#i could see Will either being presumed missing or dead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arabellasleopardcoat · 29 days ago

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Threefold cord (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon’s wife is presumed dead. But is she?

A/N: Blue beard, to finish my Halloween celebration because I cannot write on schedule. Also @just-some-random-blogger look! The fic I told you about.

Warnings: Hightower!reader x Daemon. Smut. Alicent, Gwayne and reader as siblings. Death of Rhea Royce. Happy ending!

“ARE YOU TRULY about to wed him?” You set your teacup down on its saucer. When your father had summoned you to the capital, you had known it was important news. But Alicent becoming a Queen? It surpassed everything you had imagined.

Your father wanted to make sure you were there to witness her triumph. Alicent lacked allies in court, beyond the Princess. And that relationship would sour as soon as the other girl heard just who her father was to wed.

Alicent was too naive to see it. Or purposefully blind. She claimed to not know what she had been doing when visiting the King, too. You guessed the thought made it easier to bear for her.

You didn’t blame her. King Viserys was old and beginning to show signs of being sickly. The thought of offering yourself to such a man, twice your age, on your father’s orders, wasn’t pleasant. You would rather pretend you were just being kind.

“It is for the best. Father says that he…” Alicent begins justifying her actions, and you tune out. You know it will just be a repetition of your father’s lectures. Duty. Bearing children. Women knowing their place.

You pitied her, for believing in his bullshit. It wasn’t as if either of you could escape your fate, but you at least tried not to lower yourself into thinking you were a lesser, gentler being, made to be bred. Instead, you enjoyed thinking you were a person. Just as human as any man, just as smart, just as strong. Only one trapped by your status as a noblewoman.

You sip at your tea. You are cautious not to make a sound when doing so, and not take too big of a sip. Anyone who gazes at your courtly smile and comely manners would not guess your innermost thoughts.

Alicent continues her tirade, describing animatedly how much she wants to do her duty and birth children. How she knows her body will not fail her as it did for the late Queen. She has an unfortunate thirst for proving herself, your eldest sister.

“And King Viserys asked me about you, the other day. He would like for you to marry Prince Daemon…”

The tea you are drinking goes down the wrong way. You start coughing, and have to hurriedly set down your teacup as to not burn yourself.

“Excuse me?” You say, once the coughing fit subsides a bit, and you are able to wipe your mouth with a napkin. “I will… What? Does father know of this?”

She looks at you, concerned, but says nothing about it. She pours herself another cup of tea.

“Prince Daemon’s wife has been missing for a while. They think she might have…” Alicent leans in, voice lowering. You are in the Tower of the Hand, surrounded by men loyal to your father, and yet she feels she cannot say it freely. You wonder what has Lady Royce done to scandalize her such. “Ran away. With a lover.”

“You prude!” You laugh. You had thought it much worse. “She wouldn’t be the first woman to do so, don’t be nai…”

“A female one.” Alicent interrupts, setting down her own teacup. The movement is a bit harsh, making the porcelain screech.

You open and close your mouth. You had not known that was even a possibility.

“How does one..?”

“Be as it may…” She raises a hand, halting you. “Father says you shall marry him, if he finds you agreeable.”

There was not much you knew about politics, but you were pretty sure the Prince despised your father and your house by extension. You doubted he would find you agreeable. Your father would doubt it too, but he was too blinded by the hope of getting Runestone.

Lady Royce had no heir. Her castle had gone to Daemon, the King needing little convincing to award it to his beloved brother. Imagining all that bronze in your hands, in House Hightower’s hands, would have him salivating. At getting his enemy away from court? That was only an unexpected bonus. If the man liked you and decided he wanted to play Come-into-my-castle with you, you were sure your father would dance a gig.

You wouldn’t. If it did happen… You shuddered, thinking of the man with the lecherous grin, always whoring. Twice your age, and crass as they came. The only times you had crossed paths, he had been busy ogling Alicent or his niece.

“I am not marrying him.”

Alicent frowns at you. Her eyes turn sad. When she gets contradicted, she looks much like a kicked puppy.

“I have never met him.” You explain, feeling guilty over upsetting her. She is just so much like your father, sometimes. It angers you, even when you know it is not her fault. She doesn’t have the same anger in her veins as you do. All she ever wanted was to please your father.

“He is looking for a wife, and King Viserys thinks it would be marvelous if you married him. I have told him all about you.” Alicent sounds excited about the whole thing, and just… No. You do not want to marry a man twice your age. Gross. Her tone turns softer. “I think it would be nice. To belong to the same House even after marriage. To be never parted from my sister.”

The want in her expression makes you soften. It is not often that Alicent admits to desiring anything, and you do not wish to discourage her.

“I’ll meet him.” You decide. “Just that.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

And the Seven bless her, she actually seems delighted to hear it.

THE WEDDING IS awfully dull. The Septon drones on and on about the Mother and the Father, and the duties of marriage. Alicent looks stunning in her silk gown, beautiful but modest. It is no use. People already speak of what she has done to trap the King into marriage.

Princess Rhaenyra keeps sending her glares during the feast. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in hurt. She is not quite sure what to feel. You can tell from the way she pauses when looking at Alicent. You pity her too.

Losing a mother is a terrible thing. You can only imagine how much it hurts to see her replaced by a girl your own age.

The Princess is a woman who has everything and yet, it's still a woman. No power to stop her father from bedding her best friend, no power to change anything at all. The realization of her powerlessness is clear in her features.

In contrast, you doubt you have ever seen your father this happy. Ever. He is alight with pride. As if throwing his daughter to an old man is some great accomplishment. He has spared no expense on this wedding, the ceremony and feast lavish in a way that feels almost tasteless.

The pomp and luxuries have you feeling morose. You sip at your hippocras, tucked into a corner of the high table, and try to pretend you are invisible. Gwayne has left you far too soon, off to dance with some ladies.

He has always been the courteous sort, just like you. You enjoy watching him charm the ladies, and enjoy more the fact that he hasn’t tried to drag you to the dance floor.

For that, you are grateful. Some ladies are lively and dance as if gliding through water. You do not. Dancing had not been on the list of abilities you had acquired during your etiquette lessons.

It had always felt like peacocking to you. Showing yourself to others, showing how pretty you smiled, how graceful you were. The attention it brought made you uncomfortable. You much preferred blending in.

“Strange choice of drink you have there.” Prince Daemon says, sitting across from you. “Even stranger that you are still sitting at your sister's wedding.”

“I could say the same.” You reply, colder than you planned to. The hippocras is hitting you already, making your temper shorter. You have little interest in Daemon Targaryen.

There is a secret plan in your head. When you reach thirty, you will claim a sudden awakening of Faith and retire to the comforts of life as a Septa. You have done enough charity to know that Septas don’t do as much as they like people to think. The only thing you will miss will be the alcohol.

“Ah, but I am just sitting now.” He idly reaches for the carafe of hippocras you are monopolizing, and serves himself a goblet. “Is this any good?”

“At least it’s not dornish swill.” Dornish wine has to be the worst thing you have ever tasted, not even fit for pigs. Bitter and watery, the mere thought annoys you.

Prince Daemon barks out a laughter.

“Good Gods, where was Otto hiding you?”

“Probably in the same place as your decency.”

“Thread carefully.” Daemon’s expression turns far colder. His hand tightens around the stem of his goblet. “I might like your cheek, but I am still a prince of the realm.”

“One soon to be displaced.” You toast. A bit of hippocras spills from your goblet. You are far too drunk to care about his thoughts. “Be it by my nephews or your niece.”

His face reddens.

“Bitch.” He spits the word from clenched teeth. You laugh loudly.

“Knave.”

“You are an insolent little thing, aren’t you?” Daemon snarls, leaning over the table as if to throttle you. Drunk as you are, you don’t feel any fear. You have just enough rational thoughts left to believe you will be alright, since even the darkened corner you have chosen to sit in is too public for him to murder you without repercussions.

“I am small but fierce.”

“I can see that. Do all Hightower cunts have teeth?”

You smile at him, lazy and warm from the drinks you have had.

“I don’t know, care to find out?”

And Daemon laughs. He asks you to dance instead. As he twirls you and dips you, you come to find he is not bad company after all. And if you laugh a tad more than necessary, and accept his offer to walk the gardens the next afternoon, no one can blame you.

“IT IS BUT a couple of days.” Daemon says to you, softly. You lay on your stomach, head propped up on your arms. You twist your head just so to force him to see your sad little pout.

His hand comes to rub at your shoulders, as if you were a spooked horse he is trying to soothe. His touch is warm and calming against your bare skin.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

He has soothed you into complacency, this husband of yours. He allows you to indulge in fine wines, and be as frivolous as you wish. The only thing he asks of you is that you are warm and willing when he is. It is no chore.

Long gone is your rage. Now, you exist in a perfect bubble, where no one constricts your freedom. There is no screeching father to tell you that you are a disaster, nor is there a horrified Alicent. Instead, Daemon encourages all your eccentricities, and teaches you some new ones.

“Will you?” You roll on your side, stretching. You have done nothing today, not even dress. Daemon and you have spent the whole morning tangled in each other, warm and naked.

He smiles. That same grin that had once seemed so lecherous to you, now looks inviting.

You bite your lower lip, already anticipating what is to come.

“Minx.” Daemon laughs, before leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. The contact of his lips against your skin makes you shiver, a delicate sigh leaving you. “You won’t even notice I am gone.”

“Of course I will.” You whine, as he kisses a path down your spine. “Who will bring me such pleasure?”

A sudden, sharp pain on your arse makes you yelp and sit up. Daemon smirks, and feigns taking another bite out of you.

“You are so spoiled.” He laughs. “Cannot take even a little pain. I’ll leave you some coin, and you can invite your sister to keep you company. How does it sound?”

“Think the King can spare his Queen?” You have not seen your sister since your wedding. The ravens fly fast enough that you know the news already, but you doubt King Viserys will allow her to be out of his sight for long. Not when pregnant.

Daemon nips at your thigh. You jerk, but he coaxes you back into laying on your stomach.

“Before she gets too round to travel, yes. In a few moons, it will have to be us making the trip.”

“Gods, I hate babes.”

“So do I.” He rubs at your inner thigh, slowly prying your legs open. “So? Is my spoiled wife happy?”

“Very.” You rub your face in the pillow, all kittenish. You like being called his. “Do I get the keys of the castle, too?”

Daemon kisses the place where your thigh meets your arse. You can feel his smile against your skin, promising sin.

“Of course. Just don’t go into the room with the red door, alright? I forbid it.”

“You do?” You challenge, thinking it part of the game. So far, you have yet to explore all of Runestone, always too entertained by him to do so. There are a few rooms he is cagey about, but you have always blamed it on Daemon being very private and needing his space. He has never allowed you into his personal library, either. Says you would ruin the books.

You have never minded it. You understand your place here, the dumb young wife. Men never like thinking the woman they are with can be more interesting than them. To think you can also have an interest in books, apart from being frivolous, would be too much for him to handle.

The warning about the red door only registers to you as part of the games you usually play in the bedroom. Something he can punish you about later on, something that might excuse a round of rough lovemaking.

But his expression turns into a frightening mask of utter rage. He pinches you in the thigh, and this time, it really hurts.

“Fuck!” You cry out, fighting his hold. His grip has turned from the sweetest chains into unforgiving iron around your hips. You cannot move. Not even as he slaps your thigh, hard enough to make your eyes water. “Daemon, what the..?”

“I mean it.” He is cruel about it, slapping again the stinging flesh. “I do not want you in there. If you disobey, I’ll know.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed, You cannot comprehend how fast he has flipped, from kind lover to whatever this is. The rogue Prince is mercurial, you think, echoing the letter your father had once written complaining about him, his moods dangerous.

“Fine!” You cry out, desperate to evict this creature that has taken sudden hold of your husband’s body. “Fine! No opening the red door.”

Daemon softens then. His shoulders slump, and his face goes back into a mask of devotion.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, to the place he slapped. You tense. “It is dangerous for you. Like the Moondoor in The Eyrie.”

Yet, as his touch turns back into loving, you do not forget. There is something about what lies beyond that red door that turns him into a monster. A creature capable of hurting even you.

You intend to find out what it is.

THE FORTNIGHT SPENT with Alicent is by far, the best of your life. Runestone is grand, with intricate tapestries and artwork decorating the walls. Your sister has always loved art, and the time spent surrounded by beautiful things seems to rejuvenate her.

Her pregnancy appears to be easy and without fuzz. There is no nausea preventing her from having as many lemon cakes as you two wish, or from exploring the Vale’s markets, trying on dresses and tasting expensive food.

The money Daemon has left you is enough to fund your shopping sprees. You have so much fun, running in the halls and trying on dresses, it feels as if you are little girls again. The only thing missing from your childhood is Gwayne.

So you send for him.

Despite how much joy your time spent with your sister brings you, you cannot shake the thought about the red door.

It is situated in one of the towers, near the place where Daemon keeps his books. You pass by it daily, for Alicent’s rooms have been placed in the same tower. Housing a Queen is no easy task, much less when she carries the heir to the Iron Throne inside her. She had come with servants and guards, who had to be housed too. There was no space but that tower.

That tower. Each time you pass it, you have to clench your fists hard to stop yourself from reaching towards it. Every time you open a door, your hands linger on the only key you will never use.

What lies behind the red door? What can possibly upset your husband such and change him from a careless hedonist into a violent man?

When no one is near, you kneel by the door and try to look through the keyhole. The lock on the door is old and smells faintly of iron. The only thing you can see looking through the keyhole is rust.

Trying to look under the door gives you the same results. Rust and iron, and a nagging curiosity that will not leave you alone.

You try to forget about it. You owe obedience to your husband, and you remember all too well the tale of the woman who owned a jar that should never be opened. It had been a favorite of your father during your youth.

A wife must never pry. For she might find something she doesn’t like.

Yet, when you think of Daemon grabbing you hard enough to bruise, you realize you already have found something you do not like. It is that thought what helps you make up your mind. One afternoon, when Alicent claims to be too tired to keep you company, you decide to open the door.

