#now is she really dying or is she never gonna die that is the question

[diminuel]

In the fun little Roger/Garp idea (AU?), if they are the parents of Ace, would Ace know who his mother is? Would that impact Garp and Ace's relationship? Would Dragon still end up his little brother as a son?

Delightful question, thank you! Pondering this kind of insanity is just what I need!

I think we need to figure out what the setting for this is.

Let's go with a scenario where Garp (who I assume is a woman, since you mentioned her being Ace's mom) is unable to deny Roger his preposterous dying wish of leaving a legacy in the world. She'd already be pissed because they have Dragon, is that not enough? Roger's going to die and the thing he's worried about is legacy? But she can't say no to him no matter how frustrating the bastard is. She doesn't want him to go with regrets.

But then the asshole goes and causes a new age of piracy and suddenly Garp's life is going to be a lot more complicated.

As a marine, Garp has her hands full. She's already worrying about her oldest making bad choices in the aftermath of his dad's death and now there's a hunt on for any potential blood that Roger might have, any women connected to him, any children he could have fathered.

And for some reason Dragon was flying under the radar, she was flying under the radar (maybe Sengoku was running interference, you never know) but this kid? Something tells her that the child that Roger wanted to be his legacy is not going to be so lucky, that the burden of his will and his name is going to be Ace's ruin.

Hiding the kid is probably going to be the best course of action. And maybe Dragon doesn't know about Ace and doesn't find out until he seeks a safe place for his own child. Garp might just recognize this as some strange turn of face. If Dragon wants to risk raising this kid with his warlord wife/husband? Well, here's another one. Good luck. (Dragon would be used to his mom's brand of insanity so this doesn't even shock him too much and since he didn't tell her about Crocodile and Luffy until he absolutely had to, he can't even be grumpy with her.)

And maybe if Ace and Luffy grow up together Garp is granny to Ace too. Though I think Ace would know? And it probably wouldn't make him feel great. Dragon was one thing - Roger probably wasn't even a pirate by the time Dragon was born - but Ace's mom made the decision that he should be born into a world that she knew would hate him. And once he was born she didn't even want him. I think it could really mess with Ace. And no amount of supportive (adoptive) parents would fix it properly. And Marineford would be a hot mess, even worse than it already is now. >w<

And of course we can go with a sillier version where things aren't that dire. Garp could be chaotic and just drop the child on Dragon with a "I'm too old for this, it's time for you to stop your stupid revolutionary fancies and start being a responsible family man!!" (And maybe Roger is alive too in his version. Ace would find both of them very annoying. Garp would always be very offended - in an exaggerated way - when Ace would call her grandma, refusing to call her mom. They'd just be Grandma and Roger to Ace even though Dragon would always make sure to call them mom and dad to maybe get Ace to pick it up, but no. Ace decided that Dragon is his dad and Luffy is his brother, he will not hear anything else. Maybe once he meets Whitebeard he's gonna find another dad and then Dragon would be offended. Crocodile would also be offended because he objects to WB on principle X'D)

[maybebi47]

MAJOR spoilers for episode 7 of burrow's end:

I KNEW IT I KNEW IT THAT BITCH IS DYING ITS THE BRENNAN-DOOMED-BY-THE-NARRATIVE- LEE MULLIGAN WAY OUT I FUCKING KNEW SHE WAS ALL FUCKED UP

[bigbuffjoonie]

Holy shit WHAT A RIDE this chapter was!!

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter 6

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: mentions of weapons - blades, mentions of blood/bleeding, stabbing, explosions, fighting (hand-to-hand combat), flesh-eating bacteria, a plane nearly crashes, switching POVs, kissing, grinding, Vitality gives in to temptation, Yoongi and Hobi give in to their instincts

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: We're upping the ante with the battles this chapter! The lines are really starting to blur for our superhero and villains alike.

The chapter title comes from OK Go's Here It Goes Again:

I guess there's gotta be a break in the monotony But Jesus, when it rains, how it pours

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don't be a silent reader! 🥺 My inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter Five ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Chapter Seven

Chapter Six: Jesus, When It Rains, How It Pours

As far as weeks go, you’ve had better. 

Monday started off with a bang when half of midtown was ravaged by a gila monster the size of a jumbo jet that escaped from some mad scientist’s lab after getting into some horrifically effective secret growth serum. Tuesday you took down an entire team of disgruntled ex-military men threatening to blow up the city if the officials didn’t meet their demands for, uh, actually, you never asked what they wanted, you just defeated them before they could do anything other than terrorize a whole building full of innocent hostages. 

Wednesday was nothing but meetings and team building exercises - honestly, worse than the giant lizard and the mercenaries combined. 

And here it is Thursday, and you’re once again fighting Yoongi. He’s really been on one lately, and you’re getting a little sick and tired of seeing his face. Especially when he won’t stop throwing those fucking blades at you and ruining your plans to spend the day relaxing for once. Well, relaxing as much as you can for a superhero busy constantly saving the world. So, like, eating banana Choco Pies and maybe binging a few episodes of All of Us Are Dead in between training sessions.

“Heads up, pretty bird!” Yoongi grins as another dagger hurtles through the air. You spin, avoiding the sharp projectile, and aim a high kick at his head. He manages to duck, dropping to his knees. Two more daggers slip from his sleeves and he chucks them as he laughs gleefully. 

His plan is going fairly smoothly today. It was so easy for him and Taehyung to break into the high containment lab where the government’s Disease Control department stores the deadliest pathogens on the planet under lock and key. Even easier to incite hysteria when he threatened to release a vial of flesh-eating bacteria into the water supply. He so loves to watch leaders scramble about like helpless ants, just waiting to be squished under his big black boots. 

Not to mention how much he enjoys the thrill of causing a total meltdown amongst the public at large. It’s too easy to manipulate people. They’re so dumb and panicky. 

How he loathes them.

But as much as he’d love to actually release some of these vicious viruses, he’s really only here because he knew you’d come. And now he has you trapped in an enclosed space, surrounded by vials filled with instant death, making it impossible for you to use your powers. You can’t exactly blast him to hell if it means you might accidentally smash some of these tubes and release the doom stored inside. Especially since he and Taehyung destroyed all of the room’s defenses meant to keep any breaches safely enclosed within.

“You won’t get away with this!” you hiss as you knock one of his daggers out of midair with a well-timed kick. 

“Are you sure about that? Seems like you’re fighting with clipped wings, pretty bird,” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Careful! Wouldn’t want to let any of these icky germs get out, now would we?”

Lunging forward, you tackle him to the ground, pinning his arms down so he can’t release any more blades. You still don’t understand where the fuck they all come from - is he conjuring them out of thin air? Or does he have a whole bunch of them strapped to his body at all times? Is his pale skin just a collection of scars under his pinstripe suit? 

“What exactly is your plan here? Release the bacteria, and then what? What do you want?” 

What does he want? You, writhing underneath him, begging for mercy. It’s all he desires.

“I want chaos. I want to bring the world crashing down around us, until the streets run red and only the strongest survive. This world needs culling, and I am the reaper!” His eyes flash as he rants, fidgeting, trying to rock you off of him as you straddle his chest, keeping his hands pressed against his sides.  

“You’re the reaper? No, you’re a disease, and I am the cure!” you snarl, fist curled, winding up to deliver a knockout punch. 

Yoongi cackles wildly. “You’re the cure? Be honest–did you just come up with that, or did you rehearse that before you got here?”

Well, not that he needs to know, but yeah, you’d rehearsed that since the moment you left headquarters. As soon as you realized you were headed to the infectious disease vault, you knew exactly what you wanted to say for your finishing quip. Stupid fucking superhero banter.

“Fuck you!” A little more pithy than witty, but it’ll get the job done. Just as you’re about to smack him six ways from Sunday, there’s a stabbing pain in your shoulder. With a wounded shriek, you reach behind you and remove a dagger, point dripping with your blood. 

Taehyung stands in the doorway of the vault. Goddamn it, you forgot all about the sidekick. All the supervillains you fight always have a loyal lackey just waiting to step in and prove their mettle. Yoongi must’ve trained him to handle his blades.

His presence distracts you long enough for Yoongi to wiggle his arms free, throwing you off of him. Yoongi reaches for the dagger but you manage to keep a strong grip on it, and the two of you begin to wrestle, limbs tangling as Taehyung suddenly shouts.

“Hyung! Look out!” A vial sitting dangerously close to the edge of the counter suddenly topples onto its side, glass shattering. “Don’t let it hit your skin!”

It’s the flesh-eating bacteria. Your tussling with Yoongi has brought you right next to the counter, and your back slams into the solid cabinet doors. Time seems to slow to a crawl, every second stretching to an eternity. You glance at Yoongi before you look up, staring in dread as the contents of the tube begin to drip towards your face–

THOCK

A burst of wind ripples past your head and suddenly there’s a dagger sticking out of the wood, directly between your face and the oozing strain, catching every drop that dribbles down. Startled, you whip your head around to gawk at Yoongi. He’s frozen, arm still raised, a fierce look on his face. 

“Don’t just sit there, fucking move,” he growls, and you snap to, quickly jumping away from the counter as the lethal microbes run down the blade and trickle onto the floor where you had been a mere millisecond before. You lie on your side, panting, bewildered. Why the fuck did Yoongi do that? 

Yoongi’s stunned. Why the fuck did he do that? You were this close to becoming a bacteria buffet. If he hadn’t saved you, you’d be dead. He hadn’t even thought about it, just reacted on instinct, tossing a blade to protect you. 

Fucking hell, once again he really needs a minute to think. But now isn’t the time for any self-reflection, not with sirens blaring and Taehyung screeching in his ear that they need to leave before you shake off your shock and capture them both. He allows his confidant to pull him to his feet, and then he’s running, as fast as he can, away from the lab, away from the building, away from you and the expression on your face of total confusion - mixed with the one emotion he hates above all.

Hope.

Hobi’s made a slight miscalculation.

This thought occurs to him as he stumbles out of the cockpit of the jet, which is gradually diving towards the ground. 

See, his brilliant plan this week was to trap you on a jet skimming the upper bounds of the atmosphere and force you to fight him without your powers. After all, it’s an enclosed space about 6,000 miles above the ground. Since you can’t fly, why would you put yourself at risk by tearing a hole through the cabin or blasting one of the engines into smithereens?

The thing is, no matter how many times he had Jin sift through the scenarios and crunch the data, he completely forgot to take one factor into consideration: you’re kind of a compulsive idiot. 

“The controls are completely shot,” He hisses as he stalks across the cabin to where you’re standing, staring at your own hands. “As you in fucking shot them with that last blast!”

“I didn’t fucking mean to! Obviously!” you shout, snapping out of your shock. You’d been trying, really trying not to give in to the urge to just blow this asshole out of the sky, but he wouldn’t stop throwing punches and you just wanted to stun him, wind him enough to knock him down and pin him, except you forgot how fucking slick he is, how he moves like water when he fights, lithe body bending in ways you couldn’t even dream to, and with one smooth side step he’d avoided your blast. 

And now there’s a giant hole in the instrument panel and you’re going to die. 

Hobi should’ve prepared for this eventuality. He should’ve packed at least one parachute. 

Add it to the list of things he’ll go to his grave lamenting. 

“So what do we do now?” you ask, spinning around the empty cabin of the plane, looking for something that might help. Not that you have a fucking clue what would help. This isn’t a situation they’d trained you for when you’d started with the company. It was always assumed that if there were an air battle, one of the flying heroes would handle it. 

“We fucking die,” Hobi hisses. For once, he wishes he had Jin in his ear to tell him everything will be alright. But his communications are on the fritz thanks to the gaping maw that used to be the front of the jet. “Unless one of your stupid coworkers is about to swoop in here and save us?” 

One minute, you were on your way to a charity event, dressed to kill in your bright red strapless sequined gown, slit cut halfway to heaven up your right thigh, most decidedly not wearing the headpiece from your uniform despite your PR rep’s insistence because you think it’s tacky as fuck (and besides, it clashed with your dress something horrible), when your driver suddenly keeled over, blood spurting from his mouth, and the car went off the road. Before you could free yourself from the wreckage, you felt that invisible pulsing again, and everything went black. 

Now, as the train of your dress trails behind you, tattered from your fight, you wish you’d worn that stupid ugly-ass headpiece after all. Damn you and your fucking pride. There’s a locator beacon in the headpiece, which would really be handy right about now. You know Doc will track you eventually, but you’re not feeling very hopeful that he can do so before you become a superhero pancake.

“Save us?” you sputter, spinning around the empty cabin. “Who is this “us?” If anyone were to get saved, it would just be me, you fucknut! No one is coming to save you!” Whirling again, you aim a high kick at his head, scowling as he ducks. You chase him down the aisle, angrily tossing punches left and right, your throws getting sloppier the more irate you grow. “And you probably had that fucking radar-evading tech on again, just like you did in Argentina, right?? So no one knows I’m here and no one is going to find me until they dig my body out of the rubble!” 

