#if she lived on her own i would not give a shit but it's impacting my day-to-day life as well!

[russo-woso]

Comment || Arsenal x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning mention of bullying, mental health problems, mention of suicide

Summary You accidentally reveal why you don’t interact with your team

A/N this is a sadddd and angsty one so buckle in

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“Y/N, you’re coming to the restaurant with us, right?” Katie asked, seeing you try to scurry out of the room without anyone noticing.

Unfortunately for you, Katie saw you and was curious whether she’d see you at the restaurant that night.

To celebrate the end of the year and Christmas, the team had organised a meal out at a local restaurant, nothing much but enough to satisfy the whole team.

You hesitated a bit, you also unaware of your own answer.

You see, you hadn’t always had the best experiences with a team.

Your previous teammates had made a few comments here and there about you.

She doesn’t deserve to get minutes

Why did the club even sign her

Shittiest player I’ve ever seen

Drop her back down to the Sunday league

At first, they were just small remarks that happened every so often, but then it turned to 24/7.

In the changing rooms, over text, on the pitch. Everywhere, anytime.

They were bullying you.

And even when you brought it upon the manager, he just shrugged, ‘that’s banter for you’ he had told you whilst laughing.

Maybe you were just being sensitive. Maybe you were taking it the wrong way. Maybe this was how a team was supposed to play.

From that moment onwards, you thought it was normal.

You didn’t complain about it anymore, just bottling up your emotions so they didn’t have to see it.

It wasn’t until a very poorly played game that you realised just how damaged they’d made you.

You had played the final four minutes of the game.

When you ran onto the pitch, your team was already losing 4-0.

And although you’d impacted the game massively and had prevented two goals in them four minutes, you were entirely blamed for the loss.

You had dreaded walking into the changing rooms after, all your teammates angry at their performances but somehow blaming it on you made it a lot better.

One of your teammates had squared up to your shaking body, their finger pointing at you.

Your breath became uneven as you closed your eyes in dread.

“You were shit today! You were the reason we lost! You were a let down today. You made us lose! Do us all a favour, Y/L/N and fuck off. We don’t need you on our team! You just fuck up our play and make us fucking lose! Nobody likes you, Y/N. You’re a shit player!” She screamed, the rest of the girls agreeing. She finished shouting at you, but was not finished without pushing you to the floor.

You put on a strong face, standing up and grabbing your stuff before walking out.

You walked for miles in the rain, no car, your phone dead, just you and your thoughts.

You don’t remember much from that night, you’d passed out on some bridge for most of it.

But you remembered one thing.

You remember laying on the bridge, your body fighting for consciousness and thinking would it be so bad if you were to never wake up?

Would anyone actually miss you?

You had your mum left but she mainly focused on your older brother more - he’s a lawyer and had kids - no more explanation needed.

You were so close to completely giving up, so close to letting ending everything.

You used all your strength, pulling yourself up and taking yourself over to the edge of the bridge.

The river underneath was violent, the water crashing against its beds with purpose.

You started counting down in your head, dunking it with your heartbeat.

3… 2…

“Dear! What are you doing?” A voice exclaimed from behind you.

You turned with watery eyes to see a woman, 65 maybe?

You looked in her eyes, a solace look in them.

“Please… look at me. I’m a complete stranger to you. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. But what I do know about you, is you have so much to live for that maybe you don’t realise you have. Take a look around. What do you see?” She began, taking a few steps towards you.

“Bushes, the river, trees.” You listed, taking deep breaths steady your breathing.

“Trees. Look how they’re blowing in the wind. They’ve got no control over themselves. They’re being pushed around and they can’t do anything, but one thing that they are doing, is having a tiny bit of strength to keep them standing. A storm may have big impacts but at the end of the day, they go away. What you’re going through now is just a storm, I promise. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Go travel, go to London, go somewhere you’ve never been before. You’re just stuck in a storm, a bad one, but at the end of everyone is sunshine.”

You listened to her words, taking into account what she was saying.

Slowly but surely, you stepped back from the edge, collapsing into the womens arms.

You’ll never forget that night.

The woman, you didn’t even find out her name, but you knew she was your guardian angel that night.

And although you didn’t completely believe her words, she was right.

You were in the middle of a passing storm.

Not only two days later, you were sat in your managers office being told you were going to another club.

You were given a list of clubs that were interested but one stood out massively, a London club.

You were doing what the woman told you to do, you were going to London.

Which leads you back to the conversation with Katie, your Arsenal teammate.

“Umm… I’ll have to see how tired I am.” You lied, making up a random excuse.

“You said that last time, Y/N.” Alessia pointed out, a playful smile on her face, a completely innocent one which meant no harm.

“And the time before that.” Kyra then added, gently knocking her shoulder into yours.

“Please come, Y/N. I barely know you, it’ll give us time to get to know you.” Steph explained

You hesitated between yes and no.

“Okay. I’ll be there.” You finally said after a few moments.

Everyone cheered, telling you what time to be there and how excited they were that you’d said yes to going.

Maybe these girls aren’t as bad.

—

You were one of the first ones to arrive at the restaurant, not wanting to be late.

Katie and Caitlin were already there and called you over.

One by one, the team filled the table, a buzz filling the air as everyone chatted to each other.

You sat quietly at the end of the table, having nothing really to say.

“What’re you doing for Christmas, Y/N?” Alessia asked, obviously realising no one was talking to you.

“Nothing much. I’ll probably get a few snacks in and watch some…” you began but soon slowed down your words as you set eyes on someone from across the room.

There, sat your guardian angel, your lifesaver.

“Y/N?” Alessia asked, confused but followed your eyeline to see the woman. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t seen her in months.” You mumbled to yourself but Alessia also heard.

“Who is she?”

“She saved my life.” You responded, not knowing it would lead to you revealing your secret.

“Oh my god…” Alessia whispered, realising it was a big moment for you seeing her again. “Is she a doctor? Were you ill?”

“No.” You shook your head, your eyes not leaving the woman. “My old team, they used to make comments about me. It started with a few - what I thought were harmless - comments but they continued coming. Over message, in the changing rooms, on the pitch. They made me feel like I didn’t belong there - that I didn’t belong on earth. After the match against PSG—” you began

“—The one where you played a few minutes?” Alessia questioned, you nodding in response. “You played incredible that match. You completely turned the game around.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. But after the match in the changing rooms, I got blamed for the loss. My old teammate pushed me to the floor and the rest of them laughed at me. I ended up walking into the rain and walked for miles. I collapsed on this bridge at some point and I decided to go towards the edge. I was counting down in my head. My heart wasn’t racing, I think it was the calmest I’d felt in years. It was what all my teammates wanted so I was going to do them all a favour. I was going to… I was on seven when I heard a voice behind me. It was her. She saved me.” You explained, looking back to Alessia but seeing 25 sets of eyes on you.

Most of the girls had tears in their eyes, your story hitting them hard.

“That’s why it took so long for to come out with you. It wasn’t any of you personally and I’m sorry if it felt like that but I don’t think I can ever trust teammates again.”

“Y/N, don’t say sorry.” Leah’s breathed out, leaning over the table to take your hand in hers. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I know it might take some time to realise but not all teams are like them. If you can, can you please trust us. We want to show you what being in a true team feels like.” Kim told you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“We’re here for you, Y/N. Here at Arsenal, we’re not just a club, we’re a family. Whether you like it or not. Some of us - Kyra - can be annoying sometimes but at the end of the day, we’re a family, and that’s the most important part. We’d like nothing more than to be your family from now on.” Lia added, sending you a smile.

“A family, huh? I think I’d like that.” You said, a smile appearing on your face.

“Enough of that now. That’s your past, it’s time to think about the future. And I’m not having you all alone on Christmas so you’re coming with me to my family on Christmas.” Alessia stated confidently, not giving you any choice.

“Alessia, I can’t, it’s your—”

“Ah, no — remember we’re family.” Alessia told you, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Family.” You whispered quietly, smiling to yourself.

You took another look over to the woman.

She was still talking away to the man she was with but managed to catch your eye.

She sent a wink and a smile over to you.

You took your eyes off her for seconds and when you looked again, she was gone.

You never knew her name, and you didn’t know who she was, but you couldn’t be more grateful.

Not only had she saved your life that night, but she had also brought you a family.

[lameow-l]

so wait… furina is the name of the archon role that “furina” had to play

wouldn’t make more sense narrative wise to give her a name of her own?? like scara gets his own epic chapter about him ridding himself of his past and adopting a new name then proceed to ignore said name in favor of “hat guy” but the actress playing “furina” doesn’t get to be known for her own name?

like people of fontain (partly maybe) know the truth so why not let her free? let her enjoy the simple human life she so so longed for? even the other furina wouldn’t want this

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Housemate is letting one of her rabbits walk around at night again :/

[ellecdc]

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.” 

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore. 

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you. 

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy. 

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. 

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right. 

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet. 

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet. 

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion. 

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off. 

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near. 

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them. 

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely. 

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you. 

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly. 

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you. 

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together. 

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no. 

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms. 

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper. 

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face. 

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month. 

[autisticrosewilson]

It's not that I hate fanon or that I think fanon is inherently less intelligent or morally wrong, but a LOT of fanon is based in racism, misogyny, and classism that I feel like a lot of you accept without question.

WHY is Duke (Daredevil, son of a god, has never once allowed himself to be defined by anyone's actions but his own) relegated to a background role, only characterized by reacting to the whims of other bats?

Why is Babs - Birds of Prey leader and backbone of the hero society, tells Bruce to fuck off and die 4 times a day and is constantly ruining her relationships by being biased and unhinged - Gotham bound, the mature responsible mom of the group who never argues with Bruce and never gets in trouble?

Why is Dick, both a tactical genius and master manipulator, a himbo only appreciated for his sex appeal? Especially when he is both Romani (group of people demonized and condemned as hypersexual by their nature alone) and an SA victim.

WHY is Damian "feral" and "uncivilized" despite being raised as a literal prince? Half of you treat him like a sociopath with no hope of redemption for an unfunny three second joke and the other half of you go full throttle into Bruce's white savior bullshit so that Damian can be "redeemed". Y'know when you're not villainizing Talia and acting like Dick is his other parent, actually.

WHY is Stephanie - extremely intelligent detective who can't stand Bruce and has a living mother she loves - lumped in as another member of the Batfam, a blonde ditz who only cares about prank wars and emotionally supporting Tim?

WHY is Cass - intelligent, a grown adult, suicidal perfectionist - emotionally intelligent, primarily existing to support the characters around her, immediately accepting of everyone she meets regardless of her own morals?

Why is Bruce the golden standard? Enough so that though everyone in the fandom could agree that he's an emotionally unstable wreck, being considered "the most like him" is seen as a compliment and not the HIGHEST insult? Everyone would agree if I said that Bruce purposely self sabotages his relationship half the time and the other half he simply does things without caring about the emotional impact it will have on people because he has to be the smartest in the room, but if I said that makes him a shit partner and emotionally abusive parent the fandom would bend over backwards to argue with me.

Why is Tim "the best Robin" when Dick Grayson invented the mantle, it is impossible for someone to embody the spirit of Robin better than him because he made it and he created what being Robin means. Maybe Tim is the best in Bruce's eyes, but what Robin means and who has the right to give it over was a significant thing they argued about. Tim the high school drop out, and yet also somehow the smartest? Tim "the most like Bruce" except no he's not, that's Cass. Poor neglected, abused, victimized little Timmy (the rich boy at the elite boarding school with loving albeit busy parents and almost every instance of him being victimized by another character has either been racist bullshit - The Al Ghuls and Rose Wilson- or a complete 180 for the character that made no sense when examined through the lens of prior characterization - Jason for instance.)

Almost every fanon trope that gets passed around like gospel seems to deliberately push POC characters and women into the background and strip them of interesting complex traits and stories, usually for the purpose of fitting them all into bite sized incorrect quote character types and uncomplicated narrative roles that are not only completely divergent from canon, but primarily exist to prop up the two rich white boys.

Also the insistence that Bruce, a 20 year old at the time, should actually be excused for how much he mentally and emotionally fucked Dick up because really they're more like siblings! While deciding that Dick at the same age was actually the perfect candidate to be Damian's new parent/guardian...have you lost the fucking plot you don't even make sense to yourselves.

Okay I lied at the beginning, I do hate fanon. You guys are so uncritical about the media you consume it is BEYOND just letting people enjoy things and have fun. I guess it's one thing if you KNOW this stuff isn't canon and UNDERSTAND why these tropes are problematic and you engage with it as such, it's fine read and write what you want, but just spreading the same nonsense around and parading it around as "better than canon" (version of the character so bland and boring you've somehow made the old white men at DC look like geniuses in the art of representation) is just infuriating.

[ramons-elevator]

Bad mentioned on his stream that all the dead eggs lives impacted how different we treat the eggs on the server and I realized that EVERY egg death changed history on the server and how we treat the eggs.

Juanaflippa- Obviously her second death made everyone very weary with the beds (and the admins bc i believe they made the beds harder to break). But her third death with sweeping edge and how everyone needs to be careful around the eggs with swords.

Tilin - Their death kinda goes hand in Juanaflippa about how NOT TO USE SWORDS around the eggs. But also Charlie went into eggxcile because of Tilins death and that snowballed into Gegg. Also helped with Luzu’s character and how he switched to Arin and with the computer/Code.

Chayanne- Technically chayanne lost their first life to neglect BUT the nightmare Phil, chayanne, and Tallulah had i believe introduced ‘nightmares’. Also it made the admins disable some born in chaos mobs and made Philza even more paranoid about the island than he already was.

Bobby - his death was the first permadeath we had since the trio died. It hurt a lot and made Forever realize that his death could have been prevented. Thus making Forever build the Ninho and make everyone very cautious of everything.

Ramon - same with Chayanne’s were his first death was to a Blaze but his nightmare was significant. It made the admins make solid ground rules about certain things and make sure everyone knows the rules about reinforced bases.

Leo- Her death with whales made everyone realized how fucking beefy and super dangerous the whales are. Also that you shouldnt just AFK anywhere. That you should try to be in a safe place before AFKing.

Dapper - His first death was SUPER significant. It made people realize that the code is learning and adapting. Thus made Bad, Forever, Cellbit, and Etoiles go to Luzus computer and explode it. Which lead to Forever getting pieces of the computer and getting the motivation to try to bargain with it. Which lead to Cellbits betrayal and enderchests getting banned. It also gave the most insane book by Cucurcho which is “Perfect for you or for me?”

Richarlyson- His first day nightmare gave us that the eggs have first day immunity. Then his actual death showed us that uhh fuck bulls and that Mike blames himself for Richas death to this day. Also gave us Imortalyson and kinda Richarlyson’s mindset of ‘fuck it we ball’. All he has ever known is one life.

Trumpet - THE MOST IMPORTANT DEATH ON THE FUCKING SERVER HOLY SHIT. Yes Trumpet died from neglect but his death lead to the Theory Bros. For those who dont know, Bad went to Maxs house to comfort him about Trumpets death and one of the ways he tried to get Maxs mind off of Trumpets death is talk about how weird the island is. Thus Bad and Max theorizing about the island and the rest is history. Also it lead to Max and Bad interacting more and kinda making Max talk to more people around the island.

Tallulah - Her nightmare with Phil and Chayanne has significance as stated above. But her death with the Code is significant because it was the first time Forever saw an egg’s death. It deeply upset him and made him a lot more serious about the eggs. Also again made Philza more paranoid.

Pomme- She hasnt died yet but her nightmare I would say is pretty significant. Kinda with Ramons nightmare, it helped give the players, admins, and audience some more rules on things and what the admins can/cant do. It also made everyone realize “Holy shit theres a weapon that does 50000 damage and will one shot you and destroy your armor” which is terrifying on its own.

Everything is so significant on this fucking island and every egg is extra significant to this island. No death is taken in vain. They truly shaped the island and everything we know about it

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[piratefishmama]

Just ONE chance | Part 2

“Are you gonna message him?” It was later in the evening, Rosie was in the living room watching some gameshow while Stevie sat at the kitchen island, having just finished cleaning up after dinner, Robin facing her through her phone, stuffing her face with what looked like French fries.

“Dusty thinks I should but… should I? It doesn’t feel too… I dunno, desperate? Cause I’m not desperate, I could not care less about dating rockstars, in fact before all this the idea of dating a rockstar would have never crossed my m—“

“Stevie” Robin cut her off “if anyone seems desperate right now, it’s him. It ain’t you, nobody in their right mind could think it was you. You were just doing your own damn thing and he cringe-failed so hard he broke the internet. Listen… you don’t have to do shit, EVEN IF Dustin is telling you to. Dustin doesn’t know everything.” Stevie bit her bottom lip in pensive thought, Robin on the other end of the video call stuffed another French fry into her mouth before asking, “do you want to though? That’s the important thing, do you want to?”

“I don’t KNOW, that’s the problem. It’s nice… I guess… to be wanted, but it’s not just about me anymore.” It was about Rosie. Stevie’s life wouldn’t be the only life impacted if she took that chance. Maybe if she were younger, maybe if she didn’t have Rosie things would be different, maybe she’d have been wild and jumped at it, but she had Rosie, and Rosie mattered way more to her than anything a stranger on the internet could give her.

“It’s a little bit about you, Stevie, and it’s okay to let it be about you. You’ve spent literal years putting yourself on the back burner, even Mike got hitched before you, like who called that?” Nobody. Nobody called that, even though he and Will had been dancing around each other since kindergarten, nobody would have called that. “We both know Billy wouldn’t have wanted you to be on your own like this either.”

