#is the rest of the set also at the dark skeletons???

[writingwithgeoffrey]

It was that time of year again. You could smell it on the wind. The leaves were falling, and the air was cooling; some animals were preparing to hibernate, and others were preparing to procreate.

One animal in particular, you could hear the concerned rumblings of on the wind. They were little more than murmurs loaded with equal parts despair and hope—a confusing mix that no one should have to experience—and a single name.

You rose from your slumber, draconic body having grown to fill the cave a tad more over your recent bout of rest. A few dozen more and you’d have to knock down the back wall, perhaps raise the ceiling a few feet.

Worries for another time, you thought. You arched your back like a twenty-ton cat, waiting for your vertebrae to crack back into alignment, and let out a pleased sigh when it happened.

The journey through your cave wasn’t full of much spectacle. Sure, you had your hoard of gold and jewels, but that was a mere pittance. Enough to buy out seventeen kingdoms, but not enough for you. There were skeletons strewn about, a pile of ivory twigs and toothpicks stashed among armor plates and steel weapons-turned-back scratchers.

With the opening to your cave in view, you stopped and waited. The humans, many years ago, had decided to build a door in the opening of your cave. It was a simple construct befitting simple creatures, but it served well enough to keep your home nice and warm in the more wintry months. It also added a touch of flair whenever they decided to “appease your appetite,” as the locals put it.

You sat there, lengthy tail curled around your paws, as you awaited your sacrifice. A few moments later, that distant murmur drew closer. Now, it was a clamor, more clearly a conflict as one person fought against many.

You licked your lips. Her voice sounded so lovely, you were sure her screams would be a delight as you devoured her. If only they could walk faster.

“Patience,” you rumbled to yourself. “It’s not their fault they have such stubby little legs.” You didn’t know how a creature could live without being able to cross an entire mountain with a few wingbeats or able to ford an entire river in a single step. Surely it had to be those “swords” so many of them tried to attack you with.

The door opened. You stopped slouching and rose up to your full, terrifying height. Sharpened bone jutted forth along your spine, scraping along the ceiling, while your horns formed a glistening crown of bone in what little light filtered through the entrance of your cave. Scales as red as blood glistened.

It wasn’t your original form—you’d given it up decades ago at the behest of a blind friend called “Al,” something about “wearing red to hide the bloodstains”—but you had to admit, this one served its purpose quite well. Even if the word she’d referred to you with was “dumbass.”

“Oh, great beast.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared down the man before you, fiery gaze blazing brightly in the darkness of your cave.

“Please accept this offering from us. She has remained pure for the sole purpose of this day.”

You watched as a young maiden was shoved in through the door. She stood there, trembling, dress mussed by the conflict that had no doubt arisen as she’d fought against her captors.

“Okay! Thank you, have a good meal, bye!”

And with that, the man darted from your cave and locked it shut.

You hmphed and rolled your eyes. You would’ve chased him for his impudence, but after a few months of eating nothing, you were feeling rather peckish.

I’ll deal with him later.

You stared down your meal, grinned wide to show off a set of razor-sharp teeth the size of her entire body, and raised a paw. You waited until you were certain that the other humans were gone, however.

And, apparently, so was the maiden. She stood up straight, back no longer hunched in fear. She rolled her shoulders a few times, stretched her arms out, and locked gazes with you. The sheer audacity to make such a swift change in demeanor was enough to throw you off balance.

“What are you …?”

The maiden took hold of her own chin and, with a surprising show of strength, managed to crack the bones in her neck as if in preparation for a coming brawl. Soon after, the bones in her knuckles followed suit.

“They bought it,” she said, a wicked grin plastered across her face.

Your expression shifted from confusion, then to a pleasantly surprised grin, and then when the words sank in, to a horrified stare. “Oh, sh—”

Every year, you are treated to a rare delicacy: the village of humans offers up a pure maiden to appease your appetite. You lick your lips as you see the shivering young woman pushed into the cave. But as the door locks, she straightens up, cricks her neck, and grins wickedly. "They bought it."

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

At one of the giant skeletons in the depths and. Really what the fuck ARE these things.

[twilightkitkat]

HEAR ME OUTTTTT YALL

Logan's bones are made of metal, right? And while adamantium is a fictional element, metals tend to follow a set of properties.

One primary property is that the majority of metals are conductors. This is reinforced in The Wolverine movie wherein the adamantium sword conducts heat extremely well to be able to cut off Logan's claws.

Therefore, Logan's bones are conductors (for both heat and electricity).

Most human bones (like Wade's) are insulators. This makes bones more resistant to electricity as compared to the rest of the human body, which is an electrical conductor because it's composed of water and ions.

I know the dark matter is different, but from how we see it flow through the veins and transfer we can assume it's conducted as well.

THEREFORE, THE REASON LOGAN WAS ABLE TO ALMOST INSTANTLY FORGE THE CONNECTION WAS BECAUSE HIS BONES CONDUCTED THE ELECTRICITY EASILY. AND IT WOULD ALSO MEAN THAT HIS PAIN WOULD BE SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE THAN WADE'S. BECAUSE HE LITERALLY FEELS IT RUNNING THROUGH HIS BONES, JITTERING HIS VERY SKELETON?? BUT HE STILL KEPT HOLDING ON JUST TO SAVE WADE.

Also, this means that his bones would retain heat. If he sits in front of the fire and gets heated up, he'd feel it in his bones. This means the human heater headcanons are 100% true, because he'd literally be hot metal wrapping around Wade if he's kept warm.

Inversely, however, this would mean his bones become cold due to a lack of heat. Metal oftentimes expands in hot conditions and contracts in cold conditions (which is why they leave gaps between train tracks to accommodate for this without them breaking).

So Logan would 100% get aches with cold weather because even if his body was more resistant, he can feel the chill in his bones and how they don't sit quite right and everything is too stiff and doesn't fit. (And Wade would need to heat him up instead because of this.)

Plus his thermal regulation would be compromised because it seeps into his bones instead of just his flesh. Imagine you get in front of a fan and your skin feels cool but your bones are hot. Logan would be temperature-sensitive, but he'd try to hide it because he's used to it (having lived in the mountains for years) and doesn't know what to do. (And so when Wade comes along and cares and tries to help him regulate, he nearly chokes up because it's so much easier to cope.)

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[qin-qin16]

My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, writer Reader, Ink is mentioned, Error is jealousy, again, comedy, Reader finally notices that something wrong is happening! (Part one) (Part two)

“I should really get a new chair..." You say slowly, tilting your head back and feeling your neck stretch — a habit that you keep indulging in, no matter how sore it makes your nape afterward. "Then again, I also need to buy some new pants... and a new mouse as well..." Your head rolls over your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re staring at the computer screen again.

Your fingers lightly tap against the table; pinky, ring, middle, and index. One after the other in a rhythmic sequence — until you mess up and clench your hand into a loose fist.

"Ink definitely wouldn’t say that; he’s just so clueless." And there you are, deleting an entire paragraph for the third time, unhappy with how your story is turning out. "Why did I have to write about this jerk again?"

Because he’s a complex character with many layers that can add depth to your plot. You can almost imagine yourself explaining it, wearing glasses with a raised finger — just like that nerd emoji meme.

Even though your explanation was spot on, you can’t help but huff in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs before looking back at the blank Word document.

“... Why is this so bright?” If you were standing in front of a mirror, you’d definitely see your pupils constricting; a slight burning sensation spreading across your eyes as your finger keeps clicking on the computer keys, the brightness rapidly dimming.

Before you can blink, you let out a slow hiss. The burning in your eyes, sharp against your sensitive irises, returns suddenly; and in front of you, seemingly amused by the situation, your computer screen is set to full brightness.

"What the hell?" you curse, quickly covering your eyes with your hands as you pull away from the screen. For a moment, all you see is complete darkness, with a few bright spots flickering in your vision.

Maybe it’s time to start using eye drops; your eyes probably wouldn’t hurt so much after hours in front of the computer.

"I must have pressed the wrong key..." That’s a possibility, if it weren’t for a little voice in the back of your mind whispering the steps you took moments ago; you definitely pressed the right keys and released them at the right moment to actually dim the screen. "Or did I think I clicked but really didn’t?"

Your head droops onto your shoulders — and a low grunt escapes your lips as you feel the muscles in your neck stretch, pulling your shoulder blades along with them.

You rest your face in your hands, then rub your eyes and look at the computer again between your fingers. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Your feet shuffle toward the table, the rolling chair getting stuck at some point. “I just need to finish at least this dialogue before I can finally shut this thing down with a clear conscience.”

In theory, it should be a simple task; in practice, not so much. Especially when the paragraphs you’ve already written keep getting erased-

"What the hell is going on?!" You couldn’t believe — or understand — what was happening right before your eyes: sentence by sentence, your fanfic was being quickly erased, line by line.

You quickly moved the mouse away from the document, clicking anywhere else in the browser to stop your writing from being deleted — which didn’t do much good. The cursor soon started moving on its own, spinning around the screen until it selected an entire paragraph and deleted it.

"What’s going on?!" you shout as you repeat the same action, clicking outside the browser to keep the cursor from going back to the document, sliding it left, right — anywhere to keep whatever was controlling your mouse away from your precious fanfic. "Is this what a hacker attack feels like?"

It’s the only explanation; unless the existence of ghosts is not just real, but they also have the ability to manipulate electronics and understand how the internet works.

Before you could think any more about it, the cursor had returned to the center of the screen — but this time, before it could delete any more of your text, you quickly took control of the mouse, dragging it to the red box in the corner of the window and closing it for good.

You didn’t even curse or shout afterward; your mouth stays slightly open, slowly widening enough to express your disbelief at what had just happened. Your eyes remained fixed on the computer, even as your vision grew increasingly blurry, much like the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"What the hell was that? Was it some kind of virus? Or a hacker's prank? I didn’t share this document with anyone, so it must have been some damn hacker with no job doing something so messed up! But wait, what if it’s like those little computer avatars that are actually viruses messing with your documents and folders? Did I download something strange without even noticing?”

Your focus snaps back to the screen as a notepad file opens in the upper corner of your desktop.

HEHEHEHEHEHEH GOT YOU!

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, grinding your teeth together as your eyes scan the message in all caps again and again.

This was solid proof (at least for your stress-fried brain) that this was the work of a sadistic hacker, taking pleasure in your suffering. It was decided: you would take your computer to a specialist as soon as possible — hacker or not, you would get your precious computer back at any cost.

Banging your head against the desk — and grunting as the pain spreads across your forehead — you don’t even notice that the light on your webcam is on.

Tagging area, if you want to be tagged, just ask :D

@snastheskeleton64 @moon-and-fries @unamzi @something-random1-1-blog @lostsoulofdragon @notagamerlol @staryycheze

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi! so far I've loved everything you've written about Kurt, Logan and Remy. 🧎🏻‍♀️

Could you write something about Kurt? where together with reader they are in the kitchen of the mansion because they can't sleep, and she finally tells him her concerns about the magnitude of her powers and Kurt with his heart of gold tells her beautiful things to calm her down and make her laugh, the rest to your imagination, I would appreciate it, you write great! Thanks 💙✨

SFW! Nightcrawler/Fem!Reader

Ok so I will admit that I made this a leeetle self indulgent. I was trying to think of a power someone could really struggle with and a fun one that I thought of was having necromancy, but having such respect for life and death that it feels wrong. I thought it would fit well with a Kurt fic because it's something that almost feels sacrilegious, and it's good to have a fuzzy blue elf assure you that you aren't a monster :) I know its def not power ambiguous, but I hope this is okay :)

Also, I know my writing style is a little different in this one, And thats because the first few paragraphs set the tone for my writing when I start and tbh I think this one just flowed from my soul to they keyboard.

TWs: nightmares, necromancy, gross descriptions of rotting flesh. Extreme self-doubt and self-consciousness. Basically angst with a happy ending.

You’ve been having nightmares again. They hardly seem to stop, but after a break in between the terror, you'd become too relaxed. Too comfortable. You felt defenseless when they started to begin again.

It’s always the same dream, different font. Bones cracking, flesh ripping as it’s forced into place, natural or not. Skin rotting off of once human bodies, sockets where eyes used to be. It was horrifying. You’d see your family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. Dead. Brought back to life by your power, the power you were still so afraid of. You were always afraid of zombie movies as a kid. Anything rising from the dead, anything breathed back to life in some sick and twisted fantasy. It was ironic that your very own strength was the thing you had always been the most afraid of.

Of course, as you aged and the professor took you in, the fear began to wear off. Mostly, it did. The professor not only taught you how to control your powers but also how to work around your fear. You can remember the confusion you felt when he had set a box of ancient bones in front of you. Fragments of titans, dinosaurs who had long since passed. Bones that would never be matched to an accurate set, parts of them being crushed to dust by the cruelty of time. Bones that only you could breathe to life, to bring them together as a whole again. It was convenient, the professor had told you, that you only needed a fragment to do so. He spoke as if it were a service to them. Most importantly, he brought you a box of bones that weren’t, and never had been, human.

He had taken the fear out of your power. Given you an option you had never considered before. Bones without flesh, without living family. Fossils that would serve you as you were serving them. You were… happy, with that. You were content. You could handle bones. You could revive these ancient skeletons without fear, and fight with them without worry. That didn’t change the horror of knowing the capacity your powers had.

    So the nightmares remained, and your sleep had become sparse.

    This particular night you were restless. Unable to sleep despite how tired you have been, but it’s hard to rest when there is only terror waiting behind your eyelids. After a while, you decide to give up trying.

The path to the kitchen is one you have memorized, even in the dark. You’ve always been told never to eat sugar before bed, but the only thing you want to comfort you at this moment is hot chocolate- so screw it.

    You try your best to be quiet while fishing out a pot out of the cabinets. The stove makes a click as you flick it on, filling the pot with milk before stirring it as it warms. The automatic task is comforting, falling into a routine you enjoy. You’ve just added the coco mix when the sound of a *Bamph* greets you.

    “Guten abend.” Kurt whispers, walking over to stand beside you. You give him a tired smile that he returns with a yawn.

    “I’m sorry if I woke you.” You say, face returning to a frown Kurt thinks you wear far too often. Maybe it’s good that he’s here because you realize you made far too much of the sweet drink than you had meant to. You get a mug for him, heart fluttering as his hand brushes your own when he takes it from you, thanking you quietly.

    “You did not wake me, Schatz. I promise.” Kurt says, pulling out a chair for you with his tail as he sits at the table. You nod silently, placing the pot in the sink and filling it with water before you join him, leaning against his shoulder.

    “Did you have another nightmare?” Kurt asks after a moment. His brows are furrowed in concern, and you fail to stop him before he takes a sip from the scalding coco, burning his tongue. He scrunches his nose as he sticks out his tongue, making you giggle for a moment. He thinks your laugh suits you much more than your frown, even if it happens to be at his expense. Your face falls slightly anyway, and he wonders if he could get you to laugh if he did it all over again.

    “...No. Not tonight.” The words come out as less than a whisper, and you doubt he might hear it if it weren’t the middle of the night. Little did you know he’d block the world out if he had to, just to hear you speak a little clearer. He hums in response, and you feel his tail slowly wrap snugly around your waist, the very tip idly stroking you in a comforting manner.

