#it was a daunting part because I didn't know how to write it out but I did it!! Finally!!

[oreegaanoo]

Character reference sheets and two frames from the animatic! :3

[omnom-obeyme]

hii !! would you mind writing headcanons on how obey me chars would react to finding out that reader self harms? Feel free to ignore this request if you arent comfortable enough to write it !! Have a lovely day or night <3

I just want to start by saying thank you so much for the request and being respectful! I personally don't feel comfortable discussing topics relating to self-harm specifically due to personal reasons, but I didn't want to ignore this ask because I know how comforting reading fics/hcs like this can be when you're struggling because I've been there. So, I hope you don't mind too much, but I kind of reframed it to be about how the characters would help a reader who's struggling in general. I'm also sorry this took so long to get out. I've been so exhausted from work recently, but I finally had the time to sit down and write today. I hope you enjoy!

The Obey Me Characters with a Struggling Reader

Pairings: main cast x reader (separate)

Warnings: discussions surrounding mental illness; mentions of anxiety, depression, insecurity, difficulty eating, and sleeplessness; romantic undertones in most parts; nothing particularly extreme

Lucifer is an extremely supportive demon all the way around. He's also extremely observant, so chances are that he realized you were having a rough go of things long before you did.

He never explicitly brings it up, but he's always there. He never lets you struggle on your own, even when his own schedule demands too much out of him.

He'll always help with classwork, paperwork, student council assignments, and anything else he can.

Is your assigned dinner duty too stressful for you? He'll do all the prep work for you. Is starting your essay too daunting for you? Books on the subject your studying suddenly appear on your desk when you return to your bedroom. You're struggling to take care of yourself? Lucifer just happened to book you a spa day at the Devildom's most luxurious spa. Just as a reward.

He won't usually directly bring anything up. He knows how much mental struggles can wound a person's pride. He's always there for you, though. His support is more quiet than most, and he never asks for a reward. Seeing you get through the day, safe and healthy is all he could ask for.

You can't help the way your world seems to crash down around you when Lucifer kindly informs you that you've completely missed the due date for your paperwork. You try your best to keep up with all of your assignments, your student council work, and being tugged in twenty different directions by the demons, angel, and enigmatic sorcerer in your life. Missed calls, ill-timed remarks, and fumbled assignments have all been pressurizing inside you for the past few months, and you crumple down into the chair in front of Lucifer's desk. You don't know if you're more embarrassed to be crying in front of him or that you're crying at all.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. God, I'm such an idiot," you mumble to yourself. You're absolutely certain that Lucifer is internally jeering at you and wondering how he could have picked such a useless human.

All you're met with, though, is the warm smell of his cologne and the comforting weight of his arms around you as he leans down to hug you.

"You're not an idiot, lamb. Making one error doesn't make you stupid," he soothes. His large hand rubs up and down your back slowly. He lifts you up into his arms and settles the both of you down into his large desk chair. You spend the night cradled in his arms as he helps you finish the overdue paperwork.

Mammon is a bit of an oblivious demon. He's not stupid by any means, he's just not the most observant when it comes to stuff you try to keep hidden from him.

He won't really recognize that you're struggling unless you tell him or he exacerbates the issue. Of course, that frequently comes in the form of his teasing. Most days, you can just brush it off, but it's hard to move past when you're feeling particularly insecure.

He'll be so apologetic once he realizes he hurt your feelings or has somehow managed to inconvenience you when you're already stressed out.

Mammon is a true believer in the idea that laughter is the best medicine. He'll always be on the lookout for ways to brighten your day. He's not above making a fool of himself to get you to smile, either.

He's also fully willing to embarrass himself by getting all sappy and mushy and heaping a bunch of praise onto you. Anything for his treasure, after all.

"Nah, of course you don't get it. You're just a dumb human."

Mammon's words are meant playfully, but sometimes you forget that. The demon has a habit of exhausting your tolerance for being teased. Most days, you're able to grin and bear it, silently reminding yourself that Mammon truly does love you and doesn't mean what he's saying.

Today is not one of those days. Even Mammon can see the way your smile threatens to wobble off your face and the way a subtle shimmer pools in your waterline. His cockiness instantly slides away, and he almost looks like he's about to start crying himself.

"Treasure, no, wait--dammit!" Mammon practically launches himself at you in his haste to hold you in his arms. He tucks you against his chest and squeezes you tightly. "I didn't mean that! You're not dumb! You're the only human worthy enough to be the Great Mammon's companion! That automatically means you're, like, stupidly smart!"

It's enough to make you laugh, and relief courses through Mammon like a wave. He might not be the most tactful, but he'll always bring joy to your day.

Honestly, the only time Levi ever promotes healthy coping mechanisms is for you. He's a mess himself and can't take his own advice, but he'll absolutely push himself out of his comfort zone if it means making his Henry feel better.

Yes, he'll let you hide in his room and wallow. He'll let you tuck yourself away in a pile of plushies if the only way you can fall asleep is with the soothing lights of his aquarium tanks brushing your skin. He'll even set up a special game of DND full of your favorite things just to get you distracted and happy.

Of course, you can't just coast or exist exclusively off distractions for the rest of your life. When you need to talk before everything inside you explodes, he'll silently turn off the lights, sit in one end of his bathtub, and invite you to sit in the other end. There's no pressure and no judgment from Levi. He gets it.

He's not always the best at advice or constructive criticism, but he's always there to listen and provide much needed distractions.

It's another one of those nights. The lights are dim, you're quiet, and Levi is trying his best to not stare at you. He knows you can feel it even when the lights are off. You're both sitting in the tub with your knees against your chest.

He suddenly feels the brush of your fingers against the tip of his tail, and he has to physically stop himself from running away at the contact. He doesn't mind it, not really. He's just not used to the idea that you don't find him gross.

"It's just...been a lot recently," you whisper, your words mixing with the bubbling coming from the fish tanks. "I just feel like I can't live up to anything anyone here expects me to be."

Levi doesn't usually talk on nights like these. He doesn't want to interrupt you, but he just can't keep his mouth shut at that.

"None of us expect you to be anything. I mean, you've already done way more for all of us than anyone else ever has. We just, like...like you a lot," Levi mumbles.

You chew on your bottom lip, and your fingers keep flicking over the end of Levi's tail. These nights always leave a hollow feeling in your chest, but you know your thoughts and feelings are safe in the dark and in the heart of your otaku with a heart of gold.

Satan really, really gets it. He's dealt with his anger for literally all his life. He knows how overwhelming dealing with mental issues can be. He knows how hard it is to overcome your own mind.

He really wants to be your prince charming, in just about anyway he can. He's gentle, understanding, and always patient with you. He never rushes you, and he never judges you.

He loves a self-help book, unironically. He won't be condescending about it or anything. All of his recommendations are always from a place of "I've tried this, and it really helped me. I hope it can help you in some way, too."

He'll help pick up any slack, too. He's always available to help with schoolwork, studying, or exam prep. He'll go slow with you and make sure you understand what you're learning, too. And on the days when you really need it? Yeah, he'll slip you a copy of his homework answers, but only for you.

He's also always there to sweep you off your feet. He'll take you on walks in the most gorgeous forest you've ever seen, you'll visit the most beautiful lakes or mountains--just anywhere Satan thinks you'll find beautiful. He loves seeing you eyes light up when it's just the two of you.

The words on the pages in front of you have been blurring together into incomprehensible nonsense for the past five pages. You keep trying to push through, but you can't make heads or tails of anything, especially since you could barely understand the base concept this chapter is building on anyway.

Tears prick your eyes, and your head droops forward. Satan, as perceptive as ever, is quick to propose a break.

"We've been at it for a while, yeah? Let's relax for a bit," he murmurs. His voice is soothing to your frayed nerves, but his fingers work the real magic as he begins rubbing your scalp. "Do you need anything? Water? A snack? A blanket?"

You respond with a simple shake of your head, content in the moment. His fingers withdraw after a while, and he sits down next to you.

"Now...what exactly are you having trouble with?"

Asmo feels insecure more often than he'd ever admit to himself. He's more of a "fake it til you make it" kind of demon, though, so you'll rarely ever know he's down. It's a bit weird, but it really does work for him.

He sees the beauty in most things, and he'll help you see it, too. Especially when it comes to yourself. You've completely bewitched the Avatar of Lust! Of course you're absolutely gorgeous, and he won't stop adoring you until you see yourself the way he does.

Do I even need to say that he's huge on self-care days? He'll literally lock the both of you up in his bedroom and bathroom, and you'll spend the day doing each other's nails, practicing makeup, doing face masks, doing affirmations, meditating, and trying out different herbal tea blends.

He's incredibly loving, and seeing you hurt hurts him. He's always going to go out of his way to lift you up and make sure you shine just as much as he does.

Sometimes, it's hard not to compare yourself to Asmo. He's just so blindingly beautiful, not to mention how stunning all the demons that surround him are. It's hard not to feel inadequate. You're just a normal human, after all. Some of these succubi were literally crafted just to be gorgeous.

Asmo doesn't see it like that, though. No, you have one of the most gorgeous essences he's ever seen. It goes so much deeper than your appearance, but, even then, it radiates out of your skin like sunlight to Asmo. No one has ever made him feel as seen, loved, or appreciated as you do, and he longs to return that feeling to you.

One too many dejected glances in his direction in public led to Asmo throwing a spa day for the two of you. The rest of his brothers were locked out of his room and banned for the day. This is all for you.

"I got you a new hair oil to try since you were complaining about it being too frizzy the other day, hon! It's lightweight but still nourishing, so it should be just the thing," Asmo explains as he runs his fingers through your hair. He lets out a quiet sigh. "I just love your hair. It's so perfect on you."

Asmo leans forward and rests his chin on your shoulder, lightly pressing his cheek to yours.

"Look at us! Aww...we're so adorable together! It should be criminal."

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can't fight the laugh that bubbles past your lips.

"Yeah, we are, Asmo."

Beel's another one who's more of a silent supporter. He wants nothing more than for you to feel safe and secure. He's not the most eloquent or expressive demon, but there's never any doubt about how he feels around you and how he wants you to feel.

If you're having a hard time eating, he'll help pick out recipes that sound appealing. He'll even make it for you himself! This is the one time he'd be able to restrain himself from eating all the ingredients. He'd also be super helpful on finding easy, nutritious, and yummy snacks to make if you're struggling with effort. He's also not above influencing you a little to make you more hungry.

He's also someone you can count on to get you moving. Whether it's just stretching, a walk, or a genuine workout, Beel will make sure you get some kind of activity in. He really does believe that getting your blood flowing is a great way to burn off negative feelings and to work up a bit of hunger.

He'll drop everything he's doing just to hold you, too. He's used to carrying Belphie everywhere, and he's happy to do that for you, too. Anything you need from him, he'd happily give you.

Beel's large hand holds yours loosely as you take a walk downtown. He finally managed to coax you out of your room, and he's practically been begging to get you to go to Hell's Kitchen with him. And, really, how could you ever deny him when he turns on his unintentional puppy eyes?

Of course, Beel has a big smile on his face. He's happy to see you out and about again. You haven't told him exactly what's been going on in your head, but he knows something's been weighing on you recently. He doesn't try to pry the information from you, nor is he pressuring you into talking to him. He's a gentle giant, after all.

"I'm really happy you're here with me, MC. I missed eating with you," Beel says once you're finally seated at the restaurant.

Something in your chest clenches, and you reach out to take both of Beel's hands.

"I'm glad I'm here with you, too, Beel."

Well, I think we all know Belphie's solution to most things. He's going to get you to try and sleep it off. Of course, he'll also be all snuggled into your side as he coaxes you to sleep.

Yes, he's a brat, but he'll be surprisingly tender with you if you show him how vulnerable you're feeling. He'll hold you tighter than usual, give you the best dreams ever, and he'll even let you use his special pillow.

He'll be particularly clingy if you tell him you haven't been sleeping well. That just won't do at all. Don't worry, though. Belphie can put you fast asleep in no time at all.

Of course, he'll also drag you down the planetarium to talk. He'll set up a soft blanket and then you'll just lie side by side as he slowly coaxes what's been going on with you out of your head.

He's a really good listener, despite the sleepiness. He'll always listen to whatever it is that you have to say. He knows what it's like to have his voice ignored, and he doesn't want the same for you.

When a knock at the attic door wakes Belphegor up, he's about ready to start swinging indiscriminately. That is until he sees you. You look pretty pathetic, honestly. You're wearing your pajamas, and you've got a throw blanket in your hand that's trailing behind you sadly like you're some kind of cartoon kid.

Belphie tilts his head to the side and looks at you expectantly.

"I can't sleep," you mutter, slightly embarrassed.

"Typical human. Come here," Belphie yawns as he pats the space next to him.

You slowly pad over to him and curl up against his side. He slips his pillow under your head, and his tail as well as one of his arms wraps around you. You're instantly soothed, and you can already feel sleep creeping in on the edges of your consciousness.

"G'night, Belph," you whisper as your eyes slip shut.

"Goodnight," Belphie whispers back, content to fight off bad dreams for the rest of the night.

Honestly, Diavolo won't really get it until you explain it to him fully. He's been sad before, and he's absolutely experienced negative emotions, but chronic anxiety? Yeah, he doesn't really have anything to be anxious about. There are some perks to being the strongest, wealthiest being in the entire Devildom. He's also not the kind of person to get down very often, so you do have to sit him down and explain your experiences and your point of view to him.

After that, he'll be extremely conscientious of your feelings. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you or add to your stress. The second he hears about teachers giving you too much work or demons making negative comments toward you, he's on the case. He's very protective of his exchange students! That's his official excuse anyway

Diavolo's honestly like a walking ray of sunshine most of the time, and it's hard not to feel energized in his presence. He's silly, loving, and pretty joyful overall, not to mention his positivity. It's easy to feel more relaxed and forget about your troubles in his presence.

Regardless, he'd do anything in his power for you. He'd build you your own luxury retreat in a cozy spot in the Devildom just for you to escape to. He's got unlimited resources, and he'll put them to use for you! Just say the word.

"I'm sorry, Dia, I just--I couldn't stay in there any longer. They all just stare at me, and I can't take it. It's--" Diavolo gently interrupts your rambling by placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

"It's no trouble at all," he says warmly. "In truth, I'd much rather spend the night exclusively with you. You make much better company than the nobles..."

A bit of warmth blooms in your chest, and you duck your head.

"I don't think that's a very hard standard to beat."

Diavolo's laughter warms you further, and he rubs your arm tenderly.

"No, dear. No, it's not. I'm certain Lucifer will be able to cover for me. Now, why don't we get into something more comfortable and sit by the fire, hmm?"

Barbatos is a very pragmatic individual. He very rarely feels anxious due to the fact that he kinda knows every possible future. That being said, he's still extremely sympathetic toward your feelings because he knows how things can go wrong, even if they won't actually go wrong.

He'll give you reassurance and comfort, but he won't let you wallow. He has too much respect for you to let you spiral. He's like a lifeguard, always keeping your head above water in that sense.

