#now imagine knowing that and realizing you tried to save her in those last moments before death

[redwinelew]

SAVE YOUR TEARS | LEWIS HAMILTON

type written fic (one shot)

pairing lewis hamilton x driver!reader

summary you need a distraction and your teammate is the perfect person for that

word count 3.7k

warnings 18+. smut. nsfw. porn with oh so little plot and even little feelings. unprotected sex. rough sex. emotional sex. prone bone then missionary (idk i tried), praise kink. hints of depression, self doubts etc etc idk lmk what i missed. english is not my first language.

author's note self-indulgent if u couldn't tell from the warnings. that's it. sorry.

masterlist

lewis didn't expect you to turn up in front of his hotel room tonight night, face wet with tears staining your cheeks, lips trembling as you held back a sob.

nor was he expecting you to ever utter these words to him.

"i need you to fuck me."

lewis' lips parted, unable to get any words out, too shocked by your sudden request. he has a million different questions appearing in his brain all at once. what the hell is happening? why are you crying? who did this to you? and why on god's green earth did you just ask him to— he couldn't even repeat it to himself. it didn't feel real, didn't even sound like you were asking. pleading, more like it, in pure desperation.

he calls your name softly, like he's trying to wake you up from a dream. his thick eyebrows tie together in confusion. "what are you—"

"please...." you cut him off, the last syllable getting more inaudible as it trails away. tears beginning to fill up your eyes again before they drop, reaching your jaw and fall to the floor.

lewis has never seen you like this, and he's pretty sure nobody else on the grid or the public did either. his teammate whom in his eyes, the one who always got her shit together. he's almost jealous at how composed you always presented yourself to be, on and off track, never letting any unwanted criticisms by fans or media from getting to you, always quick to shut them down cleverly. the last person anybody could ever take down, mentally.

then he realized, that he held you to such a high standard to the point where he had forgotten that you were still just a human. it's only a matter of time before you break and if lewis personally had his moments where he was at his lowest, he couldn't imagine being in your shoes right now.

everything immediately clicked for lewis right there and then. he had never invited a girl inside so fast, never undressed her so quickly.

"what's your safe word?" he asks, needing to know before he proceeds.

"pancake."

lewis nods. he was about to crash his lips against yours when you put your hand on his clothed chest to stop him firmly, almost clenching your hand on his shirt, head turn away slightly.

"no," you refused.

kissing means this would get personal. complicated. and you do not want complications in the future. this is not going to be a love-making session. this is going to be lewis fucking you hard until your eyes roll back and your vision turns white. until the thickness of his cock makes your hollow soul lights up again. until you feel alive from his hand around your throat.

nothing else.

and that's exactly what he's doing right now. no kissing. he immediately understood it from the minute you refused his lips, getting what this is going to be.

lewis' tattooed hand fists on your shirt hard as he avoids your lips and kisses your neck instead, finding those spots that make your knees buckle and focuses particularly on there. you remove his hair tie, and tangle your fingers with his braids. he groans, his hair a particular sensitive part on his body. his thick lips travel lower to lay kisses along your collarbone. no marks either, he doesn't need to be told that.

though for some reason he does not understand, it is suddenly quite hard to resist himself from leaving purple bites on your skin. not when he had someone like you in his arms whom he had found beautiful since the first time his eyes laid in you.

no, lewis tells himself silently. this is not about you. this is about her. she's struggling. there's a demon that she needs to defeat and she needs your help. so help her.

you find yourself walking in reverse as he advances towards you, before your back hits the soft mattress of his hotel bed.

"yes." you say, already breathless, letting him know this is exactly how you want it. no tip-toeing, no hesitation or being overly careful, because you trust him enough to know that he knows what he should and shouldn't do, or you wouldn't have knocked in his door. you might be mentally fragile, but not your body. you need him to get to work quickly, to get you out of the mess that is currently your mind right now. he doesn't need to be gentle, because all you desire is the exact opposite.

lewis does not respond. instead he takes off your shirt and bra, throwing them somewhere on his floor without caring where they land. you do the same with his. lewis climbs over you, leaving neither of you time to admire one another's half naked bodies. nothing to gawk over. this is not what you came here for and lewis was quick to understand that.

his lips were fast to attack your bare chest next. his tongue swirls over your nipple, coating it with his spit before sucking hard, creating sounds as lewd as your moans right now. he also groans silently, the vibration sending more waves of pleasure inside you. he lets you gather his braids to press his face harder on your breast while one of his hands went to grope on the other, flicking your already sensitive nipple before giving it the same attention with his tongue. your back arches, and you find yourself pressing both your thighs together, desperate for relief on your lower half.

he senses it and leaves your chest. he pulls down your pants next, then your panties. you catch the way he visibly swallows at the sight of your dripping pussy, his own cock starting to throb in need.

"tell me what you need," he asks breathlessly, his voice huskier than usual, making your walls clench around nothing.

"your fingers." you answer without hesitation. the rational part of your brain manages to slip through, making you wonder for a split second just what made you so bold tonight, demanding all sort of things you never even had the courage to ask anybody.

maybe it's demons in your head, the one you are desperate to get rid off so you are forcing yourself to do the absolute craziest, just to feel like your old self again.

lewis nods. part of him is still in disbelief over what is currently happening but he tries to leave it at the back of his head. you let him spread your legs with ease and he doesn't waste any time to slide his digit smoothly over your fold to gather your arousal, earning a sharp gasp from you. he spits on your cunt, his saliva mixes with your wetness before he pushes.

still he was careful, only using one finger for now. he's well aware of the thickness of his digits and not sure how much you can take if he immediately adds more.

"m-more." you're whimpering already and the sound goes straight to lewis' dick, forcing him to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm his twitching cock.

but it's difficult. this is lewis hamilton, seven times formula 1 world champion. the greatest of all time. admire by billions. and yet when he has a pretty girl like you underneath him, at his mercy, your beautiful cunt clenching hard around his fingers, suddenly lewis is just a normal man. one who is not sure how much longer he can hold himself from claiming you all for himself.

lewis takes a deep breath. this is not about you, he tells himself again. you need to listen to her. give her what she needs. you can get any girl to come to your hotel room for fucking, and yet she only has you, the only man she clearly feels safe enough to ask of this.

"faster." you ask and lewis starts to deliver, pushing your legs apart even further before his hand picking up its pace, until the only sounds in the room are your ragged moans and the slickness of your cunt.

you are gorgeous. absolutely breathtaking, lewis thinks to himself. the way your face is flushed, sweat staining all over your face and neck. how your figure, hypnotizing as if it was blessed by aphrodite herself writhe underneath him, chasing that high. sinful moans and whimpers from your lips, enchanting his ears, making him curl his fingers until they find that one spot inside that makes you only whine louder, addicted into finding even more ways to earn those sounds from you. your legs part even wider as if not getting enough, silently begging for more than just his fingers.

"fuck...." lewis cannot help but groan. he sees the way your breath is getting shorter, more ragged. following his own impulses, lewis stops, withdrawing his hand from you.

you whine shamelessly at the sudden emptiness. you look up, watching lewis licking your arousal clean from his lips. the sight should be dirty, should make your pussy pulses in lust but instead your brain is protesting, head thrown back on the mattress in frustration. no, no, no, no, the brain says. you were far from reaching your peak since lewis had just started fingering you but you were at bliss at how preoccupied your mind was, having no room to think about anyting but his fingers inside you.

the insecurities starting to come back. the demon has gone back to work, playing in your ears and whispering doubts into you again.

maybe lewis is regretting this. he thinks you're sick in the head and he wants you to leave. he's going to tell the team—

"you're gonna come on my cock only."

oh—

oh.

you don't have time to be dumbfounded when lewis gets off the bed to remove his pants, eyes stay on yours. a hiss leaves his lips as he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his rock hard cock that already leaks with pre-cum while keeping his lustful gaze on you the entire time before he gets back to the bed to you.

your mouth almost waters at the visual. yes, you came to his hotel room, crying, begging him to fuck you. and yet it's unbelievable to see lewis like this. the champion, feared by the rest of the grid, respected by the whole wide world, is currently hard and throbbing in front of you. for you.

your cunt is wet again, pulsing around air thinking about just how he'd fit himself inside you but before you could do anything, he flips you flat onto your stomach. you yelp, caught off-guard by his sudden action. the mattress dips as his knees sink into it on either side of your body. he grabs his pillow before shoving it under your belly.

condom is on and when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance, you gasp silently, already gripping the sheets.

"we can stop if you want." he says, lowering his voice down to a softer tone, giving you a way out. he's willing to ignore the way his dick twitches, begging to be taken care of, if you desire to stop. but instead....

"n-no." you shake your head fast, voice shaky but with a hint of firmness behind it. "no, i don't want to stop. please."

"what do you need then? tell me exactly."

"i don't want to think. please, just— use me. i don't care. don't be gentle. i want it hard. i need it rough."

part of lewis regrets that he asked because holy fucking shit. sweet baby jesus. he doesn't recognize the sound that he makes, deep from his chest, filled with lust after hearing your dirty, desperate request.

on one hand, he's more than happy to fulfill your desire, knowing this is just going to be sex and nothing more. it's easier for the both of you in the future, knowing that this is a one time thing and absolutely no feelings would be involved.

but on the other hand, though lewis presents himself to the public and media as the calm and collected person you'd see on TV, but like every other man, he has his own wants and needs as well. and you have absolutely fucking idea what the hell you had just woken up inside him.

"fuck. fuck, you can't just fucking say that. you're fucking killing me, baby girl."

you moan at the nickname, then the volume becomes louder when you feel him pushing himself inside you slowly, one palm on a side of your head while the other is gripping your hip so fucking hard no doubt it'll bruised tomorrow.

you want it to bruise. and you know what you just asked of him. it's nothing like you had ever asked of a man before. to take you like a ragdoll for him to be used, to be toyed with whenever his please. to use you like you exist only and solely for his pleasure. because the thoughts that you are having about yourself are way worse. you want it to bruise, to hurt. you want to still be able to feel him for days. to have difficulties to walk so you will always be reminded of tonight. because at least your mind will be distracted from wandering to places you have been working so hard to avoid again.

lewis slides in easily but the stretch burns. you whine, fingers gripping the bedsheet tightly as you try to breathe properly in order to relax yourself so you can accommodate to his size, which is bigger than anyone you had ever taken. what he lacks in height, he certainly makes up for it in his length.

when he's fully inside, lewis gathers your hair before yanking it hard, making your neck arches back and you cry out. the pain in your scalp is weirdly delicious, combines with how he's making you feel so full having his dick deep inside, unmoving.

"say thank you." lewis demands, his tone no longer kind amd gentle like before, goosebumps prickle all over your skin. you never heard him using that kind of tone during work, never even imagine that he'd be the type to sound like that in bed. "thank me for fucking you."

"t-thank you."

"louder." he bottoms out before slamming into you hard, pulling a loud gasp from you.

"thank you!" you choke out.

lewis starts out slow at first, looking for the right pace. he remembers how you want it but he's not going to give it right away, out of care and of course pettiness.

but as he continues, he couldn't help but craving to hear more of those sweet bits of noises that you keep making. to hear the way your breath hitches at how he's filling you up to the brim, at how good he's fucking you.

lewis lowers his body, caging your body from behind but still careful not to crush you completely with his weight as his pace increases, ramming his cock inside you, his restraint getting thinner.

"take it. you want me to fuck you so bad? fucking take it. you asked for this." he grunts, and you whimper with no shame left in you. it's difficult to care, not when you could feel yourself getting dumber on his dick, which is exactly what you were asking for. and all this couldn't be more perfect.

lewis' movements grow harder, rougher by the minute. your moans mixed with his and the sound of his hips snapping against your ass echoes to the entire room. you wish you could be quiet, knowing that this whole hotel is rented by your entire team. but the way lewis is fucking you is making you do the exact opposite. you know he wouldn't want you to be quiet either, the mechanics be damned.

it's starting to be too much. nails digging into the bedsheet, you find your body inching forward. you are not sure if you are trying to run away or get closer to him but when lewis notices this, he grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. his teeth nibbles against a specific spot under your earlobe, pulling another whine out of you.

"you can take it. fuck— good girls take what they asked for. you can do it."

your cunt somehow gets even wetter with his filthy words, at how his accent thickens, voice gets deeper and more hoarse. your pussy shouldn't be squeezing around his dick at his praises, but it did. and the grunts he lets out making it all worth it.

when he hits that sweet spot inside you that no other man has ever quite managed to find, your eyes roll back in ecstasy. you gasp, tears starting to fall again at the sweet pleasure you're experiencing.

the sex is perfect, you know lewis wouldn't disappoint. but your demon is back, suddenly haunting you and making you feel terrible about yourself again.

"what the hell do you think you're doing? oh, that's right. you wasn't. you aren't. you're just a dumb bitch making herself even dumber on this pathetic cock. if only you could see yourself. absolutely shameless. what a whore. begging for this man to fuck you like you never seen a dick before. nothing will ever be the same ever again. he will never look you in the eyes, he'll think of you differently. why didn't you just—"

lewis suddenly stops.

the voices do too, and you are left in confusion. his grip on your wrist is gone now and you didn't even notice. you turn your head, only to see him pulling out.

no. oh, no. no, no, no. the voices were right. he's pulling away. he's regretting this. he's gonna ask you to leave, isn't he?

"can i turn you on your back?" he asks instead.

silence from you for a few seconds before you let out a quiet "what?" before lying on your back on your own. you remove the pillow from under your belly and set it aside.

"you were crying." he points out, brows furrowing as a shadow of concern illuminating his handsome face.

you swallow. you were hoping he wouldn't notice and even if he did, he'd thought that it was because you were enjoying yourself this. the fact that he knows it was the opposite tells you that he knows there are million different things running in your mind right now and you hate it.

"y-yeah but it wasn't— not because of you."

pause. "you want me to slow down?"

again, you shake your head fast.

