#darker than canon prompts

[trivalentlinks]

darker than canon leverage prompt (including some Parker-angst and Hardison-angst which I normally stay away from):

So, we're post-canon, after Quinn has worked with the team a few times, he's comfortable with Parker and Hardison and they're friendly with each other, but he's not close to either of them the way he is with Eliot (they don't share the same kind of understanding borne of having been in the same dark places)

Anyway, the team (meaning Parker, Hardison, and Eliot; Quinn is not part of the team here, he just works with them sometimes) attempts a job that goes terribly sideways, the mark was just way too well connected and just too powerful, and the team loses.

Thankfully, none of them are hurt, but they've lost in a way that there's just no coming back from.

However, the bad guy is really, really bad. We're talking causing innocent children to die horribly and getting away with it bad. (Also maybe we can make it personal by having it be that one of Hardison's foster siblings had died from this before, and even thinking about this guy out there still doing this to other kids makes Hardison so sick he can't function)

So Parker makes a decision: This guy needs to go, and if they can't do it with their usual methods, they'll use different ones.

She knows Eliot agrees, he's basically offered to do it, not quite in those words, but she also knows that this kind of thing is hard for him, that it costs him something and would weigh on his conscience

So Parker hires Quinn to kill the guy.

How this conversation goes down is up to you (does she pay market rate or get a friends-and-family discount? do they talk about what Quinn will say if Eliot asks him about it?)

Quinn does the job, and gets away with it, clean--no sign of foul play whatsoever. So clean that Eliot can't know for sure unless Quinn or Parker tells him, though he, of course, immediately suspects.

Do Eliot and/or Hardison ever find out? If so, how do they react? Does this change the dynamic between Parker and Quinn?

(This thought sparked by (much more light-hearted) convo with @lochnesswriter about Quinn doing a murder for a (different) non-hitter character that got me thinking, what would it take for Parker or Hardison to ask for something like this?)

[declawedwildcat]

Realizing I only did AU content for RHWeek this year. Who am I

[vintagebuckybarnes]

Sandwiches And Sticky Fingers

Pairing -> Husband! Dad! Bucky Barnes x Wife! Mom! Fem! Reader

Total Wordcount -> 1.8K

Summary -> As your daughters are growing up, Bucky enjoys spending as much time as possible with his little family. Today, as the weather is lovely, he offers to have a picnic in your backyard, which is an offer you simply can’t refuse as it’ll be some welcome family time after a long week.

Tags & Warnings -> Canon compliant, stay-at-home dad! Bucky Barnes, established relationship (marriage), domestic fluff, a tiny bit of angst, references to Bucky's past (nondescriptive), mention/reference of a bad past relationship (nondescriptive), reader is nicknamed ‘Sunshine,’ no use of y/n.

Story rating -> Teen

Author’s Note -> As of right now, I officially have a tag list where you can add yourself! I will also add to the list as I write for different characters and participate in writing challenges. If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

Writing Prompts @fandombingo -> “There was never anyone else for me.” | Bucky Barnes @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition -> “You’re so red.”

The sun outside shines brightly, covering the entire garden and your house in a beautiful golden hue. Your husband, Bucky, is enjoying some alone time as he makes breakfast for you and himself, and two pink bottles of milk are slowly warming up in the designated machine. He’s usually up an hour or two before you, and your twin daughters, and he likes to use that time to go on a long morning run with his best friend, Steve, to burn off some extra energy that is a result of the super soldier serum pumps through his veins.

As the sunlight enters your bedroom, showering everything in a warmth that always makes you happy, you wake up before stretching out, ready to start the day. After a quick look on the baby monitor—where you see both girls still sound asleep—you grab one of Bucky’s well-worn henleys, slip it on, and bring the fabric to your nose to inhale his masculine, comforting scent. A hum falls off your lips as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth.

Finally, you make your way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Bucky is humming along to some music from the 40’s, his entire body moving to the beat as he effortlessly flips the next chocolate chip pancake - your favorite.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he says as he looks over his shoulder, meeting your gaze as he does. A flurry of butterflies is going wild in your stomach, heat surging through your veins as Bucky’s eyes darken from their usual bright blue to a darker blue while the pure need for you surges through his body. Within less than five steps, he’s standing in front of you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he takes a moment to admire your features.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs before leaning in, his lips on yours in a captivating kiss that has you gripping his shirt tightly. Even after a few years of marriage, he still takes your breath away every single day. Bucky’s hands wander from your cheeks down to your neck, his thumbs tilting your head slightly to get even better access to your soft, pink lips, and goosebumps arise on the skin he’s touching.

“Bucky-” is all you can say, but you don’t finish your sentence as the machine warming your girls’ bottles is beeping, letting you know they’re ready to go. A wide smile spreads as you push your forehead against your husband’s, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

“I love you, Sunshine, so much. Now, if you go get the girls, I’ll finish breakfast, okay?” he asks softly, and you nod before stealing a few more pecks and turning around, your hips swaying a little extra with every step. As soon as you open the door to the room your twins share, you can hear them babbling away at one another, and your heart swells with love.

“Good morning, girls! Are you two ready to get some breakfast with Mommy and Daddy this morning?” you ask as you lower the side of the crib that houses your first daughter - Isabelle - ready to scoop into your arms. She coos happily at you, and you kiss her chubby cheek as you walk over to her sister - Rebecca - scooping her up with your free arm. Thankfully, Bucky had already changed their diapers before going on his run earlier this morning, meaning you don’t have to worry about them until after breakfast. You can go straight to the kitchen as your stomach is rumbling with hunger.

“Who’s ready to go and see Daddy?!” you ask them excitedly, making Bucky smile as he hears you over the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. He lets out a content sigh as he finishes setting the table, just in time for you to walk in with your daughters. Rebecca immediately stretches her arms out to be held by Bucky, which has become their morning routine whenever you’re home.

With you being gone for work early in the morning and Bucky taking on the role of a stay-at-home dad at his request, he has been bonding with them in a way he never would have considered before meeting you. Ever since he got the chance to meet you, you have shown him what he deserves by giving it to him and more, and even though it is still a struggle some days, he now embraces his life with open arms, which is a massive help with his recovery, too.

“I’ve been thinking, what do you think of having a picnic in the backyard this afternoon? After they’ve gone down for their nap, we can spread out a blanket on the grass as we have some snacks for us, and they’ll get their bottles outside, as well,” he offers; you don’t have to think about it for even a second before you let him know you agree, and Bucky feels like he’s on cloud nine at the thought of spending the afternoon all together.

Bucky spreads a large picnic blanket in your backyard underneath a large beach umbrella to allow for shade. While you’re busy cutting up fruit in the kitchen, you suddenly get very distracted by the sight of your husband bending over in a pair of tight, black jeans that show off his backside beautifully as you start to salivate a bit at the thought of giving it a spanking or two. Then, as if he senses your eyes on him, he turns around with a quirked brow, letting you know you got caught.

In an effort to play it off like nothing happened, you go back to cutting the large, juicy watermelon you bought at a farmers market you and your twins attended after breakfast, but it’s all to no avail.

“You can’t help yourself, can you, Sunshine? Ogling innocent men as they’re just spreading out a blanket in their backyard,” Bucky purrs as he gently pushes himself against your back, his firm chest and chiseled abdomen pressed against you as his large hands rub your arms.

Why does he have to look and feel like he’s been cut out of marble? You think as you close your eyes. The way he presses against you has you wanting him more and more every second, and when his lips are leaving a trail of kisses on your neck and bare shoulder, your brain is about to shortcircuit completely. As you drop the knife on the counter, you and Bucky snap back to reality at the loud sound.

“Oh god, I-I’m sorry!” you say as heat surges through your cheeks, embarrassment and bad memories flooding your body and mind as you try to regain yourself.

“Sunshine, can you look at me for a moment?” Bucky gently asks, and you turn around after he steps back to allow you some room to move.

“It’s okay- we’re okay. I know you dropped the knife, but no one got hurt, and everyone is okay. I’m not mad,” he says reassuringly, and you can’t help but tear up a little as he says it. Before meeting Bucky, you’ve come out of a nasty relationship, and as much as you’ve shown him the life he deserves, he’s also shown you the life you deserve to live, even though it hasn’t been easy for either of you.

“Are you sure?” you ask in a small voice, and Bucky nods before extending his hand. He wants to give you the choice of being touched, and you put your hand in his before stepping into his comforting arms. As he whispers sweet words into your hair, your heart rate goes down, and the anxiety you felt earlier also leaves your body as you enjoy the moment.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you say before standing on your tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek, leaving him to blush intensely at your show of affection. A goofy smile splits his face as he feels like a teenager in love who just got kissed on the cheek by their crush, and he can never get enough of feeling this way. After you’ve returned to cutting the red, juicy fruit, Bucky has gone to get the twins, changing their diapers before taking them outside, ready to enjoy the picnic.

“Look who’s there with your bottles! It’s Mommy!” Bucky says enthusiastically as you’re holding the girls’ milk bottles in one hand and a basket with containers of sandwiches and fruit in the other. As you walk over, Bucky admires the way you look like a goddess with the sun shining beautifully on you, smiling as he does. While he always knows he’s lucky to have fallen in love with someone like you, moments like this cement it for him.

“What’ve you been staring at, Handsome? You’re so red, the colors of your cheeks are rivaling the strawberries I cut up earlier,” you say teasingly as you sit down on one of the pillows Bucky brought outside, and he turns his head to Isabelle, who’s looking up at him with big, curious eyes.

“Do you hear that, Izzy? Your Mommy is teasing me and telling me I look like a strawberry! Can you believe it?!” he says with faux-offense, immediately making you chuckle as he does. In moments like this, you’re falling in love with him all over again. He’s a natural dad, and it always felt right when you talked about him becoming a stay-at-home dad. He’s doing a fantastic job raising your daughters; you can’t help but tell him exactly that.

“Bucky?” you say, grabbing his attention for a moment.

“I love you and am so happy to have married you. Before meeting you, I only thought I had met the love of my life, but nothing was further from the truth - it was only when I got to know you that I realized there was never anyone else for me. You’re my soulmate, true love, and happily ever after.”

For a moment, Bucky stays silent as he lets your words sink in; the amount of love makes his heart overflow. His mouth opens and shuts a few times as his brain desperately tries to grasp words, but he’s unable to. Instead, he leans forward to kiss you, a soft moan slipping from your lips as he does. The kiss is unhurried, soft, and perfect, but you’re pulled out of the kiss when you feel something sticky and wet smeared on your arm.

“Oh, what’s that?! Did you get ahold of one of the strawberries?” you ask as you look down at Rebecca, who’s squeezed one of the juicy fruits before smearing it onto your arm. A deep laugh emerges from your husband’s chest, and you can’t help but laugh with him. What started as a sweet moment has become a core memory for you and your husband, genuinely making it a day never to forget.

Masterlist -> Bucky Barnes Masterlist

GIF: Source -> All the other graphics are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

[alexandraisyes]

Eclipse Character Analysis (Sun and Moon Show)

Alternate Title: Why I'm 95% sure Eclipse is a sociopath EDITED TITLE: An Analysis of how Eclipse's ASPD is reflected in his character

A hopefully unnecessary disclaimer: - One, hi, hello I am a sociopath, I do know what I'm talking about. This also means that a lot of what I notice and will describe about Eclipse are similar or the same as my own experiences living life in this mortal realm. What I will touch on in the "redemption" section is heavily based on the kind of intensive treatment I had to get in order to improve my behavior when I was younger, so it's important to note that while Eclipse will never be able to change his personality (like how I can't change mine, and you can't change yours), he can change his thought patterns, mentality, and behavior. The saying that "sociopaths can't change" is specifically talking about how we can't change our personality, which is true for everyone. That doesn't mean we can't learn to function better in civilized society or be taught emotional awareness and morals. - Two, hi, hello this is just what I've noticed and does not mean it's canon unless Reed or Davis themselves come onto my Tumblr and go "Yes, this, this is what is correct", and even then, you're allowed to have your own opinions and views on these characters. I'm just theorizing here EDIT: Reed and Davis confirmed that Eclipse is indeed a sociopath a day after I posted this here, and a week after my initial post in their server that is basically this but slightly messier. - Three, hi, hello I'm also a psychology student so I also know what I'm talking about in that regard too. I've been studying psychology and general medicine for three and a half years now, so I like to think I have some idea of what I'm talking about - Four, I use the terms sociopath, ASPD, sociopathic disorder, and anti-social personality disorder interchangeably since they all describe the same personality disorder - Five, this analysis is long, I cover the basics, an in depth, some potential scenarios, a redemption arc possibility, and some other thoughts I have about him. - Six, I made this disclaimer to address any potential misunderstandings, or harmful stereotypes that I tend to be confronted with any time I talk about ASPD. Now onto the good stuff!

Too Long; Won't Read - Here's a Summary

Attachment and Pride: Eclipse initially cared about Lunar, and his reaction to Lunar leaving suggests a fragile pride. His inability to connect with others is evident in his strained relationships with KC and Bloodmoon.

Masking Emotions: Eclipse keeps his darker thoughts to himself at the beginning, and throughout the show as well. He masks both his emotions, and his intentions throughout the show, and is careful not to show when people have upset or offended him. This behavior stems from a learned experience that letting his guard down leads to resentment.

Manipulation and Brash Communication: Eclipse is straightforward and brash when expressing thoughts, feelings, or opinions. He employs manipulation when needed but is mostly disinterested in others.

Boredom and Stimulation: He seeks reactions from people, often causing chaos for entertainment. Boredom, especially when stuck as an AI, prompts him to instigate situations for amusement.

Lack of Empathy: He also appears to lack empathy, as evidenced by his inability to understand emotions and his focus on getting reactions rather than connecting with others.

Touch Aversion: Eclipse's lack of physical affection aligns with the common aversion to touch seen in individuals with ASPD.

Remorse and Growth: Eclipse shows remorse only in instances where he hurts Lunar in the beginning of the show, indicating a potential area for growth. A redemption arc could explore his struggles without completely erasing his apparent sociopathic nature.

Writer's note: A thoughtful portrayal of Eclipse's sociopathy, should my theory touch on the truth, if continued in a storyline, could provide an authentic exploration of mental health challenges and personal growth. Care should be taken to avoid stereotypes (DON'T USE GOOGLE FOR INFORMATION ABOUT THIS I BEG)

Putting Him Under a Microscope - Full Analysis

1. Attachment and Pride:

Eclipse's initial connection with Lunar suggests a potential attachment, a notable aspect in individuals with ASPD who can form (highly) selective bonds. However, Lunar's departure significantly impacts Eclipse's pride. This reaction aligns with the fragile self-esteem often observed in those with ASPD. The departure becomes a perceived personal betrayal, triggering Eclipse's defensive response.

In individuals with ASPD, relationships often serve specific purposes, and Eclipse's attachment to Lunar may have been driven by a combination of genuine connection but also very clearly the utility Lunar provided in fulfilling certain needs or desires. (Which was helping Eclipse get the star of course)

Moreover, Eclipse's struggle with connecting to others, evident in strained relationships with KC and Bloodmoon, is a characteristic of ASPD. Individuals with this disorder often face challenges in forming and maintaining meaningful relationships due to their limited capacity for empathy and understanding of emotional nuances.

2. Masking Emotions:

Eclipse's tendency to keep darker thoughts to himself reflects a common coping mechanism associated with ASPD. Individuals with this disorder often learn to conceal their true emotions early on due to negative experiences when expressing genuine feelings. This learned behavior serves as a protective measure against potential backlash or social rejection.

The fear of vulnerability and subsequent consequences aligns with the interpersonal difficulties faced by those with ASPD. Eclipse's decision to hide his less socially acceptable thoughts is a strategic choice aimed at avoiding conflict and maintaining control over his image.

Professionally, the concealment of darker thoughts is recognized as a defense mechanism in individuals with ASPD. This protective facade, or 'mask,' becomes an integral part of their social interactions, allowing them to navigate social situations with greater ease. However, this constant need to mask one's true feelings can contribute to internal struggles and further isolate individuals with ASPD from genuine emotional connections.

One may ask, what 'darker thoughts' did Eclipse show, or receive backlash for? Well, let's see, when he was stuck in Sun for the beginning of his life, he was first confused, a bit scared, and completely disoriented. He was forgotten, and during the first parts we can see him trying to reconnect with Moon, however, his delivery, as individuals with ASPD tend to do, was brash. It didn't sugar coat what he wanted, and considering his earlier transgressions previously, they weren't taken well in the slightest. Instead of Moon trying to genuinely talk and explain, all he provided Eclipse with was "I changed, and you didn't." and in general was very annoyed and irate with Eclipse. There were several times during the beginning of Eclipse, where there could have been progress made with him, to help him work through his issues, his internalized fear of being forgotten again, and the accidental neglect, that just… didn't happen. Because Sun and Moon saw him as a virus.

Moon because Moon saw himself as a virus, so what else would he think of something that originated in his code, and acted like he used to? Acted like he still sometimes did, parts of himself that he didn't like about himself, living and breathing once again in the mind of his brother. Corrupting him.

And of course, Sun because he was just so tired and hurt and he finally thought he could have something only for this ball of code to make itself known? This peice of his brother that was left behind, that was formed from Moon's killcode? That was constructed from Moon's literal need to lash out, hurt others, and kill. I'm honestly a little horrified that this is never touched on in the show, because people aren't just born to be awful, that's not how this works. There were so many opportunities where toxic and awful behavior could have been stopped if it was handled properly.

Of course, I'm not blaming Sun and Moon. It's hard to help someone who doesn't understand they need help, and as a result the person won't want help either. Plus, they've said it themselves in the episodes where Lunar had returned from the dead. They were never programmed to understand mental health issues, and they have a hard enough time grasping the concepts of their own mental health issues to deal with other peoples. Especially other people who are actively hurting them, it's hard to feel sympathy for someone who causes you harm as far as I'm aware. (I personally wouldn't know)

But back to my main point, there absolutely were times in the beginning where Eclipse was just honest about his wants and desires, and was shown disgust and hatred for it. Which would absolutely make him be prone to masking, which he does a lot in the show from what I can tell.

