#is now much easier because hes had worse hes survived far worse

[i-cant-sing]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

-

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

[lihhelsing]

The Adventures of Bat Eddie

Written by @devondespresso & @lihhelsing for the Upside Down/Right Side Up Challenge from @strangerthingswritersguild ❤️ Steddie | Rated T&Up | 5k words

Summary: Eddie wakes up on the Upside Down and quickly realizes he's a bat. Now his best hope lays in the hands of two dinguses.

CW: Mentions of Blood, Mild Body Horror

Read it on Ao3 Or keep reading it below the cut

Eddie wakes up to pain.

Sharp, gnawing pain around his middle, something deeper and hollow—hunger—and the heavy ache of exhaustion fucking everywhere. 

His mouth tastes sweet, like blood, and it isn't as distressing as it should be. He breathes, short, heavy and desperate, scabs pulling skin with every movement.

Eddie opens his eyes and sees a murky red sky.

He should be dead. He knows, instinctively, that he's lost too much blood for any person to have survived.

He died.

But his stomach still hurts, a lot, and he could see the red sky and he’s fucking starving, and in all honesty he imagined hell to be a lot worse than regular pain and regular hunger and regular, upside down reds.

So, somehow, he isn't dead. And he’s still in the upside down.

Eddie takes a breath—and it’s short, but he manages—and moves his hands—

Eddie freezes, and sucks in another too-short breath. 

He could feel between his arm and side. He feels movement, dirt and skin brushing skin, where he shouldn't feel anything.

Eddie looks down.

Dark gray fur coated in jagged red scabs, moving up and down from quick, heavy breathing. Thin folds of skin connected to long, thin bones.

He bends his arm—the motion to bring his hand to his face—and the boney arm bends at the same time. Bringing a pointy claw and boney long fingers, skin webbed in between to form wings, up to his face.

It's him.

There's skin between his fingers, between his arm and his side, his thumb is a claw and his breaths are small because his lungs and whole body is the size of a–

He's a fucking bat.

Eddie looks around, even as moving and twisting pulls at the scabs on his middle painfully, ripping new wounds.

He's a bat. Still in the upside down. Alone.

He needs to cry. 

Somewhere in his brain tries, emotions welling, feeling too much, too different, too pained.

Too alone.

He doesn't cry. He brings his boney hands up sideways, claw-thumb-thing up, and rubs at the skin around his eyes in a way that almost feels human, but it doesn't work. 

Apparently, bats can't cry. 

Eddie is a bat, alone, and he can't fucking cry.

He moves his thumbs to the top of his head, finger-wings spread out almost like  a blanket shielding him. He scrunches his legs in awkwardly—hurting his scabs again, but fuck it—and he screams.

He screams from his gut, but it’s high-pitched, and that just makes it worse. He screams harder, as hard as his shrunken fucking lungs let him, stopping for breaths more often than he feels like he should.

He can't cry, but he can press his claw-thumbs into the skin on his head, he can force his eyes shut tighter and tighter, and he can scream his lungs out, hard and painful until he grows lightheaded.

He has no idea how long he sits there, screaming. 

Eventually, he becomes too dizzy, nearly numbed, and he collapses back down. Looking at the red sky, he tries to figure out what the hell he's going to do now.

_

Flying is easier than Eddie expected. So is leaving the upside down.

That’s a bad sign, probably, but he decided to forgive himself for focusing on other shit at the moment.

Like how all the lights were off in Max's trailer and Harrington’s house—and he doesn't want to think about what that could mean—or how he doesn't know where any of the others live, besides Wheeler, who just had to live goddamned miles away.

He’s pretty sure he won't make it that far.

He'd only just passed Harrington’s house and his body is already aching, arms heavy and stomach in pain, maybe bleeding again, maybe just really fucking hungry. Eddie watches the ground attentively, hoping he could somehow guess where Henderson or Sinclair lives. 

Then, he spots a Beemer. The Beemer.

Eddie dives down immediately, landing roughly on the hood. It’s parked at a house that definitely isn't Harrington’s, but at least it explains the lights out at his own house.

Eddie takes off, finding a window with the lights on and heading towards it, not really thinking about his plan until it’s too late.

Eddie slows down, but he’s not used to these wings and it’s a little more complicated to aim when you’re a bat. He was hoping to land safely at the windowsill but ends up going straight through it and only stopping when he slams on a wall with a painful thunk.

He slides from the wall to the floor and he doesn’t want to call anyone hysterical, but there’s a lot of screaming happening around him. 

When his eyes finally focus on the scene in front of him, he finds none other than Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, holding on to each other with matching horrified expressions directed at Eddie. 

Eddie wants to tell them they probably saw worse things than a bat on the Upside Down but, well, he can’t speak. And it would probably freak them out even more. 

“Do you think it’s… alive?” Robin says, frowning and then yelping when Eddie manages to move a little on his spot. He knew the sound he made when he hit the wall wasn’t good, but from the pain that shoots through him with the smallest movement he figures he probably broke something. 

“Definitely alive,” Steve says and he takes a step towards Eddie, but Robin holds him back.

“Don't poke him!” 

“I wasn’t planning on that! Just wanted to get a better look,” Steve defends, but he stays where he is. Eddie can see Robin is holding him tightly enough to bruise. 

“It’s kind of gross. You don't think he has rabies… right?” She asks.

“He might.” Steve deadpans and the two take a step back together. 

Eddie tries to fly away unsuccessful and ends up causing another comotion. Robin pulls Steve back and the two of them trip and fall on the bed. Steve lets out a low grunt and moves his hand to his stomach, where Eddie can see a small dark spot, like he’s bleeding.

“You’re bleeding,” Robin says and Steve grunts in response. “Have you changed your bandages today?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and gets up, a frown in between her brows. 

“I’m fine. We should figure out what to do about that first,” Steve says, pointing at where Eddie is.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere, Steve,” she says, looking at Eddie and wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I’ll get bandages and the rabies book, and you can read it while I patch you up.” 

Before Steve can even agree, she’s out of the room and then Steve and Eddie are alone. 

Despite his injuries, Steve looks… curious. He gets up from the bed letting out a low grunt and moves towards Eddie. Eddie tries to move away, but one of his wings is definitely busted and he flaps uselessly with the other, managing to bump into Steve’s dresser. 

Steve keeps moving and that’s when Eddie realizes he wasn’t curious about him, but about something else. With slow and clearly painful movements, Steve crouches down and picks up something from the place where Eddie initially fell down. 

Eddie watches as he analyzes it and it looks like a piece of clothing. Was that stuck on him and he hadn’t noticed it? Probably. 

“Robin!” Steve yells and then proceeds to put the thing close to his nose and smell it. He wrinkles his nose and grunts, “Disgusting.” 

Robin shows back up on the door, heaving with a big book and a first-aid kit clutched in her arms. She’s looking alarmed as if she thought she was going to find Steve on the ground and Eddie feeding from him or something. 

“You ok, dingus?” she asks and Steve gets up, offering her the piece of clothing. 

“Yeah. This just fell down from our little guy there and guess what… it smells like the fucking Upside Down.” 

Robin’s eyes widen and Eddie lets out a small noise because he’s a little shocked Steve knows what the Upside Down smells like. 

“You think this came from there?” she asks, dropping the things she was carrying on the bed so she can take the thing from Steve’s hand to inspect it herself. 

“I think he came from there,” Steve points to Eddie, still on the floor. 

Eddie flaps his good wing and hopes they read that as a yes. 

“Seems like he agrees,” Robin says and gives the piece of clothing back to Steve. “Let’s patch you up and then we’ll figure out what to do with him.” 

Steve sits on the bed and Eddie watches, in mild amazement, as he strips down from his clothes. Steve has never cared for his modesty too much, Eddie knows it, he just didn’t think he was going to get another chance to look at his pecs again. 

And there’s something else, as Robin gets to work. Eddie can smell Steve. No, not Steve. His blood. And it makes his mouth water in a weird way. 

She takes off the old bandages and from their color, they are definitely soaked in blood. Eddie moves again, something inside his gut telling him to get close. Steve glances at him and then back at the piece of clothing, as if he’s looking for an answer. 

“You know what Dustin told me?” he asks, hissing as Robin presses a gauze on his bat bites. “I was lucky I got half-eaten by UD bats because they don’t carry diseases like regular bats do. Something about them being undead creatures or whatever. Sure, I could’ve bled to death and those are going to scar, but at least…”

“No rabies!” Robin concludes, her eyes shifting to where Eddie is. 

“No rabies,” he agrees. 

They both turn their eyes at Eddie and it’s kind of scary to be a target like that. Before he can do anything, Steve is on his feet, still shirtless for fuck’s sake, and he bends down and cups Eddie in his hands, bringing him up. 

One of the hands under him retracts and a shaky finger comes out, lifting one of his wings out carefully.

“Oh… yikes,” Robin says and Eddie looks up to find her looking over Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Eddie glances down at the scabs—which look even worse in proper lighting—as Harrington lowers his wing back down gently.

“Let’s get him cleaned up. And then we’ll figure out how the fuck he ended up here,” Steve says, taking Eddie with him to his en-suite, followed by Robin. 

_

Adopting an Upside Down bat wasn’t on Steve’s bingo card for that year, and still… that was what happened. 

The bat had crashed through Robin’s room window a week ago and they had decided to figure out what he meant–or what he wanted, depending on how sentient the thing was– before calling the party. 

After figuring out the bat couldn’t give any of them rabies or anything like that, Steve had given it a bath and had cared for its broken wing, and the bat seemed to be very grateful. 

Robin still felt a little… disgusted by it. And Steve didn’t blame her. But maybe being half-eaten by bats had made him a half-bat or something because, for whatever reason, Steve felt a connection with him. 

And, truth be told, Steve was feeling extra lonely lately. Robin had quickly found another job and she was still trying to convince her manager to hire Steve as well. Steve’s parents had vanished and he was still trying to figure out if they were alive or if they had just abandoned him and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse. 

So yeah, maybe it was pathetic that his best friend right now was a wounded bat, but Steve had weirder things happening to him. 

Besides, the bat was proving to be good company. 

Steve grew accustomed to bringing him along to anything. The bat would just happily sit on his shoulder and keep him company whenever Robin was out. Steve was dreading having to go back to his parents, scared of finding out what had happened to them, and having the bat with him made things easier. 

Even if he was left with no answers, still. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Steve’s hungry so he decides to get a snack. He’s not sure what kind of food the bat eats so he mostly gives him fruit and water and he seems content about it. 

Steve gets himself an apple and the bats patiently wait as he eats. Soon enough Steve knows he’s going to be talking to the bat and he’s not sure he’s worried about it. The bat came to him after the Upside Down so it means the bat knows something, right? 

The connection was still unclear and Steve is not in any rush. Things have been pretty quiet after their last encounter with Vecna and Steve is really not looking forward to things heating up again. 

He grabs a banana and unpeels it. He tried a few different fruits, but the banana seems to be his favorite. Easier to eat, probably. The phone ring at that exact moment, so Steve says. “Hang on, let me take this,” and answers it before giving him the banana. 

On the phone, Robin called just to check-in on him. She’s worried and Steve knows it. She’s worried he’s isolating too much. She’s worried that Eddie’s death has affected him more than he’s willing to admit. 

It’s not like he hasn’t said it out loud. He misses Eddie. So fucking much. But Steve’s trying to be practical about it. Him crying or sharing how much he misses Eddie is not going to bring him back. No matter how much he wants it. No matter how many times he’s dreamed about it. 

And, there’s something else. Something he hasn’t been able to admit to Robin yet. 

Eddie seems to have woken something up in Steve. The way he talked and the way he walked and how Steve’s stomach fluttered every time Eddie touched him. It probably meant nothing. But without Eddie, Steve was left to figure out for himself what it all meant. 

There’s a part of him that knows Eddie has changed something inside of him. Steve’s just afraid that acknowledging it will break something irreparable inside of him. What’s the use of having a crush on a dead guy, right? 

“Dingus, you still there?” Robin says over the speaker and snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “And what’s this sound?” 

“Yeah, I’m just feeding him while we talk,” Steve says and he moves his hand to give him the last of the banana. 

The problem is, he’s not paying attention and the poor thing might be hungrier than he imagined because he’s taking a bite and the next thing Steve knows is pain shooting through his body from his finger. 

He keeps the scream down, doesn’t want to alert Robin or scare the bat, and tells her he has to go. 

“What? Did something happen?” 

“I forgot cookies in the oven!” Steve lies and hangs up before Robin can ask any more questions. “Fuck.” 

He moves back to the kitchen and puts the bat down with the little piece of banana left. He washes his finger on the sink but the bleeding isn’t stopping and there’s a moment where he just scrambles to find a paper towel to wrap his finger around it. 

When he finally does, his heart is beating like crazy in his chest and he has to take a second to catch his breath. He sighs, feeling his finger throbbing. The bat didn’t mean, obviously, but fuck that hurt. 

He looks up to find the bat… licking the counter. 

His first thought is that he’s underfeeding him and he feels instantly guilty. But when he looks closer he sees the little red dots sprinkled everywhere on the counter. And the little guy just licking all that he can find, cleaning every spot of Steve’s blood. 

And then, it dawns on him. 

“Fuck.” 

_

Steve has thought this through.

He considered waiting for Robin but what if he’s wrong? What if this was just a weird coincidence and the bat is really just hungry and going for anything with any taste? 

There’s no indication the bat would know the difference between a banana and blood so maybe he just thought it was nice and he was still hungry. 

So Steve tries to offer him another banana. And then an apple, some berries, cashews and even cereal. No deal. He just blinks those huge black eyes at him and waits. 

He waits and waits and waits and Steve feels like he’s going crazy. He’s also running out of time, so he figures no harm in trying. 

Steve picks up a knife and presses his thumb on the blade. It needs a little bit of force, but then the sting spreads through his body and he watches as thick, red drops drip from his hand to the counter. 

The bat squeaks and it would be cute if he wasn’t literally excited for Steve’s blood. 

“Let’s see if this works.” 

The bat moves on the counter and licks it clean again. He waits as Steve’s thumb drips blood and he licks again and again and again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters under his breath. He picks up the knife again. “Hopefully you won’t need too much, huh?” 

The bat makes a noise and Steve’s not sure if he’s agreeing with him or not, but he still presses the knife on his palm and cuts it. It’s a longer cut and it hurts more. Steve bends down and presses his hand with the other, feeling his eyes welling up. 

The bat starts to flap his wings around and Steve doesn’t want to alarm him, so he just shushes him. 

“I’m ok. Let’s get you properly fed.” 

He picks the bat up and brings him to his chest before placing his hand in front of him. The bat eyes go wide and he puts his tongue out, licking what he can reach. Steve walks to one of the kitchen chairs and plops himself down, hoping the bat won’t need enough to make him dizzy, but still, better be prepared. 

“You were really hungry, huh?” Steve says and then he moves his hand and the bat seems to read that as an invitation so he sinks his tiny fangs into the meat of Steve’s hand. 

Surprisingly, the pain isn’t bad. It seems like his hand is a little numb and the bat lets out a content sigh as he sucks on Steve’s hand. 

It doesn’t take long for him to retreat and Steve is thankful for it. He’s not feeling dizzy, but he reaches for some water and drinks long gulps as the bat uses his tongue to clean every last drop. 

They survived, which is a good sign. Steve is not really surprised that the bat feeds on blood, but he knows it’s going to be a bitch of a conversation to have with Robin when he finds the words to do it. 

Which probably won’t be tonight. 

_

Steve’s a coward. He’s fine admitting that. 

He might not be a coward in the general sense of the world because he doesn’t have a good enough instinct of self-preservation. As in, he’s ready to jump in front of danger whenever. 

Creatures from the Upside Down coming for them? Steve’s ready to fight them with his nail bat. Russian military using truth serum? Sign him the fuck in. 

Having hard conversations with Robin about how their adopted bat from the Upside Down apparently feeds from human blood? He’d rather face Vecna again. 

That’s how he finds himself doing their night routine, lips sealed as if his secret might spill at any time without warning. 

They brush their teeth together while Robin complains about jackass customers she had to deal with today. Says she’s almost cracking her manager and maybe Steve should come in later in the week to seal the deal. 

“Whadidyoudotoyourhand?” she asks, mouth full with toothpaste. Steve’s glad he’s known Robin long enough that he can figure out what she means. 

“Burned my hand trying to get the cookies from the oven,” Steve lies easily and Robin spits in the sink before filling her mouth with water. 

She spits and looks at him through the mirror, “can’t believe you burned cookies. You’re really not the same, Dingus.” 

Steve laughs. It was a harmless lie to explain the bandages he wrapped around his cut hand and the lack of any cookies because he wouldn’t have time to actually bake them before Robin got home. 

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” he promises and she pats him on the shoulder, moving to the bedroom and getting in bed. 

After everything, Steve doesn’t like to sleep alone. At first, he tried sleeping in the guest bedroom but he would eventually wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart beating a million per second. 

Now, he just crawls in bed with Robin, no more preambles. They have no idea what her parents think about this, but Robin doesn’t worry enough to offer an explanation and they also don’t worry enough to demand one. 