"i'm okay. please." you hate how quickly you beg for him again.

it's lewis' turn to swallow, his eyes darken slightly at your pleading. he nods before crawling back to you, determined to pick up where he left off, trusting that you will know what to say if you truly desire for him to stop completely.

he grabs one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist before bringing the other to his shoulder. you bite your lip at the way his gaze never wavers from you, making you wonder if he fucks every other girls like this.

no. fuck. stop it. why do you even care?

lewis takes his dick before burying himself inside you once more slightly easier this time. you can't help but moan and thanking him again.

he is slow again at first but it isn't long before his cock slams back at the perfect pace, the sound of skin against skin once again filling up this suite. your whimper mixed with his hisses when you claw on his tattooed back, pulling him closer.

lewis leaves kisses all over your leg, wherever he could reach before his hand sneaks up to fiddle and squeeze your bouncing tits.

you didn't expect him to wipe your tears next.

your eyes locked with his. he continues fucking you but it feels as if time has stopped. he has that look behind the lust that screams sympathy. pity. you hate it but at the same you don't push his hand away, letting him cup your face momentarily. but even lewis doesn't let this gesture happens for too long, always remembering the point of having you underneath him.

it doesn't take long until you feel an invisible knot in your lower belly. you're panting now, almost reaching your peak. lewis realizes this and he fucks you harder, his hand travels down to rub your clit.

"i'm—"

"i know, sweetie," he says, breathless as well. he lowers his body, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and kissing it all over as he feels his own orgasm nearing. "come for me."

a few more thrusts, and you see white. your mouth is agape as you moan silently. his grunt and groans is music to your ears as he spills himself inside the condom.

silence.

lewis never realized how much he needed this as well. not just the sex, but the connection, which he knows is insane to find with someone like you in circumstances like this but what just happened felt different. to be so close with someone he actually knows and not just another girl he calls to his room, not even bother to learn her name.

before he could gather his breath, he feels your body underneath him slipping out. his eyes feels heavy but he tries to hold on, watching you collecting your clothes and dressing back up.

"what are you—"

"that was really great. thank you." was all you said before you left, in a hurry like you refuse to spend another minute in the same room with lewis.

while the man is still on the bed, naked. he hasn't even removed his condom yet. a sigh escapes his lips, lying flat on the bed before staring at the white ceiling.

he did what you asked for, and he could only hope that you would feel better tomorrow morning.

and yet why does his heart suddenly aches, not having you in his arms anymore?

[dragonpyre]

FASCINATED by your time travel au!! Jason Todd, Dick's (unintentional) child?? The double betrayal (the pregnancy! The warehouse!)!

Oh, the paiiiiiiiiiiin the sweet delicious pain (and sweet feelings potential) 💙💙💙

I have. So many ideas for it. Literally obsessed with it currently. The poor discord is constantly bombarded with my ramblings 😅

I just love heavy fucked up themes, okay?

[tvseries-writings]

From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

Plot: Reader goes beyond her limits with her powers to help others (exhausts her powers)

TW: death for a moment(?)

It all happens so fast that you don't realize it until the building starts collapsing over your heads. You see a chunk of concrete the size of a car fall on top of you, and before your brain can connect, your body acts on instinct, carrying you, Daisy, and Bobbi out of the building. You concentrate on teleporting all three of you, intact, inside the quinjet where Jemma, Natasha and Wanda are running the operation, or at least, were before everything went to hell.

You land on the floor of the plane with a thud, falling forward and coughing hard to expel the dust that has filled your lungs. You glance at your girls making sure they are okay and then, you cross your arms to teleport again but Natasha's hand on your left arm stops you.

"Don’t even think about it, everything is collapsing, you can't teleport in there. It is suicide and you are not going to save anyone if you are dead, do you understand me?"

You swallow, watching the building collapse, and so, with a small smile on your lips, you lean toward Natasha and kiss her. It lasts a few seconds and she is distracted enough to let go of her grip on you.

"I'm sorry but I have to do this," you whisper and then, you close your eyes and feel the earth vanish from under your feet. You focus on the 'one safe place inside the building that you know with absolute certainty will not collapse. The beauty of a secret Hydra base was the bunkers, after all. Those crazy fucking Nazis had thought that sacrificing at least a hundred of their own people was a fair price to pay to take out three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they had blown up the load-bearing walls of the building with a simple and very trivial click. Nazis, they never change.

When you open your eyes again and realize you are not dead or under some boulder, you gloat internally and mentally thank Natasha for forcing you to learn the floor plan of that base. You remember perfectly her stern look when she had presented you with the mission and forced you to learn every single detail by heart. At that moment you had hated it but now...now you really wanted to kiss her.

You raise your hands in the air when you notice a score of soldiers pointing their guns at you, hiding behind them their "incentives," as Hydra liked to call them. Wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers hid behind those men and women in black with a crest that did not belong to them.

"It's okay, I just want to get you out of here. I can teleport you all but in multiple groups."

You curse yourself internally, you know you'll never be able to take this much effort, the last time you tried to teleport five people together you fainted and were unconscious for six hours you can't even imagine what would happen with forty, including soldiers and families.

You take a deep breath and think quickly about how you can take everyone out of there. The floor under your feet trembles and just as the children begin to cry, the earpiece in your ear comes alive.

"Y/n, damn it, Daisy can't hold it much longer...you have to get out of there, do you hear me? The structure won't hold much longer" Bobbi yells in your ear and you nod, well aware that she cannot see you, before giving her a verbal response.

"I'm trying honey, thanks for the advice though."

You mumble sarcastically, no longer listening to what your girlfriends are shouting at you over the comms and focusing instead on getting the people in front of you to safety. The soldiers lower their weapons and pull off the bands on your arm, throwing them to the ground.

"Are there others in the base?"

"They're all dead, ma'am" the lieutenant, or who you think is the lieutenant, answers you by looking around as if to confirm what she just said. Your stomach clenches at the thought of all those people who died for a cause they didn't even believe in but you quickly shake off that feeling, you don't have time for it. You quickly count them, noting that there are twenty-five of them before thinking about how to get them all out of there safely.

"So… I can take all the children outside."

You point to the little ones; some of them are crying while others are looking at you with wide, fearful eyes but charged with the same admiration and hope with which a child looks at his favorite superhero. There are nine children but you can make it, they are worth four times one adult, right? You can even take four adults with you, then; you have to do it, you won't have the strength to make three more trips, you are sure.

You gather them around you and have each of them touch arms or legs, depending on where their little hands reach, and do the same with the four women, two old and two young, who accompany them. As they say, women and children first.

"Y/n, we have set up a camp out here, four hundred meters from the base in a southwesterly direction."

-What the hell is the South?" you think, before shrugging your shoulders and closing your eyes. The feeling of the floor vanishing beneath your feet is not something you will ever get used to, if you have to be honest. You hear the children scream, whether from excitement or fear you can't tell, and then, in less than a second, you find yourself at that poorly set up base camp Jemma told you about a few seconds ago. A little dizziness forces you to lean on the ground, on the hot sand beneath you, and small drops of blood color the grains beneath your fingers. You raise your hand, reaching up your nose and finding the source of the bleeding. Children are being rounded up by an officer but you fail to recognize him as your girlfriends run toward you. Jemma has a first aid kit in her hand, but before she can set about playing cheerful surgeon with you, you scan to the side, staggering on your own feet.

"I'm fine, I've got to get back in there."

"You can't stand y/n, you can't-"

You frown, noticing only in that moment that Daisy is not there with all of you.

"Where's Dee?"

"She fainted, tried to absorb as many shocks as possible. She's collapsed y/n and that's also what's going to happen to you if you continue, you're already in a very bad way."

Jemma lifts your head, causing your gazes to cross and looking critically at your pupils and the nosebleed that doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping coming out. You back away a few steps, looking into their eyes.

"Go to Daisy, I'll take care of this," you say and then disappear again.

You repeat the same process as before, surrounding yourself with six soldiers and watching the remaining six.

"I will come back for you, I promise."

And as you disappear into thin air, another tremor shakes the ground.

The landing is more abrupt this time. Your heart beats so weakly that you feel as if oxygen is not getting to your brain. Contrary to what you expected, Natasha grabs you by the arms before your face can splat on the scorching sand. You struggle to stay awake and if so out that you don't even notice Daisy, pale, sweaty, and trembling, over the shoulders of the former Russian spy. You blink a few times to focus on the image in front of you and finally the sounds reach your ears again.

"Y/N!"

Natasha shakes you by the shoulders and you awaken from your stupor. The worried gazes of Wanda, Jemma, Daisy, Natasha and Bobbi are fixed on you as Natasha gently lays you on the ground and Jemma places a bottle of water on your lips, helping you drink it. As soon as you remember where you are, you try to sit up but Daisy stops you, simply putting a hand on your chest to keep you down.

"I'm-I'm fine, mm-missing six people-D-I have to an-go."

You stammer, the effort you've put in doesn't even make you able to utter a coherent and clea sentence. Another jolt shakes the floor beneath your feet and Daisy groans in pain, bringing her hands to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. That small advantage allows you to roll over and with an absurd effort you manage to get to your feet and disappear back under their gazes.

When you get to the bunker, the first thing you do is fall to your knees and throw up. You completely empty your stomach under the disgusted gaze of the six soldiers in front of you. You wipe your mouth with your suit, wrinkling your nose at the disgusting taste of vomit in your mouth and leaning against the wall to pull yourself up without passing out. You must hold on a little longer, just a little, and then you can collapse to the ground.

The six soldiers surround you-diligently avoiding the pool of vomit on the ground and the blood that keeps coming out of your nose-and in a moment you are out.

As soon as you hit the sand, you sprawl to the ground. Your cheek scrapes against the sand and this time Natasha is not quick enough to catch you. Jemma drops to her knees next to you, turns you so that your face is facing her but your eyes are closed. She checks your chest and when she notices that the latter does not rise or fall, she checks your pulse before a gasp of terror and fear escapes her lips.

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

Natasha tilts your head back, her eyes glazed over as she opens your mouth and blows air into your lungs. Jemma begins compressions.

1,2,3,4,5

Nat puts air into your lungs and your chest rises and falls once before falling back inert. Wanda's sobs and Jemma's barely stifled ones are the only sound before a crack makes your girls nauseous.

"It's okay, it happens during compressions," Jemma's voice trembles as she says it and then, she performs another round of compressions. Your arms burn but that pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that is burning in your chest at that moment.

1,2,3,4,5

Natasha forces your chest up again and then Bobbi arrives with defibrillator and adrenaline in hand. She is sweating and her heart is racing. She has never run so fast in her entire life.

"Bobbi, take my place."

Jemma continues with compressions, then, on her go, Bobbi gets in place and follows her own rhythm.

"Come on rockstar, it's not your time yet, come on."

Bobbi's breath barely hides the tremor in her voice but not the tears that line her cheeks. It takes two defibrillator shocks before your heart starts beating again.

"Oh my God" Wanda bursts into tears, leaning over your face and gently kissing your forehead, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair off your face.

"Good, you did great love" Natasha whispers, taking your hand in her own as Bobbi laughs from relief.

Daisy instead stands by, frowning, and Jemma is the first to notice.

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

"Something's wrong, her heart, it doesn't have the usual vibes, non-"

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

Jemma performs two more rounds of compressions before injecting adrenaline into your chest. She hooks you up to one of the monitors that Fitz had devised a few months earlier, at the request of the biochemist, for just such situations, and when he sees that the line remains flat, his heart, too, seems to stop for a few seconds.

Your body is shaken by the shock emitted by the defibrillator; it arches upward and then falls back to the sand as hard as a puppet whose strings have been suddenly dropped. The line remains flat and Jemma's tears now gush without limit.

"No no, Jem you have to try again. She can't, she can't..."

Wanda bursts into tears, looking at your lifeless body lying on the ground. Natasha punches the ground with such force that the crack that can be heard echoing cannot mean anything good. Bobbi cries as she takes the former Russian spy's hand and gives her a look. Anything not to think about what just happened.

"No, it doesn't end like that."

"Daisy...she-"

Daisy takes your lifeless body in her hands, shaking it by the shoulders.

"Do you understand me? You can't fucking die, you can't. You promised us, you stubborn idiot, you promised us!"

The Inhuman hits your chest hard, her fist closed, and without her really being able to control what she's doing, a powerful jolt goes through your chest and crashes against the ground, creating a small crack beneath you, and then, the flat line of the monitor disappears, replaced by regular little roller coasters.

"W-what?" Daisy whispers, sitting on the floor suddenly much more tired than before from the effort she has just made. Jemma hurries to personally check your pulse and when she feels the pulse under her fingers, a shuddering breath of joy leaves her lips.

"I...I think your tremors got her heart beating again Dee."

Jemma does not detach her fingers from your wrist, lulling herself into the sweet sensation of your heartbeat, albeit weak. Wanda covers her face, bursting into tears, and the other girls also let out a liberating cry, releasing all the tension and fear they had felt up to that moment.

...................................................................................................

Your body takes five days to heal just enough to open your eyes. You realize you are in the Quinjet's medical capsule within seconds, by now you have been there so many times over the years that you know the smallest details: the familiar beeping sound of your heartbeat, the red button to call Jemma just below the lamp behind the back of the bed, the IV that feeds drugs into your veins, and the glass from which Jemma checks that you are not doing anything the doctor has forbidden you to do. A little unfair of her since she is the doctor. You feel as if a truck has hit you and then a car has run over you to complete the job. You raise your hand to scratch your nose but the oxygen mask prevents you from doing so so you squeeze it between your fingers to remove it but just as you are about to do so, a hasty knock against the clear glass causes you to smile a small smile of exasperation. Even before you turn around, in fact, you already know that you will see your beautiful doctor on the other side. To your surprise, however, she is not alone.

"You just woke up and already you want to take off your mask, I have no words really. Who is the doctor here? You have to do what I tell you if you want to get better, between you and Dais I really don't know who is worse."

Jemma admonishes you and you blush, feeling like a child being scolded by his parents.

"Hey, what do I have to do with this now?" Daisy pouts before slinging herself into your arms. You can't help but notice that his forearm is completely bandaged. When he notices where your gaze points, the Inhuman shrugs.

"It was worth it."

She slides the mask off your face, kissing you with so much passion and love that it leaves you breathless for a few seconds before the Inhuman promptly rushes to slip the mask back over your face.

