#two people running away from terrible canon fates

[slavicdelight]

EPHEMERAL

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targ!Royce!f!reader

Summary: Your father, Prince Daemon Targaryen never ackowledged you. Your mother, Lady Rhea Royce passed away when you were little, which leaves you to be raised by your uncle - King Viserys Targaryen, and his wife - Queen Alicent Hightower. As you grow up in the Red Keep, you grew close to the kings second son - Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: cursing, violence, canon divergence

A/N: part two is here HIRAETH

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Being the daughter of the infamous Rouge Prince was not easy, especially when your mother was a woman he despised up until her death or after that. You were not even supposed to exist, as your parents held such resentment towards each other, that their union was not consummated for a very long time, before one fateful night, when Prince Daemon was exiled from King’s Landing yet again by his brother, King Viserys. Your maid mentioned to you that your father was extremely enraged and got drunk inside the walls of Runestone. Your lady mother was also having an exceptionally bad day, and so she joined her husband in consuming a ridiculous amount of wine. One thing led to another, therefore you were conceived, and the Targaryen man fled the very next day.

You were born the same year as the eldest son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, growing up in the Vale with only your mother there, as your father, upon hearing the news of your birth did not even acknowledge you as his child and flew away to fight in the Stepstones. He could call you a bastard of his “Bronze Bitch” all he wanted, but even though you had brown hair, no one could deny the fact that you have the blood of the dragons flowing through your veins, for your eyes were the gorgeous shade of violet. Runestone was your home. You loved running in its halls, playing with various servants and guards, but your most favourite part was learning everything you could from your mother. Sadly your childhood joy did not last long. When you were two name days old Lady Rhea passed away in what was called a hunting accident. People of the Vale did not believe that story and were spreading rumours that it was her husband, who murdered her in cold blood.

Queen Alicent, after learning about your misfortune, convinced her husband to bring you to the Red Keep to be raised among your cousins. She mentioned a well-known saying going around the Targaryen family: “A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing”. And so, as a result, you were brought to Kings Landing and raised along with the queen’s and Princess Rhaenyra’s children. You got on with Helaena and Aemond pretty well. The princess was your closest friend, you spent most of the time together, because you were the only two girls among the royal family residing in the castle. You did not mind her riddles nor her fondness for small creatures, quite the opposite, you found it fascinating how smart Helaena is. Aemond was a slightly different story. You remember being drawn to him, something inside you did not let you pull away from the prince. For him you were his light in life, the only person he did not mind the company of. You both were polar opposites. You being very kind, talkative and a ray of sunshine, him being closed off and quiet. You disliked Aegon, even though you were the closest in age, because of his vile language and inappropriate behavior. He was also a bully and liked to tease you and Aemond for not having dragons, dragging the sons of Princess Rhaenyra into it as well. When it comes to Jace and Luke, you found them pleasant to be around when they’re not doing Aegon’s bidding. Your life in the Red Keep was going well and you thrived in this environment, but what you did not know, is that it would all soon come to an end.

time skip to the funeral of Laena Velaryon

After Prince Daemon won the war in the Stepstones, he came back to his brothers’ side once again, but it did not last long, as he left following the wedding of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor. During his presence in the castle, he was set on ignoring your existence, and you only saw him once, when he strolled through the gardens, where you were sitting with Helaena. He wed the lady Laena Velaryon soon after and left for Pentos abandoning you again. Now, you are all standing on Driftmark, attending the said lady’s funeral. Once again your father has paid you no attention and you decided not to let it bother you. After the coffin was laid down into the sea everyone started conversing amongst each other. You decided to stay close to Aemond, due to not feeling confident and you knew that he was the only person who could bring you comfort. As you headed to where the green siblings stood, you heard Aegon talking.

“We have nothing in common.” he said, clearly talking about Helaena, who sat on the ground playing with a spider. As you walked closer you heard her muttering one of her riddles. ��She’s our sister.” defended her Aemond, right when you appeared next to him and took his hand, sending a small smile his way, which he returned. “You marry her then”. Lately, it has been revealed that the two eldest children of Queen Alicent are betrothed. You pitied your friend, Aegon was probably the most horrid person you have ever encountered.

“I would perform my duty, if only mother had only betrothed us. But I am to marry someone else.” with that he looked at you. “I am happy to be marrying you, as you are the best possible choice.” you said to him, squeezing his hand tighter. The small council also decided on a marriage between you and the King’s second son.

“She’s an idiot.” said Aegon and your blood boiled. “At least she’s not a complete moron and a drunk.” you bit back and Aemond had to fight back a grin. “Oh you little witch.” said the boy and tried to advance towards you unsuccessfully.

“She’s your future Queen” said the younger brother. It was a known fact that the Queen and the Hand wish to put him on the throne instead of Princess Rhaenyra. War was inevitable. “We do have something in common.” said Aegon, when a maid came over with a tray of wine. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.” and with that he strolled away in search for more alcohol.

That left you alone with Aemond. Suddenly the pair of you heard unmistakably a roar of the dragon in the distance. Vhagar, the she-dragon of Queen Visenya, that recently became riderless. You look at your companion and noticed the longing look in his eyes. “Aemond. What are you thinking?” you said to get his attention. He turned to you for a second before continuing to stare in the direction of the sound. “She’s hurting, mourning the loss of lady Laena. I always wanted to see her, after all, she is the last living symbol of the conquest. “ you kept going. “Hmm. Maybe we should go and see her then.” you looked at him as he said that. “Tonight, after everyone’s asleep so that no one stops us.”You were used to sneaking out, as you both often did so to spend time together in the keep’s library late at night, to read all the books you could find. After small moment of consideration, you nodded to let him know that you agree to the plan. Up untill the night, you spend time with each other exploring the Drftmark castle.

Soon enough it started to grow dark. You and your best friend stood next to the flight of stairs leading to the beach, looking at drunk Aegon. Just as you were planning to sneak off, the boys’ grandfather, Otto Hightower, came into view, grabbing the eldest prince to drag him to his bed. Aemond looked at you as they left and motioned to follow him, which you did without any worries. Both of you walked towards the place Vhagar nested in, and once the mighty dragon became visible, you were amazed. She was so big, that she did not need to open her mouth much to swallow the two of you. “Fuck” muttered Aemond. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” you whispered and couldn’t tear your gaze away. And with you saying that the white-haired boy proceeded to move closer towards her. Your brows furrowed at the act and you asked “My prince? What are you doing?”

Aemond turned to face you and said “She is unclaimed and she’s suffering. I can’t let it go on.”. You then understood what he meant and the idea of your betrothed going straight into the jaws of the biggest dragon alive made you uneasy. “Aemond. This is a bad idea! She could burn you! Or eat you!” you argued. “It is my right, both of our right, to claim a dragon.” you knew that, but there were so many dragons without riders. Surely you could make a trip to Dragonstone and try your luck with others, nonetheless, you knew that once Aemond set his mind on something, there is no changing it.

“Just please, be careful.” you muttered into his ear as you hugged the boy. Unwanted tears gathered in your eyes, as you saw him approach the animal. You were pretty far away and too lost in your own mind to hear him say anything. When Vhagar opened her mouth to breathe fire, you almost fainted from worry, but you believed that he could do it. And he did it, the dragon accepted him as his rider, letting him climb atop her for their first flight. You were so proud of the prince and you beamed into the sky screaming “Yes Aemond! You did it!” and laughing. Once the flight was done and he climbed down, he called you to his side. You came over slowly, wary of the dragon, as you knew, they don’t like the presence of people, who aren’t their riders.

