#like I'm not trying to take away from that effort?
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If it is alright, may I request a TFP (Ratchet, Optimus, or Megatron) x Royalty Cybertronian reader? Like Reader is some prince/princess.
The reader's pod recently crashed onto earth, and Characters team finds them?
(Sorry if it's confusing)
From the Sky
A/N, not important: Sorry, I changed it a bit. I wasn't entirely sure how to work this out as I think the only 'royalty' within transformers were kind of the Primes? Unless I'm completely wrong. Also extra apologies for it being a bit jagged. I'm still getting used to writing again. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.
-Ollie
CW: Megatron imprisons you, you're a politician
Words: 995
Summary: Ratchet's, Optimus Prime's, and Megatron's reaction to a senator from before the war landing on Earth
You were a high ranking official on the High Council, part of the board that named Orion Pax the next Prime. You were there when the war started, when the Decepticons were going after everyone on the High Council and terminating them.
To save your life from the countless assassinations going on around you, you were put into a stasis pod and loaded onto a ship to be sent as far away as possible.
The ship had been blown during the war, causing your stasis pod to slip through the cracks and careen through space, eventually causing you to land on Earth.
Ratchet
He’s furious when it’s discovered who you are. Yes, gaining an ally would normally be a chance for celebration, but Ratchet is bitter about how you came to be on the Earth.
He feels you’re just a coward because you ran away from the fight brewing on Cybertron. He thinks you should have stood with Optimus Prime during the beginning of the war, even in the face of all the assassinations going on.
Knowing you not only ran away, but actually managed to survive this long without ever engaging or helping in the fight infuriates him. He can’t imagine that you, one of the supposed ‘good’ senators, ran away and left your people to fend for themselves without ever lifting a finger to help.
He’s very sarcastic and short with you, constantly egging you on about how you ‘need protecting’ since you’re ‘such a high class bot’. He has very little respect for you and how you acted at the first signs of war.
If you ever need help with something or make an effort to assist someone else, he makes a huge deal out of it. He’ll sarcastically ask if you need help with the most menial task, giving you as hard a time as he can without Optimus intervening.
Only starts to warm up to you when you prove yourself in a fight.
You had saved Bumblebee on a mission, ending with you getting injured instead. When you had returned for repairs, Ratchet had been surprisingly upset, and not just about the use of resources to fix you. He fusses over you like he would any of his other teammates, scolding you for not being more careful.
It takes a while, but you’ll eventually start to grow on him if you work on proving him you can be a strong member of the team.
Optimus Prime
Upon seeing you, he immediately recognized who you were. He’s apprehensive at first, but welcomes you into the team and fills you in, making sure you’re aware of the war still going on.
He knows you fled once before at the sight of violence, and hopes to keep you with them for the fight this time around.
He doesn’t fully trust you at first, but tries his best to be fair in his judgement as long as you don’t show any signs of going against the team.
He’ll try his best to curve the other’s feelings towards you, not wanting the team to shut you out. However, he knows that his interference only breeds deeper resentment over time, and is insistent you make your own connections with the team.
He wants you to feel like they have your back, and makes sure you know you need to have theirs as well.
He helps you however he can as you adapt to your new life within the war and on Earth, letting you tag along with him so you can get more used to the planet without dealing with the others.
He starts to enjoy your company after a while, with his ease around you rubbing off on the others. He enjoys seeing you meld into the team and work with the others.
Despite his growing fondness, he makes sure to remain impassive and fair when around you. He doesn’t want anyone to think he favors you, or have you feel you’re being left out either. He’ll deny any feelings he has growing for as long as possible, wanting to stay impartial to any argument or problem that may come up involving you. He doesn’t always succeed.
Megatron
Megatron’s delighted when you’re brought back to him, forced to kneel at his feet on the bridge of his own ship. He can tell who you are from your fancy plating and shiny coat, immediately clocking you as one of the only senators to escape him.
He thinks it’s a cruel twist of fate that you, a former council head, is now under his imprisonment. He laments all his past grievances to you, blaming you for all that went wrong early in his life.
Megatron likes to recount the events of the war to you, mocking you for running and abandoning your people to face their deaths. He wants you to feel as stuck as he did in the pits of Kaon.
He grows to enjoy your company in a very messed up way. He’ll taunt you and threaten your life as you sit in whatever cell he stuck you in, pacing around you and forcing you to listen to every problem he had back before the war.
He doesn’t care if you were one of the ones vying against Zeta’s system. All he sees is a corrupt politician that denied him his view of freedom and gave it to Optimus instead.
He delights in reminding you that he’s in charge now, bragging about how close he is to winning the war and instatting everything he wanted back when he first talked to the high council
He mocks you with your current helplessness, unable to stop reminding you of the power and privilege you used to hold.
He doesn’t let anyone else visit you of course. Oure his to torment, to mock, to taunt. He likes the captive audience you’re now forced to be, made to listen to him now after dismissing him all those years ago.
#transformers#transformers x reader#transformers Prime#transformers megatron#transformers x human#maccadams#megatron#optimus prime#optimus prime x reader#cybertronian reader#megatron x reader#ratchet x reader#tfp x reader#optimus x reader#transformers headcanons#transformers prime megatron#tfp megatron#tfp ratchet#tfp optimus prime#tfp optimus x reader#tf prime
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I (Almost) Shot You Down
Summary: A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.
Chapter 1: A pillar of Salt
After being forced on leave from the Hunter's Association, you try to find respite outside of the safety of your apartment. By chance, you see Sylus engaged with someone else. You nearly take his head for it -- but he gets his way, in the end.
CW (18+): Sylus/reader, no use of ' Y/N,' Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Guns, MC is chronically depressed and exhausted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gambling, Reader is MC, AFAB reader is implied but no pronouns are used
A/N: This is my long, ongoing work that is still being updated. There are many more chapters up on ao3, and I'm working on getting them to tumblr. They're also being edited and improved from their original postings, so if you've read it before, there may be some changes as I upload!
You had finally begrudgingly accepted a few days off from your work with the Hunter’s Association, at the behest of your primary care physician (citing your declining physical health), your boss (citing your declining work performance), and your work partner (citing your declining mental health). The aforementioned meddlers had teamed up in an effort to finally tear you away from hunting, and would not allow you to return, despite your valiant attempts at protest. Work was your escape – from yourself, from the reality of your life, from your relationships – and everything in between. Hunting never changed, and you only got better at it.
Your blatant disregard for yourself had failed to continue to go unnoticed by those who cared about you, though. Now, here you were, sitting in your empty apartment with only the all encompassing silence to keep you company. Left alone with your thoughts. Again. You hadn’t bothered to kick the lights on. Only the sound of the heater clicking filled the otherwise empty air around you. Your mind went where it always did, then. That day. No bodies were ever recovered. You didn’t even have something to bury. Caleb’s dog tags had found their way into your hands at some point, and you gazed at them listlessly in your palm. You could still feel the heat from the residual fires of the explosion radiating off of the metal. The warmth of his hand in yours. It was all you had left to prove he ever really existed.
You desperately needed to get out of the house. Anything was better than being here, and perhaps you would accidentally run into some wanderers while the ghost of you made its way about Linkon city. Throwing yourself at hordes of wanderers was the only coping mechanism that had shown any signs of taking your mind off of things. Sort of. With this scheme in mind, you quickly dressed yourself in your usual, strapping your gun to your thigh, concealing its comforting weight under your coat. It wasn’t like you were on forced bedrest, so a walk wouldn’t hurt, right? You stashed Caleb’s tags in your nightstand drawer, returning them to their safe place. You imagined that someday, they’d burn a hole in that wood, and you’d come back to nothing at all.
You left your apartment with no particular aim in mind, being sure to lock the door behind you. The biometric lock shifted into place with a soft whirr behind you. You may have been utterly exhausted, but you were never complacent. The weather outside wasn’t ideal for a walk, and the wind buffeted your hair about your face, and bit at your skin, as if you were offending it with your mere presence outside. Your eyes watered, protesting the assaults by the air. You opted to ignore these sensations, and continued to walk in what you thought was the direction of the nearby shopping district. Your appetite had long since left you – months ago now – but you knew you could find a small measure of pleasure in a cup of coffee on a day like today.
After many twists and turns, your weary feet led you to an area you weren’t wholly familiar with. Maybe it was new? This was more upscale than your usual, you realized – your Hunter’s salary was decent enough, but definitely not this decent. Cobblestone that looked suspiciously new made the click of your boot-heels echo loudly off of your surroundings. You scrutinized the buildings before you, searching for somewhere that your presence would not offend, where you could also acquire what you were after. Everything was just a touch too upscale, too unwelcoming. All of the storefronts blurred into one image, one place where you weren’t welcomed. You chased thoughts from that same morning out of your mind that threatened to break through as you were forced into a moment of mental silence, and the still of the air and the lack of bustle kept returning you to reality. The last place you wanted to be.
After a time of aimless searching, you spied a place that looked acceptable. It was smaller than the other establishments, tucked away conservatively into an alley, lit by warm sconces along either side. Unlike the other buildings, it was painted in a warm, sandy beige. You couldn't tell much else about it from the outside, other than that the interior was dimly lit. The imagery of the cup of coffee on the signage was enough to guide your way. You pulled open the heavy glass door, and half expected it to be partially empty on the inside, but you had no such luck. It was bustling, but warm as a result, and you realized how cold you had been before you had stepped in. The change in temperature almost immediately made you feel too hot in your coat.
The patronage was definitely outside of your tax bracket. The patronage was clad in an array of expensive looking furs and fabrics, all speaking to each other in the lowest of dulcet tones. You felt their eyes on you, but disregarded them. It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to be here, regardless of how out of place you may have looked. Which, you thought, wasn’t that much. You might not have been born into high snob-society, but you took good care of your looks. Your fingers were still moving slowly in protest to the inclement weather as you fished your wallet from your coat pocket, stepping towards the counter with the intention to order. You hardly glanced at the menu. You didn’t even have a drink in mind. Just something as a distraction. Liquid, hot enough to burn your tongue. A sensation to chase the thoughts away.
This course of action was quickly interrupted, however. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of a shock of white hair on someone who seemed to tower over the rest of the people in the room, even while sitting. Clad in blacks and velvet reds, he both fit in perfectly and stood out starkly all at once. He was talking to someone else you couldn't see in a hushed tone.
Sylus?
Surely not. Why would he even be here, of all places? Sure, it was nice, but not places-Sylus-frequented nice. Or at least, the places you imagined he frequented. You still didn’t have a full idea of all of the things Sylus did with his free time. Short of that, what was he doing cavorting about in Linkon in public? Your eyes bored holes into the back of his head, trying to catch wind of what could have possibly brought him to a place like this. You side stepped into a corner table that allowed you to get a better look at who he was speaking with.
A woman?
This clearly wasn’t just any woman, either. A cascade of elaborately curled blonde hair fell down her back in elegant waves, and a deep red dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining her perfectly against Sylus’s dark form. A small nose, and full lips. Long, dark lashes. She was saying something to him, but you couldn’t make out the words in the den of the conversations from the other patrons. He laughed in response to her words, and leaned closer to her. She was smiling at him, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her other hand touched his shoulder.
Stones stacked neatly in your stomach as you watched them. You felt like a voyeur. They looked exquisite together – it was undeniable. She was even wearing the perfect color of red. It looked as if she had exsanguinated someone and dyed the dress in their blood – a perfect match for Sylus. Everything else – everyone – in the room paled in comparison. Sylus was still smiling at her, full of charm. You thought about what Zayne had said to you before forcing you to take time off.
You look like you’re two steps away from death. Take a few days off.
Well, his observation was more astute than he realized, clearly. You certainly felt that way now, in light of the spectacle that was playing out before you. Maybe only one step away. Half a step. You told yourself this was none of your business, that you should just quietly take your leave before he noticed you had ever been here. There was no reason for him to take notice of you while he was attending to his private matters. You were just passing through his life. Brushing through his fingertips. Never actually touching him in any way that mattered. Physically, mentally, spiritually.