"You scared us malyshka" Natasha approaches you and her plastered hand makes you frown. The Russian blushes, and for some reason you realize you don't really need to ask her how she broke her hand. Wanda caresses your cheek, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

"How are you feeling detka?"

"I'm just a little tired but I'm fine; exactly what happened?"

Their faces darken and that joy you had seen quickly fades.

"You collapsed, your heart couldn't take the strain, and we had to revive you twice." Bobbi's voice trembles as she says this and you reach out your hand toward her; the blonde grabs it and intertwines your fingers, turning a small smile to you.

"You were really a rockstar but if you do that again, I think we might actually kill you."

"Oh yes, don't think we haven't thought about what punishment to give you. Besides not being able to use your powers for at least four months-"

"What? Four months? But that's an eternity-" you jerk back to your seat, removing your mask and immediately regretting it as your vision blurs and the pain in your ribs increases exponentially, so much so that you lean to the right and vomit into the only thing you can grab.

Jemma strokes your back while Wanda holds your hair as you empty the meager contents of your stomach. As soon as you finish, you are so weak that dizziness takes over and your head falls back forward. If it weren't for Wanda, your face would be splattered against the floor. Jemma casts a glance at the heart monitor, and the value it reads makes your heart beat so fast you're afraid your chest might explode. She puts on your oxygen mask and then checks your vitals again.

Your pupils roll back, and as you fall helpless into Wanda's arms, the Sokovian panics a little.

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

Wanda taps your cheeks but the only thing that changes is the further lowering of your heart rate.

"Jem, what's going on?" Daisy strokes your face, putting her hand on your chest to check your heart vibrations.

Jemma rummages through the drawers of the medical capsule and then, at the fifth drawer she ravages for something, she finally finds what she is looking for. In her hands she clutches a small glass case, inside which she glimpses a metal disk less than three centimeters in diameter and less than two centimeters thick.

As soon as she sees this, Bobbi cuts off your suit exposing your bare chest except for the three electrodes and the black bra you are wearing.

Jemma places the diskette on top of your left breast, just above your sternum, and presses the button above it. The disc blends in with your skin, being invisible to the human eye, and your body jerks, before your heartbeat returns to normal. The small jolt causes you to open your eyes and grimace in pain.

"What the hell-" you mutter, reaching out to massage your chest but Jemma stops you before you can.

"Hey, your heart rate was extremely low and I had to put a pacemaker on you. It's not invasive, Fitz designed one that blends in perfectly and doesn't give any problems whatsoever but you'll have to avoid EMPs but you can't take it off love, okay? I think the effort you put in was such that it damaged your heart, and without a peacemaker you could have another heart attack so until we find another solution and until we have done more tests, you can't use your powers."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as fatigue takes over.

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

Natasha leaves a kiss in your hair while Daisy leaves one on your cheek. Jemma dims the lights to allow you to rest and Wanda lies next to you in the crib while Bobbi closes the glass curtains facing outward to give you all some privacy as you fall into dreamland surrounded by your girls.

You don't know it yet but one of those children you saved is going to become one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had so maybe a slightly battered heart is worth it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave like, comment and if you like support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[sunshine-zenith]

You opened up a can of worms with that post detailing Peri's apparent horrible taste in men and now I'm gonna subject you to my ramblings about it.

Like with peridale I see it as completely one-sided from Dale's end and he knows that Peri hates his guts but it doesn't matter to him.

With perirep it's more of an on-and-off thing (situationship?). And when things truly did end for good, Irep wouldn't really be over it and tries to get his attention.

The point I'm making is that I then thought about Irep x Dale and how that would just be a really terrible rebound. I think I saw one post about Irep being Dale's crooked lawyer to contrast with Peri being Dev's babysitter and how they interacted in the Battle of the Big Wand that inspired this.

But poor Dev man, everyone wants to get with his godparent.

Yesssss, I love all this — Dale and Irep rebounding with each other screams disaster, and a human AU where Irep is the corrupt lawyer totally works

Between baby Peri spending months trying to befriend the guy who was actively trying to kill him in the original show and Cosmo specifically wording Peri quitting on Dev as “he said you two were on a break, he was waiting for you to call!” I 100% see Peri as the type of person who, upon seeing a red flag, goes “I can change him”

In all scenarios involving him and Dale, I imagine it starts with Peri trying to get custody of Dev while not breaking any human or fairy laws — he just needs to be Dale’s spouse long enough to legally adopt Dev, becoming his legal parent and not just a godparent or stepparent. Dale almost certainly would be as bad a significant other as he is a parent lol, but he’d still be blindsided by a breakup/divorce. At some point, Peri realizes that underneath Dale’s layers of negligence, greed, and corruption, there’s more layers of trauma and daddy issues, and he can’t help but get invested

It isn’t worth it, but at least he gets Dev and (if he plays his cards right) some hefty alimony out of it

As for Irep… calling them a situation ship is perfect tbh. There’s so much history there, so much genuine positive and negative feelings on both sides. I deffo headcanon that they at least dated in the past (again, Cosmo’s wording about Peri waiting for a phone call felt very specific — possibly unintentional projecting, like that’s how Peri and Irep’s last attempt at dating ended). If you think about it, there were probably times where Irep was the most consisted person in Peri’s life (he ended up low/no contact with his parent after they retired and he basically lost his big brother. I can’t see Irep necessarily being his rock throughout this, but he was probably at least a steady figure).

I really love all the fanart of Peri and Irep co-godparenting Dev and I lowkey hope that if we do get a season 2, we get at least one episode with them doing that — it’s both incredibly funny and incredibly wholesome to think about

That said, I agree lmao, if they’re officially done done, Irep would be significantly less willing to accept it that Peri. Shoot, I’m pretty sure that’s a little bit the point they’re at in the episode Irep is reintroduced in — Peri barely gives Irep the time of day and acts smug when he brings Jorgen onto the scene, and attitude that probably comes from years of having your emotional investment in someone tossed back in your face

As for your last point, yes yes yes I am rotating Dev’s face when he realizes his godparent has such trash taste around in my head. He absolutely openly judges Peri and is constantly mortified. If you’ll tolerate me being wholesome for a moment, though… we see that between Dev stealing Hazel’s hat to protect her and him going back to save her from Vicky that Dev is actually very protective of the people he loves (a character trait I do plan on taking advantage of in my fanfics). I love the idea of him getting to the point of being protective of Peri. He’d see the type of people Peri dates and decides to sabotage those dates, possibly with Hazel’s reluctant help. It drives Peri up a wall, but let’s be real, it’s almost always justified lmao

(Cupid, whose known Peri since he was a baby and was likely an uncle figure to him, probably sees his pseudo-nephew as a disaster, but at least it keeps him busy)

[thatboreddrake]

"I accept that there will be those who I cannot save."

When I first read those words on a wiki page for the Stormlight Archives, I assumed they would pertain to learning that it's okay to kill your enemies. That Kaladin would be taught a lesson on how some people will choose to place themselves outside of your ability to protect them, and that that is not your fault. People like Moash, who continue to make themselves a threat to the other people he had sworn to protect.

And I was fine with that understanding, at least at first. It's a natural counterpoint to Lirin's perspective that "you cannot save lives by taking lives." I was interested to see how Sanderson explored it, as this is a concept that I have struggled to accept for myself. I even thought it could be an interesting foil to the Third Ideal: "I will protect those I hate, so long as it is right." But then I read Oathbringer. I saw the Battle of Kholinar, where Kaladin is broken by the realization that the people on either side are just that: people. Here there are two different groups who he feels honor-bound to protect, and they're killing each other.

It is no wonder that these events broke him, driving him to where he is by the start of Rhythm of War. When Kaladin failed to swear the Fourth Ideal in Shadesmar, during the Battle of Thaylen Field, I was excited to see how he would grapple with that reality. Sanderson did not disappoint, tho he delivered in a way that I did not expect.

Kaladin, under orders, steps back from the front lines. He puts down the spear. He returns to his training as a surgeon. He invents the concept of group therapy to help others who were suffering from battle shock, like him. He learns that there is more than one way to protect people. And he seems to be making progress, if slowly, to recovering from his failures in Oathbringer.

This all comes crashing down when Raboniel and her forces invade Urithiru. Kaladin is left feeling powerless. He has to hide to survive. He repeatedly fails to protect the Sibling against the assaults of the Fused. All he can manage is to keep Teft from being taken captive, nursing him through his coma. Now, more than ever, he feels that he is a failure at doing the one thing he has sworn to do: protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Then Wit comes along, with the story of the Dog who Wished to Become a Dragon. He shows Kaladin that, even if your goal is fundamentally unachievable, good results can still come from your efforts. That it is the Journey that matters, even if you never reach your Destination.

Kaladin is bolstered. He marches out to face the Fused one final time: a last stand. Do or die. And he is winning. In spite of it all, he finds that he can still protect others. But its a lie. He knows its a lie. In his own thoughts, he is pretending to be Kaladin Stormblessed, one last time.

When Vyre arrives and slaughters Teft, what little scaffolding Kaladin had left is kicked out from under him. Teft, the one person he felt he could genuinely help during the occupation, lying on the ground with his eyes burned out.

This is why I believe the way in which Kaladin achieves the Fourth Ideal is so much more impactful than I ever imagined it would be. Because it's not some simple lesson about how "you need to learn that its okay to kill/not save people if they aren't on your side." It's not a question of morality or honor at all, really.

It's an exercise in futility.

What has broken Kaladin is the fact that, no matter how hard he tries to protect people, they always end up dying. He feels that his efforts were wasted. Yet he forgets the countless moments allowed to those he saved, even if he only delayed their death. He forgets Dabbid, who would have bled out on the Shattered Plains were it not for Kaladin's intervention. He forgets the battle-shock patients who saw the sun again because of his efforts.

In the end, it's not about whether we die or not, because that is the inevitable end to every life. But Life comes before Death. Death may be the ultimate Destination, but every step towards it makes up the wonderful Journey of Life.

And so Kaladin is reminded: there will be those who you cannot save. There will be those who you cannot keep alive, no matter what you do. So instead of mourning their deaths as a failure, he learns to celebrate the times they had together. It's all about cherishing the moments that we have, and not allowing the end to sour those happy memories.

As Dr. Seuss once wrote, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Life before Death, friends. Journey before Destination.

[tinycheesecakedetective]

Potential Swap AU pt. 3(OLD)

I'm still thinking about making this official, mind you. Anyways, welcome to my third blog about this speculative AU project thing. Which isn't so speculative anymore, surprise! I call it Exchanged Fates, and all past and future updates about this AU will have the tag #exchangedfatesau. Today, we've finally reached the last Beast-Ancient pairing, Shadow Milk Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie! A fair warning, this one is longer than the others, so be warned. I talk waaaay more here.

Preamble There's a reason why these two are last. Knowledge is a pretty hard virtue to make something out of, and it's even harder when Truth and Deceit are two classic foils. You can make the truth a problem, but lies are always going to be tricky to make a good thing. Initially, Truth would be made into Judgement, but I scrapped it once I realized I couldn't think of anything for Deceit. So I took a break for a bit. I had a birthday and then several historical events just slapped me in the face-

Eventually, I had an epiphany. And I'd like to show you all now, if you'll allow me to. Behold,

Pure Vanilla Cookie, Beast of Despair and Shadow Milk Cookie, Ancient Hero of Hope

...I can feel my Danganronpa phase resurface. No time to waste, let's begin with Pure Vanilla. Throughout the story, he's presented as a paragon character, the most virtuous of the ancients. And it's somewhat true, but there's more to him than just altruism. He's quite sharp, able to discern the plans of his enemies and very emotionally intelligent, but is prone to some self loathing and suffers from an inferiority complex. I'm not *quite* well spoken enough to make a deep analysis on him, although I wish I was. He's so interesting to me and the fandom kind of brushes him off as this sweet old man-twink. Now he is, but there's so much more going on with him. If anyone does a deep analysis into him, I want to know immediately.

Sorry! Got sidetracked there, anyways! Why despair, hmm? Let's head back to his negative traits, the self loathing and the inferiority complex. Pure Vanilla struggles with his self image, blaming himself for how the flour war turned out and feeling as if he failed to protect the ones closest to him. Even after restoring his kingdom, he struggles with these feelings. Granted, it's not as bad as it was before, but you can still feel bits of it in Odyssey and in Beast-Yeast. Despite this, he still pushes onwards, being a beacon of hope for many. But there's only so much the soul can take. Even he can recognize when someone has to be stopped for the greater good, even if they did mean the world to him.

Fittingly, if he was one of the first to gain his soul jam, he'll be the last to turn, how tragic. Pure Vanilla would try everything in his power to save his friends, and when his efforts are unsuccessful, he has to stop them alone. Of course, the former ancients try to turn him to their side, and the battle of wills is long and painful. Since the roles are reversed, Elder Faerie exists and tries to help where he can, but he can see the writing on the wall and prepares for the worst. Eventually, Pure Vanilla falls. Despite everything he's done, nothing changes. He isn't strong enough to save them, and he isn't strong enough to stop them. He's only delayed the inevitable for himself, and even now his soul jam has begun to corrupt. Forced to face his own helplessness, he turns, finally joining his friends in sowing chaos across Beast-Yeast.

