#does killer know about dust's affection for him? the answer is: who knows :]

[what-have-i-unleashed]

a little something before bed :]

so some time before killer leaves the gang, when cross has only been in it for a short while (couple weeks maybe). killer sneaks into cross' room (the doors in the palace are never locked) and sits on the bed next to cross' sleeping form (cross is wide awake the moment he hears killer enters and killer knows it but pretends to not know anyway). and killer starts to talk. about his plans. his future. his... regrets.

basically cross is the first one to know that killer is going to defect. he doesn't tell nightmare or anyone else of course. and near the end of the one-sided conversation, killer drops the bomb.

"dusty... he's a bit of a loner, you know. always so broody. always a recluse. when i'm gone..." killer trails off, and cross strains to listen, anticipating. "when i'm gone, take care of him for me, okay?"

[skeleton-mischief]

Y/N who can see Dust!Sans papyrus. Papyrus, aiming to fix Dusts loneliness, lures her to him. (This can take place in a bad sans trio universe where dust just hops AU’s for funsies)

Ohohoho I appreciate the specifics, it helps me with knowing what you want. This'll be fun :-]‼️💥

Be warned, my silly ass actually has a fun interpretation for Papyrus when it comes to Dust and him. And for the sake of some plot hole answers, I'll give you a little treat when it comes to soulmates being involved. So, hopefully you'll like this take on it!

Hm. Something is wrong, very wrong. Where is he? Where is he where is he where is he where- no. no. This is normal. Paps always had a strange way of disappearing occasionally. His magic must be low, he hasn't dusted anyone in awhile. He has Saint and Killer, which keeps him company at least. Sure, Killer is a pain in the ass, but it's better than being alone. It's not like he needed to constantly hear his brother scolding him, but he feels a little emptier now. That's a whole part of his soul. One speck of his dust leaving his soul is a rare occurrence, a rare one indeed. Pap wouldn't use this to disappear somewhere though, right?

...

Where the fuck is he? It's getting awfully more uncomfortable for him when it's time to sleep, he can't focus on anything other than him. His one true companion, the one last remains of his own universe. For fucks sake he's been even confronted by Nightmare about what has been bothering him. Saint knows. Of course he does. Saint can tell that the absence of-...someone is affecting him. It's not like Paps doesn't appear every now and again, when his magic is strong. It's a small perk for his brother, especially since Dust is usually the only one who can see him. Killer asked him about his brother too, but he couldn't stop himself from walking off when he did.

Where is he? Why has he been gone for so long? Why? Why why why why why wh-

.....

He wants him to come back.

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Lately, you've been having strange dreams. Or... hallucinations?? It always happens at night, and you swear that it's not a normal thing for you to see a floating skull talking to you. Papyrus was his name. Ah- yes. That's a name that you haven't heard before, but it's pleasant. He's pleasant. Right now, he is talking to you about what used to be his favorite hobbies.

"Truly, I actually never could master how to cook spaghetti! It's not like it's my favorite food- that's dinosaur oatmeal- but everyone else likes it!! I always ruined it, but somehow my brother would eat it-"

"Brother?" You chipped in, interrupting his ramblings. He didn't seem to mind, his empty eye sockets seemed to somehow gleam when you asked. You were sitting up in bed, and he floated across from you with his gloved hands moving theatrically as he waved away an invisible line of thought. His mandibles opened as he grinned. He always had such a charming yet slightly off-putting smile.

"Yes, of course!! He's my older brother. He's still alive, actually! He goes by a different name nowadays, and he's...changed over time. But-!" Papyrus' skull leaned forward, his hands leaving a strange cold sensation that felt like icy air embracing your hands. You don't know why your chest made a strange feeling bubble up. "He's still a very kind skeleton. I wish you could meet him," He finished, his voice slightly softening from his usual boisterous tone. You smiled at this, tilting your head to the side as you humoured this idea. You wanted to know more about this skeleton and his apparent brother, but it's not like you didn't believe him. It's just that a part of you still clung onto the idea that you just happen to be having multiple strange dreams of the same skeleton with different conversations.

"Yeah? Well...what is he like? How much has he apparently changed?" You inquired, which seemed to cause Papyrus to hesitate. "Ah-...well. He used to be laid-back, happy. I remember how he happened to be quite popular and loved by others, with his charm and all. I found it irritating when he would prank me, spew nothing but lame puns, but nowadays I-....I miss those times. He's more...-"

One gloved hand waved slightly, as if he was trying to conjure up a description.

"Reserved now. He struggles with taking care of himself and connecting with others. He did something really...bad, a long time ago. He hasn't been the same sense, and sometimes it worries me. I think that someone like you could get through to him though!" "Why's that?"

Papyrus didn't answer quickly, and you didn't miss the slight spark of delight in his eyes. "I can just tell." He quipped, the hand that hasn't held yours now placed atop your head. If you were honest, it felt more physically present than before, as if his body started to solidify some more as his appearance becomes less hazy. "You're a good person, I think he needs someone to show him some of the good in things."

You felt your tongue click behind your teeth, a huff of laughter escaping your parted lips. Your ears tingled slightly, his words leaving your chest quivering for a moment as your grip became looser. "Well, thank you Papyrus," You let go of his ghostly hand after not saying anything for a minute, before you leaned back against the safety of your pillows. You rolled over on your side but still facing him as he adjusted himself to the side of the bed. "I haven't...I haven't heard someone tell me that in a long time." You finally settled on saying. Your eyes were hazy, and it seemed to click for Papyrus that you didn't want to explore that part of the conversation any longer.

He also noted the way your soul hummed through your ribcage, a special sight only he could see without complications. Who would've thought that you were his brother's soulmate? It was such a pleasant find, an accidental incident that not even Dust noticed. Thankfully, he caught it, saw the glowing of your soul from so far away. You were truly someone he found delightful to be around, and he knows that Dust would think the same thing, even if he would be stubborn about it at first.

He patted your head as your eyes started to close, his voice now a whisper. "Well, I'm glad that I was able to share my thoughts with you. Get some rest now, okay? I'll be back tomorrow, if that's alright with you?" "Mnh...yeah, that sounds...that sounds nice. Thank you again, Papyrus....Goodnight..."

"Goodnight,"

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"Where have you been?!?" Dust couldn't help but shout, his hands gripping onto Papyrus' scarf and aggressively twisting it around. He had been collecting LV to try and get Papyrus back, only for him to now show up after a few weeks. "Do you know how confused I was? Worried?"

Papyrus didn't answer immediately, instead tapping his fingers against where his arms would be if he had any. Right now, he was still mostly transparent. He wasn't the only one though, with how Dust was trembling as his voice cracked slightly. He always fidgeted with his scarf when nervous. "I was spending time with a friend!!" He claimed with conviction. "A friend?" "Yes! And I think you'd love to meet them!"

Dust couldn't believe what he was hearing. A friend? From so far away? He was traveling multiple timelines, AU's, all to find Paps. And yet apparently that's where he has been this whole time? With a friend? He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows squished together. He quickly tried to look indifferent, or at least more mad than he actually was. Papyrus wasn't falling for it though, he never did. "How did you even meet someone?" "Simple: I met them when I decided to travel back to where our timeline would be!" Papyrus was quick to dismiss, but Dust only frowned further.

"Why would I even want to? For one, we're always traveling, Pap. We're told not to get attached to anyone, you know this." Dust tried to rationalize, pacing now in his room as his hands kept fidgeting with the scarf. He's now resorted to pacing because he has too much on his mind, but he feels a cold touch to his head and it pulls him back momentarily. Papyrus has now drained some energy from Dust, his physical form more solid, visible to him.

"Brother. Please, I am aware. But trust me, this is for your own good. I really think that you simply must meet them, at least once." Dust felt Papyrus placing his other hand on his shoulder, his upper body slightly bent down to be more at eye level. Papyrus knows what will happen if Dust does meet you, but he wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. With the years passing of living with Sans, with who he is now, he's learned how to speak to him. He's no longer the easily swayed skeleton who would do anything on a whim. But, Papyrus isn't the same either.

"...Please?"

"....Pap,"

"....Do they really mean this much to you?"

"Sans."

Dust winced at the name.

"Yes, they do. I really think you'll like them."

"...Fine, fine."

Dust felt the cold touch of Papyrus when he wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight with a giddy laugh. "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!"

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Regret is not the right word he would use. No, regret would imply that he wishes that he never met you or something along those lines. No, he just wishes that he didn't meet you at this point in time when he's who he is now. When he entered an old timeline of his, he found that his soul felt instantly off. Not a bad feeling per say, but more...calm? He's never been too calm ever since the human fell all those years ago. But as his brother spoke, a white noise at the moment, he felt that he couldn't focus. His attention was pulled somewhere else, but Papyrus was able to help him with this.

You were prettier than he expected, but of course he couldn't say anything when you were at the moment losing your shit. Papyrus told him to teleport, a big mistake honestly since he's never been here, but Papyrus has. Papyrus, however, is not of this physical world. So when he teleported, guess what?? He fell straight from the ceiling, mid air. Thanks Papyrus, you're so much help. You had so gracefully been awake already, but you were in a separate room. You had run straight from the bathroom, your hair disheveled and your toothbrush hanging sideways from your opened jaw.

Sadly he couldn't admire you for too long before he had a toothbrush flung straight at his face and directly messing with his vision. Papyrus had to immediately drain him of his magic in order to become more translucent of reflected light and full bodied. Heourgh, he felt less energetic immediately, but at least the floor was quite comfortable. He didn't bother straightening up, not if it meant you'd throw something else at him. It's not a great first greeting with his soulmate, he'd apologize if he wasn't so tired. Papyrus was right, he would like you.

His soul was pumping, singing practically as he was able to feel the wavelengths of your soul. You didn't seem to fully notice, but he did. He noticed since his soul felt calmer, happier, and much more....in love? What a strange feeling, his soul is so used to the LV he has, the motivation, the constant distress and guilt. He's never felt so light, but maybe that's because he's lightheaded from teleporting and falling. You seemed to be calming down since Papyrus was there and easing your panic. Thank the stars he's here. He wishes he met you sooner, or maybe in a different timeline where he was...normal. Would the others accept this? Would they be considered your soulmates too? He's never been great at sharing. He doesn't want to drag you in the multiverse mess that is his life, but leaving you alone after this isn't an option.

Stars above you were so pretty. Your voice sounds like the pluck of strings tied to a harp, or a guitar. Filled with emotion, a world of thoughts and history behind them. He hopes you'll like him too. He doesn't want to be scary to you, but he knows that he is. He could be less mean? Maybe you like things that he likes, he can like things you like. He can try to be better if it means you won't find him scary, if you can trust him. Right now you were coming over to him, apologizing but clearly weary. Hey, at least you weren't dumb enough to get too close, he is a stranger after all.

He is so happy that his brother convinced him to meet you. Yeah, regret isn't the word he'd use. It's just going to be complicated. That's okay, he can wait, patience is a skill on his part. Even if things don't work because you don't end up liking him, he at least met you. This quiet in your presence has been so pleasant, still as a pond and soothing. He's thankful for at least this moment of tranquility deep within his soul. His brother already told him your name, but he doesn't want to be weird.

"...The name is Dust, I didn't mean to fall in your bedroom. Not a great introduction, huh?"

Oh would you look at that, he was talking! He doesn't do that often. He is suddenly insecure about the rasp in his voice. You don't seem to mind though, and in fact you smile. Oh wow. Your smile. You seem less scared, that's great. He'd do anything to keep that smile on your lips, anything at all... Too bad he passes out before you can respond. Great job, Dust.

