#they fix each other. they make each other worse. i hope they die in a fiery explosion. i hope they live happily ever after

[space-blue]

It's horrible too if Jinx lives!!

OK, I guess we're doing this?

People keep coming at me for my post about Jinx dying being terrible writing and promoting suicide by heroics as a valid way out, and the argument is always "Actually, Jinx is alive because XYZ"

So let me makes myself clear : if Jinx lives, it's also terrible writing!!

Because for all intent and purposes, she DOES DIE! Even if she's alive and fucked off in that blimp, she's still dead to everyone who knew and loved her.

WORSE! Vi will go on thinking for the rest of her life that Jinx died because of her, or at the very least that she couldn't save her.

It's not for no reason that Vi has this scene in the cell with Caitlyn, where she says she always choses wrong. In the scene on the crumbling metal beam, Vi choses not to listen to Jinx!

People got in my comments saying I have no humanity for reproving Vi picking "Vander's corpse" over Jinx. But what we see happen is Jinx telling Vi multiple time to get away and how to get to safety, and Vi completely ignoring her to interact with Vander/WW, only for him to wake up, attack her, and force Jinx to risk her life to save Vi.

Vi made a choice, between more time with Vander and listening to Jinx, and the price paid in the end is Jinx dying.

What if she lived and escaped? Vi doesn't know that! Ekko doesn't know that! Or Sevika! Or anyone!

Thought exercise time: close your eyes and imagine a relative disappearing for your life after a lethal accident you're involved in. You never recover a body and never see them again. How do you feel about it? Mmh?

"Oh but Caitlyn sees the schematics that show a side tunnel…"

Firstly, Caitlyn was nowhere near the event, and she can't frame-by-frame the explosion as we do, so you can hardly claim she's looking for Jinx and not, for example, the arcane gem, or Warwick.

Vander/WW was shown to be entirely impervious to the bullets from Jinx's automatic gun. If anyone has a chance of surviving, it'd be him.

But do you know what? If Jinx is in that blimp, and Caitlyn then tells Vi, "From the schematic, I think your sister could have escaped" (ignoring entirely the fact that Jinx should be cut in half by WW's claws wrapped around her waist), then what would happen???

That would send Vi on a wild goose's chase!! How many years would she spend hunting through Zaun trying to find her sister? How many years until she starts resenting Caitlyn for giving her false hope? How many years until she's forced to accept Jinx isn't anywhere, and so must have died back then, and has to see herself as Jinx's killer all over again??

How is this good for Vi?

And Ekko? He pulled her out of suicide what? 5 times? Had some epic bonding with her painting all over each other, doing self-care and hair dyes and fixing a balloon so they could go on a big attack together.

Maybe he thought he could genuinely finally be close to his world's Powder. Silco just taught him the greatest thing he can do is forgive, and the girl he forgives fakes her death and runs away?

They're barely 20 ffs, Jinx would have plenty of time to struggle on the road to recovery, especially with his help. What if Ekko was ready to be there along the way with her? What about him?

How is it good if Jinx is NOT dead but has NOT told him? What difference does it make to him? She's dead for Ekko, and if he learns later on that she faked her death, all he'll know is that HE wasn't worth her staying. He wasn't even worth telling the truth to!!!

It's fucked! It's not healthy!! Jinx could have her ending removing herself from Zaun without having to fake her death.

But hang on, it gets worse!

Because it's straight up not good writing even on the meta level.

Arcane has millions of viewers. Nobody I know IRL thinks Jinx is alive. Plenty of people in my notes agree she's dead. Do you know what millions of people think? That she is dead!!! Because it's the TEXT OF THE SHOW.

Millions of fans will think Jinx was killed off, because they aren't willing to go frame by frame, extrapolating and make-believing their way into thinking she is alive. Most fans are normal people who aren't terminally online, theorycrafting all day long.

Most normal fans have moved on to watch Dune Prophecy or Sweetpea. And if Jinx comes out alive in another show, the "Somehow Palpatine Jinx returned" memes will abound.

Let's go over the common elements brought forth as arguments.

Jinx uses pink and blue in that bomb, and pink is how she gets away "quick".

No? The bomb she attached to Thieram in season 1 was pink and it was all for glitter and harassment. There is no strong canon association of meaning. If you watch frame by frame, there is a pink "light gleam" over the first blue detonation followed by a very large pink blast and ZERO smoke trails or anything indication someone getting away. Jinx uses the same bomb she used to kill herself very effectively earlier in the show, so we have no indication it wouldn't kill her here too.

We can see the inside of her bomb when she kills herself (with the two liquid vials) and it's the same she uses on Vander/WW and herself.

Besides, even if she used some part of the explosion to get away, WW's claws are around her like this:

She'd be bisected in half.

So some people say that means that Warwick is also alive and let her go! But no. That's make-believe. That's fanon, 100%. The TEXT of the show is that Vander is burnt away (we see the final image of himself burning up) and he has just attacked Vi, trying to kill her. We have no indication he'd want to spare Jinx here.

HOWEVER, he's literally bullet proof, so if there's anything we can conclude is that he's likely to be the one to have made it into a shaft and to safety.

Speaking of shafts: the next argument is that Caitlyn is looking at the tower's schematics to hint that she suspects Jinx lives.

Maybe, but you are reading a character's mind. We see her look at schematics while holding the monkey bomb head, yes, but you don't know what she's thinking, and if the show runners don't make it explicit, then Cait's thoughts about an explosion she hasn't even witnessed aren't worth much. She could think Warwick lived. OR she could think, despite not witnessing the fight, that Jinx lived. But she doesn't KNOW, she doesn't tell us, and so you are INVENTING the thoughts of a character to mean what you want it to mean.

This would be a lot more meaningful if it were Vi investigating this.

There's a blimp going away, it has blue smoke, and then it ends with a Jinx glitch.

No. There is a blimp going away, slowly, without any blue smoke. It's also THE EXACT SAME ONE that opens Season 1 act 1.

Instead of coming towards Piltover, it now is leaving over the sea. This can be fully interpreted as a sign that the hextech era is over. Blimps have to travel the old fashioned way again. It's also going away from Piltover/Zaun, symbolizing future stories taking place there.

Finally, the glitch is 3 frames long and spells "the End". IDK why the fact that it's a little Jinxy means anything to anyone. The end of credits for season 1 was Jinxy as well, and it could simply be about keeping the same visual identity and not a sign of Jinx being alive???

If I wanted to play subtext games, I could say "Wow Jinx writing "the end" would be appropriate if she were dead" and reverse the argument.

Finally, and the thing in most poor taste, IMO.

Jinx kills herself several times in the opening of the episode, and a sad emo song plays over it, with sad fucked up lyrics. Then Ekko comes and pulls her from this…

Only for that EXACT same song to be played while she and Vander/WW fall. They are both crying. Vi is crying and screaming while these lyrics are playing!!

If I could just lay my head down and rest. If there was nothing to fight or protect. Maybe then I could finally be free. Maybe death is like falling asleep. This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. I used to have strength but I ran out of hope. I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone. This world is a wasteland. Please let me go. Go, go, go. Please let me go.

This is literally singing about suicide. When you say "Maybe death is like falling asleep" over the animation of a character pulling the pin, you are not dealing in subtext or metaphor of any kind.

One of the earlier shots literally has her framed in broken glass among shards that are WARWICK'S MAW. It's like a hint of her death being killed by him, furthering the parallel.

And I think it is in very bad taste to have suicide apologia music playing over characters screaming and bawling (Vi)

while others cry (Jinx and WW)

and a bomb goes off (with no hint of survival),

only for some of y'all to come around acting like Cait glowering at a blueprint and a recuring blimp all means Jinx is alive...

It would be grief porn on the part of the writers. It would mean slamming us in our feelings in a brutal way, in an ugly way, while playing a suicide song, only to turn around and say "Syke! didn't you get that Cait is suspicious about Jinx so it totally means it was all a fakeout?"

I don't want a fake-out at this point!! Why would I?? It's legit worse! Because then it means they couldn't spare 5min of animation time to have her rescued by Ekko and being on the mend with him. Even if she has a scene where she tells him "I need to leave. I can't stay in this city), at least it wouldn't be a cruel joke on the fans and the characters.

This entire ending means that either Jinx was better off dying taking out the mad monster made out of her dad with her (making her the ultimate dad killer, yay), or Jinx was better off removing herself from the equation SO THOROUGHLY that MOST fans believe it, everyone in world believe it, and the show offers no concrete textual clue for it.

It means Jinx didn't deserve/or wasn't able to get better. And so she has to die or do the exact-same-as-dying but kind of more fucked up somehow.

---

ULTIMATELY the message to impressionable viewers who struggle a lot with mental health and identified a lot with Jinx, are being told with soft sad music that yeah maybe dying is like going to sleep and your family should let you go, go, go, and that "leaving everything and everyone behind" is about the same.

It's fucked, and it saddens me that people are so focused on the "she lived" narrative that they miss out the fact that a hint she may be alive doesn't change the messaging.

And it saddens me knowing that if Viktor's arc ended with him being validated in feeling like his human body was "broken" and "inferior" and that his disability made him lesser as a human, people would have pitchforks and torches out.

Jinx's mental illness and struggles in interacting with the world were her disability, and she got fucking killed or wiped off the city incognito for it.

--

P.S: If you're warming up to post hate in comments or tags because you don't like my take and don't know how to politely disagree, please save us both time and block me. I'm open to polite discourse but the next person questioning my humanity over fandom wank will be nuked from orbit with prejudice.

[hermanunworthy]

SCARY AND NORMAL ARE HAVING REVERSE ARCS.

scary is becoming softer, kinder, more apologetic. willing to talk things out and make amends.

normal is becoming angrier, more spiteful, more distant. unable to express his true feelings and trust other peoples love.

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Cemetery Love.

Dean Winchester x Witch!reader

Summary: Ever since you accidentally discovered that Dean had made a deal and that his days were numbered, you've been trying to make every one of them unforgettable without telling him why. According to him, you're getting crazier and crazier, and according to Sam, you're in love.

Words: 2,9k.

TW: mentions of death, dealings with demons, witches. spoilers for season 2 and 3. angst with happy ending. fluff. the winchester brothers being chaos lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I love Dean and the Grumpy x Sunshine dynamic, so taking advantage of the sad plot of the deal and mixing it all up with confusion is one of my more chaotic ideas and I hope it turns out well haha.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You closed the bedroom door behind you, careful not to make any noise that might wake the two brothers who were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. You left the groceries on the table and began to arrange everything to make it a perfect breakfast, the coffees you had bought, the muffin for Sam and the cake for Dean, the wild flowers you had made appear in the new vase you had created with your magic to give the table more vitality, and as a final touch you snapped your fingers and the curtains opened to let in the sunlight.

While you checked that everything was perfect, you stared at them for a few seconds, and the serenity with which they slept made you wonder if all the bad things that followed them were real. So many times you wanted to believe that your mind had played tricks on you, that the first time you saw Sam die was an illusion and that being alive after that was as normal as your magic. You didn't want to believe anything else had happened until you heard Dean talking to him when they thought you couldn't hear and you knew his days were numbered and he didn't want you to know.

That day, you wanted to scream at him that he was an idiot for selling his soul like that, and worse, for not telling you to find a spell to fix it. But the desperation in his voice as he repeated to his brother that you would look at him differently if you knew, and that it scared him more than anything else in the world, silenced you for weeks as you put your secret plan into action. You wanted each day to be better than the last for him as you searched every known coven for ways to avoid his death at all costs.

“Good morning, you lazy pair. It's time to wake up.” You spoke after several minutes of being lost in thought, watching them stir in their beds.

“Shut up, please.” Was all Dean said, pulling the blanket over his head to keep out the sun streaming through the window.

“Good morning to you too. Is that coffee and muffin I smell?” Sam sat up in his bed and looked gratefully at the table. “You're the best, thanks.” He added with a smile.

The best way to start a good day was with a good breakfast, you believed, and you knew the younger Winchester agreed, and that a little cheerfulness, sponsored by a little magic, couldn't hurt in the midst of monsters and supernatural cases. However, the other brother had been in a bad mood lately, and your positivity irritated him, especially when it came in the morning. Of course, he didn't know that the cheerfulness was fake, just an attempt to make him a little happy.

