#the protector angst

[clownwry]

Found some of my old art from my tiktoks I thought I lost when my old ipad died and I lost all my procreate canvas’s i’m SICK still abt these

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[deadsetobsessions]

Trigger Warning: blades, mild torture, injuries, and what amounts to suicidal thoughts and actions (he lives at the end but he does need a hell of a lot of therapy)

Tim shudders, as best he can while bleeding and bruised and broken.

The Red Hood is above him, mechanical voice melding into the raspy deeper tones of an Older Jason Todd. His voice is hollow and cruel as he digs his blade into Tim’s flesh. It hurts. But, Tim thinks dazedly, having Robin, Tim’s Robin, hating Tim hurts worse.

“Wow, Replacement, no last words for the person you stole everything away from?”

Jason’s mocking him.

“Okay.”

“What’s that, Replacement?”

Tim is so incredibly tired. And the blade held to his neck is starting to look like comfort. Tim thinks-

“My last words. You- You want to hear it?”

His hero’s face tilts, green eyes sparking something deep within Tim’s memory. But he’s so tired.

“Sure, let’s see what kind of recruitment pitch you’ve got for me, Replacement.”

Cruel. So cruel. Mocking him with false warmth. But false warmth is better than the coldness of Drake manor, the coldness of Bruce’s grieving form or Dick’s smile, sometimes when he thinks Tim’s not looking.

Ah, Tim knew it. His Robin will always be better than any other heroes, even if the false warmth makes his heart hurt worse than the broken ribs he’s now sporting. That Hood is pressing a knee down on to keep him immobile. Not that Tim could move anywhere considering both of his legs are broken. Tim wonders what it is about him that makes it impossible for people to muster up warmth towards.

“Do you know why… why heroes are so… so loved?” He wheezes out. He doesn’t wait for a response from Hood. “It’s because… they choose good- they choose to better the world- to save people, even if… even if they weren’t saved themselves. No matter how much- the obstacles, there’s always, an obstacle. But they try anyways.” Tim has to wrap this up. He’s losing coherency. “It’s why… it’s why this is okay. You… you’re choosing to save… to save Gotham from the Joker. Ev’n if you weren’t saved yourself. You’re not… good. You kill.”

Red Hood- Jason, snarls. Tim, blinking slowly, admires the man’s green eyes. “That’s fucking right-”

“But, you can be. Y’re helping.” And because this is important, because Tim has an alter set up to mourn Jason, “You were my hero,” Tim says, and Jason stops short, expression blanking. “So. I’ll help- help remove an obstacle so… so you can keep helping. Helping people like… like me. Or, not like me. Something.”

With that, Tim summons the rest of his strength and presses his neck towards the blade, starting the process to slit his own throat.

Jason flings the knife away, expression crumbling in horror as he stares down at the child he just tortured.

And as Tim’s voice fades, as blood spills out of his neck, as Tim gives him time to retrieve the knife, Jason breaks.

Oh, Tim thinks. His eyes weren’t green. They’re supposed to be blue.

——

Jason sits beside the medical cot, the steady beeping of the heart monitor grounding him as he held two fingers on the kid’s- oh god, he’s a fucking kid, Todd, you monster- pulse.

Jason will grovel when Tim wakes up. Because he turned into the kid’s Joker and Willis and if there’s anything Jason won’t ever allow himself to turn into, it’d be those two. He crossed a line. If Tim wants him to rip his liver out and present it to him, Jason thinks he’d do it on the spot.

Fuck. He fucked up.

[aventurineswife]

Running in the Shadows

Summary: Caught in a chase under the moonlit sky, you believe you can outrun Moze, the elusive Shadow Guard of the Yaoqing. But Moze quickly catches up, only to surprise you.

Tags: Moze x Reader(can be read as platonically) Chase scene, Hurt/Comfort, Protector, Slow Burn, Tension, Fluff with Angst, Emotional Vulnerability, Barefoot Running.

Warnings: Mentions of panic and fear during the chase, Slight physical restraint, Mild emotional tension.

Feel free to send in your requests!

Original Idea

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the deserted streets of the city. You sprinted down the narrow alleyways, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you glanced back over your shoulder. The sound of footsteps echoed ominously behind you, but you believed you could outpace your pursuer. After all, you were nimble and fast, and this was your territory.

