he needs our help… don’t you think I know I would reach my… I’d be faster on my own? But we have to stitch together!- 

Gendry nodded at those words and looked at the trees around them 

- We could make a stretcher with what we find around… carry him like that… - he finally said, it would have been easier with someone helping him

Arry smiled so nicely and for a second a weird thought crossed Gendry’s mind.

The idea of the stretcher had been a good one and the next day they carried Lommy in turns, always walking north, under the sun during the day listening to the wolves howl at night. Sometimes they fought and felt hopeless but sometimes things could be good and in those moments they could let themselves hope that there was a good ending to their journey: that Lommy wasn’t going to die as Yoren and Kurts and too many had died before, that Hot Pie was going to taste his mum’s pies again, that little Weasel was going to grow up safe and with people that cared for her…

But it didn’t last for long, and now Lommy lied dead, his blood staining the grass, Arya, Hot Pie, Gendry walked toward death, a hopeless march under banners painted with dogs… and little Weasel ran, ran and kept running, the woods her only home.

Some missing moments with the gang... I love so much the way Arya protects little Weasel in the books and I really hope she is still alive somewhere being the little feral dirt eater we all love so much<3<3

[randomnameless]

Land 5 aka before the final boss done !

Albion...

Well, it has a city named Bordeaux !

Ça fait un bail que Bordeaux et l'Aquitaine ne sont plus aux mains de la perfide Albion !

What else can I say...

The final stage bgm was kickass, I loved the architecture and the "subquests" with goats and the character who turns ennemies green was... A thing lol. Still Nigel isn't a deadweight so that's something nice.

Plot wise...

Ugh.

If anyone got it better than I do then please help me lol, because from what I understood, the pope (hereditary title in this verse) got only one child (tfw your line is super special magical plot related but you only get one kid) and told both of his right arms, Nigel and Sanatio, that they should never speak of her to anyone, including themselves.

So... Nigel secured Scarlett far away (uh...) 6 years ago and didn't tell Sanatio, per the pope's orders, Sanatio knew Scarlett existed but since her existence must remain secret, per the pope's orders, he... Uh... Never knew where she was ?

So when the pope decided to fold against the evil empire, and subsequently later died (something Gharnef is pissed about, because the pope's line is the only one able to destroy mc guffins) Sanatio thought that he had to pretend the pope was still alive to make sure Albion and the Orthodoxy would not descend into chaos ?? Like, Nigel couldn't tell him that "I shipped Scarlett to parevia aka an island that is as far from Albion as the UK is from France, under her dad's orders some years ago, let's find her to both protect and mount a resistance against the empire ?"

I knew Albion was scrapped because bankruptcy and all, but damn if in a game where Gilbert, Virginia, hell Alain and to an extent Yunifi and Morad exist, this felt contrived as fuck.

Besides, I know you are technically able to go to Albion before doing bastorias, Drakengard or Elheim (Bastorias or Elheim must be done though) but damn if doing things in order paints Scarlett in a crap light, after Erigor and witnessing the elves zombies and learning about the occupation in both Cornia and Drakengard with mysterious plagues around, and we open Albion with Scarlett worrying about her dad (while she was there when Galerius told us he was dead !) and wanting to show Alain the place where she picked up flowers when she was younger.

Special mention to her former childhood friend Raelys (?) with whom she reunites and wants to go to their special flower field again... Only to be ambushed by Raelys because while childhood memories are nice and all, Raelys' younger brother was taken hostage and she wants to save him.

Then we have Fodoquia's backstory... And Scarlett looks like an ass, especially for someone who was basically supposed to inherit Albion, who never cared about her country and her people.

Still in the few subsequent chapters she expresses her desire to help the people of Albion and her care for them (with still the memetic "I always thought about you" to get childhood friend when a majority of her rapports so far where about Alain, her feelings for him and jealousy at the other female leads or fluff) so there's that.

Ultimately I believe this discrepency is both due to the game being short on money but also the writers having wrote Scarlett as the "ojou" archetype, when the elf twins, even with their 5 lines about the plot of their land, and to some extent, Virginia and Yunifi/Ramona are concerned about their homes and people and written as such.

Plot happens and it's revealed, the empire is actually full of body surfers who were banned to the shadow realm for having sacrificed an unicorn and their big plan is to transmigrate everyone in living bodies, Scarlett's line is special because her magical powers are the result of experiments on humans with blood/parts/powers (?) of an unicorn, the failed results were duds and gave birth to the feathered people (angels) but Scarlett's ancestor was a success, the Cornian royal line is also special because it was founded by a young woman who was the only one granted immortality and not banished to the shadow realm eons ago, so she got some magic powers but gave up her immortality, and the laguz were originally elves who decided to become laguz so their bodies couldn't be snatched, but they forgot how to turn back.

Anyhow, for all of the unicorn imagery Alain got, I found it cool that the "our line was founded by the Maiden in the Unicorn and Maiden duo" thing is/was referenced in Ilenia/Virginia's skillset, it sort of helped to lessen the "uwu Alain is the saviour and chosen one" thingie that hits especially hard after Drakengard and Gilbert's last convo where he confesses he and Drakengard in general have always been jealous of cornia, so learning only Cornia's king can be the "chosen one" to get rid of the evil ghost empire...

Also, since you can skip Drakengard to reach that point and ignore her existence, I guess the "Alain saviour bcs he descends from the Maiden and has the magic ring" feels even weirder when Virginia is also in the party, but she can't equip the magic ring (granted if Alain were to die, would Virginia be able to equip it plot wise ?)

Fwiw, even if Gerard's infinity +1 sword can be used by Alain, I gave his magic ring to Virginia, his other grandkid by beating his ass with the Tricorns, plot be damned.

I mean, I usually dgaf about chosen ones plots, but when the second arc was all about a potential claimant/heir accepting to stand down and let their sib/cousin run the show, the game saying "only sib/cousin can save the world" feels a bit like a slap lol

Alain gave the "totally not-engagement ring" to Joseph, his dad in all but blood, and I rounded up several rapport conversations (wtf was Fodoquia and Bryce's lol) and mini quests.

Units wise... Ramona works well with the angels who have their discharge skill lol, and Bertrand spinning with his hammer will never cease to be hilarious.

I'm sure I'm not using Berengeria well though, because now she keeps on dying (ffs you have a giant shield can you just use it for once ??)... But Bruno makes up by hitting like a truck.

[faceofpoe]

Musings about next week's finale and trying to wrap my head around the wonky back half of the season pacing after my adoration for 1-7...

As fun as 'Omega is riding the zillo best outta here' and 'the Echo & Emerie team-up we never knew we needed' are...

And forgiving the big '???' that is Hunter & co's plan at this stage because like, sir, there are three of you (+ deadweight) trying to sneak up on a high-alert secure facility on foot (with no backup sound familiar??) (jfc Echo I hope you called for backup)...

(seriously I do not understand why they did not detach while they were still in orbit and send their coordinates out to Rex & co)

With the exceptions of episodes 2&9-10, this season has been about... Crosshair. Even when it doesn't quite seem like it's about Crosshair... it's about Crosshair.

(8 is very much about Crosshair if you watch it the way I watch it) (it is also very short if you watch it the way I watch it LOL)

(10 could arguably be made about Crosshair, from the perspective of seeing deeper into what Hemlock wanted him to become)

(fuck it, let's even make 2 a little bit about Crosshair, as Deke, Stak, and Mox give us a firsthand account of just how fucking twisted Hemlock is)

(reach with me friends lol)

To a certain extent, I think (I hope?) the pacing feels weird because we're really watching Crosshair's journey. And Crosshair was in something of a holding pattern from eps 5-10. He's home. He's traumatized. He wants nothing more than to put Tantiss behind him. Circumstances won't quite let him.

He plays ball with the datapad, he's as helpful as he's willing to be considering he wants nothing more than to never be obliged to return to Tantiss.

I never did quite sleuth the timing of his 'um actually' about the assassins with Rex; why in that specific moment he deems it worth mentioning besides dramatic irony lol oops there's one in the next room.

But the speed with which he used his ex-Imperial know-how to figure out the datapad was our clue as to how events would progress (with such limited screen time left) after he misses the shot in ep 11. It comes off rushed but only because he's had the tools. He just very much did not want.

So yeah, shoving it back and returning for Omega - who is probably the reason he never spoke up about Rampart in the first place, as her determination to rescue the other clones was the first thing out of her mouth on Lau - brings us nicely full circle with episode 3.

But this short-episode slow-build of eps 12-14 - the way he talks about never wanting to go back, reminding us twice about the hand - needs a dramatic tragic rewarding payoff specific to him. And, given the slow unraveling of information - a payoff specific to just what it is he is still not saying.

I actually do expect a mostly triumphant ending (some of you have extremely dark expectations for this show and these characters good lord) but there's gotta be one more big hit before we get it.

Omega riding the zillo beast out of here (lol) and the Echo & Emerie team-up we never knew we needed are fun, but I can't imagine a satisfying climactic drama to Tantiss that isn't centered around the question of: "Okay but just what has Crosshair fucked up so badly?"

(And being me, the answer of course is: CX-Tech but YMMV)

[alphagirl404]

An Impulse Decision: Chapter 30

Fanfiction.net

AO3

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

****

Chapter 30: Crisis of the Conscious

*Shortly after Link & Co left the Sealed Grounds*

When Groose first heard of Zelda's disappearance, only two things were on his mind: Save Her. And prove to her that he was more worthy of a friendship with her than with Link. That's all he cared about. So when the opportunity came for him to follow Link and his friends, Groose took it and didn't look back.

This should've been the chance of a lifetime for Groose. Finally, after many years of Link outshining him, Groose would finally show once and for all to him, Zelda, and everyone on Skyloft that he was better. To show that he was tough, not weak. That he was an honest hard worker. To be seen as a hero. Someone to be admired, not brushed aside by a lazy bum like Link. He would receive recognition if he had found and brought Zelda back home. Except that never happened.

Rather than seek glory, all Groose had gotten was humiliation.

Everything changed when that monster, The Imprisoned, showed up. All his life, Groose imagined himself being the one who slays the evil monsters from stories he had read growing up. Yet when a monster showed up for real, all he did was get paralyzed with fear. The Imprisoned wasn't anything Groose had ever fathomed in his entire life. Never in his whole life did he feel such fear.

And somehow, Link, the boy Groose had constantly accused of half-assing his way through knight training, defeated that monster. While Groose, the stronger one, couldn't do a damn thing except almost get killed by it. Groose shudders when recalling hanging over mere feet away from the sharp, jagged teeth of The Imprisoned's mouth. He could still smell the stench of its breath. When he was sure his end would come, Groose's fear overcame him.

What's worse, Link and his friends saw it all. Bad enough Link took down the monster himself, but Fledge, of all people, was the one who saved Groose's life. Fledge, pipsqueak as he liked to call repeatedly, saved him. Groose couldn't fathom why Fledge went out of his way to do that. Especially since he had a tirade on how Groose was the worst person in the world only moments ago. Whatever his reasons, it didn't change that Groose had been rescued by him. And Groose wasn't sure if he should be thankful or mad.

Groose knew he was not a nice person, and he had his reasons why. Being nice never got him anywhere. To him, niceness was a sign of weakness. Meanness, on the other hand, equals toughness. And toughness earns him respect. That's what he tells himself. That's what he was taught. Groose convinced himself that matter how much everyone on Skyloft disliked him for how he was, they had some type of respect for him.

But Fledge's rant hit him with an uncomfortable truth. Nobody had ever respected him. And by chance, if at least a few did respect him, including Cawlin & Strich, they surely would lose it all for him thanks to that monster. Now everyone will know how Groose is a weakling.

By now, Groose was sure that Link, Fledge, Karane, and Pipit were gladly telling everyone on Skyloft that big tough Groose was nothing more than a weak coward. He probably would be doing the same if he were in their position. They are all most likely laughing about pathetic, useless Groose. After today, the illusion of respect that Groose had was gone.

Coming down here was a mistake. Silently, Groose cursed himself for foolishly following them. He should've stayed in the Dining Hall with his friends. The illusion of respect would've remained. Now all he got was his worst fear coming true: That he was nothing but a useless deadweight.