“What if he’s weird about Rosie?”

“Then he hits the road, simple. I heard he’s good with kids though.” Stevie offered a look, a simple unimpressed raised brow “Whaaatt, okay fine I looked him up when I saw it all blowing up, call it me doing my sisterly duty. He’s weird, but in a harmless opossum kind a way, y’know? Like he probably scampers or something.”

“What about like… drugs… alcohol… shit I don’t want around Rosie?”

“According to his Wiki page, the whole band an issue with addiction in the early days, toxic music label, it was a huge legal mess, they all went to rehab, cut their old label an they’ve all been clean and sober since. Knowing you, like I do… I really do think you’d like him, and Rosie would love him too, He’s very… I dunno…”

Vickie, Robin’s fiancée, chose that exact moment to shove her face into view of the camera to announce, “He’s like a mix between Billy and Dustin, a suuuper-hot, but a huge nerd, you’d like him, definitely.”

A weird mix of Billy and Dustin. What a wild mental image.

“So you’re both on Dustin’s side then. I should message him?”

“It’s not our place to tell you what to do” Robin shrugged, she couldn’t tell her what to do, but she could offer a helpful suggestion of “maybe ask Rosie, she’s the only reason you’re hesitating and she’s old enough now to at least have an opinion, right?” Stevie looked toward the living room, where the glow of the TV bounced off the walls, Rosie’s laughter echoing from the other room.

“She already knows somethings up, Stevie, kids talk in school” Vickie reminded them “and Eddie’s… pretty famous, Corroded Coffin aren’t exactly unknown, an you’re not exactly unknown online either, someone’s bound to have mentioned it to her by now.” If the kids hadn’t, Dustin probably would eventually just to get her on his side before Stevie could get her on hers.

“Fine. But if this all blows up in my face, i’m revoking both your lunch privileges, for life.”

“What?! N—” Stevie cut their unison attempt to argue off with a well-timed click of the end call button, put her phone face down on the island top so she could ignore the incessant buzzing of them attempting to dial back, and made her way to the living room, where someone just face planted into a lovely pool of mud on the TV. Good ol gameshow night.

“Rosie…?” No time like the present. “Can we talk?”

It wasn’t often that Stevie interrupted gameshow night, usually they’d be watching it together, but Stevie had had other things on her mind, other much more pressing things that people didn’t seem to want to let die.

She was prepared to let them die, let this be a weird story of her ‘youth’ that she’d remember some day in a nursing home, a story nobody would believe but she’d swear blind happened!

A rockstar thought she was hot enough to send the internet into a meltdown one time. It happened, she swore it!

It wouldn’t die though. Not until she either told everyone to drop it, or entertained it.

“Sure, but uhm… if this is about the Eddie Munson thing—” she turned away from the TV to look at her mom “Uncle Dusty warned me about it way in advance, got me just before school started this morning.” Probably saved her from being ambushed about it by the kids at school. “It’s cool! He’s really cool, I mean, he’s super weird, huge nerd but… he seems nice”

Meddling little shit. Stevie took a breath, accepted this information, decided to deal with it later, and just powered through. “And you don’t think it’s unrealistic for everyone to think this is real?”

“It’s definitely real, mom. Uncle Dusty found his private account on your followers list, he’s been following you for aaaaaages,”

“Most people call that stalking.” How did Dustin even find it among the mass of others? Had Eddie been that obvious? Or was Dustin just that good?

“In the old days maybe! It’s almost romantic nowadays. You should message him, before Uncle Dusty does, cause he will. We both know he will.” Dustin had been uncomfortably absent all day since bursting in without warning. Stevie hadn’t even thought of it as a red flag until Rosie mentioned it ought to be. “It’s time, mom. It’s okay.”

“You’re really okay with it? It’s not crazy?”

“Oh, it’s SUPER crazy, but it’s a cool crazy, my mom’s gonna date thee Eddie Munson cause he begged you to, it’s the best kind of nuts, I wonder if he’d teach me how to play guitar…”

Had Eddie Munson actually asked anyone before he opened those DM’s, anyone at all, because he didn’t really consult the band as to what he was going to DO on the band's accounts, they’d have probably told him not to do that.

And they’d have been correct!

Because everyone and their mother, and even some fathers, decided to shoot a shot they never had!

He didn’t just get one DM, no, he got… many. Many. People messaged asking for autographs, merch, people asked for tickets, some offered themselves if Stevie didn’t message, some offered to DRESS UP as Stevie for him, a few went with Eddie’s own plan simply messaging with a plea for just ONE chance for themselves.

For hours. Hours. He scrolled through those messages.

Sure, he could have gotten someone to do it for him, but he’d done everything else on the account by himself, so he’d tackle the DMs too. He’d delete them, one by one, everything that wasn’t relevant to his quest, making sure to view each one, even if they did surprise him in their creativity, because what if she had a private account like he did? What if she actually recognised her popularity and created a tiny incognito safe haven from it all like he did?

She didn’t though.

She didn’t have one.

She didn’t need one.

At least that was what he gathered at the end of the long list of DMs, she didn’t have a private, she just had her main one, and she hadn’t sent him anything from it.

He knew it was a long shot, he could have had all the fame and fortune in the world, it wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t interested in it all and she clearly didn’t seem to be if what Chrissy had said was true. She didn’t do sponsored posts; she wasn’t aiming for fame and fortune. She lived a comfortable life with her kid, and just happened to be popular on the internet.

She didn’t owe him anything, he didn’t deserve an answer, he—

Bzzt-bzzt

He snatched his phone right back up lightning fast, swiped down the notifications bar, and with wide eyes read the first line of the message he’d been sent,

“PLEASE HEAR ME OUT I’M STEVIE’S BROTHER, DUSTIN.”

Eddie wasn’t about to claim Stevie didn’t have a brother. He didn’t know if Stevie had a brother, just that Stevie had a sister because the sister, Robin, had turned up in a video once, bursting in on a live in the early days to accidentally announce to the world that ‘Vickie’ was now single.

It could be a trick, it could be a way in, it could be literally anything, what Eddie knew for sure though, was that it was the closest he’d gotten to potentially speaking to Stevie.

So, he did the only thing he could think of.

He replied, “prove it.”

The reply came through quickly, almost like this mysterious brother was waiting by the phone in hopes Eddie would be there to receive his message. It was a photo of a polaroid. Grainy as it was, it was clearly a younger, frankly stunning Stevie with a barely-there baby bump, reaching back to a guy who was leaning over her with a ridiculously stacked sandwich, she looked happy, she looked lovestruck, she glowed, and for a moment, jealousy struck him as if he were some childish teenager.

This was likely her child’s father, the one who was no longer in the picture for some unknown reason. She’d never disclosed why. He looked happy too though so… there were more questions than answers at that point.

Plus, the Polaroid had a scrawled “Stevie domesticated Satan” on the white part with a little devil face so, many questions, very few answers.

With the image, however, came the caption “I took this when she was pregnant with Rosie, it’s the last photo we have of Billy, Rosie’s dad.”

Rosie… Stevie had a little girl.

Another photo followed, this one of Stevie and a younger boy with curly hair, the kid all dressed up in a brown suit, hair done up to the nines, probably for some kind of party. No pregnancy in sight, they were both beaming at the camera, the kid with an awful lot of metal in his mouth but, adorable. The Polaroid had “Snowball!!!” scribbled on the white part, followed by a message reading “my mom took tons of photos of us for the Snowball dance back when I was in middle school, Stevie helped me do my hair” so the kid was supposed to be this ‘brother’ of hers.

A final photo was sent, this one clearer, obviously taken on a phone of what looked like a grade graduation ceremony, a more recent image of Stevie, with her daughter, and an older version of the kid from the snowball picture. Captioned with the message “only family could get so many family pictures!” 

The next message came through without a photo “we’re not related by birth, she was my babysitter for years before circumstances got her adopted by my mom. I’m oversharing a lot and she’s probably gonna kick my ass for it BUT I think she’d like you if she gave you a chance so I’m building a bridge of communication!”

Oh yeah, this guy had meddling little brother energy for days.

Eddie quickly typed back, “thanks for your vote of confidence, man but she isn’t giving me a chance here, you are, it’s not up to anyone but her.”

Typing—typing—tyyyyyping “she just doesn’t know you, an she’s hesitating cause of Rosie, I could probably get you a meet up though!”

“What like, ambushing her in the wild?”

“It’d work!”

“Sounds like it’d get me slapped by both her, and a restraining order an neither are good for my public image, or my feelings.” He then quickly added, before ‘Dustin’ could argue “Listen dude as much as I appreciate this, an I do, I’m real touched by your approval, it means the world to me, at the end of the day, it’s up to her. You can’t make this decision for her, alright?”

The typing stopped, then started again, and then stopped. Then finally “fine, but can you leave your DMs open for a little longer? She’s got Rosie to consider so she may just need to think about it a bit longer.”

“Deal.” He’d leave them open for one more day, after that he’d just have to accept the loss, accept that she didn’t want him, cause she sure as shit didn’t need him, and move on with his life.

Dustin sent him one last emoji, a little salute, and that was that for the rest of the night. There were a few more pings, opportunists, but nothing from the person who mattered most. He deleted them, switched his phone to silent, and took his disappointed little self to bed.

It wasn’t that late but, he was done for the day.

He was tired.

[idkfitememate]

Mora is a God’s Best Friend Pt. 1

♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Mora Reader x Liyue

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 4.6k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, crack, reader is slightly angry, only slightly tho I promise :)

Now, you wouldn’t say you were a greedy person… which would be a huge lie because holy shit you were compared to a dragon by your friends more times than your own mother said she loved you-

When you got your paycheck - which was a very handsome paycheck mind you - you hoarded that to the best of your abilities, but when you saw something you had to have? Bought. Spent all your cash on it.

… You have to many plushies-

You weren’t exactly an avid believer in the whole “money makes the world go around!” thing, but it certainly helped. Like, have you seen how happy Elon Musk is? That bitch living the life and you want that too.

But despite your adoration to money…

THAT DID NOT MEAN YOU WANTED TO BE IT!!

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂��🍰୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

When you woke up from a nice nap after a long day of hard labor- I mean work, you couldn’t see. You also couldn’t feel your arms or legs or… well anything in general that one would say when describing their body.

You did have your five core senses though, which is nice. Well… minus sight-

You couldn’t move, and whenever you would scream the people you heard around you - their voices were muffled… were you in a pouch?? - did nothing to help.

You continued for what you assumed to be hours, never once paying mind to the fact that you never got hungry or thirsty or ran out of breath. Then you felt warmth.

Something large and warm wrapped around your form which scared the shit out of you because as far as you were concerned, you were still very human sized. You continued to scream into the darkness as you listened to the… transaction (???) going on above you and-

Wait a minute. You recognized that voice.

A lot of your money went to Genshin Impact in your day, you were what was known in the fandom as a “whale”, did I mention you got payed handsomely?

Yeah it was enough the basically be a sugar parent for all your friends.

So you heavily related to a certain character who was constantly characterized as helping another with his money problems.

Can you guess who it is?

I’ll give you five seconds to guess!

5…

4…

3…

2… fuck it I hate the suspense-

It was Childe!

And hearing his voice above you shattered what you may have thought was happening to you. Yes you may or may not have thought you were being kidnapped-

You then felt yourself get placed on another warm surface and oh god-

“All repairs will be made in a timely manner! Thank you for the patronage!”

You flipped through the air with a small ‘whoosh’ and landed back in the hand.

… WERE YOU FUCKING MORA?????

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍭🍫🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Being merged to a weapon wasn’t fun.

Well at the very least you weren’t “merged” with a weapon. For some reason the blacksmith couldn’t find a way to use your specific mora body to upgrade Childe’s bow.

So there you sat as a glorified decoration. Right on the front of the bow.

But you did find something out, the second you felt yourself attach to the bow, you could suddenly see! And you could very tell that you were in Liyue, which made sense. And when you coughed on accident, the blacksmith jumped and looked around, before shrugging and turning back to her work, which meant you could now be heard as well!

All five senses back baby!

Only shitty thing was that you couldn’t move on your own, and you now noticed you were no longer hungry nor need to breathe, as well as sleep.

So you were stuck.

For four days.

Unable to speak or move.

I mean, you were still figuring out your existence yourself, no need to get anyone else involved with the process since you were beyond confused.

You’ve read the Isekai stories - and fanfics - but you had never read one personally about being isekaied as money. Yes, you have seen the vending machine one. And the one where he gets turned into a dummy ASMR head mic-

Not the point!

You were just trying to figure out how to… exist (?) like this. Which was pretty hard when coming to terms with the fact that you’d never eat your favorite foods again.

Never again…

“Thank you so much for choosing our services sir! Have a nice day!”

You were suddenly picked up and placed in the gentle care of Childe - ironic sentence I know - and off you both went.

You want to know what a weird sensation is?

Being a bow and feeling someone pluck your string.

Now yeah, that sounds super sensual but it felt more like someone… pulling your hair?? You couldn’t really place it but that was honestly the closest equivalent. Feeling him rub his hands all up and down your… body (?????) was a new experience to. Again, not sensual, just ticklish? And it sucked trying not to giggle-

God this was weird and confusing.

“Well I’m free for some time… I’m sure a little practice won’t hurt…”

Oh good god you could not catch a break.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍧🍮🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

A new fear had been unlocked within you.

You, a piece of mora crudely attached to a psychopathic killers bow, had just been de-summoned.

And it hurt.

BAD.

No one will ever know what that was like, the feel yourself fading, every atom slowly falling away into nothingness, and then the silence. That cursed silence. Deep dark blackness was what you felt for what appeared to be thousands of years to your still human brain.

Never again would allow yourself to feel that pain.

As you were summoned, you continued to stare off into the distance, coming to terms with what you had just witnessed while ignoring every word that came out of Childe’s mouth.

Something or other about practicing you couldn’t give a shit.

You only watched the changing scenery around you as you and Childe wandered aimlessly through a forest.

Then he dropped to his knees suddenly, which cause you to silently curse and sputter in shock.

Did you mention you got good at that? Being silent? Because you did.

Being that you were placed on the front of the bow, you could see perfectly where he was aiming, that being a small bird that you had to squint - how you squinted? You don’t know - to see.

It was ridiculously far away, covered in leaves. You were also slightly scared because Childe was being silent.

Childe. Silent.

Not two words you ever expected to put into the same sentence - again - but here you were.

You felt the bow string being pulled back, and him lining up the shot.

Then, you felt something course through you.

Obviously it was the Hydro infused arrow he knocked onto the string, but something else flowed through you.

You could feel yourself reaching, trying to connect with something to better control this sudden power flow, and then you found a great source.

His Hydro Vision.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍡🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Childe was a seasoned soldier and fighter, literally anyone who met him could tell you that.

He kept that fact near and dear to his heart, that fact being why he fought so hard, to become stronger and finally find that fight that would be the end of him.

He longed for the day where he would be strong enough to fight his mentor, and weak enough to die at someone who he saw worthy enough to end his stories and legacy.

… Legacy was such a funny word to the man as all he could think of when it was spoken was his second, stronger form, Foul Legacy. Ironically, that’s what he though historians would call his stories in the far future - he would never admit how close it was due to the Electro Delusion that sapped away at his life, slower due to his strength but sucking away his soul nonetheless - would call it, a Foul Legacy.

He was self-aware enough to understand that people hated him, yet oblivious enough to leave his family in the hands of The Rooster, a man known for leveling cites before they even had the chance to riot against himself and the Tsaritsa.

He was complex in the same way he was so easy to understand.

Just as how he allowed the world to see his Vision but kept his Delusion hidden.

Just recently he had gotten his bow repaired after a… well not a hard mission more so than it was annoying.

And by the Archons it was beautiful! Any and all scratches and marks had been repaired, a new layer of pain was an added, a stronger string was restrung into it and just… mmm she was beautiful.~

The finishing touch was the little golden emblem stuck directly on the front. So shiny and pretty…

He just had to take it for a test run!

Nothing too big or anything, just a little hunting as he hadn’t indulged himself recently. Just a couple small birds or mammals nothing anyone would notice.

… No that isn’t a human corpse nu uh ya stupid-

Besides that wasn’t with his bow! That was with his blades it doesn’t count!

But anyway, he quickly spotted his first target of the day, a little finch, and aimed.

He noted that his bow, while still heavy, felt much more sturdy and the current string was stronger than his last, most likely due to the whole “new string” thing rather than being better because that old string had weathered a lot.

He quickly knocked his first arrow and took a silent breath in, calming his shaking hands and the butterflies in his stomach. Of course neither were from fear or nervousness rather than they were from excitement and dare I say ecstasy. A smile forceably carved itself into him skin as he watched how easily Hydro infused itself with his arrow.

Though almost immediately after, he felt a sudden surge of power coming from not him nor the arrow, but the bow itself.

Specifically the small golden piece sitting front and center.

This was either an unknown or well known fact depending on who you asked, but the bow was Childe’s worst used weapon. He was much more skilled with a blade - like his duel Hydro blades or the duel-bladed polearm he wielded as Foul Legacy - and he even had some experience with a catalyst, but bows just seemed so.. cowardly. Even with his catalyst he was near to his opponents as its attacks were based on his fighting style, but he personally believed that bows were for the cowardly.

Those who wanted to fight but were too weak to even dare step foot onto a battlefield.

At least that’s what he thought before Capitano shoved a bow into his arms as he complained about needing something more to do. A new challenge.

And it opened his eyes.