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Closing Notes: This took forever to type but I think I'm happy with it! I was busy, and a little unsure of how I wanted to type this. I hope you like this, vamp, you're so cool and this was fun. Don't be shy to ask for more stuff! I just wanted to write you a little more plot since you asked such a specific request for a skeleton hehe. Thank you :-)

[wishing-stones]

how do you write for the guys? do you have specific ways you write for them or rules?

Yeah actually I have several things I keep in mind while writing them

When I write dialogue for Killer, I bear in mind that he's the quickest to act-- whether this is a reaction to something said, or actually doing something, he's almost always the first one to comment. He's also pushy, casual, and tends to order rather than ask. He speaks in proper case and with modern turns of phrase and slang. He's good with backhanded compliments and if that doesn't cut it, straight-up insults. He's also very sarcastic and throws quips and witticisms around freely.

Dust always speaks in lowercase and occasionally drops 'g's on the ends of words. He's quiet, so he doesn't get as much dialogue as the other do unless he's giving exposition, which he does from time to time. He's scarily observant, and doesn't miss anything. Sometimes he comments on it, sometimes he doesn't. He might even comment on it later.

When doing Axe's dialogue, I tend to make him contract words and not enunciate as clearly. He drops letters or has different words he uses (yer instead of your) to get the kind of gruff, deep rolling voice I have in mind conveyed properly. He's smart, too, but he's good at playing to those who would underestimate him for the head injury. That does affect his speech patterns, too. He'd sound a lot like Dust, otherwise. He also speaks in lowercase.

Cross is probably the one I'll have the hardest time answering this for. He's pretty upstanding and wasn't ever lazy, so he speaks in proper case. He's kind of similar to Killer in that he throws around modern slang and turns of phrase, but not as often. He's fairly reserved in what he says unless he's comfortable with the person he's talking to. He drops letters on occasion, but it's usually if he's not in his usual composure.

Baggs is the smartest person in the room at any given time. He knows it, too. (Or at least, he thinks he is and he's not usually wrong about it.) He speaks with proper case and lots of dictionary words. He doesn't tend to dumb down what he says unless someone asks for it in simpler terms ('English, Doc?') at which point he'll reiterate in easier terms to understand. He alternates between using contractions and not; if he's speaking quickly or around people he's comfortable with, he'll use them a little more readily. If not, he tends to use the extended forms (do not vs don't, cannot vs can't, etc.) OR if he's gotten wrapped up in some lecture or another while he's explaining things. He liberally abuses pet names, too, but the sweeter they are, the more likely it is that he likes the person he's referring to.

Nightmare almost never uses contractions. If he does, they tend to still sound very proper. ('I'll not, I've a(n),' etc.) He will use them if he needs to speak quickly, or if he's under great duress-- instances where he drops the propriety and becomes no-nonsense. He also uses large words, and his speech patterns are very antiquated. He tends to wax on about things before getting to the point of what he's saying, too, so sometimes I have characters call him out on that to make him stop. He picks his words carefully, and almost always says what he means. He also very rarely curses. (Damn is the most common).

And, just for kicks, the others;

Dream, similar to his brother, speaks in a pretty antiquated way, but he isn't afraid of using contractions. He doesn't do it all the time, but he isn't allergic to sounding slightly more casual (which... he's teased Nightmare about in the past). He also swears. He knows the impact of a well-timed F-bomb, and subverts other's expectations of him often. He takes great pride in doing so, actually. He is annoyingly observant and tends to skirt issues and doesn't speak plainly unless whatever the topic is deserves bluntness. He often leaves verbal breadcrumbs, cryptic comments, and noncommittal responses if he wants someone to come to their own conclusion.

Ink is incredibly casual in his speech patterns and use of colloquial phrases and slang. He speaks quickly, and if he's not putting up a front for whoever he's talking to, is annoyingly smart and accurate. He doesn't beat around the bush like Dream does and places value in being upfront. (Unless he's actively lying, which is hard to pick out anyhow because if he is, he just doesn't talk about it). He doesn't tend to think about things before he says them, which leads to trouble sometimes... but it's usually harmless. He doesn't insult unless it's petty. He speaks in proper case.

Blue speaks in uppercase, unless he's in an enclosed area (indoors, usually) where he switches to proper case for his 'indoor voice'. While not yelling, he is naturally loud. He speaks pretty casually, but is careful about what he says. He doesn't like being mean or hurting feelings, but... it doesn't mean he's incapable of it. He is just as sharp as any of the others and, similar to Dream and Axe, plays off of other's expectations of him being nothing more than an excitable recruit in over his head.

Error... is difficult. I hear his voice when I type his dialogue, so I place em-dases wherever I hear it skipping. He tends to skip more if he's under stress, angry, excited, or otherwise feeling a big emotion. I've typed his dialogue in zalgo text in the past, but I feel like using dashes is much better for readability and conveying to readers where I hear the skips. As for how he talks, he's pretty casual, swears often, tends to use shorter words (so he doesn't garble them) and doesn't... really use a lot of slang. He knows it, but he doesn't often use it. He speaks in proper case.

[canyon-tale]

So! I had a few questions, (most of them are about Cross I just fell in love with him):

• Since the Bad Sans Poly is going on, does he show some more affection than others?

• Does he have equivalents to XGaster, Chara and Frisk (and the others)?

• Can Nightmare shrink his body down from his size or is he always stuck on a giant scale?

• Does Cross use the X on his tail as a weapon?

• And I'd just love to know more about Void corrupt Killer, I'm super curious about him!

Thank you!! ��

Oooh, these are some great questions! Some of them will have quite long answers so I will put them all under the cut to avoid a long post!

Here we go!

• Since the Bad Sans Poly is going on, does Cross show some more affection than others? The Bad Poly is pretty rocky in the beginning of the au, mostly due to two of them being void corrupted and all of them packing quite a lot of trauma, but I would say both Cross and Horror are the ones who show the most affection out of the bunch! Cross’ affections come more in acts of service at first, like just making sure all his flightmates have what they need and want without really making it obvious. He will also take hits and protect them in battles, which the others strongly dislike (they would prefer him not getting hurt on their behalf, thank you very much!). But later he’s also really physically affectionate, loves to flop on top of the others and get some good cuddles! He also ask around to find out how dragons court and such to make sure he’s showing his love an affection in a way the others can understand, since him being raised around humans and human culture often make misunderstandings happen, poor bean. 

• Does Cross have equivalents to XGaster, Chara and Frisk (and the others)? He does! The dragon au is also a multiverse and what I have planned so far is that all the monster characters will be dragons, while the humans will stay human. xGaster wanted a universe where humans and dragons could coexist (in the saurian universes humans and dragons are often at war with each other, and dragons actually created humans!) and thanks to a magic items he he would make several tweaks to the au, and of course restarted it several times. 

Some of the tweaks involved dragons to have a more human-like nature, which is why the classes in Cross’s au were gender orientated (guardians and scouts being male, while nurses and scholars were female). This is why I’ll sometimes describe Cross struggling with dragon culture, and might sometimes suffer with gender dysphoria (being a fluffy guardian/male which makes people assume he’s a nurse/female). Cross being fluffy is also directly caused by the several rewrites of the au, as Cross was “programed” to be a Nurse in some past iterations. His current form is an accidental mix of his past Nurse and Guardian forms. 

Chara and Frisk also have a magic item to reset the au, and humans using magic items tend to be more powerful than dragons, causing the reset/rewrite tug-of-war between them and xGaster. This eventually ends up similarly to the end of XTale, with a lot of death and bloodshed, and with Cross ending up alone in a slowly dying au. Which is where Nightmare eventually finds him! Not sure how/if they others will be involved after that point, but they might!

• Can Nightmare shrink his body down from his size or is he always stuck on a giant scale? He can shrink himself, but he rarely does! Later in the au he is also freed from his void corruption, along with Killer, at which point he returns to the size he was before the corruption, which is a similar size to Dust and Dream. Due to being corrupted for so long he can still gather enough void magic to gain back his larger form, but it takes a lot of energy and he can’t maintain it for very long.

• Does Cross use the X on his tail as a weapon? Yes! The X is four spikes on his tail that he can relax to hide under his fur, and flare up to use as a weapon in a fight.

• And I'd just love to know more about Void corrupt Killer, I'm super curious about him! Right, so Void corrupt Killer is a special lil bean, and Void itself is a pretty special element! The other elemental gods only have to lay a claim on a dragon for their magic to take hold, but to become a Void elemental the dragon has to accept the claim from the god. Dragons know not to do this, there’s many tales of the Stalker of Void being evil and only using their children for their own chaotic gain, but this is why the Stalker approaches dragons who are desperate enough to accept its magic.

Killer was originally an Ice Scholar (like any Sans who branches off from Classic) but had a magic item forced onto him by his Frisk/Chara, and as mentioned before, magic items used by humans tend to become more powerful. The items forced on him is the Carnage crystal in his chest, making him go berserk with Carnage magic and kill every member of his flight, as well as the human. Once he gained a little bit of clarity he was lost in devastation and despair, and the depression caused him to lose his claim of the Ice god. Dragons will suffer if they have no claim, as it’s the claim that fills their bodies with magic, and the Carnage crystal only changes magic that’s already there. So devastated and in pain Killer accepted the Stalker’s claim when they found him, hoping it would end his sufferings. 

Generally speaking, void corrupt dragons are like zombies in a way. They rarely have a mind of their own and they’re more or less puppets for the Stalker of Void to order around. Left to their own devices they start attacking and consuming everything around them that contains magic, usually other dragons or magic creatures.

Void corrupt Killer was given to Nightmare, who’s also void corrupt but still has a mind of his own thanks to being a demi-god and a child of the Wielder of Mind. Nightmare was allowed to use Killer as he pleased but Killer being an empty puppet not being able to think or act for himself frustrated him. So, thanks to his mind magic, Nightmare allowed Killer some basic emotions to be able to function without his command. 

Killer at the beginning of the au is a bit all over the place. At times appearing very blank and empty with no care for his well being, or sometimes only expressing base emotions or aggression. At times, when Nightmare let him go, he would be more like “himself”, but should he show too much of his own personality or feelings, Nightmare would often throw him into the void for a while to “reset” him. 

This eventually stopped when Nightmare started to grow more attached to his boys, which in turn frustrated the Stalker. To retaliate against Nightmare’s “rebellion” they removed their claim from Killer, once again leaving him claimless and without magic. Nightmare was able to keep him alive by transferring his own magic, but he’s just a demi-god and can not substitute a claim. Once Nightmare and Dream manage to get rid of Nightmare’s own void corruption, after a long battle with the Stalker, he managed to convince his mother the Rogue of Veil to claim Killer, which made him a Shadow elemental.

Killer stayed a bit blank right after that, but with the help of his friends he eventually started coming out of his shell and grew into the much more confident Shadow Scout he is now!

Thank you so much for the ask! Let me know if anything needs to be clarified or if you have any follow up questions ^u^

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (24)

Kagome takes in the hopeful expression painted on Satoru's face. The way his blue eyes peek over the rim of his glasses, to the way his body shifts tension from one side to the other. The black shirt in her hands weighs next to nothing, but at the moment, it may as well be a pile of bricks.

She wants to say yes. But then her mind reminds her of how she promised to always remain at InuYasha's side, and well, she clearly isn't with him now. For all she knows, she could get sent back at any moment. And could she really throw away the chance of seeing her family and friends again? Kagome averts her eyes, stares at an imaginary speck of dust on the floor.

"I'm scared that I won't be able to keep such a promise." She looks back at him, clutches the shirt to her chest. "What if I get sent back? I might not have a choice." What she needs is for him to understand. The last thing she wants to do is break his heart if the jewel or the well sends her back to her world. A wave of power thrums in her chest, sending vibrations of warmth throughout.

Was the Shikon trying to tell her something?