The Timeless Kingdom, once a refuge for escapees of the the other kingdoms, becomes stuck in time. Y'know how Blue Diamond emotionally manipulated those around her to make them submit to her will? Imagine that but worse. The kingdom feels like it's frozen in time. Nothing ages or rots, just... distorts. The moment you step foot there, you can feel your strength waver. Walking around, you see people consumed by agony as they stay in place weeping aloud, their bodies warped by a deep sadness as their hollow eyes stare back at you. Unlike the other beasts, Pure Vanilla's palace is open for anyone to visit, almost like he's flaunting his strength. You'll soon understand why. If you make the dumb choice and see him, you'll find him kneeling behind a veil. He'll greet you and talk to you for a moment. But don't be fooled. He's still a beast, and before you know it, you're overwhelmed. Visions of your greatest regrets flood your senses. Every action you've ever taken, every right and wrong choice flashes right in front of your eyes. Fight all you want, you're eventually consumed by it all, and become like the other residents of this forsaken kingdom. Forever reliving your worst moments in a never ending mental purgatory. If some of this sounds familiar, I took some inspiration from Bloozstella's blue diamond swap AU for this, by the way. Go check that out if you have time!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now... Shadow Milk Cookie. The fandom's new favorite blue gremlin/pos. He's clever, charismatic, perceptive as hell, a lover of the theatre, and very cocky in his abilities. The very first time we see him, he gets to work immediately, corrupting some fairies, tormenting Pure Vanilla Cookie, and taking over the faerie kingdom, and that's just him toying around with them all. Interestingly enough, despite being the embodiment of deceit, he shares more truth than lies with the players and the hero gang, revealing Dark Enchantress' plans and telling them that all the other beasts have been awakened after his temporary defeat. His lies have been fairly obvious for the most part, which is a bit strange. I wonder if there's a reason for that...

So... Why hope? Why in the witch's oven would I make such a menace hope? Because of how he handles the truth. In canon, Pure Vanilla doesn't handle the truth too well. He'll confront it, but he has a tendency to get consumed in himself or worry about how others would take it. Shadow Milk, even before he turned to darkness, feels like he would embrace it without hesitation and keep moving like a runaway train. Pure Vanilla is reactive, Shadow Milk is proactive, and his curiosity and determination could make him overcome any obstacle. Probably why he's so dangerous, asides from the immense power he has.

You can probably guess that my head canon for him is that he was the last beast to turn evil, so naturally he's gonna be the very first cookie to get his soul jam! And he starts in the Blueberry Academy. Kind of, it's not formed yet when he begins. Our shadow menace starts out as an aspiring scholar/adventurer and thrill seeker. He's definitely a nerd, kinda like Wizard Cookie, and begins his hero's journey exploring the world. On one particular expedition, he visits the continent of Beast-Yeast, but doesn't make it that far before passing out. He wakes up in the company of fairy cookies who took pity on him, and is taken to Elder Faerie. Unsurprisingly, he tells Shadow Milk Cookie to go back to Crispia once he's recovered because this place is far too dangerous for him and he'll die. Unsurprisingly he takes this as a challenge, and during his stay he reads up on the place in the library. Far too invested to leave, he starts exploring beyond the kingdom in secret, and finds the soul jam deep within the forest.