You turned sharply, weaving through the shadows, your breath quickening as you picked up speed. However, the footsteps only grew louder, each step punctuating the air with an unsettling promise. Who was chasing you? You didn’t have time to think about it; you needed to escape.

As you rounded another corner, the alley widened, and you felt a rush of hope. Perhaps you could find a place to hide, a chance to lose whoever was behind you. You pushed your legs harder, ignoring the sting of your bare feet against the cold pavement, the gravel digging into your soles. You were almost there—just a few more steps.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed ahead of you, and instinct kicked in. You turned to run the other way, but in an instant, the figure emerged from the darkness—a tall, muscular silhouette with gray hair cascading over one shoulder. You recognized him instantly.

“Moze...” you gasped, feeling a mix of fear and an inexplicable thrill.

He moved with a predatory grace, closing the distance between you with ease. Panic surged through you, and you quickened your pace again, but it was futile. With a swift motion, he reached out and grabbed your waist, effortlessly lifting you off your feet.

“Got you.” he said, his voice low and steady, but there was no malice in his tone—only an unsettling calm.

Before you could react, he lowered you gently onto something soft. Confused, you looked down to find your shoes—waiting for you. The act was so unexpected, so disarming, that you almost forgot about your fear.

“Why were you running?” Moze asked, his violet-blue eyes locking onto yours, a hint of concern flickering beneath his stoic demeanor.

You stammered, “I… I thought you were after me.”

“I was,” he admitted, a faint smirk teasing the corner of his lips. “But not in the way you think.”

His hands remained on your, grounding, you as you tried to catch your breath. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper beneath the surface—a connection that transcended the chase.

“Put your shoes on,” he said, his voice softening. “You’ll hurt yourself running around barefoot.”

The warmth of his hands lingered on your skin, and you nodded, slipping your feet into the shoes. The fit offered a sense of security, a reminder that despite the shadows surrounding you, there was someone watching over you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “I didn’t expect you to… uh help me?”

“Neither did I,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “But you shouldn’t have to run alone.”

In that moment, as the city around you buzzed with the life of the night, the world felt a little less chaotic. Moze, the enigmatic Shadow Guard, had pulled you from the edge of fear, reminding you that sometimes, the shadows held more than just danger; they held unexpected allies.

Just then, a distant siren blared, cutting through the stillness of the night. Moze’s expression hardened, the vulnerability replaced by a shadow of tension.

“We need to move.” he said, suddenly alert.

“Where?” you asked, glancing around nervously.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes scanning the dark alley as if he could sense something looming just beyond the edge of the shadows. “Anywhere but here.” he replied, a cryptic urgency lacing his tone.

Before you could question him further, he reached for your hand, pulling you toward the darkest recess of the alley. The grip was firm, yet the moment felt surreal, as if the very air around you was thickening with unspoken truths.

As you ran, the weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air. Just ahead, you spotted a narrow doorway that led to the unknown. With a fleeting glance over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of movement—a flicker of shadows beyond the light.

Just as you reached the door, the echo of hurried footsteps filled the alley behind you—voices, angry and demanding. Moze’s grip tightened, and in one swift motion, he yanked open the door, revealing an inky darkness that swallowed you whole.

“What’s back there?” you asked, your heart racing.

“I don’t know,” Moze replied, glancing back at you, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. “But we don’t have time to find out.”

You hesitated at the threshold, the fear of the unknown clashing with the urgency of the moment. “Moze, wait—”

He turned, his violet-blue eyes piercing through the dark. “Trust me,” he urged, an intensity in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. “We can’t let them catch us.”

And in that moment, as the door creaked open wider, you were faced with a choice. You could step into the darkness with him, leaving everything behind, or retreat to the light where you might be safe but alone.

As you weighed your options, the footsteps grew louder, and the shadows began to close in around you. The last thing you heard before the door swung shut was Moze’s voice, a whisper that echoed in your mind: “Sometimes, the darkest paths lead to the brightest futures…”

The door slammed shut, and the world around you faded to black, leaving you to wonder what awaited in the unknown and whether you would ever find your way back.