Bows were not for the weak rather that they were for the stealthy. Something Childe was not the best at.

He was honestly more of a ‘punch more and talk later’ kind of guy. But the bow was forcing him to learn and grow, which was more than welcome in his book.

But this power was not something he had accessed yet. Hell, he’s barely felt anything like it with any other of his weapons. Closest he has ever gotten to this kind of power would be with Foul Legacy, and even then it’d be a stretch.

He’d even have the gall to say he could never feel this kind of power from his Master.

He watched as the area he sat in was bathed in a blue glow was his Vision and the arrow he still held grew brighter and brighter. With that, a gold shined through as the small golden piece on his bow - which now that he looked closer looked almost exactly like a piece of mora, just with the details buffered out - also glowed.

He couldn’t remember picking up any kind of ‘enchanted’ mora, just one random one he found on the roads right outside of Liyue.

It didn’t seem off in anyway-

His thoughts were cut off as Hydro swirled faster and stronger around him, knocking him off his knees and onto his ass, his grip on the arrow and bow tightening.

All the animals ran - of course including the small finch he was aiming for - from the sounds and lights, and something deep and primal inside of him wanted to run as well.

Something screamed that he wasn’t supposed to see this, to feel this.

Something was wrong.

Soon enough he couldn’t keep his grip on the arrow.

He let go.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍫🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Everything was a blur to you.

All you knew was that you had to let go of this build up of power.

You had to.

Something bad would happen if you didn’t and god damn it you weren’t about to find out.

You truly, desperately, just wanted to go home.

The songs of narwhals and whales comforted you.

‘You will be okay’ they sang.

You would be okay.

Just let go.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍪🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

People in the city watched in shock as a forest not too far from the harbor became a light show of Hydro and golden light.

Small animals and creatures ran towards the city, this including monsters, but nothing stopped to attack. In fact, it seemed like everything was too scared to even consider attacking.

Ningguang and her guards quickly ran outside to asses the situation, meeting up with fellow Vision Holders on the edge of the city.

However, Xingqiu and Yelan seemed… out of it. And on top of that, Childe - though he wasn’t her favorite he was strong and could be of help - was no where to be found.

“Does anyone have a grasp on the situation?” Nigguang asked, only to receive shaken heads and no’s.

“I tried to get close,” started Xiao, “But something knocked me back. I was able to hear the Harbinger’s screams from inside, and from what I could gather, he doesn’t seem to be the… direct cause.” Despite what he said, Xiao seemed a bit upset at the fact that Childe wasn’t the true cause, likely just wanting an excuse to beat him up a little.

The Geo ridden Lady huffed befit finally turning her attention to the two Hydro users who seemed entranced by the lights.

“What are you-“

“They call to us.” Xingqiu cut her off.

“They sing for us.” Yelan finished.

Nigguang looked back to everyone else who simply shrugged, before noticing Zhongli also looked out of it, though before she could get a word out, he also spoke.

“It’s so calming… I have not felt true peace like this in…”

He didn’t even finish his sentence. His eyes, unlike the two Hydro users, were entranced by the golden lights that highlighted the light show.

Nigguang’s face was filled with confusion. Though she shook it off.

And again, before she could give out any orders, she was interrupted.

Though not by anyone, but by the lights themselves.

A flash of blue light blinded the group.

Then, the song of a group of narwhals and whales filled the sky.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍮🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Blue and gold light enveloped near all of Liyue, the show being noticeable by all surrounding nations, Mondstadt especially.

And the air filled with the song of Narwhal and Whale alike.

A miracle of All-Devouring Narwhals and All-Encompassing Whales swam into the sky, dancing through the clouds.

They flew gently over Liyue, the nation having been stunned into shock and stillness over the whole situation.

Nigguang watched with bated breath as they sailed by the Jade Palace, only exhaling when they passed with not problem.

Keqing watched from beside Nigguang, mesmerized at the trail of celestial power flowing behind them.

Xiao rushed up buildings in order to get closer, but was knocked back by the sheer force of their power, though he was caught by a worried Ganyu. Both landed by an armed-and-ready Shenhe, who was more than ready to attack if need be.

Xingqiu and Yelan simply stared up at the miracle, their Visions resonating with Hydro energy they released. They felt empowered, and could feel the pure raw and unfiltered strength rolling off them in waves. They wanted to be close to that power. Wanted to feel that power.

Something deep inside them wanted that power.

Everyone in the city watched as the miracle flew just above their homes and businesses, making their presence all the more apparent as they bathed the golden city in royal blue.

This continued until a small bird was dumb enough to try and take flight to get away.

This bird being the one Childe had targeted- not that anyone knew.

The Whales and Narwhals corralled the bird, forcing it to fly higher and higher into the clouds, and it wasn’t long before all ginormous creatures followed behind it.

Then an even brighter flash of blue echoed across the skyline, small star-like glitters falling to Teyvat then fading from existence before they could touch its surface. A small amount of feathers followed after.

Nigguang could feel her jaw drop.

All that… to kill a bird?????

… She was going to need a week off just to comprehend what had just happened.

Keqing pat the woman on the back, sighing in tiredness as well.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Childe may have had something to do with this… event. Gods the paperwork she was about to be loaded with…

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍬🍯🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Childe had figured out what primal instinct had led him to hide in the cave he was currently tucked in.

Foul Legacy.

He had yet to really tell anyone, but due to his time in the Abyss and its creation, it was safe to say it pretty much had a mind of its own. Which wasn’t bad as it would help him to doge attacks or alert him of presences he may not have noticed himself, but the shrieking and crying he heard from it deep in his soul was enough to tell him that this whole situation was wrong.

Nothing about what just happened should have been… well it shouldn’t have happened to say anything.

He could still hear it, resonating deep inside his soul, Electro cracking out whenever he heard a noise he couldn’t identify.

It was protecting him.

As he would for it.

He didn’t dare draw another arrow from the bow in his grasp, not until he learned what the fuck just happened. Including the fact that for some odd reason, he desperately wanted to just… stare(?) at the Narwhals and Whales until they disappeared, luckily Foul Legacy snapped him right out of that and told him to find shelter.

He did have his Hydro blades out, however, patiently waiting till he - and Foul Legacy - felt safe enough to exit.

A sudden loud caw of a bird made him flinch - not his proudest moment - and kick the bow to the side. What he wasn’t expecting was the loud string of curses that came from… the… bow..?

So now it was pinned to the wall by one blade and a foot, the other blade pointed directly at… it? There were no weak points on a bow..?

…Were there..?

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮���🍪୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

This is not what you wanted.

First, you get isekaied against your will; you didn’t even remember how you supposedly DIED… if you DID die anyway…

Two, you were reincarnated as MONEY. FUCKING MONEY. How does that… who comes up with that??? A fucking high schooler who has nothing better to do than write shitty fanfiction????

And finally, three… HE KICKED YOU!!! WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO THREATEN YOU?!?

You didn’t understand your powers, what the FUCK just happened, why Hydro just… became?? you??? And why on gods green earth you had to be MORA. You’re never gonna get over that you became MORA???? Like??? Really??????? Money????? You mean, you love the stuff but COME ON-

Jesus fuckin’-

Huffing at the man before you, you finally decided speak to this bitch before you because how dare he.

“Listen here-“

You were cut off by the blade moving closer to your body(??????) and Childe growling - yes. Growling - at you.

“No you listen. I don’t know what you are but what in the name of the Tsaritsa was that?”

If only this man could see your eye twitch.

“No how about YOU listen? I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I plan on figuring it out now could you PLEASE MOVE YOUR DAMN BLADES FROM MY FACE?!?!? God…”

The Hydro blades slowly removed themselves from your face, as did the boot. But you were then picked up by the man, held shockingly gently in his grip.

“What… are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I… I honestly don’t know how to answer that question. But I’m pretty sure I’m that little Mora piece on the front.” You answered. You forced yourself to calm down. This wasn’t his fault, just so happened to be the guy who picked you up… this was going to be a mantra for a while…

“Oh… so your this little thing right here?” You felt his fingers wrap around you - and you mean your real body - and pull. Fear immediately filled your being.

“Wait! WAIT!-“ He tugged you right out, rendering you silent.

When he pulled you out, your body glowed and you reverted back to looking like a regular piece of mora. Engravings and all.

You, meanwhile, were screaming your head off, as you now knew that if removed from a weapon, you’d just be a regular ass piece of money again. Immediately you mind started racing, wondering as to way, and the only thing you could come up with was the Elemental Energy, but lore wasn’t really your strong suit… you just liked the pretty women and men…

You felt yourself gently being pressed into the slot carved for you in his bow, and started talking again.

“NEVER! Do that again, please. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t do that. You know how terrifying it is to be able to see and speak then move a couple inches and no longer be able to see or have others hear you? Fucking horrifying I’ll tell you that…” you watched the man shiver before sighing.

“Noted. Um… anything else I should be made aware of before I ask anymore questions?”

You jumped on the opportunity.

“Whenever I am apart of your weapons. Don’t. De. Summon. Them. Hurts like hell. Ever felt your molecules beings torn apart bit by bit? Not fun, don’t recommend it.” Again, Childe shivered.

“Now… you really don’t know what that was out there?” He asked again, and you sighed.

“I wish I did. I’ll admit, I was thinking of that one move you use as Foul Legacy where you summon a Whale… and a bit of your master…”

You watched as Childe’s eyes lit up.

“You know of Foul Legacy? And of my Master?” Then his eyes darkened.

“How do you know of them..?” You shivered… as well as money can shiver anyway.

“Uhm… magic?” You asked, a noticeable tilt in your voice.

His glare then lightened up.

“Oh! Like… when you attach to a weapon, you suddenly gain a bunch of knowledge on that person?” Holy shit he just gave you a way out!

“Uh… yeah! Yeah that’s exactly what it is! You figured it out! Sorry I was uh… hesitant. Just didn’t want to reveal all my secrets, you know?” Holy shit. Holy fuck. Please work please work-

“That’s really amazing! A magical piece of mora… with the ability to make your attacks beyond that of a God’s… heheheh…”

Oop. Shit. That was not good.

“Listen. I’m not going to do anything for you without my consent, you got that? I’m not even here of my own free will mind you. Just gained sentience in your bag and all of a sudden I’m a bow. This is going to be a symbiotic relationship or I’m finding someone else, alright?” You spoke up, not even hiding the fact that you were… well a little more than concerned with what he just said.

“… What are you going to do if I don’t respect your wishes?” Shit fuck shit fuck-

“… I will scream next time you use me.”

And into a standstill you both sat.

He stared at you and he could feel you glaring into him. It was probably weird feeling a bow glare into him. New feeling he never thought he’d feel before.

“… Alright. Taking someone’s free will isn’t really something I do anyway. So don’t be fearful… comrade?” Was he asking your name..?.. Eh. Comrade is nice and you don’t feel like giving it out so meh.

“Comrade works. And uhm… yeah.” Welp that was awkward. Good job 👍🏾!

The two of you continued to stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“So… what’s your favorite dish?”

“I can’t eat asshole-“

“Childe!”

The mentioned man whipped his head in the direction of the call, honestly scaring you with how fast it moved - you are a hundred percent sure you heard a crack.

By the covered entrance of the cave stood Nigguang, Keqing, Zhongli and both Hydro Vision users. Nigguang was the one to call him.

“What are enough doing out here? Do you have any idea was caused… whatever that was?? And - as much as I hate to ask - are you alright?” She was firing questions out at an extreme speed, making both you and Childe dizzy.

“Uhm… I was hunting, I… haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about! And yes , I am okay. Thank you for asking?” You knew he sucked ass a lying but like… how did that sound convincing in anyway?? The hesitation just made it worse!-

“You haven’t the foggiest clue, you say…” Keqing asked while glaring at the ginger. Ed She Ran lookin’ headass-

“Yep! No idea, not the slightest idea, definitely wasn’t my bow or the enchanted mora on it! Nope not at all.”

The group looked at him, and he looked at them.

They looked at him, and he looked at them.

They looked at him, and he looked at them.

And this went on for several minutes before this super smart man said:

“Yep, not me at all.”

And before anyone coup ask questions you groaned, forcing all attention into yourself before tearing him a new one.

“You dumb motherfucker! “I haven’t the foggiest idea😢” my ass!”

“How did you say that?-“

“Shut your bitchass up before I sew it shut. I should beat your ass for that. How they fuck you gonna say some shit like that and expect them to just go “Oh okay!😚” like some dumbass?”

“No really how-“

“I will slap the stupid outta you don’t fucking test me ginger bitch. Fatherless. That’s why your father sold you ass off it’s cause you so DAMN stupid, Jesus.”

“Mora?”

“What do you fucking want you cunt.”

“… We’re still in front of people.”

“… I will not hesitate to shoot all of you-“

… Nigguang was going to have so much paperwork tonight.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER MORA!READER LETS GIVE IT UP FOR MORA!READER!!!!! ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

They’re here you guys!!!! Get happy get wild!!!! Holy shit that ending was mild!!! I hate it!!! Anyway-

This is gonna SAGAU because… meh. But that doesn’t matter! Their here! But I’m not done yet, next thing on my checklist is humanizing the animals (Main ones) so I’ll be be radio silent for a bit again lmao (unless I choose to post shit which is very likely-) ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Mora!Reader! More is, of course, on the way! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Have a magnificent day/night my dears!~

/)/)

( . .)

c( づ♡ Loves you guys!! <3

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eighteen

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy and violent at points. please read the cw/tw's carefully in order to make the best informed decision regarding your mental ability to handle such heavy topics.

cw/tw: angst, violence, torture (gore), (light) fluff, ptsd episode, character being triggered, and references to childhood sexual assault

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist + story playlist

words: 10k

Solana knows Roman well.

She knew to start off the letter the way she did, asking for him to be open minded, because she knew exactly what his answer would be. 

No.

It’s the same answer he still has even after her logical explanation. It’s a selfish thing. He’s a selfish bastard at heart because despite her being vulnerable about her mental state and making a solid point, he still wants and plans to say no. 

Still plans come and take her home in a week.

And while he has his reasoning, believing that she can continue her healing outside of some mental facility, it’s also for his own good. He just wants her home. He wants to not have the house be so quiet and empty. To not have to be reminded of her absence in everything from the lack of the aroma of her delicious cooking to Dulce yelping and whimpering whenever he walks in the door home from work without Solana beside him.

He just misses her, and he wants her home. 

He understands where she’s coming from and agrees she could benefit from continuing to talk to someone, to definitely stay on medication. 

But, those things can continue without her being away from home.

There’s also the matter of safety. Yes, Roman went above and beyond what was probably necessary to ensure she has a copious amount of protection, but that’s still not as safe as her being with him.

And he’s almost certain that the facility she’s talking about is the same one Stratus mentioned to him. The place that’s an hour away.

That’s too fucking far.

From their home, Roman can make it to the hospital in ten minutes, if need be. 

Solana being an hour away from him just isn’t a fucking option.

He needs her…..she needs to be close to him.

He’ll just have to help her understand that. 

But, all of that is easy. 

What’s not easy is the other major takeaway from her letter.

I love you, Ro.

In all of his thinking, perhaps overthinking, regarding his thoughts and feelings about his wife, never did it really occur to him that she could feel the same. He knew she cared about him. She’s said as such to him before. But, for whatever reason, he never allowed himself to imagine that she could love him.

And that she could love him without expecting anything in return. Because she believes him incapable of loving her because of his own trauma, and that’s not entirely wrong. 

He does love her.

Fuck, he loves the living shit out of her.

But, he can’t act on it.

Even with this unexpected twist. Her loving him, which fucks with his head too. The why of it. 

There’s not a lot to love, if he’s being honest.

He protects her. Keeps her safe. Gives her that safe space. Beyond that, there’s not really anything else. 

Her standards must be so low. 

Regardless, Roman can’t allow this new piece of information to change or impact his decision.

He can’t openly reciprocate her feelings.

Even….even if he sure as hell feels the same. It’s too risky. Too dangerous. 

He just can’t.

Roman may love her, but he can never tell her he loves her.

It just has to be this way.

________

Ryan Alexander

Tyler Hawkins

Two men whose lives have been intertwined in various ways in the almost 60 years they’ve walked this earth. It started with a meeting in college, both men playing for the same baseball team, having a few of the same classes together, even pledging to the same fraternity. 

They would end up in the same graduating class and go on to open up their own private security company that offered protective services for upscale clientele. Celebrities, athletes, even politicians.

But…..for the right amount of money, they could do more than just protect lives.

They could take them too. 

The company easily and quickly made its name  known through the right or maybe wrong places. Information falling in the lap of parties who were less interested in safety and more interested in murder.

It’s how Xavier Miller got in touch with them. How Solana’s father hired them to take out his wife and daughter after learning of her plan to run away and steal his children away from him, more his son than anything. He really didn’t give a shit about Solana.

Never did. 

It was why when the hit failed to take out both Nina and Solana, Xavier was able to negotiate so that instead of paying the remaining debt due after the deposit. He got them to agree to slash it in half, leaving him owing 250k. The problem was as it always has been though. Xavier lacks vision, lacks long-term vision. He didn’t think about how finances could change for the negative between the time he made the deal and when payment would be due.

Because when that day arrived, he lacked the sufficient funds. But while Xavier may lack good financial and investment knowledge, he makes up for it in craftiness. 

He formed a new deal. One that truly gave all three men a win-win. Xavier’s debt would be cleared, and Ryan and Alexander would be able to enjoy indulging in one of their favorite sexual pastimes. A privilege they can usually only pursue when traveling overseas where child sex slavery runs a lot more rampant and unregulated. 