"I'm not hearing a no," Satoru says, plucking the shirt from her and tossing it onto the bed. He grabs her hand and places it on his chest, where his heart beats. "Besides, you can't say no after accepting my ring."

"You said that it wasn't a proposal," she says, her voice shaky. She wonders how he could find diamonds that matched the exact shade of his eyes; it couldn't have been a spur-of-the-moment transaction.

"It isn't. A promise of my intent."

She bites her bottom lip, flexes her free hand, and takes in the firm, but gentle hold he has over her. "But what if I don't have a choice?" Kagome needs him to understand that if they go down this route, that they could set themselves up for heartbreak. Another pulse of energy resonates in her veins. Who is she kidding? She's already too deep into it.

"Since when do we allow fear to control us?"

His phone goes off. The noise of the vibrations against the wooden nightstand cuts through the room.

Kagome tilts her head and smiles. "What's the point of asking my opinion if you've already decided what the outcome will be?"

"I read an article that a lack of communication is killer to a relationship."

"I mean the article isn't wrong. Have you never been in a serious relationship?"

"Nah," he responds, looking over at his phone. "It's probably Ijichi. We've gotten nothing packed." He sighs, letting go of her hand to answer his phone.

She thinks about how freely he gives his affection and the way he pulls her close when he gets back from a long day of teaching and exorcising curses. He's never pushed her to be something that she isn't, nor has he ever made her feel like she's less than, despite his egotistical proclamations of being the strongest. It's easy—too easy in how they've fallen into this relationship. She can't recall any arguments that have left her storming out of the apartment.

It hits her so suddenly that she staggers back. Since when does she allow fear to stop her from going after what she wants? The Shikon sends another warming wave of power throughout her body. Satoru ends his call and looks over at her, crossing his arms.

"What's with all the fluctuations?"

"I'll stay," she responds, ignoring his question. How is she supposed to explain something she doesn't understand herself?

He meets her halfway and lifts her up. Her legs wrap around him as he backs them towards a wall. Kagome holds back a wince as her legs are still sore from earlier. "Seriously," she half groans out at the feel of him hardening underneath her.

"We've got about 20 minutes until Ijichi gets here." He peppers kisses along the corners of her mouth.

"You're trying to kill me," she says. Kagome thinks back to his reasoning for not taking her with him, and while she won't ever admit to him, she has to agree that at this rate, nothing will ever get accomplished. Satoru kisses her deeply in response.

She apologizes to Ijichi-san for both of them.

"Yuji-kun, you're back!" Kagome greets while mixing the cookie dough ingredients together. "What's wrong?" She stops mixing and takes in the beat-down appearance that marks his face and posture.

"The curses today," he starts, voice cracking, "they were humans." His body trembles. "I killed someone."

Kagome frowns and sets the bowl on the counter. She dusts her hands on the pink frilly apron and pulls Yuji in for a hug. This time she is prepared for Sukuna's prodding, so she pushes down her initial reaction to purify the king of curses, and instead takes in the brute force of Yuji's despair. "You set them free." She runs a hand through his pink hair. His body sags against hers. "If they looked like curses, then I'm willing to bet that their souls were crying out for relief. You gave them that salvation."

"I just—I want to protect people."

"I know, I know. It's alright." She pulls back and palms the sides of his face. "I'm making chocolate chip cookies. We'll actually get to eat some since Satoru isn't here to steal all of them."

"Do you think Gojo-sensei has ever killed anyone?"

"Probably," she says, "but I can't say for certain. I've never asked him." Though in her gut, she is positive that Satoru has. "I mean, there are probably other curse users out there. I doubt that all of them turn into curses."

"Sensei isn't a bad person because of it," Yuji says, standing up to his full height. "Kagome-san, have you ever…"

"Only demons, but still. A life is a life, regardless of how different our chemical makeups may be."

"You sympathize with demons? Aren't they inherently evil like curses?"

"Curses are born from the negative emotions of people, right?" She scoops out some of the dough. "Demons have families just like us. Their lifespan and the things that they can accomplish exceeds what we can do. Not all want to cause chaos and destroy humanity in the way that curses are hyper-focused on attacking humans." She rolls the dough into small balls and places them on the pan. "Curses are like predators. They see humans—their prey, and attack because it's instinctive. Demons and humans are more like hunters. We assess the situation before making a move. Some humans kill for the heck of it and some demons are content with living their lives." Kagome opens the oven and puts the cookies in to bake. She grabs her phone off the counter and sets a timer.

"Thanks, Kagome-san," Yuji says, smiling. "I'm going to take a shower before dinner." He walks out of the kitchen, leaving Kagome with her thoughts.

The next morning, Yuji appears more at peace as he leaves with Ijichi-san. Something along the lines of finding a potential curse user from the Satozakura High School. Kagome hands Yuji a bento and instructs him to call her if anything comes up. It's not that she doesn't trust Ijichi-san. The man is nothing but dependable, but utterly useless if a fight breaks out.

She hums as she gathers the laptop and the bookbag full of notes that Satoru left for her. She arranges the papers on the coffee table and gets comfortable on the couch. It isn't a lot, but she was able to convince Satoru to let her help him out as an unofficial assistant. Her phone rings right as she opens up the laptop.

"Hello," she answers.

"What are you wearing?" Satoru asks. There's a loud boom on the other end of the phone. A scream follows shortly after.

"Are you exorcising a curse right now?"

"Just ignore that. You wearing that green skirt I like?"

Kagome glances down at her jeans. "No, I'm wearing jeans. You should be focusing," she lectures. Would it hurt him to be a little more careful?

"Eh, these things are weak. I don't know why I had to be the one to travel all this way."

"Yuji-kun killed a human that was turned into a curse yesterday. He was pretty upset about it." She puts him on speaker and reaches for one of the papers on the coffee table. "If you're able to, I think we should do something with him when you get back."

"Like a mini-vacay?"

"We could," she replies, frowning at the commotion on his end. "Why don't you call me back when you aren't busy?"

"I'm free right now," he says. "Just ignore the screams. I have everything under control."

Kagome closes her eyes. "I thought of something you could bring back. Condoms."

"What was that? Oh, one of them is trying to get away."

She shakes her head when the line goes dead. At least she got him off the phone. And besides, jokes on him because she picked some up yesterday after discovering that she needed a prescription to pick up Plan B.

It only takes a few… okay, it takes her all the way into the evening to decipher the notes and hand-drawn pictures to piece together a report. Kagome rubs her eyes. Too much staring at the screen is finally taking a toll. Huh. Yuji-kun should have come home by now, she thinks. The clock at the bottom of the screen reads 19:00. Maybe she should send him a text just to make sure that everything is okay.

Yuji: I'm joining Junpei and his mom for dinner! I hope that's okay.

Kagome: Of course, that's okay. Text me if you need anything.

She sets the phone back down and closes the laptop. It's kind of cute how he checks in with her.

Kagome doesn't pay any attention when Yuji leaves out the next day, though she blinks back the hurt when he rushes out the door without his lunch for the day. What she does pay attention to is the panic in Ijichi-san's voice when he calls her about Yuji taking off after this Junpei person.

She follows the sound of Yuji screaming at Sukuna to help and the laughter that follows the pleas. There's a man—no, a curse, with blue hair. And a monster that Yuji is hugging tightly. Kagome grips the bow. "Yuji-kun," she calls out, walking forward.

"K-Kagome-san, please help him."

She falters. Was this thing a human? It must show on her face because Yuji asks her again. Kagome swallows and reaches a hand out, touching its back. She feels the piercing gaze of Sukuna and the curse man watching her move. Please work, she prays, as the familiar feeling of her purification shoots forth, spreading through the monster's body.

"Well, isn't this interesting," the curse quips.

The monster shakes as the blue melts away and all is left is a husk of a young man. Yuji's eyes widen as he calls out, "Junpei."

"Thank you, Yuji," Junpei says, slumping down.

Kagome grits her teeth at the scene and turns to look at the curse. His patchwork face etches itself into her memory. "You did this?"

"You reversed my transfiguration, though I guess his body was too weak." He blurs out and appears in front of her, grabbing ahold of her and jumping back. "Now, now. Yuji. You wouldn't want the same fate to fall upon this woman."

"Let Kagome-san go," Yuji growls out, his fist-shaking.

This is bad, she thinks. Her purification rises just as his hand reaches into her soul. The Shikon pulses, reacting to the foreign cursed energy. Her vision blurs as the jewel darkens. Her heart pounds, pushing all of her blood flow to her eardrums. This is bad. She doesn't even want to think about the ramifications of what could happen if he continues to taint the Shikon.

"What is this," he murmurs, digging further into her.

"Kagome-san! Fight!" Yuji calls out.

Fight. Right, she promised she wouldn't hesitate. She latches on to that thought and forces the negative energy outward. Sweat drips down her brow as she struggles to contain it to just the curse. The worst thing would be Yuji-kun getting caught up in the blast. It hurts, her body aches, desperately wanting to let her purification run rampant, but she forces it to stay contained. His scream is the last thing she hears before everything goes dark, and she falls down. Kagome winces. Fuck, everything hurts. She struggles to raise herself up, just barely making out Yuji rushing forward. Distantly, she hears glass breaking.

"He could touch the Shikon," she says to herself as she grips her chest. She stands, grabbing her bow on her way and staggers out, once again following the familiar sounds of battle. Rest will have to wait.

She has to put an end to that curse now.

[dailytatsu]

Heya! Can I request an Aether/Lumine & reader?

So reader is basically an immortal half-elf who've lived for centuries and a well refined fighter. Well at the beginning even tho they volunteered to tag along on traveler's journey to find their sibling, reader is rather obnoxious and a lazy-dork who only help when actually needed. But as the journey continues, they began to act like traveler's bodyguard after witnessing (archon quest spoiler!) traveler almost getting killed by the Shogun? And maybe random shenanigans happen between them (ft.Paimon). I don't mind if you do either Aether or Lumine if you feel pressured 🙏

Hi! This kind are my favorites! Tysm for requesting! (๑>◡<๑)

I did this with Aether since he is my favorite is who I chose, and I feel more comfortable writing with guys than with girls.

I know they have some different personalities but I can help but see Lumine as the all mighty abyss princess.

Hope you enjoy!

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Aether & Half-elf! Reader

GN! Reader

Inazuma Archon Quest Spoilers!

Request are open; sorry for any mistakes!

Genshin Impact Masterlist

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Aether always thought that immortality brought with it wisdom, beings who live for much longer than an ordinary human tend to gain an understanding of life and changes in the world after years of appreciating the passing of the ages.

But when he met you he couldn't help but feel that all his beliefs were based on fiction and old rumors from other worlds. You were anything but wise, not even his first choice to be the voice of reason.

Even Paimon takes her role as his guide seriously.

But what was so wrong about you that get him on his nerves all the time? And most important, why does is he still dealing with you?

To be fair, maybe he was waiting a little too much from you. After all, he always forget that you still have half of a human’s nature.

“Mmh? What are you doing?” You asked Aether the first time he removed your hair from your ears to see if they were pointy. They were, and Paimon yelled kind of a objection when she realize she had to pay for losing their bet.

Not a human, not a elf, but a hybrid between them.

The first encounter was really something he would never forget. Rumors about treasures and requests from the guild made them follow some clues to find a cave that was marked as lost, impossible to enter and explore.

But “impossible” is a word that doesn’t exist their vocabulary. Yet is common that regretting comes along when you’re that bold and risky.

At the very end of that strange cave there wasn’t a treasure waiting, not even a new clue to keep going with the mystery. Instead, was a humanoid silhouette, they seemed to be meditating, not showing a single interest in their voices neither getting nervous because of Aether and Paimon taking some steps forward to have a better look.

But they were breathing, and both could see the pupils moving slightly under their eyelids. Eyebrows twitching now and then, like they were having a nightmare, one of which they couldn’t wake up.