You decided you needed to leave. Urgently. Despite telling yourself staring down the couple wasn’t bothering you because there was nothing between you and Sylus anyway and what the hell was your problem, you had begun to feel nauseated. You clutched your arm about your midsection, and hurriedly peeled yourself out of your seat. Every one of your muscles protested at the movement, reminding you that you should be at home right now. On forced bedrest, probably.
That just wasn’t in the cards. You weren’t sure you had a hand to play at all. You silently cursed the great dealer in the sky.
You made a beeline for the door, but not before you took one final glance at Sylus and his companion. Even if you were to turn into a pillar of salt for looking back, you just needed one more glimpse. To satiate your curiosity. But luck wasn’t on your side (when was it ever?), because you met Sylus’s eye as you looked, as well as those of the beautiful woman. You saw surprise pass over his features, and thought you saw his lips part as if he were going to say something. The woman peered back at you curiously. You cast your eyes away from the bewitching image before you.
You could feel all the water being sucked from each of the cells in your body, one by one. You would shrivel up on the spot, and leave behind only the base impression of yourself in the wake of your shame. Hopefully, your rotten yearning soul would be freed to roam elsewhere, far from here, in this place you didn’t belong.
Ah, take me, O salt pillar!
There were no such mercies in this life, of course. You left the cafe as quickly as your feet would allow. The glass door slammed behind you. You were running now, for reasons you couldn’t (didn’t want to) quantify. It wasn’t as if he was chasing after you, coming to explain that no, she’s just a friend, just someone I work with, don't worry. Faster you went, the need to see the comforting outline of your apartment against the sky becoming more desperate by the moment. Fortunately, the run home was certainly shorter than the walk to the cafe, and the image you so desired to see appeared before you, blessedly.
Only then did you allow yourself a moment to rest. Your lungs screamed in protest at your outburst, and you sucked in great mouthfuls of air, trying to forcibly still your rapidly beating heart. It was always betraying you in one way or another, even now. You bent over, your hands on your knees, and took a moment to collect yourself. You were grateful no one had been around to see this display, from you leaving your apartment, to running away from a damn coffee shop empty-handed. You curled a fist in your hair, willing it out of your face as you righted yourself. A few stray strands came away in your fingers. That had been happening more and more often, as of late.
The walk up the stairs was nothing else if not excruciating, and you thanked even your unluckiest stars that Xaiver didn’t seem to be home from work yet to see the unfortunate events of your life play out as they were. You stumbled into your apartment – being sure to lock the door behind you, as always.
The safety of your home did good work to soothe your nerves, a stark contrast to the horrid occurrence in the cafe. You shrugged into something more comfortable: a camisole and a pair of soft, cotton pajama shorts. This set had yet to let you down in the comfort department. Even as you changed, the events played over and over through your mind, and you burned with the embarrassment of it all. Sylus’s smile at that woman, his laughter. The way his gaze had twisted into something else entirely when he saw you. Your nausea refused to calm. Your mouth kept filling with too much saliva, over and over.
Why did you have to run away, of all things? You had left like a petulant child who was unable to cope with the sight before them, instead retreating to your small corner of safety in the world.
Wry thoughts came to you. This is what I get for taking a day off. You knew you had been wrong to do so. Your prophecy was always fulfilling itself. Take that, Dr. Zayne.
Still, you were yet unwilling to heed the siren’s call of your bed, despite the increasing intensity of its song. You flopped onto the couch instead with a sigh, the air entering and leaving your lungs easier now. You longed to be rid of the image of Sylus entangled with someone else, and decided you needed to busy your hands with something to scrub the thoughts from your mind.
As a result of not taking nearly any days off lately, you were definitely behind on the maintenance of your weapons. It technically wasn’t work. It was only related to work. You bent over from your position on the couch, and peered underneath it. Here was where your smallest gun safe lived. Perhaps not the most ideal place for it – but it wasn’t as if you had company over often, anyway. Save for Xavier, your steady and ever-reliable partner. And more recently, Sylus, who you hadn’t yet found an accurate definition for. His presence was usually accentuated by some excuse to intrude on your space.
You unlocked the safe. It was an old-school version, not biometric like the newer models. Pure, vintage analog goodness. A gift from Grandma when you had entered the Hunter’s Association. It came open with a soft, satisfying click. Only two weapons were usually inside – your Hunter’s issue handgun, old faithful. You returned it to its rightful place, now, as it had dutifully attended the cafe fiasco with you. With it was a piece that had forced itself into your possession – or rather, Sylus had forced it into your possession. You eyed the offending object, picking it up gingerly and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. It was considerably heavier than your standard issue. It had thunked onto the glass of the table, as if it were moderately offended to be there. Did even his gifts take on aspects of his personality? His influence seemed to know no bounds, so nothing would surprise you at this point. He certainly had a penchant for creating objects with personalities, if Mephisto was any measure.
This gun wasn’t the only firearm Sylus had thrust upon you. A gift, he had said. You weren’t wholly unconvinced he wasn’t using your house as his millionth-whatever-armory. You had accrued so many weapons that you had to acquire a secondary safe, the hulking mass of which sat in your bedroom forebodingly. It held all of the other “gifts” inside, tucked safely away in the darkness, waiting to be used for their dark purpose. You hid it underneath a spare sheet. The second safe was another gift from Sylus. It reminded you of him, in a way – it imposed its presence in your house: tall, cold, stark, and white. It didn’t fit here at all. And it was full of things meant to rend flesh from flesh, flesh from bone. Life from this plane into the next. You thought about the first time you met Sylus, and how he had obliterated a man from existence before your eyes with his evol. There hadn’t been so much as an ounce of recognition in his eyes for the life he had taken. The memory made your nausea threaten to return to you.
Your eyes came back into focus on the gun in front of you. You liked guns, and as much as you hated to admit it, this one was no exception. It was a beautiful article – a faithful reproduction of a vintage Colt 1911. A classic, by anyone’s measure. It was a forty-five caliber, with an eight-plus-one round capacity. The recoil of your Hunter’s association issue paled into comparison to this, and it affected your accuracy negatively. You had recently replaced its bullets – standard full metal jackets – with hollow point rounds. Higher accuracy, higher damage. You planned to test this on the next Wanderer who was unlucky enough to be at the other end of your barrel. Or the next man. Those had only recently come into your sights, as a result of your exploits – at the request of Sylus. He had never actually asked you to gun a living person down, though. You weren’t sure you were even capable of doing so. Or if he would ask.
The wood grip was custom engraved with your name, and encrusted with jewels, courtesy of him. Naturally. The body was scrubbed of any serial number. Naturally.
Ugh.
You placed it on your knees, with the intention to take it apart to clean and maintain it. You intended to add a suppressor, which you had purchased with your own money. Not a gift from Sylus. Small victories.
Just as you began to take the weapon apart, you caught a sound. There was a sort of shuffling at your door, as if someone were standing behind it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, prickling. Your intuition told you that whatever was behind it was something to be feared. You loaded the spare magazine of hollow points into the piece with a soft click. You flicked the safety off. Your hands had already begun to sweat.
You pointed the gun at the door. It was too heavy in your hands.
Whoever was behind the door was making quick work of the lock, despite it necessitating your biometric data to unlatch.
What if it was the same people who had taken the lives of Caleb and Gran? Had they finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse, and come for you?
You held your breath to steady yourself. The extension of Sylus’s violence wavered back and forth in your grip. The door came open at a painfully slow pace, and a large figure in black slipped through. You cocked back the hammer, which had previously given you difficulty. Now adrenaline bolstered even the strength in your fingertips, any previous weakness forgotten. The figure turned, closing the door behind him. Upon seeing you on your makeshift gunner’s perch on the back of the couch, he raised his hands in surrender, showing you the calloused tan of his palms. One of his hands was nearly the size of your head.
“Sylus?”
His eyebrows had initially shot up in surprise at your current posture, but he quickly relaxed his face into that of his usual mask of easy confidence. You hated that about him, his composure. You adored it, too. He couldn’t even bother to look afraid at the end of a gun. The gun he gave you. You exhaled the breath you had been holding through your nose.
“Expecting someone else?”
He sounded pleased, of all things. You suddenly felt very exposed, in nothing but your camisole and shorts. Despite the gun in your hands, it was as if you were at the other end of his. Your head felt hot. Your forearms began to protest at the weight of the weapon. You blinked new wetness into dry eyes.
“Why the fuck are you breaking into my house?”
You didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t want to. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you two had ended up like this. You, trying to kill him. Him, accepting your choice. Probably not the last, either. You were angry with him – not for breaking in, no. Not for his casual nonchalance in the face of death (could he even die?), not for his disregard for your poweress as an opponent. But for his date with someone else. Someone who was decidedly not you. The feeling bubbled up, stronger and stronger until it was burning you from the inside out. Shame accompanied it, hand in hand.
Of course, you had no real justification for this feeling. You and Sylus weren’t dating, as you needed to remind yourself more and more frequently. You weren’t even sure you could call your relationship friendly – it was somewhere in the bizarre stage of you wanting him, and him accepting your every move with grace. He took you for all you were in stride, met you for all your whims, and you trailed after his every word. You had something he wanted – what it was, you were never quite sure. It changed with his tides. You couldn’t pry it from him. Questions were only answered with more questions, so you had given up on asking them. Sylus’s response to your question cut through your thoughts. His voice was soft, imporing.
“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I was knocking for a while, too, but there was no answer. With the way you left, I came to make sure.”
Make sure of what?
You hadn’t heard any knocking. You also hadn’t checked your phone.
He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and they came in a slow, steady stream into your consciousness. You thought about the first time you had shot him. How his blood erupted from his chest in hot streams. It stained your hands as you tried desperately to stop his bleeding, pressing against the pulse of the open wound. When you thought you had taken his life. When he had pressed the trigger for you. When he didn’t die. The heat of him was still there, under your palms. It wouldn’t wash off. He was under your skin.
“I’m glad you like the gift, by the way.”
He took a step towards you as he spoke. You adjusted your grip. He was still in your sights. Your breath came quick, your mouth dry. You licked your lips, cracked from worrying your teeth on them so often lately. You thought about the woman and Sylus. Together. The red dress. Sylus’s blood. His laugh, for someone else. Not you.
“You’re welcome to take my life again,” he murmured soothingly, “But it might disturb the neighbors. Particularly the one downstairs. Of course, I’m willing to help you deal with the aftermath. Either way.”
He still had his hands raised in submission. The image of it was practically ridiculous. This wasn’t a posture that Sylus took up under any other circumstance. You knew it was all a show for your benefit, and that you were no match for him, despite your own prowess. Something about his unrelenting acceptance of his own death at your hands (again) dragged you out of your stupor by your achilles heel. You lowered the gun. Sylus took the opportunity to stride forward, and quickly slipped it from your hands with his own. You let him. His touch lingered just a moment too long, fingers pressed to yours. He was warm. Too warm for someone who had just been out in the cold. You resisted the urge to take his hand. His evol materialized, and quickly turned the safety on, ejecting the magazine. It returned the gun to the safe, shutting it away as if it had never happened. The red cloud disappeared as quickly as it came, as if it never were at all. The process took no more than a few seconds of silence between the two of you.
“You were going to modify it?” He asked, nonchalant. As if you hadn’t just been almost making an attempt on his life. He glanced at the suppressor, now cold and lonely on the coffee table.
“Yeah. I was going to...add a suppressor.”
You could hear the flat affect in your voice. It reflected how drained you were beginning to feel by all of this, on top of everything else. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it.
What the fuck was this conversation, actually?
