#even if they didn’t something happened on that planet

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (3) - Remedy

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.2k

-Dance with the enemy-

He was dead. Her grandfather, the only person that was even a slightly bit normal in her entire family, was gone, yet she showed almost no emotions other than something that could be described as ‘bummer’. Sure, she felt sorrow and pain, it would be disturbing if she didn’t, but it was all beneath the rage, beneath the lack of understanding and support. And all of that was beneath the feeling of betrayal she felt whenever she was reminded of her mother's ridiculous bullshit powers.

Once upon a time you called her a typical teen angry at the world, you ended it at that, but Astrid knew you left out a big part. A spoiled brat given everything on a silver platter, that's what she got from your words, that's how she interpreted them, and it pissed her off. You had the guts to act like you knew anything about her.

That wasn't who she was.

If she could say so herself, she wasn't spoiled, and she was well aware off all the luxuries and privileges she had. There was just so much anger within her, so much anger at the family that didn't understand her that didn't try to connect with her. The same family that refused to believe that no matter how she was raised, no matter how much money she had, no matter how easy her life was or how difficult it could have been, that she would have turned out the same way she was now. That she would have the love for nature, and the desire to protect the planet. That she would see beyond just herself and her generation. That everything her father taught and passed down to her was the core of who she was. That those ideals would drive her no matter how she grew up and the only person that understood that about her was long gone and the mother that apparently could see and talk to ghosts could not see him.

So, yes, Astrid really was angry, but not at the world as you said it. Just at her family.

Deep down perhaps once or twice she may have thought that she appeared to be too cold and distant on the outside. The divorce of her parents followed by the loss of her father, and the distance between her and her mother and all the therapy she was forced to go to made her closed off and defensive, and she simply couldn’t deny it. Why should she show what she felt when there was no one trying to understand her? What was the point of showing weakness when it could easily be exploited, like what happened with her mother when Rory met her. “Let's just get this over with,” she said, annoyed and angry that her mother manipulated the principle into making her leave the school when there was something important to her going on.

“Astrid!” her mother called after her she was already on her way to the car.

She could see Rory and someone else in the car; and while that annoyed her because she didn’t want to spend the time with her mother’s boyfriend, she guessed there were worse things that could happen to her. For example, being in the car with you. That would make this day even worse. “Save your breath,” she didn't have the patience to listen to her mother right now, instead she just opened the doors to get in the back seat with Delia and there you were.

Her absolute worst nightmare just turned into reality.

Someone kill her.

She should have just turned around right then and there. She should have said to hell with going to the funeral or she should have found another way to get there. Maybe by an airplane, or by bus, or anything really, as long as she didn't have to spend hours upon hours with you right next to her because of course Delia wasn't going to sit between you.

“Why is this pinnacle of human ignorance here?!” Astrid demanded angrily, looking both at her mother and grandmother with unmatched fury. How could they do this to her? They both knew how much she hated you!

“Good to see you too, Chihuahua,” and there it was, your infuriating voice addressing her with that ridiculous nickname that had no basis in reality that you refused to replace or put any effort in. You were so unimaginative you just picked the first dog that came to mind and decided she was just like that dog. And no, the irony that it was an angry tiny dog that she herself considered to be made up purely out of spite was not lost on her.

“Fucking Barnacle,” Astrid spat as her mother just shrugged and pointed at Delia. At least her mother looked like she felt a miniscule amount of guilt over this.

“You do know I need my assistant, don't you? Doing all of this without Charles is already a nightmare, I can't do it without my assistant as well! Oh, Charles why did you have to leave me?! Charles! Oh, Charles!” Delia was screaming once again, calling out her grandfather's name at the top of her lungs and for once Astrid figured even you were better than being even more embarrassed by her family, so, she got in the car, just to escape the judging and mocking looks of the other students.

From the corner of her eye she could see you opened your mouth before her mother and Delia could get back into the car. ‘Oh, no, what now?’ Astrid could tell you were trying to tell her something and worst of all she could see that you were struggling to get it out of your mouth. Considering that, chances were it wasn't an insult hurling her way because you definitely didn't have issues saying those to her. Luckily, from the looks of it, you've changed your mind and chose to remain silent.

Rory turned around with that infuriating grin on his face. “Astrid, it's so good to see you again!” Rory exclaimed with that fake smile of his trying to get her to accept him or whatever. He’s been trying to make her believe he was actually in love with her mother and not just using her some time, but she was she wasn't about to fall for those tricks. Instead, Astrid just glared at him, finding a bit of satisfaction in the way he just turned back around.

~X~

You really thought spending an entire drive from Astrid’s school to Winter River was the worst thing that could ever happen to you. You were wrong.

You were a hundred percent absolutely wrong.

Risking your life was a lot worse.

This was going to be the end of you, there was no way around it. Delia was going to be responsible for your untimely demise. Why? Because it was up to you to put the shroud over the house because why the fuck not?!

You stared at the large house at the top of the hill overlooking the entire Winter River. And you had to get on the roof of it. Great.

Just great.

You turned to Delia, sending her a pleading look and hoping against hope that she would see reason. “Are you sure there is no one else who can do this?” your fear of heights aside, this was ridiculously reckless. You had no experience climbing houses, walking on roofs or placing these shrouds, it would be nothing short of a miracle if you didn't fall to your death

“Can't believe I'm saying this, but for once I agree with her,” who could have guessed Astrid Deetz actually agreed with you. She probably just didn't want to see another human die. “I mean if she falls it will be really difficult to cover up.”

You should have known that was her reasoning, you really should have known Astrid’s worry had nothing to do with you but the inconveniences that would put them in. “Geez, thanks a lot Chihuahua,” you said mockingly and turned to Lydia, you were still naively hoping at least she would see reason in this, but the woman had just lost her father and was not exactly thinking of how reckless of an employer her step mother was.

“Oh, Y/N will be fine! She's my assistant she can handle it, just have Rory hold the ladder,” most of the other time you would be beaming from the praise, but today things were different. Delia just brushed your concerns off, and you were just becoming aware of how little care the family had collectively. Well, if it really was true that Lydia could see ghosts and talk to them maybe she just got desensitized to the entire life and death situation and Delia being who she was just took it easy. In her head she could solve it all. She knew the people, she had the money, the entire building the family had gifted the school Astrid was enrolled in was enough of proof of that.

“Great, off I go now. Hopefully not to die,” you sighed and picked up as much shroud as you believed you could reasonably carry to the roof and resigned yourself to whatever was going to happen. “I am not being paid enough for this bullshit,” no money was worth this, but here you were, unable to back out.

“Well, she does have a point,” Lydia finally spoke up and it wasn't regarding your life but your pay. Were you suddenly feeling really bitter? No, no, you could never. When the one most concerned for you was Astrid you really had to question the life choices that led you to this situation.

You glanced back at Delia, who was now in deep thought. “Yes, I suppose she can get all raise considering all the extra work she’s doing.”

Well at least he would be paid more for risking your fucking life!

“I can't watch this I'm going inside,” you did not care one bit that Astrid couldn't watch you doing this. You still figured that was for the best. You didn't want to give to her satisfaction of seeing you fall from however tall the roof was.

“If I die I'm haunting this entire family,” you promised under your breath and looked at the Rory who was holding the ladder for you. “I'd like to come back down just so you know, and in one piece,” why did you need to clarify that? Well, you were talking to Rory, so it didn’t hurt to be more specific.

“Trust me I don't want any part in this either, but it's for Charles, we must do it!” of course he would say that. It wasn't him risking his neck because, apparently, he was the only one strong enough to hold the ladder in place so he couldn't go up the ladder. It just had to be you. Granted, if you really had to choose, you would rather avoid holding the ladder up while someone else was climbing it.

‘I really should have gotten that life insurance,’ you thought bitterly as you began climbing the ladder.

~X~

Social media was, in fact, not enough of a distraction for Astrid at the moment. Not even texting other students about the conference was helping her keep her mind off what was happening outside. Especially when a shroud dropped from the roof near the window of the room she was in and she had to move to another room.

No. She wasn’t worried.

She was just curious about what was going on outside. It was too silent, and no one was screaming so nothing happened, she was sure of that. Absolutely nothing happened.

Astrid finally, after an hour of being glued to her phone, looked through the window and saw a black shroud covering it on the outside. She looked at it, wondering if you were done. No matter how much she hated you this was still Delia being reckless as fuck. There was no other way to put it. Why couldn't they just hire a company that worked on doing these kinds of things? Just because you were her assistant didn't mean you had to fall from the roof.

Not that Astrid would ever admit she was worried about you. She wasn't. Really. She just couldn't watch, so she went inside to wait it out. How was Delia even going to explain to your family if something happened to you? Like: ‘I'm sorry. I didn't hire the professionals, so I sent your daughter to the roof and now, well�� Accept my condolences?’  

Astrid bit her lip, doing her best not to be conscious of how worried she really was. She should have stopped you, said to hell with this hatred between you and acted like proper human being.

And then there was a scream. A bone chilling, loud, echoing scream and Astrid ran out not really sure what she was going to see once she was outside. “What happened?!” she demanded as she rushed outside and looked at her mother expecting an explanation. Her heart sank as she saw Delia crying and you weren't there. “What? No, don’t-“ her legs felt like they would crumble under her weight. This wasn’t happening. She didn't hear any anything, she didn't hear a loud noise, she didn't hear a thud, but there was a chance it still happened and she just didn't hear it. “She- she didn’t-“ she was at the loss of her words, speechless and affected a lot more than she thought she would be.

“She didn’t what, Chihuahua?” her eyes widened when she heard that nickname, and that stupid voice.

Astrid spun around, anger coursing through her veins as she glared at you. “Nothing!” she yelled and rushed back inside completely aware of the extremely puzzled look on your face.

“I'm not that easy to get rid of! I am a Barnacle!” you yelled after her once you realized that you were the ‘she’ she was asking about.

You looked perfectly fine.

You really were a Barnacle.

How dare you make her worry?

Stupid.

Asshole.

“Fuck you,” she cursed under her breath.

~X~

The funeral went about as on brand as it could for the Deetz family. A choir singing, a fin shaped tombstone, an imaginative text engraved upon it and plenty of colorful personalities, most of them dressed in black attending the funeral. Whenever you had the chance to closely look at the family you always had the feeling of absurdity surrounding you, they never truly conformed to the general norms but nothing showed that as much as this funeral.

You stood by the side observing, just taking the scene in as people began mingling around talking to one another. You didn’t know these people and they didn’t know you, neither of you felt the need to strike up a conversation in circumstances such as these. As the priest approached Delia and Rory the feeling of grief was mixed in with something else, something you couldn't quite tap into. You couldn't quite call it absurd or nonchalant but there was something about the way everyone acted that gave you this strange feeling. The last time you went to the funeral people cried, but the Deetz family took the loss proudly, not shedding a tear and leaving that for a more private moment. As for the others, well, you understood why most of the people here didn't cry. These people knew Charles but weren't quite close to him.

You glanced to the side where Astrid was sitting alone, somber-looking, serious, almost engulfed by that large coat she was wearing as if shielding herself from everything she was feeling. For a moment you could see that mask she used to wear cracking, just a hint of pain etching itself upon her face before she, as if she could feel your eyes on her, put the mask back on. You chose not to intrude, instead mixing into the crowd not quite intending to strike up a conversation but also not intending to avoid it.

The only thing you actually wanted to do was just to give Astrid some space. You knew deep down that even if she did look a bit worried when she thought you fell off the roof and met your untimely demise that the hatred between the two of you was still that strong. And that meant that you were not the person she would ever open up to or be vulnerable in front of.

And that suited you perfectly well because you did not need another Deetz woman driving you insane right now and that doubled for Astrid because damn was she still annoying. Damn Chihuahua.

The sound of someone approaching you from behind made you turn around just as Delia was coming up to you. She opened her purse and began looking for something. “I just forgot, we have to pack everything. Y/N, can you be a dear and go buy some boxes?” she handed you 100 bucks before you could even answer, but you figured anything was better than staying here surrounded by people you didn't know and not really knowing what to do with yourself.

“Of course, I'll come back as soon as possible,” you told her, taking the money and resisting the urge to run to the city.

~X~

You weren't lying to yourself, or overthinking things. You really didn't belong here, you didn't know anyone, no one from your family came from here, you just happened to work for Delia and thus were obligated to come and help her with the funeral. Still, you couldn't deny the place had a certain charm to it, there was something peaceful and calm about it something you couldn't quite explain with words alone.

It felt like Winter River was somewhat stuck in the past, like it wasn't keeping up with the rest of the world while still being welcoming to strangers. The man at the shop was welcoming, kind and helpful as you explained what you needed the boxes for and directed you toward the part of the store where you would find everything you need. From that point you could handle everything yourself.

It was kind of funny how used you were to this particular part of helping Delia. You have gotten quite an experience with packing things between working for Delia and your work at the library, packing wasn't something you were unfamiliar with. You came back to the house coming from the back and doing your best to avoid the crowds that gather in front of it because for whatever unexplainable reason you simply didn't do well with the crowds. Especially if you had to just walk through them and you figured it wasn't the best look to just walk through them with bags of tapes and other supplies as well as a bunch of boxes neatly packed underneath your arm. What you definitely didn't expect was to see Astrid storming off from the front of the building, getting on a bicycle and furiously riding off.