    “...Do you wish to speak about them?” Kurt asks after a moment. You huff slightly, feeling the hot steam from your mug warm your face as you do so. Still too hot, you think to yourself. Flashes of those horrid nightmares come to mind, and no matter how quickly you try to shake them off, they remain. You choose to think of Kurt instead. Sweet, kind, comforting Kurt. You want to bury yourself in his arms, sink into the feeling of his skin, and never let go, if only he would let you. He would without a second thought, if only you had known. You think carefully about your next words, and the visions of flesh and corpses hardly leave you.

    “Am I a monster, Kurt?” You hear a quiet, cut-off gasp from Kurt, and he turns to you. His face is pained, and he sets his mug down to place his hand around your own, still clasped around the hot cocoa. 

    “Of course not. Only a fool would think so.” His words, although comforting, only leave you with a worse sting in your heart. You can’t hold eye contact with him, staring at the reflection in your mug instead. Only a fool would think so. You halfway wonder if you count as a fool, then.

    “I, just… My powers, what I do. What I am capable of doing. It’s not right.” You take a shaky breath in, desperately trying not to break down here and now. “It’s disgusting. It’s horrible. Every time I find myself comfortable with myself I am reminded of what is possible and I spiral. I don’t want it. I don’t-”  

  “Liebling.” You let out a sob at the sound of his voice. Kurt is hunched over, pressing his forehead against your own as he desperately tries to catch your gaze- but you can’t. You can't bear it, and you close your eyes tightly. Kurt takes the mug from your hands. He cups your face as he wipes your tears, and you feel like even more of a monster as he does so. Sobbing as a man with a heart of gold wipes your tears away with love and care.

    “Please, look at me,” Kurt whispers. You try to stop the tears, embarrassed as you fall apart in front of the man you hold so dearly, but it’s hard. It’s so hard. Your chest stings, your throat is sore, you’re sure your nose is running, and yet he still holds you so gently. When your breathing evens out just a bit, you convince yourself to open your eyes again.

    Kurt’s gaze is simply concerned. There is no horror, no disgust, nothing but worry for you. Nothing but kindness. You wonder if you could be even half as good as he is. 

    “You are good. You are kind. You are strong enough to stand by your morals despite the nature of your powers telling you otherwise- and you have the strength to continue to use them and fight your fears anyway. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Do not let your nightmares tell you otherwise.” Kurt’s hold is steady against your cheeks, and your own shaky hands reach up to hold onto his wrists. You sob again as he speaks. You know. You know this. Others have told you, but these words all felt like lies. All but the ones you’re hearing from his mouth. Your tears are slowing, and Kurt leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving the skin tingling. You whisper quiet apologies for crying, and he shushes each one, gently wiping your face with the soft sleeve of his pajama shirt.

  “I would not be here if I didn’t want to care for you, my love,” Kurt says softly. Your eyes widen, taken aback by his words. He called you many things. Liebling. Schatz. Love. But never my love. The words waken butterflies in your belly, and Kurt takes a moment to realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The two of you are treading a line that you both desperately want to cross. 

    Kurt is the first to lean in. He does so slowly, toeing the line between you. His gaze remains on your own as he closes the space, nose nuzzling against your own as he gives you the time to back out if you wish. But you don’t. You want nothing more than to have what he is so freely giving. 

    Kurt kisses you softly, lovingly, and for once the horrors have quieted and are cleared from your mind. All there is now is Kurt, and his soft love. He kisses you a second time before he pulls away, still as close to you as he can be without falling out of his chair. You wonder how he can see beauty where all you see is terror. He wonders if you have any clue just how much of a good person you continue to be.

    He knows he would gladly spend the rest of his life showing you.

[shalomniscient]

CAT & MOUSE || jane doe x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

“I didn’t think you could be this good, little mouse,” you remark, lounging back in the plush of your leather office chair, swirling your glass of tequila in one hand. One of your legs is crossed over the other, the polished sheen of your shoe gleaming in the low light, almost reflecting the serene smile of the woman before you. Her long, wiry tail flicks idly on the ground, deceptively casual, as if she isn’t holding you at corporate gunpoint. The ice in your glass clinks as it shifts, melting and dissolving into the depths of your drink. “At the sex, or the espionage?” she asks, and you indulge in a thin smile of your own at her confidence. “Both,” you answer, and it’s the only honest thing either of you will tell each other tonight. Or, your secretary turns out to not just be a regular secretary. Which is bad, because she’s seen both the corporate skeletons in your closet and the delicate sheets of your bed, and that’s far too much of your figurative and literal furniture for anyone not on your payroll to know. Though at the very least, you plan on making what should be your last night as CEO an enjoyable one—which interestingly enough, is a sentiment your traitorous little secretary seems to share.

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] strap-ons, hair pulling, tail pulling (?), degradation, biting, rough sex

notes. this one’s for u @nbdaddykink 🫡🫡🫡 bon appetitty 👀👀👀 also reader has some cat thiren (?) characteristics because themes, and also a bit of a corporate scumbag. also written before character release !!! if this becomes ooc post-release please do not kill me tq

“Your name isn’t even Natasha, is it?” you ask idly, despite already knowing the answer. You rest one arm on the armrest of your chair, leaning your head against your knuckles as you drink in the sight of her. The shadows cut her into a new light, an odd little contradiction you’ve come to realise that she quite adores. To be seen more clearly in the dark, and to catch cats in mousetraps—you can’t help the grudging smile on your face as you muse to yourself. What an odd little creature she is.

“No,” she replies eventually, that picture perfect smile never once leaving her expression. After a beat, she tilts her head, tail swishing behind her. “But you can call me Jane.”

You hum. “Is that your real name, then?”

“What is real and what isn’t only comes down to a matter of perception.”

You almost laugh at the non-answer, sheer excellence in corporate deflection. “It’s really a shame, little mouse. You were the best secretary I ever had.”

“Don’t worry,” she returns, a smirk tugging on her painted lips, “you’ll have no need for secretaries where you’re going.”

You do laugh at that, just a little. A jail cell? What a cute pipe dream. You’d get a home arrest at worst—though you can indulge in the idealism of it for a little. You take a sip of your drink, keeping your eyes trained on her as the liquid burns like fire down your throat. Your ears twitch, and you can hear her heartbeat; calm and steady. You like it more when it’s racing.

You set down your glass with an exaggerated sigh. “And here I thought we had something good going, Jane. I even packed a little surprise for you tonight.”

Her pulse jumps, and you have to bite back the victorious upward quirk of your lip. For all she seemed to be a consummate professional at whatever her real job is, you’ve found that Jane has a remarkable weakness—or fondness—for debauchery. Not that you’re complaining, of course; not when Jane looks like that. You make a show of uncrossing your legs, clearly displaying the outline of your strap under your slacks. Those sharp eyes immediately fly down to your crotch, and this time there’s no holding back your smug grin.

“Is this a bribe?” she manages after a beat, her voice light and airy despite her words. “That’s a felony too, you know.”

“I’d never do such a thing,” you say dryly. “Consider it an offer from a… friend. For old times’ sake, hm?”

Something glints in Jane’s eyes, and for all she can set up her little mousetraps, so can you. You were not born without these teeth and claws for no reason, after all. Hunting is in your DNA, and there’s a dull ache in your canines as you wait for her answer. She gives it to you by striding forward to shamelessly sit herself in your lap.

“I suppose I can indulge you in a little bit of fun,” she breathes, leaning in close enough for her breath to tickle the tufted fur of your ears. “You’re a damn good fuck, anyways.”

You manage a low hiss before crashing your lips against hers. Her tongue pushes its way into your mouth, and you abandon your glass in favor of gripping her waist in your hands—small enough that your thumbs nearly meet over her belly. You barely manage to suppress the full- body shudder that threatens to consume you at the thought of stuffing her full of your cock soon, and watching the ridge in her cute tummy appear and disappear as you fuck into her.

Jane’s kisses have always been greedy, needy things that leave your lips kiss-swollen after. Her teeth nip on your lower lip and you growl, before rising to your feet. Jane makes a small, surprised noise before wrapping her legs around you, her tail looping deliberately lower to squeeze your ass. You swallow her little giggle with another hungry kiss as you walk over to your desk, before unceremoniously dumping her onto the hardwood and hiking her skirt up.

Her scent fills your lungs as one of your hands leaves her waist to trail a finger up her clothed, dripping cunt. You give an experimental roll of your hips, the tip of your faux cock pressing against her through the layers of fabric, and she exhales a pleased sigh like music to your ears. “Did you like that, little mouse?” you hum, your other hand squeezing her thigh and pushing it up until her ankle rests on your shoulder, spreading her nice and open for you. “Always so needy.”

Jane only looks at you with eyes half-lidded, a lazy smirk on her face, though the pure desire in her eyes is unmistakable. “Says the one who offered.”

Touché, you think, not that you’d ever admit that to her. Instead you settle for tugging her ruined underwear to the side, retracting your claws and pushing two fingers knuckle deep into her wet cunt. Jane arches her back at the sudden intrusion, squeezing tight around your fingers, any more of her smartness dying in her throat. You don’t give her a moment of reprieve, fucking your fingers into her with such force and speed that the wet sounds of you working her dripping cunt echo throughout your office. Your other hand presses down on her stomach, keeping her in place as she rockets and writhes to orgasm beneath you. Her legs wrap tighter around you, her tail snaking down to constrict around one of your legs.

“Gonna cum, little mouse?” you ask, voice low. Your thumb presses against her clit, and Jane’s body jerks, a pitchy squeak leaving her lips. She’s definitely close. You work your entire hand harder against her, inside her, your two fingers ruthlessly rubbing against the patch of nerves in her cunt as your thumb draws figure-eights on her stiff clit.

Jane's eyes meet yours through her long lashes, and you can tell she's close. There's a dusting of red on her plush, round cheeks, and you have to resist the urge to lean down and nip at them. Her little ears twitch, pressed flat to her skull from how you play her body like a damn instrument. The look in her eyes is hungry, almost as if she wants to devour you, instead. It stokes a bigger fire in you than anything you've ever experienced. With one more practiced curl of your fingers, you draw Jane over the edge, and she cums with a high-pitched whine, blunt nails digging into the finely pressed suit on your back. Her cunt bears down like a vise on your fingers, squeezing so tightly as if she's trying to cut off your circulation. Her tail lashes back and forth like a whip, the sharp end scoring lines into the wooden paneling of your office floor.

You don't give her any sort of reprieve, though. After all, she still betrayed you—you have some steam to work off. So you withdraw your fingers with a slick squelching noise and flip her onto her front, one hand pressing her into the desk by the small of her back, just above where her tail begins, while the other hurriedly undoes the zipper of your slacks. She pants as she throws a look at you over her shoulder, eyes blown wide, only to roll back into her skull when you shove all eight inches into her sopping cunt with one smooth thrust.

"That's it," you croon, "such a good whore, aren't you?" Jane's fingers claw into your desk as she scrabbles for purchase, for some sort of grounding as you rearrange her guts. Her tail twitches each time you bottom out in her, and you take the opportunity to wrap the thin length of it around your hand before using it to pull her back onto your cock with each thrust you make forward. Jane shrieks beneath you, and some lingering primal instinct in your brain snarls in victory at the sound.

You lean down, hips battering against her perfect, round ass that bounces with each drive of your dick. You nip at her little mousey ear, delighting in the squeaky noise that leaves her lips at the feel of your fangs. "Maybe you should have invested in a collar instead of a mousetrap," you sneer, moving lower to sink your teeth into her shoulder. Your breath cascades over her skin and you feel her shiver beneath you.

A shame that your cock is only plastic. You would’ve loved to know how her cunt feels, clenching down on her. But this is fine too, as you watch the reverb of her plush ass every time your hips collide with it. Your free hand can’t help but be drawn towards it, squeezing one cheek until red lines appear on her creamy skin. Everything about her is so… bitable. All you want to do is sink your teeth into her and never let go. You double your efforts, and you’re rewarded by another whiny moan from the woman beneath you. Her legs kick out, or at least attempt to, as the pleasure mounts and mounts low in her belly.

“F-fuck,” she gasps, panting in between her lewd cries, “fuck, I’m going to—“

Your hand travels from her ass, under her body and back to her clit, and Jane groans. Her fingers find the edge of your desk and she grips it until her knuckles go white with force. You flick at her clit before rubbing it between the pads of your fingers, your other hand tugging back on her tail again. You trade your speed for depth, ensuring the tip of your cock kisses as close as possible to her cervix.

“Go on,” you command, “cum on my cock, like I know you want to.”

It’s perhaps the last order you’ll ever give her, and Jane obeys gorgeously. A scream rips from her lips, her entire body jerking with the force of her orgasm. You pin her to the desk with your hands and your hips as she thrashes, utterly lost in the throes of pleasure, your cock seated as deeply as it can go inside her tight pussy. You can’t help but lean down and sink your teeth into the nape of her neck at the sight, some intrinsic instinct to mate taking over you.

It takes some time before Jane returns to her senses, and uncoils her tail from your hand. You move to withdraw, but the prehensile appendage loops around your waist, all while she still rests against your desk.

“Oh?” you hum, as the tip of her tail travels up your body, the sharp ends prodding at your jugular. Jane pushes herself up from your desk, the image of debauchery, with her makeup smudged but still holding that insatiable hunger in her eyes. She glances out of the large office window at the glittering city below, the lights shining more like starlight than anything that could be seen from above. When she turns to you, her expression is an invitation.

“There’s still some time left,” she says after a beat. “Maybe we can make the most of it.”

She doesn’t need to tell you twice.

[girlkisser13]

hades cabin headcanons

children of hades

• it takes them a bit longer to realize that they’re demigods.

• despite their best efforts, plants will wilt and die in their presence.

• the hecate, hades, and melinoe cabins are in charge of setting up the halloween decorations and like to bring a bit of festive scariness to the camp by raising ghosts and skeletons.

• they’re really close with the hermes cabin because they can shadow travel in and out of camp with contraband.

• many gravitate towards apartment living. their uncomfortable, deadly auras, demigod training and sharp features keep them safe in dodgy, dangerous areas.

• they’re some of the most sarcastic people you will ever meet. they are characterised by a dry, deadpan and dark sense of humour.

• despite popular belief, hades is accepting of persephone’s demigods. he doesn’t directly interfere with their lives as long as persephone doesn’t interfere with his demigods.

• because there are so few of them, they have monthly "family dinners" in the underworld.

• the sass levels are not only off the charts, but wholly encouraged.

• they have a talent for blending in the background, making them excellent scouts and spies. their presence is subtle, preferring to work from the shadows.

• when their nightmares are intense enough, some will unconsciously summon the dead.

• they have resting bitch faces so people often judge them to be unlikeable and mean. growing up, many become bitter of this preconception despite their efforts to dismantle it.

• they become the monsters others see, at least on the surface. as they mature, they soften the resentment they have towards others mislabelling and vilifying them.

• they’re all really good under pressure.