Sylus nodded, still managing to look pleased with the situation. You felt your life force actively draining from you as the seconds ticked by, as if you were the one who had almost been shot. His gaze shackled you in place, still. The sterling of his hair and the garnet of his eyes were just as enticing as ever. Radically out of place in your modest apartment.
“Can I help you down?”
His soft inquiry brought to your attention that you were still perched with one foot up on the back of the couch, poised to kill him. Your hands were now very much without the gun. Nothing connected you to the world below you concretely, anymore. Except him. He was standing before you with an offered hand. At some point during your conversation, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the rippling capability of the muscle of his forearms. It enticed you without voice. You took his outstretched hand, wordlessly. To your surprise, he pulled you over the back of the couch and towards him, catching you like you were nothing, his free hand supporting your waist. You landed softly on your feet in front of him, still in his arms, hand in his own. For a moment, the posture reminded you of how you had danced with him at the auction. You looked up at him, he down at you. His expression was inscrutable, save for a little smile. You were close enough to see the soft sweep of his eyelashes. The circles under his eyes. Proud nose and soft lips. You pulled away, hugging your arms to yourself. It was much colder for his lack of touch. His hands hovered at the place where he had held for a moment, and then fell back to his sides.
“What has you so wound up? I tried to call out to you this morning, but you bolted before I could greet you.”
Sylus had his head cocked at you now, as if the answer you had for him was something very simple. He adjusted one of his sleeve garters. You averted your gaze, studying a now very interesting speck of dust on your floor. You wanted to put all of this behind you, to forget it had ever happened. You would have never brought it up had he never shown his face. But he had to be here, asking questions. Making you lie to him even more than you already did. You had never been a liar until you spent time with him. You tried to keep your tone level as you spoke.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.”
Even saying it made your insides crawl. You spat the last word out with more venom that you had intended. Your lower intestine was trying to creep up to your diaphragm, and seemed to be succeeding. Sylus raised an eyebrow in your direction.
“Date?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement made his biceps all the more prominent. He sounded puzzled, and was scrutinizing you, now. You couldn’t comprehend what was so hard to understand about all of this. You sighed, despite your best attempts to keep your emotions from bleeding through your cracks.
“Yes, date. What would you have me do? Come up and introduce myself while you’re clearly in the middle of something?”
You were aware you were completely out of line here. None of this was any of your concern in the first place. You had stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Sylus had, quite literally, no obligation to you whatsoever. Certainly not to explain himself, or who he chose to spend his time with. You wanted to shrink and disappear into the floorboards. Perhaps you could seep through the cracks like smoke, and escape this confrontation all together. But you didn’t have that kind of power – unless Sylus was with you, holding you in his arms.
He had been quiet for a time. He started again.
“The woman I was with today is one of my contacts in Linkon. She helps me smuggle things in and out when I can’t attend to them personally. I’ve been working on...procuring something. For you.” He cleared his throat a little, as if he had just told you an embarrassing secret.
You gawked at him. He was still smiling at you. His eyes met yours. Seeing everything you didn’t want him to see. He didn’t even need to use the protocore in his right eye. It was all bared to him, regardless.
“And yes,” he continued,
“I would have been very pleased to introduce you. You only let me show you off every so often – I wanted to seize the opportunity by the horns.”
There were too many things you didn’t understand. How he could move about Linkon so nonchalantly. How he could be having conversations about smuggling in an upscale Linkon cafe. How the man before you, who gained all of his income from untold numbers of criminal activities, was the same who willingly spent his free time with you playing Kitty Cards and screwing around in the arcade. It was too much. You turned from him, and instead returned to the safety of the couch. You sat on it, grounding yourself with the feeling of your own belongings. You heard him follow after you. His shoes were still on, but you didn’t have the heart to scold him for his disregard for your floor's cleanliness. He sat next to you. The couch sunk under his greater weight, and caused you to slip a little closer to him on the furniture.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sylus.”
It was all you could say. Better to keep the respectable distance between you just as it was. Any further and you wouldn't be able to keep up this facade around him anymore. He kept pulling at your threads, trying to reveal your insides.
“No one owes anyone anything. But I wanted to tell you. Besides,” you felt his evol touch your hand, ever so gently. It was as if he was holding it without actually holding it. The little red extension of himself curled around your fingers playfully. You remembered how it had choked and shackled you in the past. Now it sat in your lap like a beloved pet, curling about your knees and fingertips. It’s usual crackling intensity was gone, now only a light, pleasant buzz against your skin. You focused on the sensation. It was warm, like him.
"Here I was, excited to think that you were going to shoot me because you thought you saw me out with someone else. I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t the reason.”
He was chuckling, like what just occurred had amused him. Something to spice up the usual banal repetition of his everyday life. You felt yourself deflating. There was no more hot air left inside – just the residual exhaustion, both emotionally and physically. You found yourself wishing, again, that you hadn’t taken a day off. If you hadn’t, Sylus wouldn’t have broken into your apartment to explain he wasn’t out with someone else. To you. The person he was also decidedly Not With. You fiddled with his evol in your lap. You had been around him often enough to know this teasing was his way of trying to cheer you up – to take your mind somewhere else besides exhausted and angry and I want to leave this plane of existence.
“I’ll be sure to follow through with it next time.”
There was no real bite to your words – to your ears, you only sounded exactly as you felt. Like you were threatening the man you had feelings for who did not return them, yet still refused to leave you alone. A plaything for his own amusements. Sylus merely nodded. His evol had since made its way to the drawstrings of your shorts, and it was tying them in various intricate knots, there. You wondered at it. It seemed to have a mind of its own – but you were certain that this, too, was another idle whim of his.
“I’m looking forward to it, then.”
His statement was quiet, nearly a sigh of pleasure. The back of your neck and ears burned in tandem. You examined the knots that were now likely forever tied into your poor drawstring.
What the fuck kind of knots even were these?
You pointedly ignored the minor arousal that threatened to arise at this.
“There’s something wrong with your brain. Seriously.”
“It takes a thief to catch a thief, my dove.” You could hear the smile in his words as he spoke.
“You have a few days off, right?” He was rolling the previously abandoned suppressor around in his fingers, examining it. You swore he had somehow gotten closer to you on the small couch – with the way his legs were spread, his knee was just barely touching yours.
“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”
He ignored your question. As he almost always did, as it suited him. Instead, he responded with another question of his own.
“Why don’t you come back with me to the N109 zone? You can rest there, instead of here. Or, we can go out. Whatever you’d like.”
You were about to deny him, but his voice took on a more serious tone as he continued to speak.
“This place is going to claim your life if you don’t leave it every once in a while.”
You look two steps away from death. Take a few days off.
Why was everyone in your life so thoroughly convinced of your impending collapse? Even your criminal mastermind was in on it. You scrunched Sylus’s evol up in your hands. It wiggled, protesting your treatment in your fingers, but not dissipating. You wondered if he could feel your touch through it. If he could feel it when he killed. Maybe you did need to leave – maybe this place was killing you. If it wasn’t Wanderers, it would be your own disregard for yourself. Maybe the air was forever tainted by the death of your family, and the miasma would never quite leave your lungs. Maybe running away was the best thing to do. Sylus was giving you an out – at least for a little while. Maybe there were strings attached. There had to be, without a shadow of a doubt. He was silent while you mulled it over. You expected him to comment on your lack of response, but he said nothing.
Irritatingly patient.
You sighed. You turned to Sylus.
“Fine. But I only have a few days. Give me a few minutes to pack my things.”
Sylus had the good grace to look surprised at how easily you had agreed to his suggestion, but it quickly turned into a look of barely concealed smug satisfaction. His evol vanished from your grip, and you found yourself missing its comforting touch.
“You technically don’t need to pack anything. I have everything you could possibly need at the base. Clothes, food, weapons, shampoo, conditioner…the kinds you like.” He trailed off. You couldn’t tell how serious he was being, what with the expression he was serving you. You shot him a look.
He raised his hands, showing you his palms, submitting once again.
“Like I said. Give me a minute to pack my things.”
Sylus leaned back on the couch, relenting. He dropped his hands.
True to your word, gathering your things for a trip to the N109 zone took little time at all. It wasn’t that you were particularly Spartan with your assets – but rather that Sylus really did keep all of the things you needed around, and much more. Knowing you could trust him on this front made warmth creep to your face, and the cold began to seep from your bones. After changing, you returned to the living room with your bag, where Sylus was patiently awaiting your return. He was peering out your window. The sun hit him just right, and it illuminated his eyes with its beams. The red only intensified in the light, the color of blood only just exposed to air. You could have stared at the image of him forever. He always claimed to be unlucky, but it seemed to you as if every aspect of the world bowed to him. For someone who was so weak to its rays, he was lit brilliantly by the sun. He turned to you, squinting. Your eyes fell to your gun, which was in his hands. You recalled that he had definitely returned it to the safe, previously. He waved it at you, careful not to point the barrel in your direction.
“Don’t forget this.”
He stood as he spoke, and stepped toward you. His form loomed over you, and you felt him slip the gun into your thigh holster (where you had planned to put your standard issue) underneath your coat.
Bastard.
His hand lingered on your hip before he put it in his coat pocket. He smelled good. He was wearing something today that you couldn’t quite place. His natural scent was there, too.
Rosemary? Figs? Cloves?
“Shall we?”
His voice cut through your mental musings on men’s fragrance notes. You nodded, following after him as he led you out of your apartment. You were sure to lock the door behind you. Again. His bike was waiting faithfully for you in the parking lot. Sylus slipped your helmet on for you (why did he even have a second helmet on him today in the first place?), making sure your hair was tucked neatly away behind your neck. After repeating the action on himself, he kicked the stand out from under his bike, and you got on behind him. You always had no choice but to wrap your arms around him when you rode. You wondered how it made him feel – or if he felt anything about the contact at all. His back was broad, solid, and warm underneath your touch. You swore you could feel his muscles ripple underneath you, even with the barrier of his clothing between you. You squeezed him a little tighter as he began to drive. Even through your jacket, the air nipped at you for your speed. As he pressed the bike harder, you felt something tickle around your waist. You peeked down as best you could through the visor of your helmet. Sylus’s evol was keeping you neatly attached to him, as if your arms weren’t enough. The inside of your helmet suddenly felt hotter. You tried not to think about why he did the things he did. Sylus offered no acknowledgement or explanation for any of this. As always.
The bike sped on to the N109 zone, eager to return to where it belonged.
#love and deepspace#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x reader#lads sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x mc#l&ds sylus#sylus love and deepspace
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You really write really good stories ✨👌.although I'm already quite addicted to it lol, I literally go offline for 3 days for work and when I come back to read in 10 minutes I've already read everything🫠. btw the "everything will be okay" plot is really good and I'm WILD with Earthspark stories (it became my favorite series and there are almost no Earthspark stories🤧)
I’m just having fun writing my nonsense
Give Up/Give In Pt 13
TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader
• They’re trying to help. He knows it. Appreciates it. Even if he wants to growl. Just wanting a peaceful meal with you, a chance to sit and talk alone. Not realizing Dorothy and the kids would try to help. Alex had cooked for him, and Hashtag and Twitch had found an enormous plaid blanket to spread out under the tree in the yard. Jawbreaker and the others had found old holiday decorations and bit of broken glass and strung them up in the branches so the sun dapples the grass and blanket in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As much as he appreciates the effort, none of it was by his hand for you and it bothers him. You, though? You’re smiling as you tip your head back to look at the tree. “Is this alright?” He asks.
• “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, the kids working to help Megatron spreading warm through you. Even if you’d heard Hashtag whisper something about ‘Team Romance’ to Twitch. The two seeming to not understand that you’re a human and Megatron is, well, Megatron. Completely incompatible, but it is sweet. “I love it.” Easing down on the blanket, you watch Megatron lower himself across from you, still towering over you as he leans his arms on his knees.