It had only been a short while since Link and his friends had left the Sealed Grounds. Probably hours for all he knew. But Groose didn't care. He was in no hurry. Not anymore. He can't go back to Skyloft. Not now, and he did not know when. After slamming his fist against the walls of the Sealed Temple repeatedly, he rested his head against the temple's wall, thinking about what to do now.

Eventually, the sounds of footsteps caught his attention. Standing not too far from him was the familiar old woman.

"What do you want, Grannie?"

"It was too quiet out here. I wanted to make sure that you were okay." The Old One moved closer to him. "Your arm."

Groose was confused by her statement until he glanced at his bicep. The cut that he got from his fall earlier remains. He didn't seem bothered by it.

"Just a stupid cut."

"If you allow me, I can treat it. I would hate for you to get an infection."

Under normal circumstances, Groose would have denied her request to appear tough. But after what happened earlier, that facade can no longer work. Reluctantly, he followed The Old One back inside the temple.

The Old One spends the next several minutes treating Groose's arm while he sits in silence. The only sounds he made were the small grunts from the stings of whatever medicine the old woman was using.

"That should do it," The One One wraps a bandage around his bicep.

"Thanks, I guess," Groose muttered, keeping his gaze away from her.

"Would you like some food?"

The Old One showed a large, yellow, delicious-looking fruit. Groose took the fruit without saying a word, giving it a big bite. The Old One watches Groose in silence as he eats. Groose had noticed her staring when she reached the fruit's core.

"There something you need, Grannie?"

"Link told you about the Loftwing Statue?"

"Yeah, he did. Whatsittoya?"

"I figure you want to head back to your home in Skyloft."

"I'm in no hurry. I doubt anyone would care."

"Link seems to care about your well-being."

Groose let out a scoff. "I doubt that. He and his friends don't give a shit about me. And I sure as hell don't give a shit about them and never will."

"Why do you disdain Link and his companions so much?"

"What gave that away?"

"The argument all of you had earlier when trying to convince them that you were better suited to search for Zelda. I can see there's an unpleasant history between all of you. Why is that?"

"What's there to tell? They don't like me, and I don't like them. Simple as that. They do not care about me."

The Old One wanted to press the topic further. But she felt she wouldn't be getting anywhere with Groose right now. So she moved to a different matter.

"What about your friends?"

"My friends can handle themselves without me," Groose recalls Fledge's statement about Strich avoiding him the past several days since the Wing Ceremony in his mind. It left a tiny sting in his chest.

"What about your family then? I'm sure your parents must be worried."

"They're…no around."

"I'm sorry for your loss," The Old One said sorrowfully.

"Not in that way!" Groose urgently stated.

"Oh?" The Old One gave a curious look.

"They, um…can't take care of me right now. They left me at the academy at Skyloft. They'll come back for me once things are settled with them."

"I see…" The Old One stated, unsure what to make of that. "Well, if you're going to stay here for a while, perhaps you can help me. I need some wood to make a fire. There's an ax nearby. Use it to chop down a tree and use the bark to make firewood. Would you be kind enough to do that?"

"I guess." Groose had never done anything like that of the sort. But he figured, why the hell not. Not like he has anything better to do.

The ax was heavy, but Groose's muscular build made it easy to handle. Chopping down a tree, which was more significant than the ones he's seen back on Skyloft and the other Sky Islands, took half an hour for him to chop down. Then he spends another half an hour breaking them down into smaller logs. A task like this Groose would've been done thanks to his strength. But he struggling. The wood that he broke down looked like it was done by a sloppy person. Someone like Link unless he was making one of his stupid wood carvings. That made Groose frustrated. Bad enough that his image is more than likely ruined, now his body had fought against him.

Night had fallen unto The Surface hours later. Fire from the imperfectly chopped wood inside brightened up the temple's interior. The Old One tended it too. Groose was sulking in silence not too far from her.

"Fine wood you got," she said to instigate a conversation with the boy.

"Took me forever to chop down..." Groose commented.

"There is nothing wrong with that. You got some, at least before the sun went down."

"I could've brought more. I handled weapons heavier than that with ease, I'm sure. But I struggled with that ax!"

"Nobody will always get perfect results."

"That's not how it goes for me. I'm tough! I could've brought five bundles of wood! Instead, my focus was all over the place. All I could think about was that monster." Groose tried to prevent his words from trembling. "I've never seen anything like that before. Not even in those stories I've read. And now, thanks to it, Link saw me at my weakest...After today, he'll never let me live that down."

Pure disguise riddled the teens' tone mentioning Link's name. The Old One took note of that.

"May I ask why you have such a disdain for Link?"

"I already told you, Grannie."

"You're not telling me the whole story. I may be old, but I am not senile." The Old One's brow grew firm. "Holding in your feelings is not good for you. I'm sure what happened between you & Fledge would be a good example."

"Fledge is too sensitive! If it were me, I would never let that happen! I'm not a weak little pipsqueak like he is!"

"And yet, that so-called 'pipsqueak' saved your life." The Old One declared calmly yet had a hint of sass.

Groose honestly did not have a comeback for that one. "I-Uh...Why do you want to know badly anyways?"

"There is no harm in wanting to get to know one another, especially if you intend to stay down here for the time being. Now may I ask again. Why do you have a disdain for Link?"

"You want to know why?" The Old One nods back to Groose. "Nothing! That's why!"

"Nothing you say?"

"Yeah! He does nothing! He sleeps in. He eats like a slob. And his head is constantly in the clouds! Yet somehow, he's the best in the academy! The best sword fighter! The best flyer! And he got promoted to Senior Knighthood before me, even when he barely practiced! And everyone somehow likes him. I can't go anywhere in Skyloft without hearing somebody saying how great he is! And I hate how he constantly rubs his friendship with Zelda in my face! The nerve of him after he stole her away from me!"

"Stole her?"

Groose glanced at the old woman. "Zelda and me. We were friends once. She was my first friend when I came to Skyloft. She was the only one willing to talk to me. Link kept her away from me any chance he could. Almost a year after I arrived at Skyloft, I told him how I felt. And you want to know what happened? Link escalated things, and I rightfully defended myself, but Zelda took his side and stopped talking to me after that! Link's stupid friends and everyone on Skyloft look at me like I trashed their house because of that. It's not my fault Link & I couldn't get along!"

"Denial is often the first step." The Old One stated, unswayed by Groose's argument.

"First stage of what?"

"Acceptance that you have a problem."

"I am NOT in denial about anything!"

"Is that true, or a lie you mask as truth to convince yourself?"

"Convince me of what?"

"That you are the misunderstood hero of the story. The behavior I see you display tells otherwise."

"It's called being tough. That's how I got people to respect me!"

"You call harassing and insulting people gaining their respect? Maybe things are different on Skyloft, but I'm sure that is how you get people to fear and hate you."

"DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY PEOPLE STAY OUT OF YOUR WAY?! NOT BECAUSE THEY RESPECT YOU! IT'S BECAUSE THEY HATE YOU!"

When The Old One said that, Fledge's harsh words from his outburst ranged into Groose's head. Groose wanted to argue back and give a case on how that isn't true. How she doesn't have the full context of everything. But something prevented him from doing so. Seeing that Groose did not respond, The Old One went on.

"You may think fear & respect are one and the same, but I promise you it is not. If you keep acting the way you are, you'll spend the rest of your days in loneliness and bitterness. Everyone that you tormented will not have your name in their minds. Unless you change your ways, you will spend your days alone."

"I don't need any change! My life is fine! So DROP IT!" Groose towered over the old woman. Glaring her down, his teeth clenched, and hands balled into fists to intimidate her.

"If you insist." The Old One, unfazed, let out a breath. "I plan to turn it in soon. I have a spare blanket. You're more than welcome to sleep wherever you wish."

It wasn't long until The Old One had fallen into slumber on the top of the steps where she likes to sit. Groose was far from here on one end of the temple where a patch of dirt lies. He figured it would be a quiet spot for him to relax, far enough away from the old woman's meddling. Long after The Old One fell asleep, Groose remained awake, thinking about today's events.

By now, Link and his friends probably told everyone on Skyloft about Groose almost getting killed and how they saved his useless ass. The reputation Groose believed he had is no doubt gone. Perhaps, he hoped, there could be a way to salvage it. Where there's a will, there's a way. How to do that, he has yet to figure out.

A loud yawn let out of his mouth. Planning would have to be a wait. He could probably sleep on it. Laying on his side, Groose pulled himself into a deep sleep.

****

Surrounding him were many trees. The sky is dark. No animals were around. Despite the darkness, Groose manages to navigate his way through this unknown forest. Groose stumbles upon a clearing. A familiar teenage girl with blonde hair stood in the middle. She turns to face Groose with a sweet smile on her face.

"Zelda?"

"Oh, Groose! You found me!" She spoke with joy.

"It is you! Thank the Goddesses, you're okay!" Groose ran to Zelda, giving her a hug.

"I was so afraid! I thought I would be stuck here forever! But now you're here!"

"Happy to help, Zel! Let's get you home!"

"Before we do, you deserve a reward for finding me."

"Like what?"

"I think you know…." Zelda places her hand on Groose's cheek, giving him such loving eyes.

Groose felt his heart flutter as Zelda slowly guided his face towards hers, puckering her lips. Groose closes his eyes, puckering his lips. The heat grew on his face excitedly when he felt his lips close to Zelda's.

"Oh, Groose…" Zelda stops within centimeters of Groose's lips, her voice turning dark. "...If only there was someone out there who loved you."

"W-What?" Groose stood flabbergasted, watching Zelda walk away from him.

"You think finding me would make me instantly love you? That I would suddenly forget the years of you bullying my friends? You expected me to jump on you just like that?!" Zelda laughed mockingly in a way that gave Groose chills up his spine. "And you call Link stupid! You are such a poor dumb brute. I would rather jump into a tornado than be anywhere near you."

"Zel…what's up with you?"

"What's up? I'll tell you what's up." Zelda marched over, pointing her finger like she did on the day of the Wing Ceremony, giving a cold glare. "It's YOU. You are the problem, Groose! You can't handle a single fact: Link is better than you in every way!"

"That ain't true! I am better! I found you, didn't I? And where is Link? Probably slacking off again! That proves I'm better, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Link emerged from the forest trees, strolling towards them. Lips curved into a smug smile.

"Link?! When did you get here?!" Groose was shocked to see him.

"Newsflash, asshole. I've been here the whole time. I found Zelda long before you."

"Then why are you both still here?"

"Because we wanted to see you make a fool of yourself. That's all you're good for." Groose was shocked to hear words coming from Link. "Don't look at me like that. You deserve it after the hell you gave me for the seven years we've known each other. This shouldn't be a surprise to you."

Link's face was close to Groose's. Glaring sapphire eyes burn right onto Groose's amber eyes. Groose attempted to not tremble.

"You better get out of my face or else-"

"Oh, else WHAT?" Link cut Groose off mockingly. "Your tough guy act can't work anymore. I know who you are for real."

"Not just me and Link. We ALL know who you are." Groose noticed how Zelda put the emphasis on 'all.'

"Cowering away at the sight of a monster does paint a good picture." Pipit leaned against a tree with his signature arms crossed pose.

"A sad little boy who projects his issues onto everyone around him." Karane appeared from behind the same tree Pipit was leaning on. "You DO know what projection means, right, Groose? We learned about it once in class."

"He probably wasn't paying attention. He must've been thinking of another elaborate scheme to get Zelda's attention away from Link," Pipit stated to her.

"Ah, right. It wouldn't be a big surprise. Groose displays lots of signs of possessiveness. Also, something we learned in class. Do you know what we also learned about possessive people? They have some…insecurity issues."

"Hmmm…Now why would Big Bad Groose have insecurities? This is the same person who acts like he's the greatest gift from Hylia and the Golden Three. What's there to be insecure about?"

"I may have the answer, Pipit," Link spoke up. "Groose here is jealous. Jealous of me."

Groose froze like a statue while Link stared straight into his soul. Link was amused by this state.

"Don't act so surprised. Ask yourself. Why do you always try to make me look bad? Why are you always competitive with me? Why did you try to cheat your way to beat me? Simple answer. You're jealous that I'm a better person than you. You tell yourself I'm a slacker undeserving of the love and praise I receive. You must be so upset when you saw how wrong you were today. You can't be better than me, Groose, because you have a horrendous personality. You know you can't compete with me."