“Chihuahua!” you called out to her, not because you were worried or you cared to know where she was going, but because she didn't look like she should be driving off by herself. In fact, you swore you could see a single tear falling from her eye which was probably a mistake because Astrid did not cry. Yeah, it was definitely just you seeing things. You've been seeing things you couldn't quite explain lately, so maybe this was one of them too.

She didn’t turn back, or even slow down, she just left without even reacting. Not even yelling at you, and that was unsettling.

You put the boxes at the side of the house and placed the bag on top of them, and then went to search for Delia only to turn the corner and see a… celebration? “What the hell just happened here?” you muttered to yourself. Why were people suddenly celebrating like someone just got engaged or announced they were pregnant or something as ridiculously out of touch with reality and current situation as that. This was supposed to be a funeral and now it didn’t feel one bit like one.

You approach Delia and you were sure she could see you were puzzled. How couldn't you be? When you left graveyard things were somber, people talked but it was quiet and reserved, you could feel the grief in the air and now it was like you stepped into a parallel dimension where everyone wore black to celebration. It was like you were suddenly in the Addams family universe, well, Astrid did kinda give off the Wednesday vibe.

That was a strange thought.

“Did I miss something?” you asked almost fearful of the answer because if you didn't step into a parallel universe then you could probably guess that this was Rory’s doing. Somehow. How he would manage to do that was beyond you but if anyone could do it, then it was him.

“Turns out we'll be organizing a wedding in two days,” wait, what? “Lydia just accepted Rory’s proposal,” Delia explained as if she couldn't believe it herself and your jaw dropped prompting her to just nod and shrug.

What the fuck? Lydia was… She was burying her own father!

You turned to look at Lydia still puzzled by her decision. Rory you could understand he was an inconsiderate asshole of a man that manipulated everyone and everything in his favor just so he could gain something, prone to exploiting vulnerable people- oh, that's what happens. “And let me guess, Chihuahua was here right when it happened,” maybe you weren't seeing things, maybe she really was crying.

Delia pointed toward the porch as subtly as she could. “Right there,” yeah, that explained everything.

For once you felt sorry for the girl.

You probably should just go back home because this was not a healthy realization to have. You actually felt sorry for Astrid, you must be going crazy. “I'll, uh, started packing things, you know just the small stuff that whoever wants to buy the house won’t notice or care about,” anything really, just so you didn’t have to come to terms with feeling empathy for Astrid Deetz.

“Thanks, I'll be meeting you later to take some photos so get the equipment ready, please,” Delia said ‘please’ the world really was ending, or she really was that affected by Lydia’s decision.

~X~

A few hours later, when all the crowd was gone, you finished setting up the equipment for taking photos for Delia. You one again caught yourself thinking you were in the most absurd situation you could possibly be in as Delia began explaining to you exactly what she wanted you to do.

“So, what I want is that primal scream filled with grief! The scream of pain captured at the exact moment where it reaches the pinnacle, I want it to be guttural, to be raw emotion, the pure anguish and uncontrollable. To create the image of a deep wound inflicted upon the very heart of the one screaming and the one observing the work of art. I want to capture that visceral feeling of remorse, to show it as beautiful and ugly at the same time!” she explained passionately and you could feel your heart racing.

How were you supposed to be behind the camera, responsible for capturing that? You would be lying if you said you didn't understand the thoughts behind the idea or that it didn't sound inspiring, but how were you supposed to capture that? You just got into this business as Delia's assistant months ago and now this was thrown upon you? This responsibility? Capturing something so specific?

At this point you actually would have taken climbing on the roof again instead of doing this because it just felt so daunting and above your skill level.

“Sure, I'll help you with that,” and instead of saying how you felt went and agreed like a dumbass.

Well Alex did have a habit of saying you were a hell of a people pleaser, as long as those people weren't Astrid that is.

“Great, let's start!” Delia was surprisingly excited about doing this, but you supposed the artist within her overpowered the grieving widow. She sat down in front of the camera and give you a moment to get into position. You stood behind the camera, checked the lighting once more, did the test photo to make sure everything was fine and it was because you learned how to do it damn well.

“OK. I'm ready whenever you are,” you gave her a thumbs up and she took several deep breaths, getting in touch with several feelings within her, letting that gried come out and show itself and she screamed. She screamed so loud and with so much pain and though you struggled, you captured the moment. Deep down you probably just realized that this was her way of releasing the grief that was consuming her. So, you pushed away all the doubts in your skills and all the other ways you were reconsidering your position as her assistant and just silently took part in the process of Delia handling her grief and emotions that came along with it.

That is until the rest of the Deetz family and Rory, well you guessed he now was a part of the family as well, came running due to hearing Delia screaming. You choose to keep busy by going through the photos and picking out those that looked the most like what Delia described to you earlier and let Delia explain the situation to her family. that is until Astrid Charles to address you.

“I thought Barnacle finally snapped and tried to murder someone,” she commented and you saw the smirk appearing on her face when you took the bait like the fool you were.

“Don’t worry, if I start murdering people, I’m starting with you, Deetz,” you grumbled, not in any way serious, but you were fairly annoyed by that comment.

“There are three of us here, you might want to be more specific?” Lydia asked completely out of blue and you resisted the urge to look at her and raise and eyebrow at the clear failed attempt to play ignorant of the way things were between you and Astrid.

“The chihuahua,” you still clarified.

“That fits two of them,” Delia did not just challenge you there.

Fine, you could play this game. “The pain in my ass,” you added, surely that would do it.

“Two again, try harder,” Lydia knew well enough Delia meant ‘chihuahua’ fit her as well as Astrid, so she was just getting back at Delia. And stating that Delia was, indeed, also a pain in your ass.

That was on you for not noticing your mistake. “The one who thinks Rory is annoying,”

“Still at two,” Lydia once more countered and you were running out of things that described Astrid.

“Mommy issues?” you tried, now getting a bit desperate as you watched the amusement on Delia and Lydia’s faces and the pure look of annoyance on Astrid’s. At least that was a good thing. Any day you made Astrid annoyed was a win in your book.

Delia glanced at Lydia and Astrid and nodded. “Hmm, definitely two.”

“The one that hates me,” you would do everything in your power to never say Astrid’s name.

“Hm, for your sake I’ll say that’s at one,” Delia took pity on you.

Wait a second… “What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demanded, certain that only Astrid hated you. Did Lydia hate you? Or Delia? But you worked for Delia and you barely talked with Lydia. Well, you did hate her daughter so… That made sense?

“Nothing!” Astrid screamed so loudly you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Fucking Chihuahua,” you cursed under your breath and went to pack things from any other room, as long as Astrid wasn’t there. Or Rory, you really didn’t want to be in the same room as him either.

~X~

If there was one thing that kind of made Lydia nervous it was the realization that her daughter had grown up and that she should probably be getting ready for the inevitable moment where Astrid comes out to her. And not preparing in the: ‘What do I do?! My child is gay!’ way but rather in the: ‘What do I do?! My child is now an adult and is falling in love and getting into a relationship and she is going to start dating and might get her heart broken and might find the right person right away or might never find the right person!’ way. And that’s not even considering all the other things that could go right or wrong and she was already panicking and overthinking it and she really needed something to calm her down.

If Rory just didn’t throw her pills away.

“Something needs to happen to just to end this charade those two have going on,” and Delia was not helping with her comments because even as few times as Lydia saw you and Astrid interacting she could tell it wasn't really that black and white between you two and Astrid's reaction to you being in danger, which was still reckless on Delia's part, only strengthened that belief. What was she going to do?! You were a good kid; she couldn't deny that. You were hardworking, you weren't spoiled and from what she heard from Delia you actually shared some of Astrid’s core beliefs, but she was still a mother, and she was still worried about her precious daughter getting her heart broken.

“They are too stubborn at this point,” at least she could take some solace in that. It would probably happen at some point and you and Astrid would probably settle your differences and start seeing each other for what you really were and not just the initial impression you made it one another. But from the looks of it, it was still somewhat far off and so Lydia hoped she had at least some time to prepare. More than anything, she hoped that you would first be friends instead of jumping right into a relationship after apparently hating one another. She sighed and went to pick up a box Rory brought along. There was still so much to do, especially with the wedding coming and all the cleaning and packing would help her get her mind off of her daughter's love life.

Delia actually laughed. “You're right, unless something life threatening happens to either of them I don't think they are going to make any real progress anytime soon,” she was joking of course but just the idea of something like that happening to Astrid really didn't sit well with Lydia.

“Please don't joke like that,” Lydia pleaded, sighing again and looked up the stairs her daughter went. “I should probably go and check up on Astrid,” she decided, especially knowing what was in the attic and especially since she was seeing him again.

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Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

[bouquetface]

astro notes 6

Accuracy is influenced by the ENTIRE chart. Having the same placements does not mean they will manifest in the same way.

Moon conjunct Lilith - there is usually something unique about your mother. depending on the entire chart this varies - ex: your mom has a different skin complexion from you & your father. people mistake her as not being apart of your family. or the woman you see as mother is not your bio mom - she is an adoptive mom, a step mom, etc. these are extreme examples.

Jupiter opposite Venus - any jupiter/venus aspect has potential to be very tricky. You can find it difficult to discipline yourself, you can be very indulgent where these planets are placed.

ex: Venus in 1st H - Jupiter in 7th H - this person is a cheater. they get bored easily.

ex: Venus in 2nd - Jupiter in 8th - this person has been in a lot of debt. they knew they should have begun saving and budgeting but they couldn't deny themselves small fun purchases. these all added up and they recently needed to borrow 1k+ from their parents.

Child (4580) asteroid conjunct Venus in natal - This person's child has Venus conjunct their ascendant.

Libra Moon - A negative manifestation of this is a a mom who was obsessed with your appearance and/or her own.

ex: This boy’s mom is indian. She grew up in a predominately white country. She had many insecurities about herself. She was obsessed with the child being white and having no indian features. The day he was born, one of the first comments she made was negative about him having an “indian nose”. She projected a lot of her self hate onto him. This is one of the reasons he keeps distance from her.

ex: This girl’s mom was always on diets during her youth. She was obsessed with the girl having been born a natural blonde when she was a brunette. The girl developed an alt-style in her teens, this includes dyeing her hair. Her mom hated this. She would constantly make negative comments because the girl refused to look the way she wanted her to. This is one of the reasons the girl hasn’t spoken to her mom in years.

Accuracy depends on the entire chart. In these cases, the moon was harshly aspected and 4th H contained malefics. Luckily, these observations won’t apply to most libra moons. however, i’m sharing for the few who might relate.

Libra Moon - Another negative manifestation of this placement is a mom who chooses romantic partners over her child. Ik a guy who says his parents got a divorce when he was 2, after that the mom went through 2 more marriages with toxic men. It felt to him she would prioritize these men over him. She was desperate for a romantic partner. It was quite a sad story. In his case, Libra Moon was afflicted.

IC IN 5th House - This appears in the chart’s of people ik who didn’t only grow up at home w their mom. Their parents were usually divorced and they grew up with 2 homes. Or they grew up living at their grandparents for a signifiant amount of time.

Saturn in 4th H - You could have a physically or emotionally distance relationship with a parent or the birthplace. You may felt very lonely in childhood. Accuracy would depend on entire chart.

Saturn ruling 3rd H/Cap or Aqua 3rd H - You could have developed communication very slowly as a kid. Unless there is a planet or aspect to Saturn influencing this.

VEDIC ASTRO - Upapada Lagna

imo UL should not be prioritized over D1 & D9. They should be read together. & D1 & D9 hold more power on what will happen in your life. Why I think this is because:

- ik someone who had a strong first UL but their d1 & d9 had many divorce indicators. They ended up getting a divorce.

- ik another who had a UL that indicates breakup and no marriage for their first relationship. This person was single their entire life prior to marriage. They genuinely didn’t even have friends of the opposite sex. D1 & D9 shows a strong & supportive marriage. They are 30+ years into their marriage. Personally knowing them very well, ik they aren’t going to get a divorce.

- The relationship UL shows can be difficult to define to one person. UL isn’t always the marriage partner, it can be relationships prior. When UL doesn’t indicate it, these relationships don’t turn into serious/committed relationships. I would like to know other people’s thoughts and experiences with UL. You may be able to experience the UL without even realizing it.

UL is better read alongside D1 & D9. D1/Natal is the sky you were born under, no other chart holds power over it.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 28

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 4739

Warnings: Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 28

The garage was filled with the familiar sounds of tools clanking, engines humming, and the scent of motor oil lingering in the air. Bobby and John were tinkering with a car on the far end, Garth was talking to Jack about a custom part, and Jodi and Ellen were off to the side, sipping coffee. Dean pulled the Impala into the yard as you looked out the window, the sun almost high in the sky. God, you both had missed the place so much over the past few months, but it hadn’t changed at all.

Dean glanced over at you as he parked the Impala. You ready for this? The words echoed softly in your mind, his voice clear, but softened by a hint of concern. He knew how hard it had been at Crowley's when you were around a lot of people, and this was a lot of people, even if you did know them all.