By luck though, they got their fill domestically in the form of an innocent, 12 year-old little girl. 

A virgin. 

Xavier’s daughter.

Solana Miller

Now known as Solana Reigns, the wife of the infamous Roman Reigns. The same man who Ryan and Tyler have no idea has been behind the absolute hell they’ve been through in the past almost two weeks. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, subjected to an unauthorized but ultimately approved (by Roman) beating by Jimmy and Jey before they were reunited with Xavier’s ain’t shit ass who had also received a long overdue beating from both Roman and the twins.

That beating, however, was nothing compared to the beginning stages of their demise, a version and level of hell only few experience, but something these fuckers have front seats for. 

Roman is methodical with his torture, and this might be the most determined he’s ever been to maximize pain. 

He’s going to ensure they only take their last breath when he feels it’s time, when he’s exhausted any and all ways to extend their life in order to extend their suffering.

And while many would think it started with the beatings, that’s far too simple, too easy. And Roman is neither of those things. He’s calculated and borderline sadistic when the occasion calls for it, and there’s not been a more deserving occasion for him to act on his dark, evil impulses than this. 

So, it was only fitting that all three men, the rapists and the son of a bitch who organized it all, know exactly what it’s like to experience what they put Solana through. 

And that’s exactly what Roman organized. Having all three men dumped and left defenseless in a maximum security prison. Whatever happened, fucking happened. 

And judging by the battered, stunned, borderline traumatized expressions on their cut, brusied faces, exactly what Roman wanted them to experience is precisely what they fucking got. 

For almost two weeks straight.

Jimmy and Jey toss the three men down on the ground before Roman before moving to stand behind him on either side. 

“Ya’ll like fucking little girls, don’t you?” Jimmy sneers, Roman not even needing to look at his cousin to know he’s livid. “So what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

“Don’t like it when your assess the ones on the receiving end, huh?” Jey taunts. Fitting. 

But, now…..now it’s time for the real pain to begin. Roman lifts his hand to signify his desire from silence. The twins go quiet almost immediately. 

The Tribal Chief turns up his nose as Ryan spits up blood onto the concrete floor. Granted, it won’t make much of a difference. When Roman is done with them, the room will be bathed red. 

He steps forward. 

“August 7th, 2005 and September 8th, 2007.” Roman shrugs and asks the men, “what’s significant about these dates?” When he doesn’t receive an answer, he takes his gun and aims it for Tyler, emptying the bullet into his knee. The man howls in pain and begins to cry. Roman scowls. Pathetic bitch. “I aksed a fucking question.” 

He gaps,, forcing out through closed eyes. “I–I don’t know.” 

Roman crouches down in front of them, ignoring the stench of piss and perspiration emanating off their pathetic bodies. “August 7th, 2005. A mother and daughter were attacked. Stabbed. Mother died trying to protect her daughter. Daughter survived. She was ten-years-old.” Roman looks away at the adjacent wall, jaw clenching a bit as he recalls the next part. “”September 8th, 2007. Two men break into the house and spend hours gang raping a child in her own fucking bedroom before beating her half to death and leaving her for dead.” Dead fucking silence. “She was 12-years-old.” He turns his empty, stoic gaze back onto them. “Sound fucking familiar now?” 

“You carried out the rape,” he gestures to the set of crying rapists and then a numb looking Xavier. “And you arranged it.” Roman shrugs, rolling his big shoulders. “Seemed only fucking fair you three got a taste of what you put her through.” He then chuckles. “Now, I am a fair man. A fair Tribal Chief.” In a matter of seconds though, his disposition completely shifts, changes into something cold, heartless. “But, you don’t get that. You don’t get that fairness. You don’t fucking deserve it. You tortured her. You made her life a living fucking hell.” 

“But you know where you really fucked up?” He reaches his arm out, pointing toward the sledgehammer, one of the twins placing it in his hand. Roman stands up and kicks Tyler backwards, hesitating not a second as he brings it down to his knees, one by one, effectively and immediately shattering both. “You did it to my wife.” Roman taunts over the sound of the man crying. He then moves to Ryan, aware of the knee he already shot, sticking with one to avoid too much blood. Can’t have the bitch bleeding out just yet. “That twelve year-old girl was my wife.” When he gets to Xaveir, he exerts a special amount of energy to strengthen the impact of his blow as he demolishes the older man’s knees. “That ten year old-girl was my wife!” 

Roman tosses the sledgehammer to the side as someone has the audacity to utter out a pained, “p–please.” 

That infuriates Roman more than what should be humanly possible. “Please?” He sees the word came from Tyler. Snarling, Roman jumps over the man, raining a blow so heavy that it breaks his nose, the sickening crack sounding through the air. “Is that what she said when you fucking held her down and raped her!” 

The thought alone results in Roman continuing to punch the man until his fist is painted red and Tyler is clearly on the verge of losing consciousness. 

Standing back up, he huffs, speaking to the rapists, “17 years. She’s suffered for seventeen years because of you.” He points to a barely there Xavier. “And 29 years because of you.” Roman’s  upper lip curls a bit as he swears, “if I could torture you all for that long, I fucking would, but I can’t, so days will have to suffice.”

He’s filled with another level of rage when the cries and pleads for mercy intensify. “Shut up!” He then forcefully demands of the twins, “bring him in!”

Jey, he thinks, disappears for a few minutes only to return with an also bruised, battered Wes. Roman scoffs with disgust as Xavier looks horrified at the presence and sight of his son.

He coughs out, ribs probably broken or at least fractured. And if they’re not, Roman will make sure they are before the end of the night. “Pl—please don’t do—”

Roman has heard enough. This piece of shit has the fucking audacity to beg and plead for the life of his son but couldn’t even protect his own fucking daughter?

Fuck that.

Fury fills and controls the Head of the Table as he yanks up a barely conscious Wes and throws him against the brick wall, the impact loud enough for the sound of his shoulder popping to fill the room. Roman then grabs the sledgehammer again and rains it down on not only his knees but his hands as well, effectively smashing them, resulting in grotesque hairline fracture, bones protruding from his skin.. 

Xavier cries out and begs Roman to stop, which only fuels his tirade even more. Drives him to continue his brutal assault. Roman slams his fist onto Wes’s face, breaking his jaw before Roman squeezes the fucking life out of Wes’s neck and slams him again against that same brick wall. 

And without second thought, as Wes fights to remain conscious, face almost unrecognizable at this point, Roman reaches for his eye, using his middle and index finger to gouge out his eyeballs one by one, ignoring the horrified screams of both father and son. 

Xavier is full on sobbing but practically screams when Wes body drops to the ground like a ragdoll, and Roman tosses the bloody eyeballs toward Xavier. 

“Waterboard him!” Roman directs to the twins who don’t hesitate to drag a crying Wes out of the room by his limp arm, most likely broken in the midst of Roman’s vicious beating. Breathing uneven, Roman flips his hair back that had come out of his bun and turns his attention back on the three older men. 

“I’m going to make you all suffer the same fucking way you made her suffer,” he vows, every intention on maximixing pain in a way he’s never done before. “You’ll be wishing for something as fucking nice as hell when I’m done with you.”

________

Roman has just finished skinning a patch out of Ryan’s abdomen, the chunk of skin joining that of Tyler and Xavier’s slab of skin and other dismembered body parts. 

Wes is up next on the list.

The fucker strapped to the chair has gone unconscious, but his pulse is still relatively strong, so Roman continues. He’s done this too many times to be deterred by someone tapping out.

Tossing the bloodied knife and saw to the side of the room with the rest of the blood stained tools of torture, he grabs the drill and starts to navigate which drill bit to use when the door opens.

Right away, he’s tempted to use the object in hand on whoever was stupid enough to interrupt him.

Roman turns to see none other than his aggravating ass cousin holding a phone. Of course. Attention back to the task at hand, he bites out, “I told you not to fucking bother me. Whoever it is, I’m busy.”

Jey is about as moved by Roman’s tone as he is by the bloody, gory scene before him. Indifferent but still eager to leave, he instead provides the additional information that he knows will absolutely snatch Roman’s attention.

“It’s Bautista.” Sure enough, Jey can see his cousin’s big shoulders go still. “He—”

Roman stands up, tossing the drill to the side and quickly removing the gloves that are caked in blood, skin, and other anatomical matter. He stalks toward Jey, issuing his harsh demand,“give me the phone.”

Jey does as such, sucking his teeth when some of the blood flicks on him. “Man, that’s nasty as hell.”

Roman doesn’t comment, just walks out the room for privacy and demands to the man on the other end, “what happened?”

Bautista doesn’t hesitate and is quick with an easy response. “She wants to talk to you, sir.”

There’s only a slight decrease in concern levels that Roman experiences in hearing that Solana wants to speak to him versus Bautista having to inform him that something has happened. She’s conscious. That’s good. “Put her on.”

Bautista doesn’t say anything, but Roman hears what sounds like slight movement and hushed voices. It’s followed up with a quiet sniffle and even quieter, “hey….” Another sniffle as her volume increases ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, it’s—it’s so late.”

Roman has no idea what time it is nor does he care what time it is. He just wants to know why she’s crying and who he has to kill. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She takes a shaky breath and follows it up with an even shakier answer, weighed down with the heavy emotions she’s clearly struggling with at this moment. “We—we—we talked about my…my rape in therapy today, and I’ve never—I’ve never actually spoken about it to anyone, and I thought—I thought I was fine, but now…..”

His chest suddenly tightens. “Are you thinking about—”

“No.” Her answer is the firmest he’s heard in the conversation so far. Serious and solid. “Not that. I just—I can’t sleep because now I’m thinking about….about it, and I just….I wanted to hear your voice, and I’m sorry—you were probably asleep.”

No. No, he wasn’t. Far from it. And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter.

She comes first. 

No matter what.

“I’m gonna come see you.”

“No.” The sniffling resumes as does her tendency to try to make herself as less of a ‘problem’ as she can, no matter how many times Roman tries to explain she never has and never will be anything of the sort. “I’ll–I’ll be okay.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, he’s not taking the risk because Roman cannot physically handle hearing her crying, hearing her so upset and not be able to do anything about it.

“I’m coming, Solana. Give me a half hour, okay?” He’d head there straight away right now, but the idea of coming to her after spending house torturing men, blood, bone, and other unidentifiable matter splattered all over him, is the last thing she needs. “I’ll be there.”

There’s another delay, and he’d bet any money it’s her trying to hold back the tears as best she can. “Oh–kay.”

He swallows, asking, “can you put Bautista back on the phone?”

Again, more shifting on the other end. “Hello?”

“Don’t take your fucking eyes off her.” Roman’s tone is hardened and leveled. “I’ll be there shortly.” He doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t need to provide instructions on how to make sure his wife is kept safe.

Bautista already knows what the fucking deal is.

Roman can’t get cleaned and showered fast enough, ridding his body of all of the telltale signs that he’d spent the majority of the day torturing his wife’s family and rapists. She doesn’t need to know that. 

He’s impatient for the drive that feels much longer than the twenty minutes it actually is. A large part of that being that he just wants to get to Solana. 

She’d called him. She’d reached out to him.

The same thing he wishes she had done that night. Something he still feels strangely about but will learn to sort through later. Not now. 

Now his focus is on just making sure she’s alright.

That she’s safe.

Roman walks in with purpose, uninterested in Bautista’s short briefing, which is essentially more or less him just confirming that Solana hasn’t been left alone, another guard watching her as Bautista escorted Roman into the premises that’s otherwise locked down given it’s almost midnight.

Not that he gives a fuck.

Roman finds Solana sitting on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest. But, the minute her teary eyes land on him, she’s moving up from said bed, rushing over to him. Naturally, Roman catches her, holding her as she silently cries into his chest.

He’s gonna rip that fucking therapist a new one. 

“I’m sorry—” Roman hates hearing her apologize. He hates seeing her upset, but the fact that she’s apologizing for feeling the way she does is a different layer of irritation. It reminds him of how she used to be. Makes him realize just how much and deep this regression has been. “I just—I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

He’s just about to once again remind her that she has nothing to be sorry about when her last statement snatches his attention. Alarms him a bit. “Solana….I need you to be honest with me—”

And she must know where he’s headed, because she pulls back, holding his gaze as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to hurt myself. I promise. I just….I just don’t want to be by myself.” 

It makes sense, and he believes her. Somewhat. There’s still that part of him that’s skeptical. He’s not sure if that part will ever go away either.

Solana swallows and licks her lips, asking in that tentative voice, “will—will you stay with me tonight?”

It’s an easy answer. Something he already decided the minute he heard her crying on the other end of the phone.

“Yes.” She looks so massively relieved by that one word. “But not here.” And before the confusion fully sets in, he clarifies, “I’m taking you home.”

As expected, she looks surprised and torn, “Roman, I—”

“You get released in three days, Sol. I’ll bring you back tomorrow afternoon, but tonight, you need to be home. You don’t need to be here.” Roman isn’t a fucking professional, but he knows his wife. Knows that what she’s looking for is the feeling of security. There’s no more secure place than with him in their home. And even with Dulce.

Solana seems to be on the same page, nodding and offering no further protest. “Oh–okay.”

As she’s barely allowed any personal items, it takes less than twenty minutes for her to be ready to go, Roman directing Bautista to handle any issues that arise regarding her departure.

Roman is sure Stratus or even Gail will have issues with his decision. He’s also 100% sure that he doesn’t give a flying fuck. 

Solana needs to get away. 

She needs to be home.

She needs to be with him. 

And, he’s proven correct, because the minute she walks into the house, she’s looking over at Roman, asking, “where is she?”

“Our room.”

Solana can’t seem to move up the stairs fast enough, Roman behind her, partially eager to see this long awaited reunion. He’s not sure who will be happier: Solana or her puppy. 

It’s about a tie though, because the minute Solana moves over to the side of the bed where Dulce is sleeping and gets on her knees, carefully petting the puppy, Dulce’s head snaps up.

And instantly, she jumps at Solana. 

They’re both crying, Solana holding onto Dulce who is a mixture of whimpers, licks, and that tail of hers excitedly wagging. 

Solana says something in her to Spanish, something Roman can’t make out, but he doesn’t need to make it out. It’s obviously something moving. 

Something healing almost. 

Solana looks up at him, laughing and crying as Dulce tries to lick her face. Her voice cracks a bit as she says to him, “thank you.” 

Roman nods, that same, warm, unfamiliar emotion building up. Fucking feelings.

Nodding, he says nothing, watching as she continues to hold onto and cuddle with Dulce. 

Yeah…..

Definitely the right decision.

________

Roman lifts his eyes from the phone that he just put on Do Not Disturb to set his gaze on Solana. Out of the shower, she’s wearing only one of his shirts. Nothing else. He can tell by the way the cotton almost outlines her nipples. 

Placing the phone to the side, he’s slightly taken back when she moves onto his lap. “I—” Her eyes drop downward, her hands grasping at his shirt. “I need a distraction.” He’s confused, but it’s only temporary as she trails off with the specific distraction she’s looking for. “Can we….”

He doesn’t need to hear more. Roman understands just what she’s asking for.

And his answer is simple.

“Solana, I don’t think…..” He has to phrase it correctly, word it so that it doesn’t sound like he is rejecting her. He is, but it can’t come across as just that. “You’re not—”

“I feel dirty,” she interrupts, eyes closing, mouth moving around as she does her best to balance emotion with verbalization. “I—I don’t want to feel that. I want—I want to feel you. I only ever want to feel you.” Solana opens her eyes, pleading almost. “Please.”

Something is telling him to tell her no, to find a way to decline without hurting her feelings or making her feel rejected, because that’s the last thing he wants. 

But, it feels almost impossible. She’s upset. He doesn’t want her to feel the way she’s feeling, and if she believes being intimate tonight will help her, then he’ll give her that. 

Roman nods and gently taps her hip, partially surprised when she moves off his lap, taking his hand as she lays back on the bed, pulling him on top of her. 

Roman’s lips hover over hers as she breathes, “I just want to feel you.”

It’s taking a painful amount of self-control on Roman’s part to refrain from taking here right here and now. Because while he’s mentally conflicted, there’s no denying the hardness that’s growing in his pants by the minute as she lifts her thigh and grazes it against his hip. There’s no properly explaining how much he’s missed this.

He kisses her, tentatively almost, letting her take the lead as she moves her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Roman’s hand goes to palm her breast through her shirt which makes her breathe against his mouth.

He shuts his eyes for a minute. He’d almost forgotten the sweet sounds she makes, fodder for his growing desire. He moves his mouth to her neck, sucking on the spot he’s learned makes her writhe under him, her nails scraping down his taut back. 

And then, the shift.

Roman feels it only seconds before she acts on it, the way she starts to tense underneath him, the growing unsteady pattern of her breathing, the fear. But before he can pull away, she’s pushing him away, letting out a ‘no’ that comes from a different place, a different time. It comes from her trauma.

Her push is strong, but it’s not enough to get him completely off of her. Roman does that much all on his own, watching as she sits up in the bed and covers her face.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes into her hands. “I—I’m sorry.” Her shoulders tremble as the apologies melt into the bleeding of emotions she tried to mask away with intimacy. “I’m sorry—” Solana falling into a full out crying session, the third or fourth time she’s done as much tonight, is more than enough for Roman to motion her over to him.

“Come here.” 

He’s at least grateful she lets him pull her onto his chest, letting her cry on him as he lays them back in the bed, his protective arms around her. For a second, he berates himself for taking her from the hospital. If they were still there, he’d wake up whoever the fuck he needed to wake up to give her that medicine she was prescribed for moments like this.