3. Manipulation and Brash Communication:

Eclipse's communication style, characterized by being brash and straightforward, aligns with the speech patterns and tendencies often associated with ASPD. When he's not trying to pull a fast one over someone, he's very blunt, and he doesn't beat around the bush. Individuals with this disorder may utilize manipulation as a means to achieve personal goals or navigate social situations, but without a reason to sugar coat, they won't. Although sometimes not sugar coating is also employed as a manipulation tactic, which makes it tricky navigating conversation at times with sociopaths. Eclipse's lack of hesitation in employing manipulation reflects the calculated nature of his interactions, as we see him smoothly switch between fronts, acts he puts on to get people to agree with him.

His disinterest in others, apart from exploiting them for personal gain, is consistent with the self-serving behaviors commonly observed in sociopaths. The use of manipulation as a tool for control and amusement is a manifestation of the disorder's impact on interpersonal dynamics. When he contacts Moon for help with Killcode, even then he has his own motives that are only helped by Moon being distracted with Killcode, as well as having KC out of the picture.

Professionally, manipulation is recognized as a prominent feature of ASPD. Individuals with this disorder may lack the ability to form genuine emotional connections and, instead, view relationships as transactional opportunities. Eclipse's interactions, particularly with Sun and Moon, exemplify this transactional approach, where he derives amusement from creating chaos. This last bit (amusment) is important, and I'll cover it next.

Before I pop on over, this is where I'd like to touch on Servant Eclipse. He is very crafty, and very manipulative, but it doesn't fool Lunar, who he clearly cares about to some degree. (Again, will say it as many times as needed, people with ASPD can care about people, it's just a lot of effort at first, doesn't come naturally, and is reserved for a select few). Lunar in this reality probably knows Eclipse inside and out, and isn't fooled by the not very convincing "I'm just a husk now" act Eclipse is playing out with. I suspect that Eclipse also is aware the Lunar isn't fooled, but it amuses him to some degree to keep up the game. I can only imagine serving a "Lord Lunar" is a fairly excitable life, and it's unlikely he's extensively bored. He's also just as brash as the OG Eclipse, and doesn't sugar coat the truth, or tries to ease Gregory into topics.

4. Boredom and Stimulation:

Eclipse's constant quest for stimulation and amusement, even at the expense of creating chaos, reflects a key characteristic of individuals with ASPD. Boredom intolerance is common in this population, leading to a perpetual need for excitement and novel experiences. (Can speak from experience, I spend about 4-6 hours every day bored out of my freaking mind and it's absolutely torture - which is why I draw so much)

The portrayal of Eclipse as being "bored out of his mind" when stuck as an AI in KC's base underscores the challenge individuals with ASPD face in mundane or monotonous situations. The need for stimulation is a driving force behind their impulsive and sometimes risky behaviors. There's a certain kind of restlessness, and impulsivity associated with ASPD, very much an act before you think, get defensive when confronted, and maybe think about it two days later on the very small chance it triggers a sense of morals/remorse. (Then probably forget it happened, cause we are very good at not caring enough to remember half the stuff we do. This isn't a choice, by the way, people with sociopathic disorder just aren't wired to feel strong emotions like guilt and shame.)

Professionally, this behavior aligns with the clinical understanding of ASPD. Individuals with the disorder often engage in sensation-seeking activities to counteract feelings of boredom and emotional emptiness. Eclipse's enjoyment in hacking Moon's computer, causing reactions from Moon and Lunar, serves as an outlet for his need for stimulation and disruption, as well as fulfills other purposes in starting a conversation with Moon about KC.

And of course, now I get to touch on my two favorite things that just drill this in. When OG Eclipse gets the star… what does he do? He torments Sun and Moon instead of wiping everything away, and I'm aware this is mostly because he doens't have mastery over the star. But what does Sun say, when Eclipse shows up to torment them on top of the play structure. Something along the lines of, You're just bored at this point? Is that it?

And what does Eclipse do? He leaves. Because Sun is absolutely right, and it probably stings his ego to have someone he so fully has convinced himself of hating to be right about him. Even before he gets the star… just how much effort did he really put into getting the star? Sure, he had this big plan, but I think he was aware that the 'perfect world' would never make him happy to start with; he just felt the need to be something larger than life, so of course you must set the largest goals to achieve in order to be that. He could have gotten the star so much faster lets be honest. I fully believe he was just having too much fun messing with Sun and Moon, because it gave a reaction, and the reactions to his actions were exciting, breaking his boredom. He was bored a lot, stuck in Sun's head, stuck in Sun's body and pretending to be Sun, stuck as an AI, stuck with Solar Flare's AI fighting him, stuck being unable to use the star…….. seeing a pattern yet?

And of course, my second favorite thing. Lord Eclipse. Moon full out calls him out on how bored Eclipse is, and Eclipse first tries to deny it, then sees no tactical advantage to denying it, and admits that yeah, he is bored. He's been bored for ages and Moon is the first exciting thing in what feels like forever. He's not happy in his perfect world, but he isn't going to change is because that would cut his pride for Sun and Moon to be right about what he wants and needs after so many years. So many years of his Moon being dead. Of having Sun as an obedient servant, bound to his beck and call. He's bored, and it shows, and he knows that it shows.

5. Lack of Empathy:

Eclipse's consistent inability to understand and empathize with the emotions of others aligns with a central feature of Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD). Individuals with ASPD often struggle with recognizing and comprehending the feelings of those around them.

His focus on getting reactions rather than forming genuine connections reflects the hallmark trait of lacking empathy. Eclipse's interactions with Sun, Moon, and Lunar highlight his detached and indifferent approach, as he manipulates situations purely for personal amusement without regard for the emotional impact on others.

Professionally, the deficit in empathy is a well-documented aspect of ASPD. Those with the disorder may comprehend others' situations on a cognitive level but struggle to grasp the emotional nuances involved. Eclipse's inability to understand why Lunar is upset and his constant pursuit of reactions underscore the emotional disconnect inherent in individuals with ASPD.

Eclipse's interactions with Lunar provide a poignant illustration of his consistent lack of empathy. Despite a seemingly genuine attachment to Lunar in the beginning, Eclipse's emotional disconnect becomes evident as Lunar leaves. The impact of Lunar's departure on Eclipse's pride and subsequent defensive reaction highlights the absence of genuine understanding of Lunar's emotions. Eclipse struggles to comprehend the significance of Lunar's departure beyond a perceived personal betrayal, showcasing a lack of empathy toward Lunar's perspective.

Moreover, Eclipse's manipulation and attempts to provoke reactions from Lunar, even after Lunar has left, underscore his disregard for the emotional toll on Lunar. This behavior aligns with the typical patterns seen in individuals with ASPD, where the pursuit of personal amusement takes precedence over the emotional well-being of others.

Eclipse's inability to process and acknowledge his own damaged ego resulting from Lunar's departure further emphasizes his lack of emothional understanding. He doesn't want to admit that Lunar hurt him, so instead he just continues to shut it down, bottle it up, and let it churn into hatred instead of looking at what he did wrong. His resentment and refusal to acknowledge the emotional impact on Lunar highlight the emotional blindness inherent in individuals with ASPD, especially in the context of complex interpersonal relationships.

6. Touch Aversion:

Eclipse's noticeable lack of physical affection, as both seen throughout the show, and mentioned when Lunar clings to Sun and states that Eclipse never showed him physical affection, aligns with a common trait among individuals with ASPD. Touch aversion is a characteristic feature, as those with the disorder often lack the intrinsic desire for physical closeness or intimacy.

Eclipse's minimal physical interaction, even in what could be perceived as emotionally charged moments, is consistent with the general pattern observed in individuals with ASPD. The absence of hugging or comforting gestures suggests a limited appreciation for the emotional needs of others.

Professionally, touch aversion is recognized as part of the interpersonal challenges associated with ASPD. Individuals with this disorder may not instinctively seek physical connection unless it serves a specific purpose, such as manipulation or personal gain. Eclipse's avoidance of physical affection adds a layer to his character, illustrating how his interpersonal behaviors align with the clinical understanding of ASPD.

This aspect of Eclipse's character contributes to a nuanced portrayal of the disorder, showcasing how the lack of tactile expression can impact the dynamics of his relationships, particularly in situations where emotional support is expected. (Like seriously, even Sun and Moon hug when one of them are having an awful day, but Eclipse? He literally doesn't seem to understand why Lunar craves positive physical touch so bad, because he just… doesn't feel the need himself. You can never fully understand something you experience, and it's not like people were explaining these basic needs and wants to Eclipse… ever.)

7. Remorse and Growth:

Eclipse's occasional display of remorse, particularly in instances where he has harmed Lunar, offers a glimpse into a facet of his character that deviates from the (BAD DOWNRIGHT AWFUL) stereotypical image associated with ASPD. While individuals with ASPD are often poorly and harmfully characterized/stereotyped by a complete lack of guilt or remorse, Eclipse's moments of internal conflict suggest a degree of emotional complexity.

Professionally, the intermittent remorse aligns with the recognition that individuals with ASPD may experience moments of internal conflict, especially in relationships that hold personal significance. Eclipse's struggle with whether to apologize after hitting Lunar reveals a brief internal debate, questioning the severity of his actions against Lunar's emotional response.

However, Eclipse's ultimate decision not to apologize, driven by his failure to perceive the significance of Lunar's distress, reinforces the inherent challenges in navigating emotional landscapes for those with ASPD. This internal conflict and eventual dismissal of remorse contribute to a more realistic portrayal of the disorder, highlighting the ongoing tension between impulsive actions and moments of potential introspection.

Should Eclipse undergo a redemption arc, these moments of internal conflict could serve as a foundation for growth, illustrating that while individuals with ASPD may grapple with moments of remorse, their ability to sustain lasting change remains a complex and challenging journey. Of course, I'm going to cover this as well.

Redemption and Recovery

Eclipse's potential redemption could be approached with an understanding that a complete overhaul of his personality is near impossible, because as psychology has shown, you don't just change your personality. However, nuanced growth and positive change within the framework of his behaviors and thought patterns can be explored.

Increased Self-Awareness: Eclipse could undergo a process of heightened self-awareness, acknowledging the impact of his actions on others. This could involve introspection into the motivations behind his behaviors and the consequences they entail. This won't be something he does on his own, he's going to need someone behind him, pushing him to be better. Preferably someone who has no majorly poor history with him for the best results.

Therapeutic Support: In a realistic redemption arc, Eclipse might engage in therapy tailored to individuals with ASPD. This could involve developing coping mechanisms, enhancing emotional intelligence, and learning healthier ways to navigate interpersonal relationships. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is a very affective type of therapy for people with personality disorders, or collections of disorders that combined provide the complications of a personality disorder.

Recognizing the Value of Relationships: Eclipse could gradually come to recognize the value of genuine connections beyond their utility. This may involve acknowledging the significance of relationships for emotional support and personal growth. This is going to be a process, and he will mess up. He will forget. It's something he will have to choose to work with in order for it to work, and even then he will make mistakes. It will be important to have patience with him, and instead of lashing out (cause that can cause a spiral back into poor behavior), working on these slip ups with him, and helping him relearn the significance of correcting it when he messes up.

Empathy Development: A full restoration of empathy is be unrealistic, Eclipse could work on developing cognitive empathy—understanding others' perspectives intellectually, even if not emotionally. This could improve his ability to navigate social situations more effectively. (This is what I do! <:happy_stim:867544047735275521>)

Establishing Boundaries: He should learn to set healthy boundaries in his relationships, understanding that manipulating and exploiting others for personal gain may provide short-term satisfaction but is detrimental in the long run.

Contributing Positively: As part of his redemption, he could find avenues to contribute positively to others' lives. This could involve utilizing his unique skills for constructive purposes, fostering a sense of accomplishment outside of manipulative endeavors.

Maintaining Accountability: Eclipse's growth would involve a commitment to being accountable for his actions. This includes acknowledging mistakes, making amends where possible, and actively working towards minimizing harm to others.

Embracing Personal Growth: Eclipse's redemption arc could focus on embracing personal growth within the constraints of his personality. It's about acknowledging that while he may not fundamentally change, he can adapt and evolve to lead a more balanced and fulfilling life.

Potential Future Scenario: Eclipse Apologizes

Brought to you by someone saying that Lunar would refuse Eclipse trying to apologize, but I respectfully disagree, and here's why.

I think that if Eclipse ever does apologize to Lunar, Lunar would have literally no choice but to accept, because we’ve seen early on that he does not apologize

To genuinely apologize and acknowledge his wrongdoing would be major character development that would take a lot of time and struggle to get to that point, based on my theories/analysis about him

So by the time he can actually, truthfully apologize, there would be evidence to prove his struggle with his own twisted nature, and probably how he failed at times during the journey, and had set backs and road bumps. The others would have most likely seen the effects and effort it takes to learn to change for him, and would most likely acknowledge that he’s being truthful.

If Lunar doesn’t accept at that point, if it ever got to that point, Lunar would be acting irrationally due to emotional complications, would probably just hurt Eclipse when he’s trying to be better for his brother, and would most likely set him back. There’s a very destructive pattern of thought when it comes to personality stuff (which is what I think Eclipse struggles with, a specific personality disorder I’m writing a comic thingy about), because you can’t change your personality. You can’t will yourself to be a certain way, and so it’s very easy to destroy progress people make on self improvement. So lunar refusing the apology would most likely not only hurt Eclipse’s pride (like it was hurt when Lunar left his side the first time) but would also further his belief of “why bother if they won’t accept the fact I’m trying for them” that he’d probably struggle with throughout a period of character growth.

Lunar’s smart, and pretty emotionally aware. He can be petty, but if Eclipse were to get to that point, I don’t think Lunar would refuse it because he would have already seen the struggle and effort Eclipse had put through just to get to that point

Logically, Solar would be the best person to help Eclipse, not Earth

This is partly copied/pasted from some conversations and does analyze Solar a bit as well

I really honestly doubt that Earth is going to be able to help him, if he comes back, and I’m suspecting that Solar would do a better job because he’s the only who can understand, properly, the absolute hell that was waking up inside of Sun’s mind with no idea what’s going on and how he got there. Earth can be sympathetic and show him pity, but that’s not going to help him very much at the end of the day. He doesn’t want sympathy, he doesn’t want pity because he has associated that with being weak and out of control. He needs some one who will understand him, and who will fully understand how one small thing changed so much due to the snow ball effect. Which Solar would understand. He’s “nice eclipse” after all, aka just an Eclipse without such bad formative trauma. So he never spiraled, but he’s just as blunt and analytical as Eclipse tends to be, and would be able to actually communicate with Eclipse about his issues since it’s a situation he could have easily been in had things gone slightly different

Solar is probably the only one who can understand, and I mean properly understand, Eclipse’s trauma and bottled up emotions. And I think that if they’re going to give Eclipse someone who will support him, they should do Solar. He’s got all boxes checked

The ability to fully understand Eclipse

No bad history with Eclipse that would really affect how Eclipse treats him (It’s not like Eclipse knows he built the satellite)

Similar base personality, his just wanted warped and twisted in the start, but if you strip away Eclipse’s issues, they’re practically the same person… for obvious reasons

The willingness to say what needs to be said, and not try to sugar coat. Earth would try to let Eclipse down easy about stuff, ease him into it, and he’s gonna see that as her being manipulative because that’s how he manipulates people. He needs someone who is just going to lay things out on the table

And of course, Solar most likely wouldn’t think Eclipse is too far gone to change. Because how do you think that of yourself? And they are the same person, just from different perspectives. It’s a similar dilemma I have to just writing off Eclipse, when I take him apart and see myself staring back at me. But I was able to improve, it just took work, and it took a situation dire enough to get me to realize that if I didn’t want to ruin the few things I cared about, I needed to get my crap together. And that’s probably what he’s gonna need to, something that threatens what he cares about to the point he realizes that this can’t go on. (And I’m suspecting that something will be control over his own life, just like it was for me.) We saw at the end of his life, that he was starting to self reflect and realize that he needs to change somehow, and this was because his control over his own life was being threatened I suspect.

Extra, Smaller Analysis on Solar and Eclipse

It is important to note that Solar doesn't have this issue (ASPD), and I believe it's because he didn't suffer the same beginning that Eclipse did. They resolved the Solar issue when he popped into existance very quickly from what we can tell, and so he wasn't left in the dark for months on end, left to stew in his own agony and emotions. Personality issues are caused by trauma, and specifically ASPD is directly tied to neglect during the most crucial formative stages in development. Sun and Moon had no idea Eclipse was there, and didn't mean to abandon him, because they didn't know he existed. But this complete, and utter abandoment, what is probably internalized as a personal betrayal because I can imagine Eclipse being destroyed by the idea that Moon left him behind on purpose. Which is just… not a good thought for my man to have, because that leads to feelings of worthlessness, and self-hatred for not being 'good enough' to keep/take care of/help. Which then just snowballs into other negative emotions, that gets him all worked up, and then he's fuming at the fact that they left him. That they decided he wasn't worth keeping around, and how dare they make that decision about him for him?!

You can see how it gets out of hand quickly, as he realizes the neglect he's suffering from, the abandonment he's facing, and the fact that he's now trapped. That Moon got to escape, but he can't and it's not fair. This is the perfect breeding ground for that funny little disorder called sociopathy, and boy, there's almost nothing at this point that can convince me that he doesn't have it because it's all just a little too perfect. And the worst part?

I really really doubt it was done on purpose, but holy heck it would be so cool if it was. Not just because of how beautifully crafted it is in his character, how it's so consistent and real, but also because if it was done on purpose, it would show that the writers took the time to do real research about a disorder that is so often done so poorly, and is commonly confused with a completely different issue (psychopathic disorder). Even knowing that it probably wasn't done on purpose, I'm still gonna just cling to him because I love him and I want him to get the happy ending he deserves. And I mean that genuinely, people who are suffering and lashing out because they're drowing in hate due to unfortunate circumstances that were really out of their control deserve to be given the tools to improve themselves and their lives, and it would be wonderful to see this sentiment reflected in the show.