"Except when it comes to me." Zelda stepped in. "You don't love me, do you Groose?"

"O-of course I do!" Groose argued, only for Zelda to respond by slapping his face. The impact left his cheek stinging.

"Don't lie! You don't genuinely love me! The only thing you love about me is that I'm a trophy. A trophy that you can show off as proof that I'm the one thing you have that Link doesn't! That's all I am to you. You don't care about my feelings at all! Because if you did, you would finally let it through that thick head of yours that I'm not the one for you."

"But I do care about you, Zelda! My first year on Skyloft was the best because of your friendship with me! I always cherish that time we had."

"Well, I regret it! If I could take that year back, I would!" Zelda hissed back harshly, stinging Groose's heart. "Especially after what you said about Link's parents! I should have never wasted that year trying to be your friend! You've always had it out for Link! For what reason?! Link was always trying to be nice, but you always such an asshole back to him!"

"You always blamed Link for Zelda ending her friendship with you," Pipit scoffed. "But we all know: You drove her away, Groose."

"You blame Link for all your problems to make yourself the victim of your misfortunes. A classic sign of narcissism, might I add," Karane added with a giggle that unsettled Groose.

"You hated me that moment we met. I never did anything to you other than be nice. All you ever saw is a threat to your fragile nonexistent ego," Link spat to him. "Maybe that's why you tried to murder me."

"Mu-murder you?!" Groose was shocked by that accusation.

"The Wing Ceremony. I almost fell to my death because you locked away my bird. I wouldn't be shocked if you were hoping for that."

"That's not what I wanted! I-I had no idea Zelda would push you off! Honest!"

"Cut the crap! You always accused me of being stupid. You were hoping I'd be stupid enough to jump off Skyloft, right? You always wished that I was out of the picture."

"I honestly did not know that! I don't hate you that much!"

"Could've fooled me." Link hissed at him. "Regardless, I'm sure everyone on Skyloft would've believe that you intentionally tried to kill me, whether you planned it or not. You're just that awful."

There was undoubtedly off about these guys. How they spoke in morbid tones. Also, their skin was pale, and their eyes were a vicious yellow with dark pupils. Eyes filled with malic. A voice in Groose's head urged him to run. When he tried, Groose was greeted with a fist in his face. The impact forced him on his back in a daze. When his vision cleared, Groose was shocked to see Fledge towering over him, fist clenched with blood on his knuckles.

Unlike the others, who had vicious glee on their expressions, Fledge stared Groose down with pure hatred. His skin was also pale, and he had yellow eyes painted with malice.

"Running away from your problems. And you call me spineless," Fledge spoke to Groose with utter disgust.

"Glad you could make it, Fledge." Link looks down to Groose. "Looks like you got him good. How does it make you feel?"

"It felt…good. But I want to hit him more. I want to hurt him the same way he hurt all of us!"

"He will soon enough, buddy." Link gave an affectionate pat on Fledge's shoulder. With a sneer on his face, Link crouches down to Groose. "You shouldn't be surprised by this. Aside from me, Fledge is the one you bullied the most. Now why I wonder? I mean, in my case, jealousy is the likely conclusion. But what about you?"

"I've been asking myself that for seven years."

"I think I might have a theory of my own," Zelda voiced.

"Do tell, Zel,"

"Well…Groose hates you, Link, because you have everything he doesn't. Fledge, on the other hand…is basically the opposite of Groose's desires. So he bullies Fledge just so he can feel better about himself. You get what I mean?"

Link's eyes brightened up when it clicked on what Zelda meant. "It all makes sense now." Eyes still glued to Groose, Link stood back up. "You hate me, Groose because I embody everything you wish to be. While Fledge…is the embodiment of everything you're afraid to be."

Pipit and Karane let out feigned gasps of shock.

"Goodness."

"Juicy stuff right here."

"Now, what we want to know, what do you think of this Fledge?" Link glances at the boy.

Groose waits anxiously for Fledge's reaction. For several seconds, Fledge is relatively calm while he processes everything. Groose might have had hope that Fledge was not taking it badly.

How wrong he was.

Fledge's lip grew to a sinister amused grin. Low chuckling escaped his mouth. The volume slowly rose until it erupted into full-out boisterous laughter. Not the laughing one might do when they hear a funny joke. The kind that sounded like it belonged to a person who was utterly psychotic. Someone that Fledge is not usually. Other sounds were heard in between his laughs said, like crying. That's what terrified Groose the most.

"Seriously?! That was the reason why you bullied me so much?" Fledge said to Groose amid his psychotic laughing fit. "You were afraid of becoming me?! That's some hilarious shit right there, you know that? Why? What about me you're afraid of, huh!?"

"N-nothing!" Groose got a bad feeling about where Fledge was going with this. Unfortunately, that answer upset Fledge enough to kick Groose's ribs very hard.

"Don't lie to me, asshole! What are you afraid of?! Afraid of being smaller than everyone else?" Another kick was felt on Groose's ribs. "Afraid to be weak?" Fledge stomped on Groose's face. "Afraid of letting everyone belittle and walking all over you?" Fledge pulled Groose by his pompadour, staring straight into Groose's face with his hated-filled yellow eyes. "After others making you feel like the most worthless person in the world LIKE YOU DID TO ME?!" Fledge punches Groose's face, sending him flying.

Agony aches over Groose's body as he lies on the cold hard floor. In different circumstances, he could've, no, should've fought back. An invisible force had prevented him from doing so. Groose didn't even muster up the strength to speak in defense. An invisible grip was letting the others do what they wanted.

"What?! Not going to fight back? Now it's clear who's the real pipsqueak!" Groose heard Fledge's voice filled with venom while he attempted to march over in his rage, only to be gently restrained by Pipit & Karane.

"Easy there, buddy. You got your message across," Pipit softly said to him.

"It's okay. Groose can't hurt you anymore," Karane assured before she and Pipit turned their cold gazes to Groose. "He can't hurt ANY of us anymore."

"That you're correct, Karane. Groose will pay for his sins," Zelda smiles darkly at Groose.

"A certain someone is eager to see you again. I think you would be perfect for each other." Link gave his own dark smile. "You might find that you both have a lot of things in common. After all, you're just about as big a monster as it is."

All five slowly moved closer to where Groose was. Groose crawls backward to get away. Arm up in a stop gesture, he pleads to them.

"C-come one, guys. Don't do this. I know you know that this is wrong!"

"WRONG?! If anything, everyone at Skyloft would praise us! They won't shed any tears for you! You bring nothing but dishonor!" Pipit proclaimed harshly.

"You contribute nothing! You do nothing for the benefit of Skyloft other than being a horrible person to everyone around you!" Karane jeered.

" You're a useless waste of space. Like I said:  No one respects you because you're a big, selfish, asshole!  You don't deserve to be a Skyknight! You don't deserve anything at all!" With all the hatred in his voice, Fledge then tells Groose. "You don't even deserve to live.  The world will be better off without you... "

Hearing that from Fledge, made Groose felt hurt. Hurt because Fledge said those words. or the fact that he was right?

"You're nothing, Groose. You will always be nothing but dead weight. You'll rot down here and be forgotten," Link said with sadistic glee.

Red energy swirled in Zelda's hand. "But don't worry. We'll relieve you of your pain…" She said with a haunting grin.

The red energy covered Zelda's body. It manifested into a red gooey substance. Outspreading onto the ground like a red puddle. As it spread, it climbed onto Link, Pipit, Karane, and Fledge. All five were consumed by it. They all turned into five hellish-looking hands with claw-like nails. The five hands hunched over. The red hands jerked upwards with the unholiest screech. One malice-filled yellow eye is in the center of all five of the hand's palms. All set their sights on Groose.

The teen tried to run fast, barely dodging one of the hands, grabbing him. Groose's luck gave out as he tripped in the woods. The Hell Hands found him. One by one, they grab hold of him. Their grip was so firm Groose felt his joints cracking. The hands said various things to him with a combination of distorted voices from the five teens Groose had wronged for seven years.

"You will not escape your fate!"

"Suffer for your sins!"

"You will burn! BURN!"

They carried him through the woods, maintaining their grip despite Groose's hard struggle. Their destination leads them to the edge of the woods. Groose's eyes widen to see a familiar temple with the spiral pit below.

Waiting in the pit was none other than The Imprisoned.

There was only one thing Groose could do in one final resort. Begging for his life.

"Don't do this! Please!"

Groose said with desperation. He had been reduced to tears. One of the Hell Hands turns to face him. Its malice eye stare right into Groose. The Lone Hell Hand inched close until its palm was a mere few centimeters away from his face.

"Look at you. Such a pitiful state. Pathetic." The hand spoke with all the collective voices. "No wonder why they left you at the academy."

The emphasis on the word 'they' gave a heavy feeling to Groose.

"Nobody in this world cares for useless trash like you. Trash must be disposed of. And the real kicker? You have only yourself to blame…."

The rest of the hands move Groose to the pit's edge while the lone one watches. The Imprisoned glances up in their direction. Its hideous jaw curved into a smile. Groose could feel his heart beating as he desperately tried to free himself. The Lone Hell Hand gave an evil laugh.

"May you burn in hell, Groose."

The Hell Hands tose Groose into the air. He helplessly fell straight to the pit, watching all the hands return to their human forms. All gave goodbye to him with sadistic smiles as he plummeted. Below him, The Imprisoned opens its jaw wide open. The last thing Groose could do before he was eaten by the monster was let out a loud painful scream.

****

Air desperately sucked into Groose's mouth when he darted up. Sounds of his hyperventilating echoed across the interior of the Sealed Temple. Cold Sweat resided on his skin. It took minutes for Groose to calm himself down before giving a sweet breath of relief when he realized that what he saw was only a nightmare.

Judging by the darkness, nighttime still lingers. The hole in the Temple roof allows a view of the stars. Soothing sounds of crickets chirping occasionally chirped. That alone should have helped Groose relax. But he could not.

Recalling the nature of the dream made him uneasy. Despite it being a dream, all of that felt too real for his liking. Groose has had nightmares before. None felt as real and horrifying as this one was.

"Are you alright?" The Old One's voice made Groose jerk. Once he realized it was her, Groose attempted to hide the shock & fear.

"I'm fine…Just a bad dream," Groose responded, trying to sound tough.

The Old One did not buy that answer. "That did not seem like 'just' a bad dream. You were tossing in your sleep. And I heard whimpering."

"You probably saw it wrong. I can handle a nightmare. Not the first time I got one. Why do you even care anyways?"

"It would not be right of me to leave you while you are clearly struggling."

"I can handle myself fine. I've gone through most of my life without needing help. I don't need you to babysit me."

"I am not babysitting you. I wish to help you."

"I don't NEED your help! I never need anyone's help. And turned out quite fine! Just drop it!" Groose barked back with intensity.

"If you say so. I will leave you be." She walked a few feet away when she stopped to turn her head back. "But know that if you need it, I will help you. Asking for help doesn't make you weak. I promise you."

"Goodnight, Grannie," Groose uttered.

"I wish you a pleasant sleep."

The Old One walked away from Groose. He laid back down on his side. No matter how hard he tried, Groose could not go back to sleep. All he could think about was his horrible dream. Thinking about it brought him to tears. It took all of his willpower to not cry, for he did not want The Old One to hear. Out of his stubbornness or fear, he wasn't sure.

"It was just a dream. It was only a dream. I'm not that bad…Right?"

All the negative thoughts swarm in his head. Images of the nightmare kept showing up. They were as clear as day. The words the figures in the dream spat onto him, the harsh words Fledge said to him yesterday, all the glares and whispering people back on Skyloft did when he walked by kept repeating. Over and over again.

Another image included two lone figures. A man and a woman, to be exact. They glared down at him. One sentence uttered from them.

"You are a useless child."

Groose didn't get much sleep that night.

*****

One of the perks of living in an old age is gaining a better insight. This gift allows one to catch on to things in the world around them better than those younger. These individuals can get a better understanding of certain people. More so better than the person. Some are so insightful that they can get a good deal after a single encounter.