Once he’s settled, Robin gets her book. She usually reads out loud at night, to put both of them to sleep. It’s nice to sleep with her voice echoing inside his head, even if he misses parts of the story because he usually sleeps first. 

The bat snuggles next to Steve’s chest. He usually slept on the floor, in a pile of Steve’s clothes, but today he whined until Steve put him in bed. He has no idea if it’s the blood sharing or just a natural change of things, but he doesn’t hate his presence in bed. 

Robin looked weird at the two of them but she said nothing. Again. Not the weirdest thing to happen in their lives so far. 

Steve falls asleep pretty quickly, the cadence of Robin’s voice all he needs to muffle everything else inside his brain. It doesn’t stop him from dreaming, though, and tonight’s dream features Eddie. 

He hasn’t dreamed about Eddie in a hot second and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse. Dream Eddie is alive, but it makes Steve miss him even more. He has that same lopsided smile and he’s looking at Steve as if he had answers to all his questions but he won’t share. 

“Stevie,” dream Eddie says, looking at him. “Wake up.” 

Steve blinks at him. The scene changes from the Upside Down to the boathouse but Eddie stays the same. Battle vest and bandana on his head. Ready for the fight. 

“Wake up,” he purrs this time, and Steve closes his eyes. 

How can he wake up? 

He senses his heart rate spiking the second his brain starts to second-guess his dream. Is it a dream or is he walking into a Vecna trap? He can’t know for sure. But he knows Eddie’s death is traumatic enough to make him vulnerable. 

Robin knows his song. He’s sure he told her the second they figured out how to save Max. Why isn’t she playing the song?

It must be a dream.

He tries the next best thing and pinches his arm willing his brain to wake up. He opens his eyes and sees more than hear dream Eddie mouthing ‘wake up’ 

Then, he blinks awake. 

Everything seems normal. His eyes are adjusting to the dark room and there’s a weight on his left arm that he figures it’s Robin. She might deny it, but they both know she will attach herself to anything when she’s sleeping. 

There’s a mop of hair covering her face and part of Steve’s, almost getting in his mouth. He doesn’t remember when her hair got so long, but time passes in a weird way nowadays. 

He sighs. He should go back to sleep. But then his brain supplies him with something else.

Robin is lying right where the bat was. 

“Robs, psst,” he whispers, trying to be gentle. He doesn’t mind her cuddling him but his arm is starting to cramp. “Wake up.” 

In his peripheral vision, he sees something moving on the far end of the bed. Which is… weird. Robin is pressed against his body so she can’t possibly also be on the far end of the bed. 

“Robin, wake up,” he says a little louder and there’s movement again. But not close to him. “Robin!” he says and then Robin gets up. 

The problem is that Robin is still on her side of the bed, book draped on her chest because she fell asleep reading and forgot to put it down. She lifts herself up by the elbows and watches Steve with a confused expression. 

“What happened?” she says, voice filled with sleep and eyes barely open. 

Steve realizes then that whoever is sleeping next to him it’s not Robin. She seems to notice the same thing at the same time because her eyes widen as she looks at the figure still glued to Steve’s side. 

“What the–” Steve starts to say, but then the person turns and the hair flips to the other side revealing none other than Eddie Munson. 

_

Everything happens way too quickly. 

Steve jumps out of the bed at the same time Robin yells and Eddie just stares, wide eyes completely horrified. 

He’s also completely naked. 

Robin covers her eyes and Steve feels his back hitting the wall as he repeats to himself wakeupwakeupWAKEUP. 

He tries pinching his arm and it doesn’t work like it did in the dream. He stays there, panting on Robin’s bedroom and watching a dead Eddie Munson pulling on the covers to hide himself. 

“Am I dreaming?” Steve sputters out, and Robin says a categorical NO. 

“Never heard of group dreaming,” she says and it’s probably meant as a joke but she’s dead serious. 

Eddie turns his head from Steve to Robin and back to Steve. He looks as scared as them, which makes Steve relax a little. 

“Is it really… you?” Steve asks, but when Eddie’s eyes lock on him all the doubt vanishes.  

“I… think so,” Eddie says, raising his hands as if he’s inspecting them. As if he’s scared he’s going to find something else. 

“How the hell did you get in my room?” Robin asks. She has her back to the window next to her bed. 

Eddie looks at her and shrugs, “through the window?”

Robin starts to argue with him, saying it’s impossible because he would’ve woken her up if that were the case, and then she goes on a tangent asking him why didn’t he wake them up, but Steve’s brain is buzzing in a different wavelength. 

“Wait,” Steve says but they don’t seem to hear him. 

He moves closer to the bed while Robin tries to find a logical explanation for Eddie to be sitting in her bed and starts patting, looking for the one thing that’s missing. 

And he knows he’s not going to find him. 

“The bat,” Steve says and that seems to finally catch Robin’s attention. She looks at him and raises a brow.

“He must be hiding somewhere. I probably scared him with my scream,” she says and Steve nods, but his eyes go from her to Eddie. 

“You definitely did.” 

She follows his line of sight and frowns. “I don’t underst–”

And then, she does. 

_

Three Months Later

“Do we have to tell them today?” Steve asks, pouting. Eddie chuckles and nods. 

“Yes, sweetheart, we do have to tell them.” 

Steve sighs. He knows it’s time. 

He might’ve been shocked at first, with the realization that not only Eddie was alive but he was also, somehow, not human anymore. But even that wore off quickly once he understood what that meant. 

He got to have Eddie back. 

The discussion was probably shorter than it should have been, but even Robin, who was scared at first, accepted it pretty quickly. Her and Steve hadn’t talked about it yet, but he had a feeling she already knew.

Obviously, it would be hard to explain to her parents why the town’s satanist was hiding in her room, so Steve moved back to the Harrington’s with Eddie in tow. And maybe that was a mistake but he didn’t regret doing it. 

Being around Eddie was easier than anything else. 

If Robin was jealous, she tried not to show it too much. Went over whenever she could to movie nights and dinner, but it was mostly Steve and Eddie. Just the two of them. Together. 

Steve decided to also keep to himself the fact that Eddie needed human blood to live. That was a longer and trickier conversation that he could have once he figured out a way to tell his best friend he was in love with a guy. 

With Eddie, out of all guys. 

It had been surprisingly easy, if he was being honest. Eddie was easy to love. Even this undead, non human version of him. Underneath the blood thirst and the constant nightmares, it was still Eddie. 

“Five more minutes,” Eddie says in his ear, face buried in his neck like he loves to do these days. 

“Five more minutes,” Steve agrees, humming satisfied. Eddie is bad at denying Steve anything he asks for, and Steve kind of loves it. 

[crownmemes]

Criminal Sentences, Vol. 17

(Sentences from various sources for criminals and/or dangerous muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"The best lie - the one that's easiest to remember with consistency - is the one that's based on the truth."

"Wow. I really got to you, didn't I?"

"You think you'll be remembered? You're a pathetic psychopath, begging for attention!"

"You once asked me to work for you, now I'm asking you to work for me."

"Are you willing to make a bargain?"

"As bad as you think things are now, they're going to get much worse."

"I really wanted to shoot him."

"You come from a world of rules and laws. This place is indifferent to all of that. I do not think you would be willing to do what it takes to survive here."

"You don't have to worry; I'm not going to kill you. You're the only friend I've got left."

"Did he arrest you or something?"

"Maybe you should do what you do best - run and hide."

"If I kill you right now, no one will remember you! No one will miss you!"

"You're quite the con man!"

"The reason I chose you is because you've got good instincts."

"People are going to say things about me, and I want you to know that I'm not like that."

"You best be looking over your shoulder because if we cross paths again, I'm going to bury your whole family."

"I've never felt sorry for anything I've done, other than hurt my family. That's the only thing I'm sorry for."

"My lawyer says I can't talk about stuff like that."

"I could have killed you if I wanted to."

"It's not realistic to think that I wouldn't do what I came here to do."

"If I can find you, then they can find you."

"I don't trust any of these other guys, so let's watch each other's backs."

"I'm impressed! You have quite the knack for deception!"

"You held up your end of the bargain, and now I'd like to hold up mine."

"Blackmail? Go on, then. With everything you've done, you'll be going down with me."

"Don't worry, if I wanted to harm you, I would have long ago."

"Now, that right there is the closest thing we've had to an honest exchange so far."

"I may not be allowed to kill you, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to hurt you."

"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you know to hotwire a car, huh?"

"You're still alive because you have no weapon and they didn't ask me to kill you, but if you pursue me. it is another matter."

"Don't confuse a winning move with a winning game."

"You don't even feel, do you?"

"If you worked for me, things would be easier."

"I can get everything I want from you even if you only have nine fingers, or perhaps only one eye."

[issa-wasteland]

Upon rewatching Arcane S2- Act 1, there are a few things I wanted to point out that could be up for discussion 💥SPOILERS AHEAD💥

Episode 1

The theory about Mel wearing armor and that’s why she wasn’t hurt or dead

Caitlyn’s dad tone when he asked why was Vi still there. As if she was to blame for the deaths of the counselors and I don’t like how it’s emphasized about how Vi is “one of the good ones” compared to the people of Zaun.

When Mel explained how it had to be someone from the inside who let the chembaron assassins in and there’s a quick cut to Ambessa. Like we all knew she was a warlord who wanted to cover up her crimes, but the fact that she was actually pulling the strings was the kicker.

When Ekko was talking to Caitlyn about how enforcers would hunt people down like animals back in S1, and then Caitlyn was having that dark thought of hunting down Jinx like an animal before Jayce came to see her……

Episode 2

Now that Silco is dead, Zaun has rapidly gone worse to the point it got really dark when you see children getting kidnapped to go do labor or worse. As the henchmen who are trying to grab Isha have numbers on their forehead. I don’t know if it’s easier for them to be identified but they’ve been offed by Jinx.

Smeech pokes fun of Sevika mywife for being a funny-looking rat because she’s not the right-hand who kept things in order and doing dirty work. I honestly think Sevika is fine being that right-hand and getting in the field to fight for her people than to step in and take Silco’s place like some people would expect. She knows how much work it is to be the boss and it’s frustrating when the current chembarons are fighting each other than the oppressor who’s the real enemy and why the people of Zaun are surviving off horrible conditions.

This is actually one of the few times we see Sevika become more vulnerable as she’s was struggling to fix her arm, clean up the mess that Silco left behind, and no plan on what to do next. We see how (valid) she is being hostile to Jinx before they get on a familiar footing about Silco, making them do his dirty work.

Ekko's character is very much alike to Miles Morales as this comparison has been on my mind for a while. They're almost the same person. Especially when it comes to wanting to protect their family and people while taking on hard decisions at a young age.

How was Sevika gonna defend against Smeech and his men if Jinx's gun wasn't kicked out of her hand? Since she followed Jinx and she was clear that she wouldn't sell her out.

I do like how Jinx added the gambling part to Sevika's arm from the little games she made when she was a kid. It's something that they connect to from the little games Jinx created and it being from Sevika's gambling. The new arm is unexpected, and she doesn't know the outcome, yet Sevika starts to grow into the gambling bit.

Episode 3

Salo pointed out that the Kiramman name bewitches people, and Ambessa is putting Caitlyn in power. It is not because she is qualified for the job, but she is easy to manipulate, just like the Kiramman name is easy to persuade other rich families and counselors to follow.

Despite Caitlyn being good with a gun, she wasn't in the right head space to even take the shot. She claimed she wasn't gonna miss, but Isha was trying to protect Jinx and clinging to her tighter, moving around. A small part of that scene, you can see her little head blocking Jinx, so I don't believe she had a clear shot.

The guy who looks similar to Vander left being an enforcer as I'm curious to know what he knows from experience. He knows this isn't gonna end well.

Idk what ya'll think so far?

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Making Up

quinn hughes x nhl player!reader

warning: suggestive, mention of food (i think, i dont ever remember what i write after its done)

word count: 1.8 k

Usually, as in every other year, Y/n looked forward to training camp; it meant a year was starting, and with that a new start. Yet all she could think about the few months was how she so desperately hoped that training camp could be farther and farther away. But this year was different. Just like last year was different. All because she slept with Quinn once, well more than once but the first time was the inciting incident. 

But before the end of last season, with their ‘break up’ if you could even call it that, given they never dated. And since then Y/n has done a large amount of self-reflection, this came about when over the summer she had a weird feeling, one she’s only had after she leaves her family for the season. She was homesick, homesick for Quinn. 

She missed him so much, missed how he would hold her at night, and leave small kisses all over her body, she missed feeling his weight on her while they cuddled. She missed him. She wanted him. 

The woman hasn’t seen Quinn for four months, and they had barely talked after their ‘break up’, avoiding all chances during their last few games, and though she couldn’t be more happy and proud of him, the man now being the captain only made everything worse. If he was anything but captain, she could get away with avoiding him a lot easier. But life has never gone easy on her.

- Just as expected, training camp went terribly. Well, that’s an exaggeration, she did great, just not well Quinn was her partner, or next to her, or in her eye sight. And realistically, she was probably the only one to notice. Except for Quinn, he always noticed. But he was also in the same situation of not playing that great when Y/n was involved. 

So after practice, on their way out, Quinn ran to catch up with the girl just as she was getting in her car, he mutters, “Meet me at my house, we have to talk.”

His deep voice, being a small shock, having not seen him coming. And feeling his warm breath on her neck, and his voice in her ears brought up memories. Ones that her body had a physical reaction to being brought up in her brain. The rosy colour rising in her cheeks, and throat becoming dry.

-

Gaining the courage to finally knock on Quinn’s door, it opens before she can finish the third knock. Quinn no doubt waited on the other side, waiting for the woman to finally knock after standing out there for far too long.

“Hey.” “Hi.”

Standing in the awkwardness for enough time, Quinn walked out of the entrance way and towards his kitchen, Y/n assumes she’s supposed to follow so she does. Walking into the familiar room, looking around and seeing no changes in the decorations, or lack thereof. Quinn then passes the girl a beer, the cap already off. Quinn knew she hated twist off because they made the palm of her hand sore, so he always did it for her. Even now. 

“We have to have it out. We have to have everything out in the open. Or we won’t be able to play together like we used to.” “I agree.”

After standing in the awkwardness once again, Quinn decided that for once he was going to be bold and say what he truly felt, and what he truly wanted, “I love you. And that’s not gonna change.” Taking a sip of her beer, feeling she’ll need it for this, the woman listened as Quinn continued, “I love everything about you. Even the things I hate, and that annoy me, I love. I love how competitive you are, not even in sports, just in everyday things; just that you can unlock the door faster than me, so if Micheal Myers was chasing us you would survive and I wouldn’t. And I love the face you have when you’re tired, but you don’t want to admit it, just for you to fall asleep ten minutes into a movie you fought me over to watch. I love that you’re adamant on only having tomatoes once in your life, when I have seen you eat spaghetti and pizza more than once before-""It’s not the same ""-I love you, Y/n. All of you.”

Tears trickled down the woman’s face, tickling as they went down her neck. Because, fuck she thinks she really loves him too. And that was still really scary to say, but she would get over it for him. Because he wouldn’t hurt her like the other guys, he cared for her, and paid attention to the little things, and god, he was perfect. She couldn’t imagine a future without him. She was always on the fence about kids, but he wanted them, she would give him them.Wiping the tears away, looking into Quinn’s eyes, ones she’s missed so dearly.

“I think I love you too.I’ve only said that to someone once before and my love was taken for granted, so it’s been hard for me to give it out. But Quinny, you’ve never given me a reason to not completely trust you, and I think that’s what I was scared of. But I love you, and I don’t think it will ever change either.”

Swiftly, Quinn brings the girl into a deep, and passionate kiss, one they put all of their love for each other into. Y/n bring her hands to the nape of Quinn’s neck, grabbing the hair in her fist, pulling slightly; eliciting a groan from the boy, while he brings his hands from her waist to her hips to her thighs, lifting her and taking her to the couch. His hands now at the hem of the woman’s shirt, beginning to lift it over her head, before Y/n interrupts and he stops instantly.

“Wait- I don’t want this to be like last time. I don’t want the miscommunication, and the friends-with-benefits thing. I want you. I want to be with you.” “Glad we’re on the same page then.” He says, leaning his head down to kiss the woman’s jaw, and down to the spot she loves on her neck. 

“Quinny. So, what does that mean for us?” Quinn, now seeing this wasn’t going fast sits next to the girl, “Y/n. Will you be my girlfriend?” “How would that affect the team, and us playing together, what will people think? I mean- they’ll blame me, ‘first girl in the league, and she goes and dates her captain’ it will look bad. And-” “Y/n, stop thinking. Do you want to be my girlfriend, ‘cause I want to be your boyfriend. A lot.” “Of course! Of course I want to. But-” “Then why are we thinking about what other people will think?”

Quinn would never truly understand. No matter how hard he tries, no man will understand. What people will say. How they’ll think of every reason to hate her and add this to the list. But never will they hate Quinn for it, no. And she knows that Quinn is trying to help, saying not to care what other people think, but it’s hard when if she looks up her own name, everything that comes up is how ‘she doesn’t deserve to be in the league’ or that ‘she doesn’t work hard enough’ even though she is the first in the gym and the last to leave, she gets to the games first, always pushing herself but it was never good enough.