• like their father, they are fair and just (provided they don’t hold a grudge against you). their word is their bond.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is a gothic-style building, with sharp, angular lines and a towering structure. the walls are made of solid obsidian, giving it a sleek, almost reflective surface that absorbs light rather than reflecting it.

• the entrance is framed by two large, wrought-iron gates that creak ominously when opened. the door itself is made of heavy, dark wood with intricate carvings depicting scenes from the underworld.

• a faint mist surrounds the cabin, clinging to the ground and giving the impression of a thin veil between the living world and the underworld. the air around the cabin is noticeably cooler, even in the heat of summer, as if the chill of the underworld seeps through it.

• instead of traditional torches or lanterns, the cabin is illuminated by greekfire. the greenish, ethereal flames burn in sconces along the walls, providing an eerie, flickering light that never goes out, even in rain or wind. the greekfire adds a sense of ancient, powerful magic to the cabin, making it even more intimidating and otherworldly.

• the cabin has subtle decorations like skull motifs and symbols of death, but nothing overtly terrifying— more a nod to the power and respect for the dead rather than fearmongering.

• the ground around the cabin is sparse, with few plants growing near it. there a few dark, twisted trees and wilted flowers that can only survive in the shadows. there’s also a small patch of asphodel that grows near the entrance, as a symbol of the underworld.

cabin interior

• despite popular belief, their cabin is actually the warmest at camp half-blood. this is due to a ventilation shaft-like furnace duct that comes up from the underworld.

• the floors are made of polished black marble, cold to the touch. they reflect the green glow of the greekfire inside the cabin. the marble is inlaid with intricate silver patterns that resemble ancient greek symbols and constellations associated with death and the underworld.

• the walls are made of dark, rough stone, giving the cabin a cavernous feel. they are adorned with ancient greek tapestries depicting scenes from the underworld, like the river styx, the elysian fields, and hades on his throne.

• the furniture and decor feature accents of stygian iron. the metal is used in everything from the bed frames to the candleholders, giving the room a dark, powerful aesthetic.

• the corners of the cabin are always shrouded in shadows, no matter how much light there is. these shadows seem to move on their own, giving the impression that the cabin is alive and watching.

• the beds resemble ancient sarcophagi, with dark stone frames and plush black bedding. the pillows and comforters are surprisingly soft, lined with rich fabrics like velvet and silk, offering a stark contrast to the stone surroundings.

• the cabin is unnervingly quiet, with a silence that feels almost heavy. the only sounds are the faint crackling of the greekfire and the occasional whisper of wind from an unseen source.

• each child of the underworld has a small personal shrine to honor their ancestors or deceased loved ones. these shrines are made of obsidian and are decorated with mementos, flowers, and offerings like coins or food.

cabin traditions

• they have a tradition of crafting small obsidian tokens, like rings or pendants, which they give to friends or loved ones. these tokens are believed to offer protection against spirits and negative energy, serving as a charm from the god of the underworld.

• if a demigod at camp dies, it’s tradition for the hades and thanatos cabins to take part in the funeral rites. they help guide the soul to the underworld, using a special ritual passed down through the cabins. this ritual is seen as a great honor and responsibility.

• each child of the underworld creates a "memory jar" where they place small objects, notes, or symbols representing significant moments or people they’ve lost. the jars are kept in a special alcove in the cabin and are said to help them find solace and remember that the dead are never truly gone.

• they maintain a hidden underground garden filled with ghostly white flowers, black roses, and even a few pomegranate trees. these plants thrive in the dim light of the greekfire and are said to be gifts from persephone herself. during the fall, they harvest the fruits and hold a small festival in her honor, believing it helps to keep her favor and bring balance between life and death.

divider by @astrumaur

[sinn-bee]

[Excerpts from the studies of the Beast Taming peak]

The Gilded Mane Corpse Wolf

A demonic beast from the wastes of the demon realms, they are solitary creatures who seldom form packs. They begin life as scavengers, the pups setting off on their own and surviving off of scraps as they seek out the strongest demonic beast they can find. They learn to hunt and stalk, waiting for the powerful beast they have chosen to meet an untimely end and on the rare occasion delivering the final blow to carry it to death’s door. The Gilded Mane Corpse Wolf will then make its territory around its chosen one’s resting place, guarding the decomposing monster, feasting on it, and waiting for its bones to be picked clean by vermin as it grows to a size comparable to the dead beast.

When the bones are clean and free, the Gilded Mane Corpse Wolf will arrange the bones and roll in them- tangling them into its long golden fur until they are secure. With a surge of demonic energy the fur hardens into a metallic material, permanently affixing the bones as armor.

It is less of a scavenger at this point, depending on the kind of beast skeleton the Wolf has grown to don, it can range from a sleek and quick deadly predator equipped with sharp spurs of bone to a nigh impenetrable foe with thick armor. It then stalks its territory, expanding its borders and driving away strong beasts, inflicting them with deep wounds.

The pups are often sought out by demonic courts as trophies. Plucked from their pilgrimage for their clean and untangled fur that has many uses from a brilliant conduit for demonic energy to being used for beautiful embroidery to hardening into its metallic form for weapons. Less commonly, they are captured to be trained as war hounds. They are difficult to tame and raise, the confinement making it difficult for them to grow and become suitable for the handpicked bones its captors try to make it don. But on the rare occasion that its owners are successful they make formidable beasts on the battlefield regardless of their unpredictable temper.

It is not recommended to approach this demonic beast alone, given as each one is unique outfitted it is impossible to plan ahead to fight. They are best fought with a team of cultivators that possess a wide range of fighting styles and experiences. The bones of the Gilded Mane Corpse Wolf are potent with Demonic energy but if harvested and cleansed can be used for crafted powerful spiritual objects with a strength for detecting evil. The ivory crafted this way always carries a lovely golden sheen. The fur can also be used as a potent material for weaving spells and talismans into fabric. It is unknown if humans are capable of taming these creatures as the pups reside very far in the demon realm and are experts at evasion. On the few noted experiences of cultivators finding escaped trained Wolves, they do not seem keen on taking human instruction.

[end of excerpt]

Did I write a whole journal entry on the Pidw creature I made up for a fic? Yes. Yes I did <3 Fun fact, I sketched this on paper first and then colored it digitally! The specific wolf here is wearing bones based off of a rhinoceros skeleton a dark moon python rhinoceros maybe…

[knoepfl]

Mad Genius, Part |||

Hey there! I finally made part 3! I'm glad I made it because to be honest I really love the idea but I'm also not good at writing multiple part stories soo I hope this is alright? I'm already working on part 4 where it's about her only. So we can get a glimpse in the character more. If you'd like to see anything or have an idea feel free to tell me!

---

Characters:

- Viktor – A brilliant but physically frail scientist whose passion for progress often drives him to take risks. 

- Reader (You) – A chaotic but genius inventor from Zaun. Once rational and sharp, your mind has spiraled into madness due to overuse of experimental powders you created. Obsessed with Viktor, you break into his lab to meet him for the first time. 

Trigger Warnings:

- Mental instability and obsession 

- Self-harm (implied through powder effects) 

- Unsettling and erratic behavior 

Masterlist

Part 1: Mad Genius

Part 2: Mad Genius

Part 4: Mad Genius

Words: 1086

Then came the photographs. The first was of Sky, unaltered but serene, her face marked with little red hearts sketched in ink. The next, doctored and grotesque, showed her screaming, her eyes hollow and empty, her skin marred with sores. Viktor recognized your work—your powders. Finally, there were pictures of you. Some were disturbingly intimate, your smile innocent as your fingers toyed with a vial of Crimson Powder. Others were chilling: your face twisted in a mad grin, powder dusted across your lips like war paint, your eyes filled with manic glee.

---

It had been a month of hell. Viktor’s life had unraveled in ways he hadn’t anticipated, each day punctuated by your lingering presence—though you were nowhere to be seen. The letters began innocently enough, reminders of your obsession inked in looping, elegant script. But they quickly grew darker, their contents escalating with every message. You described dreams of your future together, blending them with threats that sent chills down his spine.

He had avoided confronting you for weeks, hoping you would simply disappear. But the last letter left him no choice:

“Viktor, my love, I’m growing impatient. You and I are destined to change the world together, but you keep ignoring me. Perhaps Sky will convince you to see reason? Meet me at the old factory by the river at midnight. If you don’t come... well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest. Don’t make me do it.”

The factory loomed in the distance, its rusted silhouette rising like a skeleton against the blackened sky. Viktor’s cane tapped against the cobblestones, the sound sharp and deliberate. His chest felt heavy, his breath shallow. He gripped the strap of his satchel, inside of which he had packed vials of antidotes—precautions he prayed he wouldn’t have to use. His mind raced with strategies, though he knew none of them would matter. You were chaos incarnate, unpredictable and dangerous.

The factory door creaked open, revealing a cavernous interior lit by the faint glow of dangling bulbs. Machinery stood like rusted sentinels, their shadows stretching ominously. The air smelled of oil, mold, and something faintly sweet—powder residue.

“Viktor!” Your voice rang out, high and melodic, echoing through the space. He stopped, his grip tightening on his cane.

“Where is she?”

“Oh, darling, don’t be so cold. I’ve missed you,” you purred.

You stepped into view, descending a set of metal stairs with theatrical flair. You wore a flowing, dark dress stained with colorful smears of powder, your hair disheveled in a way that only accentuated your manic beauty. In your hands was a small glass vial filled with a shimmering red substance.

Viktor’s stomach twisted. Crimson Powder.

“She’s fine,” you said dismissively, waving toward a shadowed corner. He followed your gesture, spotting Sky slumped against the wall, bound but breathing. Relief flooded him, but his fury quickly returned.

“You’ve gone too far,” he snapped, his voice sharp and unyielding.

Your face fell for a split second before twisting into a pout. “Too far? No, no, no. I’m doing this for us, Viktor. Don’t you see? Everything I’ve done—this powder, this work—it’s all for you.”

“For me?” He took a step forward, his voice trembling with controlled rage. “You’ve poisoned people, terrorized my colleagues, and now you’ve dragged Sky into your madness!”

You tilted your head, your expression softening into something almost childlike. “But Viktor... we’re soulmates. You and I are the same. Don’t you feel it? When I look at you, I see someone who understands me, who sees the potential in chaos.”

He recoiled as you reached out to touch him, his cane tapping against the floor as he stepped back. “I see someone who has lost their way,” he said coldly.

“Lost my way? No. I’ve found it. And I want you to find yours too.”

You held up the vial of Crimson Powder, its contents swirling like liquid fire. “Do you know what this does?” you asked, your voice soft and teasing. “It’s my favorite, you know. It turns love into rage, affection into destruction. Isn’t that poetic?”

Viktor stiffened, his knuckles whitening around the handle of his cane.

“And it’s not just Crimson,” you continued, your tone growing more animated. “There’s Sapphire—oh, the despair it creates is delicious. Emerald... well, I think you’d enjoy that one. But my personal favorite might be Magenta.”

You took a step closer, the vial glinting in your hand. “Would you like to see how it feels, Viktor? To be consumed by love so pure, so obsessive, that it hurts?”

“Enough!” he barked, his voice echoing through the factory. “This isn’t love. It’s madness!”

Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading into a grim line. “Don’t call me mad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anger. “I’m not mad. I’m visionary.”

He met your gaze, his voice low and steady. “You’re alone.”

The words struck you like a slap, and for a moment, you stood frozen, your expression unreadable. Then you laughed—a sharp, brittle sound that echoed through the room. “Oh, Viktor,” you said, shaking your head. “You think I’m alone? No, darling. I have you.”

Before he could react, you hurled the vial of Crimson Powder at the ground. It shattered, releasing a vivid red cloud that engulfed the room. Viktor stumbled back, covering his mouth with his sleeve as the powder burned his lungs and eyes. The effects were immediate.

His vision blurred, his heart racing as a wave of uncontrollable rage surged through him. He gripped his cane so tightly that his hand ached, his mind clouded with violent thoughts he couldn’t suppress. His eyes darted to Sky, still slumped unconscious in the corner. Unimaginable scenarios played out in his mind—yelling, screaming, beating—acts of cruelty he couldn’t comprehend wanting, but couldn’t stop envisioning.

“No...” he muttered, his voice strained.

His body moved against his will, his legs carrying him toward her. Inside, he screamed against the urge, fear clawing at his sanity. He collapsed before reaching her, his cane clattering to the floor beside him as he gripped his head in both hands.

“Fight it,” he whispered to himself, his voice ragged. “You’re stronger than this...”

The powder’s effects began to fade, leaving him trembling and drenched in sweat. When he finally lifted his gaze, the room was empty, save for Sky, who stirred weakly in the corner. You were gone, leaving behind only the shattered vial and a note scrawled in your elegant handwriting:

“This is just the beginning, my love. I’ll be waiting for you.”

---

[aurorasgate]

Hi Luna! Hope you're doing well. Your fall prompt list looks so adorable!

If I could make a request, could I get the candle + whispered confession? I imagine it would be fun if the reader was doing tarot (not necessarily as a job but for funsies). And maybe they do a reading on the guy, and as much as they don't believe in tarot, it's unveiling their feelings for the reader and guiding him to confess. 👀

You can pick any of the Genshin guys, I'm not too picky. I'd imagine it would be cuter if it was one of the more serious ones like Diluc, Alhaitham or Neuvillette. But it's up to you, see what works with you!

Not sure if you're into tarot either so sorry if I made this too long or confusing lol.

kaeya x reader

falling for you event

this got away from me, i did not mean to make it this long shglkshd but i was so excited about his tarot reading i couldn't help myself

flickers of warm golden candle light in your otherwise dark apartment illuminate the three delicately decorated cards that separate you and kaeya. they lay face down on the ground between the cushy pillows you had set out for you both to rest your knees on in order to help him ‘get the full experience’ of a tarot reading you had talked him into despite his more than teasing skepticism. 

he certainly enjoyed walking into your place to see every flat surface have candles and crystals set out, with your furniture pushed out of the way to allow for more space, but it paled in comparison to the lovely, excited, smile you gifted him when he took his place in front of you, reminding him why he agreed when you asked him to let you read his cards.

kaeya would do anything to see you smile and make you happy. even if he didn’t think the cards could tell him anything he didn’t already know or what to do about the future waiting for him and even if they could, he least of all wants you to reveal that to him.

“ready?” you ask sweetly, your gaze meeting his uncovered eye. the candle light in your eyes displays not a drop of worry for what you might see in the cards and kaeya puts on a perfectly practiced smile to cover up how tense he’s becoming.

“aren’t i always?” he replies, sultry and full of confidence that you don’t seem to buy. instead of starting to read the cards he’s picked, for a moment you just stare at him and it's as though you might be able to see past the mask and playful lift of his eyebrow.

“first, the card for your past then.” he doesn’t know if you find what you’re looking for when you lean in closer to flip the first card he had picked from the previously fanned out deck. in the small space between you hints of your scent fills his nose, his fingers twitching to reach out and touch you.

your movements are slow, thoughtful, turning the card over, your soft looking skin hiding the painted image until you’ve pulled away. the card looking back makes his throat tight, his tongue heavy. 

ten of swords, the script on the bottom of the card says and above it, laying in the grass, is a skeleton with ten sparkling swords sticking from its back. kaeya can feel the rain of a night not long ago forever engraved, burned, into his very skin and the frost that has clung to his sword since.