Wrap-Up Ramble/Writer's Notes

This is, of course, my own personal observations, and it is definitely a lot to read. I had a lot of fun constructing this thread, because it is so rare to find a character that I feel I can properly connect to. I've struggled with a lot of the patterns Eclipse has shown in the show that I've called out, and I've had to go through the steps in the 'redemption arc' section myself. It's not an easy process, and as I mentioned, him realistically improving is going to be a process that is going to be draining on himself, and the people around him. He will have to wake up and choose to go against the walls he's thrown up around himself every single day if he's going to have a realistic redemption, and it's going to be exhausting. But I do genuinely believe that he can change, and improve, because I was able to change and improve as a person. It took time, years of intensive self examination and cognitive based therapy, and it required a strong support system. Which hopefully, if he comes back to the show, he can obtain, because otherwise he will continue to drown in his own bitter stew of resentment for others and himself. And that's no fun, that's just depressing.

A lot of people look at Eclipse and think the villain, but I just can't. His actions make him a bad person, but taking apart the psychology behind him, and seeing how glaringly similar a character is to you that is supposed to be the 'bad guy'… I want him to be able, if he comes back, to get the proper 'recovery arc' that he deserves, and I really hope that if they do try to save him from his own demons, they do it properly, instead of giving him a complete 180. Because you can't change your personality, and Davis and Reed seem to be aware of that with Moon. Even when old Moon tried to be better, he was still an awful person. And the 'new' Moon is still eerily similar to the old one, and as the time goes on, he just becomes more and more like the old one. Because it's the same AI, he just lost his memories. He didn't do a whole personality change because he got his memory card wiped, because he's the same person where it counts. He just has the benefit of not having all of the pain his past self was carrying. He's free of the hurt, and trauma, and self hatred old Moon carried, but he's still Moon.

So I'm really hoping that they continue to accurately display psychology in their characters if they bring Eclipse back, because it is such an immersive show due to the fact that it makes sense. These things make sense psychology wise, their behaviors, actions, patterns of thinking and speech. And I really am looking forward to seeing if they bring Eclipse back because he's such a beautifully constructed character.

You Made It

This is the end of my massive post. Congratulations if you made it this far. If you did, uh, the password is Dorito. Leave it in the comments/reblogs to let me know you made it, haha.

I'd love to see people's thoughts on this and on him, so feel free to leave your thoughts as well in comments/reblogs. I'll try to reply to every single one I see. Again, I love his character so much, it's so well crafted, and it was so fun to take this apart.

Edit: I have been asked about where to find the thread/join in on the convo, etc a few times: I have a thread in the SAMS server here if you want to join the conversation

[mmgwritings]

BEST REGARDS

Characters: Annatar / Númenor!Ambassador

Prompts: With Middle-Earth at war and the potential repercussions for Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn sends one of his best advisors to negotiate with the Lord of Eregion.

Warnings: NSFW; Smut; Canon Divergence; My poorly writing.

We weren't even welcomed, and that should have been my first sign that the initiative was doomed to fail.

When the Númenórean delegation arrived in Eregion, all that awaited us in the courtyard of Celebrimbor's fortress was a group of minor advisors, mere overseers of the lord's household workers.

They did their best; being elves, it was in their nature to be accommodating, polite, always eager to please. But as the days went by, with the dinners they hosted and the tours of the city, their once affable smiles now seemed like mockery to me.

Now, not even those low-ranking advisors would communicate with us. My delegation was relegated to one of the most isolated wings of the fortress, and every day a poor messenger was sent with a missive.

"What do you mean we can't speak with him? All I’ve asked for since I arrived is an audience with Lord Celebrimbor, and now even that is being denied?"

The messenger, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated before responding, "I'm afraid the lord is preoccupied with matters of great importance. He regrets that he cannot meet with you at this time."

I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain my composure, but the frustration bubbled up. "Preoccupied with what exactly? What could be more important than ensuring the stability of these lands?"

The messenger flinched at my sharp tone but remained composed, his elven grace unshaken. "I am not privy to the lord’s affairs," he said softly, "but rest assured, all is being done to safeguard Eregion. Your patience is appreciated."

Patience. I had been patient for days, and it had gotten me nowhere. Each passing hour felt like a calculated delay, as if they were stalling us for reasons I couldn’t yet comprehend. "Tell him," I said, voice steady but cold, "that my patience has its limits."

The messenger bowed slightly, acknowledging my words without a hint of defiance, and quickly exited the room. I watched him leave, my thoughts racing. What were they hiding? From the moment we arrived, it felt like a well-rehearsed charade — cordial smiles, empty gestures, and evasions at every turn.

I paced the room, the echo of my boots filling the silence. Something was wrong. Celebrimbor was too strategic to ignore a delegation from Númenor. Was he deliberately avoiding us? And if so, why?

Determined not to waste any more time, I stormed out of my chambers and headed toward Celebrimbor’s private quarters. If the lord would not grant me an audience, I would demand one. The halls were quiet, the only sound being the swift rhythm of my footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

But as I approached the entrance to Celebrimbor’s wing, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path. His presence was unmistakable, a mix of elegance and something darker that I couldn’t quite place. It was Lord Annatar. He is not a true lord, just a mere counselor to Celebrimbor

"Going somewhere, ambassador?" he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. His hazel eyes gleamed, and though his expression was polite, I felt an undeniable tension in the air.

I froze. I had only seen Lord Annatar once before, just a fleeting glimpse of him giving orders to the guards. Yet here he stood, as if he had been waiting for me. His aura was unmistakable, commanding yet unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite define.

"Lord Annatar," I said, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn’t feel. "I need to speak with Lord Celebrimbor. It’s urgent."

His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m afraid the Lord of Eregion is... unavailable at the moment," he replied smoothly. "But perhaps I can be of assistance. After all, we wouldn’t want you wandering these halls alone, would we?"

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lord Annatar was different from the other elves I had encountered — there was something otherworldly about him. His beauty was striking, almost mesmerizing, with an elegance that made my heart quicken against my will. I was a human, and while I was well aware of the allure of elven grace, Annatar possessed a depth that both fascinated and unnerved me.

Yet, I pushed my feelings aside, reminding myself of the urgency of my mission. "I must insist," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. "This is a matter of great importance for Númenor and Eregion alike. I cannot be delayed any longer."

He stepped closer, and the air between us shifted, thickening. "Your determination is admirable," he said, his tone both soothing and compelling. "But sometimes, the best course of action is to wait for the right moment. Patience can be a virtue, after all."

“Patience? All I have been is patient,” I snapped, frustration spilling over. “Every moment I wait only serves to deepen my concern. I need to speak with Celebrimbor now, not later.”

Annatar's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes —perhaps amusement or interest. “And yet, patience has its rewards, does it not? Consider what you might learn in the meantime.”

I clenched my fists, hating being treated like a bratty little child. “I am not here to learn or be entertained. I am here to ensure the safety of my people. The longer I am kept in the dark, the more perilous our situation becomes.”

He studied me for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as if he were unraveling my thoughts. “You have a fire within you, a passion that is admirable,” he said finally. “But perhaps the flames of impatience will only burn you in the end.”

“Lorde Annatar, what exactly do you mean?” I asked, my voice steady despite the unease swirling in my gut. I wasn’t sure if he was offering insight or simply playing with my frustration.

He took a step closer, the warmth of his presence almost intoxicating. “You are caught in a web of politics, my dear ambassador. Your eagerness to confront Celebrimbor may lead you into a trap. There are forces at play that you may not yet understand.”

I narrowed my eyes, searching for sincerity in his tone. “And you think I should simply wait and let those forces dictate my fate? I refuse to be a pawn in someone else’s game.”

His smile widened, a blend of admiration and something darker that sent a shiver down my spine. “Ah, but you are no pawn, my dear. You have the potential to be so much more. The key is to choose your battles wisely.”

My heart began to beat faster as I considered his words. Did he know about my plans? Did he have any inkling of my idea to take Ar-Pharazôn from the throne and restore the alliance with the elves?

“Are you saying you have insight into my intentions, Lord Annatar?” I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because I assure you, my goals are not so easily discerned.”

He regarded me with a penetrating gaze, as if he were peering into the very depths of my soul. “Your aspirations are noble, but not without peril. The political landscape of Númenor is fraught with danger, and those who seek change often find themselves in the crosshairs of power.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I fought the urge to reveal more, to gauge his true motives. “You speak as if you understand my plight, yet you remain cryptic. If you truly wish to assist, then tell me: how can I achieve my aims without falling victim to those very dangers you warn me about?”

Annatar leaned closer, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Ah, but where would be the fun in giving you all the answers?” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he enjoyed the tension between us. “After all, a little intrigue keeps life interesting, does it not?”

I felt a rush of irritation mixed with an undeniable pull toward him. “I’m not looking for games, Lord Annatar. I need guidance, not riddles.”

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth as silk. “And yet, it is the very game of politics that you must master to achieve your noble goals. Perhaps I could help you navigate these treacherous waters, but you must be willing to embrace the art of subtlety.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my better judgment.

“First, let us not be adversaries,” he said, his tone turning serious, yet still laced with flirtation. “You may find that your greatest ally lies in understanding your enemies. After all, the more you know, the more power you wield. And I daresay, you are far more capable than you realize.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, and I hesitated, torn between my instinct to distrust him and the allure of his charm. “And what do you gain from this?” I pressed. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy the company of a determined woman,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Or perhaps I see potential in you that is worth cultivating. The future is uncertain, and alliances can be the key to shaping it.”

“Why should I trust you in anything?” I challenged, crossing my arms defensively. “You don’t have more power than I do, mere counselor.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “Ah, but you underestimate the influence that knowledge can wield. Power is not solely about titles or positions; it can also be found in the secrets and strategies that lie beneath the surface.”

I held his gaze, searching for any hint of deception. “So you think I should simply take your word at face value, then? You may have the charm, but charm alone does not inspire trust.”

“True,” he admitted, his tone suddenly serious. “Trust is earned, not given freely. But consider this: you are standing at a crossroads, and the decisions you make now will shape your future and that of your people. I may not hold a lord’s title, but I possess knowledge of the intricacies of Eregion and its politics that could prove invaluable to your cause.”

“Yet, you haven’t shown me any reason to believe you,” I replied, my heart still racing. “Your motives are shrouded in mystery, and I cannot afford to align myself with someone I cannot trust.”

Annatar stepped back slightly, his expression softening. “Very well, I respect your caution. But perhaps in time, you’ll see that our paths are more aligned than you think. Let me prove my worth to you, and then you may decide if you wish to trust me.”

I hesitated, grappling with the allure of his proposition. Despite my better judgment, there was a part of me that was intrigued — perhaps even tempted — to explore what he had to offer.

“How would you prove that I can trust you?” I asked, my skepticism still evident. “What assurances do you have that your intentions are genuine?”

Annatar smiled, an enigmatic glint in his eyes. “Trust, like any valuable treasure, requires demonstration. Allow me to show you the power of knowledge.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have eyes and ears throughout Eregion. I can gather information about Celebrimbor’s inner circle, the potential threats you face, and even the whispers of dissent among your Númenórean allies.”

I considered his offer, intrigued despite myself. “And in exchange for this information, what do you seek? What’s the catch?”

“Only a partnership,” he replied smoothly. “I do not seek to manipulate you; rather, I wish to work alongside you. Together, we can forge a stronger path forward for both Númenor and Eregion. You want to restore the alliance with the elves, and I can help you navigate the complexities of elven politics. In return, I ask only for your openness and trust.”

“That seems quite a lot to ask for,” I said, my heart racing as I weighed my options. “How do I know you won’t turn on me when it suits your purposes?”

“Because, my dear ambassador,” he said, a hint of flirtation returning to his tone, “I see potential in you that others do not.”

The air between us thickened with an electric tension, the kind that sent shivers down my spine. Annatar’s presence was intoxicating, and I could feel the magnetic pull drawing me closer despite my instincts urging caution.

“You speak of partnership,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “but you make it sound so enticing. Yet I can't help but wonder what your true intentions are.”

He took another step closer, our eyes locked, and I could see the depth of his allure reflected in those hazel irises. “My true intentions,” he mused, his tone low, “are to create a future where we both thrive. But I must admit, it is also the challenge of engaging with a spirited human like you that captivates me.”

A warmth spread through me, and I fought to maintain my composure. “You are skilled with your words, Lord Annatar. But I refuse to be charmed into naivety.”

“Charm can be a powerful tool,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, “but I offer more than mere words. I offer you the chance to change the course of history, to reclaim the alliance with the elves. And I will be by your side, guiding you through the intricacies of this new world.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I was torn between desire and wariness. “And if I choose to trust you? What will that mean for us?”

His smile deepened, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “It would mean we forge a bond stronger than mere politics. A partnership rooted in ambition and, perhaps, something more. Imagine the power we could wield together.”

As his words hung in the air, the tension between us crackled like fire, and I realized that I was teetering on the edge of a choice that could change everything.

As if sensing the tumult of emotions swirling within me, Annatar reached out and gently brushed his fingers against my hand. The touch sent a jolt of warmth through me that made my heart race even faster.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. The contact felt intimate, almost possessive, and it stirred something deep within me.

I looked down at our hands, the contrast between his ethereal grace and my own human warmth. Because deep down the truth was right there: he could survive anything, and I was just human. The risks were bigger to me.

“You make it sound so simple,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “But the stakes are too high. I can’t afford to be reckless.”

Annatar’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us. “Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to find true strength. Allow yourself to feel, to trust in this moment. We are both drawn to something greater than ourselves.”

His fingers lingered on mine, and I could feel the tension between us shifting, intensifying. The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us in that charged moment. My mind raced with uncertainty, but a part of me yearned to surrender.

“But I built my life being cunning,” I said, my voice steady as I pulled my hand away, creating space between us. “I know how to read people, to see through their games. I know I’m being led on.”

Annatar’s expression shifted slightly, the playful glint in his eyes fading to something more serious. “You are wise to be cautious, especially in a world filled with deception,” he replied, his voice losing its flirtatious edge. “But not all gestures are manipulations. Sometimes, they are simply invitations to explore the possibilities.”

I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to let his charm disarm me completely. “You may speak of possibilities, but I cannot afford to be swayed by mere words. My life has taught me that beauty often hides darkness, and I won’t fall for it again.”

He stepped back, respecting the distance I had created. “I admire your strength,” he said, his tone earnest. “But know this: the greatest alliances are forged through understanding and trust, not fear. You may believe you are the one leading, but there are forces at play far beyond our control.”

“Then prove it,” I challenged, my heart still racing. “Show me that you are more than just a pretty face with a silver tongue. If you truly believe we can achieve something greater together, then earn my trust. I won’t follow blindly, no matter how tempting the offer.”

Annatar studied me for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Very well,” he said slowly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Let us start with transparency. Share your ambitions, your plans for Númenor and the alliance with the elves. And I will do the same. Perhaps then we can determine if our goals truly align.”

I straightened my shoulders, feeling the weight of authority settle over me. “If we are to forge any kind of partnership, it starts with honesty and control, Lord Annatar,” I said, my tone firm. “I won’t allow myself to be dazzled by your charm without understanding what you truly bring to the table.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features. “You have fire in you, don’t you?” he remarked, his admiration palpable.

“Absolutely,” I replied, my voice unwavering. “My aim is clear: I plan to dethrone Ar-Pharazôn and restore the alliance with the elves. We face a growing darkness, and I refuse to stand by while it threatens us all.”

“Ambitious,” he mused, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But you must realize the dangers of such a pursuit. Ar-Pharazôn is not an easy foe to overcome.”

“That’s where you come in,” I countered, locking my gaze with his. “I need someone who can navigate these treacherous waters, someone who understands the intricacies of elven politics and can help me strategize, just as you said. But this alliance has to be mutual; I can’t afford to trust someone who is merely playing a part.”

Annatar's smile softened, as if he found my assertiveness refreshing. “And what makes you think I would want to play a part? Perhaps I’m genuinely interested in your cause,” he replied, his voice taking on a more earnest tone.

“Prove it,” I challenged, stepping closer, reveling in the power shift. “Show me that you’re willing to stand beside me, not just as an advisor but as a partner who believes in our mission. I need someone who can think on their feet, someone who isn’t afraid to act decisively.”

He regarded me, the playful glint in his eye replaced by genuine interest. “You’re asking a lot. Loyalty in this game is hard to come by.”

“Then earn it,” I said, undeterred. “Be the ally I need, and in return, you’ll find that I’m not just a mere human. I’m cunning, resourceful, and not easily swayed. I can be a formidable force.”

The air between us crackled with tension, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “You have a way of making things sound… irresistible,” he admitted, his tone shifting to one of vulnerability.

“Then let’s make this irresistible,” I said, my voice lowering as I leaned in closer, capturing his full attention. “You provide the knowledge and insight, and I’ll bring the ambition and will. Together, we can not only reclaim what is ours but reshape the future of both Númenor and the elves of Middle-Earth.”

In that moment, I could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes — an appreciation for my boldness, perhaps even a hint of admiration. He nodded slowly, entranced. “I’ll follow your lead, then. You have my loyalty, númenórean, but know that you’ve captured my interest in more ways than one.”

As I spoke, I felt the air between us thicken with a tension that was both exhilarating and dangerous. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to consider every angle. I have ideas about how to approach the elves, but I need your insights to navigate their intricacies,” I said, my voice steady as I maintained eye contact.

Annatar’s gaze was intense, a spark of something deeper flickering in those hazel depths. “You’re right to think strategically,” he replied, his tone smooth and inviting. “But it’s not just about words. Sometimes, the best plans are forged in action.”

“Forged?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow, but I found myself drawn in by the way he spoke, his voice low and rich.

“Yes,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips as he gestured for me to follow him. “Let me show you something. There’s a place where ideas take shape, where metal bends to the will of the creator.”

I fell into step beside him, my heart racing, though I hadn’t quite realized where he was leading me. “You think I’m just going to follow you without question?” I challenged lightly, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Not without question,” he replied, his voice laced with an alluring confidence. “But with curiosity. Trust me; you’ll see.”