I think so. You thought, offering him a small smile. The emotions around you were already swirling—Bobby’s concentration, John’s mild frustration, Garth’s excitement—but it was Dean’s presence that grounded you, his calm determination a constant comfort.

As you both stepped out of the car, you felt a shift. Benny had just arrived, and you could sense the excitement radiating from him, a ripple of something deeper… anticipation? He’d had it that morning when he brought Dean’s Baby to your house so Dean could take you to breakfast.

Dean felt some of the emotions trickle through the connection with you as he put his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close. Taking a shaky breath, the two of you headed inside as a cacophony of greetings ensued. Everyone except Cas knew what was about to happen. At least being close to Dean helped block out some of the emotions the others were feeling.

The moment Benny and Meg stepped into the garage, there was silence. Cas not only looked confused, but you could feel it from him. All eyes turned to the two. When Cas’s eyes fell on Meg, you felt it, the moment that connection happened for the two, and you almost couldn’t hold back the tears. It reminded you of the first time you truly looked at Dean, back at Crowley’s, and had let him in. Cas watched her like she was the first light in a dark room—confusion and awe mixing together, despite his usually stoic demeanor. Meg glanced around, her eyes landing on Cas as if drawn by some unseen force. Her smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by something softer—vulnerability? You felt the flash of it, the hesitation in her step. But then, she was Meg again, mask up, all sharp edges and sarcasm.

“Well, would you look at this bunch of misfits,” Meg quipped, crossing her arms. “Didn’t know this was a family reunion.” Her tone was playful, but her eyes kept drifting back to Cas, like she was trying to figure out if it really was him, his name that was on her body, her soulmate.

Cas stepped forward, his movements cautious, but deliberate. “Meg…” His voice was deeper than usual, quieter, and it carried the weight of something he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to say out loud. Meg was a common name, typically short for Meggan. But the name that had appeared on him when he was sixteen was Meg. 

Meg raised an eyebrow, the tension between them palpable. “You gonna stare all day, Clarence, or are you gonna say something profound?”

You could feel it between the two of them. They felt that pull toward each other, but they were both being cautious, not wanting to hope too hard or move too fast. It reminded you of yourself, months ago, with Dean. Even now you couldn’t seem to move faster with him, and you still hadn’t given him an answer to being his girlfriend.

Before Cas could respond, Dean snorted, breaking the tension. “Cas, man, you gotta work on your opening lines.” You elbowed him lightly, sending him a playful thought. And you’re the expert on first impressions?

Dean grinned, but you felt the warmth beneath his teasing—a silent admiration for Cas’s vulnerability in that moment. Hey, I’m charming. You know that, he replied through your bond.

Cas finally spoke, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I’ve been… waiting to meet you.” His blue eyes locked onto Meg’s, and you could feel the deep connections beginning to knit itself together between the two. It was like watching two puzzle pieces finally snap into place.

Meg opened her mouth, probably ready to throw out another sarcastic comment, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just stared at him, her defenses lowering for the briefest moments.

You caught her emotions—a mix of disbelief, fear, and, deep down, a flicker of hope. It mirrored Cas’s own uncertainty, the vulnerability they both seemed reluctant to show.

Dean’s hand brushed against yours, grounding you as you absorbed the waves of emotions in the room. All eyes were on the two, a quiet hum of hope traveled between them. Benny cleared his throat, stepping closer. “Figured you two needed to at least meet each other. We met her in Cali. She rescued Y/N.�� 

Jodi leaned over to Ellen, her voice low but audible. “Think we’re gonna need more coffee.” Ellen only nodded, a soft smile on her lips, seeing the two try to feel each other out without either of them saying too much. 

It had gone better than you had hoped for. You hadn’t gotten to interact much with Meg back in Cali during your ordeal, but seeing and feeling the two of them now, made you smile as you leaned against Dean. He instinctively put his arm around you and held you close. They’re kinda cute together, Dean’s whispered words making you smile.

Pretty sure Benny said something similar about us, you thought back to him before he kissed the top of your head, both of you remembering back to that first night in the safe house.

“Alright, everybody back to work,” John piped in, breaking the silence, but also wanting to give the two a few moments to themselves. “Cas, you can take the afternoon off, if you want. Get to know her,” he added, clapping Bobby on the shoulder before returning to the car the two had been working on.

Everyone went off to do their own thing, leaving the two where they’d been standing, just staring at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Would you two go have a few beers and relax,” Ellen hollered, her voice carrying that soft undertone of affection as she smiled.

Cas couldn’t stop the smile that found his lips. “Would… would you like to-” he began, albeit nervously, but Meg cut him off.

“Come on, Clarence. I’ll drive,” Meg sassed playfully, a smirk toying at her lips. She wasn’t about to admit anything or just let him in. Her life had been hard, and the idea of having normal scared her.

You chuckled a little at the pet name she’d given him but didn’t say anything as the two left. The familiar sounds of cars being worked on brought a wave of comfort that washed over you. I missed this place. Me too, Sweetheart. 

Before you could look up at him, Bobby approached the two of you. He typically didn’t let his emotions show, but seeing the two of you finally together, made him smile in a way that even his eyes conveyed his happiness. “You two take the time you need. Don’t feel like you’ve got to get back to work right away. You’ve both been through hell,” he told the two of you, meaning it from the bottom of his heart.

“Thanks, Bobby. But, I need to make a phone call. Can you keep her company?” Dean replied, kissing the top of your head before he wandered into the office. He had to call Sam and tell him about your premonition.

Your stomach twisted a little when he walked away, but you took a deep breath. There were plenty of people here, and Cole was in jail at the moment. So, you pushed the worry away, for now. “What’s going on?” Ellen asked, now standing next to you, having seen the worry flash across your expression. With a sigh, you looked up at her, trying to ground yourself from the waves of emotions that kept crashing through you, not all of them yours. “I had a nightmare last night. Dean said I have premonitions. I’m pretty sure he has to call Sam and Crowley because it was about Cole.” It was hard to say even that much, and you knew there was no way you could recount the details of it to any of them.

I’m almost done, Sweetheart. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His whispered words helped you take a shaky breath as you attempted to calm your nerves again. That was about when Jodi pipped in. “Before we had left Cali, Crowley had mentioned something about getting you on the registrar for empaths with premonitions. That way, if you have them, someone can do something about it,” she offered with that soft smile that helped you relax just a little bit more.

The idea of being on that sort of list was a new concept. Although, most of the stuff having to do with empaths and premonitions was new to you. Seeing the confusion on your face, Jodi continued, “Crowley said that if you had any dreams that involved the Vaughts or their associates, whether you were awake or asleep, that you should call him.”

That was when Dean came up behind you, putting his arms around your waist. His touch melted the tension in your shoulders away as you leaned against him. “So, we gotta call Crowley later. Sam said he’s busy right now. Something about a register, or something,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder, gently.

“Can we just go home?” you asked quietly, needing not only the quiet but also the solitude. Other people’s emotions were still a lot, and you hadn’t figured out how to block them out when you needed a break.

Dean smiled a little at how you had worded that, home, like it was both of your home and not just yours. “Yeah, we can go home, Sweetheart,” he replied softly, gently giving you a squeeze.

The two of you said your goodbyes before he drove back to your place. He wanted to ask you things, but he could tell that right now, you didn’t need that on top of what was going through your head. He did hold your hand while he drove, trying to help ground you in the moment and shut out the things circling your mind.

After parking in the garage, he made sure to lock the garage door before following you down to the bunker. At least you felt safe enough there to relax. He just wasn’t sure how long it would take before you felt safe again, safe enough to at least live in the regular part of the house.

“Movie?” he asked, raising an eyebrow after he slipped off his shoes, but you just shrugged.

It was like your nightmare was playing on repeat since you’d brought it up earlier, and you couldn’t make it stop. Not even being close to Dean had helped, and now, not even being in the bunker was helping. He felt all of it- your turmoil, fear, and anxiety as you just stood in the middle of the l living room, lost in your thoughts.

For a moment, he just watched you, debating what would be the best way to help get your mind to focus on something else, literally anything else. And with that, he walked over and scooped you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold on.

“That’s cheating,” you protested, but deep down, you were grateful he’d surprised you the way he had.

“And I’ll cheat every day if it means you’ll smile,” he smirked as he carried you to your room.

You felt the blush warm your cheeks, lying your head against his chest, focusing on calming your breathing again. You let his emotions wash over you like a soft blanket on a cold winter’s day, soothing the worry that had been coursing through you only moments ago. Dean felt a wave of relief when he felt the tension slowly ease out of your body before he gently set you down on the edge of your bed.

“You’re really sweet, you know that,” you told him as he went to your dresser to pull out something comfortable for you to wear.

“Only for you, Sweetheart,” he chuckled.

His words made you smile as you slipped off your shoes, using your feet so you didn’t have to use your hands. After Dean turned around, his eyes followed your shoes as you kicked them toward your door, chuckling again, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

“Are you gonna be a tease again?” you asked, tilting your head a bit, looking up at him. But, instead of answering you, he just smirked as he stopped directly in front of you. Seeing the glint of playfulness in his eyes, you already knew what the answer was. Of course, he was going to be a tease. Your thoughts made his smirk grow, but it was slowly turning into a grin that almost went to his eyes. Dean was gentle, like he had been before, and he did tease you, just as he had last time. But, your thoughts weren’t on your current problems; they were on Dean.

“I love it when you think about me like that,” he whispered after scooping you into his arms again, making you blush.

He got you comfortable on the couch while he set up one of your favorite movies before snuggling up with you. Phone calls could wait. You needed to relax, and that was all he cared about. Dean had already made plans for the evening. He just hoped he could keep you relaxed with everything going on.

Sometime near six, Dean headed upstairs to meet Benny by the garage door. “Thanks, man. I just didn’t want to leave her alone, and it’s not like she was in a space to hit a grocery store earlier,” he told Benny gratefully as he began grabbing the bags from Benny’s car.

“No prob. She doing any better?” Benny asked, helping Dean with the bags.

He sighed as he met Benny’s gaze, “It’s a lot for her. I’ve just been trying to keep her distracted from it all for now.” Dean glanced at the secret door that he’d left cracked, so you wouldn’t need to go up there. “She’s scared, Benny. Scared that monster is going to kill me so he can still use her.” 

Benny glanced in the direction Dean was looking for a moment, then grabbed another bag out of his car. “At least she’s got you, and that bunker.”

“She can’t live down there forever, Benny,” Dean replied, focusing on debating how he’d get all the bags down there in one trip. “I even called Crowley and told him about her premonition. He’s still trying to get her name on the register thing. It’s taking longer because of how old she is, and she’s just now having them.”

“Want some help?” Benny asked, seeing the debate going through Dean’s head, while also hiding his concern for you.

“No. She hasn’t figured out how to block out other people’s emotions yet. We’re supposed to go see Pamela in a couple days. Bobby said she could help her,” Dean replied absentmindedly as he began grabbing bags, then realized he needed to lock up before he headed down there. “Oh, how’d it go with Cas and Meg?” 

Benny almost laughed, thinking back. “Haven’t seen em’ since they left for the bar. Guess he ain’t comin’ in tomorrow either. He told Bobby something about spending the night, getting to know her better.”

Dean pictured the two of them in his head, chuckling a little. “She’s gonna eat him alive, and he’s gonna love every second of it. That girls something else.”

With that, they said their goodbyes before Dean locked up the garage. Then he loaded the bags on his arms, stubborn to take them all in one trip. You’d stayed seated on the couch, just watching the open door and focusing on the connection between the two of you. Some of his thoughts drifted through your mind, mostly just the reassurance that he was okay.

When you saw him with nearly ten bags hanging off his arms, you stood to help him, but he just looked at you. “Not with your wrists still hurting,” he told you, but it was out of his love for you that he wasn’t letting you help.

You grumbled, closed the door, and followed him into the kitchen, curious about what he had Benny bring by. Most of it was necessities to restock the fridge. Then there were the other things: pie, beer, some chocolate, and dinner, which was burritos from the diner wrapped in foil to keep them warm.

He did at least let you help put some of the lighter things away, watching to make sure you didn’t push it. At least your feet hadn’t been bothering you, but all the bandages would need to be changed soon, to make sure nothing got infected.

“How about one more movie, dinner, a couple beers, and then we go cuddle up for the night?” he offered with that soft smile, making your heart melt again.

“Only if you put on something comfortable first,” you replied softly, heading into the living room again to get comfortable on the couch. You knew he wasn’t going to let you help. He wanted you to heal, and there was no point in arguing with him.

The way your hips swayed as you walked made Dean bite his bottom lip; thoughts of playfully tackling you onto the couch while you laughed, pinned under him, played through his mind. You shot him a knowing look as he stifled his laughter and attempted to focus on getting a pair of sweats and a shirt out of his bag instead of you.

You wondered if you could wait until his birthday, which was just under a week away, especially with how he affected you. It was one thing to have your own fantasies play out in your head, but to hear his thoughts of what he wanted to do… Well, those were intense. He had plenty of experience, and you had none. That thought made your brain go down a whole different tangent while he changed.

He sighed as he slipped on his shirt, then rejoined you in the living room. “I don’t care that you don’t have any experience. So, stop thinking like that,” he told you, tossing his clothes onto his bag before sitting next to you.