Hobi catches your clumsy right cross and yanks you towards him, intending to restrain you, but the plane suddenly dips further and he ends up flat on his back, tugging you on top of him.

You huff furiously as your nose brushes his. From this close, his eyes are molten lava, burning into yours. His skin scorches you where it touches you, as though his entire body blazes with heat beneath you. 

Hobi is out of ideas. Out of brilliant plans, out of in-the-nick-of-time maneuvers. He knows his henchmen won’t get to him fast enough, no matter how swift his jets might be. So, for the first time in a very, very long time, he lets the panic take over. He stops thinking, and moves on instinct.

Wrapping a strong hand around the back of your head, he pulls you down, crushing your mouth onto his. 

There’s brief shock on your end, before the impending doom of your current situation floods your brain, sweeping all rational thought away in its wake, and you thread your fingers through his dark hair, cradling his head as you kiss him fiercely. You’re about to fucking die–why not live a little first? Go down happy. Or at the very least, anything but scared.

Of course his lips would be so plush. Of course his tongue would taste like sugar. Why would his kiss be any less irresistible than the energy flowing through him? Because it’s calling to you, again. Like a sweet siren song, an inviting melody only you can hear. 

This time, there’s no reason not to give in. 

As Hobi licks into your mouth, blindly needing to feel something, anything else right now, other than fear, and finding himself quite surprised that he is, you curl your fingers into his dark shirt and feed, pulling his energy into you. 

Hobi’s eyes go wide at the first tug. What is happening to him? It feels like something surging through him. His eyes roll shut in ecstasy. Holy shit, whatever it is, it’s fucking amazing.

You groan into his mouth, overwhelmed by the pulsating sensation of Hobi’s energy entering you. God, is this what it’s like to feed from a human? Jesus, why did you wait until death’s door to try it? You settle against him, thighs straddling his, and your eyes fly open (when did they close??) as you realize he’s hard as a rock between your legs. Is it from the kiss? From the fighting? Or could draining him of his energy feel as good for him as it feels for you?

The force building inside you is so intense, stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before - even more powerful than that nuclear warhead you’d disarmed one time by draining it dry. It’s extraordinary, how fucking good it feels, how fucking good Hobi feels, and as the sensation overwhelms you, you break the kiss, arching your back and letting go, releasing all that rippling energy in one big blast.

The jet explodes around you, disintegrating into nothing.

Hobi’s eyes widen in shock as you destroy the plane. Acting on instinct, he wraps his arms around you as you hurtle towards the earth in a freefall. He tucks your head into his neck, as if to protect you. 

Or maybe just to hold you close during the last few seconds of your lives. 

That’s when a strong hand suddenly grasps and yanks him out of midair.

“Shit, Vi, what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?” an irate voice demands, and then Hobi blinks and he’s zooming through the air as your flying teammate holds you both tightly and zips you towards the ground below. 

As soon as you’re standing on solid earth, your teammate throws Hobi down, pinning him to the soil. You drop to your knees, thankful to be on the ground again, breathing deeply as your heart continues to hammer frantically. Your teammate starts ranting about your “little stunt” fucking up his day off (as if you kidnapped yourself!). But you don’t respond, glancing at where Hobi, who lies with his hands cuffed behind his back, peers up at you. His dark eyes are turbulent, unsettled oceans churning wildly, and you know your own gaze matches his. 

Neither of you speak, and before long, he’s being whisked away by the containment team and you’re alone, staring at the dirt under your knees, marveling at how you survived but still feel completely wrecked. 

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[supercorpkid]

Future History

Supergirl. Kara Danvers x Reader.

Word Count: 3735.

Notes: Literally no one asked for this but I was in dire need to write angst or I'd die. So here, have the saddest story I could come up with.

A soft tap on your window is barely registered by your clogged up ears (and nose). There's nothing that could pull you from your bed now; You think you might just physically can't. It doesn't matter—you're on the fifth floor, and if someone managed to knock on your window, it could only mean one thing: it's her.

The tears falling from your eyes and into your pillow don't stop for a second, even when the window creaks open and she glides in, her presence heavy with sorrow; you can't bring yourself to stop crying.

"Baby," Her tone is agonizing, sad, inconsolable. Exactly as you feel right now. 

"Leave." It's the sole thing you can say. One word you've reserved for her, though your every thought is a painful echo of her name.

You can't see yourself or almost anything at all, with your eyes all blurred from the tears, but you can imagine what Kara is seeing right now. Your body curled up around itself, jagged and weak. Your pillow soaked, hair and clothes damp from hours of crying. You're not sure how there are any tears left in you.

She does leave, but only for a second. Soon she returns, a bottle of water in her hand, a futile gesture of care. You snatch it from her and fling it across the room with all the force your broken heart can muster.

"Goddamn it, leave!" You demand, voice raw and furious. 

Kara flinches, her face contorted in pain, and you notice she is not wearing the Supergirl coat of arm's anymore. She looks young, weak, normal. She looks exactly like a Danvers. Like the person who lied to you, who broke you. The one you trusted, loved—no, still love, though the thought makes you want to vomit. 

She looks like your Kara. Not-yours, never-really-completely-yours. She looks young and weak and stupid and you hate her face, her voice, her heart. You hate Kara Danvers even more than you hate Supergirl right now. You hate everything about her, and you hate that your heart refuses to let her go.

She drops to her knees beside your bed, her hand trembling as she wipes away one of the many tears sliding down your face. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her voice is so raw, so fragile, that it cuts deeper than any blade. You’ve seen her cry before, but never like this. Never with a pain that matches your own. “I’m so, so sorry,” she says again, and the words are like salt in a wound that will probably never heal.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s all you have left. You slap her hand away, your body recoiling from her touch as though it burns. “You’re not forgiven.” You couldn’t forgive her even if you wanted to. Your heart is a twisted, broken thing, mangled beyond recognition. 

"I'm sorry, I know it was the most awful timing—"

"Are you really gonna talk about timing in a time like this?" God, really! The timing is awful, is that what she really wants to talk about? 

Not about how you were there, on one knee, ring on your hand, your heart laid bare, and the suffocating silence that followed. The way your question hung in the air, unanswered, as you knelt there, dying a thousand deaths. Not about the fact you've never heard a silence quite so loud. Not a word from her or any of your so-called friends.

"No, you're right. I'm sorry —" She says again and it means nothing. All of her apologies mean nothing at all to you and you wish she would just shut up and leave.

"Oh my God, stop apologizing!" You sit up in bed and get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the door. You flinch at the image of yourself reflected there. Sure, you feel dreadful and rough, yet you had no idea your face could embody your feelings so perfectly. 

Your cheeks burn, your eyes are swollen, and you know she sees it all. The evidence of how long you’ve been crying, of how deeply she’s wounded you. Since the time she left you there, replaying the question on your mind over and over. Did you say it right? Kara, will you marry me? Kara? Why is everyone looking so damn sorry for you? Why are you frozen on your knees?

“Okay, okay. I’m s—” She catches herself, silencing the apology that’s on her lips. She knows it’s useless. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do, baby. Tell me how to make this right.”

“You lied,” you say, and your voice is so small, so weak, that it makes you feel like a frightened child. Kara’s face crumples, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain of your words. “For so long. I—God, Kara, I proposed!” The anger surges back, bitter and overwhelming, choking you. “Do you understand that? I thought we were on the same page! I thought we had it all.”

“We did,” she insists, her voice a broken plea. “We do.”

"How could you do that to me? How could you look into my face every single day and lie about who you are? How could you ask all of our friends to do the same?"

"Y/N, I was going to tell you."

"When? At our wedding? After I said yes and signed the damn papers? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU ARE SUPERGIRL, KARA DANVERS?"

You expect to be met with the same silence you did after you proposed, you're sure she won't have a response to your angry shouted words at her, but oh boy, she does now. Oh, but she now knows exactly what to say when a few hours ago she forgot the word 'yes' existed in her vocabulary.

"I did it to protect you," You scoff. "You have no idea, do you? How dangerous is it just knowing who I am? Alex," You scowl at her sister's name, but she continues. "Alex was kidnapped, trapped inside a tank and almost drowned so people would know my name. Lena was used by her own family. Brainy was drugged and had his mind erased —"

"And so what? You thought I would cave? You thought I wouldn't be able to keep your secret?"

"What? No! I — I didn't wanna see you get hurt."

“Because I would've, you know,” Your voice cracks, the truth of it shattering you all over again. "died for you. I would have."

"I know. I know, and I couldn't let that happen. I love you more than anything. More than anyone I have ever loved, I couldn't let anything bad happen to you because of me."

"So you did it yourself." You clean your face aggressively, knowing damn well you're just making space for more tears to wet it. "You couldn't let anyone hurt me, so you hurt me yourself."

"Baby—"

“No. No more ‘baby,’ no more excuses, no more lies.” Your voice is a deadly whisper, a divisiveness that crushes her. "You know what, I can't do this. Get the fuck out of my face." She winces when you curse, and the word feels right in your mouth like it never felt before. 

Kara stumbles out of the bedroom— Your bedroom that somehow doesn't feel like yours anymore. It feels empty because the only person that ever made it feel like home is now being kicked out of it. 

You hate this, you hate it all.

You hate every feeling coursing through you, tearing you apart. You hate the anger, the heartbreak, the taste of your own tears. You hate the slow, agonizing thud of your heart as it struggles to keep beating when all you want is for it to stop already.

But most of all, you hate how heavy the ring feels in your pocket. 

You've never had a full-on couch. Just a loveseat that has served you just fine for when you were alone or with a partner. It shocks you to find Kara curled up in that tiny, inadequate space when you walk into your living room first thing in the morning.

The sight of her sends a ping of anger through you, tightening your chest. You march over and poke her arm, your voice harsh as you snap, "What the hell are you doing?"

"There was nowhere else for me to stay." Kara’s voice is soft, almost meek, as if she truly believes that’s what you meant. You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your disbelief. "But I stayed anyway."

"No shit, genius." You turn on your heels, heading straight for the coffee pot, the anger simmering just below the surface. "Why the hell did you stay? I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off last night."

You don’t look back, but you don’t need to. You can practically feel the way she winces at your words. That’s how well you know her—or at least, how well you thought you did.

"Well, you—you told me to get out of your face." There’s a hesitation in her voice, and when you finally turn around, you can’t believe what you see. How can the mightiest superhero on the planet look like this? Like a fragile, delicate thing that needs your protection, your love.

"Pretty sure you’re still here, all over my face."

Kara takes a deep breath, her voice trembling as she tries to explain. "I couldn’t leave you like that, Y/N. You looked so, so broken."

You blink at her because the only reason you looked like that was her. She was the one that let her damage damage you. She was the one that came into your life, broke all your barriers, made you open up and love her dearly and deeply, and lied, and lied, and lied. Kara was the one that made you her future history from day one when she decided to deceit you repeatedly. 

"Was any of it true?" It's what comes out of your mouth. You're not even done with the question and she is already opening her mouth to answer, but you cut her short. "Don't lie again. Don't tell me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth, Kara Danvers. All of those moments, all that you gave me, all that staring at me starry-eyed, was it all true?"

"Y/N," Kara takes a tentative step closer, her pink lips parted, her eyes brimming with tears that mirror your own. "All of it was the most real I’ve ever been in my life." She collapses into a chair halfway between you, like the weight of her own words is too much to bear. "Some people know Supergirl. Some people know Kara Danvers. And very few  know both."

You swallow hard, trying to choke back your tears. You, apparently, know none.

"You know me. Kara. Not Kara Danvers, not Kara Zor-El. The Kara that no one ever got to see. The one that laughs at dirty jokes, and dances in her underwear to no songs. The one that eats cold pizza in the morning, and can't sleep without my feet touching yours. You know how I like my coffee, my favorite songs, you know the words I hate, how many freckles I have and how ugly I look when I cry."

"You look… alright." You shrug, your voice flat, detached.

Her eyes soften at your words. "You know about my nightmares, and how to touch me so I feel safe. Actually, you know how to touch me in any way I need. You saw so much more than journalist Kara Danvers and Alex's young sister. You knew me better than anyone who's seen Supergirl in action—"

You recoil at the mention of her alias and your anger returns. More lies, even more lies to draw you in. When is that going to stop?

"Sorry," she murmurs, the apology falling flat.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it’s done. You move mechanically, pouring the coffee into two mugs, adding cream and a disgusting amount of sugar to hers the way you always do. But instead of handing it to her, you place it on the counter, a silent gesture that screams the distance between you.

Kara stands and approaches you cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. "Tell me what you’re thinking," she whispers, her voice barely audible, filled with fear.