As we walked through the winding halls of the fortress, I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved — graceful and commanding, every step calculated yet fluid. His presence seemed to draw me in, and I found myself leaning closer, watching his hair sway gently, smelling his strangely earthy scent.

“Think of it this way,” he continued, his voice a murmur. “The forge is not just about shaping metal; it’s about creating something powerful together. Just like our plans. We can take the raw materials of our ambitions and mold them into something formidable.”

I nodded, my mind racing with the possibilities. “You make it sound so simple,” I said, my voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “But it’s a complex game we’re playing.”

“True, but complexity can be beautiful,” he replied, his gaze lingering on me as if he were studying the very essence of my ambition. “Sometimes, all it takes is a spark to ignite the fire.”

As we reached the entrance to the forge, the heat radiated from within, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal resonated through the air, and I felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of what was to come.

Annatar paused, turning to face me, his expression serious yet charged with something else. I took a deep breath, feeling the energy pulsing around us.

He stepped closer, guiding me through the space filled with flickering flames and the scent of heated metal. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing toward a glowing piece of wrought iron, still malleable in the heat.

His proximity sent my heart racing, the heat of the forge mirrored in the heat of his gaze. I met his eyes, feeling the pull between us intensifying as we discussed our plans.

As the conversation flowed, Annatar’s intensity seemed to fill the forge, and he glanced toward the smiths working diligently at their tasks. “You’ll want to see this without distractions,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and the clang of hammers faded as they exited, leaving just the two of us in the warm, flickering glow of the forge.

I watched them leave, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension settling over me. “What exactly do you have planned?” I asked, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest.

Annatar stepped closer, his presence enveloping me as he reached into a small, intricately carved chest nearby. “Something that represents our potential,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. He opened the chest and revealed a stunning ring, glinting with a deep, mysterious light.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, captivated by the way the light danced across its surface, catching hints of color as if it held secrets of its own. As if it were alive. The band was intricately designed, adorned with delicate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the dim light.

“This ring was crafted for a purpose,” he said, lifting it from the chest with a reverence that made my heart skip a beat. “It symbolizes the bond we can forge — an alliance that can withstand the tests of time and adversity.”

I studied him, feeling the weight of his gaze upon me as he continued. “But it’s more than just a ring; it’s a reminder of the power we can wield together. Imagine the possibilities if we combined our strengths.”

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” I asked, my voice steady but tinged with intrigue. “Wear it like a promise? An oath of loyalty?”

Annatar stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him mingling with the warmth of the forge. “It can be all of that,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he held the ring up between us. “But more importantly, it signifies trust. Trust in each other, trust in our goals.”

His proximity was intoxicating, and I felt the urge to lean in, to close the distance that remained between us. “Trust is earned, not given,” I reminded him, my heart racing as I locked eyes with him. “You must prove that you are not just a fleeting ally.”

Annatar smiled, a hint of playfulness returning to his expression. “Then let me prove it to you. Allow me to place this ring on your finger, and let it be a testament to what we can achieve together.”

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with the implications of such an act. But the allure of the ring and the man before me was too strong to resist.

“Very well,” I said, holding my breath as I extended my hand toward him. “Show me what this alliance means.”

As he gently slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt a rush of energy, a binding connection that intertwined our fates. Annatar’s fingers brushed against my skin, sending a spark through me that ignited a sense of both anticipation and dread. I realized then that this was more than just a promise — it was a pivotal moment that could change everything.

The air crackled with tension as the ring settled on my finger, the weight of it both exhilarating and daunting. I glanced up at Annatar, my heart racing, only to find his gaze locked onto mine, filled with an intensity that made the world around us fade.

He whispered my name, his voice so smooth that seemed to resonate deep within me. “This is just the beginning of what we can create together.”

His proximity felt intoxicating, and as I met his eyes, I could see a flicker of something more than just ambition — something that hinted at desire. The forge, with its flickering flames and the remnants of heated metal, seemed to fade into the background as he stepped even closer, the heat from the fire echoed in the warmth of his presence.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, closing the distance between us.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a rush of vulnerability.

In that moment, the tension reached a breaking point. Annatar’s eyes flickered with a mixture of mischief and sincerity, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

The kiss was rushed — soft yet urgent, a mingling of fire and ice that sent shivers down my spine. I felt his hand cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer, deepening the kiss as I instinctively responded. My heart raced, and I was consumed by the moment, the world around us fading into nothingness.

As our lips moved together, I tasted the warmth of his mouth, caressing your tongue with mine. Then I felt his nails sliding down my neck, the promise of something untamed.

Just as I began to melt into the moment, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “You see?” he said, his breath warm and heavy against my skin. “This is what we can achieve when we trust each other.”

I blinked, still reeling from the kiss, the intensity of it coursing through me. “You know this complicates things,” I replied, trying to regain my composure, though I could feel my cheeks flush.

“Complication can be a catalyst for greatness,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Embrace it. Together, we can harness this power, both politically and... personally.”

I took a deep breath, the gravity of our connection settling over me like a cloak. “Perhaps you’re right,” I admitted, my heart still racing. “But know this, Annatar: I won’t be just another pawn in your game. I will play my part, but I will do so on my terms.”

His eyes gleamed with admiration and something darker, a challenge that hung in the air between us. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

His lips pressed against mine again, this time with more urgency. My hands touched his face and slid down to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as if I needed to anchor myself to him.

Annatar's hands slid down my neck, reaching around my back and pulling me closer as if we could have even more contact. I don't know how, but somehow we moved far enough apart to enter an adjoining room with a set of sofas.

Gently sliding his fingers up my silk dress, Annatar pulled me onto his lap as he sat on the couch. My legs spread to trap his body beneath mine. The feeling of a few layers of clothing separating my pussy from his hard cock was delirious.

As I imagine it was for him. A tiny involuntary movement of my hips made Annatar close his eyes with a longing sigh. "Is it one of your plans to end me?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," I said, this time intentionally pressing myself against his cock, feeling the heat radiate through the fabric. His breath caught, and a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, momentarily lost in the sensation.

I watched him, reveling in the way his features shifted between pleasure and restraint. With a smirk, I leaned closer, letting my lips brush against his pointed ear, teasing him further. “You know, I could be very persuasive if you allow me to be.”

His hands tightened around my waist, fingers digging into the silk of my dress as he pulled me even closer. “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. “But the question is, how far are you willing to go to achieve your goals?”

“Further than you can imagine,” I breathed, feeling bold as I began to grind against him, the friction igniting a fire within me. Annatar’s breath quickened, and I could feel his body responding to every movement.

His hands roamed up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilted my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “And what if I want to distract you from those goals?” he asked, his tone playful yet serious. “What if I want to keep you right here, under my control?”

The challenge in his words only fueled my desire. “You think you can keep me distracted?” I replied, a sly smile on my lips. “You underestimate my determination. But…” I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his once more, lingering just enough to feel he leaning over to seek my lips “I could be persuaded to enjoy this moment a little longer.”

With that, I pressed my lips against his, a slow, deliberate kiss. I felt his tongue entering my mouth, he is a skilled lover, it seems. I responded with equal fervor, deepening the kiss as our mouths moved together.

“Fuck", he whispered against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs, pulling me even closer, as his other hand caressed my breast, his skilled fingers finding my nipple beneath the silk. “If we continue like this, I won’t be able to focus on anything but you.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, my eyes sparkling with mischief. I quickly untied the ties that held the dress together, pulling the garment over my head and leaving myself dressed only in my underwear made of a transparent purple fabric. My nipples show through the fabric, hard with anticipation.

Annatar’s eyes darkened with lust, and he leaned in, capturing my right nipple between his lips. A moan tore from my throat, I didn't know I was so desperate for his touch.

Without much haste, he gave all his attention to my nipples. Nibbling gently, sucking them hard. I was already very wet and trying to satisfy myself with involuntary movements on his lap when he stopped. I opened my eyes and saw the result of his attention: my breasts marked by purple hickeys, my nipples red and hard and sensitive to the slightest touch.

My breath was already coming in short pants when Annatar took me off his lap, laying me down on the couch without much delicacy. "I've never been with a human, it's interesting how you respond so quickly"

"I've never been with an elve, and I hope you're not that quick." I retorted with a mischievous smile.

Gently pining me back against the plush cushion of the sofa, Annatar’s eyes glinted with mischief and desire. "Of all the things you could say, you just pick the most dangerous one?” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he sank to his knees before me.

My heart raced as I felt the cool air of the room against my skin, the anticipation sending a thrill through me. He looked up at me, his gaze filled with a mix of reverence and hunger, and I could feel my pulse quickening as he slowly began to push my underwear.

“Let me taste you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my thighs, making me shiver with anticipation as he left soft kisses on my thighs. I could hardly contain myself, the heat pooling low in my stomach as he leaned closer, moving my left leg over his shoulder while one of his hands was busy tracing my poor nipple.

With deliberate slowness, one of his hand He reached between my legs, his thumb easily finding a good place to make gentle circles.

At that moment I felt enormous pleasure not in his movements, nor even in the indecent position, but in his eyes fixed on mine. This act of observing me was more filth than any other.

My bare skin was exposed to his eager mouth. But first, he said "Please", with shining eyes, full of eagerness. How could I deny him?

"Yes", my voice sounded like a wanton whore. It was horrible, it was so fucked up, it was so good.

The sensation of his warm breath against my pussy made me gasp, and I arched my back, craving more.

Annatar looked up at me once more, his expression one of pure devotion. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through me. Then, without another word, he dove in, his mouth capturing me in a way that made my entire body quiver.

I gasped as his tongue flicked against my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He was skilled, and he knew exactly how to drive me wild.

“Oh, Annatar,” I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair as I instinctively pushed my hips forward, wanting more of him. “Don’t stop.”

He responded with a growl of his own, his mouth working me with fervor, each motion sending jolts of ecstasy through my body.

When I moved too much I felt a pinch on my nipple as a reprimand, if I behaved I was pleased with a brief pulse of his fingers inside me. It was a game I never lost.

I felt my legs begin to tremble, the pressure building as I was teetering on the edge of bliss. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he focused entirely on my pleasure.

“Just like that,” I gasped, my breath hitching as he applied just the right amount of pressure. He knew my body as if he had memorized every curve and contour, every sensitive spot that would send me spiraling into bliss.

I could hardly think, lost in a haze of pleasure as he devoured me, his tongue swirling and teasing with expert precision. The world around me faded.

“Please, I’m so close,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as the tension within me built to a nearly unbearable peak. Annatar responded by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

He didn’t stop, continuing to lap at me gently, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from my body until I was left breathless, panting.

Then Annatar pulled back, his mouth shining with my arousal, with a satisfied grin. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he looked up at me, two fingers entering me slowly.

I could hardly respond, the intensity of what he done. All I could manage was a breathless smile, my eyes closing to the feeling.

How can someone be so close and yet so far?

Picking me up like a feather, Annatar lifted my hips, adjusting my body into a favorable position for his observation. He was still wearing his tunic and had his pants on underneath, so I took advantage of the moment to remove his clothes. In the middle of removing the ties on his tunic, he kissed me. I felt my taste on his lips more than anything.

"I want to do something," I said, pushing him to sit on the couch. He was still wearing his pants when I sat on his lap.

"Anything" he says.

Motivated, I kissed them as my fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling his muscles and following the path to his groin. He was extremely hard and when I slid my hand inside his pants, I felt that he was much bigger than I expected.

Annatar moaned into the kiss as I pulled his cock and adjusted myself over it, sliding my wet pussy down the length of his member. It was, in fact, much larger than I had expected. It filled me completely and for a moment I stood there waiting to adjust.

Sensing my slight discomfort, Annatar pressed her thumb to my clit. "You're perfect, you take me so good." he whispered.

Beneath his appreciative words and his skillful fingers I moaned. A wave of pleasure overtook me as I moved, riding his cock, feeling Annatar's lips on my neck, my nipples.

It didn't take long for my movements to become erratic, in fact, it happened the moment I felt his pre-cum slip down my pussy and he squeezed my ass against him, forcing his cock even further so he could fit.

Any composure Lord Annatar had was gone. The elve was losing himself in his own pleasure, his hair, which had once been perfectly arranged in a bow, was a mess, with some strands sticking to the sweat on his temple or even to the sweat on my breasts, his mouth red from our kisses, his eyes bright and dilated. He was a vision.

""Make me cum," he demanded, that husky tone not a plea at all. "I want to see my cum dripping out of your pussy."

I opened my mouth, in surprise and also from the sudden thrust he gave his hips so that his upward movement met my downward movement. Reaching behind me, my fingers groped his balls. Caressing them as best I could while my pussy squeezed his cock intermittently.

That was probably the beginning of the end for him.

I watched as he closed his eyes and threw his head back, his lips parted in a gasp. I got even more excited and rode his cock with more determination. "Did you like that?" I murmured, sucking on his exposed neck.

My own orgasm was close, seeing him a mess made something in me tighten. I was in my own world as I shivered and held myself tighter to him, just as he did as he held my body in his arms, his lips on mine, hearing me moan in torture. I felt more than anything his hot cum, his cock throbbing in my pussy.

When it was over, we didn’t do much. He held me and let us both fall sideways onto the couch, holding me close. When our breathing had evened out, Annatar brought my hand, the one with the ring on it, to his lips.

"I think we are equally persistent in our persuasion," he said, an exhausted smile on his face.

[ramblinscramblin]

Hey there! I read your headcanons and they are pretty cool! I wanted to ask for small headcanons myself

Sniper, Scout and Pauling discovers that reader is a vampire! How will they react?

Reader can be any pronounce you want. You can do romantic or platonic, whatever is comfortable with you!

-💀🌌

→With a vampire!Reader!

Genre: fluff, a lil silly

Characters: Sniper, Scout, and Pauling Warning: canon typical gore.

I love love love this request, thank you so much! This was kind of a hard prompt to get ideas for for some reason. Also I’ve actually never written for Pauling before, let’s hope I get her right!

Sniper

Sniper took note of your gloomy and loner disposition right away.

It’s part of the reason he bothered getting close to you in the first place.

He’s observant so he probably noticed everything separately even if he hadn’t fully put it together yet. Definitely took note of your fangs.

The dislike of garlic, avoiding the sun, never seen eating anything, never seeming flushed or red, your sunken in look, everyone sort of already joked about it.

So he wasn’t all too shocked when you told him.

I honestly imagine he feels pretty threatened by you.

He is generally distrusting of people normally, so you being a night stalking blood drinking beasty doesn’t do much to quell his anxieties.

Couldn’t help but feel intrigued though, can't help but feel compelled by you, even despite his reservations he can't really keep away for long.

The idea of a vampire I feel like would be something he would be very attracted too, the thrill of it all kind of excites him. Of course he doesn't say that, or act on it very often, but you know it anyways.

Idk if this is an out of character headcanon but I highkey think Sniper is a monster fucker.

Supplies you with blood if he sees your low, enjoys how much you brighten after a drink.

Overall finds you very fasicnating, likes learning how to manage life as a vampire

Scout

Scout thinks you're messing with him until the moment he watches you drain the blood from a civilian.

Cautious with the kinds of jokes he makes after that.

He guesses it does kind of make sense in retrospect, you did have a sort of dark air about you.

Honestly finds it so sick, thinks of you as sort of his personal gaurd dog at night, wouldn't say that outloud but internally yes.

He generally would treat you about the same, vampire or not.

If we're talking old timey vampires here finds it hilarious that you can't enter a space without explict permission, will torture you by not inviting you into a room as he walks right through.

Thinks you turning into a bat is one of the coolest things, honestly big jealous vibes from Scout, he wishes he was a big cool vampire too.

It’s a fantasy of his for you to drink some of his blood, is too proud/paranoid to ever say it out loud. But you don’t miss his little sighs as he looks at your fangs.

Secretly dreams of you turning him too, so very secretly.

Pauling

Was honestly so overworked she hardly even noticed.

"Huh? What did you say? Oh yeah, yeah that's nice," she said with a polite nod one day, burying a group of hippies as she did so.

Just enjoys having someone with her during the night, like Scout wouldn't realize you were serious until she sees you feed, once she does it's like a start up noise.

Genuinely uses you as an asset in her work, you turning into a bat and flying is amazing for locating survivors, youre such a big help!

Like I said enjoys the nightly company more than words can describe, she loves quality time.

Really enjoys your darker aesthetic and sometimes thinks you're way too cool to be spending all your time with her.

Will make sure you're always fed, you never have to worry about going hungry while Pauling is around.

If you've been around a few generations wants to hear what life was like before she was around, how it felt to live in a vastly diffrent time period. Finds it so intresting to hear about!

Ohhh boy I hope this is okay anon! Like I said it was kind of hard to think of things to write about for some reason,,, I hope this was good! I had a lot of fun writing it even despite the trouble I had.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here and this is part fourteen! Yes I messed it up this morning yes I had to wait all day to correct it it's all goooood

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Bart is a good egg who is having a Bad Time waiting for his friend :(

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up with a gasp.

He’s—where is he? Everything hurts. He can barely think. Danny groans, long and loud, and lifts up an aching hand to his temple.

His fingers come away green. Aw, fuck. What happened to him? What’s going on? Why is his hand…blurry? Is he concussed? Is something wrong with his eyes, or with his head??

(He hopes it’s not his head. It’s waaay easier to heal from one than the other.)

Danny tries to sit up, and— NOPE. Ow. Bad idea. Suuuuuch a bad idea. His arms and hands and his neck and his back are screaming at him, now that he’s awake enough to pay attention. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

He lays back down. His eyes don’t—well, they don’t shut all the way, which part of his brain labels as very bad, actually, but the world does turn darker and greener as he tries to shut his eyes, and that’s close enough to closing his eyes that Danny can mostly zone out past the pain.

He licks his sore lips. They taste like copper. And battery acid. …And Pixie Sticks.

Ugh, ecto-blood. His own, he assumes.

Everything is blurry and everything kind of hurts and he doesn’t know how he got here or what’s going on. Danny tries to roll over, tries to get more comfortable, but something starts dragging on the inside of his arm, which means intravenous lines.

Ugggghhhh. He hopes it’s got pain meds at least.