Not being able to hide things from him like you used to sucked a little, but the way he reassured you made it all worth it. Dean pulled you against him with one arm while gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. There was nothing in his eyes or emotions that said anything to contradict what he’d said.

For a moment, his breath hitched in his chest when your eyes met his. The apprehension, trust, adoration, and something else… anticipation made his heart skip a beat. He could easily get lost in your eyes. Dean absentmindedly licked his lips, your eyes darting to the movement and your thoughts to how his lips had felt against yours before meeting his gaze again.

“I told you, when you’re ready,” he whispered, gently pressing his lips to your forehead, then pressed play on the movie.

God, kissing your forehead and not your lips had been almost impossible, and now he was almost regretting choosing to wear sweats with no boxers. The way your lips had parted brought too many sinful thoughts to his mind, his body responding in ways he was now trying to stop. At least the movie didn’t have any adult scenes, as it was more of a kid movie, but one of your favorites.

It took him almost a half hour to calm his body down before he risked getting up to retrieve dinner, which was still quite warm, wrapped in foil. He managed to get you laughing during dinner while the two of you had a couple beers. Not only seeing but also feeling you relax allowed him to relax. For now, the books from Crowley had been left forgotten on the far end of the coffee table. And for now, things felt normal between the two of you, like there wasn’t anything else to worry about except each other.

After dinner, Dean grabbed the medical supplies from the bathroom, making you prop your feet up on the coffee table. You had tried to tell him that you could do it, but he had insisted, wanting to take care of you. Hearing him beg in your mind with his thoughts melted your heart, so you had relented.

Watching the care he took, his touches gentle, even with having to peel back the tape stuck to your skin that held the old bandages in place. You were too focused on him. The way his eyes focused on his task. The tenderness in them and his touch were heartwarming. 

I really do love it when you watch me. His thought made him smile a little without looking up at you. Dean still felt guilty that you’d gotten hurt when you got kidnapped, but the softness of your emotions always soothed those emotions in him when they surfaced. 

You tilted your head a bit, a small smile toying with the corners of your lips. It’s peaceful. It was the only way you could describe the feeling that watching him brought you. The way his emotions mixed with yours in an almost dance within you really was peaceful. Well, as long as neither of you were trying to soothe the other over your own feelings. That was when it felt complicated and more like a strange storm.

Once he slipped a pair of socks on your feet, he began cleaning up, but his mind was elsewhere. He let cuddling with you be at the forefront of his mind, so that was all you could pick up on. In the back of his mind, though, he was worried that he couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay anymore. Dean felt your eyes on him as you helped clean up the trash from dinner, and when you went into the kitchen, he couldn’t help but look over at you.

He watched the way your hips swayed as you made your way across the kitchen, a smile toying at his lips, enjoying the sight of you while simultaneously terrified that Cole would actually come after you. 

Just like you tell me, worrying about it won’t change it or make it go away. You thought to him, meeting his gaze after you threw away the trash, that compassionate smile on your lips again. Dean sighed, then shook his head a little in amusement.

“No fair using my own words against me,” he scoffed, but it was playful.

You giggled, letting the way his emotions danced with yours calm your nerves again. What was the point in worrying now, in this moment? Being in the bunker, the only way in was through the secret doors, and you had the key. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get some sleep,” the tenderness of your words helped him relax again.

Snaking his arms around your waist, he pulled you close again. He wasn’t sure what to say, though. He wanted to thank you, but that didn’t seem quite right. You felt him sigh, letting out one of your own. “Look, if I have a nightmare, I know you’ll be there when I wake up. We’re safe down here. He can’t get in. So, let’s try to enjoy whatever time we have, please,” you told him softly, your head resting on his chest.

The way your emotions flowed through the connection and washed over him in soft waves soothed the tension that he hadn’t even realized had settled into his muscles. “Alright, Sweetheart. Let’s get some sleep then,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

Before you could pull away, he scooped you into his arms, making you squeal in that delightful way. He had needed it, to hear and feel your joy, and he held onto it. It helped keep those troublesome thoughts from sneaking back to the forefront of his mind. The way you felt in his arms, the warmth of your body, the softness of your hand on his chest, it all was a balm to his troubled mind.

You watched him, loving how his arms felt around you, even when he carried you. Part of you would miss this after your feet healed, so you were determined to commit it all to memory. Gingerly, you reached up and cupped his cheek, gently rubbing your thumb over his jawline. Dean almost froze, now halfway between your bedroom door and the bed, and looked down at you. The softness of your touch matched the look in your eyes, making his breath hitch in his chest and his lips part. If only you knew what you did to him. It only got worse when you tilted your head the way you did when you got curious or confused, which brought a smile to his lips.

“What?” you asked, not quite sure how to describe or understand what he was feeling.

The smile that found his lips brightened his entire expression. “Sweetheart, I love you.” Those were the only words he found that said it, the feeling he couldn’t describe, even if it felt so much stronger and yet so much softer.

You ducked your head a little, blushing, “I love you too, Dean,” you replied a little shyly, then bit your bottom lip.

Dean took a breath, then had to shake the thoughts from his mind. He set you down on the edge of the bed, forcing himself to focus on just getting the two of you into bed, cuddling. But his mind wasn’t about to be of any help with that. Feeling your eyes on him, knowing you were still blushing a little and that you were only in a shirt, gave his mind what it needed to let the fantasies begin toying with his thoughts.

It wasn’t your intention to turn him on. You honestly just wanted to be close to him. You just didn’t fully understand the depth of what your soul was needing, nearly craving with him. Again, you wanted to apologize, even opened your mouth, but quickly closed it and deliberately didn’t think the word. 

His movements were fluid as he turned down the blankets before looking back at you, and he wished he hadn’t. He could see the longing, the need in your eyes, knowing exactly what you were trying to understand. With a sigh, he helped you onto the side you’d claimed as yours before he slid under the covers on the other side.

Tonight, he didn’t have to ask; you just scooted over and snuggled up against him, his arm around you, pulling you closer. You didn’t know how to ask him what you were feeling, since you didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. So, instead, you focused on the comfort of his embrace, the warmth of his body, and the steady rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat.

Dean had his suspicions of what you were feeling, but he didn’t want to talk about a topic he didn’t fully understand. As your breathing evened out, he began relaxing, letting your closeness comfort his soul so he, too, could drift off to sleep. He was just praying that you wouldn’t have another nightmare. The one thing he was praying for was that you could find and have some peace, without the looming possibility of a threat, and the fear in you would subside.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 29

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[guhamun]

❝I AM AWARE OF that now, but at the time, it seemed plausible. I didn’t know you very well either, only going by rumors and what information I was given.❞ Which wasn’t much. Jiyan had been new to his role, and so there wasn’t really any dirt to gather. Everything about him seemed ‘fine’ on the surface; however, Calcharo had figured there had to be far more behind that smile and handsome visage. As time passed, he thought whatever mask the other wore would eventually begin to crumble and their real face would be exposed. Three years was an awfully long time to wear one, though, and so he had discarded his original thoughts. ❝The me from three years ago, really did think that you and your people were from another planet with how bizarre your behaviors were to me. I was not overexaggerating when I said that there are not many places like Huanglong. You all being so welcoming is not the norm elsewhere, believe it or not.❞

     Especially towards mercenaries.

     They were often met with suspicion or anxious glances – understandable and expected. He had assumed that would be the same back then as well, yet was taken aback when his assumptions fell by the wayside. ❝It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago. Things change quickly.❞ There was a quiet that fell over them as they walked; a comfortable silence now that most had returned home or their rooms at the inn for the evening. The hustle and bustle of earlier was nonexistent, the only other sounds to greet them being the sound of the wind in their ears and their shoes against the ground. ❝It was good to see you so at ease today,❞ Calcharo finally spoke, turning his gaze down to Jiyan. ❝I notice you’ve been relaxing a little more lately – at least when we speak. I can’t say much for how things are back at Norfall Barrens. I expected you’d want to spend the majority of your time doing work.❞ The dinner had been unexpected, certainly. He had fully intended on eating something quick back in their room alone and leaving it at that. ❝I even caught you joking and laughing. Who would have thought such a serious general was capable of that?❞

     Though, could he really talk when he had been no different? He didn’t come here to enjoy himself. He came here primarily due to work and to find out the secret of the Sagaci Spring’s healing properties out of a curious whim. Everything else had merely…happened. ❝You looked…❞ he paused, brushing aside the thought that had come to him – a thought that nearly slipped from his lips, ❝like you were really enjoying yourself.❞

Of course he laughed. It was a ridiculous thought. But, not because he didn't think it was possible to convince or intimidate an entire city into doing one's will, but for a far simpler and more obvious reason. “It's not surprising, I'm aware of the methods of gangs. But it wouldn’t have been a smart move to try and trick a group known for its severe retribution against those who betray them." And, even if a mercenary group would never stand a chance against an entire territory's army, it made no sense to risk the lives of rangers, especially when they were already lacking in manpower. "And, more importantly, I don’t gamble with the safety of Jinzhou.” And that's what those types of 'plans' were: a gamble. One only needed to threaten someone who looked nervous or frightened enough, and the scheme would crumble. Too much to risk, too little to gain.

"Calcharo, sometimes you talk as if the people of Jinzhou hail from another planet. But I assure you that we do not. The reason why the citizens weren't afraid was simply because they had no reason to be afraid in the first place. The Midnight Rangers, the Ministry of Development, and the Madam Magistrate work tirelessly to ensure the safety of the city, so that no threat makes it past its walls. You weren't an unknown threat to them, but an esteemed guest." Of course, where there's light, there's also shadow and the dangers that lurk in it. But the people trust and know the main pillars of the city will never turn their back on them. There's no reason to fear or be suspicious of others when they're esteemed guests. But he could see why such was a difficult concept to grasp for those who hailed from a land with no law nor organizations to ensure the safety of the people.

"Don't worry, it won't happen again," he reassured the other man, and made a mental note to keep his... less professional thoughts to himself. It's easy to relax and be more open than usual when he has the company of the mercenary leader but, now that he stops to think about it, he needs to control that. Which, he admits, partially goes against their conversation about 'taking what he wants'. But, for the time being, he'll take advantage of the technicalities, as taking and saying aren't the same thing. "It's different, I'll admit that." In reality, it was harder than he thought, but saying such could ruin the mood, so he kept quiet. That aside, perhaps it was due to the hour and how empty the streets were in comparison to a few hours ago, but he no longer sensed curious and amused gazes looking in their direction. When he grabbed Calcharo's arm, he was prepared for... for what exactly? It didn't- shouldn't matter. What mattered was that he felt warm despite the cool breeze of the night, and this was nice. Tonight had been nice. If he had done as usual and focused solely on work, he wouldn't have been able to have dinner with Calcharo nor go the sagaci springs.

Ah, perhaps, this is what taking what he wants really means. And, while a part of him couldn't shake off the feeling that he was overlooking something important, it was a start. Well, it had to be.

[tripleglitchwriting]

I heard you're up for writing prowl (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!! Maybe just cute moments of reader and prowl cuddling or baking.... anything thats cute

I did it! I posted something!! Yippee!!!

This is fluffy prowl and reader movie night!!

It’s technically Earthspark Prowl, but I didn’t really do much of a deep dive into his character so it’s just kind of an amalgamation of Prowl’s in my head.

Anyway, enjoy :-)

Movie night. Your favorite time. It just happened to be incredibly difficult to set up with a guy hellbent on working 24/7. Luckily, you knew how to be creative by now. And so when you located a particularly bountiful energon deposit, a plan started to come together.

…

“Don’t.” He rumbled, “Do not touch that.”

Prowl loomed over you like an angry building, but you knew better than to be worried. The mine you’d “accidentally” found was a treasure trove of glittering, luminescent crystals reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in your dreams. It was beautiful, but not your mission. His, maybe, but not yours.

Being about the size of Prowl’s palm, you had to watch your step everywhere you went, else you somehow impale yourself on an energon shard. Of course, you used this to your advantage.

“Hm? Why? You scared?” You teased, just slightly poking the tip of a particularly sharp one.

“No, I’m concerned. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“What’s the problem? I see you drinking this stuff all the time!”

“Yes. Because I run on it, you don’t— it’s not even processed yet! So stop touching it.”

“Oh… I don’t know, it looks pretty delicious…”

“Are you glitched?”

“We’re about to find out!” You just about graze your teeth on a crystal before you are unceremoniously yanked away by a gigantic metal hand.

“Seriously, what in Primus’s name do you think you’re— oh. Oh. You little— don’t give me that, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh? And what am I doing exactly?” You grinned. He growled back.

“You have the right to remain silent. We’re going back to base and reporting this to Prime.”

And so you did. And he carried you the entire way back. You didn’t want to stay there for any longer than you had to, as pretty as it was, because tonight was movie night.

Prowl never left a job unfinished when it was right in front of his face. You suspected he would try and execute every procedure ever passed into law when it came to new energon deposits on an alien planet, even if he’d been living there for months now. And he would’ve done it right there. Standing in the equivalent to a cave full of explosives. Like a stubborn idiot.