• Nudging the tiny basket of food closer to you, he reaches for an energon cube while you make a plate. Wishes he could mass shift, but it’s too risky with Starscream and the other Seekers at large. Can’t leave himself and you vulnerable. “What else do you love?” Your little face tips up, expressive face surprised by the question and he likes that you’re so easy to read, that he doesn’t have to wonder about your motives. “Tell me,” he adds gently, trying to not demand, but he wants to know everything about you. Who you are. What you like.
• Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you push your food around on your plate. “Not much to tell. Honestly, I just work and go home. Pretty boring.” And sad now that you think about it. No real personal life. A job you don’t care for, but can’t quit because there’s so few prospects in a small town. Too scared to try for a bigger city, so you’d gotten stuck. Still are.
• Venting, he reaches to tip your chin up. Making you meet his optics. “What do you like to do? What dreams keep you going?” He asks, voice taking on a wistful edge. Because dreams seldom go the way planned. His dreams of a better world, of freedom had led to a war that had ravaged his home. Reaching up to touch his servo, you offer him a smile.
• “I played violin as a kid. Wasn’t great at it, but I had fun,” you admit, eyes closing. “I used to dream I could be great. That I could play and people would care.” It sounds so silly. You hadn’t wanted to be rich or famous, just wanted to play well enough the music would make people feel something real. “I doubt i even remember how to play anymore.” Laughing softly, you gently push his servo away.
• “You’ll play for me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, but you still smile for him. Wants to hear you play, to lose yourself in something that makes you happy. Desperately wants to see you happy and relaxed. Spark warming when you tell him okay. And you take turns sharing things. He sketches out the war and his mistakes in the broadest strokes he can, not wanting you to know just how awful he is. But needing you to know that side of him is there. Listens to you talk about your family in return, offering him little glimpses of who you are. It’s dark by the time he remembers his deal. That he’d promised to take you home. That home isn’t with him.
• “Are you ready to go?” Heart speeding as he plants a palm on the ground and stands, you want to say no. To ask to stay. To take up even more of his time, all of it he’ll allow. You like talking to him, listening to that rumbling voice. Like the warmth of his big servos when he touches your arm or cheek. Like him. But know this can’t go anywhere, that eventually he’ll get tired of your clinging, so you make yourself nod and smile like you’re okay when you’re not.
• Transforming and dropping his ramp, he can feel you walk inside his alt mode. A little hand brushing a wall as you look around his cargo hold and he feels when you hesitate. Making him remember that he’s not had time to clean up, that your blood is still there. “It’s alright,” he says softly, closing his ramp. “You’re safe here.” And you move through him lingering just inside the cockpit while he waits on you to find somewhere to settle. “Sit anywhere.”
• “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping into one of the pilot seats. Because it’s still weird that he’s this giant aircraft now and that you can just walk around inside him. Can he see you or is he just feeling you moving around? Isn’t that weird to him? Sinking into the seat, you look at all the dials and controls and feel a momentary twist of the surreal. Because this is still Megatron. Different, but still him. When the rotors start up, you touch the harness wondering if you need to strap in.
• “You’re shaking, little one.” He can feel you trembling as your little fingers ghost over his harness, touching the yoke when he shifts it. Nervous and wide eyed. “Are you sure this is what you want?” To go home instead of staying with him? Safe where he can watch over you? And your fingers grip his harness. Hates that you’re so frightened right now, because this isn’t a threat he can destroy or attack.
• No. It’s not what you want at all. Frozen, you want to be greedy. To not go back to the real world. To steal a little more time. Listen to him and ask him questions, because what you’ve seen so far doesn’t mesh up with the stories you’ve heard. He’s not a monster, not cruel or vicious. He’s gentler than you’d expected. “I want to stay,” you whisper, the words so soft there’s no way he can hear them over the sound of his rotors, but they slow and stop. Hear him rumble around you. “I want to stay with you.”
Previous
Constructicons: Some assembly required. Can I just ride around in Scavenger’s scoop?
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You bratty thing you
How Halsin, Gale and Astarion react to you trying to make them jealous~ (Fem Human reader)
A/n: Uh oh new obsession. Not NSFW but heaaavily implied. I also haven't played the game and know very little outside of the characters and the romance so excuse me if some details don't align with the world.
~~~~~
The grip on your wrist was tight, your heels clanking against the ground as you were dragged into your tent, leaving behind the party, some of whom noticed the display. You were pulled into the tent, letting out a huff as you snatched your hand away from your boyfriends grip, ignoring him as you walked to the nearest mirror and started fixing up your appearance. Your hair was a mess from the dancing and some of your makeup was starting to smudge from the sweat. Best to fix it while you can.
。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆ 。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆
"Well, I have to be honest with you my love, I am not the biggest fan of your behavior tonight." Gale said, his words crisp and to the point.
"Whatever do you mean?" You ask, faking confusion, "I think I've been a delight."
"Oh, I'm sure that's what you believe and I'm sure that druid you were grinding up against shares in that opinion." your man snarked, watching as you undid your pretty hair style, "I know I wasn't paying as much attention to you but that's no excuse for you to...to...flounder around with another man!"
"We were just dancing." you said, pinning your hair back up in a more simply style, "It's not my fault you were too busy to dance with me instead. You thought the other sorcerers were better company and so, I too found better company."
Gale let out an exasperated laugh before he walked upto you, standing behind you menacingly close as he glared at your reflection in the mirror.
"Is that was this is? You didn't have my undivided attention and so you seek companionship from somebody else? I didn't expect you to be so fickle minded, my love. I thought you knew my heart belongs to you even if I'm not always at your side to remind you."
"Well, perhaps I do need a reminder then. It won't kill you to put in some effort, you know." you retorted, rolling your eyes. but you gasped as Gale suddenly flicked his wrist and gave your behind a sharp spank, catching you by the waist as you turned around to snap at him. He pulled you close to his body, his face now mere inches away from yours, the frown on his face doing little to hide the glint behind his eyes.
"I see. So that's what this is about." he said, he free hand releasing some magic and you watched as your tent was locked up tightly, "Fine then. I shall spend all night reminding you, my love."
。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆ 。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆
Astarion rolled his eyes in annoyance as you focused on your reflection instead of him. He looked like he wanted to snap at you, but he managed to compose himself. Afterall, he knew very well the act one must do to get attention considering he had done it countless times before.
"I see you chose to have an attitude tonight. Naughty little pet." Astarion growled, coming in close to you before he gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him, a scowl on his face as he took in your poorly masked smirk, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."
"Hmm? And what am I doing?" you asked just as you snapped your head to the side to break your lovers hold on your, his jaw dropping a bit in disbelief at your disobedience. He scoffed, taking a deep breath before his mouth curled into a toothy grin, eyebrows raised as he looked you up and down. You knew how much he loved this dress on you and it took every fiber of his being to not rip out the throat of the elf man who was flirty fiddling with the thin straps of it.
"Okay. If you want to play with fire, consider yourself burnt, pup." Astarion warned, "We are going to go back out there and continue the party."
"...Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"Oh yes!" Astarion exclaimed with his usual theatrics, his arms moving about as he continued: "Dance! Drink! Eat! Flirt~ Do whatever you'd like because after the party, I expect you to come to the bedroom to take your punishment. Be late and I shall hunt you down and take you where you stand, audience be damned."
"Oh yeah?" you challenged still, moving in a bit closer so you could really rub your defiance in his face, your breath tickling his lips, "And what are you going to do, hmm? Slap me? Spank me? Been there, done that. You're getting boring~"
"Keep running that pretty little mouth and yours and you'll see just how boring I can be." Astarion said, also moving closer so he could press his lips against your ear, smirking at the way you shivered as he spoke: "Whatever shall I do to you, hmm? Over-stimulation? Or perhaps edging? Maybe I'll just tie you on the bed and leave you there for awhile. No matter what- you're going to be crying for me and then we shall see if you still want to be a bratty little mutt."
He pulled away, not missing the way your pupils had dilated slightly, "Unless, of course, you apologize."
"Hah!" you barked out, "Not a chance."
"That's my girl~" Astarion purred, cuffing you under the chin, "I'm going to have a lot of fun with you."
。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆ 。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆
"Your behavior tonight is unusual, to say the least." Halsin said as he wrapped his arms over his chest, watching you as you pulled out your lipstick to touch up the color, "Is there something you wish to talk about? If you are upset with me, we can be civilized adults and have a discussion. No need for your theatrics."
"I'm not upset at all." you defended, "And I don't think I did anything to suggest I am."
"Really?" Halsin challenged, raising an eyebrow, "So you didn't wear this...alluring outfit to spite me? To make me watch as other people and creatures alike drool over what's mine? I know we got together when I suggested we be in an open relationship but considering we are now very much exclusive to each other- and only each other- I don't appreciate the teasing, my heart."
"Oh, I think you're reading too much into it." you continued to deflect, not even looking at him as you instead paid attention to your makeup, popping your lips to spread the color evenly before you stood up straighter, "Anyway, how do I look? Is my hair alright?"
"Your hair is going to be grasped in my hands and tugged on within an inch of it's life if you don't give me a proper answer" Halsin warned, making you pause and gulp at his tone. You had a moment to reconsider your behavior, knowing full well that you wanted Halsin to lose control but a small part of you wondered it if was worth it.
It would hurt- but it would be fun~
You turned towards him and clicked your tongue in annoyance, the sound making him raise an eyebrow at your disrespect, "So moody for no reason, honey." you said, trying to gaslight him while knowing full well it wouldn't work, "I suppose I'm not allowed to wear a pretty dress anymore, hmm? Do I have to get your opinion every time I change clothes? Heavens forbid I have my own desires for what garment I done!"
"Watch it..." Halsin responded, voice going down an octave deeper and making your body shiver, "You know I care not for what you choose to wear. But allowing other people to swarm you like rabid dogs looking for a feast- that is where I draw the line and you know it."
"Oh, please." you retort, walking towards him and boldly pocking him on the chest with a manicured nail before dragging it upto his collarbone, "I see how the others look at you, you know. They want to just snatch you up and take a bite! If you weren't so focused on your jealousy, you would see the death glares I get from people- wishing I was out of the picture so they could be yours."
Halsin huffed as he grabbed your finger, squeezing it tightly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close. You gasp as your bodies pressed together, Halsin so deliciously big, warm and manly against you- it made you tingle with excitement.
"I only have eyes for you, my heart." he said, bringing your hand upto his lips to place a sweet kiss to your finger tip, "I didn't even notice the others. Here I was, thinking you were trying to be bratty and it never occurred to me that you are the real jealous one here."
He leaned down and caught your lips before you could retort, pulling away far to quickly for your liking. He smirked down at you, his hand travelling lower and you gasped as he took a greedy grab of your behind.
"What say we have some fun right now?" he asked, flexing his fingers, "Let everyone know just how in love we are~ No one would dare to glare at you with the imprint of my teeth on your neck, afterall."
。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆ 。・::・゚★,。・::・゚☆
#subby writes#balders gate 3#balders gate 3 smut#astarion smut#astarion x reader#gale smut#gale x reader#halsin smut#halsin x reader
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Ok I gotta rant. I’m proud of big Seph actually. (Before the horrors obvs)
In FS1 we met the Miniroth, who was naturally kinda open about his problems with his team?? He was socially awkward and looking for help, wanting to ask about his mother and everything. He even was against being seen as inhuman. It HURT HIS FEELINGS and he made that clear! Lil dude was trying.
But in episode 2, you can’t get this kid to even talk half the time. He’s like a machine, not admitting anything is wrong, steeling himself up, failing but trying to explain away his obvious mother issues, but he’s just cold and rigid to protect himself and avoid attachment. We know that’ll change but like…it feels wrong even for him because he’s actually more just like that trauma-dumping meme lmao. He DOES brush things off with smiles sure, but he still is trying to connect and be fucking human. You can see the effort being made.