He'll craft a special magical blend of tea just for you to soothe you. Drinking it puts you at ease and gives you an almost serene feeling.

He's someone who'll go mother hen mode on you. It can feel a bit overwhelming having someone always checking in on you, but he just wants to make sure that you're taking care of yourself.

He won't always be able to be there for you physically, but he'll leave little good luck charms and positive energy attractors as little gifts. Of course, you won't know their true nature, but Barbatos prefers it that way.

I was just thinking of you, MC. Are you perhaps free tomorrow? I'd like you to come to the castle to sample the potential dessert menu for Lord Diavolo's party.

You stare down at your DDD as the text from Barbatos rolls in. The light from your screen is the only light available in your dark bedroom, and you squint. You can't honestly remember the last time you left the House of Lamentation, despite requests from the brothers for your company.

You sigh. Barbatos is never bad company...

Yeah, I can come by tomorrow. Is 1:00 good?

Of course. I will await your arrival with baited breath.

Barbatos sets his DDD down on the kitchen counter. Lord Diavolo's party isn't happening for another two months, but you don't need to know that. He'd gladly spend the rest of his day baking if it meant getting you back by his side.

Solomon might seem like he might not be the best person to talk to, but he's still a human. He may not worry about dying anymore, but his nervous system is still wired just the same as yours is. He understands the way your emotions work better than anyone else in the cast, really, since he's the only one who can directly understand the bodily experiences associated with them.

He can't cook for you, but he's always willing to get some sweet treats and have a chill day doing nothing.

On the flip side, he's also down to drag you out of the house to force you to get some external stimulation. He's very big on getting out and touching grass. He'll be especially keen on private trips up to the human world, so you can feel the actual sun on your skin and touch flowers without worrying about them giving you a rash.

He's more than willing to be your cheerleader on the sidelines. He'll always be your number one believer. As a mentor, a friend, or a partner, he's always got your back.

Your eyes watch the way Solomon's deft fingers move while crafting a spell. It's a relatively simple spell--you're just changing the shape of a wine glass to a champagne flute--but you can't seem to get it down for some reason. This is the tenth time that Solomon's demonstrated the spell, but your fingers still fumble on the third movement. Instead of changing shape, the glass in front of you shatters.

You let out a frustrated noise and collapse back onto the chair you're sitting in.

"It's pointless. I'm useless. I'll never be able to do it."

Solomon tuts, and he suddenly appears behind you. His snowy hair blocks out the candlelight, and he's now the only thing you can focus on.

"Don't say never, MC. It's not a good look on you. The reason you're struggling so much is due to the fact that you have too much raw magical energy in you. It just wants to flow out all at once. We just have to get that under control, and then you'll be just as good as me. Probably better. Maybe," he winks at you.

"But, still...I think that's enough for tonight. Would you like some cupcakes?"

You shoot him a slightly horrified look.

"No, I didn't make them," he sighs. "Simeon made too many."

Simeon would be so gentle with you, and it's not even in a condescending way. He's just so incredibly sweet, and he'd be so worried about you once you tell him you've been having a hard time.

Of course, he's an angel, and I personally HC that angels have an innate ability to be soothing toward humans without even doing anything. You can't help but mellow out a bit once you're around Simeon.

He's so easy to talk to. He's completely understanding and never interrupts you. He gives great advice, too. He's always able to help you find a path forward.

He's also more than willing to help you take care of yourself. He'll cook for you, make sure you're eating, make sure you're drinking water, he'll check in with you before bed, and he'll also make sure to reach out if he knows you have any difficult assignments coming up. He's a very warm, supportive presence all-around, and he'll always be there for you.

Simeon's smiling at you, and it's like the gates of Heaven are opening just for you. A sense of calm soothes the anxiety in your chest, and you let out a short huff.

"It's nothing that anyone's done, really, I just can't believe that everyone here likes me enough to actually want to be my friend. It's...I dunno. It's weird."

Simeon's hand settles over yours gently, and he pats your hand. You came over to Purgatory Hall for a much needed break from the chaotic House of Lamentation. It's not like you'd ever turn down the chance to eat Simeon's food, anyway.

"Oh, dear...you don't realize how lovable you are do, you?" Simeon murmurs.

Heat crawls up the sides of your neck and you stammer out a weak, "Wh--I don't...uh..."

Simeon just shakes his head gracefully, though the fond look in his blue eyes never dissipates.

"You are the most amazing human I have ever met, dear. Never forget that."

do not use my headers or repost my work without my permission. art and characters belong to the obey me franchise and are not my original works.

[infamous-if]

Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!

It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao

When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?

I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha

But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!

One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)

thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!

I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol

thanks!! <3

[didyougaming]

Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

[purinfelix]

special treatment ⊹₊⟡⋆ - daniel ricciardo

pairing: reader x compsci!daniel summary: to others, there might be absolutely no reason for you to be spending the night at your nerdy classmate's dorm room, but you know that he's the only one who you trust to check over your code - and look good while doing it w/k: 1k a/n: the brainchild of this late night blurb, the idea was too good not to turn into a fic so enjoy - i love writing my boys being nerdy <333 I LOVE NERDS

"We can't keep doing this. It's late."

"I know."

"Yet you're here again."

"I know."

You pause before continuing your pleading, "I need you, Daniel, you're the only one who can-"

"Get in," his voice comes curt, an attempt to hide the nervous unease he feels as he opens the door to his dorm a little wider for you. You shuffle into the cool darkness of his room - trying not to think of how suggestive this conversation might've sounded to anyone passing by.

If this had been any other day you might've taken a minute to pause and look around his dorm room, satisfying your morbid curiosity to know everything about the mystery you found this boy to be. But it wasn't the time for that, and you had little else on your mind when you threw your bag onto the floor and slumped onto his bed.

"I doubt our head of academic integrity would look very fondly upon one of their top students doing something like this," he mutters, sitting across from you on his desk chair.

"Probably not any better than they would on the top student for helping them get away with it," you challenge back, getting a kick out of the way he seems to squirm under your gaze, eyes darting between you and the floor.

It must've started around the end of last semester if you recall correctly. A couple final assignments, way too many cans of energy drink and a fated late-night library encounter had thrown you into a 'relationship' some might've seen as strange, but you thought more of as resourceful. Before that night, the thought of even approaching the guy you'd only seen leaving lectures early because he understood everything before the professor had the chance to explain it, seemed out of the question - equal parts daunting and embarrassing.

He was a cocky nerd, and there was little more you hated than someone who not only had an ego, but the means to back it up. You'd be lying if you said you didn't resent him a little every time you saw his name on top of yours when the class rank lists came out, but something about the stress of finals week had lowered your guard and forced you to swallow your pride.

"Fine, show it to me." He's so easy to break, you think to yourself as you fling open your bag to grab your laptop. Navigating quickly to the page of code you'd spent the last four hours unsuccessfully debugging, you set it down in front of him.

"Danny, I don't know what's wrong with it, and it's due tonight!" You watch as his eyes scanned the code, fingers moving masterfully as he fixed a line here, edited a call there. After a ridiculously impressive short amount of time, he clicks the program and to your delight, your code runs with no bugs. You're tired enough not to be embarrassed by your squeal of joy, but also awake enough to resist the urge to throw yourself at the man in front of you.

"You're my saviour, you know that?" You resign yourself to this, and it seems to do the trick as you watch him break into a shy smile - which, even in the low light, you can tell is accompanied by flushed cheeks.

"It's nothing," he laughs softly, pushing the laptop back towards you.

You're not sure why he keeps giving in to your begs for help, especially when - to you - you're not giving him anything in return. You've brought it up before, amidst offers for free dinner or coffee or lecture notes, things you'd think no other university student could give up. Yet every time he waves you off with the same content smile. Smart, cocky, as if he couldn't get any more annoying the asshole just had to be generous as well.

"Thank you, I'll get out of your hair now," you say hurriedly, shoving your laptop back into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder - eager to let him get back to whatever it is he was doing before you barged in.

"Wait," he says, and your hand pauses around the handle of the door.

It's silent for a bit, as you turn back to him and watch in fascination as his usually unbothered expression transforms into something you can't quite put your finger on - a strange mix of pain and confusion.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he finally manages to blurt out.

"No, sorry I think I've got plans with a friend," you laugh awkwardly, still confused as to why this seems like such a big deal to him.

"Oh, alright," you watch his face fall and something in your heart twists.

"I should be free the night after though, what did you have in mind?"

His eyes shoot up to meet yours as he regains a little bit of the confidence you're so used to seeing him sport. "I was thinking I might take you up on your offer, for dinner?"

"Oh, of course, I mean I do owe you for all you've done for me."

"But I want to pay."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose of my paying you back?"

"Think of it less like you paying me back and more like..." he trails off towards the end of his sentence, and when you look into his eyes, eyebrows raised, you're quick to catch on.

"A date?"

He gives you half a nod, shy and a little unsure.

"Danny, are you asking me out on a date?"

"If it's alright with you, yes."

You let out a half-hearted laugh of surprise, letting out a breathy "of course."

Relief washes over your classmate's face as he sits back in his desk chair with a sigh and a grateful smile. "See you then."

You nod, a sudden shyness washing over you as you finally make it to the door and return to the harsh white light of the hallway - though now the code you came to ask him about is the last thing on your mind.

[edgeray]

Custody Battle with a Dragon

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi 🏹 anon! Accidentally deleted your ask when I did dragon! Arle part 3😅. Uhh… mbad. Reader just kidnapping three random human children is so funny to me, I will never not find this funny. Anyways, just wanted to say the only reason why I’m fulfilling both parts of this ask is because I already have to work on part 3. If I get an ask giving me more than 1 prompt, I will choose only 1 prompt to do. If you want me to do more, feel free to request from me, but with school starting soon, I probably won’t be able to get to many requests until I get used to the first semester.  By the way, since I’m lazy and don’t want to think of more/different worldbuilding, this will be like an alternative universe of my ‘dragon hunter mother' series and it will just be a role reversal. the lore with the hoth though is different from the series, i have a completely different backstory for arle and the hoth hehe. Sorry, this is really awkward and I didn't know how to not write it awkwardly since the reader decides to adopt them just impulsively and I doubt arlecchino would be happy about it. Naturally, they would clash but I tried to get them to get along. Not my best work... :( Content warnings / info - in arle's pov majority of the time, reader is referred as 'it' a few times, 1.6k words

Arlecchino likes to consider herself a successful and (justifiably) proud dragon hunter, among the best for the Tsaritsa. Dragon hunting has been in her veins since she was born into a well-known generation of dragon hunters. She's been trained and has performed the best out of her class in the kingdom’s most renowned dragon hunting academy, the House of the Hearth. Now, as the new head of the House of the Hearth, as ‘Father,’ she's able to change some things. 

For how rigorous and demanding the old House of the Hearth, underneath Crucabena (that despicable woman), it was also quite the precarious and perilous, though that was to be expected with what came with dragon hunting in general. It was easy to get into the House of the Hearth if you had enough money, and by then, you had basically paid for an early grave. Arlecchino remembers that the majority of her peers died, one way or another, before graduating. Families that were wealthy enough and had enough children were happy to enroll some of their children as an investment; being a dragon hunter paid immensely well given that they were paid by the kingdom themselves. 

Now, the classes were fewer due to the rigor requirements. Arlecchino has no need for people that want the job just for the money or to roleplay–with that mindset, they'll get themselves killed. For those seeking glory with none of the gore, for wealth without wear, dragon hunting is far on the list for what Arlecchino would recommend. It is daunting and never safe or relaxing. For this reason, the House of the Hearth takes very few individuals, often strays that she deems worthy and resilient enough for the task. A year is all it takes for her to train the small batch into formidable dragon hunters, about three times more valuable and efficient than the average hunter. 

This year's batch is particularly small, but that does make for more personalized lessons and unique opportunities. It's much easier to allow three children to accompany you on a dragon hunting mission than it is ten. 

Today is one of those days for the children to witness how a real dragon hunter deals with a dragon. Most hunters work in a group to hunt a singular dragon, though the best can do it alone. Today's dragon has been reported to have been killing some livestock occasionally–a few chickens here or there. At the very least, the dragon hasn't destroyed any other property besides the chicken pens, nor has there been any assaults on the people but the kill order is set in stone. Pity has no place among this job, but it is a shame to have to kill an innocuous dragon. 

“Children, maintain a good distance as we have always done. This dragon has been reported to be a two-paired dragon, so be cautious. I trust that you three will be able to handle yourselves during your observing?”

Lyney, the leader out of the three, nods. “Of course, Father.” 

The order should have been simple. It is. A two-paired-winged dragon is usually of little difficulty for Arlecchino, even with how volatile dragons are. Baiting them with fire as well as a large portion of fish is enough to draw the dragon out without waiting for it. With the help of the children, the preparations were done quickly, and all there is left to do is to ignite the fire and wait. 

Except, Arlecchino waits for quite some time. In fact, an hour has passed, and there are no signs of a dragon. Perhaps the villagers were mistaken on the dragon's whereabouts, though instances like these are rare. Nonetheless, it seems like that case, and the dragon hunter heads towards where she last left the trio. As she does, she hears a muffled outburst, recognizing it as Freminet’s, and rushes towards the direction.

Did the dragon target her children on the assumption that they were food? Did she make a mistake, bringing them here? Are their deaths on her hands once more, innocent lives lost because of her again? Her thoughts press her on as she increases her pace, fueled by fury and anxiety for her children. With each child she takes under her wing, with each soul she gently guides, with each hand she teaches how to wield a blade, a bit of her heart has parted and latched onto them. With the three, they are no different, except they are.

Lyney, the ever natural-born leader with a persistence like no other. Lynette, with a placid and rational demeanor to balance her brother's personality and fiercely loyal. Freminet, although timid, holds more potential and skill than he credits himself, and his kindness never fails to shine through even in his conscious actions. These three are endearing, as she has found all children she's taught in such a way before, but perhaps it is these children whom she'd like to call her own finally.

Drawing her sword once she spots the familiar silhouette of a giant, scaly beast, she approaches, only to halt as she takes in the sight. 

A sleeping dragon lays on their stomach in the middle of the forest, curled around Arlecchino's children, their tail hugging the children to the body. Instead of the two-paired-winged dragon that the villagers said, it instead has three-paired wings. That makes the dragon twice as dangerous. 

Against the dragon, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet sit against the dragon's back. Once they spot the dragon hunter, they noticeably perk up.

Why the dragon is like this, the hunter is not sure, but she knows that it has taken her children. 

“Father!” They simultaneously cry for her. The dragon’s head lifts as they're awakened and turns their head towards the dragon hunter, snarling. They whip their tail upon the grass, and they stand on their legs.  

“Are you hurt in any way?” Arlecchino inquires as she prepares to lunge at the dragon. 

“Wait, Father, don't kill it!” Lyney states as he ducks underneath the dragon's tail, escaping from its vicinity quite easily. “It hasn't hurt us!”