You also knew that, if he didn’t do it, the rest of the Autobots would. Like they’re supposed to. Because it’s their job. With a mine like that, they’d be occupied for the entire night. How convenient…

…

When you finally arrived back at headquarters, he was already heading to his office. “Office” being a loose term here, as it was really just a room he put a desk, chair, and datapads in. The most basic, bland, boring kind. That was all he needed.

But not you. And you were going to make sure your plans went through.

“PROOOOOWL!!” You yowled right next to his audial receptor. He’d been doing whatever important report, but you figured it could wait.

“AGH!” He jointed up in his head, “WHAT?!”

“It’s almost time! Movie night!”

“Oh- you little fragging scraplet, can’t you see I’m doing something important?”

“More important than Terminator? Or Robocop?”

“Leagues more important than those sorry excuses for mechanical representation.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll just… put on Spaceballs…” He stopped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I’d play it so loud that you could never focus on your work.”

“Don’t—” but you had already slid down his desk, racing to the adjacent room.

“YOU— DO NOT PLAY THAT AWFUL FILM!”

“I can’t hear you over the sounds of LONE STARR and his GOOFY GANG of SILLY characters!”

He could never catch you in time. Not because he wasn’t fast enough, no, he could pick you up in a second, but because you already had the trap set. The room you’d ran into was decked out with the best projector tech you could find. (AKA, the best projector tech you could convince Nightshade to make without turning the movie into a 5D nightmare) You had popcorn, energon candy, a mountain of blankets, and quite the wide array of tasteful films.

When he finally entered your snare, you received the most withering death glare known to mankind. But everything that withers must also bloom, and you could see joy behind his optics. Mostly because they were shining significantly brighter than usual. Hah, and he thinks you can’t tell when he’s hiding his real feelings.

The fairy lights you’d set up glowed a beautiful gold against otherwise dark corners. Your face was just slightly visible, especially with how small it was compared to him, but you knew he could see your beaming smile. He let out an exaggerated ex-vent, doorwings forcefully dropping and optics rolling. Still, once he finally sat down next to you, you saw them perk right back up again.

“We aren’t watching that horrendous mockery of a movie, right?”

“Psh, I don’t even have the DVD anymore. You broke it after flipping the table. Tonight, you get to decide what we watch.”

“Wait, I… but I thought you enjoyed choosing the film.”

“Sure I do. But I want to watch what you want to watch tonight.”

And his optics grew bright again, illuminating your wide selection of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s DVDs. Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Star Wars, The Godfather, Planet of the Apes… everything you could think of he hadn’t already seen.

So you were a little caught off guard when he chose The Princess Bride. Something he’d seen nearly ten times already.

Oh, sure, he played it off as an excuse to ‘get to know human culture’, but the same could be said for every other movie on the planet. You didn’t argue.

As the night progressed, you were eventually able to get him to pick you up. For a guy who claims to dislike soft things, he sure does put up with a lot of pillows and blankets for you.

You tried not to move when he unconsciously ran a digit down your back. Or when he pet your hair. Or when he adjusted himself to make sure you weren’t about to fall out of his fabric covered palm.

You fell asleep long before the movie ended. You couldn’t possibly know that he denied every call on his comm link, shooed away any bot curious enough to crack open the door, and completely forgot about the report that had been oh so important earlier.

You also couldn’t know that, had he wanted to, he could just turn his audials off if he didn’t want to hear you watch Spaceballs. He could’ve left you at the base when he realized you’d stumbled upon an energon mine. He could’ve made you leave his office when he worked on his reports. But he didn’t. He didn’t because the minuscule weight you provided in his servos was everything he needed.

Work could wait just a little longer. Tonight was movie night.

[vigilantejustice]

ebbs and flows. a week ago responded to the group chat for the first time in two entire years + then responded to my friend who was definitely joking about me dropping her off some snacks by doing a sneaky surprise drop + am now feeling very flat + apathetic about everything :(

[letoasai]

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth. 

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too. 

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it. 

~~

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger. 

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened. 

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far. 

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?” 

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it. 

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.” 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.” 

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.” 

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.” 

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.” 

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.” 

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing. 

“Forty minutes then.” 

~

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it. 

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes. 

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed. 

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?” 

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.” 

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?” 

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot. 

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.” 

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.” 

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.” 

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted. 

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up. 

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly. 

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored. 

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!” 

“Phantom…?” 

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found. 

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́��͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement. 

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care. 

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?” 

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.” 

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her. 

~

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors. 

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face. 

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.” 

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. 

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.” 

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm. 

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.” 

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?” 

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.” 

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.” 

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.” 

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.” 

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination. 

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.” 

“Will he?” The Flash stared. 

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes. 

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one. 

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower. 

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully. 

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim." 

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.” 

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?” 

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp. 

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.” 

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.” 

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath. 

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?” 

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?” 

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient. 

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor. 

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly. 

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted. 

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!” 

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions. 

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.” 

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears. 

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.” 

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.” 

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled. 

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone. 

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.” 

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing. 

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower. 

~~

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back. 

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it. 

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

[sarahreesbrennan]

I think this is a lovely addition and I am so glad you feel that way. I hoped some people would! I knew not everybody would.

Under a cut to spare your dash, friends, some thoughts about villainy…

I don’t know that we differ in substance, though perhaps in style. I’d say that I agree with you… but it’s complicated.

Long Live Evil poses many questions about the nature of villainy, who is assigned villainy and who gets the sympathy and understanding. It’s about the experience of being assigned villainy, but also understanding the assignment.

Rae is absolutely going through something so awful. She is very understandably angry about it. Indeed, most of the main characters of Long Live Evil have been THROUGH it. That’s part of why they’re seen as villains - though this perception also exists on an axis of gender, class, race, sexuality, disability. These things affect how they’re perceived and how they’re treated and how they act, and there is almost no way to disentangle cause and effect.

‘Under the present brutal and primitive conditions on this planet, every person you meet should be regarded as one of the walking wounded. we have never seen a man or woman not slightly deranged by either anxiety or grief. we have never seen a totally sane human being.’ - Robert Anton Wilson

This world hurts people. And then it can be very harsh to hurt people. We’re blamed for our wounds.

I agree Rae is a more interesting protagonist to me. That’s why I picked her. But there are very, very popular protagonists in fiction I find absolutely dull as ditchwater. (Not saying I find Alice dull. I love Alice.) I’m still interested in why audiences like them, and as I would like to have many readers too, I think about why things are popular a lot. I learn rules… sometimes simply that I may break them.

You might think Rae’s plight would engender sympathy: and for some it does. For many it doesn’t. And I knew that would be the case. I’ve seen it happen in real life many times.

—Someone in my close circle of friends publicly made fun of me for my ‘terrible anger issues’ at a time I was literally too sick to walk and barely able to breathe. I know that person thinks she’s a good person who was good to me.

—this is a very common thing to happen to chronically ill people. Most of my mentees, especially my younger mentees, have been abandoned by many friends who would all confidently state that this is the patient’s fault for being a bad person.

—one woman I know had her ex accurately recount all her behaviour to his new girlfriend without adding the reason why she ceased intimacy, got irritable and didn’t help around the house.

Sick people are legitimately hard to be around sometimes, and they get blamed for being so because it’s easier to blame a person than a disease. Other people don’t want to be the villain, so they make you the villain.

And the making of a villain is an interesting thing to me.

Rae being sick and Rae being perceived as evil and embracing that perception are inextricable. As a society, we are not truly sympathetic to victims. I knew it would be this way, but I still found myself shocked by the way some readers responded to her - she’s so evil that bitch got Key killed, she’s not even evil enough so she’s something pathetic that can be dismissed, she’s cringe because she uses humour as a coping mechanism, everything is her fault, it’s disgusting how much this formerly emaciated by illness woman talks about her boobs. But then, did Katniss in the Hunger Games get as much sympathy for literally starving as Peeta did for having his feelings hurt? (Note: Peeta also had many legitimate problems and I really like both characters.) And then again, isn’t feeling any kind of way about a character a compliment?

This is one of the reasons Rae is a woman. Society is set up to dismiss women’s pain, and discourage empathy with them. (And yet at the same time, we can’t demand anybody likes any specific character, regardless of gender. We can only observe patterns.)

And listen, I am not equating being a gorgeous talented famous artist with being chronically ill, but there is a phenomenon my friend who’s a psychologist has observed, which is that audiences get tired of famous women after a certain number of years (seven at most) and begin to criticise their looks or say they’re annoying or problematic.

Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Lawrence, both relatively inoffensive women, just had to basically go away for a while, until audiences were ready to go ‘wait, is Anne Hathaway talented and beautiful?’ (Yes she has been the whole time.)

The only woman who I’ve seen not have to slink into oblivion for several years when the tide of public opinion turned is, actually, Taylor Swift - there’s a piece online called ‘Darling, Villain, Victor’ which covers this very well. I like Taylor’s songs because a lot of them are narratives. And it was interesting to me to see the way she engaged with the narrative - going ‘okay yes I eat men for breakfast but also they flee from me, I’m drowning in diamonds, I’m covered in snakes, I’m wearing the evil makeup but also the eyeliner is running down my face because I am HYSTERICAL’ - and people looked stupid for saying the thing she’d already said about herself, outsized. Someone who also does this is Dolly Parton. ‘Yes I am everything you say about me. Now what?’

I did find that inspiring. I did want to claim, for my vipers and myself, the beauty and freedom of that ‘Now what?’ Anger is how we survive. We will be blamed for anger and for survival. Okay. Now what?

Another inspiration is the Interview with the Vampire quote ‘evil is a point of view.’ Not one of the Time of Iron characters think of themselves as people who enjoy cruelty for cruelty’s sake. Sure, some glory in justified vengeance, but that’s okay, right…?

To be able to see yourself as the villain in someone else’s story is, in some ways, an act of radical empathy. It’s an early thing Key says that makes him fun to me - that he’s like oh yes, I am evil. He’s very clear-eyed about the fact that, say, many of the people at the glass blowers’ guild (relatively innocent pleasant individuals) were from their point of view flat out murdered by a homicidal maniac for no reason whatsoever. Still when he tells his story, Rae is sympathetic - and it is also the tale of an abused child and a pitilessly corrupt society.

Key isn’t human. And he’s not a sociopath. Key is a god. And actually, it’s considered morally acceptable for gods to raze cities or worlds for sinning, and even to kill their children. But if a god thought he was human and evil, then what? (Was Athena traumatised by her birth?)

Yet another inspiration for me is Congreve. ‘I love her with her faults. Nay, I love her for her faults.’ I did want the vipers to not just be misunderstood darlings but to commit crimes and have serious personality problems.

Does Rae deserve more sympathy than she gets? Sure. At the same time, I really wanted her to have hubris. I refer to Greek plays a lot - where the deus ex machina was invented, art designed for the audience to be rocked and purged by emotion - and it’s this classic failing, to be arrogant and think you can avoid destiny and get this outsize punishment for it. (And people haaate women to be arrogant, and I knew they would find that annoying about her.) Rae doesn’t want Key or Emer to be hurt, but they are both people of a lower class in her employ, whose lives she knows are only saved in the original narrative by another aristocratic woman - and she deliberately sets out to use them and that does put them in harm’s way. Emer is whipped. Key is whipped twice and killed. Rae is not corporally punished in the same way servants are. But then again, when death looms, what choice does she have? Is she the one ultimately responsible for hurting them? No. But does that mean she bears no responsibility at all, when she made a bargain with them? Do we get to hurt others just because we’re hurt? When is lashing out because of trauma okay, never or always? Well…

It’s tricky to discuss personality flaws, because some characters get more sympathy while others’ faults get magnified. I’ve seen Rae discussed as more privileged than Marius - Lord Marius Valerius, second-most powerful man in the kingdom, in possession of literal superpowers, and uh - very arrogant at times himself. (And I love Marius and he has many very legitimate problems!) They are both flawed people. Very few feel villainous to themselves. Very little of what the people we love do to others feels villainous to us. I will miss Octavian so much as an antagonist, because he was such a great one - never for a moment did he consider he was being anything but heroic, and I do think at bottom he was a very ordinary guy, with an absolutely normal capacity for empathy. Yet all that power and privilege and the empty assurance of others and fame ate him right up. He didn’t ever have to look through anyone else’s eyes, and see himself the villain.

But also, can you look at the abyss, and not be changed? Rae at the start of the story would not be capable of tossing a man off the battlements of a tower into a yawning ravine full of flame with a wild, mocking laugh. But she IS that person by the end - and some of us are with her! It’s a villain origin story, emphasis on origin.

So yes it’s wish fulfilment, and yes it’s about villainy, and about having different perceptions of villainy, and which sins and flaws are forgivable in which people... We all have different perceptions. I am posing the questions, but you may have a different answer than I - if either of us find any answers at all.

Still the questions are worth asking. I do believe that.

Truly, thank you for having sympathy with my viper queen.

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[aquaticmercy]

All These Things That I've Done

Summary : In which Bucky leaves behind a loving note every time he goes on a mission. But what happens when you stumble on a letter not meant to be found… yet?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings : cursing, mentions of death

Requested by : myself haha

Word count : 2.7k

Note : This is just angsty fluff with a happy ending, really. It was inspired by a song by the Killers of the same title. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You woke up in the early hours of dawn, the sunlight filtering softly through the sheer curtains, blanketing warmth over the room. You rolled over, expecting to find Bucky beside you, but your hand touched only a tangle of sheets. 