“I did it! Did you see? I was flying!” Aemond became a ball of energy at this moment and you couldn’t help but grin. “You did it. You’re finally a dragon rider.” and with that, you hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”. He gave you a beautiful smile, but it slightly fell, once you said “But scare me like that ever again and I will kill you.”. Taking his hand, you both started walking back towards the castle and Aemond told you all about the experience, and how freeing, yet terrifying it felt. Neither of you expected to encounter a problem once you walked inside.

“It’s them.” said one of your half-sisters. In the entrance stood the daughters of the late Lady Laena, along with Jace and Luke. “It’s us.” confirmed Aemond when you both emerged from the darkness. “Vhagar is my mother’s dragon. She was mine to claim.” exclaimed Rhaena and you could clearly see rage overcoming her. “Dragons aren’t possessions to be passed down, dear sister.” you told her and everyones eyes turned to you. “Aemond had the right to claim her and she chose him. It is done.” you defended your prince and he gave you a small smile before saying “Perhaps your cousins would find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.” Not that long ago Aegon, Jace, and Luke pulled a prank on Aemond, dressing up a pig in wings, calling it Pink Dread. With that Rhaena tried to hit him, but he dodged the attempt and pushed her away, making Baela strike him on the nose. With that, all hell broke loose and you knew that it will not end well. You tried to stop them “No! Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything wrong!”, but someone pushed you away and you banged your head against the torch on a wall. You could feel the bleeding and the ache, but you ignored it to observe what was happening in front of you.

Aemond was holding Luke by the neck, while in his other hand he gripped a rock. “You will die screaming as you father did. Bastards.” he said and you were shocked, not because you didn’t believe it, but rather because he said it out loud. Everyone knew Princess Rhaenyra was having an affair with Ser Harwin Strong. How else would anyone explain the certain resemblance he has to the “Velaryon” boys? They do not look anything like their supposed father Ser Laenor. The King Viserys was conveniently blind to it, but everyone knew that he just prefered to conceal the truth to protect his “only child”. “My father’s still alive.” said Luke and you watched a smirk appear on the white-haired prince’s face. “He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong.” he continued and you had to intervene. “Aemond stop. That’s enough. Let’s finish this madness.” you tried to convince him to let the younger prince go. He looked at you and that’s when Luke broke free and both he and Jace attacked Aemond. Before you could comprehend what was happening you saw a flash of knife and blood chilling scream of your betrothed.

You ran towards him and saw him clutching his eye tightly. The bastard took his eye. “Aemond!” you screamed. “Guards! What are you waiting for?! Get help!” you yelled at your sisters and cousins, while trying to soothe Aemond. Soon enough guards poured in and one of them pulled you away from your best friend, much to your protest. “My prince. Let me see.” The guard turned Aemond around and saw the wound. “Gods be good” Gods be good indeed. You were all taken to the hall and the adults were called. By that time you felt very faint from the blood loss and passed out. You didn’t hear the exchange between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra as you did not wake in time, but you know, as did everyone in the realm, what transpired there.

You woke up two days later, and you took time to recover. It did not stop you from visiting Aemond in his chambers or going to the gardens and spending time with Helaena. One day as you were walking to your rooms, you overheard a conversation between Queen Alicent and Lord Larys Strong. They were discussing the issue of your father marrying Princess Rhaenyra and the scandal it caused. Both believed they had a hand in Ser Laenor’s murder, but what was said in this conversation rang in your head for days. “I would not put it passed Prince Daemon to murder the princess’s husband. After all, nothing stopped him from killing his first wife.” Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident, because it was Daemon who murdered her to finally be free of marriage duty. Since that day you hated your father even more and you promised yourself, that you would avenge your beloved mother.

time skip six years later

You and Aemond have been married for a year now and you recently welcomed a child into the world, a beautiful girl named Alysanne after the Good Queen, who looked like exact copy of the prince. Your husband a wonderful father and lover. Since the day your daughter was born he has been spending all of his free time tending to you both. Even though the Driftmark accident caused the prince to be colder and more intimidating, he was very caring and soft towards you, your daughter, his mother and his sister. Only the women of his family were privileged to see this side of him. After your wedding you relocated to Runestone and you took over your responsibilities as a Lady of the house. Aemond unsurprisingly thrived in the Vale as the Lord of Runestone, as he was dutiful, smart and formidable. You were content there, but you visited the Red Keep as often as you could on your dragons. Yes, you heard correctly. Dragons. About two years after the loss of Aemonds eye, you stumbled upon a dragon of your own. It was one of the wild ones, that terrified anyone who heard his name. You claimed the notorious Canniball. During the last visit to King’s Landing, Helaena gifted you both a dragonn egg from Dreamfire’s latest clutch to put into Alysanne’s cradle.

Just last night the three of you arrived at court for the Driftmark petitions, that are being held in approximately three days. Corlys Velaryon suffered a terrible injury during his voyage and no one could be sure if he will recover. This plundged the succession into question. Lord Vaemond Velaryon publicly questioned Lucerys Velaryon’s right to become the next Lord of the Tides. King Viserys has been bedridden for a long time now, and the realm was placed into the hands of Hightowers, who ruled in his stead. Princess Rhaenyra was informed of the petition and was to come to the Red Keep to defend her son, and along with her will come the whole black fraction of Targaryen family. You weren’t keen on seeing any of them again, especially Prince Daemon, as you held strong resentment towrads the man.

On the day of their arrival you and your daughter were on the country yard watching Aemond train with Ser Criston Cole. Soon you saw the two eldest sons of heir to the iron throne and smirked at their terrified expressions, while they realised what formidable fighter your husband was. With a few more strikes of the blade Aemond defeated Cole. “Congratulations my Prince, you’ll be winning tourneys in no time.” said the knight. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” you beloved answered and directed his eyes towards the boys. “Nephews. Have you come to train?”. In that moment the gate opened and in walked Vaemond Velaryon, advancing towards the keep, he casted the nastiest look he could muster towards his “nephews”.

After that Jace and Luke scurried away inside, probably in search of their mother or Daemon for protection and Aemond walked up to you and took your daughter into his arms, while she blabbed excitetly at her father. “It seems, my love, that you scare them off.” you said, smilig at him. “Hmmm. Good. It is best they learn their place. I am not so easily defeated now.” and with that he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you in direction of your chambers. When you walked inside, Aemond placed your daughter in her cradle, while you sat next to the fireplace. “I wish for you to behave today. I know that their presence irritates you, but it is not for long and we don’t need any fights today. Gods know my father is only waiting for a reason to kill us all, so it will be best not to give him one.” Aemond only hummed at that and went to stand behind you to massage you neck. “You’re tense.” he stated the obvious. “Of course I am. It is stressfull enough to be in one keep with him. Seriously Aemond, do not do anything to cause a fight today, I beg you.” you truned to look him straight into the eye. “For you, my darling wife, I will be civil, but don’t expect me to be nice.” he answered. You nodded in confirmation. That was all you needed.