You swallow the bitter words clawing at your throat, because the way she’s speaking—so submissive, so frightened—makes you hesitate.

Finally, in a voice so quiet it’s almost drowned by the silence, you say, "I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all."

Kara’s eyes are filled with tears that she’s desperately trying to hold back. She’s always been the strong one, the one who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, but now, she looks so fragile, so utterly human. It’s a sight that tugs at something deep within you, a part of you that still aches for her despite everything.

“I was tired,” she finally whispers, her voice trembling. “tired of pretending, of lying, of hiding who I am. But I was a lot more terrified of losing you.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but it’s quickly followed by the anger that has been bubbling inside you. “You should have thought of that before you lied to me for years,” you snap, your voice harsher than you intended.

Kara winces as if your words have physically struck her. She looks down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them nervously. “I know,” she says softly. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you in a way that might be unforgivable. But baby, I need you to understand… I didn’t lie because I wanted to. I lied because I was scared. Scared of what it would mean if you knew. Scared that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now—like I’m a stranger.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “How else am I supposed to look at you? You kept such a huge part of yourself from me, Kara. How am I supposed to trust anything you say?”

She steps a bit closer, cautiously. “Please, just… just let me explain,” she pleads, her eyes searching yours for any sign of willingness to listen. “I know I should have told you. I know that. But every time I thought about it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger because of who I am. Of you being a target just because you’re with me. And it also terrified me to think of you not loving all of me.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” your voice waver when you realize exactly what you are mad about. You're not mad about the fact that she is Supergirl. Supergirl is a nice person. A hero. A heavenly sent goddess that helps people. It's nice that your amazing, loving girlfriend is also all of that. The problem is that your amazing-loving-girlfriend never once thought about the rest of your lives together. “We were supposed to be a team. We were supposed to face things together. But you decided for both of us, and you didn’t even give me a choice.”

"I know." Kara’s face falls, but she takes another step closer anyway. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I know I’ve hurt you more than anyone ever has." She is too close now, you're sure, as her heat irradiates through her skin and you feel it on your own body. She is tentatively and scared, and still somehow brave, when she reaches for your face and cleans the single tear under your eye, even though she knows there's a fat chance you're just going to tell her to fuck off again.

"I can't let you lie to me again," You feel weak just trying to get your point across while she touches your face like this. Because your skin wants it, needs her touch, craves for even more. Longs for soothing, and begs for love. Her love. Her mouth and her hands and her only.

"I won't. No more secrets, no more lies, no more hiding." Her hand snakes from your face to your neck and she slowly pulls you into her chest. "No more hurting you. Ever again." She lets out a shaky breath. "I can't see you hurting like this ever again."

"God, Kara." 

Your face on her chest feels like it belongs there. As if all the pieces fit when you are right there. The warmth of her arms around you feels like coming home and how can you fight this?

"I love you. I love you so much." She is crying more now, you're sure. And so your arms finally embrace her too. "Please let me make it up to you. I'll spend every single day for the rest of our lives proving myself worthy of you."

By now you're clinging to Kara as if clinging for your life. Feeling the steady beat of her heart against your ear. The sound is grounding, reminding you that despite everything, she’s here—she’s real, and she’s yours, in all her flawed, messy humanity. 

“I don’t know how to move past this,” you admit quietly, your voice muffled against her chest. “I want to, I want to so badly but everything hurts. Being without you is so painful, but remembering all the lies…"

Kara holds you stronger, as if she’s afraid to let go, as if releasing you would mean losing you forever. “You don’t have to forgive me right away,” she whispers. “I know I’ve shattered your trust, and it’s going to take time to rebuild it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not giving up on us.”

There’s a long pause, both of you clinging to each other as if holding onto both sides of a wrecked lifeboat is better than letting go. You know she did it to protect you, you know she was scared of losing you. Hell, you were scared of losing her too! The whole relationship had been nothing but perfect. No one has ever cared and loved you the way Kara does and you know that. You want to believe that this love you share is strong enough to weather this storm, but the doubt gnaws at you, a relentless ache in your chest.

You search her face, looking for any sign of the woman you fell in love with, the woman who made you laugh, who held you when you cried, who made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. She’s still there, beneath the layers of hurt and betrayal. She’s still the woman who caught your heart, even if she also broke it.

“I need time,” you tell her, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “I need time to figure out how to move on from here and if we can get back to where we were.”

Kara nods, her expression a mix of relief and sorrow. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting for you. No matter how long it takes.” She places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "I'll do anything for you, Y/N. Anything at all."

You step back, needing some space to breathe, to think. Kara lets you go, her arms falling to her sides, but she doesn’t move away. She stands there, watching you with a mixture of hope and fear, her vulnerability laid bare.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like this either. I don’t want to be constantly wondering if you’re keeping something else from me.”

“I understand,” Kara says softly. “and I promise, no more secrets. No more lies. I’ll be completely honest with you from now on, about everything. Even if it makes me look bad, or sound horrible. I'll tell you everything.”

"Did you clog up my parents' toilet last time we were there?" She tries not to laugh, but fails. You presented it as a very serious question and she can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

"Yeah." Her cheeks burn red. "But not like you're imagining." You raise an eyebrow at her. "Come on, baby, the chicken was soooo bland even I couldn't eat it. So I flushed down the toilet."

A small smile appears on your lips because God, she is such a doofus.

"That fish your dad and I said we fished ourselves?" You nod at her, remembering perfectly, "Store bought. He's been doing it for years and your mom hasn't noticed."

"I can't believe it! Why does he stay in the river for hours then?"

"He calls it 'peace of mind', but it's just so he can have some time off from her."

"Hm," You think about it for a second. "Do you do the same? That time I wanted to see you and you told me you were going on a trip with Alex…"

"I was unconscious for three days so Alex had to make something up." Your mouth drops, you never realize how much of that you were unaware about. "Maybe I can tell you everything?" She points to the couch. "Would that help?"

"It can't hurt." You shrug, making your way there with your coffee mug. You pass her on the way, and she reaches for your free hand, like she always does. You let her take it, her fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that feels both familiar and foreign.

“Maybe we can start small.” you suggest, your voice tentative, while looking at your hands together.

Kara nods, “Small,” she agrees with an equal small voice. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, Y/N. I just want to be with you, however that looks.”

You sit on the couch and nod at her, "alright, start from the beginning."

"My name is Kara Zor-El, 24 years ago my planet, Krypton, was in serious peril. My cousin, Kal-El was sent to a planet called Earth for his own safety and protection. You may know his story, the story you don't know is that I was sent to protect him…"

[augustjustice]

Living Dead Boy

rating: T | wc: 1.3k | cw: angst, fixation on death, survivor's guilt, ambiguous ending | tags: meta, prose poem, 2nd person, horror movie allusions, steve pov, steddie (technically)

AO3 Link

Notes: Sometimes, I think about how Steve was supposed to die in Season 1. ...A lot.

You are a character in a horror movie. 

In fact, you’re a very specific character in a horror movie. 

At best, you're eye candy, like Johnny Depp and his crop top in that movie you saw later, about nightmares and the guy with the blades on the end of his fingertips. A Nightmare on…something. Maple Street, is what it would be, if this was your life. 

(You sure as shit hope that’s not a thing, the part about dying in your dreams. You’ve had far too many nasty ones, since everything that happened, to get trapped inside them forever.) 

But, at worst, you’re…well.

You’re Asshole Boyfriend #1. You know, the preppy guy. The popular guy. The guy who’s a little bit dumb and a lot too douchey, who drinks too much and parties too hard and sleeps around. 

The point is, you’re the wrong guy.

Certainly the wrong guy for the flinty eyed girl who makes it all the way to the final credits, the one with her backbone of steel. She’s a little virginal. And smart, way too smart for you. Intrepid and daring, she’s gonna hack her way to the end, maybe swan off into the arms of Sensitive-Eyed Nerd Boyfriend #2, because, let’s face it. He’s always deserved her more than you have, anyway. 

That is, she will, at least…if she isn’t the only one to make it out of the story alive.

The point is…the point is, your fate has already been foretold. Cacked off somewhere towards the end of the second act, hoisted by your own petard. If this were another movie, the more salacious ones they play down at the drive-in two towns over from Hawkins, maybe you would have kicked it caught in the act, the little death becoming the big one as you offer the Final Girl the ultimate betrayal. 

Your horror movie’s a little classier than that, but that doesn’t mean you won’t meet the same fate. Not after what you and your friends do to our heroine, spewing bile at her in big-spray painted letters for everybody to see. 

You fucked it. There’ll be no coming back, not after that. You’ll die, and all that will be left is a visceral satisfaction on the audience’s part to see you go.

Because, let’s face it…you had it coming, didn’t you? 

It’s been said before. Not etched out in stone but typed out in ink. There’s no changing it. 

Your story’s already been written long ago.

—

But then, at the end of the story, you…don’t die.

You were supposed to, you think. You’re pretty sure, at least.

That’s how these things go. Right?

At least, that’s what you picked up on, during the late night horror marathons you can’t stop putting on after for their grim familiarity. A taste that follows you all the way to your job at Family Video, when your best friend and you watch them with dead-eyed fascination. 

It’s been prophesied, or whatever the hell the kids would say. Foreshadowed by all the shitty meathead boyfriends who came before you, your story sealed in their blood. 

Except…you don’t.

You don’t die. 

—

It's like you've been given this life–this second chance that you were never even supposed to have–and, the truth is, now you don't know what to do with it.

So, in the aftermath, you loiter and drift, lost without a real, clear sense of purpose.

At first, you and Nancy–beautiful Nancy, the girl who always makes it out alive, who was always meant to–dance around each other, because…well, because what else are you supposed to do? You’re Nancy Wheeler's boyfriend. That's who you're supposed to be. 

If you're not that, then.. what even are you?

—

That’s a great fucking question, one fate doesn’t seem content to let go without giving you a pop quiz. After all, you’ve seen this one before…Asshole Boyfriend #1 or Sensitive-Eyed Nerd #2. Who will she choose?

…Was it ever even really a question? 

—

So, you aren’t Nancy Wheeler’s boyfriend, and you’re not dead either. 

But, you know what you are great at?

Being cannon fodder. 

And, okay, so…maybe, if someone looked at it too closely, they might accuse you of having a death wish of some sort. 

But…that's not exactly right, is it? It can’t be. Because why shouldn't you be the human shield? You were supposed to be dead already, and you know it, so…it just makes sense. 

What other point is there to you?

—

The horrors keep coming back…they never really die, right? Always gotta show up for the sequel. 

And you keep stepping in front of them, because, like you already said…not much else you can do. Each and every time, you think this is it, you’ve reached the end of the line. Fate’s finally gonna catch up with you, take back what it meant to at the start. 

But somehow, against all odds…you keep coming out alive. No matter how many hits you take, how bloodied and battered you end the night. You’re still standing. 

—

The series has made it all the way to Upside Down Horrors Part 4. And, okay, so maybe you think about it every round, but this one…

You’re pretty sure you were supposed to die. For real this time.

But he died in your place. Splayed out, bloody, in your shared pseudo-little brother's arms. 

There’s no way it wasn’t meant to be you. 

Because, you and Eddie Munson, you’ve got nothing in common, right? Fallen King of Hawkins High and the King of the Freaks, what could you possibly? 

Except for all the things you do. 

He’s the mentor and reluctant babysitter of the party. The guy the kids look up to with stars in their eyes. 

Just like you are. 

He ran, that first time around, when the shit hit too close to home. 

Just like you did. 

A girl died in his house, and the guilt gnaws away at him, keeps him locked in a chokehold. 

Just. Like. You.

He’s even goofy and dramatic, makes his protests of your friends’ reckless plans known with the same loud chorus of No, no, no as you do. 

Hell, the parallels are so obvious, you were jealous of him, before. Afraid he was taking your place. You’d barely managed to carve out a spot in the narrative for yourself–you sure as shit didn’t need extra competition.

Now, you’re just glad to have somebody else on your side, for once. 

And there’s no way he doesn’t make it out of this one alive, right? I mean, Revenge of the Nerds, that’s all the rage. Guys like you get cut off at the knees, pay for your sins with humiliation or death while the audience cheers, vindicated at long last. 

But geeky loner outsiders? They come out on top. 

It’s poetic justice, or some shit. Robin would know.

So, that’s how you know it. That the narrative has slipped the tracks yet again. 

Because the one time you weren’t playing human shield, Munson gets the short end of the stick in your place?

It isn’t right. It isn’t fair. 

The universe is just fucking with you, at this point, you’re sure of it. Eddie was never meant for this.

It was supposed to be you. 

—

You can’t even call yourself surprised, when the boy who died in your place claws his way out of his grave like a creature in an old black-and-white monster movie, craving blood and covered in ichor.