Your hands are slick with sweat, and shaking so much it takes you two tries to fit the key into the keyhole. Your heart feels like it will leap out of your chest. Suddenly, you are paralyzed.

You cannot turn the key. Your hands have gone rigid. Your fear overwhelms you. What could possibly be in here, if not a terrible secret?

You turn it. The lock clicks, and the door gives with an ominous creak. You step inside, as careful as you can. The floor is slick and sticky. When you look down, your shoes and the hem of your gown are tinted red.

You scream. You turn towards the walls, only to find more blood. Bloodied rags, stains, a bloodied dagger. You begin to feel lightheaded. When you stumble towards a corner, you see her.

A corpse of a woman, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body is rotting, half of her face gone, but enough of it remaining so you can see that it has frozen in an expression of utter horror, much like your own. She wears a rune covered armor, and has several cuts all over.

This time, you fall down. The keys slip from your grip, and you scream so loud, you are sure you wake the whole castle.

The missing Rhea Royce.

“Good gods!” Alicent cries out, behind you. You stumble to your feet, terrified. She cannot see it. Daemon… Daemon was going to kill you both. “What is this? By the Seven, is that..?”

“He is going to kill me.” You say, wiping the blood clinging to your hands on your dress. You try to clean the keys as well, but the stain won’t come out. No matter how hard you try. “He’ll know.”

“He is not going to, we can go to the King, and I am sure there is…” Alicent sounds horrified. She lingers on the doorstep, already on her nightshirt. Her belly is barely beginning to show.

“Alicent!” You say, sharply. “He’ll know. You have to run, Alicent. He will kill us both.”

“And leave you to die?” Your sister sounds indignant. “I cannot. You cannot…”

You cannot run, you wish to say. You cannot because if you do, Daemon will know even quicker, and chase you both. If you stay, maybe you can fool him. Or at least, give your sister a fighting chance.

“Please!” You cry. “Do it for the babe.”

Alicent’s lips turn white from the force she uses to keep them closed. She looks into your eyes, and hesitates. You fear she might not go through it.

“Go!” You cry, slipping on all the blood.

And Alicent, big brown eyes wide, hikes up her skirts and runs.

DAEMON NOTICES AS soon as he asks for the keys. You have never been a good liar, and the blood still stains them. When handing them over, you shake.

His smile drops. He no longer is the happy husband, but the creature that had frightened you the other night. The creature that had killed Rhea Royce, and took her lands.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” He grabs you by the neck, snarling.“I told you to leave it alone.”

Your pulse begins to race. You cannot speak, and you can only take shallow breaths. Your panic must show on your face because Daemon smiles at you, coldly. He squeezes a tad harder, enough to cut off your breath.

You gasp. It comes out more like a choked hiccup.

“Look at what you are making me do.” When you are starting to feel lightheaded, breath coming out in desperate wheezes, Daemon gives you a shove. “I never wanted to do this. This is all your fault.”

“You don’t have to kill me.” You plead, voice shaking. “I’ll keep your secret.”

Daemon looks at you, and laughs.

“I assure you, I have not gotten away with it this long because I believe every pretty thing telling me they will keep their mouths shut.”

Your eyes widen. The phrasing is strange. Every pretty thing…

“There had been others?” Daemon scoffs at your question, but doesn’t answer. You look into his eyes, and try pleading once more. At this point, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You are sure you make a very pathetic sight. “Just… Don’t kill me.”

“Good Gods. Are all Hightowers this dumb or is it you and Aliwhore?” Daemon grasps your face, roughly. You cannot believe your ears. Where is all this hatred coming from? It seems like the man you loved, the one that had courted you for endless summer days, is gone. All that is left is his profound hatred for you and your family. Had he only pretended not to hate you, and was showing his true colors now? “At least die with some dignity, you pathetic cunt.”

Dignity. Dignity could buy you time. You need it, to think of a way to survive.

“Allow me to pray, then. To make my peace with my death.”

Prayer wasn’t your strong forte. But you guessed you could possibly buy an hour with it. You had never been as devout as your siblings, but you could pretend well enough to fill the time as you tried to make your own miracle happen.

Daemon studies your expression closely. He tilts your head up and down, and then gives you a patronizing little pat on the cheek.

“Fine.” He spits out. “Pray. Only a few minutes, not a second more.”

You walk past him, intent on going back to the tower where a statue of the Mother stands. You watch his face carefully when you pass by him, worried he is only toying with you and has no true intention of allowing you to pray in solitude. But he doesn’t stop you.

You make your way to the highest tower, kneel by the feet of the statue and weep. Your weakness only lasts you a moment because when you lift your gaze, you catch sight of a green standard approaching the gates.

Could that be..?

“Are you done?” Daemon asks, from behind the closed door. You can hear the drag of steel against steel, and picture him in your mind’s eye. Taking Dark Sister out of her sheath, face full of bloodlust.

“Just a minute more.” You beg, watching the rider stop at the gates and being allowed in by the guards. “Don’t kill me, please! Not yet!” You cry out, as loud as you can, hoping your voice carries.

Daemon bursts in, Dark Sister held by his side. His smile is cold, his face the image of calm. One would never guess he is about to kill someone by watching his expression. You notice the dagger he carries at his hip, but do not dare to try to take it. Not when Dark Sister’s reach is much longer.

“Oh, spare me the hysterics. More prayer will not spare you.” He lunges at you, and you evade him, but there are only so many places one can run to in a small room. Daemon catches you by wrapping your braid in his hand, giving you a harsh tug that makes you tumble down. You scream.

“Shut up. Seven Hells, quiet.” Daemon places the sword at your throat. “You will…”

The door is thrown open by a kick, the loud bang startling him and making his grip falter.

“She will do nothing.” Gwayne says, firmly. You can see Alicent standing behind him, wrenching her hands together. You have never been more grateful to see them. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“Oh?” Daemon shoves you. You do not fight his push, laying limply on the floor. He turns towards Gwayne, sword no longer focused on you. “You think you can beat me, boy?”

Gwayne cannot. He had lost to him in a tourney not even six months before. You do not hesitate. You grab the dagger at Daemon’s hip and stab him in the stomach, hard. And you do it again, and again, until your hands and face are covered in blood, and Daemon does no longer move.

You look up at your siblings, then. Alicent’s face is horrified, but when she senses your eyes on her, she smooths down her expression. Gwayne watches with vague interest. At some point, he seems to have taken Dark Sister from Daemon’s hand because he now holds it.

The three of you stare at each other. The blood on your hands is rapidly cooling and turning sticky. You wipe your hands on your dress.

You had thought you would feel something if you killed another person. Instead, you only feel numb. Empty. Daemon is gone, and so are his things. His kisses, his threats, the monster that lurked beneath.

It’s Alcent who first speaks, face pale. “The red room. We need to get to work.”

By the end of it, it is as if he never came home at all. The three of you hug, on the brink of tears. Another string tied you now, beyond the sibling bond. The man you had murdered, and the duty to forget him.

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immajustvibehere · 11 months ago

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Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow. I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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jordanstrophe · 9 months ago

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Abandoned Whumpee, 2/2 Final

[Masterlist] CW: Whumper turned caretaker, team whump, betrayal, angst

Blood was dripping from whumpee's chest. The blood pooled at their feet and their hands shook.

"Are you sure you aren't hurt?" Whumper asked.

"I'm - I'm sure." Whumpee looked down, knowing the blood wasn't theirs, but their mind kept thinking it was. Their pulse was beating so hard it pounded in their head, drowning their thoughts.

Whumper pulled them out of the room away from where the body where their teammate laid. Whumpee felt numb and blank, their only focus was to stay on their feet as they were led back to the infirmary.

Whumper sat them on the bed and rooted out clean clothes. They knew whumpee wouldn't like wearing something with whumper's logo on it, but it was better than wearing a bloodstained shirt.

"Get changed quickly, sitting in that can't be good for you." Whumper said. Whumpee didn't hesitate to pull their shirt over their head and change. Their hands fumbled as they folded them on their lap when they were done.

Whumpee exhaled, calming their shaken voice. "I have questions."

"I know you do," Whumper pulled up a chair and sat across from them. "I'll answer anything. Any question you have." They opened their arms.

"Who are you really?" Whumpee asked, pulling out the journal. "Why do you have one of our field guides? Does this belong to you, or did you take it from one of us?"

Whumper laughed for a moment, but seeing whumpee's face not change they took a deep breath. "I didn't grave rob it, if that's what you're asking. It was mine, when I was working for your team-leader. I see they're still sacrificing recruits in order to save their own skins, are they?" Whumper tilted their head.

Whumpee swallowed past the pit in their throat, "But I told them to run. I willingly stayed behind."

"Of course you did." Whumper smiled sadly. "But I didn't. And neither did the person before me. Or you, for that matter. That's why I said you were rare when we first met. You're the first person I found that did it willingly."

Whumpee's skin crawled, coldness spread from their chest down to their feet. They shook their head and anxiously bobbed their leg. "But they told me- ... The ones that didn't come back were either missing or traitors."

"That's probably what they said happened to you, too."

Whumpee sighed and dragged a hand down their face. How could they not have seen it... How could they have been fooled for so long? When they returned from missions, sometimes they would be one less person. The team-leader always had an explanation, but the reality was they were left behind as bait.

"What happened to those who were abandoned? Did you kill them?" Whumpee asked hesitantly.

"No," Whumper smiled and leaned back, "Just like you, I took them here. Of course, you were different; you stayed behind willingly, naturally you were a lot harder to convince. Your teammates are safe and deployed out of this zone. It wouldn't be good for them to be seen after being presumed dead. You've seen first hand what they'll do the moment they find you alive."

Whumpee nodded as tears welled in their eyes. All this time, people they grieved and mourned over, were alive and well. Better off, even.

"I can take you to them," Whumper added softly. They got up and sat next to whumpee. "Most of them joined our side, you would probably recognize a few of them. Would you like to come with me?" They wrapped their arm around whumpee's shoulder as they collapsed against whumper's side. Silent tears streamed down their face.

"Y-yes... Yeah I would." Whumpee sniffed and wiped their face. "I-I'm sorry for trying to st-stab you, earlier."

Whumper chuckled and held them tighter. "You almost got me good with that plastic fork. But I understand I was too hard on you when we brought you in, I didn't know if I could trust you yet." Whumper turned whumpee towards them and cupped their face. "You know none of this is your fault, right? Not a single part of it."

Whumpee leaned up and nodded, finishing wiping the rest of the tears. "If you won't accept my apology, then at least accept my thanks." They smiled. They looked down at the journal, their old team's logo branded on the front. Whumpee set it face-down so they wouldn't have to see it anymore.

"I'll stay." Whumpee murmured.

"I want to stop them. I want them to know what they've done" Whumper looked up with a hint of surprise, but nodded as they understood.

"I want to join you."

[Previous] - [Masterlist]

[If you made it this far in the series, thank you for sticking with me to the end. Hope you enjoyed reading!]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever @isita-torrrres @tobiaslut @anonintrovert @sausages-things @briars7 @ms-awesome52 @haesium @painfulplots @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things @icarusignite

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whumper turned caretaker #hurt/comfort #whump writing #whumplr #betrayal whump #soft whumper #team whump #caretaking #whump angst #rescued whumpee

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tldrthor · 4 months ago

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Promises, oceans deep - peter parker x reader

peter parker x f!reader // you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: the misfortune of being left behind in the blip, and the consequences of aging without him.

Part two <3

tw: mention of bad eating habits/food disorder; insomnia; angst

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The night was cold, dark. The halls of the compound were as empty as they had been since the blip. That's the thing about this place - in it's hayday, it was a wonderful place to live. Laughter and camaraderie filled every corner, every crevice. There was always music, dancing, movies, games, whatever. That was before. Now, the halls were a stark reminder of everything that is lost. Every step echoed in this hollow home.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar, Preserved from when we were just kids. Is it something I did?

The glow of the fridge was the only light in the kitchen as you searched for anything to eat. It hadn't even occurred to you to look earlier, when you could do something about the empty shelves. You sighed, taking the milk and setting it on the counter, prepared for another night of cereal for dinner.

"You need to eat better, (y/n)." You jumped at the voice behind you. How, when your steps were so cacophonous, were his so silent? You turned to face him, turning to pick up the blanket that had slipped off your shoulders as you jumped.

Steve. As he turned the light on, he looked tired. The bags beneath his eyes aging him by at least a couple of years at least. You had always considered him to be almost immortal, un-aging. But these past few years, you saw him looking older, much more tired. You weren't really sure if it was a result of the pain of the times, or if he really was biologically aging. The thought of either was too painful to dwell on.

"Yeah? And you need to sleep better, Cap."

He chuckled and shrugged with a small, sad smile on his face. You both knew the other was right, and also knew that neither of your words would make a difference. After two years of your comrades being missing, dead or blipped, the Avengers had stalled. So, each of you, the remainders that is, seemed to have set about to destroy yourselves in a myriad of different ways.

He walked around the counter, taking the milk out of your hands. He opened the top and gave it a whiff, visibly recoiling. "That's so out of date." He poured it down the sink before bumbling around the kitchen, bringing out a pan, some eggs and various herbs and spices. "Sit down, let me make you something substantial."

You followed his orders, knowing that if you told him that you weren't hungry, felt sick, he wouldn't believe you. You knew he had too much on his plate with all the council meetings you had long gave up on. Just tonight, you would give him the win. God knows he needed it.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as he crafted up a meal with anything usable he could find in the kitchen, "God, we have to get better at doing food shops." He muttered, mostly to himself.

He broke the silence as he handed you a plate of food, having made on for himself as well. He sat next to you at the kitchen island as you both ate. "So, how's school?"

You almost laughed at the mundane question. You tried to remember the last time you were asked such a question. You missed this, you supposed. The small talk, back when life was normal. Back before Thanos.

"School is... okay." You didn't want to tell him that actually, school was a constant reminder that your boyfriend and two best friends were missing, presumed dead. "It's boring, pointless."

"You graduate this year, right?" He asked.

The question made your bones go cold. You hadn't even thought about it, but yeah. You would be graduating this year. Without them. You swallowed harshly. "Yeah."