Moments where she just needs more.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, crying subdued a bit. But Roman is unsure what he dislikes more: the fact that she’s so upset or the fact that she thinks she needs to apologize for being so upset.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” is all he says. His hand is on the small of her back, moving in comforting circles. “Nothing at all, okay?”

She doesn’t say anything, just continues to cry into him, Roman wishing he could do more to settle her. It kills him to see her so upset. 

A few minutes later, her tears having almost entirely subsided, she murmurs, “I’m sorry we couldn’t….”

He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to remain calm. “Solana, I told you before I don’t need that from you—”

“But, I wanted to. I just…..”

“It’s okay.” He cuts her off, kissing the top of her head. “I never expected that from you tonight anyway.”

He already knew she wasn’t in the mental space for it, but he didn’t want her to feel rejected either, so he went along with it. There’s a bit of regret, maybe more than a bit, but Roman also knows he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Still is. 

“Rest.” He instructs, grateful when she simply nods against him, tucking herself closer into his body. And he watches her closely and intently, an infinite amount of pleasure rising within him when he feels the steady rise and fall of her body, confirmation that she’s finally drifted off into sleep.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep with her. He would actually prefer to stay up and watch her, but the weight of the day, mentally and physically, takes its unavoidable toll. And not too long after she succumbs to sleep, he does the same.

________

“Daddy.”

Roman’s eyes shoot open at the both familiar and unfamiliar voice. Looking down, he sees Solana sleeping peacefully on top of him, her hand atop his chest. But to his right, he finds sad eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a deep frown. 

Naturally, he frowns a bit as well. He hates seeing any of this family upset. “Bad dream?” 

She nods, holding onto the teddy bear in her arms. He’d gotten it for her a couple years back while he was away on business, and it’s become her comfort animal ever since. 

Roman is careful in prying Solana’s arm off him, grateful when the extent of her stirring is simply her turning over on the other side. Over the years, she’s gotten better with not being as easily disturbed or woken up.

And he’s especially thankful for that in this moment.

Moving the blankets down and off, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and rolls his shoulders. She shifts the bear in her arm to one side and reaches up for him to pick her up. “Come here.” Roman does as such, pulling her up as he stands from the bed. 

She lays her head on his shoulder while  he quietly walks them out the room, cracking the door behind him. Roman takes her downstairs into the living room and hits the lamp on the side table before grabbing the remote off the coffee table. 

Sitting down, she adjusts herself in his lap, holding onto her stuffy while he loads up the animated show with the creepy blue looking thing that kids apparently love, his included. 

Especially the twin on his lap. It’s like her comfort show.

“You wanna pick the episode?” It’s a preference. 

She nods and accepts the remote from him, selecting the same episode she’s watched the last 10+ times this has occurred. She almost always starts with this same episode, like she has to or else she can’t watch it.

A repeat and increasing thing, he’s noticing. 

As the opening credits roll around, Roman gently rubs her back, asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

She keeps her focus on the TV while shaking her head no. An expected answer given the fact that she never really likes to talk in general, but as Roman thinks about the increase in how often this is happening, he’s starting to wonder if it’s past the point where she gets a choice in the matter.

For the past few months, every so often, or more often now, he’ll be awoken in the middle of the night by his youngest daughter. Upset and clearly crying, she’ll ask him to sit with her, to stay with her until she falls asleep again. Though at some point, the addition of letting her watch an episode or two of her show seemed to aid in not only calming her down but eventually lulling her back to sleep.

And every time Roman tries to get out of her just what these bad dreams are, she remains quiet, forcing him to wreck his brain over what could be bothering her so much.

The unknown of it all is starting to mess with him.

He can’t help her if he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Sissy?”

Both Roman and the daughter on his lap look over to see her twin rubbing her sleeping eyes as she walks over and climbs onto the sofa, the two adjusting so they’re both seated on top of him. “Did you have the bad dreams again?”

At that, Roman’s brow furrows. Did she talk about them with her sister?

He asks as such. 

“Do you know what they’re about?” Roman and Solana suspected that she’d confided in her sister, her true confidant, but they also didn’t want to risk putting a rift between the sisters by making one feel like she has to ‘snitch’ on the other.

However, an unspoken communication of some sort is exchanged between the twins. The quieter of the two reluctantly nodding as the outspoken one shares, “sissy has bad thoughts…..”

Roman takes the remote and turns down the volume versus pausing as he notices she’s still trying to watch. To some extent. And it’s clearly helping to calm her, so he won’t deprive her of that. But, he does have to ask, “what kind of bad thoughts?”

That could be and mean so many things. And if the situation was different, he wouldn’t be too concerned. The level and standard for ‘bad’ that he has compared to his kids is vastly different. But given how upset his daughter has been getting, there’s gotta be something more severe to the ‘bad’ this time. 

His twin, in more than just looks and demeanor, seems to hesitate for a second, Roman ready to encourage her that it’s okay to be honest with him. He needs that honesty at this point. “She—she has scary thoughts about something happening to you and mama. And—and bad dreams that something’s gonna happen to you when you go on your trips.”

Roman does his best to hide his surprise. And his concern. He wasn’t expecting that. Turning to the youngest of the two, he asks, “is that true?”

She looks down, tightening her hold on her bear as she nods slowly.

Roman closes his eyes and takes a second to gather himself. Comfort now. Process later. It’s become a bit of a routine for him.

Needing both of their attention, he takes the remote again to hit pause. 

“Girls….” Roman has to remind himself to keep it simple and at a level they can understand. “I’m never going to let anything happen to your mom. Or to you. Or to your brother. And nothing is especially going to happen to me.” Seeing the emotion especially present in his youngest, he kisses her temple. “I’m always going to come back home to you guys, okay?”

And that’s a promise.

Come hell or high water, nothing could separate him from his family. 

Especially his kids. 

“Told you, sissy.” She then smiles a little, adding on with a toothy grin. “Daddy’s like a superhero.”

Roman chuckles. Far from it. But whatever helps them. 

Taking over the duty of being the parent, showing that while she has many of her father’s interests and some of his temperament, she also has her mother’s caring nature, she asks, reaching for her little sister’s hand. “Wanna try to go back to sleep? You can sleep in my bed.”

The offer to not have to sleep alone as well as having some one on one time with him seems to be enough to be enough to coax her back  to bed. He watches as the girls climb off his lap, the oldest taking the youngest hand, as she also handles the parting words, “goodnight, daddy.”

He offers a small smile. Their bond is something special. “Night, girls.” Hands still locked, they walk away, heading back up the stairs. “Love you.” He calls out after them. 

An almost synchronized response is what he’s met with. “Love you too, daddy.” 

It brings that warmth back to him, Roman blowing out a deep breath when it’s just him and the paused screen on the TV. He takes a couple minutes to sit on the weight of the conversation. 

He doesn’t like knowing that his daughter is struggling with thoughts. Hates that they haunt her in the form of dreams. He knows better than anyone how difficult that can be. How exhausting.

So does Solana.

Thoughts of his wife and wanting to get back to her before she notices his absence and wakes up, Roman shuts off the TV and starts heading upstairs.

Walking back into their bedroom, he’s only partially surprised to find Solana awake, sitting up against the headboard, their son on her chest for one of his nightly feedings. 

She gives him a sad, knowing smile. “Another bad dream?” 

Roman nods and goes to sit back in the bed next to her. “Found out what they’re about.”

Solana’s eyes widen a bit. “She told you?”

He shakes his head. “The other one did.” He frowns a bit, sharing, “she’s having thoughts and dreams of something happening to us. Me especially.” 

Solana’s frown is deep and concerned. Valid. “What? Where—Where did that come from?”

“Don’t know.” Roman answers. He’d have loved to been able to ask more questions, but it’s also the middle of the night and just getting some kind of answer is a huge win in and of itself. “But, I wanna schedule an appointment with her pediatrician. If something else is going on with her, we need to know.”

Roman has an idea of what it could be, now starting to put different pieces together. Her particular way of doing things, rituals of sorts, thoughts she can’t control. But, he wants to be sure.

“Of course,” Solana agrees. “I’ll call in the morning.”

Good. 

Roman chuckles after looking over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:59am. He glances at Solana, “and you really wanna do this all over again?”

He’s still partially stuck on the fact that even with three kids, Solana is still wanting more. 

The thought alone brings out a heavy sigh just from tonight’s events.

All three of their kids up and in need of something in the middle of the night like he and his wife don’t have work in the morning.

He can’t even really picture an additional child—or two–added into the mix. 

Solana, however, only smiles, rocking gently to help soothe their son. “Only with you, papi.” A beat. “Only with you.”

________

“No!”

Roman is awakened by movement and volume. Both of which effectively deter and distract him from yet another strange dream, a fantasy of some sort.

Or…..something more. 

Regardless, he has neither the time nor energy—nor desire—to think about that. Not with the woman violently stirring beside him. A nightmare. It’s obvious Solana is in the middle of a nightmare.

“No….” Twisting against the mattress, Roman sees the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He frowns. How long has she been in the middle of this nightmare? “Get off me….”

At that, he stills a bit. With Solana’s extensive trauma, it’s pretty impossible to know just what specific traumatizing incident haunts her dreams and interrupts her sleep. But this….this one is pretty obvious. 

And it guts him.

He moves his hands to her shoulders. “Baby, wake up.”

She starts crying, and Roman isn’t quite sure how much worse and useless he can feel. “No. Please—please. You’re hurting me.”

There’s a heaviness in his chest as Roman deepens his voice and shakes her a little harder. “Solana, wake up.”

It seems the more he says it, the more she writhes and cries, trapped in the throes of trauma. Roman doesn’t want to be physical with her, doesn’t want to exacerbate an already difficult situation, but he can’t just sit here and watch her suffer. 

He moves his hands to her arms, restricting her just enough, raising his volume yet again. “Solana, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up.” He’s not entirely certain if it’s his escalation or just the natural progression, but she shoots up, eyes opening for the briefest second before slamming shut. 

And then, the climax.

Roman is taken back when she starts pushing and shoving him, but that surprise is easily weighed down with sympathy when she starts talking again. 

“Get off of me!” She cries, never once letting up on him.

He takes it all, her fists really of no consequence to him as he continues to try to break her from this torment. “Solana, please—”

“No!” She’s the one with the increased volume, Roman biting back a hiss as a sharp almost burning pain throbs in his shoulder, the area where he was shot. But, it’s irrelevant. His focus is on Solana and nothing else. 

“Baby, it’s me.” He’s no longer restraining her, letting her let it out on him as much as she needs to. Whatever she needs in this moment, he’ll give it to her. He’s not sure what else to do besides that, to be honest.

But, it’s when Roman manages to cup her face, again, repeating the hopefully calming, settling words, “it’s me” that seems to help break through to her. Blinking, wet eyes open, filled with fear. He studies her, watching her focus on him, as the fear starts to diminish. Replaced with recognition. “R–Roman?”

He nods, his own concern settling seeing her anxiety lessen. “Yes. It’s just me.”

She releases a shaky, emotional breath, clearly coming to grips with what just occurred. But, her gaze settling on his shoulder seems to bring back that previous level of horror. “Oh my god, I—I hurt you.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He looks down, realizing she must have ripped his stitches when she was hitting him, blood trickling down his skin. Roman is entirely unbothered. “Solana, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t seem to be hearing him, too focused on the unintentional thing she caused. “I hurt you…..” 

He lowers her hands from her face, kissing her inner palms. “Baby, it’s fine.” 

“I–I’m sorry. I–She closes her eyes, taking deep breaths, asking him in an unexpected calmer voice. “I—I need to stitch it back up for you.”

Roman shakes his head. “I can do th—”

But, she cuts him off, sounding a little bit more stable and a lot more desperate. “Roman, please?” 

Not wanting to risk upsetting her again, he shakes his head, allowing her to take the lead as she grabs his hand and guides him into their bathroom. Roman sits on the toilet and watches her silently move around, gathering the medical kit and other needed supplies. 

His eyes don’t leave her as she works carefully and tediously to stitch him back up, Roman partially thankful her focus is on something else versus the horrific memories that seemed to have been tormenting her the past couple hours. 

He wants to say something, do something to help her feel better, to especially rip away the guilt evident in her eyes at ‘hurting’ him.

Solana may be the only person on this earth capable of doing as such, but it could never be physically. 

Ever.

“I’m not crazy. I—I promise.” Her voice is shaky, unsteady by understandable emotion as she finishes up, starting to put the supplies back. “I just—I don’t know—”

Roman takes her hands in his. “Sol, I know you’re not crazy.” Feeling an unfamiliar sense of openness and vulnerability, he asks her, “do you know why I was able to help you with your panic attack that night?” Her eyes are lit with confusion as she shakes her head no. Roman’s jaw clenches. He’s never once told a soul what he’s about to share with her. “It’s because I used to have them.” 

Her reaction is exactly what he would expect from anyone to hear such words coming from him. 

“Wh—what?” 

Roman’s eyes divert to the wall beside her as he powers through the discomfort. “It was….it was after my family was killed. I’d have nightmares about it and wake up freaking the fuck out.” Just like her. “That’s when they’d happen.”

“But, I couldn’t tell anyone, because they were already questioning if I would be fit to lead.” He scoffs, “I had to be perfect. I couldn’t let anyone know how fucked up I really was from what happened.” 

He can only imagine that the softness in her voice matches the expression on her face. “Roman….” 

“But, I couldn’t keep dealing with the shit either, so I found this book at my school’s library about mental health and whatnot, and it had a section on panic attacks and how to cope with them. So, I studied and learned them. It’s been fine since then. Haven’t had one in years.” Though that similar budding feeling of panic that used to be present before they’d occur is something Roman’s noticed having versions of for almost the past two weeks.

Since he found out Solana tried to kill herself. 

She lifts her hand to his face, and he closes his eyes. He can feel it. Can sense it. Her sympathy or maybe something different. Maybe empathy. Regardless, he doesn’t want or need it. The point was to not bring attention to his fucked up past but rather help her reduce some of her self-judgment. 

He stands up, forcing her hand to fall down as he instead cups her face, looking and speaking directly at her. “You’re not crazy.” Far from it. And he needs her to know that. “You just….you need help.” His voice shifts into something softer. “And I’m going to make sure you get it.”

Her gaze also shifts. Something both hopeful and sad. “I–I can go?”

Roman only hesitates for a second. “Yes.” 

The answer he gives her is in no way indicative of how he feels about it. He still hates it. Hates the idea of her not coming home for good in three days and instead going to yet another treatment facility. This one longer and farther away.

But, if there’s anything the past few hours have taught him, have shown him, it’s that Dr. Stratus and Gail were right. 

And so was Solana. 

She’s not ready to come home. 

She needs more help.

And he can’t, won’t, be selfish. Won’t be too consumed by his own want and desire to have her back with him. Not when it directly contrasts what she needs. 

And what she needs is continued professional help. 

So, that’s exactly what she’s going to get. 

“I’ll talk to Stratus about what we need to do.” And that’s more so in regards to location solely, so Roman can get a head start on working on safety precautions for her. He’ll keep Bautista with her. That seems to be a good fit. 

Solana, however, is bubbling with emotion again. From a different source. For a different reason. 

She pushes herself into his chest, Roman easily dropping his hands to her waist, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.” It’s as he holds her, her face buried into his chest that she murmurs those three, sacred, terrifying words. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes. 

It’s one thing to read it but something entirely different to actually hear her say it. 

He doesn’t know how to respond, how to react, what to say. 

Even if does feel the same way. 

So, he says nothing. 

________

“You took her out of the hospital.”

“Sure fucking did.”

Roman has never been so unbothered while sitting in Dr. Stratus office as she paces across, visibly and audibly stressed the fuck out by what occurred. 

After agreeing to let her continue treatment at the other facility, Solana was finally able to get some sleep. Roman as well. Not a ton, of course, because he woke up to her spot in bed next to him vacant. Dulce missing as well.

And if not for the note left for him that read ‘fixing us breakfast <3’, he might have even panicked a bit. Just a smidgen. Of course she would spend time doing something for them rather than herself. It’s such a Solana thing.

Regardless, he enjoyed breakfast with her but hated to see the saddened expression on her face as she said goodbye to her puppy, Dulce’s ears dropping and the whimpering returning as she also picked up on the pending separation.

She’s also felt and been impacted by Solana’s absence. 

But, it’s a necessary absence. 

Solana needs help. 

And it’s that, that oh-so important reminder, Roman keeps repeating to himself as this blonde bitch continues to berate him like he’s a fucking child. 

“Who the hell are you to make that decision?” She continues, pointing at him. “You do not get to remove my patient from my care without speaking to me!”

“I did what I had to do for my wife. She needed to get the fuck out of here.” Roman is a man who doesn’t believe in explaining himself, but given the situation, he makes a small exception. For Solana. Only for her. “But, if you don’t lower your fucking voice, you won’t have to worry about her, or anyone else, being your patient because the dead can’t be fucking psychiatrists.”

Dr. Stratus closes her eyes and shakes her head. “At the very least, you could have just texted me what was going on.”

“Keeping you briefed wasn’t my priority.” At all. “Keeping my wife alive was.”

She opens her eyes, asking, “was she suicidal?”

“She said no.” Roman still isn’t entirely sure he believed her. She could have been telling the truth, but she also could have been lying for a lot of different reasons. Still, that’s not something he feels the need to share. “She said she talked about her rape earlier that day in therapy and was having….flashbacks.”

