#it hurts my back and my joints and it takes me forever and it's always stupid bright outside and i hate kicking the rakes and it's never

[skrunksthatwunk]

jumpscared by least favorite seasonal chore

[steddieas-shegoes]

CONGRATS ON 3000!!! ❤️ That’s so exciting!

For the ask game, I’d love to see your take on the song Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy! (I vibe with “Scar-crossed lovers forever” as a Steddie-coded lyric but honestly whatever comes to mind for you when you hear the song is great!)

Congrats again!! 💕🎉

Thank you! I got a few different steddie-coded lyrics from this song, but the one you provided is good for something short, so I’m sticking with that! ♥️

〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wayne specifically asked him to stop coming to the Harrington parties, didn’t want him to risk being caught when they inevitably got shut down.

He knows he’d be in deep shit if a cop managed to catch him and see what he had in his lunchbox.

But one of his best customers insisted he stop by, promising he knew enough people would buy his entire inventory. He wouldn’t have to stay long.

“That’ll be $30 for the bag, or $10 if you just want a joint,” Eddie told one of the girls who always gave him dirty looks in the hall to cover up the hungry look she gave him at parties.

“What about the harder stuff?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Don’t have any on me,” he rolled his eyes. They should know by now he only handles those items when requested.

“Fine. Just a joint then.”

He exchanges his product for her money, another addition to his savings that seemed to constantly dwindle on useless. He never stopped trying though.

She was his last customer in the line that had built up in the kitchen, so he decided to make his way to the backyard to finish up. Not many people usually hung out there when it was this chilly outside, but he had to give it a shot.

The patio surrounding the pool was absent of people, but he decided to take that as a sign that he needed a minute alone.

He heard a sniffle and his head shot over to the table in the corner of the covered area.

“Harrington?”

What the hell was he even doing out here? Was he crying?

“I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jesus. He sounded like someone had tried to strangle him. Was he sick?

“Dude, you okay?” Eddie steps closer, hopes he doesn’t end up regretting choosing kindness. “It’s kinda cold out here.”

Steve was sitting in a chair, knees up to his chest, arms around his legs. His face was half-buried in his knees, but Eddie could still make out the shivering.

“Yeah. Just needed some air.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here long without a jacket, man.”

Steve didn’t respond.

Eddie was actually growing more concerned for him, like maybe he’d been drugged with something and couldn’t move.

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie snaps his fingers in Steve’s face, relaxing slightly when he glares up at him with surprisingly clear, but watery eyes. “You need a jacket.”

“I’m fine. Go back inside.”

“You won’t be if you sit out here much longer. You’ll freeze to death. And then I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing I could have stopped it by making you go inside and I’ll die feeling guilty.”

Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it make Steve give the tiniest smile and lift his head to look at him completely? Also yes.

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

There was a cut under Steve’s left eye, and as his eyes adjust to the light coming from the windows, he sees a purple bruise surrounding most of the left side of his face.

“What happened?”

“The crown was pretty heavy when it fell,” Steve laughs without humor.

Eddie feels his stomach sink further.

“Who did this?”

It’s not like Eddie could do much, but maybe he could at least make sure he didn’t sell to the guy.

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve placed his legs down, careful, like he was trying not to hurt himself more. “You got anything left?”

Eddie should say no. He should leave now, head to the comfort and warmth of the trailer, forget about this interaction entirely. Maybe give one awkward head nod to Steve at school on Monday as an acknowledgment he didn’t forget, but won’t say anything to anyone.

“Just the one joint. You want it?” Eddie set his lunchbox on the table across from Steve and sat down.

“How much?” Steve turned to face him, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Free for the host.”

That’s not something Eddie ever did, but if anyone needed it, it was Steve.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I am. You got a lighter on you?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then I light it and get the first drag. Deal?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie is gonna regret this entire interaction, but of all his regrets, it’s probably pretty low on the list, so he pulls his lighter out and does exactly what he said he would.

Steve is watching him so intensely, it’s almost enough to make him blush. He won’t, he hopes, but it’s a hell of an effort.

“This why you’re sitting out here instead of enjoying your party?” Eddie asked as he hands over the joint.

“Part of it,” Steve takes a long drag. “Just tired of it.”

“Tired of what?”

“All of it.”

An alarm starts going off in Eddie’s head, a reminder that Steve may seem like he’s got the entire world, but those who hold the world tend to lose their grip.

“All of it meaning…”

“All of this. The parties, the people who only like me because I have money and throw parties, the popularity contest I didn’t even ask to participate in, the fucking concussions and nightmares. I’m just-“ Steve takes another drag. “I’m just tired. You should go back inside.”

Eddie watches him lean back in his chair, his shirt riding up and exposing just enough of his stomach to see a scar. The moonlight reflects off the lighter line of skin.

“Nah. Kinda like it out here. It’s quiet. Company ain’t bad either.”

Steve looks back at him with a frown. “Don’t have to pretend to like me, dude. Everyone else already does that enough.”

“Who said I like you? I’m tolerating you.” Eddie smirks, waits for Steve to recognize he’s joking. When Steve relaxes, he nods towards the scar on Steve’s stomach. “Appendix?”

“What?” Steve glances down. “Oh. Yeah. When I was 12.”

“I was 14 when I got mine out,” Eddie lifts his layers to show off his matching scar. “My Uncle Wayne thought I was dying. He didn’t even know what an appendix was, let alone that it can cause all this trouble.”

“Yeah. My parents weren’t home when mine ruptured so I had to call the neighbors.”

Eddie frowns down at the table. “They leave you alone a lot? Even then?”

“Yeah. Not a big deal. I made it through okay.”

Okay isn’t the word Eddie would describe, but Eddie didn’t wanna argue.

“You eat a ridiculous amount of ice cream after?” Eddie’s smile grew when Steve nodded. “I convinced Wayne it was the only thing I could eat for nearly a week after.”

Steve laughed, Eddie smiles.

“You got a nice laugh, Harrington.”

He watches as Steve gets red in the face, a beautiful blush covering his cheeks and spreading down his neck.

“Not sure the last time I really laughed,” Steve admitted.

“Shame.”

Eddie stood up, grabbed his lunchbox, and walked around to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked up at him with glassy eyes, the high already sinking in.

“Want me to clear everyone out?” Eddie shouldn’t offer that, or anything. But Steve looks so lost, so tired.

“Nah. It’s nice just not being alone, even if it’s people I don’t like.”

“That’s fucked, man.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve shrugged. “Thanks for the weed.”

“Anytime.”

Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the one drag of the joint he’d taken, maybe it’s the cold air, or maybe it’s just that annoying crush he’s had on Steve Harrington for years.

He reaches out, cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, and holds him for just a moment.

Neither of them say anything when Steve leans into it.

They don’t say anything when Eddie pulls away with a sad smile.

They won’t talk about it again at school.

But when Steve saves Eddie from the Upside Down a full year later, when he’s sitting at his bedside cupping Eddie’s cheek in his hand, they both seem to remember at the same time.

“We’ve got two matching scars now, Harrington.”

“Don’t think the appendix has anything on demobat scars, Munson.”

“What happened to calling me honey? I liked that.”

“What happened to sweetheart?”

Eddie let out a small laugh. “You’re gonna be trouble, sweetheart.”

“But I’m gonna be your trouble, honey.”

[shy-urban-hobbit]

“I mean, you’ve got to feel a little sorry for them really haven’t you?” Jaskier said from where he was mopping up the last of the evidence of the half dead rat Roach had thoughtfully decided to gift them (the first time it happened he’d shrieked in surprise before Geralt put it out of its misery with a matter of fact “Welcome to country living, city boy”). Geralt gave a non committal hum from where he was warming milk up for Ciri on the stove. The little girl sat colouring at the large kitchen table - too large for two, but that would change when Geralt’s brothers and any guests they decided to bring descended on them.

“I mean they’re just minding their own business like, Oh I’m a hungry rat. Please don’t kill me.” Here Jaskier put on a slightly squeaky voice and held up his hands in imitation of paws, still holding onto the mop, “And then wham one of the last things they see is Roach’s teeth coming towards them. So many teeth.” He gave the resident farm cat a critical stare and received a dismissive tail flick in response.

Ciri giggled at his antics which caused him to grin back at her in return. It always felt like a special sort of personal victory when he managed to coax a laugh out of the little girl.

Despite being together for six months, he was still being introduced to her as her father’s ‘friend’ (which was true enough, they wouldn’t be dating if they didn’t get along) and Jaskier was happy to go along with it. Geralt had explained without revealing too much that the little one had been let down by too many adults in her life already, himself included, and ‘boyfriend’ was maybe just a little too official sounding for the time being (and if he said his heart hadn’t broken a little for the five year old smiling at him from Geralt’s phone, he’d by lying), especially after the shit that had gone down with his ex. Geralt hadn’t gone into detail but from what Jaskier had gathered, the woman had had a hidden agenda in wanting to get back with Geralt and Ciri had almost gotten seriously hurt as a result. Geralt had blamed himself for jumping back into the relationship too quickly and so, any potential partners now had to pass what Jaskier had dubbed ‘The Ciri test’.  

He liked to think he’d passed the first portion with flying colours, the tiny blonde seeming perfectly comfortable with him in public places. Now they were dipping their toes into Jaskier staying in their home for longer periods, with Jaskier having graduated from the guest bedroom to sharing with Geralt the previous visit (the brunette wanting the ground to swallow him up when she happily informed her Uncle Eskel of ‘Daddy’s sleepover’ when the man had dropped by unexpectedly the following morning. Geralt had just shrugged and told him to be thankful it hadn’t been Lambert; who could and would, happily take the piss forever).

“Alright Ciri, put your things away and then go get your bedtime book. I’ll be in in a minute.” Geralt said, pouring the warm milk into a plastic My Little Pony cup.

“I want Jask.” Ciri declared form where she was trying to force the crayons back into their box by the (relatively small) handful, Causing both adults to stop what they’d been doing and stare at one another. This was new.

“You sure you don’t want daddy?” Jaskier asked, looking to Geralt for some sign as to what he should do.

“You do better funny voices. Daddy’s all sound the same.”

It took everything Jaskier had not to burst out laughing at that as he took in the minute eye twitch from the other man at that statement, “Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, “Mind if I stay and listen? You know how much I love The Gruffalo.”

Jaskier snorted and felt a surge of fondness. The lies we tell for our children.

It ended up being a joint effort, with Geralt guest starring as The Gruffalo “On account of you being so, well...gruff.” and admitting to a slightly too smug looking Jaskier and a mostly asleep Ciri that “Yes, Jaskier does better voices for everyone else. Especially Mouse.”

"Everything ok? You’ve gone all quiet on me.” Jaskier said from where he had his head in Geralt’s lap as they watched some mindless Netflix show. “I didn’t overstep did I?” He was suddenly frantic, his anxieties bubbling back up to the surface now that he didn’t have a performance and an audience to focus on, “I know you probably just said yes so things wouldn’t be awkward. I probably should have told her no and come up with an excuse but how can anybody say no to that face-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine, honestly.” Geralt said, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arm in a way he knew calmed him, “I’ve built up something of an immunity to Ciri’s puppy eyes. I would’ve said no if I had a problem with it. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I might have a question for Ciri.”

The next morning saw Jaskier seeing both of them off with a hug (also accompanied by fishing a stray cheerio out of Ciri’s hair which he had been too tired to question) before heading back to his city apartment and his job as a music tutor.

“Ciri?” Geralt asked, putting her school backpack by the door as he knelt down to help her button up her coat, “You know how Aiden is Uncle Lambert’s boyfriend?"

It had slowly been killing Jaskier not to check his phone as soon as the text notification came through but he was nothing if not professional and he would not check his phone when he was in the middle of a lesson. Thank the Gods he did wait as he was prettu sure he gave his retreating student a minor heart attack with the squeal he let out at Geralt’s message:

‘Ciri has been proudly announcing to her classmates this morning that Jaskier is her daddy’s boyfriend. Much disappointment from the single mums.’

[what-have-i-unleashed]

chasing infinity

@howlsofbloodhounds for you my most enabling moot. i think this is way harder to write than anything i've written before so...

shamelessly ripping off arrival (2016) and story of your life. go watch/read it!!

(cw: suicidal ideation, abuse)

chara is about to turn their back on me as they excitedly go on and on about another game that they've thought of. i want to imprint every detail of this moment in my mind. the cadence of their cheerful speech, the unsuspecting smile on their face, the weight of my knife hidden in the sleeves of my jacket.

this is it. this is when it will all change. an end of a story, and a beginning of another one.

years from now, you'll have heard of this moment recounted by me. we will be sitting in a cafe at the corner of a small street as i finish my story. i will laugh at the gobsmacked expression on your face, and you'll splutter, your rainbow-colored flames sparkling like fireworks.

"what type of story is that?" you'll ask me.

"a tragedy," i'll say, sipping on my piping hot milk coffee. "as life is wont to be."

you'll argue that reality is not a story with a definitive end, and i'll humor you. i can't help but wonder though, what the genre of our story is. i've been wondering for a while. i know how the story will end - i've known for a while. in thousands of you's and me's out there, our story repeats itself over and over again, but i don't think i was, am, and will be tired of it. i wish i could tell you about our story some day, but we'll never have the chance.

i haven't understood how to feel about it, and i doubt i will ever do either.

i guess it is cliche to start the story at the very beginning, but maybe it is warranted. it was disorienting - the moment of birth. the softness of the golden flowers enveloped me, but it was small comfort in the face of the pain shooting across my body. everything about it felt wrong - the broken joints, the hollow face, the nakedness. and yet, it was right.

people say babies are born with limited eyesight that develop slowly after time. but i am doomed to forever be cocooned in infancy - a broken prototype of a being, just good enough to be allowed to exist with the rest of the world.

chara didn't mind me. "hello, partner," they said to me, minutes after i started to exist. i couldn't see them, only able to hear to voice so close to my head. "are you ready for the rest of your life?"

the secret is, i'm always ready. like that one time your friend delta will begrudgingly invite both of us to a hangout, i'll grab an umbrella on my way out. delta will look at me strangely.

"it's scorching today. what are you taking an umbrella for?" he'll ask.

"killer often has a sixth sense when it comes to unexpected things," you'll chime in for me. "and it doesn't hurt being prepared."

delta will squint his eyes at me, who will sport a not-so-innocent smile. "really?"

"really," you'll say before i can say anything, knowing that i'd cause a scene just outside the door just to rile the hotheaded skeleton monster up. "let's just go now, shall we?"

we'll leave our house that we'll have chosen together just three months before. the food at the bar that delta will bring us to will be just average, but you'll enjoy the atmosphere too much for me to say any disparaging comments. we'll sit together in a secluded booth - just the two of us - listening to terrible music and watching as the first snow rain fall down on the street. your hand will hold mine as i'll put my head on your shoulders, finally still.

waterfall is chara's favorite place to visit after new home. there is that one statue in the rainy corridor that they like to visit from time to time, most of the times without me. it is easy to tell that is a weakness to look into, but for some reasons i always refrained myself from doing so. too late now anyway.

like usual, chara took two umbrellas in the bin but neither of them was for me. i was ordered to leave them for an indefinite amount of time, and of course i had to be productive during that free time: finding flowey, finding the remaining survivors, finding new ways to entertain chara.

i went to the echo flower field this time. the usual scripted dialogue lines repeated themselves over and over across the field. i was trying to find anything new, anything that would indicate another change in this game, in this script, that would intrigue chara. this time, i found one.