FS2 Miniroth would NOT be this friendly, nor would he spend two hours searching for that lost trooper. He wouldn’t be chatty or probably even dare to mention home + his parents. He’d prioritize the mission first, keep dehumanizing himself, etc.
Honestly, I think CC/Rebirth Nibelheim Seph was doing his best before he walked into that damn reactor. He was just completely vulnerable and alone when the crisis hit him because of his friends being dead/gone/traitor. (I mean…he was probably holding out hope for Genesis before the reactor too!) But yeah. I’m sad. He was closer to his FS1 one self on Rhadore as an adult. Probably even a better version. Ugh.
All of Sephiroth's actions Pre-Nibelheim spell out that he really did want to be a good person. He was doing the best he could with the incredibly meager tools he'd been given. After decades of Shinra molding him, traumatizing him, exploiting him, and abusing him, he STILL managed to turn into a relatively kind and compassionate adult. He was naturally good. He WANTED to be good. Somewhere beneath the coldness, the aloofness, the killing on Shinra's orders, the REAL Sephiroth was gentle. Empathetic. They could not take that from him. They had to BREAK him first.
I'm extremely eager to see Sephiroth's transformation in EP 2, assuming that's where they're going with the plot. I want to see how this edgy, hostile version of Sephiroth eventually thaws into the person we saw in Crisis Core, and the protective, compassionate soldier we saw in the EP 1 flashforward. Does Angeal save him? Does he save himself? What pulls him from the brink? What brings him back from the edge, though the REAL edge is only another decade away? It's going to be sooo cathartic.
#asks#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy 7#sephcanons#sephiroth#crisis core#final fantasy vii#angeal hewley#ffvii first soldier#first soldier#ever crisis#ffvii ever crisis#ff7ec#young sephiroth#miniroth
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I'm just gonna leave it here lol. Come on, Zoro can be pretty dumb, that's the point of it. Always has been. You think Zoro even noticed he chomped down some razorblades? Ofc he didn't! It was just some crunchy food for him. And he's too airheaded to realize only his lunchbox had anything crunchy in it lol. There's a reason why Luffy and Zoro are besties, and that reason is: they're both kinda dumb. Personally, it only makes me like them more.
But if anyone wants to go serious route here, I think we should instead ask this question: what made Zoro this way? Is he so used to eat trash to survive that a bit of poison and inedible things don't affect him all that much anymore? When we look at Zoro's backstory we can realize that he was pretty much always alone. No family, always training. Like sure, he had the dojo, but he didn't think they're his family or at least we never see anyone treat Zoro this way or him addressing them as family. He called Kouzaburo just "some old guy". No one told him they're all probably relatives either (we know thanks to SBS that they, in fact, are somewhat related). Zoro lost his parents and was on his own ever since (his father died fighting against pirates, his mom was a bandit and died of illness). How did he find the dojo, what did he do to survive before they took him in? Let's not forget Zoro was always full of pride and very stubborn. I doubt descendants of samurais would just tell him "we need to take you in, otherwise you will starve". Maybe they told him instead that they will take him in only if he promises to train (because he has potential), so in exchange he tried to be good with swords, so he can somewhat repay them for their kindness and care. Like to show their efforts to train him didn't go to waste.
Anyway, my point is, Zoro at some point in childhood might have also learned how it's like to be starving what a coincidence, it's like with Sanji huh. Luffy also knows that feeling, when Garp left him in the jungle alone and told him he needs to survive by himself. He had to try out things to eat if he didn't want to die of hunger. We can laugh that Luffy is so stupid that he's eating any mushrooms he finds, but that's probably something he learned as a kid to do to survive. So I bet Zoro, who can eat any trash you give him, is also showing us he didn't have an easy time as a child.
Disclaimer of sorts: And before anyone protests that only Sanji is allowed to have a starvation as a theme in his backstory, otherwise it won't be unique anymore, I dunno, what about Nami (who lived in poverty and at times had to survive on tangerines alone), Usopp (what did he eat after his mom passed away? who took care of him?), Chopper (yeah, he kinda ate a devil fruit because he was hungry and somehow assumed that looks edible huh), Robin (lately it's been revealed how she had to eat from trash to survive) and outside Strawhats, what about Law? After he got out of Flevance and before he joined Donquixotes, he had to survive somehow. The only possible way he could have done that is by living on the streets and by eating trash or stealing. There's a lot of starving kids in One Piece, that theme is not exclusive to Sanji, but it also doesn't make it any less special. Sanji himself is what made it actually special; by vowing he will feed all the starving ones, no matter what troubles it will bring him, no matter if someone he feeds has bad intentions or might be a bad person. He's not letting anyone starve and nothing is ever gonna make him regret feeding people, even if they try to harm him instead of showing gratitude. That's what's truly special about Sanji's backstory, the starvation bit is just allowing him to relate to starving people more. You can say all you want about Germa, but Judge didn't starve his son, and ever since he left his family Sanji worked on the cruise ship and didn't really experience hunger either.
The Razor Blade scene: Character assassination, a joke, or something else?
I've been seeing people discuss two small scenes connected to each other post Fishman Island and in Punk Hazard, the first where the two are bickering and they say this:
And a scene in Punk Hazard where Sanji packed lunches for Luffy, Zoro, Robin, and Usopp and Zoro is making "crunching" noises in the panel, and Oda reveals in an SBS that Sanji did actually put razor blades and poison in Zoro's food:
I have seen claims of character assassination in this scene for Sanji, considering his position on food being something everyone has a right to and his refusal in Whole Cake Island to put poison in the cake they plan to give to Big Mom:
I understand that comparing the two scenes, it does look like Sanji is abandoning his ideals just to get back at Zoro in their fight. But we need to look at both what Oda is saying in the SBS and also Zoro and Sanji's relationship to understand this scene, and why I don't believe this breaks Sanji's character or his ideals.
In the SBS, Oda ends the answer with "The serious nature of their fight is what makes it interesting." Going back one panel and seeing what triggered this fight:
It was Zoro being a lil shit and calling Sanji "Nosebleed-kun." That's to say, this fight is no more serious than their usual bickering, and Oda is making fun of that. Ultimately, this scene and the lunchboxes is a running joke, so that is one thing to keep in mind is that the scene, and Sanji by extension, is not serious about this fight. Of course, jokes are not immune to committing mischaracterization, so we have to look at their relationship too to make sense of it fully.
So why did Sanji actually put poison and razor blades in Zoro's food if he believes that poison shouldn't be used in food? I think at the end of the day, we have to remember that Sanji would never hurt anyone through food, especially the ones he cares about. And he does care about Zoro, it is shown time and time again that they watch out for and care for each other, from Long Ring Long Land, to Thriller Bark and Saoboady, and in Wano. My point is that Sanji knows that Zoro is a freak of nature and wouldn't actually be hurt by the razor blades or the poison, and that he would finish the food.
Zoro actually eats the damn food and literally says nothing about it, Oda didn't even think people would catch this it was such a small detail, but it's one I really like. One because, honestly, it is a funny joke to me, but also it shows a level of trust and understanding of each other? Sanji knows that Zoro is such a brute that he can just fucking. Chomp on metal (which. you know he does on the regular anyways LMAO) and have a little bit of poison go through him and he's literally fine. This is no worse to me than Sanji kicking him. And Zoro just accepting what he's been given, literally no complaints, and he finishes the food and doesn't waste it, because he DOES respect what Sanji does for him and the crew on a daily basis.
Ultimately, the difference in this scene and in Whole Cake Island is that Sanji KNOWS that he isn't actually gonna hurt Zoro by pulling this on him, hes looking to call Zoro on his taunt and be an annoying brat back to him. Bege is seriously asking him to kill Big Mom through the food that he makes, something that's on a completely different level then him pulling a prank on Zoro. The razor blade joke no different in this scene as well in Wano:
I don't think this is out of character for Sanji, it is their usual pettiness on full display, but also serves as a nice small detail into how they understand and trust each other.
#one piece#sanji#zoro#zosan#reblogs#Zoro and Sanji are hilarious#personally I think it was an assassination joke#and also to underline how dumb Zoro can be pfff#I love when Oda puts hidden jokes like that actually#the same way he did with Law giving Strawhats their nicknames#but that one has more layers ffs#finding those jokes is like finding gems fr fr
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Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle
Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡
Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN
One Shot (???)
Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language
Words: ~4,050
Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.
And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.
The Broken Circle
Cold.
In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.
The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.
...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.
You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.
But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.
Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.
It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.
Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.
But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.
This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —
"Winchester?"
You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.
Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."
"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.
"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"
"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.
“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.
“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?
“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.
You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.
Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.
You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.
In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.
It ends you.
In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.
But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.
Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.
Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.
In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.
And what took him from you.
It is a walk on a tight rope, really.
With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”
Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —
“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”
You freeze in mid motion.
And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.
The world holds its breath.
This is impossible.
“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.
It can’t – NO.
You don’t dare to turn around.
Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.
You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.
It has to be my imagination.
“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.
You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.
He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.
Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.
Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.
This can’t be.
After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.
“Dean?”
His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.
Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”
He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.
But the way his name dropped from his lips…
It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.
“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.
“I’m Beau.”
Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.
Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.
Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.
Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.
He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.
“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.
His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.
But the room stays reduced to the two of you.
You feel like you’re on a tipping point.
Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —
“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”
At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.
The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.
Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.
“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.
Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.
You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.
Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.
Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.
They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.
You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.
The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…
“Will you marry me?”
Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.
“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.
The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.
But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.
“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.
Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.
Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.
“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.
“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.
When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.
He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”
Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.
You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.
But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.
The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.
Dean… is this you?
His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”
“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.
I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.
Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.
His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.
His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.
Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.
Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.
He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.
You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.
“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”
Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.
Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.
At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.
But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.
That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.
And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.
Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.
“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.
Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.
And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.
You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”
You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”
Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.
His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.
He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.
You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.
Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.
But from joy.
You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.
But in this very moment you didn’t care.
You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.
When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.
And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.
He feels warm. Warm.
A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE
I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT
Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!
Tags:
@aylacavebear
#how do i even tag this#beau arlen#beau arlen x reader#beau arlen x female reader#beau arlen fanfiction#beau arlen x you#dean winchester#spn#supernatural#spn x reader#spn reader insert#big sky fanfiction#spn crossover#spn x big sky#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fic
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HL2 update summary: They polished a turd, it's still pretty shit tho.
#God damn this game fundamentally sucks at so many pooooooints#I keep trying ya'll#I still don't get how anyone gives a shit#so often there's like...no game design. None it's a sequence that easy failure breaks and stops all possible momentum#and then the fucking helicopter part#oh my god this shit sucks#this sucks#this is bad design#this is no design#Honestly it feels like I'm a turd being pushed through the guts. Never does it feel like anything is in my control#forward momentum is a fucking lie in this game#it's kinda nuts going from point a to point b and being stopped every fucking second on the way there#oh my god they don't know how to make puzzles#the sequences they put you through are mind numbingly railroaded in such a boring way#it's catastrophically not playtested enough in many places#like holy shit the amount of times I went from 100 100 to fucking 4 was insane#They did a great job polishing though#like I'm not trying to take away from that effort?#But this game sucks#it just does#the first is infinitely better and does practically the same mistakes#just is fundamentally a better experience all around#like oh my god the story is such shit too#bro why the FUCK does the ENTIRE WORLD after losing in 7 fucking hours. Think ONE GUY is going to change a thing. They've never even fuckin#seen him once before. You're really telling me Kleiner Eli and Barney DIDN'T just assume you died?#For what end#see you earned that shit in HL1. Nobody really believes in you to Fix Shit. You're just escaping like they want to and gave up on#They helped along the way. but over time people see you doing crazy shit and get inspired.#why the FUCK remove that#oh my god the characters suck too. Like I do not like Barney
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[This conversation is a major wip, but it is happening while the BSAA is trying to coordinate a medical evac for Leon.]
