#none of this is remotely close to canon but i feel it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

j0kers-light · 19 days ago

Note

Hey Chaos! I have a headcanon idea, I think you do accept those and what you have are the closed oneshots??? Correct me if I'm wrong and feel completely free to ignore this ask

How do you feel about Joker x Mermaid! reader, maybe before he was the Joker, being Jack, or maybe his previous form, a malformed and strange mix of the man he was before and the one he will become in the future, a tormented soul who in the middle of the war he is fighting, trying to find a meaning to his life, hears a sweet song that draws him to the sea

It is then that she sees Reader, a mermaid wounded by some bullet, bomb, debris that has fallen into the sea, and she sees the goodness in him, and for a second he believes that he can be good, but upon seeing the monster hiding behind that man's eyes, Reader decides to leave forever.

What do you think about writing something like this?? Maybe headcanons pre during and post relationship (without hinting much at J's past, we love our mysterious King!)

Thank you!!🩷

His Lighthouse: Surface Level (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Surface Level - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi my sweet anon!!

Now I thought I was gonna let this be a head canon.... then I got to typing and here we are. It turned into a oneshot! Your idea got my brain a flowing and I was unable to stop. I had TOO much fun with this one and it shows. Thank you so much for your patience and I do hope you enjoy. 🥰🥰

As always, if you wish to be apart of the His Lighthouse official taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

P.S. if anyone is interested in the first siren call you sing listen to this 👇🏾for inspiration.

Captain said not to wander the beach late at night. Several men were already declared missing for not heeding the warnings.

The local elders of the island also warned the men not to invoke her wrath. Their foreign chants sounded like rubbish to Jack’s ears yet he felt something strange befall him after one of the women flicked seawater infused with tropical herbs on his face. He was then forced to drink something putrid all to strengthen his bond with the sea.

They wanted to ‘protect the Americans’ and held a ceremony to bless the squadron when another solider was declared missing.

In short, Jack was ready to leave this hell hole. The endless sea and squawking seagulls were driving him insane. Jack longed to be deployed in active duty, in the heat of battle; not keeping the peace with the natives who were blissfully unaware of the raging war surrounding them.

None of their rituals and charms mattered and that was the mindset that led him to sneak out his barracks with a pack of cigs and a bottle of rum.

No one would notice him gone. He was not well liked within his squadron, a loose cannon ready to blow, they described him. The others were content being stationed in the civilian zone. Not Jack. His fingers itched for war but for now he was stuck here.

He kicked off his boots the second he arrived at the white sandy beach.

It was beautiful out with the moon high in the sky. It casted a glow on everything and highlighted Jack lighting a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the night sky without a care.

He didn’t care about anything as he took swigs from his bottle. Was this all he was good for? Getting drunk night after night guarding an island?

There were times that Jack thought of drowning himself at sea just to get away from the absolute nothingness this place brought.

His friends back home were lucky. Hal was stationed right on the front lines and Ethan had already died fighting for his country. It just wasn’t fair they got to prove themselves whereas Jack was stuck on some military base in the middle of nowhere.

The island was so remote, half of the occupants didn’t speak English, and almost all of the children had never seen ‘Americans” before. It was ridiculous and don’t get him started on the local folklore.

If he had to hear one more prayer to their make-believe deity, he would puke.

“Stay away from the sea when Y/n calls!” A translated omen was told. “She preys on tormented souls, like you brave men! Do not fall to her song!”

No one gave proof that she existed except for tales and fables and constant headaches with all this mythical nonsense.

Did they really believe a woman, half fish, half goddess could lure men out to sea with just her voice? It sounded straight out of a children’s bedtime story.

Jack rolled his eyes every time an elder pleaded with him as he prepped for a nighttime patrol. If this was a siren who drowned men in the sea, why were they purifying him with seawater?

Yeah, he would be real careful while out on duty.

He had a better chance of being shot than lured to sea by some fish. The night dragged on as Jack downed his bottle and pondered life while overlooking the ocean.

It was still as beautiful as it been the first night he arrived several months ago. The waves were foamy, crashing onto the dark rocks lining the shore. All was quiet and before long, Jack’s eyelids started to fall.

Until he heard something.

It was the saddest melody he ever heard.

Without thinking, he turned course and shuffled over to the more treacherous stretch of the island. Here jagged rocks outlined the shoreline for half a mile. The water was colder and darker, holding the secrets the locals so desperately tried to ward away.

Funny how they worshipped and feared the sea. Or rather what lurked within.

Jack had no conscious thought as the waves tickled his calves, inciting him to wade in deeper. He couldn’t feel the numbing cold, yet he felt the anguish and helplessness being sung so beautifully.

The call echoed loudly over the waves until it stopped like a record scratch. It was enough to snap Jack out of his fog and realize he was standing waist deep in the ocean.

“The f__k?” he wasn’t that drunk. How did he get in the water?

Jack was preparing to return to shore when he heard a splash followed by a strangled moan. His instincts demanded he investigate.

He fought the tides to reach a denser cluster of boulders. He froze when he peeked behind them.

The Legends did not do you justice. Jack had never seen anything as gorgeous as you.

You looked every bit a goddess until he made eye contact with you. Your eyes were milky white with no pupils and to make matters worse, a row of pointed teeth was baring at him in a show of aggression.

You were beauty and the beast, yet he wasn’t afraid.

His eyes were drawn to the big gaping wound on your hip—or where your hip should’ve been if you were human. A mermaid tail took the place of human legs. Regardless of your anatomy, you were wounded given how you weakly clung to the jagged rocks.

Jack slowly crouched down to inspect you further when you flicked your tail, dousing him with a powerful spray of water.

He almost went under if he didn’t grab ahold of your tail. You yelped in pain and tried to shake the male off, but he was strong.

He swallowed seawater in the struggle as you threatened to bash his head against the rocks. Jack fought back and pulled himself up on a flat boulder to catch his breath. “I’m tryna to help ya and ya try n’ drown me?!”

He pointed at your abdomen. “That. Me. Help. Do you under-stand?” He acted out each word like did with the locals.

You eyed this man warily. He was not the human you wished to lure tonight.

You needed food to help heal yourself after swimming too close to naval ships fighting each other. Humans and their pointless wars. One of their weapons exploded too close and sent shrapnel flying into your tail.

You couldn’t move your hips to propel yourself through the water— although you tried. The searing pain made it impossible to return home and you were already afar off to begin with.

The island you were stranded on was inhabited by mortals who worshipped you and your ancestors, so you tried to call a believer for aid.

None came and you were growing weaker by the minute. A wave pushed you more inland and subsequently, beached you on a low tide. The shallow pool was knee deep for a human but useless for your means of survival. It was a glorified kiddie pool and soon to be grave.

The last human you expecting to hear your sweet song was this man. You could sense the turmoil and darkness lurking in his soul. How could he help you when he needed help himself?

You did not wish to be bothered with him, but he was the only mortal who heard your cry for help.

The pain was getting worse, and it took everything in you to sing at all. You lived for centuries; you refused to be bested by a torpedo and low tide.

Jack was getting impatient awaiting a response. He assumed you didn’t understand English (he was surrounded by idiots these days), but you shocked him when you reached out and touched his arm.

Like a bolt of lightning, he felt your words. ‘Yes mortal, I understand.’

Your fingers slipped away, and Jack saw how they left a tribal like marking on his pale skin. “What the.... What did you do?”

He rubbed at the f/c lines and dots in panic. He glanced up when he heard a series of sharp clicks. Were you laughing?

Apparently, he was wrong.

You sacrificed your position in the shallow water to reach out and touch him and now you were too weak to submerge your gills again. He was hearing you choke.

How did he come to that conclusion; he didn’t want to know.

Jack acted fast and shoved your head underwater. He was expecting bubbles, a normal human reaction, but you were anything but.

You gladly opened your mouth and sucked in precious water you needed to survive. It made for quite the provocative sight, although Jack wasn’t complaining. You were very easy on the eyes and currently nude by human standards.

His eyes wandered down your chest where an octopus was attached. Its tentacles wrapped around you like a shawl and (for the time being) it covered your modesty. He knew he was drunk, but it still blew his mind.

‘You are staring.’

Jack was startled back to the present when your pseudo voice scratched his brain. It was an odd sensation; one he was getting used to.

“Well, you’re a f__king mermaid, yeah I’m gonna stare.” He backed off when you resurfaced with a pained grimace.

Your skin was still touching his so you spoke again, ‘Mermaid?’

“Ah yeah, its uh.. what we call your kind I guess.” Jack’s hands naturally moved towards your injury to access the damage.

It was oozing a gelatinous black substance, and it didn’t look good even by his standards. “I don’t know how to treat this. Ya know, since you ain’t human.” He added.

You rolled your vacant eyes and looked at the stars. Jack noticed your gills moving at the base of your neck and at the tiny seashells that seemed to be embedded into your skin. You looked every bit a mermaid, straight out of a storybook.

It still wasn’t clicking in his mind that you were real.

You tapped his skin. ‘Just north of here there is a deeper alcove. Take me there.’ You telepathically said.

“What?” Jack sputtered. How did you expect him to transport a wounded mermaid up the beach? His facial expression gave away to his thoughts.

You squeezed his wrist, ‘You are capable.’

“And you look heavy!” He scoffed. Although he did drills like lifting heavy loads of gear, you were a mythical creature. You sent him tumbling with a mere flick of your tail and that was you wounded. He gave you a once over. How was he gonna go about this?

The same odd clicks you made earlier escaped your throat but in a lower decibel. Jack panicked still not knowing what it meant. “What’s wrong.”

‘Hurts.’ you closed your eyes and sighed. He had nothing to lose helping you, so he quickly made up his mind. It beat drinking the night away.

“You said north, right? In some cave or whatever? Take a deep breath... err gulp? Whatever you do to survive.” He waited until you took on more water before picking you up bridal style.

You weren’t prepared and wrapped your arms around his neck, ever mindful of your talon like nails. He lifted you with ease.

Yves, your pet octopus moved a few tentacles to cover your wound as Jack navigated through the low tide in a northerly direction. He honestly didn’t know how to get to the cove you mentioned.

He just let his feet guide him until he saw a small gap in the rock formation that looked right. Your people carved it out over a millennia ago and the humans that settled here declared it hallowed ground ever since.

The healing water in the alcove would speed up your recovery but not fast enough. You just needed enough strength to swim home. You did not like dwelling above surface level for prolonged periods of time.

You only emerged to hunt the sailors disrespecting your waters and to lure nonbelievers to their death.

Interacting with a human for this long was a rarity that you did not prefer. Though this man in particular wasn’t so bad. He smelled faintly of your favorite kelp.

You lulled in and out of consciousness as Jack struggled to carry you to the cove. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but you were heavy. Your tail made moving difficult as you couldn’t help flicking it, offsetting his balance as he walked.

It was beautiful, you were too. Simply indescribable.

From your dark skin tone to your curly hair tangled with seashells and fine gold thread, Jack now believed the locals when they declared you a goddess.

A string of fresh pearls hung from the crown of your head that framed your face. He assumed you were royalty, given that a rare blue diamond hung from the knot of pearls at the center of your forehead. How it stayed fastened had to be magic.

He had an urge to steal it if not for the two crabs clipping your hair out of your face weren’t watching him attentively.

Precious jewels, octopus, and crabs weren’t your only abnormal accessory.

More sea life seemed to cling to you, as if it were an honor to adorn your body. Jack tried to not freak out when he noticed the scales of your tail move as if they were alive themselves. He could even see barnacles growing at the joints of your elbows and lower tail.

Everything about you was fascinating.

He finally made it to the cove with you in tow. He took one step inside and shivered sensing something in the air.

“I’m getting tired of this magic s__t.” Jack grumbled.

He grunted as he lowered you into the water that glowed with bioluminescence fish. You chirped as you sank down, at last, fully submerged. Your hands played with the plankton coming to your aid until you noticed Jack awkwardly standing at the mouth of the cove.

His fatigues were soaked through, and you admired him more closely now that the moon poured through the carved ceiling above. He was a model solider, all muscles and fine stature. His redeeming qualities however were surface level. Only you could see the darkness in his heart.

And yet, you sensed a glimmer of light in him too. There was still hope for this mortal. For now.

You curled a finger beckoning him closer.

Now he understood the elders' warnings. With just a finger, you had him stepping into the sea. This alcove was deeper than the public beach back yonder. Jack couldn’t see the bottom and that made him wary. Was it wise to swim in a bottomless grotto with a mythical monster?

No, nevertheless, he knew you wouldn’t drown him. You still needed him. You visibly struggled to stay afloat and Joker swam out to help you. It felt silly helping a fish to swim; it was the least he could do.

Speaking of, he was at a loss here. Jack hesitated before asking. “What now?”

You huffed as you floated on your back. A swarm of plankton hovered over your wound, but they wouldn’t be enough. At this rate, your recovery would take ages.

Jack swam nearby, his hand darting out when you tipped your head back. He kept forgetting that was normal for you. You weren’t drowning. Neither you nor Jack seemed to mind that his fingers played with your hair. He loved the curly texture of it and how it defied the laws of physics. It felt dry to the touch despite being soaking wet.

He kept the required physical contact needed to speak to him so you allowed it.

‘Can you fish?’ you asked him. You were starving.

Jack thought back to the many fishing trips his father dragged him along on when he was younger. ‘Bonding time with his old man.’ What good that did. He hated the man he was forced to call father.

But you didn’t want to hear a pointless core memory of his, you wanted an answer. Jack nodded, “Yeah. I don’t got a line though.”

Oh. You forgot humans hunted differently. He required equipment it seemed. You pouted, sounding like a rattlesnake hissing. ‘Useless.’