He could see the emotions written all over your face and gave your shoulder a squeeze, reassuringly.

You went back to silence.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling. She said she was trying, Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

The day was a blur. You walked up to the stage to receive your diploma, looking out into the crowd. They were sitting in the guests of honour box, being the avengers and all. Natasha and Steve smiled at you and waved, Bruce and Tony cheered while Thor gave you a hearty thumbs up. Rocket sat on his shoulder, looking bored. You wandered across the stage in a fugue state, accepting the scroll and the valedictorian award. The school hadn't asked you to do the speech, which you were grateful for. They knew you never really talked anymore.

As you returned to your seat, the principal called out "And now, we want to take a moment to remember those that we lost..."

When his photo flashed across the screen, you were sure you were going to be sick.

And I didn't wanna come down I thought it was just goodbye for now.

"Good job, kid." Natasha opened her arms and enveloped you in a hug. You returned it, almost desperately. You didn't feel like it was a good job. It was an empty achievement without them.

You both turned to walk back to the parking lot, with Steve putting his arm around you. "What do you want to do to celebrate, bud? You wanna go out to dinner?"

While your heart screamed absolutely not, your head said that they needed the win. "Sure, yeah."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

When you moved to college, it was almost a breath of fresh air. You felt bad, leaving Steve, Natasha and Bruce since Tony had left to live with Pepper and Morgan, and Thor had gone to settle the Asgardians into New Asgard. But the silence in the halls of the compound was chest-crushing, and only grew worse by the day.

You heaved your things up the stairs into your dorm. A single one, thank god. Being one of the surviving members of the Avengers really did have its perks sometimes. You struggled to carry things that you probably wouldn't have before, and recently you had noticed that you were so tired. You tried to hide your shaky legs and the sweat on your forehead from Steve and Natasha. But they noticed, and exchanged worried glances behind your back.

Steve obviously insisted on helping everyone else in the parking lot, ever the good samaritan. You and Natasha arranged your room together, putting up posters and decorations and trying to make the space feel homely.

You picked up a picture frame and turned it around. Him.

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep.

The assignment you were working on was rough, like, really rough. You had been conducting some research and there was just something alluding you. You ended up scrolling through instagram instead, when Steve's contact flashed across the screen. You looked at the time - 2am. Way past Cap's bedtime.

"Hello?"

"(y/n)? Were you asleep?" He asked, worry immediately flooding his voice.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes."

"God, don't... don't lie to me, kid." He sighed. "Either way, you've got to come back to the compound, it's... Scott Lang. You remember the giant guy from Berlin? He's back, we're not really sure how. It might... It might be something."

You breathed out. "What?" You squeezed your eyes closed and breathed for a few seconds. "I'll be there, I've... fuck, I've got an assignment due tomorrow."

You could hear Steve smile at the absurd normalcy of what you had said. "Hey, let's mind our language. I'll get someone to send a letter to your professor to excuse you, I'm sending a quinjet to you now. Be ready."

"Sure thing, old man. See you soon."

"See ya, kid."

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From there, things moved quickly. Too quickly. Your life descended into utter chaos from writing papers in college to time travel, other worlds, alien species and infinity stones. Natasha's death.

And then there was the snap. The second one. Bruce screamed in pains as rainbow colours flashed up his arm, a thousand little lightning strikes. Steve stood in front of you, protectively. If this explodes, we're all dead. You thought, rather pessimistically.

As Bruce finally gathered the strength to snap, you were almost shocked to see he survived. Everyone ran forward to check him, Tony cooling the nasty looking burns on his arm, neck and face.

"Clint, your phone." You spoke, but it was perhaps too quiet. "Clint! Answer your phone!" You shouted, getting everyone's attention. It was the first time you had spoken in a long time, never mind shouted.

It was Laura. Oh my god. It was Laura.

Scott looked out of the windows, admiring the birds. There were so many more birds. He spun around and laughed.

And that's when it hit. You weren't even sure what it was, but then you were falling through the air. Your surroundings were crumbling and it all happened so fast you couldn't even react. Steve grabbed a hold of your arm and drew you to their chest, protecting you as you tumbled.

As you collided, your mind swarmed with so many thoughts. What the hell had happened, and was Peter back?

The battle raged. You didn't even know if everyone was out of the rubble. The battlefield was the now ruins of the only real home you had ever known. You lined up with Cap, and the others. And stared down what you were almost certain would be your death.

As the alien army marched closer, Steve turned to you. "You should run, (y/n). You have your whole life ahead of you."

You smiled, almost sadly, at him. "Cap, I don't think there is a life after this." He sighed, knowing that it was no use. You had been raised better than to abandon your family, and he knew that it was his fault. He couldn't save you.

Suddenly, sorcerer circles opened behind you and the ones you had lost came pouring in. Including him.

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer. I've heard great things, Peter. But life was always easier on you, than it was on me.

There was little time for rejoice as the army advanced towards you.

"Avengers!" Steve called. "...assemble."

And with that, you were running. You watched as spider-man flitted in and out of the hordes, doing his bit. You ran towards him, and held no mercy for any rogue soldier who dared to come near you and him. The others protected him too, and you were glad of it.

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The battle was won but Tony was lost. You stared as Pepper cried by Tony's body, his eyes open, his body and face badly burned from the impact of the stones. There was a circle of Avengers around him. Just staring. No one knowing what to do, or say.

Peter. Your Peter. Collapsed into a heap near him, his emotions taking over. It was instinctual, the way you ran to him.

"Hey," You whispered, gathering him up into your arms. "I've got you. He's resting now. He saved us." You tried throwing every phrase people had ever thrown at you, at Peter. You knew it all meant nothing to him.

You looked down at his face, and horror crossed your face as you realised how much older than him you were now.

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Steve watched his youngest team members in the puddle on the ground, the kid who had given him a run for his money in Germany, and the girl he had raised these past few years. He watched as your heart broke, and Peter couldn't even see it. He knew exactly what was going though, watching the now 21-year-old you holding a still 16-year-old Peter.

As emergency services and the military started to pull into what used to be the Avengers Compound, he knew there had to be a co-ordinated effort to resolve the tragedies they had just witnessed.

He walked over to you both and whispered softly, "Come on, kids, there's work to be done."

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And sometimes it gets me, when crossing your jetstream, We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon but in different galaxies.

"(y/n)." You didn't hear him say your name until that night. Well, the next morning, you suppose. You didn't even know what time it was.

Your face softened as you saw him. After the compound was destroyed, Clint was kind enough to bring you all to his house with Laura and the children, just until something more permanent was sorted out. It had been a couple of weeks now, and you had barely exchanged a word with anyone.

"Hi, Pete." You breathed out. He looked at your face, intently. Like he was searching for something he recognised, and couldn't find it. "How... how are you?"

"I'm alright. Um... yeah. Doing okay."

"Good, good." You hummed, sipping your cup of tea.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you looked out over the farm.

He cleared his throat. "(y/n), can we talk? I..." He faltered. "I miss you."

You looked at him, a little panicked, you'll admit. You didn't even know where to begin thinking about how to go about moving on with your relationship with Peter. You had been together for a year... but that was five years ago. That's not even considering that fact that he was still in high school and you were now of drinking age, at college. Shit, you still hadn't done that assignment.

"Peter, I..." His puppy eyes made your heart break. "I'm an adult now... it's been five years for me, and I... I changed a lot, in that time."

"Right, yeah." Tears swelled to his eyes. "You're right, yeah." You knew he was putting on a brave face.

"I'm sorry, Peter. For now, we have to go our separate ways, I think." Tears crashed down his cheeks, but he never broke eye contact with you. "I... I have to go back to college, and I won't see you for a while."

And I didn't want to hang around... We said it was just goodbye, for now

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Thank you for reading! I'm really new to posting on this blog, so any likes and reblogs are so appreciated! <3

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helpimstuckposting · 3 months ago

Text

TMAGP 30 Speculation

Now that it’s season finale time, I’ve got a LOT to say and a lot of ideas so I will ramble them here and either I’m horribly wrong or horribly right but unfortunately we have to wait to find that out

First, I can’t believe Alice had two mysterious talks with her friends saying they have something super important to say with a horrified quiver to their voices and she didn’t have time to listen to EITHER of them. Teddy and Colin are high high high on the list for ‘died off mic and we only find out next season’

Since Gwen was promoted (idiot) and Sam is… mmm… missing, it looks like the OIAR will need to fill at least one position, and I think it would be fun if Teddy came back to take his place as a main character. It’s possible that what he had to say was “This new job… it’s not exactly [working out]” and he was simply looking for a new one, and it’s no more ominous than that. If that’s the case, I can absolutely see him taking his position back next season. Colin’s probably dead, though, I’ll be shocked if he’s not tbh

Speaking of Colin, he called the system Freddy while talking to Alice. You know, the same guy that said “Don’t give it a personality. We shouldn’t even be calling it Freddy.” So the change up here is really blatant to me.

I’m still really attached to the idea that Jon and Martin (and Jonah’s) voices were stolen and they’re not actually trapped in the computers. However, I *do* think the voices are sentient, I just don’t think we’re right about who’s behind them. I think Freddy, the program itself, may be using the voices to push its own agenda and manipulate the decisions each OIAR employee is making. Alice gets a lot of JMJ errors, and is specifically the only person on staff who actively tunes the cases out and does not read into them.

OR, if it does turn out to be our guys, then I think it’s possible they’re working counter productively to Freddy, and the JMJ errors are a result of that — like they’re actively trying to work against Freddy. This could also be why Colin said he messed up, like maybe his attempts to deal with the JMJ errors made Freddy more powerful.

Either way, it seems the OIAR is in a huge bind going into season two. Colin probably did something buck wild and pissed the computer off, he’s probably dead, Sam is missing and they’ll need a new hire, Lena is gone (the only person who presumably knew anything that was going on) and Gwen just got promoted to boss despite having 1) absolutely no idea what’s going on with anything at all, 2) an inability to handle the externals and several panic attacks, and 3) no clue what Lena’s job even was, with no direction from the man who promoted her. It seems like even the PM has no real clue what the OIAR does, how it functions, or who it employs (“I’m sorry, do you hire a lot of murderers for contract and consultancy work?” - the answer is Yes, actually, several!)

Picturing the team next season as Alice, Teddy, Celia, and their boss Gwen is… a comedy of errors (or comedy of [ERROR]s? … Sorry) like that absolutely cannot go well. Although, we are pretty used to people being hired as a boss while they have no qualifications of the sort (also did not go well)

As for Sam, the Archivist, and Hilltop Road, I have a few questions about what could possibly happen. First, if the crack in reality was specifically calling for and tugging Celia toward it, we can probably assume that it’s the TMA universe on the other side, right? Which means Sam and the Archivist are now in our original beloved universe. I’m curious to see if Sam is just going to be MIA for the entirety of season two, or if we’ll get tape recordings of him at the same time as our TMagP friends, and we’ll have updates between both universes. I could see that being very interesting if some voice actors appear as two different people in the same episode (their TMA part, and their TMagP counterpart) but that would probably be really complicated to pull off in an audio format.

Also, we know the TMA fears cannot be separated, and that they’re possibly just one entity and have been one entity the whole time. That’s why they couldn’t start the apocalypse without all of them participating, and that’s why when Annabelle opened the crack in reality they all left the TMA universe. “Any attempt to separate the fears is doomed,” is what she said. She also said, “I would either travel with them, or I would die. I do not know which... Most would simply lose whatever power they have been gifted.”

So, if an archivist travels back through the crack in reality, what would happen to them? They’d be cut off from the entity that gave them power, right? So either the archivist will die, or maybe we’ll find out who Beth Eyre (the voice of [ERROR])’s character really is? Who they were before they became an archivist?

I don’t think they’d introduce [ERROR] and then just get rid of them without any resolution, which leads me to believe we will eventually find out what happened to Sam. I don’t think Sam’s just going to be dead or missing and never come back, I don’t see how there’d be any point to that. He is still the only person we know of who’s survived telling their whole statement, and even though he had a headache I feel like that must be significant. The janitor turned into a rock, I really don’t think a normal person would just walk away with a headache. Like, for all intents and purposes, Sam probably should have had his skin ripped off if we’re following the pattern of [ERROR] related deaths.

I hope next season focuses on Hilltop Road, because the lore in this episode was amazing. First of all, it was hard not to notice how each shop had a different danger. The custodian mentioned the drunk man walking into the newsagent and then he “ignored the smell of burnt hair and charred meat”. Then there was the shop that turned a woman into a mannequin, and Sam and Celia walked past the appliance shop where doors kept opening and closing, and the dentist that wanted peoples teeth. There was also the antique shop from episode 7 that almost buried the manager alive, plus the institute also used one of the units. I could be reading too much into it, but it feels like each fear from TMA has uhhhh… set up shop?

It’s also interesting to me that Annabelle said every owner on Hilltop Road in TMA was marked by the Spider, and died a grizzly death.

“So many schemers and spiders and full-throated monsters. Twisting manipulators and furtive liars. Each meeting a violent, grotesque end.” (TMA 196)

And the owner of Hilltop Center was no different.

“I found the owner dead in his office, with every blood vessel stripped from his body and strung around the room in a grim cat’s cradle.”

Not only did he die a violent and mysterious death, but his blood vessels were strung up ‘in a cats cradle’, which is pretty web-like if you ask me.

Anyway, I’m really really hoping to learn more about Hilltop Center next season, that’s the ONE thing I’m super latched on to post-finale

#super long post #if you read to the end I’m kissing you I’m hugging you I’m making you soup #I had so much to say #tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #samama khalid #celia ripley #gwen bouchard #alice dyer #colin becher #lena kelley #annabelle cane #helpimstuckrambling

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goosewriting · 4 months ago

Note

I have an inq!cal thought!