“No? Then why did it take you three?” Arlecchino questions, her blade still pointed at the creature. Their slitted eyes glare at the swordswoman in response, also tensing for an assault. It spun its body the other way, this time standing in between Arlecchino and Lyney, and Lynette and Freminet. They maneuver their head to be beside Lyney, using their head to almost shield him from the hunter. 

“I don't know, but… it–they clearly have no intentions of hurting us. See?” Lyney hesitantly reaches out, running his hand on the underside of the dragon's mouth, and the dragon coos from the action, before opening their mouth to lick his hand. 

“I think…” Freminet states outloud, though his appearance is obstructed from Arlecchino’s view thanks to the dragon. “That we're their young. They have been offering us fish, and they're doing this right now.” 

Arlecchino contemplates the situation. The dragon had essentially adopted her children as their own, perhaps even imprinting them already, claiming them as their own. Trying to take the children away would not do any good, especially if it feels threatened, there is no saying what it would do to the nearby surroundings when enraged. But the dragon has been hostile, and given the children's defense for it… it seems that it is rather docile. The hunter narrows her eyes on the dragon, sending a nonverbal warning before sheathing her blade. The dragon relaxes. 

“Even though you three remain unharmed, you still are my children, and under my care. I cannot simply give them away to you,” Arlecchino addresses the dragon, placing a hand on Lyney's shoulder. “Do you not have any young yourself? Why take human children?” 

The creature growls, before shifting away from Lyney. Abruptly, the dragon's form is outlined with a blinding light, and when the light dies down, you stand in place of the beast. The three children gap at you, but Arlecchino remains unfazed, already aware that you have a human form. 

“I cannot bear any children without any mate,” you gruff, your tail flicking behind you in an agitated way. “Why can't I keep human children? They look so small. I can feed them better.” 

Arlecchino steps closer, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in vexation. “My children's diets are fine, and they are not in need of more.” 

“The little ones are tiny even for just hatchlings. You cannot feed your young better?” 

Never did Arlecchino think she’d have to fight a custody battle with a dragon. Should she kill you? No, the children have already rejected it. Though, she cannot deny that you are much more appealing now that you are in a human form…

“Children, what do you think of this?” Arlecchino questions, and all three, expectedly, hesitates. None of them could ever expect a predicament like this, and not surprisingly, a definite answer is hard to come from them.

“I will come with you,” you suddenly suggest, eyes gleaming with determination. “And you will feed me and not harm me. In turn, I will protect and parent the little ones, and I will not destroy another human’s building. Is that enough for you, dragon hunter?” 

“You will do that for human children you just met?” 

“I’ve been wanting children for over a decade. If they come in the form of another species, then so be it,” you assert, and your stubbornness only makes Arlecchino sigh. This is a headache. Though, it was nearly winsome of how protective you are over them, and Arlecchino can do nothing but surrender.

Arlecchino, proud dragon hunter, ‘Father’ to three, and now sharing custody with a dragon. 

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet x Reader pt. 24: the Billionaire and the Prostitute

Brand new chapter, just for you! Hopefully it's not too late 😭 full disclosure, I got some writer's block and honestly didn't write any of this until today, hopefully it's not absolutely terrible!

"I'm here," you announce. The door clicks behind you.

L is seated on the couch, holding a pair of cherries in front of his eyes. He doesn't look up at you, he only twists the fresh stem in his fingers. "So you are."

"Whatcha doin?" You stride over, slower than usual. As soon as you enter his space, his eyes slide to yours, tired and languid. You settle in the seat across from him.

He itches. Itches with boredom. One toe scratches the other. With you here he's sated, just a little. "I was waiting for you."

You drum your new nails on the arm of the opposing couch. They were a soft pink, with sage green lines running across in various floral patterns. "So, you have work to finish in America?"

"Are you positive you're joining me?"

For some reason, you felt your heart hop up, into your throat. The idea of affirming commitment was daunting. But you were on a bit of a "coming to terms with reality" kick, so you swallow and nod. "Yes, I'm going."

"No, I don't have work to finish."

"What? Why lie?"

"Because you wouldn't have come if you thought it was a gesture." He puts the cherries in his mouth, along with the stem.

"Is it a gesture?"

He chews, tilts his head in focus, and pulls the now knotted stem from his lips. "In a sense. But I wanted you to make the decision based on what you wanted, not my unreturned affection."

Unreturned affection. "About that, I have to..." now your own tongue was knotted.

He sets the stem on a plate, and reaches for another set of cherries. He keeps his eyes on you. Always on you. Big, doting, just-say-the-word eyes. Before, they made you sick because you couldn't understand them. You felt like they were mocking you, teasing you, holding superiority over your head like a worm on a string. And maybe they are, but that's not the reason, not the only reason. You've been looked at like meat before, like you were something to be consumed. He looks at you like that maybe 10% of the time, only at the best moments.

No, L often looks at you like you're eating him alive. Like everything you do sets his soul on fire, like you activate every single nerve on his pale flesh, like he's just a little confused because he's never been owned so wholly by another...and he couldn't be happier. He doesn't have to smile for you to know he's happy. You don't know what it is, whether it's a rolling heat or the rippling of waves, but there's a peace that sits somewhere between his cornea and his iris, a rose-colored contact lense imbedded in his line of sight.

It's what drowns you when you look at him, right in the eyes, because you can't help but feel utterly and unconditionally loved. That feeling, a feeling you were denied for what felt like always, scared you, because you liked it. A part of you always knew how you truly felt towards him, it was only now that you were accepting it.

You gnawed at its edges, clawed at it's center, tried to escape, and every time you were left with more than you could shred. Because that's what unconditional love is. More. Always more. You tried so hard to push it away, but it managed to wrap itself around you, hold you tighter the more you writhe. The only way to escape the pain of being squeezed is to relax. Accept. Return.

And now, with I have to an inch off your tongue, you couldn't do it. Not out loud. You could barely do it inside of yourself. So you didn't, like a coward.

"I have to tell you, I know what you do," you finish. "For work, I mean."

"Do you," he asks absently, spooning sugar into a teacup. He didn't sound very surprised.

"I do. I think you're a detective."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"I saw you typing about it. Some group called The Stars or something. Did you catch them?"

He stirs, the tea spinning as if it were moving on its own. "Do you watch the news?"

"...no."

He takes a sip of his tea, frowns, and spoons in another helping of sugar. "Mm, good. The news is wrought with misinformation."

"You must be very important to be so rich off of detective work."

"No, I work for free. I have wealth because I invest properly."

"So, you're a trust fund baby."

"Essentially."

That made you wonder about his parents. Do they know about his salacious activity? Are they a part of his life? Are they dead? He was fairly young to have dead parents...but, who were you to talk? You decided on a different question. "Are you famous?"

"Not in most circles."

"But you are to other detectives?"

"Mn...world leaders. Average detectives don't know of me."

"So very important."

"...Yes."

"You must have a ton of cases to work on, then."

"No. I don't take requests."

"What do you mean? Isn't that what detectives do? Solve crimes as they come?"

"Most detectives, yes. I do this work because I find it entertaining, it only makes sense that I accept cases for the same reason."

You lean back. A true detective, and apparently a big one. "Why are you telling me all of this? Isn't it supposed to be secret?"

"I don't enjoy hiding things from you. It's another one of your feats: making me feel guilt over something as natural as secrets."

"Hm..." he really did love you. You've thought it a thousand times, because it's true. You needed to tell him the truth, but after all this time hiding from it, it was a little embarrassing. What if things changed? What if you changed? You liked how it was now. Maybe, once he knows you return his affection, he'd treat you differently. Or, maybe you'd get too comfortable, and treat him differently, and he'll get bored.

"Is something the matter?"

"Oh uh, no. So, what did you want to do?"

"Nothing, really. I only wanted to see you."

You reach for the table of sweets, plucking a strawberry from a little ceramic bowl. "What does one wear to America?"

"Whatever one likes." He takes another sip of tea, this time pleased by it.

"Where in America are we going?"

"I was thinking LA, or New York. Do you have a preference?"

"I don't really know the difference."

"LA is known for its beaches, celebrities, attractions, hollywood," he lists, occupying his hands with a bon bon. "New York is known for its bustling city, Broadway, the Statue of Liberty..."

"LA sounds nice."

"LA, then."

"Which airport are we going through?"

"None of them." He bites into the chocolate, taking half, then the rest, then licking his fingers clean of the residue. "We'll be flying private."

"Private? I've never flown private...or, at all, really..."

"I find it less distracting. Not too many people or smells."

"What do I expect?"

"any number of things. It's not particularly dangerous, but the flight will be long."

You take a bite of your strawberry. "How long?"

"About twelve hours."

"Twelve hours??" What could you possibly do for 12 hours?

He shrugs, his gaze briefly flicking to your lips as you lick them clean of juice. He takes a strawberry of his own. "You'll be able to sleep, eat, watch a movie."

"Will there be champagne, like in the movies?"

He practically swallows the strawberry whole, leaving only the leaves and stem behind. "There can be. Though you get drunk faster, one drink in the air equals three on land as they say."

"Okay...well, have you been to LA?"

"I have."

"How is it?"

He knows how to answer this question now, what will make you happy is hearing whether or not it lives up to its namesake, not his personal opinion that it's rather unremarkable, and rather hot in the summer. "There are many high-end areas for shopping and eating, tourist areas, beaches, and amusement parks."

"Sounds like a beach city," you titter.

"Essentially. Do you have any opinions on hotels?"

"No...although, I might like a pool, and I want to go to the beach."

"I assume you'll want seperate rooms." He didn't look or sound offended by your assumed choice...but you know what he'd rather.

Now was your chance to confess, say something that signals your...return. Lingering in what could happen will only ruin what you could have right now, it's best to give in, tell him the truth. You've been practically torturing him for ages, you just had to say it! Say, "L, I lo-"

"Seperate is fine."

Every time you chicken out, you swear you can hear your mother clicking her tongue in disapproval. This is the closest you've felt to her, and it's over making the exact same mistake she made. Fuck.

"Good. I'll book our stay tonight, at a hotel with a pool on the beachside."

"Wait, what about the cats? Can they still come?"

He takes another sip of his tea, makes an effortful decision between a biscoff cookie and a macaron, and finally responds. "There should be a hotel with accommodations for pets. If not, I'd be more than happy to pay for their stay at a petcare facility."

"...thank you, L. For going through all this effort for me."

He dips his cookie in his tea, eyes faltering to his lap. It was that tone that did it, that made his very bones relax with bliss. A peaceful, sweet, grateful tone. "Thank you, for joining me."

Maybe you couldn't say it yet, but you hoped your words conveyed just a little of it. Enough to maybe get the message across. The message being, of course...that you love him back. L, I love you. It shouldn't be so hard to say, yet you choke every time.

[muzzlemouths]

@sinister-sincerely ;) Surprise~

You've gotta be the only person I know who specifically requests heavy angst for a valentines event, but who am I to argue! I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun writing something so bittersweet.

Sun/Moon x Y/N Word Count: 3,750 Warnings: Mutual pining (but it's too late), hurt/no comfort

It’s exactly as you remember.

The stench of pizza grease still lingers in the air, rainbow puddles of gasoline hiding under minivans beside forgotten litter, every pothole in its place. The pizzeria greets you in its daunting enormity as you enter the mouth like a bitter swallowed pill.

You can’t say for certain what brought you to this point. How many restless nights and plaintive mornings you endured, how deep the sunken shadow beneath your eyes became until you couldn’t take it anymore. When days turned to weeks turned to months.

The earth orbits the sun in a slow, tedious loop and it is here, a year after it all, that you find yourself staring down the doors to the Superstar Daycare.

The day’s end sees parents lingering in droves around the doors. Some caught up in polite conversation, soccer moms and wine aunts sharing a good laugh, heels clinking against the sticky floor. While others tap their feet with impatient expectation and arms crossed over their chest. They check their phones and apple watches as if watching the time will make it move any faster.

Not you, though. Your feet, your time, your expectations, it all travels at a devastating crawl, and you would sooner turn around and wash your hands of this whole ordeal before you willed it to go faster. The drag of your feet is purposeful. 

You disappear into the crowd, and one by one they disappear from you. Parents and uncles and older siblings in various states of mood, their faces brightening when it’s their turn to scoop a teetering tot into their arms and ask about their day, crayon drawings and popsicle stick crafts haphazardly glued together still clutched in tiny hands. Their blurry faces pay you no mind as you stand at the center of it all, choking on the consequences of your own actions. Their numbers dwindle by the minute.

You had eventually learned to tolerate the giggling shrieks of daycare children, having worked enough shifts that the noise fell into the backdrop like everything else, but the quiet — when the doors closed for the last time and it was just you and them, free from the inhibitions of work — the quiet was your favorite part. Now it only proves to further your dread. 

There are a dozen people to hide between, then ten, then six, then four, three, two…

and then you’re alone.

Any minute now Sun will peek his head out the door to ensure that no one was missed. It’s a silly tendency, the checking and double checking and triple checking to an almost obsessive degree, but you’ve long since become fond of these little habits. How miserable, then, to have to rely on its inevitability because you’re too much of a coward to confront him yourself.

It’s this same fear that drives you to turn on your heel at the last second, reconsidering this whole plan to begin with. If you left now you wouldn’t have to see the look of betrayal on his face. If you were quick about it you could still make haste towards the exit and be out of eyesight before the door ever opened, and then maybe, if you were lucky, your heart would consider this a worthwhile attempt and would finally let you leave this all behind.

How silly to think life would be so kind. You’ve run out of chances to avoid this.

Light pours over your back in a soft rectangle curve, warm and, much like the face that greets you, familiar. His voice — a polite ‘Can I help you?’ that lacks recognition — forces you to a halt. You anchor yourself to the spot for as long as you can get away with until the flicker of determination that remains in your chest demands you to move, and only then do you greet him properly; face to face.

The state of him guts you. His dirt coated faceplate, paint chipping at the edges and thumbprints smudged en mass, built up gunk wedged into the grooves, it tells you all you need to know.

It tells you that he hasn’t let anyone help him since your disappearance.

There is something to be said about the emotional range of a robot who cannot express himself in the usual way. You considered yourself quite adept at understanding exactly what they were feeling at any given moment regardless and in spite of the lack of visual cues, rarely being hindered by their static smiles because you had other things to rely on, like the pitch in their voice, their postures, their gestures. 

But Sun looks your way in complete silence, not budging from his place within the doorframe as recognition takes hold.

Silence fills your lungs until its presence is suffocating and this, if nothing else, finally prompts you to speak up. It’s a mess — your guilty muttering of “Can we talk?” — and you’re grateful to have even managed that much, and surprised, albeit relieved, initially, when it does the trick to stir Sun from his stupor.

His response, though lacking words, can be heard loud and clear.

You scramble forward in a rush, just barely managing to wedge your foot in the door before he has the chance to finish shutting it in your face.

“Please,” you rasp, pride be damned. 

His faceplate tilts (in curiosity or frustration, you aren’t sure), and his voicebox clicks like an irked tongue. Though they remain fixated in place you can surely feel the way his eyes find the ugly scar at your jaw and follow it all the way down your shoulder. Another click. 

He widens the door.