“Let's go! The day is beautiful today, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, all that deserves to be seen.” You said, giving Sam a smile to authorize him to throw a pillow to his brother. “It's so nice.”

You took a sip of your coffee and heard a groan from Dean as he received the pillow his brother had thrown at him. You let out a small mocking laugh.

“You know what's nice? Sleeping and not getting hit in the face by flying pillows.” He replied, finally sitting up grimly in bed, his eyes still closed.

“Be thankful, Winchester. I brought you a nice breakfast.” You said as you sat down in one of the chairs in the small dining room in front of Sam.

Finally, he opened his eyes and scanned you and then the table. He couldn't deny that his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the sight of the pie you'd bought. However, nothing took away the feeling of irritability and the headache from not getting the thousand hours of sleep he needed to be well.

“How can you be so happy and look so good in the morning?” He asked after looking at you from head to toe and snorting because you were all dressed up and glowing while he was still in his pajamas.

You raised your shoulders and heard Sam teasing his brother. At that moment, your cell phone vibrated and a message from Bobby asking you to call him caught your attention. You tried not to make the slightest grimace so the brothers wouldn't notice and worry.

“You two take a shower and get something to eat. I'll take a walk and wait for you to join me later.” You got up from your chair and walked briskly to the door.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dean asked as soon as the door closed behind you and the creaking sound it made echoed in his head.

“Wrong? She bought us breakfast and she's happy, I don't see anything wrong.” Sam replied, frowning at his brother's attitude. “You're just in a bad mood.”

“I'm not.” Dean replied with a snort, getting out of bed and sitting down in the seat you had used earlier. “She's being weird.”

Until the last few weeks, your behavior had been very different, and the eldest Winchester had noticed it the most. In the past, you barely laughed at his bad jokes or cast spells that weren't meant to save a life on a hunt. Now you smiled so much he was surprised your face didn't hurt, and your spells of pure joy seemed endless. It was as if you had been injected with positivity and vitality.

“She's just happy, it's nice that one of us is.”

At his brother's comment, Dean snorted and began to eat his pie uncomfortably. It wasn't that it bothered him that you were happy, because that was the only thing he could wish for you, it was more a resentment that he couldn't be the same way.

“I think she's in love.” Sam said and took a sip of his coffee.

Automatically, Dean's disinterest in the conversation ended and all his senses kicked in.

“Why? By whom? Since when?”

“Suddenly she is happier, she doesn't stop texting and doesn't let go of her phone, she suddenly disappears and never says where she went, she is much more concerned about her appearance, I have seen her get up earlier to put on makeup and she has asked me a thousand times if she looks good, she rejects every boy who approaches her and she buys us rich food just for the sake of it. The other day I even heard her humming a love song. She is definitely dating someone.”

His brother's full explanation made Dean frown even more and his stomach churn, even the urge to eat was taken away. He didn't like that none of it made any sense, no matter how much it did.

“Or she just went crazy.” He said, putting aside the pie he had been devouring.

“Are you jealous?” Sam asked with some mockery in his tone.

“No. Shut up.”

“Come on, are you still in love with her?” The hunter asked with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher his brother's feelings, even if he only got bad looks from him. “Don't make faces, you told me so.”

And it was true, because months earlier, Dean had gotten drunk in a dive bar after you had almost been seriously injured on a hunt and decided to turn in early. Your absence, combined with the unlimited drinks that a fake card got him, made him finally spill his guts, even his darkest thoughts, to his brother. Most importantly, he confessed that he had been in love with you for years.

“Forget about that night, I was drunk.”

“Everyone says drunks tell the truth and I remember everything you said that night.” Sam remarked, taking a minute to mentally go back to that moment. “Oh Sammy help, I think she cast a love spell on me because I can't get her out of my mind. I don't know what to do anymore.” He put on a high-pitched voice to imitate him and remind him exactly of his words.

“I never said that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at his denial.

“Well, maybe I did say some things.” He finally admitted with some embarrassment. “But it was stupid.”

“Having feelings for someone isn't stupid, Dean. It's normal, and it was bound to happen to you sooner or later.”

He sighed and could feel the tension in his body rise. “Stop.”

“You can talk to me and...” Sam insisted again, trying to give him some understanding and reassurance, unaware that he was doing just the opposite.

It was definitely too much and made the eldest Winchester feel like a foolish, lovesick teenager chasing an unrequited love thanks to his brother's words. The whole situation infuriated him to no end, it seemed stupid and out of place when he was literally closer to death every day.

“I'm. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” He said slowly, punctuating his voice with every word. He had already lost his patience and only wished that Sam would leave him alone. “How could I fall in love with someone like that? Lately she's been so irritating and stressful. I don't need her songs, or her perfect smile, or her to buy us that damn dream breakfast. We're hunters, and we don't need a witch.”

As soon as he finished speaking and looked at his brother, he heard the door to the room slam shut, throwing an excessive amount of wind at them, almost knocking him out of his seat. It was then that he knew he was completely screwed.

“That was...?” He tried to ask with his voice somewhat shaky.

Dean didn't really need an answer, he knew you had heard him.

“You're an asshole.” That was all Sam said before he got up and walked to the door with the intention of talking to you.

“I'll go.” He said, grabbing his brother's arm and stopping him before he could leave. “I messed up...now pray I don't turn into a frog.”

“It's what you deserve.” Was the last thing Dean heard from his younger brother before he left the room and went to find you.

The sunlight and the sound of birds singing was the first thing he noticed when he left the room, it almost made him smile knowing that you had been right. It didn't take him long to guess that you were in the woods behind the motel, it was the kind of place you always said you found relaxing and probably where you would go when you wanted to get away. He walked quickly and after a few minutes he found you sitting on a rock, staring blankly.

“Get out of here, Winchester.” You said as soon as you felt his presence and heard the distinctive sound of his footsteps, without even turning to look at him. “Or I'll turn you into a rabbit.”

Dean almost smiled, he knew you liked rabbits.

“You have to listen to me, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...that. I didn't mean what I said.” He tried to explain in a confused way, unable to fully express himself. “It was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake, what you said or that I heard you say it?” You replied with irony in your tone, still not turning to look at him because you knew it would hurt.

“It was all a mistake, I shouldn't have said any of that because I don't believe it.” He replied, taking a few slow steps towards you to touch your shoulder. “Maybe I think you're acting weird, but I...”

“You what, Winchester?” You turned and walked away from his touch swiftly. There was something burning inside you from what you had heard and it was releasing everything you had been holding back. “You're going to tell me you don't need a witch because you're a hunter? Well, let me tell you yes because I'm the only one doing anything to save you from the damn deal you made!”

Finally, you stood up from the rock and looked him straight in the eye. You could see him turn pale and frozen at your words.

“How...how do you know?”

“I heard you talking to Sam.”

Once again, a conversation you weren't supposed to overhear had ruined everything for him.

“What have you done?” His tone was serious, there was not a hint of playfulness left, only concern.

Your lips were fully sealed for several seconds before you spoke. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

All the events of the last while began to flash through Dean's mind with speed and began to make a different kind of sense. Every argument his younger brother had given him about you being in love with someone and doing everything for that person made sense, only that someone was him.

“Tell me what you've done.” He repeated coming dangerously close to you. “I'm serious. I know you did something.”

It was so obvious that you couldn't stand by and do nothing to save him. So why didn't he ask for your help in the first place?

“That's why you bought me so much pie, you know I'm going to die. And the calls you make so much...what did you do?” He began to recapitulate all your strange attitudes in his mind and it bothered him that he hadn't noticed it before. “Tell me you haven't done anything stupid, please.”

“Doing so much for you when you don't appreciate it or care is the only stupid thing I've ever done in my life.” You tried to walk past him and leave, but he stopped you.

“You're going to tell me what you did and you're going to forget it.” He said firmly, never letting go of you for fear that you would leave. It was stupid, because he knew you could leave with a single spell if you wanted to. “Speak.”

You looked into his eyes for a few seconds and knew he meant it. He seemed more concerned about your actions than his own situation, and that confused you. You had heard him say how annoying you were and that he didn't need you, but your heart still pounded at his touch. You knew that if you confessed to him that you had been looking for ways to save him for months without caring about the consequences, you would look desperate and vulnerable, you didn't like it, but it was the truth.

“You don't want to talk? Fine, I accept that, but then you're going to stop whatever it is you're doing.” He said after waiting several minutes for you to speak and getting no response.

“But...”

“No buts, I'm serious. I don't want you to do anything, I didn't even want you to know about this before.” Dean sighed tiredly, as if he didn't know what to do. “And again, I'm so sorry for what you heard, it's not the truth and I only said it because Sam was bothering me. I do need you and know it, but not in this.”

“Why? It's my decision.”

“Listen to me for once in your life.” He moved closer until you could almost feel his breath and put a hand on your cheek. “I can lose myself, but I can't lose you, and you have to understand that or I'll go crazy.”

You froze in place, not knowing what to do or say.

“Please forget about it and go back to being yourself.” He finished.

“How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do without you?” You asked, feeling your voice crack as you spoke. “I don't want to say goodbye.”

Dean didn't say anything, he just hugged you tightly, hoping that for once in your life you wouldn't fight. To his surprise, you clung to him and your fear of him disappearing became apparent. You lost count of how many times you heard him whispering to you to let it go, to focus on the present, and that he was with you now, kissing your forehead and repeating that everything was okay.

“Will you turn me into a rabbit if I kiss you now? Be honest.” He asked as soon as he was able to pull away from you a little to look into your eyes.

“Honestly? No. Would I like to? Yes.”

One of his hands rested on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and finally shortening the small distance that separated you. You saw him smile for a few seconds before he placed his lips on yours, letting you know that you had indeed lost your mind. His movements were soft and slow, something you had never imagined from him before, and it surprised you for the better. He seemed to be making an effort to be gentle and that, combined with the sweet taste the pie had left on his lips, had you hypnotized.

Time flew, and almost as if under a spell, you broke the kiss only when your human need for oxygen appeared. You could only guess that it had been a while because his lips were red and he seemed as agitated as you were. All you knew was that you had waited a long time for this and that the possibility of losing him was a thousand times more terrifying now.

“Part of me has been grateful all along to know that I will die before you.” He spoke, and you looked at him as if he were completely insane, because he probably was. “Really, don't look at me like that.”

“Sure, you always want to win and go first.” You rolled your eyes, tried to fake a laugh, and hugged him tighter.

“No, I just can't imagine life without you, my sweet witch.”

[iamespecter]

TADC OCs: "The Die Quartet"!

"Oh but Ziku, who are these very handsome die?"

Well I'm glad nobody asked, because that would ruin the joke!

The Die Quartet are OCs of mine that I created for TADC, and for what purpose? Well, they're the minds behind show's music!

Hidden just behind a corner or two, or four, These obliviously mischievous and enthusiastic quartet play whatever music they can, one that certainly matches the current "mood" of what the cast is going through. Meet Cuba, Dodeca, Tetra, and Octa, The Amazing Musical Performers, for The Amazing Digital Circus!

LORE AND BOUNDARIES UNDERNEATH THE CUT!

When the Circus was initially created, it was feeling too barren for a place that's meant to be "lively". And so, Caine went and copy-pasted himself four times, while replacing the heads with some die props he found on the floor, retexturing and adjusting their bodies, to fit their new roles.

A little bit of a code rewrite to make them able of producing any sounds all on their own to be musically intertwined, and the quartet was basically ready to go: but there's only one problem.

Caine completely forgot to remove the admin privileges from their code.

So once the four spawned, they immediately began floating around, dancing and creating the main theme for the circus, and did it all perfectly. So Caine decided that as long as they don't interfere with anything major in the circus and did their job as the musical minds behind the show/game's soundtracks, he doesn't really care about fixing this error and would rather let these four run rampant to create more songs.

Ever since then, the Die Quartet has been messing with every circus members, most of the time playing obnoxious music that fits the "current mood". You'll even see their canes dance to the tempo they've set, like some backup dancers.

Think of it like: You now have x4 Caines with dice heads, flying and snooping around, so that they can "improve the mood" with their music! Ain't that swell??

(But really, all they do is just annoy the Circus members just like Caine does, for the better or the worse. Probably the latter.)

Fun facts about the Die Quartet!