Reader and cal both having a crush on the other when they were both on the mantis and just when they finally admit it to the other and get together something happens and cal is presumed to be dead but actually he’s been captured by the empire and turned into an inquisitor and then during a mission reader is on she runs into cal 👀

And like it could be a good ending OR Cal’s conditioning wins and he kisses reader as he runs them through after reader says they can’t fight him and like uh I am very partial to the angst ending

The Bad Ending

summary: years after thinking Cal is dead, reader meets him again as an Inquisitor.

relationship: inquisitor!Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: mention of character death, also actual character death (ahem, you, ahem), yummy angst

word count: 3k

A/N: i too, am very partial to the angst ending so, bon appetit 😌 no but seriously this has been sitting in my wips for FAR too long, i really loved this idea so i hope i made it justice! thank you sm for requesting and the patience dearest anon<3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Somewhere in the Outer Rim, it’s early dawn on a small, often overlooked planet. The first rays of sun hit your face as you’re helping a fellow resistance fighter in loading a truck with some supplies, and it makes you squint. You stop your motions to block the light with your hand held to your forehead, and for a split second, you see a head of red hair in the corner of your eye. Your body reacts on its own, immediately turning and craning your neck to find him. But it’s a false alarm, obviously. The ginger human gives you a weird look as you’re staring, then shrugs their shoulders and keeps walking.

Heaving a sigh, you load the last of the crates, shaking your head at yourself in embarrassment. It’s already been years since you last saw him. Since you saw any of them. The crew of the Stinger Mantis.

You can’t help the small smile on your face when you think back to everything that you went through together. All the adventures, the missions…the sneaking out. Stolen glances here and there, lingering touches that may have meant something more, making the most of every moment because you knew it could be the last. Except that you didn’t actually believe that. All of you knew how risky the missions were, aware of the dangers that seemed to loom around every corner. But you hoped to, wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. None of you was invincible, you knew that. But to think that he would just be… gone. It still stings.

When retrieving the Holocron on Bogano, the Second Sister confronted Cal in the vault, except that you never saw him come out. By then, the Stormtroopers had overrun the place, so you had to leave. But you came back, multiple times, searching for him. Every time unsuccessful.

At some point, you came to terms with the fact that she had probably killed him in the vault, a place you couldn’t access as you’re not Force sensitive. The thought of Cal being in there, bleeding out, alone, BD probably also dismantled by the Imperials… The thought makes you shiver to this day.

Losing Cal took a toll on everyone, and it didn’t take long for the Mantis crew to split up after that. Cere took it particularly badly, blaming herself for the failures, both with Trilla and Cal. Ever since then, you’ve never seen or heard of either Cere or Greez again. So you were on your own.

You’ve been lying low, helping out more from behind the scenes instead of getting into the action like back then. But you can’t deny the fact that you miss Cal every single day. Despite knowing that you’ll never see him again, you can’t help but wonder “what if”. Back then, you two had something going on. You were actually planning on confessing to him after you safely got off Bogano with the Holocron. But those plans were cut short by one very grumpy Inquisitor. You still regret not having told him sooner, as you were fairly certain he felt the same way. To this day, you still dream with Cal at night, picturing what life would be like if he was there with you.

Shaking your head to focus on the task at hand, you look down at the fruit you’ve been holding in your hand. You were so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice that the loaded truck was long gone, and your feet brought you to the city market. The vendor at the stall you’re standing at looks at you suspiciously, so you shoot them a quick smile and put the fruit back into the basket, then stroll to the next stand.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you force yourself to shove the painful memories aside to make room for a mental plan. The rebellion is growing every day, and that means the amount of mouths to feed is increasing as well, so you’re to get provisions at the market. Other supplies like tools and machinery parts were sent off just earlier. The food you’d bring yourself to a hidden spot where your contact told you they’d pick it up. You just have to find a way to smuggle it all out of there unseen by the imperial troops, who walk around the place in regular patrols.

You actually have your suspicions that your contact is either a Jedi themselves, or someone who’s working closely with one, as there’s been rumours here and there about someone with mystic powers having arrived in the village. No matter if they’re true or not, you really hope the rumours will settle down quickly, as it will undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.

After you’re done with your shopping spree, you look at your haul, which occupies several large crates. You grimace slightly, as it’s more than you anticipated. Maybe you can ask that one farmer who owes you a favour if you can borrow his cart, since you can’t carry all of this on your speeder. Getting your holopad out of your satchel, you double-check the drop-off place, and conclude that hiding the crates there will be quick work. The problem is the cart itself; hopefully with enough hay you’ll be able to cover them all to go by unnoticed.

So that’s exactly what you do. The farmer is more than happy to help, and you feel a little bad knowing that you’re about to leave his cart at the pick-up spot, then tell him that there was an accident and it broke down, getting swept away by the river which conveniently ends in a waterfall not far away. You’ll pay him for the cart of course, but even so… you’re essentially lying to his face. While in this case, the end does justify the means, this part of the job still doesn’t get any easier for you.

It’s the same afternoon when you’re loading up the cart. The animal pulling it is tame and knows you, so you bring some extra treats for her. Once you’re done putting on the harness and hiding your crates, you head out. It’s a sunny day, and except for the occasional bleating, the clicking of your tongue and the clinking of the reins, there's not much else.

The air is calm, and you allow yourself to hum a little tune to yourself. As you arrive at a narrow passage between two walls of stone that leads into the valley, the path turns a sharp corner and you can’t really see ahead. Only once you fully turn are you able to take in the image before you, and your blood runs cold in your veins. Not far in front of you, there’s a shuttle parked on the road, blocking your way, and half a dozen Stormtroopers stand with their loaded weapons. You pull on the reins, wanting to turn her around, but as you look behind you, you see more troopers blocking the other way as well.

You bring the cart to a halt instead and turn back to the front, reaching for the blaster under your seat, when from behind the shuttle you see two dark figures appear: an Inquisitor, followed by a Purge Trooper. The latter approaches you in quick strides, pointing one of the two electrobatons at you.

“Get down,” comes his modulated but demanding voice through the helmet.

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what to do. Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly analyse the situation, concluding that while you certainly can't take on all troopers alone, let alone an Inquisitor, maybe you can make a run for it towards the thicker vegetation. You just have to make it back past the narrow passage you just came from.

“I said get down!” the Purge Trooper barks, clearly annoyed.

“Alright, alright,” you finally respond.

You motion to stand up, as if you’re pushing yourself off your seat with your hands, but instead get your rifle from underneath and, from your elevated position, you shoot the trooper right between the shoulder and chest plates of is armour.

He falls down to the ground with a groan, and you jump off the wagon, making a run for it. You know your rifle can penetrate the normal Stormtrooper armour, so you shoot the ones that had appeared behind you, hitting each one twice, and push past them.

You don’t look back despite hearing the other troopers closing in on you, and you duck as they shoot at you. But you know their aim is not the best, so you keep going, your lungs burning at the sudden effort. You’re just passing the treeline when something knocks you over; you seem to trip over air as you fall face first to the ground, hard. You barely manage to let go of your rifle to brace yourself, and you roll a couple of times from the speed you were coming at.

Everything spins for a moment, and you reach out to grab your weapon and keep going, but an invisible force keeps you pinned to the ground on your back. You groan in frustration and confusion, looking up to see the troopers now gathered around you aiming their blasters at you, yet not firing. They all take a step back to let the Inquisitor walk through, and you give them the best glare you can muster.

The red visor glistens, the sun reflecting on it, as they tilt their head to the side while looking at you. Then comes the modulated voice, calling your name. Not just your name, but your nickname, the one only one person ever used for you. One that you were certain you’d never hear again.

You let out a shuddering breath as you watch in horror how the Inquisitor takes off the helmet, dislodging it with a hiss, to reveal the face underneath.

“So we meet again, after all these years,” Cal says, running his free hand through his hair, looking down at you with a sour face. “After you left me for dead.”

Your mind is reeling, unable to comprehend the situation.

“I- You-” you stumble over your words. “We didn’t leave you. We thought you were dead. We looked for you!”

He gives you a half-hearted chuckle.

“Not well enough, it seems…” he retorts. “Yeah, well, the crew never was much anyway. I work better, alone, after all.”

“You know that’s not true”, you say in a small voice, your body finally catching up to the situation, starting to shiver.

He extends his hand towards you, and you find yourself being lifted off the ground and to your feet, but slowly pushed backwards into the forest.

“Leave us,” he orders without breaking eye contact with you, and the troopers obey, putting some distance between you and them. For every step Cal walks towards you, you take one back, and after a few moments you’re surrounded by vegetation, out of sight and earshot from the others. Only then does he let go of you, and you stand there for a second, looking at each other.

Then the quiet tension becomes almost unbearable. There's so much you want to tell him, ask him. What happened in the vault? Did he ever come looking for you? Even if you never got to tell him yourself, does he know how you felt about him?

“I don’t know if it means anything to you anymore,” you finally break the silence. “But I missed you.”

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing to look at you with this unreadable, almost bored expression.

“Are you going to kill me?” you decide to ask instead, fearing the answer.

“If you stand in my way, I might have to,” he replies, and your heart drops. “You’re not my target, though.”

“Then who is?” Your gaze falls to the ground.

“There’s been reports of a Jedi in the village,” Cal says, taking a careful step towards you. Your eyes snap back up to his, stopping him in his tracks.

“So that’s what you do now? Hunt Jedis?” You don’t try to hide the hurt in your voice.

He merely raises a brow at you, as if the answer to that is obvious. It is.

“And you're okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were a Jedi once, too.”

“Technically, I never got knighted, so no,” he retorts with a hint of a sadistic smile.

You scoff.

“But Cere would have done it sooner or later, I’m sure…”

At the mention of the name, Cal frowns.

“Yet she didn’t,” he states coldly. He looks up into the trees with a deep breath, then picks some imaginary lint off his uniform, his face relaxing back into the nothingness from before. His eyes snap back up to meet yours as he stands still. “And she won’t.”

“W-what do you mean by that,” you ask, horrified. “Is she…”

Again, he doesn’t answer.

“D-did you…”

You see his jaw tense up, and your body runs cold, colder.

“Cal, what have you done,” you breathe, barely audible, and bring your hands up to hide your face. You can feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes, and you try your best to hold them back.

“I only did what must be done,” he answers matter-of-factly, then takes a step towards you, but you take a quick one back. He stops again. “So what were you planning on doing, exactly? Run away?”

You shift uncomfortably.

“I would have found you either way, just like I did now.”

“I thought I wasn’t your target,” you retort.

“And you aren’t,” he assures you. “But after finding out you’re here, I just wanted… to see you.”

“Why,” you mutter, not really meant as a question. “After all this time. Not like this.”

He takes another slow step towards you, and this time you don't have it in you to back away. Your tears are running freely now, rolling down your cheeks as you hold back a sob. Now standing right in front of you, Cal lets go of his helmet, which falls onto the grass with a soft thud. His gloved hands come up to cup your face, his thumb swiping away a tear over your cheekbone.

“I missed you,” he says in a small voice that doesn’t really fit with his current image.

“And I missed you,” you choke out, placing your hands over his. “So, so much.”

You look into his eyes, now a fiery yellow, and the sight is so unfamiliar, so cold, that you can’t hold his gaze for long, and it falls back down, but you don’t want to look at his black armour either, so you look to the side instead. Your hands still hold his in place, though.

“I really thought you were dead, Cal, but this…” you manage to say after taking several shaky breaths. “An Inquisitor… This is no way to live. It’s not you. We can escape together. Start over. Whatever they did to you, we’ll undo it layer by layer. Please.”

“I’m afraid that's not possible,” he says, dropping one hand while the other moves from your cheek to your chin, making you look at him, and he studies your face for a moment. “But I can’t let you go either. You're working with the resistance fighters, aren't you.”

“I- I’m continuing where we left off, just in a different way.”

“So you are working with the Jedi, and as such against the Empire.”

His hand goes to the back of your neck, holding you in place, and a strange panic starts to settle in your limbs as you realise you can’t move away from his hold. Cal is so close now that you can feel his breath fanning over your cheek.

“If I let you go, will you shoot me?” he asks in a low voice.

You want to scoff, but it’s more of a teary-eyed huff.

“I could never, Cal. I- I loved you,” you tilt up your face to properly look him in the eyes. “I never stopped loving you. I still do.”

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, his brows furrowing, then scrunching upwards in the middle, as if he just remembered something painful.

“So do I,” he whispers.

You let out a sob, broken-hearted. All this time. All this time and he felt the same, was alive. But now he’s… an Inquisitor. A killing machine, fed by his own pain and anger, a tool used by the Empire to eradicate any remaining traces of hopefulness that people still might harbour.

“I can’t fight you,” he finally says.

“Neither can I,” you assure him.

Then he leans in, kissing you hard, and your mind is reeling. He holds you in place with the hand at your nape, your own coming up to hold his face. He kisses you like he’s making up for lost time, pouring his very being into it, and you reciprocate.

Somewhere in your mind, the metallic clink and the pressure against your side got registered, but with the kiss, it’s too much input to make sense of anything else.

Cal breaks the kiss and pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and you see a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“But I can’t let you go either,” he whispers against your lips, voice breaking, and before you can ask what he means, you not only hear his lightsabre igniting, you feel it.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream. Within a split second, your upper body feels on fire, and a sharp, unbearable pain prevents you from breathing or thinking straight. You hear your own flesh sizzle as Cal retracts his weapon after running it through you. Even though your legs give in, he holds your full weight, embracing you, and slowly kneels down, bringing you down with him gently.

“C-Cal,” you gasp for air as your lungs burn quite literally, everything around you getting blurry.

“I’m sorry,” he says over and over, caressing your cheek softly as he kisses you again.