Eventually he gets caught, and Elder Faerie wants to take the soul jam away from him, but whoops! It's already attuned to Shadow Milk and there's nothing he can do about it. Realizing there isn't much he can do, he at least offers to train him to use it properly, prompting a few training sessions before sending him off. When Shadow Milk gets back, he doesn't establish a kingdom. Instead he goes to find others like him first. For his research, of course. Eventually he ends up forming the group of the Ancients, and finally establishes his kingdom. He doesn't feel like he'd have a traditional kingdom. Rather, it would be more like the Creme Republic! It's a hub of the arts and sciences, a place where the brightest and most creative cookies can show their talents to the fullest potential. He finally founds the Blueberry Yogurt Academy in his "kingdom", and he, alongside a personal council makes the rules. In reality, the council does all the work and he acts more as a figurehead so he can focus on his own personal projects. He's definitely the most hands on with his subjects, hosting events, mingling with the commonfolk, exploring, etc. At least before the Dark Flour War... But that's a story for another time.

~~~~~

Finally... I'm DONE. No more foundation, now I can just think and edit. Mystic Flour's part is outdated with her release and now I have to rectify that in the future. I hope you all enjoyed this miniseries! I will be taking questions on both this AU and Fading Letters. I'll try to answer any questions a lot quicker this time, and hopefully the rest of this month is uneventful. Please.

This is being posted at like, 1 AM in the morning, so good night everyone! Hope you have a peaceful night!

[possessiveandobsessive]

The Spirit of Determination

Nyra "Rook" Thorne is somehow responsible for the fate of all of Thedas. If she's going to pull it off, she's going to need a hell of a lot of determination. Lucky for her, she knows a guy and his demon who can help her out with that.

Part 6: The Ugly Truth Beneath The Beautiful Lie

“Failure.” “Worthless.” “Never good enough.” “You couldn’t save anyone.” “You let him down.” “You let them all down.” “It’s all your fault.” “Those deaths are your doing.”

Hateful whispers filled Rook’s ears, accompanied only by the sound of wind rushing around her as she plummeted downwards. The fall seemed never ending. There was no ground rushing up to meet her, only more grey clouds and mist. Well, that wasn’t the only thing she could see. Statues of those she had lost, the friends she had failed were littered on floating pieces of ruined stone floors. None were connected to anything, everything in the area seemed to be floating except her. She was falling. Further and further she plunged into the abyss as it swallowed her whole. It was the whispering that was hurting her the most. Hearing everything that she hated about herself or was terrified of becoming in the voices of those she cared for the most was starting to make her go crazy. Rook flinched harshly as the new wave of berating started.

“You knew it was dangerous!” Bellara accused, “And you still picked me! You chose me to DIE! 

“I would have never been in that clearing with you if you hadn’t chosen me to lead, Rook!” Harding’s usually kind tone was now one twisted with hatred and rage. “I deserved to live! I started this with Varric, and you? You’re nothing! It should have been me that he chose!”

Rook could feel the tears streaming down her face. She agreed with them both. She was the leader, she made the calls. This time, her calls had gotten the people she loved killed. Just like… Her mind blanked for a moment, whatever thought she started to have was gone now. Rook couldn’t think straight enough to find it weird. She was too busy taking hit after hit from the echoes of her friends and their bitter words.

“Poor little Da’len.” With a start, Rook realized she could hear Solas’s voice now joining Harding and Bellara’s. “You were too weak to accept the truth: You cannot win a fight against the Evanuris without paying a heavy cost. I tried to warn you…”

Rook wanted to be angry at him. She was apparently doomed to fall for eternity, surrounded by familiar voices, telling her the worst things she could imagine. Solas had the gall to scold her? He had the audacity to watch her fall and calmly explain why this fate had been inevitable. “Solas!” Rook grit out. She could see him now, the god appearing on the fragments of rock floating around her. He disappeared and reappeared again and again in order for her to be able to see him as she continued to fall helplessly. “Help me!” Rook hated the way she begged him to save her, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was scared and powerless, and he seemed to care not for any part of her suffering.

“I am truly sorry, Rook.” His voice seemed layered and it echoed loudly in her mind as the others did. “You cannot save the world, you cannot stop Elgar’nan. Surely you see this now?” He paused a moment before continuing, “It was never the plan to simply guide your hand to victory, I have always known that you were incapable. No, I molded you into someone who could take my place in this prison. I needed you to be the sacrifice that led to my escape. I will go now, and I will be the one to save the world. I’m the only one who can.”

Rook stared at him, reeling. She had told herself the whole time that she couldn’t trust the Dread Wolf. She promised herself she wouldn’t let him get into her head and manipulate her. Rook had been so sure that she had been the one in control and that he was the prisoner with no choice but to aid her cause. Throughout their time together, he had been the opposite of what he showed her. Solas didn’t care about her or her friends even a little bit. His “advice” had come with strings, and he had given her enough to turn her into nothing more than a puppet. She had only been a tool and he must have relished in her idiocy as she slowly started to believe in him as Varric had.

Rook flailed about, trying to find a way to stop falling so that she could escape with the dagger before the Dread Wolf could reach her. She managed to actually grab hold of one of the many small platforms next to her and let out a hiss of pain from between her teeth as she felt her shoulder dislocate violently. Rook groaned with effort and tried to pull herself up with her right arm alone as the lyrium dagger was still clutched tightly in her left. Before she could make any progress, Solas was suddenly standing above her. He looked down on her injured form with pity painted all over his face. She was nothing but a tragedy to him.

Solas dropped into a crouch and reached for the dagger in her hand. Rook attempted to keep it from him as she stretched her arm back as far as it would go. He sighed in annoyance the way an adult sighs at a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s pointless Rook, you’re already a prisoner.” As the words left his lips, a weight seemed to attach itself to her cloak, nearly ripping her hand from the platform. Rook looked down and was horrified to see a stone statue of Bellara holding the end of her cloak. She wore the same face she had as she had been dragged into the Eluvian by Elgar’nan and it brought tears to Rook’s eyes. 

Then, another statue caught the end of her cape as it descended with her. Harding’s empty eyes stared forward, seeming to hold no emotion at all. She wore the face of a dead woman, because she was. Rook’s fingers were barely gripping the edge of the platform now, and she couldn’t keep the dagger from Solas when he reached for it again. As it left her palm, a new weight joined the first two statues on her back. Rook slowly looked down, not really wanting to see who she had failed now. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt the remaining air flee her lungs. Varric.

Rook had no time to contemplate further, as the third statue was enough to finally pry her fingers from their hold on the platform. She watched helplessly as Solas cut an opening in the Fade prison and made his exit. Rook seemed to feel a combination of everything and nothing at all. She was trapped here, in Solas’s prison made to hold gods, and had no hope of escape. Closing her eyes as she resumed her freefall, Rook had an agonizing thought: I never got to tell him… I never got to make Lucanis understand how I feel about him, and I never got to convince him that he is and will always be enough. Now, I have to sit in this prison and grieve over what I lost for an eternity, and he will never know what happened to me. 

Fresh tears fell down her cheeks again. Rook couldn’t imagine forever in this hell. She wondered briefly if this was her punishment. This awful prison was the result of her daring to believe that maybe she had a chance. Her unwarranted confidence had led to Harding’s death and Bellara’s kidnapping (and likely death) and now this was her penance. 

Rook’s wallowing was brought to a halt when her body made impact with something hard beneath her. She took a moment to try and find her bearings as she sat up and looked around. So there WAS a bottom to this pit. Joints creaked and her dislocated shoulder was enough to make her vision swim as she forced herself to stand. Rook did a quick sweep of the area, and found a gnarled, dead tree surrounded by fossilized spirits. That’ll have to do, she thought darkly as she approached the small tree. Pressing her dislocated shoulder against the tree’s trunk, Rook took a deep breath and violently jerked her body forwards. *Pop!* She suppressed a scream, and sighed with relief as her shoulder settled back into the socket. Rook had only just begun to turn around to get a sense of where she was, when a familiar voice spoke softly to her.

“Alright kid, you’ve got to get out of here. You can’t do anyone any good trapped in this prison.”

“Varric?!” Rook whipped around, trying to figure out where his voice was coming from. “What- Where are you? How are you talking to me?”

“C’mon, Rook, you know you’ve got much bigger fish to fry than my secrets.” He chuckled, “Get moving! The path ahead is filled with things you don’t want to see or hear, but you have to keep moving!”

Rook looked to the long, winding path that simply led: up. The whole island she stood on was suspended in the air with nothing supporting said path, but given that she was in the Fade, it didn’t make sense to question it. She didn’t know what she was going to find at the end, but feelings of anxiety and dread twisted her stomach already. It wasn’t as if she had any other choice though. There were no other paths on the island not covered in rubble and fallen rocks. 

Rook honestly would have preferred to just sit down and throw in the towel at this point. Solas was right, what hope did she, a mortal, have against Elgar’nan? He was also right in that she had failed her friends because of her weakness. Even IF she could escape (and she didn’t think she had great chances of that), how was she going to return to her team and look them in the eyes? Taash must hate me. The thought of the dragon hunter’s face crumpling as tears flowed from their dark eyes was haunting. Their eyes would hold an accusation she couldn’t deny and Rook was certain it would destroy her if her whole team looked at her with those eyes. Maybe it was best she just gave up, and lived out the rest of her life in this prison where her decisions couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Deep down though, Rook knew that she could never just lie down and give up. She was too damn stubborn, and cared too damn much to hide in the Fade while her team fought Elgar’nan alone. You’re a Grey Warden Nyra. You’ve been cornered more times than you can count, and you always find a way out. This isn’t any different. You’re going to do what you do best, make an unimaginably stupid and bold move to shock your adversaries into making a mistake. “Okay,” Rook muttered out loud to herself, “Pep talk is over, time to get to work.” She did what she always did then, she forced one foot in front of the other over and over as she began making her way up the path.

“That’s it kid, keep moving.” Varric’s voice echoed around her again as she walked towards the unknown. She wasn’t sure how or why she could hear him, but she was grateful all the same. He was her anchor when she started to lose sight of herself, and he believed in her more than anyone; far more than herself. She missed having him at her side in the field, and hoped that maybe upon her return he could-  Rook frowned, exactly like earlier, the thought she had been seconds from processing dissolved before she had the chance. The uneasy feeling in her gut seemed to grow, and she knew something was wrong.

Rook didn’t get the opportunity to worry further. She reached the top of the first hill of the path and froze. In front of her was a large statue of Bellara and it, she, looked at Rook with an agonized expression. Rook stared at the large replica of her bubbly friend and was horrified when her familiar voice began to emit from the statue. “You picked me to die. You sent me to an early grave, for what? So you could have your victory? Your redemption?”

Rook felt her hands start to shake a little as Bellara’s words tore into the depths of her soul. The statue seemed to give voice to everything Rook already hated herself for, and she wanted to lay down and cry. Instead, she remained on her feet and forced herself to look the copy of Bellara in the eyes. 

“I’m-” Rook’s voice shook and wavered for a second before she continued, “I’m so sorry Bellara. I’m sorry I didn’t see it in time. I wish I could have done something to stop him from taking you away.” She took a moment to find her nerve and find the words that she knew were just as true. “Bellara knew the risks. She knew how dangerous the gods were, and she knew that by volunteering to take down the wards she was putting herself in greater danger. She did that because she believed in her team, she believed in me.” Tears formed in Rook’s eyes and she had to clear her throat in order to finish. “Bellara was betrayed by her so-called gods, and she needed her own redemption the same way I do. I… I know I made the best choice I could. I didn’t make it lightly, and I considered all of our options. It wasn’t… It isn’t my fault. And Bellara would never tell me that it was.”

Silence hung in the dead air for a second before she heard Bellara’s voice again, except this time it was Bellara’s true voice and tone. “Rook, it wasn’t your fault. There are a million impossible choices you have been asked to make, and you’ve never backed down or tried to force the responsibility onto someone else. I gladly made my sacrifice to stop the gods and save innocent lives, so don’t hold onto regrets about me. I don’t regret a thing.”

Rook felt her lips form a wobbly smile at Bellara’s earnest tone, filled with nothing but  understanding and compassion. Some of the unbearable weight sitting on her shoulders seemed to lift and Rook knew it was time for her to keep moving. Thank you, Bellara, for everything. Rook’s parting words were not said aloud, but that was okay, because the statue was not Bellara. The real Bellara was out there in the physical world, and Rook hoped with all she had, that somehow Bellara would hear her grateful thoughts.

Rook reached the top of the second level on the path more quickly than she had the first. Even though she had a good idea at what would be waiting for her at the top, nothing could’ve prepared her for seeing Harding again. Lace wasn’t a statue like Bellara had been. She looked almost like the real thing, save for the grey tint to her skin and the large, bloody holes in her abdomen. Rook stood frozen in place. Overwhelming guilt swelled up like a tidal wave and threatened to pull her under. Her green eyes seemed to lose their vibrance and were filled with tears again. 

“I-I-” Rook tried to speak. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to acknowledge her pain, and also that it wasn’t her fault that her longest friend on the team was now dead. Only, it still felt like it was her fault. If I had been faster, or been able to dodge that tendril, she wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice herself. She would still be alive.

Harding’s visage began to speak then, and Rook was shocked. The scout’s words weren’t angry or bitter. They didn’t accuse her of failure or blame her. Lace Harding’s words were kind, genuine, and empathetic, just as they would have been in life. “Rook, don’t cry for me.” the dwarf began, “I made a choice. I sacrificed myself because I believed it was the right thing to do. I knew, I know that my sacrifice won’t be in vain, because you would never allow that. I did what I did because I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t. Heroes don’t shy away from making sacrifices, they step up and take the hit to ensure that no one else has to. The only thing I’ve wanted to be for the last ten years, Rook, was a hero. Thanks to you, I finally got to be one.” Lace’s expression turned wistful then, “I am sorry to leave you all behind. I didn’t want to die, but to die for all of you, for all of Thedas, was an honor. Tell Taash… Tell Taash I’m sorry. And tell them that in another life, I’ll find my way to them again. Whatever it takes.”

Rook couldn’t help the sob that left her throat with Harding’s final words. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Harding was gone before it should have been her time. But, Rook also knew that the scout was right. The same way she knew that she needed to say the words aloud. Her mind wouldn’t give her peace until she voiced the truth and made it real. “It wasn’t my failure that killed you, Harding. It’s not my fault that you’re gone. I didn’t kill you or force your hand. Holding on to that regret, it takes the meaning from your sacrifice. I’m sorry for that. Thank you, Lace Harding, for saving me. Thank you for saving the team. Thank you for your sacrifice.”

A wide smile filled with pride split Harding’s freckled face. “You’re welcome, Rook. Now, go face the last one. Remember what you’ve learned here, and go home to save the world.” With that, Rook’s friend faded away, her essence joining with the grey mist that surrounded everything in the Fade. A final tear traced its way down Rook’s cheek as she began moving forward again. Lace’s death wouldn’t stop hurting, not for a long time, and Rook knew that. But, the weight on her shoulders had lessened greatly again, and Rook tilted her chin up. Harding had told her this next obstacle was the last one, and she was determined to face it and find a way home.

                              *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

As Rook entered what she supposed was the “summit” of her climb, she was a little puzzled by the sight that greeted her. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to find when she finally arrived, but it wasn’t this. In front of her was the ritual site where all of this shit began. It was dark and the wind was howling as the feeling of a raw and ancient magic caressed her skin. It felt the same as that night. Rook could’ve been convinced she’d been transported back to that night, if it weren’t for the faint sound of her own voice mixing with the rushing sound of the wind. Listening harder and starting to move slowly down the path leading to the inner circle where the actual ritual had occurred, Rook could just make out what was being said.

“He’s my friend, Rook, I’ve got to try and talk him down!” Varric spoke loudly, as he had on that night, in order to be heard over the storm of magic. Rook heard her own voice then, as she responded, “I’ve got your back Varric, even if I’m not sure this is a good idea. Just be careful!”

Rook remembered what had been going through her head at that moment like it was only yesterday. She thought Varric was crazy for trying to talk the ancient elven maniac down rather than kill him or attempt to incapacitate him long enough to render him unable to fight back. That hadn’t stopped her from supporting him though. Varric was her mentor, the first person who had believed in her (even when she sounded insane), and her closest friend. There was no way Rook was going to truly doubt him when he said he had a plan. Well, until minutes later that same evening.

Rook couldn’t actually see anyone standing where she had heard the voices coming from because the thick fog surrounding her made it difficult for her to see anything at all. She continued to push her way forward, certain that whatever she needed to face was inside the perimeter of the ritual circle. Her ears perked a bit as she began to hear voices again. She may not have been able to see, but she could listen.