Even though they've all been created at the same time and share the features of a die, they do not consider themselves as "brothers", and only see one another as colleagues instead.

Their names are related to the type of their die: Tetra (yellow), Dodeca (purple), Cuba (red), and Octa (green).

Despite being reused assets of Caine himself, they have distinct personalities that separate them from each other: Tetra is more joyful and playful, Dodeca is a more dramatic/theatric and over the top, Cuba is the natural lead and more stern than anybody, and Octa is the more closed off of the gang but willing to provide his best.

Yet, they all still lack awareness of personal space and boundaries just like Caine, and WILL be intrusive towards anyone they set their sights on, with the intent of predicting their mood and setting the current situation perfectly in musical form. (ex. if a character is sneaking, all four will follow "cautiously" behind while one imitates/pulls out a tiny piano playing to the theme of "tip-toeing". You know, like a cartoon gag.)

Although they can perfectly imitate ANY sound or instrument imaginable, They'll still pull out a "physical" instrument if the gag calls for it.

BOUNDARIES!

You can pretty much draw fanart of them! In fact I would REALLY love to see it and I encourage it! Really, just don't claim them as your own, or steal their designs.

NSFW of them is accepted, but please keep in mind that I have an SFW blog. Which means THERE ARE MINORS. Show them to me privately instead, I'd still love to see it <3

While NSFW is accepted (privately), please make it a morally decent one, because I don't really wanna see some disgusting stuff. This pretty much includes: non-con, scat, etc.

Aside from that though, I hope you all enjoyed these four! I really love how they turned out, and would love to draw them more. I was initially hesitant on showing my TADC OCs because I don't think people would like 'em, but fuck it.

My boys, they deserve to be seen even if just by a few people on the internet.

[houseofhyde]

thinking abt aemond falling in love w blind!reader.

pairing. aemond x fem!reader warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to friends to lovers, ableism, so much fluff, a little bit of smut, angst (who said that). no mention of the reader's physical description. wrote in one sitting, no edit, we die like real men. wordcount. 3.1k (this was meant to be a short silly drabble) hyde's input. couldn't get this out my mind so, naturally, i'm making it your problem too now. enjoy, muah x disclaimer ! i'm not visually impaired but i do have several family members who are, to different degrees, and i've tried to stay true to what i remember them describing it like to me. the reader in this is completely blind, however, and that is something i do not have any experience in. please, if you feel anything about my portrayal is wrong or offensive, kindly let me know and i will happily fix it <3

the first time you meet is a few days after the events on driftmark.

with his new disability, the septa encourages alicent to change his usual lessons alongside his siblings for ones held with a couple of other impaired children of highborn status living in the keep.

aemond, of course, protests.

nearly kicking and screaming.

yells at his mother that he doesn't want to be thrown in a box with all the other "broken toys".

he ends up going anyway, dragged there by a handful of guards.

sulks throughout the whole first week, sitting alone in a corner.

and he would've continued to do that forever, if you didn't invade his space.

aka sit down next to him and offer him a book.

"go away," he says, the pout on his lips pointing lower to the ground.

"i don't want to," you refute.

"i won't tell you again, go. away."

"who are you to tell me anything?"

it leaves him speechless, because,

who is he? seriously?!

he thinks you have to be some sort of idiot to not recognise your prince

the following days go the same as the first

you sit near him and hold out a book

he tells you to go away

sometimes you listen

(not without first making it clear that you're moving because you want to, not because he told you to)

other days you don't

you just sit there next to him

staring blankly ahead

not even attempting to open the book that sits in your lap

one day, when he's feeling particularly short on patience

(he had his first sparring lesson with ser criston since losing his eye and it went awfully, each hit and stumble he took to the ground made worse by the echo of aegon's laughter ringing out throughout the whole courtyard)

he asks why you never read that book

"are you an idiot, or something? can't you read? is that why you're here?"

despite how smart he is for his age, he seems to not see the irony in him judging you for being part of an impaired group, as if he isn't also right there with you

such introspection would require acceptance of his loss first, and aemond just isn't ready for that.

"i can't read," you confirm

"because you're slow"

"no."

"then why?"

"i can't see the pages," it's the first time he notices that you're not looking at him. you're trying, face turned and eyes pointed in his direction, but you're staring past his shoulder, "i can't see anything."

he feels guilty,

wretched,

and the sickest twist of comfort.

because he understands

or at least he tells himself he does

because he can't see anything either - out of his missing socket, that is.

the other eye can see perfectly clearly how you don't even flinch as you speak about your disability

and that's when the jealousy takes over.

"then what good is it carrying around that stupid book?"

he says it because he wants to be mean.

so mean that you run away and leave him alone to sulk forever more.

but you just sit there, shrug your shoulders and shift the book around in your palm,

"i like to feel the weight of it in my hand. plus, you never know when you're going to need throw it at someone"

he bites his tongue before he can ask how you can hope to hit a target you can't even see.

the hostility remains

for months, years.

but you sit near him,

he stops telling you to go away,

you still offer the book out to him.

he learns your name.

not because he wants to

but because the septa calls it out one day in the classroom

and you're the one that answers to it.

the first time he sees you outside the study room, you're all alone, none of your father's guards around you,

and that's what really makes him stop in his tracks.

"what kind of lord leaves his daughter to wander blindly around the keep?" he almost says with his usual disgust,

until he notices that you don't have your book

and you're crying.

despite his own discomfort, aemond tells himself he has to comfort you.

because he's thirteen, almost a man.

and what kind of respectable man leaves a girl to cry all by herself?

he wipes your tears with the sleeves of his doublet, waits patiently until your breathing slows, then he speaks,

"what happened?"

"it's you," you say it softly, almost like you can't believe he's the one comforting you.

"it's me. now tell me what happened?"

"nothing," you tell him at first,

until he demands the full truth in the name of his father, king viserys targaryen.

"i overheard my mother speaking to my father about me. i didn't mean to! i just wanted to show them how i memorised the path from my chambers to theirs, without an escort. i wanted to prove that i can be useful, and good, and not a burden. i heard them through the crack in their door. she wants him to send me away to join the silent sisters. she says i can't see, so i may as well not speak either. but my father won't listen. he says i'm his daughter, and that he will not send me away. he loves me too much, i worry he'll hate me for it one day."

that familiar guilty feeling creeps in,

the one he's felt lingering on his skin since the day you told him of your visual impairment.

he's suddenly so aware of the fact he can see you,

and your tear-stained face,

and the shades of blue in your dress.

"where is your book?" he asks.

"i dropped it, whilst running through the halls. i just wanted to stop hearing them, i didn't want... i didn't mean to cause any mess, i'm sorry."

in an act that surprises even him, aemond takes your hand in his

and pulls you both to your feet.

he slowly leads you along familiar hallways, turning corners he's turned a million times.

"where are we going?"

"trust me."

you know he's taken you to the library the minute he opens the doors, a whiff of old books hitting your senses.

he guides you to a book shelf, puts your hand up to touch the exposed spines

and tells you to move forward.

"stop when you feel it's right."

you stop after four steps.

your fingers grazing over a book titled Matters Of The Heart: a Compilation of Fictitious Stories on Love and Beauty.

he pulls it out the shelf,

guides you both over to a bench,

open the dust covered book,

and reads to you.

the following day, when your father's guards guides you down next to aemond in the study room

and you hold your book out to him

he takes it,

shuffles a little closer to you,

and softly recites the words off their pages.

from that day forward, you become an infamous pair in the keep.

the one-eyed prince and the sightless girl,

never one without the other.

aemond becomes your shadow, always two steps ahead or behind you.

you pick out books in the library

and he reads them to you both.

he brings you down to the courtyard

and watches how you flinch each time the clack of wooden swords rings out.

it drives him to be better,

learn to see more in his opponents than even two eyes would allow,

just so he can watch how the smile stretches across your face each time he tells you he won.

you grow so close that one day, the king invites your family to join the royals for supper.

aemond tries not to care that you end up sitting so far away from him at the table.

at least he can look down it and spot you seated at your father's side, he tells himself.

when dinner ends and music starts to play,

aemond ceases the chance to sneak away from his seat and steal the empty one by your side, both your parents having stood to speak with the king.

he brushes two fingers along the back of your hand,

a private, tactile language only you two can speak,

one that tells you it's him, without him even having to say a word.

"prince aemond," you say, and he instantly hates hearing you address him so formally. "you look handsome this evening"

"and how would you know that?" there's no hint of the malice, the mockery he once used to speak to you with, back when he was angry little boy and you were a stubborn girl.

now he's a man of fifteen years and anger is far from something he feels next to you.

he watches you shrug and the smile that he likes best - cheeky, playful - slips onto your lips

"my mother won't stop bringing it up. dashing, she said."

"is that so?"

"mhmm. but she also says my father should offer me to your father and have us both wed, what with our cripple-like qualities making us unsuited for any other lord or lady, so, really, what does she know? for all i know, you're the most hideous thing to walk the keep and i should feel blessed that i can't see you."

"imagine how i feel. i still have to see you."

"oh, the horrors! well then, my all-mighty seeing knight-in-eye-patch, would you lend me your sight one moment and tell me."

"tell you what?"

"do i have anything in my teeth?" you bite back your laughter as you open your mouth and put your pearly-whites out on display for him.

he doesn't even care if the sight is unlady-like

or if anyone else at the table has noticed.

he's too busy laughing along with you and telling lies of how a massive piece of veg is stuck between your upper front teeth.

aegon is as aegon has alaways been,

a thorn in aemond's side,

and he makes no exceptions when it comes to you.

he can't help but laugh at you both

mouth stained with wine as he saunters up and leans his face down between you both.

"isn't it amazing how, between you both, there's only one eye that actually works?"

aemond bites his tongue, like he always does when it comes to his brother.

you, however, aren't quieted so easily.

"oh, so amazing! do you know what's even more amazing? how the stench of you always announces your arrival."

it's the first time aemond feels it.

that flutter in his chest.

and once it starts, it doesn't seem to want to stop,

he seeks you out most hours of the day

and thinks of you when he's not with you.

when he notices the bruises that litter your arms

from bumping into corners and walking into walls

he has a cane made for you, to help you more safely make your way through the keep.

it's the greatest gift he can give you: the freedom to walk your own path.

one day, as he's telling you about the recent flight he took upon vhagar, you ask him what the sky looks like.

"well, it's blue"

you blink at him, wait for the ball to drop.

"but you wouldn't know what that means"

he tries to think of something else, a different way to describe the vastness of the sky

"have you ever ridden upon a horse?"

you nod your head

"have you ever ridden fast upon a horse?"

you nod again.

"that feeling, when you're gripping at the reigns, and the horse's hooves beat against the ground like a drum, and the wind takes no mercy on your hair, and, for a moment, there's this... warmth of possibility, anticipation, right here" he guides your hand to rest atop your chest, on the side that your heart rests. "that you can leap and beat any obstacle in your way, and for a moment the world is open, and vast, and limitless. that is what the sky looks like, the perfect place to race upon horseback."

"except you're on a dragon."

"well, yes, but find me a horse that has wings and i promise to take you riding up in the sky one day."

you ask him to describe more things, more often.

the forest.

the iron throne.

the sea.

vhagar.

each book he reads you.

till one day you ask, "what do you look like?"

he tries his best.

he tells you about his signature targaryen hair,

and helps guide your hand up to touch it.

he tells you about his pointed nose,

and guides your pointer finer up to drag itself down the length of it.

he tells you about his jawline,

and lets you feel that part of him too.

"and your eye?" you ask.

he doesn't say anything

but he does peal off his eyepatch

and guide your hand up to run down the length of his scar.

"what does it look like?"

"gross."

"that's funny, because it just feels like skin. is all skin gross?"

"no but this skin... it's damaged."

"i feel something. it's hard," you murmur, as your nail traces over the curve of the gemstone that fills his socket.

"it's a sapphire."

"a sapphire?"

"yes. it's like a precious, shiny, smooth, blue rock."

"what about the other eye, the one that's still there?"

"what about it?"

"what does it look like? what colour is it? eyes have colours, don't they?"

"they do," he says, gazing into the hypnotising shade of your own, "it's blue."