It’s not the warm welcome you’ve come to expect over the years, but it’s likely the kindest greeting you’ll receive from him now, all things considered, so you do your best not to spit on the brittle olive branch and quickly duck beneath his arm to make your way inside.

The daycare brings a wave of emotions that immediately threaten the frail sense of composure you’re still clinging to. Memories, new and very, very old, all collect in the back of your throat and sting like fresh bile. 

You recognize every stain in the carpet that Sun could never get out, can pinpoint how long its been since he’s cleaned by how strongly the smell of bleach contends with freshly soiled diapers. You know by the back of your hand which slides will burn you all the way down and which are permanently sticky from sickly kids and parents who couldn’t afford to bring them anywhere else. You know where the craft supplies are hidden, where the movies are kept, where the toys are stored. You know how bright the stars will shine when the lights go out, and how quickly Moon will abandon his station to find another.

You know exactly where to look when either of them is hurt and hiding.

But Sun isn’t hiding, now, even though he is very much hurt. Instead he stands a few paces from your side, hand still on the door and back to you. He doesn’t run and he doesn’t hide and he doesn’t need to.

Because it is you who ran away. It is you who hid.

It’s you who disappeared to somewhere they could never reach.

“Sun, I—”

“Why are you here?”

His voice cuts through you deeper than even the guilt. You want him to be angry with you, to scream and cry and lash out so your apprehension feels justified, so you can feel like there’s still something to salvage from this relationship, even if it’s negative. Even if it hurts. It would be easier if it hurt.

Instead, Sun addresses you with dry, polite boredom. He speaks to you like a stranger. 

Then, again, arrives the silence. It permeates through flesh and bone to sink into your very core, a poison that takes root deep in the pit of your stomach and blooms into something horrid. Gnarled branches of grief and shame left unpruned for so long that they’ve made a husk of the person you used to be. 

How do you come back from that?

“We didn’t know—” his fingers vice against the doorknob until its metal warps inward, refusing to show you his face. “We didn’t know where you went, why — why you left. You didn’t say anything. Not to us or anyone we asked.” His arms pinch into their shoulder sockets, the neglected casings whining against the tension. “Believe me, we asked everyone.”

Branches twist and unfurl, spindly twigs of guilt tickling against the back of your throat, thick with vinegar. You can taste it on your tongue. It takes all of your strength to step towards him. “Sun, I—”

“Stop,” he rasps. “Don’t. Just — just stay there. Stay right there.”

It stings. You often mulled over how they might react to your return when the day came, but never did you consider that he might not even want to look you in the eye. Swallowing around that boulder draws tears to your eyes. Nevertheless, your feet remain planted where they are, resigned to have this conversation with the back of his faceplate. “I wanted to reach out—”

“I wasn’t finished,” he interrupts. His rays sink inward, briefly, face swiveling at an angle where you can almost see his eyes. “We thought…Moon thought he had killed you,” he admits. “For a short time after you left us, we convinced ourselves that this is what happened. We let ourselves believe it because — because,” he turns, finally looking you in the eye, “because the alternative is that you abandoned us like everyone else.”

Your cheeks warm beneath streams of bitter salt. Words evade you for the longest time, deaf to your pleas to say something, anything, because more than Sun looking expectant for an answer is he deserving of one. 

Sun shakes his head, unimpressed by your inability to pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Two minutes,” he says.

That does the trick just fine. “Two—?”

“You have two minutes to explain yourself,” he clarifies.

Your nose twitches, sniffling. “And after?” You ask, terrified of the answer. If he shoos you from the daycare and bans your name forevermore you aren’t sure you’ll ever recover. It’s selfish to fear such things — you know, already — when your actions were undoubtedly what burnt that bridge in the first place.

His arms cross over his chest, fingers winding fiercely into the metal, and he nods towards the clock. It’s getting late, already. 

“In two minutes it won’t be my choice what happens to you,” he warns.

Your gaze follows his own, eyeing the time. There’s no telling how lenient Moon will be about hearing you out but, if memory serves, you won’t see half the patience that Sun is tentatively offering you now. You don’t have time to argue either way.

You search your heart for the words that need to be said and, when that fails to provide you with a linear path forward, you opt to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, instead. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” you admit. Your thumb lifts to press into scarred flesh, and follows it all the way down to where it disappears beneath your shirt collar. It’s ugly and it’s deep and you will bear it for the rest of your life. “I didn’t know how to confront this.”

Looking up, Sun hasn’t moved from his spot. He doesn’t blink, and he doesn’t speak, but the way his fist digs into the fabric of his pants tells you that he remembers that night clearly. You’re sure he spent several days thereafter scrubbing your blood out of the carpet.

It was an accident. As much as one can accidentally attack a loved one with blind violence, that is. You tell yourself it wasn’t intentional and you had hoped that they had, too. Both of you knew the day would come eventually either way. A dog that used to bite will bite again, no matter how strong the bond between him and his owner is. And you aren’t his owner, anyway. You can’t even call yourself his friend — not anymore.

“I thought I’d have enough time to think things over while I was recovering,” you croak through tears. “Every day in that hospital bed was spent thinking of you and Moon. I was—”

“Angry?” Sun asks.

“No!”

“Then why—?” His voice twists with the same bitterness as the dread in your stomach, almost a plead. “Why didn’t you say anything? A phone call, a letter, anything—”

“I was scared!” Despair pours from your throat like a leaky faucet having finally burst. “I almost died, Sun. I — I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go from there. I thought I just needed time, but everything happened so fast, it all passed so quickly, and the company—”

“You were fired?”

Your teeth clatter sharply against each other, lips pinching together, tongue tied. The clock tick tick ticks away. “They told me if I didn’t return that week I shouldn’t bother coming back at all. I…I could have kept my job, I could have come back, put the nightmares up on the top shelf and hope that everything just went back to normal, but…”

“You didn’t have to figure it out alone,” he answers solemnly. “Had you told us what you were going through, we could have figured something out, helped you transfer to another department or— or at least given you space. We would have come up with something.” Sun’s shoulders slump forward with a quiet, mechanical clink. He rubs anxiously at his arm and looks away from you. “Did you even like us?”

Your heart squeezes like it’s going to burst and plummets to the soles of your shoes, aching the whole way. Every instance of the love you felt for them comes barreling down on you at once; every fond memory, every moment of laughter, every hardship that you faced together. You never got the chance to tell them. “Of course I do,” you exclaim. “I lo—”

The room plunges into darkness. There is no twitch or flicker of the fluorescents to warn you, no method of hastily restoring power, nothing to keep stripes from becoming stars. Bittersweet familiarity sinks its teeth into your skin with nothing more than the quiet toll of a bell. His gaze blankets you in crimson.

You inhale sharply and prepare for the worst. “Moon—”

“Get out,” he snarls.

You flinch a foot back, but go no further. “Let me explain—”

“No.”

Your brow creases, nose wrinkling to match. “I’m not leaving,” you declare. “Why won’t you hear out what I have to say?”

“You’re a liar,” he spits, each word threaded with anger. Unlike Sun, he has no problems advancing towards you step by slow, meandered step. “Why would we want to hear a liar speak?”

Your heart twitches in your throat, threatening to suffocate you with every breath. Sun accused you of a great many things, all of which you are surely guilty of, but being a liar isn’t one of them. “I didn’t—”

“You left us!” He snarls. “Promised you wouldn’t. Promised you weren’t like the rest. You lied. Liar, liar, liar.”

His outburst convinces you to fall back another step. At this rate he’ll corner you, walk you against a wall. He’ll— “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you insist, blinking through tears. “Either of you.”

“Liar!”

You break into a sob. “I’m not—”

“Get out,” he repeats, not sparing you the patience to further plead your case. He’s nearly erased the distance between you. “Won’t ask again.”

The croak in his voicebox doesn’t stem wholly from anger, of that you are certain. You can trace it all the way back to that very night when he came back to himself, hands still painted red, claws cinched to the bone. 

He had rushed into action, even if it was in vain. Daycare first-aid kits offer little more than boo-boo bandaids and palm sized ice packs, and as it stood, you were bleeding out in his arms. Despite his own personal biases he had called out for help, and help answered in the form of red and blue lights that blinked just outside the window. 

Your memory of the event is still fuzzy around the edges even now, yet still, there are two things you remember without any doubt. First, that Moon trembled with such vigor that his casing bears scars to this day from the metal rubbing together, and second, that he spoke to you endlessly, tirelessly, until they took you away. The cadence from that night hasn’t disappeared with time. 

It isn’t anger, it’s fear.

A dog that has bit before will inevitably bite again, and a dog that fears losing what it loves will refuse to let itself love at all.

Against your better judgement, you firmly stand your ground. “I’m not leaving,” you tell him. “Not until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“Aren’t you scared?” 

It catches you off guard.

“That’s what you told Sun, isn’t it? I might hurt you again,” he warns. “Run your skin beneath my claws, tear it to bloody pieces until there’s nothing left.” His hand twitches at his side. “Maybe this time I’ll really kill you. Aren’t you scared?”

Your feet remain planted in that spot even as every molecule of your being screams at you to run. You are anchored here, for better or for worse, even as he inches ever closer. Even as he raises his hand — old blood still caked beneath the claws — and lingers beside the old wound.

“Yes,” you answer. It halts him immediately, hand still poised at your cheek. “I’m scared, I’m terrified, that much is true, but…” your eyes trace him, each pointed nail and crimson stained finger, the lilt in his voice that spells remorse as deep and as wide as your own.

Despite it all, your eyes fall shut. “...I trust you.”

Moon remains stone still. You hear no whisper of his bell, can feel no greater heat from his vents. He surely watches you to see how much truth lies in your commitment, searching your face for any hint of malice and trickery, but he won’t find any. You’re done running. You’re through with hiding.

He lurches forward—

and embraces you fully, metal frame trembling on its hinges. 

“Thought we lost you,” he whispers. “You left. You left us.”

“I know,” you whisper in turn. Warily you echo the gesture, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close, closer than you’ve ever been allowed before. “I’m sorry,” your words spill across his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never leave you again—”

“Don’t.” He pulls away abruptly, holding you back with locked elbows, and the sudden absence leaves you cold. “No more promises. We can’t—” he whines beneath the palm you bring against his cheek, but nevertheless relaxes into it. “Can’t handle it. Another broken promise.”

“But—”

“Please,” he mutters. “No promises. Just this is fine. This—” His hand travels meekly upward to rest atop your own. “This is enough.”

It stings, as it very well should, but you aren’t going to argue with him about this. A nod answers him, simple as. You have all the time in the world to prove to them that you aren’t going anywhere this time.

There are a million and one things to say now that you finally have the chance. A year’s worth of events to catch them up on and the whole night to discuss it all, just like old times. You’ll make new friendship bracelets, read each other stories, gossip and laugh and play. There is still something worth saving, here. They haven’t given up on you yet.

But rebuilding a relationship requires honesty, it requires communication, and there is still one secret you’re hiding. The question is, how do you go about it without tarnishing what you’ve only just salvaged? What should you say, and how should you say it? The amount of times you’ve stuck your foot in your mouth while trying to do the right thing is not insignificant. But if you don’t tell them now, you might not get the chance again.

“I still haven’t told you…” Your eyes follow the curve of his face, the familiar way with which he lets your hand cradle his cheek, and in spite of everything a smile sneaks its way forward for the first time in ages. “I never stopped loving you, you know,” you whisper. “I care about you both — more than I’ve ever had the courage to say.”

Slowly, surely, you find yourself stretching onto your toes, finally feeling brave.

His vents breath against your palms, warm steam tickling between your fingers. Telltale fumes itch beneath your nose that smell faintly of burnt wires and old oil. 

A sputtering core kicks into third gear as your face nears his. Electricity bounces from his casing to dance against your fingertips until you’re breathless and floating. You can almost taste the cold metal beneath your lips, just a breath standing between them now. Almost. Almost.

“You have to let us go.”

Your blood freezes over, paralyzing you to the core. You don’t immediately pull back for fear of what you might find. But you have to face the music eventually.

Moon is painstakingly careful as he cleans your tears with the base of his thumb. He looks you over mournfully as though taking in your presence one last time. Then he laughs, short and sweet. “Nap time is over, starlight.”

You wake up.

The pillow is wet beneath your cheek, salty and cold. You stare at the wall bleary eyed, feeling an ache in your chest that eats at you now more than ever. How pitiful, how cruel, to be haunted by missed opportunities. Guilty pleasures of received forgiveness and enough time to make things right. The chance to fix everything held just out of your reach.

You turn against your pillow to reach the other side, taking your blankets with you, but even with their weight at your shoulders you feel impossibly cold. There is nothing to reach for anymore.

The glow of a television paints your back. Turned to the news, it’s been left on all night. You remember now. You remember everything.

The reporter talks about a fire.

You try to will yourself back to sleep.

[lucy90712]

Is it too late?- Pedri

WC: 3.2k

Pregnant. The two lines on the stick were staring back at me as I looked at them in disbelief. My mind couldn't decide whether to be happy or to have a breakdown so I just stood there emotionless until tears started coming down my face but I couldn't tell you if they were happy tears or not. Part of me is a little bit excited as Pedri and I have been together for a few years now and as much as we haven't spoken too much about having kids we both said we'd like to start a family of our own one day so why not let that day be now. The more I thought about it the more the anxiety faded as I know Pedri will be a great dad and as long as I have him I know we will figure it out together. 

Pedri's not home as he's playing so I have a bit of time to figure out how to tell him. I didn't go to the game as I've been so sick the last few days which is why I took the test in the first place. With it being late I don't have many options and time isn't on my side as it's already half time so I don't have too long until Pedri comes home. My first thought was to tell someone to get their help but I stopped myself as I want Pedri to be the first person to know that we are going to bring life into the world. I really want this moment to be special so after a lot of scrolling through Pinterest I decided to go for something relatively simple but cute at the same time. 

After the game I got everything set up and waited for Pedri downstairs with my surprise hidden waiting for him when he got home. The more time that passed the more nervous I got and I started to wonder if Pedri would be happy at all I mean his career is still taking off and he's always busy will he really want to be tied down by a child. When the door opened those thought went away for a second until I saw Pedri's face and I could tell something was wrong. For a moment I wondered if he somehow knew and wasn't happy but then I remembered that there is no way he could know as I hadn't told a soul yet. Knowing it wasn't that I was suddenly even more nervous than before as it means there's something else that's wrong. What if he's injured again that would just be soul crushing for the both of us.

"Is everything ok babe?" I asked 

"Everything's fine but there's something I need to tell you" he said 

"There's something I need to tell you too" I said nervously 

"Hopefully we are on the same page then because I think we should break up" he said like it was nothing 

"W-what" I questioned 

"I'm sorry y/n but nows just not the time for me to be in a relationship there's too much going on in my life and I don't want something always tying me down" he explained 

"Ok" is all I could reply 

"What were you going to say?" He asked 

"Don't worry about it it's not important now" I said 

"Ok well you can stay here for as long as you need I'm sorry things had to end this way" he said 

No other words left my mouth I just took myself off to our bedroom and locked the door to be alone with my thoughts. Only after I sat down did it really hit me he just broke up with me and I'm pregnant with his child. What do I do now? I have to tell him right but nows surely not the time there's too many emotions and I know Pedri will say we should get back together even though that's clearly not what he wants. Do I even keep the baby I mean can I do this on my own. 