“the ten of swords represents disaster and betrayal,” you speak, feeling an ache in your heart knowing what you do of kaeyas past and seeing him visibly tense at your words. what you know is such a small amount compared to the extent of it, you know it is, but you were never going to force him to tell you more and you weren’t going to leave him with such a single explanation when you didn’t see this as a bad card. “it can also be a reminder that there are things out of our control, some things we can’t change.”

“no one can change the past now, can they?” kaeyas voice is bitter like wine, settling on his tongue with an aftertaste he wants to wash away.

“we can’t,” you agree. “but i don’t think it’s that simple.”

“oh?” he looks back up to you and is met with a reassuring smile blooming on your face. would you look at him like that if you knew the truth of his past, of what might be out of his control?

“of course not. look at the card,” your focus shifts away from him as you touch the card but kaeyas eyes remain on your visage in the candle light. “he’s not able to go back or forward. there’s finality, an ending. maybe it’s a reminder that we’re okay to leave those things in the past, where it’s no longer in our control, where disaster was, not where it is currently.”

what about where it sits in wait? a clock with no end but ready to force your hand with every moment that ticks by.

“i’ll believe you,” kaeya replies, forcing that thought away, ready to move on to the next one. “now what’s in store for my present? a raise? or a bottle of wine perhaps?”

your face falls, unamused and adorable, kaeya thinks. “that isn’t how it works and you know it.”

“shall we see about that?”

shaking your head, a small smile breaking your annoyed act, you reach out and turn the next card, both of you watching it reveal itself and what he sees makes him think that he might actually go get that bottle of wine so you can stop this before it gets any worse.

“the fool,” you both say at the same moment, though this time the text is facing you rather than him.

upside down is a man looking as though he’s happy, worriless, in his exploration of the world with nothing but the clothes on his back and the sun in the sky. 

“reversed or upright, the fool represents new beginnings,” you go on to explain, studying the card like the words you speak are written on it only for you to see. “but when it's reversed like this, it shows a lack of hope or faith. a reluctance for the change that’s to come but that won’t stop it from coming anyways. is there something you’re holding out on? a beginning you aren’t ready for?”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, before your brain and heart register that there’s an answer to this you might not want to hear and that maybe this card involves you too. a change you’re terrified of; the truth of your feelings for him coming to light and it being the end of him in your life. a new beginning for kaeya, without you.

his heart is beating like a drum inside his chest. loud enough he worries in the lack of his answers to your questions that you can hear its erratic speed and overwhelming intensity. it’s a deafening melody in his ears reminding him that there is very much something he’s holding out on, hiding and gripping onto despite the way it slips through his grasp without him realizing and when he pulls on it, trying to get it back, it only leads him deeper. Makes him feel even more in love with a person he didn’t deserve in the slightest. 

a person he could hurt or that could be hurt by simply being close to him. someone so unbelievable he couldn’t stay away no matter how much he told himself he should. the someone who sits in front of him and doesn’t see him as the fool. who sees past his mask and holds out their hands for him regardless of the person who hides in shadows and secrets underneath it all. the person he doesn’t think he can be without ever again,

maybe there really was nothing he could do to stop it. that he would be a fool to try. 

“i- i’m sorry kae.. i shouldn’t pry. we can just move onto the n-” you go to reach for the last unflipped card but before you can touch it, chilled, slender, fingers wrap around your wrist and stop you in your tracks. they’re gentle in their hold of you, careful like they were holding something so precious.

with your heart racing inside your chest, you quickly look up to kaeya, ready to apologize again but the words are stuck on the tip of your tongue at the expression on his partially hidden face, the soft candle light exposing the pink of his cheeks. very few times have you seen something so vulnerable, so raw and honest, painted on his sharp features.

“there is something i’ve been holding back on,” kaeya says, his voice a quiet whisper that pairs perfectly with the shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. his free hand, half gloved and showing in your peripheral vision, caresses your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin, making you both forget about the card of his future. “but i don’t want to hold back anymore.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 2: Trying to Understand

Ch. 1 | Masterlist 🖤

4.3K words // Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles finding certain words. Reader is pregnant!

Summary: How can Din understand and respect your plans without being apart of them? He tries to help, but your stubbornness rivals that of a Mandalorian.

Tags: SLOW BURN, Some fluff, made up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, lots of relationship building in this.

Warnings: mention of child loss and grief.

A/n: Alright so let me explain Illa-ishi real quick because I never want to get the wrong idea across. Illa-ishi are mainly single mothers who birth at the lower pool of the Mountain of Mothers. The reason why Illa-ishi give birth at the lower pool and pass away, isn’t the gods punishing them for being single mothers. The journey up to the lower pool when a mother is in the throws of birth is so rigorous and difficult without the help of their partner that many perish from exhaustion. By the time they make it up the cliff to the lower pool some do not even have energy to give birth which is why there are skeletons in the bed rolls. Please comment or ask me questions if anything is ever unclear! Also I know this is a shorter chapter than Ch. 1, I initially wanted this to be a two part series but I found I have more to write than I thought. Anyways, enjoy this soft chapter! I will update this series every Friday.

Standing in the pool, you felt his hand on the right side of your waist. He'd carried you from the spot near the cliff into the shallow end of the hot spring and set you down into the water as if you were sacred. Paralyzed by the sudden display of kindness after the last months spent alone, you felt the cold metal of his helmet lean heavily on the back of your head.

A slow fear crept up from somewhere deep inside the traumatized confines of your heart, the fear immobilizing you to his actions just as they'd done the night he paid for your company. Frozen in place, thoughts of him pushing you into the spring and drowning you flooded your mind. Then you felt his left hand rest on the small of your back, leading you to think he'd take you again as he'd done in the expensive room back on Tatooine. You'd worked in that brothel for years and saw the desperation of men in need, the aftermath of what they'd done to women they had no emotional attachment for.

Just as you started to form a plan of action against him, you heard the softest noise from behind. It took maybe thirty seconds for the sound to register within your mind – he was crying. The strangled sound of a sob left the static of the modulator on his helmet, which was then followed by the most sincere "I'm sorry" you'd heard since the day your father had sold you.

For a moment, you just looked ahead at the milky waters of the spring and the steam swirling around you. The small green baby that the Mandalorian had brought with him sat nearby the shallow end of the pool, gazing into the water below, his small hand chasing the steaming swirls that rose into the air. You felt the life within you stir, your contractions coming inconsistently now, almost as if your body was confused. The warmth of the leather-clad hand on your right side tightened slightly as you heard one more sob break over the roar of the waterfall.

In a show of cosmic irony, you couldn’t help the small but sad smile that graced your lips as you trailed your bandaged right hand up to lace your fingers over the back of his hand, and you spoke, “Don’t cry.”

His sobs seemed to quiet, as if he hadn't expected your touch, your reassurance. The tension in his grip lessened. After a moment of his head resting on the back of yours, you assumed he regained his composure as he slowly pulled away. Shyly, you looked over your shoulder and offered a small tearful smile to his visor before turning your attention back to the spring. Taking careful steps forward, you found a place to lower yourself back once more into the murky depths. You moved to sit where your back was resting on the jagged rock wall.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw him standing in the same spot. His hands were frozen in the air where they’d rested on your body, until he slowly clenched his fists and lowered them back to his sides.

He stood like a statue just looking at you, his weight shifted to his left, the grey of the flightsuit around his knees now a dark grey from the spring's water. The edge of his grey cape touched the surface of the spring, wetting the frayed and somewhat burned seams.

You felt an awkward discomfort as his helmet seemed locked in your direction. It really made you uneasy that you couldn’t tell where his gaze was or what emotion was on his face. Was he happy? He had cried… you had done the same when you found out.

“You-”

“What’s-”

You both spoke over one another in unison, causing a blush to creep up your neck as you looked away. As if some unseen force felt the tension in the air, the small green child, enamored with the steam of the spring, fell face first into the warm water.

“Grogu!” The Mandalorian’s voice bordered on panicked as he moved from his stiff position to where the child had fallen in. In a swift movement, the Mandalorian had grabbed the child by the tan robe he wore, pulling it to the surface within seconds of the splash. The child blinked his large eyes frantically as he let out some displeased grunts. Holding the child above the water now, the Mandalorian looked the child over and then moved to hold him in his arms. “We’ve talked about this…” The Mandalorian sighed as he looked at the child. You couldn't help the smile that graced your face.

"Does it get into problems?" You spoke carefully as you tried to remember the words in basic.

Being on your homeworld was the happiest you’d felt in years, and slipping back into Kith, your native language, was like putting on your favorite dress. But coming out of Kith back into basic was proving challenging; maybe the Mandalorian spoke Huttese, which you knew almost as well as basic.

“Yeah…he does,” the words fell in a resigned huff from the man clad in silver as he held the now dripping child.

“Oh…Is he…your child?” You asked slowly as you gauged the man’s reaction. Your eyes flicked from his helmet to the water covering your belly where your hands fidgeted under the water. Anxiety filled your thoughts as you waited for his response.

After a painfully long silence, the Mandalorian sighed and shifted to set the green child on the ledge of the spring nearby and sat next to the child, leaving his covered feet in the spring. Adjusting his cape as he sat, he turned to run a gloved hand over the child’s tan robe before speaking in your direction.

“It won’t look like him…if that’s what you’re asking,” he said dryly, and your head snapped in his direction, studying him for a moment before you thought he might be trying to joke. A smile graced your lips as you moved in the water to slowly approach him. Your right hand held onto the spring’s rocky wall as you moved towards him and the child who fidgeted with a metal object around his neck. Within a foot of the child, you looked the soaking baby over with a cocked eyebrow and critical eye before turning to face the Mandalorian.

“He is…” you paused, trying to find the word in basic as you felt a rush to do so, “…c-ute,” you sounded out the word slowly and looked up at the man sheepishly as the child made a surprised “eh!” sound and smiled toothily at you.

“Basic isn’t your first language?” It was almost not a question from the Mandalorian, and you couldn’t help but feel a hot embarrassment from his tone.

“No,” you said as you turned away again, caressing your belly under the water, “I am Kith.”

“I am Mandalorian,” he said, and you thought he might be patronizing you.

“I see and know,” you retorted back as you shot a soft glare his way.

A sound emanated from his helmet, and you thought it might be a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started to say as he reached into his bandolier for something. “I am Mandalorian, but I am different from other Mandalorians. I am bound by a creed.” He pulled out a piece of paper as he spoke, and you recognized the paper immediately. “The Mountain of Mothers…” he spoke again as he unfolded the pamphlet. “You’re here because you believe in this?” He asked as he looked over the paper.

You eyed the pamphlet that Don Mai must have so generously forced into the bounty hunter’s hand. Your eyes trailed from the pamphlet back to his helmet, and you nodded your head yes.

“I understand,” he says as he looks over the pamphlet, the child next to him suddenly taking interest as well. “The creed I believe in… it is my responsibility to take care of foundlings.” His helmeted gaze shifts slightly from the pamphlet to the child next to him.

“Found-i-ling?” you repeat the word back to him slowly in confusion.

His head turns to look at you, and he hands the pamphlet to the child who plays with the paper.

“Foundling,” he confirms with a small nod. “Children who are adopted by my people, warriors of Mandalore… This is the Way.”

Your gaze moves from his to the child next to him, and you nod.

“He is found-i-ling,” you say in confirmation as you nod your head toward the green child.

The Mandalorian nods in confirmation, and you see his hands clench the edge of the rock.

“And you…” he starts, “you are also my responsibility...”

You hated that word. Responsibility. Such a long word that was so often thrown in your face as a guilt tactic. The foreman who your father had sold you to made sure you always had responsibilities.

You were no more than eight when your father had sold you to the greasy man on Tatooine, and your life had been work ever since. The foreman wasn’t completely cruel; there were masters on Tatooine that were far worse. You had a bed, food, and even a bath. The foreman protected you from disgusting prying eyes of patrons who thought you were merchandise and not just a helping hand. But he also worked you to the bone, washing pillows, washing gowns, sewing gowns, steaming tapestry, cleaning the rooms, making meals, fixing the building, making errand runs – your responsibilities.

“No,” the word fell from your lips as if it were law. The Mandalorian’s head tilted towards you as if he didn’t hear you.

“Yes. You are my responsibility,” he repeats. “This is the Way.”

“No.” The word was slightly more harsh coming out as you turned to face him now. The sun had finally fallen behind the sky, and you were almost surrounded in darkness as you stared him down.

You could sense his hesitation, the momentary lapse in response, but the Mandalorian was resolute. “It is the Way. We take care of our own. The Creed guides me, and I cannot abandon my responsibilities.”

The weight of those words hung in the air, the silence stretching between you. The cold grip of your past life clawed at your heart, and you couldn't bear the thought of being bound by another's expectations. You had yearned for freedom, for a chance to shape your own destiny, and here, in the darkening solitude of the hot spring, those dreams seemed to be slipping away.

—

Your face was starting to turn pink from the heat of the spring as the word left your mouth. Din sat there staring, or truthfully, he was glaring at you from under his helmet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say your stubbornness made you more a Mandalorian than it did a Kith. He battled with himself; this was not a place he wanted to be.

Din had always been careful when it came to his intimate business. When he and Xi’an would mess around, he would always pull out even though he knew she had an implant. He’d never actually finished inside anyone before, not until he’d taken you. To ease his guilt, he had told himself it was because of his inebriated state, but he knew by the time he’d slowly stripped you in that warmly lit room, the Corellian Whiskey had worn off. Maybe it had been because you were the first virgin he’d ever taken, the tightness of your heat on his fingers like a Dathomirian witch's call. Maybe you were a witch, which is what he was trying to understand, trying to learn more about you.

His eyes had scanned the pamphlet now being crumpled by Grogu’s hands. He realized the Mountain of Mothers was a sacred place, much like the living waters on Mandalore. The stubborn part of him wanted to scoop you from the spring and carry you back to his ship to take you to Mandalore, but he couldn’t do that. You were too close to birth and he really had no place to interrupt your plans… plans he hadn’t been a part of. The dark parts of his mind reminded him.

"What is your plan?" He found himself asking you. He watched as you looked up at him from your spot beneath the comforting spring waters, your brow furrowing. You had placed your right arm on the surface ridge of the pool and had laid your head down to watch Grogu.

"I will rest here," your voice sounding tired, your hair damp from the steam as you offered a sad smile.

"For how long?" He asked next, watching your face carefully to gauge your emotions.

You shrugged and looked down at your belly. "Until Noona arrives.”

Please. Kriff. Please don’t let Noona be the name for this child, his child. He cringed internally.

"Noo-na?" He repeated back, trying to hold down the unhappy tone of his voice. You nodded your head as if he was an idiot.

"Noona," you said with a nod. "Or… Baby."

He breathed a sigh of relief, just Kith for baby.

"Then what?" He asked as Grogu stirred next to him, clambering up into the Mandalorian's lap, leaving a trail of water and the now soggy pamphlet behind as he climbed.

"We rest," you said sadly.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting frustrated with this beat around the bantha approach.