"the sky, the sea, your eyes. i think blue might be my favourite colour."

he falls asleep that night with a smile on his face

his heart relieved that you never asked him to put into words what you look like,

because there simply aren't enough words known to man,

be it in the common tongue

or high valyrian,

to describe how beautiful you are.

he tells you as much, when you do eventually ask.

in the fallout of storm's end, soaked to the bone and regretful,

it's you who his legs carry him to

your chambers, to be exact

it doesn't even cross his mind to care that his knocking at your door awakens you

he doesn't care, loses all ability to do so when he collapses into your arms

"i made a mistake," he tells you, when you ask what's wrong

"that's okay, mistakes help us learn better."

not this one, he thinks

you're so gentle with him

and your skin is so warm against his cold

that he can't help himself

his lips find yours.

his hands find your hips.

his breath gets lost somewhere between you both.

but that's okay,

you're all the air he's ever needed.

he feels selfish, when he guides you over to your bed.

and he knows he should tell you what's happened,

what's changed.

he knows he shouldn't be touching you with hands that are stained by blood.

but he's desperate,

and he's breathless,

and he's so frighteningly in love with you.

"please, aemond," it's you who begs for more.

it's you who tugs on the leather of his jerkin.

it's you who pulls at the cotton of his shirt.

it's you who he gets undressed for.

you both wind up naked upon your sheets,

limb tangled with limb.

"i wish i could see you," you tell him. "but i don't need to see you to know you're beautiful, aemond. i feel it, in everything you do for me."

so he lets his own eye shut.

decides he doesn't need to see you either,

not like this, his skin tainted with the smell of the rain, and his dragon, and the velaryon boy's scream.

and the truth is, he wants to take you like this.

he wants to be cruel, and damn you to a life by his side.

but he looks at you,

naked beneath him,

lips swollen with his kisses,

the shine of your own arousal peaking out from that space between your thighs,

and all he sees is the girl he read stories to.

the girl who swooned and awed over every cheesy line about a knight,

and all his knightly honour,

loving his lady in the way that's deemed right by the gods and the lords.

and aemond just can't bring himself to defile your honour,

not like this.

so even as you whine,

and moan,

and offer up your maidenhead on a platter of your unapologetic beauty,

the prince just continues to edge at both your own pleasures,

hips grinding back and forth,

lips tangling with your own,

voice whispering nos, and we can't do thats, and not yets.

"tomorrow," he promises, the spill of his pre-seed smearing along your pelvis with each stuttered thrust of his hardened cock against your soft skin, "i'm going to ask your father for your hand."

"but, how?" you sound so pretty, he can't help himself and lets his eye reopen, searing the haunting image of you naked and pliant beneath him into his mind's eye.. "your mother... she said you flew to offer your hand to one of the baratheon girls."

"what i promised lord baratheon was a targaryen prince, and i intend to keep that promise," he speaks with so much conviction, skipping over the events of his nephew, and his dagger, and his joyride in the sky. "daeron is a boy of sixteen, he can have her. but i, i will belong to you."

the will to leave you, maidenhead still intact, somehow finds its way into his heart

he doesn't fail to leave you sated, however,

his finger dancing along the pretty pearl that has you whining his name and losing your mind upon the mattress.

he keeps his word,

wakes not with the urgent need to discuss last night's war-inciting events with his mother

but with the burning desire to find your father and win his approval

he doesn't find him in his quarter of the keep.

or in the training yard.

or in his seat at the small council.

what he does find is his fear stricken mother,

his stoic grandfather,

his giggling brother.

"aemond, what have you done?"

he doesn't answer

they already know what he done,

the whole realm likely knows, his half-sister too.

so he asks what he really cares about,

asks where your father is.

"he's gone," his mother answers.

"after he heard about your business with lucerys," aegon continues. "the traitor's taken his family to dragonstone and bent the knee to our bastard-bearing cunt of a sister."

so yeah that's what i'm thinking about.

anyway, goodnight <33

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I am LOVING all of your comments on each part. So many of them either brought a smile to my face or made me actually laugh out loud, so thank you!!

Summary: You can't hide your emotions anymore and some things aren't what they seem to be.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, talks of torture, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Azriel and Rhys came running into your room.

"What happened?" Rhys shouted as you stood there crying

Both of the Illyrians looked over to where the shattered glass laid, realizing what had happened. The shadowsinger gave Rhys a look letting him know he would fix this.

Rhys had everyone leave the house and stayed close by in case Az needed help.

"Hey, sunshine, let me help you" he barely whispered while taking steps towards you.

"You!" you screamed at him "You left me. You didn't care enough to let me know you weren't coming. And you didn't care enough to save me. I needed you and you were gone."

You took a deep breath and continued

"When they showed up to take me, I looked around for you. Thinking you would show up and save me. Now that I think about it, maybe I'm the stupid one. For believing you would choose to spend time with me instead of her for once. How stupid could I be? When I was being tortured all I wanted was to let go, to die. And not because the pain was too much, but because I knew that coming back and seeing the pity on your face would be so much worse. Seeing you finally 'care' about me because you feel guilty would break me beyond fixing." you took steps toward him as you yelled

His back was now against the wall.

"And now I'm broken! Nothing can fix this. And Cassian, poor Cassian was forced to watch while they rid me of my clothes and beat me. Why couldn't you just love me back? I needed you" You were pounding on his chest with your fists and he let you.

You could barely see through the tears. It felt nice to get some of it out. You collapsed into his chest, still yelling and crying. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him and you both sank down to the ground. You were now resting on his lap and he held you while he cried.

"I needed you, I needed you." you cried "I need you"

"I know, I'm right here. I promise I'm not going anywhere." He spoke with his lips on your head. His own tears falling faster.

You eventually fell asleep on his lap and he carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed and was about to go clean up the mess when you grabbed his arm.

"Please don't go" you spoke

"You want me to stay?" he wanted to make sure he heard you right.

"Yes" you stated, you couldn't keep the act up anymore. You needed your best friend back for right now. He could explain himself later.

He pulled up a chair next to his bed as you got comfortable under his covers. It was silent for a few minutes, your head was pounding from all the crying you had been doing.

"I always hoped that my mom had got away somehow and was out there looking for me." you whispered, barely audible

"Every time I went somewhere on a mission, I sent my shadows out to look for her, just in case." Azriel confessed just as soft

A small smile grew on your face, and with a million thoughts swirling through your head, you went to sleep.

You woke up the next morning and saw Az sleeping on the chair next to you. As quietly as you could, you slipped out of bed and went to your room. Everything had already been cleaned up and the guilt from the night before started to creep in.

Feyre was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the note from Elain.

"I promise Elain truly meant well with the flowers." your High Lady told you

"I don't know why I did what I did last night, I'm sorry-" you started but she stopped you before you could finish.

"No, I would have probably done the same thing. Her note was, well, pathetic. But you have to understand that she wanted to apologize to you but was embarrassed. So, she thought the flowers would have been good for now." Feyre explained

"I was tortured and she's embarrassed?" you couldn't understand.

"When you're ready, maybe try talking to Elain? You deserve a true apology but only when you are ready. And while you're at, try talking to Cassian too. You both went through a lot together and it might help you. He won't say it but he's struggling." Feyre spoke while standing and walking over to you.

She pulled you into a hug and you let her. You leaned into her and she hugged you tighter. You were ready to accept help from your family.

You got dressed after she left and were going to head down to the kitchen to see if anyone else was up.

As you left your room, you heard a few voices coming out of Azriel's. You couldn't help but pause and listen.

"And why have you been so quiet? You were there, you saw what she went through. You should be trying to help her. Instead you've been avoiding her" Az spoke

"Alright lets stop-" Rhys started to say

"Why have I been so quiet?" Cassian asked sarcastically "Hmm let me think? Maybe it's because I stood there completely helpless while I had to watch Y/N be stabbed over and over again, dragged by her hair, relentlessly beat?!" His voice rose with every word

"And did you know, on top of all that, as she was about to be tortured in front of me, she comforted me? She told me that it was ok, that she could take it, told me to not worry about her?! He had the knife raised in his hand about to stab her, and all she could think of was to comfort me? I do not deserve her kindness and friendship. None of us do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." the shadowsinger told his friend

"It's fine. It's just so hard to look at her and not see the fear and pain in her eyes. I failed her and I don't know how to make that up to her." Cass responded

"Listen, she just needs us to be us right now. She needs love and support. All we can do is be there for her." Rhys told them

"I'm just happy she showed emotion last night. Having her scream at me is so much better than her pretending she's ok." Az said

So Cass wasn't disgusted with you, he just felt guilty?

You opened Azriel's bedroom door and walked straight to Cassian.

"Y/N" the male stuttered, not knowing what else to say

You wrapped your arms around him and after a moment he embraced you too. You stood like that for a couple of minutes before separating, still keeping your hands on his arms.

"If you weren't with me in that dungeon, I would've given up. I wouldn't have had the strength to keep fighting. You were there for me, and that was all I needed." you told Cass

Azriel flinched at that last sentence. He knew you didn't say it to hurt him but he will never forgive himself for what he did.

Cassian sniffled, "Well, I think I could use a drink after these past few days, shall we crack open the most expensive bottles Rhys owns?"

"Seeing as it is still morning, I think we should save the drinking until later." Rhys chuckled

The four of you laughed and it felt good. You missed this so much.

"I'll take you up on that offer, but how about after dinner?" you offered

"Sounds perfect" "I'm in" Rhys and Cass responded at the same time

The three of you looked at Az and the male smiled and nodded.

You were looking forward to hopefully having a simple night just sitting with your family and enjoying their company. But right now, you needed to find Elain.

You were exhausted pretending everything was ok, and you figured talking to her could help.

After checking the kitchen with no success, you headed to your second guess of where she was at. The garden. You spotted her immediately, bent over some beautiful flowers.

"Hello, Elain" You started

"Oh! Y/N, I wasn't expecting to talk to you so soon. Um- I need to tell you, I...well I really didn't know...." the girl choked out

She seemed so nervous and upset.

"Elain, I'm here to apologize" you spoke softly and took a seat next to her. Her eyes growing wide at your words.

"What?? No, you were kidnapped and tortured and all because I was jealous of you? No I need to apologize. I didn't know the extent of what happened to you until after I sent the flowers. I was told that you were hurt but it wasn't until last night that Rhys showed me what you went through.. I am deeply sorry" she told you

"You were jealous of me?" you questioned

"It's stupid.. after everything that occurred with Graysen, I was scared to feel that pain again. When I first got here, Azriel was so kind to me. I started to get that feeling again and was terrified of being hurt. Az was so close to you so I convinced him to stay with me. I was embarrassed that I let myself act like this over a male. I am appalled with myself." Elain admitted

"You couldn't have known those men were after me. Am I hurt that you tried to keep my closest friend from me? Yes, but you should not carry the burden and guilt of my trauma because of that... and the flowers did come off as a little insensitive" you elbowed her playfully as you spoke the last part, hoping she would see it as a sort of truce.

She looked up at you with embarrassment on her face.

"In my defense, Nesta helped me write the card, and you know she's not very good at emotional apologies" Elain said and you both giggled

After a moment, the air seemed to turn serious again.

"He couldn't have known either," she gently added, "have you talked to him yet?"

"Well, I screamed at him and blamed him for a lot of it last night but besides that, no I haven't talked to him. The problem isn't just that he stood me up that night, which led to all of this. He started drifting away from me long before that and it hurt like hell." you admitted to her

"Ask him why. Be straight forward with him and perhaps he will do the same with you." she advised you

You gave the middle Archeron sister a genuine smile and went back inside.

That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. You felt lighter after all that clarification but there was still something big weighing you down.

You needed to find Azriel next and you had a feeling this conversation wouldn't be as easy as the last.

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[xoxochb]

Hellooo

may I please request a pt 2 of 'kiss it better' like maybe after that they had a tradition of kissing each other's wounds (maybe after tending them too) and they end up just how they started — making out, biting at each other's lips??

orrr! could you do something similar with jason?

thank you for reading! hope you have a great day!

— mature, collected, and sensible ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - “but if you want my kisses I’ll be your perfect missus till the day that one of us dies”

warnings: making out, established relationship, reader is implied to work in the infirmary so she’s probably an apollo kid, I wrote this in like five minutes lolsies, and I got way to carried away with this… LMAO pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

part one

“I need you to walk away from me. preferably right now” with an armful of medical supplies, you drop them down on nearby counter for only a moment so you could begin organizing them back into their original spots. percy, however, does not listen to your demand and continues following you like a lost puppy

“but I’m injured! I’m bleeding out, you’re going to let me die?”