Paimon encouraged him to get even closer to shake that person's shoulder, while she was hiding behind some rocks, obviously.

Aether summoned his sword and then he approached slowly until touching them with his fingertips, waiting for some kind of jumpscare.

The stranger raised their arm, carefully but also in a robotic way. Their fingers were tense, as much that it was painful just looking at them. Like a quiet call, like a order that couldn’t be heard, from the pile of rocks where Paimon was hiding something emerge, breaking through the stone and letting a rusty polearm to be seen.

Their fingers closed around the weapon, bringing them back to reality.

“Master and weapon, reunited again, rise so the world can meet their end!”

Or at least that's what he would have preferred to find. A servant guarding a lost relic, a soulless body moving by a curse, perhaps even a fate that death could not prevent.

But instead it was something really underwhelming, something that broke the mystical and strange atmosphere. That person opened their eyes, annoyed by the light of the torches and disoriented by the situation.

With their body in pain and numb at the same time, how long have they slept in that position?

The first thing they did after waking up was sneezing.

‘So much dust…’

Never accepting missions for exploring legendary caves ever again. Nope. Negative. He refuse to.

What if they find another (Y/N)? Thanks, but no. One is more than enough.

“So what you mean is that your parents' families exiled you and locked you up in the cave for being an ‘abomination’ to both species?” Paimon confirmed once the three of you were back in the surface again. Her hands moving side to side to explain -in a very expressive way- everything you told them.

“It seems that we found the remains of an ancient race that used to exist in Teyvat.” Aether said, still surprised by the way you roamed to feel the wood of the trees and the grass under your bare feet. Kind of heartbreaking.

“Like the boar we found with Xiangling!”

He wasn’t sure if it was okay to compare both encounters but he could see her point.

“… ‘Wait for us’, they told me, ‘think about your existence and find the answer to why your conception is not the atrocity that everyone says you are. May their words not reach you, because we have long ears to hear the words of the gods and not the ones of those who defile earth’… ” You pronounced after decades of not needing to use the language you were taught, with one hand on your chin and eyes closed to concentrate. All you had left was the few memories you preserved inside your mind and heart.

“With ‘they’ you mean your parents?”

You nodded.

“And what happened next?… ” Asked back the tiny companion of the blond guy that rescued you.

“I got bored and I fell asleep.” You admitted, carefree about it, shrugging your shoulders and sighing.

A total waste of your youth.

“Eh!? Then you didn’t thought about those things? That sounded important!” Paimon seemed disappointed for your answer, while Aether held his forehead, without having a clue of how he was supposed to react.

That was the day you joined their party! New team member, (Y/N) strikes in!

Or something like that,,

“H-Hey! We could use a hand over here!… woah!” The little white girl scold you but from your high sit on the top of a big rock only a exaggerated yawning can be heard. Paimon crossed her arms to almost immediately duck down to dodge a fire bullet from the Fatui. Aether didn’t say anything, he was concentrated fighting.

“Oh, yeah… You’re doing great. Go, Aether, go…”

“Was that supposed to be a cheering?!”

“Hey, calm down” You said “He doesn’t need my help. Just take a look, he’s an adventurer. If I meddle it will be really boring for him.”

“Hmp! Now Paimon believes that you were lying when you said that you were a well refined fighter!” She was floating around you, ignoring the battle of his blond friend. Like a pesky bee, the only thing you did was avoiding her furious gaze. “Don’t ignore Paimon! How can you not hear with those ears!? That’s it! Paimon will give you a ugly nickname!”

“What about ‘extinct deaf elf-der’?”

“Yeah, that’s a good one!” She agreed immediately, then she shook her head, pointing at you like a guilty criminal. “Wait, Paimon doesn’t need your suggestions!”

When the last Fatui was defeated Aether turned back to face both of you, sighing because of the new arguing between you two. His sword disappeared and some steps were took to get closer.

Your eyes met each other, a slight smile in your face after looking him safe and sound. So confident but so unaware of the remain danger hiding. Your expression became a surprised one, then your gaze sharped like a killer sight.

You left Paimon on top of the rock when you jumped down, summoning your own weapon you ran straight to where Aether was. The traveler panicked just a fraction of second before loosing sight of you.

Next thing they know was that a you were behind him, facing at the nothing with a defensive pose, just a second of silence before a impact could be heard. Some dirt and dust was lift as the pair of Fatui Pyro Agents became visible again. They stayed there, defeated in one hit.

“Like I said. It would be pretty boring if I meddle...” Aether and Paimon were shocked, none of them felt their presence, not even the heat of the pyro delusion. Your weapon disappeared in the air, and your hands rested on your waist. “Dear Seven, that was intense.” Looking at your friends you sighed, with the laziness on your body language. “It was my turn to cook dinner, right? What a pain having to eat again… ”

Acting that relaxed after that really made them went Ô_Ô and Ö

A silent speech, where devotion and gratitude are the best topics of conversation. The message that is heard even if there’s no words in between. Just a exchange of gazes. Little signs of affection that are shown when it’s necessary.

Your family was gone. No clues about their whereabouts could’ve found in that cave of where you came. Not even the skeletons of a couple holding their hands and petrified in a sobbing position. Not even ashes.

When you have been thinking about the most unimportant things in the universe for so long you can deal with the lost faster than anyone else. Getting the idea of no remain evidence of your parents and feeling that it wasn’t that heartbreaking.

Maybe because you gained a new family almost immediately.

Still you could empathize with Aether, he still had his precious memories with his sister, still remember her face and her voice. And most important was that he knew that she was still roaming Teyvat, waiting for him.

Even if they leave behind Paimon and you at the end of the trip.

Or even if they just leave you behind.

‘I’m okay with that.’

You thought, stroking Paimon’s hair when her head found a comfortable place to rest in your lap. You thought, moving your shoulder so Aether wouldn’t have neck pain. Both sleeping peacefully and you staying awake night by night.

You’ve slept enough, for so long besides.

Somehow the flames of the campfire are warmer now that you have someone to look how the fire dance in the night.

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“I see, so you were serious when you told me that your companion was a mystical extinct creature, weren’t you?” Albedo’s hand went up to hold his chin, analyzing you from distance.

“They are half of it, actually.” Aether answered back, notice how Sucrose was asking you permission to check your features. The sparkle in her eyes made you accept her petition after feeling with the back against the wall.

“Your ears are like mine! Look, look!” Klee pulled your shirt, then she pointed at the side of her head.

“… Still the shape of both are quite different, the length too.”

Years of isolation really are hitting hard right now. You felt overwhelmed and somehow shy when Sucrose hold your face to have a better look.

You follow the traveler to everywhere, no matter the place, you were there. Like a shadow, sometimes just a spectator, other times like an actual active team member.

“Who would’ve tell that our Honorary Knight also has his own knight watching his back.” Kaeya’s voice has that joke but charming tone, as always.

Day after day, it’s the same, everyone talking you through Aether. Like some kind of translator.

“More like a human shield.” Your hand landed on top of Aether’s head, not agreeing with his explanation.

Bonk.

“I guess everything’s better than being Emergency Food.”

“Hey!”

“Haha! You three are quite a team, aren’t you?”

Of course you were. Mondstadt, Liyue, you name it. You could assure that every place in this two nations have at least one story about the team.

You knew that the most brave and magnificent outlander in Teyvat didn’t need a guardian, he can defend himself (somehow even if he’s still using that dull blade).

Bodyguarding also sounds like such a hassle…

You only provide a last resource help when was needed, sometimes also helping with some puzzles and mysteries.

The long eared people was known to be wise and smart people that searched for the full comprehension of the world. Also such a nerds and fans of knowledge. So, even if you considered yourself dumb, in your blood was the instinct of looking for the truth, and sometimes that impulse could be really annoying.

You were always near enough to reach him. Pulling his scarf from behind to move him away from danger. Countering after he gets hit.

Always in a place where you could reach him.

You just needed to extend your arm and you would catch Aether. It was always like this. Always with you jumping in the middle of the crossfire to shield them if it was necessary.

It’s always like this.

Until the day you three set a foot in Inazuma’s land. And a bad feeling of a imminent catastrophe made your shiver.

A new nation, a new problem to solve. But a war? Boldness and stupidity sometimes looks like the same thing, but no matter how many times you repeat this to Aether, he would still ran into problems.

And you would follow him, until your debt is paid, until his travel is done.

It used to be like this.

But then you failed him after being unable to move because of the fear that paralyzed your body. The day Aether faced Shogun Raiden in the ceremony. The day you heard the broken voice of a god inside the Shogun you also fell apart. It was painful, cruel, a void of anger and sadness.

Jumping into danger, without you behind.

You tried to ran between the goddess and your savior, you tried to get closer to at least be useful one last time as the shield you promised to be.

You tried.

But, for the first time, your hand didn’t reach him.

The void of despair and darkness that could be heard inside the Shogun devoured him.

The tears of panic and fear in Paimon’s eyes. The way the Shogun lifted her sword to end his life. The way you were paralyzed because of her presence, forced to be part of the crowd and presence his execution.

That day your facade of laziness faded away, the real feeling of being a knight burnt along your proud. It was so annoying, it was so unnecessary, but still you couldn’t ignore it.

“Are you… are you sure that you’re okay? We don’t have to find the Sangonomiya resistance today. If you need to rest then-” Your hands were shaking when you placed them in Aether’s shoulders, holding yourself for tearing up.

“We have to keep going. I’ll be fine.”

“Besides, if we stay near Inazuma this night they could find us! Paimon won’t be able to sleep like that!” Your mouth opened to counter their arguments, but not a single word dared to go against Aether’s plans.

They could see it in your face. The worry, the remains of shock and fear, the guilty.

“Don’t try to look strong then. If you get tired, tell us. I can carry you in my back.” Even if you were offering help your voice was serious, so cold but so hurt at the same time that nor Aether or Paimon knew what to said to bring the old you back.

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“… Aren’t you coming?” You could hear how the door was slid to let him saw you. The lighted spots on Aether’s clothes were purple, just as the lighting that almost end him. Your lips made a concerned and stressed grimace.

The young traveler took a seat next to you, outside the structure, sitting on the wooden steps and looking at the starry sky. The wind was cold but still the soldiers of the resistance were talking normally and the slight feeling of discommodity because of the excessive presence of other people was climbing up your back.

“(Y/N), there’s no need of guard us every night. You also need to sleep.”

“I'm not tired, I think I've gotten enough sleep, at least not to need it until the next century.”

Aether’s expressions went into a sarcastic one, asking if you were serious with just his gaze.

“That’s not how it works.” He said, trying to change the mood. “And if it does, then why are you always snoozing during the day in every chance you get?”

You had the answer to that, but you weren’t sure about telling him.

“Because everything supposed to be boring. Nothing really changed a lot and… looking at the familiar places was depressing.” So easy, so simple, but still enjoying the company, still enjoying the sound of theirs laughs and their own shenanigans. “… Lately, I’ve been thinking that I should not had left the cave. Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate that you two helped me to be back at the surface, and I really want to help you on your journey, but if you still run into the chaos by own decision I think I could not follow you any longer before being a burden in your adventures.”

Overprotection, an unbreakable shield, frequently avoiding fights, always being pulled back to not be part of the battle. Enemies of the braveness of the traveler.

Worry, panic, an overreaction due to fear of loosing everything again.

‘let me do it’, ‘I got it’, ‘wait here’, ‘don’t get close’.

These day could be described like that.

“So, before I do something worse as an excuse of defend you, please let me find a cave to await. You do what’s is needed and… call me back, or leave me there, anything you think it’s better… ”

You could be pronouncing the words from the very bottom of your heart, but still your face was the same seriousness as the accident almost happened.