“Hey Chuckles, hope I’m not interrupting!” Varric had to shout for his words to reach Solas’s ears, even though Rook was pretty sure he had been standing directly behind the elf at this point.

“Varric?” came Solas’s voice, sounding incredulous, “What are- Nevermind. I don’t have time for this. I know you cannot possibly comprehend the magnitude of the suffering I caused by putting the Veil in place, and so you cannot comprehend why I must do this now.”

“How many people are going to have to die so that you can sleep better at night? Are you even thinking about the tens of thousands of lives that will be lost if you do this? What world are you fighting to save, Solas? Because it isn’t this one.” Varric started out in a tone of disbelief and ended in one bordering on anger. Rook didn’t think she had ever heard him speak with that edge to his voice. Then she got close enough to finally see the two of them at the top of the staircase. She watched, stunned as Varric readied Bianca, taking aim at Solas’s center. She hadn’t realized he had actually stayed true to his word, he planned to hurt or kill Solas if that’s what it would take. Varric spoke again, tone full of anger now, “You need to listen!”

“Enough!” Solas shouted, having seen the crossbow go up. He gestured flippantly at Bianca and Rook gasped a little at watching it (her) splinter and break. “Get out of here Varric, I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Solas said this neutrally, as if he hadn’t just broken Varric’s crossbow in a violent outburst. 

Rook just watched, unable to move from her spot at the bottom of the staircase. Varric clenched his jaw before lunging at Solas in an attempt to take the dagger from him by force. The two men struggled for the bright blue, pure lyrium blade. Anxiety started to build up within her body, why had Varric attempted to take it by force? Solas was a mage and a god, and Varric was a man. Rook knew the answer to her own question already: because Varric would always do whatever it took to get the job done.

She continued to watch them and when she saw Solas get the upper hand, time slowed down. Horror gripped her heart as she watched him turn and bury the dagger deeply in Varric’s chest, right where his heart was. Rook couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Not only had Solas just stabbed a man who he had once considered a friend, but he had only watched for a moment as Varric tumbled down the stairs before turning back to finish his ritual. Rook heard the giant statues that made up the border of the ritual circle begin to come crashing down. Then, the sound of Solas beginning to curse her in both elven and the common tongue reached her. But all of it sounded far away, as she stared down at Varric, who had landed at her feet after falling down the stairs. The knife was still in his chest, in his heart, and was glowing green and blue. Varric finally managed to get it out of his body, but he seemed to go limp immediately after. Rook watched as his lips formed her name, the name he had given to her. His eyes drifted closed then, and she saw his form relax completely.

No… No it can’t be… No he’s… NO! Rook felt her mind clear and the fog surrounding her both physically and mentally began to clear. “Varric…” she whispered, not sure what she planned to say.

“Sorry kid.” She jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. Turning slightly, she saw a grey, Fade bleached Varric stride up to stand next to her. “I didn’t mean for things to end up the way they did. Thought I had more time.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Guess not though.”

Rook could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, eyes flicking between the ghostly imitation and real Varric. The real Varric, who was lying on the ground at her feet, lifeless. She managed to find her voice again after a minute or so. “You died.” she stated, “You’re dead, you’ve been dead this whole time.” Fade-Varric just looked at her with sad eyes and nodded.

“How did- How have I been seeing you? We’ve been talking, and you talked to the others!” Rook’s head spun. It wasn’t possible, it had to be another one of Solas’s tricks. She couldn’t actually believe that pretty lie though. She remembered now. She knew the truth.

“Solas.” Varric answered her question with a single word.

“He used blood magic on me… he used our connection to brainwash me. The others, they never actually spoke to you, did they?” “Nope.” came Varric’s reply. “Just you kid. Just you.”

“That BASTARD!” Rook seethed, “He tricked me, in the worst way possible. He KILLED you!” Rook raged, before realizing there were things she needed to say. “I still need you, Varric. I can’t do this alone. I’m not you.” The last words came out in a broken whisper: “I’m sorry Varric. I’m sorry you’re gone.”

Varric sighed and ran a hand through his long, graying hair. “Listen kid, every story has an ending. Mine came a little sooner than expected, sure, but I’ve lived a long life filled with the best friends and companions I could’ve asked for. Don’t feel bad for me, and absolutely don’t blame yourself. It was MY CHOICE to do what I did Rook. I insisted on talking him down, even knowing the risk I was taking. I had to try.”

Rook could feel tears gathering in her eyes again, but she willed them away. Varric was right of course. He had made his choice, and because she cared about him, she would respect it. She knew she needed to say it out loud still. So, with her voice strong, Rook looked Varric in the eye and said: “I am not responsible for your death. Neither of us expected it, and you insisted on talking rather than killing him. I have to respect your choices, especially when I respect you more than almost anyone else. You picked me for this position, and I’m not going to let you down now, Varric.” 

Varric grinned at her before saying, “You could never let me down, Rook. You’re a real hero. You don’t know how to give up, and you protect any and all people you can.” The dwarf took a deep breath before looking at her again, “It’s time for you to go Rook, your team needs you. The world needs you, kid.”

“What will happen to you? Where will you go?” Rook asked.

“I’ll fade away, just go back to being a memory.”

Rook wanted to protest, to tell him she didn’t want him to leave her, but he had accepted his death. It was Rook who couldn’t accept it. 

“Okay Varric, I’m ready. I can forgive myself. None of this was my fault, and even though I want to blame myself, it doesn’t help, or honor those I’ve lost. I can honor them by stopping the gods, and finishing what we started.”

“Well said, kid.” Varric gave her his crinkly-eyed smile, looking proud. “Now all that’s left is to climb that staircase.” He nodded to the one Solas had stood upon before. Rook could suddenly feel some kind of ripple in the magic of the Fade, and heard a voice. 

“ROOK!” That was Emmerich, she thought. Then a second voice joined the first, “Rook! Rook come back! Come back to us!” It was the combined voices of Lucanis and Spite, with Spite being slightly louder in the Fade. Her heart sped up and she ran several steps before turning back one last time. “Goodbye Varric, I’ll miss you.” Rook’s chest ached with grief, but getting to see that wry grin on her mentor’s face one last time, that helped.

Spinning back towards the sounds of her team’s voices, Rook raced up the staircase. She threw herself through a small gap that was forming in the Veil. She felt stuck, but she continued to struggle against the walls of the prison. I have no regrets Dread Wolf, you cannot hold me here! She screamed the words in her mind, pushing harder against the barrier. Hands reached out from the other side and grabbed hold her arms. First she was frightened at the sudden appearance and the strength of the grip, and then she realized that she recognized these hands and arms.

“Lucanis!” she cried, “Lucanis I’m here! Spite!” Rook shouted at them, praying they’d hear her and pull her out. The grip on her arms tightened and she heard a faint reply from the other side. There was a second pair of arms then. With the combined strength of three now, Rook came tumbling headfirst through the Veil and into the Lighthouse. She could feel Lucanis’s chest rise and fall underneath her. Rook had landed on top of him when they came flying out of the small hole that Emmerich and Neve had worked together to cut into the Fade. She looked up to see four more worried faces staring down at her and was filled with relief and warmth. Rook was home.

Part 7 here

Part 5 here

Part 4 here

Part 3 here

Part 2 here

Part 1 here

DATV Masterlist here

[saneijeijei]

Little Princess

"My name is Evelyn Eckhart. I am the Duchess and wife of the current Duke Eckhart. You saved my daughter from a terrible tragedy. I would like to thank you for your fearlessness and selflessness, which many people can only envy. Would you like to be my adopted daughter?"

"No."

[1/2]

Evelyn was slowly dying due to illness. After the birth of Yvonne, her body was greatly weakened and an ordinary cold turned into a serious unknown disease. The woman gradually faded away in front of her loved ones every day she got worse. The duke invited the best doctors, but they just sadly threw up their hands, condoling with the duke.

The end was near and Evelyn felt it. She asked her husband about one thing - to get a magic flower for her, which allegedly fulfilled a wish. It was an urban legend that lured tourists and foreigners to numerous fairs. But hope is the last thing the Duchess had before she left this world.

When Leopold brought her a flower, Evelyn, before going to bed, pressed the flower to her chest and made a wish: "may my children be all right, please let me see their future before I leave…"

When she fell asleep, she saw the future of each of her children. Her heart was broken by the horrors and the imminent tragedy that had humiliated her family, leaving only distant memories of the warmth with which the house was overflowing.

"No! Please! This can't happen! My boys! My little baby!.."

But it was only a cry into a tiny void that gradually swallowed her up.

"Evelyn?" The Duchess twitched, feeling the warmth on her shoulder. Opening her eyes wide, she was horrified to recognize her excited husband, and behind him her favorite flowers. "Are you okay? You fell asleep in the garden, I was worried that you might catch a cold."

The woman looked around dumbfounded and realized that she really was in her favorite garden in a glass greenhouse. Even more surprisingly, she felt a heaviness in her stomach and looked down and saw a bulging belly. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat and she squeezed her husband's palm, finally able to exhale.

"It was a dream…" she whispered softly. "Just a dream.."

"What are you talking about?" The duke sat down on one knee and tried to look into the eyes of his wife, who studiously avoided eye contact. "Has something happened? You're pale"

"I had a nightmare… A very terrible nightmare…" Evelyn replied. "But it's okay now, I'm finally awake."

The Duchess studiously avoided the terrible memories of the past, brushing them off as if it was just a game of her imagination. But then, the events that took place in that very "dream" began to happen. She couldn't have predicted them or known them. Evelyn began to realize that what she saw was not a dream at all, but a future that could happen if she didn't try to do something.

Reynold was small and didn't understand much, muttering something funny under his breath. Derrick, watching his mother's torment, was clearly worried. Evelyn hugged him, stroking his hair and whispering kind words. She wanted to comfort that Derrick, who had lost his mother and sister, who was not ready for all those events, who could not express his own emotions and was so confused in himself that he could hardly understand what he wanted. Her boy did not understand such great attention of mother to himself, but he did not refuse, accepting every word, listening to every praise.

Avoiding points and tea parties, Evelyn continued to look for solutions and ways to save her family from tragedy. She began to be interested in magic and magical items. She wanted to know more about Layla's monstrous power, which had taken Yvonne away from her in the past.

And of course… Penelope. Her image is a rude and audacious image etched into her memory. Evelyn didn't know what to do, rushing from one extreme to the other, when suddenly, realization finally came.

She could not find Penelope's mother and help her, since she did not know her name or place where she lived. The knights sent did not find anyone like the girl either in the capital or in the slums. Even if she wanted to help prevent the tragic death of Penelope's mother, everything was unsuccessful.

She couldn't save everyone and to her deepest regret, she had to choose. Either her family, or the family of this unfortunate girl. And she chose. She chose to save her children, and not let a monster into the house.

Evelyn refused to make big purchases, spending most of the allocated funds on charity. Her conscience tormented her and she could not calm down, consoling herself only with the hope that at least one loaf of bread, which the servants distributed on her behalf, could go to Penelope's mother.

Soon, she gave birth to Yvonne. Her little pink-haired princess was just as beautiful as in the past. There was no limit to the Duchess's joy, as well as Leopold's. He arranged a holiday in honor of the birth of his daughter. Derrick was happy and often looked after Yvonne, as he did with Reynold, who agreed with his father's joyful mood.

A few months after giving birth, the long-awaited holiday came. The guests filled the duchy with congratulations and best wishes. Evelyn and Yvonne were the center of attention, accepting congratulations and gifts from guests. One of them turned out to be Vinter Verdandi.

His parents died when he was very young and Leopold looked after him, helping with the management of affairs, so that some arrogant relatives would not try to deprive the boy of his inheritance and all the huge property that the family had accumulated over many years.

The boy was like nephew, though not her own. He bowed and congratulated on the birth of daughter, handed over an expensive gift. Leopold, having listened attentively to him, came up, patted him on the shoulder, thanking him for such generosity and asked him to wait. He had to give him something, since he was here.

Evelyn smiled at her husband, when suddenly Winter came closer, showing that he wanted to whisper something.

"Madam, please do not accept a gift from Lady Lockridge. Please, as soon as she hands it to you, throw it away without opening the gift box". “What?.." the Duchess was surprised. "Vinter, dear, what do you mean?.." "Your great aunt recently visited a small kingdom with which we recently concluded a peace agreement, right? Recently, yonder was an epidemic, all the signs of the flu, but the medicine did not help and people were slowly dying. Please don't take anything that Lady Lockridge gives you. Perhaps it is poisoned by this infection."

Vinter's assistant started up and pushed the boy away from Evelyn. "I'm sorry, madam, my master was clearly over excited by attending public events, that he had a played out little imagination. Don't tell Lady Lockridge about this incident, please. He didn't say it out of malice."

Evelyn froze. Her great-aunt gave her a green dress in honor of her daughter's birth, which she wore several times to family dinners wanting to please her relatives. And it was shortly after that that she became ill.

"Thank you, Vinter, I will." "Madam!---" "Let's leave this conversation between us" smiling at the young Marquis, Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, she didn't attach any importance to Winter's words, really thinking that he was mistaken. She wanted to believe that the boy's guess was true and the reason for her illness lay in the dress that could bring the disease.

[red-balloon12]

Sooo since people are complaining about Chaggie/Vaggie being boring and stuff (though I don’t see much of people trying to give ideas to how this could be fixed-)

I’m gonna give a layout to make both Vaggie and the relationship more spicy.

So I think the best route to go about this is to have Vaggie still be a fallen Angel. But the thing about this is that Charlie doesn’t KNOW she’s a fallen Angel. As far as Charlie’s concerned, she met Vaggie a while ago while wandering the streets of hell trying to find someone to aid her in her “Happy Hotel” start up quest.

She meets Vaggie at some coffee shop and the two make quick friends. To Charlie, she just met Vaggie but to Vaggie, she had already met Charlie, some time ago during the last execution.

Vaggie, still as an Angel, did not like heaven. She thinks it’s full of hypocrisy and she’s not all that well treated there. But the two things had kept her from leaving heaven was the fear of hell her hatred of demons. (I’d imagine she probably hated Charlie a lot because she’s the daughter of hell) Until one execution where she was about to kill one demon but said demon was saved by Charlie. Hell, they could even have a face off. But in those moments, Vaggie’s worldview is challenged by Charlie’s unwavering want to protect her people.

The angels retreat and Vaggie is stuck with her battle between her and Charlie replaying over and over in her head. If the daughter of hell can have kindness….then maybe other demons can? This thought finally pushed Vaggie to leave heaven (or get kicked out. Idk how it works-)

She decided to transform into a moth demon with Charlie in mind (because cute moth to light allegory).

Flash forward to current times and Vaggie is the manager of the Happy/Hazbin hotel but, as we can see from what’s out already, the past has come to haunt her in the form of Adam. Throughout the show Adam will constantly tease and hint at Vaggie’s past and Vaggie will have to work hard to deny everything. After all, why would Charlie ever love someone who tried to kill her and her people?

Hell, Alastor could even get in on the tea after finally putting together the pieces. Have him constantly plant seeds of doubt within Charlie, saying something along the lines of “you’re love with Vaggie isn’t as strong as you think it is” and such. Have Charlie slowly start to doubt Vaggie on her love and loyalty to not only the hotel but to her. Have Vaggie dig herself deeper and deeper into a hole with every lie she tells Charlie.

And when the truth finally comes out, due to either Vaggie trying to protect Charlie from something and accidentally outing herself, Alastor or Adam, Charlie feels betrayed…but not because of anything Alastor would try to say to Charlie (spinning things so that it would look like Vaggie was a spy sent from heaven to ruin the hotel) but because Vaggie didn’t trust her enough to tell her about Vaggie’s past.

This angst can go one for maybe an episode or two. Through events Vaggie can talk to Lilith about stuff and Lilith can say something along the lines of “the people who truly care about you wouldn’t care about who you were then, but who you are now and you have to do that for yourself.” For you see, this story isn’t just about Charlie and Vaggie but it’s about Vaggie realizing how much she’s changed but also how much she needs to grow. She needs to learn how to forgive herself and stop letting her past as an Angel hinder what she has now.

And for Charlie (as much as this isn’t her fault) reflects (maybe with her dad) about Vaggie. Lucifer tells Charlie about how Lilith found out about him being a fallen Angel and how they made their relationship work and how fell apart. How he doesn’t want the same for her and Vaggie.

The two meet up…maybe at the coffee shop where they “first” met and they talk after a while. Vaggie goes on to apologize for lying to Charlie, the executions and explains the real reason she fell into hell. And her reasoning makes Charlie fall in love with her all over again. Vaggie chose hell over heaven for her, she chose to work with her to get her passion project up and running and stuck by her despite all of the backlash the idea gave them. Despite the backlash and consequences for being a traitor of heaven.