With your last effort, your hand comes up to hold his, but it goes limp before it can do so, falling onto the ground. Cal cries into your shoulder, holding your limp body for a long time, until it turns cold.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi survivor x reader #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #inq!cal x reader #star wars x reader

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loonymooony · 2 months ago

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JWCT PROMO IMAGES BREAKDOWN WHAT WHAT

WARNING POSSIBLE SPOILERS!!!

also please only take me semi-seriously because I am not mentally ok and will not be until season 2 drops or at least until I can walk again

First order of business, these signs, it’s so random they would just drop random signs on us like like this so here’s my prediction/breakdown:

oke so it looks like these are all on the ship, so everything in the first episode

• Hmm lettuce not for crew use? THE CAMPERS ARE GONNA USE IT BCS THEY ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF “This sign cannot stop be because I can’t read!” • Oh? A live dino? Wrong. That dinosaur is gonna be dead af

• Do not feed the dinosaurs? Oops. Also this insinuates that there are professionals on board BUT I AM WILLING TO BET ALL MY LIFE SAVINGS (1/3 of a penny) THAT THERE ARE NO PROFESSIONALS ON BOARD AND THE WHOLE CREW FREAKS OUT WHEN THE DINOS ESCAPE

• Hmm it seems that this sign reads “Power must remain on at all times” yeah I don’t think that’s happening, idk why just have this gut feeling that some dinos might escape

• I’ve already yapped about this one but in summary: THAT LOOKS LIKE A VERY SUSPICIOUS KENJI, SHOULD WE REPORT IT? (I feel like Dora saying that)

My beloved waifu pookie cutie patootie Brooklynn throwback 🥰🥰 good to see that after everything, it’s still you. Also her hand? arm? is tied to to the control so either someone helped her or is forcing her to work or she can do that herself while Imm over here struggling to put a bracelet on myself 😭😭

GIRL BOSS BROOKLYNN THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I WANT TO BE LIKE I ASPIRE TO BE LIKE HER GIRLBOSS BADDY QUEEN SLAY GIRL 🥰🥰🥰 (i love her sm guys)

Trying to piece the timeline for this: looks like it’s from after the atrociraptor attack but I could be VERY wrong since there doesn’t look like much doom and gloom happened in what I presume to be Darius’ cabin. Also she has *proper* lock picks in her mouth (look for once she’s well prepared and not using a bobby pin even though bobby pins r great no hate to them) It looks to me as if she’s in his cabin stealing some DPW documents that she either left in his cabin (doubt it) or that Darius already had due to his previous job. It doesn’t really look like a friendly visit or an “I miss you visit” it just seams pretty sketchy (sorry Dinostar nation)

DLN probably stands for “Dinosaur Liberation Now” AND OMG GUYS REMEMBER WHEN RAPTOR MASK WAS LIGHTING A FIRE (basically doing arson) in the trailer? COULD THIS HAVE BEEN IT? who am I kidding it was obviously him during that moment

These two shots have the same lighting and are probably together, HOW TF IS BROOKLYNN SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THIS, IK DREAMWORKS SAID TWO MAIN CHARACTERS WOULD DIE BY THE ENF OF THE SEASON BUT THEY CANT KILL MY POOKIE OFF TWICE!! right?

All these scenes look like their from the same episode, maybe Brooklynn was trying to do something and got caught or she was being escorted to do something by her pet Red and whoever else is there

ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS POSSIBLE DINOSTAR REJECTION SCENE 💔💔💔 DARIUS LOOKS SO SHOCKED AND SAD I ACTUALLY CANT I FEEL BALD FOR THE GREEN BEAN 😔😔 (im so sorry to the dinostar nation and it’s leader @livsmessydoodles)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ anygays I have reached the image limit so expect part 2 soon!!!

(@lezabeththetheodoraimposter)

#jurassic world chaos theory #jwct #brooklynn jwcc #brooklynn #darius bowman #kenji kon #image breakdown #pls october 17th come faster

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pixienohken · 17 days ago

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Since I played Shadow Generations, I went back to re-watch the opening cutscene of the 2005 game. And wow, my 8 year old brain definitely filtered some of the stuff in the intro, or didn't notice it because of how fast it played. The black arms are probably one of the most brutal factions in sonic history. They literally just drop out of the sky and start raising hell, which is unironically terrifying if you were just a civilian living in the city.

Like, look at the scene where the giant one tosses an entire car and causes an explosion. It rolls, and explodes right by a gun squad, ragdolling them all instantly. That's three or four people DEAD.

The next scene has a POV of a Gun Soldier, and you see a black arms trooper hop up on a car, and guns down a soldier. And another black arms on the left just walking casually shoots the other one (and continues shooting the dude's body, absolutely brutal.) The only gun soldier standing which is the soldier we have the POV of, gets attacked by one of the flying black arms. That's presumably three more dead, possibly even more, since the one on top of the car continues shooting at something off screen.

Even while GUN troops are getting destroyed, not even civilians are safe, because although the car this behemoth lands on is empty, he slams a civilian car into the building. I thought it was a cop car, but this is a solid black car, no white doors or anything. All of the civilians in that car (Possibly a family with children) are now gone.

The final scene in the intro is probably the most brutal, because of how much stuff happens in just a few seconds. In fact if you blink you'll probably miss it, so I zoomed in a little.

On the top left you can see a squad of three GUN soldiers being absolutely demolished by some sort of explosion launched by the Black Arms troopers charging at them. Then those same troops keep sprinting past their bodies and begin shooting at presumably more people between the buildings who were probably survivors trying to hide.

On the lower right we see that there's an entire horde of them, a behemoth throwing a police car at something off screen. (Probably a person) and all around him there's like a dozen or so black arm troops walking around and shooting at everything and everyone (once more off screen)

I find this one the most disturbing for two reasons. One is that if you look closely, some of them who are hanging behind the parade are just purposefully shooting at wrecked cars and debris piles. Which could mean either they're purposefully causing as much destruction as possible, or they're trying to scare survivors out. (They even bothered animating the sparks of laser bolts hitting the cars and walls, which meant the animators purposefully animated some of them doing that.)

The other reason I find it somewhat unnerving is that the idea of an entire horde of black arm troops just walking down the street and brutally massacring the town, and in such a casual manner as if it's a completely normal thing.

All those people dead in like a twenty or thirty second timespan. The fact that somehow all this stuff was in a sonic game. A SONIC GAME. ONLY RATED E 10 AND UP, LIKE NONE OF THIS WAS WORTH THE TEEN RATING?

H O W ? !

Back in the 2000s, people accused this game of blatantly copying the Covenant from the Halo series, and even if they did, they definitely were faithful to the original material, considering they kept in the part of the aliens wanting to genocide humanity and will gun down any human they see.

Anyways rambling over. I love Shadow and I love his game. :-)

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow 05 #sonic x shadow generations #shadow #black arms #black doom #black arms aliens #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #shadow the hedgehog game #autistic rambling #video games #sonic games #sonic generations

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verdantwyrm · 27 days ago

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Hi omg just wanted to stop by and dump my thoughts on Mouthwashing because I just watched a playthrough a little bit ago and agree with your post about Curly so so so much.

I am also starting this out by saying that I am also a victim of repeat sexual assault and at one point was trapped in a situation where I physically could not get away from my abuser like how Anya was trapped on the Tulper. So, to anyone reading this, please know that I'm not speaking out of my ass either. Thanks. 🙏

I really don't think Curly realized what Anya was getting at at first. We, as the audience, like you said, have the information given to us by the game to understand just what it is Anya is getting at, but Curly doesn't. All he knows is that Anya is pregnant, reasonably less than happy about it, and that Jimmy is the father, and he's not happy about it either.

When Anya says, 'I told you.' in response to Jimmy being the father, I don't think she meant that she literally told him? If that makes sense. I think she was referencing back to points like the conversation about the door locks, etc. Things that, if you don't have her perspective and knowledge of what happened, if you can't see the dead pixel that she always finds, all you're going to get from that is seemly.. I don't know? Fairly mundane bits of small talk in any conversation. Anya is often in the medbay and Curly is often in the cockpit, so I'm sure it seems like something that would come up as an odd sort of stray thought and not what it really was. That being Anya probably lamenting over the lack of locks for the rooms after what'd happened to her. :(((

I think it's in that moment where Curly starts to realize that he WAS missing things. Because I do think Anya also saying she told him is that she at some point at least alluded to Jimmy being a piece of shit to her in some form. There's really no way of telling to what extent, but it's likely that it wasn't very explicit. I could hardly even speak on what was happening to me when it was happening because I was constantly in forced proximity with my abuser every day. That's terrifying, and I really wouldn't blame her if she only managed to say that she didn't like the way he was treating her or didn't like working with him, etc. because I couldn't even get that out back then.

Obviously there's really no way of knowing, and I really really don't want this to come off as possibly victim blamey because that's not at all what I mean. Because I very much understand the fear and wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't able to say anything. After all she was going to be stuck with him everyday for the better part of year, and it's clear that he was at the very least capable of getting violent given that she'd hid the gun.

That gun I think is also another factor that causes Curly to miss things initially. His assumption is that Anya is going to hurt herself, that she's going to kill herself. There are points where Curly is purposefully shown to be more fatherly in some aspects, when he tells Anya that he would've done anything (to presumably make her feel better about whatever he assumes is making her suicidal), in the end where he is forced to watch the TV with the Mother Goose song playing (the song that mentions a meal or something of the sort for Mother Goose) while he is forced to eat part of his own leg, etc. He is portrayed as a protector, a caretaker. Both in his position of responsibility to protect his crew and his position of power that should logically make him capable of doing what needs to be done about Jimmy, which he ultimately fails at because he simply didn't realize soon enough.

Whether that be because he's clearly not all there even from the beginning. (He gives clearly practiced responses to Anya for his psych eval, but mentions to Jimmy that he's obviously not doing great.) Or because of his implicit bias, or any number of other things. Because of the position he's in to have to break the news that his crew that he clearly cares about is getting laid off. Because he's under the impression that Anya was going to kill herself because of it. Maybe because it was a matter of mere hours between Anya telling him and Jimmy crashing the ship. Who knows.

I think if I he had been given more time that he would've done something, but it is also not lost on me that he didn't get that time because the game is a commentary on not doing something soon enough, rape culture and all that entails. Curly very clearly cared about his crew, and again him being purposefully portrayed as the protector and caregiver will forever eat me up inside because he didn't realize or act soon enough and the guilt had to have been eating him up inside after the crash. Maybe he could've done something before, but now he's just as powerless to stop it and he can't do anything but watch.

ANYWAY, sorry that was so long!! I had a lot of thoughts and while I don't think he's innocent and is certainly flawed, I do think the comparison of him being equal to Jimmy just isn't correct. He was working with so little context, the knowledge that Anya was presumably suicidal, and upon realization if he even managed to get that far before the crash, the question of what to do next? How to keep Jimmy away from her, how to protect her and everyone else on the ship.

You have completely taken the words out of my mouth! Thank you so much Anon, and as one victim to another I really appreciate your feedback and i appreciate your lengthy response just all the same! I genuinely wish more people were willing to read between the lines and understand that how it went on the tulpar with Jimmy, Any and Curly, it was probably the best thing they could do at the time with the given tools at hand.

I made a point about how Curly probably had no idea that Jimmy was going to react like this, how could he have prepared for a literal murder-suicide thats just not something you prepare for even if you know the person to be destructive, I again mention how shocked Curly is that he even went through it! Its an insane thing to do!!

I don't want to absolutely claim that Curly is innocent, because he isn't, but a bystander cannot be the oppressor. And alot of people tend to forget that the main problem, the actual villain, the real antagonist of the story is Jimmy, and people are more concerned with catching strays of "who dunnit" than accepting and trying to work through Jimmy's actions and the consequences of them. I do not think Curly is completely innocent, but he was a god damn good captain in the short amount of time he was even made aware of the situation.

Curly is not a misogynist, he didn't "let" Jimmy rape or hurt her, or anyone for that matter and he definitely did not want any of this to happen. He loves Anya, he loves his crew, and he does care about them. But there was so little he could do in the time he was given, in the circumstances, he did the best he could

#thank you anon you are so smart #so glad people have the decency to actually read that thread as well cause #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #anon #just talking

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herefortheships · 22 days ago

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We see Betelgeuse staring at Lydia's photo right after he appeared to her at the school. I like to think Betel stole her picture way back after his first defeat because it'd help him astral project to bother her. Like, as a tool for petty revenge, not for any sentimental or creepy reasons (initially). It'd explain why he never got a more recent picture. It hadn't been about her pretty face, or any other attractive attributes she'd develop later. It just meant to help him focus. And boy, did that backfire.

It's an interesting headcanon, him using the photo as a tool to be able to manifest around her. But to be honest, I believe he never had intentions to pester her or bother her in any way. Not even in the first film when he was more volatile and scarier did he ever try to harm her. When he turned into the snake, all he did was stare at her like he was taken by her, so much so that Barbara used that pause to banish him before he could do something.

He's always treated her different from any other woman from the start. So I believe he took the photo at some point during the events of the first film, and kept it close to him all these years because he was fascinated with Lydia.

We don't know how long he waited at that afterlife waiting room (my headcanon is that he said "screw this" at some point, stood up and left), but assuming he did wait in that room for a good amount of time, like days, or moths (or even a year or more, the number was pretty long), then he had time to reflect on what happened at the Maitland's house. Their time spent together was considerably rushed; they didn't get the opportunity to talk much, but he did have several months around Lydia, to watch her and get a sense of her.

I think he took that photo when he started forming the idea that he was going to propose to her as his ticket "out for good". Not even to get that thing which he presumably wants the most did he ever try to hurt Lydia; with the context of BJBJ now we know he could have just swapped souls with her and taken her life, but he didn't. (Or maybe he doesn't want to be alive; he may just want to be a ghost that can hang out with the living and never go back to the netherworld lol. But he did say "this dead thing is just too creepy", so maybe he does want to get another chance at being alive. I really want to know what exactly will happen to him if he does marry her. But I digress. Even if he knew about the soul swap he would have never tried it, because, again, he would never hurt Lydia.)

During whatever time he spent at that waiting room after the failed wedding attempt, he had that photo with him and would stare at it for comfort. Now I'm getting this headcanon that he started to realize around that time how her presence was actually really comforting, and he started missing her, wanting to see her again in person. Then he went "screw it", left that waiting room, and made up his mind that he was going to find his way back to that strange goth girl again.

Editing to add: Lydia was the only person who treated him with kindness and talked to him like a person in probably hundreds of years. Notice how everyone is afraid of even saying his name once, and those who do call him, do so to ask something of him. When Lydia first talked to him, she didn't exactly do it to seek out to use him for anything; he did offer to help her if she helped him out, but Lydia didn't approach him with fear nor to ask anything out of him. It was likely his only genuine interaction in years. Of course he wanted more of her, and so, at least he kept her photo (but never gave up on seeing her in person again either 😉).