The moment Groose barged into the temple demanding to tell him where Zelda was, The Old One had already got a good idea of the kind of person he was. Further confirmed when he and Link's group had their heated conversation. She could see that Groose was filled with arrogance, self-absorbed, and clearly stubborn. Not a good combination for a person to have. As she saw, Groose has negative feelings towards Link and his friends. Fledge's outburst is evident in what kind of person Groose was. Many would be understandable quick to dismiss him as a rude bully. When she was much younger, The Old One would've been one of those people.

But she is not young. Has not been for a long time now. She now has a better understanding of the world. While many wouldn't even spare a second glance, there is one thing The Old One knows.

Groose is hurting. He has been for a long time. And he won't admit to it. There is one proof that indicates that."

"You don't get far in life by being soft. You need to command respect."

That lone statement from Groose alone proved to The Old One that his tough guy act is all a cover to prove himself that he is useful. Due to his attitude, it was clear that Link's group, and possibly many others back to their home of Skyloft, would not think of him as the most helpful person. Again, Groose was blind to it.

Now the question remains that not even she could answer on the surface. Why? Why is Groose this way? Why does he persist in carrying this illusion of himself? Why won't he accept help?

Unfortunately, Groose did not seem open to accepting help. After witnessing what his nightmare did to him, The Old One sees that he clearly does need it. She knows the boy's potential and wants to show him that. But how can she when he refuses her help?

The following morning, she had spent thinking hard and long about her move when Groose went outside to gather more firewood. After hours of thinking, she had gotten an idea.

Her people have a ritual that might be helpful. The Old One had seen the effects of it once when she was young. She saw that it helped the person who participated in it, and they spent the rest of their lives as a better person than before the ritual. By the time they passed, they had lived a fulfilled life, passing away with warm smiles surrounded by those they loved. That may be the only key to helping Groose.

The Old One writes on a bit of note. When finished, she made a whistle. In flew a hawk, who let out a screech. She ties the message onto the Hawk's leg and then sends it on its way. Now all The Old One had to do was wait.

[pridepages]

eARC Review: Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

A HUGE thank you to Netgalley and Wednesday Books for providing me an eARC in exchange for an honest review!

RATING: ⭐⭐⭐

GOODREADS SYNOPSIS:  It’s been hundreds of years since King Arthur’s reign. His descendant, Arthur, a future Lord and general gadabout, has been betrothed to Gwendoline, the quick-witted, short-tempered princess of England, since birth. The only thing they can agree on is that they despise each other.

They’re forced to spend the summer together at Camelot in the run up to their nuptials, and within 24 hours, Gwen has discovered Arthur kissing a boy and Arthur has gone digging for Gwen's childhood diary and found confessions about her crush on the kingdom's only lady knight, Bridget Leclair. Realizing they might make better allies than enemies, they make a reluctant pact to cover for each other, and as things heat up at the annual royal tournament, Gwen is swept off her feet by her knight and Arthur takes an interest in Gwen's royal brother. 

RELEASE DATE: November 28, 2023

See my full review under the cut!

MY REVIEW:  I first became a Croucher fan with their first novel Reputation, a regency romantic comedy that introduced me to their gift for irreverence, high-speed banter, anachronistic plots, and lovable characters. While all are present in Gwen and Art Are Not in Love, this book doesn’t quite hit its marks as well.

What initially made me quite excited about Gwen and Art was its elevator pitch as an Arthurian novel with a queer leading cast. The idea of the ill-starred romance between Guinevere and Arthur being spun as a lavender marriage was delightful. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that’s not what this book is. Croucher’s Camelot is one generations separated from the great Pendragon. The current royal children--heir Gabriel and his sister Gwendoline--struggle to live up to this great legacy. It prompts a storyline of struggle against internalized--and potentially externalized--homophobia. There’s no denying that’s part of most queer people’s lives. But that tale’s been told over and over again. We’re finally seeing a crop of authors who are telling stories unshackled by these expectations. This is a pseudo-medieval world akin to the 2001 film A Knight’s Tale, so did this Camelot really need homophobia?

Croucher’s characters here are also hit-and-miss. Their lead characters--Gwen and Art--are quite grating. Each is selfish, entitled, stubborn, and superior in different ways. Art does grow on the reader and seems to evolve the most over the story, but Gwen is quite difficult to love. Literature definitely needs more difficult women, so the issue is not that Gwen has to be particularly docile or sweet, but it becomes hard to root for her when she is constantly carping at everyone while being deadweight when it matters. Luckily, the supporting cast in the form of Gwen’s brother, Gabe, her lady in waiting, Agnes, her love interest, Bridget, and Art’s man, Sidney, round out the cast with more endearing personalities to cheer for. 

Another grating mesh is the B-storyline of the politics in this fictional England. Readers are repeatedly told that there are ‘cultists’ who believe that Arthuriana and legendary magic are all real. There are ‘Catholics’ who seem to represent the opposing ‘realists.’ We learn the ruling family is not long on the throne because there were threats outside their borders and internal unrest is further destabilizing them. The problem, frankly, is it’s all too much for the tone. Firstly, this is a romantic comedy, not a history lesson about this fictional country. Secondly, if you’re going to introduce that much background world-building, then it has to conclusively tie to the plot. But the reader is left baffled: we’re teased by the idea the cultists might be right, but there are only brief brushes against magic. We never do hear about the threats that border countries pose after the first introduction. Infighting between contestants for the English throne could have been pared down without the multiple vague parties and plots. Ultimately, this book feels like two different stories that were stitched together, but not smoothly. Sometimes a plot thread would be abandoned for large chunks of the book and then return quite suddenly, jarring the reader into memory and then making you wonder why it was there in the first place.

However, Gwen and Art Are Not in Love remains an enjoyable read. One of its most endearing qualities is the friendship that springs up between Gwen and Art. The world could use more books that show solidarity between men who love men and women who love women. So here’s to Croucher for giving us a good one!

[todayimgonnaplay]

Today I'm Gonna Play: Baldur's Gate 3

Welp, it's finally time for me to try this one out! I've been wanting to try a DnD-esque video game for a while now. I've played an irl session a handful of times albeit short, but it was pretty fun! So I was curious to see how a CRPG would hold out.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I'd like the game or, at least, feel motivated to play to the end. I did play a little bit of the Dragon Age games on Game Pass, but it seemed like I needed to be in the mood to play this kind of genre. However, I've been utterly proved wrong. Long has it been since a game would get me so hooked, I'd jump on it every chance I get, spending all my free time, depriving myself of sleep while being completely immersed in another world.

Although a number of games that have released over the years that have been choice focused, I haven't found much of them have really nailed how they impact the characters and world around you. A common complaint is that they tend to just impact the endings you get. I didn't mind this, as choice-based games were a fresh experience for me and are still fun if I want something traditionally non-linear. BG3 really showed me how much choice can actually cause consequences, to the point that sometimes my analysis paralysis would come up and I'd sit and REALLY think on what my character should do. The best part is, all of this creates a unique playthrough, leaving you to a treasure trove of what-ifs for future playthroughs. I find that quite commendable!

Another great aspect of this game is the overall story and characters. I'm weirdly not into traditional fantasy settings for some reason?? (although I loved them as a kid) But after playing this game, I can see the appeal of having different races, classes, and having a myriad of systems and concepts in this type of fiction (maybe that's why I couldn't get into the Dragon Age series?). Each character you party with (companions) have personally crafted stories and personalities that I felt emotionally connected to, wanting to see their stories to the end. Admiteddly, I didn't care much about them (except Astarion who drew me to the game for being the supposed ''poster boy'' I guess?) at first when everyone was acting distrustful lol, but over time I gave them a second chance, finishing the game like I went on an adventure with friends. I noticed that each of them had some heavy themes of their own, it was really nice to see how the game treated it with such nuance! Now feeling more intrigued, I'm hoping to dive into these settings more often in the future with an open mind. My only gripe is that the romance aspect seemed to come up a bit too early for some companions but I think I'd chalk this as a programming issue. And although the companions are designed to be playersexual, a sexuality filter would also be beneficial to suit player preferences/playthroughs better.

Another aspect I love is the music! Again, I weirdly don't get into medieval style music much for some reason, but Borislav Slavov really knocked it out of the park! I didn't find a single track to be annoying or boring, even the ambient ones. Each track really helped fit the mood of what was going on and would play in my head even after a session. In fact, I'd love to attend a live orchestra if I get the chance!

I don't have a lot of gripes with the game, other than just minor visual and UI bugs. Overall, I'm really happy I got to finally try out the game. It definitely deserves all the praise it gets! I'm already on a second playthrough via co-op and found so many things I didn't see in my first playthrough. I hope that future games can put in this level of care to make their worlds and characters much more immersive to be in. Also I chose Bard in my first playthrough thinking I'd jokingly be a deadweight, it's now my favourite class. I can proudly say I'm no longer a ''bardcist''.

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hello, if you can, could you do a V x Vergil’s previous lover reader scenarios? (The reader is gender neutral 😊) unless if you already did so

I only do scenarios for event base stuff however I think I can make this work as a headcanon blurb! Hope you enjoy! ☺

Note: reader can be Nero's other parent I left it vague enough for the reader's interpretation/preference I just ask just because of that not to tag it as fem reader or as "Nero's mother" when/if reblogging, the work is still gender neutral with absolute no references to being afab.

(This work includes gender neutral!reader)

V reuniting with Vergil's past s/o

It's certainly... a hard pill to swallow when he finally sees you again after all these years. How long has it been? He isn't sure, time is a ficky matter for him to comprehend given, well, everything that's happened to him - what happened to Vergil.

He feels guilty, what he did all those years ago, leaving you behind and not making the most healthy of mindset decisions. But here you are now, however long it's been, working along side the Boy and that Nicoletta woman for apparently his brother's demon slaying company. No matter how hard he tries he can't help his thoughts to drift on exactly when you must've met Dante - how that conversation must've gone - however he shakes it off before it ever gets too far, he's on a evermore ticking clock and time grows shorter and short each moment he ponders over the regrets and outcomes of his mistake filled past. He must bring himself and Urizen back together before it's too late.

However that doesn't stop his eyes from wondering each time your around. You look just as heart swellingly beautiful/handsome/gorgeous as the night he left you behind for his own goal; power, power his heart frantically needed in order to quell his inner child and trembling desire never to loose anything ever again... you were just took much in the way of that, he told himself at the time, too much of a distraction - but deep down he knew: he didn't want what happened on that day happen to you as well and every step you took with him down that dark path was endangering you to that fate. It became unbearable he had to force himself to flee from you that night while you were still asleep because he couldn't have possibly had the strength to tell you while you were awake, not when you meant so much to him - not when you cracked at his broken heart in ways no one has ever had touched before. Weak and cowardly, his younger self deprecated, but in his gut it necessary to push himself forward.

Those few days before the fall of the tree in Redgrave, in between and even sometimes during fights his familiars has with the raging hoards of demons on ruined streets, he thinks about you again quite often - he thinks of you, bloodied and suffering from possibly a concussion from your own scuffle with Urizen, with an arm wrapping around Nero's shoulder and his only arm around yours keeping both of you balanced but rocking back and forth almost teeter totter-like as alternatively your legs both shake to struggle to stay upright as you three make your escape back through the tree to leave - more importantly your scolding to the younger man looped around you as you express an almost parental like anger of him coming here, with a missing fucking arm and only just barely out of a coma, expressing how worried Kyrie and Nico must be of him coming all this way barely on two legs from Fortuna to get involved with this mess Redgrave finds itself in followed by the small "Yeah, yeah"s that feel so much deeper under the surface, probably still hurting from the Deadweight comment from Dante, but it's oddly still genuine knowing you're just as worried about him just as much as Kyrie, Nico, and the foster kids will be. It reminds V how you would act just as much of a similar manner when Vergil would come back from doing reckless matters, how you would scold him for hours on end and he would just... let you even if he thought your worrying unnecessary, as he is a son of Sparda afterall and no minor demon is going to cause him much hassle, he did find your concern a bit heartwarming, even if this was something he'd absolutely never admit to you out loud instead just usual finding the gentle embraces he would snake you in speaking all they'd need to.

Maybe it's his own fault for thinking of you so much that once the Redgrave meet up operation does commence he does give you the cold shoulder, only answering questions in simple responses if asked and tries his best not to make himself stand out, although not just you but to everyone in the crew, again he is here on a mission and any connections he could make in his mind are nothing but fruitless wasted time when he finally does return with Urizen... at least this is his thought process of the beginning of that day. His time spent with you and Nero in particular as you three keep running into each other and fighting together begins to complicate that.