It makes Charlie appreciate Vaggie so much more than she did before. And she expresses this. Yes, she’s hurt that Vaggie wasn’t honest with her, but she understands why she wasn’t. Charlie tells Vaggie that she’d love her no matter what and she shouldn’t have to be afraid to tell her anything. She reflects that maybe she’s helped a little bit in that insecurity, being so wrapped up in the production of the hotel, constantly letting other people sway her mind and being a little neglecting towards her. Charlie apologizes as well and the two get back together, stronger than ever.

Is this perfect….nope. But I think it does the duo some justice while also utilizing other characters as well. Lemme know what you guys think.

[elissanatok]

﹒•˒⟿⭒「𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 ❞」ʿʿ ⟿☼

↳✉⭒˞˔˙ː❛ -ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?✹⋮

◌༄۵ !𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗎 !

!𝚂.𝚁. //𝙱.𝙱.// 𝙿.𝙼. //𝙿.𝙿. !

𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝗈, 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈, 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍??? 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅 – 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 – ���𝖾𝗅𝗅 – 𝗅𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾.

When I was a little girl, the world seemed brighter. The sun seemed to be a little lighter and more blinding. I remember my mother holding my hand tightly while she dragged me up the streets of San Francisco, because my father didn't bother picking us up at the shop after we went grocery shopping in July. I was sweating, something I still hate, and I realized that I wanted my father to be nicer to my mom. To be nicer in general. But I never witnessed that. Even after my brother was born, the only thing he would do was sit in his office and stare at his computer. He made call after call. It took my mother a while to find out that he was cheating on her, but it didn't even catch her of guard.

Three months later we were living at my grandmothers house, much to my mothers displeasure. She had a nice garden tho. After they got into a fight we left again in the middle of the night, just to go back to my father. I hated it.

My parents were never soulmates. They weren't meant to be and even if they tried to be, it always ended in tears and us moving.

I remember when I hugged him for the last time. The smell of coffee clung to him like I always thought only cigarettes could. I loved his coffee scent. Even if its fucked up, it always reminded me of home, a save place. But when he finally left, leaving us in the three bedroom flat, I knew it was the last time I would see his face.

Twelve years later my father sent me a postcard from Italy, saying he found his soulmate in his hometown. I didn't tell my mother and I didn't answer him. My mother was the one who deserved to have a love like this, someone to love her always, not him.

Twelve years later my father was probably still a dick.

Now, sitting at the new oak kitchen table my mother invested in, I couldn't imagine him here with us in New York. I couldn't even realize the fact, that we moved or that I still had to unpack. My eyes drifted to the boxes all around the room. We were just to unmotivated to unpack.

My mother went out to take a look at her new restaurant and my brother Charlie didn't bother looking up from his physics book, reminding me of the fact that if I wanted to graduate this year, I had to find a tutor. Of course, I could always ask my brother, but the little ego I had left couldn't die for my grades.

I yawned as I looked out of the window. It was raining and if it kept raining I would have to rethink the outfit I planned to wear to school tomorrow. If  I would even be able to find anything in those boxes. Stretching, I took the last sip of the hot choco I had left and clapped my hands, trying to motivate myself an maybe my brother. But neither worked.

ʿʿ ⟿☼

One hour later, y/n and Charlie were still doing nothing. Well- y/n was sketching her brother, who was studying and nipping on his drink every Minute, but to Caroline St. Lorenz they weren't really doing anything helpful – like unpacking.

"What are you doing?", she asked the moment she let the shopping bags fall onto the leather couch. "Learning.", Charlie answered without looking up, while his sister painted a gentle smile on her lips. "What did you buy?", she asked as she stood up and walked towards her. Of course she went shopping for decoration even though they didn't even unpack. "You know... stuff.", Caroline mumbled after releasing an exhausted breath. "Cool"

"You didn't even start. Why does it always have to be me who's supposed to do the shitty stuff?", she whined and let herself plop next to her bags on the couch. "Because we're helpless without you.", y/n whined in the same tone and looked around the flat.

It was big, definitely bigger than their last, but Caroline's cooking has gotten pretty known in the last years. Her restaurants had many locations and her name was well known. The lamp above Charlies head looked expensive, but not as expensive as the vase on the dresser. "Can't you just- ya know – call someone to do the job?", Charlie asked, looking slightly up from his book. y/n cracked in the matter of a second and fell into a loud laugh when her mom looked over the back of the couch and asked if she looked like a fucking mafiosi.

"Maybe.", her brother whispered, poking his tongue out at his sister the moment their mother looked away.

y/n sighed. 12 boxes for the kitchen and the living room, 10 for her mothers room and each 8 for the siblings room. She really didn't want to. And by the looks of it, nobody else wanted to unpack either. "Sooo- we aren't gonna do anything about the chaos?", she asked. Her mother opened her eyes. "Not if you're not gonna make the start."

Sighting again, she stretched, ready to do something, but deciding to start in her room. She had to set some priorities.

[legendrarry-main]

An Eulogy for someone once cherished.

On the door of my bathroom wall in my old house, I drew and stuck five figures of all of the boys. I remember when moving, I tried to peel them off to take them with me to my new place. Why this memory is so vivid in my mind right now is that when I tried to peel each of them out, Liams Head got stuck on the wall, and the paper ripped like dried leaf in my hand, leaving a headless body of the young man I adored. I remember cracking jokes with my friends at that time, saying "I killed Liam Payne" in mock sadness.

It's a memory from five to six years ago, and now, as I sit on my balcony, trying to comprehend what has happened, I feel the resedue of that paper like blood on my hands.

What is surprising to me how utterly calm yet defeated i feel right now. I'm mourning. I know that I am. But more than mourning the loss of the boy that was once a part of my whole world, I'm mourning the loss of my younger self. That fifteen year old Sam would lose her shit right now if she was here. And it took me this long to finally realise that she is dead. She has been dead for a while now it seems. I can't think of any other reasons I feel so void of it all.

Underneath this layer of numbness, all I can feel is red hot anger. At the world, at the people that boy choose to surround himself with and at the boy himself for making mistakes over and over again. But that's what he was in the end wasn’t he? Just a boy. Just a little boy who didn’t get the chance to grow out of being seventeen, didn’t get the chance to have a childhood, didn’t get the chance to breathe or learn from everything.

The world had done him dirty by giving him everything he could ever ask for and taking away what he needed. And I was right there, watching, cheering him on without realizing what he was losing. Some miseries can only be repaid with death, and he repaid his just last night, around the same time I was wide awake listening to songs that weren’t his, he was out there taking his last breath and falling over the railing. The parallels are astonishing. I was sitting on my balcony too, while he was falling off of his. And maybe it happened at the same time I lit a fire to light up a cigarette when he extinguish his own.

My darling baby. My sweet little angel with eyes that reminds me of autumn leaves. You were fucked up. Broken and battered. Flawed to the nines and destructive and devious. But you were never beyond redemption. Never beyond remedy and never beyond saving. Yet, we failed to save you all the same. I wonder how you felt when you laid on that cold concrete as the blood rushed to your head. The thoughts that rippled through your mind like water, I wonder what you saw in those very last moments. I can't imagine how lonely you must have felt, how utterly defeated and devastated. Maybe you gasped for one last breath, realizing how big of a mistake it was like we all do when the first slash of a knife that hits too deep on our wrists. I wish I was there to hold your hand when you let go. I wish that I could save you.

I never got to own a band merch you know? Never could afford a cd, or a poster with all of your faces on it. Never could attend a concert of buy a song from itunes. And with this, the chance of me ever getting to see you shining bright on stages also shattered to pieces. I cannot attend a concert where you will not be there with the boys, Liam. It will never be the same.

If only this world weren’t this brutal and ugly with you. If only you’d have gotten more time and better people around you, if only you’d have had someone near you that cursed night....so many if onlys.

Did you know, you’ve not aged a single day beyond seventeen in my head?

Rest in peace, my sunshine.

You'll always be forever young. Now and forever. I will never forget you.

[themarvelhorse]

I Sail, When the Wolf Comes

CW: Death, Mental Illness

A vent, rant, of sorts. I put this here not just to express my feelings, but to let anyone who wants to, know what's up with me, especially right now.

My dad died.

I always feel like I need to say it like that. Not "he passed away", or he's no longer with us. As if I'm trying to force myself to accept that reality.

He died the day I left to visit a friend. He wasn't even over 65. He was left there to rot for four days. The rot. I can't get the smell of the rot out.

We lived together since the pandemic. He saved me from having to live with my mom. I love my mom and she's very supportive and loving but...

She has schizophrenia, the kind that makes her paranoid. The kind that leads her to stop trusting her friends and family, no matter what we do or say.

She's always been stubborn, but that one makes it so much harder.

It's funny. I've felt like I've had more hope of stopping catastrophic climate change than I do of saving my parents from themselves. I know, I've tried so fuckin' hard to do so. But the decay, the rot, started so much sooner, while they were still alive.

I got to watch the car crash in slow motion. I saw as my mom grew increasingly paranoid over time. All the yelling - not at me mind you - but I was the only one she could yell in the direction of. I took a break, spent some time with my dad, and came back. But then she pretty much picked up where she left off.

I couldn't stay, and it broke my heart.

I could stay, with my dad. We would watch sci-fi, retro TV, movies together, share coffee, a drink, our own inside jokes. It was great.

My mom sold the house, lost most of her things, and was a total mess. When she eventually found an apartment, I went to go furnish it since she... couldn't.

She was admitted to a hospital after screaming about aliens in the middle of the night.

They gave her medication, and helped her return to her old self... or at least reduce the damage. But she's always had that stubborn attitude. And of course, the healthcare system wouldn't have been able to help. There's no one left to offer help.

I can see it coming back. She tries to hide it around me so she doesn't get angry, but it'll come back. She invites family to dinner only to get mad at them. Like, she's mad at them when she invites them. Why?

So, my dad saved me from that. I was able to help from a distance. Somewhat. My dad saved my ass from a lot of things that could have gone much worse. He saved me from myself when I spiral.

But we moved again, and there was a new city I didn't want to go to, but he did. I came along eventually and got really into it. He did too, for a time. But then, things started piling up. A lot of things I wasn't even aware of.

It was a cycle of getting better and then worse. Each time I left, I realized he would be worse. Soon, it didn't matter if I left.

So let me whisper you a reminder Before they come to take me away Whenever there's no hope left to inspire Keep shining a light they all need to see

A fire that burns out for the last time A satellite falling from the sky

Another light shines on the horizon With courage and grace you said goodbye

A fire that burns out for the last time With courage and grace you waved goodbye Oh, goodbye

It was a heart attack, but was it? I'm going through his things. I'm seeing everything he was dealing with.

He was always supportive, and rarely judged. But I'm afraid of those moments when he did. When he tried to be open and honest about how he felt about things.

It was often contrary to my thoughts and perspective. And I argued that.

I'll give one example - he wasn't supportive of environmental action. But he was still supportive of me taking it, because I wanted to. Because he was a good dad.

And he did what he thought was best. Shove those feelings deep down so as to not stir up trouble with his son. Or at least I imagine so. I know he did everything and more for his sons.

That's what I am at the end of the day. A villain.

I'm a villain to my friends and family. People who've supported me so much over the years. I never knew how to repay them. I knew I wouldn't get a job that would make enough money to do that, so I wanted to do a job that would make life better for them indirectly. Or stop it from getting worse.

But it feels like so few would agree with me on how I do that. The science and academic literature say otherwise. I know I'm not trying to be a villain. I work to keep myself, my thoughts and opinions open. But some things I just can't move on. Can't move on taking climate change seriously. But ultimately what will happen? Their instant flights will eventually be gone. Their love of red meat limited to far less than they consume now. Their love of cars and giant single family homes. Their support of a politician who'll only drive us all backwards and make things worse. Their transphobia.

Of course it's not all those things for everyone. People are complex. But it's always those red flags.

And there's so much of life that's still supposed to get better after that. Flights and travel won't be gone. Meat won't be gone. Cars won't be gone. We'd have more time to spend enjoying life, or travelling, etc.

They would support me, because they trust me for me. If I got anything done, I'd surely be the villain in their eyes. The eyes of so many people I care about. Maybe it's a good thing I haven't finished so many projects I've started.

They've come out of the woodwork to offer support in this time, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The taste of rot. I'm sure that overtime, our relationships will rot away. I'll do what I have to, for their own good. Sounds like something a villain would say, eh? Maybe so, I haven't saved anyone. I've only helped where I could to ease the pain. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was younger, so I wanted to do that. Help. Know I was doing something good.

Of course it comes at a cost. Asking for anything always does for me.

And so, my heart breaks yet again.

And yet again, I am alone. Because even for all their support and offerings of wanting to talk, most who do want to talk, I can't talk to. Or I have to tread lightly. Who knows what I'll say to someone that I don't know their opinion on? My issues cross over with climate action and related stuff. So there's so few I have to talk to. All those friends in the sector went their separate ways. I don't judge them for that, we all have jobs to do to get this done. We're all burnt out.

At least my dad's suffering is over. Just gotta pick up the pieces, and find a new place to stay.

"Me was sick and nigh to death

Tili go tili go

Me was sick and nigh to death

tili go tili go

Me was sick and nigh to death but I vowed with my every breath

For go with wisdom ways

When I sail."

[joshy-tomato]

Okay, thank you for allowing me to share how I think Arlefuri would develop as a relationship.

I once again want to say that there are trigger warnings for self harm and a suicide attempt

So I imagine it would start a few days after Masquerade of the Guilty, after everything had settled down a bit. I feel like Arlecchino would want to apologize for how she treated Furina after learning about everything Furina had been doing for the past 500 years and so by using the Fatui to gather information she finds where Furina now lives. She tries knocking on the door before she gets a really bad feeling about something and decides to just let herself in and that's when she finds Furina in her room, lying in a pool of her own blood, her upper thighs covered in self inflicted wounds(some of those wounds being older scars) and a stab wound in her stomach from her trying to take her own life. I feel like one of the few things keeping Furina going during her act was that Focalors said that one day it would end and Fontaine would be saved and now that Fontaine had been saved she had basically lost her last will to live. I feel that Arlecchino, upon seeing this, is reminded of her children and decides to take care of Furina and takes her back to the House of the Hearth to treat her wounds. I then imagine it's a long process of treating Furina’s injuries as well as helping her with her mental health, the two of them getting to know each other better and Furina eventually ending up developing romantic feelings for Arlecchino. Eventually, Furina would return to her home and that she would be visited by Clorinde who decided to check in on her after everything that had happened with her trial(I imagine that Clorinde is the first person involved with her trial to try talking to her again after it) and the two of them converse over tea and Furina tells her about how she's been with the Fatui recently and how she's gotten closer to Arlecchino. After a moment of silence between the two of them Furina tells Clorinde that she's in love with Arlecchino and while Clorinde is surprised at that she does support Furina and her choices. Furina would go back to being around Arlecchino and would ask Arlecchino to help her cut her hair and that would be a cute moment between the two of them.

also side note: I'd like to imagine some of the children would realize Furina is in love with Arlecchino before Arlecchino even knows

anyways now in the story I imagine Furina would have received her vision from her story quest and while things had been going better for her she has a relapse in her mental health and ends up self harming again and Arlecchino, once again finds her because I'd like to imagine that Furina would have a space to live in the House of the Hearth because Arlecchino was watching over her and making sure she was okay and so Arlecchino starts patching up Furina’s upper thighs when Furina suddenly says she loves Arlecchino and Arlecchino looks up, thinking she misheard Furina until Furina says it again, looking directly into her eyes. I imagine Arlecchino would tell Furina to “not mistake gratitude for love” since she's been helping Furina for a while and Furina completely shuts that down, saying she knows the difference between gratitude and love and that she genuinely loves Arlecchino. And so they agree to start dating. Yippee

I wrote this whole thing on a Google doc because knowing myself I get distracted by my audhd and I wanted to make sure I would be able to write the whole thing without losing it if I wrote it all on the Tumblr ask. thing. anyways this took me two hours to write because I kept getting distracted

That's quite nice.

I like the idea of Arlecchino strugling to comprehend Furina loves her after everything she did to her.

And yeah, I understand the audhd thing (im diagnosed autistic, but there is a possibility I have undiagnosed adhd)

[eriexplosion]

FINISHING OUT SEASON ONE WITH KAMINO LOST, TIME TO CRY.

Lugging Crosshair around Kamino like a sack of sad potatoes. The way he gets to wake up pinned underneath a fucking steel beam like fucking congrats you tried to kill yourself one way so how do you feel about this significantly worse impending doom?