Awake him can deal with this later. Danny zones out, his labored breathing evens.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

*

Danny wakes up next to quiet murmuring, and to weird sensation of something moving in his arm.

He yawns—and his jaw cracks apart farther than usual, with more clicking noises than his jaw usually makes. Weird. His arms come up, his eyes unblur…

The tugging sensation doesn’t go away. Danny sniffs blearily. Blinks.

Two white-coated humans(…?) in PPE pause at his bedside, a half-dissembled IV shared between them.

Danny stops breathing. He can’t—is he—

His eyes go to the ceiling. The floor. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He doesn’t understand. Is this the Guys in White again? Is he— Did he never leave? Is he trapped? Danny doesn’t—he can’t—

—One of the white coats starts making worried noises, which. Danny’s never heard that before. It’s usually threats. They raise both their arms, and Danny flinches back—

…And so do they. Huh. Hm. Are the Guys hiring scaredy cats now? That would be a change of pace, if they were as scared of Danny as Danny is of them.

The second person clicks the new IV bag into place. Danny stops focusing on number one and starts focusing on number two.

They don’t make any overt tells either. The IV line is already in him, and the bag is… Well. It’s not red and Danny’s not in any pain, and it’s not green either. It’s just. Kinda opaque? Milky? The person doesn’t start cackling evilly or telling Danny how screwed he is, either. They both just sort of…tidy up?

The first one doesn’t get closer, either, but Danny can mostly tell that they’re scanning him visually. Their attention goes from his face, to Danny’s visible arm, to the puncture point in his elbow for the IV needle.

Danny also eyes his IV point. Well. It looks like a needle. Doesn’t hurt all that much.

Someone says something he doesn’t catch. But the tone isn’t…mean, or anything. If anything, it sounds quiet, and low, like they’re trying to keep him calm.

Danny doesn’t understand.

He moves as far out of the way of them as possible. It only has the effect of a few inches and it's so painfully slow. If that. He— he remembers. He’s supposed to be scared of— something. No, he knows it—

The labs. He’s supposed to be scared of the labs. The smell is rank there and there’s always screaming and Danny had been hurt there; really, really hurt.

He’s still hurt. He’s still in a lab. In a room. In some sort of too-small prison, and now his barely-sewn together lungs are trying too hard to keep air in his body and it’s not working, and—

Danny barely pays attention when the first doctor leaves. He sees the other back into the door and reach for the phone line, and he can’t stop breathing and he can’t calm down because that means that they’re calling for help and they’re going to hurt him all over again. Tie him down. Cut him open. Shock him, until he can’t breathe without screaming—

Someone new comes in. They look— rushed. Danny can see her actively tying up long black hair, threading a mask up over her face, pulling on one of those paper shifts the doctors wear. The only difference is that she doesn’t put boot covers on.

She has big, bright boots that go all the way up her legs. With his green vision, they look kind of…greyish? (Maybe they’re pink..?)

Either way. They look…ridiculous. Danny doesn’t exactly forget to be scared, but also…what the fuck.

The woman sees that Danny can see her. She waves.

Danny presses back against his— cot. Bed.

That doesn’t stop her. She pulls latex gloves from out of the paper slip she’s wearing and snaps them on, revealing a thin layer of something shiny underneath her elastic-bound sleeves. Once that’s on, she does a visible body checkup of herself: boots, gown, gloves, mask, hair.

…No hair net, though. Or goggles. The Docs in White always wanted to be fully covered when they saw their victims. Being able to see her eyes is a lot…friendlier.

She figures herself out. Straightens. Gives a double thumbs up.

…Danny's eyes roam around. There’s no one nearby. There's only a wall behind him. Is she looking at…him? Is that directed to him?

She doesn’t move immediately— and once she’s in, the second doctor leaves the room entirely.

…The new person takes over. She goes from monitor to monitor, getting closer, but with none of the focus on Danny, per se. She reads his stats, verbalizes them out loud, which, doesn’t sound like…English? But enough to confuse him? It’s kind of like trying to discern Esperanto when he's not thinking about how it's not English.

Ancients. The pounding in his head is getting worse. Maybe Danny has a concussion or something.

The woman doesn’t…get. Him. In fact, he seems to be the least interesting thing in the room to her. Her time is spent on reading the charts and the machines waiting around him, putting something into a…fridge? A Cabinet? In the corner of his room? And otherwise, she leaves him alone.

Until. She does get up and look at him, and all of Danny tenses up painfully. He can’t move. Something’s holding down his legs, his body’s stiff, and all of him is so tired that he genuinely can’t tell if his waist is tied down or if he’s just that exhausted.

He can hear his heart rate monitor kick up. He can’t move, not really. He tries to go intangible but his core just throbs with misery, and—

She mostly just pats his sheets. Not his person, even. Apparently the torture is being held off for now. “Eow eart wel?”

…Danny squints. That is almost English.

“Eom hebbjan yift,” she adds, leadingly, as if Danny is a friend she can tease and not a subject under threat of the knife. He doesn't like it. It hurts. Nothing is real and everyone hates him and all he wants to do is leave but his body is rejecting him and—

Something light and plastic thumps down onto the bed.

Danny blinks. He looks—down. (His neck makes him regret that.)

Is that a…is that a space shuttle? No, ‘cause Danny thinks he recognizes it. It’s Discovery? Isn’t it? That’s the one they just retired. He tries to grab it, but— ouch, oof, his fingers can’t even stretch, bad idea—

The woman gently guides the shuttle into his hand. It doesn’t even hurt. And.

It’s cold to the touch. The model is plastic, it shouldn’t be so cold, but the sensation is distinctly cool and kind of familiar.

…Oh. Danny struggles to flex his fingers around the thing.

It’s him.

Or. Well. The shuttle is his. It has his ectoplasm imbued all throughout it. He can even sort of feel the sensation of carefulplayingcareful he’d have felt while near it. The feeling is weak, and timid, but it’s still there.

So. Then. When did he get it? And…why? Why was it allowed to him? How did he get it?

Is this how they’re feeding him now? Instead of showering him with poorly filtered ectoplasm every time he gets rowdy, are they actually trying to feed his Obsession? For real?? That’s—that’s brand new behavior from the—

Danny blinks. Wait. That’s not it either. Because there’s an IV in him. So…they know he’s getting human food.

So. Uh.

Hm.

Danny doesn’t want to get his hopes up. But this…might not be the Guys in White.

Of course, they might not be better than the GIW either; it’s a total possibility that Danny’s getting suckered into some scheme where every gentle permission and soft voice is a debt he owes…some new reason to take…

His eyelids twitch as they try to shut. He’s so tired. Fear kept him mobile, but now…everything is so heavy.

The lady carefully shushes him, ever so gently. She pulls up his blanket for him. Pats it down.

Danny shivers. He’s so, so scared.

“Ræste þiht,” the woman whispers. The words sound fond. Danny’s so scared, but he’s so tired. His heart is beating so fast. “An freond becymþ hraðe.”

It’s reassuring.

Danny doesn’t want it to be.

He falls asleep the way the desperate do—clawing at the last traces of wakefulness, only to have his consciousness ripped from him.

[b1rds3ye]

My Heart Burns For You

Rodolfo is still by your side and ready to fight for Las Almas, but after a near-death encounter he realises he can't stay silent about how he feels for you.

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Canon-Compliant (Straight after Borderline), Confessions, Friends to Lovers,  Italicised sentences are characters talking in Spanish

Word Count: 2.3k

For Fall4Rudy by @glitterypirateduck

Prompts: “I can't get you out of my head” (6), “Say it again” (16)

Warning: Graphic descriptions of injuries, talks of death

A/N: In the campaign Rudy almost dies in a fire, bleeding after a gun to the face then the next day he’s just vibing. I get that the military is fast paced but DAMN- (Also YES I GOT TO CONTRIBUTE TO FALL4RUDY I WAS SO SCARED WITH ASSIGNMENTS I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SKDJFALKSDS)

It was the early hours of the new day. The Vaqueros are vigilant all day, all night, even on their own base, meaning you were pacing back and forth on watch duty. You volunteered this time, with your fellow Vaqueros not arguing with a knowing smile. It seems everyone but the sergeant major himself has become aware of how close you had become, or aware of how you swoon whenever he spoke to you, or offered that little extra bit of care. Combined with what was one of the highest stakes missions to date, you couldn’t help the need to see Rodolfo the instant he and Alejandro got back from the Mexican border…

… if they get back.

You tutted at yourself before turning your head back to the horizon, grip tightening on your rifle. They will be back and you will be the first to see them, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Like cowboys you will see them on the horizon, riding in front of the burning glory of the sun. With a successful mission they will bring the new day and reignite the passion and hope that the Vaqueros so desperately need.

There’s a distant but familiar growl of a cargo truck, and you immediately take cover, gun at the ready as you look down its sights as you try and get a visual of the vehicle. Right on cue, you hear the familiar cackle of Alejandro’s voice through your comms.

“Guns down, friendlies returning to base.”

You smile as you loosen your posture, standing back up again. But simmering under your joy is the thought that they’ve returned home a little too early.

“I’m taking it’s a successful mission, Colonel?”

“Sergeant.”

The line is silent for a few moments.

“That’s a negative.”

It is meant to be morning and yet the sky is looking ever darker. The stars do little to illuminate your darkening expression. Your swallow is thicker than the tar that shapes the tattered roads beneath you, scorched after years of neglect under Las Almas’ heat.

“Where’s Rodolfo?”

You try to ask as nonchalantly as possible. To hide the fact you’re demanding an answer like a kid to your direct superior.

“I’m here.”

The tension in your shoulders was relieved at that voice. You would rather see him, rather have him tell you as he stood beside you. Ideally his voice wouldn’t sound strained, fatigue bleeding through the speakers into your own weary mind, painfully reminding you that you’ve essentially pulled an all nighter to catch a glimpse of him before you hit the hay.

“I had to come back to you.”

You chew your lips as the static cuts off. Before you can think any further at Rodolfo’s odd choice of words the truck pulls up to you as you stand by the entrance of the base. You squint even as the full-beam headlights turn off, the glare stubbornly clouding your vision. The slam of a car door has you tilting your head to Alejandro as he exits the truck. His smile is genuine but strained.

He was in the driver’s seat. And if Rudy was around, Alejandro never drove.

The colonel seemed to be reading your mind.

“Rudy is being rather honest right now, I needed to give him some adrenaline.”

On the other side of the truck, Rodolfo’s silhouette eventually comes back into view. His head had lulled forward, footsteps pounding against the sandy grounds of Las Almas. They were determined but not nearly as clean as his usual gait, pebbles audibly grinding against his boots. Only when he emerged from the shadows of the truck did you realise why Alejandro needed to give him a boost.

“Rudy…”

Rodolfo is silent, only marching ever closer to you. His visage is nothing short of horrific, blood both fresh and dry painting a terrifying collage on the upper half of his face. He must have tried to wipe the blood off, finger-sized smears across his countenance that haphazardly spread onto the wrists of his hoodie did little to relieve you.

“Rodolfo? Friend, you must get patched up-” Alejandro muttered after the sergeant major. Upon realising Rodolfo was beelining straight to you, Alejandro only gave you a firm nod with a knowing look. “Sergeant, patch him up.”

But Rodolfo had already reached you, hand held ever so lightly around your bicep like the gentlest but encouraging breeze to follow him into base. You can’t bring yourself to resist, not even trying to slow down his brisk walk and instead look over your shoulder to address Alejandro.

“Roger that, Colonel!”

Alejandro only waves you off dismissively with an amused expression between a smile and a grimace as Rodolfo paced double time into the building with you in tow.

“Rodolfo?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He leaves it at that and the damning baritone that ends his sentence leaves you unable to even dare to say anything else. Instead you can only take him in apprehensively as he leads you down the familiar hallways towards your quarters. When you expected the familiar indoor smell of your second home to wash over, instead it was dominated by the pungent odour of something charred. Bitterly mixed with smoke and gasoline, you dreaded the image conjuring up in your mind as you notice a hole in Rodolfo’s jacket, loose threads singed off in a cruel finish.

When you reach your room, you take the lead, pulling Rodolfo down to sit on your bed. It’s only then does his hand tighten, fingers attempting to clamp around your bicep but it only closes around air. You head straight to your first aid kit, and then to retrieve a towel that you dampen with water. He watches you all the while.

Rodolfo parts his knees, letting you stand between his thighs. With one hand you take his chin, the other giving light dabs across his face. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the towel dirty with red, but Rodolfo doesn’t seem all too bothered with his own injuries, the weight of his head on your hand getting heavier as he gets comfortable.

“What on earth happened so suddenly that you need to tell me now?” You chastise lightly. “I’m sure it can wait tomorrow, you need to rest-”

“No, we failed,” Rodolfo grumbles. His syllables were a little slurred, no doubt to the adrenaline running off but his eyebrows were adorably furrowed as he tried to maintain concentration. “We will head out in the morning to find Hassan, I need-”

“To rest,” you argue. Your ministrations cleaned up the main mask of his face, and now you could get a good look at him without being concerned that he was going to kick the bucket in a few minutes. You give him a frown before you continue to dab at his temples and the blood that got stuck in the roots of his hair, Rodolfo offering the odd hum of contentment all the while. “We can handle it tomorrow, if we’ll be fighting like you said, we’ll need to concentrate-”

“I love you.”

Your hand stilled. You instinctively wanted to argue that he must’ve had too much adrenaline but he is looking as serious and sober as ever.

“You tell me I’ll need to concentrate but I can’t get you out of my head.”

He reached up to take your hand that’s at his temple, despite the thickness of his fingers he nimbly moves them to thread in between yours. You do not doubt that the man standing before you is Rodolfo, but something was different. He was changed. The fire in his eyes held a different light, more sombre, a tinge of desperation. He was distracted, or instead, he was too focused on a singular goal that he disregarded everything else like a moth to a flame. He still wore his dirtied gear upon sheets that you’ll likely have to wash later.

“What happened tonight?” You whisper tentatively. In truth, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“I almost died.”

In any other situation you would have laughed. Of course he almost died, you two almost die every day. It comes with the territory of being a Vaqueros.

But the both of you know that.

“In the cartel safehouse, alone,” Rodolfo murmurs. “I saw Hassan, he talked to me. They set the house aflame but I was concussed, I couldn’t move no matter how much I wanted to.”

He looks away briefly and you offer his hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He leans forward, getting closer to you until his tactical vest clacks against yours.

“Alejandro saved me,” he admits. “But before he did… I thought I was done.”

For a second, Rodolfo is back in the safehouse, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows a cough.

“I swear I was burning in the flames of hell already, it was suffocating. In those moments when I had no choice but to lie and wait, I could only think of one thing. They say that your life flashes before your eyes but that did not happen to me.”

And then it was Rodolfo’s turn to tighten the grip on your hand, expecting you to slip away through his fingers like smoke.

“I could only think about you.”

Rodolfo drags your hands down to his cheek. Pulling his hand away briefly to then manipulate yours to cup his face. He leans into it and you indulge, gently stroking the plushness of his cheek with your thumb. With his face close up to yours, you now notice the faintest stray smears of soot against his skin and you try to wipe them away even as it gets your own hands dirty in the process. His face is flushed, skin warm to the touch like the final embers of a campfire.

“The only regret on my mind - that you never knew how I felt about you. I know the lives we’ve chosen are dangerous, but you were always my respite. I accept it is fair that I will die out on the field as a Vaquero but when I was burning in that safehouse I could only think how it was unfair to you.”

His eyes had slowly closed as he nuzzled deeper into your palm.

“It was unfair to you if I never got to show you my gratitude or repay you. It was unfair if I didn’t get the chance to at least try to give you the comfort you have given me.”

You could barely hear him over your pounding heart. Rodolfo resigns himself, slowly lifting his head from your hand. He doesn’t look particularly sad, only accepting, looking as resolute as ever.

“You don’t have to feel the same, but you deserve to know. Coronel may fight for Las Almas, but I realise now I am fighting for you. Regardless of how you feel, I always will be.”

With no words able to capture how you feel, you can only push forward, pressing your lips against his. Rodolfo was more than happy to accept, his hand already slipping to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. Any closer and there will be teeth clacking and even then it would not feel close enough. Your military gear only feels like a hinderance, as it creates an uncomfortable pressure against your chest that you push through just to get a taste of him. His groan is swallowed up by you and reverberates through your entire being. Pressing up against him, the bitter fumes of toxic flames that surrounded him were distant, managing to instead get the whiff of his cologne; the smell of comfort after quiet nights spent huddled together in base. His other arm cradles the curve of your back, the firmness of his bicep nudging you forward until your abdomen is against his.

And with a single kiss you pour all of the emotion you can. For all the days spent pining helplessly at his natural kindness. For all the times he refuses to let you do a mission alone, to the hushed, panic whispers of reassurance when you’re bleeding out on the field. To let him know he’s already paid in kind if not more. That every time you reload your rifle and step onto cartel territory, ready to sign your life away, that you had been fighting for him all the same.

When you pull away, Rodolfo does not let you move any further than you have to to regain your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, heaving breaths intermingling. His hands have crept up to your neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. No doubt his fingers have accidentally dirtied your face with the soot and dirt from the mission, but you will gladly adorn the markings as a sign that you are his.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly and he instinctively lets out a content sigh.

“Dios mío, please, say it again.”

“I love you, Rodolfo Parra,” you reply and he offers a smile worthy to be put in a museum.

It takes a few testing tugs until Rodolfo allows you to finally part from him, not after you distract him with a quick peck on the lips. You gingerly pick up the towel that had been forgotten on the floor, setting it aside and now opening up the first aid kit beside you.

“Now that I’m your lover I can order you around, hm?” You tease and you giggle with how his smile turns shy upon referring to yourself as his partner. “I’m going to patch you up, we’ll wash up, and then you’re going to rest.”

“How cruel,” he replies fondly. “But I guess whatever mi vida says must go, yes?”

Call of Duty Masterlist Check Out the Rest of Fall4Rudy Here!!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

hunter/raider!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity.