"hey, do you think we're stuck here forever?"

"why would you think so?"

"... i don't know. it's just a feeling i have lately. everything's been too much."

"... yeah, i understand what you mean. but hey! maybe this won't be the end! maybe we'll get through this." a strained laughter followed. "come on, you're such a pessimist. it's good to practice some radical optimism once in a while, you know?"

"maybe. it's just difficult to have hope when everything is so, well, hopeless." silence. and then, "if you knew this would happen, what would you have done differently?"

"hmm i don't know-"

"-maybe i'd have tried to visit people i love more. tell them what i feel before, well, this happened."

"that's all you'd do?"

"like i said! i don't know what i'd have done. you're the one randomly asking me this!"

"mmmm sorry..."

"hey, no need to apologize. i know you're just as anxious about this as i am."

"don't want to make you feel sad, habibi."

"i'm not. being with you, it's the best thing to happen to me. i wouldn't have done anything differently."

it will be a full four years after we start to live together that you say the word. and i'll freeze. the world will stop as if waiting for what i'll say back to you.

"i love you too," i'll say, and you'll beam, arms carefully hugging my smaller body. i don't know what emotions i'll be feeling at that moment. logically, happiness. most likely, guilt.

i'll be thinking about what i think right now, and i'll laugh at it.

the medics will tell me that it is an inevitable conclusion of your condition, that they are extremely sorry for me to hear this. i'll tell them it's all fine, that i've expected this. and i'll know they won't believe me.

i know illnesses like i know my own body and soul - there's no difference between them. i remember the way the insides of my body burned for the first time, the agony, the delirium. it felt wrong, but it was so right at the same time. this was how i was supposed to be - this is how i will always be. and i've accepted that a long time ago.

chara once used my body as a flower bed. strangely, it was one of the most peaceful game they played with me. just lie there in the dirt and play dead - easy enough. the way the dirt was deposited into my skeleton frame was uncomfortable, but thankfully not painful. chara has always been interested in gardening, but they lack the patience for it. but this time, as they said, this time they would get it right.

"what do you want to grow?" i'd asked them before all of this, as i prepared to lie down in the pit i'd dug for myself with my bare fingers. it'd taken a long while, and my fingers were all sore and dirty by the time i was done.

"buttercups," chara hummed. "i miss them around here. asgore never has them anymore."

i didn't question how chara knew. i didn't question why they cared. i just accepted the answer as it was and plopped my body beneath the dirt. chara had taken care to put my soul somewhere else. somewhere safe. it was nice of them to do so, i thought.

my body, with all its needs, was nothing but a burden anyway.

i don't know if being with you will fix me. i don't know if you care about it. i don't understand you, truly. i wonder if i will.

but i don't have infinite time to think. the world doesn't stop when i languish in thoughts. i'll have infinite time later, but never now.

so i'll remember this moment - this last moment between me and a dead child who has been here for too long. i knew this would happen, that everything would come to this point. and then after this, there will be more to come. there will always be more to come. so i hold my knife above chara's head as their back is fully turned. after them, there will be another, then another, then another, then one day it will be you.

i can't wait to see you.

[neteyamyawne]

Inferno : Ignite ✦

Pairing: twin!neteyam x sister!reader x Sully family

Summary : y/n and neteyam were inseparable twins but as they grew up things got difficult with humans coming back on Pandora, they both got distant and neglected by their own in the process, what would be their next step? (For more info click on the summary link)

Parts : pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5

• Series masterlist

Angst ✦

❈ Warnings : angst, fighting, yelling, cursing, crying, bad parenting, ignorance, brother and sister Bonding, jealous (platonic), favouritism , regret, groveling, sad ending, toxic Jake? , Hurt no comfort, even more crying? Etc. Let me know if more.

❈ Word count : 4.2k , proof read.

❈ Note : I love neteyam and want him to live his best life, so this is my tribute to him 🤧

"word" - dialogue

❈ Glossary : omaticaya - avatar Navi clan, tsahik - spiritual leader of Navi clans, Olo'eyktan - leader of Navi clans, eywa - Navi deity , tsarekam - tsahik in training, ma'sa'nok - my mother, y/i/n - your ikran name, seze - blue flower (neteyam's ikran) , paysyul - water flower, sempul - father , y/n - your name.

The omaticaya clan was bustling with life and joy as their tsahik has given birth to their Olo'eyktan's first offsprings, though it was uncommon for twins to be born and were called sacred and gifts given by eywa herself as twins either kills the mother or one of them dies at the time of birth but this time it was a miracle as neytiri survived that painful period of time and came back alive with two beautiful children in her arms.

Neteyam and y/n were the pride and joy of Jake and neytiri's life, y/n being the absolute daddy's princess and clung to him with every given minute , he took her everywhere he could, strapping her to his chest and taking her to war meetings as the surrounding warriors didn't even dare to think about commenting on the sight in front of them, while y/n was with Jake, neteyam was a mama's boy and neytiri could never let Jake live down to it, always flaunting how her son always wants her and not him and his comeback is always how much y/n wants him but the banter always ends up with the four of them cuddling together in the hammock as they all drift to sleep.

»»————-　⚜ ————-««

Neteyam and y/n were like sun and moon, if one is leading the other follows right after, and that's how it always was, y/n would lead and neteyam would follow her, though they both never disobeyed their father's words, Jake was their role model, both y/n and neteyam followed Jake's orders as if there was no tomorrow but they still had their moments when suddenly neytiri became their favorite because now Jake wanted nothing more but pick them up and tickle them until they were convulsing in fits of laughter.

If y/n was seen somewhere then neteyam was surely around the same ground and vice versa so if any of the kids picked on one of them the other immediately stood up for them, the twins were inseparable, joint to the hips if you must and the village nothing but adored them, they were the future Olo'eyktan and tsahik in making afterall but even before that everyone just loved them for their bubbly and calm nature.

Jake carried y/n on his shoulder while neytiri held neteyam as they both walked towards the lake they all visited every week, but today was different, today they had news which would change the twins life probably forever….

»»————- ⚜ ————-««

Jake and neytiri both sat near the twins as they watched their kids run around chasing each other and splashing water every now and then, meanwhile Jake got distracted and seeing the opportunity the twins splashed water at their old man with all their might drenching Jake from head to toe while all neytiri did was laugh at the sight, huffing Jake got up and stormed towards the kids, picking them up , the squeals and laughter ringing through the forest, he threw both of them in the water gently, all the while laughing at the whole scene, soon it was getting dark as they cuddled together, that's when the parents decided to tell the news, "neteyam, y/n" neytiri started, she looked at Jake once more and he nodded for her to go forward " you know you both are brother and sister right now, hmm?" Both the kids just nodded their head, their little brains confused about why their mother is stating the obvious, "well, now you both will get to be big brother and sister in few months" but their confusion was still there as they looked at their father for clarification, Jake just smiled and said "well what mommy is saying that, there will be another person for you to play with in time, then you'd be big siblings to them" but the only thing the twins focused on was 'they will have another person to play with them!'.

Soon enough Two babies joined the family and the twins couldn't be any more happier, y/n held her baby brother, looking at her twin who held her new baby sister as well, they both smiled, Jake and neytiri were happy they accepted the new ones with so much enthusiasm, both the elder kids adored the babies, always carrying them, feeding then and taking care of them, neytiri and Jake have to plead with them to hold them because they never let the babies out of their sight, their protectiveness doubling over those little ones, and to add to it , tuktirey joined the family in the next two years, happiness was an understatement for the bustling family right now.

Jake and neytiri tried to not keep favorites and divide their attention but having 5 kids to take care of made them take the decisions, even though neteyam and y/n were the dream kids ,that made them have lo'ak in the first place, with little to no crying and obedient as ever, eywa blessed them with lo'ak and kiri that we're complete opposite of their older siblings, lo'ak got into trouble and kiri followed without a doubt, always together and tuk was tuk, in y/n's eyes tuk could do no wrong, she was her little baby sister after all. It had been a few years now, life was simple, everything was perfect…. Until it wasn't.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Humans were back, they destroyed everything, again, took our newly built hometree, destroying it to the ground, and changing our lives forever.

~ y/n pov ~

It has been years now, since our former home was destroyed and those humans claimed our land without our permission, though the humans which lived with us helped us so much but they could only do little, raids became more frequent and dad's behavior changed with it, he insisted on me, neteyam and lo'ak calling him sir, drilling us into work, practices , and chores all throughout the day without a break, training was different other than that, it was like we didn't even have space to breath.

I sigh walking through the tent with 'teyam and lo'ak, tired as hell from today's work, i just wanted to nibble on some food and pass out in the hammock, sitting down near the circle i took ahold of my plate, nete' sat beside me and lo'ak on his left, kiri and dad sat side by side in front of me, mom in between lo'ak and kiri with tuk in her arms. I started eating my portion when my eyes fell on my sister who was talking and smiling with the man beside her, oh how long has it been seeing him smile like that, he never smiled at us anymore except for kiri and tuk or sometimes mom, i forgot about the food in my hand as i only stared at their interaction. I felt jealous, i know that i shouldn't be jealous of my own goddamn sister! But i was and it was gnawing at me, she gets to call him dad, she gets away with anything while i get scolded for hours for the same mistake, he took away my title of tsarekam and gave it to her because "she is more connected to eywa and can feel her more clearly" and i said nothing and happily agreed because c'mon she's my sister and i can see that she could be a better tsahik than me but it still hurts that he was the one initiating it. I was then named and trained to become neteyam's right hand in command after he became the Olo'eyktan.

Even after the other title, i just longed for my old dad, the one who pulled me close and comforted me and not scold the hell of me for it, he says "it's part of the training" or "it's my fault i should own up to it" after a mistake i did, while kiri gets the opposite. My mood just depleted more when i saw him laugh out loud for something she said, i was brought out of my trance when neteyam nudge me with his knee and i looked at him, he tilted his head giving me soft eyes conveying that he sees it too but i just shook my head, too annoyed at them to reply to him. I pushed my plate, losing my appetite all together, I got up thanking ma' sa'nok for the meal and walked out telling them I was going to feed y/i/n. I walked out to feed her/him but I didn't tell them how exactly I was going to do it. I always had my visor with me anyways.

I soared through the mountains, wind blowing through my hair but even this wasn't helping to lighten up my mood. The forest glowed beneath me, the eclipse will happen soon but I wanted to make every minute count before I have to go back. my thoughts were interrupted as a sudden gust of wind blew from my side, i knew who it was before i saw him, i just nudged him back, his laughter rang out. We twisted and twirled around each other, loops and drops forming in the air as we played for a while, afterwards we landed near a tree and let our mounts hunt for their food.

I sat with my knees tucked to my chest and my arms wrapping around them, my cheek pressed into my knee as I looked at neteyam, who was leaning on his hands, legs dangling down the edge of the branch. " You know how emotional kiri is, he just wants the good for us" he started but i just rolled my eyes at him, he's just saying that to make me feel good but even i know he feels the same, i scoffed and said " you really believe that? He has always done this! Sometimes it's like he favors her over us, answer me 'teyam when was the last time we called him 'dad'?" He stayed silent, he knew the answer well, sighing as he put his arm around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze of reassurance. I just leaned onto him, i remembered how many times we have been scolded by now ,We had bets placed sometimes between me, lo'ak and him on who would get scolded the most from dad, but it seems like lo'ak was in winning streak here. Neteyam's attempts at cheering me up were successful when he got up and jumped off directly calling for seze midair, my heart was in my mouth at his stunt, while he laughed at my surprised face,I flipped him off, I too got up determined to get back at him and chased him all the way back home, looping around him and blowing gusts of winds at each other.

I landed near the nest, laughing as i jumped down disconnecting from y/i/n, neteyam landed beside me laughing as well, both our hair were a mess but it was still so much fun we had after a long while, i turned around to walk towards our tent but my smile faded away when i saw our father standing near the tent entrance, neteyam froze in his tracks as well, yeah we were fucked, again, we both treaded our way towards him, keeping our eyes on the ground as we stood in front of him, wincing when he actually started talking " have you two seen what time it is? It's past the eclipse, I thought you were going to feed your ikrans and not fly with them!!" Grimacing at his tone, i said glancing at neteyam one last time "I'm sorry sir, it was a hard time finding the hunt, it won't happen again" he just scoffed "next time just feed what we have available, no need to go outside without my permission", my anger rose with it but i stayed silent not wanting to escalate further but then he spoke again "that's what I want, i expected better from you both, you're the eldest you should know better than this'' with that he walked straight inn, i just looked at neteyam, eyes squinted but he shook his head as in 'let it be'. I sigh defeated, as we both enter the tent, seeing everyone was in Their hammock, kiri fast asleep beside lo'ak who was snoring loudly, i got in beside him and tuk rolled onto me, i hugged her close pulling her inn, neteyam got in from the other side, pulling us all together, but sleep never came to me as i laid awake and my mind running back to the times my father scolded me again and again for nothing, it bothered me but it's not like anyone's gonna help, even mother was putting up a blind eye to it, i closed my eyes begging the great mother to grant me some semblance of sleep and she answered when i was sucked into , not a calm, but restless sleep…

»»————-　⚜　————-««

It's been a few weeks since that encounter but life's been the exact same if not worse, it's always 'y/n you're wrong' , 'y/n don't you understand?' , 'y/n what's wrong with you?' and same towards neteyam, we are both exhausted of this and mom didn't say word against it, i tried talking to her, telling her what's going on with me and my twin but every time she either dismissed it or simply replied with "it's for your own good" and that was that, i was getting frustrated minute by minute , so was neteyam, where i showed my anger a little bit , he completely hid it from everyone else and it was consuming him, i can see it everyday how he works silently, does everything alone and has stopped asking for help even from me. Our father's neglect towards us was making us fall apart.

I tried my best to keep us both sane, well atleast for while as i think we are still sane, our flights together were cut short by our dictator, instead, we were thrown into assembly of the upcoming raid, day and night we worked on strategic management and barely got any sleep while our "sir" was busy with work "we couldn't understand", complete bullshit but staying silent was better than being grounded for asking another question.

Now with new training sets, another batch of practice was dropped on us by our father. He demanded that we practice more because we were getting lousy…..his words not mine, as if we ever got a chance to even act lousy.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

We stood in front of our dad as he scolded us for the upteenth time now, why you ask? Well lo'ak took tuktirey out for adventure and they were attacked by some kind of animal i don't even remember now, why are we being scolded? Because we didn't see our precious little brother take tuk out as we were too busy with our training that he yelled at us to complete beforehand, so it was our responsibility to see each and every step our brother takes even when we were clearly busy with other things, it's our fault of course.