And the truth is…it’s so easy, from there. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment, and you didn’t even know it until now.

So, when his wings wrap around your shoulders, you fall into Death’s loving embrace like an old friend. 

After all…you were supposed to be dead for years now.

[fukcnoplease]

Things always go wrong pt5

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

 The man immediately rushed to correct her, tripping over his words as his hands moved wildly, too fast for her to see. Dani knew this wasn't any kind of kidnapping or imprisonment. They couldn't catch her if they tried, not without ghost equipment, but it was kind of fun to mess with this giant of a man. Who clearly had super speed as his hands and words began to go so fast she couldn't understand either. Concerning, sure, but not enough to thwart her thirst for chaos or the urge to poke fun at this seemingly superpowered teddy bear. 

“Am I gonna die here?” She asked, putting on her best scared kitten act. The man froze as he made an interesting set of noises in response to Dani’s question. She wasn't entirely sure they could be made by humans but she wasn't too worried. Her vague understanding of the superheroes around the world did mean she knew at least a few aliens existed in their ranks. She didn't know any of them by name though.

“I hope you understand that no one, no one, on this station would ever try and harm you.” The man said after taking a deep breath. A little rich since Batman had only recently tried to stick them in a lab but it was the thought that counted she supposed. He seemed to get more uncomfortable if she just stared at him silently though, so she kept silent in her scared little kitten act. Honestly it was kind of a riot seeing the man panic over things she knew were unimportant.

“Look! I’ll bring you to Batman and he can explain everything. How about that?” He said and Dani frowned. Batman likely wouldn't be as much of a help as Wonder Woman but if this guy wasn't going to bring her to the lasso lady then might as well go to Batman. Maybe she could even convince him to let her leave. 

Dani nodded, shyly as she could muster, at the big man and he relaxed. He went to pick her up but she stepped away, not even as an act, and he fumbled with his hands before nodding briskly and turning towards a hallway. She followed him a little ways in a big meeting room, extra long dining table with too many chairs and another big, massive computer at the end of the room. It was a little scary how many way too fancy computers Dani had come across in only 24 hours. 

Well, only two, but that was still more than the average person would in their lifetime.

Batman stood at the computer and typed at a raised keyboard. Dani had seen Jazz use a stand up desk, she said it was good for back posture and stress. She always talked about how posture was important and how it could affect you when you were older. Probably didn't mean much with ghost genetics so Dani never cared. 

“BR-” The red caped crusader almost shouted as he walked in but was cut off by something hitting him directly in the forehead. He cried out when it exploded in his face as well. Dani would be lying if she said it didn't make her flinch, which is why she didn't say anything.

“Batman.” The man said again, rubbing his blackened forehead, “I wanted you to explain to- well, this child? That she was not in danger while on the station nor that she was kidnapped or imprisoned.” 

Batman looked at the man then at Dani and scowled. Now that Dani was feeling better, and a little distracted from her brother dying, she started to notice how rude Batman was. He always scowled whenever they interacted and while she wasn't the best person in the world she certainly wasn't that bad. Well, not according to her anyway. “I want to leave.” She said. The caped man, she was really struggling not to just call him Teddy, looked shocked at her sudden firmness but Batman just stared her down. She racked her brain for a way to sound regal and vague when Batman cut her off with a simple answer. “No.” He said. “What?” She and Teddy said in unison. “No. Its been established that you are not safe on earth. We had medical bays if you need them and we have yet to confirm your royal status. There are heroes on the way to help with that. You will stay here.” He said. Dani could feel her ectoplasm churn and her core thrum with anger. “You don't have the right to refuse me passage back to earth. My allies can aid me more than you can and I will force my way to them if I need to.” She growled. Batman’s scowl only deepend. “There is no way we can confirm your allies are safe and until we can confirm your status you are as much of an unknown threat as they are. The Watchtower has all the facilities needed to help you. You will stay here.” Batman said before turning back to the computer. Dani was fuming, if Danny wasnt potentially withering away in another room she would have destroyed this place. “Batman, I know you feel the need to protect them but they are just kids. Can't we at least hear them out?” Teddy said and Dani felt immensely grateful for him. Maybe she would even lighten up on her bullying. Maybe.

“Kids can be more dangerous.” Was all Batman said and Teddy huffed.

“Yours, maybe, but we can't hold every kid to the standard of a robin, can we?” Teddy said and Batman finally looked back at him.

“Not every kid is a meta either.” He said and went back to work. Dani could feel Teddy flex as he grew more agitated.

“Batman.” He said lowly, and Dani instinctively took a step away from him. Batman didn't respond, but he did pause at where he was typing. There was a silence before the clack of keys started up again. Teddy took a deep breath before pressing something on his wrist, a light flashed red and he spoke into it. “Wonder Woman? Can you please come to the main meeting room? There is a young child who wishes to be escorted home.” He said. Dani looked as shocked as Batman did but she recovered faster. “Thank you!” She cried as she launched at Teddy and hugged his neck. He stiffened in shock but relaxed quickly enough to hug her back before she pulled away.

“Superman.” Batman said, he sounded angry but not enough to concern Dani. She did spin to do a double take at Teddy though.

“Wait, Superman? You’re superman?” She asked incredulously as she looked the man up and down. His costume made sense for the name, both the S on the front and the absurdity of it. “Yes?” Superman said, confused by why Dani was so surprised, “Did you not recognize me?” “Well, I guess I just expected Superman to look more… I don't know. Super?” She said. Someone laughed from the entryway and they turned to see Wonder Woman laughing at the doorway. “Praytell, how did you think he would look?” The woman laughed as she entered the room. Batman gave a grunt but was ignored in favor of the child now deep in thought. “I guess like, red skin? Fire hair? Maybe extra arms?” She said, “A cooler outfit?” Superman looked like a wounded puppy at her words and she felt a little bad. Wonder Woman started laughing again and quickly closed the distance between them, which Dani was surprisingly OK with.

“I suppose that truly would have been super,” She chuckled before composing herself, “Now what was this about a child wanting to go home?” Batman stepped forward this time. Dani felt the humor wash out of her as she glared down the man now officially holding her prisoner. “Until royal status can be confirmed both the metas will be staying on the Watchtower until further notice.” He said. Wonder Woman hummed as she looked at him, hip cocked in a friendly but challenging stance.

“And you?” She addressed Dani and Dani fumbled to find the right words. Batman couldnt look more sour if he tried.

“My friends are in Gotham, they can help more than you can but I need to get to them.” Dani managed as Wonder Woman watched her. It didnt feel as challenging or doubtful as it did when she was looking at Batman but it was still intimidating. “I see. And would you let us meet your friends?” She asked. Dani blinked. She hadnt thought of that. If they were in Gotham they would end up on Batmans turf regardless so the chances of him meeting the phantom gang was already pretty high. If they initiated though, maybe it would be easier when they eventually cause problems in the city? Or it would be worse because Batman would already know where to find them. “I can ask.” Dani said as she pulled out her phone from her torso, which shocked the heroes present. As Dani began typing, Wonder Woman turned to Batman. “I appreciate your desire to ensure there wasn't a dimensional war threat but there is an ill royal ambassador. Having an ambassador die under our care would have a similar effect to attacking them directly. Especially if we were denying them what could be life saving treatment.” She said. Batman grunted and stepped away from Dani, creating a small circle of just the heroes. Too far for normal hearing perhaps, but not for Dani’s enhanced hearing. “We have a medical bay on the Watchtower.” He grumbled and Wonder woman sighed. “Yes, but we cannot force them to use it. If they wish to use their own medicine that is their choice. Especially since we know nothing about them.” She scolded. Dani could have sworn Batman almost winced at her words. She sped up typing.

TravelerOfWorlds

Ok so 1) the heroes want to meet you guys

2) I think Wonder Woman is my favorite hero

3) Batman is my least favorite hero

EcoTerrorist

Why do the heroes want to meet us?

TravelerOfWorlds

Unclear. I think its just to establish you are real and not going to kill us.

EcoTerrorist

We are real. Depends on what Danny did to end up more dead.

But I am willing to meet a hero if thats what it takes to get Danny here.

TravelerOfWorlds

As in just one?

EcoTerrorist

As in just one. 

And only if we get Danny first.

Dani squinted at the screen and sighed. She had lost where the heroes conversation was going but that just made it easier to interrupt.

“Excuse me?” Dani waited for Wonder Woman to hold a hand up to silence the arguing men as she turned to Dani and nodded for her to continue. “My… allies decided that they are willing to meet one hero. Just one. And only if my ambassador gets dropped off first.” Batman grunted but it was Wonder Woman who stepped up to talk. “Would you be willing to settle for a hero helping you drop off the ambassador?” she asked and Dani nodded.

“Yeah, I think that will work. They just need to get to the ambassador as soon as possible. I dont think they care about much more than that.” Dani said. Batman shifted behind Wonder Woman and Superman glared at him.

“Thats fine then. Do you know where you need to be dropped off?” Wonder woman asked and Dani sent another quick text asking for the address before nodding. “Somewhere in Gotham. I have the address if that helps.” Dani said. Wonder Woman paused thoughtfully before smiling, a bit too wide. “Well, Batman knows Gotham the best. Im sure he can help you and I think it would be best if he was the one to meet your friends. If your staying in Gotham, its probably best to know the local hero you can call upon.” She said. Dani scrunched her nose and Batman scowled. There was no way Dani was going to be asking Batman for help. Not if she had anything to say about it. 

Except she didnt, because just as she was about to argue a crackling static filled the air around them. It sounded like tv static but layered underneath was the high pitch keen of electricity and a faint scream. Dani would recognize Danny’s ghost speech anywhere and was moving before any of the league had recovered from hearing the eerie sound. 

Batman was first to recover, closely followed by Wonder woman and Superman as they followed the young, alleged monarch through the hallways of the watchtower. Dani didnt struggle to find her way back to the small room, Danny’s call for her being something of a homing beacon.

She slammed her hand on the keypad and the door opened to a tangled-in-sheets Danny who was face planted half off the bed. When he saw her the keen of electricity shifted into the pops and bangs of fuses blowing and he reached a hand for her.

She was quick to grab it and help him back onto the bed, untangling him as her own ghost speech layered on his. Her static overlayed with the sound of bubbles escaping liquid and splashes of something more viscous than water.

Once Danny had her in eyesight and her hand in his he started to calm down. The static dimmed and eventually stopped but he never stopped looking at Dani. It would be disconcerting if Dani wasnt freaking out about Danny using his ghost speech so publicly. 

Some weaker ghosts used ghost speech regularly because it took less energy than projecting feelings core to core, distinct words were even more taxing, but Danny was powerful. He was the King of the Infinite Realms. He hated broadcasting the sounds of his death and he always had the energy to project entire paragraphs into someone's core. 

“We need to get him to Gotham now.” Dani said and she moved to try to pick Danny up but was pulled back by Wonder Woman. She wanted to growl or hiss or something but Batman was already moving to pick up Danny, who was still carefully watching his little sister.

Dani moved quickly to stay with Batman as he made his way to the boom tubes. Behind them she caught the barest whispers between Wonder Woman and Superman.

“He is an impressive warrior. He never let his gaze waver, even in such a state.” Wonder Woman commented. 

“Still worrying. With all the powers she has casually shown, I have to wonder what got him in such a state in the first place.” Superman added. Dani lost the conversation as they moved away and towards the metal cones.

The journey back was moderately better than the journey there, especially now that she knew what to expect. She still made sure to grip Danny’s hand tightly and send comforting thrums to his core as they passed through.

His eyes flashed a brighter green and he shuddered when they exited the swirling vortex but that was all and Dani was going to count that as a win.

The crazy batcar rolled up in front of them before they had even stepped off the boom tube platform and the doors popped open. Batman carefully put Danny in the back and Dani climbed in after him. The doors closed as Batman got situated in the drivers seat and they were off. Down the same path they used to enter, the crazy bat cave shrinking behind them until it was swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel.

Batman didnt pull up any directions for the address, didnt even give it a second look, he just drove in silence, which Dani was grateful for. She didnt have much choice but to go with him since Danny needed help sooner rather than later and arguing with Batman would have taken too much time. Time that Danny desperately needed. It didnt mean Dani had to be happy about it though.

They exited the tunnels into the dingy light of a clouded sky, blinding Dani. Huge gothic buildings towered around them, modern skyscrapers awkwardly built in between the historical stone. It was actually kind of endearing. The mish mosh of styles and buildings and the giant gargoyles on every building. If it was under different circumstances Dani might have loved visiting Gotham.