Finally it was time for the petitions to be held. You stood between Aemond and Heleana, looking straight into the eyes of Prince Daemon Targaryen and he held your gaze, as if it was a staring contest. Lord Hand stood before the Iron Throne and declared the petitions to be open. First one to make his was Ser Vaemond. His statement was going all about the Velaryon blood, and how his supposed nephews did not have a drop of it in themselves. Princess Rhaenyra tried to intervene, only to be stopped by you mother-in-law. At the end of his petiton he put himself forward as the successor of his brother. It was now the turn of your stepmother to defend her son’s right. She walked gracefully towards the throne and started to say “If I have to grace this farce, I must remind you, that yearly twenty years ago in this very room..”

She was interrupted by the doors swinging open as the knight announced “King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”. Everyone couldn’t hide their surprise, after all, the king hasn’t been seen in a long time, too sick to even get up from his bed. And yet here he was, walking to the throne with a golden mask covering half of his face, leaning on the support of a cane. “Father has once again come to defend his only child.” sneered Aegon. You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips, it was true, he never shown any care to anyone other than his eldest daughter, and for that you hated the man almost as much as you did your father. In your eyes he was a weak king and even a weaker man. Disgraceful.

In that moment everyone knew that Driftmark will be going to Lucerys, no matter how wrong it was and how many people protested against it. Luke was a sweet boy, but he had no right to the Driftwood Throne. “I don’t understand why are we discussing a settled succesion.” the king said after finally settling on the throne. “The only one, who could offer keeper insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”. The said princess took a step closer before answering her cousin. “Indeed Your Grace. It was in Lord Corlys’ wishes for Driftmark to be passed to his grandson, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor my support of him. Princess Rhaenyra offered to betroth her children, Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” You all knew that is was pointless to argue now. Viserys affirmed Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides, but it wasn’t acceptable to Ser Vaemond as he openly declared the sons of the heir as bastards. “I will have you tongue for that” rasped the king, but it wasn’t necessary. Prince Daemon Targaryen unnoticed by everyone sneaked behind Vaemond, Dark Sister in his hand, and cut off his head in one strike. Everyone in the hall got startled at that and the petitions were over. The King had to be carried out of the hall as he suddenly fell down.

“Did you see them? Flaunting their privilege without a care in the world. It is horrible how they think they can get away with everything.” you spoke on the way back to your chambers with Aemond trailing behind you. “Darling. Do not worry, it will not last long anyway.” your husband tried to coax you to calm down. After walking into the room, you headed straight to the cradle where Alysanne laid awake, playing with a dragon plushie you made for her during your tea with Helaena. The prince dismissed the maid who was watching your daughter and walked over to you two. “I’m scared Aemond. You saw what he did there. He has no restrain, I fear what he would do to us, to her.” you said and looked at the babe. “He will do nothing, for he would be called a kinslayer. And I shall protect you both with my life. Nothing will happen, I promise you.” That made you hug him and bury your face in his chest. Everything has to be alright.

The night came, and with it the dreaded family dinner, which was demanded by Viserys in honor of his family being all in the same place for the first time in six years. You were talking with Helaena about setting up another playdate for your kids, while your husbands stood to the side talking Gods know about what. Eventually, everyone took their seats. You and your husband were at the end of it, exactly in front of Lucerys and Rhaena. You all stood up when the King was carried in and so let the game of pretending begin. “It is good to see you all, together” Viserys started and Alicent proposed to say prayers. The King stood up for a speech. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was” he revealed his full face, which was missing an eye. He looked more like a skeleton than a human. “But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father.” he looked towards Rhaenyra, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. “your husband” he said to Alicent. “and your grandsire who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.” Everyone’s faces displayed something else, but what they all had in common, was pain of seeing him suffer. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”. After his speech, Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent made toasts to each other and the atmosphere became lighter. Everyone were enjoying themselves, the room was full of music, laughter, dancing, and pleasant conversations. It was all going smoothly until the pig was brought to the table and set directly in front of your husband. By that time Viserys was carried out as he felt worse. That made Lucerys chuckle, as he was reminded of Pink Dread, and send a smirk Aemonds way. This was his mistake, as the older prince suddenly slammed his hand onto the table, grabbed his cup and made the final toast of the night.

“Final tribute.” with saying that he had everyone’s attention and Aegon raised his cup in support of his brother. “To the health of my nephews: Jace…Luke…and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” every person in the room held their breath as their waited for inevidable. “Strong.” “Aemond” you and Alicent said at the same time, but he did not listen and he was not about to stop. “Come…Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” that made Jace mad and he went to retaliate. “I dare you to say that again” the bronze haired boy said and everyone stood up from their seats in case a fight erupted. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” continued your husband. “Enough of that” you said at the same time Aemond aksed “Do you not thing yourself Strong?”. Jace came over and hit the elder prince straight on the jaw, but it did nothing for Aemond only laughed and shoved the Velaryon onto the floor.“Jace!” screamed Rhaenyra. Lucerys tried to join the fight to help his brother, only to be stopped by Aegon, who slammed him on the table. “That’s enough” said Alicent. You were mad and decided to storm out of the room.

Not much later you husband stepped into the comfort of your chambers where he found you staring outside the window. He walked closer but you immediately took a step back and hissed at him “I asked you not to do anything today. But as always you had to let your pride ruin everything. Now you put a target on our backs. Daemon won’t let this go.”. “My love…” he started only to be cut off by you. “No! I do not want to hear your pitiful excuses.” Aemond scowled at you and you could see him getting angry. “That bastard dared to laugh at me. AT ME! Because of that fucking pig! I was only defending myself!” you only scoffed at that and walked towards the fireplace, further away from him. “If you had any decency you would have ignored it. But you didn’t! Instead you behaved like some peasant and started throwing insults and then began a fight”. “Jaecerys hit me first! He began the fight!” your husband defended himself but his look softened as he saw how worried you were. He kneeled before you and took your hand in his placing a kiss atop of it. “I’m sorry darling. I should’ve composed myself and ignore him. You are right. Please forgive me”. You looked at him and pulled the eyepatch off his face. “I just worry. I don’t want anything bad to happen. We should probably head back to Runestone. I think we overstayed this visit.” Aemond agreed and you decided to set back to the Vale in a couple of days.

But what you didn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be able to return to your keep, as for when you were sleeping, King Viserys drew his last breath and told his lady wife the dream of song of ice and fire, which was interpreted to put Aegon on the throne. War was on the horizont and no one was safe. Your and your family’s happiness and peace is about to become EPHEMERAL.

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A/N: My obsession with Aemond Targaryen and Ewna Mitchell reached to the point where i decided to give it a try and write something. Anyways, English is not my 1st language, so there may be some mistakes in writing. If you would like a part II of this story, please let me know in the comments. It would mean the world to me if you decided to leave a heat here ♡

[sundrop-writes]

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air. 

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker. 

Fuck them. 

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking. 

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny. 

Fuck all of them. 

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air. 

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before- 

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?” 

That voice. 

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part. 

So much for time to calm himself down. 

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact. 

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it? 

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?) 

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want. 

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.) 

Because you looked so good. 

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time. 

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy. 

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return. 

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him. 

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny? 

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back. 

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.” 

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that. 

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance. 

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be. 

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.) 

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?” 

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated. 

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly. 

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.” 

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight. 

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well. 

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this. 

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began. 

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’. 

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-” 

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.” 

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy. 

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated. 

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t. 

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.” 

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught. 

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-” 

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back. 

“She does.” You corrected. 

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions. 

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.” 

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended. 

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive. 

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again. 

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone. 

Dick felt rage boil inside of him. 

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this? 

This - this was why he was no fucking savior. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further. 

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be? 

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-” 

‘Or us.’ 