And even with that you felt his gloved hand removing the hair that was covering your right ear, revealing how it slightly leaned down, showing sadness unwittingly.

“Hey, cut it out… I’m serious about this… ”

“It doesn’t matter if you think that it’s the best option, you’re still sad about leaving.”

“… That’s cheating.” Removing his hand away from your hair you tried to act indifferent.

“You know the reason why we invited you to came along?”

‘You felt sorry for me.’

“I can’t totally tell the exact reason, but it wasn’t for you to pay us some kind of debt because of saving you.” He crossed his arms, looking at the stars, wondering if his sisters was doing the same. “We don’t need a guardian, we need our friend back. And I know you care about Paimon and me, but still you must enjoy the journey. It’s not fair that you are always aware of every potential danger while we mess around lately.”

An eternal silence, your response is late to appear but somehow Aether can tell that you already have something on your mind.

“Then apologize.”

“… Why?”

“For believing that playing as the hero and jumping to face the Shogun was something you had to do.”

“… but-”

Neither Aether nor you slept that night, the blonde had to listen for hours to all the things that you ever wanted to complain about since you arrived in Inazuma.

You made your position on joining the army of the rebellion very clear, you had no intention of fighting to seek "justice" or "peace". Because after all, that fight did not correspond to you, but if he asked you to, you would protect some soldiers or help to guard the barracks, if he asked you to, you wouldn’t complain about it (at least not that much).

Both had enough of each other’s attitude, but it was okay. Because that was what all of you chose in first place.

[maxladcomics]

Re: your post about Sans not actually knowing Papyrus. I'm a fan of the 'Papyrus is Gaster, but because everyone has forgotten Gaster, Papyrus has also forgotten himself' theory. And I had Thoughts of along similar lines to 'no one really knows Papyrus because he always lies', albeit from a slightly. Different source?

That is, Papyrus DOES lie a lot. But the people who seem to care about him most and actively seek his company, and the characters who are the most affected by him are all characters with high amounts of Determination.

Like, sure, yeah. if you kill Papyrus, Sans vanishes and then asks you about how you should be wielding power, and he may threaten you at the end of a phone call. But overall, his role in the game doesn't change much at all, and his attitude in the endings seems more representative of the Underground's attitude.

But as we know, Flowey is the previous holder of reset. We know he's probably the person who actually knows the most about Papyrus(only one to REALLY know his favorite food), and he's also confessed Papyrus is the person he finds the most interesting.

But! There's also Undyne! Now, she may not know as much about Papyrus as Flowey does, and I think she projects her own view of him onto him. But she's probably the character who talks about Papyrus as a friend the most. From Sans' dialogue about Papyrus, he views him as someone naive in need of protection. And to basically everyone else, Papyrus is not Papyrus, but who he is in connection to those around him. A skeleton who informs Undyne of problems, Sans loud and tall brother, etc.

But Undyne... Papyrus still lies to her, and she still thinks Papyrus is too nice, but she acknowledges his strength. She doesn't want to upset him, she wants to see him succeed and tries to help him do so in her own way, by giving him something to be passionate about. And when you kill him, it enrages her. I'm sure it enrages Sans, too, but she doesn't just judge you for it, confronts you much earlier and demands to know what you did to Papyrus.

So I wonder if there's. Something like a not-my-problem field around Papyrus, or spacetime distortion, that causes only people with Determination to really see him? Not that his lies make it any easier. it could also just be the lying, that's a lot simpler and more likely, but I do agree that Sans definitely does not know Papyrus anywhere near as much as he thinks he does, and is just running on a number of assumptions. Which is simultaneously weird and sad, that Papyrus has so few friends and not even his brother can really be counted among them.

...At any rate! Hope you enjoyed my rambling and found it interesting!

I DO FIND THAT INTERESTING.

Actually that brings up a good point, how forgettable or even ignore-able Papyrus is. Maybe he's yelling because no one pays attention to him pfff, I mean he tells so many jokes just for them to go over peoples heads, he shows excessive consideration towards others, just for the fandom to assume he's an asshole because he 'reacts badly' to puns.

//For those that don't know, they are doing a bit/playing with you. Sans' puns wouldn't be anywhere near as funny if Papyrus didn't react to them the way he does. Which makes it weirder to why Sans doesn't react to his at all. Why would he ignore them when it obviously makes him happy that Papyrus reacts? It's not just sans, tho, Undyne doesn't seem to notice or react to his puns either, but he responds to hers.//

The entire underground- or at least I know the entirety of Snowdin is affected when he's dusted. They all feel unsafe and unsettled suddenly, Papyrus has a huge effect on them. I do really love Undyne's response to him being dusted, the fact she knows he answers after two rings of his phone, means they talk a lot, and I love that.

Sans's reaction gives me the impression of "ok we're doing this run, byyyyeee" He only calls you a dirty brother killer, nothing else. He seems to care more about murdering you on a pacifist run than any other... I'm not hating on Sans for this, I'm just pointing it out- his vague awareness has put him in a mood of "Nothing REALLY matters" so it's because of that he doesn't really seem to care about Papyrus dying. He'll just call you a dirty brother killer and move into Toriel's house. Probably because he doesn't wanna deal with anyone asking about Papyrus, she doesn't know he exists, after all.

[gohyuck]

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?” 

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you. 

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat. 

Not to mention, the knife at his neck. 

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways. 

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying. 

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself. 

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears. 

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.” 

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard. 

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him. 

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked. 

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it. 

Right. The explosion. 

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve. 

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else. 

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back. 

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken. 

You pull your knife away from him. 

Nothing happens. 

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials. 

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut. 

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s. 

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up. 

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm. 

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind. 

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do. 

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession. 

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak - 

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when - 

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge. 

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?” 

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either. 

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…” 

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist. 

“I’m (Name).”

[jamlavender]

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss: Mrs Coulter, misogyny and the His Dark Materials TV show

The show went hard on misogyny as a vital part of Mrs Coulter’s backstory, and I want to talk about how they did it, and why, and how it might have been done better. This is quite long (when is anything I write not, let’s be real) so it’s under the cut. Read on for thoughts on women, power and fictional villainy.

As a quick disclaimer, though: I’ve enjoyed the show a lot! I’m so glad they made it! Ruth Wilson is mesmerising as Mrs Coulter! There’s so much to appreciate about the show overall, including many aspects of Mrs Coulter’s portrayal. But the HDM team have also made gender politics and misogyny very explicit themes of the show – particularly season two, particularly season two, episode five – and I think it’s fair to critique that.

Let’s be clear: Mrs Coulter is a villain. She murders kids by tearing out their souls. She kills and tortures friends and foes alike without a second thought. She abuses her daughter. She upholds and advances a totalitarian regime. She’s a Bad Person, as confirmed by God himself with the unforgettable line: “You are a cesspit of moral filth.” She’s fucking terrible, but, in life as in art, many of us are fascinated by how such awful people are made. What drives someone to commit atrocities? I am keen to see such questions examined in fiction, because I don’t think exploring a character necessarily means excusing their actions, and because it’s interesting (I mean, of course I find her fascinating, I’ve written a novel’s worth of fic about her). However, after a few snarky comments (“What sort of woman raised Father Graves, do you think?”) and some subtler commentary on sexuality, gender and power (her unsettling MacPhail with the key in the bra in S1E2), S2E5 drew a weird line between sexism in Mrs Coulter’s professional and academic life and her vast and senseless institutionalised child murder, and the longer I’ve sat with that the more I’m like: what the fuck?

Look, Mrs Coulter doesn’t tear apart children to search for sin inside them and poison Boreal and break a witch’s fingers because she’s experienced sexism in the workplace and in her education. That’s… a very odd thing to imply. We have to remember that there are lots of women in Lyra’s world, all of whom will also have experienced sexism, misogyny and other forms of marginalisation (many in more expansive and pernicious ways than Mrs Coulter, who’s a woman, yes, but also white, wealthy, highly educated and very thin and beautiful), and none of them are running arctic torture stations. She will have experienced misogyny, absolutely, and that will have affected her in various ways that inform how she approaches her work, but to imply that being denied a doctorate is the reason she became a sadistic killer is frankly bizarre. Here are a few of the lines from that episode with my commentary:

“Do you know who I could have been in this world?” What does this mean? If she’d been roughly the same person in our world, the answer is: Margaret Thatcher, which is probably a step down for Marisa, all things considered, because the Magisterium is far more autocratic than any recent Tory government and would be a much easier institutional environment in which to enact her cruelty. What we’re supposed to think, clearly, is that she’d have been a different person: a scientist and a mother, and she’s had this realisation because she saw a woman with a baby and a laptop and had a three-minute conversation with Mary. This doesn’t make sense. We live in our world! It’s less repressive than Lyra’s world but it’s hardly a gender utopia. If Mrs Coulter had chosen the scientist-and-mother life (which, as I’ll revisit later, she could have done in her world but chose not to because of her megalomaniac tendencies), she’d still have been affected by misogyny here too. Our world is not kind to young mothers, nor young women embroiled in scandals, nor is the world teeming with female physicists. It might be a little better, sure, but it’s hardly as if those gendered challenges would have been solved.  

“What do you mean she runs a department?” This is just the show forgetting its own canon. Marisa, you ran a massive government organisation (the GOB), including a huge murder science research initiative in the Arctic. That’s a much bigger undertaking and much more impressive than running a university department in our world. Pull yourself together.

“But because I was a woman, I was denied a doctorate by the Magisterium.” This is the show flagrantly ignoring the source material to make a clumsy political point. In the books, there are women with doctorates (notably Hannah Relf, also a major player in the new Book of Dust trilogy) and at least one women’s college full of female scholars. Now, would that women’s college likely be underfunded and disrespected compared to the men’s colleges? Almost certainly. But saying that is different than saying “I couldn’t get my doctorate!” when women in Lyra’s world can. The show knew what point they wanted to make, and were willing to ignore canon to do so, which is frustrating. Also, given that there are female academics and scientists in Lyra’s world, and that Mrs Coulter is a member of St Sophia’s college, it’s clear that she could have lived that life if she so desired. But she didn’t want that, because being a scientist and academic at St Sophia’s imbues her with no real power, and that’s what she craves.

I’m not opposed, in theory, to exploring Mrs Coulter and misogyny in more depth, but I think doing so through an examination of the sexual politics of her life would have made a lot more narrative sense and been much more powerful. It’s better evidenced in the text – her using her sexuality to manipulate people and taking lovers for political sway is entirely canon, as is her backstory where genuine love and lust blew up her life – and it links much more closely with the most shocking of her villainy, which involves cutting out children’s dæmons to stop them developing “troublesome thoughts and feelings,” referencing sexual and romantic desire (and what Lyra and Will do to save Dust is clearly a big ‘fuck you’ to those aims). She even says this to MacPhail in TAS, “If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care - the care! - of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches - if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for.” Don’t get me wrong, she’d have been a villain regardless, but I do believe that there’s a much stronger link between her sexual and romantic experiences and her murder work than between professional and academic stifling and child murder. It would have been a lot more interesting and a lot less tenuous.

However, the show is trying to be family-friendly, and digging into why this terrible, cruel woman might want to cut the ability for desire and love (and other non-sexual adult feelings, I’m sure) out of people could get dark. We know that the show doesn’t want to go there, because they’ve actively toned down her weaponising her sexuality: in the books, she has an established sexual relationship with Boreal, whereas the show made it seem like she’s been stringing him along all this time, and made it about potentially ‘sharing a life’ together rather than fucking, which was clearly the arrangement in the books. Also, I think Ruth Wilson said she and Ariyon Bakare filmed a “steamy scene” together, and given that only a single chaste kiss between them aired it must have been cut. I think they deliberately minimised the sexual elements of the text, particularly regarding Mrs Coulter (the mountain scene with Asriel, which I did still love, was also a lot less horny than in the book) and replaced that with another gender issue, that of professional sexism, as if the two are interchangeable, which they are not. This is a shame, both for Mrs Coulter’s character and also for the story as a whole, because the characters’ relationships with sex and desire are an important part of the books! (If this minimised sexuality approach means that they don’t use the TAS scene where Asriel threatens to gag her and she tries to goad him into doing it, I’ll scream). Overall, I think they missed the mark here, which is a shame because I also think it could have been done well, if they’d been bolder and darker and more thoughtful.