"How many times have I told you both to keep an eye on your brother but you don't understand do you? So until you both get on your senses you are grounded" he spit at us with venom in his voice, i looked at my mom for help but she just shrugged , as if this was alright ,making anger shoot through me, so this time i didn't stop myself, it was already getting dark outside the eclipse was nearing and what i said next made his eyes pop out, " if you're so adamant about us disobeying your orders to keep and eye on lo'ak, then why did you tell us to train for the 6th time today? we were doing what you fucking told us to! I don't have another set of eyes to keep them on lo'ak, he's a person in himself, he can think for himself, it's not our fault he decided to do something like that, we can't look after him eclipse to eclipse without not doing my work, which you demand from us, and if i don't do my work, you come and bite our ears off, yelling on and on how "lazy we are" or how "me and neteyam neglect our work to have fun", we haven't had "fun" in a long long time ,Sir, when was the last fucking time you held us close? Huh? When was the last time we called you 'dad'? …… Right, you don't fucking remember! Because it's been years!! Okay? I never said anything but i can't TAKE it anymore, all we do is follow your stupid orders day and night without a single protest but you think it's not enough and weigh down on us even more, I'm fucking done with this, it's better to die then live this nightmare any longer, we are tired and exhausted, so please just shut up for one moment and let us live!" I was yelling at him at this point, tears were streaming down my face, neteyam held me close, tears of his own running down his cheeks, we haven't slept in days, constantly working and worrying about the upcoming raid that he didn't even grant us permission to sleep, and i meant what i said i would rather die than live this all over again.

He looked at me shocked and surprised, his eyes trailing to neteyam who he stood by my side, backing me up because he had enough himself "she's right, sir, all we've been doing is work for you, we were training on your orders, we did not see lo'ak taking tuk out, but even if we did, she's his sister too, he has the right to have fun with her, so please we are both tired of everything, just let us go, we haven't slept in days because you want us up and running for your raid strategies and didn't even bother to ask if we are okay or not? I agree with y/n, i would too rather meet eywa then go through all this again.. please just let us be"

He just stared back and forth between us, his eyes showed no emotion, he looked cold and unforgiving and what he said next left us speechless "if you want to live under my roof, you will HAVE to follow my rules, and if doing that is gonna make you rebel against me then, be my guest, I'm more than happy if you pack up your bags and get the fuck out of my house!" and believe me when i say i never wanted to punch my father in the face, ever, then i want to right now, i recovered from my shock quickly, my blood boiling at his statement, he would rather have his kids gone then let them live like they have a life of their own? If that's what he wants then he'll get just that.

I straighten my spine and looked at my twin who had the same look as i did and we both knew what we had to do, we stormed inside the tent and started packing the necessary things we needed for at least a week, mom was crying and stopping us both from doing it, getting in between us , yelling at us to stop and listen to her, but we did not stop for one second,she had the chance to be heard and listen but she blew it off, while our father was just staring at us from the entrance with no regret of his words thrown at us, whatsoever, that's fueled my anger even more, picking up the bags we started to walk out but mom dropped down on her knees in front of us as she begged " ma'y/n, ma'neteyam don't so this, it is wrong, your sempul was wrong, I'm sorry i should have stopped this before, please do not leave us like this" she was crying even more than before now, i just rolled my eyes at her and gently removed her hand as did neteyam, we just shook our head, this was it, we had enough of this , we walked out calling for our ikrans when two small arms wrapped around my thigh.

I looked down to see tuk who was crying, her big doe eyes glassed over with tears, with wobbly lips she said "please don't go tsmuke, i love you, please, we can go make flower crowns together if you're sad, you can come with us too tsmukan" i dropped down to her level and kissed her forehead, neteyam following my moves, we pulled her in for a hug as i said " it's okay tuk tuk, but we can't live here now, one day if eywa wants us too, we'll see eachother but before that i will always miss you and keep you close in my memories ma' paysyul" she just nodded even if she didn't understand the depth of my words, she just nodded sniffing, i don't know if the next time i see her, she'll even remember me or not, neteyam said his goodbyes too and we mounted our beasts, we were about to be airborne when a voice called out "you are making a mistake, both of you, we can sort this out, you still have time, you can apologise and it would be all good" and i looked at him shocked, he had the audacity to say that we can sort this out by apologising to him when we didn't even do anything to begin with! In that moment, for the very first time, i hissed at him, baring my fangs on display for him to see, he was taken aback by that and neteyam didn't hold back from hissing either, with that we flew off, in search for a new home for us….

»»————-　⚜　——��—-««

~ 3rd person pov ~

Kiri and lo'ak were shocked to hear that their siblings have left them for good, they both saw how they were treated but never got in between because they were too scared, but now how they wished they would have so this day would not have existed, neytiri was a complete mess, blaming Jake for driving their kids away from them, she knew she was to blame as much as Jake because y/n had come to her, tried to explain that this was taking a toll on them but she did not hear her, simply trusted Jake on their training and now this was the result. Tuk was crying in her father's arms, not knowing when she'll get to see her tsmuke and tsmukan. Jake was now regretting his actions and words, he shouldn't have been so hard on them, they were his kids! What was he even thinking? But it was too late now, why did he have to say that even when they were departing for good? The weight of the situation weighed down on him when they both hissed at him, for the first time in ever, his kids, his twins, his first born's! How did he fucked up so bad that the only option left for them was to fly away from them….from Him.

That day, all of the omaticayans searched for the beloved twins till the end of the next eclipse but they were nowhere to be found, the whole clan mourned for them for days on end, praying to the great mother for their return but still they never came back, neytiri wept for days for her babies, regretting all her answers towards them, begging eywa to give her children back, yelling at Jake for what he had done but soon accepted her kids were never coming back, they were gone…. forever and she will not get to them grow up any longer.

Jake sat near the tree of souls, memories of his dear twins playing on and on, what has he done? Will he ever get to meet them again? Would they ever forgive him for this? Tears rolled down his eyes, away from everyone he let himself cry, sob for his kids that he so cruelly shoved aside and now he's facing the consequences of his actions, he will never forgive himself for this, never, he just wants his kids back and he's ready to do anything it takes to get them back but it was too late now…..the only thing he can do is wait for them, even if it means forever, he ignited this inferno that he's burning inside of now.

A/n : this took so much time, but i love the way it turned out, I'm brain storming ideas for the next part, so please if anyone has good ideas let me know 🙏🏼💚to be tagged in this series, comment on my posts ✨

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli.

© Neteyamyawne 2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [14]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety over appearance, past medical trauma, sexual tension, like so much sexual tension, some heavy petting, slow burn (i use it as a warning here b/c it’s gonna feel like an attack by time you’re through with this chapter lol)

Word Count: 4,682

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #14: AM I MAKING YOU QUIVER?

Chapter Summary: Exploration and Anticipation

“i must have loved you in other lives because when i see you it feels like coming home. no one makes me feel more myself than you. when my hand is in yours it’s familiar and safe, like i’ve known your soul since the beginning of time, through all the lives i’ve lived. maybe that’s why my love for you is infinite.” --m.m.

This was the first time you woke up beside Din. Up until now, every moment that involved him taking you to bed or falling asleep on him ended with you waking up alone. Alone or with Grogu. Din always seemed to be up before you. There was absolutely nothing comfortable about the cot you were laying on. At baseline it was hard and covered with crinkling, thin sterile paper. It was also only large enough for one person. Which, granted, with Grogu alone on it the cot had looked massive, but now it held Din, Grogu, and you. You were startled that you hadn’t woken up on the floor.

You had Din to thank for that. He laid on his back, armor and helmet present, with Grogu sleeping soundly on his chest. You laid half on his side, curled around him, but he had one arm under you and resting on your waist clinging to you tightly. Saving you from sleeping on the hard, tile floor wasn’t the only thing you had to thank him for.

Last night had been… difficult. Nothing short of the Maker himself was going to stop you from doing everything in your power to heal Grogu, and even then the Maker might not be able to hold you back, but the cost had been steep. The moment your body registered that Grogu was safe, vitals steady and father in the room, you had crumpled in on yourself like a dying star. Every single demon that called your mind home crawled out of the wood works to plague you.

Surely, you thought, they’d devour you whole and leave you an empty shell. Yet, here you were. Still alive, still functioning, and⏤ dank farrik⏤ you were content. Content, borderline happy. An emotion you thought would be impossible after the events of last night. You felt safe. Lying here, watching Din and Grogu sleep peacefully, Din’s arm clinging to you, you felt like there wasn’t a force in this galaxy that could touch you. Over the last year, a lot of people promised that you’d be protected. Many swore that nothing would hurt you. 

Din was the only one you believed.

Despite wanting to stay in this moment forever, you knew you needed to rise. There were things you needed to collect and, though you had revealed a lot of who you were last night, it’d be nice to not have an audience. Carefully, you untangled yourself from Din’s arm. He stirred for a moment, but you whispered a reassurance. It was a testament to how exhausted the Mandalorian was as he laid his head back and dozed off once more.

As you stood, that’s when the aches began to settle from the night you had. The cot, and technically Din’s armored body, had not been forgiving to your skin, bones, or joints. You stretched as you walked over to the medical shelves. You wanted to make another two doses of the antipyretic, just to have on hand, and an additional dose of antibiotics for Grogu to take. It was overkill, technically, but you didn’t care. It was also mildly illegal for you to take some of these supplies home, but who was going to stop you? Daelar? That coward was off world so he had no say over this clinic, and you had a pretty solid relationship with the Marshal. Enough so that you doubted he’d be arresting you for this.

Quietly, you worked with practiced ease compounding the medications. Without the added stress of a ticking time bomb in feverish child form, you were able to find the action calming. That is until a figure settled next you. Her presence startled you at first, but you recognized the girl you held at gunpoint only hours ago.

“Oh, Aayla, hey.” You greeted in a whisper, to not disturb Din, “I’m sorry about last night. With the blaster and the⏤”

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” Aayla replied. “You were incredible. This is incredible.” She motioned to the medicine you were half done compounding. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I came here to gain experience before I apply to medical school, and I was so disappointed with what I found.” She said. The girl was practically bouncing in place. “But now I have you! Oh, I am so excited to work with you!”

Your fingers froze and you slowly shook your head. “No. No, no, no, no. I’m not⏤ We’re not⏤”

Aayla tilted her head in confusion. “You’re gonna be the new on site physician, aren't you?”

Maker, in your panic last night had you just told everyone you were a doctor before? You shook your head. You needed to get this done. The sound of Din stirring made you glance over your shoulder toward him. You hummed, “Aayla, can you take out Grogu’s IV? Have you done that before?”

“I have!” She rushed away and you took that as a victory.

Din sat up on the cot at her approach, Grogu still cradled in his arms, and you sighed in relief once more. Grogu still hadn’t woken up, but that didn’t surprise you. You had made both medications last night with a sedative effect. The poor kid needed as much rest as possible. All thoughts were interrupted when Din’s t-shaped visor lifted from Grogu to focus on you. You physically felt his eyes on you and a thrill ran down your spine all the way to your toes. You quickly turned back around and went back to work. You were nearly done with the last one. Would’ve been finished by now if Aayla hadn’t caught you off guard.

As if the universe knew you were trying to stay focused on task and wanted to distract you, an all too familiar form silently approached. Din towered over you, quite the sight in all his beskar, and though his presence hadn’t surprised you the way he curled around you did. Din rested one hand on the counter, his other wrapped around your waist, and he leaned into you so the side of his helmet was pressed against the side of your face. The man might as well have set you on fire with the flamethrower connected to his vambrace. Heat warmed your cheeks and flooded into every nook and cranny of your body.

This was hardly the first time he had broken the barrier to touch you, but this was the first time it wasn’t spurred on by some emotional turmoil. You hadn’t expected him to be so casual. To openly touch you in this way. 

“Hi.” You mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

A low, rumbling chuckle spilled out from the helmet’s modulator and the sound made your breath catch in your throat. Din squeezed your waist. “Hi.” He nodded his head down toward your hands. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh, I’m…” Habit told you to lie. You were supposed to keep this a secret. Nobody was supposed to know about your past. Your logic argued that it was a little late for that and telling Din you were ‘making mixed drinks with the medical supplies’ wasn’t going to convince him of anything. “Medicine.” You blurted. Mentally, you cursed your lack of allure and tact. Maker, why did Din make you babble like an idiot? For once, could you just be cool? Give off an air of mystery and intrigue like he was able to? Kriff. “Uh, medicine for Grogu. Just in case.”

“Good.” He replied. “Smart.”

“What can I say? I have my moments sometimes.”

Din hummed out a sound of amusement, but before you could commend yourself for saying something marginally clever and well thought out, you felt his gloved fingers brush just under the hem of your shirt. The leather warm and firm on the bare skin of your abdomen, and your entire brain short circuited at the motion. 

“You almost ready to go home, ner kar’ta?” He whispered.

Voice broken, you nodded dumbly. Din chuckled once more before pulling back and walking back to the cot. Maker. Oh, Maker. You glanced over your shoulder to watch him saunter away. He didn’t do it on purpose, he didn’t seem to know what his gait did to the people around him, but you could watch Din walk for hours. It was such a casual and strong pace⏤ confidence oozing from every step.

For weeks now, you had been fighting an emotional connection to this man. You were terrified of messing up the good thing you had. It couldn’t be argued that the ship of staying distant had sailed. The wall between the two of you, emotionally speaking, was a pile of dust now. The physical thoughts? Those had always been easy to swat away. You forced yourself to not let your mind wander on his hip to shoulder ratio. To not think about the sliver of flesh you’d see at home between the waistband of his sweatpants and the hem of his shirt. To not think about his strong arms and the way they would feel wrapped around you.

You had been so good about it. Up until now, that is.

Now? Dank farrik, you wanted to jump his bones. 

Maybe it was the excess adrenaline from everything that happened last night, or maybe it was you being too weak to hold back those primal thoughts, but regardless of the reason the desire was there in full force. Your eyes traced him from boots to helmet once more. He was standing by the cot watching Aayla work with his hands on his hips and his head faced down in a studious manner. Oof. A man covered head to toe in metal and the woven material of a flight suit should not look this good. The man didn’t have a single patch of skin showing, yet you were foaming at the mouth feral for him.

As if reading your wanton thoughts, Din’s gaze snapped to you. Your eyes widened. Though you couldn’t see where his eyes were trained, you still flushed as if he were raking over your form, and when his head tilted to the side it felt like your heart seized in your chest. Double oof. You whipped your head back around, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, and tried to get back to the task at hand. Focus, focus, focus.

Medicine for Grogu first, eye fucking his father second.

They had slept in the clinic far longer than Din had thought. The quick trip back home was made in early morning light and the city was beginning to come to life. Normally, this would frustrate him, but Cara had left him a note saying that Karga was excusing them of all duties today⏤ as a thanks. Any issues would run through him. In any other scenario, Din would argue over this plan, but today? No, today he was going to send Karga a damned fruit basket as thanks when he got the chance.

There was a very long list of tasks Din had to accomplish. He needed to hunt down Daelar so he could rip the man’s cowardly spine from his body and beat him to death with it for leaving his son and you without medicine. He needed to repair his vambrace so the communicator would work once more. He needed to ensure Grogu was healing properly⏤ though you were handling that better than he ever could it seemed. And a few other dozen items he always had on his to-do list. One of the more important things on his list of goals for the day? You. 

Din knew he had a bad habit of tunnel vision. He knew because people told him this constantly. He tended to make a goal and then barrel through any obstacle or issue with blinders on until he got what he wanted. It was part of the reason why he was so good at bounty hunting, though it was also the reason why he found himself in so many messes over the years. Today, it would come in handy because you were at the end of this tunnel.

“How much longer will he be asleep?” Din asked. Grogu was bundled up in his arms as the two of you entered into the house. 