After freaking out for a minute I decided to be sensible and write down all of my worries then figure each of them out. First I decided that I would tell Pedri just not tonight as he needs to know but it doesn't have to be right this second. Then I decided that I could do this myself I have a degree and a good job plus I never actually sold my apartment when I moved in with Pedri a few months ago so I have somewhere to live. The more I thought about it the less daunting it all became sure it will be a lot as pregnancy and becoming a single mother will be hard but I can do it. 

As I'd made my decisions I started to pack all of my things including what I'd made to tell Pedri I was pregnant because as much as it hurts to look at now I want to keep it for the memories a few years down the line. Pedri was nice enough to help me get all of my things in my car and even offered to take some things himself but I refused and I just came back for them after dropping off the first lot of things. By the time I had moved out fully it was the middle of the night and Pedri was in bed so I looked around his house one last time before leaving my keys on the side and getting in my car. On the drive to my apartment I did nothing but cry, all of the tears I had been holding in all came out at once like a river flowing down my face. The tears didn't stop either they continued all night until I physically had no more tears to cry. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Text message 

Hey Pedri there is something important I need you to know I know we aren't together anymore but can we meet to talk or at least call it's not something you should find out over text

Not delivered 

Instagram dm

Hey Pedri we really need to talk please text me 

Not delivered 

Snapchat 

Pedri please we need to talk 

Not delivered 

~~~~~~~~~~

Pedri's POV

"Where are we going?" Gavi asked as I drove us both to get lunch together 

"There's a cafe not far from here and it's really good so we are going there" I replied 

"Oh I know that one didn't you say that was y/n's favourite place" he said 

"Can we stop talking about y/n we've been broken up for nearly 7 months now" I said getting annoyed 

"Sorry it's just you mention her sometimes and I know Fermin said he saw her around here the other day" he said

"So she still lives here I thought she might go back home" I thought out loud 

"I thought we weren't talking about y/n" he said 

All I did was roll my eyes as I parked the car. He's not wrong though y/n is often on my mind and sometimes I still find myself bringing her up in conversation. It only took a few days before I regretted breaking up with her it was such an awful decision but once I'd done it I couldn't go back she always said once something was done it's done so I knew she'd never take me back. I blocked her on everything so that I wouldn't be reminded of her but that didn't help as my brain couldn't forget and still to this day when I see certain things or go certain places I am reminded of her. 

She was truly everything to me she was there for every good moment but also all of the bad ones. If I didn't have her I have no idea where I'd be now I wouldn't be as strong as I am mentally that's for sure she taught me so much and always encouraged me even on the hardest of days. Everyday I looked forward to coming home and seeing her either making dinner or sat reading a book which she used to love doing in fact I still have one book she gave me insisting I read it and sometimes I am tempted but I have yet to even turn a page on it. Letting her go was such a stupid decision I can't believe I ever thought she was holding me back let alone thinking about it for long enough to actually break up with her. I don't know what was wrong with me but I definitely regret it I don't think I'll ever find a girl like her again but honestly that's what I deserve for being such an idiot. 

Gavi and I went into the cafe and got our food before sitting down at a table in the corner so we were out the way and out of sight from the street and people already in the cafe. We were talking like normal about training until I noticed Gavi staring at something behind me. As I went to turn around to see what he was looking at he stopped me so I assumed it was a girl he liked or someone he didn't want to see. The longer he kept staring the more he looked like he really wanted to say something which had me thinking it wasn't just someone he didn't want to see. 

"What is going on?" I asked 

"Nothing" he replied bluntly 

"I know you are lying just tell me what's going on" I said 

"But you told me not to" he said 

"What the hell do you mean" I said 

"Y/n is stood over there with a friend I assume" he said 

"I don't care mate we can be in the same place I will survive" I quipped 

"It's not just that she looks pregnant well not just looks she has to be pregnant and quite far along too" he finally spat out 

There was nothing he could do to stop me turning around after that and he was right she was stood talking to a friend with a hand on her belly. She was definitely pregnant like about to pop pregnant. That's when the memories of the night we broke up came flooding back she said she had something to tell me but she never told me what it was. It really made me wonder if she was going to tell me she was pregnant because I can imagine after I broke up with her she wouldn't want to tell me and I blocked her afterwards so she'd have no way to reach out. Of course it's possible that she's not as far along as I think and she's with someone else now but I can't help but feel like that's not the case. 

Gavi tried to talk me out of the spiral I had got myself into but it was too late. How could someone forget about the fact that their ex is in the same place visibly pregnant with a baby that could be theirs. I have to know even if the baby is mine or not and if she wants nothing to do with me I would completely understand I just have to know. We did talk about having kids and we both said that we wanted to start a family together one day but what if that day is nearly here and I had no idea. Part of me was hoping it was my baby as I don't think I can handle the thought of her being with someone else that isn't me while I'm still hung up on her. 

Without really thinking I got up and made my way over to y/n Gavi tried to stop me but I didn't listen to him I continued to weave my way around the tables int he cafe until my eyes locked with y/n's. She looked at me and I looked at her before looking down at her bump which was a lot more obvious now even though she was clearly trying to hide it. The friend she was with left and I used that as my chance to make my way over and sit across from her. 

Your POV

Life is hard enough as it is at the moment with me being 8 months pregnant and doing everything alone the last thing I needed was to see Pedri especially as I was never able to contact him to tell him but there he was stood in front of me. Once my eyes caught his I couldn't look away. I watched as his eyes flitted to my bump which I tried my best to hide but at this point it's literally impossible. There was a few seconds where I was hoping he would think that I'd moved on and was with someone else so wouldn't bother me but as soon as he started walking in my direction I knew that the situation I had been dreading had finally occurred. It's finally time to face the music and tell Pedri everything or as much as he wants to hear as its a lot to take in all at once it took me a long time to accept the situation.

He sat down across from me and we just sat in silence for a while neither of us really knowing how to start this conversation. As Pedri was staring the baby started kicking like crazy it was like she knew her dad was sat across from me and was begging me to tell him. Feeling her kicks made me think about the time Pedri told me he'd love to have a daughter as there isn't many girls in his family and he wanted to spoil her rotten which now was all I could think about as I sat carrying the daughter he wanted. The only thing that could break the intense eye contact between the two of us was my phone vibrating in front us both reminding me of my doctors appointment this afternoon. 

"So how have you been?" Pedri asked finally breaking the silence 

"I've been ok busy with work what about you" I said 

"Yeah I've been ok just got back playing after a few injuries" he said 

"I'm sorry to be so straightforward but I have to know is the baby mine?" He asked 

"Yes the baby is yours I'm really sorry I didn't tell you I was going to tell you the night we broke up then when I tried to reach out but I couldn't I probably should've tried harder but there was a lot going through my mind" I explained 

"Its ok it's my fault that I didn't know I'm sorry I haven't been there to support you" he said 

"Let's not get too hung up on that I know you probably have a lot of questions so just go ahead and ask me anything" I said 

"How about we get out of here and go somewhere more private to talk about everything" he suggested 

I agreed it was best to go somewhere else and Pedri offered to drive us both to his as I didn't bring my car so that's what we did. Pedri was so sweet he helped me into his car after he realised how slow I walk now because of all the extra weight I'm carrying. When we arrived at his place he did his best to make me comfortable but there wasn't much he could do as at this point in pregnancy I'm always uncomfortable. He did get me some water and while he was gone I looked around his place. It hadn't changed at all since the last time I was here he still had all of the pictures of us up and the book I'd given him a while back was still sitting in the coffee table unread. It felt as though nothing had changed while I was sat there which weirdly made me smile. 

The last 7 months since the breakup have been chaotic but still most nights I think about Pedri and how things would be different if we hadn't broken up. I still miss Pedri because as much as he broke my heart I still think he's the love of my life and it's not easy to get over such strong feelings like that especially when you have a constant reminder of that person growing inside you. If I could turn back time and stop the break up I definitely would and honestly if Pedri wanted to get back together I wouldn't hesitate to say yes although I would definitely want to take things slow and work on our issues. 

"So how far along are you?" He asked giving me my water and sitting back down

"I'm 8 months now my due date is the middle of next month" I said 

"And did you find out the gender?" He asked 

"I did we're having a girl just like you said you wanted" I said 

"She's kicking right now if you want to feel" I said 

He nodded his head so I took hold of his hand and placed it on my bump right where I could feel the kicks. It could be the hormones talking but watching the way his eyes lit up and feeling his daughter kick and seeing the bright smile on his face nearly made me cry. The kicks got stronger the longer his hand was on my bump which was cute until they started to really hurt which made Pedri panic when I started to groan at the pain but I reassured him everything was ok. He rubbed his hand over my bump telling our little girl to settle down before taking his hand back off which again melted my heart. 

We still had a lot more discuss so I told him everything and I even gave him an ultrasound picture which I always keep on me. I could tell it was a lot for him to take in but he kept asking questions and listening to everything I said. I was worried that he would be really dismissive and want to pretend that we aren't in this situation and the baby isn't his but he actually seems to really care. After I answered all of his questions and showed him all of the millions of pictures and videos I had we again sat in silence not really knowing where to go next. 

"Do you want to get back together" Pedri suddenly blurted out 

"Sorry that was the wrong way to do that I know I hurt you and I'm really sorry I have regretted it every day since you are the one for me and I realise that now I understand if you don't want to but at least consider it" he said 

"I would love to get back together I have missed you everyday we've been apart but if we are going to give this another go we need to do it slowly and I think we should go to therapy to give our daughter the best environment to grow up in" I said

"I'll do anything you want me to if it means I can have you back" he said 

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips which made me realise just how much I really have missed him and how glad I am to have him back. 

[calware]

Do you have any advice on how to write Dirk and Hal or know of anyone I could get tips from :0?

okay so first of all i want to say that i don't think that i'm really an 'authority' on the subject, or that anyone else really can be aside from andrew herself. but i do have some thoughts and opinions that i'm willing to share

#1 piece of advice is to reread the comic once in a while. or at least reread bits and pieces if that's too daunting or not feasible. the POV cam extension is really helpful for that because you can specifically reread just the parts where dirk is there (does not work for hal though iirc which is where the dialogue directory is the next best thing) anyway i suggest doing this because it's always better to have their canon depictions fresh in your mind so you aren't accidentally working off of purely fanon ones

i think this is more of just a writing tip in general but try to think about how much you intend to transform the character. and by that i mean how much you want to stick to canon characterization. no matter how far you go with it, your depiction should always be informed by canon, but you can go as far with it as you want as long as it's intentional. so for example, if you want to stay really close to canon characterization, go for it. but if you want to stick them in an AU, ask yourself how that will change their behavior, personalities, etc. and it you specifically want them to act differently than they do in canon, that's okay too as long as you justify it and make it believable to your reader. you don't have to be afraid of changing them as long as something happened to cause that change

i feel like these are the two biggest pitfalls people fall into, usually a combination of the two. either they just don't understand the character well enough to give a believable portrayal of them, they don't give the audience enough reason to believe their portrayal of them, or both. for example there are a lot of hal fics out there where he is evil and kills people for fun, which to me just tells me that the author didn't really get him. but the takeaway isn't that you should never make hal evil and kill people, just that you need to provide basis for the audience to believe that he would be evil and kill people while still feeling in-character for doing so. that's what i mean by intentionality, you need to understand why you make the artistic choices that you are making

i wrote down some common tropes (?) of hal writing i tend to see that are along the lines of "i see these a lot and they wouldn't be bad if the author just made them feel believable" if that's at all helpful. i can do some for dirk as well if anyone wants me to

3. avoid being reactionary. the homestuck fandom is so reactionary with its portrayal of characters, meaning that one mischaracterization will get popular, and people will complain about it and swing the complete opposite direction, leading to a different mischaracterization becoming popular. an example of this is everyone thinking dirk is the coolest ever, and then switching to think he's the lamest ever. just try to focus on your own perceptions of the characters based on what you read from the comic and what you agree with others on, don't form perceptions based on trying to break away from something else

4. this goes more for dirk than hal because hal isn't as popular, but just keep in mind that dirk isn't the main character. i think a lot of people attribute main character energy to him when they don't really have to. obviously if you write a fic about dirk, he's literally going to be the main character, or if he's your favorite character you're going to care about him more than the others. but that doesn't mean he's any more important, more special, more traumatized, more mentally ill, or what have you, than any other character. going back to the example from above, the people who treat him as both the coolest OR the saddest character are both portraying him as the Special Boy. when the reality is that they are all pretty special and he's not an exception

i hope that all made sense... if not feel free to ask and i can explain further if needed

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[sanemisstalker]

Homie I don't know if you've considered writing a part 2 for the incel Gyutaro modern! Au scenario cause it legit rewired something in my brain ajskaj 🤒💕- he's like a weird bug that's fun to poke and watch em S Q U I R M ah, I love it.

Like I can see later on y/n has an indirect impact on him even though it's a casual thing- like, telling him his cum taste bitter af and it convinces him to eat better if it means he'll keep getting head (toss in more regular showers in there now that I think about it) . Would also wonder how his sis would react to them hanging out-? 🤔

If it's not in your plans that's alright- either way, it gave me the strength to write for him and I am thankful for the food 🛐

Guess what this post is!!!! I was saving this ask so I could post part 2 with it or whateverrrr. I'm so giggle that so many people are interacting with that post, I didn't expect it to get such good reception!!

Also also, I do plan to write about how this Gyutaro definitely still raised his sister and is a bang up brother in spite of these mentalities he has! I have another ask that wants me to elaborate, and I'm planning on just making a big headcanon thing for him!!

PART ONE <-

CW// FEM READER// AFAB// BREASTED / Dub-con/Non-con (Gyutaro does something sexual under the guise he'll get laid, undiscussed BDSM dynamic)/ Panic Attack/ Vomit (not in a sex way) / Piss (kinda in a sex way)/ Sexism/ Incel mentalities/ Toxic Masculinity / Forced Bisexuality / BDSM dynamics / I say 'skullfuck' at one point / Gyutaro is reffered to as a toilet.