Piers settles next to Leon. Leon’s eyes open the tiniest sliver to glance at him before closing again. Still conscious, somehow.
“Hm?” is all Leon gets out as a question, so Piers makes an assumption about what he is asking about.
“We're trying to figure out how to handle this,” Piers says. “It's a logistical issue.”
Leon briefly glances at him, clearly costing him a significant amount of effort. “... why?”
“Apparently there is a pretty big risk of killing you if we move you at all.”
Leon closes his eyes again. “Is there really?”
Piers shrugs. “Don't know the specifics or the logic behind it, but the knife might be in just the right spot right now to keep you from bleeding out. And moving you at all might change that.”
“Hm.” Leon is quiet for a moment. “So… I'm gonna sit here until what? Forever?”
“No,” Piers says, studying Chris’ back. Chris is exceptionally tense, forcing himself to stay still even though what Chris really wants to do is pace. But there are people here to see that, so Chris is restraining himself. “We'll have to take that chance.”
“Okay,” Leon says immediately, easily.
…
Surely Leon isn't scared of dying, but Piers wonders what he thinks about it.
“I can hear you thinking, Piers. What?”
Piers hesitates, reconsiders, then reconsiders again. He takes a breath. “Are you religious?”
That prompts Leon’s eyes to open again, just for a second. His smirk is too brief to be interpreted. “Nope.”
Interesting. Piers doesn't know if he is— he thinks he isn't, but maybe if he was dying, he'd be thinking differently. What is that saying? No one is an atheist in a fox hole?
“Why?” Leon asks.
Piers shrugs. “Just wondering.”
“What about you?” Leon asks.
Piers does not wince. “Grew up Christian. Don't know anymore.”
“Ah. Same, but Catholic.”
Piers is surprised. After hearing that steady, unbothered refusal, he wasn't expecting Leon to say that.
Leon then smiles again, this time with an edge to it. “What, were you trying to figure out if it was a waste of effort praying for me?”
“No.” Piers says, defensive. Startled by the flash of guilt to realize that no, he didn't have that urge at all. His mother would be ashamed of him.
“Just wondering. In case—”
Leon's eye roll barely qualifies as one, but the emotion is enough. “Don't have to do shit with me if I die. Fuck, just toss me into a pit or something. Or leave me here. Doesn't matter to me, I'll be dead.”
Piers twitches reflexively at the thought of treating anyone's remains like that.
Leon’s lip pulls back to show teeth. “Oh, so you're at least agnostic, then?”
“You're not?”
“The only higher power I believe in is the US Government— and they can't do shit about me if I'm dead.”
Piers didn't realize that kind of talk would bother him— not until Leon is sitting next to him, dying, saying things Piers’ mom would consider blasphemous.
Piers looks away. “That's… grim.”
“It's the truth. One I know for a fact. Everything else is… speculation.”
“So you don't believe in an afterlife?”
There is that sharp smile again, as if Piers is being funny.
“Nope. Death ain't nothing but the end.”
…
“Are you scared?”
“No, Piers.” Leon says, soft and low. “Just tired.”
“You're not worried at all? Not even a little?”
“Not about dying.”
...
Piers is standing there to meet him, half-blocking the way to where Leon is—
“I can do it, Chris—”
“No, I will.”
Piers’ frown is unsteady. He has had less practice than Chris has; Chris won't make him to spare his own feelings. But when Chris steps past, Piers follows. A few strides behind, but still he follows. Chris does not have it in him to tell Piers not to.
It is part of the job. That's how it is. Eventually, something is going to take you out—
And classic Leon, not going down without a fight. Chris should expect nothing less. He counts seven BOWs in the hallway leading up to where Jacob is standing with two others from Bravo. They are in a rough semi-circle facing the body slumped against the wall, wedged against a beat up locker. Chris has to step over three more BOWs piled at the body's feet—
Chris hears his breath catch in his chest despite trying to prepare for it, for seeing familiar dirty blond bangs obscuring Leon’s face. His head is tilted down, knees to his chest, one arm in his lap. He is wearing dark clothes— nondescript combat gear, rare for Leon. All the good that did him.
“Damn it,” Chris breathes. As he kneels, he taps his earpiece to switch back to Hunnigan’s line. Kneeling doesn't give him much better view of Leon’s face, but that's him. Dried blood covering his chin, from—
Fucking christ, there is something sticking out of his chest— body armor, Leon was even wearing body armor this time and it still didn’t save him. Dark, patterned. Knife handle. BOWs don't use knives—
“Poor bastard got stabbed. Still went down swinging,” Jacob says, somber and reverent.
“Captain?” Hunnigan prompts in Chris’ silence.
“... we found him, Hunnigan. He— he didn't make it.”
Her silence only lasts a few seconds.
“You checked for a pulse?”
Chris takes a breath. “No, he's—”
“Check.”
Chris winces. “Hunnigan, he won't—”
“Confirm for me, Captain Redfield.” Her voice is flat but still strong. Better than what Chris can manage right now.
It must be standard operating procedure for her. Chris swallows. “Yes, ma’am.”
He pulls off one of his gloves, scanning over Leon’s body again. No other major injuries he can see. Other than the knife to the chest. It is a little left of center— when did someone have time to stab him in the middle of all of these BOWs? Unless Leon had been stabbed earlier and it took a while to bleed out. God, what a way to go.
Still, Chris is very glad he isn't infected. It is not a fate he wishes upon anyone. Taking another steadying breath, Chris presses two fingers to Leon’s neck.
Leon twitches. His hand jerks—
And Leon’s bloody handgun, drawn from his lap, presses into Chris’ throat as the trigger is squeezed by a red-stained finger.
#last addition to this post#leon and Piers getting theological/philosophical#and Leon being nihilistic about it all#meanwhile chris is trying to figure out how to get Leon out of here without killing him#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#chris redfield#ingrid hunnigan#piers nivans#resident evil#resident evil fanfic#resident evil fanfiction#re stuff#fanfic talk#dmwriting
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i keep discovering it over and over but vocaloid 6 stockholm is so so real
#in that i spent most of the past few days playing with a few english covers for kyo#and i was like 'woah 😳 is it just me or does kyo english sound 😳 kind of really good'#except then today i finally broke away from it long enough to check my yt subscriptions and listen to things#and synth v smacked me in the face and tenderly reminded me that v6 is still such a trainwreck sdkjfhglsdhfg#i'm out here performing dark magic trying to get kyo to actually pronounce the vowels i'm putting down#meanwhile friends are creating super clear super stylized covers in synth v with one tenth of the effort#i wonder if yamaha will take my survey responses seriously . . . . . . . . . . . .#i still like vocaloid 6 a lot (painfully obvious kyo favoritism)#but like man. i miss kyo being able to handle over like 60bpm without swallowing every consonant shgkjdfklgldf
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I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.
#I was interested. I wanted to get to know you.#I did not want validation. I only said it because you said it... I don't know why. I was susceptible.#I was blindly accepting certain things that you said about me. Judgement that you had for me.#I was under severe stress from my job at the time; while at the same time dealing with unresolved emotional trauma and very low self worth.#vent#I was burnt out. Crushed... Completely.#I didn't want attention. I did not want you to cure my depression. I though I was just letting you know me. I wasn't aware I was oversharin#I tried... SO HARD to get over the things that triggered me and hurt me but I just couldn't...#I wanted to. I did everything in my might; I took it to therapy; I looked everywhere within me; to either get over it#or completely forget about you and stop caring at all; so things were ok and normal again; but it didn't go away...#I just feel so... unsafe... at the idea of talking again#I know I wasn't the best listener and I profoundly regret that.#I was not only thinking about myself like you said and I was aware of the effort that other's put; but I was afraid/resistant to PRECISELY#that cause of past events with other people. Because in some I was the one putting that effort and ended badly for me. Looking back#that was inappropiate of you because you felt too comfortable generalizing my past relationships and why in your head they failed.#“I cant help but feel you are looking down on people who” Stay away from me if you ever make a stretch like this again.#By “experiment” I meant that you don't know how a relatioship with somebody is gonna turn out until you go and try. That's all I meant.#I didn't want things to turn out this way. I'm sorry they did.#The effort I put for you may have been shit to you. But to me it was a lot. And I'm done taking judgement.#Altho I love my friends I still keep distance. I still can't completely help that. I can go months not talking to my BF.#You were my BF during my teenage years. I remembered you fondly. I still do.#I don't feel ready to talk again having to keep to myself interest that I might have. Related to trauma. I do not feel comfortable with tha#No I do not look at your blogs.#The day I said I was abused I had a panic attack right after that. That's mainly why I had to cut contact: I didn't want another one.#I didn't tell you because I didn't trust you to not say “talk to the void” again. I didn't trust you to want to hear about it. I didnt feel#safe with you anymore. Event tho we ressumed contact I felt that way the entire time.#I wanted to answer all the questions you had; I really did; until I couldn't stand it anymore.#And the day I removed you from discord... I know you probably had an awful day that day... I'm so; so sorry...#I'd like to one day be completely unbothered by assumptions and stuff cuz I know it's not your fault... You went through stuff too...#stuff
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Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care
#i have 14 hours overtime#collected within 2 weeks lol#you know how it's apparently mandatory for companies in germany to have a way track employees working time? yeah we're#the only company in the whole fucking country who doesn't do that (obviously that's not true there's probably plenty more but it's#still not right.) so we don't get paid overtime nor does it get acknowledged in any way#so technically we're not allowed to even it out (which most people try to do anyway because tf do they think they are asking us to work for#free) but I'm dedicated to not collect any more unpaid working hours so i take the liberty to leave work early this week#so today i left at 12pm (and then got home 4 hours later because another person decided to kill themselves by train. they should call me#first. or anyone else taking the train. I'm sure there'd be plenty of volunteers to do the killing if it means not another miserable day#stuck in a disgusting train). and i logged in again at 6pm today to see if i have anything important messages (stupid i know)#and i saw the missed calls and that there had been an email exchange with me in the cc talking about the 'changes' made in one of the#articles and that someone else could do that for me since i couldn't be reached and at first i felt ashamed and scared#but now it's honestly just pissing me off. that asshole can't write emails and communicate requests like normal people can he#he already called me last week about something completely stupid and acts like his matters are the most important shit in the world#fuck you if you can't wait one day you should have sent this a month earlier because i won't stay online everyday#just to see if there might be an 'important' change you want me to make Immediately. bitch.#also missed two calls from my colleague but she didn't send any messages about what she wanted so i asked her because i felt bad for not#being online and turns out she wanted Nothing. just hear how i was. JUST TEXT ME THEN???? I HATE IT HERE FUCK YOU#seriously i don't get paid enough for this to bother me so much. she probably gets 12-15€ more than me per hour#of course she doesn't care about her overtime as much as i do. i get minimum wage which is less than what I'd get if i still worked at uni#as a student assistant so fuck this shit it's really not important or worth it. from now on i'll only put in minimum effort too#sorry got carried away. rant over now i guess#void screams#work stuff
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Listen to me when I say I feel so incredibly blessed to have found this post because it's so hard to find people to scream about astrology with who are genuinely good at it, and OP IS GENUINELY GOOD AT IT, THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE SO FAR!!!
I just wanted to add a couple of little things I like to consider going through the placements, and you can take them or leave them - these are just my interpretations expanding upon what's already there. I'm gonna jump around a little out of order just as I notice things, so pls bear with me.
I do wish we could see the full list of aspects because we could go on for days and I'm way too impatient to decipher them all just with the chart, but it's okay, there's still a lot of great information here.
So the 10H Aries Sun is so fitting to me. Along with everything said before, the 10H being Capricorn's house brings that serious cardinal energy, emphasizing the necessity to be in leadership, but more specifically to be in control. Dude loses his mind when control slips away from him, just like we see when he's in the presence of Neil, during the sauna scene, and when Max lies to him or goes against his instructions. 10H also corresponds with being work/career driven, so no matter what he does, he's going to stand out and be the best at it - Aries only enhances that fact with his competitiveness and earning attention/standing out through efforts to be the best or stay on top. We also see this in school as soon as he arrives (just like OP said) when he has to surpass Steve in everything they do while making a spectacle of it.