“percy-” you discard the supplies and turn around facing him. angrily, you grab your boyfriends hand and drag him to a bed and instruct him to sit down as you gather the required supplies to fix his injury— which was simply a paper cut on his finger

“can I have a superman bandaid?”

you throw down the DC bandaid box and pick up a barbie pack instead. you look around until you find the perfect one, ripping it open and placing it around his wounded finger

“malibu beach barbie. right up your alley”

he pouts. “I can’t walk around camp with a barbie bandaid!”

“you should’ve thought about that before acting like a dumbass”

“okay… wow” he mumbles absentmindedly “so where’s my kiss?”

“you—” you groan in frustration, taking his finger to place a peck over the bandaid

“and…” he points to his lips now. you sigh when he grabs your waist to pull you onto the bed to straddle him. what a fucking bitch he is. nonetheless, you swiftly connect your lips with his, once and twice. when you attempt to pull away he tangles one hand securely in your hair to assure you can’t move from this position. the kiss (es) are utterly dizzying, like almost he had purposely cut himself so he could visit you and earn a kiss as an indication of sympathy from you. what’s even worse is that you give into him with similar force. you let him slide a hand underneath your shirt, digging his fingers into your skin, instantly having you arch into his touch

and as you suspected, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, eliciting a moan from you and a pool of crimson to drip between the both of you. with this, his tongue runs over the new cut, absorbing all the blood he had made pour out. it stings terribly, yet the pain is soothing and you allow him to continue doing so. you feel his light smile along your lips as your nails dig into his biceps to steady yourself atop him, he enjoys the reactions he’s able to evoke from you so easily

“percy we—” your cut off by your own guttural moan as his tongue slides fully into your mouth to prevent you from finishing whatever you wanted to say. he trails his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans until he loops his fingers around the edge of your lacy underwear. now, though, you place your hands on his chest and pull away

“we can’t— my siblings will be back soon”

“that’s an unconvincing argument”

you throw him an unamused look. and stand up, searching frantically through a drawer until you find a pink pad of sticky notes and a nearby pen. you scribble something onto it and grab percy’s hand, dragging him outside of your cabin where you place the stick note onto the door. he attempts to read what it says but the letters scramble together

“fifteen minutes and I need to be back, got it?”

he smirks. “yeah, I can work with that”

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

HE ATE MY HEART!

“I love that girl”

gif by @corvidcrossbow

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO POST ON HERE AND ALSO TO POST SOMETHING TO THIS SONG

Vamp!Daryl has rotted not only my brain but the community. I am not sorry at all for the plague I'm spreading and I hope that it only gets worse.

So I've been doing some research on it, and I really like the idea of mixing the Blade universe w TWD, I did some more research on the different types of vampires (its kind of a lot so if you want you can go read abt them here!) To basically summarize, there's people, daywalkers (half vamp-people), walkers, full vampires, and then Revenants (half-walker half vampire, basically just another way to die)

This also makes it easier for whenever Scud becomes my next vampy victim

AUUUGH I NEED MY HOT SEXY NEEDY VAMPIRE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO DRINK ALL MY BLOOD SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE

also I am working on reqs yes I am, I have one scud fic that is dirty and nasty and should be getting posted soon. also I may not be on tumblr as much as I used to be because GUYS I am now employed yes that's right I got off my computer, went outside, interacted with people, and got a job #gangshit

It had been over a week since Daryl had eaten, and over two since he had left to go out on the community's monthly supply run.

As he stumbled through the opening gates, he felt like he had been through a war. His body was wracked with exhaustion, weakness, and hunger. The air was thick with the strong scent of blood, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning painfully when he was bombarded by Carol and Rick asking where he had been, what had taken so long, and if he was alright.

“No! M’not alright dammit” He barked at them in frustration after being asked for the third time if he was alright, his voice laced with irritation and discomfort. Carol couldn't help but notice his pale and clammy appearance.

Her forehead creased into a frown as she tightly pursed her lips, giving Daryl a scolding look that made him uneasy. With a tone of concern, she asked, "I'm worried. When was the last you fed?"

The man's face twisted in discomfort as Rick and Carol stood in his space. He scoffed and muttered, "Not recently, m'fuckin' starvin'" The longer he stayed, the more his head spun and his vision blurred, causing the corners of his eyes to fade into a deep red color. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

Rick observed Daryl's malnourished skin, staring at how he was almost transparent. His eyes were screwed shut as the sun harshly burned his sensitive orbs, and he was gripping the strap of his crossbow so hard that his fingers were starting to turn red.

"You should go see Y/n," Rick said, eyes fixed on his friend. "She should be back home and she's been asking about you. I think she misses you." Daryl's body tensed at the sound of your name, and a sudden chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rick's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Daryl's head drooped weakly as he could only manage a feeble nod. Rick and Carol had stepped off to the side for him, offering their silent support. Carol placed her hand gently on his shoulder, her grey hair falling across her face as she did so. Rick, with his stern expression, gave Daryl a look that he knew meant there was no room for argument.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, blazing down on him with a blinding intensity, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. He could feel the heat searing his skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and trickle down his face. He noticed the way that his vest rubbed uncomfortably against him, the fabric clinging to his skin and making him feel sticky and irritable. His already aching teeth began to grind down against each other, and he could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further fueling his pure discomfort.

Each step he took in the direction of your house was tiring and heavy, his dirty, muddy boots slapping against the ground as he dragged himself through the streets, promptly ignoring any strange or judgy looks that were thrown his way. He didn't have the time, let alone the strength to even bother paying them any mind. His stomach churned as his overwhelmed nose couldn't help but pick up the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

It forced him to quicken his pace, trying to get just as far away from the public eye as he possible could. He didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to be stared at. He just wanted to get inside as soon as fucking possible and just tear off all his goddamn clothes. A ping of hope struck through him when he could see your familiar house only a short distance down the road, having to hold himself back from flat-out sprinting the rest of the way there.

Though it was only about a thirty-second walk, it had been the longest in his whole entire life, and walking up the small steps of your porch was like something out of a nightmare. He could disgustingly feel the material change in flooring when he stepped off the pavement and onto the creaky wood, the sound grating against his now way too-sensitive ears. Dear god, would someone fucking help him already?

Of course, as if on cue, the red front door to your house swung open, but instead of being met with a friendly face, he was met with the barrel of your gun.

"Daryl?" You questioned as you lowered the weapon slightly, a smile stretching across your lips once you had confirmed who was standing and dicking around on your porch. "Daryl!" You fully dropped your defensive position, stuffing the weapon in the band of your pants as you prepared to throw yourself at the man, halting when you finally took in his ruined appearance.

His breathing was labored, and it was hard to keep himself upright on his own two legs, forcing him to lean against the wall by the door. "Hey doll"

You scoffed at him in disbelief, "Don't you dare even "hey doll" me, mister! What the hell happened to you? Get in here right now" Grabbing the front of his vest and pulling his heavy body inside, Daryl groaning as each movement caused pain to his body, slumping against the door when you slammed it shut.

He couldn't be happier when he felt you prying the buttons of his stupidly itchy vest off, him shrugging it off as well as his crossbow, clattering down on the floor and probably chipping the metal further.

"Jesus Daryl, you look fucking terrible. Did you feed on anything at all out there?" You purse your lips as you analyze and checked his unnaturally pale chest, letting out a surprised hiss at the burn lingering on your fingers tips from where you had brushed them against the skin of his shoulder

Daryl groaned as you directed him to sit on the couch, the short steps from the front door already leaving him utterly winded, almost dripping in sweat as he wheezed each breath of air.

“‘Wasn’t much… ‘wasn’t much out there” He spoke breathlessly, head spinning and his stomach loudly churning when you stood in front of him.

When you extended a hand out to cup his face, he tightly gripped your wrist with a shaky hand. “Don’. Please don’” He didn’t want to feed from you, not like this, not in a state where he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t absolutely drain you.

“Daryl” You whispered softly, frowning slightly as you started taking your shirt off, and he wanted to scream at your stubbornness.

You straddled his lap and gently brushed the hair sticking to his forehead off, his blue eyes starting to tint red as the smell of your blood was strong, right in his face. “I don’ wanna”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’ll die. What am I gonna do if you die?” You cupped his face, forcing his gaze onto yours. He whimpered slightly at your touch, his whole body sensitive and reactive.

Daryl shivered when you combed fingers through his hair, hands curling around your hips when you directed his head to your neck. “I trust you, more than I even trust myself” You whispered soothingly into his ear, and he almost wanted to cry.

He could smell the blood coursing through you like it was a burning candle, and his mouth was uncontrollably watering. His fangs were sharp and heavy, aching with the need to sink into your skin, which is exactly what he did, groaning against you at the first drops of blood, not wasting against another second before he was greedily taking mouthfuls.

It was so good, so warm and fresh, sweet and bitter. Daryl had drank lots of blood before, and yours was easily his favorite. He craved it during his time out there, not just because there was a serious lack in wild animals, but because it was addictive.

He squeezed your hips, soft and pillowy in his buzzing palms as he could feel himself starting to get hard in his pants, the more blood he swallowed the more drunk he got.

It made you feel good to watch his natural tan color fade back, his scarred back no longer a ghastly pale. You ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally curling your fingers and gripping the dark locks to grind down against his now-straining cock.

Daryl made soft, small sounds as he fed, each roll of your hips making each gulp of your blood taste so much better. His senses were at an all-time high, overwhelmed and at an absolute edge. He couldn’t help the way his hands pressed you down on his cock, hips desperately jerking against you as he could feel himself getting closer and closer, his head spinning in a blood lust haze.

He was so close, so very fucking close. His sharp claws had made themselves known, and you jolted when they painfully curled into your flesh, hips sputtering and slightly faltering in their movements. Daryl had no problem picking up the slack, almost fucking you right through his pants from how hard he was rutting up into you.

It was just all so much, his whole body on fire with pure arousal as he sighed around a final mouthful of crimson, trembling from his core as his orgasm washed over him, pressing your clothed cunt against him as hard as he could, making his already fuzzy mind draw a complete blank, a loud groan tearing from his throat that caused his fangs to slip out from where he had punctured the skin and drop his head against your shoulder, whimpering softly as he held you down.

You scratched his scalp comfortingly, feeling a little woozy from the amount of blood he had taken. He hummed against you as he started to come down from not only the high of his orgasm but bubbly buzz from his feast.

“Feel better?” You asked in a quiet, sleepy voice when Daryl’s tongue cleaned the drops of blood that had leaked from the small wounds, coating the area in his saliva so that it could heal.

He nodded as peppered you in appreciative and apologetic kisses, pulling you flush against his bare chest by wrapping his arms around your back, claws retracted and replaced with blunt nails. “M’sorry fer hurtin’, ya”

“Instead, you should be sorry for not feeding yourself, mister” You said as you shook your head, pinching his side as you got a bit upset again. “You know it scares me shitless when you do that”

“I know, I know. M’sorry for tha’ too” Daryl grumbled, feeling fatigued as well now that his tummy was full and satiated. His body was still weak and needed rest, now yours did as well considering he had taken a lot more than usual. “I’ll make it up to ya’” He said as he pushed himself up off the couch, grunting as it was a lot harder with tired muscles and one hand keeping his woman wrapped around him, adding a second once he was finally standing.

You giggled at that, arms hooked around his neck. “And just how will you do that?”

“Got a real good idea” Daryl smirked, hoisting you up as he ascended up the stairs to your shared bedroom, hungry for something else that was much better than blood.

I started writing this a few days ago I think this is the quickest I've written something

Vamp!Daryl is an absolute need. I'm loving every single post I see of him and I love watching the disease spread faster than fucking covid I jump for joy when I see someone I don't even know talking abt him is this what fame feels like is this what its like to be famous am I fucking famous

yes you do want more of this so go read more

Bloodthirsty @dixons-sunshine

Bite me @mydearestdaryl

[redsrooftopprincess]

Gravity (Part 2)

This may be becoming a thing. There will be at least one more chapter and I have no idea what to call this thing. Maybe by the end I'll know. 😅

Gn reader x Raphael

Warnings: Hypothermia, language (but I think that's a given in a Raph fic?)