-Incel!Gyutaro's eyes had never even grazed a real dance floor, but there he was, at the big name club you'd dropped the location of 30 minutes ago. He'd hopped on his bike and sped there in what could only be called desperation.

-There wasn't a wait like in the movies. Not a big long line, and they let him in in his baggy jeans and stupid fucking Nietzsche shirt. He hadn't even realized he'd brought his bike helmet in until he was tossing it between his shaking, filthy hands.

-There were so many people. All of them taking their sweet time to gawk at his height and face. This was why he didn't leave the dorm. That and the abhorrent, terminally 2011 music.

-The photo had pissed him off. Bad. He'd come with the intention of a rematch (in your honor or whatever, he's not cringe enough to say that, though) and he planned to leave with you clinging to him like you were supposed to be.

-and obviously you were because there you were, hanging off Tengen Uzui's naturally bulging muscles with those 3 other mindless sluts. Not giving a fuck in the world about him or that skanky photo you sent.

-You were hard to spot in your slut disguise.

-You looked like every other girl there, and that pissed him off even worse, in a way. He had deluded himself into thinking you were good. Into thinking you were different from other females because you knew the bands and the movies, and you agreed when he implied that genetically you were just dumber-

-'Gyutaro!' You'd screech out as you locked eyes with the man. In the dark of the club, with the neon purple strobing over him, he looked almost daunting. With his helmet on one hip, and phone dangling from his other hand, Gyutaro had something similar to a western charm.

-You'd pop off of Tengen, who would only lift his head up to register the man, and then turn back to his girlfriends.

-The whole reason for their fight had been rather trivial, Gyutaro assumed, but, despite his lax appearance, Tengen did everything in his power not to smash the man's own helmet back over his head.

-He feared, along with Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru, for your safety as you barreled into the man.

-You'd run into them with a new found confidence that night. After leaving Gyutaro in his sorry state, bounding up to the three women was far less intimidating. Almost like you shared a comraderie with them-

-and you had! The three were incredibly nice and immediately ushered you to Tengen where you all began to get a long in a picturesque fashion.

-You looked good. Hanging onto his arm with the other women felt good- You just had to take a photo.

-Gyutaro was going to panic. Tengen Uzui didn't scare him anymore, but that immediate jump from Tengen's arms to his, he didn't know how to satisfy that expectation.

-Of course he was better than Tengen- but on a "purely physical" level, he knew he would never have the stamina or prowess to conquer the bodies of three women at once.

-Especially not when he couldn't even fathom conquering you.

-'Ah, is this who you were talking about?' Tengen asked. You laughed in response, nodding with verve. Your body was beginning to shift against him- fuck-

-'Mhm, Gyutaro's my best friend.' You slurred, and it occurred to Gyutaro then, that you might be slighty inebriated. God, Tengen had an awful effect on you.

-His heart thudded at the words 'best friend' Despite your light and teasing cadence, were you friendzoning him? Would you just fuck any friend you had? Not that you fucked him- but you totally fucked him-

-'Oh?' Tengen sang in that stupid fucking tone that made Gyutaro want to rip off that girly fucking headband he wore. 'Have you slept with him?'

-Makio slapped Tengen's shoulder.

-'No, no- Not yet.' Gyutaro was panicking, now. Yet? Yet? You were planning to fuck hi-

-'Be careful.' Tengen sang. And that should've been the end of his thought, but maybe the drink he had was doing more than he expected, because Tengen couldn't fight the grin nor the words that spilled from his mouth after-

-'Tell him to try and last longer this time.'

-Gyutaro saw red, and blue, and maybe it was because of the weed air or the sex musk permeating past the bar- Maybe it was the anger he had at you for sharing such a thing about him- maybe it was because He'd been holding his breathe and plotting Tengen's downfall, and now he was-

-Who was he kidding, Gyutaro was going to fucking barf. The stress was too much, and his stomach rolled in response. He'd never been exposed to such an environment, or such an embarassment, and all he knew to do was turn away and try to keep it down until he got to the bathroom.

-'That was so mean!' Suma cried out as Gyutaro trudged away, attempt at disguising his mood futile. 'You made him cry!'

-'He literally called you a slut to your face at the start of the semester. What the fuck do you mean, mean?' Makio barked.

-You were in one of the gross stalls, pulling his scraggly black hair away from the rancid bowl. You weren't sure how he ate so much and still stayed so twig thin. He'd been puking for at least ten minutes.

-'I didn't expect you to come here.' You lied, having very much intended for that outcome. 'You think Tengen Uzui remembers every drunken, horny story he gets from a woman?'

-He was mortified. The idea that Tengen specifically knew something so intimate about him made him hear colors. Red colors. He was hearing the club lighting and seething at the red blur of the motion sensor on the toilet-

-The tile felt like splinters.

-'W-Why did you tell him that?' Gyutaro gasped out between spills. The question lacked his usual grit. It sounded genuine and hurt.

-He nodded lamely and went to drop his face onto the porcelain, but your hand swooped down.

-Your palm against his marred face was soothing. Lifting his head up from the toilet bowl, you wiped his mouth off with toilet paper.

-His heart fluttered. What a girlish emotion he was feeling.

-'I'm sorry.' You whispered and only semi meant it. Some of the things he said about women in the past months could've definitely validated such treatment. Some of the comments were bordering on illegal, others on beyond morally questionable.

-'It's okay.' He slurred, moving away from your hand to try and stop that flutter. You were quick to find his scar again, and, with hesitance losing to need, he rubbed against your palm.

-Cat. The word shot through your head and then retreated. No, no. A mangy cat. A cat with mange. Rabies, maybe even.

-'I wasn't crying or any-' as he began to speak, you pulled a small bottle of mouth wash out from your bag.

-'Tip your head back.' Gyutaro cut off his sentence and did as you said. The burn of the wash was painful. As he went to spit it out, you pressed a finger to his lips.

-'You get a gift if you can keep it in for the full minute.'

-It hurt. Gyutaro can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth, but the burn in his gums said he should do it more. He managed, though, and you followed through by pulling a tooth brush from your bag.

-Gyutaro had seen this plot before, in a hentai, probably, but he'd always imagined himself probing some innocent sweet trad girl's mouth with a tooth brush. Not being probed.

-You scrubbed plague off his teeth with precise intensity. His gums bled, and he whined. His jaw would occasionally stutter, and he'd bite down with enough force that you feared for your toothbrush.

-Another pass at the mouth wash and Gyutaro stared up at you, puffy lipped and teary eyed. You hadn't necessarily been gentle, nor had you avoided his gag reflex, but you leaned down to Gyutaro.

-His natural huffiness now had a pleasant bubblegum scent.

-When you pulled the vibrator from your pussy, Gyutaro nearly puked again. He hadn't noticed it in your sneaky photo, so seeing you hike your leg up on the toilet seat and pluck it from your insides made him see stars.

-Had you had that in the entire time? Had you told the other girls? Had you told Tengen?

-You dropped the vibrator into his lap. Not in his pants, not intentionally near his dick- on his lap. Gyutaro had taken on an all too natural kneeling position, and you dropped the vibe between the small gap of his thighs.

-Dull buzzing bounced up his thighs, vibratons too far to feel- And then you were pressing your cunt against his face, and he was taking in the scent of your pubes-

-He had been told that eating a woman out was a sign of submission. Got told it'd be gross, and to only do it when the situation was dire. And a situation with a female should never become dire- Having someone's genitals forced in his face like this-

-Gyutaro loved the smell of your pussy. The taste. His hands took to your thighs immediately, one slipping back to find the meat of your ass and bury his fingers in it.

-It would surprise you, how right he looked snug between your thighs. How his eyes fluttered back when he forgot he wasn't really supposed to be into this kind of thing.

-You could remember all of the things he said about vaginas. It often left you contemplating whether or not he found women attractive to begin with, but with his tongue rolling so naturally against your clit, you couldn't question it.

-He was made for this, both of you figured. Your warmth against his palate was ball tightening. He immediately took to it. You'd never seen such enthusiasm and love shown to your cunt.

-'Fuckkkkkk-' He'd moan, but with his tongue flat against you it came out in drool. His spit spilled onto his jean clad thighs, uncaring about anything other than eating you out.

-With his back against the toilet, and your hands gripping his hair, if you saw it from the back, it'd look like you were skullfucking the man. The thought made Gyutaro's already raging hard on twitch-

-And that's exactly how Tengen saw it when he opened the stall.

-'Oh?' He said, and you felt Gyutaro's grip tighten around your thighs. Today was just humiliation after humiliation, wasn't it? He knew by the stupid sing-song tone of the voice exactly who'd invaded his time with you.

-Black pulsed the corners of his vision.

-'Ah, Tengen-' You tried to keep your voice steady- not willing to let yourself be intimidated by a man his size in such a situation. Not infront of Gyutaro. He didn't need real life experience to back up forum rumors.

-'Can I use this toilet?' He nodded down to Gyutaro, and you looked down to the man between your thighs, a bit shocked by the ask.

- Gyutaro would pull off your cunt fast, wide eyed and all teeth.

-'What the fuck did you just s-' You lodged your fingers down his throat, Gyutaro gagging hurtfully against them. His eyes rolled back. He didn't know why having his mouth fucked with felt so good. It'd never felt this good when he was alone-

-'When I cum, yeah.' And Gyutaro was back on your pussy, a sudden fear lighting his movements. You wouldn't really let Tengen do that to him, right?

-Why was he depending on you, a woman, to prevent that? He should just get up and kick his ass- Tengen would have an advan...advantage.... an-

-Fuck your pussy was mind numbing. Fuck whatever Tengen wanted to do to him. He needed that juice.

-Gyutaro chased your orgasm. You were only slightly dissapointed he didn't cum with you- didn't show Tengen how good he could be. A part of you wanted to impress Tengen- to show off a little bit. Show what you tamed. Even if that taming was still very early in the works-

-When you came, Gyutaro smiled wide against your pussy. You pulled back with shaking legs and his head in your hands and he looked at you like Tengen wasn't pulling his cock from his boxers just centimeters away.

-'Just want your pussy, I need your pussy-' He slurred while you starred down at him.

-'If you drink it, I'll let you fuck me-' His ears would begin ringing. Shocked by his own actions, Gyutaro found his jaw unhinged, taking Tengen's flaccid cock down his throat.

-Maybe it was easier for him to accept because Gyutaro never dealt with penis envy. The two men were surprisingly matched. How unfortunate. You really wanted to see how Gyutaro would react to a cock that much bigger-

-Tengen took advantage of the willing hole, rocking his hips a bit much to Gyutaro's anger.

-'If you bite me, I'll drown you. Don't want to die with your head in a toilet, eh, Shabana?' Tengen taunted, sensing the upset from his thighs.

-You watched as Gyutaro's adam apple surged, and Tengen's head dropped back in relief. It was more than Gyutaro could take, obviously, because it began spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto his Neitzsche shirt.

-Gyutaro's face burnt red, and he reeked like piss. Tengen gave the other man's face a light, almost appreciative slap.

-As Tengen pulled out, a rush of piss came spilling onto the floor. He wasn't done though, a guiding hand locking around Gyutaro's jaw to tip his head up. The trickle was backed by the music blurring outside.

-His flow came to a stop, and he carefully shut Gyutaro's mouth. Gyutaro looked over at you with tired eyes.

-You nodded, and he swallowed.

-'Atta boy.'

-With Tengen's exit, you looked down at Gyutaro, dripping and still woefully hard. You pulled his messy hair back into a ponytail once more.

-'oh honey... when did I say you'd be fucking me tonight?'

-'Do I- Do I get to fuck you now?' He'd croak, trying to ignore the completely beer ridden piss on his lips. You looked at him so pathetically. It made his cock ache even worse than it already did.

-He could tell he wasn't going to get what he wanted before you even opened your mouth.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Could you maybe write Magneto(Erik) from X-men Evo with an avian based mutation reader?

Some birds rely on the magnetic field in order to keep their extraordinary inner compasses aligned so they always know which way is home. This is actually why homing pigeons are so fascinating to me.

I like to think that when Magneto does his thing and fools around with metal and the magnetic field, he messes with the reader(and all other bird)‘s sense of direction when he’s doing near them.

I think it would be funny for reader to just get annoyed at him because they’re anxious that they might get lost because this man is just folding metal in paper cranes as he speaks to them and follows them as they try to guide the Brotherhood out of a forest discreetly.

(Thank you for the request, and yep, let's see the old guy be a menace!)

You were getting a little tired of this.

For the last thirty minutes you and your team have been lost. Even worse? The leader of the Brotherhood, Magneto, is overseeing how you all react to navigating unknown terrain.

This would have been fine. It might have even secured your spot on the team, maybe raised you up a few points or however you lot are scored. But somehow, someway, you just couldn't. Find. The. Exit!

It didn't help that your team had hyped you up, had basically told Magneto you were their best navigator. Always had the right direction, could figure it out blindfolded, was never, ever wrong. And now? You're failing.

And failure isn't an option.

"Reader, psst, what the heck, man?" Todd murmurs, shooting a sneaky glance back at the older mutant tailing you all. You feel your talons dig into your palms.

"I'm trying! Something is blocking me!" you hiss back. Your feathers ruffle anxiously, and you try not to shriek in frustration. How could you, YOU, of ALL mutants, be lost?!

Lance elbows past the two of you, shooting you a look. "Well, figure it out, bird brain, or we're all gonna get it." With that as your motivation, you take a deep breath, then try again.

Nothing.

It's just, a jumbled mess, like your inner map was crumpled up and made into origami by a five year old. It doesn't make sense.

Hearing the creak of metal and the sharp sound of a blade, you look back. Magneto keeps rearranging bits of metal, folding them and molding them into different shapes and sizes, making you freeze.

Well great. You found the problem. His powers disrupt your senses. But to fix it... You're going to have to ask him to stop. Which seems more daunting than being lost in the first place.

"Be right back," you mumble, then push your way to the back. The moment Pietro realizes what you're about to do, he's grabbing you by the arm, trying to tug you back, but one flick of your wing and he falls over.

"E-excuse me... sir," you start, not making direct eye contact with your leader. He stills, sparing you a glance. "Part of my power is navigation, but... it seems your powers disrupt that. May you please s-stop?"

Everything is silent, too quiet for your liking. You half expect the older mutant to yell at you or try to smack you, but instead -

"Finally. It took you long enough to notice."

What?... Wait, what?!

"You knew... the entire time?" You don't want to sound like you're criticizing him, but you would like to know why he's left you all from leaving.

"Yes. It was a test. And it seems, for now, you have passed."

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you nod, deeply, then start to head back upfront. You don't hear him speak to his son, voice firm and quiet.

"Keep an eye on them, Pietro. I believe they could be quite useful."

"Of course, Father."

[daysofyellowroses]

heaven only knows (chapter one)

david von erich x f!reader | 3k | warnings: none, starting off pretty tame

she's back! (kind of) so..hi! very aware that i have let this blog grow dormant but it was never my intention, things just got a little overwhelming in life and this space wasn't my top priority. but lately i have tried writing some things and nothing was really working, until i was reading over requests i received and noticed a lot of them were based around david and i have been having such an iron claw resurgence lately so i decided to combine the david requests into one big story and break it up into manageable parts which has been very enjoyable i must say! hopefully this beginning is a fun and pleasant read, i haven't written for a while so i feel a little rusty but i'm getting back into it slowly. as much as possible i have tried to avoid any details of the reader, the only thing i had in mind was her being around 20/21 but that's just in my mind. anyway, unnecessarily long monologue over, hopefully you enjoy this!

🌼

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna puke.”

“Again?”

“Yes ma'am.”

You laughed softly as you took in the worried look on Mike's face, gently squeezing his arm.

“Don't worry,” You smiled, giving him as reassuring a look as you could muster. “We got this. You got this.”

Mike nodded, still looking a little green around the gills. “Thanks, appreciate it.”