As it were they pulled into an alley next to a nicer skyscraper, one that was clearly trying to bridge the gap between modern and historic. Batman parked by the dumpsters and went to pick up Danny. “I can carry him.” Dani said, pulling the dazed halfa towards herself. Batman paused, a frown permanently pasted on his face, but stepped back. He moved to the nearby staff entrance and opened the door for Dani. After some cajoling and awkward shifting, she had Danny in a piggyback hold. It wasnt the most comfortable but after a few years Danny had stopped being the small teen and grown into a lanky young adult. Sure he weighed nothing to Dani but his awkward length made him unruly to carry with her smaller body. She still wasnt going to let Batman carry him though so she could suck it up.

The door was clearly a staff entrance so Dani was a little surprised it had been left unlocked but elected to not focus on that. Batman led them through the staff walkways and to the elevators, thankfully no one was around. Dani might have keeled over if someone had seen her getting into a fancy elevator with THE Batman. 

She might keel over just having to be in the fancy elevator with the Batman. It was a long elevator ride to experience in complete silence, excluding Batman’s breathing. Damn, Sam’s parents for getting them a penthouse on the top floors of a skyscraper.

~~~ Hey gang sorry for how long this took, lots of stuff happening hopefully the next bit will be out sooner than later

thanks for waiting and for all the positive feedback this isnt beta read so sorry about the grammar

[kittyamore0]

Slashers with a Vampire S/O:

[PART II]

CW: Biting, marking, breaking of skin, blood, slightly dom, immortal, GN! reader, blood kink and drinking blood

LITTLE NOTE I: Im in a slightly good mood and i wanted to write another character even though they aren't a slasher, but as a bonus!

LITTLE NOTE II: I've been up since 3AM working on this and then other things. Its currently 9AM and im having crucial back pain

BONUS: extra character

EXTRA CHARACTER: Violet Harmon

MAIN CHARACTERS: Stu Macher + Billy Loomis, Carrie White, Freddy Kruger, Tate Langdon, Bubba sawyer, GENRE: Headcanons

Fandom: Horror

STU MACHER + BILLY LOOMIS

Stu wouldn't believe you at first.

Billy tends to stalk you from time to time, so i think he would know

You also know that your loving, killer boyfriend stalks you

So you also know that he knew.

"Uh, Sweetie, you do realize its not Halloween yet, right?"

You scoffed and flashed your fangs at Stu and Billy

"Might be fake-"

"Bitch, please!"

Stu playfully rolled his eyes and smiled

Suddenly, you ran past him

But way too quickly

"Wait-- What the fuck?--"

Billy just snickered at him

"What are you laughing about?"

Stu narrowed his eyes

"Ive been knowing, you fuck-rag."

Stu did in fact realize you were not lying.

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"They just did,"

"You--"

"Enough."

Stu kept whining the whole week after that

He would ask stupid questions

Like Tif, he would watch Vamp movies with you

He will let you bite him just to feel how it feels

Sometimes it'll go well with Stu, sometimes it wont...

He needs like 20 years to recover from that bite

And other times, he feels like hes floating

"I feel high! Is this what you felt when they bit you, Bil?"

"No, i felt horny."

...

"Wait, wha--"

Now, with Billy

He loved it when you bit him

He has a major blood kink

You marking him, blood seeping down his neck as you drink from him.

He also loves looking into your crimson eyes

He thinks your eyes are really pretty, but he wont admit that

Maybe if you manage to bribe him

He does know that he can actually die if he lets you drink as much blood, so it only happens once awhile

He will bring you back some victims as ghostface though!

Be prepared for loving phone calls from your loving boyfriends telling you how much people they've killed

CARRIE WHITE

She did believe you, but it took her some time to process stuff

I mean, she's got powers. Why wouldn't she believe you?

She sometimes thinks about how her mom would react

Her mom would be absolutely pissed

But she doesn't care

she's not letting you go anytime soon

And she doesn't plan too

You don't drink from her because her body is already fragile enough

She never brought up that idea either

I mean, she has thought about it, but she knows that you would refuse instantly due to both her physical and mental health

She would let you drink from her, if it meant saving you in some kind of way

She doesn't ask too many questions about it and treats you like any normal person, but with extra and special attention since you're her S/O!

When shes upset, her powers get out of control and she has flung knives at you...maybe more than one.

But she really didn't mean to!

She can't control it!

She freaks out when one of the knives at you, dropping her upset mood

Then you have to reassure her that you're immortal, so it wont affect you as much

"Carrie, sweetie, im okay--"

"I-it wa-was in your th-throat!"

"Again, not like im dying--"

She was so upset the first time it happened

She tried running away and locking herself inside her room, but you were much stronger than her, so you held her close until she was calm

"Shh...its okay, its okay."

"i--im-im sorry, im sorry..."

Poor baby :(

But you will pamper her after shes calm down

:)

FREDDY KRUGER

Hes gonna believe you, since you know, hes a dead, burned, sleep demon--

But he wants proof

Crimson eyes or bright changing eye colors? check.

Sharp fangs that can hide themselves? Check.

Blood lust?

You tried biting him the first time you guys met and he caught you eating more than one person in your dreams.

So yea, Check.

He makes dirty jokes about your powers

Speed?

He'll say something along the lines of..."Well, lets see your pace in the bedroom--"

You start fist fighting him every time he does say something like that

But sometimes you'll play along with his little flirting game

And the second you do, theres a thick lump in those worn out pants of his

The next thing you know, you wake up naked

Oh, and because of that supernatural crazy stuff,

You find a way to see the demon through the day instead of night now!

Through spells though

But as long as you're seeing him!

TATE LANGDON

Hes known way before you've met him, and thats because hes known you longer than you've known he existed

When he did reveal himself, like his true self, which is being dead, you realized about him knowing about your little secret

And the other ghost in the house

yay.

I mean, you were planning to tell your boyfriend Tate that you were a Vamp, but he knew

So that spares you the explanation and proving

You were just glad he knew

Tate, i feel like when he tells you that he knows, he'll compliment you.

How he loved the way your eyes would change color

How he loved your powers

And how he loved you, most of all, all of you.

All the confessing would definitely lead to a passion make out, and maybe even further

And dont tell me 'no'. This shit would be like a telenovela, but it got to the part that they are confessing

And im listening to 'or nah' by The Weeknd right now, it's a sign.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He would treat you like his normal S/O, not caring about the fact you are a human-blood-drinking creature.

He would suggest you be a vampire for Halloween, since you know, you're already one...

"Haha, so funny. I'm not gonna wear those weird human versions of vampire cloaks!"

"C'mon, it'll be funny!"

"Okay, how about this; You wear those ghost costumes, the ones where theres just holes where the eyes are and ill dress in one of those weird vampire cloaks."

"No, not in a million years!"

"It's either we wait a million years then, or you wont ever get to see me in that vampire cloak~"

"Okay, you win!"

"So, deal then?"

"Deal."

Whenever you have your blood lust, he'll offer up his cold flesh for you to bite through and let his bitter sweet blood soak out

But in the end, you can't.

Dead blood in fact makes Vampires very ill

And though it saddens him that he cant help you, he'll understand.

He wont let you drink his blood.

No matter how much pain you're in.

He can't risk putting you in even more pain

So he mostly goes invisible when you have your blood lust

And he waits in the corner of your room for you to come back from hunting your meal

Calm cuddles after your blood lust while listening to Nirvana

He absolutely loves that you are immortal

You can stay with him, forever.

Forever and ever. With him, and only him.

VIOLET HARMON -- THE BONUS

Violet has also known, like Tate because she has been watching you.

You also knew she was a ghost in the house from the day she came up to you

How? When words about the infamous 'murder house' were being spread, so did the word Violet

And you might of seen a picture or two of her when people would talk about the murder house

She kinda has no choice either

She also was really interested in you when you moved into the house

She was obviously shocked when she found out you were a vampire

She did not expect that at all

I mean, she grew up knowing that vampires didn't exist

And yet, here you are

before you guys started dating she was the classic-

sorta stare and not talk

Only because you're a vampire and she doesn't wanna trigger anything--

Okay...shes was nervous.

She has a literal crush on a hot vampire who is living in the house she died in!

okay, the 'died in' part is uh, just not needed

And she did really want to talk to you, she just needed a push

Tate.

"Okay, Vi, you got this..."

She took a deep breath

"shit, never mind. i don't got this--"

"You do."

She yelped when the familiar voice had appeared from behind her.

"Tate...?"

"yea, sorry. I just wanted to say that, uh, you should go for it. Its now or never. They might be a inmortal , but they wont stay here for long without, um, value? So, uh, go for it."

He flashes Violet a small smile before walking way

"Thanks..." She mumbled and continued to stare at your figure

fuck it.

"Uh, h-hi,"

Her heart felt like it was about to pop tf out her chest

Wait, it dont beat no more.

But still felt like it

You felt like you were trippin'

Are you actually talking to a cute, dead girl right now?

Yes. Yes you were.

"Hi, Violet."

She froze up.

How the hell.

Did one of the ghosts tell you?

What.

"How did you--"

"Oh, it was easy. A lot of people talk about this house, and you."

oh, right.

Well, shit.

"What, cat got your tongue?"

Yes.

"N--no, im fine--"

You just chuckled at her

Why in the hell were you so calm???

"Do you wanna talk a little? im sure you didn't call me just to call me."

"Yes! i mean--sure!"

You guys hung out the rest of the night and it was amazing.

She found out things about you

You found out things about her

A win-win!

She'd hate when you have your blood lust

Because 1. You're scary as hell

2. She hates seeing you in pain

3. There's no blood available for you in the house because its all dead blood, we dont want you to be sick

4. She hates waiting long for you to come home

Long naps with you after you got back from hunting

BUBBA SAWYER

You told Bubba from the start of the relationship!

I mean, why not tell your cannibal boyfriend that you, are in fact, a blood thirsty vampire

At first, he was confused

A vampire in texas...?

A real, REAL vampire.

Complusion to make him less confused

Oh, now he gets it!

Wonder why...

He'll still love you

Vampire or not

constant babbling about how he loves your crimson eyes

HATES it when you have your blood lust

He hates seeing you in pain

Tries feeding you his victims

Gets even more upset when you tell him you can't have dead blood

Hes on his way to find some more victims

You can count on him!

He'll come back with 2-5 victims

Maybe even more if there was some event going on nearby

He'll sit you on his lap and cuddle with you till' you feel better

He coos at you but you have absolutely no idea on what he's saying!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

[honoviadakai]

Rating the Hazbin crew based on how well they’ll take care of you when you’re sick 🤒

Charlie🎶🏨:

8/10

So letting Charlie know you’re sick might actually be a bigger health concern for her than it is for you

She’s gonna act like you’re dying

She legitimately might make Razzle and Dazzle plan for a funeral

You are now gonna be on house arrest

No

Scratch that

You’re on bed arrest!

No getting up under any circumstances! 😤

She’s wait on you hand and foot till you’re 1000% better

She’s gonna be overbearing but in her defense, she REALLY doesn’t want you to suffer/die so please just bare with her

She just wants you to recover asap ;3;

Vaggie🗡️🦋:

7/10

Ok so on one hand…her chicken soup is pretty good

On the other hand…she’s a very “tough love” kinda gal to anyone who isn’t named Charlie Morningstar

It dose not help that she’s canonically Latina…

All my fellow Latinos know, if you get sick…you get the vaporub

And that is probably something Vaggie still firmly believes in

“Just rub some raporub on your chest and nose and walk it off, you’ll be good in no time!”

Said every Latino parent in history….

She’s probably never had to take care of many sick people in her human life, let alone her afterlife in hell

Cut her a bit of slack and just use the vaporub, she’s trying damn it!

Alastor🦌📻:

-12/10

N O

WHY WOULD YOU EVER COME TO THIS MAN FOR MEDICAL HELP!?!

Do you have a death wish or something!?

Best case scenario, he’ll help you but your soul is gonna be on the line for a while!

Worst case scenario, he’s just gonna let you suffer

And I don’t mean that he’s just gonna leave you to sleep in your room

No no no, that too boring

He’s gonna make sure no one else in the hotel knows of your predicament and he’s gonna watch you struggle and laugh at your misery…

For the love of all that is good in the universe…don’t let him know you’re sick…ever.

Angel Dust🕷️💕:

6/10

Ok

Listen…he’s not the worst option….but you do have better options

The problem asking Angel to help you when you’re sick is that you’re sick…

You’re gross…he doesn’t want not on his fluff

But if y’all are very close…

Like besties or lovers? That changes the game

He’ll cuddle you, no questions asked

So it really depends on who you are to him how much effort he’s gonna put in

He’s also kinda forgetful

For example, if you ask him for a cup of tea, he’ll absolutely go brew a cup for you

But you better pray that nothing and no one distracts him!

Cuz otherwise just forget about having hot tea or tea in general…

He’s pretty shit at remembering to take medication at certain times too so I’d set multiple reminders

Even then…might not help much…

He is a pretty good cook though so rest assured, you will be very well fed during your recovery period

Husk🐈‍⬛🥃:

10/10

Will this crusty old man complain about having to help you? Yes.

Will he bitch and moan every time you ask him for another cup of tea? Absolutely.

Will he curse under his breath while holding your hair back as you puke your brains out for the 10th time in the past 24 hours? Without question.

But he’s still fucking helping you

He can say whatever the hell he wants, he’s waiting on you hand and foot till you’re better of his own volition

He’s out here making some of the best damn soup you’ve ever had he’s gonna make sure you finish every last spoonful god damn it!

If you gotta take medication on a schedule, best believe he’s setting multiple timers

You’re also taking all the naps you need, no arguments! 😤

If you ask, he will cuddle you, but he will make you swear on your mother’s grave that you won’t tell a soul he did that for you

He’d rather chop his arms off than admit this, but he is genuinely worried for you and just wants you to recover

You did not hear that from me though 🤐

Niffty🪡🐞:

5/10

Oh she makes some of the best soup! 🥣

Her home cooked meals are delicious

Honestly the best part of having Niffty taking care of you is just how well fed you’re gonna be 🥰

But this is Nifty we’re talking about…

So she’s gonna be….Nifty….

She’s gonna hover uncomfortably close to the bed while you rest…

Just…watching you…

She’s not even trying to be creepy or anything

She’s just making sure you’re ok