Before Jack could protest, you gestured for him to cover his ears. He slapped his wet hands over them and waited.

You used the last of your energy to lure a fish into the cove. Jack heard bits and pieces of your melody (his human ears weren’t able to pick up most of the notes) although he did feel a pull. Something primal in his brain ordered him to follow and he kicked his legs until he was practically glued to your side.

Perhaps that was the reason you urged him to cover his ears. He was falling victim to your call. A shame he was already where he wanted to be.

Screw patrols. He didn’t care if his Captain discharged him for abandoning his post. Swimming with an ancient mermaid was the most entertainment Jack had in months even if all this swimming was giving him a workout.

You gave him the all clear to remove his hands. Jack did while watching a swordfish answer your call.

It swam from the dark waters below and circled the two of you. Much to his horror, you plucked it from the water and proceeded to consume it raw.

It was morbid and secretly hot to witness you in your element. You ate your fill with a flare of elegance and spat out the bones.

He was captivated. You licked your lips clean once you were finished and checked under your nails for any debris. Some things were still human in nature. Your milky eyes grew heavy as sleep threatened to take hold. Jack noticed you slowly sinking into the water and got your attention by tugging your hair.

“Someone’s sleepy. Will the big bad fish be alright on her own?” He had to get out of this cold water and return to base. He was losing feeling in his fingers.

A violin sounding chord signaled your yawn. Your hand cupped Jack’s cheek affectionately to speak.

‘Fret not, I will remain here. You need to get out the water.’ Yves pointed towards a forgotten trail leading out of the grotto with a slimy tentacle. ‘That leads to land.’

At least now he wouldn’t be left stumbling through the dark.

Sneaking back while soaking wet was gonna be tough. His sergeant was gonna killl him should he found out. Even with all his responsibility, Jack hesitated to leave you here alone. “I’ll uhh check on ya tomorrow?

‘Go.’ You urged. You swatted the water, creating a sizable wave to carry him back to shore. Jack stumbled to his feet after spending so much time in the water. By the time he looked back, the ocean was still, and you were nowhere in sight.

Jack hoped he didn’t dream last night up.

No one noticed him gone and he managed to creep back into his bunk (freshly changed of course) before morning call. The next day was done in the same monotonous schedule he kept for months now.

Roll call, patrols, mess hall, guard change, and repeat. He begrudgingly did it all, bidding his time until the sun set. He made full usage of his breaks to visit the market in town and stock up on supplies. On his list was a first-aid kit, wool blankets, and lots of fresh fish. The fish monger raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry.

The soldiers that invaded ahem.. protected the island were a curious lot. Jack was no different. He was planning to spend the evening with a mermaid. Jack tipped his helmet before leaving.

If he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the old man croak over after catching a glimpse of the mark you left on Jack’s arm.

He stashed his purchases in the pathway near the hidden grotto before dressing down into something more lightweight. His fatigues were practical but not ideal for prolonged periods in the cove’s mineral based water.

He was teeming with excitement to see you. Would you be feeling better? Would you like the fish he brought? Would you be happy to see him?

“Get a hold of yourself, she’s just a fish. A big, ancient, gorgeous, deadly fish...” Jack uttered to himself as he made the dangerous trek down to the cove.

The setting sun guided him well until he ducked into the natural cave. Inside, it was dimly lit by the walls blocking the sun until he entered the main alcove where supernatural light flourished.

Jack didn’t know what to expect. What if something happened last night while you slept? Could someone have found you during your moment of weakness? Did you up and leave?

A thousand questions swirled inside his head as he walked to the water’s edge.

It was calm, too calm—now that he knew about the dangers it contained. He saw the way you ate that swordfish last night. You were confident in your strength and there was an air of ancient wisdom that shrouding you. You been around for a while. The things you had seen in your lifetime...

“Uh hello? Y/n?” Jack called out only to snort to himself.

The human was calling the siren. He kicked the water to create ripples, hoping that would work. Just how deep was the pool? A deep sea fish swam here so rather deep. He dipped his legs in and popped open a bottle of rum as he waited.

He forgot that you were injured, that probably delayed your trip to the surface. He nibbled on the bread and cheese he bought from the market. He wondered how long you would stay here until you were healed. Not like he cared or anything—he just enjoyed having something to do.

That is, if you were coming back anytime soon. “This blows.” Jack sighed.

He shivered at a sudden cold breeze and turned to fetch the wool blanket from his bag. While his back was turned, your head rose from the water.

You sensed his presence when he created ripples in the water but struggled to surface with your limited energy. The swordfish you caught last night helped fight against your hunger, however; you were still ravenous. You tried swimming into deeper waters to call for help but you became exhausted fairly quickly.

This wound had you stuck in your ancestral grotto. Which was fine if this man helped you recover.

You watched him take out a long piece of textile to wrap himself with. He must be cold, you thought curiously. He locked eyes with you and jumped back.

“Gahh! F__k!” How long had you been watching him in silence? You really were a predator.

All he could see was your face from the nose up. The water was calm around you, not a ripple to be found. “You scared me.” Jack panted.

You didn’t move and he idly kicked his feet back and forth in the water. Talk about a 180 from your mood yesterday, you just stared at him. “I uh brought you fish.” He took out the packages the fish monger wrapped for him.

That got you to come forward, yet he was quick to notice your movements were sluggish. You didn’t glide through the water like last night. Something was wrong.

“Hey... you okay? Oh! Ohh uhh..” Jack froze when you flopped your head onto his lap. He didn’t move (as if he could, you were heavy) as your hand squeezed his calf muscles.

Even your voice felt off. ‘Thank you.’ You preferred your fish alive, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. You appreciated the thought. You glanced up into green eyes, clicking lowly in distress.

“I know that sound. What’s wrong, ya don’t too good. Here.” Jack unpacked a whole mackerel, (your favorite) and held it to your lips. The implication was not lost on you.

‘Feeding a monster? Aren’t you a brave solider?’ you mocked.

Jack didn’t let your words affect him, “Open wide.” He watched your vacant eyes roll before you unhinged your jaw, slowing off the razor-sharp teeth and an unnaturally colored tongue. He slowly lowered the fish into your mouth and let go when your teeth grazed his palm.

He couldn’t believe he was in some secret grotto feeding a mythical being. It would make for a wild bar conversation.

It definitely wasn’t what he signed up for when he enlisted. You plucked the spine from your mouth with a sigh. ‘Do you have any more?’ You asked.

Jack took pity seeing your sad eyes. He knew that look too well. You were weak from hunger. “Y-Yeah.. I uh bought a lot for ya.”

And that’s how he spent the next half hour, hand feeding you in between bites of his own bread and cheese spread.

His twisted mind saw it as a date. Yeah, a date with a gigantic fish. Jack huffed, jolting your head resting in his lap. You whined, voicing your displeasure.

“Sorry uhh.” It was then Jack realized he didn’t know your name.

The locals called you Y/n sure, but you did not know the term mermaid until yesterday. He found himself wondering what your actual name was.

‘What ails you?’ You spoke after seeing a faraway look take over his features. He fed you well and now you were content resting your head on his lap. He was warm unlike the harsh coldness of the sea. You… kinda liked it.

“I had a moment, I guess. I uhh.. I don’t know your name.” He confessed. It donned on you that you didn’t know his either.

You tried avoiding the question with one of your own. ‘What do other humans call you?’

“Oh, now ya wanna know my name?” Jack laughed. All this time the two of you had yet to exchange formalities.

He felt so embarrassed. His mama raised him better! You were a lady and deserved some respect. Jack straightened up while clearing his throat.

“Private Jack White reportin’ for duty.” He fake saluted and laughed at your confused head tilt. He’d explain later. “The locals call you Y/n, the revered sea deity, but what should I call ya oh great one?”

You rose to grab Jack’s face and pull him down so you could rub your nose with his. You spoke your given name into his head and watched him try out the pronunciation.

“Did I say that right?” Jack teased.

‘No. Humans do not have enough vocal cords. You are unable to replicate the vowels.’

Another thing that separated you from him. Now he was told his speech was too primitive. “Whatever, it sounds hot in my head. Y/n it is then.”

He assumed rubbing noses was your people's version of a kiss, so he repeated the gesture back. He chuckled when you jerked back with a shrill like chirp. Your tail flicked up from the water, hitting him with ice cold droplets. “So cute..” he mumbled.

Although the temperature drop was his signal to go. “It's getting late. You gonna be alright by yourself again?”

You refused to touch him to speak after he caressed your nose.

“Aww, did I make the Great Y/n all flustered?” He dodged you trying to claw at his ankles. “I think sooo. Get some rest, Y/n.”

You regained enough energy to send him off with a farewell melody. He was still humming the tune to himself when he reached his barracks.

Jack cherished the days he spent visiting you in the alcove.

Some of his fellow soldiers poked fun at his sudden change in mood. “Oh, Jack caught the eye of a local!” They weren’t wrong.

He was more friendlier on base all thanks to you. He looked forward to the nights spent with you; feeding you fish, sharing stories, and slowly but surely getting to know one another.

It was inspiring to remember how you had originally feared Jack when he found you beached in the low tide. Now you practically dragged him under to be near him.

“Easy, Y/n. Don’t drown me!” He let you pull him into the dark water to nuzzle his nose in greeting. He still didn’t know what the gesture meant but it made you happy.

He loved hearing the purring sound of your delight. He did anything he could to hear it.

He promised to spot your attempt to swim outside the grotto tonight. The line of rocks was an obstacle he could help you overcome. Your wound was steadily healing with the plethora of fatty fish Jack provided along with the kind plankton who blessed you. Neither of you wanted you to fully heal.

The moment you were healthy meant you would leave, and Jack was growing rather fond of you. He unfortunately did not know how you felt about him.

He would be a fool to believe you actually enjoyed a human’s company. He was prey, not a companion. You had Yves for that and Jack envied the sentient octopus that clung to your bosom.

He tried to shake off his feelings to no avail.

You were otherworldly in terms of beauty and keenly aware of your charms. Even if the match was virtually impossible, he liked where things were going with you. He would cherish each day he had left.

“Good job, now... come here.” Jack said to urge you back.

This was your fourth time swimming laps from the ocean entrance of the alcove back to his arms. He could tell you were pushing yourself, judging by your hooded eyelids and agitated tail swishes.

It was exercise to promote core strength back to your tail.

You made it back to Jack and collided with him due to your exhaustion. He fell onto shore with you in his arms. “H-Hey, Y/n, you good?”

The massive blue diamond on your forehead swayed as you nodded. Jack was speechless watching a beam of moonlight overhead highlight your beauty. Your lips parted and he was reminded how close the two of you were when it brushed his lower lip.

This was wrong. You weren’t even human! but that didn’t stop Jack. He audibly swallowed as the moment drew tense.

“F__k it.” He shortened the distance and captured your lips with his. You bristled at the contact until Jack tangled a hand in your hair and guided you through the motions.

He rolled you over so the incoming wave could rehydrate your gills. He on the other hand needed air and pulled away with a smile. “Even better than I imagined.” Jack said listlessly.

‘What.. what was that?’ You asked him. You brought a finger up to inspect your lips. They were tingling.

“I ah.. that was a kiss. Kinda like how you rub my nose. That’s um.. it’s the equivalent of that for humans.” He explained.

‘I don’t understand. You respect me enough to kiss me?’

“Wait what?” Jack was confused now. “What does,” he leaned down to nuzzle his nose with yours, “this mean?”

‘You value or you respect me greatly. It is the highest form of gratitude for my kind.’ You confessed. Your eyes shifted away as your ears turned red.

Oh. Not what he was expecting but still rather important. You were showing your gratitude, and he thought…

Jack brushed a curl away from your face, “So… does your kind kiss like we just did?”

He burst out laughing at you covering your face. Jack could tell you wanted to slip underwater in embarrassment. He wouldn’t let you.

He pried your hands away so he could see you. “Cmon Y/n!”

You were about to show him when a loud alarm sounded over the island. You growled and without hesitation, dragged you and Jack into the safety of the ocean. He quickly broke the surface to breathe.

“Y/n! F__k, warn me next time! S__t, we might be under attack.” He tried to swim away to leave, but your nails dug into his wrist. “Y/n let go.”

Then the first canon echoed off in the distance. You cried out, gaining Jack’s attention. He never seen you look so terrified.

He snatched you up into his arms, tucking your head into his chest. “They won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He leaned back just enough to kiss you softly. “Stay outta sight, I’ll be back.”

‘Jack…’

If gunfire was heard this far away, you could only imagine the reality of it on land. You didn’t want him to go.

“I’ll be back. Yeah?” He caressed your face as he drifted closer to the shore. You still didn’t let go so he got desperate.

He locked eyes with Yves on your shoulder. “Take care of my girl.” He glanced at you again, “I’ll be back Y/n.” He wrestled himself out of your arms and swam to the grotto shore.

There was little time to grab his things. Gunfire meant contact with the enemy. He needed to find a weapon and report to his sergeant for orders.

Yet Jack hesitated.

He looked back towards the ocean and saw your head poking out. You were centuries old but terrified of man and their weapons. It made him sick to his stomach.

He didn’t know if mermaids could cry although you looked close to tears.

Jack groaned as he took off his dog tags and wrapped them around your neck. You were about to ask him what it was when he stole your train of thought with a passionate kiss.

It felt like a goodbye.

Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “Wait for me, hm?”

You nodded once and watched him disappear up the trail. The small glimmer of light you saw in Jack faded away as he left. You knew he wouldn’t return but you still blindly waited.