“People will hate me.”

“Y/n, you are the strongest person I know, if any of the guys got the amount of hate you do, they would have quit by now. You don’t let their words make you quit, you push yourself harder. I love you. And I don’t care what those people say, they’re just sexist bastards. You deserve to be happy, and I want to make you happy. Don’t let them take that away.”

That was what she needed to hear. She still had concerns of course, but her happiness will come first and they’ll cross the bridges as they come. Because Quinn was right. Letting those people stop her from living her life, only gave them what they wanted and her nothing. At that a large grin, from ear to ear, spreads on Y/n’s face. 

“I love you.” “I love you too. How ‘bout I show you how much I love you?” “Please, Quinny.”

-

Their naked bodies were now tangled in the bed sheets, Y/n turned her head and gently placed her chin on Quinn’s bare and muscular chest. Just looking at him, his eyes staring into the ceiling gave the woman a chance to observe the changes in him, his new stubble length, and his hair styled differently. Still as handsome as ever.

“It’s rude to stare.” “You don’t know I’m staring, you can’t see me.” “There’s mirrors over there.”

Looking at where Quinn pointed with his chin, there were in fact the mirrors of his closet door that gave him a great few of her face, and their bodies intertwined. 

“Fine. You caught me.” Y/n said, bringing a mischievous smirk to Quinn’s face, his hands now moving from the woman’s back to her sides, Quinn knowing that’s where she is ticklish. The woman squirming on top of him (for the second time today) now screaming out (for the second time today)

“Ahhh! Quinny! Ah stop! Wait, I have to talk- ah! Talk to you!”

His hands stopping, and coming to rub up and down on her sides, “‘Bout what?” Y/n can hear the mild concern in his voice and not wanting to worry him says a quick ‘nothing bad’ before sitting up and continuing her sentence, “I just want to talk so we’re on the same page about.. How this will affect the team and if we’ll tell them, and you’re the captain now so you have to put the team first and I never want to put you in that situation.”

“We’re not gonna affect the team.” “You don’t know that.” “Did it before?” “...That was different. And when we ended things it did.” “Well I don’t plan on ending things. Do you?” Y/n’s hands move to the sides of Quinn’s neck, tilting his head up to look at her, “I don’t plan on ending things.” “Good.” Quinn says, a smile on his face while leaning up to press a soft kiss on Y/n’s lips, then on her jaw before falling back against his pillows.

“Do you want to tell the guys?” “Not yet.” “Then let’s not worry about it. Just see how it goes before we tell them.” “Okay.” Leaning down, Y/n rests her head on Quinn’s bare chest once again, hearing his steady heartbeat and the warmness of his chest, warming her ear.

“And don’t give me special treatment in practice.” “I would never. If anything I would push you harder ‘cause I know that’s what works for you.” “Good.”

~taglist~

@books-hlmc

[hawkeyetrained]

Step Away From Him, Now

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader established relationship (nothing too detailed)

Other Characters: Sam Winchester (barely there), John Winchester

Warnings: canon violence (kinda?), language, mention of wounds, blood, wendigo mention, arguing, that’s it I think?

Summary: She's finally had enough of John treating Dean so horribly

A/N: This is kinda my take on how Dean used to talk about his dad. Probably made John out to be a little worse than he really was, but I always saw him as someone who pushed Dean to his limits when they hunted together

Word Count: 2712

John Winchester. Everyone in the hunting world knew that name. Winchester. Now, his sons Sam and Dean held the legendary last name in all the stories that were passed around.

John had been married to Mary, an amazing woman with hunter parents, who had wanted nothing more than to get out of the life she knew. She wanted to run as far as she could from the world of monsters and have a normal life with a husband who loved her and maybe a few little babies along the way. She did eventually make her way out of the hunting world and build the life she wanted. John loved her so much, and she did end up having two little baby boys after a few years, but the world of monsters didn’t leave her alone for long. She had gotten up one night to check on her youngest baby, little Sam Winchester, only for her world to come crashing down.

The story was well known now amongst hunters across the country. Sam and Dean were then raised in the world of monsters by their father who wanted nothing but revenge against the thing that killed his wife and mother of his boys. Now, that doesn’t mean John was winning ‘Father of the Year’ awards, his boys learned the hard way how to survive in the world filled with evil. Dean was practically forced to become his fathers little soldier, always taking orders, and doing as he was told in order to protect his younger brother.

My own mother had been friends with Mary before she left hunting to build her family, so when John and his boys turned up on our doorstep years after she died, my family didn’t hesitate to bring them in.

Over the years the Winchester boys and I grew up to be incredibly close. We learned to rely on each other during hunts, and once Sam had taken off for college, Dean and I became an unstoppable duo on hunts John sent us out on. We worked seamlessly together, always covering the others back and making sure everything was handled before the local law enforcement could catch up to us.

That doesn’t mean I always followed John’s orders. Dean took orders without hesitation while I stopped to question John when I knew a plan wouldn’t work or seemed a little too good to be true. Dean and I had been placed in the field as bait far too many times for me to blindly allow John Winchester to order me around anymore. My mother taught me well while I was growing up. She told me to always double check things before committing, make sure me and my partner were safe, and always watch my back.

Sam coming back to help Dean and I track John down made hunting even easier. A third set of eyes and a fresh take on the cases helped in ways Sam couldn’t even understand. Once we found John and managed to work a few cases as a group of four, I started picking up on things I hadn’t noticed when Sam wasn’t with us.

John was now always double-checking leads, making sure Sam was sent with plenty of weaponry and back up, while Dean and I were nearly forced to figure out our half the plan on our own without the promise of proper gear or even the availability to call for backup if something were to happen.

I had finally had enough when we were sent on a wendigo case John deemed “simple enough for the two of us to handle” and ended up with Dean and I nearly killed.

“I can’t take this anymore.” I half growled as we pulled into the motel parking lot John and Sam were staying in. “We’re gonna get killed one of these days because your father doesn’t give a shit about us.”

“Stop.” Dean parked the car. “He didn’t know there were more than one in those caves.” Again, Dean had an excuse to not blame his father.

My eyes were wide and mouth hanging open at his words. “You’re kidding, right? We didn’t do any of the research because he ‘had it covered’.” I moved my fingers with the quote John had said an hour before Dean and I left for the hunt. “He’s the one that said it was one and would be a simple case.” Dean stepped out of the car, favoring his right side from being tossed into some stone. I followed, carefully getting out of the sleek black Impala, and grabbing my bag from the back seat.

Everything in my body screamed in pain. My arms were bruised from where the creature had grabbed me, digging its nails into my skin, and bruising my once clear skin. Scrapes and deeper scratches littered my legs and arms from falling in rocks and being dragged down one of the tunnels. “Just stop.” Dean groaned, joining me on my side of the car and resting a hand on my cheek. “The important part is that we’re alive.”

His broken down and tired voice reduced my anger as I took in just how exhausted he looked. He and I had grown close over the years of hunting together, and that closeness eventually turned into love, that’s why we made such a great pair. I sighed and nodded my head, leaning in closer to his hand. “Ok, I’ll drop it for now. Just wanna grab a shower and pass out for the night.”

A soft smirk covered Dean’s face. “You and me both baby.” His arm drifted across my shoulders and pulled me into his side as we headed into the motel room to meet up with his family.

The moment the door was opened, and our bags were tossed to the floor, John was already up from the table and handing us a folder. “Got another one for you. A couple hours west of here that needs taken care of now.”

My hands clenched into fists as Dean took the folder and drifted over to the bed he and I shared to take a look. Everything in my body ached and I knew Dean was in the same boat, plus, he could do with about three days of sleep to make up for lost sleep over the last week. He was barely running on black coffee and the little food he ate between fighting monsters and catching maybe an hour or two of sleep each night. At the first sight of his eyes slipping closed as he read through the folder, my anger got the better of me.

“No.” I snapped, grabbing my bag from the floor, and moving to my side of the bed opposite Dean. “We’re not taking a hunt hours away tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” John turned from the table.

I crossed my arms defiantly. “I said no. Can’t you hear?” Sam glanced at Dean in a way to figure out where my anger was coming from. “Dean and I haven’t had a break in weeks, John. Weeks. We need sleep, and time to heal.”

“People are dying out there. Don’t you get that?” John snapped, slapping down another few folders and a notebook.

“I do, and that sucks, but seriously? People die every day, sometimes luck runs out, and yeah, it’s really shitty to die from a monster mommy and daddy tell you isn’t real, but that’s the world we live in. If you’re so concerned about these people, then you can go deal with it.”

John looked like I had just smacked him across the face. “You need to get control over her.” His eyes had slipped over to Dean’s. “You’ve both got three hours till your asses better be on the road for Colorado.”

My mouth had dropped open in shock from John thinking Dean could or would control anything I did like that. I was prepared to give him a real piece of my mind when Dean finally spoke up. “No.” he stood from his spot on the bed and joined my side. “You know, we were nearly killed today. The freak got the drop on us with one of its buddies and dragged her down a tunnel. All because your research was wrong.” His voice was slowly growing in volume, and I was beyond thankful the motel was practically empty tonight. “You haven’t even taken a moment to ask if we’re ok. But yeah, dad, were gonna be fine.”

John launched into a rant on how Dean and I have been messing up every hunt over the last few months, coming back with more and more wounds, more complaints, and requesting more time between hunts. He threw every little thing at Dean’s face like he wasn’t already in pain from the day. I watched as Dean’s face slowly fell from the confident and angry man trying to protect me, to the look of a kicked puppy as his dad belittled him with his younger brother watching on. I could tell Sam didn’t know how to step in and stick up for Dean, so it was up to me to protect the oldest Winchester when no one else would.

“Back up.” That same angry growl from the car scratched at my words as I stepped beside John who had cornered Dean into the wall of the motel. “Step away from him, now.” My hands balled into fists, tighter and tighter with the longer John was taking to back away from his son. “I said back the hell up, now.”

His dark eyes flashed to my face as he stepped back half a foot. “The hell you say to me?”

I pushed my way between John and Dean, making sure to keep eye contact with John Winchester while I did. “You do not get to talk to him like that. Dean isn’t some little soldier toy for you to throw at the problems you think he can fix. He isn’t indestructible like you think he is. He’s human and needs a god damned break every once in a while. How can you not see that he doesn’t want to let you down but that he’s struggling to keep up with your constant demands? He does everything you ask, “keep an eye on Sammy, don’t let anything happen to Sammy”.” I started quoting him from the past few years. “You have two sons, John. Don’t you remember that? Two! Dean deserves the protection you give to Sam as well. He’s your kid too!”

Silence filled the motel room after my little outbreak, but I couldn’t tell if John was going to let it go for the night or continue to fight. “Dean’s the oldest. He knows the responsibilities that come with that.”

It felt like my skin was on fire with the anger that radiated through my body. “I need you to shut the fuck up and listen for once in your life.” Sam was silent and still as a statue on the bed, papers still scattered around him. “I don’t give a shit about if he’s the oldest or whatever is stuck in your twisted head. I understand you lost your wife, and baby Sam never got a chance to know his mother, and that’s horrible. But Dean lost his mom too. He lost her just like you and Sam did, but because he was four and not a baby, that means to you that he now deserves to be your slave for the rest of his life. It means hunting what you deem necessary and when you say so? He isn’t someone you get to command around for eternity.”

“And who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do with my family. Last I checked, you weren’t a part of this family.” John’s anger was boiling over at this point. His face was bright red, and I swore I could see a vein in his neck pulsing. “You’re just some tag-along who thinks she can stick around with Dean long enough to be more than a piece of ass to him.”

That caused a deafening silence to flood the room that even a gunshot couldn’t overpower. “Right.” I nodded, willing the sting in my eyes to go away so John wouldn’t have more ammunition to throw at me. “Right. I’m here simply because I wanna be a late-night booty call to him…it couldn’t possibly be because someone needs to be on his side for once. Couldn’t be that he needs someone to watch his back on hunts because his father doesn’t care enough. Or it couldn’t be that I simply love him and want to be here for him, right? No, it’s absolutely because I wanna be his hook-up on the few nights where he isn’t struggling to stay awake because he has to finish some research you and Sam couldn’t do, or the other nights where he’s too busy being beaten by monsters.” I took a deep breath and stepped back an inch, barely leaving enough space between John and I before I turned towards the bed to grab my purse and gear bag. “Go to hell, John.” My shoulder slammed into his as I walked past him and out of the motel room.

I didn’t make it very far down the row of rooms before a voice could call and stop me in my tracks. “Wait a minute!” Dean’s voice echoed over the nearly vacant parking lot.

“What?” I asked as he joined my side, his green bag hanging from his hand. “Wait, I…Dean. Did he…”

“No. He didn’t throw me out.” Dean’s free hand came to rest on my shoulder. “I just ditched. I couldn’t let you leave alone after that.” Guilt tugged at my chest as I thought of Dean walking away from the only family he had left.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t my place and…”

He cut me off again. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that.” Dean was quiet as his eyes met mine. “I’ve never had someone in my corner against my dad before.”

“You don’t deserve the way he treats you.”

“I know. It’s always been hard to tell him when I need time off, or even just a break. He’s so driven and focused all the time on getting the thing that killed mom that I don’t think he even notices how he acts sometimes.”

I dropped my bag. “God, Dean. There you go again. You make up these excuses for the way he acts like its ok to treat you like a damn dog. I don’t care that he wants to find the thing that killed her, you and Sam want that just as badly but you two don’t go out endangering each other at every little possible chance you get. I’m sorry you guys lost her, that sucks, and I can’t imagine the pain you all felt, but he needs to understand that you can’t keep risking your life like he expects you to.”

He nodded at my words. “I know.” It was barely a whisper coming from him now. “I just don’t know how to tell him. You’ve seen it, the way he gets when he sets his mind to something.”

“I know.” It was my turn to nod. “You get it from him. You’re so focused sometimes on the hunt or helping someone that everything else kinda blurs.” I gently cradled his face in my hands. “There is one huge difference though. When your partner is hurt, or even struggling, you drop everything as fast as you can to go help them. You’re there in time to save me, every time I need you.”

“And I always will be, you know that, right?” Dean’s hands rested softly on my hips, drawing me in closer to his chest.

“I do.” I smiled up at him. “Now, what do you say to a drink at the bar down the street and a night spent in the car in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’d say that sounds like a great plan to me.” He let me grab the bag I dropped, pressed a soft kiss to the side of my head, and led me towards the infamous black Impala.

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; obligatory sugar baby Kon.

Good. Let me send you the address, Tim says, and does. Might as well take care of that now, he figures. Kon sends him back a bunch of candy and heart emojis. Tim suffers for a moment and tries to figure out if he can emotionally handle sending any back. 

He tries a lollipop, immediately regrets it and replaces it with a wrapped candy, then regrets that too and tries the neutrality of a normal heart, but that doesn't seem like he's trying hard enough, and he deletes that too and then stares blankly at his empty text box with no idea what to put in it. 

u really liked the glitter? Kon asks, which nearly puts Tim back on the floor to crawl under his bed and hide from his own phone. like its not 2 much?

Not even slightly, Tim says. It looks good on you. 

so like u'd like it if i did it again sometime? Kon asks after a noticeable pause. 

Never mind. Tim does in fact need to crawl in under his bed. 

He'll text back after he gets re-settled, he promises himself, then shoves aside his remaining dirty laundry, slides in sideways, and suffers into his carpet. 

Yes, he texts back blind, hoping autocorrect will save him from any particularly fucked-up typos. 

Kon's text alert sounds after another noticeable pause. Tim steels himself, then peeks at the screen. 

k, it says, and nothing else. Tim wonders . . . it wasn't necessarily flirty, the way Kon asked that. So does that mean . . . 

It really does look good on you, he tries very, very cautiously, hoping he's not, like–making it weird. But Kon showed up in eyeliner and nail polish for their first “official” date and just showed him a new eyeliner he specifically asked someone he knew for help with, and he seemed to like the crop top and the short-shorts, so . . . like, does that mean he's interested in dressing a bit less, well . . . like how Tim would've expected him to want to dress, let's say?

He's really never seen him in civvies before this, so . . . who knows, really? 

all of it? Kon asks after yet another noticeable pause. Tim buries his face in the carpet so he can process the reminder of the lip gloss's existence. Jesus. 

Definitely all of it, he agrees. 

Kon doesn't text back right away. Tim considers following up, and also considers just signing over his entire trust fund to him no strings attached and wandering off to become a hermit so he can, like, survive this experience. 

It probably wouldn't work. He'd end up spending all his time worrying about Kon ending up staying in a lab and thinking it's fine to be there instead of, like . . . meditating, or whatever it is hermits actually do. 

It really does seem like Kon just–doesn't think it matters if he's in a lab, and Tim can't tell if that's because he actually doesn't care, or if it's because he thinks no one else cares. Superman clearly doesn't. Cadmus definitely doesn't. 

And he'd told Robin about it like he hadn't expected him to care either. 

That's really a thought Tim would've preferred to have occur to him while he wasn't actively talking to Kon, though at least they're not face-to-face right now. It's a little easier to not have to worry about his expression while having that sour lemon of a realization. 