But like…she’s starting a little too intensely at you…not blinking even once…

She’s just waiting to see if you want tea or something tbh

She just forgot you’re supposed to blink

She’ll also just watch you sleep

Not sure why…she just does

If she’s feeling ✨spicy✨…she miiight give you some questionable medicine…

Like, medicine she found in Alastor’s room….

Please get an actual doctor 🙏

Sir Pentious🐍🥚:

2/10

No

Just…no

Get an actual doctor

Please!

He means well

He really does!

But this man died in the Victorian era!

Don’t let a man with medical knowledge form the Victorian era help you!

He will use leeches on you!

And that’s the best case scenario for you!

And for the love of all that is good in the world, do NOT let the egg boys help!

They all share a brain cell between them and I don’t think any of them is ever fully away of where it is at any given moment

They’re likely to take one look at you and think the best way to reduce your fever is to stick you in an ice bath…for hours….

Go to an actual doctor if you wanna keep your ability to breathe. Please.🙏

[goodnightmemes]

DUNE: PART TWO (2024) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ This world is beyond cruelty. ❜

❛ Never stand with your back towards the open. How many times do I have to tell you that, huh? ❜

❛ Don’t worry. I’m taking you somewhere they will never find us. ❜

❛ You fought well… once you woke up. ❜

❛ He thinks you’re spies. ❜

❛ Your faith is playing tricks on you. ❜

❛ I’m ready to pledge my life for him. ❜

❛ Your father didn’t believe in revenge. ❜

❛ Don’t mock him. He deserves our respect. He’s a good fighter. ❜

❛ Never give your water away, not even for the dead. ❜

❛ It’s an honor, isn’t it? I think you should feel honored. ❜

❛ Well, it was a choice between this or death, so, you know, forgive me if I’m not flattered. ❜

❛ You want to control people, you tell them a messiah will come. Then they’ll wait for centuries. ❜

❛ That was no miracle! ❜

❛ I’m not here to lead. I’m here to learn your ways. Let me fight beside you. That’s all I’m asking. ❜

❛ You will see! The beauty and the horror! ❜

❛ Oh! Don’t ever, ever listen to the jinn. ❜

❛ He’s not like the other strangers. He’s sincere. ❜

❛ You know, I’m the only one who believes you’re gonna make it until summer? Everyone else thinks you won’t make it two weeks. ❜

❛ What? Stop looking at me like that. ❜

❛ We must convert the non-believers one by one. We need to start with the weaker ones. The vulnerable ones. The ones who fear us. ❜

❛ Who taught you to fight like that? ❜

❛ We can stop them together, bury them in the sand where they belong. ❜

❛ Then I’ll die, maybe you will too. But the others will keep going. And they won’t stop. ❜

❛ Where you’re from, does water really fall from the sky? ❜

❛ Your blood comes from Dukes and Great Houses. We don’t have that here. Here, we’re equal, men and women alike. What we do, we do for the benefit of all. ❜

❛ Well, I’d very much like to be equal to you. ❜

❛ It’s been a while since you’ve had one of those nightmares. Tell me, what was it about? ❜

❛ You’ve been exposed to spice for a long time. It can create weird dreams. ❜

❛ Don’t try to impress anyone. You are brave. We all know that. Be simple. Be direct. Nothing fancy. ❜

❛ I won’t shame you. I understand. ❜

❛ The way they look at you. They worship you now. ❜

❛ I’m no messiah. ❜

❛ She says you’re blinded by love, and she reminds you that you must reserve your hand for the most strategic alliance. ❜

❛ Do you not think I also feel the weight of the prophecy? ❜

❛ They deserve to be led by one of their own. ❜

❛ Repression only makes a religion flourish. ❜

❛ You underestimate the power of faith. ❜

❛ Prophets get stronger when they die. ❜

❛ You’d be a formidable empress. ❜

❛ Then what hope is there? ❜

❛ Hope? We don’t hope, we plan. ❜

❛ The question is, can we control him? And I intend to find out. ❜

❛ I won’t die like a fool. Kill me now. ❜

❛ No fear. These fights are all for show. ❜

❛ Show me who you are. ❜

❛ This morning you were a playboy, feared and envied, but tonight you’re a hero. ❜

❛ You’re following me. ❜

❛ You’re not allowed in this section. How did you get past the guards? ❜

❛ I remember now. I dreamed about you last night. ❜

❛ Come to me. Kneel. ❜

❛ I recognized your footsteps, old man. ❜

❛ When our resources are limited…fear is all we have. ❜

❛ Well, what are you waiting for? With thousands of these guys, you could take control of the entire planet. ❜

❛ They used to be friends. Now they’re followers. ❜

❛ You have the power to avenge your father, and you’re afraid to use it? ❜

❛ I can foresee things. If I go South, all my visions lead to horror. ❜

❛ Billions of corpses scattered across the galaxy. All dying because of me. ❜

❛ No need to be a prophet to see what’s ahead. ❜

❛ Your path leads to war. You know that. ❜

❛ So, war is coming. What will you do when you feel its breath upon your neck? ❜

❛ He who can destroy a thing has the real control of it. ❜

❛ You promised me you didn’t want power. ❜

❛ No matter what I do, you still don’t trust me. ❜

❛ My allegiance is to you. I’m doing this for all of us. Do you believe me? ❜

❛ It’s right under everybody’s noses. Not clever. ❜

❛ That’s the idea. Nobody would ever look in there because it’s obvious. ❜

❛ Nothing can live there without faith. ❜

❛ I want to go on the ground. Prepare my troops. ❜

❛ You humiliated our family. You humiliated me. ❜

❛ Embarrass our family one more time… it will be the last. ❜

❛ It is a good time to cross blades with me. I am weak. I am an easy kill. ❜

❛ I don’t care what you believe. I believe. ❜

❛ I’ll stay behind and cover your retreat. ❜

❛ You see only fragments. You cannot see the future without seeing the past. ❜

❛ To unlock your mind, you need to drink the Water of Life… and you will see everything. ❜

❛ A good hunter always climbs the highest dune before his hunt. He needs to see… as far as he can see. ❜

❛ The world has made choices for us. ❜

❛ You will never lose me. Not as long as you stay who you are. ❜

❛ You are not prepared for what is to come. ❜

❛ You’ll now learn the truth about our family. And it will hurt you to the core. ❜

❛ His vital signs are so low, they can’t be detected. But he’s alive. ❜

❛ You might not believe in the prophecy, but you’re a part of it. ❜

❛ You’re the poison. You and your lies. Why would you do this? ❜

❛ The visions are clear now. I see possible futures. All at once. ❜

❛ Our enemies are all around us. And in so many futures, they prevail. But I do see a way. ❜

❛You can stop this. Do you hear me? You have the power to stop this.

❛ This prophecy is how they enslave us! ❜

❛ You think I’m stupid enough to deprive myself of the best of us? Do you smash a knife before battle? ❜

❛ There is no one in this room who can stand against me! ❜

❛ This could be the moment you’ve been praying for all your life. ❜

❛ But there is one way your family can remain in power and, through you, the continuation of our stewardship. One. Way. Are you prepared? ❜

❛ You’ve been preparing me my whole life. ❜

❛ Long live the fighters! ❜

❛ I swear to you, I wasn’t aware of any of this. ❜

❛ You die like an animal. ❜

❛ Look who’s back from the dead. ❜

❛ I want you to know… I will love you as long as I breathe. ❜

❛ They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think? ❜

❛ Consider what you’re about to do. ❜

❛ You’ll be lucky to keep your head. ❜

❛ I’ll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe. And we will rule together over the Empire. ❜

❛ Do you know why I killed him? Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule. ❜

❛ Stand or choose your champion. ❜

❛ Do not stain your hands on this animal. Let me deal with him. ❜

❛ Why does he take such risks? ❜

❛ Well, you wouldn’t be the first relative I’ve killed. ❜

❛ May thy knife chip and shatter. ❜

❛ You have fought well. ❜

❛ You should’ve believed. You chose the wrong side.❜

❛ You, of all people, should know. There are no sides. ❜

❛ Spare my father now and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours. ❜

❛ They refuse to honor your ascendancy. ❜

❛ Lead them to Paradise. ❜

[shijjii]

More than feeling rested

So- I've been trying to work on my dungeon meshi character. I've somewhat built a small story for them but the thing is that I am kind of scared that the lore of them might be a little Mary Sue? I hope not, honestly. I'll probably tweak some stuff around as I try to finish drawing them but I don't really have the energy to draw right now so here I am writing! I hope everyone enjoys it! Pairing: GN!Reader x Chilchuck Tims Genre: I guess kind of fluff? It's mostly cuddling. Though, TW because Drinking and Smoking is mentioned in the story (reader is the one smoking). Also some cussing. A bit of OOC from Chilchuck tho Word count: 1,148 words Reader appearance/notes: Tall-man!Reader

The sun was setting the horizon when the party came out of the dungeon. Laios thinking that he wants to go to the market to buy some stuff that they'll need in the next dungeon crawl, Marcille and Falin going to the inns to rest, meanwhile, Chilchuck, Namari and you decide to hit the taverns and release your chaos to it.

Namari was laughing out loud as Chilchuck tells her a story that happened a while back. You were hanging about while contently drinking your pint of beer. "Yeah, it was so shit quality!" Chilchuck exclaims. As you observe how he explains his story, you notice the bags under his eyes. He looks very tired despite his smiling face.

Namari bursted out in tears as they continued on, as she was doing so, the half-foot's attention turned to you "what about you, ____? What's a moment you'll never forget?" He asks you, eyes filled with warmth and amusement after him and Namari talked

"Accidentally tripping down a flight of stairs and dying is something that's stuck to me-" Both Namari and Chilchuck bursted out laughing "is that why you always stick close to the wall???" The dwarf asks, you nod at her question embarrassed. Downing the pint of alcohol you had and pulling out your pack of cigarettes to avoid looking at them.

"it happened once but it traumatized me a lot, okay?" You tell them but they wouldn't stop snickering at it.

"you know, usually, people die because of monsters" Chilchuck started "but somehow, you died because of your own clumsiness?" He teases you, swiftly taking a swig from his own pint as you huff a puff of smoke and groan at his teasing "shut up" you grumble. Carefully taking the ash tray in the middle of the table and removing the excess ash from your cigarette.

"may I?" Chilchuck asks for your cigarette, if he can have a drag out of it too, while Namari gets her stuff "right, I'm leaving you two here. I'm gonna go home and rest" she sleepily tells them. Both you and Chilchuck wave good bye at her as Chilchuck continue to take a drag from your cigarette "hey now, I know I allowed you to have some but don't forget to give it back" You joke, making Chilchuck throw his head back and bark out a laugh

Apologizing, he gives it back to you and both of you continue to talk with each other as the night progressed on. Topics getting deeper and serious as the two of you drink more.

"yeah well, things happen, and no matter how long we've been, it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want me anymore" He whispers under his breath, talking about his wife always puts him in a solemn mood but he didn't really know who else to talk about it to.

You hum and ponder what he just told you "While ye might think that yer so old now, you still have life ahead of you. I'm sure ye'll still find sumone you can be wiz" you shrug, words slurring a little bit from all the alcohol, and Chilchuck took notice of this

"I think we should head back to our lodging" You look at the sky and then inside the tavern, seeing what time it was on a clock, both of you would take a lot of time getting back at the inn the other party members are in.

"M'house is somewhere here...." You tell him slowly, trying to regain some of your soberness "if ye want, we can just use that instead'f walking all the way back to the inn" Chilchuck hummed to himself before nodding. "That's a good idea actually" He mumbles, both of you paying for your drinks

"lead the way, ____" He calls out. The both of you walked towards your home. Sometimes, eyes looking up at the sky to see the stars on it, making the two of you smile in content. The cold gust of air hitting your faces making you a little bit awake as you two rounded the corner and see a little quaint house.

You slightly fumble with the keys and open the door "make yerself at home" You tell him before going inside and trying to see where you kept your extra bed for him to sleep on. Thirty minutes had passed and you've yet to find it, your head slowly spinning with the world around you and Chilchuck knew it was getting bad for you.

"Right, this what we gonna do" You start, taking a pillow from your bed and putting it in the middle "this is going to be our divider. That side is yours and this side is mine. Good night" not waiting for his response, you kick your shoes off of your feet and laid down on the bed. The last thing you hear from him is an amused scoff before the other side of the bed sinks unto someone's weight.

The next morning, you can hear pitter patter of the rain hitting against the windows, only a small ray of sunshine peaking through the dark clouds. Despite this gloomy weather, you felt incredibly warm. Delving deeper into the blanket and holding the pillow even tighter than before, you just wanted nothing more but to fall asleep once again.... That was until you hear a small peep from something-or well, someone- your eyes open snap to see a half-foot in your arms, red as a tomato

Immediately letting go of him, he coughs through a clenched fist and awkwardly scratches the back of his head "I'm so sorry" you start, not looking at the half-foot.

"Uh" You give him a little glance as he speaks up "don't apologize. That was uh...." He kept looking at you then at the floor "That was the best sleep I got in a while" He admits, a tinge of redness reaching his cheeks and ears.

"It's been a while since I slept that good" You blink at his confession, not sure what to do. A long silence embraced both of you until you reached out to him and pulled him back into bed. "What are you-" He asks flustered

"This doesn't go out of this room..." You tell him with furrowed eyebrows as you cuddle him in bed "It's still early and it's raining... Might as well make the best of it" He hums awkwardly, letting himself melt into your touch "Might as well" He agreed with you, shuffling a bit to make himself comfortable in your hold and put his head against your head "This is more than feeling rested. Feels like heaven" He whispers against his palm as he feels your hand running through his hair gently.

Both of you enjoy the cold morning by cuddling in bed, promising to never talk about this interaction outside of the room.

[ganymedesclock]

This might be extremely late and maybe you already got an answer about this and isn't in su anymore but if it was possible do you think Greg should reconcile with his parents despite everything they done to him?

TL;DR I think "should" doesn't really have anything to do with it in cases of personal relationships.

This may come at a contrast to a lot of how "redemption discourse" tends to get circled around but one thing I think that a lot of people don't realize is that when you are talking about specifically heroes and villains in actionized series, there tends to be an accidental blend of "are we going to personally develop a friendship with Badguy McStabs" and "are we going to pull Badguy McStabs off this railroad track before the train hits him"

Longer deliberation under the cut,

The thing is. In a lot of stories. protagonists tend to have, or acquire, or assert, a lot of say over the situation. To use SU as an example, if Steven decides he is not going to work with White Diamond in any magnitude, draw an us-vs-them line and not allow any of his allies to work with her either... White Diamond does not really have a lot of options besides dying- or getting exiled to the middle of nowhere in a 'technically not a death' death sentence. Steven, at this point, is functionally one of the ruling authorities of Homeworld and leading an active revolution.