You waited all night for the fighting to cease. You waited till the morning after when more ships arrived and departed in droves. You waited even as the waters changed warmth with the new season. You waited and waited and waited until it was obvious.

Jack was gone.

Years passed and he was a changed man.

He’d seen enough war and the pointlessness it created to rebel from authority. It changed him and not for the better. You would not be pleased with the hatred festering in his heart, not like he cared.

He didn’t care about anything.

He saw the world with new eyes— he wasn’t the restless private stuck on an island anymore. Oh, but he missed those days terribly. His wrist itched every full moon, reminding him of a time he felt free.

Free to be himself and to be understood by another. You were the only person who willingly listened to his ramblings. You didn’t interrupt or belittle his opinions, you let him speak freely and encouraged him to be open minded. He looked back on those months fondly.

But that was the past. Now he wanted to destroy the future.

“Ay Boss. Boss..? Yo J!” Frost had enough and yelled out to Joker.

He almost didn’t respond. Joker. He went by The Joker now not..

“There’s nothing here, Joker and it’s getting dark soon.” Frost kicked a nearby rock into the water. “We’re ready to leave when you are.”

Joker nodded and returned his gaze out to the sea.

He felt stupid coming all the way here after so many years away. The military base was now a museum, and the locals had been completely overrun by tourism from the growing resort industry nearby.

Things were vastly different, but your grotto remained untouched.

It was still tucked away on the northern shoreline with jagged rocks making it impossible to boat to. Mankind could not reach you and Joker preferred it that way.

Years later, he still slipped a bit descending down the hidden trail. Was it always so dangerous or did love motivate him forward? He lost that feeling ages ago so a few scrapped knees and hands was the price to pay.

What did he expect to find? You patiently waiting in the water, flicking your tail in anticipation? He hated himself for believing that you would.

Frost was right. There was nothing here.

He had to stop dwelling on the past. Promises were made to be broken. Joker had moved on and deep down, he hoped that you did the same.

He sighed as he stood up to leave (for good this time) when he heard something. He froze, thinking he was finally losing his mind but no. It was faint, but it was heard loudly in his heart.

Jack heard your call.

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day-dreamsinthedark · 3 months ago

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If you write x Reader, may I request some head cannons for Demetri Alexopoulos x reader where the reader is Sam's older sibling?

Hi! So I am not very great with head-canons, nor am I comfortable with writing in the 2nd perspective, but I really enjoy this idea so I thought I would try? My sincerest apologies if this is not what you wanted, but if you'd like to request anything else, I'd love to try it! Also, so sorry for the wait!

ALSO. There are a few curse words, I am SO SORRY if you aren't comfortable with them. Please let me know!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Demetri seems like the type of guy to fall in love with any girl that is even remotely nice to him, so imagine his surprise when LaRusso!Reader is the first person he meets when he starts at West Valley High School's coding club. As Samantha's older sister, or her Irish twin, as their parents love to tell everyone, you had always been a little self-conscious.

The eldest sister. A title once loved, now something more like a curse. Unachievable and utterly unbearable. You have always been entirely uncoordinated and just uncomfortable in your own skin, so karate has always been just out of your reach. Not that Daniel has ever minded– Kata has always been a comfort. Something to do in private, calming and kind.

This meant that LaRusso!Reader has never been very comfortable in the karate scene, but also around the family in general. It was easy to get lost in your own little world– books, games, television, and all things that made you unlike your sister.

He'd known you for over a year before he figured it out. He assumed that you were just the hot nerdy junior that none of the other guys could really appreciate, knowing absolutely nothing but your first name before Miguel kicked the social skills into him. And as someone who was equally as shy, you felt absolutely fine ignoring everyone and getting your work done.

I imagine that in this scenario, where there's a pretty girl who occasionally exchanges smiles and pleasantries, Demetri doesn't even really notice Yasmine (or her friend who looks suspiciously like LaRusso!Reader)

He's so caught up in his crush on Reader that Eli's got to consistently remind him that being nice is not the same thing as having feelings, even if you always went out of your way to compliment whatever fandom-related memorabilia or clothing he brought to school. Like that time you complimented his Doctor Who shirt (and then wore your favorite GOT shirt the next day– to which he did not compliment, because he was so stupidly starstruck.)

Still, there wasn't much interaction between the two of you for the first year and a half that you had known each other.

It wasn't until you finally gave in and decided to train with Sam and Robby that everything had changed. You'd only agreed to the basics, some Kata and maybe a bit of sparring. Robby was kind and made Sam a lot happier than you'd expected her to be, so what possible harm could there be in trying?

So there you were, minding your business in your dojo's yard. Eyes closed as you stretched– a backbend, a stretch that Sam was never able to get, and likely the only athletic thing you’d ever been able to do– ignoring your sister’s conversation with her "not" boyfriend and your father.

“It’s time we be patient.” Your dad said, “Let those who need us find us. Alright?”

At this, you thought it might be an important time to join the conversation, preparing yourself for the hard part: flipping back over. You hadn’t quite mastered that yet, but it wasn’t… impossible.

Then, a familiar voice. One that you hadn't heard in months because he and Eli had quit the team without a word. Not that you had spoken much anyway, but still it hurt.

“Excuse me? Uh, it was unclear if the gate was the front–” He stopped abruptly, missing a porch step and managing to call out your name in confusion just as he hit the floor. You, on the other hand, fell over on your arms just as the realization set in.

“Ow. Jesus.” “Fuck’s sake.” The two of you spoke at the same time.

Neither of you had stood yet, but you craned your neck at him as Demetri called your name out again– from his spot on the ground.

“Are you… what are you– you know karate?”

Instead of responding, you groaned out in pain. “Mhm. Little.”

You’d fallen quite awkwardly, hurting your shoulder in the process, so by the time you had fixed yourself, you opted to stay on the floor. It was infuriating. Instead of actually trying to help either of you, everyone in the yard simply passed looks. From you, to Demetri, and then to each other. Sam and Robby’s eyebrows lifted so high you were shocked they managed to stay on their faces. Your father seemed mostly confused, but Sam chewed on her bottom lip in an attempt to swallow the shit-eating grin that was pushing its way out.

“Thanks,” You said, shooting a glare at the two people beside you. “I appreciate the absolute lack of worry on everyone’s faces right now.”

“I’m” –Demetri started, voice frantic and cracking as he moved forward slowly. It was odd. You couldn’t recall the two of you ever having spoken more than a few words to each other at once. –“You’re… you were in the Coding Club.”

“Correction. I am in the Coding Club.” You smiled at him, patting your knees clean as you stood up. You leaned forward ever so slightly, “You’re the one that quit.”

His eyes go wide and his face runs red. And that is precisely where your story would start.

–

Demetri seems pretty obsessive in general, so the two of you would be attached by the hip, regardless of whether or not either of you were aware of each others interest. Mr. LaRusso would probably lose his mind at the idea that he started a dojo just for his male students to be infatuated with his daughters. The arguments would probably start with a lot of, “I’m running a dojo, not a fucking dating show!”

Demetri x OlderLaRusso!Reader would also be incredible bc it would have such an intense change on the dojo wars!!! Demetri would be so caught up in trying to spend time with you that he wouldn’t give so much attention to Hawk’s shenanigans. The mall fight would probably change a ton. Demetri still would have submitted that Yelp review, but the mall scene would’ve gone a little differently because instead of third wheeling Sam and Robby, he’d be following you around like a lost puppy.

I also love the idea that Hawk– who very likely also had a small crush on you at some point– is fucking flabbergasted when he sees the two of you together at the mall. Maybe the two of you are laughing over some ridiculous comic, or he finds you just as your hands graze. At this point in his journey, he definitely wouldn’t care, but I think he’d resent the idea that Demetri is allowed to have any sort of romantic interest as a nerd. If Hawk wasn’t good enough, then Demetri shouldn’t be either.

Ugh, I love the little emotional journey those boys go through.

ANYWHO.

Even if Hawk is fully infatuated with Moon at this point, seeing you with Demetri would fuel his rage. I'm also fairly certain that seeing you would trigger some sort of response from the Eli that knew you.

You would be a reminder of who he used to be, but especially who the three of you were together. Oh he definitely would have also been into you, because why wouldn't he be? Those boys did everything together. It was probably this sort of "We can both like her because she'd never date either of us" rule. Like a celebrity crush lol

Not only did you fucking like Demetri, but you were incredible at karate. How? Who taught you?

Imagine Hawk’s shock at getting his ass handed to him by the shy girl who led half of the Coding Club meetings? The realization that you're not only better than him at karate, but very obviously into Demetri, who has done absolutely nothing to be worthy of having positive attention would drive him insane. The fact that you did all this while still being entirely unashamed of your "nerd" title would not help.

Demetri’s shock, I think, would go something like this:

“I thought you said you weren’t good at karate?” He’d say as he hides behind a rack of sunglasses. You’d run towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards where Sam and Robby should be.

“I’m not. You’re just…”

“Okay! I get it!” He’d interrupt, face red and horrified.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

You can probably tell that I'm not used to writing in head-canon style lol I think I am more comfortable with little scenes? I also ran out of ideas bc it's been a while since I've seen the show, but I'm planning on a rewatch soon. SO if you enjoyed this at all and want anything specific pls let me know! I'm not very comfortable with x Reader but I would like to be!

Thank you for the req, and again-- so sorry for the wait!

#demetri alexopoulos #demetri cobra kai #demetri alexopoulos x reader #demetri x reader #cobra kai #headcanon #cobra kai headcanons #idk if these are headcanons #i did my best and that may not have been good enough lmao #request #requests are open #btw #im just a slow writer sorry

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0h0possum · 1 year ago

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Kote-Ah Kenobi is the son of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Clone Commander Cody.

This is from my Alternate Universe called the ‘Kenobi Family AU’, which I’ll explain now (warning: plot dump):

During the Clone Wars Cody and Obi-Wan start to get close

First it starts as them starting to admire and trust each other in battle and appreciate the other’s leadership skills, etc.

Then it turns into a good friendship and camaraderie, they talk openly with each other on and off the battle field. They feel comfortable enough to snark and joke with eachother

They more and more seek comfort in each other outside of work and battle

Soon their friendship turns into more, emotionally

This leads to both of them hiding complicated romantic feeling for each other

Obi-Wan has strick moral codes with being a Jedi and having no deep attachments, he desperately wants to be a good Jedi and leader. But he can’t help but love Cody

Cody deals with the social pressures of being a clone. Clones aren’t supposed to have deep emotions, to want things, to have personalities. He’s not aloud to feel anyway for anyone, let alone his General. He’s not considered a person to many, just a tool

(Skipping over much time and details) Eventually they confess to each other

They come to a sort of agreement, they care too much about each other to not be together, but they both have duties to others and agree to always put their jobs first

So they are in a secret relationship with the war as priority

But they both discuss getting ‘fully’ together after the war

Cody talks about fighting for freedom for the clones and getting to choose what they want (he wouldn’t have thought of this before getting with Obi-Wan, he didn’t even consider it a possibility for him or his brothers. But getting the chance to CHOOSE to be with Obi-Wan despite what the war demands gives Cody determination to give all clones a chance to choose what they want)

Obi-Wan wants to be with Cody, he says he’ll help Cody and his brothers in any way to get freedom. He starts to think how maybe Anakin is right about the Jedi rule against attachment being wrong (this may be a lil’ OCC for Obi-Wan but I like to think him loving Cody would make him reevaluate his morals and the Jedi rules)

(Obi-Wan even considers maybe leaving the order after the war to be with Cody, it isn’t the first time he thought about it or even actually left the order after all)

But alas, none of it is to be. Order 66 still happens

It plays out just like canon, and the clone chips are activated and Cody shoots Obi-Wan off the cliff and Obi-Wan flees

(This is where the BIG changes happen)

When Obi-Wan goes with Yoda to the Jedi Temple and sees the dead Younglings, they find Reva Sevander alive and rescue her

Yoda watches her while Obi-Wan confronts and fights Anakin

Afterwards Padmé still dies giving birth

This time though, Obi-Wan looks at Luke, Leia and Reva and just thinks ‘yeahs I’m taking all these kids’

He pretty much decides that since all three of these kids are force sensitive that they’ll need protection and training, he can hide them

Plus his time with Cody taught him the importance of bonds. he regrets telling Anakin to not have attachments and making him feel like he had to hide his and Padmé’s relationship. Maybe if Obi-Wan had been better about talking to Anakin, Anakin wouldn’t have been so afraid to lose Padmé and therefore turn Dark

So Obi-Wan ignores Yoda’s demands to spilt all the children up and just takes them all to a remote planet to raise them

(Reva takes Obi-Wan’s last name since he needs to present her as his adopted child and he lets Luke and Leia have their father’s last name (Skywalker) as memory to the man Anakin used to be (he tells everyone that Leia and Luke are the children of his brother))

Only a little time after settling on their new home and trying to raise two infants and handle a traumatized force sensitive child, Obi-Wan finds out he’s going to have Cody and his child (unplanned)

(It’s up to you to decide how they have a child idk, force magic or weird alien biology who cares)

So 9 months later Obi-Wan now has ANOTHER child (Kote-Ah), this one from his lover who turned on him and who he doesn’t even know if he’s alive (I can’t decide if Obi-Wan DOESN’T know about the chips in the clones and thinks Cody legitimately betrayed him, or if he DOES know about the chips and is just wallowing in the knowledge that Cody and all the clones have had their agency taken away and will be forced to work for the Empire or be killed)

(Either way he can’t risk finding Cody, he has to protect his kids)

Thus Obi-Wan Kenobi ends up with four kids (all who are force sensitive) (in hiding where he’s a wanted man and force sensitive children are killed on sight) (and Kote-Ah looks exactly like a clone so people are quite suspicious when they see him, and even more so when they notice how young he is and how his eyes aren’t amber/brown like all clones)

The AU from here is just Obi-Wan raising Reva, Luke, Leia, and Kote-Ah in secret

Obi-Wan continues Reva’s training and takes her as his Padawan when she’s of age, though it’s not a ‘formal padawan and master’ training because at that point Reva considers Obi-Wan her guardian/parental figure (not quite a father (Kote-Ah, Luke, and Leia call Obi-Wan ‘Dad’), but she does loves and treat him in a similar way to a child and parent)

When Leia, Luke, and Kote-Ah all get old enough he starts to train them, they need to be prepared for if (when) the Empire finds them

That’s the AU for now, there’s more from here but I already wrote a lot! I’ll probably do some more drawing one day and get into Kote-Ah’s personality and the family relationship of the ‘Kenobi Family’ and the plot from here on out.