Considering Kon's best endorsement of working for Cadmus when he'd been trying to sell it to him had been “could be worse”, though . . . 

Tim actually hates everything in the world, yeah. Aside from a few obvious exceptions of people who he has to either convince to turn supervillain with him or emotionally sidekick-support until such a time as he can turn supervillain, obviously. Just all of it. Whole world. The world just sucks. 

Well, there's a reason he's got supervillain plans, and that reason is definitely not that society is fine and good and morally okay as it is. 

The most moral thing to do in a situation like this is become a supervillain, as far as Tim's concerned.

[smytherines]

∇owen (make it fluffy? pretty please?)

A fluffy aging/old age headcanon for Owen 💜

(I'm having kind of an emotional day so... sorry in advance)

Okay. In order for Owen to actually grow old, this has to be an au where he doesn't die on the staircase. I think there'd be a long, complicated, painful reconciliation process, but ultimately Curt and Owen would get back together. In this version of reality they get out of the spy game, and have a remote little place somewhere far away from either of their countries. Maybe Costa Rica or something like that. So let's take all that as read.

I like to think that Owen gets to have a home. A real home. That someday Curt brings home a stray dog he finds on the side of the road and Owen is dead set against having a dog, but eventually he and the dog become inseparable. I like to think that he gets a little patch of land, and spending his time growing things- beautiful flowers, vegetables he uses to make dinner- helps to heal something in him. Something he thought was broken forever after the fall.

I think as Owen gets into his 40s, a lot of the injuries he sustained in the fall start to get worse- arthritis in the places he had breaks, scar tissue, etc. Modern knee replacement surgeries last for around 15 years. I'd assume 1950s joint replacements are not quite as durable, so maybe ten years on he needs to have surgery to replace the worn out knee and hip replacements Chimera did for him.

And even though they've made a lot of progress, Owen hides how much pain he's in for a long time because he's terrified that Curt would leave him- if not for needing surgery to begin with, then certainly for all the care he would need for the long recovery afterwards. Curt wasn't there after the fall. He doesn't know how bad things were. Owen explained some of it to him, but couldn't bring himself to talk about having trouble walking, needing help to go to the bathroom, being constantly on the verge of tears for months because the pain was unbearable. The stuff nobody likes to talk about with injuries like that.

He has a lot of insecurities about himself that he didn't have when they were together before- burns, scars, limited mobility, chronic pain. His body is different now, and it's a long, slow, horrible grieving process to deal with that.

But eventually he has to have these joints replaced. He could hide the pain, but he can't hide it from Curt when his knee starts suddenly giving out on him. He was using a cane only on really bad pain days before, but as the joints start to break down he has to use it every day. So he gives Curt an out, tells him to go, maybe even tries to push him away. Owen tells himself that this would be easier for him to survive than Curt seeing the reality of his injuries after the surgeries and choosing to leave when Owen needs him the most. At least this way they're parting on terms Owen has some control over.

But Curt is older now. He's had a chance to be in a real relationship. The kind of thing where you wake up together and go to sleep together and have a home and a life together. And also he's stubborn as fuck. Curt has never had a problem caring about people, but he's never really been able to care for someone. To take care of someone. Hell, he could barely take care of himself sometimes. But he refuses to leave. He refuses to let Owen push him away. He chooses to commit, to stay, even if its messy and uncomfortable.

I think before all this, Curt was probably doing some defense/security contractor work- there's plenty of it out there for someone with his background. He does enough to pay the bills, which isn't much. And in his spare time he takes up woodworking. It keeps him busy. Keeps him doing something with his hands, something he gets to be creative with. So when Owen comes back home after having these big surgical procedures, Curt has built a little ramp so the wheelchair can get up the stairs. He's put up railings and hand-holds everywhere he can think of. He rebuilt a couple of doorframes to make them wider. He made a little cart on wheels that fits over the wheelchair, so Owen can still prepare and cook food if he's up for it. He really goes wild with it. He's still him, he still struggles to say how he feels in words, but he finds other ways to express it. He takes care of Owen's little garden while Owen is recovering (and accidentally pulls half of it up because he doesn't know the difference between a weed and a growing vegetable, but it's the thought that counts)

And they get through it. Curt understood on an intellectual level what happened to Owen after the fall, but didn't really have any way of knowing exactly what it means to be that injured, that dependant on the people around you to survive. So this thing that can and does drive a lot of couples apart (seriously look up the stats on men leaving their partners when they become sick/injured, its bad) ends up bringing them closer together. It ends up soothing that constant fear that Owen has had ever since they got back together- that at any moment Curt might just get sick of him or decide he isn't worth the trouble and leave him again. It helps Curt understand how vulnerable Owen was when Chimera convinced him to work for them.

Eventually Owen heals up, the chronic pain issues go back down to his post-fall baseline. He is still a full-time cane user, but Curt loves to find the most beautiful downed branches, exotic hardwoods, and make Owen a variety of canes. He gets into woodcarving so he can decorate them. He tells Owen that the cane makes him look distinguished, that its actually kinda hot. And Owen chooses to believe him.

By the time Owen is in his late 50s, maybe early 60s, he's a full time wheelchair user. He can walk short distances with a cane, but for the most part its better for him to just use the chair. But thats okay, because the house is pretty well adapted for him already. Curt helps him when he wants to tend to his garden, and he makes big family dinners whenever Tatiana and Barb come to visit.

Curt's mom visits while she's still alive, and although Curt and Owen never outright tell her about them, she knows. She knows the same way a kid knows that their unmarried aunt with short hair and a longterm female roommate is probably a lesbian, even if nobody ever says that word in front of them. She treats Owen like a son.

That's my soft, sappy, overly sentimental alternate universe headcanon for Owen Carvour growing old. That someone cares about him. Someone cares for him. Not because he's useful, not because he has skills they can exploit for their benefit. That Curt cares for Owen just because he loves him. And Owen loves Curt.

My dumb fluffy headcanon is that after the first half of their lives being so brutal and violent and painful, they get to have a second chance. A second chance they never should have gotten. A chance to find things that are beautiful and wonderful and hopeful. And they take that chance together.

[skylarmoon71]

Human Optimus Prime (Transformers) - (AU) Oneshot

"The war is over, you don't have to keep looking out for me." 

You watched the Autobot above you, his optics blinked, and he shifted on his feet. Not sure how to respond to your words. 

"You can't be certain the danger is over." 

Through all the battles, life was finally settling down.

Most of the Decepticons were gone, the ones that survived were in hiding. Far too smart to try and plan another attack. Some of the Autobots that were still alive were doing the same. You felt like you'd watch so much of them die. Jazz, Ratchet, you never really recovered. 

You suppose that was the reason Optimus felt the need to be constantly with you. Bumblebee was with Sam, enjoying his life. Peacefully. The remainder of Autobots were all leading very different lives from when they first started. Whenever there was a threat, they lend a hand to the government, but in the meantime, they were just relaxing. Something they hadn't gotten a chance to do fully since they crashed to earth that night. 

For some reason, Optimus took it upon himself to look out for you. So every once in a while he'd stop by to see how you were going, what you were up to. Being a sophomore in college, you were thankful that you were spending more time now on your studies to pursue your profession. In high school it was just one disaster after the next. Now, you could unravel and focus on regular things that college students stressed over, like midterms.

"I think I can handle any danger that comes, I've made it this far haven't I." You were sitting at the edge of the hill, just looking down at the city. When he buzzed by to check on you, he'd ride you to this spot, and the both of you would chat about everything.

You used to look forward to it, but now it was just an unwanted reminder. The main reason behind your refusal for his protection was the fact that your feelings for him had never gone away. In high school, you always thought it was a little crush. 

He was a giant robot who came from another planet and lived for who knows how long. You had no idea why you even fell for him. But the more you were around him, the deeper your feelings got. 

Two years of knowing him you finally confessed exactly how you felt, and his response was that although he was flattered, he could not return them. You cried for a week, but eventually got over it. Surprisingly you were able to salvage a friendship.

That was years ago though. You were on your way to start a life, one that obviously he didn't want to be a part of, at least not the way you wanted. You figured if you were ever to move on, you needed to start making an effort to get some distance. His constant visits weren't making it any easier.

"Is that the true reason you wish for me to stop watching over you?" 

His statement made your shoulder tense slightly. 

"What other reason would there be? " 

You needed to change the subject quickly.

"You can have a life here Optimus. All the other Autobots have, so can you. How are you going to do that if you're always around me."

"You are a part of my life." 

You clench your fists, refusing to let those words play with your heart.

"I can't be, at least not anymore." 

When you looked back at him, he looked a bit sullen at what you said.

"Optimus I..I lied all those years ago. I-I haven't gotten over what you said, or how I feel about you. I think it just got worse as the years went by. I'm in love with you Optimus..." 

You swallowed, because you knew for a fact that you were about to be rejected for the second time. 

"But I think if you just give me space...I'll find a way to stop feeling this way. So please just..don't come by anymore. For your sake, and mine." 

You stood from your spot, and Optimus was just staring at you. He didn't speak, didn't say anything. You didn't need words though. It was clear how he felt. 

"I want to go home." 

You didn't look him in the eyes, you really couldn't. He must have realized that you didn't want to talk about it any longer. With a short nod, he shifted back into a semi. You opened the door, hopping in and closing the door. 

As you sat there, you forced yourself not to cry. When he was gone, and you were back at your apartment, you would have plenty of time to do that. So you stayed silent, watching the trees and buildings as Optimus took off.

~~

"Optimus, are you alright. You look a bit distracted. " 

Sam's words caught him off guard, and he lowered his head at the male. The other autobots in the area stared. Even Bumblebee looked curious. It wasn't often that they saw their leader that way. He'd always been the one with a solution for every problem. Yet he looked like he was struggling with whatever issue he was going through.

"I believe I have...gained feelings for a human." 

Sam's eyes popped open, and from the side he could see Ironhide and Sideswipe high five. Crosshairs just sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Aww you sad sap, I knew that chick was bad news. "

Bumblebee's optics glowed. A song blasting from his speakers.

"Can you feel the love tonight."

Optimus just sighed, and Bumblebee titled his head. 

"What's up doc, you look a bit under the weather."

Sam could only manage a small smile. No matter how many years pass, Bumblebee's use of the radio always amused him.

"I'm a little surprised, I guess I always knew there was something between you two. I see the way she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching." 

Sam's comment gained a look from Optimus Prime.

"How long has she been giving me those looks?"

Sam now looked a bit nervous. 

"Uhh, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to ask about this stuff. Maybe you should just tell her how you feel and.."

"It's pointless. A relationship with a human, with (Y/N), it's impossible. She's a child and I'm a soldier. "

"She's not a child." Sam said it with so much defiance. "She's not a kid anymore, maybe that's why you're so blind. You're still treating her like a kid. She's a woman, Optimus. She should have a say, it shouldn't just be your decision."

"And as for your other problem, I think I have a solution for that as well." Ironhide pipped in.

"A solution.." 

Optimus asked with uncertainty. Ironhide didn't say much more, in seconds he was reverting back to a car. "Let's go, I've been waiting years to show you this!" It didn't take much convincing, they were all interested now.

*****

"A new professor in the department?" 

You nod at your friend, sipping from your coffee.

"Staff has been a bit overpowered. I only heard because I tutor in the evenings. The guy is starting today. Hope he isn't a douchebag like Mr. Renaldo. " 

You mutter.

"I hope he's a hottie, bet you I'd get an A on every assignment." 

You giggle, nodding your head. As strong as you were trying to appear, your conversation was still running over in your head. It irked you more that he just left, you weren't rejected this time, but you might as well have been, his inability to say anything felt far worse. 

"Did he really think I was gonna sit around waiting for him forever." 

He must have known deep down that you never got over him. This whole time it felt like he was unintentionally manipulating you. He didn't want a relationship, but you couldn't be with anyone else with how much you felt for him. Both options left you alone, unhappy.

As you stepped into your class, your new professor was already there. His back was turned, and he was scribbling his name on the board. You could see some of the females in your class swooning. You weren't blind, even from the back you could tell he was probably attractive.

You took a seat, watching the name he wrote out.

"Orion Pax. "

Kind of strange, but who were you to judge. It sounded a bit familiar though, like you'd heard it somewhere before.

When he turned, he was sporting a broad smile, that probably gave a few of the women a heart defect. All he was doing was smiling and you could physically feel the charm sparking off him. Dirty blond hair, emerald eyes, strong jaw, broad shoulders. The guy was a freaking thirst trap.

"You all can call me Mr. Pax. I'll be the substitute Anthropology professor. This department has been under a lot of strain, I'll be lending a hand. Please feel free to ask me any questions." When the girl behind you raised her hands, you could already anticipate the question she was about to ask. She crossed her legs, batting her lashes seductively. 

"Mr. Pax, just wondering, I've been falling behind and it would mean a lot  if I could maybe work it off with some.." 

She paused, licking her lips and leaning forward, purposely pushing her cleavage together. 

"Extra credit." 

You rolled your eyes, and your friend at the side of you sent a small snicker, making kissy faces.

"Why of course, Mr. Renaldo told me all about you." 

He reached over, picking up a thick stack of sheets, dropping it on the desk in front of her. 

"These practice tests should help get you up to speed. Anyone else?" you almost burst out laughing at the bewildered look on her face.

"Well if they aren't anymore questions, let's begin." 

You kind of liked his style. He was a thot destroyer, you could respect that.

With a disgruntled huff, she pulled out her books and you giggled, reaching a taking out your own as Mr. Pax started up the projector. 

"Open your books to page 51, Folklore. This is a topic that I think some of you may enjoy. We've all heard stories of Bigfoot, or the Lochness monster. These may be theories created by very creative minds, but there are some things out there that we may not all understand. Possibly even beings from another earth, wouldn't that be interesting." 

When he said it, you could have imagined it, but his eyes seem to land right on you. 

You shifted a little in your seat, dropping your eyes to your book. You could still feel it, his green eyes boring into you. Your grip tightened on your pen, and you released a shaky breath.

"What the hell.." 

Optimus was the only one who'd ever made you breathless with just one look. So why was this stranger emitting the same energy of the Autobot you were so hopelessly in love with.

For the remainder of the class, you tried not to react. At certain points he'd walk down the aisle when he was making a point. You kept your head down, eyes on the page. For a moment, he stopped, leaning over to see your notes.

"What language is that?" 

Your head raised slowly, and you cursed when you realized what he was staring at. Through the days you spent with the Autobots, you picked up on some Cybertronian. Optimus even taught you some words and a few letters. Unintentionally, you'd scribbled out Optimus's name on the side of your notes. You flipped the page, letting out a nervous laugh. 

"N-Nothing it's just a little doddle. S-Sorry about that. I-I have a really short attention span. "

"Are you implying that my class is boring?"

"N-No! Of course not I was just-"

"I guess since it's so boring, you won't mind staying back to do a little extra work." 

You could hear the little laughs from some of the students behind you.

"Am I clear?"

You nod. "Yes sir." So maybe you were wrong, he was a douche after all. You hated the smug smile he was now wearing as he looked at you.

"Mothertrucker."

So the class pushed on. Thankfully, this was your only class for the day. Unfortunately, you would have to spend it with Mr. Douche.

"I'll text you later, let me know how it goes with Mr. Pax." 

Your friend winked at you as she left, and all you could manage was a groan. He was gathering his files. "I have to drop these into my office, care to join?"

It wasn't a request, you knew that. So you just picked up your bag and followed him down the hall. 

The entire time you stayed behind him, determined to avoid eye contact or conversation. When you got to the door, he opened it. 

"After you." 

With a fake smile, you entered, and He followed right after. The clicking of his lock is what made your eyes narrow. You turned to him in question.

"I apologize for embarrassing you in front of the class, but I needed to ensure that we were alone. "

Just great, not only was he a douche, but he was a freaking creep too.

"Listen, you're cute and all, but I'm not interested. Don't even try blackmailing me. My grades are spotless. I'm not gonna be some booty call. If that's all I'll just be going." 

You gripped your bag on your shoulder, heading for the door. His arm took your wrist, and you dropped your bag, ready to fight if necessary.

"You don't understand." 

The blue light that circled around his eyes made your own grow wide. You clenched your fists. 

"Decepticon!!" 

Yanking your hand back, you raised your fists, firing a punch at his face. He jumped back in surprise, and you used the distraction to grab something to chug at him. 

The lamp on his desk seemed like a good choice. You ripped it off the desk, throwing it, and he dodged, raising his hands as you tried to run for the door. All you had a chance to do was place them on the lock, somehow he was behind you, and your breath quickened in fear. His hands came down on the door, caging you there, and you froze.

"I suppose I should be proud, you do handle yourself very fairly well." 

The change of his voice made you shiver. He sounded strangely like...

"Optimus..." 

You whisper. He just let out a soft chuckle, and when your eyes connected, that's when you knew. His orbs were still glowing a brilliant blue, the same sapphire light you'd seen for years.

"How...what..why are you..you're voice is.." 

You could barely get an actual sentence out, and he smiled at you. 

No wonder the name sounded so familiar, he'd told you about it once. He still had you pressed into the door. His hand came down, resting on your cheek.