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to. 

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.” 

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again. 

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips. 

You made a mocking face in return. 

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed. 

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment. 

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!” 

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell. 

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number. 

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke. 

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?” 

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.” 

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

[fateandloveentwined]

Characterising Valjean: masks and struggles

Okay, so jvj's sudden intense self-deprecation towards the end of part five has always eluded me. Like, where did that come from? Hadn’t he already turned over a new leaf with the bishop and with Cosette?

Les mis has many themes, but if we cast aside all the themes focusing on french insurgencies and her people, abstract grace and love and Progress, at the heart of the brick we find her characters, and to look at Valjean, perhaps there are two things that explain his abject self-deprecation and wretchedness/misery which were so pivotal to his last chapters in the book and central to his overarching character.

below has absolutely no regard for spoilers proceed with caution lol thanks

I. Masks and veneers.

It is my sorry fate that, only ever able to command respect that is fraudulently obtained, that respect humiliates me and inwardly oppresses me, and if I’m to have any self-respect others must despise me.

cough erik poto

As stated patently in his final ruminations, JVJ never considered himself successful. Everything he did which he was respected and lauded for, it was attributed to disguised versions of himself, Monsieur Madeleine and Fauchelevent. As valjean he never achieved anything of worth, he was terrified in his first days in paris hiding from javert's pursuit and finding the convent, he never felt anything of worth as valjean but a criminal and convict pursued for the entirety of his life.

Throughout the book, he lived a struggle between accepting valjean and donning another disguise that would be some other benevolent man: the extensive deliberations on his way to Arras (who am I?), his timidity after Cosette's marriage in which he deemed his work done — either he is to don a new identity or resume the one he hid away for the many past years; towards the end, as Cosette and Marius were increasingly besotted with each other, he withdrew, letting Javert arrest him again under conditions — he resigned to the resumption of his fugitive identity.

In all these years, his convicted past self loomed over him unfailingly, especially considering his canonical rearrest after Fantine’s death — in spite of all the good he did in the world he was never, in essence, a free man of his mind.

Which brings us to our second point.

II. Jacob's wrestle

The terrible struggle of old, of which we have already seen several phases, began once more. Jacob wrestled with the angel for only one night. Alas! how many times have we seen Jean Valjean forced to grapple with his conscience in the dark, and struggling frantically against it!

The bring him home reprise in the finale is SO poignant, even more so than the original number because of what it truly meant to Valjean in the book. The musical "redeemed" many characters by painting them in a better light: Javert, with his misguided understanding of religion vs. reading the law as bible; Eponine, with her scream saving jvj's household at Rue Plumet. As for jvj, his many wrestles with faith were downplayed for the sake of simplification, going as far as to him praying earnestly for Marius’ life at the barricades in the musical when in the book, let’s face it, he was physically saving Marius but in his mind he probably didn't understand why he was doing something so foolish.

Predestined fates do not all follow a direct route. They do not run straight before the one who is predestined. They have dead ends, blind alleys, obscure turnings, daunting crossroads offering several alternative routes.

And so with the musical where all these mental struggles were downplayed, in the book he wrestled with the faith he has chosen, first during his torturously slow tread to Arras (who am I?), his ruminations on Marius (akin to heart full of love reprise), and his final confession to Marius — so many times had he struggled; there's the idea that God redeemed him through the bishop, and he did good as a man — yet still why had his life been so tortured and full of agony? At first I questioned the use of the title “the miserables/the wretched” — for les amis de l’ABC, the destitute people of the republic, I could see their wretchedness, but for Valjean — as the main character, why was the title so unfitting of the main character? But no. Internally he was wretched, he was pitiable and miserable, and in the aura of his bring him home we forget about his moments of wrath flung out about his faith and life philosophy, blunt anger at the injustice not of the world but of how his life had been — unredeemed, in spite of; the arrant, incomprehensible fear of being pursued and hunted, the resignation to his fate at the very end: moments at the sewers, before javert and before the loving newlyweds.

As such so profound it is, towards his final moments in the musical he reprises “God on high” and prays to bring himself home, he yields to the things in life he doesn’t like and defers to God’s judgement, the faith he has followed on and the bargain he has made so many long years ago — it was not at Arras that his soul truly belonged to God, it was at these final moments where he prays that he has lived his faith through — and that was when I felt jvj’s character fully unravelled.

It was a starless night and extremely dark. No doubt, in the shadows, some immense angel stood with wings outspread, awaiting his soul.

---

oops this has gone on for way too long but i was itching to dissect jvj and have put it off for so long since reading the book i just had to do it for myself anyway.

Also living for all the nonexistent COMC Edmond Dantes and JVJ crossovers because discounting the timeline they share too many similarities in knowledge acquisition imprisonment and faith and pretences to not have met and had many an interesting tete-a-tete.

*quotes taken from christine donougher's translation. explains my tendency to use wretched over miserable lol.

[cult-of-the-eye]

MAG 86 here we goooo

Ok so I actually listened to this like a few days ago but I never got round to looking at the transcript but HERE I AM

God this is the blanket never did anything one

He says tucked in so fucking menacingly like Jesus Christ man

TIM MY LOVE

I can't get that one post out of my head that says how Tim was the furthest from being taken by the Eye cause he keeps tripping up on pronunciations and stuff in statements that other archival staff wouldnt honestly it's such a genius take

Oh shit this is getting really long I'll add in a read more

God I love how he's rebelling in every sense, he's doing the bare minimum, he's literally warning people away from it

It's kind of interesting the way he always thought the statement stuff was stupid but in the whole of season one and a lot of season two he managed to hide his distaste pretty well, like even when he lashed out at Jon about the Prentiss incident, he still didn't say that the statements were stupid, but he's saying it behind his back - maybe some part of him knew that Jon needed the statements to work and some part of him still felt for him enough to not point that out

He's kinda dramatic with it as well but I feel like in more of a self aware way than jon

You can feel his distaste honestly the statement just sounds wrong coming from him, which is interesting cause I didn't think that about when Martin did it

So he's mad at the fact that he put effort into a job that he wasn't even that comfortable with in the first place and now he's trapped in? Not about the monsters??

Jesus Christ Tim being a bit of a dick to melanie

HE BLAMES MARTIN????? Damn bro you weren't there how could you tell he didn't do it properly??

I think he's mad at himself for not being there and deflecting it on to martin

She likes that it's quiet!!! That's cute

Martin's not big on change AH neurodivergent vibes

All the archival staff are literally queer and neurodivergent you can't change my mind

Also the fact that he thinks that's the biggest reason why martin doesn't want Melanie around, not the Horrors and the same reason as Tim

I think Tim is refusing to think that Martin might see the situation in the same way as him because if he does then it means Tim's way of dealing might not be the best way and that's an unacceptable thought to him

Suspicious and resentful - my man is self aware I think he knows the way his path is going (hurtling towards destruction) but is too stuck shaking his fist at god to try and get out or he's sort of known his whole life that this is where he was supposed to end up, a terrible fate created by his own two hands that dug their own way down to rock bottom and he's just so tired of trying to do anything about it that he's just accepted it

SASHA OH GOD

Wow seeing firsthand the effects of the stranger, the way neither Tim nor Melanie can remember the real Sasha, but Tim has to live with the fact that he didn't notice and Melanie has to live with the fact that she did, but can't prove it