I also see that he has a 10H/4H interception. It's juuuust barely noticeable, but it's there. Now, part of my understanding of the houses is that they are categorically broken up to allow signs to govern those areas of life in the way of the hard-line choices we make that shape our lives in those specific categories. So, when we have an interception where one house swallows up a sign and spans at least partially over two more signs, that can make clear decisions or expression of energy in a certain category difficult because it's being pushed and influenced by more than one sign. That being said, seeing that 10H/4H interception makes so much sense to me. He's got that need for control and recognition in his 10H Aries Sun, but he has a hard time knowing where it's appropriate to channel and direct that energy, resulting in friction in relationships, egomania, and a hot temper because the more things you try to control and dominate in your life, inevitably the more things will end up slipping out of your grasp, which means catastrophic stress and emotional dysregulation.
Mars at 0 degrees? Oh, boy. A planet at 0 degrees makes the expression of that energy more vibrant and observable, but it also means that the energy isn't well contained or directed. He's explosive, he's sexually expressive, and he'll fucking fight you. On top of that, natal Mars in retrograde can also tell us where someone is repressing some expression of the sign it falls under, turning that energy inward, often in a self destructive way, and it's often a result of some sort of abuse endured in early life. Retrograde Mars at 0 degrees in the 5H means he needs a hug imo. And I know his Mars is technically in Scorpio, but something to keep in mind - that 0 degrees, 24 minutes placement is so close to a cusp that we'll probably see this placement bleeding into some of the Libra expression in his chart. I'm not really a cusp advocate, but in these 0 degree instances, especially with the interception, I'm gonna go ahead and interpret it like that. Anyway - 5H is Leo's house (he's dramatic, theatrical, loves being the center of attention), it being under Scorpio (depth, intensity, introspection, magnetism), the retrograde (he drinks often, smokes constantly, he parties, he fights - all signs of repressed emotions or skewed self expression in the realm of being able to connect deeply with himself or process his trauma) all sum up the expression of this mess perfectly. The Libra influence that pushes in because of that interception/cusp placement tells us that interpersonal, one-on-one relationships and connection are going to be a challenge for him.
Also - just something I've noticed, and other astrologers seem to agree with, is that inner planet 5H or Leo placements tend to give someone an attachment to or obsession with their hair. They always want to draw attention to their hairstyle. This is obviously a thing for him. He is peacocking, and I'm not complaining.
I feel like I'm being super long winded, and I'm so sorry, so I'm just going to rapid fire the last few things, and I hope it makes sense.
He has a couple of heavy placements at critical degrees (Mars at 0, Moon at 29) and that basically gives him poor impulse control in those areas and creates a sense of urgency working through anything. Dude does not have time or patience for emotions...or anything else, really.
Moon in Scorpio in the 5H. My mother has a Scorpio Moon. Tbh they terrify me because they are so good at reading people. It doesn't necessarily give them great abilities to manage or decipher their own emotions, but it gives the ability to understand and observe emotions in general and work with them to their advantage, almost like speaking/understanding a hidden language. This is clear in the way that he can manipulate others using their own feelings against them when he wants to, whether that's for good or for bad.
This ties into that Pisces Mercury (high fives OP in merc dominant solidarity) Mercury in Pisces in the 9H (Sag house, luck, expansion, spiritual connection, etc.). Pisces Mercs tend to get a bad rap for being dreamy, head in the clouds, not making much sense, but the truth is, especially with the focus of a fire sign house, they are mostly just mentally active, imaginative heads full of scenarios. They are playing out conversations in their minds (dreamy/zoned out) all of the time and trying to find the best flow (water merc). They can talk anyone in or out of anything, because Pisces is also an expert at emotional connection, just in different areas like dreams, desires, and ideas. So of course he can smooth talk anyone into anything.
That 1H Jupiter? He's lucky. Opportunities just kinda show up for him. He has the ability to expand his horizons and attract what he wants just by simply existing.
Cancer AC? He's Moon-ruled, baby. Everything you see him do, every choice, every action, is a result of his emotional processing, or lack thereof, a result of his want to influence someone else's emotions, or a result of him internalizing emotions. It's all about the feelings.
Taurus Venus? Delicious placement. Sensual. Luxurious, even. Venus ruled by Venus = expert physical connection. In the 11H? The aloofness/big picture thinking of that Aquarius house makes him super stubborn and picky with long-term partners. He'll hit and quit without a second thought until he finds exactly what he's looking for, and that person is in for a true, tender, methodical thrill curated to their every desire by means of analytical and sensual connection.
Last one - Neptune in retrograde in 5H in Scorpio - fucking ouch, dude. I like to use Neptune as a point to predict levels of avoidance or self medication. Neptune tells us about someone's inspiration, subconscious, dreams, and my personal favorite - illusion. This retrograde kind of fucks him up. In a concrete life, illusion is often held up by the individual in terms of things like obsession in order to avoid emotional processing. Think workaholics, addiction, limerence. And Scorpio just gives more of a depth and intensity to all of this. We see him smoking constantly and drinking a LOT, and he's only 18. That's going nowhere good.
I like to look at Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta just out of curiosity for natal charts, so I might plug those in and see what's up. 👀
Anyway, if you read all of my rambling, I love you so much. And thank you so so much OP for drawing this up and giving an analytical, deep, and thoughtful interpretation, you are amazing!!!!!
Billy Hargrove astrology chart analysis
Though I could be wrong about the time, the aspects are pretty much the closest I’m gonna get (Unless somehow Dacre or the Duffers have released the information of Billy’s birth time and I just don’t know. I punched in 'March 29, 1967 11:06 AM San Diego USA' my fellow astrology baddies do what you will with this information Either way the main planets SHOULD stay the same but his houses might be different BUT we’re proceeding with what we have!).
Now, mind you I haven't done this in a while, I'm SUPERRR outta practice so to my fellow astrology baddies if I miss anything I'm so sorry 😭.
Alr lets get into it, same as the readings I did for Dallas and Darry I'm gonna go by planet and house and basically explain what it all means.
Sun in Aries (in 10th house) - okay so this is so interesting because even prior to me calculating his chart, I always knew Billy was some sort of fire sign, I mean, LOOK AT HIM??? Like HE'S a fiery little cracker (hahaha cracker... I'm sorry im jk I love u B).
But anyways the sun in 10th house is really interesting, I found a post on here that really explained in depth that aspect and how it affects the natal person (Post here) Basically, people with this placement crave recognition, they stand out with confidence and charisma that often draws attention towards them without fail (we see this the second he arrives at Hawkins, he draws attention towards himself immediately). They naturally gravitate toward leadership roles, even if they didn't ask for it (everyone gravitated towards him and put him on the pedestal of being the "King" and dethroning Steve from the social hierarchy). Their drive for validation stems from fragile self-esteem, leading to feelings of underappreciation despite their efforts. Failures can be deeply personal, like they take failure personally and it affects them greatly, but their ambition and resilience pushes them to rise again, embracing challenges as part of the path to success (started working full time the second he graduated so he could work towards leaving his abusive father).
But back to his sun though, Aries is so interesting because that's so accurate???? Like he's intense, he's passionate. He's very straight forward and will say what he has to say with his chest. People tend to follow him around where he goes, Aries are leaders. They can be spontaneous and impulsive. Stubborn but also a bit reckless. These people are your typical "act before think" people, but like who doesn't love a little chaos 🤪. They're ruled under Mars so this sign is all about action and getting shit done. They'll talk their shit and rock your shit, so messing with them isn't really a good idea. But if an Aries likes you they can be a lot of fun. They're very energetic and active people. You'll be anything but bored with them.
now onto his cutesy little moon
scorpio moons are have my heart because they're so sensitive and emotional, that often it's overwhelming even for them let alone an outside person.
People with Scorpio moons often have traumatic childhoods especially his being in 5th house, so probably exposed to big dramatic fights, or the conflict or circumstances were very grand and outrageous (bro kinda witnessed his mom get beaten by Neil and in turn gets beat himself now that he's older). At the same time these are very strong and enduring individuals. Because they tend to always think about the worst possible scenario, have a very cynical and distrusting view on the world. But at the same time, let's not forget, they are water signs, so that sensitivity will always be there, deep down this sign is scared of being alone. There will always be a part of them that will crave intimacy, like true, deep, raw (lol) intimacy. However because of this deep desire, these people can also often be a little.... delulu per say. Like obviously once you've lost a scorpio moons respect they will immediately cut you out like literally, they will treat you like your dead. But Scorpio being the sister sign of Taurus and being a fixed sign, it would take a lot for a scorpio moon to leave like they will put up with A LOT, which is why they often can get taken advantage of in relationships (:/// ). So yea scorpio moons need to be protected and wrapped up in a blanket with some hot coco and be kissed on the forehead.
Moving onto his Mercury (smiles in mercurian dominant myself)
I find this so interesting because on one hand pisces mercurials can be really wise and intelligent (being the last and oldest of the zodiac), these people can have an "old soul" type of mentality so I can totally see them being into topics like philosophy, spirituality, creative arts, anything to really boost their imagination. his 9th house boosts this even more since 9th falls under sagittarius which is all about philosophy and teaching. Because of this, often people with this placement are really good writers. (so I totally agree with the head cannon of Billy secretly writing poetry, and being good at playing games like dnd).
This placement often gets mislabeled as "dumb" or "ditsy" but they're not stupid they just process information slower than most people.
These people are also really good liars. Like they're some manipulative lil bitches (we saw how he lied to mrs. wheeler that he was worried about Max when he was actually raging mad.) They'll lie about almost anything. Sometimes they do it to keep peace around people and avoid conflict and to get people to leave them alone. But yea this placement certainly has a silver tongue innit, helps them get away with stuff but it also means they're really good at rizzing people with their words; speaking of...
our boy over here has a Taurus Venus. like first of all, this comes with so many pluses because Venus is right where it belongs. Taurus is ruled by Venus so this planet is right in its home sign. So my boy is a romantic lil bachelor 😜. Now his mars kind of makes him a fuckboy (most scorpio and sagittarius mars' are but the difference is is that sags often can't tell the difference between love and lust so they just pursue the person anyway whereas scorpio mars' are just horny fucks with strong game) BUT once he finds someone he wants to be in a relationship with, ouuuu girl he's such a gem.
Taurus Venus's value things like stability, security and comfort. He will very much pamper you. He'd give you the best he humanly possibly could. Taurus's are all about luxury and savouring the physical pleasures of life. He WILL be super affectionate, gifting you things, always touching you right, buying you or cooking you your favourite foods. Taurus's like routine so he will memorize your schedules and routines, coffee orders and all those small things. Although Billy would typically be impatient, he'd take his time pursuing you. Especially with his Scorpio Mars, he'd come in strong and steady .I don't wanna say like a predator stalking his prey cause that's more Scorpio Venus but bro definitely wouldn't back down easy. He won't mind playing the long game if he thinks you're worth it. The main thing here with this placement is their ACTIONS say a lot about their feelings towards their s/o. His Pisces Mercury will soothe you with sweet words, but his Taurus Venus will show you with his generosity and sensualness. He definitely knows how to make his girl happy and will stay loyal for a long time if he's certain about her.
Billy has so many aspects that indicate strong sex appeal and attractiveness, like it's written all over his chart lmfaoo his Venus trines his Pluto, His Venus also sextiles his ascendant.
His eros also trines his mars so he has a very passionate and intense drive, especially in the bedroom. No matter what you are to him, sex with him will always be intense. There's nothing soft about the way he engages in intimacy.