"After you rest?" His voice sounded a bit more terse than he intended. He watched as your head snapped up at him in annoyance, feeling confusion at your sharp reaction.

"We rest," you replied back, matching his terseness.

"For how long?" He gritted his teeth.

You splashed the water as you threw your hands up slightly and glared at him. "Forever!" You shouted back at him, and confusion laced his face.

"I don’t understand," he replied, as Grogu pulled at his bandolier from his lap, a sign he was getting hungry.

A moment of silence lapsed as your gaze slowly traveled to the skeletons surrounding the pool, now shrouded in darkness. You sighed as you looked at the remains mournfully and then slowly back to your belly.

"Illa-ishi come here to rest, forever," you said.

The skeletons and bone fragments all made sense in his mind now, and it made him sick.

"What?" His voice was laced with confusion and a hint of anger.

Before he could register the emotions swirling in his chest, he was already standing up in the water. Grogu, sensing the shift, looked up warily at his father. The Mandalorian glanced over at the pack leaning against the black jagged rock next to your bedroll, and he moved towards it out of the water.

—

Your heart raced as you watched the Mandalorian abruptly leave the spring and walk towards your pack and bedroll. You watched with bated breath as he set down the green child next to your pack on the ground and knelt down to your bedroll.

"NO!" You shouted as you watched him start to roll the bedroll back up. You quickly moved from your position in the water, walking carefully towards the edge. In an instant, he was moving in front of you, leaving the small child behind. It frightened you to see the speed at which he moved, the menacing aura he gave off as he moved to bend down, eye level with you.

He rested one hand on his right knee and the other hand on the ground next to him as he spoke.

"I am trying to understand your culture, but I will not allow you both to die here," his voice was menacing and sharp, bringing tears to your eyes.

"We are meant to die here," your words came out laced in pain and fear as you tried to stare him down. His hands balled into fists as he stared back at you.

"Why," he asked, and you could tell he was angry, and it wasn't fair.

Why was he angry when he had played no part in the last months?

You instantly felt remorse at that thought.

Throughout your whole pregnancy, you wouldn't allow yourself to think ill thoughts of him, afraid they might pass into Noona. Really, it wasn't his fault. You had no way of contacting him.

After your night with him, you'd taken your cut from the foreman and bought transport off of Tatooine. You spent weeks hopping planets and seeing different worlds, grateful for the credits you'd saved over the years, but even more so thankful for the six thousand credits that bought your freedom.

When you found out you were pregnant, you'd been staying on the mining world of Gorse, visiting the moon Cynda known for its illustrious thorillide crystal mines. You felt as if your freedom was snatched from you once again.

You knew this meant you were destined to be Illa-ishi and knew you'd be birthing a dead baby at the lower pool. It hurt, and you felt it wasn't fair, to you or the life inside you. A life that wouldn't exist outside of your own body, which is why you hadn't even bothered seeking out the Mandalorian.

Besides, all you had to go off of was the sigil on his pauldron, and since the Empire decimated Mandalore, it was impossible that you could find him again. Most Mandalorians had gone into hiding, and being already two months pregnant, there wasn't enough time to try and figure it out. You had accepted that you would be alone, that you were Illa-ishi, and that you could only enjoy the months ahead while Noona grew inside you.

You had traveled back to Kith in your fifth month of pregnancy and taken up work alongside Don Mai, the self-appointed mayor who graciously offered you a job in the fuel station. But soon your time was up, and you'd started your journey three days ago with the accepted belief that you'd never leave the Mountain of Mothers.

Still, the rational part of your mind sympathized with the man staring you down. You honestly believed you wouldn't see him again, and yet here he was. You knew that Kith was a planet along the outer rim, and nobody cared to understand your culture. Your people were not warriors like Mandalorians, nor powerful witches like Dathomirians. Your people were peaceful and slow.

Don Mai had a point about one thing, "People need to see the wealth of culture we have here. Kith would want the galaxy to know of the sacrifices he made for his wife."

—

Your eyes searched his visor, and he watched as you struggled internally. For a moment, he felt shame at his tone because it elicited a glassy look in your eyes, but he was angry. Not angry at you but more angry with himself. He sat eye level with you, waiting for your explanation when he heard a sigh leave your lips.

“Illa-ishi do not make it to the upper pool to give birth,” Your words offered little to soothe his confused anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, “Illa-ishi die at this pool with our babes, as a price for our solitude.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You truly believed you would die here, along with the life he helped create. He rose from the crouched position as he looked down at you in the now looming darkness.

He studied your face for a moment before his eyes drifted lower to your full breasts and belly. A twinge of pride at the sight of you was quickly extinguished by the look on your face. You looked sad, like you didn't want to believe what you did, like some part of you wanted to make it to the upper pool. Slowly he extended his right hand down to you before he spoke, “You are not alone, not anymore.”

—

Helping you from the pool carefully, he watched the steaming water rush off your body, leaving droplets all around you. A shiver quickly rushed through you, and he cursed himself for not being more prepared when he left his ship. He didn't even bring Grogu a snack. He stood in front of you, unconsciously zoned out as he tried to think of his next steps.

He didn't realize how uncomfortable you'd become by his gaze until you moved your hands to cover yourself in shame. Your face was flushed pink, and he realized you assumed he'd been standing there staring at you like some teenage boy. He felt a rush of embarrassment; he normally never spared a thought for anyone, never cared what they thought, but for some reason, he really didn't want you to think ill of him.

"Get back in the water," his voice was low, and it almost startled you.

He saw the look of confusion on your face, and he sighed audibly. "Just… you'll be warmer in the water until I can make a fire," he said reluctantly, and he watched your eyebrows shoot up.

"A fire?" You almost sounded excited.

He nodded as he moved to help you situate yourself back into the water.

The green child cooed from his spot, now sitting on your bedroll as he watched. After situating you back into the water, Din looked back to Grogu; he could tell he was getting hungry and tired.

"I need to go collect wood. Would you… just make sure he doesn't get into trouble?" The Mandalorian hesitated to ask you for anything, but he knew Grogu would just inhibit what could be a quick task. He watched your face as you glanced up at him from in the pool and behind him to the child.

"Yes," you said, almost so quietly that he strained to hear it.

"I won't be long," he told you as he stood and immediately walked over to the edge of the cliff to make his way back down toward the forested area.

Left alone with Grogu, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The Mandalorian had been harsh, distant, and mysterious, yet he had also shown moments of compassion and care. You watched the child as he cooed and played with his small, metal pendant, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal.

—

The thought of a fire excited you after three days of eating cold food and sleeping on the cold ground. Maybe if Noona was tired and not ready to come, you could actually enjoy your last night of sleep. Surely Noona would be here tomorrow?

"Rissi, Noona?" (Right, Noona?) You spoke to your oddly calm belly. You thought back... when had your last contraction been? After the Mandalorian had shown up, but that had now been almost two hours ago.

You felt unease rise up into your throat.

You only felt this afraid once during your pregnancy, and it was when you hadn't heard Noona's heartbeat at the small makeshift medical office in the fuel station. It wasn't until you and Don Mai had realized the medical droid's radar equipment had malfunctioned that you found peace.

But now you could feel the panic and no peace. A part of your mind was whispering that Noona was already gone. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you started moving frantically towards the shallow part of the pool. You rested your left hand on the soaked fabric of your dress as you clambered towards the edge of the pool.

"Pessi Noona... Pessi!" (Please baby, please.) you whispered frantically as you tried to feel anything. The rock floor of the pool felt harsh under your bare feet, and you slipped a little at one point, causing you to stumble.

From your right, you could hear the small green child make a grunting noise. Pushing yourself up in the water, you felt your breath quickening with panic as you moved out of the water. Tears were coming hard, and you couldn't stop the sobs that came from your mouth.

"Pessi a Noona! Pessi! Pessi!" You cried as you made it from the pool to the harsh gravel-covered surface of the rock surrounding the pool. Looking down at your belly, you pressed your hands rather harshly to feel. You could make out two lumps at the top, maybe knees? You couldn't be sure.

You felt a tugging on your dress, and as you tried to look down past your belly, you caught a glimpse of a green ear. The small green child tugged fervently on your dripping gown.

"Noona a nissa movissi" (baby is not moving), you tried to explain to the small green child who you could hardly see. You sobbed and tried to move toward the bedroll. Through your tears, you heard the small child behind you as his feet pattered softly on the rock behind you. You moved to sit on a rock nearby, lowering yourself to the ground, you planted your feet and caressed your belly.

"Pessi Noona, gividas sotissi" (Please baby give me something), you cried as you continued pressing frantically, trying to get Noona to move or kick, anything.

You felt the lightest touch on your arm as you sat and hyperventilated. Looking to the left, you saw the small green child look at you curiously. His large brown eyes were full of so much emotion, something you couldn't place. Before you could make another sound, you felt the edges of your vision begin to fade.

Maybe this was it... the last moment with you and Noona... would the Mandalorian come back and disturb you? You didn't want to leave the Mountain of Mothers, you wanted to die here with Noona, stay here with Noona, forever…

The last thoughts flashed in your mind before you felt yourself succumb.

"Rest," a small voice whispered through your mind.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Ten Years in Two months

While the meat and potatoes of this idea comes a bit later, it does require some finangleing beforehand. Some of the beginning does feel a bit contrived, because it is. In order for the dominoes of the plot to fall right later, we do have to force them into shape now in a series of improbable actions. 

Bear with me for a bit, we’ll get there. 

There is not really a particular point this starts, save that it is after Padme becomes pregnant (though well before she realizes she is) but before the Umbara arc (or ignoring the Umbara Arc), for no particular reason other than I want Waxer there.  A mission is assigned to the 212th to escort Padme Amidala and her retinue to a neutral world for negotiations with the Separatists.  They are taking with them commander Ahsoka Tano (the in-world explanation being that she was on Coruscant catching up with course work and they would rendezvous with the 501st, who were on a campaign in that region). 

On the way to this neutral world, from the perspective of the rest of the galaxy, the 212th in its entirety vanishes for two months. 

From the perspective of the 212th they become trapped on an uncharted planet for 10 years. 

For the rest of the galaxy those two months are enlightening into Anakin Skywalker's particular brand of instability.  Without the tempering influence of the bonds to his Master and Padawan, compounded by the fact that his secret wife disappeared as well, Well…his attempts to find them could, in the best of lights, be described as unhinged. He did not fall in at this time, for he was given no reason to make that choice (and falling to the dark, into evil is very much a choice. One does not fall by accident, after all), but he made it very clear that the war, protecting innocents, the Republic, or even the lives of his own men meant nothing compared to finding Padme (occasionally he would remember to make it seem as though he was focusing on finding Obi Wan or Ahsoka, though he never quite remembered to include the rest of the 212th). His obsession presented itself in such a way that even Palpatine was reconsidering some of his plans (he still intended to break Anakin into Vader, but he was now inclined to let Padme-and maybe even Ahsoka; Obi Wan was always going to die-live on as a stabilizing influence to his ultimate apprentice). 

He was swiftly removed from command of the 501st and had to be kept partially sedated for at least 6 of those 8 weeks. 

With the 212th for the first few months, from their perspective, they tried to contact the rest of the fleet. Tried to contact anyone.  Tried to escape from their orbit around this one planet, thankfully habitable and with an abundance of edible food. However, though they did not know it, the planet was out of sync with the rest of the galaxy.

Over the period of about two years they shifted from living mostly on the ships with just enough people on the surface of the planet to keep everyone fed to a more permanent settlement on the planet with a rotating skeleton crew up on ships to keep everything running. 

Padme found out about her pregnancy pretty early on, and with it came the knowledge that her relationship with Anakin was not the secret she thought it was.  Nor was the relationship forbidden like Anakin told her. The marriage was forbidden, because of the Oaths Anakin swore as part of the Jedi Order and how they conflicted with the traditional Nabooian Wedding vows (though she also finds out that the Jedi Order would have helped revise both sets of vows so they did not conflict).  Even beyond her own misunderstandings of the Jedi, she started to see the many places where Anakin either deliberately misunderstood his own culture, or deliberately misled her.  

In fact it became obvious within the first six months that every culture represented in the ships (The variety of cultures from the natborn admiralty, the Nabooian Delegation, The clones, and the Jedi) all had some misconceptions about all of the other cultures ranging from the humorously minor to massive misunderstandings (One of the minor misunderstandings is between the Jedi and the Clones on names and numbers. The Jedi believe that they are making sure that they are calling the clones what the clones want to be called instead of their designation. The clones think that the Jedi as a whole are uncomfortable with their designation AS names-Which yes but also no-so even though most of the clones prefer a name to their designation, even the few that want to use their designation are told by the other clones that the must choose a name to use around the Jedi). 

Obi Wan takes over Ahsoka’s training and the gaps that Anakin had left become very obvious; the place where he taught her something that was outright wrong even more so. About three months in, Ahsoka tells Obi Wan about Anakin’s ‘training’ of being surrounded and fired upon by the 501st.  One of the few things that Anakin was right about was that he Jedi would not understand, nor condone, that training. Ahsoka had not realized how disconnected from her own culture she had become in her short time with Anakin. How isolated he had made her from her people. Though she and Obi Wan were the only Jedi, she felt closer than ever to everything she had grown up with as he took on her tuition. 

In month 8 Obi Wan, who was looked to as the leader, arranged for a series of times to address the misconceptions held by an for each culture present.  When it became clear that they were cut off for the long haul, he helped the variety of people to start to live instead of just surviving.  And at the beginning there were a number of natborns among them that were anti clones, or anti Jedi, just as there were many clones that were anti nat born.  But with only about 1500 people in total (1300 clones, about 50 natborn officers and support staff, about 150 senatorial support staff) there were simply not enough people to support those kinds of prejudices.  It is hard to say that the clones were not human when you listen to the stories of decommissioned batchmates during one of the remembrance ceremonies.  Or hate the natborn lieutenant that got drunk and cried all over you about the pregnant wife they left behind.

The twins were born with a village of aunts and uncles, and though they are the oldest, they were not the only ones. Sache, one of Padme’s former handmaidens and part of her senatorial retinue, entered into a relationship with Waxer and Boil, having a child with them that was a year younger than the twins.  Many relationships formed and broke apart during those years.

Ahsoka and Padme ended up co parenting the twins, with Padme being called Mom and Ahsoka being called Mom Ah.  It was the twins who insisted on their names from their earliest ability to speak. 

In year four Cody and Obi Wan get married. Though theirs is not the only relationship that develops, nor the only one with healthy communication, their relationship does highlight to Padme how unhealthy her relationship with Anakin actually was. (It should be noted that, although Anakin’s instability and actions were flashier, this is not Anakin abusing/coercing the poor innocent Padme. In this they are toxic together, both acted in unhealthy ways that compromised their own morals).  Padme was able to see how Cody and Obi Wan did not use their love for each other as a bandage for deeper wounds. That CodyWan did not become all consuming; each man had friendships and hobbies and duties separate from each other (even with the friends they shared, they did not act as a single unit, inseparable from each other).  The other relationships she saw only drove this point home. 