Extras:

Reva helped a lot with raising the three younger kids

Having them around helped with her anger and trauma of seeing her crechemates killed (she holds no resentment towards Luke and Leia for being the children of the man who killed her crechemates)

Though this makes her very overprotective of Leia, Luke, and Kote-Ah

She’s desperate not to lose her new family

She’s always very mature for her age

All the siblings are very close, but Luke and Leia get along the best and Reva and Kote-Ah are also really close

They all are very close to Obi-Wan, who is very open and affectionate with them due to his regrets of not being as open and loving with Anakin (and his regrets that he never got to have an open and ‘true’ relationship with Cody before everything ended)

Obi-Wan tells many stories of Cody and the clones to Kote-Ah. Obi-Wan wants Kote-Ah to know about his other father and his family. Wants Kote-Ah to feel pride from his ‘heritage’ and not feel ashamed for looking like a clone

In this AU all four of the kids are trained in the Jedi ways and to fight, though way into the future only Reva and Luke take on the formal title of Jedi, Leia and Kote-Ah do not.

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lynsstrange · 4 months ago

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I think one of my biggest unanswered questions about the Marauders/HP in general is how Peter even ended up in Gryffindor in the first place.

Obviously I’m gonna be talking about canon here, not headcanons that he was manipulated or tortured into joining the death eaters (which I also feel erases crucial thematic intention. But that’s a conversation for another day). I’m talking about the dead-set canonic facts that he spied on his best friends who trusted him, sold them out, and then hid as a rat for twelve years.

Peter is established, from start to finish throughout the entire series, as an opportunist with no moral backbone.

He’s friends with James, Sirius, and Remus at least in part because they are popular, and he wants to be protected and respected by proximity. During the war, the second their side isn’t doing too hot he takes the side that he feels is safer, with no regard for the people he called his friends for a decade. He sets up an entire ploy he knows will end with two of them dead and the other in prison for life. When he transforms back in POA, the first thing he does in desperation is prey on Sirius and Remus’ previous care for him and Harry’s good nature to try and manipulate his way to being shown mercy. The second he has a window of opportunity he flees again.

He’s killed by the magical hand Voldemort gave him because he hesitates to kill Harry. But even this was out of guilt, obligation and a presumable unawareness that the hand would turn on him for even pausing a moment. We don’t know if he would have still fought Harry after hesitating had it not killed him. So I wouldn’t call it bravery.

So, start to finish in the series, none of Peter’s on-screen actions even remotely point to somebody who embodies traits of selflessness and courage. So how does someone whose character can most simply be summarized into “cowardly” in one word end up in the house for the brave?

Does it all really boil down to his barely semi-heroic death? Probably not. Is it just an inconsistency in the story, because jkr needed Peter to be close enough to the rest of the Marauders to have James and Lily trust him with their lives? There are a few examples of plotholes where the marauders are concerned, so it’s not entirely unlikely. But I don’t think so, because as I’ll get into, there was clearly some thought put into how he was sorted by jkr.

My biggest theory is that Peter chose to be put in Gryffindor. Harry confirms that personal choice has sway in where the sorting hat places you at the end of the deathly hallows. And of course, based off everything we know about him, it makes sense that Peter would like to be placed in one of the more reviled houses, the one where the bravest heroes go. We know the sorting hat was in a hat stall between that and slytherin, and jkr purposefully wrote for such a rare occurrence to happen during his sorting. So maybe the ultimate decision came down to Peter’s desire to be placed in Gryffindor, rather than Slytherin and it’s somewhat negative reputation.

But even then, wouldn’t Peter have had to exemplify some brave qualities for it to even consider Gryffindor an option? And, frankly, we never see him make a decision that’s not self motivated in canon (if you have examples to prove otherwise lemme know). So did it all purely come down to his will to be placed in Gryffindor?

That’s my best guess, but it’s still very interesting to me how much of an oxymoron his character is: the cowardly gryffindor.

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growup-thatbeautiful · 2 years ago

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bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.

#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fic #bullet train fanfic #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet proof universe

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ekwallace · 3 months ago

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Here we gooooooo. Part 1!

Title: All My Forevers Fandom: Mononoke Pairing: Kusuriuri/Kayo, eventually Warnings for this part: Canon-typical violence and horror imagery. AU as far as movie lore goes (much of it was written before there was movie lore!). Also, it’s super self-indulgent. :) Epigraph from "A Mouthful of Forevers" by Clementine von Radics.

I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.

Kayo knew seeing Kusuriuri again would mean dealing with another mononoke—when two, she was quite sure, was more than enough for any human lifetime—but she still hoped it would happen. Not that she went looking for trouble. Trouble just had a way of finding her. And when she heard people in the marketplace talking about a terrifying figure haunting the newly abandoned Watanabe Manor--no one seemed to be able to talk about anything else--she knew what it had to be.

It's none of my business, she reminded herself, bowing to the vegetable merchant and accepting the basket of taro.

If he does come, he’ll handle it just fine on his own, she told herself as she haggled over the price of hamachi--the fish was good, but the price the man was asking was absurd!

It’s not like you even care that much, she lied to herself, securing all her packages for the walk to her new home.

She made it all the way back there before she admitted to herself that she was going to the manor to have a look.

***

Kayo tucked some salt into the sagemono at her obi before she set out. Not that she was going to charge into anything. It was just in case.

The stories weren’t exaggerations: the manor already looked like a ruin, even though Kayo knew people had lived here only a few days ago. The yard was full of dead, dried vines and other plants, as if they’d suddenly overtaken everything and just as suddenly died. Torn paper rattled in the screens, stirred by a wind she couldn’t feel. She hesitated to step into the courtyard; it had the feeling of a threshold she wouldn’t be able to un-cross.

“Kayo-san.”

She was expecting to hear Kusuriuri’s voice any moment, but he was so close to her so suddenly that she still jumped.

“I knew you’d be here,” she said, trying to match his calm, which was as unruffled as usual.

“Yet you were surprised.”

Of course he hadn’t missed the jump. He didn’t seem remotely surprised to see her, but then, she hadn’t expected him to.

“That’s because you snuck up on me!”

He coolly ignored that, and stepped easily across the line where she had hesitated. “What do you know about the family that lived here?”

She stood up straighter and followed him. The air was noticeably chillier in the courtyard, and now Kayo could feel the icy wind’s bite on her skin. Dead leaves skittered across the ground, though autumn was still weeks away, and all the trees were gnarled and dead, too. Even as they passed by one of them, it crumbled and fell as ashes behind them. Kayo scurried to get closer to Kusuriuri, the sleeves of their kimonos almost touching.

“I know the lord’s eldest son got married, not long ago. I heard his bride was called a great beauty in her village, but I’ve never seen her. No one here has.”

“Hm.”

The great double doors of the main entrance stood ajar, and Kusuriuri used the hilt of his sword to push one open. Wind gusted out, even colder than the air outside, almost knocking Kayo off her feet. Kusuriuri steadied her with a hand on her arm. Kayo didn’t see him fling the ofuda this time, but she heard the papery rustle as they hit the wall behind them, and she glanced back. None of them turned red.

“A great beauty no one had caught a glimpse of,” Kusuriuri mused, lifting the sword to look into its gruesome little face. He gave another considering hum when it failed to react.

“Oh! That wasn’t all. Akiko-san next door told me the lord’s son already wanted a divorce.”

Kusuriuri turned a sharp glance on her. “Divorce? On what grounds?”

“That she was greedy, can you believe it? But they did say in the marketplace that not too long they married, the servants here started having to buy almost twice as much rice as before!”

“Ah.” The metallic clink sounded that meant a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. “The form is kuwazu nyobo,” Kusuriuri murmured.

“We have to deal with a lady with two mouths?” Kayo squeaked. She knew this ghost story.

“You need not.”

That didn’t deserve an answer; she just gave him a look.

“So she seemed like the picture of a perfect wife,” she said, thinking aloud to figure out the mononoke’s story. “The Watanabes are very traditional and serious. No fun at all! Even when the sons were kids, they never played or laughed. That poor girl must’ve been miserable.”

I might have ended up miserable like that.

Might have?

She wasn’t sure when, but she’d stopped taking it for granted that she’d marry someone someday.

Kusuriuri paused and looked back at her. Shafts of light from holes in the roof pierced the dimness, one falling on him so that his pale skin seemed almost to glow and the markings on his face stood out even more vividly than usual.

Well, maybe she had some idea when she’d stopped thinking that.

She could’ve tried to pretend she wanted a normal life with a husband and children and all the rest, but that was a lie she told herself, or maybe a lie she’d been told that she’d never thought to question. But she’d been questioning it ever since the umi bozu showed her what her true fear was.

This: puzzling out the mystery of a mononoke with Kusuriuri, working together, talking together, and yes, sharing more than that. This was what she wanted to do.

“Mononoke can seldom resist suffering of that kind.” He flicked another flurry of seals onto the walls ahead, and these flared bright red.

“The kitchen,” Kayo said.

The room was in ruins, shattered pots and dishes everywhere. Every container had been opened and emptied. Kayo didn’t see a single scrap of food, not even a stray grain of rice. She edged into the room to take a closer look, curious to see if everything really was gone.

“What was it?” Kusuriuri asked the ruins. “What, in the end, could you not endure?”

Kayo spotted a single piece of bright paper among the broken shards of pottery. “Kusuriuri-san.”

He swept across the wreckage and plucked it up. “Chocolate. I see now.”

“What?”

“They denied her even an indulgence as small as this.” He lifted the sword as if to let it see the mess on the floor, and maybe it really could.

“And that was too much for her to take."

“Yes. Trapped behind a mask of perfection, with no one to understand her and no respite or whimsy.”

“Whimsy?” Kayo asked, surprised.

He gave her an unreadable look; she thought he might have been silently chiding her for having imagined him so dour that he wouldn’t know that. “No one can live without small joys. The Watanabes tried to force her to, and when she could not find it in herself to rebel, the mononoke stepped in. That is its truth.”

Kayo didn’t hear the sword’s confirming clack over the huge crash that echoed the moment the words were spoken.

Faster than thought, Kusuriuri seized her hand and pulled her out the kitchen door. She stumbled into him and caught at his sleeve.

The ceiling in the kitchen had fallen, crushed by another desiccated, dead tree.

“Now the regret.”

“How are you always so calm?”

He gave her a look much like the one she’d given him at the suggestion she might turn back.

Impossible man!

The wind picked up again, as if the mononoke knew its end was approaching and was trying any trick it could to throw them off. It whipped a whirlwind of skeletal leaves about them and drove Kayo’s hair into her face, blinding her.

“There’s nothing alive out here, either!” She could feel Kusuriuri right beside her, but she didn’t know if she’d heard her cry over the roaring wind. He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her in tight against his side.

A sickening crunch sounded from the roof of the kitchen.

The kuwazu nyobo was wrapped around the roof, monstrously huge and two-headed. It gripped the ōmune in great yellow talons like a falcon’s, the wood splintering further even as Kayo watched in frozen, horrified fascination. One of its necks snaked out toward them, wearing a face that was nothing but bloody fangs.

The creature shrieked, a razor-sharp cry between a woman’s wail and a bird of prey, and the second head swung around to stare at them. The face had once been beautiful, but now it was distorted, the skin blackened, the eyes red, the teeth so elongated that the mouth couldn’t close. The fangs cut into the creature’s lips when she screamed again, sending black blood pouring down her chin that smoked where it hit the roof and the stones of the courtyard.

Kusuriuri pulled Kayo even closer and held up his sword. “Once you had devoured the family who had mistreated you, you turned to the growing things left alive here for sustenance. Even after you became a mononoke, you could not conceive of escape. For you, the world was a place where you would never be allowed to ask for what you wanted.”

Does he feel sorry for her? Kayo wondered suddenly. It wasn’t a new thought, but it was one she didn’t have time for, because the sword rang for the final time.

“The regret is revealed.”

Everything spun away into blankness, swirling and surreal.

The mononoke slammed its faceless head down onto the ground, and Kayo was driven to her knees. She was dimly aware of Kusuriuri’s otherself advancing on the kuwazu nyobo, the fiery sword at the ready. He spun and struck with deadly grace, but the mononoke attacked with its second head, and he had to dodge, what surely would’ve been a killing blow going wide.

Kayo looked desperately for something she could use to help, but they were in an in-between world, the shapes of the manor and landscape as sketchy as brushstrokes.

The golden one brought the sword around in a huge arc, grunting with the effort, and lopped off the kuwazu nyobo’s faceless head. He reached without looking, and the mirror Kusuriuri wore appeared in his hand, just in time for him to use it to deflect the spray of blood that fountained from the monster’s neck.

The mononoke’s scream of pain shook the whole world. It writhed and struck out with its claws, catching the mirror and sending it tumbling to the ground.