“Flooding,” Dr. Stratus informs. “It’s when a survivor experiences intrusive thoughts, images, and flashbacks of their trauma.” She then looks at him, almost surprised, “she called you?”

Roman nods. “Said the coping shit wasn’t working.”

The doctor plops back down into her seat, saying more to herself than anything. “Well, I suppose that’s a good sign. That she reached out to you versus….other things.” That’s exactly how Roman feels. “Regardless, in the future, at least let me know what’s going on. I would have told you to give her the Hydroxyzine. We could have seen if it’s helpful.”

Roman doesn’t disagree with her there. The thought of one of her medications potentially being helpful definitely crossed his mind. But, he’s not about to tell this woman that.

He’s got other things he needs to discuss.

“The facility you were telling me about….” Roman looks away, not eager to have this conversation but knowing he needs to. For Solana. “Tell me more.”

________

A loud, guttural, almost animalistic growl leaves Samantha’s mouth at the same time the glass plate is tossed against the wall, shattering and spilling into tiny little pieces all across her kitchen floor.

Not that it makes a difference.

Punching the fridge, she ignores the throbbing in her fist and ineffectively tries to manage her nerves, dissuading the burning urge within to scream. It’s been less than 24hrs since she regained the ability to speak, her jaw finally healed enough and no longer wired shut.

But, now she’s left with nothing but pent up emotion all directed toward one person.

Solana

That fat bitch ruined everything. She stole Roman from her. The man who she’s been with since she was a fucking teenager. The man she always imagined would be her husband and father of her children, who would make her his Queen of the Bloodline, but none of that will happen now.

It won’t happen because of that slashed face whore.

Because Roman chose her over him.

Which brings up unfamiliar feelings towards her former lover.

Roman is an asshole. Always has been. As long as she’s known him, he’s been a dick, so his cruel behavior at times toward her never really bothered her. That’s just his personality. She never took it personally. 

Not until now, at least.

Because now, it’s not just his wife she’s mad at, it’s Roman too.

Granted, her fury toward the troll is significantly worse.

She’d kill the bitch if she could.

“Rough day?”

Samantha nearly jumps across the room at the sound of another person’s voice. She instead is braced against the refrigerator as she lands eyes on the last person she expected to find in her place.

“Seth?”

It takes another second for her to register that it truly is the once friend of her former lover. He sits on her sofa wearing at least three different types of animal print that are all outlined in some kind of bling, hair looking as unkempt as his mental health. 

She’s sly in trying to move closer to the knife set on the counter.

Seth, however, is as perceptive as he is insane. She stills when he casually pulls out a gun. “Ah ah. I just want to talk to you. That’s all.” He makes a face, playing with the gun.“Word on the street is that you got dumped.”

Samantha’s eyes narrow a bit. How does Seth freakin Rollins of all people know about her ‘breakup’ with Roman? Only those close to Roman would know that, and there’s no way anyone close to Roman would be speaking to Seth……

Right?

“Who—”

“You’ll find out about the members of this little crusade once you agree,” he explains, placing the gun on the sofa beside him, casually viewing his nails that are painted a hideous green. Like the color of slime from Nickelodeon back in the day. “Can’t risk snitches, of course.”

More interested than anything, Samantha asks, “what are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right.” He giggles, standing up and pulling a flask out of what seems like nowhere. “We’re gonna kill Roman Reigns.” Seth takes a swig as Samantha’s eyes widen, before he adds on, as if he forgot. “And his wife, Sadie.”

“Solana?”

Seth shrugs “Yeah, she can get killed too. Why not?”

Samantha finally laughs, crossing her arms. “You’re even crazier than I realized. You can’t just kill, Roman.” It’s damn near impossible. Does he not know the mountain of bodies that have tried and failed at the very same thing he’s suggesting? “And there’s no way in hell he’ll let you get even close enough to kill that bitch wife of his.”

“Oh, that’s a lot easier than you think.” Seth takes the flask to his mouth again, voice teasing yet malicious. “The Bloodline is full of traitors.”

Samantha goes quiet, wondering how much of this is madness and just how much is true. It seems too asinine to be true. 

But, there’s also the fact that the only way Seth could have known about Roman leaving her was if someone within the Bloodline told him, which would most definitely make them a traitor. And even that feels almost impossible. Roman’s family is notoriously loyal. Who would want to betray him?

The plural form of the word ‘traitor’ is also something that catches her attention. 

Could there be more than one traitor?

Seth meanwhile seems to be in a sense of imaginative blood lust, practically squealing, “the infamous Roman Empire is going to be coming to a gloriously bloody, gory end, and we’re trying to see who all want to be a part of our little murderous, traitorous gang.” 

Again, she’s caught off guard, realizing just now he’s clearly referring to more than himself. “Gang?”

Seth tilts his head, pouting as he says almost mysteriously, “we both know your former lover has no shortage of enemies.”

That is dangerously true, but what’s even more dangerous is this suicide mission Seth is proposing.

“How is this supposed to be any different from any other time people have tried to kill Roman?” As much as she would love to see Solana’s life drain from her ugly ass face, Samantha would rather not lose her life in the process. 

Seth is way too excited to answer. “Because this time, the call is coming from inside the house.” Her eyes widen. “With a little….Nightmare help as well.”

There’s so much to process in that one bombshell of a sentence. “Someone in the Bloodline is orchestrating this?” Not to mention whatever role the Nightmare Factory is playing. That’s just salt on an open, gushing wound. 

This type of betrayal is bound to crush Roman.

Samanth smiles. 

Oh, revenge is so so sweet. 

“I’ll join, but on one condition.” Seth’s brow lifts, a sign he’s ready to hear out her caveat. “That I get to stab and kill that bitch Solana myself. I get to be the one to take her from Roman.”

At the vision alone, Seth’s mad smile grows followed by that crazy ass laugh. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.” He claps his hands together, nodding. “You got yourself a deal, curly.”

Samantha nods, pleased with the arrangement. 

Whoever previously took the knife to Roman’s little wife, causing all those ugly ass scars, failed to get the job done. 

Samantha won’t. 

She does have another question, shrugging. “So who all is a part of this shit anyway?”

She’s especially curious about who the traitor is.

Or traitors. 

Of course, it’s just more mental edging with the self-proclaimed visionary. “You’ll get to meet the gang soon enough, but we’ve got one more person to recruit.” Samantha’s curiosity is evident, prompted by Seth casually tossing the flask up and down with a wicked gleam in his empty eyes. “Can’t take down Roman Reigns without inviting his good ole’ pal Brock Lesnar to join in on the fun, now can we?”

[miss-musings]

"You Weren't Loyal To Me": How Crosshair's Brothers Absolutely Failed Him in "The Bad Batch" Season 1

I know I'm not the first person to make these arguments, but after recently rewatching "The Bad Batch" Season 1, I feel compelled to play Devil's Advocate and assert that Crosshair's brothers absolutely failed him in Season 1.

Now, don't mistake me. I don't believe Crosshair was 100% in the right. Once he regained his free will -- whether he actually removed his inhibitor chip, or whether his injury on Bracca deactivated it or lessened its impacts -- he definitely should've left the Empire the first chance he had.

I imagine he was trying to make the best of a bad situation, but I don't see why he would stay with an organization hijacked his mind and ordered him to kill his family, civilians and other people who were trying to do the right thing.

But, I don't think his brothers -- I'm excluding Omega because she's a child and was following everyone else's lead -- are 100% in the right either.

I believe Crosshair's brothers basically abandoned him.

CROSSHAIR'S GREAT INSECURITY?

Now, I understand that they didn't initially plan to abandon Crosshair. But, once they knew he was being mind-controlled and especially once they knew how to undo its effects, they never even considered going back for him.

We never see them debate trying to save Crosshair. They don't discuss whether it's feasible, whether it's worth the risk, how they would even attempt it, etc.

I think this was a much-needed moment that we never get to see. In fact, as others have pointed out, we don't really get much discussion about Crosshair at all.

He's their brother. He's been by their side from infancy through their time as cadets through dozens of missions. Why aren't they more upset about him turning against them? Or being mind-controlled by the Empire?

They seem so blasé about it. Like it's more of an inconvenience than a tragedy, especially by 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth." Like "Ope, Crosshair's here. I bet he's gonna try to kill us again."

As I'll discuss more later, Hunter gets captured on Daro, and Omega loses her frickin' mind. Even Echo, Wrecker and Tech seemed distressed too, even if the show didn't focus on their reactions as much.

But, Crosshair's mind and body get hijacked by the Empire, and nobody seems to give a shit.

No wonder why Crosshair felt so betrayed and said everything he does in 1.15 and 1.16. It probably confirmed something he always felt, or always feared:

That he was the odd man out in his squad -- the last to be included and the first to be excluded.

That they never cared about him as much as he cared about them.

Based on experiences in my own life, with friends and coworkers, I do wonder if Crosshair was always insecure about his standing within the group. This makes sense given that he's likely the youngest of the four original brothers, and that as a sniper, he isn't always in the middle of the action like they are. His personality doesn't really help either, but his brothers seem to be able to navigate it just fine in their "The Clone Wars" Season 7 arc.

Maybe this is partly why he seemed OK with Echo joining the squad at the end of TCW arc: because he felt like Echo would become the new 'odd man' considering that he didn't grow up with the Bad Batch and wouldn't know Crosshair's brothers like he does.

It's been a while since I watched TCW Season 7, so maybe I'm wrong.

But, I definitely think this is partly why he resents Omega so much in Season 1:

The Bad Batch -- mainly Hunter -- decided to risk their lives and their freedom to go back to Kamino for Omega. She might've been their "little sister," but they'd known her all of one day and Hunter still decided it was worth going back for her.

Yet they never went back for him.

Hell, as far as we the audience know, they never even considered it.

I'm not saying it would have been easy or risk-free. They also now have Omega in their care, and trying to extract Crosshair from Imperial custody while all parties involved would be trying to kill or capture them isn't an easy undertaking.

But, as I'll talk about more later, these guys do rescue and extraction missions all the time. They put their lives on the line for complete strangers several times in Season 1 to save them from Imperial custody, slavery, etc.

And I'm not saying they were wrong to do those things. It was objectively good that the Bad Batch saved the people they did.

But, I can absolutely understand why Crosshair would be infuriated that his brothers take on all these missions to help complete strangers but never bother to help him...

ANALYZING THE BATCH'S DECISIONS BASED ON THE SEASON 1 TIMELINE

I understand that, before he confronts them in the hangar in 1.01 "Aftermath," that they were planning to go back for him. And that they were forced to leave him behind because he was literally gunning for them. And -- as far as his brothers knew -- he was doing it of his own free will.

However, in 1.02 "Cut and Run," Omega tells them about the inhibitor chips, implying that that's how Crosshair is being controlled.

Then in 1.03 "The Replacements," we see that Tech is building a device to locate their inhibitor chips, and Omega tries to tell the Batch and specifically emphasizes to Hunter that Crosshair has no control over his actions. Hunter admits that he's angry at himself for leaving Crosshair behind, and Omega reassures him that they'll get him back someday.

So, it seems like -- at least in Omega's eyes -- the Batch was planning to save Crosshair at some point. And, Hunter at minimum feels guilty for leaving Crosshair on Kamino, even though they didn't really have much of a choice at the time.

However, the Batch gets sidetracked in 1.04 and 1.05. First, they need supplies; then bounty hunters are after Omega; then they need intel on who's after her and why.

Then, by the events of 1.07 "Battle Scars," we see that they've fallen into a routine of doing jobs for Cid. It's safe to assume they've done -- or at least attempted -- a dozen jobs for her at this point, based on Wrecker and Omega's 20 orders of Mantell Mix.

And then Rex shows up and tells them point-blank that the clones can't fight the inhibitor chip's effects, re-emphasizing Omega's earlier point that Crosshair had no control over his actions.

The Batch then experiences this firsthand with Wrecker, whose chip activates before they can extract it. We see that, even with Wrecker fighting the chip's effects with all his might, he endangers his brothers and was *this* close to killing Omega, before Rex stunned him.

Now, we have confirmation based on both Rex and Wrecker's experiences that removing an active chip restores a clone's free will.

Thus, by the end of 1.07 "Battle Scars," the Batch definitively knows:

Crosshair is being controlled by an inhibitor chip and is being forced to do the Empire's bidding;

How to remove an inhibitor chip; and

That removing a clone's active inhibitor chip will restore his free will

And yet, despite all this knowledge, the only effort they make to save Crosshair is to tell him about the inhibitor chip.

They don't attempt or even discuss possibly stunning him on the artillery deck and taking him with them.

But, admittedly, this isn't the best time to attempt a rescue, as they're outnumbered and essentially trapped aboard the Jedi Cruiser. And then Omega gets captured by Cad Bane and Hunter gets shot, and the others are desperately trying to get off Bracca before Crosshair & co. shoot them down. Fine. Getting off Bracca safely and then trying to find Omega should be their priority.

But, once they recover Omega on Bora Vio, and their lives aren't in immediate danger anymore... this would've been the perfect time to at least debate going back for Crosshair.

Again, they have all the information needed at this point.

As for how they find him, well, I'm sure they could get the information somehow. Or they could just cause a stir somewhere so he'd show up to arrest them again, like he did on Bracca.

But, no, they just continue doing jobs for Cid in 1.10-1.13. They don't bring him up at all until they see him on Ryloth in 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth," and again, the tone is like, "Well, Crosshair is here. That's annoying."

If not being able to locate him was the only reason they didn't try to save him after 1.08/1.09, that argument doesn't apply to 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth." He's there. They know he's there. They're already there doing an extraction job anyway... why don't they just grab him too???

Yes, there would be additional risks, but YOUR BROTHER HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED BY THE EMPIRE AND FORCED TO DO ITS BIDDING, AND YOU DON'T SEEM TO GIVE A SHIT!!!

Which brings us nicely to:

THE DOUBLE STANDARD

Throughout Season 1, but especially in the latter half, we see The Batch putting themselves in harm's way for complete strangers, or at most, friends-of-friends.

They rescue Muchi the Rancor and other people from enslavers; they extract the former Separatist Senator from Raxus; they extract the Syndullas from Ryloth; they break Gregor out of the Imperial base on Daro.

In the latter three cases, the Batch went to Imperial-occupied planets and an Imperial base, despite all the risks involved. And, especially when they saved Gregor, they had very little information going in and basically just winged the entire thing.

It just feels like, when you look at all these cases, any argument the Batch could make for not saving Crosshair just falls apart.

"We didn't know where he was." He was on Ryloth -- grab him then.

"We didn't have enough information." You didn't on Daro, and you still snuck into a heavily fortified Imperial base to rescue Gregor.

"Everyone there would've been trying to kill us." You literally extract/rescue people from Imperial forces for a living...

"It would've endangered Omega." Well, buddy, have I got a story for you...

You see, when Hunter falls on Daro and gets captured, the Batch still comes to his rescue despite knowing it's a trap AND THEY BRING OMEGA WITH THEM!!!

Every excuse they could've made for not saving Crosshair sooner is gone. The Batch will literally run into a trap for Hunter, and they constantly throw themselves into danger to save Omega, but they never do the same for Crosshair.

It really feels like such a double standard.

They seem to care about everyone BUT him.

Plus, sadly, there's one more parallel I can draw. One more instance where the Bad Batch put themselves in harm's way to save a fellow clone who was being mind-controlled by their enemies in an attempt to kill them...

Echo.

Yes, remember all the way back in TCW Season 7, when we find out that Echo is the one behind the algorithm that's giving the Separatists an advantage in all these battles?

Even though Rex thought Echo was dead, the minute he suspects Echo's still alive, he goes after him. He even punches Crosshair over it, after Crosshair bullies Rex for leaving Echo for dead at the Citadel.

One of the "regs" went back for his brother despite knowing he was being mind-controlled by the enemy and forced to attack them.

Rex, Anakin and the Bad Batch save Echo from a terrible fate. They extract him from the Separatists, restore his free will and essentially give him his life back.

Yet, when the exact same thing happens to one of their own, the Batch don't even consider going back for Crosshair the way Rex went back for Echo -- hell, the way they went in for Echo too, even though they didn't know him!!

SOME CONSIDERATIONS

I will give the Batch this: once Crosshair confronts them on Kamino and Hunter stuns him, Hunter decides not to leave Crosshair behind this time. And that was even after Crosshair refused to say when he had his chip removed. So, for all they know, he might've been acting of his own free will when he tried to kill them on Bracca.

While taking Crosshair with them at the end of 1.15 was a step in the right direction, I don't think it was enough to make up for everything they failed to do.

And, while he doesn't specify exactly what, Hunter later admits to Crosshair in 3.05 "The Return" that he has regrets too. And considering the context and the timeframe they're talking about, it's possible Hunter regrets not going back for Crosshair sooner/at all, among other mistakes he's made. (Story for another time.)

I'll also give some consideration to Wrecker, who was the only one of the brothers who said he actively missed Crosshair in 1.03 "The Replacements." Tech mentions Crosshair very flippantly a few times, and Echo doesn't really mention him at all.

(EDIT: Looking back now, Echo *not* talking about Crosshair is such a weird choice. Shouldn’t he of all people know what it’s like to be mind-controlled? To be weaponized by your enemy and forced to kill your loved ones?)

(ANOTHER EDIT: I was rewatching 1.14 “War-Mantle” today and this line stood out to me:

Echo: If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try to get him out.