WHO AM I EVEN SAD FOR

AUGH I THOUGHT SOMEONE MADE THAT UP I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS CANON OH GOD

He lost his FRIEND and he DIDN'T REALISE and he STILL DOESN'T KNOW THE WHOLE TRUTH AUGH

Oh I wonder why he left the tape running? I'd think he would've forgotten to turn it off but if so I feel like he'd have that shocked moment of remembering which he didn't

Maybe he wanted proof of the conversation? Maybe it was a warning to anyone listening to the tapes? See firsthand how terrible it is at the Magnus Institute so you don't work here? I dunno

Ha I had to ask my lovely mutual @melandrops to explain what a marker was

Oh god honestly this statement fucked me up I completely understand why people hate it I hate it

I was so scared of the dark as a kid and the idea of being reduced to that state of lack of awareness and vulnerability is actually terrifying

Also the dude dying in the blanket???? Ew ew ew

Love the fact that tma doesn't just go with a oh shit I forgot a torch so it was pitch black kinda horror but the I brought a torch, I even brought spare batteries but it still did nothing which in my opinion is even scarier

Oh god her whispering the blanket never did anything that was horrifying

Melanie was actually so good at giving the statement girl really got into it

I was also talking to @melandrops about archivist!Melanie cause I think that would be really interesting... she'd definitely bring a more proactive vibe to the role...

It's interesting to think that Melanie and Jon hated each other at first sort of because they're so alike? It's like the we are made of the same stuff (derogatory)

Love how she just checks out the dead guy

The way she's denying it even though she's literally had paranormal experiences before that's so Jon core she would be a great archivist

JON????

Oh shit I just realised he's labelled as Archivist...when did that happen??

That's so funny he's like bitch maybe I do have reason to kill you

Hmm nice touch of Melanie being like do you guys not want me cause I'm a girl?? Is this misogyny??? Good guess but unfortunately it's worse

It's quite nice that Jon's trying to save her even though the meetings about helping him and her quitting would mean he'd lose the one informant he might have in the institute

Shot in the leg by a ghost in India????

Ha Tim hates you and Martin's probably being watched

Love how Tim's hatred for Jon is so visceral and known that they don't even bother watching him

I bet Elias would delight in knowing about Martin's little crush on Jon and how Jon actually hated him in season one and then how their relationship progresses he'd thrive on the drama and the angst the little bastard

Ok ok it's good that he's on the right track, he guesses it was elias

Wait the whole murder was on tape... WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TAPE??? DID ELIAS TAKE IT??? COULD IT BE USED AS EVIDENCE???

YES MELANIE IS BEING CAUGHT UP (info style) BUT ALSO NO MELANIE IS BEING CAUGHT UP (web style)

[burningfieldof-clover]

i couldn't do anything -

S2E12 SPOILERS

crosshair x gn!reader (reader is slightly jedi)

warnings: this is sad. kind of not happy ending, but it is an open ending that is going to lead to a part 2 as i figure out what is happening with the canon plot (then alter to my liking mwahahaha)

indented italic font is memory. bold faced text is present.

When that damned Lieutenant Asshole sent Mayday and Crosshair off, you weren’t too worried. Mayday has held this outpost together for over a year, and Crosshair was a previous member of Clone Force 99. It will be a walk in the park. 

Or so you thought.

The next day when a commotion started on the edge of the base, it caught your attention instantly. Are we under attack again? Assuming the worst, you grabbed your first aide kit and followed the rush of soldiers. 

After assessing the situation and finding that there was no attack, but instead it was the return of the two clones who were sent out, your run picked up pace. 

So many memories attacked your mind. 

The Republic had fallen, and the Empire has risen. You had finally spent your last credit getting to Coruscant. You worked hard while living hand to mouth on the streets of some backwater planet you can’t wait to forget the name of. You came to Coruscant to speak with the Jedi. You had powers that sounded like what the Jedi called the Force, so you wanted a mentor. 

The riots in the streets (being excitement or resentment) were starting just a few steps out of the spaceport. An Imperial-dressed clone trooper stopped you before you could walk through the turnstile. 

“What’s your business on Coruscant?” His tone startled you. 

“I uh–” panicking to find an answer, you mimicked a quiet voice you quickly overheard. “I’m here to enlist in the army.” Inwardly you were already punching yourself.

The clone raised an eyebrow. “You? Enlist?” he asked sarcastically. He gave you a glance up and down. “Okay, then. Not my place to judge, but be prepared,” he said with a condescending tone. He fumbled with a holopad in his hands. “Do you have a chain code yet?”

After going through the process of getting a chain code with your actual identity and instructions on where to go, you fell in line. You’d find a Jedi somehow, right?

Mayday looked like he was in rough shape. You’d have to tend to him first.

“Send a medic! We need help!”

You started to sprint to the call for help in the field, but the Imperial officer leading the mission held his arm out to prevent you from going to the cry. 

“Don’t bother. They’re just clones. Worry about the actual soldiers, not the cannon fodder.”

Heartbroken, tears forming in your eyes behind your helmet, you stayed put. After learning about the terrible fate of the Jedi, any kind of heroics were frightening to you. You hadn’t tried to use any Force abilities. You had no idea what any true Force abilities were. Despite the Empire knowing your real name, no one really knew who you were. 

Crosshair pushed past you, his shoulder shoving into yours. “They’re the ones that don’t matter. Then there are the ones who do.”

Even though he was wearing his own helmet, you could feel his piercing stare dive right through his visor, judging you for even caring about the regs. 

Mayday had fallen to his knees, Crosshair with him. You could barely hear Crosshair ask for help with Mayday. 

“Yeah, I guess the Jedi were good people. We served alongside them for the whole war. I don’t know what happened to make them turn on the chancellor.”

You listened to the clones in your medical wing just chatting away. 

“I'm not sure, some part of me finds it impossible to believe it, you know?” This clone rubbed his head sheepishly. “I mean, my general, he was a good man. I watched my brother shoot him down when we got the order.”

Crosshair was in the company of these clones as well. You were checking his shoulder for injury after a way too powerful kickback of his rifle. He grumbled.

“At least one of them knew how to follow orders.”

“Chill out, Cross,” you chided. You were lifting his arm up and pushing it in different directions and judging his reactions. “What’s your opinion? Why is his opinion any less valid than yours?”

With a glare and pursed lips, he pulled his signature toothpick out of his mouth. “Good soldiers follow orders.”

You scoffed. “That’s all I ever hear you say. ‘Good soldiers follow orders, good soldiers follow orders.’ It’s like you were programmed to say that.”

Crosshair turned his head away. He was not in the mood to justify his actions. 

You rotated his arm one last way and earned a hiss from him. 

“Theeeerrre it is. There’s the pain. You need to rest this. I don’t trust you to take some muscle relaxers on your own, so,” you reached to the tray nearby and grabbed a little cup, “I need you to take them now and then you can go. 

He looked at the small pills in the container, then to you. He grabbed them and downed them without a drink. 

“Let me know if it doesn’t get any better in a few days.”

Crosshair grunted. His eyes traveled to the divider that split this area from the other rooms and clones. He was still listening to the men talk.

“You weren’t there,” he said quietly. 

“Hm? Was that aimed at me?”

“You weren’t there,” he repeated. “So even if you heard my opinion, you couldn’t believe me.”

You crossed your arms and almost felt sorry for him. “I’m still interested. I know how you look when the empire tries to deem you expendable.” You shrugged and put your hands on your hips. “You’re all human to me. Each of you matter.”