Why might this happen? Why might the show take this approach? Why might it be latched onto by viewers? Personally, I think the conversations we have about women and power are very simplistic, which leaves us in a tight spot when we see women seizing power for themselves (even in fiction) and weaponising that against others, not just other women but people of all genders, because we struggle to move past ‘women have overall been denied power, so them taking it ‘back’ is good,’ even if that immediately becomes a hot mess of white, corporate feminism and results in the ongoing oppression of many people. I think we are so hungry for representations of powerful women that we – producers and viewers alike – struggle to see them as bad, because it’s uncomfortable to be so intoxicated by Mrs Coulter effortlessly dominating the men around her, subverting systems designed to marginalise her for her own benefit, and generally being aggressive and intelligent and ruthless, and then realise that you are entranced by someone who is, objectively, a terrible, terrible person. It can be hard to realise that if you channelled the energy of someone who mesmerises you, you’d be the villain. So instead of sitting with that (more on this below), a lot of legwork goes into reworking her villainy into, somehow, a just act, a result of oppression, as her taking back power that has been denied to her, rather than grappling with the fact that for anyone to desire power in such a merciless way, even if they have to overcome marginalisation to get it, is really, really dangerous.

The joy, of course, is that Mrs Coulter is not real! She’s not real! Adoring fictional characters does not mean condoning their (imaginary) decisions, nor do stories exist for each person in them to fit neatly into a good or bad box so you know who you’re allowed to love. Furthermore, fiction can be a fabulous tool for exploring and interrogating the parts of yourself that, if left to bloom unexamined, might perpetuate beliefs or behaviour that cause harm to others. Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be a feminist or taking down the patriarchy or a righteous powerful woman to illuminate things about gender, power and feminism for those reading and watching. In fact, it’s important that we explore what happens when women (most commonly white, wealthy women, as she is) continue to perpetuate brutal systems under the guise of sticking it to ‘men,’ because it happens all the time in the real world, and it’s a serious issue. Finding characters like Mrs Coulter so cool and compelling doesn’t make you a bad person, but it might tell you something about yourself – not that you want to be a villain or kill kids or whatever, but something about how you relate to your gender or women or men or power – and that knowledge can be useful! We all have better and worse impulses, and finding art that helps us make sense of ourselves, both the good and bad parts, is a gift that we should relish.

Anyway, tl;dr, Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be sympathetic or understandable or redeemable to be brilliant – but you wouldn’t know that from how she’s been portrayed in the new adaptation.

[winterscaptain]

intellectual guesswork.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: another ajf update that requires absolutely no context to enjoy! i love you all so much. send some extra love to your favorite writers this week :)

one quick thing - if you’re on my taglist, please consider dropping a reply or a reblog! i love to see what you all think, and it encourages me to keep going :) it’s also getting a bit long, and i want to make sure my mutuals and people who engage are seeing everything - tumblr sometimes has a hard time with a lot of mentions. 

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “ignorance of the law excuses no man - from practicing it.” - addison mizner. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? edited: january 12th, 2021

You all settle into one row. Aaron’s on the end beside you, looking very sharp in a crisp black suit, his favorite Rolex, and a settled kind of confidence you’ve only seen in him a few times. It’s like he’s in his natural habitat. 

Aaron’s record as a federal prosecutor speaks for itself, of course, but you’ve never seen him in action. As often as they can, the bureau’s leadership sends him in as an expert witness. This time, the case happens to be one of yours. The judge hasn’t required a sequestration for Aaron, so you get the treat of sitting together in the courtroom. 

He’s scoffed and mumbled snide remarks under his breath all morning. You’re just itching to see him get up on the stand and give this joker an education. 

Emily leans over, whispering in your ear. “I promise you’ve never seen anything like this before. Hotch is going to rip this clown to shreds.” 

You stifle a laugh and look over at Aaron. He heard her. Leaning toward you, he murmurs, “All my JD does is collect dust. When I use it, I’d like to enjoy it.” 

“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call our expert witness, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, to the stand.” 

He takes a breath and rises, buttoning his suit jacket and crossing the courtroom. His presence commands respect and everyone in the courtroom seems to shrink before him. 

The prosecution’s questions go over smoothly, and the defense attorney stands with an unreasonable amount of confidence. 

Emily leans over. “He thinks he can get Hotch with at least one of these questions, and he might. But just watch.” 

You nod, taking everything in. 

“So you’ve stated that it was your profile of the killer that led you and the police to my clients door that night.” 

“Behavioral analysis was a factor in our investigation, yes.” 

Without hesitation, the attorney follows up. “And was behavioral analysis also a factor in the Olympic Park bombings case in Atlanta?” 

“Yes, it was.” Aaron’s eyes and tone never waver, no hint of arrogance or cheek. 

“And was that suspect you identified,” the attorney asks, far too aggressively, “Richard Jewell, ever convicted of the bombings?”

The prosecution objects, and you watch Aaron. Every part of him observes the proceedings with an outwardly detached interest, but his eyes are alive - strategizing and anticipating. It’s like you can see the wheels turning as the lawyers bicker. 

 The judge ends the squabble. “I’ll allow it.”

Aaron, now with permission, answers simply, “No, he was not convicted.”

“Because he was innocent. Your profile led you to the wrong man.” 

Oh, give me a break. It takes everything in you not to scoff and you can feel Emily’s eye roll.

“Jewell was not the perpetrator, but if you look at the real Olympic Park Bomber, Eric Rudolph, you’ll see that our profile was dead-on.” 

Dead-on indeed, Aaron. 

“Well, how about we look at the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was Black and from the suburbs.”

Aaron’s eyes narrow and you feel Spencer shift beside you. Emily shakes her head. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “He always recovers, never in the way you’d expect.” 

“How do you know?”

Emily’s face pulls into a little smile. “I’ve read the transcripts. Hotch is terribly clever.” 

“You said that Dennis Rader, the B.T.K. Killer,” the attorney continues, “was divorced and impotent. He turned out to be married with two kids.” 

JJ huffs, and you hear her whisper to Spencer, “Can we quit with the sermon?” 

His lips turn up. “Just wait.”

Dave leans over and stares them down over Derek. Stop talking. 

All of you look down at your hands like chastised children, but your gaze floats back to Aaron right away. 

The prosecution objects again, this time on the grounds of preaching. The judge forces a question, and the attorney turns back on Aaron.

“Having been wrong on those cases, isn’t it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff?” 

“No.” Your chest squeezes. He’s completely firm in his denial. 

How does he do that?

“Fact is,” the attorney continues like Aaron didn’t speak at all, “behavioral analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn’t tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic.” 

“Objection!” 

Her outburst is unnecessary. Aaron has a plan. His eyes track to you as if to check in. Are you paying attention? 

If you weren’t watching before, you’re certainly watching now. Always. 

“Withdrawn.” 

“Charcoal grey.” His flat assertion makes you gasp and you immediately cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound. 

The attorney turns around. “Well, look at that,” he exposes his socks to the court, and they are, in fact, charcoal grey. “He got one right.”

Aaron’s not finished. “You match them to the color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you’ve had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you’re frugal, but in fact, you’re having financial difficulties.” 

You do your best to school your expression and remove your hand from your mouth. Checking down the row, you see six smirks watching the witness box. 

“You wear a fake Rolex…”

And you’d know. 

“...because you pawned the real one to pay your debts. My guess would be to a bookie.” 

Is he smiling?

“I took this case pro bono.” There’s tension in Mr. Charcoal Grey’s voice. You can hear it behind the false confidence and it pulls a smile from you. “I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state.”

Hotch continues, completely bypassing him. “Your vice is horses.” There’s definitely a little smile on his face now. “Your Blackberry’s been buzzing on the table every twenty minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. You’re getting race results.” Your smile gets wider, and Emily grabs your hand. 

“Just watch.”

“And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you’re not having a very good day.” There’s something that looks almost like concern on Aaron’s face, but you know it’s nothing if not facetious. He’s ripping this poor man to shreds without changing a single thing about his presentation.

I love - 

Don’t finish that thought. 

Why not?

Remember how he’s freshly divorced?

I know, but have you seen him?

“That’s because you pick horses the same way you practice law -” 

You lean forward and Emily follows, her thumbnail between her teeth. 

The final blow. 

“- by always taking the long shot.” 

If this was any other setting, you’re sure the entire team would be on their feet, shouting and jeering. But alas, you’re in court, so you settle for a wide smile and a suppressed laugh. Amused brown eyes meet yours from across the room and you shake your head just the tiniest bit. I can’t believe you.

His lips twitch. 

“Well, you spin a very good yarn, Agent, but as usual, you’ve proven nothing.” He’s just trying to recover something, anything left of his dignity. He fails, miserably. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Aaron says, his eyebrows raised just a little, “the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute.”

Just then, his Blackberry buzzes on the defense table. “Why don’t you tell us if your luck has changed?”

You raise your hands to your face to cool the rising heat in your cheeks. 

“Your honor, this is - “

The judge takes matters into his own hands. “What do you want me to do? Either show us your Blackberry or cut him loose, counselor.”

Hotch and the defense attorney share a loaded look. It’s a battle of wills. 

Aaron wins. 

“Nothing further.”

+++

When you all leave the courthouse, you practically latch onto Aaron’s arm, completely floored. 

“How did you do that?”

He laughs and Derek jumps up beside him, shaking his shoulders. “Come on, Hotch. That was incredible.” 

“Why have a law degree if you aren’t going to use it?”

+++

He offers you a ride home later that evening and you take him up on it. You’re both still in the car, idling in front of your house. 

“That really was impressive today,” you admit, your eyes on your hands.

You can feel his soft smile rather than see it. “Thanks. I know it didn’t quite go the way we wanted as far as the case itself, but there’s more to come.” 

“It’s never as bad as it looks in the first couple of days.” 

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Thanks again for being there today. It’s…” his lips twist as he thinks, “nice to have the team around.” 

You reach out, squeezing his forearm before immediately letting him go. “Of course. We’ll always be there for you. Plus, there’s nothing better than watching you tear blowhard lawyers to shreds in a court of law.” 

“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it went.” 

“You’re kidding!” You laugh. “That’s just what happened. The man left without half his soul! You absolutely tore it from his body.”

The pair of you quiet, and you move to get out of the car. He stops you with a hand over yours as you unclip your seatbelt. “Really. Thanks for being there today.” 

“I can’t emphasize this enough - it was my pleasure.” 

Enough of a pleasure as it was, his smile in the dark of the car is the best part of your day.  

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss  @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them.  Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post.  Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss.  Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole.  The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere.  Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries.  He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor.  Izuku tries to figure out why. 

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma.  He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings.  Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.  