"It seems even in death, Ratchet has been looking out for us. When he was still with us, he was looking into getting us to blend in with humans. He wanted us to be protected, especially when we were being hunted by the government."

"So he..he found a way to turn you human?"

"Yes, with the help of my lifeforce, Ratchet has modified a device to assist us. Ironhide had kept it for this very moment. He wanted us to use it when the war was finally over. So we could live in peace. "

He gestured to the watch on his wrist, and you blinked. Up close it seemed like a regular accessory, but as you leaned in closer, you could make out the blue light that mirrored the one in his eyes. The watch seems to be almost fused with his skin.

"Woah..." 

It was crazy, you would have never guessed.

"That's amazing, e-even your voice sounds different. You sound so..so.."

"American." 

He smirked.

"I suppose that was another advantage to his technology. "

"But how come you're teaching here! You need a degree and references and college."

"I'm very versed at manipulating data (Y/N)."

Right, he was an alien robot after all.

"Anthropology, it's a topic that mirrors the studies I did back on Cybertron. It reminds a little of my home. I downloaded everything on the subject into my drive so I could teach efficiently."

There was still the most glaring question.

"Why do all this. I-I thought I was pretty clear yesterday Optimus. I-I can't move on if you're always here. I'm done chasing after you. Now you're here at my college. Are you really that heartless! Why can't you just let me-" 

He leaned in, and you gaped when his lips pressed to your own. You struggled for a moment, trying to push him off, but he was stronger. You hated this, how easily he was able to make you feel so much. Closing your eyes, you gave in.

When you felt his tongue parting your lips, you responded, leaning tentatively into his body. He sighed, tightening his grip on your wrist as he kept your bound to the door. How do you walk away when his kiss felt like your own personal heaven. 

The minute his tongue touched yours, your knees almost buckled. Gosh, how many times did you imagine kissing Optimus. Who were you kidding, there was absolutely no way you could forget about him. Your free hand slipped into his hair, and you tugged, earning an appreciative groan from him. When he finally retracted, you were panting, and a bit confused.

Why did he even kiss you?

"I realized that up until now I've been doing what I can to keep you at a distance. It wasn't because I didn't return your feelings (Y/N). Through our years together, I've always felt drawn to you. I choose to ignore it because I know that I could not have a future with you. As an autobot, I cannot give you what you deserve. "

So this whole time he was just scared.

"It may be hard for you to accept my apology, even after I've hurt you so much for so long, but I would like a chance to be a part of your life (Y/N). I'd like to be in your future, if you'll have me."

He didn't even have to ask.

"Of course I'll have you Optimus, that's all I've ever wanted. " 

He caresses your cheek, and you're smiling a bit bashfully.

"How did you learn to you know..kiss like that.." 

He's now wearing a sly grin. 

"Instinct I suppose." 

When his thumb brushes your lower lip, you quiver, closing your eyes. You want nothing more than his lips back on your own. 

"Back in class, I was sure you'd figure me out. When our eyes connected you gave me that look, one I've seen you wear many times. I finally understand what it means. How foolish that I didn't realize sooner." 

You blush. So you weren't imagining that either. It's almost like you felt him way before you put the pieces together.

"W-We're going to have to be careful at school though. It'll be bad if someone caught us like this." 

You're saying this in hopes that he'll let you go so you can get your heart to stop racing. If he kisses you again, you might not have the will to stop.

"I'm a very careful person," He says smoothly.

"Optimus we-"

"It's Mr. Pax." 

You glare at him, and he's still smirking at you.

"Please, there's no way you're getting me to say that. "

"Really?" 

He says that it's almost like a challenge. This time when he moves in, his lips rest on neck, you pull in a breath, a bit surprised at the move.

"O-O-Optimus I'm serious we can't.." 

He nibbles at your skin, and you can't even bring yourself to finish the sentence. Now he's leaving open mouth kisses, and you're trembling.

"You smell amazing, taste even better.." 

He mumbles on your flesh. 

Your chest is rising with every quick strum of your heartbeat, and you try pushing your thighs together to elevate the pressure. But that just encourages him to lean closer, pushing his leg between your thighs. Where the hell did this side of him come from. He uses his hand to tilt your head to gain better access to your neck, and you moan when his kisses become a bit more determined. There will definitely be marks when he's done. 

"M-Mr. Pax.." 

You stammer out. He stops, pulling back with a grin.

"Was that so hard?" 

You're about to yell at him for his recklessness, but he kisses you once again. With a sigh of defeat, you fold. There's no use pretending you don't love everything he's doing. That's how it's always been.

A future with Optimus, you can't wait. 

[thelikesoffinn]

hello - hope you're doing great! I love your analysis, and I wanted to ask about something I've been thinking fanfic wise but also applicable to real life (I think).

So Astarion gets paired a lot with Tavs who also have tragic past experiences (hard to be at his level of tragedy, but some get close). Which is all well and good, cause I see how writing these characters and reading about them is cathartic to many, but I also see plot-wise, it makes it "easier" for him to connect with Tav in a way, kindred souls and all that.

My Tav's background is one of someone who either had a fairly good and regular life, and, if trauma occured, it's been healthily overcome. So at the beginning of the BG3 story she's actually at the end of her own initial "character" arc.

Now my issue is, can Astarion connect with someone who has no idea at all of what he went through? My idea is that's he'd infantilize her, or openly antagonise her (in his charming way) because she's got no right to understand (especially with how he thinks it's fine to be racist and hurt the weak in the first act).

And she'd be understanding and wanting to help and all, but how can people with no/little traumatic experiences connect with those who went through hell, even with the best intentions? It's a dynamic I'd like to explore, because I've seen it played in real life a few times.

Sorry for the poem!

Hello, flower! Thank you so much, I'm glad that you enjoyed the analysis ❤️

As for your question: Eh, I do see why that dynamic is a rather difficult one. People who've survived through a lot of traumata tend to be somewhat hesitant and guarded in front of those who had normal lives at the best of times, and we all know that Astarion rarely has a "best of times", especially early in the game.

Infantilising them is something I definitely see with him. He's the type to do that with anyone anyway, but especially so with those he considers "sheltered". And sheltered is likely something he inevitably will consider Tav, as that is often the case with those who experienced trauma.

Trauma tends to age and harden you, in a way, so oftentimes people who simply grew up normally, with normal ups and downs, are viewed as "sheltered" or "spoiled" by those who didn't, even if that wasn't necessarily the case. That label isn't used or assigned maliciously, and it's simply based on the fact that other people's "normal" seems like the very best to someone who had it worse.

I can also see a huge amount of antagonism, yes, but how it shows will depend on when your story is set.

Is it while he's still dependent on Tav? Then I think he'd try to refrain from being more antagonistic towards them than necessary, since he needs to stay on their good side. So, he'd likely stick with his base-line arseholeishness, if a bit more intense at times. You know, in a sense that you side eye him and wonder if he just actually insulted you or if he's still joking around.

But if he's not dependent on them? Oh boy. Yeah, very likely that he'd be extremely mean and Tav would definitely 100% know that he means everything he says, even when it's uttered with a smile. Think how he talks to the Gur hunter in act 1 because let's be honest…that was far from subtle.

Astarion as a whole doesn't take kindly to anyone prodding his weak spots, albeit he mellows a bit towards Tav over the course of the story, and if would be even worse with "sheltered" Tav. He would likely flip his shit really hard and become extremely cruel with them, staying on their good side be damned because how dare they prod where they have no business being?

It's something I've seen at work before, and let me tell you: It's never a pretty sight. Many people who experienced trauma usually don't want to hurt others - quite the contrary, a lot of them would rather sacrifice themselves before watching anyone else get hurt like they were - but that doesn't mean they're not good at it. Precisely because they're often so hypervigilant, they have a talent in picking out your weak spots and if you test them enough, oh boy. They'll hit them with such aim and grace, you'll find yourself reeling. And that's the super sweet and kind clients, not the Astarions.

Here it's important to mention that the things people say in those situations are rarely what they really believe. It's mostly is just a well aimed assassination of your soft spots to get you to back off and leave them be.

So "sheltered" Tav will have to be extremely careful regarding any sore spots if they don't want to be hit by the full force of protective-malice.

Does that mean Astarion and your Tav won't be able to bond? Aabsolutely not, but it will be a tad bit difficult because he'll likely take a lot longer to open up and their bond will have to be built entirely from scratch. The shared understanding of their trauma can’t function as a temporary foundation – temporary because a bond entirely based on [shared] trauma will eventually become instable, if not fortified by other things – so they’ll have to put in a lot of work to even get to having a solid foundation to build on.

I'll give you a bit of a general rundown on how I was taught to tackle clients like that, maybe any of that will be helpful for you!

So, firstly: "Sheltered" Tav will need to be careful and understanding and they'll have to be able to take a blow and live with it if they accidentally step to close too early.

Important to note: They'll have to be able to take a blow but they can't be too lenient either.

Astarion seems like a person who's attached to 'respect'. Not in the 'respect your elders' way, but in the sense that he treats those he respects a lot better than those he doesn't. It's the nobility’s definition of respect - some "deserve" it and some don't and who is who is entirely based on personal understanding - so it's very in line with his background.

So, while your Tav will need to be able to take a hit, they'll need to know when to call him out on his bullshit. If you let Astarion walk all over you, he will eventually lose all respect and then this is a lost cause. Don't let him push you around.

If he's being too cruel, don't be cruel back, but definitely call him out on it and let him know that he can always ask you to stop prodding but you will not stand around and let him insult you.

Be understanding, but don't be a doormat.

Then, in order to get someone to open up, you'll have to have a lot of patience. Don't demand anything, don't force anything. Every question you ask has to be careful and phrased in a way that won't corner them, which can be really difficult in casual conversation. So, mishaps can and will likely happen, which is great material for a story anyway, so that's great! (Not so great at work though, haha.)

In case of "sheltered" Tav, it's probably best if they wait for him to come to them. Listen when he rants, listen to the tiny things he mentions and if you ask questions, make sure they directly relate to what he's told you just then.

So, if he talks about Cazador essentially making him choose between eating putrid rats or getting beaten, a question like: "Did he do that a lot?" or "Was it always those two options?" could potentially be alright because the red string is easily visible for both parties. Astarion can tell why you would ask something like that and he can follow your line of thought easily.

But a question like: "What else did he do to you?" or "Did he do other things as well?" would probably have his defences going up. It's too broad, too unspecific, and how is that any of your business anyway? What is this, an interrogation? An interview so that you can ghost write his sad memoirs? Back off.

While a question like: "How exactly did those dinners go?" or "Beaten? How?" is too specific. You're practically asking him to relive a painful moment in great detail for your own "enjoyment". Why else would you want to know? Why else would you ask how exactly he'd been hurt and humiliated, if not for that? Maybe you were planning to do the same to him. He won't let you. The past is the past. Let. It. Rest.

So, as you can tell, it's basically playing question-hot-foot!

But even if your Tav should cross the lines in that regard every once in a while - it happens, every question is a gamble - it'll eventually be fine. The closer they get, the easier it will be to ask questions, because he'll realise that he can actually trust them.

The one word I would really really avoid - and I cannot stress this enough - is 'understand'. God never use it. Tav, omit it from your vocabulary, you'll never "understand" anything ever again!

"I understand what you went though was horrible, but/and/however…" - No, you really do not. You can't understand, can't even imagine what he's faced over the years so never pretend that you do.

"I won't pretend to understand what you went through, but I want to/you can trust me/I can still listen." - Always said with kindness, but that one really is nothing but an empty platitude, at best. Hearing someone say that they don't understand you so directly is never really encouraging either.

"I just want to understand you." - Great, but you don't need to know the barest parts of a person's soul to be able to understand them. If you can't do it without that, maybe you shouldn't. And, all in all, this phrasing of the last one feels really iffy anyway, personally speaking, because it has a very manipulative edge to it. 'Hey I'm just overstepping your boundaries because I want to know you and understand you better. It's all for you..." and blegh. I hate that one, but that might be totally personal so please feel entirely free to ignore this paragraph.

Anyway, as you can see…never "understand", even if it’s just meant to encourage him. Just don't. I've seen clients who asked to be transferred to a different social worker or ended up leaving completely because someone used one of those lines, so I'd really strongly advise against them.

Instead, opt for things like "I'll listen to whatever you want to say." or "Can you explain it to me?" because that way you're not lying to his face and you're leaving everything up to him. He gets to decide where this conversation goes and, more importantly, how far it goes. Not an interview, not an interrogation, but a conversation that he controls.

And well then, flower, that’s it! Of course, there’s a lot more to it, but we’d still be here by the time Baldur’s Gate 8 is released if I went over every tiny thing, but I hope this was enough of an overview to help you build your story 😊 If you end up sharing it, don’t be shy to let me know, I’d be excited to check it out because, as you said, it’s a really interesting dynamic that isn’t explored as much as it should be. It’s a difficult dynamic, but it is so rewarding to write, read and experience. I wish you all the best ♥

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap Chapter Nine: Just a Stress Thing

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

The Xen research base was larger than Gordon would’ve thought but not by much. It was jam packed with as much research equipment as could fit in the small space. All of which would’ve been far more interesting if not for the all the dead guys, some as zombies and others as just partially eaten corpses left on the ground to rot, amongst it all. Seemingly no one had survived whatever had happened here. Not that there’d even been many with how classified this place had to be.

Another distraction from the science stuff was the search for whatever acted as the kitchen. Thankfully it didn’t take too long to find. And blessedly no putrefying corpses or parasite-controlled zombies fouled up the room. Even better, it was well stocked. All of it was Black Mesa branded astronaut food but that hardly mattered after so long with nothing to eat. It was more filling and nutritious than vending machine food too, making it even better.

Once no longer on the brink of being willing to try and eat another sliver of dead alien meat if given the chance, the search for how to turn the power on resumed with renewed intensity. That took a bit longer to find but find it they did or what was left of it. The generator had clearly upset the horde of peeper puppies they’d killed earlier and/or the zombies for whatever reason because it was thoroughly beaten up, several of its wires cut.

“Maybe there’s a backup somewhere,” Barney suggested, the optimism in his voice barely hanging on by a thread.

“I think that might be it, right there.” Gordon pointed to the other side of the room that housed another, slightly smaller generator, not that the other was particularly big. Its body was in better shape, not beat in and dented, but its main power cable was chewed all the way through after only a foot or so. Fixable in theory if one knew what they were doing with electric generator cables. The materials to do so were probably nearby too but Gordon had never had to do such a thing before and probably Barney hadn’t either. And then on top of that, “Even if we could fix it, did you see anything that looked like the portal machine?”

“Um… no. But an up to date one probably looks different.”

“Yeah, probably.” Gordon would’ve thought it would look somewhat similar though. “So, we gonna to try to fix this and hope there is or… what?” He’d already shared his thought that such a portal might be too resource intensive for a portable generator to be capable of.

“Well, the other option is to give up and move on. Not an idea I really like.”

Gordon didn’t either. “We could look at all the computers and stuff up close first. I mean we got the fancy new flashlights now with batteries to spare,” a great find, “so we don’t have to worry about running out anytime soon. But, I guess if we’re looking at everything closely anyway, it’d be easier to determine if any of it is what we’re looking for if they’re on. So uh… guess we’re fixing the generator.”

~

Replacing the generator cable was easier said than done of course but there was indeed the parts to do so in a nearby closet. No manual though. They had to figure out all of their own how to open the thing up to remove the broken cable, put the new one in, and then finally put it all back together. It took a while but they did it, somehow, and they didn’t break it worse in the process. Upon hooking it up to the base and hitting the switch, it hummed to life and a moment later the lights flickered on. Finally a win.

Now came searching the base again with lights on this time so it was easier to see. This mostly fell to Gordon as he had more personal experience with Black Mesa’s various machines. Not much in the way of alien field research but enough that he could probably determine approximately what each piece of technology was supposed to do.

There was only one place in the entire research base with an empty space big enough for a portal. It was almost certainly where the researchers were dropped in and extracted when it came time to rotate them out. But was there was a way to turn it on from this side? Could the piddly little generator they’d spent almost two hours fixing open a portal between dimensions?

Gordon went through every machine and computer in that room, thoroughly and methodically. Turning them on one by one, looking for the portal controls. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. If the portal could be opened from this side, the means to do so wasn’t in this room. Which didn’t bode well for their chances.

The next room was the largest room and the main lab. He checked everything there too. More nothing. The rest of the base was sleeping quarters – eight bunks jammed in a room that would’ve been adequate for a single person’s bedroom – the lavatories, kitchen, a small gym area that was just a treadmill and some hand weights, and an armory. They’d missed the the latter during their first pass through the base due to the darkness. It contained a stockpile of guns and ammo, useful but not what they were looking for.

“There’s no way to open the portal from this side,” he said as he returned to Barney in the armory. He’d taken on the task of loading up a couple of the packs they’d found with food, batteries, and med-packs and then another with ammunition. Seemingly he’d just finished as he at the little table in there, the packs next to him.

“Drat. You sure?”

“Pretty sure. I even checked the treadmill screen to see if it had anything.”

“Well… fuck. What now?”