#Wait my English grammar was weird there at the end wasn't it?#Beetlebabes #Beetlejuice x Lydia #Betelgeuse #Betelgeuse x Lydia #Beetlejuice Beetlejuice #Betelgeuse's photo of Lydia #Beetlejuice headcanons #BJBJ #Anon #Anons #Anonymous #Anonymous questions #Answers

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 5 days ago

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Guided Horse Riding (Mycroft Holmes X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Mycroft Holmes

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder, stabbings, horses

Request: hello dear can i get mycroft/fem reader? reader has a horse and force mycroft into him we want to see a scared the british government💖 [name is mira and a horse with white yellow mane]

Notes: (Uh.... happy early holidays, I'm not dead? Sorry for being gone for so long I genuinely feel so awful for being gone for so long plz forgive me ok thanks bye)

Mycroft had wondered what had led him to the very situation he was in right at this very moment, and he had mentally been piecing it together in his head, till he reached the first domino that started this all.

The first domino- no surprises here- was Sherlock, who had realised that there had been a pattern in some recent stabbings, with them all happening in public, packed places, and the more people, the more victims- the first was on the underground, the second was at the opening of an art gallery, and then a charity marathon. Sherlock had deduced that the next attack would almost certainly be at the parade happening, and he slapped together a rough description for what to look out for, and dragged Mycroft along to get him access to more secure areas- which included the stables that held the horses meant to be taking part in the parade, and that had been where he had met you.

You had been there checking in on your horse- Mira, to make sure she was comfortable, calm and ready for such an event, though you knew it was more like you with the nerves than her, this being the first time either of you had took part in an event like this. So when you had the Holmes brother approach you, asking who you were and what you were doing back here, before asking if you’d seen anyone around you didn’t recognise, you were understandably alarmed. One was dressed mostly like any other bystander (who therefor shouldn’t be back there) and the other was dressed formally and seemed to be softening and adding politeness and context that the other, more brash man was missing. You quickly realised that Sherlock was acting mostly that way because he was in a rush, and that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t get answers in time, and luckily, you had remembered a previous interaction with a man just earlier in the day- one that had rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke, and you pointed them in his direction. Sherlock immediately sped walked away, while Mycoft took the time to shake your hand, thank you for your cooperation, and wish you luck in the parade.

The parade itself went off without a hitch- at least from your perspective it did. Mira was an angel, behaved and also let children pet her and families take pictures with her. The only thing you noticed that was a little off, was that there was a lot more police there than you predicted, and they all seemed bunched up in one area, but you just assumed it was a safety precaution, and since nothing bad happened, you presumed it was all good. You didn’t find out exactly what had happened until you were packing up for the day, walking your horse over to her trailer, and Mycroft spotted you, and came over to speak to you.

That was the second domino. After giving you the rundown, explaining how you had basically stopped a mass stabbing thanks to you pointing the man out earlier the day, and after explaining who exactly Sherlock was, and who he was, you got to ask your own question, which began a conversation that resulted in you sharing your phone numbers to pick it up over coffee- the third domino.

Countless other dominos had been set up and knocked down since then- dates, kisses, admissions of love, and it all- somehow- led Mycroft to where he was now, watching you set Mira up for him, so he could ride her for the first time as you reassured him she was a nice, gentle horse, which he knew, but that didn’t help his nerves.

“You ready?” You ask, patting the neck of the horse after setting up the stool beside her, turning to look at Mycroft

“Not really.” Mycroft responded, sounding far from confident, but despite that, he still took your hand and let you guide him onto the stool, and position his foot into the stirrup.

“Alright, hold the reins, and swing your leg over, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” You explained to him, and after a moment of hesitation, Mycroft took a deep breath, and did as you ordered, and you kept your promise and helped him onto the saddle. Mira kept perfectly still as Mycroft got settled, and sat stiffly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You commented, chuckling as Mycroft only managed a small, unconvinced noise of agreement.

“Does this mean I can get off now?” Mycroft asked, glancing at you at the corner of his eye.

“Well you can… do you want to try and get off, or get comfortable first?” You asked. Mycroft, upon realising that he’d have to get off the horse, which meant him mostly going backwards, and guessing his own footwork of a horse with little help that you could provide, Mycroft froze for a moment, before sighing.

“Fine. I’ll get a little comfortable first.” Mycroft gave in, and you grinned at him, before taking a hold of Mira’s reigns.

“We’ll just walk on the outskirts in a circle at a slow pace.” You explained, before making Mira slowly start moving, trotting along beside you. You did a full lap of the small field you were in before looking back up at Mycroft, who’s shoulders weren’t as stiff anymore, and he didn’t look constipated anymore. “You’re doing great, honey.” You told him, his eyes coming and look at you, and he managed a small smile.

“Yes, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mycoft admitted. You chuckle a little, gently patching the side of Mira’s neck.

“You can thank Mira for the positive experience. I knew she’d be able to handle a nervous rider. It’s also why she’s great with kids. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to let me put you on her.” You commented, looking up at him. Mycroft looked back at you, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Of course I trust you. I love you.” He responded, his voice warm, which caused you to smile.

“Well since I love you too, how about after this lap I’ll get you off Mira so we can go inside and relax for the rest of the afternoon?” You suggest. Mycroft takes a moment to consider your words, before looking down at the horse, and pauses for a moment.

“...I think I can handle a few more laps.”

Hope you liked it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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gaylordscooter · 7 months ago

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The Ghost Pointed at Me

He was a replacement. He knew that much. His name didn't belong to him. It was stolen. Stolen from who? He didn't know and it wasn't easy getting answers.

He was an Underswap Sans. He knew that much. He was stronger than him, kinder than him, overall a better person.

He was a shabby replacement. He would hardly be qualified to be his shadow.

And yet they called him “Blue” anyway.

He woke up earlier than normal today, slipping into his usual outfit right away. Hearts should still be in sleep mode. So he didn't have to worry about him catching him on the way out. He didn't want him questioning where he was going so early in the morning. He knows he'd want to tag along.

He quietly made his way out of the house, Dream nor Ink caught him either. They never did. Sneaking out was a skill of his. He used to do it all the time late at night when he’d go out to the lab. His brother always hated it when he worked after hours. Said it wasn't worth doing when he was just an intern.

That was one of the few memories he still had of him. He clung to it like a prized possession.

He hopped on his motorcycle that was parked right outside. It wasn't like anyone was going to steal it. Hardly anyone had access to the Doodlesphere.

He started its engine, immediately driving away towards a bucket that led to an Underswap. The noise probably alerted them now, but they'd never caught up to him by this point.

He's been visiting as many Underswap universes as he could, trying to see if any of them were off in some way. They wouldn't be missing a Sans. By the time a reset rolled around a new one would take his place.

He was mainly interested in looking at its code. From there he’d be able to find out how long the Sans of that universe has existed.

He didn't really know what his end goal with this was. Say he found the universe that belonged to the Blue before him, then what?

It's not like he’d find anything new there. Originally he was looking for a universe like his, but he gave up on that a long time ago. Being “unique” seemed impossible in the multiverse, but as it turned out his universe was one of a kind.

Because it was unstable.

And then of course the multiverse decided to throw something unexpected at him.

Error was in the universe he decided to go to.

The Snowdin of the place was on lockdown. Everyone was presumably taking refuge in Muffet’s as Error stalked around the area like a rabid animal.

Currently, he was in the “find the human” phase of his destruction, so he wasn't wiping everything out in the vicinity for now. Wiping everything out might get the human to reset which would kick any foreign code out into the void, which would be a hassle.

Except if he saw an outsider like him he’d immediately turn attention to him.

Lucky him.

He got ready to drive the hell out of here. Of course, it was now that his motorcycle’s engine decided to have problems. It sputtered, as if to mock him, when he tried revving it.

Unfortunately, his attempted escape only drew the destructor’s attention.

His mismatched eyelights landed right on him. Those unnatural, perfectly straight teeth skewed in a lopsided smile.

He felt his soul sputter just like the engine.

He got off the motorcycle and made a break for it. Of course, it was in vain. Error’s strings caught his soul immediately.

It felt like a million paper cuts littered his soul, but it didn't deal any damage. Yet.

He was a fly trapped in the spider’s web. He was as good as dead.

Maybe Ink read his script for today and already knew this was going to happen. He was going to show up any second now to save him.

He awkwardly smiled back, mostly with his eyes, at the glitchy skeleton.

Any second now.

“Wh-what are you doing here, here?” he questioned. His voice and form were unstable as usual. It took Blue a second to register what he said.

“Uhhh, I could ask the same to you! We haven't seen you go to an Underswap in a long time,” he replied.

The strings tightened around his soul causing him to yelp. A warning.

A loud static noise cut through the air as a star-shaped rift tore itself open right behind Error.

“Error, what did i say about attacking MY HOME?”

Error whipped his head around to face the new voice. “Hm, l-lemme think—Oh right, right! I don't care what you s-said.”

Blue stared wide-eyed at the two bickering. The new guy looked similar to Error with his inverted colors—or lack of colors should he say. It looked like most of his body was a black hole. The red torn-up bandana around his neck along with his pearlescent purple arms mostly covered up by his gloves and shirt sleeves looked to be in a different reality from the rest of him.

He stared back at him in turn. Suddenly all of his attention locked on him as if Error wasn't right in front of him.

Faster than Blue could blink, he was out of the rift and standing in front of him.

“Oh hey, it's you,” he said.

“HEY, DON’T JUST IGNORE ME!”

He ignored him. He circled around Blue, almost reaching out to touch him but stopping himself before he actually made contact. “You don’t look like me at all.”

“P-pardon?” Blue managed to breathe out.

“Oh right, we’ve never formally met.” He offered his hand for a handshake. “The name’s Blazar, but I’ve heard I used to be called Blue too.”

Blue was stunned. “Oh—uh, hi?” He reached his hand towards his, only for Blazar to yank his own away like he was about to be burnt.

“Ha-ha! I keep forgetting not to do that!” He looked at his hand as if he was scolding it and took a few steps away from him.

He internally took note of his wording “never formally met” and that he knew he was called Blue without him telling him. It was highly likely he’d watched him from a distance before. “Not to do what?”

“Contact. Physical contact,” he specified. His dead-serious expression caught him off guard.

Blue’s gaze shifted away from him and noticed the lack of Error’s presence. He probably went off to resume his human-hunting.

Blazar seemed to notice this first. He looked more annoyed than anything. He sighed, “Hang on a moment.”

He teleported away or just moved away extremely fast.

He was back a second later, dusting his gloves off as if he had just taken out the trash. “Sorry about him. He has his reasons for acting that way.”

Blue looked confused, wondering what exactly he did to Error. “Yeah, sure.”

“Anyway, so you're the new Blue!” Blazar held his hands out to him as if he was presenting him to a crowd.

Blue sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Listen, I didn't mean to take your place. Ink just—”

“Oh, I don't care about that,” he assured, waving a hand dismissively. “It's not like I can be jealous when I don't even remember what it was like, hah.”

His expression shifted to concern. “what do you mean?”

Noticing the dip in the mood, he continued to sound and look cheery to bring it back up. “I don't remember anything before…before becoming ‘Blazar’—but I don't care! Can't miss what you’ve never had!” He laughed as he said that.

Blue gave him a look of pity. He lost some of his memories of his old life too, but he couldn't imagine being so positive about it. The way he acted reminded him of Dream. He knew from personal experience that “can't miss what you've never had” didn't apply when you did have it and you just forgot you did. He knows he’s had plenty of nights stressing over his lost memories.

Did he even know that he had a brother? Did he remember his friends from his universe?

“So how’s Ink and Dream doing?” he asked, completely oblivious to Blue’s inner thoughts. As he should be.

“Oh, they're doing fine. They had a little argument recently, but they’ve gotten over it.” It was more like Dream forgave Ink and Ink forgot about it. Close enough.

“That's good. So they're doing fine without me.”

Blue’s eyelights darted to the side.

“Again, I’m not mad about that,” he assured. “Why are you so scared?” He frowned.

Blue backed up unconsciously, raising his hands in defense. “Listen, I’m sure you're a nice monster—”

“I am.”

“—but, uh, I can't help but be a bit spooked by how similar you look t—”

“I am not like Error,” his voice distorted as he said that. Despite his words, he looked just as fierce as Error when he's mad.

Blue stayed quiet, looking just about ready to flee.

Blazar calmed down, realizing that he was only scaring him more. He was about to reach out to comfort him, but ended up hugging his own arms instead. “Sorry, I’m…” he paused to take a breath, “I’m not as pleasant as I used to be. I should go.”

“Wait—”

He disappeared before Blue could respond.

He stood there for a moment in the empty forest of Snowdin. So that’s what happened to the Blue before him. He didn't die, he became an error. A part of him died, he supposed.

How could something like that happen?

Ink should know. He should know he's alive. Maybe he forgot, and thought he did die because Dream acts like he did.

Blazar asked how Ink and Dream are doing. Why doesn't he check on them himself?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that monsters were exiting Muffet’s now. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he scrambled over to his motorcycle and hopped on.

Thankfully it worked now and he was able to drive out of there and open a rift back to the Doodlesphere.

When he got back to the house, he opened the front door and was greeted by Ink. He flinched back with a yelp.

“Were you just standing there the entire time?!”

“Of course not. I knew when you were coming back—but that's besides the point.” He grabbed Blue by the shoulders and shook him. “What were you doing in a universe that Error was in?!”

Blue spun in place to get out of Ink’s hold. “I didn't know he would be there. Also if you knew, why didn’t you help me?”

Ink crossed his arms. “Because someone else already did, right?”

“That ‘someone else’ is someone you know!”

Ink blinked. “Is it? I didn’t really pay attention to who it was.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Blue facepalmed. “Buddy, it was the Blue before me that saved me.”

Ink sputtered. “Whuh, huh? That guy’s alive?”

“Don't act so nonchalant!”

“This is not me acting ‘nonchalant’. I didn't know he was alive!”

“Shouldn't you though?”

Ink gritted his teeth, looking coy. “Mmmaybe?” He shrugged.