You set the bag of supplies you had taken from the clinic onto the kitchen counter then shrugged. “If I had to guess…a couple more hours?”

“Good.” Din replied. Without another word, he began the journey to his room. First things first, he needed to get his son settled. The last time Din had seen Grogu sleep so soundly was when they first met and he saved him from the mudhorn.

Carefully, he tucked the boy into his hammock and shuffled through the toys below to find Grogu’s favorite stuffed frog. Din set it in the hammock as well and took a minute to breath out a sigh of relief. Maker, he was thankful Grogu was safe and healing. He was thankful for you, and he wanted to show that to you in any and every way you’d allow him.

Din stepped back and began to peel off layers of his beskar. The gloves and his gauntlets fell away first followed by his shoulder pieces and his torso. He had even shrugged out of the tight upper half of his flight suit leaving him in the plain t-shirt that sat beneath. His hands drifted to undo his belt, but he heard you pass by his room on the way to the bathroom. Din paused in his process and walked out of his room⏤ almost like a man possessed. As he shut the door behind him quietly, as to not rouse Grogu, he heard the sound of the shower kick on. His body was moving before he fully registered the motion, and his knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

“Yeah?” Your muffled voice called out.

“Can I come in?” It was a weighted question, he knew, and judging on the silence that followed it you were aware of this as well. Your eventual reply was a soft affirmative noise, and Din found himself pushing the door open slowly. He’d keep all his movements slow. Din would give you every opportunity to push him away. The relationship between the two of you was a series of lines drawn in the sand, and Din knew he was blowing past every single one right now.

You stood at the bathroom counter, back to the mirror, and the shower off to the side was already running. His helmet’s sensor told him the water beating down was ice cold. 

“I was thinking a, uh, shower,” You cleared your throat, eyes not leaving him, “might be the best thing for me right now.”

Din gave a small nod. Then took another step in your direction, “I can help with that.” Din said every word slowly, took every step slowly, in order to give you every opportunity to stop him. “If you’d like.”

The corner of your lips twitched up, a sight that made him ache, and you shrugged. “The buttons on this shirt were really tricky.”

It was the only invitation he needed to close the remaining space between the two of you. Din cupped your face with his bare hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and he tilted your head up just so he could look at you. Maker, you were gorgeous. The light in your eyes, the way you glowed when you smiled, it put the stars to shame. 

“You’re a work of art, ner kar’ta.” He breathed.

“What does that one mean?” You asked softly. “Ner kar’ta.”

Din tilted his head with a chuckle, “If I told you, I’d have to come up with a new nickname to call you.” 

His fingers trailed down your neck and found the buttons that started at your collar. Din continued to move slowly as he undid each button of your shirt, but this time it was for his own sake rather than yours. He wanted to savor every second of touch he had with you. He soaked in the soft gasps you made every time his cold fingers brushed against your warm torso. 

“I like this look on you, by the way.” You whispered. Din hummed in response⏤ too busy admiring your bare skin to be decent at holding a real conversation. You leaned forward enough that he could pull the shirt down off your body leaving you in only a bra. “The t-shirt. With the beskar plated pants and boots⏤ plus that helmet. You’d have bounties quivering.”

Din ran his hands across your belly, over your sides, then up your back. So close now that his chest was pressed against yours. He kept his voice low and quiet. “Am I making you quiver?” The sharp breath you sucked in was a sound he’d have memorized for the rest of his life. Din let his hands explore your upper body determined to memorize that as well. 

Eventually his hands made it back to your chest and he let his fingers brush against the scar on your collarbone. Briefly he felt you stiffen. “Mesh’la.” Din reassured, then followed it up in a language you’d understand. “Beautiful. You are so kriffing beautiful, ner kar’ta.”

Din traced his hands downward, pausing over your breasts, then continued to drag his palms over your abdomen⏤ his thumb dipped against your navel. When his hands reached the waistband of your pants, he undid the button and zipper then knelt down in front of you. Din helped you step out of the first pants’ leg and he held his hand behind your knee allowing his thumb to tenderly caress circles against your calf. Din stared up at you the entire time. The pupils of your eyes were blown wide with desire and your tempting lips were parted. It was a look that Din wouldn’t mind staring up at forever. He’d spend the rest of his life on his knees for you if it meant you’d continue to look at him in this way.

“Pretty girl.” Din hummed as he worked to get your other leg untangled from the rest of your pants. He focused his gaze back to eye level and took in a shaky breath. Your dark underwear was a shade darker at the center, a damp spot he could just barely see, but it was enough to tell him you were in the same state of being nearly undone by the other. It was a match to the near painful hard on he had pressed against the thickness of his flight suit’s pants. 

It was absolute torture to be so close to what he wanted, but still be separated by so much. Din had never been so tempted to rip the helmet off his head just so he could press open mouthed kisses up your thigh to your damp center. He was an Apostate anyways according to the covert. That title just might be worth it for a taste of you.

“Din.” You breathed his name and he shuddered in response.

Maker, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. Din wished he could string together paragraph after paragraph about how you made him feel. But, he was bad at talking. Din didn’t have the skills to voice how strong his thoughts were. Action though? Oh, Din was very good at action. And, he planned to reveal how strongly he felt for you with every touch he was allowed. You said Grogu would be asleep for another few hours. Din didn’t think that was near enough time, but it would be a good start to how he planned to worship your body.  

He may not be able to use his mouth, but years of being bound by this barrier made him very, very good with his hands. Din hooked his fingers under the bands of your panties with full intention to rip them off of you, but your hands suddenly landed on his.

Worried, his head snapped up to gauge if you were alright. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay, I’m⏤” You took a slow, shuddering breath. “But if you get started, I’m going to absolutely fall apart, Din.”

“That’s exactly what I want, pretty girl.” Din chuckled. As the other nickname left his lips, Din wished he knew your real name. Calling you Soran, knowing the little he did, felt wrong. Another chuckle escaped him. It wasn’t often he was on the curious end of this conundrum. 

You ran your hands over his forearms, to his elbows, and you tried to pull him up to stand. Din, reluctantly, stood back up so he was towering over you once more. The bright smile that filled your features was enough to make it worth it. You reached out and set your hands on his shoulders. “It’s my turn to explore.” Din tilted his head, in genuine confusion, and you dragged your hands down to his abdomen. The tips of your fingers brushed against his bare skin and his entire body stiffened in response. “You’re wearing too much clothes.”

Din hesitated, only for a moment, before he reached back to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. A nervous energy settled in his chest as he let the shirt fall to the bathroom floor. Din watched you as your small fingers ran across his abdomen, chest, and arms. Every scar you came across, you spent the time tracing it softly as he had yours. 

“Mesh’la.” You said though the pronunciation was just slightly off. He chuckled and your smile widened. Your hands trailed to his back and he felt you lightly dragging your nails against his skin. Goosebumps formed on his skin. “I’m serious though, Din. I could spend all day staring at you⏤ touching you.”

Din couldn’t help but shake his head. “You don’t have to lie. I think I have more scars than normal skin, at this point.”

“I’m not lying.” You replied. He didn’t think he could be more surprised by your actions, but you leaned in and pressed your lips against a rather gnarly patch of scarred skin on the left side of his chest where a vibroblade had cut through the armor he had before his beskar. Honest to Maker, an actual whimper slipped from him as his eyes fluttered closed. You continued on. Taking the time to press your lips against every scar you could find while mumbling about how beautiful he was between each one.

Din had never been so intimate with a person before. He was no stranger to sex, to carnal desires, but up until now every encounter had been a means to an end. Quick and to the point. Nearly every time, he’d still have on every piece of his armor. The partners he found would be in various stages of undress, but Din never felt comfortable enough to match them in that state. Everything about this moment was starkly different. He felt safe and he treasured every single tender second that passed. He craved it. Din craved you. Another difference. Before now, his sex life had been a series of hit and runs. Never the same person twice. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious choice, but Din was always traveling and nothing tempted him enough to return and repeat. 

You were not those other partners. Maker, he’d never get enough of you. Din knew that without a doubt and he technically hadn’t even fully touched you yet. That was the stranglehold you had on his mind, body, and soul.

When you pulled back, Din reopened his eyes to stare down at you. He cupped your face once more and for what had to be the thousandth time he wished he didn’t have a wall of beskar separating the two of you. Your hands lifted to hold over his then trailed down to his elbows. Without looking away from him, Din felt your hands on his abdomen. Tracing lower, lower, lower. You undid his belt then buried your hands into his pants to pull them down further. He could feel your hands against his thighs, and it was absolutely pathetic how close he came to falling apart just by having you near his cock.

The sudden loud banging of someone beating their fist against the front door of the house drifted down the hall into the bathroom, and it was just as jarring as if Din had stepped into the cold shower himself. Both of you froze, his hands cupping your face and your hands still buried in his pants. A beat of silence made Din hopeful, but it was followed by a now repeated banging that did not stop.

Din let out a groan and let his head fall forward to lightly rest against your forehead. His frustrated words came out in a near snarl. “I’m going to kill whoever is at the door.”

The sound of your quiet laugh loosened the tension in his shoulders but did nothing to the new level of frustration he had. You pulled your hands out of his pants, a loss that devastated Din, and placed them over his again.

“Well, you know what they say about anticipation.” You said.

“No.” Din shook his head. “I don’t. What do they say?”

Your smile turned sheepish as you shrugged. “I, uh, I don’t actually know.” Din’s lips curled into a smile of his own. “I didn’t think you’d call me on that. To be honest, words just sort of fall out of my mouth when I’m with you.” Din chuckled, and you squeezed his hands. “I don’t think my brain works right when my skin is touching yours.”

Din knew lust. He could recognize the hot, burning solar flare it tended to be. It was blinding. Like, a comet rushing by him leaving him spinning in the heated sparks of its tail end. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that way with you⏤ Maker, knew that wasn’t the case⏤ but with you there was something else. It came on so slow that he didn’t even realize he felt the comforting warmth until it was nestled deep in his chest. The feeling planted roots in his soul and blossomed into something he couldn't live without. It was invigorating. It was life. It was standing in the sun on a warm day and soaking in every ray of warmth. 

“I need to answer the door.” You mumbled. “Before the knocking wakes up Grogu.”

Din nodded with another sigh. You turned your head, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand, then stepped away from him. You leaned over to turn the shower off⏤ the shower neither of you ever made it to⏤ and he bent over to scoop up his shirt. Din held it out to you. A deliberate decision. You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t hesitate to pull his too large shirt over your head. Din nodded at the sight of you, appeased at seeing you in his clothes.

“I’ll be right there.” Din said as you hurried away. 

When he knew you were a safe distance away, he pulled his helmet off and rubbed his face with his hands. Anticipation. Din had been on the edge of anticipation for much too long. He was sliding straight into sexually frustrated now. At this rate, when he finally did get a taste of you it might just kill him. 

“Mando!” Your voice called out. He had already gotten used to hearing you use his name after one day. Enough so that the moniker disappointed him. Still, Din felt a flash of pride that his trust had been rewarded. He didn’t even need to tell you not to use his real name in front of others. You just knew. “It’s Karga!”

“I’ll be right there.” He called back and grabbed his helmet. Din would have to step back into his room to dress back into his gear before meeting the High Magistrate. One thing was for certain, he would not be sending Karga a kriffing fruit basket anymore.

mando’a translations

Mesh’la: Beautiful /// Cyar’ika: Sweetheart /// Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

taglist

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy​ @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover​ @teawrites01​ @emily-roberts​ @djarinxore​ @impala1967666​ @shelbyteller @faithrenner​

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for leaving my friend groups Discord server?

💐💐💐 So I can find this later. For context, I was in 2 servers that were friend groups, where my friends would all interact with each other, play & stream games, etc. However, recently we had a situation where someone, let's call her Sasha, would send many vent messages in the general channel, then delete said message before we could respond or even look at the messages, & get mad at us for not responding. She'd also complain about everything that happened in her life, school, in games, & she'd always repeat the same things, over & over again. In the end, we got tired of how she was forcing everyone to stop being as active in the server because of her behavior & actions, so we all made another server, without Sasha, so we could interact with peace without her interrupting conversations. This all happened 3-4 months ago. Then 3 of the people in our new server got a game on Roblox, Deepwoken. Another person, let's call him Kevin, already had the game for a while, so they all got the game & started playing all together. They were incredibly passionate about it, it would be the only thing talked about. One of them got me the currency to get Deepwoken, so I could play with them all. A while later, I got a hang of the game, then when I asked if any of them could play with me, one of them, let's call him Tim, would keep telling me that "Oh, you have to play the game alone to get the real experience, & to learn things better." every time I would ask. Sometimes, rarely, they'd answer some questions I had about the game that I didn't quite grasp yet, & a lot of the time i'd just, not receive any answer. After a while, I got tired of how they didn't respond to me at all, so I just stopped playing. Keep in mind, I don't have any other friends that have the game, so I didn't have anyone else to talk to about it. I love my friends but I felt ignored & was hurt, so I passed ownership to another friend of mine, & left. About a day after leaving, I ended up feeling extremely depressed & overwhelmed with schoolwork, eye appointments, a random limb & joint pain that I had no idea why I was having, & I accidentally unfriended Tim. With my being extremely overwhelmed, thinking it was a good idea at the time, I sent him a message saying "accidentally unfriended u mb. u could also not accep, that works too" Then another message after that one, "okay well um, im gonna assume that you arent going to accept it again so thank you for all youve done for me before you say that im making it sound like i gave up; i have given up i gave up a little while ago" After that, I got a message from him saying that I needed to calm down, that my friend request wasn't the most important thing in his mind right now, & that he's allowed to put it on hold for at least a day before I start telling him some "nvm shit". I sincerely apologized & told him that I needed to take a break, that I hope he's doing okay, & that I hope college goes well for him. I did indeed, take a break, for only 2 weeks because I felt extremely guilty, stupid & reckless. Those weeks felt like forever because that whole thing was on my mind 24/7. It was eating me alive. & No, I am not saying to gain pity. Just trying to explain what I felt. Tim answered, told me that I should grow & change as a person, & that he doesn't mean it in a condescending way, that the server was meant to be a safe space, that in order to make everyone comfortable, there's some things we need to just not say or some things we need to think about a lot before saying them. It's the reason Sasha got booted, & that we give as much as we get. I'm reading back on his messages, & I didn't say anything in the server to make everyone uncomfortable. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[blaisenova]

what's up gamers, sorry for disappearing for a while there. life's been kicking my ass lately LMAO

to all the people who've sent in requests, i'm working on them!! as for why they're taking so long, see above.

been writing some stuff on and off for a bit, and i'm sure my fellow writers know how it is. when inspiration for something hits, you just kinda shit it out and then move on. i try to put a little more effort into my requests LOL. but i love killer and i also love hurting him, so this is what came out of that. yippee!!

this one goes out to all the people with complicated romantic lives!!!!!!! i see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so, take this piece of shit to tide you over. thank you guys for your patience <3

content is below the cut due to length and sensitive subjects. as always, it can be found on ao3 in the reblogs if that's your cup of tea.

cw/tw: major character death (offscreen, but a main point), implied/referenced toxic relationship, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, an all around shitty situationship

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grains of dust fell between his fingers and into his joints, making them crackle when he gripped the faded red scarf in his hands. It was so like when his brother had died, and there was something poetic about that thought, and that poetry was the highest insult the multiverse could have asked him to endure. Nevertheless, there was a distinct lack of snow, and, though his surroundings were deeply familiar – the cool toned darkness of the castle’s atmosphere, broken only by the warm, orange glow of the castle’s mounted lanterns – they would never be as familiar as limbo.