Warnings: DARK, dub-con, Joel Miller is not a nice man, suspension bondage, abduction, captivity, themes of torture, mentions of past sexual abuse (not Joel), starvation, dehydration, a smidge of knifeplay, a pinch of bloodplay, seriously dead dove do not eat, ambiguous ending, reader has suicidal ideations because of anxiety and threat of imminent death, I mean it guys, this is somehow less depraved than the last raider!Joel but way darker, author makes up stuff about how garage doors work because google failed her but she's probably on a watchlist now so, canon-typical violence, gags, overnight bondage in an unsafe environment, reader's age isn't specified but she was an adult when the outbreak started

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

also on ao3.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Back in the before, in all the movies and books, when the damsel in distress or dashing hero was captured, they woke up clueless. Thinking they were home before it all settled in. They’d write off the pain as a hangover or a friend’s shitty couch.

That’s not how it happened for you.

When your consciousness first blinked back into the world, you were already having a panic attack. Your brain had registered the clues long before you were involved in the process.

Your cheeks are already streaked with tears before you can open your eyes. Your throat is dry and aching, and you can’t breathe.

Of course, you don’t realize it’s a panic attack at first. You just assume you’re dying. Here in this damp, cold… garage?

Recognition snaps you out of it. You’re still gasping, ragged, like you’re full of broken glass, but you’re alert enough to look around.

You’re alone. Small mercies. Or maybe not, given the way you’re tied up. Coarse rope forces your arms behind your back, wrapped from wrist to elbow. Your shoulders ache from being yanked backward, but the length has some slack, at least, between you and the bracket on the thick steel wall.

No. Not a wall. A door. You’re tethered to a huge door, inflexible accordion-style metal punctuated with heavy-duty brackets. No windows, no rotting wood. Impenetrable.

The door isn’t closed all the way, but it’s locked into place. Even if you got your hands free, it would take time and strength to remove the locks and open it enough to slip out.

The air coming through the bottom is chilly but fresh.

It helps. Focusing on the cold shushes the other alarms in your body. Enough to realize it's not just your arms that are tied.

There are loops of rope around your thighs, tethered to the same point as your hands, and loops around your ankles, which are attached to the side walls nearby. Both grant you enough slack to move a little but hold your legs wide enough to prevent standing.

Not that it matters, you think, as a door on the other side of the room swings open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” croons a man as he steps through the frame, the soft twang plucking at your heartstrings.

No. No. “Miller.”

“I was surprised to see you, too. M’boys said they found one of your daddy’s people in our territory. Imagine my face when they dragged you in.”

“So let me go. You know he’ll come looking.”

“Will he? Lotta blood out there.”

“Not mine.”

“Oh, I know. I saw the way you carved up one of my guys. You got him good.” He almost sounds pleased. “But daddy doesn’t know that, does he?”

“He’ll still look for me.”

“You think he’s going to break our pact for you? He’s gonna risk facing me over a runaway?” He pauses. “Were you runnin’ to me?”

“No,” you snarl.

“But you are runnin', ain’tcha?”

“No,” you lie. “I just got lost. He’s waiting for me for dinner.” Part of that, at least, is true. You would have never intentionally crossed into Joel Miller’s land.

“Alright, I get it. Better the devil ya know, right?” he grins.

You glared over his shoulder, refusing to look at his stupid, smug face. That was why you had stayed these last few years. When supplies ran lower and lower and your father found other ways to keep his men loyal.

At the end of the day, you had food, water, and shelter.

As you look anywhere but Joel, you see what fills the industrial metal shelving along the walls. There are stacks of boxes of bullets. Pallets worth of bottled water and canned goods. Cases of dried pasta. A couple dirty mattresses are leaning against the back wall. Your stomach sinks.

He sees you taking in the stock. “Sorry, would have kept ya in the other one, where we usually have our… guests, but see, it’s a little messy right now.” He pulls a Dasani out of a case and brings it over, pressing it to your lips after pocketing the lid.

You rear your head back.

“What, you think it’s drugged or somethin’?” Joel takes a big swig out of the bottle, a drop rolling down his chin. He swipes it away with the folded cuff of his denim button-up. “Why would we waste any of the good stuff on you?”

He offers it back up to you, and you let him pour it in your mouth. When he takes it away, you spit it at him.

He sighs. “Wish you hadn’t done that,” he says and tips the bottle over your head. “But if that’s the way you’re gonna be, I’ll go.”

But he doesn’t leave. Not yet. First, he presses and holds the button on the wall and watches as the pulley cranks to life.

The machinery grates, gears crying for oil, and you flinch from the noise. You don’t realize what’s about to happen until it does. The ropes holding you aren’t that long, and as the garage door slides up, it lifts you with it.

You scream. “Stop, please, put me down.”

Joel shakes his head, disappointment exaggerated in his scowl. “Shoulda been good. Now ya know.”

He releases the button when the door is open. You’re hanging, now, with your arms pulled to their limit behind you. Your shoulders already burn. The loops around your thighs and ankles keep you balanced at the expense of spreading you wide. You jerk, trying to… what? Trying to get out? You know that wasn’t happening, not like this. All you were going to do was dislocate your shoulders.

The late summer breeze blows in, and you shiver. Your hair and shirt are soaked.

“Don’t worry,” Joel jerks his head to the dark house across the street. “Ain’t got neighbors.”

He goes to leave, and you can’t help it. “Don’t, please!”

He stops and turns around, head to the side like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out. “You gonna shut up, or do I gotta take care of that?”

Blood drains from your face.

He comes over to you and pulls a filthy bandana from his pocket. He rolls it up and ducks behind you. You try to lock your jaw, but he digs his fingers into the hinges until you open a little. He presses the bandana into your mouth, yanking back on it, and tying it tight behind your head.

“Night,” he tips his head, flourishing a hand like a fucking cowboy in a Stetson, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You don’t sleep, waiting for hungry dogs or Joel’s men to find you trussed up.

When he comes back in the morning, you’re a wreck. You survived the fucking apocalypse, but none of it could have prepared you for this. You’re blinking in and out of consciousness.

There’s nothing but the pain. You’re sure you would have cried or thrown up, but you’re so dehydrated now that you can’t even spare a tear. It’s not lost on you that you got into this situation by wasting water.

“Chilly in here,” he says by way of greeting, tugging the bandana off you.

You keep your eyes closed. Imagining his smug smirk is bad enough; you don’t need to see him see you like this.

“You shoulda worn a jacket, sweetheart.”

“Did,” you croak, and wish you hadn’t fallen for his bait.

“Ah, someone took it from ya? Must have been a nice one.”

It was. It was patched up and ugly, but so was everything in this world. And it was warm. Heavy denim with quilted down lining. The last thing you’d ever take from your father, you thought.

He walks around you. You’d stiffen if you could, but you’ve long been stuck, muscles given out.

“Alright, let’s get ya down.”

At least the dehydration saves you from the whimper you almost let out. But it’s silent, and if Joel notices anything, he doesn’t react.

He walks back over to the door and presses the button. “S’gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warns before the door jerks backward, click click clicking as it lowers. It’s slow, but when your legs touch the ground, you may as well have plummeted.

You scream, wrenching it from your haggard throat, hands balled into fists behind your back. When you’re fully on the ground, you collapse against the door, only sparing a wince when your head bounces against the jutting metal seam between panels.

“Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.” He crouches down in front of you, same ratty denim shirt and jeans, same scuffed up boots. “You ready to behave?”

You nod, barely moving, but he gets the message.

“Y’look thirsty.”

You crack your eyes open to peek at him but can’t. They roll back into your head, lids fluttering.

You’re vaguely aware that he leaves and comes back but have no idea how much time passes. He crouches back down in front of you, and you hear the crinkle of a decade-old plastic bottle.

“If I give you this, are you going to spit it at me again?”

“No,” you whisper.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, but your brain is mostly static, so you give up without much of a fuss. “Please.”

He hums his approval and brings the bottle to your lips. He only lets you take tiny sips, infinitesimal in the arid expanse of your mouth. He pulls it away far too soon, and a soft sob leaks from you in its absence.

“You can have more later. Don’t need you gettin’ sick all over my garage.”

He leaves.

When he comes back late into the evening, you’re asleep, but you startle awake when he turns the light on.

Your wide eyes follow him as he moves about the garage. When he finally approaches you, it’s to offer more water. You accept it immediately, opening your mouth for the bottle before it even reaches you.

“Learned your lesson, huh? Good girl.”

It’s accompanied by a sneer, but that doesn’t stop the way your pussy clenches for a minute. Given that you’re still fully clothed, he remains blessedly unaware.

“Can you just, like, shoot me now or whatever,” you mumble. You know you’re not leaving that garage. You’ve seen where he keeps the top supplies. You know which house this is—or at least, the numbers on the house across the street.

“Nah,” Joel says as if you’re discussing what to eat for dinner. He sits down in front of you, knees bent up, leaning on them with the arm holding the water bottle. “You’re gonna help me first.”

“Why would I help you if you’re going to kill me?”

“Because I’ll make it quick for ya.”

You think you might throw up the water.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gestures at you with his loose hand, now grasping a closed switchblade. “You know how this goes. Seen your pops do it plenty, right?”

You nod.

“I don’t think you’re gonna make me, though,” Joel muses, and scratches his chin with the outside of the blade.

“I was running,” you blurt. “If I tell you everything, I swear, he’ll never know, I just want to—”

“‘Fraid not,” he says, shaking his head. “Nothin’ personal, sweetheart, just can’t trust ya.”

The way you’re staring at him with your pretty eyes, glistening with fear, makes him scowl harder. He flicks the blade open and watches as a tear escapes before you close your eyes.

“Promise?” you whisper.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll make it quick, if I tell you everything.” You’re shaking, and realize you’re probably about to have another panic attack as your breathing grows shallow.

“Yeah, I promise,” he says. He stands up and watches you, the way you’re clenching your hands into fists and trying to breathe out of your mouth.

“Jesus. It’s not gonna happen right now, calm down.”

Before he leaves, he gives you more water.

You’re awake when he comes back the next morning. He sits in front of you, legs crossed, and sets a cloth full of dried meat between you, and another bottle of water.

He picks up a thick strip. It doesn’t look like the shit they used to sell at grocery stores. It looks like they’ve salted and dried their own fucking jerky.

You stare as he rips off a piece and eats it.

“What? Y’ain’t got pigs?”

You shake your head.

“Jesus,” he sighs. “Is there even anything to take, or am I wasting my fucking time?”

“Lots of guns,” you shrug. “Some food. Not like you’ve got.”

Guns were more than enough of a reason, and you both knew it. He ripped another piece off and held it to your lips.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he says while you chew. “I’m going to ask you a question. If I believe your answer, you can have somethin' to eat or drink. If I don’t believe you, that’s when things get tricky.” He opens the switchblade and sets it next to the water.

It takes hours, but true to your word, you tell him everything. The layout of the old campground your father took command over. Patrol schedules. Planned raids. Locations of guns, food, medicine, everything.

By the end of it, you’d had two sticks of the jerky and the whole bottle of water. You look more alive than you have in days, given that you’d been thoroughly lost for two before stumbling across his men on patrol.

“Why’d you feed me?” you ask when he stands to leave. “Aren’t you about to kill me?”

“No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Gotta see if your information is good. Probably won’t even make a move for a week or so.”

You tense. “You promised. You promised you’d make it quick.”

“I promised I’d make it quick when I kill ya. If you told me everything. Can’t prove you did until it’s done.”

He doesn’t know what he expected you to do, but screaming was not it. It’s a wounded, rageful thing. He hates it. He stomps back over and covers your mouth, blade in hand. It presses against your cheek, and you hiss.

He pulls his hand away and watches the blood drip down your cheek. You don’t scream again, but there’s something in your eyes when you stare him down.

“Coward,” you whisper.

His hand wraps around your throat, pushing you against the garage door. He doesn’t remember kneeling down close to you, but that’s where he finds himself as he squeezes, bringing the knife up above his hand.

You aren’t struggling, yet, His grip isn’t that tight. Some air still leaks, and you laugh. “C’mon,” you taunt.

He lets go. You slump down a little, chest heaving. There’s blood dripping down from the small nick in your neck to your cleavage.

You watch him watch it. “Can you at least clean that up if you’re going to leave me here?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him. It has to be the unhinged look in your eyes, spreading to him like poison. He grabs your jaw in the hand with the blade and pushes your head to the side so he can lean down and lick the blood off your breast. You moan.

He spits it to the side, and turns your head back to look at him. Your lips are parted, pupils blown. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, leaning back, putting distance between him and your tits.

“C’mon,” you repeat, but this time, it’s heady.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” But he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He grabs your jaw again and kisses you. It’s not kind or soft. It’s all teeth and snarls and the knife against your cheek. But you kiss him back, because it pleases the ravaging wildfire of rage that lives in your chest. Fuels it.

He pulls back. “Shit," he mutters.

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

He lets go. Stands up. You think maybe he’s going to get his cock out, but he stalks over to the door. “Or what.”

He slams the door so he doesn’t have to hear you howl in fury after him, spitting insults.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

By the second morning, you’re starting to panic. You’re so thirsty. The last bottle had a few dregs in it, just a sip, but it's just out of reach. The only light you have is when it creeps in from the little gap between the garage door and the uneven concrete.

When he comes that evening, he’s ditched the denim. He’s got tight dark pants and a gray t-shirt on. You don’t look at him directly as he gives you water and more of the salty jerky.

He crouches down in front of you again. You’re getting tired of it. Of his stupid pretty face and this stupid garage. Your arms are numb, and the pounding in your head hasn’t gone away since the first day. You don’t even know how long you’ve been here anymore.

“Why’d you ask me to fuck you?" It’s less of a question than a statement, but you know he expects an answer.

“Dunno. Thought maybe you would.”

“I’m going to kill you. Your pussy ain’t going to change that.”

“Didn’t expect it to.”

“What, you a virgin or something? You trying to get fucked before you die?”

“Or something, yeah,” you mutter.

“Shit.” He can’t believe he’s considering this. It feels like crossing one of the few lines he hasn’t crossed.

It’s not lost on you. “Are you having a fuckin' moral dilemma about this? You’re gonna gut me, and you’re trying to figure out if it’d be fucked up to have sex with me?”

“Not gonna gut ya,” he says. “Said I’d make it quick, didn’t I?”

“Oh my god. That was so not the point.”

“Shut up. Look at me.”

You do. He’s holding the blade again. “I verified your information yesterday. We’re going to make our move tomorrow. I’ll be back by sundown. You still want this?”

It feels like he dumped the water on you again. You shiver. So that’s it. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be gone.

“Yes.”

“Fine. But we’re doin’ this my way.” He walks away, and you think he’s going back inside until he stops and presses the button.

You’re shocked enough that all you do is gasp when the door lifts, pulling you into the air. He stalks back over to you and holds the blade up. “Hold still.”

You’re hanging in the fucking air. What does he think you’re going to do? Fly away? But you hold your breath anyway while he slides the knife between your skin and clothes. When you’re bare to him, he drops the knife and grabs your waist.

“You done anything? Anyone ever make you come?”

You shake your head and murmur, “No, no one.”

When you look up at him, you’re surprised to see something almost soft behind his eyes. You glare. “What, is it going to make you feel less guilty if I have an orgasm?”

“What do I got to feel guilty for? You fuckin’ begged for it.”

“Then fuckin’ fuck me already,” you snap. Your arms hurt again. You want to fuck him, you want to land your fists against his stupid face, you want to not fucking die tomorrow.

But you can only have one of those things, so. “Please,” you say, and sigh.

He cups your breasts, stroking thumbs over your nipples. He leans over and licks, and you moan again, soft this time.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t gotta do that. Just fuck me.”

“Ain’t doin’ it for you,” he lies.

You don’t protest again, not after he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. He brings a hand to your cunt and thumbs your clit, sliding two fingers down to start working you open for him. He eases the first one in through your slick, and you whine.

“I’m not gonna be nice,” he says, panting a little. “It’s going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching as he stretches you open. Your legs are held so wide they ache, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from rolling back when he picks up speed.

He holds you tight when you come so your arms don’t jerk too hard. It’d be a shitty end to a shitty life, you think, to wait all day with dislocated shoulders for him to come home and slit your throat.

Finally, he pulls his cock out. A man of his word, he doesn’t go nice or slow. It does hurt. His cock is thick and long, and he makes it fit even as your body tries to reject him. He hooks his hands under your thighs, forcing you to put some of your body weight on him as he fucks up into you.

It takes the pressure off your arms, and you suspect maybe he's strong enough to fuck like this without the help from the ropes.

The burn is exactly what you wanted. It stings, and you cry, silent but for a few whimpers. He pulls another orgasm out of you with his clever fingers on your clit.

When he comes, he pulls you to him and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. You wail, but you also come again as he fills you.

You expect him to leave you there, dangling and dripping his spend. But when he lets go, it’s just to lower you back to the ground.

He tucks his soft cock away and zips up, staring down at you. You lay against the door, trying to catch your breath.

“What’d you mean by ‘or something’?” he says, surprising himself.

“S’nothin,” you sigh.

He sits down, offers you water. You drink and watch him, tense and untrusting.

“Was that the first time you’ve been fucked?”

“First time I ever wanted it,” you say.

His jaw ticks. “Answer one more question for me, ‘bout your father’s camp.” He waits until you meet his eyes. “If you’re strugglin’ for food, how’s he keeping all them happy?”

You flinch and look away.

He doesn’t need another answer.

You don’t expect to see him in the morning, so you’re startled when the door opens. He throws something on the floor, but you don’t have time to look before he’s crouched over you, knife in hand.

You had promised yourself you’d be brave and quiet when he came for you. But you thought you’d have time to prepare yourself, so when he brings it toward you, you flinch back and cry out. “Hold still,” he snaps. He doesn’t have time to wait for you to cooperate, so he holds your shoulder with one hand and slices through the rope with the other.

When he’s done, he jabs the knife in the direction of the pile of fabric by your foot. “Get up. Get dressed.”

You can’t stand. He huffs and pockets the knife, pulling you up. Your limbs barely move from the way they’ve been stuck, splotchy and limp from poor circulation. He helps you tug the flannel on and step into what must be a pair of his boxers.