Blue sighed, “Is Dream out? I think he should know about this.”

“Of course he's out. When is he ever in one place? I’ll tell him when I have the chance.”

“No, I want to tell you both what happened to him,” he insisted. “This is important enough to have a proper meeting about.” They didn't usually have meetings like people assumed they had. Honestly, the perception of “The Star Sanses” in general was humorously inaccurate. They weren't really the heroes of the multiverse that everyone made them out to be—well maybe Dream was, but for the most part, Ink and he weren't all that heroic. And they certainly did not plan out how to efficiently help everyone out in the multiverse, nor was that their goal in the first place.

Ink tilted his head. “Something happened to him?” Something seemed to click for him. He reached for his scarf and skimmed over the notes on it. “Oh, right.”

“So now you remember.”

Ink’s now blue-green eyelights spelled guilt. “You know my memory isn't the greatest.”

That was his way of saying “You know I didn't want to forget something like that.” If it was important enough to be written about on his scarf, that had to be true.

Blue’s expression softened, regretting his accusatory tone. “Right.”

Ink sighed, “I should get Dream.” He was already painting a portal beneath him. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He disappeared a second later.

“Finally, that prick’s gone,” Hearts strutted in from the hallway and approached him. He tended to avoid Ink as he did with every Sans. It was like merely looking at them made them ill. Except for Blue for some reason. Maybe it was because of trust. That sounded right. “He was watching the door like a dog waiting for its owner.”

“Was he pacing?”

“Like a caged animal.”

“You sure like comparing Ink to animals,” he remarked. “But never the right ones. He’s like an excitable ferret.” He was a thing of boundless energy and hyperactivity. But he wasn't like a dog. Dogs were loyal.

“Is that something you waste your time thinking about, darling?” he teased.

Blue suppressed his grin from widening at the meaningless pet name. “And you're like a cat abusive to its owner.”

He gasped, holding a hand to his chest like he was offended. Scratch that, not “like he was”, he was definitely offended. “Are you calling me your pet?!”

“I Did Not Say Anything of the Sort,” he said slyly, darting his eyelights to the side. He held back a laugh as Hearts scoffed. Their banter brought his mood up after his encounter with Error and Blazar, but he still dreaded the meeting to come.

Ink will probably explain some things; that was his hope, but he also feared it. It was likely he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear, but a worse-case scenario would be if Ink tried to skirt around telling him. He needed to know. Rip the bandage off, as they say.

“Are you alright, darling? I don't usually eavesdrop on your conversations with him, but it sounded serious.”

That's definitely a lie. He eavesdropped all the time, but he appreciated Hearts’s genuine concern.

Blue rubbed at his neck. “Eh, I could be worse. I’m mostly stressed, is all.”

“Glad to see you're doing the same as usual.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, darling.” He noticed a puddle of paint flowing out from the ground behind Blue. “That's my cue to leave. I hope your meeting goes smoothly. I don't want to hear yelling while I’m relaxing.” He already started walking back to the hallway to get to his room.

“Seeya,” Blue said. He tried putting his hands in his lab coat’s pockets. He always did that out of habit despite said pockets being torn off along with the rest of the bottom half of it a while ago. He opted to put his hands on his hips instead. He turned around as Ink and Dream came out of the portal of paint.

Dream still had that beaming smile on his face. Of course he did. He never not smiled, which wasn't all that unusual for Sanses but even they would stop smiling when pushed too far. The point was, Dream’s expression gave nothing away as to what Ink had told him already.

“So Blue called a team meeting,” Ink explained. “That Mettaton’s not listening in, is he?” He looked around the entry room as if he was hiding in it.

“Does it matter?” Blue asked. Ink’s never showed concern for that before.

“I guess not,” he shrugged but he still looked a tad bothered.

It was because this was a personal thing, he assumed.

“Why don't we sit down before we start?” Dream suggested.

Blue took that offer immediately, sitting down on the couch by the front door. Already, his leg was bouncing.

Dream sat next to him but Ink continued to stand. Blue knew he was going to start pacing once they began talking.

“So, Blue, you wanna start us off?” Ink said.

“Oh, uh, sure.” He clapped his hands together, trying to make eye contact with Dream. Only to immediately fail and look down at the floor. “So…I called this meeting because, uh. I met this guy named Blazar.”

“Oh, a new guy!” Dream sounded excited.

Blue stretched his smile out, making it uneven. “Yep, uh, not actually ‘new’.” He really shouldn't be stretching this out that much. He should just spit it out, but he's never been good at delivering news like this. “It's…the old Blue actually.”

“He's alive!” Dream beamed. He couldn't help but stand. “You got to meet him? Did it go well? I think you two would get along great!”

Blue looked just about ready to call the meeting there instead of dousing Dream’s joy with the bad news. “It went bad, actually.”

“Oh.” He still sounded hopeful. Right, dousing Dream’s joy wasn't exactly an easy task.

“Well, not that bad? It was mostly awkward—besides the point. He's an error now.” Finally. Finally, he got it out.

Dream looked clueless. He tilted his head. “I don't believe I understand. How can one be a mistake?”

Ink pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “No, he's an ‘error’ now. Y’know like Error. There's others like him where their code’s all messed up.”

“Well, at least he's alive.”

Ink’s eyelights flashed red for a moment. His smile was strained. Unlike other Sanses, Ink’s smile wasn't his default. It was a practiced thing and said practice would melt away at a moment’s notice.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dream asked.

Ink and Blue shared a glance.

“I’m not—I’m not mad at you, Dream,” Ink said.

“I see! Well, thank you for sharing the good news, Blue. I had no idea he was alive.”

“Dream, it's not really good news,” Blue said gently while wringing his hands together.

This was the thing with Dream. It was impossible to get him to see the bad in things. That sounded like a good trait to have but Ink and Blue knew from personal experiences that one could indeed be overly optimistic.

“But he’s alive.”

“And he's an error!” Ink snapped, throwing them both off. “I did that to him!” He stopped speaking as abruptly as he started. He covered his mouth, looking shocked at his own words.

Blue looked agape at him, while Dream merely looked surprised and sat back down.

“What do you mean, Ink?” Blue asked.

Ink’s hands scraped at his skull, staying over his mouth.

“What do you mean you did that to him?” He kept his voice surprisingly level.

Ink forced his hands down by his sides. “The day we fought Error in his Underswap we were getting reckless—He was getting reckless. I knew what was going to happen. I knew he would become an error that day. I couldn't do anything—no—I did do something. I set it up for him and I did my part in making it happen. He cornered him and I just watched—”

“Ink, slow down!” Blue got up to put a hand on his shoulder.

Ink’s gaze focused on him. His eyelights were still rapidly changing. He pushed Blue away to turn around and hack up black paint on the ground. “Eugh.” He wiped his mouth. “How much of that did you understand?” his words slurred together.

“I didn't get any of that,” Blue said.

“Good.” He paused, held a hand up, and turned around to throw up again. “Twice in the same minute, hah,” he said humorlessly. “I’m calling the end of this meeting.”

Neither Blue nor Dream objected. In fact, Dream’s gone quiet ever since Ink yelled.

Ink left without a word or explanation as to where he was going. He needed alone time, they knew that, but it was anyone's guess how long he’d be out for.

Blue was about to head over to his room to rest, but Dream spoke up first.

“Blue, can you…stay here for a bit?” He’s never asked something like that before. Something for himself.

Blue’s sockets widened. “Yeah,” he sat back down on the couch, “I can stay.”

Dream couldn't meet his gaze. He just continued staring forward, not even at a wall but at the air in front of it. “Thank you.” His expression didn't show it, but for some reason, Blue had a feeling Dream wanted to cry.

He looked happy. He acted happy, but that hunch was stubborn.

Blue wrapped an arm around him like he was comforting him as if he was crying.

Dream leaned into him, closing his eyes, smile as unfaltering as ever. He imagined that his tears would be spilling out more now that he closed it. They were golden, like leaves falling in the autumn.

That was only his imagination, of course. Dream can't cry. He can't even frown.

Blue couldn't begin to understand how it would feel to be unable to feel negative emotions. He's never said it out loud, but it was like you were half a person. Sure he had access to a good amount of the basic emotions, but most feelings were complex and were made up of both negative and positive emotions.

Of course, Dream’s brother has to deal with only feeling negative emotions. However, while it seemed like one had it worse than the other, Blue was beginning to think neither had it better than the other.

What would Dream be feeling right now if he could feel negative emotions?

Blue noticed Dream’s hand trembling Only one, however, as if that was all he was allowed to show.

“Something's not right.” He sounded like a robot going against his coding. “I’m not feeling the right emotion.” His words contrasted his ever-gleeful tone.

“I'm sorry.” Blue didn't know what else to say.

“Sorrow, guilt. That's it.” He brought his hands together to keep his other hand still. “I’m sorry,” he replied. It was almost like a prayer.

The way he said his apologies never sounded genuine, but Blue would pretend it did for him. In the end, there was hardly a difference.

After a few more minutes, Dream stood up and opened a portal. “Thank you again, Blue. I’ll see you later.” Just like that, he went back to doing his job.

And the house was sans two Sanses once more. Although neither of them really were Sanses.

He headed over to his room.

Hearts was lounging around on his bed, a common occurrence despite him having a room of his own. This was something he tended to do when he had something to show or say to him. He gave him a smirk.

“What?”

“I recorded Ink’s little spiel. I can slow it down for you if you want,” he offered.

So that's why Ink didn't want him listening, Blue thought. He shrugged. “What the heck, sure.” He sat next to him.

Hearts replayed it at a speed Blue could understand.

He had a hand covering his mouth as he listened.

Hearts was entirely unfazed by it, mainly because he didn't understand the significance of it.

Ink blamed himself for Blazar’s predicament. Ink never blamed himself, at least he never admitted so.

It was illogical for him to blame himself, and Ink was pretty logical when it came to this sort of thing. When it came to scripts.

“I never thought the soulless guy could be such a drama queen,” Hearts remarked.

Blue learned a long time ago that soullessness has nothing to do with dramatics, but he kept that to himself. He picked up the journal he kept on his bedside counter to jot some stuff down.

Like the nosy guy he was, Hearts looked over his shoulder to watch him write.

Blue rolled his eyelights, “Read if you want but you're not going to understand any of it and I’m not explaining any of this to you.”

“I just enjoy watching you steer off-topic,” he said.

“Tough luck, I’m not writing an entry.” He wrote down directions to the specific bucket of that universe as well as the name “Blazar”. He closed it and put the journal back.

With that over, he realized how hungry he was.

“I’m going to Grillby’s,” he said. “You want anything?”

“I don't eat that garbage, darling.”

“You say that like you didn't establish your own fast-food restaurant,” Blue said.

“You don't know if I did that in my universe,” Hearts retorted.

Right, because he never told him anything about his past. Regardless, he was sure he did do that. All the other Underfell Mettatons did. There wasn't any reason for him to be an outlier.

“Sure. I’ll see you later.”

#utmv fic #blue(BSsans)#ink sans #dream sans

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the-wolfbats · 2 months ago

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Thoughts on the Redwall Series overall

What started as a walk down memory lane ended up being a multi month reading project. With notes!

A lot of how these books are stereotyped is not true. Only a handful of them end in Babies Ever After. There may be a riddle or a poem but it's not taking up most of the story.

The lack of immediate continuity after book 6 is a little sad but it gives a real sense of time to things, which I like. The Lord of Mossflower exists in Mattimeo, but hundreds of years later in Loamhedge, it doesn't. Brockhall is rediscovered twice! That’s kind of what I liked about Mistmantle, it was only 5 books but there were enough characters that yes, some became parents, but the young ones didn’t. It’s only at the end of the series where some even get married, and it’s not EVERY animal.

Until I reread these, I didn't look at these from the point of anti-colonialization. But, yeah it's THE recurring theme.

colonizers (vermin) are harassing the people who already live there. Who are native to the land. They're trying to enslave or kill them.

They're trying to take over either redwall, or mossflower, or basically any place mentioned.

There is a minor fighting force but the majority just want to chill. A few outliers exist because they've lost families or communities. And they get stopped. This book series is essentially a minimally colonized world.

Green Isle is a colonized area where the indigenous population fights back and eventually succeeds. Mossflower is eventually freed from the Greeneyes.

Rhulain and Taggerung come at this from different angles, and while both are hampered by the series structure a bit, enough good shines through. (I lurked the r/Redwall subreddit and a lot of people seem to dislike Taggerung, maybe they were thinking about it from my angle initially - see my thoughts on Taggerung post in my Redwall tag for how my mind was changed).

There's also the heavy religion (Western Christianity) parallels which is why so many conservative kids and young adults attached themselves to this series. And yet they miss major parts of the entire concept. Ah well.

I did find it tiresome that as soon as a maid is mentioned to be pretty she's going to be the wife of the male protagonist. They all prove capable and varied but the immediate reaction of pretty is tiring. Note how Mariel is never referred to as pretty by Dandin, and they don't get married but remain partners presumably through their lives. Doomwyte is terrible about this. Come to think of it, Rogue Crew is like a homage but is done much better than Doomwyte, and it works on expanding the world in ways we never get to see officially :( Maybe we should work on it ourselves. We could do that.

While the squirrels have no subculture, the shrews only have a subculture (arguably two worth pygmy shrews) There's not lone shrews simply existing outside of Redwall or the Guosim.

Any headcanons about things in story?

I choose to believe Martha spent a time as Abbess after Fenna died. She would be the only noted hare ruler of Redwall.

There was a squirrel society in Mossflower but it eventually migrated to the area where Sunflash and Skarlath stayed the winter with the mole and hedgehog families.

What books were your favorite?

I've ranked them in groups of 5 of published order (or in the case of the last 2, just 2.)

*Lord Brocktree was my favorite as a child and frankly it’s still enjoyable. I won't include it in any ranking to keep it fair.

The Pleasant Surprises

Loamhedge (probably bc I listened to the audiobook. I liked how there was quite a mournful tone throughout, from going to a place full of life to a dead Abbey.)

Eulalia!

The Long Patrol

Martin The Warrior (while it felt a bit long, it was so nice to see a different side of the continent. It wasn't just Mossflower.)