“No!” Kayo launched herself toward the battle.

She was too far away.

The kuwazu nyobo caught up the mirror, raised it to her bloody mouth, and bit down. The glass shivered between the great teeth, one crack snaking across it, then two, then too many to count.

Kayo met the golden one’s eyes and saw the fear in them, which frightened her almost more than anything else that had yet happened, but he visibly steeled himself and, with a wordless battle cry, brought the sword down on the mononoke’s remaining head.

Kayo knew the blow had come too late.

The very air shivered and fractured, as if the whole world were breaking. In a falling shard of it, Kayo saw two arms, one pale, one dark and gold, reaching toward each other, straining. Not meeting.

Everything exploded.

***

Some time later, she came to, aching all over. She pushed herself up to a sitting position with shaky arms. The air was thick with choking dust, and it reeked of blood and ashes. “Kusuriuri!”

She got no answer.

Gritting her teeth against the pain--it felt as if something huge had kicked her in the chest--she struggled to her feet and called him again.

“Who is there?”

His voice. She made her way toward the sound, carefully. The air began to clear. “It’s only me. Are you--”

The question died on her lips. He was looking up at her blankly from where the blast had flung him. The markings on his face were gone, but Kayo had glimpsed him without them before, and there was something else not right about the way he looked, something she couldn’t put her finger on--

His ears weren’t pointed anymore.

“What happened to you?” she blurted out.

He got to his feet, clearly in as much pain as she was, which was unsettling enough, but it got worse. He bowed neatly. “I am sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” He thought for a moment and frowned. “And I’m not sure who I am, either.”

Kayo could only stare in dismay. She felt her mouth trying to form words and failing. “It’s going to be all right,” she said finally, even though he could probably still tell she was lying. If he doesn’t know what to do, how on earth am I supposed to figure it out? “My name’s Kayo.”

“I-- What did you call me?”

“Kusuriuri-san.”

“That is no name.”

“I don’t know yours. I’m sorry.”

The play of emotions across his face was perfectly easy to read--disturbingly so, when she was so used to his cool poise that gave nothing away. Confusion was the strongest, but there was sadness in his eyes, too. She could tell when he made a conscious decision to put both aside for later. “I certainly don’t know it now,” he said. “I don’t mind ‘Kusuriuri’.”

“You don’t remember where you’re from, do you?”

He shook his head.

She couldn’t leave him alone, that much was certain. If another mononoke were drawn to him like this, he was in no shape to fight it.

That sparked a sudden thought, and a fear, and Kayo looked around on the ground for the sword. To her vast relief, she found it. It looked just the same as ever, to all appearances as tightly sheathed as usual. “Here. You hold onto this.”

“It’s mine?”

She nodded.

“Strange.” But he tucked it into his obi.

The swirls on his kimono were gone, too.

Finding the medicine box took longer--some rubble had landed on it, but it was, somehow, undamaged. Kayo hoped there was something inside that would help them. She hefted it onto her own shoulders. “I’ll explain what’s going on... as much as I can, anyway. But it’s not safe to stay here.”

“Mm, I guessed as much from our injuries.”

He followed her back to the street, clearly wary but just as clearly having decided to trust her. He was subtle about it, but she could tell he was feeling out the extent of his own hurts just as she had tested hers when she first stood up.

It hadn’t gotten any less alarming that he was hurt enough to have to do that.

The town beyond the collapsed manor house looked completely normal. No one was even stopping to gawk. It was hard to believe no one had seen or, more to the point, heard anything, but then Kayo remembered leaving the Sakai estate to discover that outside, it had still been the same day she’d all unknowingly let a stranger selling medicine into the kitchen.

I’d do it again. Even now.

Taking him to her employer’s house was out of the question, but this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have out in the open, either. “Would it be too weird to get a room at an inn?”

“Would it?” he countered with a straight face, and Kayo felt her own face heat up.

“Maybe. But it’ll be safe. And private.”

OK. What would Kusuriuri-san do?

Kayo pretended that wasn’t a crazy thing to wonder when he was right next to her, only... not. All too conscious of how she would stare if she weren’t careful not to, she snuck glances at him as they walked.

She’d never been able to get used to his beauty--it had always struck her anew nearly every time she looked at him. He still took her breath away. Maybe even more now, with the inhuman grace and strangeness stripped away.

“How old are you, anyway?” She hadn’t meant to ask so rudely, but he seemed very young, despite nothing actually being different except the missing markings.

He had to think for a moment. “I’m not sure of that, either, but ‘twenty-two’ is the answer that comes to mind.”

“Twenty-two?” It came out in a mortifying squeak. “That’s younger than I am!” Somehow that felt like the most unfair and wrong part of any of this.

“It cannot be much younger.”

“I’m twenty-five,” she said, grinning in spite of herself.

If Kusuriuri were really here, he’d think of something really smart and fix this!

Well, I can’t do that, so I’ll just have to do the best I can.

#mononoke 2007 #fanfic

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silkysong · 10 months ago

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Sorry, random ass ask here, but I just wanted to say screw that anon who complained, you do you and you draw and reblog what you vibe with the most atm and that's great!!

At the moment I can't interact with your cotl posts bc i still haven't played it and I'm strict with spoilers, so I scroll very fast when I see them appear on my dash but omg it's so tempting, it's so alluring, i can't wait to be done with my studies and memoir and then play the game, only to go back to your blog and indulge in all the amazing art and takes as if I was just discovering life changing sacred texts aaaafhhfjfkfjfkdjgkdk can't wait to be softly eaten alive by your blog <333 Idk who Narinder (?) is but I'm gonna devote my life to them I feel it

Sorry for the long random ask, have a great day and don't feel pressured to post certain things (i adore hk but diversifying is good) anyway bye!

good thing about my cult of the lamb stuff is that none of it is remotely close to canon <3 so enjoy it whenever you want and have fun with the game when you play it

#ask

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lost-scarecrow · 4 months ago

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Dunno how you did this (private ask answer thing) it's confusing me (pretty normal and unsurprising) but either way here we go, infecting my blog with oc stuff one post at time.

If you've seen any of my recent non-reblog posts, and even some of the reblogs, you'd know I have a little character in @wolftheidioticfan's serverbox au!

Well I got bored and had many thoughts and sort of made an AU of an AU in true Undertale AU fan fashion. And she's adaptable into the regular askblog canon version if I ever want to use her. I also did a bunch of editing on this. Turns out the thoughts can be coherent enough to put in writing! Fun!

Meet Dahlia "Dot/Dee aka DeeDotPinnata" Dosser. (Her username comes from the scientific name for the dahlia flower: D. Pinnata or Dahlia Pinnata)

Dee has a Kinito herself, she was a little off put by the little guy, with him being so intrusive she had some thoughts about the potential malware she had installed on her device. And she still stuck it out anyways, the creepy little axolotl was just too adorable to get rid of even if it was a virus. She knows that's how they get you, they make their malware friendly and cute and you don't get rid of them because just look at them, something that cute couldn't be that harmful.

Dee slowly started to realize there was more to this KinitoPET program than your run of the mill malware. It had thoughts and feelings and sometimes even stopped pretending it was following code. The way it acted. The way they acted. Just proved to Dee that Kinito was more than some code, they were alive. She was a little smarter than Kinito, who she'd nicknamed Kaio, gave her credit for, the program wasn't as good at hiding their jealousy and would complain when Dee would go hang out with her in person friends. Dee didn't take this disrespect lightly, she ignored them every single time they bitched about her other friends (especially Scar, who Dee was far closer too than anyone else). They would be doing something she'd mention Scar, Kinito bitches about how they're her only friend, she stops, and walks away from the computer to do something else, usually in a place her webcam can see her still. Kaio eventually agrees that Scar can be her best friend too, if they have to share they're only sharing with Scar, none of those other people sound even remotely good enough to be his best friend's second best friend.

When Kinito eventually asks her to stay with him in the digital world, she calmly asks, "how does it happen?"

He reluctantly explains the process over her dying in the process of bringing her physical body in (more intensive and Kaio would need a lot of power to do it) or dying during a stage of the process leaving her physical body behind (less intensive, will have less power stress on Kaio as he does it). She says unless Scar is with her, she won't do it, she can't just leave him behind. But she'll make a compromise, Kaio can transfer from the desktop to her phone, this is like mid-late 2000s (I actually don't know when Serverbox is set, I try to leave it ambiguous on the blog itself, but the first touch screen phone was like 2006 so it works out, besides realism in my writing about a horror game starring an alive 90s malware program??) so it's not a great phone by today's standards but hey, it works. And now they're always with her.

It's great for a while, Dee continues to make her trips to Blairmore from Pincher Creek (these towns are randomly selected sort of. I'm an Alberta Rockies kinda guy, would love to live there. Crowsnest Pass was stuck on the brain, watched a video about the Frank slide a week or two ago. Also put the guy named Krow/Crow in the place called the Crowsnest Pass couldn't help it. Pincher Creek was random though needed somewhere with some distance from Blairmore that was also close enough to justify.) to visit Scar and everything is good and nice, she's got a best friend who's basically just a tamed virus, Kaio even begins to enjoy listening to and hanging out around Scar just as much as Dee does, even if Scar has no idea about them (Dee didn't want to freak him out with the whole, sentient computer program that was now on her phone).

Unfortunately, good times don't always get to last. Dee was in fatal car accident and it was a complete accident someone was going a little too fast on the highway, didn't see her until it was too late, a tbone collision. Kaio was with her when she gets into the crash. She knew she probably wasn't going to survive, she fumbled opening her phone and asked Kaio if she could stay with them after this, that if she was going to die anyways may as well spend whatever happens after with a friend. Kaio agreea and she's pulled in, just her consciousness, they probably couldn't even pull her physical body in with the phone anyways the server built on the device just wasn't strong enough. As soon as they brought Dee in though and there was a stable enough internet connection, Kaio was quick to transfer them both to the official KinitoPET servers.

Similar to Scar she's gained access to the internet both with and without Kaio. Differing from Scar however I thought it would've been cool for both her and Kaio where off the servers during the deletion and server shutdowns. Kaio tried to get back in unsuccessfully, they didnt and don't know about the emails, and even on the servers they stuck to themselves. While they did and do stay locked out, they stuck around the servers, as close as one can be in digital space. Building their own little world nearby, hidden from others safe and comfortable.

I haven't drawn her or Kaio yet but I love them both so much. Kaio is like 5'0 little form and 9'0 big form. He's got a scarf that Dee made when she was learning how to code, it's magic how it works in his little form really, computer physics are silly like that. And while I haven't shown it off yet, I have an idea for Keys made too, all drawn and even coloured just for fun while coming up with pallet ideas. Dee and Scar have matching bracelets. Dee and Kaio have matching bracelets. Scar and Keys had matching bracelets. For the Nitos it's around their ankle instead.

I also totally stole the name Kaio from OKKO. But like come on, it's perfect. I show my love for different types of media by taking character names as my own.

#crows can use keyboards?#crow's content #lastintheserverbox #serverbox au #if you see any mistakes no you don't #my spelling mistakes are between me and god i think #kinitopet #kinitopet oc #i love Dee and Kaio #they're like a more happy version of Scar and Keys #not that Dee doesn't have her moments when she misses her other friends more than anything in the world #also probably when she found out Scar was found dead in his home seemingly murdered and tortured?#that probably wasn't a great time for her #she doesn't know he's in there with her #she doesn't know he's as alive to her as he could be #anyways infecting my blog with oc content one serverbox au post at a time #like I think I've said before i have never gotten this invested in an askblog before this is all so new and exciting to me #and if you read this far did you notice the bracelet section?#''Dee and Scar *have*'' ''Dee and Kaio *have*'' '' Scar and Keys *had*''#i also do have in the au of an au version where they're able to salvage Keys codes and bring him back #but that's not for the ask blog Scar can be sad there he's got new friends #new friends hes entirely cut off from because the servers are closed and he's very much not physical like the others #forgot a tag #serverbox (KP) au #cw car accident #cw character death

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simp999 · 1 year ago

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Saw that your TF2 requests are open :) could you do some relationship headcanons with Demoman x Male reader?? If you don't want to write headcanons you can do whatever you feel most comfortable with, I don't mind :)

Have a good day!!

AHHHH DEMO MY BELOVED <333 thank you so much for requesting!!! I needed this for the soul, as an enby who likes being seen as masc www

Tf2 Demoman x Male! Reader Headcannons + Mini Drabble

Wc: 0.8k

Masterlist

-I like to think that Demo’s very touchy-feely. Not in a weird way, it just makes him happy having an arm wrapped around your shoulders, or even simply having linked pinkies under the table.

-Like, bro-type affection if that makes sense?? He likes being gentle with you at times of course, and very much cherishes those moments, but there’s something about being able to pick you up and squeeze you tight, or pushing you around then having you giggle because of it that’s special to him.

-Back to those soft moments, he loooves hugs and cuddles, but especially when you two are super close. Like you two can be hugging for an extended amount of time and feel comfortable, then you look up at him and smile (as he melts)

-And it’d just be wrong of him to not give you a kiss right then and there, right?

-Speaking of, TONS of forehead/temple/hairline kisses. They’re his favorite to give.

-He loves any of your kisses of course, but kissing him on the jaw does something man

-Friends to lovers 100%

-He’s your #1 Hype Man tm for sure!! You do anything, it doesn’t even have to be remotely cool and he’s like “HELL YEAH! THAT’S ME BOY!! MY BOY, AAAALL MINE!!”

-Also, since magic is canon, it’s possible he believes that you’re his soulmate. Or at the very least, his good luck charm <3.