At some point in those ten years she tells Obi Wan of what happened on Tatooine, just before the start of the war. And Obi Wan, eyes betraying his grief and horror at the massacre of the Tuskens asked her why she absolved Anakin of his crimes (By technicality, as a senator Padme did have the authority to absolve Anakin-so even if Tatooine becomes part of the Republic, and the crime is reported, Padme’s actions mean that Anakin cannot be tried under Republic Law). Padme cannot answer him.  

Though it does take time, Padem is eventually able to meet Obi Wan’s eyes again after the revelation. 

6 years in, Ahsoka and Padme realize that they have fallen in love.  Driven by the Jedi teachings for healthy and open communication (though many cultures value open and honest communication, few need it in the same way as the Jedi who are all some degree of Empath), they talk about what was happening. Neither is sexually attracted to the other, but they do want to date each other.  But Padme is married to Anakin. And it might have been six years, so they do not know if Anakin even still lived, and if did, he had likely moved on (both of which are reasonable assumptions) but being together without first speaking to Anakin felt too much like giving up the idea that they would find a way home. So they agreed to wait until they were ready to give up that idea. 

They had not given up by the time that the 10 year mark rolled around.

In year 7 the chips begin to deteriorate. The material they were made up of were not meant for the extra years of use, plus the method Helix used to stop the accelerated aging (discovered within 5 months of actually having time) created an enzyme as a byproduct that had no effect on the clones, but accelerated the deterioration of the chips.  The first three chips were removed after the clones involved complained of migraines. All the documentation in the computer banks (the archive of what was readily available, instead of what was stored on the galaxy’s version of the cloud) of the ships said the chips were to inhibit excess aggression. No one had any reason to not believe the documentation, not even with the realization that the chips were not in the right place for what they were supposed to do (the assumption is that the Kaminoans, for all their genetic know how, just do not understand near human neurology enough to have put it in the right place).  Obi Wan met with Helix, the head medic, with Cody after the removal of those first chips.  Obi Wan assumed that he did not know about the chips because he had not been on the council when the order was put in. Helix is able to confirm that all of the clones have these chips and what they are supposed to do (according to the literature) and that some were beginning to deteriorate.  After it becomes clear that the removal will not hurt the clone, they make the decision to remove all of them. However, believing them to be behavioral modifiers (if incorrectly placed), and as they did not have the optimal equipment to decode them, they all left it at that and put the Chips into storage and basically forgot about it. 

Just 15 days shy of the 10th anniversary of their arrival to the uncharted planet, whatever grip that was holding the ships bound to orbit the planet vanished (The planet was in sync with the rest of the galaxy- it is a window of time that is six hours long in the larger galaxy, or 15 days long on the planet) Still not able to raise communications to anyone outside of the planet’s orbit, not knowing how long they would have before they were stuck again, and fearing that they would be cut off from anyone left behind (no one had forgotten that the planet had not registered as there until they were trapped), everyone was loaded onto the ships along with all of their food stores and the 212th left the uncharted planet. 

As soon as they hit the galaxy at large again, alarms began to shriek. Every system that communicated with the central systems (basically everything outside of life support) experienced a fatal error upon reconnecting with the galaxy’s central system. It takes 4 days to fix. They have to reset all of the internal clocks/calendars in their computer systems to a date and time two months and 3.5 days after they became trapped (the last 24 hours of that time was spent inputting random dates into the system). 

NOTE: There is a very important reason for this. Computers are very black and white about some things, and communicating between computers is often validated on specific information to make sure that both systems are dealing with the same information at the same thing. Current Date/Time had to be validated for the purpose of navigation. Galactic/Stellar drift is very real, and in the mapped regions of the galaxy that drift is precisely calculated.  It is impossible to keep a real time map of every object in the galaxy, instead there is a systematic ping that goes out at specified times (Twice per Galactic Standard year) remapping every object in the known galaxy and correcting the location in the centralized system.  Then Navigation computers calculate how long it has been since the last ping to figure out where everything is and a safe route.  That only works if the current date time matches the current date time of the centralized system exactly (some of those object movements, even objects large enough to damage the largest of ships, can be measured in microseconds). 

No one realizes why this is an issue. The entirety of the 212th believe that 10 years have passed (born out by their time keepers, which had ticked along for ten years) and yet to the larger galaxy only two months have. They absently notice that by the time anything is working again the planet they were on had vanished. 

A message is sent to Coruscant, to the Jedi temple, but it is a hesitant thing. Deliberately vague in details. Obi Wan has no idea what 10 years has done for or to the war effort.  The response is almost immediate,  a call from the Jedi council. The very first question out of Mace Windu’s mouth is a cranky sounding ‘Where in the Force have you been for the last two months?’ (Look Master Windu is absolutely ecstatic that they are safe and not dead, but he has spent the four days helping to keep Anakin contained-the sedation began to wear off faster now that he could feel Ahoska and Obi Wan in the Force again-, the last two months realizing that Obi Wan ran about a third of their side of the war, and had been in the middle of sleeping for the first time in weeks).

There is quite a bit of confusion as both Obi Wan and Mace were absolutely sure the other had lost it over how long the 212th had been gone (Obi Wan: we were trapped for ten years; Mace: Bullshit! You’ve been gone for 2 months).  It is Ahsoka’s appearance that convinces Mace that something more is going on (he would not know the children, and Ahsoka is the only other one for whom 10 years-or 10 years and 5 months for the clones- would make a huge visible difference). Mace is able to convince Obi Wan that they really have only been gone two months and the 212th makes its way back to Coruscant, reeling over the disconnect (The Lieutenant who spent the last 10 years mourning over the missed moments with their wife and unborn child…hasn’t even missed the birth).

The mind healers who have been dealing with Anakin nearly weep in relief at the news that Padme Amidala is with the 212th and safe. They know that Anakin needs many much therapy still but they have hope he will actually pay attention now that his wife is back. 

The 212th, now a community in a way that they had not been, returned to Coruscant.  They do not split in the ways that they would have before (before relationships and children) and peer at the lives they had left behind that they no longer quite fit the shape of. 

The lieutenant brings home their best friend (a clone who had not picked their name before the mission, but decided to go with 29, which they picked to reference the number of a decommissioned batchmate)  to meet their wife, only for some of the wife’s family make an awful comment about flesh droids and being a pet (thankfully their wife was equally embarrassed by her brother’s behavior). 

Obi Wan, Cody, Padme, and Ahsoka go to the Jedi temple, to the Jedi Council (the twins, like the rest of the children, were left aboard the Negotiator in the care of their extended family). They speak of the planet where they had been trapped and the lives they grew there. 

Padme took the time to apologize to the Council, formally, for the violation of their beliefs that she and Anakin had perpetrated by marrying as they had.  She could admit that while Anakin had not told her of any Jedi traditions for marriage, or really any traditions they might be violating by marrying, she had made no effort to check either. 

As an afterthought Obi Wan told the Jedi Council about the chips deteriorating, but that they did not appear to be doing anything anyway (To which every other member went: “What chips?”). Upon being asked Obi Wan calls for Helix to get a chip or two out of the storage closet they had been forgotten in. Which was then promptly handed to people with specialized equipment for decoding bio mechanical chips. 

After the latest round of sedation has worn off Padme, Obi Wan, and Ahsoka go to see Anakin. They are told that before Anakin can be released he needs to be assessed by three different mind healers. They go intending to tell Anakin of the twins. Padme also goes with the intent to test the waters about the possibility of separating (She does not know that her and Ahsoka dating would go anywhere, nor are either of them even thinking of it right now, but even leaving that aside Padme has realized that her and Anakin are not healthy together). Things do not go quite as intended. 

At first Anakin is so happy to see all three of them, he exclaims over Ahsoka being so grown up (she is now 24, now older than Anakin). It rapidly becomes clear that Anakin expected he would be released immediately, now that they were back.  There was a small blip, a frown and a strange heaviness when he realized that all three of them were backing the healers that he needed to be assessed.  Anakin also did not like how close Ahsoka and Obi Wan were, oh before they vanished he would joke about Ahsoka being their shared padawan, but he preferred it when Obi Wan’s lessons unintentionally reinforced the idea that Ahsoka was better off with Anakin than any other Jedi.

There were a few moments when he could speak to Padme alone, and the way he spoke left  Padme feeling cold. There was nothing overt but it all reinforced a possessiveness that Padme realized she did not want in her or her children's lives. They leave without telling Anakin about the children. 

Padme tries six more times to go and talk to Anakin about separating. At best he acts like he does not hear or understand her words.  At worst he starts ranting about Obi Wan trying to steal his wife and needing to be sedated. 

Regretfully, and with the backing of both the Jedi and the 212th community, Padme starts the process to get a divorce. Nabooian traditions insist that a couple that wants to divorce must meet with a Nabooian marriage counselor first, to see if reconciliation is possible.  Setting this up takes several months as, upon being informed of proceedings Anakin had a second breakdown. His connection to the Force was such that the Jedi needed to block the connection lest he become very destructive. Only the Force Blockers left him not coherent enough to attend the session with Counselor. In the end the Jdi built a special room just to block Anakin’s specific connection to the force for them to meet in.  Traditionally the divorcing couple meets at least 5 times before permission is given to divorce.  It took one meeting for the Counselor to grant Padme her divorce. 

The 501st had not been assigned a new general by the time the 212th returned, and Ahsoka was almost ready for knighthood.  She took command of the 501st for a total of 4 months, it was too uncomfortable and too much like she was replacing Anakin (made weirder by the fact she still wanted to date his soon to be ex wife  and was helping to raise his children).  In the end Obi Wan ended up taking direct command of the legion, with Cody taking the lead of the 212th.  This also made everyone uncomfortable, thankfully the war ended three months after that (the revelation of what the chips did had the council contemplating finding the planet that 212th had been stranded on).

Palpatine had been indiscrete around someone who he had assumed would back his power play for an Empire. To be fair, in another world that family would have been high ranking imperial with very human centric tendencies. 

Palpatine had not expected a Lieutenant of the Galactic Navy, member of the 212h or not, to whip out a slug thrower and shoot at a party when Palpatine had admitted to knowing about the slave chip in the clones' heads. 

To be fair, neither did the Lieutenant.

[machveil]

I would love to hear about your cod x pokemon thoughts 👀👀👀 do you have pokemon teams for any other characters??

nemjun, marry me💍✨ I have so much to say— also, happy Spooky Month, this actually took so long to write. I thought this was going out, like, Sept 28th lol

[note: I think having a full team is overrated, no need for filler when you can just give them Pokémon that feel right, yeah?]

CoD Headcanon: Pokémon Teams

to set up each part I’ll talk about each character minimally, list their teams, and then any amendments based on lore/skins/personal thoughts. characters include: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Captain John Price, Phillip Graves, König, and Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

character analysis - as a Pokémon trainer, Simon already has some good motifs going on in his design. like any good trainer, we’re going off details and vibes. Simon gives me Dark and Ghost type Pokémon vibes, more so given by his skull balaclava and skeleton patterned gloves, not to mention his usually black colored clothes. thematically, I like to think a handful of his Pokémon know Destiny Bond - if Simon’s going down he’s taking you with him

Pokémon team

Dusknoir (caught as a Duskull when he first joins the army) - his ace Pokémon! honestly, Dusknoir is purely chosen off vibes, this man screams owning one. Dusknoir has been with Simon since the beginning of his military life, and subsequently is his first Pokémon. Simon trusts this spirit eating Pokémon with his life. I think it’s move set would be Destiny Bond/Mean Look/Payback/Shadow Ball with the ability Pressure

Polteageist (Phony) - it’s not just because he’s British… it’s also a Ghost type. it’s mostly to be funny, but I have a headcanon reason! I think Simon is a big tea drinker, loves a good cuppa, but he specifically likes black tea. from Pokémon Shield, “Leaving leftover black tea unattended is asking for this Pokémon to come along and pour itself into it, turning the tea into a new Polteageist.” - Simon leaving his tea unattended to get something only to come back to a Pokémon? he caught it while grumbling. I think it’s move set would be Strength Sap/Withdraw/Shell Smash/Shadow Ball with the Weak Armor ability

Gengar - the classic Pokémon fan in me wants Simon to own a Gengar, so he will. thematically, it’s not too bad. Gengar is the Shadow Pokémon, Simon gives off ‘moving around in shadows’ vibes. Simon “dad jokes” Riley is a dry comedy king - stay with me, Gengar usually lurk in shadows laughing… please imagine Simon cracking terrible jokes that his Gengar finds funny. the move set would be Destiny Bond/Night Shade/Spite/Dark Pulse and the ability Cursed Body

Houndstone - I was debating on this being in his team or an amendment Pokémon, but I think the skeletal vibes are too good to not be a main party member. fits Ghost’s vibe, that’s about it haha. from Pokémon Scarlet, “Houndstone spends most of its time sleeping in graveyards. Among all the dog Pokémon, this one is the most loyal to its master.”, and now we all ‘aww’, a loyal dog? give that to Simon right now! has the ability Fluffy and knows Rest/Dig/Destiny Bond(Egg Move)/Phantom Force

team amendments

Alone/Cerberus!Ghost would definitely have a Hydreigon, are you kidding me? looking past the obvious three heads, Hydreigon is the Brutal Pokémon! from Pókemon Shield, “The three heads take turns sinking their teeth into the opponent. Their attacks won’t slow down until their target goes down.” - does that sound familiar? I think it’s move set would be Scary Face/Work Up/Outrage/Body Slam, ability Levitate

Ghost Punk skin - Ghost would definitely own a Toxtricity (Low Key). we’re talking punk Simon Riley here, maybe Rockstar!Simon? the organ on it’s chest sounds like the strumming of a bass guitar, now just imagine Simon singing punk rock/metal. move set would be Scary Face/Overdrive/Boomburst/Shift Gear with the ability Punk Rock

John “Soap” MacTavish:

character analysis - we’re going purely off John’s personality and vibes with his Pokémon! John strikes me as a loyal, energetic man - his team should reflect that. Electric Pokémon would be up his alley, but Pokémon that are generally described as energetic would work too

Pokémon team

Boltund - off the bat, the first Pokémon that came to mind when I thought about Johnny. in my humble opinion, the perfect ace for Johnny! I headcanon Soap going on morning runs and - from the Sword Pokédex - Boltund can run for three full days nonstop, aka it can keep up with John during his morning runs. move set wise, I’m thinking Electric Terrain/Charge/Wild Charge/Crunch with the ability Competitive

Luxray - while it sleeps for long periods of time, his Luxray would be helpful on deployments. from Pokémon Sword, “Luxray can see through solid objects. It will instantly spot prey trying to hide behind walls, even if the walls are thick.”, and, while it mostly sees field time, I think a Luxray would balance Johnny out. while his other Pokémon are amped up, he can take a break with his more relaxed companion. I could see the move set being Thunder Wave/Scary Face/Roar/Volt Switch - I’d imagine his Luxray being a pivot/set up Pokémon, used for status conditions. Luxray’s ability would be Intimidate