Shit. What day was it? You glanced toward the calendar on the wall, and your stomach dropped. Of course. He was supposed to leave for some sort of extraction mission today.

You couldn’t deny the worry rising in your throat. You knew deep down, James Buchanan Barnes was one of the most skilled fighters on the planet. Sam always reminded you of that the last time you saw him, as if he knew how much you worried. He’d battled alien armies and come out with only a few scratches. A mission like this? It ought to be a piece of cake. You pushed anxiety back down your stomach.

The room was eerily quiet, almost haunting. You heard a soft thud from the hallway, followed by Bucky’s muttering to himself from the other side of the slightly open bedroom door. “Where did I leave my gloves?”

You smiled at his gruff frustration and shouted out just loud enough for him to hear, “Did you check the dryer?”

There was silence before you heard a cluster of steps, and then his voice echoed back through from the washing room, “Got it!”

His footsteps made their way back to you as Bucky appeared in the doorway, fully suited up in his gear. He was strapping the glove onto his human hand, his vibranium arm reflecting in the morning light. You couldn’t help but admire him, eyeing him from top to bottom, your breath hitching at how effortlessly handsome he looked in his tactical suit.

“Morning, doll,” he said with that half-smile that always made your heart flutter like a million little butterflies simultaneously beating their wings.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as he walked over. He reached the edge of the bed, sitting down next to you. He leaned down to brush a strand of hair away from your face and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, making your chest warm with joy. “I didn't mean to wake you up.” He apologised. 

“You didn’t,” you mumbled, still groggy from a dreamless sleep. With a tired smile, you asked, “Did you hide the note yet?”

It was a tradition the two of you had started long ago: before every mission, Bucky would leave you a little note, something for you to find while he was away. A scavenger hunt, if you will, to keep you occupied, to remind you he was always thinking of you. Sometimes the notes were practical—like ‘Don’t forget to drink water while I’m gone.’ Other times, they were a bit longer and heartfelt, and it made you feel closer to him even when he was far—even when you couldn’t feel the warmth of his touch and feel the joy in his kiss.

“Of course,” he replied, chuckling. “First thing I did this morning.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers tracing the edges of his gloved palm, craving the feeling of his bare skin. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He leaned down again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered a little longer than usual. “Always am,” he murmured, but you could hear the slight uncertainty in his voice, one that you noticed only because you knew him inside out. You could detect the slightest change of inflection, of intention, in his voice. He’d been like this for the last few missions, and you’d be lying if it hadn’t made you a bit more weary. A bit more on edge.

—

Later that evening, after a long day at work, you found the note.

You had been looking around your shared home, sighing at how empty it felt. How it didn’t feel like home without the love of your life echoing the walls with his laughter, filling the air with his scent. You had missed him so much already.

When you found the note, you had been checking for loose change in your jacket pockets. It was tucked neatly into one of them, and you couldn’t help but smile as you pulled it out, unfolding the familiar handwriting. You always wore this jacket in a specific weather—when the sun was shining and it was windy enough. When you were certain it would not rain. You smiled, knowing Bucky would have had to check the forecast to make sure he put it in the right jacket for you.

The stress of the day melted away in that moment, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through your chest. His notes always had a way of making everything better.

 This one was short but sweet:

‘Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be home before you know it.’

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft texture of paper. Lately, he had been cutting the edges to soften the paper after you told him you got paper cut from one of them.

How had you not noticed it in your pocket all day? Perhaps you had just been distracted. Still, the idea that his words had been with you the whole time made you feel like he’d been by your side, even though he was probably on a different continent by now. You took a deep breath, walking up to your bedroom. You folded it neatly before tucking the note into the small box on your nightstand—the box where you kept all of his letters. By now, there were dozens of small reminders of his love for you.

 You sat on the edge of the bed and opened the box, pulling out a few more letters. You took your time to read through them.

‘Don’t forget to take care of yourself. I know you get so wrapped up in work that you forget. I’ll bring you back something special.’

‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you for being patient with me.’

‘When I get back, can we try the new coffee shop down the street? Don’t go without me.’

You chuckled softly at one of the more recent ones. 

‘I may be a super soldier, but I still can’t fold a fitted sheet for shit. You’ll have to show me again when I get home.’

Oh, what a wonderful boyfriend you had.

 —

Two days later, the ache in your chest had only grown. You missed Bucky so dearly, and you were starting to struggle to keep yourself busy from the overwhelming emotions. 

But your worries weren’t yours alone. In the past few weeks, you have noticed subtle changes in Bucky. He was quieter than usual, his smiles a little less frequent. There were moments when he seemed far away, lost in thoughts he didn’t share. You’d catch him staring out the window or slipping away into the early morning hours, as if trying to outrun something you couldn’t see. You didn’t want to press him, not when it was clear he was trying to handle it on his own. But now, in the silence of the empty house, the signs of his unease gnawed at you. 

Cleaning the apartment helped, at least for a little while. But as you organised his things, you found another note. 

It was not hidden in the usual places, not anywhere you would even think to look, therefore not one he expected you to find. 

You wondered why the note was tucked deep into the back of one of his drawers, behind all his mission files that he’d stay up late to read up on. The edges were rounded, so you knew that this would have been somewhat recent.

There was something different about it. Folded smaller than usual, like it wasn’t meant to be found just yet. Or maybe ever.

 Your heart raced as you unfolded it, curiosity getting the best of you. It was a note, right? If it was meant for you, why did you feel so guilty opening it?

But nothing could have prepared you for the words written inside.

‘If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

I’m sorry. I tried to be careful. I always try to come home to you every time. But I knew there’d be a day when I wouldn’t make it. 

Maybe this is for the best. You deserve so much better than what I can give you. You deserve better than someone with blood on his hands. You deserve someone who isn’t always living with one foot in the grave.

Please don’t waste your time mourning me. Move on. Be happy. Go get yourself someone who can give you the life you deserve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.

I love you more than anything in the world.’

Your hands trembled as the letter fell from your fingers, tears already welling up in your eyes. 

The words on the note blurred as your tears fell. You tried to convince yourself that it was just Bucky’s fear talking, not a premonition. But a voice in the back of your mind whispered, What if he’s right? What if one day he doesn't come back?

What if he’s not coming back?

You’d always been confident about Bucky's ability to survive on his missions. Sure, you’d worry about the odd wound or if he’d get a scar that needed constant medical attention, but death was, more often than not, off the cards. Now that you knew he thought of it, that’s all you could think about. 

Bucky had always been so good at hiding this fear. You knew something was off, but you always thought that he was just a bit nervous, that’s all. 

But here, it was laid bare in his own handwriting. 

It broke your heart that he had already resigned himself to the idea that one day he wouldn’t come home. That his death was inevitable. And worse, that he believed it would be better off that way. 

—

The days dragged on painfully long after you found the note. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart raced uncontrollably. You were expecting news—good or bad—but it was always something else. Work. Or people checking up on you. 

So you used them as a distraction. You threw yourself to work, met with friends, and did anything to stop your worries, but nothing worked. 

Each night, the bed felt colder and lonelier, the house quieter than you would have preferred. Anxiety has already started eating you up and swallowing you whole.

To your relief, Bucky returned a few days later, safe but exhausted. You heard the door click open, and before he could say anything, you rushed to his side, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest, taking in his scent. As he shut the door and dropped his bag, your fingers fluttered on his back, making sure he was real. Then you sunk your palm into him as if he might slip away, as if his life depended on it.

He held you tight, rubbing slow circles on your back, his voice soft in your ear, taken aback by your reaction. You usually cracked a joke or two, or excitedly kissed him on his arrival. “Hey, I’m here. I’m okay.”

Your body was tense—almost skeletal—against his. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding, then quietly said, “I found it. The note.”

His face froze. He knew which one, but he had to ask. “Which one?”

“The one I shouldn’t be reading,” you paused hesitantly, “…yet.”

 Bucky’s expression fell into oblivion, looking pale and empty. He looked away. “I didn’t want you to find that,” he murmured.

Tears stung your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “How long have you been carrying this stupid fucking idea that every mission is your last?”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words to communicate how he felt. “A couple of months. It’s just how I think now,” he admitted, his voice heavy, raspy. “Every mission feels like it could be the one. And if it is... ” He trailed off, his emotions hanging in the air like a death sentence waiting to be dealt. “Maybe it’s better that way. You deserve someone who can give you a normal life.”

You reached for his hand, stifling quiet sobs, squeezing it tight. “How could you possibly say that? Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you’ve already accepted that you might not come back?”

“There've been a couple of close calls,” he admitted with a heavy heart, and this was the first time you’ve heard of this. You could tell he was just blurting out words, trying to string together an explanation as best he could. “What I’m saying is, If I were out of the picture, you wouldn’t have to worry about these things.”

You sighed, trying to steady your voice but not succeeding. “I don’t want that. I want you, James.” His first name sounded gentle in your tongue. It sounded like a longing, like a cry.

His gaze dropped to the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. “You deserve better.”

He whispered it again, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. Your heart ached. This man, who had fought battles no one could imagine, who had survived horrors and rebuilt himself piece by piece, still didn’t believe he was worth loving.

You took a steadying breath and shook your head, cupping his face gently. “You don’t get to decide what’s better,” you whispered firmly. “Do not tell me what I do or don’t deserve.”

His hands slipped from your waist, almost helpless. You were not letting him lock himself out again, not when you had the chance to pull him out for good.

“Look at me,” you said, a little sharper now, forcing him to meet your gaze, looking into his stormy eyes that once looked as blue as clear skies. “You’ve spent years carrying the weight of everything you’ve done. You’re not that man anymore, Bucky. Deep down, you must know that too.”

He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “I’m always going to be that man. I can’t just erase that.” 

“No,” you agreed, and your hand slipped down to rest against his chest, right over his heart. “But you’re also this man—the man who leaves me little notes before every mission. The man who gets frustrated when he can’t find his gloves. The man who cannot fold a fitted sheet to save his life.” You let a chuckle escape your tight chest, and it coaxed a little, hopeful smile from him, too.

“And I love all of you,” you continued. “The parts you think are broken—I love them all. So stop trying to push me away like you’re some kind of lost cause, because you’re not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering there before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Talk to me. Let me help. You don’t have to carry this alone, Bucky. But this note—this can’t be the way I find out about these things.” 

His lips quivered, and you could feel the cracks in his fortress gate starting to open. 

His arms wrapped around you in a desperate embrace.

After what felt like silent eternity, Bucky finally spoke, his voice rough with traces of a fragile kind of hope. “I don’t know if I can believe it all right now. But,” he gulped down a sob, “I’ll try. For you.”

“No,” you insisted, an encouraging smile on your lips that made his heart stutter, “for yourself.”

He nodded weakly, and that was enough. 

For a moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside could be burning down, and you wouldn’t care as long as he was safe.

Eventually, Bucky loosened his grip just enough to look down at you, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. “You sure you want to put up with all this?” He just had to ask. “No take-backs.”

You laughed softly—a cathartic release, the sound filling the quiet room. You nodded, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

For now, it didn’t matter that he didn’t truly think he was worthy of love yet.

For now, you could believe for the both of you.

And one day, maybe he’d believe it too.

-end

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[inupibaldspot]

Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

[finelinevogue]

something in the orange

summary - you are harry’s ex and you happen to rekindle at his sisters wedding

word count - ~2k

pairing - ex-boyfriend!harry x reader

🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞✨🌟🌞

It wasn’t a complete surprise that your ex-boyfriend was at his sisters wedding, but nonetheless you were still shocked to see him.

You had been friends with Gemma, your exes sister, way before you were dating her brother, Harry, which is probably the main and only reason you had been invited to her wedding.

Gemma and her family were still very nice towards you, even though you broke their Harry’s heart.

Well for the most part.

You had been sat on a table at the back of the reception room for the evening meal, with a couple of distant friends of the groom. You had been trying to make small talk as best you could, but your little introverted heart could only try so hard.

“Are you staying in Italy after the wedding?” You asked a man called Gordon who was sat next to you, with his girlfriend.

“No.”

He then went back to talking to his girlfriend.

You took a sip of your mocktail, glancing around the room to enjoy the happiness of others.

Gemma was happily chatting with Michal, her now husband, whilst Anne, Gemma’s mum, was arguing with one of the chefs that the cake had to be ready in ten minutes. It was quite funny to watch Anne get angry, considering she’s the loveliest person on the planet.

You noticed Harry, of course you did.

He hadn’t looked your way once, or if he had he’d been so discreet about it that he was making you feel invisible.

You didn’t blame him for keeping his distance, after all you had broken his heart. It was a surprise you had even been invited, but friends first and all that.

He looked good.

He looked better than good, he looked ridiculously pretty.

Harry was dressed in a black tuxedo with a bow tie that had now been untucked and was loosely hanging around his neck. He looked tanned and well. He looked happy, you thought.

You turned to a girl next to you and tried to start conversation with her.