Part 1 Part 3

It had been one week. One week since he'd slipped. One week since the fever carried him to your rooftop.

You haven't spoken. More specifically, he hasn't spoken. Apart from texting you when he made it home like you insisted he did every night, it had been radio silence. You texted him before his patrol like you always did, and he stared at his phone, expressionless, before putting it back in his pocket.

What could he say?

He'd already had the conversation a thousand times in his head, and as far as he was concerned, it didn't need to be said. He didn't need you to let him down easy.

Because you'd mean it. Every damn word. You're sorry. He's your best friend. Nothing has to change.

But it would change, there was no way it couldn't. Things were different now.

That night had been the worst of it. He'd left not long after his confession. At that point, just the sound of your voice was enough to make him weep, and he didn't want to make things worse. Not that he thought they could *get* worse.

He made up some excuse about Leo calling it early, and ran.

He was running now, through the freezing rain, a sudden cold snap in the middle of spring, and hoping that between the temperature and the downpour hammering into his coat, he could think about anything else.

It wasn't long before he was considering ditching the coat. It was already soaked through, and weighing him down, which was hard to do.

That gave him pause.

He stopped, ducking under an overhang, and opened his coat, pulling the fabric back to expose his side. He twisted and looked at the small device mounted onto his shell just under his shoulder blade. There was supposed to be a little red light. There wasn't.

Shit.

They each had them. One of the first inventions D had come up with after they'd started doing patrols as kids.

A blizzard had suddenly torn through the city one night, and they were woefully unprepared with only winter coats. The cold dropped their body temperatures, and then them. Splinter had to hunt across the rooftops until he found them, asleep and hypothermic, huddled behind a construction dumpster.

Donnie didn't leave his lab for days. He blamed himself, he should have known the blizzard was coming, that their gear was insufficient, he should have had *some* kind of backup heat supply. No matter how many times his family told him otherwise, it was his fault, and he would never let it happen again.

So he built something to fix it. Raph didn't really get a lot of the specifics, but the overall was that the small devices "converted kinetic energy into heat that was then stored and distributed throughout the inside of their shells." Or, as Raph understands it, as long as you keep moving, you won't die.

One night a few weeks ago, someone had gotten lucky and he had taken a rusted rebar to the chest that had shattered on impact. His regulator had been damaged by the shrapnel, but the weather had already been warming up, and then the season hit and it was forgotten about.

The rain must have been the final nail, only the exterior was watertight. It was dead. He could already feel the cold and damp setting in. He needed to get home. Fast.

He set off, the only sound other than the roar of the rain was the gradually slowing heartbeat that pounded in his ears.

*Fuck* it was cold.

It wasn't long before his waterlogged coat became too much to carry. He ditched it behind an air conditioning unit, and kept moving.

Hailstones felt like bullets as they pelted bare skin, and through the sheets of rain, the haze of cold and exhaustion that had started at the edges was encroaching. It wasn't long before he was too tired to think.

He was moving on pure instinct, without even the presence of mind to pray he could make it somewhere safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny Leo was lecturing him for not hitting his emergency signal.

He stumbles. He is so, so tired. The soft darkness of sleep is pulling at him like a rip tide. He drags himself to the next rooftop, barely touching down before he collapses.

[heartpascal]

can we get more father figure joel? You know when Ellie killed the David, and then Joel comforted her? Maybe that but instead of Ellie it’s the reader, thank you <3

i am good

▹ joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you.

▹ — a/n: ok first request i hope it’s ok!! i know its kinda similar to the game but erm. its reader and joel this time!! and reader is much much less ok with the whole. murder thing but its ok bc joel is there to fix it &lt;3 yes he is your dad no you don’t get a choice he has decided it

▹ — warnings: allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens but the intention was there), vivid descriptions of murder, reader is misled and attacked, similar to the game with ellie (so kinda spoilers?), joel is ready to kill for you (and does), lots of blood, tears, father figure joel, lots of angst and upset, vomiting

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Getting air into your lungs was proving to be one of the hardest things you’d had to do for a long time, which, considering the journey you’d been on, was shocking. The act of simply breathing should have come easily to you, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not as you saw the reflection of your own bloodied face in the knife that was held up, a clear threat polluting the air.

You knew you had probably been lucky to even make it as far as you had — born into a world full of death and chaos and infection, you were bound to meet your gruesome end some day, but you didn’t want to die.

For the first time in a long time, your chest ached for the breath you couldn’t seem to provide, the want, the need to live almost suffocating you on its own. You had someone now, someone who cared whether you survived or not, who felt like you deserved even a glimpse at a happy ending, even if he didn’t like to state those things out loud.

Resentment was growing in your stomach, filling you with the need to be sick. Why did you always have to listen to the words Joel didn’t say, rather than the ones he did say? If you had just listened, conserved your trust for those who actually earned it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

When your hunting escapades had led you into a small horde of infected, you had just blindly put your faith in the aging couple who came to your aid, not thinking of what they might want for their troubles. You’d never had to escape without Joel’s help before, and you quickly discovered you weren’t all that good at it.

The two of them had dragged you back to their nearby settlement which they shared with a couple dozen others, all whilst you were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, your resolve fading each time they hit you to near unconsciousness. When they passed by a young man stood beside an older lady, you had called out to them, “Please, help me, please.”

“Gotta get something in return for the gear we wasted saving her ass,” the man had snickered to the two of them as glanced at the couple, just nodding at his words before turning back to their conversation.

You’d been knocked out when they approached a large community house, just getting a glimpse of the carpeted floor before the woman had struck her gun against the side of your head.

You had woken up in the middle of a chilled room, your arms straining with effort as you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing the woman holding a knife towards you. You couldn’t be sure how long it had been since they’d taken you, not with the way your stomach clenched with pain. The whole reason you’d been out there was to solve that, but you were sure that it had gotten worse.

“Listen, please,” your scratchy voice came out, much quieter than you had meant for it to be, “I—I can get you replacements for everything you used, but you gotta let me go.”

“We don’t gotta do anything, girl.” The lady snickered, as if even you saying such a thing was amusing. It made you feel small, powerless.

She got up, hearing her name being called, Cheryl, you noted, and sneered at you. Her skin was dull, and she looked vaguely ill, but that didn’t change anything about her threatening demeanour. At least one thing you’d taken from travelling with Joel was never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small, or ill, or kind they may appear to be.

Her hand grazed your face as she strode past, “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she was complimenting you, “You’ll do nicely. We’ll both enjoy you.”

You managed to avoid throwing up until she left the room, hearing a lock click into place. All that came up was bile, the clench of your stomach just becoming sharper afterwards. Your muscles felt weak, likely beginning to waste away with you having been inactive for a little while and injured, less energy wasted on muscle cells and more going into fighting off the infections that were likely trying to poison your blood.

Scanning the room, like Joel would’ve advised you to, you found nothing of much use to you. An old rickety chair, perhaps, but that would only help you if you could lift it, and you weren’t convinced you had the strength left within you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

Something deep in your chest nagged at you, the longing for Joel, probably. He had saved you on countless occasions, and you could only hope that it had been long enough that he had finally gotten worried. It seemed likely, he really did worry a lot for a man who wasn’t meant to care, but then there was the factor of him finding you, managing to take down all the people in the settlement that might fight to protect each other and—

You took a deep breath, finally feeling your lungs expand and take in some oxygen, and pulled yourself from the ground, keeping the bile that threatened to rise down as the nausea hit you.

The chair was lighter than you expected it to be, the insides of the wooden frame likely rotten away, and you managed to pull it towards the door, waiting beside it with shallow breaths. When the lock finally began to click open, you raised the lightweight chair as high as you could, and smacked it down against the person who entered the room. Splinters flew from it as it impacted, and you heard the clatter of metal as a tray they carried hit the ground with them.

Food, maybe, to keep you alive for… whatever it was that they had planned for you, you reasoned, but didn’t look to check. Instead, you grabbed a mostly-intact leg of the chair that caused splinters to dig into your palm, and stepped over the body of the man who had taken you, exiting quickly.

Footsteps hurried you, and you ducked behind a booth as they approached the room you were being kept in. There were lanterns lit all around the room, giving it a warm look that greatly contrasted the cold air and feel it had.

“Shit!” Cheryl cursed, and you saw her bend down to check on the man from over the top of your booth. A radio crackled though the air, before, “Lewis is down, the girl’s out. Anybody got eyes?”

Your fingers shook and you gripped on to the booth to stop them, hearing the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end of the radio, “She ain’t got out, yet, she’s gotta be in there with you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cheryl replied, her cold voice sending shivers down your back, “I’ve got her.”

The drag of Lewis’ clothes against the floor made you peak your head up, seeing her drag him into the room, before she exited and locked him inside. You ducked back down, heart hammering. You couldn’t escape from them in an open forest — how would you get out of a locked down building?

“Come on out, kid. It’s okay, you just gotta start behaving yourself.” She called, her slow footsteps failing to mask the sound of her unsheathing her knife. It wasn’t okay, it was very far from okay, you would argue, and you could feel that crushing fear of death pushing down on your shoulders, your chest constricting once again.

You tried to reassure yourself — you had faced countless amounts of infected and come out on the other side, what was one woman with very bad intentions? But it didn’t make you feel better, not when it was another human, who could feel exactly what you felt.

Her footsteps approached, and you leaped from where you were in the booth, trying to run as far away from her as fast as you could, but she caught up to you with surprising ease, your muscles clearly weaker than initially thought, and she grasped the back of your shirt, pulling you to a stop as you fell to the ground.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You cried out as she knelt down, one knee beside you and another pressing against your stomach, knife approaching your throat as soon as she settled you firmly against the carpet. It was red.

“You could’ve made this real easy for all of us,” she muttered your name, and you froze, having forgotten the way you’d yelled it out to them in the midst of the battle. “Be a good girl, now.”

You heard gunfire outside, and when her face glanced toward the guarded front door, you twisted underneath her, pushing yourself away to find enough room to kick the knee against the floor out from under her. She fell, her chin hitting the ground with a satisfying crack, and when she cried out, anger overcame you.

“You were gonna hurt me,” You said aloud, almost as if it was a realisation, rather than just fact. Your eyes hardened, gaze going red as you snatched the knife from her weakened grip. She reached out to try and snatch it back, but only got the drops of your blood that fell from the blade as you held onto it, twisting it until you finally held the handle. “Why— why were you going to hurt me?”

Her response didn’t filter through your ears, and the rage at how easily she and Lewis were going to do it pulsed, making your vision go blurry. When she sat up, tumbling forward to take you down again, you swiped her own knife until you felt the drag of something resisting it, and then you pulled harder, feeling something warm gushing down your hand.

Cheryl’s breath stuttered slightly, her hands rising to her chest as she groaned in pain. You looked down to your hands, where they were coated in a red that was darker than the carpet below them, and you were so lost that you didn’t notice her hand coming below yours, hitting it so hard that the knife went flying to the other end of the carpet.

Like a reflex, your fists came down on her face, feeling the shift of bones beneath your knuckles as they shattered upon contact. You didn’t stop, too wrapped up in the fact that you didn’t want to die, that she was going to hurt you, to kill you when she was done, she was going to tear you apart and throw away the pieces, she was going to take away what little humanity had left, she—

Arms pulled you away from the body beneath you, arms much stronger than your own, and you screamed, yelled out with your broken voice, “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, get off of me! I’ll kill you!”

The person shushed you, only holding tighter as you thrashed, turning away from Cheryl where she… wasn’t breathing. You stopped, tense muscles in your body going slack and burning as you stared at her, at her body, lifeless and covered in blood.

“Kid, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” said the person holding you— said Joel. Your hands dropped from where you had scratched his forearm, his arm covered in blood — though whether it was his, or Cheryl’s, or yours, you didn’t know.

He loosened his grip on you, eyebrows creased in concern as your entire body slipped when he moved his arms away, as if you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

“No… she— it wasn’t, I didn’t—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, the words dead on your tongue, because you didn’t what? Didn't mean to kill her?