Jolteon - are we sensing a pattern with dog-esk Pokémon? anyways, Jolteon is purely me wanting Johnny to have one - that’s it haha, I look at that man and go ‘hmmm, Jolteon’. move set would be Agility/Thunder Fang/Thunder/Last Resort with the ability Quick Feet

team amendments

I don’t particularly have any team amendments for Johnny

John Price:

analysis - this man gives me the vibe that he hunts game as a hobby. rather than focusing on his career, I’m focusing on that headcanon aspect. I think Price would have a lot of Normal type Pokémon, he just seems like an average Joe sort of guy off duty. Price strikes me as the type to always have a plan B, so a handful of his Pokémon know Last Resort

Pokémon team

Stoutland - Price owning a Stoutland just feels right, you know? definitely his ace, and as a partner for hunting game, if Price were to hunt in the winter… from Pokémon Y, “Being wrapped in its long fur is so comfortable that a person would be fine even overnight on a wintry mountain.”, it’s also a rescue Pokémon, so if someone needed help then Price could send Stoutland out. also, Stoutland just looks like it was made for Price, anyways, move set! Work Up/Retaliate/Reversal/Last Resort and the ability Intimidate

Unfezant (female) - back on the hunting theme, I think Price found a wounded Tranquill while he was out. after it healed up, it wouldn’t leave Price alone/return to the wild so he caught it. I think a female one would be better because, compared to the male, they can fly better. Price lets his Unfezant scout the area from above for any dangerous wild Pokémon (Ursaring, Trevenant, Bewear, etc). move set would be Tailwind/Roost/Steel Wing(TM)/Sky Attack and the ability Big Pecks

Dubwool (Shiny) - I like the shiny better, sue me. anyways, this is another one that just feels right. I look at Dubwool and go ‘hmmm, give it to Price’, if anything, maybe Retired!Price lives on a ranch with his fluffy friend. move set, I’m thinking Cotton Guard/Defense Curl/Double Kick/Last Resort, ability Steadfast

Skwovet - I think Price needs a critter, just a little guy. a low level, tiny pal - maybe Price just got attached to this fella that wouldn’t leave him alone, cue them bonding and Price feeding Skwovet some berries. move set would be Tail Whip/Bite/Stockpile/Swallow with the Cheek Pouch ability

amendments

I don’t really have any amendments for Price’s team, I just want the man to have some Normal type buddies to relax with

Phillip Graves:

analysis - Graves actually started this thought process for me because I thought it would be funny if he owned a Braviary lol, so here we are. for Graves I’m going off vibes and the rule of cool - I’m picking based on Pokémon I think he’d have in my opinion. also, I think Graves, out of everyone, would teach his Pokémon TMs the most

…don’t think too much about the move sets and abilities I gave his Pokémon

Pokémon team

Braviary - American king, give this man the fucking eagle Pokémon lmao. that’s it, that was my thought process, it’s his ace. move set would be Hone Claws/Aerial Ace/Rest(TM)/Shadow Ball(TM), yes, I’m giving it Shadow Ball purely for the Shadow Company, his entire team is a joke to me I’m sorry. anyways, ability is Defiant

Rotom - I feel like the tech aspect of Rotom being able to take over devices/appliances would be helpful to Graves? maybe not, but I also like the vibe Rotom gives off and my gut says to give it to Graves. move set would be Trick/Substitute/Eerie Impulse(TM)/Poltergeist(TM) with the Levitate ability

Drakloak - my brain says to give this man Drakloak (that will eventually evolve into Dragapult). I feel like, out of a handful of CoD characters, Graves would own a pseudo legendary. move set would be Lock On/Dragon Dance/Dragon Rush/Phantom Force and the ability Infiltrator

Mightyena - look! an actual headcannon! I feel like, if this were in the Pokémon universe, the Shadow Company would make for a good ‘evil team’. with that in mind, maybe it’s just Team Magma bouncing around inside my head, but I feel like Mightyena would be a good pick for Price. not just with the color scheme and general vibe from Mightyena, but when I think of evil teams in Pokémon Maxie’s Mightyena always comes to mind first. I’m thinking Moxie for the ability and Yawn/Roar/Double-Edge(TM)/Shadow Ball(TM) for the move set

team amendments

purely because it’s the Shadow Pokémon… maybe a Gengar? it’s only because of the Shadow Company connection, but I think it’d be funny. move set would be Spite/Shadow Ball/Shadow Punch/Imprison(TM) with the Cursed Body ability

König:

analysis - are we ready for some König bias? I am! sweet boy, I think he’d be a Ghost and Grass type trainer. I headcanon him being super into nature - hikes, camping, ect. also, he has a ghillie suit skin so… Grass type methinks. the Ghost type is also a little forest-y, haunted woods where he finds himself at home among the Grass and Ghost type critters. maybe he can empathize with the Ghost types because people deem them scary and not approachable? hmmm?

Pokémon team

Shuppet - Shuppet physically reminds me of König’s sniper hood. it’s why I originally was like ‘yup, give it to him’. from Pokémon Violet, “It feeds on the dark emotions of sadness and hatred, which make it grow steadily stronger.”, Pokémon Scarlet expands on that by saying ‘envy and malice’, I think König holds a lot of negative emotions from how he was treated in his childhood by his peers - fellow students making fun of him and generally tormenting him. I think Shuppet tries to cheer him up even though it’s primarily feeding off those emotions, it’s still his companion Pokémon, and one that recognizes the hurt he’s gone through. move set would be Curse/Spite/Shadow Sneak/Shadow Ball with the Cursed Body ability

Mimikyu - speaking of unapproachable, Mimikyu! König feels for the poor thing, trying to be liked by fitting in as a beloved Pokémon. they just get each other, maybe he found the little thing stalking the halls of KorTac (how’d it get in? who knows). while not his ace, König is very attached to his Mimikyu. move set would be Charm/Hone Claws/Shadow Claw/Play Rough with the ability Disguise

Eevee (will evolve into a Sylveon) - give this man comically small animals, please. he loves this Eevee, it will evolve into a Sylveon and he will pamper it even more if that’s possible. I just think that, if anyone gets a mascot Pokémon - let alone Eevee, it should be König. is it generically cute and fluffy? yes, and he eats that up. it’s move set would be Baby-Doll Eyes/Copycat/Bite/Yawn(Egg Move) with the Adaptability ability

Sawsbuck (caught as a Deerling) - please give the big man a deer!! he loves them - they’re dainty, extremely agile, the opposite of his towering build. a go-to hiking buddy for König, not that he doesn’t hike with other party members, but Sawsbuck really likes walking with him. move set would be Sunny Day(TM)/Horn Leech/Solar Beam/Zen Headbutt and the ability Chlorophyll

Trevenant - gut feeling, I just want König to have the big tree. he’s a big man, he can totally rock owning a big tree. anyways, another ‘König likes the forest’ Pokémon, and it’s a Grass and Ghost type, perfect. it would have the Natural Cure ability and know Forest’s Curse/Sunny Day/Burning Jealousy(TM)/Phantom Force

Decidueye - saved his ace for last. Decidueye is basically a sniper, you feel me? it has the bow and arrow situation going on, it’s Hidden Ability is Long Reach - sniper shit, it doesn’t make physical contact with any move. Grass/Ghost type? A+, perfect, astounding. you need to read both it’s Sun and Moon Pokédex entries because they read as ‘it’s a sniper’ and ‘it’s König’. from Sun, “It fires arrow quills from its wings with such precision, they can pierce a pebble at distances over a hundred yards.”, and from Moon, “Although basically cool and cautious, when it’s caught by surprise, it’s seized by panic.”, I rest my case. plus, plus, it’s literally a hooded Pokémon, it pulls on the ‘drawstrings’ of its hood to focus. literally made for König, I’m telling you it’s perfect. it’s move set would be Synthesis/Shadow Sneak/Spirit Shackle/Leaf Blade with the ability Long Reach

team amendments

during his time as an Insertion Specialist, I could see König having a Bewear. I feel like having it be a permanent member of his team wouldn’t fit - not because it doesn’t match him, it does. I just think Bewear would be… I don’t know, specifically for field work? it’s move set would definitely cater to busting tough stuff down, so, Strength/Thrash/Superpower/Double-Edge with the Fluffy ability

I think that, as a child, there was a stray Glameow in König’s neighborhood. not that he caught it, but I think he definitely hung out with it a lot CatDad!König bias. at some point, during his teens, it stopped coming around though. he still thinks about it, I think that it was decently low leveled so it’s move pool would be Scratch/Growl with the Own Tempo ability

Sebastian Krueger:

analysis - I feel like he’d be a Dragon and Grass type user, just me? I just look at his base design and see a Dragon and Grass trainer - you can fight me over it, I’d also except Bug or Poison type Krueger

Pokémon team

Tangrowth - I’m right end of discussion. give this man the big wad of sentient vines, it feels right in my soul. Krueger already uses that camouflage veil and dresses is greens, might as well give him some mobile cover too. Stun Spore/Poison Powder/Grassy Terrain/Power Whip with the Regenerator

Gloom - let me preface by saying all his team members are gut feelings and going with vibes because Gloom? Gloom just feels like a Krueger Pokémon. it’s a stunner/poisoner, I feel like Krueger can match Glooms energy, fucking people up— and other Pokémon, but like… fucking people up mostly. it would have Sunny Day(TM)/Sleep Powder/Petal Dance/Moonlight with the Chlorophyll ability

Carnivine - do I just want Krueger to have some James and Jesse type shenanigans with a Carnivine? …yeah. yeah, I do. but it also matches his vibe in my heart, a freaky little plant for a freaky little man. move set would be Leech Seed(Egg Move)/Leaf Tornado/Power Whip/Crunch with the Levitate ability

Haxorus - okay. tell me I’m wrong. do it, you can’t - Haxorus was made by Nintendo for Krueger. an armored dragon with axes made for… axing things down? perfect for Krueger, destruction buddies. has the ability Rivalry and knows Iron Tail(Egg Move)/Dragon Dance/Guillotine/Outrage

team amendments

Druddigon is another dragon that screams Krueger. it’s all rough n’ tough, a little cave dweller for the man? methinks it’s be an okay match. has the move set Glare(Egg Move)/Iron Head/Dragon Claw/Outrage with the ability Rough Skin

does Goodra necessarily have Krueger written all over it? no, but I want the man to have a gooey guy. Krueger is so freaky and aggressive and Goodra is so friend shaped, this is a classic duo if I’ve ever seen one. has the ability Hydration and knows Life Dew(Egg Move)/Rain Dance/Muddy Water/Power Whip

follow up thoughts:

I’m not sure if this would take place in the Pokémon world or if it’s just Call of Duty… but Pokémon exist. I’m not going to think too hard about that because it feels like opening a can of worms lol

these were just fun, I’ve been thinking about CoD x Pokémon for a couple weeks and it was nice putting this out here

I have my own Pokémon OC (Beatrice) and it was wild thinking of how she’d interact with them if this were in the Pokémon world

[the-insomniac-emporium]

She's The Skeleton In My Closet (Mia Winters/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil/Resident Lover Genre: fluff? and whatever is a step down from smut Rating: T? not quite horny enough for M. Warnings: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of death/bloodshed, and relatively minor choking in a sexual context (it's more of a hand position than actual choking). Reader is referred to as a girl once by a side character. Summary: It's the end of another loop, and Mia allows herself to get closer to you... through a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven. Notes: Inspired by two pieces of art by @vivi-ness, specifically this and this. If you want to skip to the part of this fic that actually takes place in the closet (aka the making out part), start reading after the second section break -----. I did not mean for the lead-up to be as long as it ended up being. Also might make a part 2 with actual smut?

Alone. Curled up with the brazen darkness wrapped around her like a blanket, Mia’s eyes straining, as she glanced over her notes by candlelight. Less than thirty feet away raged a party fit to shake the heavens. As with every semester, the Umbrella Sorority felt inclined to celebrate the end of exams. Blaring music, countless games on rotation, enough booze to drown the world (or set it all ablaze). Even the theatre kids know to defer to the sorority for this evening. Normally, Mia would not hesitate to join in, downing shots of whiskey and kicking ass at every other game, all the while keeping keen eyes on interesting people.

Ah, but not tonight. Not with the reset looming in the distance, date preselected. Another loop on death row. There was plenty of work to be done, mostly preparations for the ritual, but Mia’s focus was on… other matters. Scanning through old tomes, searching for something that may prove useful in the next rotation. Maybe not enough to finally end the cycle, no, of course not, just something to influence it. Push it in the right direction, despite Miranda’s many protests regarding “interference”.

But there’s a knock on the door, and Mia pauses, unsure if it was simply the bass speakers thumping the walls again. A beat passes before the knock repeats, louder this time. Off-tempo. Quickly, she places her journal aside without marking her place (she remembers, of course, that it is page 28), then blows out the candles. Even as the darkness swallows the last sanctuary of light, her movements are smooth, flowing. In one motion she flips the light switch and unlatches the door.

“What’s up?” She asks, sickly sweet and every bit faking it, staring down at the unexpected visitor. They’re a sophomore, she thinks, a small woman whose name starts with an A. Or an E, maybe. Most loops have her just barely in Mia’s peripheral, sharing a single class but never really interacting. Definitely not the person she would have wanted to come knocking at her door. Only a brief moment passes before the woman replies, her gaze briefly (and unsubtly) scanning the room, voice filled with the unironic enthusiasm that made her grate on Mia’s nerves.

“Well, we’re one person short for 7 Minutes in Heaven- we had enough people, technically, but a few left after Cassandra got picked early, you know how it is- and so I was wondering if you’d join? It’s so weird not having you at the party, anyway, really feels like we’re missing an integral piece of the vibe, you know?” Alissa (if that was her name) says, offering a lopsided smile. Faint pink dusts her freckled cheeks, only some of it being makeup. One of her hands starts to reach for Mia, to rest a flirtatious hand against her shoulder, but the flash of something darker in her expression makes Alissa pull back.

“Oh, I would love to play, but technically my exams aren’t finished,” Mia answers, sporting a half-assed pout, dragging the words out. She lets her tongue click on the t in technically for emphasis. It’s not the best excuse, especially considering Elise (or whatever her name is) also still has one final left. All because the student council took one day too long to remind a certain professor that he couldn’t force students to complete a ritual as part of their exam. Not that Mia would have minded a little school-sanctioned bloodplay, especially since she knows (from experience) that the ritual Dr. Wesker had in mind wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Mia, we both know you don’t need to study for our Occult Sciences class; you could probably teach it at this point!” Anna (Áine?) chimes, grinning wide, blissfully unaware of the true accuracy of her statement. Mia could teach the class, far better than the actual professor, although at that point it would be considerably harder to keep the university’s secrets. But that doesn’t mean she has any interest in joining the party.

Her reluctance must show, because the shorter woman (whose name may or may not be Enya) squints, lips pursing before she abruptly straightens up and switches tactics.

“Besides… your favorite person is playing,” she adds, leaning in to stage-whisper, glancing down the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Despite the confidence in her voice, Mia stares at her blankly. As much as she definitely has a favorite, the one her very soul is bound to, she finds it unlikely that Eliza would know… right? It’s not like they’ve even spent that much time together this loop. Surely she’d been able to keep her cards close to her chest; it’s not like Eliza was terribly observant anyway. Unfortunately for Mia, her thoughts get cut off by another high-pitched exclamation. “Don’t play dumb, Mia! The girl with one earring, roommates with Angie and the youngest Dimitrescu?”