I'm going to say there is a point you two run into each alone, however, surrounded by demons crawling out of the allies, sweeping down from the sky, jumping down off buildings, crashing through walls, summoned via Judecca, ect that gets the two of you fighting back to back and I think that's when this just begin to click for you personally. The way he taunts his enemies, the way he trick plays, Blake's poetry, the hair swipe back, the summon fucking canes... it just makes sense but doesn't for you at the same time. But you don't say anything, maybe it's just your imagination but... something is just very unsettlingly familiar about him that you're fearful to yourself to even give it more thought, just push it aside and dodge the next wave of attacks coming your way.

But in the mist of this you do accidentally get yourself injured a bit, not too much that a bandage from your supply stack can't treat but enough to knock you off you feet a bit. Leaving V's brain to almost kick in haywire as faint traces of past mate protection instincts kick in where he's at your side treating and wrapping up your wound really before he realizes it - you, on the other hand, absolutely do. His breath all in one moment catches in his throat as he looks up from where his hands are occupied wrapping around the quickening damp blooding wrap around your thigh to your face. Your eyes, so (color) and so nostalgic for him, look at him with such a tender softness that take him back, twenty years or how ever long it's been, makes him forget.

He's not V, he's not a broken man crumbling apart at the seems, he's not Mundus' sword... he's Vergil, still as young and as strong as when he was by your side.

Your eyes widened and flutter as you suddenly look away from him, almost as if you were doing the same reminiscing he was, with a loud clearance of your throat you manage a small: "Thank you, I - um - shouldn't have been so clumsy." followed by the sweet sound of your embarrassed laughter. It shakes V out of the state he was in too, everything reverting back to the way it was and remembering everything once more. He's silent but he gets up before offering you a hand to pull you off your feet, oddly enough the whole situation noticeably missing some sort of the usual snark commentary from a certain bird, however Griffon only hovering above you two in silence - most likely picking up the tense engery in the air. Anyway, you two should go catch up with Nero anyway.

The day grows further and further into the afternoon and V's mindset is more... desperate than it was much earlier. Each step he takes his body flakes away, crumbling, and that guttural fear Vergil felt making his way to reunite with his childhood home becomes more and more adamant as it sets in the man's soul for one objective and one objective only: he needs to get to Urizen before Dante. It's all a similar feeling he known all to well on that day as a child; fear. Fear and desperation to survive. He doesn't want to die, not like this, not after everything he's done. All the harm he's caused to thousands others from civilians the cities of the place that the Temen-ni-gru was raised and now here in Redgrave, all the wrongs towards you, Dante, Nero. He just - he has to survive and make his atonement. It's only right.

But when he's been carried by Nero through the rest of the Qliphoth with you trailing behind, V knows it's coming maybe an hour at most? He's tired and no longer he cares to keep up his "secret" anymore, he answers Nero exactly what is question of him - telling the story of Dante and Vergil, their conflict and Vergil's downfall and everything in between. He knows you can heard him. He knows this confirms you're earlier suspicions and in away as he's telling everything to Nero he makes a point to be mentally addressing it to you as well. His way of a "confession" if you will, though he's too ashamed to look at you. At any moment he expects you to say something but it never comes. You stay silent. You stay trailing behind. This is the last time "V" directly in a way speaks to you.

It only lasted a couple of seconds to you, Dante, and Nero from the outside. The moment V gave Urizen the finishing blow and the harsh blue light scorched the area, knocking both Dante and Nero back - but not you as you hooked your feet seemed to be cemented to the ground and you could only dead blankly stare out at the scene folding in front of you, every falling in slow motion as the glass of the facade created but the fruit shattered around your surroundings. To V - no, to Vergil - it lasted much longer than that where both his demon and inner child comforted. Yes, things felt mighty different the moment Vergil reopened his eyes... much different. For the first time since he was a child he felt whole. Brief flashes surge through his mind the last few moments the facade glass reflecting of his childhood home crashed to the ground around him; him and Dante as children playing in this very yard the illusion faded, the moment he laid eyes upon you followed by your warm touch to his face and how your head tilted and just the warmth and love matched in both your eyes and your smile, and finally something only happened recently but the first few moments as V when he arrived through the younger man's window that night and got a closer look at Nero - the boy whose arm he ripped off causing all of... this.

If he turns around he'll be able to see all of you, with his own eyes and with his own body. There will be resentment, he knows that he's equally wronged all three of you. However, he might at least get a decent fight out of all of it and he has severely missed fighting with his brother afterall. Everything else with making matters right for you, Nero... will come in time. He'll make damn sure of it.

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

Tagging list

@blacktalonsb @lokilover476 @emeraldpearls @lemonerzest

How to be added to the tagging list + additional info

[oh-mydarling]

Tender is the Touch

A little fluffy sickfic I wrote for the lovely @lanawinters-ily because she deserves the world <333

It was gone five when Lana finally left her office, having spent the majority of her afternoon writing up her next story. She had had a busy week, researching and interviewing and finally writing up her new exposé, but she was most excited to spend the weekend with you, unwinding in your presence after a difficult few days of work. 

After her short commute across town she turned off the engine of the car and stepped onto the path, walking up to the door as she fumbled through her bag for her keys. She retrieved them and put the key into the lock, immediately frowning when a dark silence greeted her in your place. Throughout her journey she had bene imaging you at home, what you might be doing; perhaps you were curled up in the arm chair with your current read, or in the kitchen preparing dinner. Maybe you were perched against the window ready to pounce the minute you saw her car pull up. When she entered the house, you were doing none of those things. 

“Darling?” She called out to you, placing her bag down next to the door and kicking off her heels. She flicked on the light in the hallway and walked further into the house, brow furrowed in confusion as she sought out her love. She poked her head into the lounge and upon seeing it empty, ventured into the kitchen, looking for at least a trace that you were home, close enough for her to gather her up in her arms the way she had been dreaming of all day. 

You had been much less productive with your time than she had, being inflicted with a severe headache just a few hours after she left. You had tried to push through it, moving around the house to clean it up and finish the dishes from last night, but eventually you relinquished, tumbling into bed like a deadweight as the pain blurred the day around you; minutes turning to hours and before you knew it the front door was opening. 

“Sweetie?” She called up the stairs when she began to make her way up, hoping she would find you in the bath or perhaps distracted by Netflix while you laid on the bed. When she finally reached the threshold of your bedroom, she let out a little sigh, leaning against the doorframe to observe you, nestled in the centre of the bed with a frown stained across your face. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn, indicating to her that you were having another one of your headaches. 

“Oh my little flower,” she sighed, coming to perch on the edge of the bed near your feet. She rested her hands over your legs wrapped up in the duvet, stroking your calf over the fabric. “Darling how long have you been up here, hm? She cooed, shifting closer to brush some hair away from your face. “Don’t know.” You grunted, the effort of articulating yourself already causing the pounding in your skull to intensify, making your eyes squint with the pain behind them. 

“Okay little love, I’m going to go and get you some water then I’ll be back up to stay with you, okay?” She cooed, already leaving the room to retrieve a drink and some painkillers for you. In her absence you shuffled further down into the bed, pressing your face into the pillow in an attempt to abate the pounding if you just forced it out of your head. 

You were unsuccessful however, whimpering in pain when Lana had returned and helped you to sit up in the bed so you could drink and swallow the pills. “Good girl,” she mumbled, kissing the side of your head, “now will you eat something for me? She pleaded, having brought up a sliced apple, knowing that when you felt unwell it was one of the only things you could stomach. 

You whined at that, shuffling to lay your head on her chest but you nodded against her, opening your mouth when she held a piece to your lips, letting you chew it slowly as you made your way through the fruit. 

When you were finished, she got up to wash her hands and got changed, throwing you gentle smiles each time she caught sight of you watching her every move as she floated around the room, taking out her hair pins and hanging up her blazer, brushing through her curls and changing into her pyjamas. 

“Time to lay down, baby love. I’m not going anywhere.” She whispered as she pulled back the duvet and slid in next to you, immediately opening out her arm for you to lay on her chest; she had picked up on how easily you fell asleep whenever you could hear her heartbeat, and your cheeks flushed when you realised just how well she knew you. 

“I love you darling, did you remember that while I was gone?” She spoke into your hair, referring to her constant need to tell you whenever she was in your presence. “I love you too, Lana,” you hummed, closing your eyes as your pain began to subside. Your journalist brought up a hand to run through your hair, smiling lightly at the way you groaned slightly at the relief she brought with her touch. “Close your eyes, now, I’m here.” She cooed, pressing featherlight kisses to your hairline. 

Although the last thing Lana wanted was to come home to you in pain, she couldn’t deny that she was grateful for the opportunity to slow down for a moment, to simply just be with her love, her little angel. She would never voice it, knowing you were worse off right now, but she had been in need of comfort today; she had been picturing your arms wrapped up with hers all day, and despite the circumstances, she felt her heart flutter at the weight of your head on her chest and the tickle of your breath against her skin. Her reminder that you were here and you were hers, forever and always. 

taglist: @loverofallthingssarah​ @imstacysmomtm​ @lanawinters-ily​ @commanderspeach​ @goodegrrrl​

[lilac-5ky]

Today is a sad day for me, it's the birthday of my best friend who passed away 6 months ago... I'm trying to remember our happy memories but it's still hard...

But I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a scenario of takasugi comforting his s/o on their deceased best friends' birthday ? I just need some tender stuff in this sad day

A/N: First of all, I'd like to say that I'm really sorry for your loss. It's always sad to have young people pass away and I can't imagine what it must be like for you. I haven't really lost anyone close to me so it's not as if I can channel that feeling, still, I decided to write this right after receiving your request. I hope this is enough to comfort you in the slightest and hey, if you want to talk to someone, I can listen.

Uh side note, I may need to be a bit vague or a bit specific while writing this considering details might be required.

Takasugi comforting S/O after the death of a friend.

Six months, half a year, that's how long it had been, you realized looking at the calendar. Six months had gone by since that fateful day, since the day your cherished friend, your comrade, the one person that tied you to your previous life, had fallen in battle. She had been the one person who'd been with you through it all, the happy moments, the sad moments, the war, pretty much everything. If you were to be honest with yourself, she had even been the reason behind your joining the Kiheitai. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have considered Takasugi's offer, you wouldn't have forsaken everything to go on what appeared to be a suicide mission. Yet here you were, while she...

In all these months following her absence, so much had changed that you had no time to look back, no time to reminisce, no time to mourn. To follow Takasugi meant to look into the future, to drag your feet if needed forward. Allowing yourself to hesitate would only result to you becoming deadweight to everyone, including him, especially him. To even think that if it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have joined him, you wouldn't have met him, you wouldn't have fallen for him and he wouldn't have fallen for you. Words couldn't describe how grateful you were for her, to have been her friend even if it was for a short period of your lifetime. No matter what, the debt you owed her would be one you needed to carry on, a debt you'd make sure to repay whether that was in this life or the next one.

And so, six months had passed with you carrying on, refusing to shed a single tear for her, no matter the pain. Yet something about today was different, it was her birthday after all. Usually, you didn't care much about birthdays, always nagging when your own birthday came around. She always tried to make things into a big deal, forcing you to try to repay her kindness in the form of gifts during her birthday. No matter how small or grand it was, she always appreciated whatever it was that you got her, while you insisted that there was no need to celebrate getting older like that. Still, now that she wasn't around anymore, you longed to celebrate just one last time with her, just this once.

This is a mistake, you mumbled out loud, clenching the gift bag tight against your chest as you walked through the port, looking around you just to make sure you weren't followed. You walked frantically through the crowd, making your way to the city. There was no telling how long you'd been walking, each step bringing you closer to your destination, the only thing indicating how much time had passed being the sun setting behind you.

Soon, you reached your old neighborhood, the familiar rows of houses standing there stubbornly against the passage of time. No one lived there anymore, everyone having either moved away, evacuated or...

Your steps became heavier as you looked at your own house, a reminder of a forsaken past, a bygone era. Walking through the ruins, you found yourself standing before her house, the place where you'd spent the majority of your childhood at. This is where you played together, where you ate together, where you had planned each and every of your shenanigans together, a house that felt more like home than your actual home.