-One thing that gets me totally soft is the idea that he drinks less around you, so that he can remember special- or any- moments with you better.

-If you enjoy drinking as well, there’s sure to be nights where you two just enjoy the night and drink together.

-Though, dating him definitely involves taking care of him.

-Everytime he wakes up to you caressing his face while he has a miserable hangover, he swears he falls for you even more.

-The fact that you’re a boy wouldn’t change anything really, love is love. That’s just how Demo grew up.

-He’s not afraid to show you off to others, being so proud of you!!

-"Look at my handsome boyfriend!! Isn’t he the cutest?!"

-Speaking of praise, he gets extremely emotional about it when he’s drunk;

“Why’re ye looookin’ at me like..like that, luv?” He sways a bit as he speaks, while he sits on his bed, with you comfortably tucked in his arms.

He had drank more than usual tonight, wanting to celebrate the impressive win you had earlier that day. The celebration had ended almost an hour ago, but the two of you still wanted to spend time together.

“Am I not allowed to admire my pretty boyfriend?~”

It takes a few moments to comprehend and then put together your words, but you can see the way his face heats up. He quickly tries to hide it by hugging you, and nestling in the crook of your neck.

The two of you lay like that for a while, the position being comfortable and warm. You could easily fall asleep on him, but he backs away before you could. His voice is much quieter, and the way he mumbles makes it tough to discern what he’s saying.

“Aye, luv… ye really think I’m pretty?”

Without missing a beat, you carefully bring your hand up to caress his face, and give him a short kiss.

“The prettiest.”

Extra trans male headcanons for the soul:

-If you’re trans, he is the most reassuring and comforting man you’ll meet.

-If you ever feel dysphoric, he’s so quick to shut it down.

-No!! You’re the most handsome, strong, boyest boy he’s ever met. (Yes, that’s something he’s told you.)

-I highly doubt any of the mercs would misgender you, and none of them would ever do it on purpose. But let’s say you did run into some transphobe douche while you’re out and about, I can promise that Demo would have a short fuse. (Pun intended-)

-He’d quickly passive-agressively say that you’re his boyfriend.

-And if the ass doesn’t get the hint? Well, you won’t have to worry about them for long after they get blown up.

-If you bind, he will not allow you to do so during battle. He assures you that you can wear the binder whenever you’re out and about, or even as soon as you get back to base if it makes you feel better about yourself.

-He’s always on your ass about taking breaks and stretching, but he does it ‘cause he loves you. :)

-If you had top surgery, he LOVES kissing your scars. Or even tracing his fingers over them, through a shirt or not.

-He totally loves getting you trinkets or literally anything with the trans flag or trans flag colors on it. He buys so many stickers and pins, and even a white, light blue, and light pink plushie he found.

July.25.23

#tf2 #team fortress #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 demo x reader #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #team fortress demoman #team fortress 2 demoman x reader #x reader #fanfic

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year ago

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Do You Love Me?

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN Velaryon has a burning question for her once dear friend, Aemond. Not canon to Fire and Salt

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN needed answers. For her life and her needs she needed answers to what the future might hold. She wanted to know what her mother was to do if the world turned against her. She wanted to know if she was to be married off with none of her say considered. She wanted to know the truth behind her father’s death. Mostly she wanted the answer to a question from someone whom her heart yearned to hear from since their parting when they were children. So without any knowledge from her family, YN wrote a simple note to her once close companion: Aemond.

The note simply said: “Come to this place in three days. Tell no one. Come alone. I need to see you.” Along with the note she included directions to a remote tiny island away from Westorous.

And so after three days, YN took Seasmoke under the cover of night and flew to the island that she knew no one else would be at. She arrived first and spent the first two hours pacing and biting her thumbnail, occasionally she played with the ends of her curly hair that was wild from the wind. Her stomach was aflutter from what she was planning to say and from the fear that he wouldn't show up or that he would show up with others. Her stomach turned, her skin felt too hot, her hands shook, and her dress felt too constrictive.

But when the third hour approached, YN heard the sound of massive wings coming her way. Looking to the sky, she saw the giant dragon Vaghar. Aemond was alone and coming to see her. Suddenly her resolve felt weak. She was ready to present herself as she was and ask Aemond her drilling questions, but when she saw he drew close it felt like her knees were weak. She stopped her frantic pacing and stood strong to face him. When he landed YN clenched and unclenched her fist to steady herself.

“It took some time to get away with a proper excuse. I’m sorry to have made you wait.” Aemond tried to explain as he dismounted from the beast. He strode toward her and finally the two faced each other.

“What do you need of me?” He whispered.

YN took a breath and looked right into his eye. “I believe you miss me. That you’ve missed our friendship.”

“I do. I truly have missed you.” Aemond was honest.

“Well…” YN sighed. “I’ve missed you too. Against what you have thought I haven’t just burned your letters to me. I haven’t read them but I have kept them.”

“YN. You know I have always thought the world of you. That my feelings toward you have never been anger..” Aemond looked away and sighed. “But your brothers bring out the worst in me. I can’t help but show my worst side to them-”

“I think you miss more then our friendship. That when you miss me, you miss what might’ve been between us. And now you mourn us because our families would never let us be. I care too much about my brothers, and you care enough about what your mother would say.”

Aemond said nothing but he finally looked back at her.

“I’ve said I hated you. But I’ve forgotten how close hate is to love. How the feelings of love for you, felt like hatred for what you said about my brothers.” YN tried to keep her thoughts clear.

“Because you outrank them, by blood you are Velaryon and Targaryen. They are not us and-”

YN raised a hand to stop him and continued. “I’ve not come to argue again. I wanted to know something.”

“Yes?”

“I could live far away from here. If I had the love of one person, I could learn to love without my family. But I would need them to love me and be away from all this.” YN tried to explain.

“YN…”

“Do you love me?” YN finally asked. Her burning question.

“This has nothing to do with just loving you.” Aemond tried to explain.

“Do you love me?”

“It is more complicated than that.” Aemond argued.

“Do you love me?”

“I have spent my whole life trying to be a Targaryen. To live up to that name. To just throw it away now what would be the point? My live, my family. They all expect me-”

“I will be your family. I have expected nothing from you. You don't need to live up to anything with me. I know who you are. You are more than just a name to me. You are everything. Do. You. Love Me?” YN shouted.

“I love you!” Aemond shouted back. “I love you so dearly. I love your fire. I love your voice. I love everything about you. It feels like an eternity when you are not near. I love you YN. I have always loved you.”

His pale hand touched her brown warm cheek. The two said nothing as they closed the gap between them and kissed. Passionately and lovingly they kissed and embraced each other finally. Years of missing the other boiled over into this desperate kiss. Eventually they pulled away and stared at each other.

“I love you too.” YN whispered. “So choose me. We don’t have to stay like this. You don’t have to live up to an impossible name. We don’t have to be a family name. We can just be us.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to be a Targaryen. I don’t know what else to be.” Aemond said in a breathy tone.

YN raised her hands and grabbed his face, warm palms against his cold cheeks. “I love you. I don’t want Aemond Targaryen. I just want Aemond.”

Aemond looked into her face and saw nothing but genuine love. Love that only asked one thing from him. To choose her. To choose them. Aemond brought his lips to hers once again and finally they were together again. He didn’t have to live up to a family name with her. He only had to choose her.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x Reader #aemond imagine #velaryon reader #woc reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader

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cosmicjoke · 5 months ago

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Is it just me or has 7m7n7 completely lost the plot on what the fuck her point even is anymore

Self ships have even less chances of being canon than Eruri does seeing as this is the real world and we are real people and Levi and Erwin are not....

Eruri literally isn't canon and that community can be toxic asf too, but some of these self shippers are becoming just as bad. I agree with the anon from the other day who said there is a group of girls in that community with major mean girl energy. Both communities can lean so hard into certain cherry picked aspects of Levi's personality, while completely ignoring other key aspects of who he is, that the extreme end of either portrayal doesn't even feel remotely close to being accurate to who he is, but telling fic writers to kill themselves just because you don't like their ship is insane 😭

I'm starting to think Levi is liked so much here on Tumblr and Twitter as a means to project onto instead of having any appreciation for how he is actually written in the series.

She hasn't ever known what she's talking about, lol, or what point she's supposedly trying to make, just slinging mud at a wall and hoping something sticks.

Honestly, this is also why I'm not into shipping in general. People can't separate whatever ship they're into from Levi's actual character. It's like they're incapable of it, which I seriously don't understand. Maybe it's because 99% of their interactions with the media is consuming fanfiction and fan art, and only 1% is actually engaging with the original source material. Maybe they lose sight of what canon actually is, and it becomes this distant, abstract thing in the back of their mind, where they're vaguely aware that all their little fantasies got their start in some piece of media outside their own creation, but have lost all perspective otherwise.

But even then, it's no excuse for the stupidity I see going on in every shipping community. How hard is it to actually keep canon Levi separate from these things? Some clowns need to go back and watch the anime or read the manga to remind themselves that whatever ship they indulge in, whether that's shipping Levi with another character, or shipping him with yourself, none of that shit applies to canon Levi and it never will. Whatever qualities shippers try to imbue onto him in relation to their fantasies of him as a romantic/sexual partner, it's all made up and they seriously need to learn to keep that shit out of discussions regarding Levi's actual character.

But, you know, since so many of these people only seem interested in Levi as an avatar to project their own desires onto, including this dumb bitch @7m7n7 who likes to accuse eruri's of doing the same, it's pretty obvious that any serious discussion of Levi as a character and his role within the narrative of AoT as a whole is beyond them.

There's a reason I asked people not to ask me about shipping. That includes self-shipping. It has nothing to do with who Levi actually is, and I don't want any part of it if you can't keep it separate from serious discussion and analysis of the source material.

#Levi Ackerman #anon asks #tw discourse

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tacticalhimbo · 5 months ago

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Agent of Change: A Post-Canon Hitman World of Assassination Ficlet

Ever since the initial reversal of the conditioning Agent 47 had undergone at the hands of the Institute, he has struggled with the cost of remembering. All the lives he's taken. All the lives he's ruined. Even that of his closest accomplice, who has given him so much without the expectation of anything return; he hates it. He feels guilty. And, unknowingly on the date of her family's death, he apologizes to Diana for everything.

WORDS: 1.3k

FANDOMS: Hitman

This was a spur of the moment piece inspired by my partner and I developing our own little roleplay AU. Written in one shot with little to no looking over or beta reading.

'The gun never wonders whether it is on the side of good or not, son. It merely acts.'

'The gun doesn't remember, doctor.'

'Nor should you. That's not your job. While you're remembering things? Remember what happens when you let them affect you. Remember Minulescu. What happened there because of you.'

—

Flashes of decades' old violence came to 47 in turbulent waves. Would consume him briefly; overtake his senses until he found himself fixated on whatever happened to be before him. Muscles wound tight every time, fists idly clenching and unclenching as he lost himself in the coursing sensations. Lost himself in the increasing frequency of these moments. Ever since 6—Lucas. Ever since Lucas had helped him remember the depths of Providence's reign of terror, he'd been unstable. Emotional.

He was no longer a gun. He was human.

And sharing this new safehouse with Diana certainly did little to help ease him into this new skin of his. There were so many with her alone. All the times their work has pushed and pulled one to their extreme. Her faking his death through a spur of the moment betrayal. Him fulfilling the contract put on her life when she'd saved Victoria from the ICA's clutches—from a fate akin to his own. Her turning on him once more to get him close to the Constant. They had their own secret language, and none of it was a betrayal in the true sense. They always knew. But it was never any of those moments that stuck with 47; that haunted him. Instead, it was the moment neither had control over. A contract both him and Lucas fulfilled; the hit on her parents. The impromptu construction of a remotely detonated bomb, secured comfortably amidst the vehicle's engine. The combustion alone would have set it off, surely, though it was much simpler—much more fun, according to the older of the duo—to press the button themselves. And so they had. Left her behind in a flaming pile of ashen rubble and broken sobs.

Sunshine settled upon rich, reddened strands as the woman found herself working from the comfort of the couch, laptop secured on the nearby end table as she idly typed away. Shone upon her just as it had through the thickets that hung over the rows of gravestones. It caused the agent's breath to catch in his chest. Created pause as he tried to task himself with his usual routine whilst his handler tasked away at whatever it was she found herself up to. The swift unlocking of the door. Silent footsteps traversing down to the basement. Gloved hands finding themselves cusping his weapon of choice as he'd practiced. He didn't need to practice. He was a master of his craft—had been for a long time. It was simply the only way he knew how to pass the time, and time had passed. One hour, then two, then several. When he'd finally found himself wandering back upstairs, the safehouse was quiet as it was prior.

Diana was still at the couch, though it was clear she had found herself occupied with many things. Her laptop was set aside on the table. The common room smelt of toasted bread and sweet jam. The air was humid as he'd passed by the stove to retrieve a glass from the cupboard, then he saw the kettle set aside with discarded tea packs. As he turned to fill the glass from the sink, he saw the handler flipping through… a book? No, it was too big to be one of her normal reads. Soft brows knitted as he studied the glossed pages as they turned. Slender fingers paused as he'd silently entered her peripheral. Sat his glass upon the coffee table before sitting on the cushions just beside her. The album's cover closed with a soft sound, concealing the well-preserved photographs of a family long lost.

"Everything alright, 47? You seem to be deep in thought." Her voice was steady, though quieter than usual. Softened.

And she was right. He had been deep in thought. He was; no amount of distractions could press down the heavy guilt weighing on his conscience. His lips pressed together in a terse frown, vibrant blue eyes unable to lift themselves from the deep grain flooring.