He seemed interested in your words, but the curiosity ended abruptly. He left without a word. 

“They don’t need medical attention!” the Lieutenant barked. 

Everything you learned about Jedi and what they used to be was all from bits and pieces you’d catch in conversations. Some clones had a fond memory or two. 

After learning about meditation, you gave it a try. Since you actually didn’t know how that worked, you probably tried a little too hard. It wasn’t working. After a couple weeks, you were able to sense feelings in people. Sometimes the emotions were colors or they simply bled onto you and engulfed you with the feeling. It could be overwhelming.

A loud pounding was heard from the frame of your office door. “CT-9904 has been recovered. Clear him for service or decommission him.”

Blinking in awe and watching the officer walk away, you couldn’t believe how many times that a clone was recommended for “decommissioning,” it always hurt more than the last time.

CT-9904… that was… Crosshair! Excitedly you jumped up and ran to the clinic. You could see him again! He’d been missing for over a month! You prayed that he was okay. 

The Force was reaching for him. You wanted to know how he was doing before you saw him. The anticipation was too much. That jerk of a clone was refreshing. 

In return, the Force gave you signals of a life in despair, mentally and physically. Crosshair was in so much pain. 

Skidding to a halt before the door leading to him, you couldn’t hide the shock and surprise. He was weak and frail. His Force signature was faded from it's usual vibrance.  

“You…?”

You rushed to his side and instantly started checking vitals and fluids. A laugh escaped your lips. “What the hell, Cross? I thought you were invincible!”

Crosshair turned his head away to keep you out of his line of sight. “Put me back into service. I don’t need to be here.”

“Shut up, Crosshair.”

You got to work. You were ordering tests and scans, medications and nutritions. At one point you passed a cabinet which held something very important. It was something you placed in there for special occasions. Which didn’t seem all that special when you count the numerous times Crosshair had been in the clinic. He came by even when he was not injured. He told you it was because you were ‘the least irritating person but not immune to causing irritation.’

You opened the cabinet and retrieved the item. 

“Hey, Cross.”

He glanced your way without moving his body. 

You flicked a toothpick his way. He caught it with a single hand. He stared at it briefly before pinching it between his teeth harshly. 

You eventually cleared him to return to service.

You grit your teeth together in frustration. The Force in Mayday was flickering, fading. 

“Lieutenant, he’s dying!” you cried.

Lieutenant Nolan turned his angry snarl towards you. “I gave you an order! Stand down. Let these expendables expire!”

Crosshair spoke your name as he entered your office. 

Your sleepy figure looked at the tall twig of a man. “What’s going on? Are you injured?”

He didn’t acknowledge your questions. “You’re assigned to my mission. I’m here to tell you we’re leaving for Barton-4 in the morning.”

Crosshair’s Force signature was different. His smug aura was instead calm. He held some hesitation in the background. Since you didn’t say anything, he turned around to leave.

“What are you not telling me?” you asked him.

He froze in his movement. He grinded the toothpick in his mouth and pushed it to the other side. “You’re the only medic I trust. I requested you for this mission.”

You nodded, accepting this confession. He was telling the truth. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the hangar tomorrow.”

He nodded and faced the doorway. He was quiet for a while. “Do you… remember when you asked for my opinion?”

Blanking for a minute, you weren’t sure what he was referring to. 

“I worked with a few Jedi. They were alright, I guess.”

You hesitated. Does he know what you are? 

He grimaced and turned to fully face you. “I finally give you what you wanted, and you ignore me?!”

Not meaning to, you laughed. It was a hearty, full belly laugh. 

Crosshair didn’t know what you were doing. Were you mocking him? What the hell was so funny?

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed while out of breath. A few chuckles were coming out. “It’s just, I never expected you to–to be open with me. That felt really special.”

Crosshair threw his toothpick at you and left.

Mayday faded away. His life Force had gone. You felt it flow through you and away like it had used you as a doorway or passage to return to the living Force itself. 

So many emotions were reeling on Crosshair’s face, and his aura was violent. The emotions he was projecting through the Force were suffocating you. 

In the shuttle on the way to Barton-4, you sat next to Crosshair since he was the only thing you were familiar with. It had been a long time since you were sent away from Coruscant. The empire made you discard your old armor. It may not have been that old, but they also stripped you of your field clearance so you didn't need it anymore. The new armor was foreign and didn't feel right at all. How did Crosshair get this approved?

Crosshair had his helmet on and was strapped into a harness, so you couldn’t read his expressions you’ve gotten to know. His hands were resting at his sides. He tapped on the side of his helmet. 

“Everything is going to be fine.” He was speaking directly to your private comm channel in your helmet. 

You turned your head his way slightly, just enough to catch him in your peripherals. You pressed the same button on your helmet to return the connection. 

“I don’t believe you.” You meant to sound snarky but it came out afraid. 

Crosshair glanced down at you suddenly. Your helmet turned fully his way now. You knew he was asking for clarification. You couldn’t give him one, though. How do you explain to him that you have a bad feeling about this?

“You… you could have saved him,” Crosshair forced out.

The Force never felt so strong in you as it did now. Failing to move away from the situation you had fallen to your knees. You lifted your helmet off your head and dropped it on the ground as you watched Crosshair like a hawk.

Still stuck in this staring contest. The sound of the engines was significantly noisy. The Lieutenant was scrolling on his holopad, the tapping of his fingers sounding like a metronome. Are the minutes being counted down? Is this it? Did someone catch on to your connection to the force? Does Crosshair know? Wait--no, it isn't about you--

“I’m scared,” you whispered. 

Crosshair’s gloved hand brushed against your leg briefly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Quit being so cryptic.”

“Cross, I’m not the one in danger.”

“Crosshair!!” you screamed out. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

The Lieutenant called for your silence again.

“I…”

Your fists clench against the cold ground.

Crosshair grumbled. “Do you have something to say?”

The Force began rumbling beneath your hands. The very scattered and small total of pebbles rattled against the concrete. You were begging the Force to prevent anything terrible from happening to Crosshair.

You could tell him… right? He’d protect you, right? 

“Spit it out!”

Crosshair witnessed the anomaly happening around you with wide eyes. After hearing what the Lieutenant had to say about his feelings on clones… Crosshair couldn’t let the Lieutenant see you. The monster of a man would treat you the same. 

“Lieutenant!”

“I can’t lose you, too.”

An echoing blaster shot went straight into Lieutenant Nolan’s chest. The shock of the event cut your tie to the Force. Crosshair saw the air around you settle, but he didn’t know what to do about the action he just committed. 

“Drop your weapon! Don’t move!”

Troopers rushed Crosshair with blasters raised. You wanted to run to his aid. Crosshair was injured as well. You went to stand, but a trooper’s hand pushed you back down to your knees. The whole time you have been with the Imperial army, you told yourself–no heroics. You can’t stand out. You’d be in danger.

“Crosshair!!!”

You fought the hold on you and rushed toward Crosshair. You needed to protect him. You had to heal him. You needed to fight for him!

Your hand was outstretched and reaching for him. The expression on his face flickered through many expressions. He reached for you, too. He looked hopeful, but the last thing you saw on his face was horror.

You suddenly collapsed to the ground, feeling paralyzed. They hit you with a stun?

Crosshair reached for your body. He almost grabbed your hand, but the troopers wrestled him away. You lost consciousness before you could see the outcome of Crosshair’s fate.