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic.  Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain.  he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school.  Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All.  All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku.  They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf.  And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit.  I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances.  izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom.  Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible.  Aizawa has no answers.  They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work.  All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless.  Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods.  None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through.  They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another.  It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did.  All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor.  But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor.  None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them.  And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might.  He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor.  But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives.  He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it.  He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up.  Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might.  Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might.  That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes.  Not do anything, just sit there.  Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night.  The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right.  She wants it to be perfect before showing it off.  But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be.  Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral.  He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

[sloppy-butcher]

Please can you do P, R, L, B, D with Caleb? Forgive that there's so many. Thank you!

thank you for the request bby and so sorry it took so long to get out <3 yeehaw cowboy man :)

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :) 

Fluffy Alphabet for The Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn)

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your hands. The ultimate identification markers of what makes a man, a man. Or well, human. The tools with which greatness can be created and love can be expressed. Caleb absolutely loves your hands and often asks to see them. He likes to have your hands in his in which he can appreciate the size difference between you two (his hands are long and gangly and are littered with a multitude of scars and blemishes). You watch as a smile dusts the corners of his mouth, his eyes downcast and solemn. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and he kisses you gently, the grey hairs of his mustache tickling your skin.

 Hands are what defines a person. It is what made him smart and respected, he used his hands to create his redeemer and brought about justice to the less fortunate. His hands are rough and leathery, the products of suffering and hardship, but yours - oh, how sweet they were. He loves to hold them, loves to look at them, loves to have them slowly caress his body with passion and generosity. 

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He imagines a small, lonely cabin lost high in the mountains of some faraway country place. The mountains on the horizon stand blue against an endless sky, horses and cows roam the grassy fields around and for miles, the land stretches into the untouched vastness. There is no one near, not a neighbor in sight - just you and him in this sort of ethereal, western dream. 

Winter mornings are spent cuddled by a fire, drinking warm coffee with blankets wrapped around your intertwining bodies. And summers see the two of you riding to the local creek where you swim and frolic like love-sick yearlings. All Caleb has ever wanted was to be alone, to be content in his own identity, and to be free to live life as he wants to. Now with you by his side at this lonesome cabin on the doorstep of the great unknown, he feels that content and is comfortable to simply live and let wilderness flow through him and over his land.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Caleb is a great nihilist; stubborn and bitter to the point of being completely dis-likable. He knows he’s old, he knows he is trapped in a repeating loop where nothing will die and he will never be free and he knows that truly, nothing means anything in this world. He sits alone and drinks, trying to drown the part of him that yearns for meaning, for purpose, for justification of existence. 

What Caleb also knows is that he has a liking for you. He knows that your presence doesn't drive him up the wall and that your soft conversations are the highlights of his day. he knows what he wants and he knows there's no point to pussy-foot around the subject. Caleb asks you straight out if you would be interested in becoming closer to him. He explains that he enjoys your private time together and that he would greatly appreciate it if you reciprocated his feelings. Of course, he doesn’t say it in so many words but you get the picture.

You’re surprised by his forward bluntness and Caleb realizes how sharp he sounds. He softens and moves closer to you, taking off his hat and setting it aside on a table nearby. He lowers his face and kisses the top of your head then he pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your shoulders trying to drag you deeper into his embrace. It was selfish to hold you before you had even given him your answer but he could not help himself. You could feel the tall man shake slightly as he hugs you, the act being such a spontaneous event that it takes you a few seconds to realize its entirety. Eventually, you manage to slip into his arms and give over to his need for affection. ‘Of course’, you say without words, ‘I love you too.’

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He would be very upfront about everything. He talks to any and everyone about you, endlessly bragging about what a lucky man he is to have roped such a pretty little thing such as you for himself. Often this gets him in the bad books of the other killers who couldn’t care less about whatever the crazy old cowboy was doing in his free time, but did their threats or disgruntled glares stop him? God no.

He is also very hands-on, slapping your ass at every chance he got and scolding anyone who dared so much as look at you. Someone walks past and offers you a kind wave, you hear Caleb tense his gun and growl. You elbow him in the ribs but he does not falter in his misdirected aggressive protectiveness, blazing daggers after the person then spitting hatefully onto the ground. Only he was allowed to give you goo-goo eyes and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone else so much as try.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s incredibly, unironically, and insufferably cheesy. Caleb was a hopeless romantic before the term was even created - if you looked it up on the dictionary you would find his name in the description. There was just something so wonderful to him about being in love and in being loved, whenever you would stand closer to him or when you would look at him with those mild, affectionate eyes that never dulled or aged, that made him soft and malleable on the inside. It was easy to give in to your fluff and forget, if only for a moment, that he was scarred by life and made to be a monster. 

Caleb likes to get you gifts (preferably something he had handmade) and he loves to give you compliments especially when they borderline being suggestive. 

[hargrove-mayfields]

Harringrove April Day 7- Daisychain

Pluck, twist, pluck, twist, pluck, twist.

When he’s upset, Billy has a bad habit of getting himself caught in a rut, repeating the same action over and over again until he’s even more worked up.

Most of the time it’s chain smoking, lighting up one cigarette after another until his chest burns and he’s angrier than when he started, but right now, he had to resort to something else.

Susan was hosting some get-together in their backyard, and Billy had been told explicitly, don’t do anything that could embarrass the family and don’t try to stay inside and get out of it either, so even though he didn’t want a damned thing to do with the bullshit happy family routine, and especially not for Susan’s wine mom group, he knew better than to try anything.

There was a shady spot near the edge of their property where he went to brood, not out of sight of the little party but far enough away he finally had some room to breathe.

Finally away from the people, he started feeling jittery, just itching for something to do with his hands, so he plucked a mayweed, stuck his thumb under the flower to pop it off, and put the bitter stem between his teeth.

Max must’ve been feeling the same pressure to socialize, because she had come over and sat down beside him in the grass not too long after.

When Billy pulled up another daisy, she had scoffed, “You don’t have to kill them, you know.”

“Shut up, shitbird.” He flicked the head of the flower at her this time, smiling fakely when she rolled her eyes.

“God, if you have to ruin them you could at least like, make a chain or something.”

It was Billy’s turn to scoff at her, “Really, Max? Do I look like the type to braid delicate little flowers together?”

“No.” She remarked sarcastically, picking up the flower he broke, “But you do look like the type who’s going to find all these petals in your hair if you don’t quit killing my daisies for no reason.”

“If I make a stupid daisy chain, you’re wearing it.” He threatened, but nature is Max’s thing, and she had sat up straighter, a smile on her face, “Deal.”

So now it was pluck, twist, pluck, twist, pluck, twist, until he had a whole nother chain finished for Max. He ties it off and sits it atop her head, but his hands still need something to do or he’s going to tear his hair out as he slips into that same old routine of repetition.

His knuckles are locked from how aggressively he was braiding them by the time he finishes a second one, but he’s still got tons of energy to burn and no cigarettes to smoke, so it’s pluck, twist, pluck, twist, pluck, twist, again and again.

There are eight crowns in total before Billy decides his fingers are going to break if he keeps going, and he decides he’s sacrificed enough flowers. Max tries to stack them all on her head, giggling when the tower of flower crowns tips over, and then they have to decide what to do with them.

Max keeps two, one for herself and her friend El, and gives one to each of the women Susan invited over, getting a smile and a pat on the head from each one. She returns to Billy with one daisy chain left, and puts it on his head.

He shakes it back off immediately, sends a pointed glance towards Neil sitting in a lawn chair, drinking his fourth beer at two in the afternoon, “Gonna have to give this one away too.”

“Well don’t you have somebody special you can give it to?”

The answer is yes, absolutely he does, but he doesn’t know how appropriate it is, showing up at his boyfriend's house with flowers he picked out of his own backyard like he’s in some kind of puppy love.

So for now he just shrugs his shoulders, a noncommittal response to Max’s question, but really, he can’t stop thinking about it, delicate white and yellow flowers in chestnut brown hair.

He was supposed to go see Steve after this stupid social was over anyways, maybe he’d take it to him then. Yeah, that would work.

Except once the party’s over and he gets his drunken confirmation from Neil that he’s free to go, Billy’s just sitting in his car outside of Steve’s with the daisy chain hanging from his mirror, debating on whether to give it to him or not.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be that kind of queer or Neil Hargrove would’ve sniffed him out a thousand times by now. He was masculine, tough, not at all the type to bring his boyfriend fucking daisies.

So it stays in the car, but the whole time they’re together, he’s still thinking about it, likening soft porcelain skin to white flower petals, lean limbs to sturdy stems, until he decides he’s just got to see that pretty face framed by spring blooms.

Right before he leaves, he grabs it out of the car, holds it behind his back, “Got you something, pretty boy.”

He steps back onto Steve’s stoop and crowns his King, placing the circle of mayweed on top of his head, making Steve blush, just the lightest dusting of pink on his cheeks as he declares, “Oh, I love daisies! Our lawn boy always puts weed killer on all of our flowers, says it makes the yard look nicer, so I never get to see any.”

Then he kisses Billy on the cheek, gentle and soft, and tells him, “Thank you, Billy.” and closes the front door. In that moment, standing on his boyfriend’s stoop at midnight, having brought him flowers and got the sweetest display of affection in return, Billy felt like he was in one of those sad-sap love stories like Susan watched.

And maybe it’s a little much, but now how is Billy supposed to just show up at Steve’s door without one of the wild daisies that grows out back, since they have so many? Especially when each and every time Steve does the exact same thing, kisses him on the cheek and puts them in a little vase on the table.

It doesn’t take long until he’s picked the yard almost barren of any wild daisies just to see that sweet smile on Steve’s face again.

Now the only thing that could ruin this for him would be- “William Reuben Hargrove, what did you do to all of my daisies?”- if Max found out he’d picked her flowers.

It was so worth it.

[nayladoodles]

Dream is not okay

It's sad dreammare time y'all, buckle up!

My mind is a wonderful thing at 2am. It provided me with an idea that I'm very sure has been done.

WARNING: MENTION OF SELF HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Tea: Dream is actually insanely depressed due to literally no one from his au or the multiverse caring about him as a person. They only want to use his aura as a "one hit wonder drug" discarding him once they get what they want.

Blue and Ink are not guilt-free in this either even if they don't do it intentionally.

Dream has hobbies like painting, singing and reading (he likes sci-fi, macabre, poetry and, fantasy). He tries to share his talents with the villagers but No. One. Cares. He is a ray of sunshine. All they care about is getting their daily fix. Dream begins to realize that once people get what they want from his aura they'll leave him.

He hates it. He feels used and lonely. He at one point takes a black apple and feels the urge to take the happiness away from the ungrateful. If he can't be happy why should they? He snaps from these dark thoughts in tears realizing he can't takeaway happiness from nightmare who is the only one who deserves it in his opinion.

He carves a box and hides the apple in it. He also keeps a journal about his life.

When he discovers Nightmare is abused and bullied he is heartbroken. He also has no idea how to approach Nightmare without cornering him like his abusers. As a result dream feels horrible guilt and his depression worsens the more Night pulls away from him.

Desperation/monophobia triggers the 'fawn' trauma response causing Dream to do literally anything to keep others by his side even if it makes him uncomfortable.

At one point (though Nightmare doesn't remember this) he tells his brother "You are going to leave me too someday soon and I wouldn't blame you..."

Nightmare eats the apple a month later and Dream finds twisted satisfaction in Night dusting the villagers. Serves them right. Self loathing returns full force as he is turned to stone.

100 years is a long time to stew in regret and self depreciation.

By the time Dream escapes he's even worse than before but once he joins the stars he has little time for depression. Blue figures it out by observing Dream closely though he at first is the same as everyone else using Dream's aura as a pick me up on bad days.

Dream finds Nightmare again and so they fight Dream's fawn response still very much present to the point of accepting bodily harm if it means he has Night's undivided attention.

One X-Event later he has a new bodyguard and life continues as a fugitive. Ink left him like he expected and Blue was dusted by X-Gaster.

Over time Cross uses his aura to re-center himself and begins to lean toward joining Nightmare's group which again Dream expects.

The "betrayal" is nothing life shattering much to Nightmare's dismay. He captures Dream and imprisons him.

Dream's aura progressively balances out Nightmare's crew and castle which satisfies Dream in a weird way.