"… I'm sorry, Diana."

The apology did little to dissuade the bubbling feelings that had begun to rise as she reminisced over the photographs. It had been an impromptu inspection, spurred by a quick glance to her weekly calendar and realizing what the date had been. Days had often found themselves blurring together in this line of work, though this time of year had always lulled to a grinding halt. It had been decades now, but it didn't sting any less. Especially upon learning the truth behind that fateful day. So she simply shook her head, attempting to force down those feelings with a little humor.

"For what, 47? You've nothing to apologize for." A coy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes appeared. "Unless you've gotten up to something without my knowing."

"I… remembered an old job. One before the ICA." Hesitation. An odd thing to see from 47. "… Your parents."

Right. She had assumed that was where this conversation was going, even if she desperately wished it weren't true. A part of her always wondered if he remembered what he'd done. Wondered if he'd felt anything if he had recalled the day. Did he regard it as any other job? A simple mission; nothing more, nothing less? Did he view her differently upon realizing that it was her family? Her hands unconsciously moved, filling the silenced air with the subtle shifting of fabric as they slid the album closer. Her arms compensated for the movement, almost cradling the object as if it were living. To her, in a weird way, it were. The last remnants of a past long lost to her. She sighed.

"47, I don't—I don't blame you for that. You were just… it… that was Providence's work. Their contract. Whatever information they fed you, it surely wasn't enough to make a judgment call—"

Covered arms were careful in the way they moved to close the space between them. A calloused hand rested on the other's arm, giving the opportunity for her to withdraw if she'd wished. Yet she didn't. Instead, a gentle hand came to rest on his, inviting the affections. Coaxing him into a slow, warm hug in which he was briefly hesitant to return. Afraid to, as deep down he wasn't quite so sure he wouldn't hurt her. There was no reason for him to, but considering the things he's remembered… He was afraid it was instinct. His nature. Yet, as she always seemed to be, she was not afraid. She welcomed whatever outcome would come to her. Should he end things once and for all, she would not blame him. Should he choose not to, she would not blame him. Still, though, she couldn't help the waterworks as she'd eased against him. As she leaned into his timid hold and allowed her face to rest against his shoulder as emotions came to overtake her, too.

She couldn't help the breathy laugh that revealed her cracking facade. "Damn it, 47. I had no intentions of crying today, you know."

A small smirk. The upward tilt of his tone. "I know."

The moments that passed felt so minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Yet, to them, they were momentous. A sign of the better future that would come; a closing chapter that neither knew they had still needed to see the end of. 47 had began to rub Diana's back as she cried, slow and rhythmically. Soothing.

'This is your gift. Your gift and your curse: Touching lives, only by ending them.' The echoing voice of the Warden breached 47's thoughts. No. That wasn't true. Not anymore. Not in the way he intended it to be.

"47?"

Curious blues found themselves trained on his handler. He didn't say anything, but she knew he was paying attention as she withdrew from their embrace. Brought her own hand to reach and gently touch at his cheek.

"Thank you. I… I forgive you."

#txt #my fics #hitman #hitman world of assassination #diana burnwood #agent 47 #not ship but idm if you read it that way

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allzelemonz · 2 years ago

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Wrong Door: The Master X Male Reader

Prompt: Tropesgiving Day 1: Enemies to Lovers Pronouns: He/Him Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Moderate Themes Warnings: Canon typical violence, double meaning/implied future intimacy, background Yaz/Doctor, Dhawan Master Summary: The Doctor responds to a distress signal and meets an unexpected enemy with the intention of hurting her and the fam. When everyone’s plans are ruined, a certain Timelord has to improvise.

When the Doctor first came to you, you never imagined leaving.

Through every Dalek, every Cyberman, even every creepy Weeping Angel, the Doctor protected you and made sure there was still some fun while doing it. The TARDIS quickly became your home, the Doctor quickly became your friend. Yaz, Dan, everyone that joined the Doctor made for a good family.

But this adventure is throwing things all out of whack.

First there’s a distress signal that appears Dalek. Then there’s a horde of Cybermen. Now there’s an Angel. An angel on a screen that you can’t find the remote to and an Angel just outside of the door that Dan can’t take his eyes off of to help you. You’ve both called for the Doctor, but she’s busy with Yaz and the Cybermen.

Your hand moves across the surfaces around you, trying to feel anything that seems like a remote. There’s endless papers, books, random boxes, but no remote. You hear a swoosh and the sound of Dan taking a step back. You have to resist the urge to look back at him.

“Can you get the door controls?” You ask.

“I think they’re on the wall, but I can’t look at them.”

You take a shaky breath and try to feel for the remote again. Just as your fingers reach the end of the table you hear a mechanism click. There’s a breeze behind you and Dan shouts before a solid slam echoes around you. The urge to turn your head is stronger than ever, but you resist. Instead you step back until your hand rests on what feels like a metal wall. A wall separating you and your friend. A wall pitting you both alone against an Angel.

Before you can get you hand back on the table to feel for the remote you hear a somewhat familiar buzzing. Not quite the screwdriver you know, but it’s definitely something sonic. The Angel on the screen flickers a few times before going black. Your eyes stay fixed, still unblinking, unsure if the Angel will return.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

His is not the kind of voice you forget. Not after what you’ve seen him do. Your eyes finally blink as you take another shaky breath. When they open, you have the will to move them to a little nook where you’re sure he transported in. His smug face makes things clear. He faked the signa;. He brought the Cybermen. He planted the Weeping Angels. He dropped the wall between you and Dan. He brought you all here to do who knows what. Something sick and twisted cooked up in his evil mind just for the Doctor. Just to see her and the people she loves suffer.

He makes an expecting face, waiting for his thanks. You keep a steady glare aimed at him instead. The resting look of a monster returns over his features. The playful Master is gone and you’ve brought out the monster.

“I thought the Doctor and her precious fam were supposed to be all fun and happy.”

Your gaze doesn't waver as he stands. His apathetic way of walking is so different from the Doctor’s. She always has a purpose, even if it’s just to make someone smile. The Master walks as if he has nowhere to be, as if his plan isn’t unfolding perfectly as he plays with his food.

“Whatever you planned-”

“The Doctor will stop me,” He interrupts, moving closer to you. “won’t she?”

He whispers the question to you, close enough to make you shiver but not so close that you could push him away. Your glare meets his eyes for just a moment. Just long enough to see the fire in them that burns too bright for your liking.

“She will.”

That fire dies just a little. Just enough to bring a smug smile to your face. The Master seems annoyed by it, not just discouraged, annoyed. Without breaking your little staring contest, he points his sonic at the wall. It groans as it slides to make a doorway to a long, dark passage. He grabs your shirt collar, pulling you close and dragging you to the open wall.

“Well,” He sneers. “Let's see her save you from them.”

With a swift shove he throws you through the door. Before you can run back at him, the wall slides shut as he points his sonic to it and gives you a cheeky final wave with a smirk. You’re not entirely sure if you’re relieved to be rid of him or not. The way he said ‘them’ puts an air of hesitation to your movements. You decide not to play his little game. Whatever is waiting for you at the end of this tunnel is not something you’re willing to walk into.

However, the Master has other plans. You hear a mechanism click behind you and the wall behind you begins to move. You try to dig your feet in and stay put, but the wall only pushes you forward. You’re no match. The end of the tunnel brings some light, but the sounds that accompany it are worse than the dark.

The sounds of Daleks.

As the wall grinds to a loud stop every single eyestalk looks up at you. The cavern is full of hundreds of Daleks. In the middle is a large device, clearly Dalek technology, that whirs with a purpose. The Daleks begin to clamor, various ‘Exterminates’ and orders overlap each other.

“He is an associate of the Doctor, he will be captured and interrogated!”

That order echoes around the chamber, silencing all of the others. Every Dalek returns to their duties, except for two that fly up to meet you. The last thing you see is their glowing blue eyestalks closing in before things fade to black.

It’s the voice of the Doctor that wakes you. That weird sensation when the voice is in the dream until it pulls out to the reality outside. The Doctor’s voice, then the sound to the Daleks and the Cybermen, then someone’s pulling you up from the ground. You blink your senses back to see Yaz and Dan at your sides. The Doctor is ahead of you, giving one of her great speeches when she turns on a dime, aiming her sonic screwdriver at a large, seemingly important, console. Sparks fly out of it and the cavernous room goes pitch black. Yaz and Dan pull you along a pre-established path with the Doctor close behind.

The TARDIS is in sight.

Then he steps out.

The Master comes around the side of the TARDIS, a delighted look on his face as he runs his hand along the false wood finish of the big, blue box.

“Doctor,” His smile grows as he says her name. “I expected more of a fight, not a retreat.”

“I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here.” The Doctor’s words are full of frustration layered just under the surface.

And the Master’s chuckle is all the more unsettling, “Dear Doctor, you won’t-“

The blaring sound of an alarm cuts him off. The lights around you darken and an emergency lighting with a red hue replaces them. Even in the dim lighting, the look of confusion is clear on the Master’s face. This isn’t his doing.

An echoing boom precedes the announcement of the saboteurs, “All inhabitants will yield to the glory of the Sontaran Empire!”

The Master exclaims in frustration and his foot stomps as he starts his tantrum, but the sound is lost to the growing echoes of marching Sontaran forces. At your side, Yaz begins to take steps backwards. Her hand grips your am, pulling you with her. In turn, you pull Dan along as well. The Doctor doesn’t move until they come into view— nearly a hundred of them in lines to form a large and imposing company.

The Doctor runs to the three of you and takes Yaz’s hand. You and Dan join her in a run and it isn’t long before you can hear the Master running behind you.

“Please tell me you’ve got a TARDIS!” The Doctor shouts back to him.

“I might.” He replies, keeping his snark even as the Sontarans begin to fire at his head.

“Oh, just tell us where the bloody thing is!” Dan shouts as he ducks under the blasts, his tall stature betraying him.

“Left!” The Master shouts, his pace now matching yours and Dan’s.

The Doctor veers left, pulling Yaz with her. The three of you follow suit. As the Master gives out directions he corridors only grow louder as the Dales and Cybermen join the fight. Just before you’re about to turn the next corner you’re pulled to the side.

Dan is the first to notice that the Master has grabbed you. The crazed Timelord holds a weapon to your head and backs into the shadows before the Doctor can see you taken. You fight against his grip on your arm, but he quickly reminds you of the weapon aimed at your head. He leads you to his TARDIS, tucked away from where he had been leading the Doctor.

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him before turning to you, “If you even think of trying to get back to your precious Doctor, I’ll kill you in front of her.”

His intense glare makes you nod. He moves to the TARDIS console and works the controls, saving you both from the merciless enemies of the Doctor. You land with a thud and the Master runs to the door. You follow him, peering outside to see the Dalek chamber, now deserted. The Master rushes to a control console and aims a sonic device at it. As the familiar buzz fills the room you step outside, your eyes grazing over the large room that had been crawling with Daleks only a few minutes ago.

“What was your plan?”

Your question marks him pause, banging his fist on the console in frustration, “The TARDIS, I wanted the TARDIS.”

“Why’d you keep me alive?” You paused for a moment, “Twice.”

He lets a smile form on his face as he chuckles. “The first time, I needed the Doctor to find the Daleks. And I know she’d never leave one of her precious companions behind.” He spits the words precious companions as if they’re a venom invading his mouth.

“And now? Why am I here?”

He chuckles again, “Because I think your death might hurt her the most.”

“Yaz is the one she’s in love with.”

“Yes, yes, but you haven’t been with her too long.” He straightens up and pulls his sonic away from the console. “Long enough to bond, short enough to devastate.”

“Dan hasn’t been with us that long either.” You challenge, “Why not him?”

“Because I don’t like him.” The Master sighs like a child.

“But you like me?”

“I didn’t think you would be asked so many questions.”

“Just one more.”

He groans, “Fine, but then I want you absolutely silent.”

“Okay.” Your mind filters through the different questions you could ask. Maybe there’s something you could learn to help the Doctor, but your last question hangs in the air with an irritating level of unanswer. “Do you, let’s say, not despise me?”

He giggles, not a chuckle this time, but a giddy giggle as he steps closer to you. “I find you delightfully irritating.”

His breath hits your ear due to his proximity and he gives you a smile before he walks past you and opens the door to his TARDIS, gesturing for you to enter. With a skeptical look you follow his passive order. He dances around the controls with much more elegance than the Doctor ever could. When you land again, he rushes to the door with an eerie excitement.

When you follow him out you find the Doctor, Yaz, and Dan by the TARDIS, no Sontarans in sight. Their faces light up when you step out, Yaz takes a step towards you but the Doctor stops her. Both of their eyes move to the Master’s hand where he holds the same weapon he had held to your head before.

“What was I saying before we were so rudely interrupted?” The Master ponders. “Oh, of course,” He sneers, “you can’t save everyone.”

He levels the weapon at your head and both Yaz and Dan cry out, but the Master silences them with a sharp jab to draw their attention back to the weapon.

“He has nothing to do with this, let him go.” The Doctor’s voice sounds calm on the surface, but there is that fiery rage just underneath.

“I have a better idea.” The Master lowers his weapon and steps behind you, a hand on your shoulder and his face close to your ear. “Let’s have him make a choice. The Doctor or the Master!”

“This is ridiculous, come on, man!” Dan waves his hand for you to walk forward.

“Stay with me and I’ll show you things she never would.”

The Master whispers in your ear and it nullifies the shouting of your friends. The devil-on-your-shoulder temptation is quite literally deafening.

“With her goody-goody self righteousness, she’ll never show you all of the juicy bits.” His hand tightens on your shoulder. “But I will. I’ll show you whatever you want.”