How was Gordon supposed to know? They were fucked. And it was kind of Barney’s fault. Being mad about him over it was rather hard when he was also the only reason Gordon wasn’t dead from something else. And to be fair, as soon as they saw the teleporter was malfunctioning, they both should’ve known to leave. “I guess uh… we keep going towards the tower.” Even if they couldn’t get back home, it’d be cool to see it up close.

Barney stood, grabbing the backpacks as he did so. He handed one of them to Gordon. “Maybe there’ll be another base closer to it. One with a bigger generator than can open a portal back.”

Gordon hoisted the pack onto his shoulders, careful not to brush the end of his stump against the strap. “Maybe.” It wasn’t impossible. Xen was a big place after all, why wouldn’t it have more research bases?

~

They turned the generator back off in case they decided to return and thus didn’t want to waste its limited fuel before heading out the rear exit. It was more wretched dank tunnels filled with mostly mushrooms and some bio luminescent tendrils. Thankfully it wasn’t far before they exited.

The sky overhead was a blend of beautiful blues and purples. The tower was in theory a bit closer now, though it didn’t really look it. But being able to see it again made it easier to know they were still heading towards it.

“What do you think that tower might be?” Barney asked after several minutes of walking it silence. “I mean, it’s obviously not natural, something built it. But what and why?”

“Hmm… it might be a religious thing maybe. Don’t people like to build tall structures and stuff to show off their god or whatever?” Not that Gordon knew much about religion or cared to know any more than he did. But what kind of gods might whatever aliens had made the tower worship?

“So we might be going to an alien church then. Well, I guess that’s pretty cool. As long as they don’t expect us to attend their worship services anyway.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not, huh?” Still, it’d be pretty cool to see stained glass murals celebrating the god/s of beings that lived in a whole other dimension. “Guess we won’t know until we get there.”

And so they continued to walk at a more leisurely pace now that food wasn’t a pressing issue. Making this a pleasant stroll except for the whole being stuck here thing anyway. If Gordon ignored that and his missing hand though, it was fine.

Maybe they’d find a sustainable source of food eventually and then they could just live here. Free of all the worries of modern life. No more worrying about jobs, rent, or politics. Barney for sure wasn’t likely to abandon him while they were here either. No one would want to discard their only human company in such a place.

Of course, being stuck here forever would also mean no more of the comforts of modern life either. Such as being able to go to the doctors if one got sick or injured – the healing gel they had would run out eventually. No fun passtimes like video games, internet, or TV, not that the latter was really that fun but it was okay sometimes. And a million other things. So probably it would suck more than not but at least being lonely and friendless wouldn’t be an issue. Still though, hopefully they would find…

The world shifted. One more he’d been swerving around a bulbous growth, the next it just wasn’t there anymore and he was walking completely straight. And he couldn’t be sure with how similar so much of the plant life looked but everything else seemed to have changed too. Weird. Probably it was just stress and not paying that much attention to where he was going. Blinking, he shook his head a bit to shake off the last of it before picking up his pace a bit to make up for the couple seconds he’d slowed down for.

“What do you think that tower might be?” Barney asked. “I mean, it’s obviously not natural, something built it. But what and why?”

“Didn’t you just ask that?”

“Uh… no. Did I?”

“Yeah, like five minutes ago. We settled on it might be a church.”

“Huh? Well I guess it could be. That’s kinda cool. As long as they don’t expect us to attend their worship services anyway.”

Seems Gordon wasn’t the only one experiencing weird stuff, if Barney was repeating that without remembering as well. Or maybe it was the mushrooms. They’d breathed some spores in or something and now they were high. Damn, if he was going to get high on magic shrooms he’d have liked to at least done so with a kind he knew was safe and supposed to be fun and not while traveling through a hostile alien dimension.

As they continued, he strained his senses for anything else weird. More weird shifts in place or forgetting prior conversations. Not that he’d know if he forgot any himself but he tried. … Nothing seemed weird. But then would it seem weird if he was really out of it enough? He felt sober but he’d never been high on alien shrooms before so who could say for sure what it would feel like?

Maybe it was just a stress thing. Who could blame them for that? Things had been quite stressful lately. The most stressful period in Gordon’s entire life, more so than getting his PhD had been. They were allowed a little bit of weirdness for that, right? Probably it was…

The sound of gunfire came from their right, uncomfortably close. Or perhaps comfortably close. “What are the chances that’s the military versus someone else from Black Mesa who found a way here?”

Even before Gordon was finished speaking, Barney had turned to head towards the sound. “No clue but we should definitely find out just in case they have a way back whoever they are.”

***

Despite his newfound size, Benrey didn’t seem any more inclined to help them out. Nor did he seem any more inclined to stay with them because after only maybe half an hour he was already nowhere to be seen. Thankfully he could take care of himself – even more so now – so Gordon didn’t have to worry about him.

He also didn’t have to worry about shepherding the others safely through the alien wilderness because it had already been confirmed that they were all superhuman in one way or another. It was great! Travel companions who couldn’t die so he never had to worry about resetting for them. If not for the pressing issue of fixing what he’d broke, this would’ve been a pleasant time.

They marched through the Xen wilderness at a steady pace. Judging distance to the tower was hard but as long as they could see it, they could head towards it. It was tempting to try to push hard for it but that wouldn’t be wise. They needed to be ready for battle when they got there, not worn out from the journey.

With the military having retreated from the facility and probably having never found a way to get here in the first place, they were no longer an issue. It was only the aliens now and this was their home turf. Modern weaponry continued to work well against them though even as their ambushes continued to get more intense.

That had to prove that something intelligent was behind their attacks though and that it was getting desperate. It had to be the thing they’d been sent to Xen to kill, right? But if one alien was intelligent maybe some of the others were too. If so, could they be reasoned with? If Gordon killed their leader would they surrender? Hopefully.

But of the aliens he knew of, which species might be smart? … Not the parasites, that was for sure. Probably not the ‘peeper puppies’ either, they seemed too dog-like. The most obvious suspect would be…

“Look, a city.” Tommy’s voice cut into the chatter Bubby and Coomer had been exchanging – something about the mushrooms they were passing and which ones looked edible, or at least that’s what they’d been talking about last time Gordon had paid any real attention.

Gordon looked back to see where Tommy was pointing. … Up ahead, slightly left of the direction they’d been heading. It was less a ‘city’ and more what was clearly the back of a handful of buildings. Well disguised by the terrain and surrounding foliage – if the lumpy growths that made up much of the plant life counted as foliage anyway – it had basically been invisible until they were this close to it. Even now, if Tommy hadn’t been paying more attention, Gordon might’ve gone right past it without notice.

“It’s more a village,” Bubby said.

“Or a town,” Coomer added.

Regardless of what it was exactly, it was a sign of civilization. Seems his speculation about sentient aliens held truth. Whether it was any of the alien species they’d already encountered remained to be seen.

Gordon turned to his companions and lifted a finger to lips in a request for silence. Thankfully they all respected it – for now anyway – and didn’t resume their chatter as they started for the buildings

On uneven mountainous terrain, the buildings were quite far apart in some places and closer in others. They were coming at it from to the right of what might be the entrance. Gordon angled them to enter through a thin alleyway between two of the taller buildings.

Upon nearing the end of the alley, Gordon slowed to a stop to get a better look at the place. It was indeed more a small town or village than city. Somewhat circular, everything pointing inward towards the center where a tall vertical ring stood. Cables came off it leading to something next to it. A alien machine, its use impossible to guess when so far from it.

“Vonneguts,” Tommy whispered at about the same time Gordon spotted a small group of lightning shooting aliens – presumably the ‘Vonneguts’ in question – too.

They’d exited one of the buildings, angling towards the center. Bubby stepped forward, butting in between Gordon and Tommy, lifting his gun. Gordon grabbed the barrel and pushed it back down, earning a glare in return.

“Really? We’ve been killing those ugly bastards for however fucking long its been since they started popping in. They’ve been trying to kill us, we’re justified in killing them.” He at least had the decency to whisper.

As fair a point as that was, them having stumbled into what was obviously a settlement of some sort meant the Vonneguts were the intelligent aliens Gordon had been contemplating just a little while ago. Which came with it the other question; could they be reasoned with? How did he convey he intended to try?

“This is a town, Bubby.” Coomer didn’t lower his voice, he seemed incapable of it at times.A charming trait right up until it wasn’t anymore. Such as right now. “They might be civilians and thus not to be killed unless they prove to be hostile too.”

“That’s fucking stupid but fine, whatever. Go try to talk to them then, not-Gordon. See how well it goes. Just don’t get mad when I laugh while your ass gets electrocuted.”

“If uh, it does go poorly, he’ll just come back so probably it’s worth a try,” Tommy said. “They might be friendly. It’d be pretty cool if they were.”

Gordon gave him and Coomer thumbs up of approval before turning and marching out of the alley. Bubby mumbled something that was probably an insult or perhaps another complaint but Gordon was walking away fast enough that he didn’t catch it.

Naturally the Vonneguts – where had the name come from? Perhaps a Kurt Vonnegut reference had been made about them before he’d joined the party, maybe it was even other-him who’d made it – noticed him long before any of them reached the center. They didn’t attack though, just kept going on their same trajectory even while turning to look at him every few seconds.

Upon reaching the ring, three of them started doing something with one the boxes attached via cable to the ring. The fourth however turned to face Gordon, apparently waiting for him to catch up.

Upon doing so, the two of them stood and studied each other in silence. Gordon had gone out of his way to look closely at a dead one a while ago and had found it fascinating. Alive though and moving, the eyes all focused on him and roving over his body, was something else entirely. It made his skin crawl. Likely that had to with all his prior encounters with these guys being violent. But this one showed no sign of following suit.

Instead it spoke to him, its words alien and impossible to understand but it was without a doubt spoken language. Wow! Cool!

It was the longest of long shots but Gordon lifted his hands to sign a, “Hello,” anyway. “I come in peace.” He was the alien here, right? Assuming this place with the Vonneguts’ home anyway. It might not be considering they had the ability to travel to Earth and thus could’ve come here the same way and be from somewhere else entirely. “Sort of. I need to kill the thing attacking my home.”

The Vonnegut looked at him for a moment before lifting it hands and flexing them, including the little one on its chest. Nothing that looked like an alien sign language, seemingly just an acknowledgment that Gordon spoke with his hands. It then said something short and guttural in its own language before pointing at him, the ring they stood next to, and then back towards the tower.

Gordon pointed at himself and then the tower. That is indeed where he intended to go.

The Vonnegut repeated its earlier gesture, putting more emphasis on the ring this time. It was a big enough to for a person to go through. … A portal? They definitely had teleportation technology so maybe. A portal that would take him to the tower or at least closer to it. That’d be real nice. Trusting the Vonneguts’ technology was a tall ask but if it was a trap to kill him, he’d just…

The air crackled, above and around them; a familiar sound. The Vonneguts scattered, fleeing towards the shelter of the buildings. Looking up, Gordon drew his crossbow. It was the floating guys, a whole group of them. His first bolt missed, the second didn’t, piercing through the face of them. It fell as he reloaded, turning to…

A familiar flash of pain jolted through him, making him stumble and fall, dropping the crossbow. Over him, the floating aliens fired their orbs at him, a barrage he couldn’t quite get away from. They sent more jolts through him as they hit and then… he was blinking open his eyes back in the alleyway.

“It’s mind control, Mr. … er, not-Mr.Freeman,” Tommy blurted. “The balloon guys were mind controlling the Vonneguts to attack you! Or um… that’s what it looked like from over here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bubby asked.

“I believe not-Gordon has died again,” Coomer replied. “Apparently to mind-controlled Vonneguts. And ooh, there’s some Vonneguts right there.” He pointed. It was the same group as before.

Bubby scowled but was thankfully distracted enough not to draw his gun this time. “Why the hell do you guys remember this stuff but I don’t?”

That was a very good question, the answer to which didn’t quite matter right now. The question of mind control did though. It had definitely been an alien lightening bolt that had hit him, throwing him off his balance. Which didn’t make sense since they’d been been acting friendly until that moment. So… mind control it was then? Despite having that much power, the way they’d run as soon as the balloon guys came was perhaps evidence of that control. He’d have to pay more attention to know for sure but for now, that was the theory he was going with.

“It means the Vonneguts are friendly, right?” Tommy said. “They’re being mind controlled to be mean. That’s awful! Poor things.”

“How do we know they’re all being controlled?” Bubby asked. “Maybe only some of them are while the rest try to kill us willingly. We don’t know jack-shit. I know even less because I don’t remember when this asshole apparently rewinds time every time he fucking dies.”

That was also a good point. Even if these Vonneguts had been mind controlled to ‘be mean’ that didn’t mean all of them were. Gordon had to get to the bottom of this no matter what.

He gestured for them to stay here while he turned and exited the alley. Enough time had passed for the Vonneguts to already be at the center. He jogged to catch up.

Their interaction was much the same except he didn’t try to sign anything to them, just going straight to pointing. The balloon guys came in at the same point in the conversation. Gordon was more ready for this though.

Already backing up for a better view of the battle, he took one of the balloon guys out, same as before but with the first bolt this time. Which freed him for a moment to pay more attention to the rest of them. Two of which shot out energy orbs of a different sort, much smaller but also much faster, making hitting the fleeing Vonneguts almost trivial. Said Vonneguts skidded to a halt before snapping around to face Gordon, already charging their beams. Gordon barely got out of the way in time to avoid getting hit. Mind control indeed.

Gunshots came from the alleyway his companions had been left in. Another balloon guy fell and then Gordon sniped one more. Up in the air with no cover, it wasn’t hard.

As soon as the final balloon guy fell to one of one of Gordon’s companions, the Vonneguts shuddered and stumbled. One even redirected its mostly charged beam into a wall instead of whoever its target had been before.

“We’re not killing these guys anymore then?” Bubby asked as he strode further forward, holding his gun up as if ready to use it.

Gordon jogged over to push the barrel down. He gave Bubby a firm head shake. No, they weren’t killing them anymore unless they absolutely had to or if any proved to be hostile even while not mind controlled.

“Damn it. Fine.”

“Yay, new friends,” Tommy said as the Vonneguts slowly started making their way back towards the center, presumably to resume whatever they’d been trying to do before being interrupted. Probably and hopefully getting that maybe-portal working.

Gordon turned to head that way himself, intending to watch from up close. Before he could take a more than a step in that direction…

“Yo, Gordon!”

Gordon snapped his attention to his left. It was Barney, his hand raised in greeting, standing in the entrance of the circular town. How had he gotten here? “If it even really is you this time. I never expected to run into you here of all places.” Next to him stood someone in an HEV suit. Gordon blinked as he took a step closer. It was… him? Or someone who just happened to look an awful lot like him. He was missing a hand though and thus probably, it was his alternate. Somehow his companions’ original Gordon had found them.

Coomer had noticed him too as he was already heading towards the two of them, raising a hand in greeting. “Hello, Gordon!”

~

Next Chapter

[punks-never-die205]

Passing Fascination

Fem Reader x Yandere!Eustass Kid

CW: kidnapping, yandere Eustass Kid, violence, dubious consent, imprisonment, abuse, swearing, sex, group sex, dark content kids I am not messing around with this ♥

Chapter 2: The Chase

You were breathing heavy when you made it to shore, but the winds hadn’t favored the Punk Victoria, and you made it to the beach without having to ditch the rowboat.

The winds hadn’t exactly favored you, either, and the ship wasn’t that far away. They’d be weighing anchor and row boating themselves to shore shortly. You needed to be as far lost and gone into the woods as possible.

You were already acutely aware this wasn’t Three Rivers Island, but with luck it would be big enough for you to disappear into it for long enough. Your survival skills weren’t exactly expert level, but you knew a lot of fruits and foods available in the area thanks to the heavy commerce of your home island. There was a small harpoon in the row boat, something maybe for just holding the small vessel next to a boat while the occupants left, but it was sharp and came with enough rope you could tie it to yourself.

Fortune favors the bold, or something.

You smile, taking a bite of the lobster tail and nodding. “No, you’re not wrong.” You admit. You were enjoying yourself. The meal was fantastic, and Kid was remarkably good at carrying a conversation. For someone with impressive scars and a missing arm, he didn’t let either hold him back.

He looked different too. Dressed in clothes that any merchant would appreciate, with his hair falling down around his face in messy loose waves. He had a metal arm, but it was much smaller than you’d seen before, and was mostly concealed by the puffy sleeves of the shirt he wore.

“In the end though, I like it here.” You say easily. “It might not be the life I dreamed of having, but it’s functional.”

He smirks, and you’re sure a couple people joined his crew because of that smirk. “Functional’s hardly living. I’ve seen how you work, didja ever think of being a pirate?”

You almost choke, laughing a little and waving your hand. “Pirate? By the seas.” You shake your head. “I don’t have the constitution for that. I barely like the blood I see when the cook’s prepping meals.”

You wanted to get as high as you could for starters. If you could get your bearings sea-wise you had a far better chance of making it back to your home. If Three-Rivers wasn’t visible on the horizon then you’d have to weigh a few unpalatable options.

Did you turn yourself into the pirates who were hunting you? Trapped on a ship might be better than left effectively for dead on an island that may or may not be able to support you.