–part 2 maybe after finding out what happens to crosshair idk ily bye 

taglist: @ilovestarwarsmen725 @l-lend @arctrooper69 @nekotaetae @roguethe0tter @the-clone-zone

[asharkapologist]

My Personal Ranking of the Rochesters

Okay, so I absolutely love, love, LOVE the Rochester family. I think they are all tragically underrated characters who deserve more content, so I decided to add some by ranking the members of the Rochester family from my least favorite to my favorite. Spoiler warning for the entirety of Mysteries of the Past, as well as trigger warnings for abuse. So without further ado, let's begin!

10. Malcolm

I hate this man so much. Like yeah he’s manipulative and gaslight-y and a threat, BUT he honestly other than that he is just boring. He’s a stereotypical corrupt politician, as well as a terrible, disloyal husband and an even worse, abusive father. While nothing can excuse Archie’s horrible actions in Elysium Fields, I partially blame this mf for how Archie turned out. He’s also SEVERELY underhated, like when people talk about the worst parents in CC this ugly man is somehow left out. Also, he mourns the loss of his job longer than his only child. 

9. Rockley

Okay so note there is a HUGE jump in quality between him and Malcolm first of all. Like I think Rockley is fine. He’s like a B tier character for me, mid or lower B but still (Malcolm’s like an F). But unfortunately, Rockley doesn’t really affect the plot that much. Sure, it’s slightly funny to imagine him just running his chocolate factory, minding his own business, as his family kills a bunch of people and does other shady things, but yeah he doesn’t impact the story that much. You could remove him from the game/make him not a Rochester and nothing much would change. 

8. Patricia

I really wish she was higher up on the list, but sadly, she just doesn’t have that much of a presence because she’s contained to just one district and we just don’t know too much about her life before she married into the Rochester family. It’s worth noting that her fate is HORRIFIC. She was canonically physically abused by Horatio just for the “crime” of standing up to him and calling out his evil behavior, and THEN as if that weren’t enough, she was, while perfectly sane, LOCKED AWAY IN A 19TH CENTURY INSANE ASYLUM WHERE SHE SLOWLY ACTUALLY LOST HER MIND. like goodness gracious. That is a fate worse than death imo. And then while she had the least awful death of any of the Rochesters, she still died. She’s such a tragic character. 

7. Clarissa

Okay, I know she literally only appeared once as a murder victim, but she still is interesting, even from the little that can be extrapolated from the one case she “appears” in. It seems to me at least that she was in a place of power and comfortable with this and her family's plan to take over the city, but also wanted to help people, such as shown by her wanting to adopt a street kid and her writing a book about financial advice and help. I can honestly see her being a good leader in Concordia, even if yeah, she did benefit from her rivals and critics "disappearing" or having other unfortunate fates.

6. Larry

Okay, I KNOW THAT HE WAS A BAD PERSON, and yes, I have not forgotten what he did to Francine. She was a killer, but she did not deserve that. Obviously, he was selfish and greedy, considering he and Joseph took advantage of hundreds if not thousands of financially desperate people, let his father take the fall for that, and brutally murdered a woman for saying she wasn’t going to let Leopold rot in jail (I’m genuinely surprised that Lawson didn’t give him life). However, he is a good villain. He’s a much better district antagonist than the two before him (I love Giulietta, but Franca and Vittorio are boring characters, sorry). Wolf Street’s my least favorite district in MotP, but Larry is an entertaining villain, a good re-introduction into the Rochester family’s evilness, and it felt good to arrest him. Plus, he has a good design. Classic example of a good character/villain but terrible person. 

5. Veronica

Honestly, Veronica is one of the most wasted Rochesters, and also the only one who we never get closure for. Which is kinda disappointing because I feel like she had a lot of potential, and she does have a lot of hidden tragedy, what with her having Archie when she was only 19 and being in a loveless marriage. But she just mostly seems to be occupied with running her businesses and doing typical things you’d expect a senator’s wife in the 1890s to be doing throughout the game. We don’t get a great glimpse of her relationships with her family, including her son and father, but I certainly have my headcanons about her. She could have been interesting, but she just disappears from the game after the start of Ivory Hill and is never seen or heard from again, even after her son was murdered and her husband arrested.  You could take her out of the story and very little would change, too. But I might make a post about some of my headcanons for her, because I want to give her an interesting character the game did not lol

4. Horatio

THIS MF. Horatio is the most evil character in MotP. There is not a shred of genuine compassion for anyone in his body. Yeah, he doesn’t immediately forget about Clarissa after she dies and he’s satisfied with her work, but if she had tried to defy him like his wife and brother, she’d be dead or in the asylum. Horatio was literally connected to half of the game’s problems, even though I do think he gives himself a bit too much credit for stoking the gang war. But the railroad scheme? He collaborated with Vittorio to do that. Every way the Rochesters held power in the game? Him. Making deals with “the devil” in Grim Chapel to dispose of the family rivals? Him. Turning on his own family in an instant if they defied him? He’d do it without hesitation. And the fact that he probably has many, many illegitimate children, too. Point being, Horatio is utterly vile, far more evil than Lawson, the actual main antagonist. But he is a GOOD villain. His motives are clear, he’s ruthless, it feels AWESOME arresting him, and he’s smart. Also, side note, but I’ve got a headcanon that he and Malcolm planned to kill each other once they properly took over Concordia to have the city to themselves. Food for thought.

3. Leopold

Poor Leopold. :( the only beef I got with him is that I think he is a LITTLE too naive. While Bernadine knew very much about her family’s crimes and just tried to ignore them to the best of her ability/didn’t do anything, Leopold genuinely didn’t seem to know, somehow. But he’s a good man through and through, very likable from the start to the end of the game. Therefore, he is a bit of a static character, but that doesn’t change the fact that seriously, he’s such a very kind man. I wish his relationship with his sons was a bit more developed, but even then, there’s a lot to work with in terms of his relationship with his sons. The quote that he has when Larry is arrested and he’s freed, where he talks about how heartbroken he was that Larry was hell-bent on heading to prison really broke my heart. And his unnaturally controlling move of forcing Rockley to be the head of the Bank of Concordia can be seen as a reaction to Larry going to prison and a fear that Rockley could perhaps end up doing the same, hence him dropping a responsibility Rockley didn’t want on him. It’s not a nice move, but it goes to show that while Leopold was a kind man, he was not perfect. 

2. Bernadine

Now we start getting into some of the best characters in MotP! Bernadine’s my fourth fav character in the game, and within my top ten characters in the franchise. Bernadine only is a suspect twice and a quasi-suspect once, but she has a CLEAR character arc. She goes from being a rather haughty, self-important person who I didn’t trust on my first playthrough of the game to an extremely sympathetic character who had to deal with the aftermath of her family self-destructing, and then needing to run for her life from Lawson’s men. A quote I really love of hers is how she says that most of her loved ones dying or being imprisoned is the result of “this family’s mad ambition” and beforehand, said that she always knew the family’s desires to control Concordia would be their downfall. That drives home one of the messages that comes with the Rochesters and their fates--how dangerous unchecked ambition is and how it can destroy the people with it--and A Family Affair really gives some context to her previous behavior. She knew what Malcolm and Horatio were doing, and yet never said anything until asked to spy on Arthur. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling her a coward, because the police shouldn’t have had to rely on tip-offs from family members to seriously investigate the Rochesters when their rivals kept disappearing. In fact, she’s brave for standing up to Horatio. She hid behind her mask and watched her family in quiet dread, waiting for the inevitable to happen when they made moves to control the city. And her fears were confirmed. She lost almost everyone she loved, and then immediately had to worry about a dictator wanting to kill her. At least she got a happy ending, and while it would be nice if she appeared more, the game managed to do a lot with just three appearances. 