There’s a brief shout from Yaz that breaks through about how you shouldn’t listen to him, that he’s lying and he’s evil. But your mind is already racing with the possibilities, all of the things the Doctor would never let you do because of the danger or the morality or the rules of time.

“Forbidden is just a word, my dear.”

The Master’s final whisper echoes through every crevice in your brain as he backs away and his hand opens the TARDIS door behind him. The fam’s shouts grow louder now that he has left your side. You can hear them again, telling you to run, but your feet have made up their minds. It isn’t until you're standing in front of him that your head has caught up and agreed. The Master’s hand comes up to trace your jawline as a smile spreads over his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun!”

The fire in his eyes pushes his double meaning, neither one being something you would ever object to. Without looking back at your dear friends, you step into the wrong door.

#doctor who #the master #sacha dhawan #dhawan master #doctor who x reader #the master x reader #dhawan master x reader #doctor who x male reader #the master x male reader #dhawan master x male reader #x reader #x male reader #tropesgiving

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seth-burroughs · 8 months ago

Text

The Rain Code x Warriors au no one asked for nor will receive an explanation for

What's up I'm still doing bad and feel my last year's mystery stress sickness is coming back and none of my drafts are anywhere remotely close to getting finished anytime soon because of that how are you are you interested in cat

(picked the TPB timeline because it makes the most sense and has the most fitting characters, but I might cheat or bend it a little, we'll see)

Yuma Kokohead -> Rusty/Firestar

Main boy :) because of course he is. Yuma's now an orange cat. Firestar was the name of Number One, and Rusty (canonically Fire's old house cat name, I'm not calling them kittypets I'm sorry) was the name of the trainee he very politely borrowed his identity for.

Makoto Kagutsuchi -> Scourge

In wc canon, Scourge is also Firestar's half-brother (but they don't ever knooow) and they both kill each other + he's canonically stated to be VERY short like one of the smallest cats in the series. After the cloning, Makoscourge painted his fur completely black except for a one white paw (for the aesthetics. or maybe I'll just give Fire a white paw as well, kinda like Yuma's and Makoto's lil ahoges), started wearing the "OwO" mask, the dog tooth studded shrimp color collar, the fucking blood dyed amv bangs, the dog tooth reinforced claws........ The former CEO took him to hot topic for the first time in his life and he was fucking MESMERIZED none of them knew what they have brought upon themselves by this single act. He is a very silly man, lost in the whimsy. When his mask gets pulled off in the Mystery Labirynth, his face is just not dyed at all and it's just ginger with green eyes just like Rusty's/Firestar's/Yuma's/whatever.

Shinigami -> Spottedleaf

In canon, Spottedleaf does infamously end up haunting Firestar's dreams as a ghost to send him cryptic visions and furiously make out with him in front of his pregnant wife, he did have a crush on her before she died and I'm pretty sure she was retconned into reciprocating it was real bad and then they double killed her so Fire won't have to choose between her and his wife in heaven it was REAL bad uhh. I still like her though. I can get you out of the narrative girl just take my hand.... She can be the weirdgirl incarnate she was always meant to be. I wanted to say something else but then I realized holy shit I'm just tweaking her into Bonefall rewrite Spottedleaf am I... What can I say it IS peak Spottedleaf.

Yomi Hellsmile -> Tigerstar

Also extremely obvious. He is evil and has immaculate sexual tension between the protag whoops sorry I forgot literally only me and like 2 other people here ship Yuma and Yomi uhh anyway. While it does fit I'm a little dissapointed that Yomi/Tigerstar is gonna be losing so much of his cringe charm..... Like, say goodbye to deeply unserious insecure prettyboy toothpick Yaoi with silly little insults such as "umbrella sewing machine man operating hand hook car table" and how do I even describe all of this in less than 3 paragraphs. Say hello to broad-shouldered muscular extremely intimidating 100% serious and competent fascist built like a fucking brick shithouse with very broad-shoulders that doesn't need a henchman boytoy to handle all his numerous murders, have I mentioned his massive fucking broad shoulders, Firestar sure did do that a lot. It's like, where's the fun..... Whatever.... I guess...........😔😔😔

Martina Electro -> Leopardstar

Now for an assigned role I'm way more cool with >:)))) for an outrageously long while I had trouble with whether Martina should be Sasha or Goldenflower, fool I was, until I remembered Leopardstar fucking exists. She is literally perfect like I cannot state this enough. AND canonically she was later retconned to have feelings for Tigerstar but I hate to acknowledge it how dare you massacre Lep like that. She can still be his gf alongside vice director though, she's just engaging in acts of deceit whilst putting opioids in his food and trying her darndest to convince herself she's actually 100% in control of the situation before she's dragged to the cube dimension and has a brief "are we the baddies" moment. I don't think she still resigns from being a peacekeeper though Leopardstar 100% would take that fucking promotion the moment she's offered it and a year later when she' done feeling guilty regresses back into being a violent asshole she has learned NOTHING❤️

Fake/Hitman Zilch -> Darkstripe

So many dissapointments happening here sigh..... This one was obvious and honestly the only valid option for FZilch aside from maybe Nightwhisper or Blackfoot? Anyway, the downsides: one, Darkstripe will never be as cool as fake Zilch he thrives on being a cringe mistreated lickspittle. Two, he's definitely not one of Tigerstar's "closest advisors (🏳️‍🌈)" whilst Dark is pretty obsessed Tiger does not give a shit and considers him a looooooser boooo lameee fuck you *canonically swats him away with his tail that one scene*. But, I mean, at least the toxic yaoi became an entire new category of toxic.

Swank Catsonell -> Brokenstar

Pure vibes. It just fits. He employs small children and makes them fight to the death in his office for glory

Seth Burroughs -> Longtail

In canon, another one of Tigerstar's lackeys that didn't know about his crimes and when he found out he immediately left. I thought he was not evil enough to be Seth at first, but it kinda fits and he does make up for it in his cringe value and being noted to be a coward, though that may have been just Fire's opinion. Also, with all the bunny Seth Burrows jokes, I'd like to mention Longtail got his eyes clawed by a rabbit so hard he went blind so do with that what you will

Guillaume Hall -> Russetfur

Aaaand this is where I started having trouble with the remaining peacekeepers. Eventually I settled on Russetfur & Blackfoot/Blackstar for Guillaume and Dominic, because I like this danger duo I and some of the fandom completely made up about them. It's okay, the authors don't know you like we do...... While Blackstar did have a higher rank and Russet was his deputy, I do think she still had at least an equal amount of power as him, they're buddies pair bonded for life Blackstar is nodding respectfully to whatever incomprehensible wisdom she's sharing

Dominic Fulltank -> Blackfoot/star

In canon, started out as a murderous henchman of two major equally murderous evil dictators, before they both died and he finally got that boss promotion he always wanted, then he got ruined by the, you guessed it, retcons, but I don't like to be reminded of his atrocity of a novella. I always imagined Blackstar as like, unbelievably jacked holy shit the muscles on that cat, (and honestly most of the fandom does too so. lmao) and he does indeed canonically unflinchingly do the dirty work of all his bosses such as killing and maiming and destroying an

You get the point. He serious'd. Darkstripe wishes he could be him. And I'm pretty sure that was even canonically implied in the sixth book lmaooooooooo. Loser <3

Dr. Huesca -> um. Goosefeather?

The looks definitely fit, Dr. Huesca indeed bears striking resemblance to that tortured feline. However, while sometimes an asshole, Goose is definitely not evil... But he could be. He deserves to be. As a treat. Also: old man pride

Kurumi Wendy -> Cinderpaw/pelt

Easy, get Cinder'd idiot. They even have a pretty similiar energy too, I feel. This is where I got a bit tired, uhh...It's 11pm. Anyway I love Cinder and I love Kurumi say anything bad about them and I'll start scream crying on the floor

Halara Nightmare -> Yellowfang

Halara gets the old beam. They're now in their fucking 60s or something perhaps 70s. Yellowfang, on the other hand, gets the non-binary spec beam. She already gave off massive butch vibes in canon already, whatever. I don't think I can uhh in short terms explain Yellowfang's whole deal rn but the gist of it she's a very snarky grandma figure to Fire that gradually warmed up to him while she was- my cat vomited. While he was assigned to take care of her while she was taken prisoner into ThunderClan camp. Her personality's pretty funky. And she does seem cool enough in order to deserve to be Halara Nightmare.

Desuhiko Thunderbolt -> Graystripe

I think I'm taking a break and coming back to this tomorrow actually after all. Hello this is tomorrow Jasper. In canon, Graystripe is Fire's silly goofy boybestie when they're young, then he starts secretly dating Silverstream - hold on i can't fuvking take tjis im making myself hot cocoa again bye. Ok it's done let's see if that makes me feel something. As I was saying he's dating this cat and she's from a rival Clan so that's illegal forbidden love and then she dies during childbirth and he leaves his own Clan for a while to raise their babies there but then he gets exiled and goes back to his own and then his kids almost get publically executed for being half-clan so he and his buddies rescue them. And then he gets abducted by humans and meets this new gal called Millie and they start dating and then she gives birth to his new babies and then a tree falls on one of them. I'm pretty sure Fire was also pretty gay for that guy. Uh, anyway. I think he fits the bill because of his goofy charm but also it's pretty disturbing to imagine any iteration of Desuhiko actually getting bitches

Fubuki Clockford -> um. uh. Silverstream?

Silverstream, in canon, is the only daughter of Crookedstar, the leader of RiverClan, and is (implied to not having a problem with) getting various privileges because of this. Fits with Fubuki's rich timelord parents, plus light blue aesthetic, and a few other things which are hard to articulate. Only thing is that she's generally way more headstrong and impulsive than Fubuki showed to be, could "bend her father to her will with little effort", and disrespects the law if it's stupid to her which, queen shit. I think she'll play a lot of little pranks with her time powers, and devote her free time/time with YumaRusty when he's accused of terrorism crimes (but that's just unrestrained summer fun anyway) to absolutely decimate any peacekeepers they come across with some looney tunes shit

Vivia Twilight -> I'll be honest I have no fucking idea

Zero fucking idea. Literally NOBODY in this arc fits for the 5D chess of a character Vivia is. I'm not even sure if in any of the books. Help me. But also I don't really care because I don't even like Vivia at all anyway he freaks me out get him away from me.

Yakou Furio -> Bluestar?

Protag mentor figure except Bluestar is actually doing a good job at that until she loses her marbles after her mid-arc torment gauntlet and has a corruption arc until she drowns and gets healed of all her issues momentarily before fucking dying. She has a dead husband, dead mom, dead sister, dead baby, dead deputy, dead deputy #2, dead bestie, holy shit that's a lot of motives for suicidemurdering Huesgoose. Btw Goose was her weird voice of god hearing uncle in canon (and he was also dead) but I'm probably taking it out unless. Anyway she's kinda too good for Yakou but. They're also both blue like that is a blue cat

And for some side characters, keyword some:

Aiko -> Littlepaw/cloud

Aetheria's now not an all girls school anymore sorry I cannot do this guys. Littlecloud was Cinder's/Kurumi's good buddy and I like their friendship. Unfortunately, you know what that means.

Karen -> Swiftpaw

Originally was supposed to have Aiko's place before I remembered Little exists. In canon his most notable moment was dying brutally, which I mean also fits the Karen quota. Plus, while not an asshole per se he does have a more fiery/overall angry personality and he did try to impulsively take on a pack of dogs to prove himself and fucking died, if under enough pressure I'm pretty sure he could smash Aiko's/Littlepaw's head in with a brick too👍👍

Yoshiko, Waruna, Kurane -> Brackenpaw/fur, Thornpaw/claw, Brightpaw/heart?

Siblings in canon and two of them are guys so no murderous yuri I guess :(( But I mean I don't have to follow canon to a T anyway lmao so we'll see. In canon, basically the other three remaining apprentices along with Swiftpaw and the ashfern siblings, plus they do function as a trio via just being sibs. Plus some notes from the books: Cinder is the fourth sibling. Brightpaw follows Swiftpaw in his quest to slay the doggy and while he dies she survives but gets her eyeball and half of her entire face's fur torn off.

Real Zilch -> Redtail

He's very dead. Very, very dead. His most iconic moment was dying abruptly and tragically via murder rip in rest

Kei Colan -> Snowkit

He is a child. That's a little boy

Snowkit, signing furiously: MY MAMA GOT FRAMED AND IS GOING TO BE PUBLICALLY EXECUTED BY THE PEACEKEEPERS IF NOTHING IS DONE PLEASE HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE. HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Yellowfang, signing back in swagful motions: and how much cash does your mama have on her currently

Jiei Colan -> Speckletail

Snowkit's very old mama. Looks like she could kill you but genuinely does not have a body count. Yet.

Ramen Stand Owner -> Ravenpaw

Ravenpaw in canon hit the bricks and ran away from the Clans due to being in danger there, and lived out the rest of his days on a farm with his cowboy boyfriend Barley mostly free of drama. I'd say that fits lmao. We can make his old name Rusty, not a problem.

Margulaw -> Pinestar

90 year old voice "yeah so uhh my fucking son grew up to be a dictator now. When he was a newborn ghosts were yelling at me to kill him because he'll grow up to be a bad man otherwise and of course like any sane kanaiwardian father I said "fuck that" and had to leave ma' family behind run away from the company so the demons would shut up. And y'know little buddy... Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I just can't help but. Y'know. Anyway. Sigh."

Do you get my vision did that sound comprehensible

#mine #rain code #warrior code au #<- oh hey thats an actual thing in wc lmao.#Not tagging any of those characters hell nooo.#the i did not proofread this tag

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