Did you attempt to sneak back on board the ship as a stowaway until the next port? You were small, and the crew wasn’t many in number. The ship was huge, so keeping yourself out of sight and sneaking crumbs was plausible. But if you got caught you were probably going to be worse off than if you surrendered yourself.

Your last option, if you couldn’t see another island from whatever vantage point you found, would be simply taking your chances on this island. The idea of living alone on a, most likely, deserted island for an indeterminate amount of time until a friendly-looking boat stopped by wasn’t exactly high on your list of options.

But if you passed fresh water on your way into the interior, and found some fruiting trees, then it wasn’t an impossible option. The longer you could dodge your pursuers the better your chances of making the most viable decision.

Diving into the underbrush, you do your best to avoid snapping twigs or bending anything, walking gingerly through the forest. You were less thrilled about not having shoes right now, but it was easier to tread softly without heavy shoes, you just had to ignore anything that squished between your toes.

Ten minutes in you found a creek, and stepping into it found it was pleasant temperature wise, and the silt was well packed. It wasn’t like walking on rocks, but it wasn’t slick with algae or deep and muddy. You kept your feet in the water as you walked to avoid splashing, but you hadn’t heard any concerning sounds since you got into the woods.

The crew was likely just now coming ashore as it was.

“A second date?” You look down at the ground for a second. “I…”

“You had fun.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. The confidence would usually rankle you, but not only is he not wrong, he knows he’s not. It’s not hollow confidence.

“I did.” You admit, looking away with a scowl on your face.

“We’re in for another couple of days. Not tomorrow night, the night after. Just,” He bends over a little, turning his head to catch your eyes before he smiles. “Walk along the beach with me. Let me talk to you.”

“Talk?” You cock an eyebrow at him, and he flips you off.

“Yes, talk. You brat.” He nearly barks the words. It’s disconcerting that he looks hotter when he’s a little hot under the collar. “I said I wasn’t going to force my way into your damn pants.”

You smile, closing the short distance between the two of you and kissing the tip of his nose quickly. The action causes him to freeze in place for a second. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to irritate you, cap’n.”

You needed to follow the stream for as long as you could. If there were enough rocks for you to come out on you’d consider it. In the dark it wouldn’t be so easy to notice as a wet foot mark, especially since they’d have to watch every inch of the creek’s banks while they pursued you.

You were focused on reaching a vantage point, but you realized that your biggest problem was that you had rowed your happy ass for nearly forty minutes to reach this island. The crew had been on a ship. The really big pirate crew, with bounties that proved how formidable they were, and by association, how much stamina they had.

You shook the thought from your head. One problem at a time. You weren’t racing them to a destination, you were trying to get yourself lost in a jungle enough to not get caught. You didn’t need to have an excess of stamina to manage that.

You were tired though. Rowing was a whole body activity, and trudging through a jungle wasn’t easy either, especially with the slight incline you were dealing with from working your way into the interior.

You noticed a big, leafy tree, and decide to climb it. Barefoot tree climbing was something you’d done as a kid, but adult you was far less thrilled about it. It took a couple minutes, but you managed to get comfortable in a thick collection of branches. You had a good view of the sky, a bad view of the ground, but up in the tree you could rest a little.

You didn’t need line of sight to the ground to be able to hear either, so you’d be able to hear if any of those oafs wandered nearby.

You had walked the mostly deserted shores of the island with Eustass for almost two hours. All the two of you had done was talked. He talked about his crew, their adventures, their plans, and he kept reassuring you that you’d be safe from harm with him. You talked to him about your life on Three Rivers Island, dreams you’d let go of, the quiet life you enjoyed.

“It is a tempting off, I’ll admit.” You muse quietly, watching the waves roll in for the nighttime high tide, sitting on a patch of grass as the fire Kid was starting warmed the area. “But I mean it truly, I’m not a fighter. You can’t possibly have use of a barmaid on your crew.”

He scoffs, the clipped grunted laugh shaking his shoulders once. “I don’t. I’m not asking you to join the crew because I want to make use of you.” He admits. His back is to you, his eyes on the fire, or out to sea, you weren’t sure. You imagined there was a heat in his cheeks he didn’t want you to see.

Heat that was in your own cheeks, admittedly.

You’d been wooed before, by sailor, merchant, and wretch alike. You weren’t a stranger to sharing a bed with someone, but working in a bar meant you knew how most sailors and pirates viewed someone like you and it left a sour taste in your mouth. You had nothing against being promiscuous, you only detested anyone thinking it was expected of you.

“Are you going to make me say it?” He asks. There’s an edge to his voice, some of it sounds like anger, but most of it sounds like embarrassment.

“… No. I… I can’t leave with you. I can’t return it, so I won’t ask you to say it.” You admit. There’s a pain in your chest, a sadness in your voice. Neither are there to appease him. You really had been enjoying yourself. If you thought there was any chance he’d accept, you’d offer for him to stay on Three Rivers.

“It’s there though.” He says flatly. It’s not a question, and so you don’t answer it, but you already know he wouldn’t say it unless he was certain.

You wake up from your brief nap. The sky is a little brighter than before, but not by much. Dawn is approaching, but there won’t be any real light for another hour. You stay still for a moment, listening to the surrounding area as best you can before you descend from the tree and continue the hike into the island’s interior.

If Kid and the crew walked through the night they might very well be ahead of you. They also might still be behind you, if they hadn’t managed to pick up your trail then they’d be forced to hunt tree by tree. Of all the little skills you’d picked up over the course of your life, tracking someone in the wilds was not one of them. Unless they left painfully obvious signs of passage, you weren’t going to know where they were until you heard them. Fortunately, the little nap you’d had, put some life back into your limbs and it was easier to move than it had been.

The soft light of the impending dawn was enough to help you get a better idea of the island. You passed several trees that produced fruits and nuts you could eat, and knew how to eat. The stream you’d traveled in was fresh and clear – you might get a stomachache for a couple of days adjusting to water different from your own island, especially since you didn’t have any survival gear, but as long as there weren’t any poisonous plants growing along the riverbed it wouldn’t be fatal.

Considering how comfortable the night had been, the days probably got warm and humid, but you and your clothes could easily adjust. This island wasn’t likely to have much of an autumn, never mind winter, so you wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death before someone came along. Your biggest problem, assuming you needed to stay here, was going to be maintaining your sanity. Humans were social creatures, and isolation could crack a lot of people.

The land evens out as the sun rises fully. Again, you were glad your clothes were darker shades. If you’d worn pastels you’d be another beacon against the darker shades of the deep forest. Looking around you found a promising tree, grumbling only a little as you began another barefoot climb.

Your first order of business was going to be making shoes out of something. It was harder climbing this tree than the last one because your feet were torn up from the first climb. It was small wounds, nothing that was bleeding badly, or in need of stitches, but the callouses you had from being on your feet all the time could only protect you from so much.

At the very least you could make a ladder from driftwood and gather fruits and nuts without more climbing.

“I wonder how long it would take to whittle a pair of clogs from driftwood?” You mutter to yourself as you brace against the tree’s topmost branches. Scanning the horizon you can see the Victoria Punk anchored off the coast, and work your way around to the other side of the tree carefully.

Moving branches aside with the end of the spear you look out over the horizon. You could see the outline of an island in the distance. It was possibly Three Rivers. You were hungry, but you hadn’t been ravenously hungry, so it was unlikely you’d been passed out in Kid’s bed for days. Chances were this was just the day after your beach date.

So this was probably the Countess – an uninhabited island that some of the merchants would vacation on from time to time. Perfect. That meant that aside from a few territorial birds, there weren’t any aggressive animals on the island to be wary of. Plenty of nuts and fruits, a decent supply of fish, you were certain, and the chances of rescue were incredibly high.

If it was the Countess, it was still Three River on the horizon, and with little more than time on your hands you could start building a boat. Rowing from here to there would be exhausting, but not impossible. Three Rivers had a yearly rowboat contest that went around the entire island. It took three days, and competitors slept and ate in the rowboats.

Island currents and open ocean were two different beasts, however, so it was certainly a last resort idea.

Climbing down from the tree you stayed by the trunk for a moment, trying to listen for any sounds. Countess Island wasn’t very big. Hopefully it was big enough you could continue to shake a crew of a dozen or so pirates, but that was your biggest challenge right now. There wasn’t enough land to really get lost.

You needed a cave or root hollow to hide in, and the sooner the better.

“Hm?” A glimmer in the growing daylight catches your eye, but as you turn to look it disappears. You look around more, senses on edge, when you feel something cold against your wrist a second too late.

Pulling your arm away does little more than clamp the spiky metal bracer into place. A force you can’t fight pulls you down into the dirt with a sharp tug.

“Shit!” Just as you hit the ground your arm’s yanked up and back pulling you through the air before you slam into the tree behind you. The spike’s locked into the rough bark and you’re effectively pinned to the tree.

Your whole body aches from being jerked around, but your shoulder’s screaming the worst. If it’s not dislocated, it’s not far from it. You’re too far up the trunk to touch the ground with your feet, so your battered soles are trying to find footing against the bark again.

A sense of dread washes over you. You’re not worried about your shoulder or the bark anymore. You’re not just caught, you’re being stalked. Hunted. You had a healthy dose of fear and respect for Kid and his crew, but this is the first time you’re scared down to your bones.

You recognize Conqueror’s Haki, it’s quieted streets on Three River several times before now, but you’ve never had it feel like this. It’s not washing over you, it’s slipping under your skin and clawing at your muscles, almost like it’s threatening to tear your organs from you if you succumb to it.

“There she is,” the sound of his voice pushes you deeper into your rising fear, and you wish you could disappear into the tree itself. There’s an almost jovial tone in his voice, but it’s manic and on edge, and that edge is pressed against your throat like a knife.

“My little pet mouse.”

[stedebonnit]

Thinking about Ed getting injured at some point, and him being so used to just taking care of himself because no one has ever really cared if he was injured beyond "keep the captain alive so he can tell us what to do next". Hes never been cared for, especially not for a minor injury like this (i mean, getting a sword slash on the arm is really the least scary thing to get. A couple of stitches and he'd be right as rain)

But Stede sees it happen, and in a second Ed is being scooped into Stedes arms and fucking carried back to the ship. Stede is settling Ed on their bed, and hushing him when he tries to tell Stede that he's fine, that this really, really isnt a big deal.

Stede is so gentle as he peels off Eds jacket, and the little tsk's and, oh dear's that fly from Stedes lips as he assesses the damage pull at heartstrings that Ed wasnt aware he had.

Then Stede is scrambling over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out supplies, and rum to numb his pain for fucks sake, as if Ed wouldnt have just stitched this up with one hand if he'd been left alone to handle it.

Stede approaches, handing Ed a small glass of rum and intructing him to drink. Ed, too shocked to argue, does just that.

"Good, now lie back, dear, Ive got you. This may sting a little, but I'm hoping the rum will make it a little easier."

It does sting, just a little, in a way Ed never cared enough to notice before. Its not that it never hurt, Ed had survived far more painful injuries in the past, but Ed had never been allowed to feel it before. He'd never had someone care enough to hold him and tell him:

"Its alright, sweetheart, we're almost done. You'll be all better in just a tick, you're being so brave. We'll take a nice long rest after this. The crew can wrap up the raid no problem."

On the last stitch, Stede looks up to find tears in Eds eyes.

Stedes face melts and he reaches up a hand to carefully wipe the tears away.

"Oh, my heart, did it hurt terribly? I'm so sorry, but its done now."

Ed shakes his head, blown away by the fact that he can be loved so gently.

"No, love, you did perfectly. Thank you. I've just...never had this before."

"An arm slash? Ah, theyre quite nasty, I hear."

"No, had plenty of those. Plus...tattoos are just one big arm slash if you really think about it."

Stede snorts out a laugh.

"You know, that tracks. What did you mean, then?"

"Ive been injured plenty. Much worse shit than this, that's for sure. I've never...had someone care. Not like this. People cared enough to keep me breathing, sometimes even that was only up to me. I've never had someone want to help me feel better, you know?"

Stedes brows pull together, his ever expressive face dripping with empathy as he nods.

"I do. Im so sorry youve been alone for so long, Edward, but you arent alone anymore. I will always take care of you, because you deserve it."

[khaleesiofalicante]

Then I will fix it for you,” Papa said. “Now. What’s the rule?”

You go fix your brain and your personality and the fact that you exist asshole

He was studying a lot lately – with Claude and by himself. 

I'm sorry, with Claude? How is Claude not in prison by now?? Oh my god, is the guy David yelled at in front of Max Claude?? Please tell me it's not?? Please tell me Claude died a painful death?

“I think you are ill,” Marcel whispered. “I think you know it too.”

HOW MANY ASSHOLE CAN EXIST IN A SINGLE CHAPTER??I'm so so glad we only get Albert in one fic. I'm so glad that in all the other ones he's already dead or not a part of David's life. Because the "he got away, he survived" always makes reading this part, learning what David has been through slightly easier. But here he hasn't and that hurts even worse. And we've never seen it in such detail. It makes me truly sick.

“Good,” Papa nodded before leaving the room. “Remember that’s how I feel every time I look at you.”

SOMEBODY PUSH HIM OFF A BALCONY

David was thirteen when he had his first kiss.

Okay I really liked how you separated Madeleine kissing him and being kissed by a boy. Because the first one didn't mean anything and the second one did. That is a very important distinction

Henry was in the choir too. Henry could sing really well. Although Henry wanted to be an actor – just like his dad.

Henry being the first male character introduced in this chapter I didn't want to throttle, we stan Henry. Thank you for existing Henry. When we first saw him in the Star Wars premiere I didn't think much of him, but he is one of the few people that made David's life a little brighter and we thank him for that, this bouquet is for him💐

When David returned to his own quarters, wiping away tears that weren’t there, his dairy was gone too.

What happened to his dairy? I'm scared, what happened to his diary??

David turned the copy of Paradise Lost in his hands, slow and careful, and smiled at the man. “Thank you, Uncle Lucien

BE GONE SATAN

Lucifer rebelling against God?” David asked.

“I wouldn’t call that disobedience,” Uncle Lucien tutted. “Justice perhaps. Retribution?”

Of course you wouldn't you psychopath. Can we even call Lucifer a psychopath? The actual devil doesn't seem as gratifying

Uncle Lucien smiled and touched his face. “I want you to come to Oxford

See Lucifer says he wants David in Oxford and suddenly I want David as far from Oxford as he can get. Honestly I miss TLND, the only world where David has healthy male role models/ father figures in his life (and LBAF but his memories were tampered and he is very different there plus in LBAF 5/6 we didn't get a lot of David/Jace and I feel like they are distant? Hope that never happens in TLND)

Please note that every Lucifer/David interaction kinda made my skin crawl, you've described as super creepy and his gaze kinda prickling at your skin? Amd that has been conveyed beautifully to us, I get goosebumps every time he is mentioned

I don’t need to know,” Jackson shook his head. “No reason could ever justify abuse.”

I'm so happy David always gets to have Jackson. That he is a canon event. He is to David what Malec/Rafe are to Max. Family, the person who is always there, the home you turn to when you've lost your way. It's really beautiful

He wrote the things he wanted to tell some man in the future. A man he’d probably never meet.He wrote about how he wanted to be loved. Even though he might never know what any of it might actually feel like.

I want Max to read that notebook and know he loved David in ways David himself never thought existed. He will be so proud of himself. And David will be so happy to know what he once thought was impossible is now his reality

Claude is indeed there and David is forced to spend time/share a space with him. A lot of children who are abused by people they know (which is more likely to happen than by a stranger) continue to share a space (or even a home) with their abusers, and I didn't see it being any different in David's case.

Fun fact: Marcel is mentioned in LBAF. Points if you know who he is.

I'm glad you caught the 'first kiss' bit. I was hoping someone would.

Henry was neat. Also, I named him after the rwrb character hehe.

I think a couple of people inquired about David's diary. One of the students stole it/read it. We see Albert asking Jackson to spy on David in uni. He does the same during David's school years too.

GET DAVID HEALTHY MALE ROLE MODELS 2KFOREVER.

Lucifer's obsession with David reminds me (in a very different way) of Mallory's obsession with Max. I KNOW THEY ARE PERFECT. LEAVE THEM ALONE.

David and Jackson 💜

The beautiful thing is Max never has to read that poem David wrote. He loves David without being asked. He cares for David without being prompted. And that is everything to David too.

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2023 Day 17 - Auction

“Hey, Geto, your stalker is here,” Yuji loudly calls out and Suguru stiffens before he slowly turns around, dread already forming in his gut.

To his immense relieve he spots a mop of fluffy white hair, which means it’s not Mahito. Satoru might be a stalker as well, but at least he’s less of the worrying and more of the annoying kind.

Satoru doesn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Suguru says “No.”

“Aw, come on,” Satoru immediately pleads, flopping down over the counter as if he’s made out of water instead of flesh and bones. “Please?”

“I am not going to make your damn concoction,” Suguru says because the thing that Satoru orders on the regular is revolting and honestly a little bit worrying.

He’s going to die of diabetes one day, and he can’t be older than twenty two. He’s too young to die.

“How else am I going to survive then?” Satoru whines out, blinking up at Suguru who tries his best not to get lost in those damn blue eyes.

“Find another coffee shop?” he suggests and busies himself with wiping down the counter, pushing Satoru off in the process.