"Y/F/N, I'm back. I'm home." Pushing the heavy iron gate open, you took a few steps in. The house, although ravaged, was in a better condition than your own. The pillars stood ever so proudly, gatekeeprs of your childhood memories, the floors welcoming your feet with each thump.

Once you reached the porch, you sat near the edge of it, your feet dangling back and forth against the dirt while you placed the bag next to your side.

"It's been so long, hasn't it? I remember the last time we were here, it was back then when you first told me about the Kiheitai. I thought you were crazy, you know? Joining a man whose sole aspiration was to watch the world crumble beneath him. You must have been crazy to follow him yet, maybe, after all I was the one who was crazy enough to follow you." Reminiscing that night, you couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You barely knew how to keep your sword up back then. If the old man knew, then he'd definitely scold you. Really, you are lucky that he passed away first or else..." Pausing for a second you sighed. That's right. Neither her father nor her were around anymore. You were all alone, the only thing keeping you company being the ghosts of the past as you watched your own memories unfold before you.

"Y/F/N, you know, you are really cruel. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten through all this trouble. Look at me now, I'm one of the most wanted people in the entire Edo and all that because of you and you... you aren't even here to see it, are you? Are you even listening to me?" Words started to strain your throat, each time your voice came out sounding like a croak. There was no point holding on anymore. No one was around to see, it was okay.

Reaching to the bag next to you, you fished out a bottle of sake. It was one of the many objects you had brought to her, most of them being her favorite snacks that you had managed to obtain while traveling. Balancing the bottle between your legs, you popped it open.

"You stupid drunkard, I even brought this to you and you won't come drink it. Why aren't you taking it? Why aren't you getting all flushed, begging me to pour you just one more drink, huh? Tell me, Y/F/N, why?" Before you knew it, tears were falling from your eyes, cold rain staining the ground below you drop after drop. Bringing the bottle close to your mouth, you took a sip in an attempt to drown the pain away, the warmth of the alcohol setting your insides ablaze. Once you had enough, you twisted the bottle slightly, angling it towards the ground to pour her a shot, when a hand got in the way, slowly pulling the bottle away from you.

"Such a waste." At the sound of the man's voice, you looked up, finding no other than Takasugi himself looking down upon you.

"Shinsuke? What are you doing here?" Wiping your eyes with the back of your palm, you looked at him. You hadn't even heard him approach you, his steps as quiet as the wind.

"Bansai told me. If I knew what you were about to do, I wouldn't let you have a day off." Taking a seat next to you, he toyed with the bottle between his fingers, peering at the ground. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't let him see you cry, the loss of your friend being a private issue. You had pledged to him that you'd be his ally before his lover and the last thing Takasugi needed was a hesitant and frail blade. However now that you were here, away from prying eyes, you couldn't help but wish that just this once, you could stop being that person for him, that just this once, he would comfort you the way only he could.

"You know, Y/N, this was what she wanted. I've seen many fall in the battlefield, from farmers to renowned warriors, from men and women, to children, even, and I've come to realize that, death makes no discrimination. But, people who join the Kiheitai all have a thing in common; they are well aware of the fate that awaits them and they still choose it over everything else." Bringing the bottle to his own lips, he took a sip, his eye stealing a glance at you. "The point is, no matter how unfair or cruel her fate was, she had braced herself for it the second she joined me. It's the same for her as it was for the ones before her. The ones who have to suffer through a crueler fate, are us after all, don't you think?"

"What... what do you mean?"

"No matter how many die before us, we need to keep moving, using their bodies as a bridge if it means that we'll reach higher. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for their sacrifices. Mourning them, letting sorrow get to us, that's all useless. Instead of letting such bothersome feelings get to you, use them. Fight against this world no matter what it takes, even if you have no blade in your hands just keep fighting. Destroy everything until there is nothing left, until no injustice remains, until we reach the end. This is the life your friend chose, the life you chose. "

Hearing him speak, you knew that he meant well with his words but right now, they only served as a reminder of all the horrible things you'd seen with your eyes. He was right, he was speaking nothing but the truth, yet rather than comforting you, his words only managed to scratch that lump in your throat.

Bringing your hands to your eyes, you buried your face between your palms. God, you looked so pathetic, so weak, yet you couldn't help it anymore. All the suppressed emotions, all the pain, the anger, the guilt was pouring out of you.

Crying to your heart's content like that, you felt Shinsuke moving closer to you, his hips nudging yours while his hand traveled all the way up to yours, taking hold of it. You were forced to look at him, tears getting in the way, blurring his form out. Although you couldn't be certain, you noticed his lips curling into a half smile, a reassuring one at that. Hesitantly, you leaned closer to him, nesting your head in the small of his neck. You knew that Takasugi wasn't the one to appreciate physical contact to that extent, yet you couldn't help it. When it felt as if the earth crumbled beneath you, he was the one stable thing in your life, the one thing you wanted to cling onto and to your surprise, he didn't seem to pull away from your touch.

"How did I let such a fragile woman entice me." Takasugi whispered in your ear, as you felt his hand on the back of your head, caressing you softly as he kept you pressed against him. "Weep all you want today as long as you fight back tomorrow. Even if the world comes to an end, I'll make sure you'll be the last one to see it. Let's reach the end together, Y/N, for your friend, for... Shouyou sensei, for everyone." And with that, you allowed yourself to get lost in his touch, his embrace being enough to mend your broken heart, even in the slightest.

A/N: I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK OKAY, I reall wanted to write something for you ASAP, didn't even have enough time to proof read and change things or to like give it a proper read. Uh, Takasugi isn't the most comforting person, I felt like he'd try to see is "reasonably" and to justify it before giving in a bit so yeah there's that. Once again, I offer you my condolenses and I hope this was close to what you, at least had in mind.

that being said, I'll go through it later and will correct any mistakes and whatsoever, really rushed through it to have it ready by today

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

Archiveofourown

Comment and Feedback Form

Taglist Form

Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet. 

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you. 

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings. 

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound. 

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream. 

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar. 

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die. 

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault. 

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting. 

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home. 

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again. 

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him. 

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour. 

“I don’t understand!” 

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you. 

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes,  his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum. 

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you.  You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him. 

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

                                                ------------------------------

                                                   All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18 @beccaboo929​  @trasheater

[mirror-juliet]

Not so silent night Remastered

Pairing: Yeosang X reader

Summary: Y/n has a drunken night out with her friends and calls her night in shining armor to come rescue her.

This imagine was very short the first time I wrote it and it was simplified in the feelings that I wanted to portray through y/n and Yeosang and I added the info about y/n's issues that didn't make it into the original version of this.

Warnings: Drunk reader, Clingy reader, Third person limited Yeosang Pov, Reader uses alcohol as an escapism, slight angst, Yeosang takes care of reader, Fluff mixed with angst. Yeosang is bitchwhipped.

Word count 2287

Genre: Angst, fluff

Taglist:

@seonghwaskitten​

"You're being too rough Yeosang! You know how delicate I am~" Y/n whines, not liking the way Yeosang throws her around so harshly "Well maybe if you decided to walk I wouldn't be so clumsy walking up the stairs. God how are you this heavy?" He boosts Y/n up on his back for the ninth time since climbing up the stairs and she went deadweight on him, refusing to walk any further once they made it up all of two steps. He curses at her once she almost falls off of his back. "Why are you going limp?" Yeosang boosts her up again before finally reaching to the door of their shared apartment, Letting her down gently and sighing as he slouches down the wall he steadied her on while he fumbles with the keys. Y/n's fallen asleep. "How much have you had to drink?" He watches her light snoring wake her up and cocks his eyebrow at her when she pouts up at him

"Just a few." Her slurred words and the call he got an hour ago from the bartender who cut her off tells him she had way more than a few on her little girls night out. She always has this problem of going out once a month and getting shit-faced with her best friends and calling him at outrageous hours of the morning to come get her after she's been cut off.

"You're lucky that I didn't leave your ass there till morning and go back to the blankets." Yeosang grumbles, pulling her to stand by her armpits and pushing her through the threshold. Y/n stumbles over to the couch and drapes herself across it dramatically. "You love me too much to leave me alone in a bar YoYo." She gives grabby hands to him, wanting to cuddle and go to bed finally after six hours of being out drunk. "Yea, and you're lucky about that too." Her getting drunk is only half the problem though, the other half is her whining and getting overbearingly clingy; resulting in drunken calls at three am for him to come get her. If he learned any lesson from the last time he went to go pick her up and she was crying topless in a bathroom stall, he would leave her there to find her own way home. But being the boyfriend and person he is, he goes every time to pick her up, not being able to bear the thought of her trying to either drive or walk herself home and end up getting hurt in the process. He makes his way over to her after taking his shoes and coat off, pulling on her arms to try and get her to stand. "C'mon love, you know sleeping here will kill your back in the morning." His soft voice rings through the apartment, falling on deaf ears because y/n's already momentarily fallen asleep. Opting for a softer approach he crouches down next to her and places a hand on her thigh. He doesn't really care if she sleeps on the couch because maybe then she'll learn to not get so drunk but he knows he needs to at least try and clean her up. For his own sake of avoiding a breakdown in the morning. "Wake up sleepyhead, we need to get ready for bed." A softer approach always helps to get her to cooperate even in a pouty mood. He even takes her high heels off for her because lord knows she wouldn't be able to get the ankle strap off right now. She groans as he helps her stand up, stumbling terribly even as Yeosang steadies her on the way to the bathroom. He is eternally grateful to whatever god is out there that she isn't one to puke while she's drunk, so surely she'll be fine with him leaving her alone for a moment. Though halfway to the bathroom is where they run into a problem. "Yoyo. I'm tired. Just let me sleep~" Y/n pouts out and stops moving, digging her heels into the floor surprisingly well. Making it nearly impossible for Yeosang to drag her any farther."I know love, but we have to get you cleaned up before we go to bed. It's just a little further." He tries to gently nudge her along, hoping to at least make it to the bathroom when she throws herself onto the ground like a toddler. "M' sleepy." She tries to fall asleep sitting up but it doesn't work and Yeosang clicks his tongue at her. "Stop being childish Y/n. It isn't classy." Yeosang crouches down again, going to poke her side before quickly pulling it out of her grasp in slight pain. "You bit me!" She giggles and that sound alone annoys him even more. He knows that she is overly apologetic in the mornings but god does he hate waking up this early on his morning off. "Are you really not going to get up?"Y/n shakes her head and crosses her arms mimicking her niece during a tantrum. He cant help to think if this is the side of the family her niece got it from. "Well it's a good thing I've been working out here lately." Before Y/n can ask why Yeosang grabs ahold of her waist and slings her over the shoulder as if she was a sack of flour. "Ooh! We got a big strong boy here~!" Y/n sings out as she smacks Yeosang's butt, making him flinch at the unexpected contact. Inappropriate tendencies are slowly making it's way onto the drunk habit tracker it seems. "I'm not even gonna bother with it right now." Yeosang sighs out, having finally made it to the bathroom where he can place her down on the toilet seat. And she begins to whine again. Loudly. "Why do i have to get ready? I'm sleepy enough for bed Yoyo." Yeosang calms Y/n who is already on the verge of tears and he begins to take the bobby pins out of her hair, Surprised with the amount keeping her hair up. He knows dep down that he should leave her to take care of herself after she wakes up in the morning. But he also knows that when she wakes up and makes the trek to her morning bathroom break, that she'll finally see herself in the mirror and cry. That thought alone making his strange heart hurt. And if making her any bit happier about herself in the long run will bring him an annoying night once a month, then a little bit of discomfort is worth it for her. "You have to get cleaned up for bed because I don't want to sleep with a messy drunkard." But she doesn't have to know that. He smiles genuinely as he shakes her chin gently and a string of giggles leaves her mouth. Thinking in his head, "Cute" After getting all twenty bobby pins out of her hair he decides to brush through her tangles to hopefully brush most of the hairspray out without actually giving her a shower. He lets out shushing noises as he tries to get the tangles out as gently as possible but her little whines of discomfort prove it to be not working. When her hair is finally tangle free and in a low pony tail Yeosang realizes he doesn't have anything to change her into. "I have to go get you pajama's baby. Will you pretty please stay here for me?" Yeosang asks after kissing her forehead, prepared to leave and come straight back before she locks her arms around his neck. Not letting go when he tries to pull away. "Love, you need to let go." He tries to reason and pries her arms from off of him, resulting in her to cry out. "No Sangie please don't leave me I love you." He's shocked to see actual tears falling down her drunken cheeks and face becoming red in frustration and stress over him going to the bedroom for a moment. He coos at her and gives her a kiss on the lips this time, wiping some of the tears off. "I'm not leaving you Y/n. I'm just going to get you clean clothes. I'll be back." Him walking out of the bathroom begins a chorus of pathetic cries which slightly breaks his heart but he makes his way down the hall to the bedroom anyway and gets her one of his shirts and a change of underwear. Though when he makes it back to the bathroom his heart absolutely melts. Y/n sways lightly on the toilet seat as her quiet snoring fills the room. She looks absolutely peaceful even with her smeared makeup and messy clothes. Yeosang cant help but to walk up to her and run his hands gently over her face. But that serenity doesn't last long as the gentleness of the touch is enough to wake her up. Enough for her to look around and start crying once she lands her eyes on the only person able to make her feel safe like this. "I'm so sleepy." She pushes her face into Yeosang's stomach and wrapping her arms around his torso, crying a little harder than she had before. If this was anyone else, Yeosang would have left them long ago after endless nights of her getting drunk to the point where she cant remember what happened the night previously. But because of who it is and what shitty life she's been handed, Yeosang sticks around. He understands what it's like to hit rock bottom after something major in your life. He knows how much she's hurting and he wants to help her truly, but he cant start until she is ready herself and not just running to alcohol for an escapism. So he helps her in the only way he is able to, and sticks around through all these shitty nights that are covered up by the rose covered glasses of a "girl's night." And he makes sure she is okay by morning so that maybe they're one step closer for her to get better. Yeosang cups her face with his hands and starts to wipe the tears off of her face, just another minor obstacle he'll have to face with the makeup wipes. He grabs the wipes and starts to get the job done, letting her cling to him while he removes the caked on makeup that's become gross from the sweat and now the melting of the makeup remover. Her arms never leave his torso and it seems to calm her down enough to small hiccups but enough for him to help her out just a little more. Every time she would get restless he would send affirmations of his love and of how gorgeous she looks, settling her down just enough to make his job easier with the wipes. He's always baffled with how Y/n manages to remove the hour worth of makeup in just a few wipes with the cloth, while it's taken him three wipes and fifteen minutes to get just half of it off. Though, the crying is now over and she stares blankly at him every time he would swipe with the wipe, flinching every time the cold material touched her even after Yeosang says it wont hurt her every time he wipes at her face. Y/n's also gone back to making inappropriate comments about Yeosang and his butt, which she's managed to grab several times in the process. And while finally she has her pajama's on he carries her into the bedroom to settle her into bed, replacing his own body with a plushie when he's sure she's fallen asleep to change into his own set of pajama's and finish up a quick nighttime routine. The whole way back to the bedroom he hears her crying again which makes him slightly nervous as to what could have caused her sadness again. It's not until he settles himself back in her arms in the bed, covering both of them up until she stops crying, being met with the most adorable glare from Y/n. "What's wrong baby?" He smiles gently at her, pushing back pieces of her hair that she's taken out of the ponytail. But y/n isn't amused and pushes against him harshly, nearly falling off the bed if it weren't for Yeosang's fast reflexes catching her and pulling her back flush to his chest. "Don't run from me baby. You always get hurt when you do." Y/n's now turned away from him, Yeosang's face nuzzling into the back of her head while she pouts at the alarm clock that now reads Four am. "You left me Yoyo." Yeosang is all to familiar with the slight waver in her voice that signals more tears to come and he is quick to hold her tighter and rub over her arm with one hand. "Oh no my love. I didn't leave you, I promise I didn't. And I never will because I love you more than anything in this world. You have a lot of baggage but I'm all too familiar with heavy baggage. So nothing is going to scare me off from loving you Y/n." That's the way the two of them slept the rest of the morning, holding each other as they both begin to doze off into a safe lull. Happy and content. Breathing in her scent and holding her like this makes Yeosang sure of many things. the most important being, One, Y/n covers up her sadness by getting drunk, Two, Yeosang is her only safe person it seems. Lat but not least, He loves her terribly and unconditionally, enough to suffer so that she doesn't any more than she already has to.