[demigods-posts]

percabeth + grover in tartarus actually makes so much sense. because of course annabeth's deeply-rooted pride and percy's unwavering loyalty landed them in tartarus. but it is grover's role as the protector to shield them from everything fatal. including themselves. so of course he'd jump after them. not to mention that he understands fate well to know how cruel it can be. and no doubt would he make a promise to do everything in his power to make sure fate plays out in their favor. to make sure these kids get a chance to live the life they deserve. even if it means holding the button and making the ultimate sacrifice.

[shaylogic]

Anyone else hung up on the part where Esther captured the ghost boys in that glass box?

What were they feeling/thinking in that state?

Forced proximity, raw souls touching, scared but together just before being separated in peril, already emotionally tender from Crystal leaving.

Knowing the last time they survived Esther, it was only because Crystal was there to save them, and for all they know in that moment, she's gone and unaware of their plight

"This is it" Edwin may be thinking, unable to articulate it verbally

Charles desperate to break out and protect Edwin, unable to move or speak, utterly helpless again, and heartbroken that he just lost Crystal, and now he's going to lose Edwin, too

~~~~~

Omg can you imagine Charles somehow gets out and reforms, but Edwin is still stuck as a soul orb, so Charles has to grab him up and run with him

Charles is so protective and caring but scared and baffled and sometimes rough and clumsy

Edwin is the one who comes up with the plans and Charles is the one who takes risks and swings the bat

Charles: *cupping Edwin's soul to his heart, hands shaking* it's gonna be okay, mate, I swear! I'm gonna fix this

[adventuringblind]

Hi this is my first time requesting anything but would you be able to do single mother!reader x the F1 grid. The love interest could be anyone you like xx

In Your Arms

2023 F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre: flangtsy (fluff and angst, get it? I'm a genius)

Request: yep :) Though I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted. Sorry if I didn't get it right 😥

Summary: Max Verstappen takes on the role of lover and father to the girl he’s seen go through hell

Warnings: mentions of r*pe and SA but no graphic depictions. Mentions of being drugged.

Notes: this feels heavy in the beginning. Written in second person

Masterlist

You didn’t know how it happened. It was supposed to be a safe place. Security is everywhere.

Though security probably didn’t have reason so suspect an engineer of doing something so awful. Defiling someone’s body without their consent.

You’d come to see Charles’ home race. Granted you live in Monaco and spend majority of your down time with drivers, their partners, and families. You’d grown up around them having gone with to see Charles race and then Arthur.

Your three older brothers had promised to keep you safe. Lorenzo felt that he had to fill your fathers shoes after his passing. Not that he saw you as helpless, but you’re always going to be his baby sister.

You wonder where they are now as you sit in Charles’ driver room. Your clothes crumpled around your body and hair tossed in every direction. You want nothing more then to peel away your own skin.

Something was in your water. She blamed it in chemicals or something, but the more you drank it the thirstier you became. Having downed the whole bottle in five minutes.

The dizziness set in after that. Body now lax and head foggy.

Charles had picked up in your now rather sick complexion and suggested you watch from his room in the motor home. An offer you gratefully took.

Right before the race, someone came to the door and opened it without knocking. A stranger in red who’s face you can’t make out.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop with texts from your family about her location. Texts you didn’t answer. Limbs to heavy to reach for the phone.

One thing stuck in your mind is what Max is going to think of you now. You’d only been dating for a year. Would he look at you with pity in his eyes? Wonder why you didn’t fight back?

It was funny how you and Max came to be. Much if it having to do with Charles being sick of you two making heart eyes at each other growing up. He’d went as far as to throwing you in Max’s driver room and telling the two of you to confess.

Needless to say it worked.

The hours seem to drag on. Your phone still buzzing. You want to answer but you can barely move. The vertigo no letting you move further then an inch at a time.

Charles is the first to find you. Though you don’t know it’s him. The voice at the door sounds like it’s underwater and your brain can’t make out his face. For a minute, you panic. Charles’ hands are on you, trying to get you off the floor but your wailing at him to stop. Slurred words that he can’t understand fall from your mouth.

Charles can barely get close to you. So he switches tactics. Your family meets him at the door and takes one look at you. Immediately, your moth has a sense she knows what happened.