You gave his arm a quick squeeze before letting it go, walking away to pick up your bass from the couch it was leaning against.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to ease your own nerves. It was just like any other gig, you told yourself. Like any other gig, just with an industry scout possibly being in the audience. Absolutely nothing to worry about, no way.

As tempted as you were to seek out a bottle of whiskey to drown your nerves, instead you focused on the instrument you were holding. The last thing anyone needed was you being too hammered to play or even get onto the stage, especially tonight.

The feeling of the strings beneath your fingertips soothed you, it was second nature by now but you still liked to focus, to feel each movement. Sometimes you let your mind drift off while your fingers caressed the strings, playing a song that was well settled in your memory, but in this moment you wanted to be perfect, to walk onto the stage knowing you wouldn't miss a beat.

You glanced up as you heard Mike and Travis talking, resting your arm on your bass. It didn't seem possible that you'd only known them for a couple of months, it felt as though they'd been in your life forever, figures in the background who didn't take centre stage until you all needed each other.

It was pure chance that you happened to meet your fellow band members, or maybe fate. You didn't necessarily believe that everything that was meant to be would be, but you wouldn't ever outright deny the possibility. Had it been fate that led you to them? Or was it just coincidence? After all, it was just a flyer pinned up on a notice board in the supermarket, you could have discovered it any time. Then again, you had only gone to the supermarket because your mum couldn't, on account of her recently broken leg. And, of course, you wouldn't normally read the notices, only that on that particular visit to the supermarket you had to place a notice yourself (kittens free to a good home, the ‘mischievous little devils’ being omitted from the ad), and the flyer with music notes and lightning bolts crudely drawn on it caught your eye. A local band was holding auditions for a bassist and you figured it wouldn't hurt to go and try out.

Now, a couple of months later, here you were in a fancy house that you felt a little too out of place in, about to go and play to a crowd of people you barely knew (and for the most part didn't even have that) including possibly someone who could vastly change your life. It was quite daunting, a little overwhelming and incredibly exciting. You weren't going it alone, you had the boys with you, and you were all in the same boat.

Setting your bass down carefully, you walked over to the unlit fireplace and looked into the mirror above it. As nervous as you felt, you were relieved that you didn't look on the verge of a panic attack, a relatively calm and composed image looking back at you.

You looked at the guys through the mirror, smiling at Mike as he caught your eye.

“Shall we?”

Your heart was in your throat a little as you walked onto the makeshift stage in the ridiculously huge back garden, lit with endless strings of lights, the sea of faces on the lawn blurring together in the shadows. You watched Mike approach the front of the stage, his confidence kicking in as it always did once he got in front of the crowd. You let him get on with the introductions, looking down at your bass and taking a deep breath. Telling yourself on repeat to just enjoy the moment, appreciate being able to do what you loved with people you cared about. Come the next morning you'd be back at work, pouring coffee and serving pie, dreaming of a life better led, so any chance to do that should be taken.

By the time you finished the last song, your adrenaline was pumping and you couldn't keep the smile from your face, wanting to do it all over again. The band had been in fire, the crowd had been electric, and you knew if the talent scout was among them then they'd be seeking you out before the night was over.

After you left the stage and put your instruments away, you and the guys could finally join the party and relax. Once you had a cup in your hand and the pressure dropped from your shoulders the world felt right again, like you could breathe.

While you didn't have a deep and intimate knowledge of most of the partygoers, you didn't need to. People flocked to the band, wanted to be in with you guys before you were even somebody. You didn't let it get to your head, the minimal and vapid attention. A couple of drinks, some chatting, brushing off intense and sloppy flirtations, it was like most Saturday nights.

You found Mike in the bustling kitchen when you went to refresh your drink, leaning against a counter and watching him pop the cap off another beer.

“Having fun?”

“Hell yeah,” Mike grinned, turning to you. His eyes were glassy and bright, his smile infectious. “Are you?”

“Of course,” You smiled, glancing around before spotting a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen island and stepping over to it. “In spite of..well you know.”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, clearing his throat. “But there's always next time, right?”

“Absolutely,” You responded, pouring some whiskey into your cup before reaching for a lukewarm bottle of cola. “And maybe next time you'll finally bring those brothers of yours I've heard so much about.”

You grinned as Mike flushed slightly pink.

“Maybe, yeah,” He nodded, rubbing his neck as you laughed softly. “They're just busy a lot, you know?”

“Mm, I know,” You nodded, setting your cup down and leaning on the counter. “I'm just surprised they can't make time for their own brother, not very supportive.”

“They are supportive,” Mike insisted, his glassy eyes going wide. “It's just..a scheduling thing, otherwise they'd be here, honestly they-”

“Mike,” You held your hand up with a smile and an arched brow. “Relax. You know I'm just teasing you. But I am curious..if I talked about my sisters the way you talked about your brothers then you'd want to meet them too.”

“You have sisters?” Mike asked, looking deeply stumped and making you laugh. “I didn't know that.”

“Because it's irrelevant,” You smiled, standing up straight and picking up your cup. “Most people don't really talk about their siblings. But most people aren't you.”

You walked around to him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “And that's a shame.”

The following morning, you groaned into your pillow as all too bright sunshine began to sneak behind your eyes. Now that you were somewhat awake, a thumping headache made its presence felt, and your stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. You really hadn't intended to drink so much, but you'd been having a good time and when drinking games were suggested they just seemed like harmless fun to round off the night.

Your headache wasn't eased by the sound of your alarm blaring, your arm slowly stretching out from under the covers and giving the clock on your nightstand a smack. There was no point even attempting to call in sick to work, there was barely enough staff when everyone was in full health, never mind on a Saturday morning when half the staff would be praying for a quick death rather than suffering through hangover hell and irritating customers.

Eventually, you dragged yourself from your bed, feeling very much like death warmed up. After a shower and changing into your loathed light blue uniform dress, you made your way downstairs. Choosing to ignore your mother's shouting from the kitchen (it could have been aimed at you, your dad, a sibling, a pet, a neighbour a block over, you never knew) and instead grabbed your jacket. Glancing down as a softness brushed over your leg, you smiled as you spotted Burt (former kitten, now not quite full grown cat) purring contently by your ankle.

“Don't you dare make me late,” You sighed, bending down to scratch behind Burt's ears. “Go find your mama before my mama has a conniption that you're still around.”

You took your keys from the hook by the door and slipped out of the house, the fresh air and sunlight making you long for the dark cosiness of your bed. The hangover was your own doing, but that didn't mean you couldn't be annoyed about it, especially when you only had hazy memories of a good time that weren't enough to justify feeling so shitty. The walk to the bus stop seemed to take a lifetime, your headache pounding with every footstep. It would be a miracle if you got on to the bus instead of laying down in front of it, which was sounding more tempting than having to face work.

As fate would have it, you were stuck with your hangover, which had completely settled in your bones. When you arrived at the diner you took a deep breath as you saw how busy it already was, the long white vinyl counter already full, most of the booths occupied. You quickly headed to the back, wanting to be on the clock before someone asked for a top up or another slice of pie. Even with a jacket still on and no apron it didn't stop some of the customers, and you weren't willing to work for free, especially not today.

Once your things were stuffed in your locker, you grabbed an apron from the kitchen and tied it around your waist. You looked over to the crew of chefs, all of them having at least five different conversations at once, while shouting for the servers to pick up orders or flirting with them relentlessly. You knew at least one of them would have a little pick-me-up available if you wanted, keeping it in mind for later as you clocked in and headed out to the front.

The shift seemed to drag by ten times slower than usual, despite how busy you were. It was halfway through when things finally started to calm, it was still busy but far more manageable. You were on counter duty, which was a small relief to your feet after rushing around all morning. When you had a moment, you let your mind wander to the previous night, particularly the performance. While it had been frustrating that the scout wasn't there, it was still one of your better gigs, and you knew that you would've been snapped up in a heartbeat if the scout had been there. Everyone was on top form, it had all come together perfectly to-

“Excuse me, miss?”

You popped your daydream bubble, looking for the source of the interruption/customer and finding two men standing at the counter who looked a little familiar but you couldn't but your finger on how or if you knew them.

“Hi, how can I help?” an automatic smile was back on your face, your hand reaching into your apron pocket for your order pad. Judging by the size of the men they wouldn't be content with just a coffee. You didn't think people could be so muscular in real life, not that it mattered, of course.

“Could we get three cheeseburgers and three large sodas to take out, please,” The brunette asked with a charming smile, spurring your brain into action to think where, if anywhere, you knew him from.

“Of course, coming right up,” You nodded, scribbling the order down on your pad and glancing up for a moment to find the blonde's eyes on you, a small smile on his face as he looked away. You looked back to the pad, taking a moment before tearing the page off and looking back to the men in front of the counter.

“It'll be a few minutes, if you want to take a seat.”

You walked back into the kitchen, tapping the page against your hand.

“Got a takeout order, anyone free?”

“I got it,” Ed, one of the chefs who had been at the diner so long you suspected he had been born in it, waved over to you, his tattooed arm still well muscled.

“Along with a little proposition for you sweetheart.”

You handed over the order with a raised brow, watching Ed read it over.

“I'm all ears, what is it?”

Ed set the order aside, straightening up with a grin.

“Got a truck out back, it'll take you any place you wanna go, just say the word.”

“Oh really?” You glanced to the back door before looking back at Ed with a smile. “What a tempting offer..especially if you wouldn't be coming too.”

Ed laughed heartily, waving you away as he started on the burgers. You went back out to the counter, finding the blonde sitting alone. He didn't look as familiar as the brunette, but you couldn't shake the feeling you'd seen him somewhere before. He was pretty cute, sitting there in his cartoon t-shirt and blue jeans. Cute, but also looking like he could easily pick you up like it was nothing. Pushing that particular image from your mind, you walked over and stood across from him, meeting his eyes after a moment.

“Your friend abandoned you, did he?”

He laughed, and you felt your heartbeat quicken a beat.

“Not quite,” He shook his head with a smile. “Went to the bathroom. But I don't think he's missed just now.”

“No?” You smiled, folding your arms. “Why might that be?”

“Gives me a chance to talk to you alone,” The blonde grinned, and you had to admire his confidence. Plus, you couldn't recall the last time someone had flirted with you and you wanted more, or even to flirt back and mean it.

“And what did you want to talk about, exactly?” You asked, taking a step closer to the counter. “World peace?”

The blonde smiled as he sat up a little, resting his hands on the counter.

“Well it would be an appropriate topic, I am talking to a beauty queen after all.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile, lowering your arms and glancing around the diner.

“That line is about as old as this place.”

“Just means it's a classic,” The blonde held his hands up with a grin.

“If you say so,” You smiled, looking up as you heard a loud giggle from the back corner, the blonde's friend surrounded by three girls before he made his way back to the counter.

“Let me go check in your order,” You told them, enjoying the slight look of disappointment in the blonde's eyes as you turned to walk away.

In the kitchen you found Ed laying it on extra thick with Christina, one of the newer waitresses, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“I leave for a minute and you're already moving on?” You sighed, walking over to Ed. “I guess that'll teach me not to get my hopes up. You got my order ready?”

“I got the whole world for you darlin,’ just ask,” Ed held his hand over his heart. “And if you don't want it I still got that truck.”

“And I got customers waiting,” You replied, glancing over to Christina as you heard her stifle a laugh.

“So before I drive off into the sunset at least let me do my job.”

Once you had the order, you took the bag and turned to Christina with a smile.

“Could you do me the biggest favour and give me a hand with the sodas for this? Three large, if you could grab just one I'd really appreciate it.”

“Of course, I got it.” Christina nodded, following you back out towards the counter. You placed the bag on the counter in front of the brunette, feeling the blonde's eyes on you.

“Your sodas are just coming,” You told him, glancing to the blonde with a smile before joining Christina by the soda machine and grabbing a cup.

“You okay?” You asked her, taking in the slight flush of her cheeks.

“Yeah,” Christina nodded, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at you. “I just can't believe-”

“Oh don't worry about him,” You smiled, pouring a soda into the cup. “He's a pain in the ass but he's harmless. He'd try it on with a mop if nobody else was available.”

You took the sodas over to the counter once they were ready, watching the men argue for a minute over who was going to pay before the brunette was handing the money over to you with a grin and insisting you keep the change.

“Thank you, much appreciated,” You smiled, glancing at the blonde, who looked annoyed to have lost out but still gave you a smile.

As you were putting the tip in the jar, you looked at Christina, who was watching the window with wide eyes.

“You sure you're okay?” You asked, turning to her. “I can tell Ed to cut the shit if you want, he'll stop.”

“No it’s not that,” Christina turned to you with a grin. “It's..well you know.”

You gave her a confused smile, glancing to the window before looking back at her. “I know what, exactly?”

“It was him!” Christina exclaimed, not exactly easing your confusion. “Don't tell me you didn't recognise him?”

“Then I'll have to say nothing,” You laughed softly. “Because I don't know what you mean. Who am I supposed to recognise?”

Christina laughed, an exasperated look on her face as she touched your shoulder.

“That was Kevin Von Erich!”

[kidspawn]

please please please yap about your swimming au??? it’s what the people need 🌊

Ahhh oh my gosh thank you thank you thank you for asking ahhhh. I didn't know if there'd be much interest, but god last night I was thinking of Noah Czerny as one does, and then I thought of grief and regret as I have been of late, and then I thought of swimming. And I've been itching to write something, anything, Noah-centric because he fascinates and hurts me so. His relationship with losing a piece of himself, with losing his grip on the world, with becoming less. And as melodramatic as this all sounds, it's such fascinating ground to explore. And a lot of this ties into swimming in my head (I'll spare you the sob story), and I couldn't get the fact that Noah was CANONICALLY on the swim team.

So, Noah on a high school swim team. Incredibly skilled. Like, actively seeking a scholarship for college. There's promise and talent and skill and passion. Besides that, he's not... a bad student, just has other priorities. School isn't really the end all be all, its something that has to be completed. College is a place to swim longer, so that's the goal. (In my heart of hearts, he swims breastroke primarily. Likely also freestyle, but oh breastroke just fits in my head. This is serious because I loathe breastroke with every fiber of my being. I will go and swim breastroke to write it better, which is how serious I am.)

I think Whelk is on the team too, (I'd probably have to age Whelk and Noah down for this to work, to be frank, but oooh this relationship is so fascinating to meee) and while he's not bad its pretty obvious he won't be going collegiate. He could, if he pushed himself, but his parents have the money to throw around and he's set. But we all know how Whelk goes, and as soon as his family fortune is out the picture he seethes with it all. Finds Noah. Starts a fight. Sees an opportunity to get Noah out of the way, out of the scout's eye, and deliberately injures him to sabotage his swimming career.