“And make you lose your best customer? I think not,” Satoru shoots back to which Suguru only rolls his eyes.

“Worst customer, you mean,” he replies and Satoru pouts at him.

“If you don’t make my coffee, I’ll stay here until your shift ends and then I’ll accompany you home,” Satoru finally says—threatens more like—and after giving him the flattest stare Suguru can muster, he turns around and gets started on Satoru’s concoction.

He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that he has the monstrosity memorised, which is actually quite the feat considering that Satoru uses almost all their toppings in it.

“Aw, I knew you loved me,” Satoru sighs out when he puts it down in front of him and there is something entirely too pleased on his face.

“Now get out of my face,” Suguru tells him, not having much hope that Satoru will leave immediately.

He usually likes to stick around for a while, at least until his drink is empty, and Suguru knows that he’s quite friendly with all of the staff. It’s just Suguru who he seems to annoy to no end; even Shoko had a nice thing to say about him even though she only comes in to pester their manager Utahime and Suguru doesn’t even want to think about that.

“If it isn’t my favourite barista,” a new voice jolts Suguru out of his thoughts and this time, a cold shudder runs down his back.

He curses the day Mahito found out where he works and coming face to face with him now, it’s not the first time that Suguru debates if quitting his job here wouldn’t be easier.

The only thing stopping him is the fact that Mahito will find him again sooner or later and Suguru is not a job hopper.

“Go fuck yourself,” Suguru says, not even pretending to be nice to him and he can feel Yuji’s eyes on him.

It’s a badly kept secret that he and Mahito have a history and it’s even a worse kept secret that Mahito is an unhinged creep who is probably going to try something sooner or later.

Suguru is just waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s making him sick to his stomach.

“I’d rather you do it,” Mahito drawls out and Suguru sneers at him.

“Not a chance in hell,” he presses out, even though he knows he shouldn’t engage with him more than he has to but he can’t help himself.

“We’ll see about that,” Mahito ominously says and Suguru clenches his teeth so hard together he fears they are going to crack.

There’s a tense silence for a few moments before Yuji butts in.

“A customer, how nice. Geto, you’re needed elsewhere,” he says and nudges him out of the way. “What can I get you?” he then asks Mahito and there’s only cheer in his voice but Suguru caught a glimpse of his expression and it’s pretty jarring to see easy going Yuji glare at someone like that.

Still, Suguru is thankful for it and shuffles to the side, as far away from Mahito as he can be. He didn’t notice that it put him close to Satoru though.

“You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and even he is giving Mahito a considering glance.

“Fine,” Suguru shortly gives back though he softens a bit when Satoru frowns at his response. “Promise, I’m fine. He’s just—”

He doesn’t actually know how to finish that sentence but Satoru hums.

“Unhinged and dangerous?” he finally asks and Suguru huffs out an unamused laugh.

“Probably, yeah,” he admits, eyeing Mahito.

He’s scrawny as hell, but Suguru knows that he’s sturdy and lithe. He couldn’t take Suguru in a fight, not ever, but that’s not always the most dangerous thing anyway. He knows Mahito is fast, and crazy enough to carry weapons with him. Plus, he has no regard for his own well-being and Suguru would really rather not clash with him.

He might have to, though, if Mahito keeps up his stalking tendencies because Suguru will not allow him to find out where he lives.

“You staying safe?” Satoru asks, eying Mahito up and down as if he’s seizing him up.

“Trying to,” Suguru shortly gives back and then turns away from Mahito. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair,” Satoru agrees and then smiles at Suguru. “Now, here’s the movie I saw last night,” he then says and Suguru immediately groans.

Satoru has the extremely annoying habit to retell a movie in excruciating detail and Suguru already feels his brain leak out of his ears.

“Not a chance,” he interrupts Satoru before he can even really start, which makes him pout again and Suguru sighs, almost immediately giving in. “You have ten sentences to describe the movie,” he relents and immediately regrets his every life choice when Satoru’s eyes start to sparkle.

They really are incredibly blue, Suguru finds himself thinking right before Satoru assaults him with endless run-on sentences. Suguru is not even sure he pauses to take a breath and by the time Satoru finally falls silent again, a good fifteen minutes have passed.

“You’re insane,” is all Suguru can say to the onslaught he just had to withstand and Satoru grins at him.

“It worked though, so worth it,” Satoru declares and it’s only then that Suguru remembers Mahito.

He whips around but he only sees Yuji who gives him a thumbs up.

“He left like ten minutes ago!”

Suguru lets out a breath of relief and even manages a smile for Satoru.

“Thanks, I guess,” he awkwardly says because he has to admit that it did kind of work and that it was incredibly kind of Satoru to distract him like that.

“Thank me by giving me my next drink for free,” Satoru says, batting his eyes at him.

“Absolutely not,” Suguru immediately replies because one, he made that drink often enough to know that it costs a small fortune and two, he’s not going to enable Satoru’s sugar intake.

“You meanie,” Satoru grumbles but he keeps smiling at Suguru. “Anyway, see you next time I guess,” he then calls out, dumping his cup in the trash and waving at Suguru.

“Not too soon, please,” Suguru calls after him but he knows that Satoru will be back two days later because he always comes in on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, just like clockwork.

“He’s really nice,” Yuji suddenly says from behind him and Suguru does not jump.

“He’s an annoying, arrogant brat.” He knows that because he spent enough time chatting with him when Satoru comes in to pick up his drink.

He’s also incredibly intelligent, self-aware, passionate about the things he enjoys, kind and somewhat of a nerd. Suguru has no idea what to make of him, if he’s being honest.

“Better than that other guy,” Yuji says with a shrug and Suguru has to agree with him.

Satoru is way better than Mahito.

~*~*~

Suguru doesn’t know why he didn’t protest harder when the promotion idea for the shop came up the first time, but when his name is being called out he regrets his every life choice that brought him here.

Auctioning each of their staff off for an hour had seemed like a great idea on paper—especially with how popular they all were—until Suguru has to stand in the spotlight and he spots Mahito in the crowd.

He really should have known better.

Mahito gives him a grin that makes goose bumps break out all over his body and he wonders if he can fake being sick to get out of this.

“The starting bid is 1.500¥,” Utahime calls out to the crowd and immediately there are plates being lifted.

Suguru thinks he’d be equal parts flattered and embarrassed when the bids go up to 15.000¥ in almost no time, but the fact that Mahito is still bidding as well makes cold sweat break out on his forehead.

He’ll only have to spend an hour with him, and they will stay in the shop so there is not really something that could happen but with Mahito everything is possible, and not in a good way.

If this goes on, Suguru doesn’t have to fake being sick.

“I see 20.000¥,” Utahime says and Suguru doesn’t even have to check to know that it’s Mahito’s bid. “Going once, twice and—”

“150.000¥,” a new voice calls out and silence falls over the room.

“What the fuck,” Yuji mutters out next to Suguru and Suguru wants to agree.

That’s an incredible amount of money and he thinks he knows who the voice belongs to.

“150.000¥ going once, going twice,” Utahime gets back into the swing after a short, surprised silence, “and sold to the guy with the number 8!”

Suguru would love to confirm if it really is Satoru who just spent an obscene amount of money to spend one hour with him, but before he can Mahito is leaning in way too close.

“You’ll regret that,” he whispers before he’s bodily shoved out of the way by a smiling Satoru.

“Suguru! I do believe this hour is mine,” he says with a nasty look at Mahito and Suguru can only mutely nod. “Wonderful, I ordered food and drinks, so if you would, please,” he sing-songs and offers Suguru his arm as if he’s a damsel.

Suguru takes it, because what else is he going to do after Satoru paid for this and then he’s being led away to a table that is covered entirely with the baked goods they offer in the shop.

“Who is going to eat all of that?” Suguru asks as he slides into the booth and Satoru grins at him.

“You. Well, us really, but you haven’t eaten today, right? So most of it goes to you.”

“How do you know that?” Suguru asks and Satoru’s grin softens.

“You were too busy preparing everything to stop and eat, right?” he asks and Suguru flushes with how accurate it is. “So eat up.”

“Thank you,” Suguru mumbles and picks one of the cones. “But you—really shouldn’t have spent that much money.”

“I really should have,” Satoru says and glares at Mahito, who is still standing in the middle of the shop, glaring at Satoru in return. “No way in hell was he going to get that hour with you.”

“That’s—nice, but it’s not really a long-term solution,” Suguru mutters, before he bites into the cone. “He’ll only be worse after this,” he adds once he swallowed and Satoru turns back around to him.

“No, he won’t,” he says as if he knows something Suguru doesn’t and Suguru slowly lowers the cone.

“What did you do?” he carefully asks and the grin he receives now is sharp and dangerous.

“I have some connections,” he cryptically says and Suguru stares at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” A horrifying thought occurs to Suguru. “Are you with the mafia?”

Satoru bursts into laughter at that and Suguru feels that is entirely unfounded. It’s a valid thing to ask after someone said such a line after all.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?” Satoru asks him once he calmed down, still way too amused for Suguru’s liking but the flush that is now on his face suits him wonderfully Suguru thinks.

“Should I?”

He’s Satoru. There’s hardly more Suguru needs to know.

“My family name is Gojo,” he says and Suguru almost drops the cone. “I’m the heir to the Gojo Group.”

“Holy fuck,” Suguru whispers out because everyone knows the Gojo Group.

“So you really didn’t know,” Satoru says, and he sounds pleased.

Him being the heir to such a family would explain how he can spend that much money on Suguru, but it still doesn’t explain his comment about Mahito.

“What did you do to Mahito?” he asks and Satoru’s eyes flicker back to the man in question.

“Turns out he’s wanted in several other countries. You really do not keep good company, Suguru.”

“It’s not company I choose,” he gruffly gives back, because he moved here to get away from him. “So he’s going to be arrested?”

“Hopefully today,” Satoru agrees and then turns a blinding smile at Suguru. “And until then, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Satoru, you really shouldn’t have spent that much money on me,” Suguru says again though he can’t deny that he’s flattered.

“How else was I going to stick it to him and get a date with you?” Satoru easily asks and Suguru chokes on his cone.

Satoru wordlessly pushes Suguru’s coffee closer to him, and Suguru takes a few desperate sips of it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he finally wheezes out and Satoru seems almost affronted.

“Well, my flirting didn’t seem to work that well, so I had to resort to this,” he says with a shrug and Suguru is glad that this time he didn’t have anything in his mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Come on, Suguru, you think I spent half an hour talking to the others? I only ever come in during your shifts anyway.”

Suguru wants to say that he didn’t know that, but he stops himself. He did know the days Satoru comes in, he just refused to make that connection in fear of what he’d read into that.

“You’re kind of famous,” is what he says to that and Satoru taps his finger on the table.

“I kind of don’t care,” he replies, clearly impatient and when Suguru doesn’t say something to that—still too busy processing everything he learned in the last five minutes—Satoru leans back with a sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, just think about this as me helping the shop out, alright? You’ll spend this hour eating and when this is over, I won’t come by again. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Suguru blurts out and reaches out to take Satoru’s hand in his, fearing he’ll get up and leave right this second. “Just give me a moment to wrap my head around this,” he pleads and Satoru slumps in his seat.

“Fine,” he mutters but he doesn’t hesitate to close his fingers around Suguru’s.

It’s a lot to take in, Suguru can’t deny that, but the most important part right now is that he doesn’t let Satoru leave. Well, actually, the most important part is that he gives Satoru an answer.

“You could have just asked, you know,” Suguru softly says, moving his hand to thread their fingers together.

“You don’t ask people who work in the service industry out for a date while they are on their job,” Satoru gives back. “That’s just rude and puts you in a bad spot.”

It’s incredibly considerate of him and Suguru can feel himself soften.

“So you tried to flirt.”

“Hey, my flirting is great!”

“Except for the part where I didn’t even pick up on it,” Suguru shoots back and Satoru narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, maybe that’s a problem with you,” he considers and Suguru laughs.

“I’m technically not on the clock now. You gonna ask, or what?” he then challenges Satoru, who immediately straightens up in his seat.

“Suguru, I really like you. Would you go on a date with me?”

“You mean other than this?” Suguru can’t help but to tease and he fights the urge to kiss the stupid pout off Satoru’s face.

“You’re so mean to me,” Satoru whines and Suguru gently squeezes his hand.

“Did you miss the part where this is already a date?” he asks him and watches how Satoru’s face lights up.

“You could have just said yes,” he still complaints and Suguru laughs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he shoots back and he can’t deny that there is something incredibly comforting about this banter.

“I’m going to take you out on at least two more dates, for the emotional stress you caused me,” Satoru mutters under his breath and Suguru lifts their still clasped hands to his lips, so he can press a kiss to Satoru’s knuckles.

“Deal,” he breathes out and enjoys the dumbfounded look on Satoru’s face, which quickly gets replaced by a vibrant blush.

“You can’t just do that!”

“Watch me,” Suguru shrugs and gets back to his cone, pretending to be entirely unfazed, even though his heart is beating away incredibly fast in his chest.

“Oh, I am,” he hears Satoru say and he refuses to acknowledge his own blush at that, though going by the way Satoru snickers, he definitely notices it.

They spend their time bantering like that, keeping their fingers threaded together and neither of them notices when the hour passes, both secure in the knowledge that they don’t have to keep track of that.

There will be many more hours ahead of them, after all.

[hellverse]

Touch starved Dean (858)

It was 4 AM and Dean was still awake. He was spent, tired, just plain exhausted really, but there was a tingling in his chest and under his skin he couldn’t quite kick. 

He hadn’t seen Cas in a while, so earlier that day when the angel had finally returned, he pulled Dean into a warm hug. Dean hugged back, of course, but he also made sure that the interaction was brief. Just like he always did. 

It was funny, really. He always considered touch to be something good, something that felt important. But as it goes, he tried to convince himself he didn’t need it.

In reality, it was all for show. Dean knew. Knew that he wanted it, needed it, but convincing himself of the opposite made the pretending easier. For a while it worked, he kept up the charade for both himself and those around him. But for better and for worse, Cas never stopped trying.

Dean would never go to the extremes of completely avoiding meaningful touches, but he rarely ever allowed himself to show just how much he wanted it. At some point, the walls he put up developed tiny cracks and he had to stop lying to himself. It’s hard to argue with the voice in your head, when you both know the truth. 

Instead he told himself it wasn’t a necessity, that he could want it but still survive without it. And so it went on. He craved, he wanted, he pretended. 

It wasn’t much different with Cas, at first. Dean played the same game, kept to the same self-set rules. But now as he stared at his ceiling at 4 AM, he thought of the angels soft smile as he hugged Dean, the hundreds of smaller touches between them, the way Dean felt a pull towards Cas, a pull to be near, be close. 

It was dangerous. Dean was desperate to focus on the surviving not living, but the pull held promises of crossing that line. And well, that never really worked out for him, now did it? 

So Dean tried, he tried to bend the truth, tried to forget, but the tingling stayed, as if it had permanently stained his soul. All he ended up with was a maybe - that maybe the edge of a cliff wouldn’t be so scary. 

Before he could do so much as think it through, he was standing in front of the room Cas liked to stay in. It wasn’t far from his own. Dean knocked quietly and after a beat the angel opened the door. 

“Dean? It’s late,” confusion was clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, I, uh, know,” Dean let out an almost nervous chuckle, “is it okay if I come in?”

Cas seemed even more puzzled at that, but let Dean in nonetheless. 

“Is something wrong?” the angel had turned half of his confusion into concern. 

Dean wanted to say no. Or maybe. He wanted to tell Cas he missed him, that he was happy to see him, but the words sat heavy in his throat, so he did the next best thing - or really the thing that he actually came for - he pulled Cas in for a hug. 

Receiving no explanation from Dean, Cas stood frozen still for a second, before wrapping his arms around him. It was warm, so warm that the tingling under his skin grew into something else, something made of tiny fires wherever Cas was touching him. 

Dean had a distant thought of letting go, an echo reminding him how he shouldn’t need this, shouldn’t have it, shouldn’t let it get too far, because once he got deep enough he would get pulled under. And he wasn’t sure he could just move on after that.

But he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t live on brief hugs, subtle shoulder brushes, short-lived touches. His whole body ached from the need and he couldn’t ignore it much longer.

So Dean stayed. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around Cas, longer than he ever had before. And Cas let him, like he knew the angel would. 

Time passed slowly, comfortably. When Dean pulled away, concern was still present on the angels face, but the soft smile had returned as well. Dean was buzzing, contentment flowing through his veins and in the momentary daze he let himself have more. 

Dean stood close to the angel, hadn’t stepped away after the hug. He lifted his hand near Cas’ face, held it there for a second, before catching some out of place hairs and pushing them back. Dean then followed the outline of Cas’ jaw, starting below his left ear and ending up at his chin. He let his fingertips move up, tracing along the angels cheekbone. Cas let him, he only moved his arm so it could rest around Dean’s waist again, softly grabbing at his shirt. 

They stood there silently. Dean’s eyes followed his own fingertips, but every now and then he would look up, only to find Cas staring back at him, a calmness in his eyes. 

Being on the edge really wasn’t that scary. Maybe falling wouldn't be either.