Dust piled beneath his knees, scraping against the bone and leaving it raw, but all Killer could do was press his forehead into the pile before him and hold his breath to prevent it from dispelling; to be as close as possible without disturbing the remains.

When a voice rang out from the shadows, he didn’t startle; its presence had been imminent from the start. It held the same chilled, deep tones of the castle, broken only by the warm dredges of poorly concealed laughter behind its words. Despite himself, Killer found that the tension in his bones melted away at the sound.

“So, you finally killed him.”

It wasn’t a question. There was no surprise.

Voice hoarse, Killer laughed, and the dust darted away from his breath and stuck to the liquid determination that marred his cheeks. “He was hurting me.”

Beside him, someone knelt. Fingers, dark with viscous negativity, ran through the particles and pressed it together testingly. The other hummed, then shook the dust from his hands, as if it were something dirty. Killer shouldn’t have felt so offended at the thought.

“Well, obviously,” Nightmare responded, voice flat with disinterest. “It’s about time that you did something about it.”

Clutching the scarf to his chest, Killer’s soul wobbled unsteadily, and he wheezed. “Do you think– Will– He’ll… He’ll be better when he comes back, right?”

At that, came Nightmare’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and a hand came to rest against his back. Fingers danced what might have been soothing circles over the fabric of his jacket, coaxing out small noises of misery that Killer hadn’t realised he was holding back. “He’s not like you, Killer,” Nightmare hummed. “He won’t come back.”

At that, came Killer’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and he curled further into the dust as it continued to try and run away. “Oh,” he breathed. Then, again, “oh. That’s– That’s not what I wanted.”

There was a beat of silence, and Killer breathed in the judgement in the lack of words. “Then,” Nightmare finally drawled, steady in a way Killer could not be, “what did you want?”

A sound was pulled from his chest at the question, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I just wanted it to stop hurting,” he hissed. “I… I didn’t want to lose him forever.”

With another hum, Nightmare’s fingers pressed more firmly into Killer’s back, drawing him out of wheezing breaths he hadn’t realised he’d been taking. “Why not, if he was hurting you?”

“Because I loved him,” Killer spat; immediately; bitterly. Then, through a lump in his throat, “love. Because I love him.”

For a moment, Nightmare’s steady ministrations faltered, as if the admission surprised him, though Killer was certain he must have known; must have felt it even through every other emotion that had led them here. Just as soon as he began to miss the touch, though, they started up again, and, once more, he choked on a sob as his soul spasmed against his chest. Each breath was suffocating and filled with dust, coating his bones from the inside out and sticking to him in a way that made him feel sick.

“I didn’t want this,” Killer repeated, like a plea. “What did I do wrong?”

It ran deeper than a slash across the chest and bones crumbling between his fingers, blood painting his sweater bright red. It must have. It must have been more than the final blow.

“I– I fucked up somehow,” he wheezed. “If I just knew how, I… I could have done better. Should have done better. Then, maybe…”

“There’s no point in trying to fix it now,” Nightmare chided, with a subtle gentleness that Killer might not have recognised if not for the tenderness of the hand that pressed between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “You’re agonising over your relationship with a corpse. It cannot hear your apologies.” A beat. “Although, perhaps, it wouldn’t matter even if it could.”

Sockets squeezing shut, Killer bit back a wail. His knuckles ached from the force with which he clung to the scarf, and the soreness extended to his chest, right where his soul sat. “I hurt him,” he said. “He’s gone.” 

All at once, he sat up, and Nightmare’s hand darted away in surprise, cyan socket wide. Dust speckled the dark streaks across Killer’s cheeks and clung to the bone where he’d feverishly pressed his skull against the pile, as if it might feel his touch and spring back to life. Dull, pale eyelights trembled in his sockets, and the expression of pity before him was blurry and unclear, though, something about that was a mercy. 

At the thought, Killer scrubbed at his sockets furiously, trying to deny himself the grace he didn’t deserve. The moment his vision cleared, however, it was blurred again by tears. Idly, he found himself thankful for the threadbare cloth in his hands, without which his fingers would have found their way to his soul and tried to pry the feelings out themselves; another mercy he refused to indulge.

“He’s gone,” Killer repeated. “I was in love with him. And, now, he’s gone, and it’s my fault. I hurt him.”

Through fuzzy vision, Killer watched Nightmare bare his teeth; it could have been a snarl, or maybe a grimace. “You’ll live.”

“I don’t want to live,” he wailed, unable to stop himself. He blinked, and tar-like tears smeared down his cheeks. They dropped down to his chin, then fell into his lap, and a choked sound of anguish left him as he realised the scarf was stained with them. The damage was done, though, and he sobbed louder as he pressed the cloth to his face. His words were muffled through the barrier, “I loved him. I loved him. Why did I hurt him? Why did he hurt me?”

“The multiverse is cruel,” Nightmare said, “and we are but inhabitants of it, carefully crafted to perpetuate its cruelty. You asked too much when you sought out happiness.”

“Then,” he breathed, pulling himself together long enough to speak, “what was I supposed to do?”

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love,” came the answer, simply. “Certainly, not you. Certainly, not with someone like him.”

His breath faltered once more, and something giddy made his soul tremble. A soft rattling emanated throughout his bones, nausea making some deep, magic based part of him broil and burn. He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held the scarf over his eyes as if going blind to the situation would make it disappear. “Maybe I deserve everything he ever did.”

With a huff that might have been laughter, Nightmare hummed, “Maybe you do.” He gestured to the messy pile of dust – the thin fabric of the scarf easily showing the shifting shadows – and Killer shuddered at the reminder. “And, maybe he did, too.”

At the notion, Killer’s shoulders sagged, and, tiredly, he shook his head. “Not him,” he whispered, reverent. “Never him.”

Again, came that laugh, and there was something frustrated in its bitter tones. “Oh, what a pedestal you’ve placed him on,” he drawled.

“Why don’t you care?” Killer spat, and anger sparked alongside despair like a match to gasoline. All of the exhaustion from before was driven away, and fevered fury took its place. His soul spasmed painfully as he finally yanked the scarf back down to face reality head on, staring Nightmare in the eye with a strange sort of determination to condemn himself. “He was yours, just as I am. Why don’t you care that he’s gone? Why don’t you care what I did to him?”

Refusing the vitriol that he’d been met with, Nightmare’s tone remained carefully even. “And, forget what he did to you?” His head tilted to the side curiously, and he regarded Killer’s crime with indifference. “You’re hardly being fair. It’s not as if you haven’t killed others for much less. It’s not as if he’s not just as replaceable as you.”

Tiredness returned, like a weight in his bones or a fist around his soul, making him wilt. Unconsciously, he leaned towards his king, and Nightmare mercifully closed the distance between them, allowing Killer’s skull to rest against his shoulder. Shame burned alongside misery as he found miniscule comfort in the familiar worthlessness. “No. He was different. He tried,” he mumbled. Then, insistently, “He tried, and he loved me. Who else has ever done that? For me? I don’t deserve it.”

“And, yet, it wasn’t enough,” Nightmare replied, and Killer couldn’t help but cringe at the callousness.

“Well, it should have been,” he persisted. “It should have been enough for me.”

“And, yet,” he repeated, “it wasn’t.”

Scoffing, Killer shifted, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hoped that he looked as small as he felt. “Gee, thanks, Nightmare,” he murmured. “Like I wasn’t already feeling like a piece of shit.” Then, with another scoff and marked bitterness, “I mean– Shit, it’s not even like I was asking for very much, right? Or– Or, I was, I guess, but it shouldn’t be so hard… right? How many people are there in the multiverse that have perfectly healthy relationships? Where they feel like people? Why not me?”

He ran a hand over his skull with an exasperated laugh, pressing his forehead against his knees. “I mean, I know why not. I’m not a person, but is it so much to ask that someone pretends? That… That I don’t fuck everything up without even trying? That I don’t deserve to be hurt?” he hissed, sharply. “That I don’t earn mistreatment simply by being?”

Thick, black rivulets of determination fell from his sockets, and Killer raised his head once more, meeting the chilling cyan of Nightmare’s gaze and feeling an awful lot like he was asking for answers he didn’t really want. “He was trying, Night. I know he was. I saw it,” he insisted, though his words grew soft as his shoulders slumped forward again. “What does it say about me that even when someone is trying not to hurt me, I make them do it anyway? Without even meaning to?” 

He cringed, the tips of his fingers pressing into his bone with a satisfying sting. “And, then, I hurt them back. God, like I don’t deserve it when they do it, right? Like– Like they did?” His gaze went back to the pile of dust. “Like he did? I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t, but I did it anyway, knowing it would hurt, because I’m so selfish that I wanted it to stop hurting me. Like it would ever stop hurting, even if he was gone.”

Finally, Killer fell silent, with a shrug that he could only hope would communicate everything he could no longer force past the lump in his throat and the way his soul wobbled painfully in front of his chest, fighting to make him feel all of the emotions he’d crushed down and bottled up for so long. His sockets burned unpleasantly, but he didn’t dare blink, afraid that the motion would start up a sickening sort of sobbing that he wouldn’t be able to stop until he passed out or died. An unfitting way to go for someone like him; it would hurt, but not enough; never enough, when wallowing in his own self-pity.

When he looked up, he was met with the scrutinising glare of Nightmare’s eyelight, and he felt himself unconsciously straighten, as if that would make him appear any less pathetic.

“Do you know what I think?” Nightmare began, haltingly. “I think… you’re reading too much into the actions of someone who was just as broken as you. Regardless of his intentions, he hurt you, and, now, you’ve hurt him. And, the worst part?” he hummed, almost pleasantly. “It was entirely inevitable. You shouldn’t have fallen in love, Killer.”

Not trusting himself enough to speak, all he could do was nod.

“Pick up the dust of your ruined relationship,” Nightmare continued, and he gently knocked Killer’s skull away from his shoulder as he urged him towards the scattered pile. “Store it away somewhere that you won’t forget; close to your heart, but not in it. Then, move on. There’s nothing more you can do now but that.”

Shaking eyelights, darting from the dust to the tattered scarf gripped between his fingers, stared down at the macabre display of an end that was, in many ways, poetry; poetry of insult. He swallowed his agony. “Will that make it stop hurting?”

Without looking up, Killer could feel the way that Nightmare regarded him, somewhere between disdain and pity. “No,” he said. “But, it’s a start.”

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, each gathering a thin layer of grime that dulls the shine of their golden casket with time. This one would remain golden for a while, like the last, marred by nothing but fingerprints from when he would take it from its place and hold it in his arms. But, eventually, it, too, would lose its beckoning lustre, and its tarnish would mean healing.

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, and here’s to many more.

[j0kers-light]

Hi chaos! I hope you’re having a good day!

I saw your headcanons post for joker x reader who struggles with anemia & loved it so, so much! It’s always lovely when we get to see our favorite characters caring for us in little ways like that, especially when it comes to our daily struggles that often go largely ignored by society. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a joker x f!reader with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome sometime? And as always, no pressure at all <3

— 🌹

Welcome my sweet 🌹anon!!

You ask, and I deliver! I had to do some extensive research with my mom to make sure I was accurate with this request! I learned so much via articles and short documentaries! Shoutout to my chronic pain sufferers! Chaos acknowledges you and I loves you!!

If anything doesn't sound right let me know 🌹 anon so I can correct it! I hope you enjoy! There are several sub-types of the disease but we'll focus on hEDS for this head canon 🖤✨

Since your disorder is rare and hereditary, there isn't any known treatment or any medical studies/research done to cure the illness. There isn't even a test done to diagnose its so vastly ignored! 😡😡

Society turns a blind eye to _EDS, simply chalking it up to hypermobility and being non-life threatening. WRONG.

hEDS is life threatening and sources fail to address the lifelong chronic pain and other debilitating issues that the rare disease causes. There are 13 sub types with their own crippling ailments.

Joker would hardly notice anything wrong until you go and hurt yourself, which is rather easy due to your fragile skin and joints.

Your body doesn't heal well after injury so bruises linger, scars are permanent, and dislocations are a common occurrence. Yay to pain. 🙃✨

Growing up, it was cool to show off your double joints and overly flexible body but as your age hit the double digits, you noticed the complications of your parlor tricks pretty quickly.

Muscle weakness was the first indicator followed by scarier issues like weak blood vessels and potential organ ruptures. Chronic pain is a reality that you have to endure since your body fails to function properly.

Life grinds to a halt when you have a flare up and Joker arches an eyebrow when you stay in bed for days at a time and work remotely.

Just moving is an impossible feat and your body punishes you for defying its demands for rest. You still have to live your life! Somehow.

Joker tries to crack jokes but you roll your eyes and ignore him. You’re just not in the mood.

He doesn't understand how you can go from practicing yoga in the sunroom to being bedridden in the same hour so he assumes you're faking being sick and that thought makes you cry.

Knowing that your lover believes that you are acting, hurts more than your aching joints and Joker immediately notices when your mental health begins to decline.

Now he's worried. When you can, you do as much as you're able, never knowing when your body will betray you and confine you to bed. Every moment is precious and Joker will never understand that.

Life returns back to "normal" but Joker demands answers. He's still in shock.

Weren't you on death's door just yesterday? Now you're returning to work, laughing and smiling, as if nothing is wrong. He doesn’t know what to think.

So he disappears to search the internet and after hours of clicking away, he's just as confused as when he started. (I feel you J..)

Joker refuses to believe there is nothing he can do to help his Bunny. This hEDS can't keep you down forever. Right? 👀

Why aren't there any studies, or any institutions pledging to find a cure for this?! Does he have to kidnap a doctor or two to get the ball rolling?

Joker remembers he does have a doctor on his payroll. He calls up Sarai and bombards her with the same questions he typed into Google.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BUNNY?🧑‍💻

Sarai doesn't give him much else to go on except keeping you comfortable, well medicated if you take any, and to continue your physical therapy but not too much exercise as to aggravate your joints.

Great... so he's back to square one!

Joker hears you groan from the next room and goes to check on his poor Bunny. He would find a way to make you feel better himself.

You had dozed off for a long quick nap and woke up to the sound of something falling over in the bathroom.

It still hurt to move but at least it wasn’t agonizing anymore. This current pain level you could tolerate.

You were willing yourself to toss the covers back when Joker appeared in the doorway looking rather sheepish.

“Hey doll. Uhh are ya feeling up to move?” He scanned you over as if he could gauge your pain tolerance by sight. Your small smile gave him some hope.

“Mmm. I gotta get up and fix something to eat.” You were weak and probably dehydrated from lying in bed all day, but that was to be expected.

Joker watched you swing a leg over and rushed to your side. “I uh.. ran a bath. If ya want. A Reddit post mentioned ah.. hoT water being helpful.”

It didn’t dawn on you just what Joker was saying. All you heard was the latter part of his sentence. “You have a Reddit account?”

He smacked his lips while helping you slowly walk towards the en-suite bath. To your surprise, the bath was waiting for you with a rolling cart next to it, hopefully with something to snack on.

You were speechless. “J… you did all this for me?”