[kinglazrus]

Twice is (Never) Enough

Phic Phight for @syrren, continuation of the deadpool AU

AO3 | FFN

Summary: Danny remembers promising his friends two deaths was enough for him. He remembers when keeping track of how many times he died felt so important. Now, hundreds of fatal wounds later, he can't remember why.

Word count: 2374

A moaning wind pushes the fading storm clouds across the sky. Danny first saw them around noon, gathering on the horizon. From the streets of Amity Park, the clouds started as heaps of grey peeking above the buildings. Although the wind was rough and cold, the city basked in sunlight. If you found a spot to stand safe from the breeze, the sun's warmth was rather pleasant. Danny likes this kind of day the best. It helps, sometimes, when his body can't decide whether it's too hot or too cold, switching rapidly between sweats and chills at such a rapid pace that it might have killed a normal person.

Maybe it killed Danny, tool. On those days, it is normal for him to suddenly fall asleep, succumbing to the dizziness in his head and the shortness of his breath. He wakes up minutes later feeling healthy as ever. Then the struggle starts over again.

On those days, when the weather is as indecisive as Danny's body, he can hop from the comforting cold of the wind to the soothing warmth of the sun as needed. However, it only lasted a few hours today. As Danny's patrol took him to the edge of the city, he stopped by the bridge leading to Elmerton and found the distant clouds looming overhead, threatening to suffocate what little sunlight remained. Standing on the bridge's rail, overlooking the expanse of the river, he could finally see what the city had hidden from him before. The distant sky was a dark, stormy blue, filled with the haze of falling rain.

Within the hour, Amity Park was drenched. Freezing rain pelted against the sidewalk, rattled windows, blinded drivers. More than once, Danny had to swing down from the rooftops and rescue a pedestrian from certain death. These kinds of heroics weren't normally part of Danny's job description, but he was there and had nothing better to do. It earned him a few bruised ribs, a broken arm, and one skull cracked against the sidewalk. He got better, though. As he always did.

But that had been hours ago before the Fight Knight decided this gloomy weather was the perfect time to lay siege to the city. His mistake. He could only do so much as a one-man army, especially against a kid who doesn't fear death.

Danny shakes the Fenton Thermos, knocking around the occupant inside.

"Stop. Invading. My. City!" He throws the thermos in the air and boots it down the street. It pings off street lamps and cars (oops), nearly all the way down to the next stoplight. Danny, bored, watches it bounce with dull eyes. Maybe that will knock some sense into the knight.

A gust of wind tears down the streets, buffeting against Danny's back and knocking him forward a few steps. Danny hisses when his feet jolt against the pavement and the pain in his chest flairs. Right, the sword.

Gripping Soul Shredder's hilt, he braces himself before yanking it out. The blade bites at the edges of his wound, one last pointless strike against him. In his hand, the hilt burns, crying out against his possession of the sword. He hefts the blade over his head and waves it.

"This is mine, now!" he calls out to the thermos. The sword, as if protesting, burns hotter, but Danny is too stubborn to let go. Even as the heat burns the fabric of his gloves, his grip stays tight.

Another howling wind hurls its way down the street. It catches the thermos and sends it spinning away into the street and out of sight.

"Shit." Danny takes off after it. His chest, not yet fully healed, burns. Blood drips down the front of his suit, at least Danny calls it blood. He can't remember the last time he actually saw red dripping from his open wounds. Everything inside him turned black long ago.

He finds the thermos easily, caught beneath the tire of a parked car. It rattles when he picks it up. The Fright Knight is obviously displeased with his circumstances. Good. Maybe next time he will think twice before invading the city. This had to be, what, the sixtieth time? He stopped keeping track when it hit the double digits decades ago.

This isn't the first time Danny has thought about keeping Fright's sword, either. The temptation has followed him ever since he stopped bothering to sheath it in pumpkin near thirty invasions ago, but the sword never stays with him long. These past few minutes have been the longest he's ever held it without it disappearing on him.

Danny clips the thermos to his belt on one side and slides the sword into the other. The blade slaps against his leg as he walks. His belt pulls from the additional weight, too, but he can put up with it. With the threat gone and the city quiet, he stops in the middle of the street, hands on his hips, and sighs.

"Now what?" he asks the cold night air.

The wind answers him with a low moan.

"You are a terrible conversationist."

If the wind is offended it doesn't say, which only proves Danny's point. A good conversation needs some back and forth, none of this moaning and wailing stuff. He tried that for a year. It doesn't work.

With no more ghosts left to fight, Danny heads home.

—

The Master Mansion used to be the nicest house in Amity Park. No one could deny its grandeur; only the old Manson estate could challenge Vlad's house in size. But years of neglect have taken their toll on the Master Mansion. The once well-manicured lawn grows wild and tangled, the grass well past Danny's knee. Weeds fill the cracks in the driveway. Hedges, once trimmed to perfect circles, having become hulking green beasts of tangled limbs.

The mansion itself fairs no better. Broken windows, missing shingles on the roof. The garage house collapses inward, closer, and closer to collapsing every year. Once, a long time ago, Danny thought about fixing the garage, since it's his fault it ended up in such a state. It didn't take him long to decide he didn't care.

"Hey Fruitloop, I'm back," Danny calls as he walks through the door. His body, too flesh for an act so ghostly, resists. Walking through the solid would is like pushing your way through a lake of ectoplasm with a broken leg and deadweight hanging off your shoulders. Danny should know.

Opening the door like a normal person would have been easier, but if Danny's predicament is going to give him slightly convenient ghost powers, then damn it, he is going to use them. He has earned it.

Vlad doesn't answer him.

"Are you alive?" Danny shouts.

Still no answer.

He deposits the thermos by the door, leaving it on the front table. There will be time to release its prisoner later. He keeps the sword at his hip, though. During the long walk from the city to the mansion, Soul Shredder's weight has quickly become a comfort at his side. The blade still burns, but in the lingering cold of the storm, the heat comforts him more than it hurts.

Danny walks to the main hall, heading up the grand staircase to the second floor. The entire North wing of the mansion is Vlad's, while Danny has laid claim to the rest. It's more than generous, considering Vlad's a nutcase who doesn't deserve so much care. He can barely walk most days, anyway. If he tried to shuffle his way from one end of the wing to another he might just collapse and die.

Vlad's room lies at the far end of the wing, with large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard. It must have been quite the view when Vlad had dozens of domestic workers managing his estate from day to day. When Danny pushes open the door to Vlad's room, the first thing he sees is the curtains draws open, letting in dull moonlight. Outside, the clouds are finally blowing past Amity Park.

The bed is empty, covers rumpled and hanging off the mattress. Scanning the room, Danny can't find any sign of Vlad.

Danny peeks into the dark bathroom. "Did you crawl off like a cat to die alone?" Empty. He moves on to other rooms, the study, the library—which is basically the study but with a few more books—the Packers room. All of them empty.

"Remember when Maddie did that?" Danny continues his one-sided conversation. "I found her in the garage under that dumb Lexus you loved so much?"

He heads away from the North wing. Maybe Vlad didcrawl away to die. It is a miracle he could have made it so far. Danny's tempted to give up, but he spurs on anyway. He doesn't care for Vlad, despite living with the man. It is more for convenience than anything. And, perhaps, because they are more alike than Danny wants to admit.

His search carries him to the back of the house, through the kitchen, toward the entertainment room where Vlad used to hold parties. Sliding glass doors along the outer wall lead to the backyard. One of them is open. When Danny steps outside, he finds Vlad instantly. A shadow slumped over in a garden chair, looking out over what used to be the pool. Now it's just a hole in the ground surrounded by pretty tiles.

"Damn. I thought you'd be under the car," Danny says.

"Do I want... to know... what you mean?" Vlad has to pause every few words and take a breath. His comes out low and raspy, so rough that hearing it makes Danny's own throat itch. Danny can't hear a trace of the silky voice Vlad used to have.

"I don't know, do you?" Danny asks.

"Still... after all this time... so juvenile."