She’s so gentle. Careful not to touch you and she examines your face. She knows she’s going to have to get you to a doctor. That’s a given. However, she doesn’t know how to do so when you keep flinching at all your brothers who are wearing Ferrari red.

For now, she tries to get water down your throat.

~

The Leclerc’s find themselves waiting at the hospital. The best news being that you weren’t overdosed, but definitely close to it.

Charles is pacing furiously. Angry that the security around the paddock didn’t see anything strange. Arthur is trying to piece together how it could have happened and Lorenzo has been stringing together angry sentences in French over the phone.

It all comes to a halt when Max comes barreling through the door. He looks scared. Charles had called him to tell them where they were but had given him no details.

“What happened?”

~

Everything feels wrong. Your throat is sore. Your head hurts. Your muscles ache. Thoughts seem to be stuck somewhere.

It all comes rushing back as you remember what happened earlier that day. The room is dark, so you assume she slept for a while, but you can’t get her heart to slow down.

Max is stroking your hand gently. His eyes are sad and you can tell he's been stressed. "Nobody is telling me what happened. They said it should be you."

Some part of you is relieved, and the other is wracked with guilt.

"We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to." He's still running his fingers along her arms.

"He was wearing red." Your nails start clawing at your skin.

It clicks and he's angry.

~

It's been a month and a half.

It's a slow process of getting out again.

Max refuses to leave you alone because you've been sinking further into herself. Then you're always around people. Out in the open. Stuck to someone you trust.

This morning is spent at home in bed. Max's arm tucked gently around around your waist, pulling you further into him.

It's the overwhelming feeling of nausea that has you diving out of bed and into the bathroom. Her stomach contents now not wanting to be in her body.

Max feels her panic and runs after you, trying his best to shake the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he figures out what's happening, he's holding her hair back and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

~

You clutche the pregnancy test in your hands. It makes her sick again. Five positives and a single negative. Three different brands.

Just when you feel you're getting better, now you have to tell everyone you're pregnant, and it's not Max's. Sobs overcame you before you can get up from where you sunk down to the floor.

Max finds you hours later, still on the floor looking and the blue lines.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apolize for, lovely. Just know I'll support you on whatever decision you make."

~

It's not an easy decision to keep the baby, but she can't see herself parting with them.

The sucky part is knowing that the biological father is still in the Ferrari garage somewhere. Charles, despite his best efforts, could not catch him. He must be some really nice guy that everyone likes. It's always the to nice ones that end up being evil on the inside.

Max has decided he'll take the role of father if you let him. He's been attentive. Making sure your every need is taken care of.

He's also still looking for the man who decided to take something that wasn't his. He's in the Ferrari paddock or hanging around the garage with Charles to see if anyone even looks at you funny.

~

Eight months in, and you're exhausted. Your mom has been staying with you while Max is traveling for races. He calls every chance he gets to check in on you.

Carlos has been sending you videos of why he is going to be a better uncle than Lando. Then Lando goes and brings you food and baby things to prove him wrong.

It's night, and you're tucked into bed, wishing Max were here cuddle with you. Then, the sensation of water leaking down your legs makes you call for your mother.

You stay calm while she drives to the hospital. You were expected to carry to full term. Neither of you expected the baby to come a month early.

You're calling Max repeatedly. The time difference puts him at prime sleep time.

Eventually he answers.

He's on the next flight home.

~

You waited as long as possible. Max had gotten there in the nick of time. He held your hand the entire time.

You were in labor for over a day. The pain getting unbearable at times.

When you finished, you were holding a healthy baby girl.

~

Isabella is your everything. Practically attached to your hip. She took more of your traits than you were expecting. Something that you're grateful for.

Your brothers spoil her to peices. Charles rarely says no to her, Lorenzo loves to show her how to boss the other two around, and Arthur has expanded her vocabulary is ways that are less then ideal.

Oscar was probably the most reliable to leave her with if Max or your brother aren't available. Having sisters comes in handy when he's combing through her hair. She falls asleep in his lap during almost every race weekend at some point.

Her favorite place is either on top of Landos shoulders or in Max's arms.

Max treats her like his own. He's said she's his daughter on multiple occasions. It was nice like this. Creating your own little family.

~