Well. Fuck. So much for being subtle…

-----

Turning down Anamaria (no, not that one, the other one) became impossible the second Mia’s eyes lit up, all at the mere mention of you. Within a minute she had relented, murmuring a few choice words under her breath, allowing herself to be all but dragged to a crowded living room. It takes all of her willpower to maintain a guise of boredom, lips drawn tight as she scanned the partygoers for familiar faces. A slight tension formed in her chest as she intentionally avoided looking at the center of the room, having caught a glimpse of familiar clothing, saving the sight for last. 

Caldwell is by the back corner, playing some complicated boardgame with a mildly enthused Stanley (and a confused but nonetheless supportive Jasmin), positioned where they can keep an eye out for trouble. All three of the Stans could be found hovering by the alcohol, debating whether to leave now or wait for Cassandra to inevitably grab a refill. Somehow Anamaria (yes, that one) was half asleep, tuckered out from one too many party games, curled up against a blushing Livia. Both were chatting with Angie, who was perched precariously on the back of the couch. The only thing keeping the short girl from falling off was a hand clutching one of her belt loops, pulling as necessary to rebalance her.

As Mia’s eyes traced the hand to its owner, she inhaled sharply, the slightest flare to her nostrils. There you are. Eyes crinkled at the edges while you laugh at one of Daniela’s jokes, the sound barely audible past the music, your mouth open in a genuine, shameless grin. Mia allows herself a single moment to admire the view. Luck plays a trick on her then, your gaze suddenly shifting to her, eyes widening when you meet her stare. Immediately you look away, warmth in your face contrasting the way your shoulders tense.

If Mia hadn’t torn her gaze away, flinching like she got burned, she would have seen the way your friends reacted, the way they jumped at the opportunity to tease you. Instead, she lets herself get tugged over to a spare chair by the woman hosting the game.

“Damn, Iris, I didn’t think you’d actually convince Mia to play,” Nicoletta says, trailing her eyes up and down Mia, appreciatively, before turning to the one who had dragged her here. Guess her name doesn’t start with an A or an E after all, Mia thinks, before shrugging off the attention. None of these people know her terribly well, beyond reputation, and she can’t be bothered to unpack why they wanted her here.

“I mean, I kind of had to, with how hard Iris was begging me,” Mia says, pointedly ignoring their gazes in favor of inspecting her nails (short, smoothed over, no polish today). Protests stream from next to her, while a few chuckles rise up around the room. A smirk crosses her lips as she makes eye contact with Iris. Before the woman can explain that Mia only agreed because you’re playing, she speaks up again, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she does. “So, are we drawing names from a hat or what?”

“Close, half of us already put a trinket or whatever in the bag. Anyone who didn’t put one in gets to draw one at some point,” Iris explains, eager to move past the embarrassment from Mia’s lie. “Since you had to be… convinced, you can go ahead and be the one to draw next. Once the lovebirds in the closet are done, that is!”

Nodding, Mia withdrew into herself again, content to sit in silence until her turn. Why had she agreed to this, exactly?... It’s not as if she’s ideologically opposed to party games, but she’d always been more of a fan of the ones that involve drinking. Maybe spin-the-bottle, if she was in the mood for it. But Seven Minutes In Heaven? Too time-consuming, and absolute torture if one got stuck with the wrong partner. What were the odds she’d even get paired up with you? Was that even what she wanted?

Something about this particular loop was messing with her head. Every other one so far involved you falling in love with somebody, even if it ended poorly. But this time?... She had been sure you’d end up with Daniela or Angie, with the way you pushed studies aside for parties, never officially joining the sorority but being a frequent guest at their dorm. Living it up, only getting serious when you helped break Daniela’s curse (not because you loved her, but because you love her, the same way you pour your heart into loving all of your friends).

That’s why the reset was looming overhead, of course. Your faith in Miranda lay shattered, if it had ever existed in the first place, your distrust a crime she considered worthy of oblivion. Any life where you would not love her was, to Miranda, a life unfit to continue.

Mia gets pulled out of her thoughts by a door opening, old hinges squawking in protest. Two flustered women readjust their clothing as they exit the closet, both sporting bright red cheeks, utterly oblivious to the fact that they had swapped shirts. Naturally, they are not allowed to remain ignorant for long, a chorus forming of drunken cheers and teasing remarks. Not everyone focuses on the couple, however, and Mia feels the weight of someone’s gaze on her.

Once more she looks to you, just in time for you to look away, although this time she notices something odd: You aren’t wearing your earring. How interesting. Suddenly she finds herself itching to take her turn, but she suppresses her thirst, not wanting to earn any gentle ribbing from the others. Another minute passes before the paper bag actually gets passed to her, Iris winking as their fingers brush up against each other. Maintaining eye contact, Mia reaches into the bag, offering a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

There are still five or six items inside, some of them in familiar shapes. A watch with a cracked face, one of those tiny skateboards (a Tech Deck, maybe?), a basic bracelet… None of them interest her, but it only takes another second for her to grasp her target, the cool surface smooth under her touch. Carefully, she retrieves it, ensuring the earring doesn’t snag on any of the other items.

With a triumphant smirk, she holds it up in the light. Although disappointment shows in Iris’ face, Mia can’t help but notice the way Daniela nudges your side with a knowing grin. Even Angie turns to whisper something in your ear, almost tumbling off the couch with how hard she laughs at the instant flush to your face, exasperation clear in your posture. Nonetheless, you rise on shaky legs, not meeting Mia’s gaze as the two of you move towards the unoccupied closet…

-----

“Have fun in there! Seven minutes starts when the door closes,” Iris chimes, having readopted her mask of overexcited joy, all but pushing you in after Mia. There’s a sharp click right after, the door settling into place. Another click, softer, and the small space becomes sparsely illuminated. You blink a few times to adjust to the dim lighting, glancing up in time to see Mia… on her phone? Before you can question her, she taps a button and sets it down on one of the shelves behind her, and you catch a glimpse of a timer on the screen.

“Six and a half minutes,” she says, as if that was all the explanation needed. Then she’s leaning forward, expression blank, hands reaching out to-... put your earring back where it belongs. It’s an oddly intimate experience, feeling out of place in a game that focused on a different kind of intimacy. If only it lasted longer than a few moments. Once she pulls away, there’s a noticeable flush to her cheeks. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch us in a compromising position, right?”

Despite her words, Mia makes no further moves to touch you. One hand fiddles with the hem of her jacket, the other tucks her own hair behind her ear, the movement awkward in the cramped space. It’s easy enough to mistake her countenance for a kind of nervousness. Playing wasn’t her idea, after all, and you feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited about getting paired with her. Could she tell? Was she worried by the thundering of your heart, by the warmth of your presence?

Internally, however, Mia is struck with the sudden urge for her favorite brand of intimacy: Violence. Of the last eighteen times she was this close to you, with your breath just barely ghosting her skin, sixteen of those meetings had ended with homicide, attempted or otherwise. Gods, it was her curse, to only know your touch when she initiated it with heavy hands. To be so well acquainted with the feeling of your blood on her skin that it has become more familiar than her own. When was she last able to touch you without the many promises of pain? Can she even trust herself to love without consuming?

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I know you probably weren’t planning on this tonight,” you say, softly, offering a weak smile. Now you’re the nervous one, rubbing your arm as if the sensation might smooth out your anxiety. It’s not until you feel Mia lean the slightest bit forward that you dare to meet her gaze. Something haunts her expression, lying beneath the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Before you can even blink, she’s brought her hand back up, cupping your chin and making sure your gaze never leaves hers.

“And if I do want to do something?” Mia whispers. One of her fingers shifts, gently tracing over the front of your throat. If only you knew how excited she got by the feeling of your heart racing beneath her fingertips. In contrast, she is all the more aware of the way your breath hitches at her touch. The way you look up at her with dilated pupils makes her every bit hungrier. Just one taste, she thinks, eying your lips. How was it fair that in all these loops, she had never once gotten to kiss you? “Tell me you want this. Say it, or I go right now, game be damned.”

She knows it’s not fair to put that pressure on you, to make you choose that very second. But she doesn’t care, not at all, not when she knows you’re already on the brink of giving in.

“Please, Mia,” you say, voice almost whiny from sudden need, a hand moving to clutch her jacket. More words get stuck in your throat, a part of your mind still keenly aware of how swiftly the mood has changed. Had Mia ever been nervous? Maybe, maybe just not the way you had interpreted her to be. No traces of hesitation can be found in her expression as she slides her hand lower, fingers resting on either side of your neck, only enough pressure for you to really feel her. A silent urging for you to spill the rest of your plea. “I want you.” You swallow hard, trapped by her touch, yet desperate for more. “I want this. Please. Please kiss me.”

In an instant she’s pulled you forward, lips crashing against yours; her hand on your throat is the anchor tying her to you. All other thoughts are crushed under the weight of her messy embrace. There’s just her. Instinct drives your movements, all of the desire that had built up this semester coalescing into a kiss, into the way your hand ends up fisted in her hair, the other sliding beneath her jacket to grasp at her shirt.

Mia’s fingers never tighten around your neck, never put any pressure on your windpipe, yet they still hold power over you. It’s her movement that changes the angle, that deepens the kiss until your lips part for her. You swear you can feel her hunger, the need radiating from her, and yet you have no idea how much she is truly holding back. Every bit of your hunger was matched and exceeded by her.

Your feelings, hidden until now, had gnawed at your heart for half a year. Hers had hounded her for countless loops. The hand on your throat is a warning to herself, arm a barrier to keep her from coming any closer. It’s not enough, her free hand itching to touch and tug, to begin unraveling you. Mia presses the hand to the wall behind you, clenching it into a fist. That might have done the trick… if not for the way you shift a moment later. As soon as your thigh starts to slot between her own, she throws out any sense of caution, giving in to this one chance to be with you.

“So eager for me,” Mia murmurs, having pulled back for just a moment, finally pulling her hand from your neck (you miss it, miss the warmth, miss her guidance). There’s a split second where you think you see love in her eyes- and then your back is flat against the wall, both her hands on your hips, her mouth pressing open kisses along your jaw. A tug encourages you to move your thigh again, letting her seek out that friction she so desperately needs. “So fucking good to me,” she whispers, breath hot against your cheek.

Then she’s practically nipping at your throat, relishing your gasp, only to eagerly soothe the skin with gentle kisses. Something like a growl leaves her as she starts to grind against your thigh, grip on your hips growing tighter. Each moment has the kisses growing more intense again, paired with more soft bites, making it harder and harder to keep yourself from moaning. When her hands start rubbing circles against you, it becomes impossible to stay completely quiet.

Both a blessing and a curse, your sound comes at the same time that Mia’s phone starts to vibrate, signaling the end of your time together. Instantly she’s peeling herself off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, muttering a few swears in between shaky breaths. Following her lead, you try to smooth out your clothing and collect yourself. But that’s much easier said than done, neither of you satisfied at leaving things here, both itching to finish what you started.

“You should stay,” Mia starts to say, shrugging off her jacket. Each word sounds like she has to force it out. “After the party ends. I could… I could use the company.” This time the words come easier, accompanied with a crooked grin, and she doesn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders, covering up the marks she definitely left all over your throat. More than that, it’s her way of making sure everyone knows that you’re with her tonight.

The door swings open before you have a chance to respond to her offer. For a moment the light feels blinding, and when you reopen your eyes you see that Mia’s already started walking away, ignoring the reactions of other partygoers. You would be disappointed… but this is the first time you’ve seen her without a jacket, and now you find yourself with a new appreciation for her arms, already picturing yourself getting pinned beneath her. Something to look forward to later tonight, you suppose.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any error x nightmare fluff? Preferably cannon personalitys 🩷

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

I'll hate you as you hold me by Casual_Spectatee (Mature, Incomplete)

Nightmare has always had an interest in Error. From the moment he saw the Destroyer in action, he wanted that kind of power on his side. He imagined the terror he could bring if forced the Destroyer himself into submission and to assist him. Error does not give two fucks about Nightmare's dreams, he isn't fucking going to help that prick until God himself walks down and threatens him with eternal hell, and even then, he'd still prefer hell for the rest of his existence than to spend a single minute with Nightmare. Unfortunately for Error, Nightmare is set on getting the Destroyer to work with him one way or another. If that means helping Error for nothing in return, so be it. Error just wishes that it wasn't all such a common thing to wake up in the beds of his two worst enemies, because they all have shitty fucking blankets and he's getting sick of it.

To Trust A Nightmare by Otletes (Mature, Incomplete)

Error has been alone longer than he cares to think about. He's been insane longer than he likes to think about as well, but now he's come back from that insanity. He knows that he has to continue destroying, for the sake of the multiverse, so he's accepted that he will always be alone, in his cold white space. One day though he finds himself watching Nightmare and his gang, it becomes his new favorite pass time. He can't remember much of the dark skeleton, but watching him now, he can't help, but wonder… could this be a group that he'd be accepted in? A place where he could have a family? … Find love? Or will he fall back into insanity and remain alone?

Working through issues with a shunned diety by Hellian_Eden, Jesus_fox (General Audiences, Incomplete)

The Multiverse is vast and nigh infinite, possibilities, concepts, the very function of a world's reality only limited by sheer creativity. Within this realm, Dreamtale exists as an enigma, plucked from another Multiverse entirely. The tragedy of it's Story forced to continue beyond it's Endings, for it forced the concept of Balance into the Multiverse's rules. Now open-ended, the only two Characters wanders throughout the Multiverse as one of it's Outcodes. Dream broke out of stone to one colorful and curious Inkblot, so much to comprehend for someone so small. But alive nonetheless. Nightmare woke up freshly dead. Au: Get it? Cuzhe died lmao

Your memory has faded [BEING REWRITTEN] by unalivedcow (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Nightmare doesn’t remember anything after his transformation, leaving Error devastated. [BEING REWRITTEN] ! spoilers below ! (By the way this is based off a real life scenario of a man with Alzheimer’s forgetting he was married and falling back in love with his wife but I just tweaked it a bit)

Eclipsed by You by BadOmen (Mature, Incomplete)

A gentle breeze drapes the landscape like a soft blanket, with a lone figure standing atop a grassy hill. Feeling disconnected from the world and neglected by his busy brother, he’s on the brink of losing himself. His hopelessness drives him to the edge of fleeing from his own despair. But a planned encounter in the snowy expanse of a fading universe brings an unexpected twist. There, amidst the winter wonderland, he meets a warm and friendly face who gradually draws him out of his shell. Caught between the desire to retreat from this newfound kindness and the urge to let his walls crumble, he faces a profound choice. The story follows Geno and Night, two monsters from separate AUs—Who eventually turn to Error and Nightmare. Geno, struggling with his own emotional barriers, meets Nightmare in his gentler form. Together, they recognize their shared scars—both physical and emotional. Nightmare, self-conscious about his shattered eye socket, finds solace in Geno, whose own eye is also damaged. Through companionship, they agree to keep each other at arms length, perhaps sharing more than just laughter.

Here's a few more fics that are similar to what you're asking for!