Billy has a cancer rising, for those of you that don't know your rising is in charge of your looks and people's first impressions of you. So cancer risings often have rounder faces, softer features and big eyes (I mean look at him bro, he's so baby girl). They also have curvier bodies (have you seen this man's thighs) shorter limbs too. Cancer rules over the chest so cancer risings can have large chests or big boobs ( he certainly has boobs). Also cancer risings are very pursued after, almost as much as scorpio risings but the difference is that Scorpios are very intimidating so often people don't wanna get past the sexualness of it. But with cancers, people simp over them emotionally too because cancer is considered as the "divine feminine" or "mother" in astrology, so basically people wanna wife them up as well as fuck them (literally his entire fandom). But yeah, anyway, Billy is a pretty boy we all know this, even his chart does 😭.
Alright now more about his mars-
Its in the 4th house, which is also another indication of his abusive childhood :/
His is in Scorpio and yes he's a kinky little shit and a great lover in the bedroom, however that's not all that Mars represents in a natal chart. It also represents how a person takes action to something. How they pursue and how they behave and manage their more aggressive and angry side. On one hand, Billy has the potential to be very good at achieving what he wants in life. He's capable of having a really strong mental fortress as scorpio is a very driven and determined sign. Tactical and calculated but also very loyal people. However at the same time, it makes them lowkey control freaks. They're the type of people to always want the last word in an argument and to have control over everything and everyone in almost every situation (though it does make them strategic leaders at the same time, it's kind of annoying). But yeah these people stand on business they will fuck your shit up if necessary because this planet is also in it's home sign, but Scorpio is also ruled by Pluto so it's the darker one of the mars ruled signs. So their anger can be very explosive and dangerous (we saw how he beat Steve to a bloody pulp), so don't piss them off, it takes a lot for them to loose their cool but once they've lost it, it's gone and not coming back.
Last thing I'll talk about is potential career placements he has because we never got to see him thrive and flourish in life because the duffers hate to give us nice things so I'll just tell you what it could've been with his chart
10 house/ MC in Pisces
So this is so cute because this means that he could actually be successful with a writing career, as this placement flourishes in creative careers. So these people are often musicians, actors, writers. They can also be philosophers, and teachers/mentors of some kind (he taught the kids at the Hawkins community pool how to swim). He'd be such an influencer 😝 I can totally see him being a model for Calvin Klein because he's literally built like a model (this is so possible with his 11th house in Taurus) As well as Leo in his second house, he'd live a very lavish lifestyle if financially stable and would really thrive in a position where he shines in his own spotlight.
Anywayssss that's everything for now, if there's anything else in his chart you guys want me to talk about don't be afraid to inbox me.
I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this <3
#astrology interps#billy hargrove#billy hargrove astrology#astrology in fanfiction#stranger things#astro interps#honestly this made my whole day and was so much fun#I could do this forever and ever#so so so grateful for this post#astrology wank#just because it's fun to say#astrology
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ah gomens fandom homophobia it's you again. i hoped you were dead
#looove seeing takes where you cant tell if op's a conservative christian or supposedly woke and still insanely stupid#godddddddd i dont want to start hating this show again like the fandom/everything that#happened post s1 is literally why i went from rly loving it to despising it i cantttt have that happen again it's a good show😭#like i make an active effort to stay away from things that would upset me but the#homophobia of some fans (and the man himself 😐) is so insane it's inescapable#whatever whatever I'll always have canon and also the delusions i made up in my mind. everyone else can shove it#i try to stay in my miniscule bubble and just make my silly little posts but the things some ppl say..😭#I'm legit just sad like I'm just sad. why are ppl like this ☹️#i dont want this thing that makes me really happy to be soured (AGAIN) like I can't have that happen i really can't#can we pleeeease just be normal please ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️#good omens#gomens
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there are things that you don't do for a year or more and pick up just right where you left off and these days i fear loving you might be one of them
#double meaning on that but. yeah.#it's like. i haven't touched the imaging software i use for an entire year. soldering iron in decades. pick it right back up. to my surpris#muscle memory is crazy#i don't draw for months and pick up right where i was with a few sketches bc the work you put in stays even when you don't actively practic#when it's something you've practiced weekly and daily it sticks with you and ig that's good#but then it's like. the horrors. that haunt you. yk? what if a part of me will always save a soft spot for my ex. what then.#what if I'm fine now and I'm doing okay and i don't miss it and I think i'm okay moving forward and i see her and suddenly I'm on the floor#what if some part of me that was in love never really went away what if i haven't managed to kill all of it yet#bc i genuinely would not know what to do. i. i don't want to admit it but one of my worst fears is liking someone who doesn't like you back#and what's even more horrifying is if it's obvious. if everyone can tell. and usually I'm good at hiding it! (not really) but it's just. id#it's shame in liking someone who you tell yourself you don't want to like and you know you shouldn't. and not having control over it.#hoping praying that either she does something that turns the little switch in my head that sends her into the unforgivable category#or that i become straight. or that i become straight. mhm. yep. or ig the other option is i get a crush on someone new but like. mm.#i kinda have gotten w every person I've had a crush on since hs and i kinda don't think im ready for another rs so soon.#the baggage i just got is. hm. idk i kinda don't wanna unpack it. it's something that can easily be done if i had the missing pieces but.#i don't think I'm ever gonna get them. so. instead I'm gonna take. maybe another 3 months or 5 months or a year or a few. to just. slowly.#idek. it's just triggering old things. bringing me back to when i was 14. i never really got closure from that either. it took me 3 years.#I'm sure this time it'll go away faster but idk experiencing it a second time has a different feel to it. idk. it's weird.#it's like. idk. it's like you're watching it happen and you're not even there anymore. idk. i really don't know.#oh. I've been dissociating.#idk maybe it's for the best i really don't know i really don't know and everyone says i have to do what's best for myself but idk what is#my life is on track things are moving forward I'm doing better and healing but i can't escape the feeling of dread#something is going to catch up with me sooner or later and idk what it is idk at what intensity and idk if i will be ready for it#but anyway. when you love someone intentionally every day for a while. when does it go away? will it go away?#or will i have to live haunted by ppl who are alive but changed. so practically dead w/o the opportunity to mourn. for the rest of my life?#like i don't think i get it. loving this person was like. cooking and eating. intentional. ingrained into everyday life. effortful.#what if my mind does forget but my body still remembers. what then. what if it's like searching for sth you don't remember having anymore#ig I'm just trying to figure out how much to forget these days. how much won't hurt if it all comes back to haunt me#delete later
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I always try to read the "Thank you, Rook" line very liberally, since he doesn't even say it if you redeem him (it's romance exclusive, if I'm not mistaken). It felt more like the writers were trying to convey an impression with limited material at their disposal to frame a sort of congratulatory: "you did all this for this character we fully battering-rammed narratively to be seen as an antagonist simply to up the stakes in the most convenient (inorganic) arc when you consider his character, thanks for taking the time to do so, really!"
But also, on a meta-narrative level, it was more them using that line to convey Solas as someone who is self-aware enough to know he wouldn't have fought so hard for himself to get his own deserved happy ending because he's fatalistic, doesn't believe he deserves it, nor does he dare hold out hope that Lavellan *deserves* the kind of love he has on offer (because he's self-deprecating)--he believes she would be happier without the burden of him and his regrets. Which is very self-flagellating, one-sided and makes false assumptions, but is also very mortal behaviour when you spend thousands of years carrying blame for destroying the world you fought tooth and nail to repair because you denied your instincts as wisdom for the sake of blind love.
The "Thank you, Rook" is Solas acknowledging that, had someone not interfered, stepped in, peered into his regrets or solicited the aid of Morrigan and the Mythal fragments, he would be entering the Fade prison by himself and he would have lost all chance to have Lavellan on that rooftop. This is firmly because he does not want Lavellan to feel pressured by his love of her to join him, as he once joined Mythal. They are separate love stories true, and the definition and understanding of love varies on interpretation, but Solas is a guy who parallels or foils, he cannot see a world where novelty exists (blame his immortality there, it's part of what fuels his bullheadedness when he first responds antagonistically to a Dalish Lavellan, who then proceeds to tell him "hey, you're being proud and judgemental based on metric, not merit, check yourself, wise guy!").
And as much as Lavellan is a powerhouse of a character, she could have easily been denied the ability to join Rook for that final push had Rook seen fit to deny any chances of redemption for Solas--they could have been bound, gagged, imprisoned, magically held back a barrier, or simply not allowed to be there in the archon's palace. In this vein, the line holds enough to form a general understanding of Solas' desire to thank Rook, Rook's role in reuniting these two chess pieces on the board, and his need to, in a sense, wash any animosity he may have felt towards Rook away.
But because the narrative around Solas and the Inquisition (and by extension, Lavellan) is so weakly tethered to the main narrative (and its subtexts via few codices), by it presupposing that the player will fill in the blanks that the game could not afford to draw more than a broad stroke for, the "Thank you, Rook" line feels unearned (from the basis of the player's role-playing character, Rook, being so veiled to Solas' true character--especially when you take into account their laissez-faire attitude around the regrets mission and the world changing truths dumped on their team) at times and disingenuous/pretentious at worst (for the sake of the inquisition player that knows Solas' mannerisms better).
I believe the line is directed towards himself, Rook, Lavellan in a way and the player. And I also think it's Trick Weekes themselves speaking through Solas, acknowledging the player's efforts in giving him a happy ending, while also keeping just shy of the 4th wall.
When I say I dislike the solavellan ending I don’t mean how they end up, I mean how they got there. Them ascending past the dinan’shiral together? The slight ambiguity of it all so anything could be canon? Them both surviving?!?!! Literally the best fucking ending that I wasn’t confident we would ever get. Just how we got there was kinda. You know.
I’m personally not the biggest fan of how Lavellan is in da4 (which I wasn't too surprised about since inky isn't pc), especially when it comes to Solas. The interactions rook can have with both of them about the other feel uneven, for lack of a better word. I can’t really believe Solas would ever talk about someone so precious to him to someone like rook, regardless of their relationship to him. I would’ve preferred it to be told environmentally, through found notes, journals, murals and have him not say a word about her. That feels more authentic to me. Because otherwise what we got was Lavellan waxing poetic about Solas and just casually dropping the fact that they were together and that they’re special to each other while all Solas says is that she’s a good woman that he cherishes.
And then I can’t help but compare it to trespasser. The ending to that dlc ruined me. To this day I still can’t listen to Lost Elf lmao. He kneels down to her, gently runs his fingers through her hair, holds her hand, and kisses her while saving her life from the anchor. The heart-wrenching, “My love.” His last words to her (and the last ones we hear for the next 8 years) are, “I will never forget you.” Are you kidding rn???? I’m demolished. I have never recovered. I get fucking shaky to this day thinking about it. Veilguard just didn’t match that for me.
The thing I do love about it though is the moment he first hears her voice. Nearly breaks his damn neck to look for her. And the way that just looking at her makes him so breathless we get the most tortured “vhenan” I’ve ever heard from him. The way his eyes get so soft. If they had kept that energy for the entire time they interacted in the end I would be one happy camper. But they just kinda didn’t.
I think my main issue comes from the lack of agency Solas has the entire time, even when Mythal lets him go. Maybe I’m just too sensitive to this and am seeing things that aren’t really there, but it has the feeling that things with Lavellan are just happening to him, and he doesn’t really get a say. Solas had no agency pretty much the entire game, and the game is pretty much about how his entire life has been like that. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely believe he wants her with him, but you couldn’t have held her hand at least and walked into the rift together? You just kinda walked away and if she goes, she goes? Idk man, could just be a me thing, but I do wish there was a slight tone difference, in that Solas is actually making a choice he wants for himself for once.
#long post#felt compelled#solas#solas dragon age#veilguard critical#dragon age the veilguard#solavellan#dragon age#lavellan#dragon age meta#character analysis
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