Taggerung.

The Rogue Crew

Side note; I’d love to see someone superimpose the map of some of the books on others. Like where did Martin wander in his book with Grumm, the hedgehog, and Rose compared to the Patrol in The Rogue Crew? He was born on the northern shores - are they the same shores as the Crew?

The Disappointments

High Rhulain - It’s just not interesting outside of what Green Isle existing implies.

Mariel of Redwall - I think he got better at writing female characters, and it’s not as if Mariel is awful - she’s fairly well rounded, being headstrong and angry as well as needing support - her personality is just kind of There.

Half of the Bellmaker. The part with Southward is dull as dishwater the part with the seafaring is almost enjoyable. The Redwall part is, oddly, the best part.

The one with more than meets the eye lorewise

High Rhulain

The one with the best songs

Loamhedge (the spring song)

High Rhulain (the honeybee song and the calling of the clans)

Marlfox (Mother Nature Dear)

The Long Patrol (over the hills)

Lord Brocktree (a hare is a marvelous creature)

The Rogue Crew (The song Lancejack Sage sings at the funeral)

The best

Mice: Rose, Lycian, Nimbalo

Hare: Maudie, Dottie, Boorab, Martha, Rockjaw

Squirrels: Fwirl, Song, Doogy

Shrews: Basically all of ‘em, if I had to name one, Flib, if I had to name two, Dandy

Moles: again, most of ‘em. Though it’s funny how they’re championed as beings with good sense, but apparently not good enough sense to ever be elected as Abbott or Abbess.

Hedgehogs: The family of theatrical troupe hedgehogs in Sable Quean, Tansy, Posy

Otter: Mhera, Kroova, Skor, Ruggan, and Swiffo

Birds: Orocca and Tauroc, any bird from the North, Rocangus and MacTalon

Moles: any of the mole Dibbuns.

Badgers: Sunflash, Cregga, Brocktree

Major antagonists: the fractured groups of the Juskarath, Tsarmina, Ungatt Trunn, Slagar, Raga Bol, Razzid Wearat.

There was probably going to be more but I got a concussion and forgot

#redwall

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year ago

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In the mood for...

~*~

1. hey! I'm looking for non-specific Canon or canon divergence (MDZS verse) fics where Lan Wangji has a "he is adorable" or "he is cute" moment about Wei wuxian. or just lan wangji simping and having soft, rose tinted thoughts about wwx from his point of view >< @wutheringskies

~*~

2. helloo!! i have a request for the next itmf. are there any fics where resurrected wwx has like a really bad flashback to his three months in burial mounds and juniors/lwj/or someone different witnesses it? thank u and love u @vicleey

~*~

3. for the next itmf, do you have fics of either A) wwx not being adopted by the jiangs/him raised in other sects or B) wwx leaving the jiangs realizing he deserves better

3A)

Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, WangXian, Case Fic, No Sunshot Campaign, AU in canon setting, Kid Fic, dadxian, Strangers to Lovers, Found Family, POV LWJ, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Falling in love in metaphors)

this whole comp

3B)

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

~*~

4. I am back for more in the mood for requests! Thank you for everything you do.

I am in the mood for modern/au fics with a stand-in for wwx dying and getting resurrected. Such as him going missing, being presumed dead, being in witness protection, or leaving by his own volition. Any fic about modern/au lwj missing/mourning wwx and them getting reunited some time later. Preferably with lwj searching for wwx?

Anything works though. I would love to see all kinds of different takes on what his canon death could be in an au.

End Racism on the OTW || Yesterday Once More by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 22k, wangxian, modern au, reality show au, Long Lost Family au, adoption, family reunions, lost love, getting back together, family feels, angst w happy ending)

These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Minor Character Death, Injury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents, These Things Stay the Same [Podfic] by Rionaa)

please accept this fried chicken and my feelings by thelastdboy (G, 4k, wangxian, modern, Reunions, Marriage Proposal, Trans Male Character, Trans WWX, Single Parent WWX, Mental Health Issues, Medication, allusions to past suicide attempt, Light Angst w Happy Ending, Alcohol, Drunk LWJ)

always on my mind series by sami (E, 37k, wangxian, LWJ/others, LWJ & JYL, modern, family, sexual tension, grief, superstar musician LWJ, fluff, children, pregnancy, parenthood)

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5. Hi! Thank you for all your hardwork <33 ITMF for jealous/possessive WWX, but no post-canon fics please. Thank you!

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6. Hello! ITMF Gusu lecture era smut? Like, teasing in class, getting distracted in the library, dorm room shenanigans, etc. Preferably longer fics like “ Straight at the Sun ” by diamondbruise, but short pwp would be nice too! Thanks so much!

Fentao-laoshi’s Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets) (E, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, pining while fucking, friends with benefits, first time, cloud recesses study arc, practice kissing, sharing a bed, jealousy, getting together, confessions, happy ending)

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7. Hi 👋 Thank you sooooo much for finding that fic for me," Turn Left " 😁 its exactly what i was looking for.

Please can you recommend fics that are similar 🙏Thank you 😊

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8. any lan zhan POVs? bonus points for those delicious misunderstandings @chellsky

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Caffeine, Small Talk by mistergoblin (E, 144k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, or more accurately: frenemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, touch-starved lwj, Slow Burn, high levels of sexual tension, Misunderstandings, Getting to Know Each Other, Switching, Bottom LWJ, bottom WWX, slight D/s, Happy Ending, side yanqing, lwj’s patented horny grip, Sub LWJ)

Mad about the Boy by TriviasFolly (M, 62k, wangxian, 1950s America au, greaser WWX, historical smoking, historical viewpoints, angst, internal struggle, pre-relationship, historical homophobia, sexual awakenings, sexual exploration, self-discorvery journey, self-love journey, gay academia, teenage dramatics)

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9. Hello, for the next itmf, are there any fic where WY is just losing it and just went mad or traumatized. But not in the the way that he become brutal and jusf killing people.

Sorry if this is weird. Thank uu

of all the hands by typefortydeductions (E, 51k, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, emperor LXC, PTSD, nightmares, dual cultivation, mental health issues, fluff & angst, consensual non-con, pining, politics)

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10. Love love LOVE fics where Yu Ziyuan gets her way and Wei Wuxian is removed from the Jiang Sect, only for Yu Ziyuan to run the Jiang right into the dirt while the whole world sings the praises of Wei Wuxian, who can now reach his true potential without having to scrape and knowtow to Yu Ziyuan's temper. I need more of them. I need ALL of them.

... Or I guess really just any fics where WWX ends up standing above Yu Ziyuan.

If Wishes Were Donkeys by NightOwl1 (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, SVSSS, Time Travel Fix-It, Case Fic, Mpreg, Fluff and Humor, Dysfunctional Jiāng Family, Bad Parent YZY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, It’s All The System’s Fault, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Warning: JGS, Good Uncle LQR, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ’s Parents, Inappropriate Humor, Family Feels)

💖 Light Source by abCEE (M, 31k, wangxian, not Jiang friendly, no golden core transfer, fall of the jiang sect, happy ending)

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11. I don't mind Best Jiujiu Jiang Cheng, but it's starting to bug me that everybody seems to forget it's not canon (CQL notwithstanding ig) so I'm asking for post-canon fics that acknowledge Wei Wuxian as Jin Ling's actual favorite uncle. It doesn't need to be Jiang Cheng bashing or anything like that really, I just want Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian feels and bonding that are NOT Yunmeng Bro reconciliation or focused on Jiang Cheng. I won't say NO to some Jiang Cheng bashing, but I'd prefer the focus be on Jin Ling and his ACTUAL Best Jiujiu Wei Wuxian.

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 64k, JL & WWX, wangxian, post-canon, protective WWX, protective JL, JC & WWX reconciliation, reluctant matchmaker JL, pre-JL/LJY)

i won’t let you down (give me what i need) by orphan_account (Not rated, 2k, JL & WWX)

Questioning by Rainewritesfanfics (T, 1k, JL & WWX, Crushes, Bisexuality, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Family Fluff, Good Uncle WWX, JL pov, Queer Themes)

The Truth (Untold) by anxiouswreck0_0 (G, 3k, JL & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, JL & WWX talk, JL centric, JL & WWX bonding, wangxian being shameless)

in which Jin Ling is tragically underappreciated by Buttercup_ghost (Not rated, <1k, JL & WWX, wangxian, post-canon, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Matchmaking, Time Travel, Good Nephew JL, Humor, Mild Homophobia from Jiang Cheng but it gets shut down, Supportive NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, BAMF JL, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

a reconstruction by JaggedCliffs (G, 7k, JL & WWX, JL & JZX, Uncle-Nephew Bonding, Family, JL learns more about his parents, he also learns that his family committed past atrocities, Jin Ling is going through it)

of past and present by Here_For_This (This_Rocks_My_Socks) (T, 6k, JL & WWX, wangxian, Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, bad unlce JC, not JC friendly, Discussions of moving on, Implied/Referenced Torture, brief mentions of Wei Wuxian’s cynophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, self-care, Hopeful Ending)

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12. Can I get some relationship reveal fics pls

The F-Word by raspberrymocha (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Family Dynamics, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, Weddings, Engagement, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Sex, 5+1 Things, Heteronormativity)

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13. Hi! Are there any canon-era fics where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying feel each other’s pain and/or an injury on one shows up on the other? Can be a soulmate au or a spell or the like. Thank you!

You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, wangxian, soul bonding, first time, case fic, fools in love, soul boning, pining while fucking)

Sunder by naqaashi (E, 32k, wangxian, canon divergence, soulmate au, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Heavy Angst w Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Pining, Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Porn w Feelings, Porn W Plot, Light BDSM, Edgeplay, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Rimming, Fix-It Temporarily Unrequited Love, ,First Time, First Kiss, LWJ pov, Sunshot Campaign, YLLZ WWX, Dom LWJ, sub WWX, Marathon Sex, Lube, Whump, LWJ Whump, Canon Jiang Cheng Characteristics, Angry JC, Good Sibling JYL, Good Sibling LXC, hurt LWJ, hurt WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, switch wangxian, Light Dom/sub, Cuddling & Snuggling, WWX Whump, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal Thoughts)

Flowers of pain by CorkaHadesa (M, 16k, wangxian, canon divergence, soulmates au, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, LWJ pov, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, not Jiang friendly, Bad Sibling JC, Bad Sibling JYL, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Protective LQR, Bad Parenting, Healing, Family Issues, Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Happy Ending, WIP)

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14. Hello! For the "I'm in the mood for" section, I was looking for long fics where wwx or lwj (or both) have a disability. Any of them would do, I'm not picky. The longer the better, and if the fanfic has an M/E rating, I would prefer it if it's canon dynamics. Thank you so much for your hard work! :D

the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days) chronic pain

some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) WWX loses a leg & gets a prosthetic

no new age Series by everythingispoetry (M/T, 145k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Families of Choice)

Mod Kay: i also have a collection for stories where wwx loses his hand

The Martial Arts Instructor Fic You Didn’t Know You Needed by enbysaurus_rex (M, 423k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, WWX & Wen remnants, WQ & WWX & WN, modern, martial arts, everyone lives au, not canon compliant, WWX has ADHD, autistic LWJ, pining, enby WWX, implied/referenced alcoholism, PTSD, slow burn, chronic illness, found family, polyamory negotiations, JC & WWX reconciliation, Single Parent WWX, Single Parent LWJ) I know I recommend this fic all the time but it’s my fav so - neurodivergent disabilities, chronic pain/injury & illness Can also apply to #4 because wwx fakes his death and lwj raises a-yuan

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant)

🧡 close your eyes, feel my heartbeat by ThatDesiGirl (T, 11k, WangXian, blind!WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rewriting Canon, not a fix-it but a what-if, Golden Core Transfer, Romance, Pining)

Disabled WangXian Comp

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15. Any fics where Jin zixun succeeds in killing wwx and being lazy and callous realizes he doesn't have a gift for the party and presents wwx's as his own instead. Maybe he is immediately found out cause someone recognizes wwx's handwriting on it or whatever. Or maybe jl grows up with it and adores it cause there isn't a wwx stigms attached and like it saves his life many times, people constantly saying whoever gave it to him must of really loved him. And then he finds out the truth

a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see by paperminds (T, 9k, JL & WWX, JC & WWX, JL & JC, post-canon, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst w happy ending, JC & WWX reconciliation) this one (from 2 itmfs back) is 'similar' the other way, jin ling grows up thinking his mom commissioned the bracelet. for #15, i think i've never read a fic with jin zixun specifically stealing jin ling's gift, so i hope op gets recs, but otherwise it might be a cool prompt for the kinkmeme!sadly i cant find the 'similar' fic i want to rec lol 🤦‍♀️ its the one with ghost rogue wwx who was (spoiler) killed due to jin negligence in a nighthunt iirc, and jin zixun steal all his notes and passes them off as his own. wx have a different first meeting and lwj investigates wwx's death.

asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining) The fic the previous reccer for 15 is looking for is Asymptotic!

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16. ITMF fics with protective LXC. Maybe he goes against JGY because he dares to hurt LWJ and that's where he crosses the line. But I mainly want protective LXC over his brother (and maybe a bit dark?)

A Little Fall of Rain by Just_a_Girl_in_a_Crystal (T, 47k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, canon divergence, fix-it , Angst w happy ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Not Everyone Dies au, Grief/Mourning, Lan Wangji’s awesome family, Golden Core Reveal, Protective LXC, Protective LQR, WIP) ooh idk fics where lxc actively opposes jiggy/discovers his actions, but for now, i have these for 16. protective lxc starts to mistrust ppl who aren't lwj

The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, canon divergence, fix-it, time travel, Possessive LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Fluff, Siblings, Romance, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Fix) general protectiveness with the power of hindsight

Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, wangxian, LXC/WQ, Time Travel, LXC pov, Protective LXC, Temporary Character Death, Butterfly Effect, Mpreg, Panic Attacks)

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17. Hi!!!!! For the next itmf I’d like some secret relationship wangxian. Preferably canon or canon adjacent, definitely not ABO tho. Thank you!

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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