He looks you over. “S’all I got.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re so confused. Between the pain, the hunger, the dehydration, and the fear, it’s a wonder you can string together a single thought.

“Let’s go,” he snaps as he heads for the door, like you were supposed to know already. When you get into the house, he grabs one arm and pushes you ahead of him, through a kitchen and living room and out another door.

Most of his men are in two vans, but Joel shoves you into a pickup truck. He buckles you in and waves a finger in your face. “You try anything, and it’ll take you days to bleed out.”

You just nod. You’re thinking now that he probably doesn’t want to kill you in his house. Blood all over the stockroom would be a pain in the ass.

At least you got to see sunshine again.

It’s not a long drive, but you keep your eyes closed. The autumn sun is weak, but you think you might cry as it brushes your skin.

Joel doesn’t say a word.

You don’t open your eyes until he parks. He hops out and comes to pull you out the other side, but when you see where you are, you panic and try to push him away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps. “Get out of the fucking truck.”

God. Everything you’d heard about him is true. Was he really this cruel? Monstrous enough to drag you back, to die here when you’d finally escaped?

Or—has he struck a deal? Is he going to give you back to your father?

You can’t breathe.

Joel crowds you against the truck, hands on your shoulders, and shakes you a little. “Snap out of it, I ain’t got time for this. Stick with me and keep your mouth shut.”

For a moment, neither of you move. You get control of your breathing and realize he hasn’t restrained you. He didn’t give you shoes, but you still know this land far better than he does. You told him all your father’s secrets, but not yours.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s the softest he’s spoken to you yet.

And, god help you, you nod.

Two of Joel’s men are struggling to hold your father when Joel drags you into the living room of the main cabin. He’s holding your wrists behind your back, his gun pressed into your side.

“Oh, thank god, honey, you’re okay,” your father says, but his face falls when he sees the gun. “C’mon, Miller, let her go. She’s not a part of this.”

“She is now,” Joel says. “Found her on my land. Ain’t that right?”

You want to close your eyes, want to ignore your part in this, want him to just fucking shoot already, but you can’t look away from your father’s face.

“I swear to god, Miller, if you laid a hand on her—”

“Like your men did?” He waits and doesn’t receive a response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You know how it is,” your father says. He can’t read Joel, never could. “Everyone’s gotta contribute somehow. Keep morale up,” he plows forward, oblivious to the dangerous way Joel’s eyes have darkened. “Look, I can look past it. Whatever you did, she probably had it coming, for trespassing. We can call it even.”

Joel’s slow smirk is feral. He nods. For a moment, your father breathes with relief. But Joel isn’t looking at him.

His men move quick, and your father is on his knees in just seconds. They struggle to hold him down with hands on his shoulders, but he stops fighting when Joel lifts the gun away from you.

He doesn’t aim it at your father, who has to watch as Joel flips the gun in his hand and offers you the grip. He didn’t even notice that Joel had let you go.

You don’t say anything. You look at Joel for a moment, and your father watches you slowly move to take the handgun. He has the nerve to look relieved again, until you stop, holding it in both hands in front of you, looking at it.

“What are you doing? Shoot him!” your father says.

You look up at your father, grimacing against the bile rising in your throat.

You look at Joel again, gun heavy. You wonder what would happen if you let it drag down, out of your fingers, to the knotty pine panels that cover every surface. You wonder what would happen if you clasped your fingers around the weight of it and raised your arm to the left.

Joel’s men watch him, unsure. He holds up a hand and waits, watching the glow from the hearth dance across your face.

“Shoot them, you stupid girl, and get me out of here.”

Joel steps closer, puts his hands on your waist, and leans in. “Up to you, darlin’,” his hot breath against your ear.

You pull the trigger.

[mistystarshine]

Still accepting prompts? What if once an angel falls they start to develop a more demonic appearance? Vaggie starts noticing changes to her body a few days after the extermination and doesn't know how to feel about it.

Sorry if this isn't what you're looking for! I thought that you meant the extermination where Vaggie got stuck in hell and only later realized that you may have meant the hotel extermination. Thus, I tried to do something loosely canon compliant. I hope you like it anyway!

Vaggie stared in the mirror. 

She wasn't sure that she recognized the person who stared back. 

The most prominent changes were obvious. A girl with one eye, no wings, and no halo would never be mistaken for an exorcist, even if she didn't have any demonic traits. Except… The closer she looked, the more obvious it became that she didn't look particularly angelic either. 

The color of her remaining eye was shifting. Her iris was still the same familiar pale gold that it had been for thousands of years, but the sclera was slowly staining a bright reddish-pink. When she learned in closer to the mirror, she could have sworn that the shape of her iris was changing, too. 

Her skin color was changing. It had always been a little darker than most of her sisters, but now it was taking on a bluish-gray tint. Such a thing would not be out of place in heaven, she had seen the seraphim enough times to know, but it was not in line with the exorcists. 

Worst of all were the scales. Only visible up close or in the right light, they were thin, silver things that could be found in small patches across her person. 

There wasn't a single angel in the universe who had scales. 

“Hey,” a gentle voice called, pulling her out of her thoughts. Vaggie turned to find Charlie leaning against the doorway, a soft, encouraging smile on her lips. “You're beautiful,” she said. 

Charlie was beautiful. With all her clear demonic features, she was the most beautiful thing that she had never laid eyes on. She was beautiful, but she would never be allowed in heaven. There was nothing in the world that could convince them to give her a chance. 

Vaggie had only known the Princess for a few days, but she already knew that they would be worse off for it. 

Although she couldn't fully claim the appearance of either side, Vaggie looked closer to a demon than an angel.

It wasn't like she was ever going back to heaven anyway. 

She smile at Charlie and said, “You too.”

[orkbutch]

That no make up mod has prompted me to voice something I THINK .... I think that because Karlach is the character she is, which is to say she is clearly coded as a masculine lesbian (no that doesn't mean I think she IS a lesbian/isn't bi, I think you can headcanon different sexualities with characters but canon in game shes clearly bi ANYWAY).

I think because Karlach is coded as a masculine lesbian, both the game and the fandom, consciously or unconsciously, feel a need to Counter Balance her masculinity. I think she gets Golden Retrievered' by the fandom so much partly because of this. A lot of Karlach's darker personality traits emphasize her masculinity; she is angry, shes impulsive, shes over confident, shes aggressive and prone to violence. She is also, of course, full of love and resilience, shes deeply kind, extremely brave, an incredibly loyal person, and someone who has an admirable respect for her own emotions and their worthiness. But she is also all of those negative things, and they make her a particularly gender non-conforming character.

And sometimes I get frustrated because it feels like... idk! Like Karlach isn't just taken for who she is, I guess. There seems to be this need to emphasize a more feminine side of her. What if she was with a lover who was bigger and stronger than her? What if she was in a beautiful gown? What if she was taking care of everyone? ect. ect. Its not bad to depict those things, obviously. But I also very rarely see art thats leaning into her masculinity, that emphasizes it. Even though she's clearly masculine, and she clearly LIKES that. She LIKES masculinity. Idk, maybe I'm just imagining it or overthinking shit but its been on my mind so im venting

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Six: Prophetic Girl

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: canon-events (demobats), some fluffy bits in this one, vecna's curse, not proof-read

[A/N: Oh my goodness, the procrastinator has returned- Whew, thank you all for your patience! I finally found some time to finish the next chapter; I really didn't want to rush anything so just know this one was created with every ounce of love <3)

Prophetic Girl

You don’t know why you dived into the water with the others.

You weren’t a particularly strong swimmer, nor did you have a heroic nature urging you to help save a friend.

The look Robin gave you as her best friend was dragged under the water was probably the culprit, ripping open your heart with her absolute terror.

That was the scariest part of it all. The emotional discipline you had forced upon yourself over the past year could be shattered in seconds from just one look, reigniting a feeling you thought was lost forever. And god dammit, you would do anything to make sure that feeling never got away from you again.

“Steve!” Robin screams as you pull yourself out of the gate, wiping the water from your face.

The Upside Down. It wasn’t like you expected it to be. You know they had described it as a reflection of Hawkins, a darker universe than the one you resided in, yet part of you always assumed there’d be something strangely beautiful about this place. But you were here now, rushing to the others to help them fight off the local bats, looking around with nothing but disgust on your face.

Perhaps you couldn’t find the beauty in everything after all.

You barely reached the others before Eddie was shouting behind you. Duck? In the last second, you mange to crouch to the ground and avoid something with claws flying over your head, screeching into the dark sky. You blink. Was that a…

“Bats!” Eddie exasperates, grabbing an oar from the ground and charging full speed at the one swinging back for a second time.

It was a chaotic blur of stress and adrenaline, somehow batting away small razor sharp teeth and wrestling against their surprisingly slimy bodies. You had managed to pull one from Nancy’s back and drive your boot down on its head before Robin pulled you away from an attack, Eddie’s oar quick to slam it to the ground.

Steve was bitten pretty badly, the first thing you observed as he spat out the head of a bat, panting. You thought Eddie was about to explode from excitement, looking at you with wide eyes and suppressing a smile. How he managed to find joy even in hell, you would never know.

“You okay?” Robin’s hand shook as she places both hands on her best friend’s shoulders, worried eyes searching his. He lets out a breathy laugh and nods, her body practically depleting in relief.

“You’re sure?” Nancy prompts, and he examines himself closer, still nodding. “Took about a pound of flesh but, uh, other than that… never better.”

You let out a sigh and wipe your brow, watching as Robin crouches beside you to shine a light on a bat corpse.

“Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin questions, looking up at you with a frown.

“What?” Steve gapes, and you suck in your lips.

“It’s just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear.” She explains, standing back up, “And I think we should get you to a doctor really soon because once symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.”

Both Steve and Nancy look at her in exasperation, their features clearly telling that they didn’t appreciate Robin’s spiralling input. You start to smirk.

“Or you’ll become a vampire.” You offer with a grin and he mockingly nods his head.

“We need to get you patched up.” Nancy states, looking dishevelled from the fight, looking around, “Maybe we can-”

The trail of thoughts were lost as you all watch another group of bats fly down to where the gate rested, tearing at it. You squint your eyes, focusing. What were they doing?

“Uh, guys?” Eddie interrupts, and you turn to see him staring at the sky, your eyes widening. “I think we need to get out of here.”

“Nah, there’s not that many, we can take ‘em.” Steve breathes out, wincing when you lightly tap him. But it draws everyone else’s focus up to the sight that had you and Eddie stood in fear.

As your eyes fixate on the litter of shapes between the warm clashes of red and blue, you quickly start to nod, grabbing Eddie by the shirt and pulling him into a run as you all silently agree to a fast escape.

“The trees!” You yell, pointing to your left and you all head for the treeline, ducking for cover just as the bats attempt to swoop down, blocked by the thick expanse of wood.

You all manage to huddle under the flipped version of Skull Rock, panting as the bats fly past with no prey in their sight.

“That… was more cardio than I paid for.” Robin gasps and you collapse against a rock, catching your breath.

Nancy was quick to start patching Steve up despite his polite objections. You even raised an impressed eyebrow when she rips off the hem of her shirt to substitute bandages with fabric, sharing a look of awe with Eddie.

Out the corner of your eye, you see Robin trying to calm Steve down in a way that would have you smiling. But Steve didn’t look to be in the smiling nature.

Calmly, you place a hand on her shoulder and gently guide her away, the girl giving you a smile.

Instead of berating her best friend with a million facts and questions that would probably stress him out, she took a seat on the ground opposite you, her smile noticeably less bright when Eddie plops directly beside you, groaning.

“So… anyone got a blunt?”

“Jesus Christ.” You groan with a smirk, eyeing him with amusement. “You seriously think now is a good time to be getting high?”

“I personally think this is the best time to get high.” He says with confidence, stretching out his legs.

“You’re an idiot.” You say, adoration in your voice that made Robin’s skin crawl.

“Ouch.” He mockingly holds his hand to his heart, “I wasn’t treated this way when you needed a smoke after you rear-ended Mrs Click’s car-”

“Shut up!” You hiss with laughter, gently shoving him away from you and he chuckles, shoving back.

As she watched the two of you tease one another with an ease that made her queasy, Robin’s brows furrowed. You were both much closer than she had hoped for.

“Why did you guys break up?”

The quiet laughter broke into silence, inquisitive eyes suddenly set on hers. She feels her ears burn, quickly swooping her hair forward to conceal them.

“Thank you for asking.” Eddie claps his hands like it was an interview and you roll your eyes, immediately easing the tension. “Well, you see, we were like, what? 15? 15. It was cute, very short, and we realised we were better friends. Right?”

“That’s about it.” You shrug, smiling. Your eyes land on hers with a lightness to them that made her heart swoon.

“So why did you even get together in the first place?” She frowns, face dropping when his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, god, that sounded meaner than it did in my head.”

“We hadn’t really tried the friend part yet.” You chuckle, and Eddie hums.

“Too blinded by our mutual hatred for King Steve and his merry band of idiots.”

“So you could say Steve brought us closer together.” You quip and Robin suppresses a laugh.

“One of you say my name?” Steve suddenly asks and you all fall into laughter, ignoring the boy’s curious frown.

After a while, Eddie shakes his head and jumps up to stalk over to a fallen tree trunk, inspecting it.

“He’s pretty cool.” Robin sighs, watching him step up onto the wood and survey the land like an explorer.

“Yeah.” You look over your shoulder with a smile, something like sadness flickering across your face for just a fleeting moment. If Robin didn’t find herself completely captivated with every movement you made, she would have missed it completely. Was it… regret? Did you regret the break up? Did you want him back-

“So, uh…” Eddie’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as you all turn to where he stood at the tip of the tree trunk. “This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much.” Nancy responds, grunting a little as she attempts to shift some of Steve’s weight onto her. “Wait, watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind.”

“It’s all a what?”

“All the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re like, one or something.” Steve tries to explain, wincing as he brushes his hand over the bandages.

“I repeat, it’s all a what?” Eddie frowns and you stand up, grimacing.

“Uh, step on a vine, you step on literally everything else at the same time and then, well, evil wizard comes to snap our bones.” You shrug, his mouth parted in shock as he nods slowly in recognition.

“Shit.” He simply says, starting his descent.

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people, obviously?” Robin appears beside you, her arm brushing against yours.

“As far as I understand it, yeah.” Nancy nods and you can practically hear the cogs turning in Robin’s mind, humming with excitement.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.” She suggests and you vigorously nod along to her idea, loving where her mind was at.

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin. But guns, yeah, sure.” Steve rolls his eyes and you hum.

“I don’t know, I definitely think Hopper would stash grenades somewhere.” You say and Nancy tilts her head in acknowledgement, silently agreeing.

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns.” Nancy says and you raise your eyebrow. “I have guns. In my bedroom.”

“You,” Eddie jumps down with surprise, brows furrowed. “Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin grins.

Eddie doesn’t look convinced.

“Be a sceptic, but I watched her shoot at a demogorgon that was emerging from the ceiling.” You snort, crossing your arms. “And I gotta tell ya, Nancy owning guns is the least surprising thing in that sentence.”

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver.” Nancy confirms.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve comments, getting closer.

Nancy starts to smile, turning her head to him. “You almost deserved it.”

They share a look and you twist your face. “Gag me with a spoon.”

“I got it.” Eddie says, slipping off his denim vest and launching it at Steve, the boy barely catching it before it hit his face. “For your modesty, dude.”

You almost laughed at his face until the ground violently shook beneath you, throwing you off balance and sending you crashing into Robin. She tried her best to catch you, but she was already falling to the ground, your body laying on top of her and you both squeezed your eyes shut until the earthquake stopped.

“What… the hell… was that?” You pant, turning your head to see Robin’s wide eyes staring back at you. For a second, you couldn’t peel your eyes away, closer than you ever would have imagined.

The moment was short-lived, a chorus of snarls and screeches echoing through the woods like an omen.

“Yeah, so guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie gasps.

“Yeah me too.”

“Me three.”

You and Robin both reply as you peel away from eachother, avoiding eye contact like neither of you had any kind of self-restraint.

It was impossible not to notice a particular pair of eyes on you as your own stayed glued to the ground, unfamiliar with the Upside Down and its tricks. For anyone to be watched would be somewhat discomforting, but not in this particular instance. Because, for as long as you can remember now, anytime she’s looked away, your eyes have been returning the favour.

“Did you wanna say something?”

You finally break the silent streak occurring between you and Robin, her sheepish smile brightening her face once she realises she’s been caught.

“I, uh…” She fumbles around for an excuse, letting out a low whistle. “Was just making sure you’re okay. That’s all. Nothing weird.”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” You laugh, catching her eyes and she almost melts. “Do I not look okay?”

“You look amazing.” Robin shakes her head, blinking when she realises what she just said. “Uh, I didn’t mean that. Not that you don’t look amazing, you do, even after all of that. Not in a weird- what I meant to say was I don’t think you aren’t okay, I was just…”

She lets out a groan and you laugh again.

“I’ve just dragged you into this and I can’t help thinking it will be my fault if you aren’t okay.”

“Robin.” You carefully step over a vine, clearing your throat. “Before you showed up at my door, I was already deciding that I was going to help.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, shrugging. “The, uh, the first time Nancy asked me to help, I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wasn’t in the mood to try and save a town that I hated. It was… complicated.”

“What changed your mind?”

“My gran.” You smile, albeit sadly. “I suddenly realised that I’ve lost too many people here. Even if… even if I don’t belong here, the people living in this town don’t deserve to die. I can’t just leave when people I care about are in danger.”

“So my whole speech was just for nothing?”

“Not for nothing.” You shake your head, suddenly sending her a smirk. “It was very entertaining.”

“Shut up.” Robin giggles, nudging your arm playfully.

As she does, her joy momentarily distracts her from her own very important mission: do not trip.

It almost cost her, glancing down at the last second to come to a screeching halt, the toes of her boots a fraction away from brushing the side of a vine. Her sudden stop itself threw her off balance, and she felt herself falling back.

Until your hands reached out and caught hers, pulling her closer to you before she fell victim to gravity completely.