Noah can't swim, and he loves to swim. Has made it such a part of his life. Really. It's the only reason he even bothers coming to class. So without swimming, he spirals. Becomes aimless. Recovery is daunting and long, he's attending PT and therapy. His parents pull a few strings to get him into college (he can't tell if he minds, but something in it stings.) and that's where he meets Ronan.

And Ronan is an odd guy, really. Quiet, peculiar hours, disappears every other hour or spends an entire week in his bedroom. Reclusive. He and Noah barely barely speak (though when they do it isn't... unpleasant. Just two strangers.)

(Also in my head Ronan is going through a shitton. And hanging out with Kavinsky semi regularly. He doesn't have much energy to devote to befriending Noah.)

And then! Ronan sees an old medal of Noah's, from two years ago. (Timeline wise I am probably going for second year of college, tbh. I gotta work through some of this still. I literally thought of this yesterday at work.) He's not usually this nosy (he respects your space, you respect his) but he asks Noah if he's a swimmer. And Noah, who hasn't been Noah-the-swimmer in so so long tells him yes.

See this gets complicated when Ronan, who thinks Noah is nice enough, if a little odd, asks him to help his younger brother (Matthew) get better at swimming competitively. He's going to college, he just started, and he wants to try for the university's swim team. (Matthew is... enthusiastic but not exactly a GOOD swimmer. But goddamn it, if Ronan can get his brother this one thing he damn sure will pull whatever strings need be.) So Noah, caught in a damn lie, agrees to teach Matthew how to swim.

And that's the premise! I really want to dive into a Noah and Ronan friendship and write it develop, the idea of Noah and Matthew being so so so similar in Ronan's eyes and a potential connection between the two, the relationship between a high school athlete who lost their ambitions and identity, and the Lynch family in general. I don't know for sure if it'd be shippy, but I'm not against it? Whatever it develops into, it just HAS to be Noah and Matthew in my head. Also I want to write them interacting soooo bad.

(I love the idea of having Noah observe all these romantic relationships on the outside? Kind of peaking in, seeing all these bizarre ass relationships develop while he navigates his relationship with swimming once more. Also I miss swimming and I'd love to write a love letter to the thing I've loved since first grade.)

(I don't have a super structured plot, mind. It's undeveloped, but I've been writing around bits and pieces which I'm excited for. Background ships probably Bluesey because I can't say no to them. Maybe some background heclan. and tbh I have a fun little Ronan/Adam/Kavinsky background or sideplot I'd love love love to explore through Noah's eyes. Unless I just do pynch in the background, but I think I might just let Noah watch a dumpster fire unfold while he befriends Ronan and Ronan's golden retriever little brother who also happens to be having an identity crisis. Tbh, if im writing something already this self indulgent I might as well lean in and write the ships I want.)

I think a heavy focus on these platonic and familial relationships Noah has as he works on his mental recovery is what I'd want to focus on. Touching on how he influences and touches the lives of those around him, and how they impact him in turn. Healing with friendship and rediscovering your passion through the fresh eyes of coaching? You know? And viewing the Gangsey through Noah's eyes OHHHHH

God I hope this sounds as good out loud as it does in my head. I don't think it'd be particularly LONG, but I love the idea of diving into Noah's head and exploring an AU version of his story. I know its not a super exciting idea, and its not necessarily adrenaline-fueled swimming plot, its quieter. But I love tying hobbies and passions into a character's emotional arc. (And, to be frank, I want to write swimming. That's my main motivation.) Okay okay I'll stop now. But thank you so much for asking!!!

[dustmusings]

technical devotion, part fifteen: promises made

a/n: I think I'm gonna start aiming to get a chapter of this out every thursday roughly. I have everything planned out apart from how it's gonna end lmao, but rest assured, it shall be happy. I'm looking forward to you guys seeing what's in store! also, I did not realise how slow burn this would be lol, we're still a way off from first kiss territory, buuuuut... this chapter is one I've been waiting to write since the beginning ! hope you enjoy it (sorry for the long a/n)

warnings: injury & pain (not in any great detail) insecure echo :/

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In the weeks following Kan and Echo rekindling their friendship, Kan slowly began to get a grasp on her new role in the ranks, which was mainly because Echo was now there to support her. He was there to remind her not to let her worries overtake her, and a hand on her arm, or an encouraging smile, usually did the trick. Echo's presence calmed her in an instant, and the task of leading didn't seem as daunting with him around. Not that it was always so simple.

Kan stepped out of the command room, rubbing a hand over her face and sighing deeply. Echo was quick to notice as he exited behind her.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asked, stopping her in the corridor.

“I've been sleeping fine yeah, its just… My mind. My mind is tired” She admitted.

“What's wrong?” Echo frowned.

Kan exhaled a long breath, “I really don't know if I'm meant to lead people. It's really outside of my comfort zone even now, and it's just got my brain going into overdrive. I can't stop thinking about… What if something really bad happened under my watch? Or because of a decision I made? I don't think I could cope Echo”

Echo's expression softened the more Kan spoke, a silent admiration of her showing on his features. He placed his hands on her shoulders, something he noted that helped to ground her and gain her focus entirely.

“M'aira, you're doing a great job, and you'll continue to. Rex wouldn't choose you for this if he didn't think you could do it or handle it, and if it means anything to you, I believe in you too”

Kan let a shy smile lift the edges of her lips, “Thanks, it means a lot yeah”

Echo returned her smile, “Now, come with me, I have a small surprise for you”

“You do?” Kan looked up at him with slightly widened eyes.

“It's nothing special” He said as he took his hands away from her shoulders and began walking towards her office, “I just figured that since you seem to insist on sleeping in your office every night…”

Echo opened the door, showing his handiwork to Kan.

“…That having your bunk in here might be the way to go. That way I can stop worrying about you as well”

Kan grinned up at the clone, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a quick tight squeeze, “Thank you Echo, you're too kind to me”

Echo shook his head with a smile, resisting the urge to pull Kan back towards him, “Not really, if I was kind I would have tidied up in here too”

Kan looked around her office, still messy as ever. It seemed that Echo had just pushed the worst of the mess aside to make room for the bed.

“It's fine, I don't mind it like this anyway, the mess doesn't really bother me” She shrugged.

Echo huffed a small laugh, “I don't think I could cope if my office was this messy”

Kan hummed thoughtfully, her eyes darting across the mess.

“When do you leave for your mission?” Kan asked, looking back up into his honey eyes.

“We leave early tomorrow morning” Echo gave a sad smile.

“So I won't see you before you go?” Kan questioned, and Echo shook his head. Kan chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, “I wish I was going with you”

Echo could feel the words tugging at his heart, “I don't”

Kan gave him a stern look, her eyebrows drawn together.

He chuckled, “You can't get hurt if you don't go at all”

“You think I can't handle myself?” Kan asked, minorly offended but mostly confused.

“Oh I know you can, I‘m just happier knowing you're safe” Echo confessed, and he could feel his cheeks heating at the slightly vulnerable admission.

Kan just huffed, “Well it doesn't get much more safe than sitting around in the base all day”

“You'll get your chance to go into the field again, don't worry” He assured, a hand on her shoulder.

Kan smiled. Her eyes didn't meet his for a few seconds, but when they did he could tell there was a certain sadness laced within the gentle expression.

“Be safe, yeah?” She urged quietly.

Echo smiled softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling, “I will”

Without warning and much thought of her own, Kan wrapped her arms around Echo again, more tenderly this time. Echo could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he gently wrapped her in his own arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

In the past weeks, Kan had become more physically comfortable around Echo, and though he enjoyed it thoroughly, it was still always a little startling. Especially with a touch so gentle and tender as the hug she was currently giving him, it was hard to not be overwhelmed.

“Don't do anything stupid. Don't get yourself hurt” Kan spoke into his chest, and he was certain she could hear how furiously his heart was beating.

“I won't” He replied, hugging her tighter into his body to reassure her, “I promise”

Kan nodded along, listening intently as Rex detailed the upcoming mission. She was a little disappointed to not seem to be going on this mission, as they were going to be infiltrating the base that she had discovered through listening in on the Empire's long range comms. It was a dangerous job, they knew nothing about what this prison would be like once they were in, but that was the reason they were set on going. There were clones being imprisoned there, and they wanted to know why.

“Now, while all that is going on, me and Kan will be on a separate directive, looking to garner any information about this prison” Rex continued, and Kan's ears perked up, her posture straightening at the mention of her.

Rex hadn't discussed this with her before, but she was more than happy to do it, particularly with him.

“That's the plan as of now, but we'll have to wait until more men are back here to enact it” Rex moved away from the central holotable and crossed his arms, “I suggest getting some good rest tonight, they could be back at any time and I want to get this done as soon as possible”

Rex dismissed the clones, and Kan was immediately at his side.

“Rex, about the-”

“Sorry to spring that on you, I was hoping to speak with you earlier but your door was locked” Rex explained.

“Ah right, yeah, I was… tidying”

“Tidying?” Rex raised an eyebrow, a small smirk quirking his lips.

“Yeah, anyway, I wanted to ask you-”

Kan didn't get the chance to finish her question as the door to the command centre zipped open and her focus was drawn towards it. She did a double take, the sight she took in not registering in her mind at first.

It was Echo. He was back from his mission, but something was wrong. His form was alarmingly straight and rigid, his forearm resting against the door frame and holding him up. Each small movement sent a twitch to his face, his teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flared.

Kan's heart leapt to her throat, and she rushed over to him.

“What happened?” She spoke hurriedly, paying no mind to the other clones around them who watched on.

Echo exhaled shakily, “Got… shot, in the back”

Kan tried so desperately to remain calm despite the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She turned to look at Rex over her shoulder, hoping for some kind of support.

“We haven’t got a proper medic” He said, clearly shaken by his brother's condition.

That snapped Kan into gear, “I've got medical training, I've got it”

Kan took Echo's arm and threw it over her shoulder, pulling a pained groan from him. She quickly led him to her office, which was only just down the hall, and smacked the door panel in a frantic hurry. She set him down on the bed gently and instantly went about rooting around in the draws of her desk looking for her medkit. When she had found it, she looked up at Echo, who was trying to take off his armour, and failing as his wound cried out in pain.

“Stop, let me do it” Kan spoke instantly, standing in front of him and shooing his hands away.

Her fingers got working on the clasps, starting with his arms and working her way up, exactly as Echo did it.

“How do you know how to do this?” He asked, fighting through his pain.

“I've watched you do it enough times” Kan replied, a small shrug in her shoulders as she focused. Echo would've smirked but his chest plate dug into his wound as she took it off. “Sorry” She whispered.

“S'fine” Echo managed to hiss out as Kan climbed over the bed to sit behind him cross-legged. She tried to survey the damage, to see how bad it really was, but to no avail.

“Could you take this off?” Kan asked, her fingers playing with the hem of his blacks.

If it was possible, Echo’s body seized up even more. He nervously fidgeted his own fingers along the hem, letting out an exasperated huff. His blaster wound was sending small shocks through his body with every movement, but he was single-mindedly focused on not letting Kan take off his top.

Kan noted his discomfort immediately, and let out a sigh.

“Echo” She spoke so gently from behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder, “It's okay, please let me help you”

Echo relented with a slump of his shoulders, “Okay”

Kan helped to peel off the tight base layer, several pained noises escaping the man she was helping. As she saw the wound, she couldn't help but suck a sharp breath between her teeth. Three blaster bolts scorched into his lower back, creating a cluster of open wounds.

Echo assumed her reaction was to seeing the cybernetic attachments he had in his back. His breath was shaky as he tried to calm himself, but it only became more unstable as Kan traced around the outside of his wound.

“I told you to be safe Echo” She whispered, “You promised not to get hurt”

She sounded so solemn, and Echo couldn't find it in himself to say anything. Thankfully, she then got to work on the wound, but it wasn't without discomfort. She first administered a pain relief injection, and his breath caught in his throat as she cupped the side of his neck to do so. She warned him every time she was going to touch him, the antiseptic wipe against his wound making him flinch and grunt more than he wished, stinging even with the pain relief. She placed a bacta patch over the area when she had cleaned it appropriately, and it stung for just a second before the bacta started working it's magic.

“Does that feel better?” She asked quietly, and Echo just nodded

Kan ran her fingers along the edge of the metal apparatus that climbed up his back, causing Echo to shudder under her touch. The feeling of it was so intimate, yet so tainted by sadness and clouded by self-concious thoughts that Echo couldn't focus on the warmth of Kan's fingers against his bare back.

“You're lucky, they almost hit your spine” She spoke, sounding resoundingly serious.

Echo could only hang his head. He felt so ashamed. He had worked hard to get past this mindset, but with the woman he desired like no other sitting behind him and inspecting the damage done to his body, he couldn't help it.

Kan could understand a little of what Echo was thinking, she just hoped she was wrong. She slid from behind him and knelt in front of him on the floor, but he wouldn't look at her.

“Echo” She said as gently as she could, placing a hand on his knee, “I'm glad you're okay”

Echo looked up to her, and the emotions she saw swimming in his eyes were almost enough to bring her to tears.

“What can I say to make you feel better?” She asked in a whisper, for fear that speaking louder would cause him to break.

“There's nothing to say” He said firmly, looking down to his lap.

Kan couldn't help but reach out. She placed a hand on his face, lightly rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone.

“Please talk to me” She pleaded.

After a moment of painful silence, Echo sighed, “I don't show people my cybernetics for a reason”

“Echo it's okay-”

“But it's not” He frowned, his eyes snapping to Kan’s once more. “It's not okay. The attachments, they- they're not exactly desirable, and no one wants someone with all… this. I-” He puffed out a sad breath, the next admission feeling daunting, “It makes me feel like I'm half a man”

Kan's heart broke.

“That's not true” She said sternly, both hands now on his cheeks, forcing him to pay attention to her words, “You're every bit of a man as any other, and even more than that, you're a good man Echo. Anyone would be lucky to have you”

“Anyone?” Echo asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kan wasn't really sure what he was asking. Was he asking because he just wanted confirmation that she was telling the truth? Or was it something more? She weighed her options of what to say, biting into her bottom lip with her eyebrows pinched. She couldn't just admit to her affections for him right now if that wasn't what he was after.

Instead, she took her hands away from his face, sitting back of her heels with a shy look on her face, “Yes, anyone”

Kan stood up and grabbed the medkit, taking it back over to the desk and placing it in the draw.

“You stay here tonight, I'll take your bunk” She said, turning around to meet Echo's intense gaze once more.

“No, I'm fine, I'll-” He was interrupted by his own sharp intake of breath as he tried to stand.

Kan smiled at him knowingly and walked over, placing her hands on his shoulder to keep him rooted to the bed.

“Please, stay here” She insisted.

She found herself lost in Echo's eyes. So many emotions were flitting through them and she couldn't keep track. She absent-mindedly began rubbing her thumb along his bare collarbone, before she realised what she was doing and pulled away.

“I'll see you tomorrow” She nodded to him, leaving quickly and shutting the door behind her.

Echo let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding and laid back on the bed. His mind was full to the brim with every thought he’d had about Kan since meeting her.

Her distinct scent enveloped him as he crawled into her bunk. He inhaled deeply, letting it take him over and overpower him, washing away his troubled thoughts, and eventually letting it lull him into a peaceful sleep.