What Steven Universe does that I think is particularly relevant to this topic is it points out that Steven can choose to let White Diamond have a functional life, while 1. meaningfully halting the threat that she poses and 2. not choosing to personally be her friend.

SU Future makes it pretty darn obvious that their relationship is strained. White has become, in no uncertain terms, the weird grandma that Steven feels some familial obligation to but is not sure he likes. Sure, as his weird grandma she's very enthusiastic about connecting with him but she's out of touch and condescending and a lot of things he doesn't personally like.

By contrast, the thing with Greg and his parents, is similar to the thing with Steven and Marty, or Steven and Kevin. If Our Hero does not extend an olive branch in this situation... nothing's directly gonna happen to these guys. We cannot say directly, unambiguously clear-cut, Greg's parents will suffer if Greg never talks to them again. They may miss their son, but, well, at that point, we're weighing their hurt feelings over Greg's hurt feelings at his upbringing, which we know he was miserable about.

Any time we talk about rehabilitating an antagonist, we're actually talking about multiple bundled concepts.

-Does the antagonist specifically stay in power, or remain unchecked?

In the case of White Diamond, the answer to this is no- while she is still ruler of Homeworld, her relationship with her peers has completely changed and Steven now directly has the public authority to put a check on her and be backed by Homeworld's own resources.

-Does the antagonist functionally get to have a life after this?

I would generalize this out from "does the antagonist die or not"- think about someone going to jail, implicitly for a life sentence, or as Vlad Masters from Danny Phantom, getting flung out into the depths of space for the rest of his existence. They are nominally alive but narratively they have still been put in a neat tidy box where they will never affect anybody's life again, the end goodbye.

-Does the hero or heroes personally keep the villain in their life after this?

That's what this question is getting at. And your intention may not have ever been to touch the other two- we KNOW Greg's parents have or had some kinda life and presumably didn't get fired or forced into destitution by their son running away. The thing they lost was access to Greg- and in time, to Steven. But I think whether or not you answer yes, or no, to this question, it's important to split it off from the other two- because that's where a lot of people can get into really intense arguments about this- where person A thinks that the answer is "yes, they should be redeemed", meaning, "obviously take them out of power and the heroes may not want them around personally but like, don't kill them or ruin their life, yeesh" and person B hears that yes and thinks that person A means "they should not experience ANY consequences for their behavior and in fact be directly coddled by people they hurt whether or not those people independently want to"

And when "is someone good or bad" is inevitably complicated as all hell even in media where it's the Happy Caring Friends Of Hug-A-Lot vs. The Hateful Nasties Of Mount Meanie, you can see where boiling things to imperfect extremes and then getting really mad at people is both an enduring pastime for the ages and also not a great way to read media.

To follow up my opener- at the point where it's just about who do you choose to keep in your life or not, no implicit threat of death or fantastical consequences... I don't think moral imperatives really matter that much.

At the end of the day, we're never going to know Greg's mind fully, even having a deeper lens into him than we'd ever have into a real-world associate given we've watched him as an audience. We aren't going to know his entire situation. And even if we somehow, perfectly did... we'd still have different answers on whether or not he "should" forgive his parents, based on innumerable factors, none of which are "are we, ourselves, Good or Evil"

So I just don't think framing it as a potential imperative, should he, is gonna get us anywhere. It's just not the knife to cut this particular question with. I'd be more interested in would he, or if so, what might that look like? good idea? bad idea? or even just, how did his parents feel about all this, what's their side of the story and how does that inform our read of Greg?

[gavillain]

Agatha All Along episode 4 discusion and theories!

Episode 4 spoilers ahoy! Also, I'm going to discuss the FunkoPop leaked spoilers as well, so if you want to remain in the dark, turn back now!

This was SUCH a good episode! I really had fun with it, and we learned a LOT and had a lot of development this go-round.

So they summon Rio Verde to fill Sharon's place as the resident Green Witch in this episode, and already I am LOVING what she adds to the group. The way she's just so casually bloodthirsty and dangerous is genuinely really fun, and I really like how this episode confirms that she and Agatha were lovers in the past and still seem to have feelings for each other. I am mad that the FunkoPop leak spoiled that Rio is Death because this episode did some GREAT foreshadowing regarding that revelation that I'm sure would have thrown us all for a loop if we didn't already know her identity. But her being "in the neighborhood" after Sharon dies, her wanting "more bodies" during her talk with Agatha, Agatha saying "don't" directly at her when Teen was dying, and her hurting Agatha fulfilling her duty. That last one makes me think that she was responsible for taking Nicholas Scratch's life, and that's why she and Agatha had their falling out. I'm thinking maybe Agatha did something to obtain the Darkhold that inadvertently traded Nicholas's life, and maybe she thought whatever she did WOULDN'T kill him because she and Death were lovers (but of course was mistaken). I'm very excited to learn more about Death and Agatha's history.

Although, I am curious about two things with regards to Rio being Death: 1. She's a Green Witch and in fact says she is THE Green Witch. Why is Death of all beings considered a Green Witch? What's the lore there? 2. Were all the signs indicating that she might be Blackheart intentionally misdirections, or is there something else going on here that pertains to Blackheart? Keeping these questions in mind going forward, and I want to marinate on them.

Alice, her mother, and her family's curse was at the forefront of this episode, and I really enjoyed having some additional development for Alice. She was by far the most "normal" of the main cast, so it was nice that we got answers about her first so that she didn't fade into the background. Last episode, I deduced that Alice was cursed by some malevolent entity that plagues her family bloodline and would be after her now that the mother is dead, and on that I was correct. I thought the entity would be Dark Tonji from the comics, but the curse demon was given no name. I'm just gonna call it Dark Tonji since it never got another name XD I loved the reveal that Alice's mother's cover of The Ballade is a protection spell that has been keeping Alice safe for years because of how prolific it is played. I thought that was a really fun touch, and I LOVED the performance of the cover. It was very emotionally powerful watchiing the demon be destroyed by it. I am curious if we'll learn more about where the Dark Tonji curse came from and what that entity was. I'm inclined to say probably not since this episode tied a neat bow on top of everything, but we very well might! I'd love to know more if they have more story to tell.

I also liked the reveal that Alice's mother died "on the road" but not the Witches' Road, she died "on the road" because she was on tour. I like the wordplay there, and I thought it made for a nice subversion to expectations.

We got more of Agatha having a genuine affection for "Teen" in this episode, and seeing how much she cared when Teen got hurt and was close to dying in contrast to how she basically used Sharon as a meat shield to die for her and then never bothered to learn her name speaks VOLUMES regarding how much Agatha cares about Teen. This episode basically spells out that Agatha thought Teen WAS Nicholas Scratch, but Rio confirms at the end that he is not. It also seems to suggest that Teen doesn't even know who put the sigil on him at all. I'm still very much of the opinion that it's Wanda's magic, and that he's Billy Kaplan (the latter seemingly confirmed by FunkoPop spoilers - thanks a lot guys). But I'm interested in if Agatha might suspect that about him, and I wanna see how their relationship changes now that Rio has confirmed that he's not Nicholas.

Jen talks about a man without magic binding her, and I'm fairly certain the man she talks about is the same one she saw in her hallucination. She states specifically that he did NOT have magic though he did bait her into trap. I'm calling it right now that he DIDN'T bind her, she bound HERSELF unknowingly as a trauma response to his attack. I'm pretty sure about that one.

We see more of Lilia having visions and then saying things without remembering that she says them. I almost wonder if the mysterious dead woman she saw in her hallucination last episode is somehow literally inside of her. Two souls trapped in one. I also just want to note that I enjoy the consistency in her characterization as being the one who takes the most umbrage with witch stereotypes like she did in the previous episodes. It's a small thing, but I like characterization bits like that that help set her aside from the others.

Aaaaaaaand now I really don't want to wait until next week for the new episode. These continue to be SO good, and I NEED more.

[hollyhomburg]

Hmmm... those latest chapters had me wondered if in another universe when she haven't met the pack, the m/c ever happened to meet a seriously really good guy, maybe better than the pack at caring and loving her, would Yoongi gave her up or would he selfishly keep her by his side?

OOOOOOH so this....this actually is gonna get visited in the super angsty alternative bily ending if we ever get around to talking about it. but in short- yoongi would fight like hell. ESPECIALLY if he was still like mated to her- and if that was still a factor.

it's touched on a little at the very beginning of bily but beta mating bites can make both parties behave a little irrationally because they're incredibly strong- mating bites already are a soulbond- but a beta mating bite is straight on dependency and addiction. the m/c has skirted by most of the nastier side effects because she's got geumjae's bite- which yoongi's bite softens and weakens greately- diluting it. but rest assured if they where apart for more than a week yoongi would start to feel some seriously negitive health effects- think along the lines of irritability, tremors, insomnia, paranoia, difficulty keeping food down, like...classic withdrawal symptoms.

but yeah- this question does get delt with eventually in the alternative ending for bily and i guess i've never gone into what happens so! i'll go into it now

tw: psychological conditioning, phsyical and psychological abuse, mentioned suicide attempt, serious angst, beware!

basically, in the angsty alternative ending for bily, the m/c ends up going with moonbyul and staying with her for a period of years until...the m/c is no longer 'fun' for her to play with. think what happened with geumjae x10.

i have thought through the angsty plot of bily almost more than i've thought through the begining part of the series. in my mind- i can picture vividly the night that moonbyul returns the m/c to the pack- that she'd take a picture of some random dumpster behind a bar that the family own and send it to yoongi with the message, "i'd get here quick, the trash comes in the morning. have fun with my scraps"

and of course- the pack would hunt it down- the location- jin and jimin using their training to the best of their abilities, and when they find her- i firmly belive that she'd be near death, broken ribs from being stomped on, hair shaved off because moonbyul wanted to take everything from her before she let her go- i can vividly see namjoon sobbing as he picks her up, thinking she's dead but then her crumpled hand coming up to touch his dimples and everyone scattering, maybe they move to take her to the hospital and she tells them not too but...namjoon cannot make her better. she's beyond repair.

i picture very vividly her in the hospital. namjoon and yoongi standing back against the wall while they fight to save her life- taking in everything, the buuises, the healed cuts- more words that she wrote on her- maybe a tattoo or two- a collapsed lung, dangerously skinny and small because of course moonbyul would have fucked with that too.

i think moonbyul would have systematically psychologically dismantled the m/c, would have pulled some sick dependancy shit, would have made her dependant on the approval of her and the other packmates. to the point where the m/c would not think to do things like eat or fall asleep unless someone ordered her to do it. i do think she'd fight the doctors at the hosptial physically- or at least try too- so unused to being around people that wheren't moonbyul at that point that she'd be paniced.

of course the pack would try to rehabilitate her afterwords with very minimal seucess because at that point, she wouldn't be interested in a relationship or even have any interest in being loved- she's not even a ghost after what moonbyul did to her she's basically just existing because dying would kill yoongi and she doesn't want him to die. thats honestly- the only think i think she even thinks about- is keeping yoongi alive. thats the only thought or want or desire she has anymore.

maybe that was all that kept moonbyul from truly breaking her- just telling herself over and over again that yoongi had to live, that he had to live because if the pack looses both of them they'll never recover.

but just wanting him to live does not mean she wants to be apart of his life or love him or be loved by him, she is past the point of that making her comfortable. i think- being back at the house of course the pack would want to be near her but would be very mindful of stifling her.

i picture the first night she gets home and jin and jungkook would be waiting with a nest they made special- it's all clean, everything is clean because they saw- they know what moonbyul did to her and she passes right by the nest with a blank look and goes downstairs and when yoongi tries to get in the bed with her she doesn't even say anything she just moves to the floor. and he picks her up and places her back in the bed and moves to sit outside the room because it's clear- it's clear she can't be around them- and her moving around too much in her state is actually a little dangerous with her collapsed lung and all.

she doesn't want to do anything but sleep and even then sometimes she doesn't want to do that.

it's brutal and bloody- but after a near suicide attempt in my mind, the pack agree that it's best for her to go into inpatient care... permanently. especially because there where signs that they ignored because they wanted her to get better and where convinced that just a few more days and she'd crack.

keeping in mind that yoongi is going to have to see her at some point because of the mating marks and because he litterally will suffer from mate sickness if they are not at least around each other for a few hours every month. so they find a place thats nice and close, close enough for weekly visits, with a star studded staff that jin vetts, and she gets on medication that may not do everything but at least makes her not violent towards herself.

but then, after a little while the m/c just keeps getting worse and worse. (i can picture one night- when namjoon and jin get a call that she's had another attempt, and they go to see her and she's actually trying to ram her head into the wall while several people hold her down. its a room with a one way mirror and she doesn't know that they can see or here her beg to die and just...i don't think they'd have ever heard her sound like that. i think if yoongi was there- he'd be the one going non-verbal.