Joel followed your blank eyes to the body he’d pulled you from, and he turned your head towards him quickly, eyes hard. “No.” He said, and at your somewhat confused expression, he continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Joel, I—”

“No,” he repeated, and pulled your head towards him, keeping you looking away from Cheryl as a gunshot rang through the room, echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear Joel at first, as he held up the smoking gun for you to see, “—killed her, see? I killed her.”

“They were going… they wanted to—” You choked on the words, feeling that bile come creeping back up your throat, and you lurched away from Joel as it came out, feeling him pull your hair back from your face.

Something in his eyes settled, however, at the choice of word you’d used — they. So this body wasn’t the only one in here? His question was answered by a bang at a door on the other side, the way your entire body flinched at the sound.

The door splintered, and a battered man came tumbling out, hurrying over to where he could see people crowded. His face went red, and he began to shout, “You fucking bitch—!”

Joel shot one between the eyes, and the man crumpled before he could get anything else out. He turned back to you, to where you were hunched in on yourself. He shoved his gun back in its rightful place, and held your cheeks between his hands, gunpowder residue transferring to your skin.

“Do you hear me?” His muted voice said, and you looked up to his face with a confused shake of your head, “It was you or them, and the only answer is you.”

“But, Joel,” you were interrupted, and he wiped the underneath of your eye of a tear that you hadn’t even known had fallen.

“No. You listen to me, remember?” Joel affirmed, and you nodded, the tears falling more now that you’d acknowledged them, your hands shaking as you tried to look past Joel, but he just pulled your face back to him. “I’ve got you, kid. Keep your eyes on me.”

You turned your face into his neck as you all but threw yourself into his arms, and they wrapped around you like they’d been waiting to do so. You missed his pained expression at the words, and the way heartache burrowed in his chest as he stood the two of you up, his knees clicking.

He swept you up, as if you were the smallest and lightest thing he’d carried in years, and he carried you away, your eyes staying glued to him as the two of you left behind the carnage he’d caused in looking for you.

[fivelasanctum]

Let The World Burn

Five was willing to let the world burn for more prolonged time with Lila. Showed how deeply he was in love with her. Hiding away from the world to be with her and nobody else. That she was enough. Around season three's climax he was already becoming settled in the mindset to let go of trying to save the world. The chaotic struggle is an addiction. Yet after 6 years of going without his chaotic fix with the added temptation to spend time with his best friend (Kemosabe)...he did easily agree. Believe Lila represented temptation to fall back into his 'chaos junkie' issue yet also serving as the temptation of caring about her. Making him backslide with his control and burying his feelings. Even with the aim to save the world, solve the cleanse issue, once lost in the subway his love overpowers that need to fix everyone's problems, including time and the world. Being just a man and embracing the romantic he has always been. Just secretly concealed outside of his time with Dolores. Realizing both he and Lila could afford to be selfish given their situation.

Here Five is hopeful he won't be pulled into another apocalyptic event he would have to struggle to remedy. Even though Lila made the choice to return to her kids (Not exactly Diego) I think their was that hope that they could still be together in reality and not just in their space outside of time. Without the overbearing weight of the cleanse. His family doing something without him for a change.

We know how that turns out. Messy misunderstandings, stress from the chaos of the personal and cosmic issues transpiring. Thinking Lila made her choice made retreat to the subway. Not caring about the world. Saving his family because Lila had become his world. Song's lyrics put it best: "Dead to the world"

Anti Fivela fans had made the argument over how he wasn't in character. He was determined to save the world and his family for 40 years and how this five would never do what he has done in Season 4. I vehemently disagree. As Viktor said, he was old and tired. His rough, long life has beaten him down to the point of him being more numb and aimless at the start of season 4. He wanted retirement desperately even before that. Add to that, in 7 years his love for lila was enough to overpower his previous responsibilities. Technically known her for close to 13 years. Shows the intensity of his feelings for her despite it not be 40 + years to be what's most important to him. More than the world. When his heart was broken he retreated to the subway. Knowing what he was signing up for. Solitude in apocalypse worlds. Just like how he started. Where he formed his psychological scars and ptsd. Only worse since Five seems to feel deeper than other characters despite the walls and masks he projects. Succumbed to despair. For all we knew, he may have been suicidal since he maybe lacks the energy to keep fighting. He made it through again when stuck in the subway most likely because Lila was there with him.

Makes sense his psychological mindset with wanting a solution to fix the world so they all could live, yet hearing all his alternate selves struggle to fight and try to accomplish the goal resulting in failure...coupled with his broken heart made it easier to give in. Dying alone or together...wasn't a prospect that Five was eager for but their was a certain tragic beauty to him realizing they wouldn't die alone even as the world was ending and burning.

While I was making screen captures noticed extra glances they share with each other. Not just in their final moment but leading up to it. Thought it was significant that lila had her gaze locked on him while he was talking and then that same side glance turned more heartbreaking as she revealed her love in her eyes. Letting her sadness show with her tears, much like how she only felt comfortable breaking down with Five in the subway minutes before. Then the last moment when five shows his sorrow and love in his eyes I thought I noticed his mouth move subtly in a ghost of a near smile in acknowledgement and possibly comfort with her holding his hand and understanding the love that was left unspoken.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 11

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a hectic day but decided I wanted to stay up late and upload anyways. Prepare yourselves for a plot twist!!!

Content Warnings - Mentions of suicide/torture

How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? None of that mattered to you. You were happy here.

The capital doctors had fixed you. No more meltdowns over people touching you; no more urges to kill. You were finally healed.

You don’t know why they took the route of healing you while they tortured the others, but who were you to complain? They had made you whole again. Maybe they thought that making you realize the stability you had lived without for the past five years would be a form of torture. Maybe they thought it would make you sad. It didn’t. It made you the happiest you had been in a long time.

The only thing that would make you happier would be seeing Finnick. You know he’s not in the capital. Peeta said he saw him on the screen the other day while he was doing an interview, so you know he’s alive. You just hope you’ll be reunited soon.

Hopefully he will come here and they can fix him too. He may not show it, but his games and the years after have left him with a lot of scars. If he comes, you’ll make sure he gets the same treatment you received.

The power here keeps flickering out. Peeta says it’s cause the dam in District 5 was destroyed. Apparently Finnick and Katniss are in District 13 and the capital sent bombs. Peeta warned them and got extra torture because of it.

Johanna is silent outside of her screams. Whatever they’re doing to her sounds horrible. You don’t want to find out.

“Y/N!” Peeta whispers loudly to you. His room is across from yours and you can hear each other under the door.

“What?” you respond.

“I overheard them talking about you,” he states. “The peacekeepers were talking about your treatment.”

“What about it?” you ask.

“I didn’t hear all of it,” he explains, “and it’s hard for me to know what’s real nowadays, but they said something about a timer going off and how they would make you crazy again. We have to get out before they hurt us.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him annoyed. “They won’t hurt me. Snow promised.”

Just as Peeta goes to respond, the lights cut out again and peacekeepers enter the hall. They usually set up extra guards when the power goes out in case anyone tries to escape. Why would you escape? You like it here.

It must be an hour later when panic sets in. You hear a hiss coming from the hall and what sounds like people falling over. You don’t have time to think, however, before your door is opened and a canister of smoke is thrown into your room. Peeta was right. They are going to hurt you.

“Did you always love her?” Katniss asks Finnick as they wait for the rescue team to return. All communication had been cut off but the two were still holding onto hope that they would return safely.

“No,” he chuckles. “I guess she snuck up on me.”

“How?” Katniss asks.

“After her incident in the capital Snow killed her family,” he explains. “I moved in with her because she wasn’t stable enough to live on her own. We were scared she was going to kill herself and selfishly I couldn’t let the one victor I had brought home at that point die.”

Katniss nods her head in understanding and Finnick continues.

“I don’t know if I’d even call us friends when I first lived with her. She wasn’t thrilled I moved in and found me annoying, yet I was the only one she would talk to. She wouldn’t even speak to Mags,” he states. “Before Annie’s games my nightmares got worse. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night completely disoriented. Instead of running or turning violent she would stay. Whenever I woke her up she would come to my room and sit near me till I fell asleep again. Something just clicked at that point and I knew I couldn’t live without her. I still can’t.”

“I never even told her I loved her,” he sadly says to Katniss.

“She knows,” Katniss responds. “And I know she loves you too.”

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[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Another thing I need to rant about because I find it incredibly adorable is how these dorks have the nerve to have elements of a reincarnation romance in their romance together.  

What do I mean by this?

I mean having dialogue that lampshades that one feels like they’ve met before and the other feels like they’ll meet again. Karlach’s dialogue in her date night romance scene you get in Act 3. You and each companion get a different special response to asking her if being mysterious suits you.

This is her response for Astarion-

Karlach mentions feeling like there's something familiar about Astarion. The second picture is a common dialogue other characters can get, but it does add various meanings to her line specific to Astarion. Overall adding to their special connection and how they just sort of click when they first meet each other.

Feeling something familiar between them also plays nicely into them having similar woven parts in their unfortunate traumatic history. As well as them being a sort of mirror to each other. One that shows what they could've been, but also what they can still become since they can either improve or descend into becoming worse versions of themselves down the road.

This dialogue on its own is cute because of the fact it shows that she feels connected and understood by Astarion to the point that she feels they’ve been together for longer even though their time together at present is so short.

So the fact that Astarion has a similar feeling, but with her death makes it all the more gut-wrenching.

When Astarion tries to convince Karlach to go with him to Avernus to look for a way to fix her engine, if she declines Astarion will tearfully accept her decision but remain hopeful that somehow their paths will cross again. Basically, saying that maybe her death isn’t the end of their love, but instead the beginning.

So now we're getting into the whole Reincarnated/We’ll meet in another life romance trope. Obviously, you can roleplay this with any romance, but it just makes me particularly insane that it’s hinted a few times as a theme in their romance with special dialogue between the two of them. That they have a connection so deep to each other that they can feel it from another life.

Now, of course, I've got to talk about Ascended Astarion's dialogue if Karlach declines his offer to go with him to Avernus because it's interesting in it's own way as well. He essentially says the same thing to Karlach, but the way he says it comes across as being more confident that they'll meet again.

This, of course, can be read similarly with him planning to find her reincarnation and romancing her again or as Astarion willing to do some questionable things in order for them to be reunited with each other. You can see this as sweet, concerning, or both. All valid takeaways from this scene. Either way, he holds on to the feeling that their romance has only just begun and that they have something more awaiting them in the future.

Karlach's origin epilogue if she chooses to die on the docks also adds to this with Withers coming to her and saying that her death isn't the end of her story.

So even if you play their romance in a way that ends with her choosing to go out on her own terms their dialogue and this ending scene connects in a way that reinforces that they'll have a chance to meet again someday. Also implying that they're a fated pair, soulmates, romantic or platonic that have met before and will meet again, that just gets to me.

Overall another reason why I'll never be normal about these two and their relationship with each other! 😭

[starlazergazer]

It’s Not Too Late

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Anakin gets a second chance to have true freedom and peace! Reader comes across Darth Vader for the first time after order 66 and attempts to pull Anakin back on the right path.

Warnings: None, some angst

Word count: 3k

A/N: Only in this one very instance can you fix him! I know the request asks for fluffy but I made this super angsty instead with some fighting banter between Anakin and the reader so I hope you like it because I loved writing it!

You’d heard the whispers, how could you not, though no one was ever brave enough to tell you them to your face. Not that you blamed them. That your best friend Anakin Skywalker could be the famous Darth Vader, Palpatine’s personal padawan, was so ludicrous, so ridiculous, you wouldn’t have let anyone utter the accusation in your presence leave unscathed.

And yet still a part of you knew.

The day it happened, the exact moment it happened, you could feel it. More than a disturbance in the force, more than a breaking of prophecy: a betrayal, a very personal very painful betrayal.

But still looking up at the man you had thought you once knew from your position chained on the floor you felt the last part of your hope die, unaware even that that hope had existed in the first place.

“I didn’t want to believe the rumors” you shook your head at him, eyes bouncing back and forth between those familiar but very different blue ones.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me” a smirk grew over his lips as he looked down at you. And somehow those words hurt worse than seeing him walk around with such authority through the empire’s army, more than seeing a new infamously red saber strapped to his hip.