It takes two years after she's born for someone at Ferrari to ask you about her. Personal questions that were starting to make you uncomfortable.

Memories you'd locked away quickly find themselves flooding into your brain. Why is he so familiar?

You're outside the paddock, thankfully. People are within view.

"I want my daughter." He rasps. He is very much in your face now and You can feel his breath sticking to your face.

Your brain and chest short circuit. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening that someone comes to save you. Thankful at yourself for leaving Isabella with Lando and Oscar.

Max had managed to catch a break and was on his way to find you. A small hop in his step at the thought of finding you and the little girl.

He freezes as he comes around the corner. His legs are carrying him faster than his mind can think. Max's hand finds his shoulder, effectively shoving the man away from you.

It takes everything in you not to fall into him as he slides in front of you protectively.

Your quick to take the opportunity to text someone to come help. Your definitely not strong enough to break them up if this gets physical and you don’t want to risk Max getting in trouble.

It's not long until Charles is barreling around the corner. Lando and Oscar close on his heels.

"You're trying to take away something that's rightfully mine." His voice is scratchy and angry, dripping with venom.

"Just like you took someone's body? I'm pretty sure taking a child is kidnapping." Max is practically growling.

Lorenzo comes running around the corner, Isabella running around the corner away from him and straight to you.

She's too far gone to stop. You lean down and scoop her up in your arms. Holding her head into her shoulder.

Max is still in front of you and her protectively. "You messed up, and now you're missing out." He spits.

Security is able to pull the Ferrari man away. Much to your relief because Charles was getting ready to swing.

You break in Max's arms once he's gone. Isabella is confused at the sadness but is still trying to cheer you up.

Max just holds you. Both of you.

"It's okay now, I'll always keep you safe."

[mellohiizz]

i need some of your parrot art very sad. like, make him very very sad, as sad as you can make it. horribly sad. depressingly tragic sadness.

oops. sorry, i think i traumatized your bird.

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[kharmii]

Art credit: まのまに@manomani888 Twitter.

[home-of-renn]

I love the hc that Danny can't help but trigger this innate, subconscious fight or flight response in everyone he meets. I love it even more when it's the reason why he still gets bullied by Dash.

Truth be told, Dash grew up years ago. His mean streak had been a short-lived phase that left a bad taste in his mouth. The sudden influx of hormones brought on by the onset of puberty had apparently muddled his brain and left him emotionally stunted for the duration of his freshman year. He'd shoved nerds into lockers and stolen their lunch money. He sorely wishes he hadn't been so excruciatingly cliche.

But he'd somehow managed to unstick his head from his ass pretty quick and he hasn't laid a finger on anyone since - well, except for Fenton.

Fenton had always been the exception. Small and slouched, with a messy fringe that fell into his eyes. Danny Fenton always made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end whenever he walked past.

His arm would brush too close or his shoulder would bump into his in a crowded hallway and Dash's arm would lash out before he could even comprehend the accidental touch. Fenton would be pinned against a locker with Dash's forearm against his neck in the blink of an eye.

The funny thing is though, no one stops him. The other kids don't call him out and the teachers are always coincidentally absent.

Dash isn't a bully - at least not anymore. He helped Lester get his locker door open after a ghost attack left the damn thing jammed shut. He stays late after practice so the girls on the cheer team don't have to walk home when the sun starts dipping low. He holds doors open for the people walking behind him and even offers a polite smile. The other day he stopped to help some little kid struggling to tie their shoelaces.

He's trying to be better. His mom cried about how proud she was on his birthday last month and principal Ishiyama made a passing comment on how nice it was not seeing him in her office every week. He enjoys being nice to people. It's gratifying, and some kids have started coming up to him when they need help.

Once upon a time, Dash had been a chubby self-conscious kid who'd hit the gym as soon as his dad had gotten sick of his begging. Puberty had hit him like a truck and he'd started shaving a year before anyone else. Since then he'd bulked up and was far larger than the average high schooler. He'd been honing his reflexes for years and never drops the ball. He's the shield that everyone hides behind during ghost fights. He's big and strong and has damn good aim - which is better than nothing when going up against a ghost.

But there's something wrong with Fenton.

Danny makes sweat gather beneath his collar and Dash has to grind his teeth any time he walks past.

At least he's not the only one.