He looked away and you got the impression that he was blushing. He still had his clown makeup on so you couldn’t tell for sure.

“Thank you J. I mean it.” He helped you sit on the nearby wooden bench after you kissed his cheek. “Um. I can undress myself.. if you need to—ah! Okay! You’re seriously doing this.”

Joker started with your socks and worked his way up until not a single thread of fabric was left on your body. You felt so exposed sitting there nude while Joker dipped his hand into the bath water.

It was hot enough to be medicinal but not scalding. He snapped his fingers and dashed over to the storage area to grab your bag of epsom salt before dumping a few cups in.

You got to see a rare softer side of Joker hard at work. No one would believe you if you reported this. The Joker, Gotham City’s worst nightmare, was preparing you a bath with the greatest care.

“All-right-yyy ya ready pretty girl?” Joker’s voice snapped you out of your daydream. He playfully flicked some water at you to get your attention.

You couldn’t flinch away and huffed your displeasure.

“I couldn’t resist, Bunny. Now in ya go! Hold onto my shoulders, yeah?” He picked you up as if you were made of glass and gently lowered you into the bath. “Easy doll, I know it’s hot. Just relax.”

Joker shushed any whimpers you made and held you steady underneath the water. For the next few unbearable moments, Joker was right there whispering sweet nothings to calm you down.

Finally you relaxed with a deep sigh, “This is perfect.”

“Good. If ya want, you can rest a bit. I’ll keep you.. well you know.. from drowning. But ya do need to eat something first. Here.” He dried his hand off and fed you a [insert favorite snack].

You felt like royalty and Joker had no issue helping you adjust to the role. He fed you piece by piece, offering you sips of water in between while holding your hand and rubbing soothing circles on your skin with his thumb.

The contact warmed your heart. Joker may not know much about your medical condition, but he would always be there to support you.

You couldn’t ask for a better partner.

[doberbutts]

As Disability Discourse 2.0 crosses my dash yet again I am left sort of wondering where the line is.

I am physically disabled. I am also neurodivergent. I do not consider myself mentally ill but I know that there are people out there with my exact diagnoses that do consider themselves mentally ill.

I have a brain injury. You can point to it on an MRI. I have the images to prove it. I had to re-teach myself how to speak. Those weird typos I have sometimes? Yeah my brain just reads letters wrong and sometimes spits out the wrong word or tense or grammatical structure sorry, that’s what happens when your brain gets shaken around in your head like a maraca following a serious car accident. I have a permanent tremor in my right hand and arm which results in me being incapable of fine motor control when having a flare. I am photosensitive and relatively intolerant of stress. I knocked an eye loose and was thankfully able to keep it but occasionally need to cover it or else it feels like someone is stabbing me directly in the brain when there is literally any light or movement whatsoever.

Did you know that over 30% of people who survive TBIs debate and even attempt to kill themselves within the first year? It’s still a bit unresearched but many neurologists believe it’s because many survivors have a hard time adjusting to their new normal when it feels like they have lost all control over themselves. I did not get that bad but I had many meltdowns where I would sob uncontrollably because it was all just Too Much, and the knowledge that it would be Too Much, Forever was curse over comfort.

Is that a mental or a physical disability? A part of my brain is damaged, like a scar. It is entirely neurological and mental in its symptoms.

I was diagnosed with a different brain condition, one that affects the autonomic nerve within my brain, causing fainting episodes, out-of-control mast cells, horrific digestive problems, and joints that bend a little too much. Average quality of life after diagnosis is roughly equivalent to someone with end stage heart failure.

A part of my brain is faulty and always has been. It is entirely physical in its symptoms. Is this a mental or physical disability?

My knee hurts. I was knocked off my bike one day on my way home from college. It was a hit-and-run driver and I didn’t have the money or the insurance to do more than slap a brace on it and limp around for several weeks while it healed. Less than a decade later it gave out. I was completely unable to walk for months. I lost my job. I ended up switching careers entirely so I could sit. I walk with a cane. I have to physically drag myself up stairs with my arms and my “good” leg. I spend nights grasping at my knee willing it to stop spasming as I try to get some sleep. I’ve had to beg for painkillers. Surgery will not help it. My knee is Completely Fucked, Forever.

This is a clear physical disability, that much is for sure.

I recently went to see Spiderverse. I warned my friend that it was entirely possible I’d need to duck out at some point because the movie would overwhelm me. I also warned her that I would probably need to immediately rest or go home and would not be able to hang out because I was anticipating it to be Sensory Hell. I went in prepared with my own snacks, tinted glasses to take the edge off the flashing, and even looked away during some of the worst of it.

I needed to duck out after an extended chase scene which featured a lot of flashing lights. I was able to come back and finish the movie. I needed nearly an hour of rest to stop shaking and be safe to drive myself home. I immediately went to bed upon getting home at about 4pm and by the time it was night had a pounding headache and shivers. I knew this would probably happen because the first one was very bad for my brain injury and I’d been pre-warned the second one was worse about it- truly I think it is really those movies’ biggest flaws is that they are very not friendly to people with problems with bright flashing lights.

My knee did not prevent me from entering the building. The theater was wheelchair accessible.

But even with sensory provisions, my brain injury and faulty nerve made it a monumental task to just finish a two and a half hour task of literally just sitting there.

I could go in. Staying was the part that was in question.

[accioprocrastination]

Estranged (part 2/?)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

A/n: fluff, angst, grief

Summary: Rooster and his ex best friend go to dinner

The two of you drive in convoy to the small diner that you spent 90% of your childhood in.

Every time you look in your rearview mirror and see is the broncho he's had since you were 18, you feel a mixture of giddiness and fear.

"Why did I fucking agree to this?" You mutter pulling into the parking lot.

Without giving yourself more time to worry about the uncomfortable reality of this reunion, you walk over to his car and wait for him to clamber out.

You follow him as he walks to your booth - the third one in from the back on the right. As a kid you would always insist on sitting in this exact booth because this is the best location to people watch. Scooting in across from him you wonder if he remembered that or if this is a weird coincidence.

"What's that look for?" he asks eyebrows scrunched together.

"Huh?" You respond, trying to ignore him as you pick up the menu from the table.

"Why bother looking?" He asks eyebrows raising, knowing that you both already know what you're ordering.

"What if something else looks better?" you ask.

"Better than the world's best pancakes, what planet are you on over there Kazansky?" He teases.

You roll your eyes as a waitress starts approaching your table.

She takes your orders all the while giving Bradshaw heart eyes. You watch her walk away and glance between the two of you in your peripheral. She's debating whether he's single. Or whether she can take you.

"So?" He asks expectantly.

"So what?" You respond.

"Tell me everything that has happened since we last spoke." He clarifies.

"I drove here and - " You say and he kicks you playfully under the table to stop you talking.

"You know that's not what I meant!" he interrupts.

"Yeah I know..." You respond unsure of what he actually wants you to say. You haven't spoken to Bradley in years it would feel weird to keep things surface level and weird to be as intimate as you used to be.

"Things haven't been great since the last time we spoke." You admit.

"I'm sorry about your dad. I heard through the grapevine that he's sick again." He says reaching for your hand across the table.

You change the conversation topic back to him, asking "What about you, how have you been?"

"A bit all over the place. Work is great now but it's taken forever to get to that stage. I got married since the last time we spoke - " he starts summarising his life over the last few years.

You don't interrupt him but the thoughts in your head come to a grinding halt and then suddenly torrent your mind to the point that whatever he says next is lost on you.

He got married and didn't invite you to his wedding.

Mr Perfect married someone you've never met.

"How did you meet her?" You ask automatically presuming their gender.

"At a joint birthday party of two pilots I was stationed with a few years back." He responds.

"Cool." You say not bothering to sound less disinterested.

You know you fell out of touch but it hurts that he wouldn't invite you to his wedding.

How could he marry someone you don't even know the name of?

"What about you, are you seeing anyone, married, divorced etc?" He asks.

"You know me Brads, my standards are too high to date people." You respond not telling him that your life is in the exact same place it was last time you spoke, except this time your dad is dying.

"Hahahahaha yeah do you remember when Ryder tried to get you to go out with him?" He questions, bringing an uncontrollable smirk out on your face.

"Stop." You say to him with a giggle. "That was the most embarrassing day of my life it genuinely gives me nightmares thinking about that still! We were literally eleven - surely people have enough common sense not to do that at that age?" You ask giving Bradley a dramatic look that makes him start cackling.

You snigger thinking that no one at that age should have a total lack of self awareness to the point that they think asking someone out via a break dance routine is a good idea.

"He broke his fucking leg doing that and you still said no." Bradley is red from laughing at the memory of you trying to shield behind him while being serenaded.

You both stop laughing as the waitress approaches the table and you order your usuals.

"Shocking choice." Bradley murmurs as you went for the same thing you always go for. You roll your eyes at him, annoyed that he would have to comment on that.

Your phone buzzes on the table between the two of you with a text from Coyote, then seconds later it buzzes with a second text "Hangman". Bradshaw mouths from across the table.

You don't have previews on so all you can see is his name on your screen.

It is quickly followed by an onslaught of other texts.

"Do you want to get that?" Bradley asks.

You shake your head not one of those people who will sit glued to their phone when out with someone else.

"You seem close with Hangman." he probes.

"Yeah." You respond seeing the distain on his face as clear as day. "I take it you're not?"

He huffs.

"He's an idiot in the air and on the ground." Bradley shakes his head.

You open your mouth to call him the idiot when the waitress appears.

"Oh you're a pilot?" the waitress asks placing his food in front of him.

He nods totally oblivious to her advances or completely uninterested.

She's literally put lipstick on since she took our orders.

You're annoyed.

This feels awkward and forced and all you really want to do is pick up your phone and read whatever Jake and Javy are saying.

The waitress comes back to ask if everything is okay with the food.

You've gotta be joking, you think when you see that she's taken off layers to show some skin and has undone a few buttons on her shirt.

"Do you think if we stick around long enough she'll get naked?" you remark.

He raises his eyebrows at you looking completely clueless.

"Who?" he says confused.

"The waitress you dipshit." you say without thinking. "She's been flirting with you all night, you cannot be that oblivious." You add shaking your head.

"You jealous?" he teases.

"In your dreams Bradshaw." you roll your eyes, not admitting that there might be some truth behind that.

Part 1 in case you missed it

Masterlist

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 11: You didn’t hear it from me..

Eddie leans forward ready for whatever information Gareth has to offer. “Okay dude I’ll tell you everything I know but you didn’t hear it from me understand?! My mom will kill me if she finds out I’m saying anything her Aunt & my mom have been friends since middle school theyd both have my head on a stick!” Eddie nods in agreement & extends his hand as a solid promise to his friend not to say a word about what he’s about to hear. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning.. her aunt & cousin have been camping with my mom & I for as long as I can remember mostly because of my dad taking off her uncle took me fishing and hunting a lot manly activity is what he’d call it & every once in awhile Jessica would have Jamie with her so I’ve known her for quite some time too it’s why we waive at each other it’s not like that at all trust me we’re not each others type she’s more like a sister if anything. I know some of her but the younger her before everything happened… well her mom ended up getting really sick it was bad Ed in & out of the hospital for what felt like forever just to end up being hooked to a million machines at home for hospice.. during the hospital stays Jamie was passed around a lot staying with random family members her dad always prioritized work before Jamie or her mom but we all knew he was cheating with his secretary I overheard my mom on the phone with her Aunt Betty Jane & after Jamie’s mom passed away her dad took to the bottle & started hurting her when he wasn’t completely ignoring her she took a map out one day & tossed a dart at it in hopes of starting a new life away from all the bullshit & when it landed here she thought it was gods way of saying she needed to be with her aunt… Jamie has been through hell shit even her prom was ruined by some fuckin prick jock I’m still looking for that piece of shit too I’ll kill him I swear it!!” Eddie’s eyes pop out of his head “Gareth what the fuck happened at prom?! What guy did he hurt her?!” Gareth put his hands on his friends shoulders making him sit back down. “Look this dude was a grade a prick him & his jock buddies made a bet that he couldn’t get her to goto prom with him & put out & embarrassed her in front of the whole school they carried her minus the blood he made fun of her & said something along the lines of she looks like a pig or something but I remember Jessica being on the phone at my house & the way Jamie was crying it just made my blood boil it’s why she’s so self conscious about how she looks in her head she thinks shes ugly,fat & undeserving of love because of all she’s been through it’s why she’s not letting you in Eddie I wish you would’ve came to us before the twerps but then again you didn’t know I knew her” Eddie’s heart breaks as he tries to wrap his head around all he’s just been told. How could anyone do such things to you? Eddie thought you’re pure perfection & anyone who’s hurt you he’d surely teach a lesson or two or kick their ass whatever came first. Him & Gareth share a few joints as he fills him in on all he knows of happy Jamie so he can help open her heart to him he’d do anything to make you smile. Learning your favorite colors & songs favorite flowers and animal to see at the zoo of course it’d be a Siberian tiger they’re exotic & beautiful like you. He’d be sure to go get you a stuffed animal & write you a letter to leave on your doorstep he is determined to get you to not only open up to him but fully let him in. You’re all he can think about he’s already written several songs and made several d&d characters that all look oddly like you even Mike & dustin noticing the resemblances of each elf & fairy that’s been presented over the past few weeks. He’s been trying to find the right words to say to you he’s already got a 2 foot stuffed tiger at home for you in his closet & a card all picked out and set on his desk he just doesn’t know what or how to say what he feels. Eddie isn’t used to feeling this way about someone the idea of love itself scared him to death but not when it came to you he was ready.

[starksbabie]

You Belong With Me

Eddie’s got what he always dreamed of, he is passing his classes, Hellfire is going great, Corroded Coffin is sounding better than ever, Chrissy Cunningham is his girlfriend, and his best friend Y/N is right by his side.

A/N: A fic inspired by Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me where Eddie overlooks his best friend who is completely in love with him... or does he? Hurt/Comfort. One of my fics with a happy ending.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Eddie laughs keeping his arms tight around Chrissy’s waist as she groans and stomps her foot in response to a joke he made.

“Aw, come on babe it’s just a joke!” Eddie laughs, pressing a loud wet kiss to Chrissy’s cheek, making the strawberry blonde girl gasp.

“Eddie!” She squeals.

You just roll your eyes at their antics and look back at your lunch, you still can’t really believe that they’re dating. Of course, you had known about Eddie’s crush on Chrissy forever, but never in a million years did you think the head cheerleader, queen of Hawkins High, would return his affections.

You look up when Eddie snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“Hello? You in there?” He asks, giving you an odd, slightly concerned look, you notice the cafeteria is mostly emptied out now.

“Yeah, sorry just thinking about that quiz in Ms. O'Donnell's.” You look at him and smile packing up your stuff.

“…we have a quiz in O’Donnell’s today?”

“Eddie!”

You lay back on your bed listening to your new Van Halen album, when your window slides open and Eddie comes tumbling in.

“You know one of these times you’re going to get caught in here.” You laugh, as he rights himself and settles himself back onto your bed next to you. “Is this your new album?” He smiles, ignoring your statement, putting his hand behind his head as he relaxes next to you, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling.

“Yeah, it’s really good, I think I like Sammy Hagar.” You say, looking at him, taking in his side profile, admiring the slope of his nose and the fizz of his curls as his listens to the music filling your room.