I realize that being imprisoned is different than being mind-controlled and actively hunting down you down, but it’s still weird that Echo of all people doesn’t seem to give a flying eff about Crosshair’s situation while practically begging Hunter to rescue a clone they’ve never met.🧐)

Obviously, we'll never know for certain, but I do wonder how Crosshair would've reacted if his brothers had rescued him and removed his chip at some point. Would he have stayed with them? Would he have wanted to rejoin the Empire voluntarily?

Considering he (supposedly) had his chip removed and still stayed with the Empire willingly in-universe, it's possible he might've wanted to do the same thing in an AU where his brothers rescued him.

He definitely despised that they were fugitives and "scavenging like rats," while he had authority, respect and purpose as a soldier of the Empire.

But, I think a large component -- although not the only one -- of why he stays with the Empire is that he felt like his brothers abandoned him. He brings this up several times in 1.15 and 1.16, and the way he does indicates this is a major sore spot for him.

We see in 1.01 "Aftermath" that the chip enhancement procedure is painful. He scrunches his face, flexes his hand and squirms around in the chamber. Plus, the machine itself looks similar to the Mind Flayer from other "Star Wars" properties.

Crosshair was literally being tortured by the Empire. Maybe he doesn't recall that once the procedure's done, but we see him getting his chip enhanced in both 1.01 and 1.03, and it's possible it was enhanced even more times off-screen.

I cannot stress this enough: the Empire basically took Crosshair prisoner, tortured him and hijacked his free will.

And his brothers essentially did nothing to save him.

It would be one thing if his brothers were civilians like you and me, and didn't know the first thing about how to infiltrate an Imperial compound or how to navigate a firefight despite being outnumbered.

But, that doesn't apply to The Bad Batch. That's literally their bread-and-butter.

And Crosshair -- especially once he seems to regain his free will between the Bracca and Ryloth arcs -- watched his brothers risk their lives to save complete strangers while doing nothing for him.

I would've been livid too.

Not to sound like Tech, but while I don't agree with Crosshair's decision, I can understand why he decided to stay on Kamino rather than go with them at the end of 1.16. His brothers offered him no real comfort and no real apology, and I think he desperately wanted to hear that, especially from Hunter.

I know after everything that's happened -- especially Crosshair refusing to say when he had his chip removed -- that it would've been hard to admit their mistakes. But, Crosshair wanted to hear something beyond: "You can come with us if you want. And if you don't, we don't have to be enemies."

The closest thing to comfort any of them offer is Omega affirming that, despite everything, she still cared about him. This seems to be the only thing that really effects him, that causes him to doubt his decision, that causes him to show any kind of emotion beyond anger.

I legitimately believe that if someone had talked to Crosshair one-on-one for like five minutes, and really showed how much they still cared about him and always did, that he would've rejoined them.

Granted, it's really hard to tell.

Crosshair has, as Tech said, always been severe and unyielding. Plus, he really suffers from this "in for a penny, in for a pound" kind of mindset, which is partly why he stays with the Empire for so long even after regaining his free will.

But the fact that all his brothers leave him on Kamino again so effortlessly, so easily is just tragic. No final goodbye. No hug. No nothing.

For all any of them know, this could be the last time they ever see each other. (And, for Tech and Crosshair, it was.)

I know it wouldn't have been easy after everything that's happened, but for crying out loud, I just wanted them to try.

And I imagine Crosshair did too.

IN CONCLUSION

Honestly, I think the TBB writers and producers purposely never gave us a scene of The Batch debating whether to go after Crosshair, or a scene of them outlining to us the audience why it wasn't possible even though they wanted to.

I think the creative team wanted us to sympathize with Crosshair when he says "You weren't loyal to me," while also arguably giving our protagonists a weakness to overcome later.

This really seems like the case if we look at Season 2.

Once the Batch finds out Crosshair's being detained by the Empire's Advanced Science Division in 2.14 "Tipping Point," they immediately start discussing whether and why they should try to save him, even after everything that happened between them in S1.

On top of that, this time they actually decide to do whatever it takes to get him back, despite limited intel and the imminent danger behind such an undertaking.

I think the Batch genuinely learned from their mistakes in Season 1 and, as Hunter maybe alludes to in 3.05 "The Return," regretted not going back for Crosshair sooner/at all after the Empire started controlling him.

I'll admit: I think when I first watched Season 1, I was basically in the Batch's corner. Crosshair was gunning for them at every opportunity, and Omega's well-being quickly became their priority (understandably so).

But, after rewatching Season 1 -- especially now that the show is over and we see how everyone's arcs play out -- it really hits me just how much Crosshair's brothers failed him in Season 1.

Again, I'm not saying Crosshair didn't make mistakes too. He definitely did.

But Crosshair's brothers failed him first.

AN ADDENDUM

(EDIT/UPDATE:) Since writing the above, I've stumbled across a few other posts of people making the counterargument, saying they believe Hunter was in the right and don't appreciate the hate he gets for not going back for Crosshair.

People are more than welcome to make that argument. I think that kind of debate just shows how nuanced this show and its characters are, because you can make valid arguments for both sides.

And to clarify, I don't hate Hunter (and the others) for not going back for Crosshair in S1. As Hunter says later in 3.05: "Nobody really understood what was happening back then." It was a chaotic time -- for the galaxy and their family.

In the span of one episode, the Jedi are exterminated; the war ends; the Republic is reorganized into the Empire; the clones' future role in the galaxy is questioned; and when CF99 refuse to kill civilians, they're declared traitors and arrested.

And to top it all off, Crosshair is acting strange AND they find out they have a little sister who's in danger.

So, when Crosshair seemingly betrays them, and they barely escape with their lives, it's understandable that the Batch's first move is just to get their bearings and figure out their next steps.

And, of course, all the dominoes fall from there.

So, while I definitely don't hate him and I understand why they don't go back for Crosshair initially, I am disappointed in Hunter.

If the writers wanted me to be on his side and understand that it was basically impossible to go back for Crosshair, then I needed a scene showing/telling me why they can't. Or I at least needed a scene proving that they care about him, because based on what we actually got in Season 1, I tend to fall on Crosshair's side when he argues his brothers didn't care about him the way they clearly care about Hunter when he's captured.

You can certainly make arguments that, because Crosshair's their brother and he knows all their strategies, strengths, weaknesses, etc., that he's even more dangerous than all the other Imperials they might face. Yes, definitely. I argue that's all the more reason to try to save him.

Yes, there would be risks. But, if you succeed, not only do you lose a very dangerous enemy -- one who knows you inside and out -- but you would (hopefully) regain a teammate.

Imagine you're in Hunter's shoes and your sibling -- or if you don't have one, a really good friend who feels like a sibling -- gets taken captive and mind-controlled by an evil organization. Wouldn't you try your damnedest to get them out? Or at the very least, wouldn't you be sad about their situation?

Rewatching 1.03 "The Replacements," there's an interesting scene that's probably the closest we get to a real discussion about Crosshair -- how they feel about him, whether they miss him, whether he really betrayed them or was being influenced by the chip.

@laughhardrunfastbekindsblog did a great analysis of each character's reaction, which I recommend you read at some point.

I want to take a quick look at it too, starting with the brothers looking at Omega with Crosshair's weapon kit like she just knocked over Grandma's urn or something.

It feels like, for the first time, they're starting to let themselves process what really happened. This is their first real chance to mourn losing their brother.

Tech wonders whether Crosshair's actions were influenced by his inhibitor chip, and Omega basically confirms that theory. Wrecker is excited by the possibility that Crosshair didn't willingly betray them, but Hunter very quickly shuts the conversation down, saying they have other problems to tackle first.

While he's not technically wrong, Hunter pulls out the "raincheck card” too frequently in Season 1. And subsequently, a lot of the topics that come up in conversations keep simmering in the background while the Batch does other things until they're FORCED to confront them.

This scene is the perfect example of that. The Batch didn't mention Crosshair except in passing in 1.02, and it's only when Omega finds his weapon kit that they are FORCED to talk about him. (EDIT: Check out the 3:45 mark of this video on 2.09 “The Crossing” for more examples.)

I get the sense that Hunter's reaction in this scene, plus all the distractions that come up later, is why the others never really bring up Crosshair again, except in passing. It's a sore subject for Hunter, and they all tend to take their cues from him, especially this early in the show. Plus, they're probably still processing their own feelings, so they might not be ready to bring up the topic.

One last thing from 1.03 I want to note is that, later in the episode, Hunter is telling Omega about his and his brothers' enhanced abilities, and he automatically excludes Crosshair from the list.

It really feels like Hunter -- and the rest of the squad by extension -- labeled Crosshair as a lost cause very early on. That it was a given that he was their enemy now and there was no real chance of getting him back (unless he came to his senses on his own like Howzer and other clones later do).

This might be why they're so shocked when he reveals he removed his chip, because they were hoping that once he "woke up" that he would come back to them. Wrecker even says as much to Crosshair in 1.16: "We still would've taken ya."

Ultimately, I think the characters had differing perspectives on who had the responsibility in the situation.

It seems Hunter and the others took a very passive approach. They told Crosshair about the chip when they had the chance, hoped he would "wake up" on his own, and would've accepted him back if he had.

But, Crosshair feels they should've taken a more active approach. He's hurt that they never came back for him, whether to save him or to join him.

(EDIT #2: I realize that by 1.15, at least, Crosshair seems to be arguing that they should’ve come back to join him in the Empire. He might be making that argument, but I’m saying his brothers had a responsibility to try to save him, and in that regard, I believe they failed.)

This is essentially the exchange Hunter and Crosshair have in 1.15:

Crosshair: They don't leave their own behind, most of the time. Hunter: You tried to kill us. We didn't have a choice. Crosshair: Hmm. And I did?

And, as I said before, based on everything we saw in Season 1, I tend to side with Crosshair.

Hunter made mistakes -- never talking about Crosshair and shutting down the others when they did was a big one. He never addressed the elephant in the room until he HAD to, and by then it was basically too late. And, of course, it seems the others took their cues from him.

As the leader, it was his job to -- at some point when they weren't in immediate danger -- introduce the topic and ask the others for their thoughts about Crosshair, especially once they knew how powerful the chip's influence was and once they knew how to remove it.

But, he didn't.

If the writers wanted me to side with Hunter when he says "We didn't have a choice" -- especially given the double standard I discussed earlier -- I don't think they gave me good enough reason to.

However, I think that's ultimately why the writers did what they did.

Both Hunter and Crosshair made enough mistakes in Season 1 that you can argue all day about which one of them failed the other more, which makes the show and characters all the stronger for it. Because neither one is 100% in the right or 100% in the wrong.

I just wanted to play Devil's Advocate, and try to explain why Crosshair felt like he did, and why I believe he was (at least partly) justified.

So, feel free to continue debating it, but I at least believe that Crosshair's brothers failed him first.

[nochukoo97]

boyfriend drabbles (pt.18)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: the one where jungkook accidentally hurts you and he has to do the most to make you forgive him

word count: 600+

boyfriend drabbles masterlist!

“Fuck!” The man beside you smashes his controller into the sofa as he curses loudly, his brother cheers, the split screen showing ‘Victory’ on his brother’s side, while Jungkook has ‘Defeat’ flashing in his face.

Your boyfriend seemed to forget that he was still under his parents roof, his mum right in the next room from where he was.

“Jeon Jungkook! Do not use such foul words in my house,” His mum shouts from the kitchen, shaking her head at him as he smiles at her sheepishly.

As the controller bounced onto the sofa, it bounced back up and landed right on your face, where you were laying on Jungkook’s lap.

“OW!” You immediately clutch your face, the impact of the hard controller making something sting badly, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly where, but it hurt, badly.

“Shit, Jagi I’m so sorry, let me see,” Your boyfriend worriedly searches your face, attempting to pull your hands away to look at it properly.

Instead you push his wandering hands away dramatically, shuffling out of his lap and inching closer to where his brother and his girlfriend, Yongchae, were sitting, cuddling up against her.

“I’m sorry baby, please let me see your face,” Jungkook attempts to pull you back to where you were originally laying, but you shove his hands away again, huffing as you curl up next to Yongchae.

She laughs, patting your head as Jungkook sulks into the couch.

“Jungkook-ah, this is what you get for hurting your girlfriend,” His mum laughs and makes her way into the living room, sitting on the couch next to your boyfriend as he gasps dramatically.

“Omma, how can you side with her, it was an accident,” Jungkook’s whining, as he furrows his brows, in disbelief that his own mother would not even take his side.

“Go and apologise on your knees to her,” She pinches his ear, as he sulks, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you.

His brother laughs at Jungkook’s state as your boyfriend glares back at him.

“I’m sorry baby, please look at me,” Your head is buried into the couch, but Jungkook manages to take your hands into his.

“Then make me a coffee and I’ll see if I forgive you,” You stick your tongue out playfully at him, his eyes widening at your sudden order.

You peck his lips quickly before tapping his shoulder, Jungkook chuckles at you, shaking his head as he goes into the kitchen.

“You really have him wrapped around your finger, I’ve never seen him so compliant before,” His brother laughs, as Jungkook shouts from the kitchen,

“I heard you!”

-

“Mm, missed you,” Jungkook wraps his arms around you tighter as he pecks your forehead.

“We’ve been together the whole entire day Kook,” You laugh into his chest, the smell of his cologne stronger than before.

“I know but all I did was get bullied by everyone,” He’s now sulking, thinking about the day’s events, as you laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“My poor baby,” You coo at him, shuffling up to kiss your sulky boyfriend.

“Kook, why are you holding onto me so tight,” You wheeze as Jungkook tightens his hold again, the two of you squeezing into his childhood bed, a twin sized bed.

“I’m not gonna let you fall off and then I’ll get nagged at again by my mum,” He groans, you’re practically laying on top of him at this point, the twin bed not giving much space for you and your very muscular boyfriend to sleep.

“Is it not uncomfortable with me literally laying on top of you baby?” You laugh as Jungkook shifts slightly under you, making the bed creak.

“Nope,” He replies, popping the last syllable, “I can hold you better like this,” He smiles against your head, hands carding through the long hair.

“Baby I can feel your hand near my boob,” You warn your boyfriend, smiling as he huffs.

“It was worth the try,”

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

[in-this-crystal-kingdom]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SUFFERING GAME GRAPHIC NOVEL

Okay SO. Everyone has some thoughts on this one for sure as I have seen. A lot of people are saying they took a lot from Wonderland and that it's a disappointment as an adaptation but here's the thing: I have viewed the books as separate canon from the podcast since around Crystal Kingdom. I don't necessarily see it as a faithful adaptation but as a cool way to get more people into the story without giving EVERYTHING away in case they decide to listen. However, that being said, I have some things to say. I'm going to start with the negative first because even though I LOVED this book I so have some things I will miss about it (but please understand that I LOVED THE BOOK SM GUYS, I will ofc be adding what I loved after this part)

My Issues/Things I Wish Were Included:

Magnus trying to find his own answers with the voidfish. I was really looking forward to how they would show and represent that!

"I'm afraid no one else will have me" was such a good scene, I really liked the vulnerability Taako showed then because aside from his scene in Petals we haven't seen a whole lot of that from him in the books (again, I veiw the books as separate canon, but it would be nice to see)

CAM! I missed Cam so much he was delightful

No Boss Rush

I don't like that they basically forced Magus to decide if he wanted to lose Julia and never mention Gov. Kallen at all. That was such an impactful moment and they kind of side stepped it unfortunately

Trust or Forsake is missing which is also unfortunate

A lot of what made Wonderland interesting is either spedrun or absent so they kind of took the Wonder out of Wonderland

Taako giving up his beauty is also gone! Which sucks ass! My only true issue with this book that I genuinely was heartbroken over. I understand it can be a hard thing to show, especially when it runs the risk of someone in real life looking at the design and going "ow, that looks like me!'. So like. I get it. I really do. But they cut so much of Podcast!Taako's growth in Book!Taako's character that it was a sore spot for me personally.

If they let Johann live in the next book I will be very upset

SPEAKING OF NEXT BOOK!! Now that I have all my negative out of the way ohohoh boy I'm gonna share the positives I have with it. Given that, again, I view the books as separate story than the podcast, I thought they did a wonderful job overall. Solid 8/10 for me! Here are the things I am still screaming about

Things I adore about this book and will be living rent free in my head forever

TAAKO AND KRAVITZ KISS LIKE 5 PAGES IN AND I SCREAMED CAREY ATE WITH THAT

Merle's kids 😭😭😭

JOHANN IS ACKNOWLEDGED IN THIS ONE RAAAAAAAA I WAS SO WORRIED THEY WERE TRYING TO CUT HIM OUT

I love the redesign of Wonderland looking like a circus instead of a roulette wheel, I liked that a lot

Kravitz calling Taako to tell him to be safe,,, the call getting cut off,,,, pain

I loved the wheel it looked so cool

Edward and Lydia were giving Velvet and Veneer and I am HERE FOR IT

Heart Attack my beloved 🥰

ARMS OUTSTRETCHED!!!!!!!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN TAAKO SAW KRAVITZ IN THE TAR??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE TRIED TO SAVE HIM?????? MCELROY FAMILY AND CAREY WHEN I GET YOU-

Seeing the umbra staff (*cough cough* Lup) BEAT THE SHIT out of Edward was lovely, no notes

HOW GRIFFIN DISAPPEARED!!! I WAS HOPING THEY WOULD DO THAT!!!

BLUEJEANS REVEAL

The Umbra Staff jumping into Barry's arms 😭😭😭

Taako having STATIC IN HIS EYES seeing the staff and Barry together CAREY PLEASE

MERLE SEEING JOHN, THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE

L U P SHE IS SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I CRIED I AM SO GLAD THEY GAVE HER LONG HAIR TOO!!