Kwan's hands are always clenched into fists when they walk past Fenton's locker, even if he's not there. It feels wrong to have your back to Fenton in the changing rooms and Lancer's the only teacher still handing Danny a detention slip - Dash suspects it's cause none of the other staff can stand to be alone with him for that long.

No one steps in when someone lashes out at the Fenton kid. No one says a word or runs towards the teacher's lounge when Dale has Danny by the arm, eyes wide and gripped so tight his knuckles turn white.

The hallway goes silent and the world steps back as Dash's team flank his sides while the front of Danny's shirt is bunched in his fist. His heart thuds against his ribs and pounds in his ears as Danny opens his mouth to make a sarcastic quip. Danny's always been a sarcastic, mouthy little shit, but Dash can't find it in himself to laugh, not while his body forms a physical barrier between Fenton and everyone else - not when Dash has him by the throat but he's the one feeling cornered and exposed. He has to dig his toes into the soles of his sneakers to resist running.

It's not normal.

Dash plays along, keeping his cool as he goes through the familiar routine. He spits out a pathetic insult that misses its mark and thumps Danny against his locker before dropping him to the ground.

It feels rehearsed, like he's stuck in a cycle he can't seem to break. It's one big act that Dash walks away from with adrenaline churning the contents of his stomach and sweat gathering in the palms of his hands. The hallway parts as Dash walks away. He spares a glance at Kwan, whose dark eyes are trained on the floor in front of him, his fists clenching at his sides, shaking under the fluorescent lights. Dash hides his own hands in his pockets. The one he had bunched in Danny's shirt trembles, his nerves vibrating with the sensation of pins and needles. It feels like static under his skin. He tries wiping it off on the inside of his jacket.

The entire student body of Casper high follows behind him.

[glitter-stained]

Currently writing an UTRH AU with 17 years old Jason deciding to kidnap the batkids to protect them from Batman, so of course I need a playlist. Does anybody have song recs?

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

pirate-Eclipse and sea monster reader,, parts 4-7 uwu

Previous: here Final: here

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

The real reason Aphmau can’t love them back

Keep in mind this is referring to my rewrite <3

The “them” in question is Garroth and Laurance

Garroth is the descendent and incarnation of Esmund the Protector: an admirer and great friend of Irene/Aphmau’s.

Laurance is the incarnation of Xavier the admirer: guardian, friend, and lover of Irene/Aphmau.

She loved them both dearly, they, along with the rest of the Divine Warriors meant the world to her.

But, in order to seal Shad away for good, she had the use the life forces of the warriors, killing them. And although Xavier was not a Divine Warrior, he was still lost in the final battle.

Esmund and the others were essentially incinerated, there were no bodies to tend to. But Xavier wasn’t.

The blast wounded him, more than Irene herself could heal. All she could do was sit with him, hold him. Until he could hurt no longer.

Some years after, she’s unable to move on. She can’t. It was her fault. She still tries to help people, but she’s so tired. And so, she locks herself away for 900 odd years.

When she returns without memories, it’s a fresh start for her. But each time she encounters a Divine’s incarnation, she can feel it. She doesn’t know what it is exactly that she’s feeling, only an overwhelming sense of trust and love.

And she feels it strongest with Garroth and Laurance. She assumes purely that this is due to them being her guards.

But along with those feelings and trust and love, comes a pit in her stomach. A sense of guilt. A sense of doom.

She can’t help but feel like she’s only hurting them by letting them get so close. She can’t love them, not the way she wants to. The way they want her to.

Because that’s how they get hurt. That’s what gets them killed. Again.

[angeldrawsstuffs]

Not me poking at any and every character’s worst insecurities and giggling like an idiot

[selunesfavouriteprincess]

i know there’s a lot of delicious angst that people really like romancing Neve as a Rook who saved Treviso, but to me there’s something so chef’s kiss about a non-SD Rook who not only saved Minrathous, but a Rook who let an entire other city get blighted because Neve asked them for help. I love a Rook who is as dangerously devoted to Neve as she is to them, who throws themself into the line of fire as much as she does, who would put Neve’s life over anybody else’s. and the angst that causes as well - when Rook puts Bellara’s life on the line to dissemble the wards because putting Neve at risk simply isn’t an option and Neve is angry, because who is Rook to decide what risks Neve can and can’t take? to value her life more than Bellara’s? and yet Rook couldn’t do anything else, couldn’t bear to even consider losing Neve - Rook promised they’d be by Neve’s side forever, and they’d let half the world be destroyed before they broke that promise