He turns to look at you, and you think you’ve been caught but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice that you were staring.

“Really? Better than David Lee?”

“Yeah. Here, Listen to this.” You get up and put on a song that you had listened to earlier for him, before laying back down. The two of you lay there side-by-side, and finish the entire album before arguing over which lead singer is better.

After a while Eddie puts on another album and breaks out a joint that he brought with him. The two of you lay next to each other smoking, enjoying the music and each other’s company without feeling the need to fill the air between you with endless conversation. Once the joint is reduced to nothing but ash and the album has been flipped to the ‘B’ side Eddie starts telling you his plans for after graduation.

“I’m gonna do it. I swear it, I’m getting out of this town one way or another. I know my uncle wants me to come work at the plant with him, but I just can’t imagine that as my future. I want to play stages. I’m going to get me a warlock and I’m going to LA and I will find someone, anyone who will take me seriously.”

You smile at him as he talks, you know if anyone deserves to get out of this hick town it’s him. His imagination, his dreams, his personality. They’ve always been too big for Hawkins.

“And it doesn’t hurt that Chrissy is going to UCLA next year either.” He adds.

There it is, the one thing that could dampen the amazing evening you’d been having, you’d almost forgotten about her.

“Oh… She is?”

“Yeah, she got the letter this afternoon. I’m going with her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N. I’m so lucky.” He smiles and sits up, pulling his shoes back on, “I should get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow for Hellfire.”

You watch as he climbs out the window, before closing it behind him. You sit back on the bed and put your head in your hands and wishing, and hoping and wanting more than anything for Eddie to see you as more than his best friend.

You don’t know why you’re here. You sit next to Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire boys in the bleachers watching Lucas play basketball, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. You know Eddie is here for one reason, who’s wearing a short skirt and currently standing on the sidelines of the game. You try your best to focus on the game but it’s hard to not notice how Eddie whistles at her after she does a cartwheel, or how he claps loudly each time she does something.

After the game everyone decides to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, but you excuse yourself saying that you have a headache. You walk home and lock yourself in your bedroom laying in your bed feeling so lonely over the fact that the man you are head over heels for, doesn’t see you in the same light at all. You don’t register the tears at first, it’s not until they are dripping down your cheeks that you realize the sound you’re hearing is your own sobs. You lay there and allow the sadness to overwhelm, and envelop you until the peaceful darkness of sleep pulls you in.

You do your best over the next few weeks to avoid Eddie, especially if he’s with Chrissy, which seems to be all the time. The school year is coming to a close and there are more and more parties and celebrations, which makes it harder to avoid him while still enjoying time with your other friends. You decide to skip Jason Carver’s party though because you know Chrissy will absolutely drag Eddie there. Instead, you have a movie night with some of your other friends and find for the first time in a while you don’t feel so lonely.

After everyone goes home, you work on cleaning things up. You know it’s late but you’d rather get it done now than have to do it in the morning, who cares if it’s the middle of the night. You make your way up to your room and get ready for bed, and are startled by the knock on your window, opening it there he is, hair disheveled.

“Hey…” He smiles, “can I come in?”

You nod and step back giving him space to crawl on in, he tumbles through the window with as much as grace as usual and he sprawls on the floor looking up at you.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

“Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?” He sits up and leans against the wall under the windowsill.

You pause and look at him, before sitting next to him with your back against the wall too.

“Why aren’t you at Carver’s party with Chrissy?” you answer his question with another, two can play at that game.

He sighs and looks at you.

“Her friends are so fake. There’s not one real, genuine thing about any of them. It’s exhausting to be around them. I’d rather be here. Around you. So… Why are you avoiding me?”

You take a deep breath and look at your hands in your lap, “can’t you see, Eddie. She’s just like them. I’m the one who understands you. I’ve been here all along, so why can’t you see? You don’t belong with her Eddie. You belong with me.”

The room is silent for a long moment after your confession, before Eddie lets out a long breath and hooks his finger under your chin to lift your face so you’re looking at him.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, I really mean it.”

He leans in and seals his lips over yours in a warm, loving kiss. Nothing is perfect but he knows, no one knows him better than you. You have always fit together like two puzzle pieces and if he’d realized just how much you’d loved him from the start he never would have asked Chrissy out. Together you two can make it through anything, and this, this kiss feels like perfection.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER EIGHT

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentions of sex with a minor (Meg's dad)

Words in this chapter: 4,100

Author’s notes: you might recognize a few nuggets (per Stuie) from SPN here.

After this, there are two more chapters and an epilogue.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER EIGHT

“So...” Meg exhales the first drag of her post-dinner cigarette. “How’d it go?”

Dean exhales his own with his eyes closed then drops his head to stretch his neck before finally answering. “She’s comin’ on Friday.”

Meg blinks through the smoke. “Wow. That’s... fast. You OK?” She takes another long drag, watching him closely.

“She’s my baby girl.” Dean stares at the glowing cherry before taking a quick drag and blowing it out. “‘Til 10 months ago, she thought the sun shined out my ass. Now she knows a little more about my ass than I wish she did.”

Meg furrows her brow in question.

“She walked in on me and some friends. In my bedroom. With a side of coke.”

Meg narrows her eyes as she takes another draw from her cigarette. She’s quiet for a moment before she tells him a brief story.

“When I was 13, I walked in on my dad on the couch with my best friend. She was also 13, mind you.” 

She sighs and shakes her head when Dean reaches to place a gentle hand on her knee, mirroring her furrowed expression from earlier. She drops her palms over his hand and squeezes with a watery smile then clears her throat. 

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg with Travis Masters, lemme tell ya!” She chuckles, looking up at the night sky as she takes her last drag, holding Dean’s hand in hers. On her exhales, she continues with her point.

“Anyway... I still loved him.” She flicks her smoldering butt into the bucket of sand at their feet before looking back up at Dean. “He’s still my daddy. And he never even tried to make things right.” 

Dean flips his hand under hers to squeeze her back, letting the ash at the end of his smoke grow. “I don’t wanna be the reason she takes her first drink or goes home with some fucking asshole, who—”

“Hey.” Meg stops him, leaning in to snag his cigarette and suck the last millimeter of life out of it before dropping it in the bucket with hers. “We’ll never know why we make the choices we make — not entirely — but you’re doing the right thing right now, Dean.”

Dean swallows and nods, hoping what she’s saying is true.

“But you’re right. She is your baby girl. You’re always gonna be her hero. If somewhere down the line she slips and gets hurt, you’ll be there to pick her up, no matter what caused it.”

Dean draws a shaky breath and nods, squeezing her hand tighter.

“She’s just hurt and scared. That’s all. And that scares you.”

Dean nods more vigorously. “I don’t want her to be scared — ‘specially not of me.” 

“Right. So you’re gonna fix it.”

Dean sniffles then sits up straight, drawing a deep breath as he slowly pulls his hand from her grasp. “I’m just afraid it can’t be fixed, ya know?”

Meg nods, sitting back as well. “I’ve never met her, but I know how you make me feel — and everybody else in this joint — I know that she knows you love her, and I’ll bet that she’s as good a person as her Daddy.”

Dean smirks, feeling his cheeks heat, making him drop his gaze sideways.

“Hey, I’m only telling you all this now because you’re terrified she’s gonna walk in here and tell you she never wants to see you again, but, Dean... she wouldn’t be coming if that was the case. She can’t, and won’t, stay away forever.”

“Thanks, Meg.” Dean looks up and holds her gaze for a few beats.

He wonders, not for the first time, what if they’d met in another time and place, would they be something other or more than what they are to each other now? He knows he cares for her and knows he will do his level best to have her back, even after they get out of this place. But there’s an unspoken rule between this version of them; they’ll never be other or more in this lifetime.

“We’ll all be there for you,” Meg assures him as she slides from atop their established perch on the deck. “We’ll be right beside you.”

Dean steps in to pull her into a hug, but her gaze is snagged toward the reception area. “Well, except, maybe not him.”

Dean turns toward the windows to see Crowley slithering through the front doors. 

“Huh. Little creep didn’t even make it 48 hours.” He slides his hands into his pockets and tilts back onto his heels.

Meg sidles next to him as they watch the bruised and disheveled Scotsman check in with Missouri. “Three outta ten, Dean.”

Dean nods and drapes an arm around her shoulder. “Two point one.”

“So... hypothetically,” Gabe waves his hands around like he’s doing an impression of Mickey Mouse as the sorcerer’s apprentice. “Let’s say one of us—”

“Two point one,” Rowena murmurs from his side.

Gabe nods. “Let’s say two or more of us get outta here and make it.”

Cain slowly nods and blinks until his head tiredly finds its way to his shoulder. Dean continues to be amazed at Cain’s patience and grace with this group of morons, of which Dean isn’t the least problematic. 

“When can we, ya know, date?” Gabe folds and settles his hands in his lap, and Rowena pats him on the shoulder. 

Crowley rolls his blackened, swollen, and bloodshot eyes, and Cain arches a brow.

“The two of you?” Cain asks.

“Hypothetically!” Gabe pitches forward in his seat, hands open in surrender. “And I’m just asking like what’s a healthy time, ya know, to marinate on the outside in our sobriety so we know we’re good and ready?”

Cain sighs. “What we tell everyone when they leave is — number one, 90 meetings in 90 days.” 

He glances around their circle — Crowley is slumped and grumbling beside Rowena; Jack is quiet and laser-focused; Pamela is knitting a beanie for one of her boys as she watches and listens; and Meg and Dean are similarly sprawled and fidgeting in the uncomfortable chairs, simultaneously amused and bored by Gabe’s antics. 

“Number two,” Cain continues. “Get yourself a plant. If the plant is still alive after a year...” He shrugs. “Get a pet. If after two years, both the plant and pet are still alive? Then you’re ready to date.”

“Two years?!” Rowena shrieks.

Pamela snorts a laugh but doesn’t miss a weft as Crowley appears to fall asleep, Dean and Meg roll their eyes at each other, and Jack looks absolutely lost. 

Gabe pats Rowena’s hand and nods in reassurance. “But what if, hypothetically, we know the person already?”

Cain nods and blinks to the other shoulder this time.

“Do we just ignore that person for two years?”

“Gabriel.” Cain blinks. “We need to refocus on today’s topic.”

“Right.” Crowley grunts from across the circle. “Dean’s daughter’s visit.”

Dean’s surprised, not only because he genuinely thought Crowley had passed out 10 minutes ago, but also because there’s not even the slightest trace of malice in his tone.

Regardless, he’s on high alert and suddenly jittery now that they’re discussing the plans for the weekend.

“Yes,” Cain echoes. “Emma arrives Friday for the weekend. She and Lydia will spend the first day with Billie and the second with Billie and me.”

“Lydia?” Meg mutters to Dean, and he nods.

“Her mom,” Dean quietly answers.

Emma’s only 16, but she did have the choice to bring her mother into the sessions or not. He and Lydia didn’t work out, but she’s a good mother and a good person. Dean thinks Emma’s choice to bring her along was best for her.

“But make no mistake,” Cain briefly turns his attention to Meg. “These sessions are for Dean and Emma's healing; no one else.”

The plans are all similar to what they experienced when Pamela’s boys visited. Emma and Lydia are staying close by, so they will be welcome to dine in the cafeteria and spend as much extra time on-site as they wish.  

“Pamela,” Cain prompts and Pamela sets her knitting aside. “You and your boys did an incredible job. Do you have any input for Dean?”

Pamela nods and takes a deep breath before looking Dean in the eyes. “Be honest.”

Dean nods.

“Remember she’s just a kid.”

Dean’s heart lurches and skips.

“And don’t be defensive.”

“OK.” Dean smiles. “Thanks, PB.”

Pamela smiles back and winks as she resumes her knitting.

“Good, OK,” Cain says. “Now, remember, just as with Pamela’s group, not all of you are required to attend, but please let me know if you are abstaining and for what reason. Any questions?”

Jack’s hand shoots into the air, and he almost takes flight with eagerness. “Yes, Jack?”

“May I say something? About Dean’s daughter’s visit.”

Dean shifts in his seat and tries to calm his nerves and heart rate.

“Of course you may, Jack.”

Jack nods then resituates in his seat to focus on Dean. “Dean. I hope you know what a good person you are. You’re kind and strong, and you make people feel safe. Your daughter’s visit—”

“Emma,” Dean murmurs. 

Jack nods again. “Emma’s visit will probably be emotional and anxiety-inducing. You’re bound to think that you’re a bad person or that people are judging you, so I want to remind you now that we all believe in you. And I’m certain Emma does as well.”

Dean blinks. 

Shock is a medical state for which Dean has been trained, certified, and re-trained to treat. It’s when, for whatever reason, your body doesn’t have enough blood circulating throughout. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think Jack’s monologue sent him into shock.

Meg nudges him, mumbling something terse.

“Uhh... thank you. Jack. Thank you.” Dean nods, catching his breath and trying to find a comfortable position in his seat as Jack nods and smiles, satisfied and scooting back into his own.

Crowley dramatically clears his throat as he lazily lifts his hand. “I will... I’d like to echo much of what Jack has said.”

“I thought you hated me.” Dean arches a brow.

“No one hates you as much as you do — believe me, I’ve tried.”

Rowena coos and runs a hand down Crowley’s arm.

“Truth is, you are a good man,” Crowley continues. “Your daughter knows it better than we do, I’d venture to guess. Remember that.”

Dean peeks at Meg, and she tilts her head with an I-told-you-so shrug.

“You got this, Sparky.” Gabe gives Dean a thumbs-up, and he chuckles, returning the thumbs-up.

“Oh, Dean...” Rowena begins. “Just... don’t let your darker thoughts get the better of you. Rise above!” 

Dean bobs his head looking around the circle at his new friends. “Thank you. All of you. I appreciate it.”

“OK, everybody — same time tomorrow. Let’s break.”

The week lurches and stalls like a tortuous loop of time. Dean’s scared and anxious, but he also wants so badly to hold his little girl in his arms again that his heart aches with its every beat. 

Dinner on Thursday feels like a manifestation of a thousand-yard stare. His skin itches with a jonesing he hasn’t felt in days for a single Valium or the tiniest drag off a joint because he knows he isn’t going to be able to sleep at all tonight. 

“You eat like a bird, it’s so bizarre,” Meg mutters, nabbing the dinner roll from Dean’s tray to tear it open and slather it with butter. “You’re like,” she rips a piece of the buttered bread with her teeth and chews, talking with her mouth full. “All tall and broad-shouldered and solid as a wall, and I’ve seen you eat like, what?” 

Meg gestures to Pamela. 

“Like a banana and two beans all week,” Pamela replies with an arch of her brow, stabbing what’s left of Dean’s chicken breast and dropping it to her own tray.

“A banana and two beans! Right,” Meg agrees. “And not just this week, you never eat. What’s that about?”

Meg and Pamela stare at him as they chew their own food and his.

“Honestly?”

The women nod encouragingly.

“I dunno.” Dean shrugs. 

No one in his entire life has ever told him that he eats like a bird. In fact, John used to call him an oinker when he was a kid, and he’s spent most of his adult life with a reputation for eating anything put in front of him.

“Wouldn’t you know it?” Pamela narrows her eyes. “The best-looking person in this place also doesn’t get the munchies and immediately gain 15 pounds like the rest of us. Jerk.”