GOD THE BOOK ENDED WHERE I WANTED IT TO AND THEN SOME ACTUALLY (I thought it would end with the line "Lucretia, what have you done???" BUT MAN I'M NOT MAD IT WENT ON A BIT LATER)

THE IPRE PAINTING. THEM. THEY. ALL OF THEM. I AM DYING. MY CROPS ARE WATERED AS SHIT.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 9 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , -Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky, noticing the strained atmosphere between Kate and Y/N, decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Hey, Y/N," Bucky interjected, his voice laced with a hint of urgency, "could you teach me how to clean Alpine's hooves?"

Y/N paused, her expression softening as she recognized Bucky's attempt to diffuse the tension. "Of course," she replied, offering him a reassuring smile.

With a sense of relief washing over him, Bucky led the way to the stables, eager to learn from Y/N and escape the brewing conflict with Kate.

Meanwhile, Kate seethed with frustration, her hostility towards Y/N palpable. Clenching her fists, she struggled to contain her anger as she watched Bucky and Y/N walk away, leaving her behind.

"Shit!" she muttered under her breath, her perfectly manicured nails leaving indentations on her palms as she pressed them tightly together.

Turning to her assistant, Kate issued a terse command. "I want you to gather information on someone."

Kate couldn't fathom how Bucky could abandon her for a mere farm girl when there were plenty of wealthy suitors vying for her attention. The thought fueled her irritation, exacerbating her already sour mood.

With a frustrated huff, Kate stomped her expensive shoes on the ground, unwittingly stepping into a patch of mud. The dirt splattered across her face, staining her clothes and ruining her pristine footwear.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, her outburst startling the nearby animals, who responded with their own cacophony of sounds.

As the chickens clucked "Buk-buk-ba-gawk!!!" and the cows mooed, "Moooo…!" Kate felt a surge of indignation. She despised the rural setting and everything it represented, longing for the comfort and luxury of her city life.

Determined to uncover any secrets Y/N might be hiding, Kate hoped that the information her assistant obtained would give her the leverage she needed to regain control of the situation.

***********

At the stable, Bucky observed closely as Y/N expertly cleaned Alpine's hooves. Her movements were precise and confident, a testament to her familiarity with the task.

She explained, her voice calm and knowledgeable, “Regular cleaning is also the only way to remove impacted dirt, mud, and manure from the hoof. When you give your horse a bath, take the time to carefully clean out their hooves to prevent horse scratches and infections.”

Bucky nodded attentively, absorbing her instructions. “I see. I'll try my best to take care of Alpine.”

Y/N smiled approvingly. “Good. You're getting better at living on this farm.”

Bucky felt a flush of shyness at her compliment. He hadn't expected Y/N to praise him. “Hehe, but I'm nothing compared to you.”

As she brushed Alpine's coat, Y/N chuckled softly. “Well, I'm already used to this. If you asked me to drive a sports car or make a vlog, I wouldn't have a clue.”

Bucky's curiosity piqued. “You've never driven a sports car?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Not everyone is as rich as you.”

Realizing his unintentional insensitivity, Bucky hurriedly apologized. “Uhh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way.”

Then, an idea struck him. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Bucky said, "You have taught me how to drive a truck. It's more difficult than driving my Ferrari. I think you can do it."

Y/N paused, considering his offer. Bucky couldn't see her expression from his angle. “Hmm, I'll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

Disappointed but understanding, Bucky nodded. He had hoped to share the thrill of driving a sports car with Y/N, to give her a glimpse of his world, and understand his passion for racing.

Suddenly, Toby burst into the stable, his usually cheerful face now drawn with worry. “Y/N, Bucky, I need to go home!”

Concern etched across his features, Bucky approached. "What's wrong?"

“My grandmother,” Toby gasped, his voice trembling. “She's having a hard time breathing.”

Y/N wasted no time. “Get in my car, and I'll call the doctor on the way.”

Bucky, feeling a surge of determination, stepped forward. “I want to help.”

Y/N hesitated, considering Bucky's offer. “It won't fit since we're going to pick up both his grandparents.”

But Bucky wasn't deterred. “I'll use my car. It's faster. I'll meet you at Toby's house and then drive his grandma to the hospital.”

Y/N nodded, seeing the logic in Bucky's plan. “Alright.”

With determination in his eyes, Bucky hurried to his red Ferrari and fired up the engine.

"VROOM!"

The roar of the Ferrari's powerful motor sent a thrill through him. “Let's help someone,” he declared, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

As they drove towards Toby's house, Bucky followed Y/N's truck, his mind racing with thoughts. He couldn't help but marvel at Toby's resilience, realizing that the young boy had been walking to and from the farm every day.

Bucky remembered Toby, who never seemed tired each time he came by.

He felt like all his life he had the privilege to own a car and have a private driver to drive him around.

Arriving at Toby's house, Bucky took in the scene before him—the abundance of bee boxes and honey jars, a testament to the family's livelihood. Yet, despite their hard work, they lacked the resources and transportation in times of emergency.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Bucky reflected on his life of luxury, provided by his father's wealth.

Entering the house, Bucky saw Toby's grandparents. The love between them was palpable, even in their moment of distress. Toby's grandmother struggled to breathe, her frail form supported by her husband.

Bucky sprang into action with urgency, lifting Toby's grandmother gently into his arms.

Toby's grandfather regarded Bucky with curiosity who carried his wife into the small car. “Who is this young man?”

Toby assured him, “He's my great friend. Trust him, grandpa.”

As they hurried Toby's grandmother into Bucky's car, Toby's grandfather's eyes reflected both worry and gratitude, hoping for the best for his beloved wife.

With minimal traffic on the road, Bucky navigated the streets swiftly, arriving at the hospital in just 10 minutes. Carrying Toby's grandmother into the emergency room, he conveyed the urgency of her condition to the attending doctor. "She's having a hard time breathing. It's been 20 minutes."

The medical team, already briefed by Y/N, sprang into action, swiftly preparing a bed for the elderly woman. "Quick, put her here," they instructed, their sense of urgency matching Bucky's own.

As he received updates upon his arrival, Bucky prayed for Toby's grandmother's swift recovery. The weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders, a newfound sense of responsibility driving him to do everything in his power to help.

Ten minutes later, Y/N, Toby, and his grandfather arrived at the hospital, their anxious expressions mirroring Bucky's own concern. "Where is she?" Toby's grandfather inquired, his voice trembling with worry.

Bucky relayed the nurse's assurance. "The doctor is still looking after her, but the nurse told him her breathing problem has already improved."

Relief washed over the group, evident in their collective sighs. Toby's grandfather extended his hand to Bucky in gratitude. "Thank you, young man. Thank you so much."

Though unused to such displays of appreciation, Bucky accepted the gesture with a sense of humility, his heart warmed by the genuine gratitude.

Not just him, but Y/N felt it too. Watching Bucky's efforts to help Toby and his grandparents, Y/N's perception of him changed. He wasn't the spoiled person she had initially thought him to be.

*************

As they waited at the hospital, Bucky's thoughts drifted to his father. Reflecting on their strained relationship, he wondered when they had last spent quality time together. The sight of his father's graying hair flashed in his mind, prompting concerns about his health. Had his father undergone regular check-ups?

His musings were interrupted by Toby's grandfather's somber conversation with a doctor. "We couldn't afford the surgery," he overheard, the weight of the words settling heavily on Bucky's heart.

Caught in a moment of helplessness, Toby echoed his grandfather's sentiments. If only his father hadn't succumbed to gambling, they would have had the means to afford the necessary medical treatment for his grandmother.

Feeling helpless, Bucky watched as Toby and his family grappled with the harsh reality of their financial limitations. Meanwhile, Y/N, ever resourceful, discussed options to assist Toby's grandmother with the hospital administration.

In the midst of the chaotic scene at the hospital, Bucky felt overwhelmed by the raw emotions surrounding him. The sight of an 80-year-old man in tears and the anguished voice of another man grappling with his inability to provide for his loved one brought a lump to Bucky's throat, threatening to unleash his own flood of tears.

In stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor, Bucky clenched his fists in frustration, his heart aching with the weight of helplessness. In a world where a simple swipe of his card could solve most problems, he now found himself powerless in the face of someone else's suffering.

Determined to make a difference, Bucky stepped outside the hospital, his resolve firm as he dialed his father's number.

“Hello,” came his father's curt greeting.

“Dad. I need your help,” Bucky began, his voice tinged with urgency.

His father's response was laced with skepticism. “What did you do this time?”

Bucky's frustration mounted as he struggled to convey the gravity of the situation. “Huh? No, Dad, this isn't about me. I want to help someone.”

But his father's skepticism persisted. “Really? It's not the same as when you ask for a private jet to pick up your friends for a party?”

Bucky winced at the reminder of his past selfishness, feeling ashamed. “No, Dad, this is different. This is about someone's life. A farmer I know is facing a medical issue and can't afford surgery. I want to help them, but I don't have the money. Dad, can you help me?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, stretching agonizingly as Bucky waited for his father's response.

“...”

“Hello? Dad?” Bucky prompted anxiously, his heart pounding in his chest.

“How much for the surgery?” his father's voice finally broke through the silence.

Relief flooded through Bucky, gratitude welling up within him. “Thank you, Dad. You're the best. Oh, can I ask one more thing?” he added, seizing the opportunity to make another request, his mind already racing with possibilities.

As he awaited his father's response, Bucky couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, knowing that with his father's support, he could truly make a difference in someone's life.

Inside the office, with expansive windows offering sweeping views of the city skyline, sat a man of distinguished presence. David Barnes, at 50 years old, possessed an aura of approachability coupled with an unmistakable air of authority.

David was renowned in the business world for his astute decisions and remarkable success. With a seemingly effortless knack for turning ventures into triumphs, he had earned the moniker of having a Midas touch.

Yet, despite his prowess in the realm of business, David found himself somewhat adrift when it came to matters concerning his son, Bucky. His only child, Bucky's recent actions had stirred something within David, a sense of curiosity and perhaps even pride.

As he listened to Bucky's earnest plea for assistance, David felt a stirring within him. It was a rare glimpse of the young man his son had become, a departure from the carefree persona that had once defined him.

With a decisive nod, David motioned to his secretary. “Send $20,000 to this hospital,” he instructed, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve.

The secretary, ever efficient, sought clarification. “Did Bucky get hurt?” she inquired, her concern evident in her tone.

David shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gazed at the sunset, casting its golden hues across the city cape. “No,” he replied simply, “he's helping someone.”

At that moment, as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, David felt a swell of pride for his son, realizing that there was more to success than just business acumen—that true wealth lay in the ability to lend a helping hand to those in need.

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[spooky-bunnys]

Carl Grimes x male reader who is the leader of his own settlement in a private school and they become close and they are so cheesey and cute together and sneak out to see each other

I miss The Walking Dead. I stopped watching after like the middle of the 6th season. I just couldn't handle all the death anymore. But I hope you enjoy.

When (Name) was a kid he had a best friend that not only was his classmates, but was his neighbor. His name was Carl Grimes. He was everything to (Name). Just like how (Name) was everything to Carl. Especially since all (Name) had was his grandmother. Who half the time didn't even remember the poor (hair color) male.

So when the world fell apart. Neither boys knew what happened to the other. Carl tried to convince his mother and Shane to help his friend but they were more worried about getting themselves out and to safety then for the kids. Sadly when (Name) when to the Grimes household and saw it ransacked he thought the worst.

That Carl hadn't made it. (Name)'s grandmother hadn't. In fact she had attacked poor (Name) who sadly had to choose between his life or her dead life. She was already turned so (Name) didn't feel as much guilt as he would've if she was alive.

(Name) over the years had been all over the place. Saving many people and families. While some people tried to double cross him, (Name) didn't let that affect him. (Name) would save whoever he could and if they chose to stay with him, he'd let them as long as they don't hurt others in the group.

(Name) had honestly never been one for violence but sometimes that's all a person knows. He has done some questionable things over the years. But the others in his group didn't hold it against him. They knew he was just doing it with their safety in mind. Especially after an incident when a man tried to force himself on one of the younger girls.

That was the first time (Name) had killed a living being. It haunted (Name) but the thanks that the girl and her parents have him helped. His wife had tried turning the group against him. Calling him a murder and a liar. Until the girl explained what happened in exact details.

The woman didn't say anything after that. Just asked for a few supplies and left the group. (Name) had of curse blamed himself but the group supported him. So when they had found a private school in an hour and half from D.C. he decided the group needed to settle.

So he worked hard along with the volunteers that helped him clean it out. They turned it from a private school to a heavily protected fortress. He set up a routine with the workers and was even able to give the children the feeling of normality with going to school. Which made many people happy including himself.

He had a routine fr scavenging, training, teaching, and guarding. He had displayed it on the inside of the front door. But when people wanted to change they had to discuss it with him and see if anyone would switch. If nobody could switch he'd do it himself. Since everybody needs a break he'd say.

So imagine his surprise when on one scavenging hunt he runs into not only the old sheriff but his son too. "Mr. Grimes? C-Carl?" The two had quickly turned with weapons drawn. But both were pleasantly surprised to see it was someone alive. "Um I'm sorry how do you know us?" (Name) pulled his long hair up showing off his face.

"It's me. (Name). (Name) (Last Name)." The two froze. "Holy shit (Name)!" Carl practically tackled the poor male to the ground from the surprise hug. (Name) yelped and winced upon impact and Rick quickly pulled Carl off the smaller boy. "Are you bit?" Rick asked gun trained on (Name). "Ah-no. I broke my left hand earlier trying to get something off a high self."

The two Grimes looked at him confused. "Oh I was scavenging for my group." The two tensed at the information. "Are you talking about the Saviors?" (Name) confused tilted his head. "Saviors? I don't know who that it. But I'm talking about my group. We're set up at John Kennedy Academy. It was a private school before everything happened."

The Grimes looked at each other then looked at (Name). "Whose the leader then?" (Name) pointed at himself. "I am. Surprising I know but I've worked extremely hard to get to where I am and I'm very proud of it." The two shared a look and Rick nodded. "We'll take you back to your group then. I know Carl is dying to spend more time with you." Carl blushed and lightly hit his father.

(Name) chuckled and nodded. "Alright follow me if you want. I came in a car. Do you guys need a ride?" The Grime winced then nodded. (Name) led them to the van he was using. "This is our Scavenger Van as the kids like to call it." Rick chuckled with a nod. He knows how kids are. When they piled in (Name) realized something. "Um actually could one of you two drive. I forgot about my broken hand..."

Rick nodded and took over as the driver as (Name) directed him to the Academy. When they arrived at the gate an older male had his gun trained on Rick. "Staye your business!" (Name) rolled down the window and stuck his head out. "Nick! It's okay they're with me. I accidentally broke my hand again!" The man now identified as Nick opened the gate.

Once they entered Nick immediately opened (Name)'s door and took a look at his hand. "Yep definitely broken. What'd you do this time kiddo?" (Name) bashfully looked away and softly spoke. "I tried climbing shelfs for items." Nick huffed and messed up (Name)'s hair. "Well get to Stefanie then. We should have the right material to bandage it."

The male nodded and turned to leve but saw the Grimes. "Oh I completely forgot! Nick meet my old neighbors M. Sheriff Rick Grimes and his son Carl." Nick nodded at the two and shook their hands. "My name is Nicholas Blake. Or just Nick for short. I was a baker before the world ended." Rick nodded before asking. "How'd you meet (Name) then?"

Nick was silent for a moment. "I-I had lost my wife and daughter. They'd be bit and I couldn't kill them. So they turned. I couldn't find it in myself to end them but luckily this kiddo saved me." Nick ruffled (Name)'s hair again making said male whine. "Now (Name) go to Stefanie for that hand while I take the stuff in." Rick offered to help which Nick agreed. Leaving (Name) and Carl.

"Wow (Name). You've done a lot over the years haven't you?" (Name) nodded and started up the Academy stairs. "Care to join me?" (Name) held out his right hand. Carl smiled softly and grabbed it letting (Name) lead him. It honestly felt like old times as they walked and talked about what happened over the years.

"Wait so your telling me. Because you killed her husband who was trying to harm a little girl, she tried turning your own group against you? What did you do?" (Name) smiled sadly. "I didn't do anything. The girl came forward and told everyone what had been happening before I stepped in. She told her everything in detail. The wife didn't say much after that. Just asked for a few supplies and left."

Carl nodded. He knows how hard it is after killing a living for the first time. While they were walking and chatting many and the settlers saw how happy their leader was and smiled. Glad he finally had his happiness again. Well that was until they made it to Stefanie's office.

"(Name) (Last Name)! What on earth did you do this time?!" Stefanie was a lady in her early 40's and honestly the look on her face scared Carl a little bit. (Name) stared at the ground and kicked at an invisible rock. "I was climbing a shelf to get a some cans of food and an undead sent the shelf backwards and I landed wrong."

Stefanie sighed and ran a hand down her face. "Honestly kid. Your so clumsy I swear. What are you gonna do when we run out o medical supplies?" (Name) had answered without hesitation. "I'll go out for more. We have too many people here to not have any medical supplies. Which reminds me! I found the equipment you had asked me to look for a few months ago! Nick should be bringing it up here or Mr. Grimes will."

Stefanie smiled softly. "Thanks kid. Your always looking out for us. But whose gonna look after you?" That's when Carl spoke up. "I will. I know how clumsy he is. So I'll gladly look out for him." Carl sent (Name) a soft look and Stefanie couldn't help but snort. "Young love."