“Thanks.” She says breathlessly, and you can only nod, looking down to where your fingers interlocked hers.

Clearing your throat, you take your hands back and offer a smile, ignoring the sickly sweet feeling of your heartbeat drumming a little faster than it had been before your hands found someone’s to hold.

“Gotta be careful.” You whisper, returning your eyes to the path and moving towards Nancy’s silhouette up ahead. Robin stood there for a moment longer, biting her lip.

She was just torturing herself now. Either she said something, prayed for some kind of miracle, or she moved on. There was no point living in this romance limbo when there were more important things to worry about.

Her feet were tired by the time you reach the Wheeler house, shifting in her shoes as Steve takes the flashlight from her and clicks it on, the door creaking beneath his push.

The interior reflected its exterior, dark and covered head to toe with vines that made her grimace at the sight.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin jokes, almost jumping when she hears you shut the door.

“Sorry.” You mouth, walking into the space. “Wow. Love the décor.”

“Come on,” Nancy tilts her head to the staircase, “I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.”

She starts bounding up the steps, and Robin gives you a shrug before she and Eddie start to follow up, your own footsteps behind Steve’s. Except, for some reason, he stops.

“Hello?” You crane your neck around to where he’s shining the flashlight at nothing. “Earth to Steve?”

“Shhh.” He whispers, holding a finger to his lips. You frown. “I hear something.”

“Oh god.” Your shoulders slump. “You’re not hallucinating, are you? Because I can’t be the one to tell Robin the rabies got you.”

“Just… shut up.” He says, slipping past you and moving to the corner. “It’s him.”

Any sarcastic quips you had rattling around your brain were pushed away, fear flooding your body. “Vecna?”

“What? No, no.” He shakes his head, holding his finger in the air. “Henderson.”

“Hend-” You stop, tilting your head. “You can hear Dustin?”

“Just…” He sighs and waltz over to you, placing a hand on your back and moving you to where he was previously stood.

“Oh, hey, Y/n, come over here.” You mumble as you shrug his hand off of you. “What am I-”

“Just listen.” He says and you sigh, shutting your mouth and entertaining the idea.

For a moment, nothing.

And then the voice whispers around you, muffled, and most definitely Dustin’s.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out and Steve nods furiously. “Holy shit.”

“Dustin!” He starts to shout and you join him, the both of you shouting around the space. “Dustin!”

Once they hear your yelling, the other three are running down the stairs, Robin’s heart beating fast, assuming that the minute she left you had been attacked and there would be no way to-

“What the…” Eddie mutters and she widens her eyes in disbelief.

“Dustin! Hello?!”

The two of you are yelling at the walls and ceilings, making her blink.

“Maybe he really does have rabies.” She comments and Eddie frowns.

“Is it contagious?” He asks and she tilts her head, still fixated on the shouting frenzy.

“Only if he bit her.”

“Hello?” Dustin?!”

“Guys, what are you doing?” Nancy interrupts your next cry for the young boy and you turn to them, breathing heavy.

“We heard Dustin.” You breathlessly explain and Steve nods behind you, still shouting.

“He's here. Henderson. That little shit, he's here. He's like... He's in the walls or something. Just listen.” Steve grins at them before walking away, continuing his call. “Dustin!”

“Uh…” You stare as he spins around in a circle. “He might look crazy, but I promise he’s right. Listen.”

You watch the realisation fall over their faces, making you smile.

They fan out, calling out his name and following in Steve’s lead, trying to communicate with the boy on the other side.

As you go to join them, you catch something out of the corner of your eye, reflecting on the glass of the window. You can still hear Dustin’s voice droning in and out, like a radio that hadn’t been sent to the right frequency. But it didn’t sound the same as before. Something was different.

Your refection was blurry, making you squint. Goosebumps started to trail across your skin, making you shiver. It wasn’t your reflection.

Robin was the only to see how you blinked into a state of paralysis, immediately calling out for help as she rushes over to you.

It seemed like Vecna had something else to say.

Chapter Seven: We Are The Pariahs

taglist: @kryztalglear . @learninglinesintherainn . @officerrrfriendly . @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean . @spacedoutdaydreamer . @endurexxsurvive . @em16cor . @gray-cheese . @chaosofmanyfandoms . @kitdjarin1 . @some-day--some-how . @cultish-corner . @marirxse .

[the-s1lly-corner]

One Shot Requests

That's right! One shots are now a possible option when requesting something! Like normal requests, you can see the status of if they're open or not in my bio! Hooray!

Below will be a short list of rules and what can and cant be written! Be sure to read through it thoroughly before requesting!

RULES

It's very similar to the standard rules for this blog! No spamming unless its otherwise said its allowed (it never hurts to ask!)

Given that these will be entire fics rather than hc posts, only one character is allowed per post (or at least, one main character asides the reader! Quick cameos are allowed and may be added on general depending on plot and if they're needed to expand the story)

^ I do plan on adding poly as an option but until I get my footing on one shots it's just monogamous pairings for now

You can find the list of current fandoms I write for in my pinned! If you're not sure, you can always check! I keep the list updated!

Fics vary in length, really depends on how much steam I have

Fics will be posted here as well as on AO3, assuming the fic is SFW! AO3 link can be found in my pinned!

Obligatory I am an amateur who writes for fun so expect possible OOC and stuff LMAO

WHAT I WILL WRITE

Fluff, angst, platonic relationships, family relationships, and romance! Hooray! If there is ever anything I feel uncomfortable writing or feel I cannot do justice for, I will let you know ASAP!

Canon x reader! You're allowed to add descriptors for a reader! Gender, personality, style and so on! Just please note it will be harder to capture certain aspects in one shots than it will be for standard hc posts

Prompts and/or hc posts done in the past are allowed to be selected to be expanded upon in a fic!

If you're unsure if I write for a character from a fandom you can always ask! There are some fandoms that are very selective

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

Darker topics may be touched up upon however I have limits. I will do my best to voice myself if something is too much

Standard no nos: no incest or rape ect ect ect

No NSFW of characters who are in source minors (more on nsfw fics later) (nsfw IS allowed, just not on this blog)

On screen abuse and/or self harm. It is allowed off screen/implied or as a characters history

HOW TO REQUEST

All requests must go to the inbox and only the inbox! Requests sent through comments/messages/reblogs will not be answered period.

State your character of choice and any (optional) descriptors for the reader (readers are GN by default by the by)

Optionally you can request a specific scenario! It can be one of your own making or one taken from my prompt and trope lists!

NSFW ELABORATED

COMMISSIONS VS REQUEST

As of 10/26/2024 I have created a NSFW blog. You may ask for it in PMs but note that if you do not have your age stated in your bio you will not be getting it until it is there. If you find it on your own while being a minor/ageless blog you will be blocked both here and there. I also ask that minors stay away from my ao3 as eventually it may be mixed sfw/nsfw. All sfw fics will be posted here too so there is no reason for you to visit my ao3

As of the time of writing this one shot commissions are unavailable, when they are this section will be expanded upon! Naturally a commission allows one to have more customization and such in a fic as opposed to having a vague reader and stuff

[parseolegacy]

Day two of @jdiknight's SWTOR-tober prompt list! The day two prompt is Lightside: I had one very obvious pick for this one. While both Akk'rai (My Consular) and Zilei (My Knight) are 100% light side in-game, in my out-of-game lore Zilei has a much more intimate and uninterrupted relationship with the light side of the force. As per the last post I've added an extension to the challenge where I also write more about how the prompt and subsequent drawing relate to my characters! Full Jedi Knight storyline spoilers (and some general Swtor spoilers, I think) and the story/lore explanation half of this post under the cut.

I thought it a little ridiculous for such an inexperienced Jedi to defeat the Emperor in the Knight storyline- but I generally stick close to game canon when it comes to the lore I write for my characters, so it was staying. Since I wasn't going to alter the event itself I veered towards giving a supplemental explanation as to how this was possible. Having a character be born exceptionally strong in the Force was the first obvious halfway solution that popped into my head, but I didn't find that particularly compelling. I didn't want him to necessarily wield that kind of power. Ultimately, though, I did settle on something related: Deepening his connection to the light side of the force to the point of becoming a conduit for its 'will'; said aspect bleeding into who he is in certain crucial moments where the balance between darkness and light threatens to tip- times when his mind is sufficiently in tune with the light side to the point where, in a way, he becomes a vessel for it. 'The will of the Force' as a whole, as I understand it, is a pretty dubious concept within the Star Wars canon (EU included) but with the existence of beings like The Ones/The Mortis gods, full alignment with the light side and the dark side seems possible. The source and essence of this connection was largely inspired by my love of stories & narratives where the world/nature itself fights back against its destruction, á la Princess Mononoke's forest spirit and other similar stories. This is officially commences when Vitiate/Tenebrae 'consumes' his first planet. The wave of dark side energy, the disturbance, sets in motion a pendulum swing within the Force that will eventually pivot back. And this returning energy, by mere happenstance or by fate, finds a home in Zilei, a young knight heartily dancing through a crescendo of Galactic events. (His general, nigh unshakeable positive attitude is, frankly, nothing short of a miracle considering the Galaxy in shambles. Maybe it was destiny after all.)

He changes slightly, when fully aligned with the light side. Zilei is actually very playful, merry and even slightly mischievous- taking great delight in harmless pranks, general high jinks or outright goofy, unconventional ways to handle situations. At the zenith of alignment (or the closest to a meditative internal peace,) he's notably more serene, almost otherworldly, as he dons a perpetual soft smile on his face and his eyes fade into light. This, of course, exists on a spectrum- not to mention the fact that he's generally quite tranquil, as a stereotypical practicing Jedi might be. Notably he begins showing signs of this peak for the first time the closer they get to confronting the Emperor on Dromund Kaas- something noticed by the observant long-term members of his crew- especially after he abruptly reverts to 'normal' past the Emperor's (current) defeat. I like to think that during the ending ceremony, both Satele and Scourge could sense the light flowing out of him, temporarily retreating back into the Force as its current task was completed.

I believe my turquoise gel pen ended up running out of ink soon after I started lining (will have to test this tomorrow) so I switched to a blue ballpoint pen instead. Pretty sure I like it more with the darker lines than I would have with the gel pen anyway so, hooray!

Previous days: Day 1 + Introduction post

[mistyheartrbs]

vengeance would have been a perfect special if not for doc's death, and i think the reason for that is like. it changes vengeance from a fun sort of "optional" epilogue tv movie (that also doubles as a sizzle reel for andras to pitch a fifth season) to something that irrevocably changes the directions of the characters' lives. if this is the last entry in wynonna earp then doc is dead, wynonna has lost the love of her life, alice grows up without her father. it changes the beautiful ending of s4 - something that was so ruthlessly, defiantly hopeful when it was borne of a genre and a timeframe in which shock value and grimdark character death were the norm, when it was filmed in the middle of a devastating pandemic - into something much more cynical.

now, let me tell you about homestuck.

i love it when stories engage with their role as stories, and two projects that have done that (which also not so coincidentally had massive tumblr followings) are steven universe and, yes, homestuck -- specifically their followups, steven universe: future and the homestuck epilogues/homestuck^2: beyond canon.

steven universe future is a series that posits, "what happens when there's no one left to fight and you have to face yourself?" it's something that existed to tie up the loose ends left by steven universe's hasty cancellation/ending - and so it looks at an action hero's struggles with ptsd when he isn't saving the world anymore. it recontextualizes everything we thought was just another action scene, just another monster fight, just another thing he won with love and kindness and great, great injury to himself, and says, no, this hurt him, you cannot take on the world for yourself, you deserve a good life too. it's in conversation with steven universe's endless empathy and self-sacrifice and doesn't ridicule it but acknowledges that it's a philosophy that you can only hold for so long before you crack.

it's a lovely show that, while much darker than the original series, still ultimately ends on a hopeful note. of course steven isn't going to drive off into the sunset and never have any problems again. he's a person. he's going to drive away when it's already nighttime, and he's going to phone his therapist, and he's going to have good days and bad ones and he's never going to have some clean break from the things that still haunt him but he'll be okay.

the homestuck epilogues are bad, and they're mean-spirited, and they spit in the face of audiences who wanted happy endings for the characters. they're written to mimic ao3 fanfiction, and pretty openly mock the fandom and the people who got homestuck to this point in the first place.

creator andrew hussie thankfully seemed to realize that and changed course with homestuck^2: beyond canon, where they started making it a visual webcomic series again, and it started grappling more directly with homestuck as a story.

the first shot of homestuck^2 is of a spaceship with "theseus" scrawled onto the side. the title itself isn't "homestuck 2," it's homestuck squared. homestuck multiplied by itself. it's a writing team - people who started out as fans of homestuck and are now arbiters of it - with only minimal involvement from the original creator. who determines what is and isn't homestuck? is it the god-creator who wrote himself into the story, then wrote himself being killed off? is it this new writing team? is it you? after all, homestuck itself started with audience prompts. somebody who is not andrew hussie named john egbert. somebody who is not andrew hussie gets to decide how it continues, and if it ends, and why.

"misty, what the whiskey-shooting hell does any of this have to do with wynonna earp?"

what's weird about vengeance is that it doesn't do any of that. and in fact its very existence is antithetical to doc's death speech - it, like doc, is something that's dodged death. it's a followup to a show with one of the most satisfying series finales in recent memory. it's nothing so cynical as a cash grab (as i've seen people on the tag posit) - everyone involved genuinely loves this show. but it's basically a ninety-minute wynonna earp episode. aside from a few brief references and nods to the fans - waverly saying "welcome home, wynonna" - it's not interested in the three and a half years between the end of the show and this new special. it's not interested in whether it should exist, or how long people fought for it to exist. it does explore avenues that the series didn't have time to look into - wynonna's traumatic childhood, the lack of support from the adults in her life - but it's not looking at What "wynonna earp" is. it's not a story about Wynonna Earp (2016-2021), a SyFy Original Series that crafted lifelong friendships and conventions and stories and art and romances and careers and acted as a beacon of hope for thousands of young people during dark times. it's a story about wynonna earp, the character, who doesn't know if she can be a good mom to alice, who hurts the people she loves, who loves those people so, so fiercely she'll literally go to hell and back for them.

and i don't like that her ending is one full of grief. that doesn't feel fair to me.

but that's what season 5 is for, right?

[terresdebrume]

Happy ficversary! For the prompts: "I already lost you once, I'm not going to lose you again" and/or "get behind me."

Thanks for the prompt, friend! I decided to go for some plastic for this one :D

It's set somewhere post canon, probably in London^^

If anyone else wants to send a prompt, the list is here ^^

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson's footsteps, heavy and slow, pace closer to the walk-in closet Crystal and Niko took refuge in. Niko, one hand firmly clamped on her mouth, listens to the sound like her life depends on it, largely because it does.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson, quiet but for his footsteps and the sound of his baseball bat dragging along the floor, peels away to the bathroom. Niko, her heart in her mouth, scans the darkness of the closet and finds Crystal's silhouette, a sliver of cold white light falling down on her face, making her look gray.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

A shiver crawls down Niko's spine with the distressing precision of a chipped fingernail. Whimpering shakily, she turns to the door, where the artificial light of the bedroom fails to produce more than a dim outline, and has to bite down on a squeak of terror when something tugs at her sleeve.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

The footsteps grow closer again.

"Get behind me," Crystal whispers.

Niko can only just make out one of her eyes, wide but determined, and the vague silhouette of her hand, hold onto something. It looks way too small for a weapon. Panting in terror, Niko manages to unclench her fingers from around her face and hiss:

"Are you mad?"

"No," Crystal says, tense but determined. "I have a plan."

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson must be at the bedroom's door now.

Niko whimpers, as quietly as she can, and closes her eyes as hard as she can. It doesn't help.

"Niko," Crystal insists, "get behind me."

"You don't have your powers," Niko points out, because she doesn't know what Crystal can do without them in this situation.

"I don't care," Crystal retorts, sounding like she very badly wants to shout, "I'm not losing you again!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Niko falls quiet, too terrified to protest when Crystal puts herself between Niko and the door. She watches, paralyzed, as one then two darker lines appear under the bottom of the door. Slowly, too slowly, a darker spot appears in the sliver of vertical light that marks the seam of the door. It creeps up, inch by inch, until it reaches the round doorknob.

Niko brings both hands up to her mouth. Slowly, the doorknob twists, a high pitched metal whine filling the closet. Niko wants to hold onto Crystal's jacket, to fold herself down until she can hide behind Crystal's petite stature.

The doorjamb clicks.

The door cracks open. Niko holds her breath.

One inch. Niko winces, biting her lips behind her hands.

Two inches. Tears slide down her cheeks.

A face slowly creeps into the closet, but as soon as it makes eye contact with Crystal, she screams and shoves something in Mr. Emerson's face. Niko hears a psst sound, smells insecticide, and is yanked by the arm at full speed.

They barrell out of the bedroom and into the corridor, down the stairs that nearly trip Niko again, into the foyer, then out onto the street, Mr. Emerson screaming murder on their heels. Niko follows Crystal's death grip around the corner, onto a side street, and into the first couture boutique they come across.

"Crystal," she tries to say as they make their way to the stairs at the back. "Crystal—"

"Just a bit more," Crystal mutters, tearing a few articles from their place.

They shove their way to the changing cabins, where Crystal drags them into the same cubicle. The shop is small, and the cabin truly doesn't have the room for two, but Niko doesn't care. She's pressed right against Crystal, an insecticide spray and what looks like a pregnancy dress between them.

"Crystal," Niko says, short of breath, "you're never going to wear that dress.

Crystal looks at her like she's grown a second head. Niko doesn't let that deter her.

"Also, you saved my life."

"Yeah," Crystal replies, dazed, making no move to let go of any of her bounty. "I told you, I'm not losing you again."

They look at each other, eye to eye. They're both panting, sweaty from the run and the adrenaline. Both wide eyed, and so, so very close to one another. Niko, her heart beating, says:

"Crystal?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Crystal makes a high pitched uh-huh sound, and meets her halfway.

They keep kissing until one of the store clerks politely clears her throat next to their cubicle.