“Exactly. Jerk.”

Dean shrugs again. “Just well-adjusted, I guess.”

Meg and Pamela snort and roll their eyes before Pamela throws a green bean at Dean.

Dean heads to his room after dinner. He tells Pamela and Meg that he wants to take a long, hot shower before bed to try and wind down. 

Pamela makes a joke about the ‘long, hot showers’ somehow figuring into his lack of munchies, as if cursory shower masturbation is a substitute for anything let alone the rush of cocaine and the sensational fucking feel of a warm body under and over you, sliding skin against skin.

Meg argues. “Bitch, I rub one out morning, noon, and night and I still can’t button my jeans.”

Dean groans. “OK, I’m outta here. See you two in the morning.”

“Hiking?”

“Yes.”

“OK, goodnight!”

“‘Night.”

Before Dean can make it to the stairs, Alex stops him. 

“Hey, Dean. Billie told me to make sure you get this before curfew.”

She hands him his cell phone. All he can do is stare at it.

“She thought you might want it for, I dunno, solitaire or something. You still have a couple of hours before Light Out.” Alex reasserts her offer.

Dean cautiously takes his phone.

He didn’t realize until that moment how liberating it had been not having his phone for the past two weeks. He holds it like it’s foreign or cursed. 

“Thanks, Alex.”.

“Welcome,” she replies with a smile. “Have a good night, and good luck this weekend.”

Dean smiles back before turning and heading toward the staircase. 

Alex isn’t much older than Emma. Dean can imagine how proud her parents must be of what a great kid and how smart and kind she is. 

When he gets to his room, Jack’s already in bed with his comics, candy, and stuffed animal. Dean pauses for a moment to watch Jack reading. His brow is lightly furrowed, and he’s absently stroking the soft fur of his gryphon. 

“What’s his name?” Dean asks, setting his phone on his chest of drawers.

Jack jolts and rapidly blinks before looking up at Dean with bleary eyes.

“What?” he asks.

Dean smiles, biting back his laughter. He doesn’t want Jack to think he’s laughing at him in a bad way. 

“Your uhh... friend there.” Dean motions toward the gryphon as he pulls his drawer open for pajama pants and a t-shirt.

“Oh.” Jack looks down at the toy like he’d forgotten it was there. “Her name is Dagon.”

Dean pauses his search for pajamas and then turns to the kid. “Ironic. Dagon. Like dragon without the R?” He arches a brow.

Jack blushes and buries his grin in the neck of his guardian. “And with fur.”

Dean chuckles and turns to retrieve his pajamas. “Hey, Jack, you wanna read me one of your stories? I could use a little somethin’ to get my mind off tomorrow.”

He pushes his drawer shut before turning back and finding Jack beaming at him. 

“Yes. I’d love to!”

Dean nods. “Great. I’m gonna go shower real quick. Pick a good one.”

As Dean makes his way to the bathroom, Jack scurries out from under his covers and calls after him. “I will!”

Jack is an animated storyteller. As he tells the stories more than he reads them to Dean, it becomes clear that he’s read these books dozens of times. He explains the characters’ motivations without judgment, portraying them all as complex and sympathetic.

Two hours later, when their lights are turned out and Dean is gently nodding off, Jack murmurs something so quietly that Dean isn’t sure he’s meant to hear it.

“You could be Batman, Dean. You’re a lot like him.”

If Jack didn’t treasure and portray the vigilante with such love and compassion, Dean might take offense. Instead, Jack’s comment fuels hours of cartoonish dreams of Dean fighting fantasy crime with Jack at his side.

Dean wakes up too early to go down for coffee, but he got almost a full eight hours of sleep for the first time in months.

He gets up to pee and wash his face. On his way back to bed, he notices his phone on top of his chest of drawers. He waits a beat before picking it up. When he finally does, he crawls back into bed and stares at the dark screen for almost a whole minute.

 He checks in with himself like Billie’s taught him to do.

He’s scared. He doesn’t know what he’ll see in his text logs if he chooses to look at them. He doesn’t know what voice messages might be in his inbox. He decides before he opens his phone that he’s not going to look at his texts or his voicemail. He can’t manage that thick, sticky layer of anxiety today. He needs to be at his best for Emma.

Dean finds a game to play until he can get dressed and go down to meet Meg and Pamela for their hike.

“Dean.”

His stomach donkey-kicks his heart, and he freezes at the sound of Lydia’s voice.

Meg peeks around him curiously, and her face brightens with a smile. She looks up at him as she reaches for his smoke. 

“She’s here,” she says, tossing his cigarette into the sand. “Go.”

Dean swallows and nods then takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as he turns.

When he sees her, he exhales and can’t help but smile.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby.” He sets his coffee aside.

“You look good, Dean,” Lydia says, watching Emma closely and keeping her distance. “Maybe a little thin, but... good.”

“Thanks.” Dean doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter as she idles at her mother’s side. He takes a step forward then another. Before he can take a third, Emma collides with him, wrapping her arms around his ribcage and burying her face in his chest.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers.

Dean’s eyes close as he wraps his arms around her and rests his cheek on the crown of her head. “Me too, baby. God, me too.”

He opens his eyes to see Lydia watching Emma with tears in her eyes. She looks up at him and tries to smile. Dean shakes his head.

“Thank you,” he says, and Lydia nods, reaching out to smooth a hand along his arm.

Friday and Saturday are long and grueling. At meal times, Emma and Lydia leave the campus. Lydia explains that they just need a little break, but Dean worries. Emma hugged him and told him she missed him, though. That brief interaction gets him through hours of trudging through memories of what a mess he made of his life in the past three years. 

When Sunday arrives, he’s exhausted and wound so tight he’s afraid he might snap. He asks Billie for some tools to calm himself. She reminds him to breathe and to focus on being the person he wants to be and who Emma needs him to be; not on the past. 

At noon, they gather in the group room. As they assemble their chairs in a circle with chairs for Dean and Emma inside, Emma won’t look at him.

“Hey,” Pamela appears at his side with a cup of water. “Drink this and breathe. You’re gonna be great.”

Dean accepts the water and slams it. “Thanks.”

She takes the empty cup with a nod then turns to leave him to his task.

Once everyone is settled and Cain has explained how everything will play out, he turns to Dean’s daughter.

“Emma, what do you want to tell your dad?”

Emma still won’t look Dean in the eye as she chews the inside of her lip. “That he hurt me.”

Dean shifts in his chair and rubs the heel of his palm down and up his thigh.

“Tell your dad, Emma.”

Emma’s chest convulses on a shaky inhale and she side-eyes Dean. She looks so tired and sad. 

“I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see my dad.”

“OK. That sounds like anger, Emma.”

“Yeah,” she answers, and her voice cracks. She looks back at Dean. “I shouldn’t have to make sure you won’t be high and having a threesome in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon.”

Dean nods and licks his lips, blinking slowly as he drops his gaze to the floor. He agrees with her. She shouldn’t have to do that or see her fuck-up dad doing fucked up things.

“What else, Emma?” Cain prompts.

Emma draws another breath and squares her shoulders. She clears her throat and turns to fully face her dad. 

“That day...” Her lip trembles, and her eyes well with tears. “You were like an animal.” She shakes her head, and tears drop to her hands in her lap. “I didn’t recognize my dad that day.” 

Dean’s chest and jaw tighten painfully. In his line of sight, he sees Pamela’s hands wringing in her lap and Jack perched at the edge of his seat.

“Besides being hurt and angry, what else did you feel, Emma?”

“Scared,” she whispers, dropping her eyes.

Dean winces, squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth.

“Of what, Emma? Tell your dad.”

“You weren’t you.”

Dean looks up again, wishing he could hold her and make it all go away. 

“You were...” Emma shakes her head. “Some fucked up, sex-crazed... lunatic. Not my dad. And I need you. I need you.”

Emma crumbles into sobs, and Dean pitches forward. Billie and Cain both told him he had to hear her out before speaking or acting in any way. He isn’t allowed to comfort her, and it’s killing him.

“OK. That was really good, Emma. Are you ready for your dad to talk now?”

Emma sniffles and nods, and Cain turns to Dean. 

“Dean, what do you want to say to Emma?”

He settles back in his chair.

He draws a deep breath and lets the tears spill, mirroring the little girl facing him. “I’m sorry, baby. I never wanted you to see me that way.”

Emma’s brow furrows, and she huffs a small sob, shaking her head. “Why... do you do that? Why do you wanna be like that?”

Dean stares at her for several breaths. He wants to apologize to her. He wants her to know that he never meant to hurt or scare her. He doesn’t know how to answer her question.

Finally, he shakes his head. “Sometimes I can’t be myself, Em.”

“But I need you,” she repeats her plea from before.

Dean swallows, tipping forward again. “I’m so sorry I hurt and scared you. I never want to hurt you, please... I need you to know that.”

“But you did,” she answers simply. “And if you don’t stop all that, you’ll do it again. Mom covered for you for so long. This needs to stop, I need my dad.”

Something about her tone of voice raises his hackles. “I’m still your dad, Em.” He reminds himself of Pamela’s advice.

“No,” Emma argues. “No, not like that! My dad’s strong and brave — he saves lives. He’s gentle and kind. He loves me—”

“I do love you, baby—” 

“Dean, Emma — let’s stay on track.”

Dean nods, turning back to face his daughter. “Em, honey, I love you. So much. And I wanna be good for you.”

“You are good for me. You help me feel unafraid to tell you anything, ask you anything. You make me stronger — that’s the reason I’m here today.”

All the lessons he’s learned from Billie, all of Meg’s observations, Jack's words, and even Crowley’s come rushing back to him. His daughter is begging him to be what he wants to be. It’s so simple. All he has to do is stop resisting so that he can be what she needs.

Dean hangs his head and cries, but he’s smiling. 

“... and I love you, too, Daddy. Everybody does. Don’t lose who you are because you’re afraid. I need you, Uncle Sammy needs you... these people need you to just be you.”

“Dean?” Cain calls to him. “Do you have anything else to add?”

 “OK.” He surrenders, bobbing his head as he raises it and wiping his tears. “You got me, baby.” 

Then Dean looks at Cain. “Can I hug my little girl now?”

Cain smiles and nods. “Yes.”

Emma is out of her chair just as Dean stands, meeting him with a shaking, sobbing embrace.

Chapter 9

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

[thefreakandthehair]

hi hello, here to ask about F for the fanfic ask game ✨💕

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

hey hi hello del!! this was tough and I got another ask with this question too so I’ll post with a different scene there but the first one that came to mind was this flashback scene from chapter four of over the hills and far away! it’s a little long so it’s under the cut but god, this scene was so cathartic and layered to write. 🥰 dialogue is always my beloathed— of all aspects of writing, it’s what I struggle with the most but I’m so happy with how this scene came out!

fanfic writer ask game!

Smoke from the joint Steve and Eddie pass between them curls and twists like tentacles, gently circling up towards the stars above them as they nestle together on the grass at the edge of Steve’s backyard.

“Isn’t it wild?” Eddie muses, wistful.

Steve turns his head to take in the man laying on his back next to him and notes the way the starlight gleams off of his smile. It makes sense, Steve thinks. Eddie glows so intensely. It’s as though the moon fucking lives just beneath his skin.

“What’s wild?” He asks. Eddie passes the little white joint to Steve, who easily takes it between his lips and settles in to listen to more of Eddie’s mind. Eddie is always like this when they smoke together– questioning and open and interesting.

“It’s so… big. The sky, I mean. It’s just huge. It’s the biggest thing we know about and we’re just so small in it.” Eddie takes a moment to ponder, watching the stars flicker in and out as they move about the sky.

Steve holds his gaze as he watches Eddie continue. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Steve, not after the Upside Down. I always thought that, I don’t know, something happens to us when we die but when those bats were chowing down on my stomach, I just didn’t know anymore and that freaks me out, right? But the sky? The stars? Those live forever. Even after they explode or whatever, they still exist. They become new stars.”

Eddie turns to meet Steve’s eyes and reaches over to pat Steve’s cheek, holding the touch until his hand burns. As he takes the joint back with his other hand, delicately pulling it from between Steve’s lips, he smiles and whispers. “Wish we could be stars, my love.”

My love hits Steve square in the chest and he thinks Eddie might see the physical force of it. For the first time since striking up this relationship with Eddie, Steve is afraid– afraid of being hurt, of being rejected, of being bullshit. He recognizes, watching Eddie’s eyes dance like the flickering stars above them, that he’s falling in love. That he might already be there.

It’s terrifying to think that in this very moment, he’s falling into something that he may never crawl out of. Not that he wants to, no. Steve wants to live in this feeling forever, curl up in it like a blanket on a cold winter’s day. But he’s seen this film before and nothing lasts forever. He isn’t someone people hold onto for keeps, after all.

When the ending comes, it will gut him.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Hey Disco, how are you and your pets? How's life? Anyway, I have to ask: don't you think the Fandom Police are gaining an alarmingly large number of new members? Or am I just lucky enough to run into them more often than others? I'm asking because you've been fighting these people ever since I started following you, and it seems like you might be the one to know if things are getting worse (I noticed you have anon asks turned off, so I took the liberty of assuming) I'll admit that a lot of my arguments are about minors. Others usually climb up high to their moral Everest and start lecturing me about how it's wrong to read ff about fictional relationships with minors. Which is ridiculous if only because the minimum age for sex is defined differently by law in every country and because the characters we're talking about aren't real. It's very frustrating to talk to people like that who simply call me a pedophile and then feel like they're on some grand mission to cleanse a Fandom and bring back a Fandom Jesus or something. I'm not even in most of those Fandoms but every time I turn on tumblr there is another 20 something year old dumbass screaming into the void that anyone who will ship 15 year old with a 19 year old is a vile human being that needs to be punished. Anyway, I'm just interested in your take on the situation. Is there more of them? (I noticed they are all pretty young) or is it just my imagination? Other people's opinions are also welcome. 🙂 Ah and how are you holding up with the porn bots situation?

DW: Me and the pets are well, and I hope that you are too! 

I turned off anon asks after one brave anon kept telling me to kill myself. I think they thought if they sent it 30 times a day, that eventually the sheer volume would make me do it? I just got sick of cleaning out my inbox. Joke’s on them anyway; I’m now intending to live forever out of sheer spite. 

I have so many porn bot followers, lol. Like, hi, porn bots, but I’m not buying what you’re selling.

I don’t know if the fandom police are getting worse, or if they’ve always been this way. Apart from a few notable suggestions, they do all seem very young. I hope it’s something they’ll grow out of as they mature enough to realise that art isn’t a safe space (it has never been a safe space and never will be) and that nobody has any right to tell creators what they can and can’t create. And guess what? It’s up to you to curate you own online experiences--the back button is there on any fic you don’t want to continue reading. 

You can’t hurt fictional characters, however many times you kill them. You can’t protect them either, because there’s nothing to protect. 

When I was 16 I was dating a 19 year old. And we even had sex! (TMI? Probably!) Anyway, although I’m sure the morality police would love to tear that guy into pieces, guess what? Totally legal here... and thanks to stuff ups in both our schooling systems and general life circumstances I won’t get into here, we were in the same year level at school and everything. We actually met when we were put together for a joint class project. 

The fandom police need to spend more time in the real world, and less time attacking creators over thought crimes!