“How are you enjoying the Amalfi Coast?” You smiled.

“It’s nice.” She smiled back before turning to speak to whoever was next you.

It wasn’t particularly nice having the people on your table kind of ignore you, but then again they didn’t know you and had no reason to get to know you.

You ate your meal in silence as you simple people watched.

It was nice seeing familiar faces, even if yours was one they’d rather not see.

Once you had finished, people had started to get up to go and dance on the little dance floor on the terrace. It was laden with fairy lights strung high above, along with an abundance of citronella candles that casted a warm orange glow over the area.

You watched as some couples slow danced. A little girl had a dance competition with her dad. Gemma and Michal busted whatever shapes they were doing.

“Have you finished, ma’am?” A waiter asked you, breaking you away from watching the evening continue without you.

“Oh yes. Thank you, it was really lovely.”

“Our pleasure.” They smiled at you, before cleaning up.

You fiddled with your fingers as you watched more and more people get up on the dance floor to enjoy their evening.

You pushed your chair back then, deciding to go to the toilet before you made the decision whether or not to join people out on the terrace.

The wedding location was gorgeous.

A beautiful historical hotel, overrun with flowers cascading down the stone walls, that was built into the cliffside along the Amalfi Coast.

It was no surprise that the wedding was here, considering Gemma and Harry called Southern Italy their second home. Harry had taken you to his house in Maiori multiple times when you had been together and you completely understood why he loved this area.

You missed going to that house. The crazy adventures you’d get up to.

You missed Harry.

You locked yourself in a cubicle before you could make yourself upset over it.

You’d just finished up when you heard some people walk in.

“Did you see Y/Ns here?” They said, but you couldn’t work out who they were - at least it wasn’t someone you recognised.

“Yeah. Wonder why.” You didn’t recognise the second persons voice either.

“Fucking ballsy if you ask me.” They both laughed. “If I’d cheated on my best-friends brother and still been invited to her wedding, I wouldn’t go.”

“Did Y/N cheat on Harry? I heard that she had a mental breakdown when he stopped buying stuff for her and stopped taking her on expensive holidays.”

You sat down on the toilet lid, not finding the courage to go out there and speak up for yourself.

“No. Pretty sure she cheated. Doesn’t surprise me though, she always was a little bit… different.”

“You mean, not model worthy?!” They both laughed again.

You carefully and silently ripped off some toilet paper before using it to dab the tears that were falling from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was tough, trying to not take things to heart but you were a sensitive person. This didn’t make you a bad person, in fact it just meant that you carried extra love around with you.

It hurt when other people couldn’t see that when you tried to live with your heart on your sleeve as much as you could.

“God… Wonder why she came?”

“Probably to prove that she’s not the bitch everyone thinks she is.”

“Yeah.”

“Harry hasn’t even spoken to her.”

“Weren’t they together for like five years.”

6 years and 3 months, you thought to yourself.

Best 6 years and 3 months of your life.

“Something like that.”

“Poor Harry.”

“Yeah. Must’ve been rough for him.”

“Means he is single though.”

“Wonder whether he’s ready to mingle.” They both laughed again, before leaving the toilets discussing their plan to make Harry see them.

You finished dabbing your eyes free of tears, breathing out a heavy breath before standing up and heading to the sinks to freshen up.

You patted your cheeks with water to cool you down and looked at yourself in the mirror with a smile.

You are okay. You thought to yourself. You know what they said isn’t true. You are a good person.

Once you’d collected yourself, you left the bathroom.

If you headed right you would find yourself back in the main room heading towards the terrace, but it you went left it would lead you to some stone steps carved into the cliff wall that lead down to a private beach.

Of course you headed left.

The night sky was burning a deep orange from where the sun was setting. You couldn’t wait for the stars. Stargazing had always been yours and Harry’s favourite pastime - it grounded you whilst simultaneously reminding you how grateful that you’d found each other in all of this.

The stairs were easy to walk down, even in wedge sandals.

It took you a good fifteen minutes to climb down, but the second your toes felt the cooling sand you knew it had been worth it. Would it be worth the climb back up? Hmm…

You crossed the beach, smiling when you realised you were the only one down here in this small alcove of a beach.

The waves moved in slowly, making that euphoric crashing sound as they folded over and onto the sand.

The water was turning a darker blue under the setting sun, but you knew in the daytime it would be a crystal clear blue - perfect for swimming or snorkelling.

You sat on the beach, toeing off your sandals and resting them beside you.

You pulled your knees up to your chin, hugging your arms around your legs as you sat and watched the waves crash again and again. There was something so therapeutic about it.

As you watched on you couldn’t help but think back to the conversation those girls were having in the toilet.

You didn’t realise what people thought about you being your back. It stung to think people were thinking such horrible things.

The moment your eyes started watering again you knew that what they’d been saying about you hadn’t really registered until now - in the quiet on your own. It hadn’t fully clicked that everyone now perceived you as this horrible, bitch of a woman that broke the heart of a man who is loved by millions.

You sniffled, looking up at the sky to hold back the onrush of any more tears.

“Here.”

“Holy fucking….” You scrambled from where you were sitting and jumped up to find Harry standing beside you, “Harry… My…”

You put your hand over your heart, having been scared shitless from him unintentionally creeping up on you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

You then realised he was still holding out his handkerchief for you - the one you thought had been pretend from his suit pocket.

“It’s okay, thank you.” You took this handkerchief and wiped under your eyes with it, dabbing your nose too. “I didn’t realise you were down here, sorry. I’ll leave.”

You bent down to pick up your shoes, but were stopped when Harry gently bent his wrist around yours.

“Please don’t.”

You felt like you had stopped breathing.

Harry’s soft touch against your skin nearly made your heart cave inside your chest. You felt like time had stopped, but you wouldn’t care if you only ever got to see Harry in this moment, in this frame, for ever and ever.

The way the setting sun casted a golden hew against his skin made him prettier than anyone Michelangelo could sculpt. His eyes were just as green and perfect as always, if only with a little extra sadness spreading at the corners.

And those lips.

Well you only wished they were still yours to kiss.

“I don’t…” You started, not moving your hand away from his. “You don’t want me here.” You whispered, tucking your head down.

You missed the way he shook his head softly, furrowing his eyebrows with frustration.

Harry stepped closer to you, making you apprehensively look up again. He was so pretty.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking I don’t want you around. Stop thinking that I never want to see you again. Stop believing that you have done something wrong. Stop thinking that you aren’t still the most important person in my life.” Harry’s eyes were now tearing up.

You shook your head, pulling your hand from his carefully.

“I.. I can’t.. sorry.”

“Y/N…”

You were about to run across the beach, away from Harry when his call stopped you.

“Y/N, no.”

Your feet froze and you turned around slowly to see him standing in place, ever so slightly shaking his head.

“Just no.” He said.

“I… I don’t understand.” You said.

“The last time you ran away, I let you.” Harry said, as you tried to refrain from thinking back to the last time it had been like this.

“I know.”

“Well, I’m not about to make that mistake again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, bottom lip pouting which Harry always used to tease you about.

You stood still, your breath catching when he started moving towards you. You couldn’t move. You were frozen to the spot, like some force of nature wasn’t allowing you to move.

“The last time I let you walk out of my life was the biggest mistake I ever made. I should’ve tried harder - I should’ve begged you to stay, God knows I wanted you to.”

“Harry, please don’t say things you don’t mean…”

“What don’t you get, Y/N/N?” Harry stopped short of you, confused about how you couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to tell you.

“You don’t want me to stay.”

“What—.”

“You don’t need me to stay.”

“Y/N…”

“No, H, listen to me.” You confidently took a step forwards towards him, still leaving a good enough space between you. “I can’t put you through another breakup like that again.. I… I don’t even think either of us have properly gotten over the last one. I meant what I said and did last time and I still mean it now.”

“Well fuck that. You don’t get to say things like that.”

“Harry…”

“No. Fuck!” Harry shouted, combing a hand through his hair like he did when he was stressed. “Do you understand how much you hurt me?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask you that, so you took a tiny step back in shock. You bravely answered, “Yes.”

“And do you know why?” His eyes were watering now.

“Yes.”

“So tell me.”

“Har—.”

“Just.. humour me and tell me.”

“You were hurt because I broke up with you. You were hurt because I gave up on over six years. You were hurt because I was cruel.”

Your voice was shaky but you stood strong, not wanting to guilt trip Harry into feeling sorry for you.

“No.” He replied. “No. I was hurt because the woman I love, the woman I was only weeks away from getting down on one knee for, broke up with me because she decided she wasn’t worth me loving. Not that she didn’t love me anymore, no, but because she felt unworthy of my love.”

Your eyes started free flowing with tears then as you stood and listened to him speak. Everything he was saying was true but it didn’t make it any more comfortable to hear back.

“I was hurt because I thought we could talk about things like that before the progressed into something we could never come back from. I was hurt because you chose to listen to all the sick and twisted voiced in your head, rather than the one voice that actually mattered; mine. I was hurt because you didn’t communicate. I had to find out from my sister that you were being abused online by, not only my fans, but close girl friends of mine over their jealousy. And I had to find out from my mum that yours had passed away a few weeks before you broke up with me.”

You let out a sob then, everything crashing around in your mind. Too many thoughts and too little left of you to put them all back together.

“Y/N, love, I was hurt because I was there for you when you didn’t believe I could be.”

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed out before your knees gave way and you dropped onto the beach beneath you, crying your what was left of your heart out.

Everything from your breakup, to the hate and losing your mum, the grief had all been collecting inside of your head and it was only now that you felt safe enough to let it all go.

You caved in on yourself, cupping your hands over your face.

It only took a couple of seconds for Harry to collapse onto the floor beside you, scooping your body up in his arms so he could pull you close into his chest. Your chest heaved as you cried, and you could only just hear Harry calming you down with a few ‘sshh’ and the occasional kiss to your forehead.

You kept repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, not really knowing who you were apologising to.

Harry? Your mum? Yourself?

“Sshh. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Harry kept repeating in between your apologies.

You let Harry hold you for what felt like hours, but was actually only five minutes, before you had calmed yourself down and you could breathe again.

You emerged from Harry’s hold and gave him a weak smile.

“Probably look like a right state after crying.” You laughed at yourself.

Harry cupped your cheek with his hand and softly ran his thumb there. “Still as pretty as the day I met you.”

“H, you met me when we were less than a year old. You don’t remember that.” You stifled a laugh.

“I don’t remember much, but I remember you.”

You dipped your head with a blush as he said that, his words still having that charming effect on you.

Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, but you were quick to hold it again with yours. You threaded your fingers through his and gave a tight squeeze. He squeezed back.

“I am really sorry, Harry.”

“I know.”

“I have a lot to be sorry for and I’ll find the strength to write you a list of them all one day.” You promised.

“Maybe we can write them together? Perhaps in a couples therapy?”

Your head shot up to meet his at the hearing of the word ‘couples’.

“You want…”

“I want you to be mine again. I may be selfish but screw it, I’m taking this chance to ask you whether, with the right help maybe, we could become us again?”

“Are you sure?” You moved closer to him, knees touching knees.

Here on this little beach, tucked away from the crowds of the party and the rest of the world you felt everything was right again. Almost like a haze had been lifted and you could see clearer now more than even what you wanted - who you wanted.

“Trust me.”

“I do. I promise, I do.”

“Maybe it’ll take some time, but I promise to be there for you, always, and take care of you like I promised your mum all those years ago.”

“You’ve always taken care of me, H. My mum would be proud of you.”

“Like she’s proud of you, too.”

“Don’t make me cry again.” You whispered, eyes locked on his so you could focus on something else other than the tears that wanted to spill.

“So was that a yes? Do you want to try again?”

“Ask me properly.” You leaned closer.

“Y/N L/N.” He said with a smirk.

“Yes.”

“Will you be my girlfriend… again?”

You burst out laughing over that, dropping your head onto his shoulder to hide your blushing face from his.

You smiled to yourself before answering.

“Yes,” You kissed his neck before sitting back up again, “Yes, yes, yes.”

And with the smile on Harry’s face as you gave him your answer you knew that you would be alright this time.

There was just something in the orange of that burning Italian sunset that told you, you and Harry were far from done. In fact, you’d only just started.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“I think we should break up.” Simons words were like a ton of bricks, nearly taking the wind out of you. He stated it so plainly, without any hesitation that it had your entire world spinning.

“Wait, what?” You asked, struggling to blink away the hot tears that were threatening to fall. “Simon, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His eyes landed anywhere but you, a trick you knew he had in order to keep his composure. There was something more he wasn’t telling you.

“But why? What’s changed?” Your voice was quivering now, praying the man you loved so dearly would just look at you. “Simon, what’s going on?”

Simon said nothing, his eyes glued to the floor as he tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t look at you. He knew if he did, he’d go back on his word.

“Simon Riley, you answer me right now.” Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now as you were no longer able to keep your composure. “Simon!”

“I don’t deserve you alright?” Simon finally looked up at you, the harshness in his tone causing you to flinch. “For fuck sakes, I don’t. You are everything I’m not. You’re gentle, you’re kind. You care about everyone so selflessly, and you deserve someone who can be on that level with you.”

“Si.”