He does not attempt to escape after being caught the first time (which was just to save face... he didn't truthfully want to escape).

Nightmare rewards Dream's good behavior by removing the magic restraints he had on him. He expects Dream to try and run or summon his weapon but he does not confusing the hell out of Nightmare.

As a reward for not attempting to escape or trying to contact Ink Nightmare lets Dream explore the castle and one day finds him painting in one of the empty rooms. He never knew his brother was so good at it. (O o f). He watches Dream paint for awhile before noticing the line of red dripping down his arm from under the arm warmers Dream wears. It's definitely not paint.

More confusing still to the other guardian is the wave of negativity he felt from Dream after Cross joined him. The other swears he saw Dream's pained smile drop as the portal closed. These waves of negative energy continue to occur whenever he is around Dream. He figures it's his aura causing it but... N O P E.

The next time he finds Dream painting Cross is also there with Killer. They listen as Dream begins to sing as he paints. He has dark circles under his sockets that were not there the previous time Nightmare checked on him. As time progresses Dream begins to look worse for wear like he did when he first arrived in the hideout. 

8 months later Nightmare realizes that his aura has nothing to do with Dream’s worsening state and decides to confront him about the negativity he constantly feels coming from him. Cross suggests he waits for Dream in the room he was given after his 3rd month of being imprisoned without an attempt to escape (He had no reason to lock Dream in the dungeon after the first month but did so to put his crew at ease). 

He goes to Dream’s room but his twin is not there so he opts to wait for Dream to come back. While he waits he notices an open journal on the desk and a ornate box made from cherry wood. The journal has his old emblem on it and the bookmark is one he recognizes as one he gave to Dream before the “apple incident”. Seeing it warms his soul in a way knowing Dream kept it and uses it still. He notices that the marked section has his name in the beginning of the section and that the writing is faded from age. He knows he shouldn’t snoop in his twin’s personal affairs but he is desperate for answers. 

What he reads in the journal is over 300 years of deep self loathing and despair. most of which is centered around the fact that Dream knew about the bullying/abuse Nightmare went through daily and that he was unable to protect his twin. The pages are full of faded tear stains and darker stains that Nightmare is sure is blood. Dream’s deep felt self loathing and bleak outlook shocks Nightmare and he is VERY concerned about Dream’s mental health. 

He sets the journal back to rights reading the recent passages. More deep felt self loathing which is fueled by Dream developing romantic feelings toward his brother or more accurately having previously established feelings resurface. Dream feels like a sick freak for feeling this way about Nightmare and some words have been smudged by tearstains telling Nightmare that he was crying while writing these entries. 

Nightmare can’t help but be flustered slightly by Dream loving him romantically as he too began to feel more than brotherly affection toward Dream which is why he pushed him away scared Dream would hate him for it. It soothes his insecurity that Dream feels the same and he knows he needs to talk with Dream about it so they can both finally be on the same page. 

Another section of the journal is marked with the darker bookmark Nightmare gave him and the whole section radiates very strong negative emotions. Concerned Nightmare carefully flips to it and what he reads nearly makes his soul stop. Unlike the section about him and Dream's emotions regarding him this section is full of Dream’s darkest thoughts. He barely gets through four pages when he finds this

“No one would miss me...Everyone leaves me once they find their ‘happy place’. I...I just want to bite into it and let go but...I can’t...I can’t leave Nighty alone...not when he just properly reentered my life....I love him too much to....”

The rest is indecipherable due to the heavy tearstains all over the page. Nightmare feels his soul stop and his breaths become ragged as he stares at the small box on the desk. 

Dream doesn’t have one...right...? 

He wouldn’t actually consider...?

Nightmare’s soul pounds painfully in his chest.  A sound from outside the room startles him and he knocks the box off the desk causing it to fall open. Inside is a black apple. The world goes blurry around the edges as he panics his chest tightening as he stares with a blown wide eye at the damned fruit. He can’t breath and his ears are ringing as the attack worsens. His own brother...his beloved Dream was actually

c o n s i d e r i n g....?!

Dream returns to find his brother (and crush) having a severe panic attack on the floor as he stares at the apple in the box. He sighs closing it it up and redoing the latch before putting it back on the desk noticing the journal which causes him to panic not knowing what Nightmare read or how much. 

The movement startles Nightmare who turns on his sibling, “WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!” 

“Night I...” 

“WHY?!” Nightmare screams tears gushing from his eyes both visible due to shock and distress. 

“ I WANT TO EAT IT SO DAMN MUCH JUST TO FINALLY LET GO BUT I CAN’T TAKE THAT SMALL BIT OF HAPPY AWAY FROM YOU NIGHT! I... I can’t...no one needs me...or cares...” Dream breaks down in tears seeing Nightmare’s other socket . Nightmare pulls Dream close as they both cry. 

“You’re the only one who *hic* cared about me...who *hic* deserves my happy aura. I...I feel so damn used! All people want is a one hit wonder drug and then they leave! Ink...*hic* Cross... *hic* Blue...I can’t do it anymore! That’s why I don’t try to escape. What reason do I have to *hic* do that? What good will it do? No one would miss me if I ate it..” 

“I would miss you! Please don’t m-make the same mistake I did. P-please Dream!” Nightmare sobs as the tar drips off him revealing more and more of his passive form. “I love you so much! I’m s-sorry for pushing you away! I was terrified that the villagers would hurt you and...and of my f-feelings for you. I should have talked to you instead of hiding.” Night hugs Dream tight sniffling and crying into his brother’s shoulder. 

Cue the LONG OVERDUE discussion they both have needed to have for over 500 years to get closure and to figure out their feelings. Dream’s cutting habit is revealed which scares Nightmare even more and he pulls Dream into the bathroom to properly treat them. He tells Dream he has the same habit and has been struggling to overcome it. 

 They end up curled up on Dream’s bed cuddling under the blanket Dream knitted to replace the old one from their AU that fell apart from age. They decide to start dating but agree to take it slow. Their first kiss is soft and sweet. They fall asleep their souls feeling lighter than they had in years. 

Dreamtale belongs to jokublog

Cross jakei

Killer rahafwabas

[crispyjenkins]

Can you do more of that mandalorian obiwan jangobi fic? It was so good!

(i’m very feckin attached to this obi and i’m so happy y’all want more. blood and injury warning for this one! jangobi is very soft but obi is very bad at keeping himself alive, and ruusaan is the only one with a braincell. part 1 here!

umm. this got really long. it just... kept getting longer. fills will not be this long consistently i just. i really love this obi.

**ruusaan’s name and design from this! thank you to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone for letting me write her, i love her dearly)

 Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the shuk’la buirok and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

  The Haat Mando’ade welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her beskar’gam, and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had. 

  Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as Haat'ad, nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her dar'buir believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that's good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her. 

  When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of children. A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

  “You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists. 

  Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

  The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

  Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

  “He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

  “Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

  It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

  There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it hurts, and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

  She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

  “What’s his name?”

  Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

  Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

  “He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

  Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

  “Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

  Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

  “Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

  “All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

  “It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta. 

  “Are you... Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

  Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

 Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the gai bal manda isn’t already burning her lips. 

  It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

-

  Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

  Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more reckless than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

  “It’s easier to breathe without it,” Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. “Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.” And he shrugs like it's fine, and Jango decides he has a death wish.

  Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if... anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

  They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go wrong, stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job. 

  Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had asked him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

  Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other Haat’ade, he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

  Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face? 

  Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore. 

  “Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose. 

  His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

  And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

  This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

  The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight. 

  And Jango can’t get him into shock position, not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up vode on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest. 

  “Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

  Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes. 

  His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the Haat’ade, even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his beskar’gam silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

  Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

  The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek. 

  She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

  “Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them twice, and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly. 

  Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

  Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief. 

  “Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs nothing, even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

  He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them. 

  In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

  Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

  Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks. 

  Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

  Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his beskar’ta in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had actually done anything, and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands. 

  “K’atini,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks kriff that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

-

Mando’a:  shuk’la buirok — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as dar’buir or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce shuk’la riduurok. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e)  beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy gai bal manda — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul” buir — “parent”, gender neutral  vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers” beskar’ta — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”. K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.

[the-judge-of-bones]

Dreamtale and base differences

Nightmare or King, He was never a sans.

- A very angry fellow, Nightmare is the embodiment of every timeline’s negative emotions and he lives up to that fact very proudly. Just being around him will cause people to flood with anxiety/fear/anger, Few people can resist the aura’s affect and those who do are usually the exact opposite of what he represents (Dream), He can’t access certain AU’s because of this due to the sheer amount of positivity. It creates what’s essentially a physical barrier, This is the same reason dream can’t get into his nightmare realm however.

- Nightmare doesn’t have a soul nor’ anything resembling one, He is not alive in the traditional sense, He is the ex-guardian of the black apples. They always saw him as a monster because of him supposedly protecting evil without understanding that bad emotions were just as prevalent as the good ones and that the AU’s needed ALL of them to thrive. Not just happiness, Not just negativity but despite it all, The humans still pursued him, They mocked him. They bullied him, They hurt him and made sure to do it well, He could never tell his brother what was going on, They isolated the pair from one another and by the time dream really understood what was happening, it was already to late to stop it.

Under readmore solely for length.

- He’d wanted to prove himself, That he consumed in Negative feelings, Knowing only his own depression. That he could be ‘good’ like his brother, That he could yet just as Dream could not touch the black apples, He could not touch the gold and like a disease. Negative feelings spread through the golden fruits like a disease and the tree itself begun to wither and die, The only reason the tree had any hope at all had been dream taking a apple with him earlier that day, Sparing the positive feelings from their fate.

- Yet it didn’t stop the humans from coming for him, So consumed by hate that they trampled over his brother, the one they’d considered their friend and so. urged by a weak voice in his head, He begun to eat, One black apple after a nothing got devoured, More and more Negative emotions began to form and soon. His skeletal shell had cracked from the pressure, Breaking one of his eye sockets and converting his entire body into ooze. He’s got four long tentacles he uses in battle, All of which emerge from his back. The being that had taken his body over offered sweet words and protection, Something he hadn’t known in so long that the distraught and heartbroken guardian fully accepted. His final words echoed a sentiment he hoped dream would never forget.

‘please remember me for who i was.’

- From that day forward he became Nightmare, A feared entity amongst the AU’s and to all those who know him, That’s all they know. But there’s more to this story some might wonder, What about the original, Has he truly been consumed? and the answer is no. The original guardian still exists, Living in the deepest darkest depths of the ooze in a deep sleep that he only rouses from on the occasion when dream’s around or some shit is going down, Otherwise he rests. Oblivious to the world, In some ways so hurt that he’s content to allow nightmare to keep control of his body.

- But sometimes, The guardian’s memories leak into nightmare, These memories and feelings. They give nightmare a kinder, Softer and easier to joke with personality, It’s these memories that had nightmare adopting various ‘messed up’ sans into his nightmare realm, to live at the nightmare castle. Killer, Horror, Dust. In some ways, they’ve been a false family and while he’s often harsh...he does care for them, He doesn’t like being alone, He hates it.

- Another question would be can you free the original guardian from the nightmare’s control? Yes, You can, With enough hard work and brute force. You could logically awaken and free the guardian from the Nightmare’s grasp, He’d likely be incredibly guilt and remorseful at what nightmare did with his body, How it had hurt his brother, He’d also need to be moved a new body ASAP, his own one would be to damaged for him to use it for long otherwise he would become a wispy sprite ball once more.

- Ironically, Nightmare does suffer frequently from nightmares, He tries to keep it to himself but sometimes they get so bad that he can’t help but disappear to one of the other group member’s bedrooms and get into bed with them to have someone, Anyone next to him because all three of them might be idiots but they are HIS idiots and he’ll protect them like he means it.