i think seeing each other wouldn't be good for yoongi and the m/c at that stage. it would just hurt too much- hurt yoongi because he feels like he's failed her so completely that he can hardly look at her and her because every time they come and see that she's still fucked up- she feels like she's failed them and she wants to stop failing them but getting better isn't possible for her. she's too damaged, too broken.

so yoongi decides to see how long he can go without seeing her- to give them both a time to regroup- namjoon and jin still get the reports from the facility where she is about how she's doing- which are very very detailed because jin and namjoon would only get the best for her. jin approves all of her medication changes and reads every report, hinging on every word for some bit of hope.

The symptoms of mate sickness start slow, but yoongi wouldn't let them get too bad before going to see her, he'd maybe last 6 months. only in my mind- when he goes to the facility, the m/c has already left and disappeared, with not even a note in her place.

and then yoongi would get sicker,

it would take the pack a year or two to track her down again- but i think when they find her again, she's still a ghost- but the beta she works with...looks at her a little too fondly and yoongi sees red.

anyway! if you have any questions about the bily alternative ending! please don't hesitate to ask! i've had lots and lots to think about.

[crash-and-cure]

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself. 

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping.  Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder. 

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one. 

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest. 

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever. 

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” 

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling. 

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly. 

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things. 

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic. 

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there. 

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here. 

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe. 

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more. 

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls. 

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand. 

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!” 

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence. 

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it. 

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed. 

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him. 

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more. 

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it. 

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be. 

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years. 

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel. 

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time. 

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group. 

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work. 

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off. 

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break. 

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again. 

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom. 

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it. 

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food. 

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence. 

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go. 

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying. 

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile. 

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act. 

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking. 

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech. 

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway. 

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show. 

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you. 

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration. 

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional. 

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there. 

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there. 

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months. 

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.” 

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened. 

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially. 

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that. 

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time. 

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone. 

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at. 

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security. 

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible. 

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.” 

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you. 

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name. 

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you. 

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed. 

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly. 

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.” 

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window. 

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly. 

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.” 

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.” 

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.” 

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense. 

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.” 

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear. 

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his. 

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt. 

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you. 

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around. 

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put. 

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again. 

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it. 

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next. 

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice. 

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left. 

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid. 

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you. 

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity. 

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment. 

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”  

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door. 

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.” 

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.  

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator. 

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in. 

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment. 

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you. 

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished. 

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

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[roxannepolice]

Rant 1/waiting for the department head to open his bloody e-mail/TDF doesn't work, really

The Doctor Falls is literally the highest graded Master episode on IMDB, and I'm not denying that it's a good episode, and also know that for some it is there that they like the Saxon Master best, but tbh for me it just doesn't work. Or perhaps works, but in that weird way where a work meant to send one message gets celebrated in a completely contradicotry way, Don Quixote style. Yes, Simm!Master's fans have been critcising it since 2017 as erasing his story in s3-4 (and tbc, I am pissed at the the way in which the Blasting of Rassilon was framed by Twelve, also bad at driving? the guy who repeatedly went back and forth between the end of the universe and 2007 UK? coming from the "oh I might have missed my mark by a few centuries" guy?), to which it is questioned if he really had a development, to which others ask if Missy had an actual development, and so on and so forth, but to me the problems go way, way deeper. At the same time, I always welcome pointing out if I missed something and general criticism (consider it a practice in waiting for the comments from my supervisors)!

First off, a simple question: did the Doctor have an actual plan that involved the Masters, or he was just expecting them to happily turn his sacrifical suicide into an expanded one for no practical reason??? Like, his only plan is "and then someone stays here and blows up the entire platform so Cybermen can't get higher up, and that's gonna be me because I'm dying and tired". So did he want the Masters to "stand with him" to, what die too? Leave with the colonists - and then what, live as retired alcoholic gunmen farmers, Clint Eastwood-style? Because the part where the colonists get away was achieved anyway! I guess they could get up to the Doctor's TARDIS all the way up and then even go fetch him, but I suppose that would elbow the sacrificial part away. Also, the option where at least some of the colonists pack themselves into those lifts and everyone gets onboard the Master's TARDIS is like. There. And wouldn't those guys know where more lifts were, like that's how they got to the level in the first place???

I'm not saying you can't headcanon an alternative plan that the Doctor had, but it sure as hell wasn't communicated to the audience, which, to clarify, I am focusing on here, like I'm analysing the episode as a work of fiction that someone was in charge of, not a documentary of strategic mistakes done by people under pressure.

Second: Missy just had to, had to, keep her plans a secret from the Doctor. Why???? I don't even have much to elaborate on here, I just could never understand this, and a more serious problem here is:

Why did Missy have to kill Saxon in the first place??? Like, seriously. Why. Do you really look at this guy and think he would have thought twice about running away on his own if he got to the lift and noticed she wasn't there??? Oh yeah, but "he's worried about his future!". Well everyone would be if they saw their future standing in awe of the protagonist doing exposition for ten years of your own timeflow, but frankly I just can't see this guy as not prioritising the here and now of his own (very nice) ass needing to run! Like, was he actively STOPPING HER from staying with the Doctor? No, he just strolled the fuck away without turning back! Oh, but maybe Missy knows he has to die now to regenerate into her, so it's all about keeping the timeline going. Soooo, she does remember these events after all? The Master went out of plot timeline overlapping induced memory loss at just the right moment to realise he's dying of a stab wound on a Mondasian colony ship, but also to already be onboard the TARDIS? Very convenient. Again, I wouldn't be raging if this was actually communicated, but it wasn't.

Which finally leads me to Missy's "sacrifice". What sacrifice? No, really, did her death actually change anything, because that's like the definition of a sacrifice? Leaving aside the whole problem of whether or not the Masters staying with the Doctor would have changed anything, Saxon was letting her get away until she started talking about her reasons for staying. Which she did because?... Like, again, it's not like either of them is going to remember anything of this. Yeah, but it needed to be communicated for the audience. Ok, then this is exactly when bad writing steps in. Like, if you need the characters to do something incredibly illogical for the audience's sake then you didn't write it in a way that would be naturally incorporated into the story.

Missy didn't sacrifice herself. She died of character exposition. She crashed into the fourth wall like a bird into glass door. She's shuffled off her screentime coil, run down the literal curtain, and joined the bleedin' incidental music orchestra invisible. She's not pushing daisies only because BBC's budget didn't include them.

Ok, I railed myself up, but really, the fact that Missy's death is usually framed as a sacrifice is one of those moment where I literally wonder if there are some glaring version differences between the episode I watched and that watched by everyone else.

But you know, I get it. As the Doctor explicitly laid out in his speech (which is its own can of worms on whether it's logically solid, that I'll get down to while waiting for my principal to open his bloody e-mail), this is not about winning, this is about doing the kind thing. Which is where the actually interesting interpretation of The Doctor Falls comes in. Which is the clash between deontological and utilitarian ethics.

Crash course: deontological ethics relies on viewing certain acts as good or evil by their very nature, while utilitarianism wages moral value in reference to some specific goal, which is not neccessarily "gain", but for example, preserving the lives of as many people as possible. To use the trolley dilemma (which is a thought experiment! it's meant to illustrate things, you're really not doing a "gotcha!" by asking about mass transport quality and regulations, though I appreciate this as a rethoric device), a deontologist will say reverting the train to one person instead of five is wrong, because at this point it becomes murder, while an utilitarianist will say reverting is right, because more people are saved than killed. To use a less cliche and reconfigured example, is it moral to blow up a planet if that's the only way to stop a war that's literally warping time into nonexistence? I've argued elsewhere that the deontology vs. utilitarianism is also the contrast made by John Smith vs. professor Yana. Yeah, I know the usual reading is "oh, look, the Doctor can be kind of a dick and the Master a good person!", but if you scratch down to the bottom of things, it's more the case of "the Doctor will focus on the values of people they identify with and the Master will focus on a goal; should they land in an environment where they will respectively identify with bigots, and have only one goal left in the universe and that's preserving life, they will be how they ended up being". Self-sacrifice becomes a matter of calculating yourself as the most expendable party.

In TDF, the Doctor is placed on the deontological side of the dilemma by everything he says during his speech(tm): it's kind. It just is, by its very nature. And to clarfiy for the pissing on poor website: I am not denying this! This is a very, very soild point! What I do argue is that Saxon Master isn't just being very bad because he never heard the music uwu, but that there's an ethical standpoint to his actions too! He's an utilitarianist, as the Master's always been! Why, just why is it wrong to mind control people if they clearly can't make the right choices on their own? Why is absolute power evil if individual will keeps going astray? Why is it wrong to body posses people if this saves my own life? Why shouldn't I change history if there are very good people in need of saving? Why shouldn't I run away if the only plan to save others will include me dying and no gain in return?

Again, the Doctor's speech is its own can of worms, but arguably the biggest leap done there is jumping from guilt vs. shame to "to thy own self be true" arguments. When you think of the Master as a utilitarianist... it's Saxon who fell where he stood. He stood on the side of "This is a pointless endeavour and I reject pointless. And if I'm to become someone who goes for pointless, then I won't be myself anyway and I might as well die." Absolutely not the intended reading, but death of the author, baby.

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

���Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway. 

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script. 

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

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