“No.” Simon cut you off before you could speak, his eyes flickering back to the floor. “I’m a broken shell of a man, Y/N. You deserve someone who can take you on dates. Someone who can bring you home to their family. Someone who you’re not waiting months on end for, wondering if they are even alive. You deserve anyone but me.”

You choked back a sob, the words of your lover causing your heart to shatter. Is this truly how he felt? Had you failed as a partner to make him feel that he is worthy of love?

“I got my family killed. My best friend died because I wasn’t there fast enough. Everywhere I go, death follows me.” Simon continued. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.

“Look at me.” You spoke, your voice stern as you blinked away some of the tears. “Simon, look at me.”

Simon’s gaze lifted, and the sight of him caused your tears to flow down your cheeks once more. He was crying. His cheeks were blotched red, something you’d never once seen on him in the years you’d been together.

You took a step forward, slowly moving your hand to cup his cheek, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away. “I don’t want, nor need anyone that’s not you.”

Simon blinked, clearing his throat to speak, but you cut him off. “You are the man that I want. You think you’re a broken shell of a man, but every single person on this planet is broken, in their own way. I want every part of you.

I want the late night phone calls when you’re on the other side of the world. I want the reunions when you come home, the feeling that I’ve finally got you back. I want the corny at home movie dates. I want the burnt dinners, the late night fast food runs. I want the man who so deeply cares about everyone but tries so hard to deny it. I want the man that would put his life on the line for anyone who he considers a friend. I want the dry humor, I want the witty remarks. Simon, I want you. Always.”

Simon’s tears now flowed freely down his cheeks, his lips quivering as he struggled with what to say. His arms wrapped around your torso, holding you tightly to him as a sob wracked his body. “I fucking love you, Y/N. I don’t deserve you but gods I’ll fucking try to.”

Little did he know, he never had to. You’ve loved him from the moment you met him.

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (iv)

SUMMARY: With Soldier Boy alive in the 2020’s, back in America, he starts his mission of vengeance. Of course, his first stop is to you; the only woman he’d truly wanted to start a relationship with, who’d taken his spot only months after his supposed death. And you don’t exactly expect your old lover to appear in your home, with the intent to kill.

WORD COUNT: 2238

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Typical Soldier Boy behaviour, gore, heavy violence, canon divergence.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Finding you was difficult. They were beginning to think Ben had been wrong, that you were six foot under in some unlabelled grave, rotting away. But, Ben was sure. And arguing with him seemed like signing their death warrant.

So, they kept searching. Despite the fact they could have located at least two other Payback members, and had them dead, by now, Ben was insistent on killing you first.

So, they kept fucking searching.

And then they found it.

It was a tiny discrepancy. Something most people would simply brush past. But, Hughie found it, and it was all they needed. They followed the rabbit hole, down and down, finding hidden documents and details not even Ben knew about.

It only took two days to pinpoint your location.

The Appalachian Mountains. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Smack-bang in the middle of one of the largest forests in the entire USA. But, to Ben, that fact was whatever. He had your location. And he was going to find you, even if it meant spending weeks searching every inch of that forest.

Butcher and Hughie knew it was a dumb idea.

But, they got Ben in a car, and started their roadtrip.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

The quiet life was nice, you’d decided. You’d forgotten about Queen Maeve’s uninvited visit, going back to your routine of feeding the animals and drinking coffee on the balcony every morning.

It was weird. You used to be one of the most famous people on the planet. There was blood staining every inch of your hands, and families who were likely still trying to gain justice for the people you killed. You had decades of history. And, yet, you now lived out your days as some sort of Disney princess.

You couldn’t complain. It was better than willingly running into gunfire every week.

Padding through your dark home, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the floors, you headed for the kitchen. You were never too old for a midnight snack. Especially in the comfort of your own home. You turned into the kitchen.

And you saw it. A dark figure, shadowed in the corner.

But, you kept moving, playing oblivious. In your mind, your old training make itself own. Ben’s critiques and advice played like a movie, as you pulled the cabinet open, standing high on your toes to reach for packet of chips. Your senses were on fire, focused in on the quiet breaths, the soft squeaking of boots on the tile.

They moved, and so did you.

You ducked under the fist swinging towards your face, snatching a knife from the block beside the fridge. Holding it tightly in your fist, your stance ready to attack, you looked at the intruder. Every muscle in your body froze.

“Ben?”

He didn’t pull his punches. Ben grabbed you by the throat, using your momentary distraction to his advantage, shoving your back against the sharp edge of the counter. Instinctively, you swiped the knife towards him, but a rough hand caught your wrist, slamming it down onto the counter.

A cry of pain slipped past your lips, fingers releasing the knife. It was his turn to grab it, tossing it from your reach.

No words were spoken, just heavy breathing.

You’d never seen Ben look at you like this before. This look was reserved for those who got on the wrong side of him. Those who disappeared mysteriously overnight and were never found again — but you knew what happened. And so did he.

He was here to kill you.

“Ben—“ You choked out, through the tightening grip his hand had around your throat. The grip tightened, and your breath caught with a squeak, broken gasps for air trying desperately to pull in oxygen.

“How much did they pay you?” He demanded, his voice low and gravelly. “Huh? How much, did they fucking pay you?” There was something about him that was so different. A new edge to him, maybe. But, what caught your attention, was the look in his eyes.

Hurt. He was staring at you like you’d ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it.

You clawed at his wrist, unable to bring any air into your lungs. Your nails bit into his skin, the scratches down his wrist quickly repairing themselves. He let you go. Not out of mercy. No. He grabbed your collar, lifting your head up, and then slamming it down onto the counter.

Your vision went completely white, all remaining breath knocked from your lungs with a gasp. Blinking desperately to clear the stars, you tried to struggle. But, he slammed you down again. And again. And again. Until he tossed you to the floor like nothing more than a rag doll.

The counter was cracked from the force of it, blood staining the white marble, and splattered across the counter. Your own kitchen. Stained with your blood. You could feel the warm liquid dripping down the back of your head, matting in your hair.

If you weren’t a supe, you’d be dead.

He didn’t let you get a word in, brutal with each of his attacks. As you desperately tried to scramble away, body on fire, he put his foot down on your ankle. Leaning down, staring intently at you, with dark eyes, Ben snarled. “How much?”

“Ben—“ Finally, words escaped. In a pathetic whimper that made his lips twitch in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your breath hitched with pain.

That answer wasn’t good enough for him. You swore you could feel the bones in your jaw crack, as his fist met your cheek. You cried out in pain, the force of the impact whipping you around, hitting your head against the ground.

His hand curled into your hair, forcing your eyes on him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you bitch.” Your breaths were ragged, with pain and terror, staring up at the man you thought was dead. He seethed, nothing but anger and disgust (and hurt?) in his green eyes. “You whored yourself out to me, huh? Put my dick in your mouth? For what? Fuckin’ soften me up like a weak pussy?”

“Ben—“

“Don’t.” He tugged your hair, hard. “I loved you.” His teeth grit together.

Your heart broke, tears in your eyes as you stared up at him. He loved you. And he thought you’d hurt him? He was dead. He was dead. That’s what they said. They said he was dead. Your mind worked at 100 miles an hour, heart constricting.

He loved you.

Soldier Boy loved you.

You didn’t even think he was capable of that. Sure, you knew you had something special with him, something unique. But love? It’d never crossed your mind. You’d always loved him somewhat, always throwing yourself in front of bullets and danger to protect him. Always following his lead and teasing him.

Always pushing your luck with his temper. Because he never snapped. He never hurt you. He never hit you. You knew you’d loved him, when your heart would dance when he chuckled at your jokes. The way your body reacted to his hands on your hips during your first training session. You knew there was something. But, for sure, you thought it was one-sided.

That, to him, you were a good fuck. Just a hole, as he liked to say about some women.

But, you’d been so wrong. And, all this time, 37 years, he’d been alive. And you’d done nothing.

“I loved you.” He repeated, in a broken seethe. His eyes were less angry now, but still held that hint of vengeance. “I would’ve died for you.” You could’ve sobbed, right there. “We were gonna start a family.”

Your voice was shaky. “Ben. Please. I don’t know what’s going on.” You begged, pathetic and weak. Ben scoffed, emotional. “I thought you were dead. I swear it, Ben!” It was practically a plea; a desperate cry for him to believe you.

He was too blinded by his rage. “I waited every day for you.” He hissed, reaching over and grabbing his discarded shield. “For you to come and get me. To save me. You never came.”

“Ben—“

He shoved you down, head slamming against tile once more. Knees on other side of your hips, Ben gripped the edge of his shield, raising it high.

He was going to kill you. You couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t fight it. All you could do was look at him, tears running tracks through the blood on your face. A silent plea, begging him to not do this.

He rose the shield higher, lined up with the juncture of your throat.

And then he saw it. A glint of metal peeking out from under your shirt. He could recognise them from a mile away. They were his, after all. His dog tags, sat delicately just above your chest, resting on the skin like they were made to be there. His brows furrowed, movements faltering.

His dog tags. You were wearing his dog tags.

Ben hesitated, unsure.

He looked down at you, meeting your teary eyes, and his brain ran wild. Of memories of being a couple. Of the memories of when a big question mark had hung above your relationship, neither of you sure of what was going on, but treating each other like lovers anyway.

Your soft touches; the way your fingers would trace the contours of his muscles in the morning. The way you’d kiss each of his scars, muttering against his skin how perfect he was, despite the flaws and the imperfections littering his body. How gentle you were. He’d never felt a gentle touch before you.

How you’d giggle at his jokes, smile blinding, pretty dimples, cheeks flushed.

God, and those eyes. How they’d shine and shimmer when you looked up at him, like he was made of the stars themselves. He always used to melt when you propped your chin on his chest in bed, looking at him with that cute smile, and he’d trace your face with his thumb, cradling your cheeks like delicate glass.

Those few nights spent together, in the limited time you’d had together as an actual couple. The way you’d move together; perfectly in sync, like you were made for each other.

The way you’d hold him. Laugh with him. Smile at him. The passing touches. The lingering stares across red carpets and events, subtly checking each other out, and then meeting up in the supply closet. The quiet moments together, cooking dinner or merely holding each other. All those times you forced him to dance, and he’d begrudgingly spin you in the kitchen. The dates, and the movie nights, and the silly fights, and how warm his cold penthouse felt when you were with him.

Every memory, every moment, replayed in front of his eyes, as he stared at you. He lost his breath, muscles stiff. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring this shield down and kill you. His chest ached and burnt.

He couldn’t kill you.

So, instead, he hit the blunt edge of shield against your head, and watched your eyes roll back.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Coming to was disorientating and painful.

Every inch of your body ached, from the beating you’d received from Ben. You cringed as the light made the throbbing in your head intensify. Through squinted eyes, you made out the sight in front of you.

You were in your dining room. And there were two… unfamiliar men stood by your table, leaning over files and papers. Movement caught your attention.

Ben. Setting his shield down by the table.

“Ben.” You choked out, instinctively trying to reach out and grab him. To check if he was real. If he was actually stood in front you. Living, breathing. Your hands didn’t move. You looked down, frowning at the sight of tattered rope tying your wrists of the arms of your chair.

The noise drew over the attention of the three men. They exchanged a silent look, and slowly, and rather intimidatingly, approached. You whined a little, at the throbbing pain that made a tremble run it’s course through your body.

One of the unfamiliar men pulled up a chair. “What d’ya know abou’ BCL-RED?” Was that an English or Australian accent? You couldn’t tell through the buzzing in your ears.

“Wha’?” You slurred, blinking rapidly, trying to orientate yourself. “BCL-what-now?” A grunt slipped past your lips. They didn’t look impressed by that answer. “I— I saw it on a file. Back in ‘84. Never figured out what it meant.”

The man learnt forwards. “Neva’ found out?”

Your head shook, and it made the pain increase. Your face scrunched up in agony. “Mm, no.” You groaned, breaths hitched. “It was all classified. Edgar never told me. Mallory and I— we tried to figure it out.”

“Grace Mallory?”

“What? Yes. Grace.” You groaned again. “Jesus. Can you turn off the fucking lights? It feels like there’s a drill in my head.” You tried to push your face into your shoulder, hiding from the light that made your eyes burn and your head feel like Ben was slamming it against the ground again.

There was a beat of silence. “Did you know?” That was Ben. He sounded hesitant.

“Know what?” You peeked up at Ben, eyes squinted to be able to look at him. He looked tense, face expressionless. “I thought you were dead. I don’t know what else to say to convince you. I thought you were dead.”

“How did you not know?” He demanded, his short fuse lit. Ben and his fucking temper.

“I don’t know, Ben!” Your own yell made you wince in pain. “They never told me shit! I tried for 15 years to get answers!”Ben didn’t look convinced. Of course he didn’t. He was so set in his heartbreak and rage, by your supposed betrayal, that he’d utterly convinced himself. “I didn’t know.” You echoed in a broken whisper.

“How’s ‘bout this?” You blinked rapidly, trying to focus in on the accented voice. “We track down the otha’ girl. See what she ‘as to say.” There seemed to be a group-wide agreement.

“Countess?” You grunted, confused. Your gaze flicked between the three men. “I know where she is.”

And that got their attention.

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[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.