“You’ve changed” you shook your head back up at him, feeling the lump grow in the base of your throat with each passing minute “You are not the Anakin I knew”

“I am exactly the Anakin you knew” he chuckled back at you, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down calmly in the chair before you, causally crossing one leg over the other “Just finally lived up to my full potential”

And you didn’t know how to respond to that, to his complete acceptance, even beyond that his full belief that he was being aided by the dark side of the force, that it was somehow making him better, stronger. “What do you want?”

“Your base” he answered plainly, leaving forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees staring down at you “the rebel base, I want coordinates”

“What makes you think I have them?” You asked with a shrug, watching the smug smile slowly fade from his face.

“Don’t play dumb it was never a good look on you”

You felt your own anger spike within you as his did. He clearly didn’t know you that well if he thought you would give it up this easy. “What happened to being the chosen one?” You taunted him, turning to pressing his buttons on purpose, proving even if just to yourself that at least you knew him “you were supposed to-“

“-bring balance to the force yes I’ve heard it all before” and oh how you relished the anger in his tone, in the way the words hissed out through a clenched jaw, the way his eyes narrowed down at you ever so slightly, you’d always enjoyed messing with angry Anakin “answer the question”

“I’m just saying if you wanna talk about playing dumb, does turning to the dark side really seem like the best way to go about that?”

“Says the one chained to the floor” he pushed to his feet towering over you as he spoke “Now because of our past I’m giving you a chance here, a chance to answer to me instead of the emperor, do not mistake this kindness for weakness” and before you could respond he was turning around and walking back through the door, but you weren’t done. You couldn’t let him leave it like that, couldn’t let him bring up your past friendship like it was nothing more than a bargaining chip to be cashed in later.

“You know I thought we had lost you with order 66” You called out after him “I mourned your death” you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel shame over the way your voice shook, overwhelming amounts of anger and betrayal trumping any and all other emotions within you.

He didn’t even look back as he spoke in a disturbingly monotone voice “Anakin Skywalker is dead. I am what remains”

You shook your head at his response though he couldn’t see it, hating him for the way he tried to hide from what he has done, shelter who he once was from the man he has become.

A bitter laugh escaped you “No, you don’t get to distance yourself from your own actions, you don’t get to protect that jedi you once were by calling yourself a different name.”

His body went rigid at your words, the surprise from your outburst evident in his reaction, it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that you were the first person to ever call him out on it.

“Anakin Skywalker was my friend” you pushed on, spitting the words at his feet “and you tarnish his memory with every action done in the name of the empire"

Anakin spun around on his heel at your words, a dangerous smirk on his face before he knelt down squatting before you, an all too familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye “You know I always liked the way you spoke your mind no matter what” A taunt in his tone, a look that dared you to step out of line “You never really knew when to shut up did you? I suggest you learn”

“You forget that I know you” you taunted back, leaning in even closer to him, showing him he wasn’t scaring you by forcing proximity “you can’t hide behind your charms from me Skywalker”

Still the smug smirk didn’t drop from his face, his eyes taking a second to bounce between yours before locking on a piece of hair that fell in front of your face. Slowly his hand reached out, effortlessly tucking it back behind your ear like he had done a thousand times before. And suddenly you were back beneath the stars with him, talking about the future, upcoming missions, battle strategies, just about anything you could think of to keep him out there with you.

His hand struck with practiced efficiency, reaching out to grab your chin before you could even comprehend its movement, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he held your gaze on his “You will tell me where the rebel base is or I will take you to see emperor Palpatine, and trust me neither of us wants that to happen”

And even though the mere gesture of pulling your hair behind your ear had sent your heart racing and your mind reeling you forced your eyes to lock onto his, pushing down any feelings of familiarity, telling yourself exactly what he had just told you moments ago Anakin Skywalker is dead, he is what remains

“What’s the magic word?”

He cracked a smile at that, still holding you in place for a few seconds longer, giving you one last opportunity to answer before finally dropping your face, muttering a soft “so be it” before standing back up and heading for the door.

-

It had been easy to escape your bindings, too easy honestly, to the point that a small part of you wondered if you had been meant to escape them in the first place, if this was what your past with Anakin was worth to him, a chance and a poorly hidden saber.

You broke for the nearest town as soon as you could, keeping low and your thin scarf pulled over your face knowing it was far too easy to stick out in the empty desert.

You didn’t make it that far.

“You really thought it would be that easy?” His voice taunted you from behind, your body sagging slightly as you heard it, you hadn’t even noticed his approach.

“Yeah honestly” you returned, spinning around to face him “planning was never your forte”

He chuckled softly at that, shaking his head, casting his eyes down to his feet as he rested a single hand on his saber on his hip, looking far too much like the Anakin you had once known long ago. “Tell me where the base is Y/N”

And even though it remained unsaid you could feel the threat in his voice, in the way he glared at you, in the way his hand on his saber twitched.

“Are you not going to ask me about him?” You knew now wasn’t the time for the question, knew it was dumb to press that particular button now, but you couldn’t stand letting Anakin cast him off like this, cast you off like this.

He faltered at your question, his shoulders dropping slightly, his hand slipping from his saber. “You’ve been in contact with him?”

“Of course I have” you sighed, “And Ahsoka, Rex” you let your sentence trail off, hang in the air, let him come to you and ask the question if he wanted to know.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Anakin waited, as you waited, only breaking when his voice spoke up, a shake in it you weren’t expecting “are they-“

And maybe it was the way his voice shook, the way his posture slumped, the way those all too familiar blue eyes were silently begging you, but you took pity on him, chancing a small step forward as you finished his sentence “they’re okay. Ahsoka even removed Rex’s chip, they’re all okay”

Another silence hung in the air, an almost imperceptible nod in Anakin’s head as he stared down at his feet, only looking up to chance a look at you when he finally spoke again, in a small defeated voice “just tell me where the base is Y/N, that’s all I need, then I can turn around and pretend I never saw you here”

You sighed at that, shaking your head softly “You know I can’t do that Ani”

He chuckled bitterly at that, going for his saber, igniting it, his face illuminating in red as he did so.

And instinctively your hand went to your own saber, ready to draw it and defend yourself, ready to be caught up in a sparing match with Anakin just as you had so many times before, but no, you had to remind yourself, it wouldn’t be just sparing this time around, not anymore.

You unclipped it from your belt, taking a moment to feel its weight in your hand, before tossing it to the side, watching the sand around it kick up as it landed a few feet away from you. “I won’t fight you”

Anakin shook his head, his eyes snapping to your saber on the ground next to you, a bitter laugh that didn’t full materialize on his lips “I’m not falling for that”

“Its not a trick” you shrugged, opening your hands before you, “I won’t fight you”

“Pick up your saber Y/N” he yelled at you, still holding his own before him, still poised to strike but holding back, waiting “I will not tell you again”

You watched him with a small shake of your head “Ani I can’t fight you”

And for a second you just watched his chest rise and fall quickly as a war raged in his mind, as he debated his next steps, before a frustrated yell ripped through the air and he was charging at you, and you couldn’t help yourself, you closed your eyes, a breath catching in your chest as you waited for the inevitable, and kept on waiting.

A tentative eye opened to see a bright flash of red, hovering just above your shoulder, just waiting there. Your gaze followed it up to Anakin only to see he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking down at his saber. And you could tell from the look in his eyes, from the way his grip kept changing, from the rapid fall and rise of his chest, that he was trying to talk himself into it.

Then a sigh and the blade was retracted, Anakin refusing to meet your gaze as he stepped back “get out of here Y/N”

And immediately you took a step back, your body begging you to run, to put this place and Anakin as far behind you as possible. But still you couldn’t.

“Come with me”

His gaze snapped up to yours in surprise, his eyebrows crunched together in confusion “I can’t” it came out as more a question.

“You can” you tried to encourage him, taking a tentative step towards him “You can come with me now and we can figure the rest of it out”

“I work for the empire” he spoke softly, “the empire isn’t what you think it is, they’re doing good, I’m doing good”

You sighed with a shake of your head, still inching forward, still holding out hope “You, you became the very thing you sought to destroy. Turning your back on everything you once stood for”

“Did I?” he challenged you calmly, repeating thoughts you knew he’d already gone through a thousand times before “or am I still upholding my same beliefs. I vowed to serve the republic and I still do, no matter what name it goes by now”

“You vowed to serve the people of the republic” you corrected “and now under the empires rule those people suffer”

“under the empire’s rule they are safe” he countered “From the time we were children we were told we were meant to be peacekeepers and that is exactly what I am doing now”

“You call this peace?” You couldn’t help but chuckle “How many die each day because of the empire’s tyranny”

“Because of the resistances rebellion” he countered but there was no malice in it, not the same angry argument as before but rather a debate.

“Look at them Anakin” you gestured to the town just before you, at the people begging for scraps outside of the bar, at the buildings crumbling from lack of maintenance “this is the effect the empire has on people”

Anakin shook his head at the sight before him, his eyes casting back down to the sand too quickly.

“Look at them” you repeated, putting more force into your words, practically begging him “Look at what the empire has done to this town, what you have done.”

“The empire stopped the war” Anakin’s gaze suddenly snapped back up to yours, a new defensiveness in his tone you weren’t used to hearing from him “these people are at peace, they do not fear for their lives anymore and that is what the empire has done”

“These people are starving” you objected, trying to keep your voice light but firm “they no longer fear death at the hands of intergalactic war but rather storm troopers on a power trip, bounty hunters, vagrants. They are far from safe”

“And what would you have me do now?” He demanded, exasperation in his tone “I stopped a war, I gave everything to stop a war”

“And now?” you questioned him “you did it, you stopped the war, why are you with them now?”

Anakin didn’t respond to that, his mind churning as his eyes bounced back and forth between yours, not saying a word as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

It all seemed to click for you then, where his hesitation was coming from, his stubbornness, his need to believe he was right, had been right all along “It’s not too late for you you know”

Anakin froze on the spot, eyes jumping up to meet yours, desperately willing for you to continue.

“You made a few mistakes, took some missteps but you can still do good”

“I’ve made a lot more than a few mistakes” his tone was soft and dejected.

“That’s okay” you tried to assure him with a shake of your head “You can still do good”

He shook his head in response, eyes finally lifting from you to scan the town around you “that’s not who I’m meant to be, that is not my destiny”

“Screw destiny” you countered quickly “it wasn’t long ago your destiny was to bring balance to the force and now the jedi order no longer exists. There is no more destiny there is just the choices you make here and now”

“I can’t” he objected weakly with a shake of his head “I can’t just leave”

“you can” you countered but saw as he refused to listen to you, taking steps back, so you forward, without a second thought wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering the words into his ear “Ani you can”

And you felt him go rigid under your touch, refuse to give in, but not quite pushing you off.

“Let go what you have done in the past” you tried to urge him “focus on what you can do now. And right now you can help them. You can help me”

And slowly you felt his arms come up, first placed awkwardly on your back, giving you a chance to take it all back, before slowly wrapping completely around you, pulling you deeper into him, a shaky breath escaping him as he did so, as he buried his face in your hair “I don’t know how it all went so wrong”

“I know Ani I know” you assured him softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back “but now we can work to make it better”

“We?” You heard the hope in his voice and couldn’t help but chuckle, chuckle and fight to keep the tears at bay.

Pulling back from him softly, noting the way his arms seemed reluctant to let you go completely, just enough that you could look into his eyes. “You and me, we’ll make it right”

[orgasming-caterpillar]

And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold

Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg | Angst | Smut | 1695 words | on ao3 | in Google Docs

Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF

Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)

“Nico.”

The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.

All I am is a man

Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”

I want the world in my hands

“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”

That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.

“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”

“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.

Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.

“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”

Use the sleeves of my sweater

“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”

Let's have an adventure

“...What?”

“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”

Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.

Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.

Oh, she knows what I think about

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”

It really couldn't.

And what I think about

The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.

It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.

One love, two mouths

Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.

It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.

One love, one house

“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.

Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.

No shirt, no blouse

“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”

Just us, you find out

Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no

Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.

And if I may just take your breath away

There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.

We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—

“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?

The goosebumps start to raise

“More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour

He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.

Coming down

One love, two mouths

They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

“Don't leave me, Nico.”

Just us, you find out

Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.

Not a word was uttered.

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no

“We can fix this.” That damned hope.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.

“You promised, Nico.”

Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”

Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”

And it's too cold, it's too cold

Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”

With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”

The holes of my sweater…