The voice work on the clone reporting that Kamino is destroyed is fantastic, that poor fucking clone.

GREETINGS CT-9904! YOU SURVIVED THE AERIAL BOMBARDMENT BUT ARE NOW MOMENTS AWAY FROM DROWNING!

Azi is so fucking funny like it's obviously terrible to experience this but imagine doing it with this chipper robot narrating your oncoming demise for you

I have a headcanon that Crosshair has a fear of drowning, because his reactions to possible death elsewhere are nothing like here where he sees the water and starts Immediately trying to actually survive.

Getting Hunter to shoot him? Fine, he'll take that. But do NOT let this fucking planet drown him after all this time.

"WHAT have you DONE" Crosshair do you really think this is THEIR FAULT? You knew the Empire was going to bomb the place!

IF YOU WANT TO STAY HERE AND DIE THAT'S YOUR CALL sometimes you need to lay it out clearly for someone that is intent on throwing a giant tantrum.

The entire tower of pods being submerged fucks me up so much

God but if there's one thing they're good at doing it's animating absolutely devastating destruction in intense detail.

Never noticed before that Echo nearly falls and has to grab onto Crosshair because everything was always moving SO FAST.

Crosshair genuinely standing there looking like he's thinking about just staying there and dying but thinking better of it when he realizes dying here means drowning specifically.

ENDING UP BACK IN THE BARRACKS.

Literally they are safe for like 3 minutes tops and Crosshair plans to spend all of them complaining.

We made a choice, and so did you. Goddddd the betrayal and hurt layered in there. Just. A lot changed when Crosshair said that the chip was out and didn't bother to clarify when. And no one here knows the chip was enhanced to be even stronger. (Except maybe AZI?) Just Crosshair really feels like he admitted he totally tried to kill them under his own power.

"We need to go back" BACK TO W H E R E CROSSHAIR?

Tech's assessment that basically diagnoses Crosshair as Insanely and Incredibly Stubborn. I dub thee an unbearable bitch, but I understand you.

THIS OUTCOME IS SATISFACTORY! while they all look utterly traumatized by the experience.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET A KID CALL THE SHOTS Crosshair I swear to god. Your plan was to stand there and die so like, I think u need to ease up a bit.

Literally might be dead in a few hours but he WILL dedicate those last few hours entirely to registering numerous complaints and insulting a 12 year old. I love him.

"THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM HUNTER, YOU TAKE THINGS TOO PERSONALLY." This is single handedly the funniest line in the show no intentional humor can beat Crosshair accusing other people of taking things too personally like he doesn't take every single action utterly personally to a pathological degree.

Omega trying very very hard to bond with Crosshair who is blocking her attempts to know him with the skill of an elite goalie.

You know my headcanon is still that AZI took Crosshair's chip out to save his life and that's why Crosshair was the one to say that the droid could do it. Nothing has actively shut this down either and with AZI possibly being the only one to know Crosshair's chip was enhanced I would LOVE for this to come back up.

I understand why Omega has to be in her own tube for plot related reasons but it is SO fucking funny that Echo and Tech are doubled up and SO ARE HUNTER AND CROSSHAIR instead of Hunter being in Omega's tube.

Our Get Along Tube

The sequence of AZI guiding the tubes is actually legit beautiful the GRACE of juggling all of them and the light of AZI's eyes in the dark

Genuinely the way they used AZI at the end of season 2 does not make up for how genuinely devastating AZI falling into the depths i- wait a fucking moment. Why is this so reminiscent of Tech's slow mo fall into the clouds?

Omega watching someone she loves slowly fall away from her. Will she try to save Tech in some way and need to get rescued herself? Hm. Much to think about.

I feel like people do overstate the moment of everyone aiming guns at Crosshair because like it is definitely mentally traumatic to Crosshair but they absolutely had their stun on. Sometimes I see people act like they were going to kill him lol.

Everyone looking at the ruins of Tipoca City because no matter how they felt about it, it was the only home they ever had. Seeing it just utterly in ruins like that, my HEART.

God they tried to give Crosshair a chance to come with them and he's just not READY YET. Well he'll have a lot of time to think about it here on Kamino. Lots of time.

Ughhhhh this is such a heartbreaking ending I need season 3 to end on a high note because this is SO DEPRESSING.

I understand why they wanted to put the Mt Tantiss hook in at the end but godddd does it throw off the pacing, Crosshair watching them fly away is like the perfect final shot.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Forgiven - a Malevolent Fanfic

A missing girl.

A confrontation.

A realization that someone hasn't been using available resources.

Three fools try to work out differences enough to tackle their unified goal: saving a child before something terrible tracks her down.

Part of the the Surrogate Series.

AO3

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

The first place they stopped did not react well to the arrival of a god and his weird human stuffy.

Arthur didn’t see it coming. He hardly knew what was happening. One moment, Hastur was carrying him, and the breeze of flying kept his face cool; and he tried to imagine what the world looked like from on high, since no matter how John described it, he couldn’t fully picture it. 

The next moment, there was shouting. Then small explosions. Then people screaming all kinds of wild things in a language that sounded like crunching rocks. Then Hastur making noises scarier than all the ones that came before, and—disturbingly—John’s left hand raised in front of Arthur’s face as though to protect from debris.

“What the fuck is happening?” Arthur cried and was ignored, and grit his teeth against the throbbing pain of John’s growing anger.

Finally, one powerful and panicked voice yelled things back and forth with Arthur’s irate yellow taxi, came to some unknown conclusion, and—and as though none of that had happened—they just floated away.

Flew, breeze cool, sun gently warm in the morning’s still-chilled air.

Arthur gawked at nothing. “What was that? What happened? What just happened?”

Hastur fucked up a mining town, is what happened! John barked.

That set off a growl-crunch-language fight which, Arthur was sure, lasted eighty-nine hours.

When Hastur landed for the night (a thing he was loathe to do, but Arthur had limitations and requirements and oh, Hastur hated them), those two were still going, albeit in a tired and dogged kind of way.

Useless. They’ll never help now.

“They will because they dare not do otherwise,” Hastur snarled.

After that? They’re just gonna go hide underground or something, afraid you’ll come back!

“Then they will learn what it means to run from me, and the smoke of their burning shafts shall obscure the stars for generations to come.” And the King in Yellow sounded so certain, so smug, that Arthur finally had a snapping moment of his own.

“Fucking hell,” said Arthur. “Will you both just quit it?” He smacked the tentacle around his waist. “Hey! Moron! This isn’t how you do it!”

Both John and Hastur went dead quiet.

Arthur chose to believe he’d startled them. 

Then Hastur dropped him. 

It was only a couple of inches; the threat, though clear, failed to deter, and Arthur scowled as he staggered, glaring in his best guess for Hastur’s direction. He clenched his fists. “Do you want to find her or not?”

“How dare you?” Hastur growled. The ground rumbled, shaking under Arthur’s yellow boots. “You arrogant little worm. You know damn well I will find her!” And then, since he couldn’t let it go, “Of course I want to, fool!”

“Then we fucking need allies!” Arthur yelled back. It did not shake the ground. It did not tremble anyone’s in anyone’s soles, not even his own.

Hastur still sounded stunned. “Why the fuck would I need—no, you will listen, Arthur Lester!”

For one moment, a tentacle wrapped around Arthur, tight, as though to crush or shake—but then it didn’t. 

It was a tense moment, too still. Then, as if unsure what it was doing, almost as if embarrassed, it withdrew. Arthur exhaled.

“Anyone weaker than I is useless here, as they could never protect her against threats. And there are threats—anyone equal to or stronger than I will see her as a way to hurt me, or usurp control. The former have no reason to know what’s going on, and the latter must not know she’s missing.”

Arthur hadn’t expected an actual response.

Again, he recalled how feral John once was, and how utterly clueless he’d been about relationships that weren’t some flavor of eat-or-be-eaten. “You’re saying you don’t have any allies,” he said, low.

Gravel crunched under Hastur’s many limbs. “We aren’t human. We aren’t communal beasts, like ants. You don’t understand.”

“I understand that Faroe will fucking need allies, and whatever you’ve done the rest of your life, you’re going to need to change that for her.”

Oh, Arthur… said John.

“How dare you leverage her?” Hastur said, low.

“I’m not leveraging. I want her safe, you fuck—long after I’m gone, long after she’s moved away from you.”

“You won’t be gone, idiot,” Hastur said. “And she will be safe. Idiot.”

“Not without—look. I understood why she left when you didn’t. Right? And you damn well know her safety is everything to me. I’m not a petty piece of shit like some people here.”

Heh, heh, heh, said John.

Hastur growled low. “I am aware we share… a goal.”

“And I know how to investigate, too,” Arthur suddenly said. “Why the fuck aren’t you using me?”

“Using you?”

“Yes! Use me! Use my skill, my… my experience, my whatever! My mind! Let me help you!” 

Hastur was quiet.

What? said John. What the fuck are those reactions for?

“What reactions?” said Arthur.

He’s being all—John stopped with a gasp.

“Do not,” said Hastur, so close that Arthur could feel his breath, “tell him things I do not intend him to see.”

Arthur shuddered.

There was a pause.

Purple flared under his skin like ripples on the water, said John.

“Piece!” Hastur bellowed. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Arthur snapped.

It means he’s embarrassed.

“I'm warning you,” Hastur said.

Arthur snorted. “Why? Because you have a professional investigator right in front of you and you weren’t going to use him?”

Ha! said John.

“Such faces you make,” Hastur rumbled. “You make me miss when you were freshly broken, so much less responsive to everything. So much less… defiant.”

Another threat. 

John’s anger grew again, pounding. You will never break him again, you son of a…

“No, you don’t,” Arthur dared. “You wish I wouldn’t defy you—which I wouldn’t if you weren’t wrong—but you don’t want me broken anymore.”

Hastur’s growl was not good. It was low, less showy. It was dangerous, the sound of a being who could crush, who could plan and execute the breaking of a human.

It flipped John’s switch from combative to afraid. Don’t touch him!

“I will do what I want with Arthur Lester, Piece, and if you do not want it to be any worse, you will be silent.”

“Easy, John,” said Arthur, low. “I’ve got this.”

You?

“And how, praytell, would you go about finding her without endangering her, then, if I’m doing it wrong?” Hastur rumbled.

“You’ll need a disguise,” said Arthur, “assuming you can even do one that works.”

“Why?”

There it was. That question, that way. John, Yellow, Hastur: the answer mattered, and Arthur spoke slowly. “Because when we just listen to people gossiping about whatever caught their attention, we get a much better idea of what’s going on, and they won’t do that freely if they know who you are. Faroe doesn’t know how to be that sneaky, so whatever she’s doing, she’s leaving a trail. Nobody knows it’s connected to her, and big important people like whoever you just bullied wouldn’t know about it, but ordinary people would at least know it existed. The people walking the same road. Maybe even sitting around a campfire together, I don’t know.”

“The latter is unlikely,” said Hastur, which was not a refutation.

“Besides,” said Arthur. “The more fuss you make, the more people will know something’s up. We already have to correct that. You’ll have to make people think you found whatever you’re searching for and went home.”

“Fuck,” said Hastur, low. “You are correct on that. But I cannot go yet. We are too close to Celephaïs—it would be… awkward if I did not visit, and could imply disfavor.”

Oh, now you’re considering disfavor, John muttered.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “Yes. This method will take more time, Arthur.”

“It won’t. It saves time. It just takes more patience.”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yes.”

“Did you find whom you sought?”

“Yes.” And since they were being honest—“Not always alive—but we always found them.”

“We?”

“Parker and I. He… he was my partner.”

“Partner?” Hastur sounded so surprised.

Arthur shrugged, looking away, staying as neutral as he could. He had no pockets to put his hands in. 

I’m sorry, said John.

“I told you, it’s done,” Arthur said, low and rough.

“Partner,” purred Hastur. “Really! I thought you’d only had Faroe’s mother.”

Arthur spun. “What? No! No, he—we worked together!”

But you shared an apartment, said John, sounding utterly confused.

“We were friends! And Bella was not my only… what are we even talking about?” Arthur blurted.

Hastur laughed like a tremor. “Ah, I wonder… I wonder, Arthur Lester, if you worked your magic there, too, and remained just as blissfully unaware.”

“What?” said Arthur. “Look, all of this has nothing to do with Faroe!”

“It might. She clearly inherited it, whatever it is.”

“Inherited what?”

Scratch, said John, suddenly. And that mold stuff in the cave, and… 

“What?”

Larson’s child, and the Butcher, and… Hastur.  John sounded panicked. Hastur, what’s going on?

“So you’ve finally noticed. Took you long enough. I don’t know, John. The effects are obvious. The cause is not.”

That’s not what it is with me, John snarled. That’s not it. He’s mine. Don’t you even fucking imply it’s some contagious shit.

“It may have been once, John, but I am under no delusion it is now,” said Hastur.

Arthur threw his hands in the air. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

A pause.

“We go to Celephaïs,” said Hastur. Then we will pretend to go home. Then… we will… try your method.” His voice sounded tight. “Only—only—because I don’t know what else to do.”

Arthur reached. Maybe Hastur moved closer, or maybe Arthur guessed right, but he put his hand on one of Hastur’s arms. “We’ll find her. We will. And unlike the ones who died when Parker and I looked… Faroe is more likely to leave her attackers dead than the other way around.” It was Arthur’s throat that was tight now. “I hate that you were right. And I still think you did it too young. But she… she can kill. And if she has to, I hope she doesn’t hesitate.” His voice broke.

Arthur… John reached up and cupped his face.

Hastur said nothing.

He could’ve rubbed it in. Could have gone smug.

Probably would later.

But right now, he picked Arthur up, abandoning plans for human-needed rest, and flew in silence toward Celephaïs.

I’m sorry, said John, barely audible.

“Don’t be. I already said it’s done.”

Someday… tell me about him?

Arthur swallowed. “You don’t have the right to know.”

I… I know that.

“Maybe I will. Someday.”

John stroked his cheek. He knew forgiveness when he heard it.

Hastur said nothing. Yet.

Celephaïs waited.

[armageddonpitchman]

@janeyjhoward sent: 🫂[hug your adult child] Note: Inspired by this post by @vaulttecexec

It was time.

Cooper had known for some time that his battle was finally coming to an end. He masked it as best he could for as long as he could for his girls, kept up on the drugs, but a twitch there, a snarl there, soon enough he knew no amount of drugs was going to save him this time. And as much as he wanted to fight it, Cooper Howard was tired.

Barb and him had carved out a pretty good life for themselves in the Wasteland. They got to be a family again, Janey was grown now, and he couldn't be more proud of the young lady she had become. She was as brave and as beautiful as her mother, from him she inherited his empathy, and his kindness. He got to see her grow, and it was more than he could have ever hoped to get.

He wanted to go out on his terms, he wouldn't allow himself to turn feral in front of her. He wanted Janey to remember him as he was, not what he was going to become. He and Barb had several difficult conversations, and it had been decided, she was going to escort Janey up north to a group they had made allies with, and she would come back to help him die. He hated he asked her to do it, he had honestly wanted to just end it while they were gone and save both from that heartache. But Barb insisted on being there, and he agreed.

Barb and Cooper had been up almost all night talking the night before, about the past, about their first apartment that perpetually leaked. Anything to avoid the actual conversation of what the next day was bringing. But then he had a horrible coughing fit, which solemnly brought reality back into the picture.

One last dance, one last dance with his wife. He remembered how'd they dance at the diner as she'd close up after her shift ended, how they danced at their wedding, so many dances, so much love for centuries. He was beyond thankful he had asked that pretty girl in the corner of the dance hall to dance all those years ago.

When she left, he stood there, composing himself a moment before moving to greet Janey. My name is Cooper Howard. He told himself as his daughter walked in. "C'mere Janey-Bug," Cooper said pulling her into a warm embrace. Putting a hand on the back of her head as he hugged her, he held her a long moment before he continued.

"Kiddo, it's time." Cooper said hoarsely, knowing Janey was well aware what that meant. He could see the realization set into her face, she was about to protest but he took her hands, looking her in the eyes. "Baby, I've lived centuries." Cooper said hoarsely, trying to get this out was even worse than he imagined this would be. "Most get maybe a few decades tops before they change, I've outlived every Ghoul I've ever known. Sooner or later, it comes for us all."

He held her face in his hands a moment, smiling softly, "the biggest privilege I've had is getting to be your Daddy." He brushed a gloved thumb over her cheek a moment, "and I got to see you become the best cowgirl the Wasteland has ever seen and I'm so, SO proud of the person you've become." Pulling her into another hug, he rubbed her back like he used to when she was little and didn't feel well. "You're gonna do great things out there, and you're gonna be okay. It will hurt, but you and your Mama will be okay. And just know when you're lost, or feel alone, I'm gonna be right there with ya, even if you can't see me." She was crying, god he swore to himself once he would never be the source of his daughters tears, but he'd rather have this than the alternative.

Barb was in the doorway, he looked at her, still holding onto Janey. "It's time, bug." Cooper said, kissing her forehead one last time before Barb tried to delicately guide her out the door. It was all he could do not to break and ask them to stay, but this was better, he wanted her to remember him this way, not what was going to come.

"Us cowpoke take it as it comes kiddo," Cooper gave her a wink and a smile, "remember that." He could see her trying to compose herself, she stood up a bit straighter and nodded. They were about to turn away when he paused, "wait."

Janey turned around as Cooper took his hat off, walking over to her, he put it on top of her head. She suddenly looked six years old again, stealing his hat in his trailer, wanting to be like her hero. Janey looked up at him with tears in her eyes and he nodded, "I know, go. It will be okay."

As the two went to leave, Cooper watched them leave the house, letting a tear fall as they got out of his line of sight. Wiping at it, he stood there a moment before walking to the window, sitting down he looked out and saw Barb and Janey walking north. His girls will be okay. He's going to spend what time he has left writing to them both. Cooper Howard will fade, remembering his wonderful girls. And he will be happy.