"What's the point of being an adult if you can't be a kid sometimes?" Danny says with his young voice in his young body, neither of which has changed in over fifty years. He leans against Vlad's chair, elbow resting on the back. His arm barely brushes Vlad's shoulder, but it's enough to make the man groan.

Vlad, like the house, has grown withered and neglected. Nothing but sagging scar tissue and brittle bones. It must have taken him hours to get down here, perhaps the whole day. It would surprise Danny if Vlad had still been making his way outside when he got home.

The hole where Vlad's right eye used to be serves as a bitter reminder of what, or who put him in this state. Perhaps comparing him to the garage house is a better analogy.

"What is it... like?" Vlad asks. It is hard for Danny to pick emotion out of Vlad's voice, but the tremble sounds stronger now. Not the tremor of a weak throat, although Vlad certainly has that, but a waver of fear. A small admittance of weakness that he rarely ever allows, much less shows to others.

But Danny isn't other. Everyone else is, always has been. He doesn't need to ask what Vlad means. "I don't know."

Vlad tilts his head. "How?"

Danny shrugs. "I used to know, I think, but..." Things change. Dying changes you. And dying over, and over, and over again changes you so much that sometimes it is hard to tell what you were like before. So many sensations. So many memories.

Jazz told him, once, that patients with dementia have an easier time recalling old memories, those earlier in their life, then later ones. It doesn't matter if the later memories formed before dementia set in, they're just too new. When someone remembers something for decades, it passes through their head again and again, etched deeper into their mind the more often they remember it. It makes it easier, later, when their minds start slipping, for them to recall those moments they burned into their brains over the years.

For Danny, one such memory comes from the early days of his abilities. At that point, he had only died twice, and he made a promise with Sam and Tucker. Twice is enough. It sounds ridiculous now.

Twice is enough? He died at least four times today, maybe five. He still hasn't decided if he blacked out from his fever that morning or if it boiled him from the inside out. His hand drops from Vlad's chair to Soul Shredder, fingers curling loosely around the hilt. It feels heavier than ever.

Twice is enough. Twice is a fool's dream, the passing wish of a child who knew too little about the world and about himself.

Closing his eyes, Danny reaches inside himself and finds a burning light. Thousands of them, little pieces chipped away from a part of him so far beyond his comprehension he didn't know it existed until Skulker, so rudely, opened his eyes to it. Together, they shine as one solid mass, but he knows the truth. Inside, Danny is broken.

He used to have a notebook. It was Jazz's idea. Confront your trauma through words. Write down what kills you then burn the pages. She got the idea from some therapy textbook. To this day, Danny isn't sure what burning the pages was supposed to do. Whatever great expectations Jazz put upon the ritual, they didn't work. Mostly because Danny never followed through.

He can still picture those first few pages, written with more care than he put into his English homework. Electrocution, suffocation, burning, bludgeoning. Every time he died, he made an entry in the book, put down the details. It seemed so important at the time. Include every detail, how he felt, what it felt like, how fast he healed, who was there to see him die. Pages upon pages of his most traumatic experiences bound together in a neat little coil ringer notebook.

Danny remembers the promise. He remembers writing those words. He remembers believing it meant something. There had to be a reason for it, an explanation beyond the science that would reveal to him some great truth about why this happened. He's not foolish enough to believe that anymore.

Twice was never enough.

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 6: Water (SFW)

for @dincobbweek

so for this one i go a bit... world build-y lol. no other way to describe it than that. just go with it.

AO3 Link

that within you (i do so trust)

Din saw the crumpled form upon the dunes. He only noticed it because he saw a small grouping of massiffs sniffing around it like vultures, which meant Tuskens weren’t too far off. It wasn’t like Din had issues with Tuskens, but he felt a pang of sympathy for a settler who had caught the short end of the stick.

So he curved his speeder off towards the fallen figure to see if he could offer any aid, and as he approached, the massiffs wandered off, yapping at each other as they ran off across the dunes back to where they came from.

The figure was the body of a man, an older man with silver and white in his hair and beard. He wore no protective gear. It appeared he had no weapon. His clothes were simplistic in design if a bit thinly worn, and the only thing that Din took notice of his dress was the thick red scarf around his neck.

He stepped off his speeder and approached the man, bending to one knee to roll the man onto his back. From the state of his cracked and reddened lips, Din assumed it was dehydration that struck this man down.

He sighed and thought of what next to do. The man was still alive. Just unconscious. But he wasn’t about to leave this man here, though. That would be a cruel thing to do. So he unclasped his cloak from his pauldrons and set it around the man’s prone form so he could carry him to his speeder in comfort and look for a place with shade.

He came to a sharp rise of rock that offered some cover. He lifted the man, still unconscious and gently set him to the ground before reaching for his canteen and pouring some of the precious water into the man’s mouth. He swallowed reflexively and for a moment his eyelids fluttered. He must’ve been aware for a moment before his eyes rolled and he was nothing more than a deadweight in Din’s arms once more.

He laid the man out before setting out to gather bits of debris and wood and brush he could use to build a fire. He had a feeling he would be here a long time.

Sun sickness and heat sickness were serious conditions on Tatooine, and any unexperienced individual would find themselves in a world of trouble if they didn’t come prepared. Din quietly wondered what had befallen this poor soul to land him in this situation.

Regardless, Din had the water to spare, and he tended the man with small mouthfuls of what he had over several hours as the suns passed through the sky and slowly fell out of sight.

Din was resting against his pack, arms folded along his stomach as he looked up at the stars, then he heard the man stir from his spot across the fire.

“Mm.”

Din angled his head in the man’s direction and nearly jolted at the sight of a pair of bright eyes across the low fire.

“I s’pose I should thank you then,” the man said, his drawl denoting his Tatooine heritage.

Din slowly moved to sit up and saw that the man’s eyes were not in fact glowing. Possibly just a reflection of the light. He reached for his canteen and stretched out his hand to offer it to the man.

The man smiled and nodded his thanks before lifting it to his lips and taking a healthy swallow.

“Is there anywhere I can bring you?” Din asked.

The man lowered the canteen and hummed. “No need to worry about that, partner. I was just out for a walk. It’s good for the spirit, you know?”

“Not if it means you put yourself in harm’s way,” Din said gently.

The man grinned slightly, showing white teeth—not necessarily unsettling, but his teeth almost looked sharper than they should’ve been.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light once more.

“You from around here, partner?”

“No.”

“Mm.” The man took another drink from Din’s canteen. “Been a while since I’ve seen a Mandalorian.”

Din wondered if he should drop his hand for his blaster, but the man did nothing more than make that remark. Plus, he also had no weapons to Din’s knowledge.

“Have you encountered others then?” Din asked because he was curious. If there were more of his kind out there, he wanted to know.

“Just the one.” The man looked to the stars then, the moonlight reflecting in his hair. “Mean son of a gun, too. Not like you I bet.” The man then winked at Din with a very cheeky and knowing smile.

Din swallowed and felt himself flush underneath his helmet. He felt odd in a way. Like this was some sort of dream.

This man didn’t seem real, and he couldn’t pin down the reason as to why.

“But he met some unfortunate fate. Not sure if he considers himself Mandalorian these days, but that journey is up to him, not me. Not anymore.” He took another swallow. “Mm. You know what they say about water on Tatooine?”

“No.”

Din knew what the Tuskens said, but he wasn’t about to say all that.

“That this planet used to be covered in it. Hard to believe right? That this place was once teeming with life. Oceans vast and deep. That’s where the first dragons came from you know. Big sea serpents. They’re the ones that gifted the water to the people here. They kept it churning. They would bring the tides and the waves. They would spew the water into the air for rain. But the people, well, they got greedy. They started taking more than they needed. They started hoarding it for themselves, building monuments with it, and this angered the dragons, you see. Not because the dragons wanted the praise, but because their gift was being wasted. Not for the purposes of life but of wealth and greed. So the dragons. They left. They called down their brothers from the stars and burned Tatooine in their righteous anger, taking with them their precious gift of life and leaving only small pockets of it behind. Enough for the people to live but never to thrive, not in the way they used to. And the great sea dragons, well, they left. They burrowed themselves into the ground, into the core of the planet where they remain, deep in slumber for an act of penance willing to wake them. And some say that’s how the krayts emerged—twisted representations of those first great gods, the sand wyrms. But the dragons didn’t leave their people to suffer. Within each krayt, they left a pearl to bring wealth and security to their people, and some say one of those pearls might be the key to bringing back the dragons and bringing Tatooine back to its former glory.”

Din blinked and took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember if he had breathed the entire time the man was telling his story. It matched up to many of the myths Tuskens had told him over the years, but those were Tusken stories, things they seldom told outsiders unless trust had been established between them.

The man lifted Din’s canteen and admired it. “Water is the life source of this planet as it is many others I suspect. But for Tatooine, it’s just as much a curse as it is a blessing. Depends on if you see it as a gift or a prize.”

The man then stood, forsaking Din’s cloak and offering his canteen to him before extending his hand. Din reached up and shook it the man’s. The man griped his hand tightly, and Din felt something sting on his inner wrist.

“Now don’t be a stranger, you hear?” the man said. “I’ll be seeing you, Mandalorian.” Then he turned and began to walk off into the dark.

When he was finally out of sight, Din blinked and it felt like he had control of himself, like he was no longer entranced. Then he stood and toggled for the heat tracking settings on his helmet and followed the man’s footsteps for a moment until they disappeared completely. Like he’d never existed at all.

He tugged off his glove to reveal a faint mark of some sorts into the skin of his inner wrist. He rubbed his thumb over it and caught the shape of a krayt dragon.

In all his years tracking bounties on this planet and spending time with its people—settlers, slaves, and Tuskens—Din had never heard of such a story before. Of any spirits in the desert other than hallucinations brought on by mirages and dehydration.

He would sleep that night and wake to a canteen full of water and his wrist bare, and for a moment he thought the entire exchange a dream.

Years would go by. He would return to Tatooine on a handful of occasions to hunt bounties, and he thought little of that strange night he had spent with a stranger. That was until he came to Tatooine with the Child he’d been entrusted to care for and the quest of locating other Mandalorians.

He came to a small town by the name of Mos Pelgo. It was a mining town, but the weary looks sent his way by the townspeople showed they didn’t seem to trust outsiders all that much.

He entered the cantina there in the town and spoke to the Weequay barkeep. “I have heard of a Mandalorian in these parts,” he said.

“You’ll want to talk to the Marshal.”

“The Marshal.”

The barkeep nodded towards the door, and Din turned and looked and saw the Marshal there, dressed in Mandalorian battle armour, but it looked ill fitting, far too worn and it looked uncared for.

Then the Marshal removed his helmet and there he was—the man Din had saved years ago, the man he shared his water with.

“Well, if it ain’t my Mandalorian.” The Marshal grinned. “Weequay,” he said, motioning to the barkeep. “Two snorts of spotchka. Have a drink with me, Mandalorian. Seems we got a lot to talk about.”

He followed the Marshal to the table and looked between the helmet and the man across from him. The Marshal slid him a glass full of spotchka before serving himself.

“Been wondering when you’d find yourself my way,” the Marshal said.

Din felt his inner wrist begin to tingle. He saw movement on the ground and saw the Child toddle up to the Marshal and looked up at him with an intensity he didn’t often see in the Child.

“Who are you?” Din asked.

“Just a man who’s trying to do what’s right.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t matter if you do. It’s the truth.” The Marshal sipped his spotchka. “Regardless, seems the Force has brought us back together, and for the better. I want to know if I made the right choice in choosing you.”

“Choosing me?”

“As my champion of course.” The Marshal grinned. “There’s a krayt dragon in the area. It might be the one, and I can’t do much in this body of mine. Figured we could trade.”

“Trade what?”

“The krayt for the armour. For questions. I’m sure you’re full of them.”

Din sighed. He looked at the armour the Marshal was wearing and wondered how it had gotten here. He wondered why the Marshal had chosen him and what that would mean after the destruction of a krayt dragon.

And when the Marshal bent to pick up the Child and look at him with gleaming eyes, he wondered if the Marshal knew more about the Force for the sake of the Child.

He wondered a lot of things and if this was the right path to walk.

“Din.”

“Hm?”

“My name.”

The Marshal smiled. “Good to know you, Din. People call me Cobb, and I’ve got a good feeling about you.”