1. Archie

There is genuinely SO MUCH to say about Archie. He deserves a full-blown analysis honestly, he’s my second favorite character in the entire franchise, only after Giulietta (ironic, I am aware). Where to start? He’s an amazing villain, my favorite in MotP. The reasons he became Mr. Alastor are quite sympathetic, considering he was Alastor years before the events of Elysium Fields and became Alastor because he felt out of place and friendless within the elite, saying he was “always poor, sickly, Archie Rochester, no social graces, no friends!” And then he got a power trip from manipulating the very people who he felt rejected him, to the point where he was deluded enough to think that Giulietta would be impressed if her “enemies” died at his parties, leading him to create a (very convoluted, unlikely to work in real life) plan to win her affections. He probably never even had a proper conversation with Giulietta, he just became obsessed with her due to projecting onto her due to them both being outsiders among the elite (and I hc that perhaps he was even projecting his problems with his father onto her due to her own desires to be separate from her father’s reputation). I also love smart villains, and Archie was certainly that, and it makes sense why he thinks that the group of people who rejected him would jump at the chance to commit murder if they and someone they hated were at the same party. And he was right.

And then there’s how he acts when he comes back to Concordia. It’s interesting, because he is not taken seriously by either the game or the police when he returns, despite being treated seriously in Elysium Fields, which communicates that Archie is barely a threat compared to people like Horatio and Malcolm, especially the former. Something else that’s interesting is that Archie thinks he’s able to manipulate people to the point where he puts “gain allies and manipulate people” as an item on his to-do list you find in his desk drawer in Tipping the Scales, and yet he is clearly very easily manipulated, as Diego proves in the AI of Get Off Your High Horse, where he easily manages to get Archie to talk to him and the player literally just by complimenting Archie and saying how smart he is. And there’s how he’s treated by his family, too--ultimately used as a tool to further their political ambitions.

Which brings me to his death, which serves so many purposes. The game says multiple times that he did not to deserve to die, least of all so horrifically, while at the same time making it clear that he was not a good person and had done a LOT of screwed up things in his life (a view that some Criminal Case fans cannot seem to hold in their heads at the same time…), and I’m always a fan of  NUANCE like that, being able to acknowledge someone’s brutal death as undeserved while also pointing out the awful things they did in the CC games. Added onto the fact that Tipping the Scales reveals that it’s literally canon that Malcolm is physically abusive to his son, which adds a whole new layer and context to Archie’s very evident issues. And finally, Archie’s death shows just how violent and damaging ambition can be, because in the end, he was one of the final victims of  his corrupt family.

I’m sorry if that was a huge infodump about his character, I really love him and need to write a whole analysis of him.

Thanks for reading all of that! Feel free to share your thoughts, too!

[idontknowanametouse]

So... I wrote a fic about Jujutsu Kaisen. Cause I refuse to believe canon. Anyway, here it is. (spoilers for Shibuya arc and a lil bit for the Culling Games arc) (briefly, it will be available in Ao3. probably) (sorry for bad english and probable inaccuracy with canon)

“...a shikigami, huh?” Kami-sama murmurs, right after fixing Hime.

“...fault... Senshi... didn’t saw...”

“No, no, there’s no need to that. You guys know I wouldn’t be mad even if you were just two insignificant transfigured humans, but my two masterpieces? Of course I won’t be mad at you!” he brushes softly Hime’s cheek. Her normally blank face acquires the shadow of a smile. “Specially at you, Hime-chan. I have a different task for you now. Those you attacked will come after me soon, so, you must deffend me. With a special warning for you, Senshi-san, because, as before, you need to protect Hime-chan at all costs. Did you understand?”

The two of them nod.

_

“MAHITO!!!” Yuji screams, entering the building where is the energy of the curse. The fury present in his voice could make the walls tremble. The boy ran away from Jujutsu High and passed the whole night looking for Mahito.

“Well, you arrived earlier than I thought” says the laughing voice that seems to be coming out of the walls.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SENSEI AND MY SISTER?! YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”

A laughter full of pure cruelty echoes around the place.

“I thought playing with them and testing a few things would be much, much more interesting than just killing them! I found out that, depending on the way I change the shape of the soul, I can also change the mind! Oh, I got so happy when I discovered that, specially about the girl, as I’ve never seen a sorcerer that could change the shape of the soul like me! Do you want to find the two of them again, Itadori?”

He is able to listen something similar to steps behind himself and immediatly turns around, seeing Nobara right behind him, her arm outstretched towards his hair. Realizing her intention, he grabs her arm before she can do anything. Right behind her, Nanami comes running. For a second, Yuji looks directly into the girl’s single eye.

There’s nothing in them.

He can’t remember exactly what happened later.

When he realizes, he’s fallen into the ground, wounds through his body. His vision is blurry and he can barely distinguish what is more than one meter away from him. He sees two figures and then a lot of movement, and suddenly someone gets close to his face, a pointy and black hair that is very familiar.

Megumi.

“Yuji!” he seems angry and worried. He says, while helping him get up: “Didn’t I told you to not come?! You almost died!! You were lucky we managed to find you!

“Hum... sorry...” he murmurs, blinking as he tries to make his vision less blurry. “And... what about them?”

“The curse is not here, but the sorcerers managed to capture Kugisaki and Nanami-san. We’ll get them to the school and see what we can do for them.”

Megumi looks at Yuji and sighs. He knows the boy well enough to know that the guilt is corroding him from the inside, even though he is innocent in this whole thing.

Nobara is a great friend and, during that week, he could barely walk through the school without feeling his knees tremble when thinking of her. He knew Nanami a long time ago because of Gojo, and, even though they have never been close in the way the adult and Yuji were, he still respected him deeply. Seeing that distorted version of them is absolutely wrong and torturing.

Just as he saw them, he understood the boiling and blind hate Yuji felt for that curse.

_

Shoko is used to see people in terrible estates. After all, she is a doctor that works on Jujutsu High. She saw many people deformed by curses or wounded in brutal ways. Even though she felt sorry for their fate, she got very experienced throughout the years.

So, it’s surprising when she feels about to puke when she sees Kugisaki and Nanami unconscious with their bodies transfigured.

Maybe it’s because she knows them and got shocked by seeing them distorted. Maybe it’s Kugisaki’s such young age. Maybe it’s the protection instinct with her kouhai. She doesn’t know. She just knows that she feels pure hatred for the curse that did this to them.

They are tied at the litters with cursed strings to ensure they won’t run away. While she evaluates them, worried and nervous, Shoko realizes the strings were a good idea when Kugisaki wakes up.

Immediately, when her eye evaluates the place around her, she tries to get up with all her force, but can’t do it. She grunts and emmits all kind of noises, varying from low despair moanings to roars of pure anger. Any tries to make her stop is shown to be in vain, and the girl just calms down when is left alone. In this moment, she just stays there, sitten, staring the nothing and without moving a muscle.

When Nanami wakes up, he looks around, confused, and tries to free himself. When he sees Kugisaki, he says something incomprehensible, but she seems to understand it. He enters the same catatonic state as she, but one of his eyes deviates to the corner, making Kugisaki be inside his sight. Just as this happens, however, the needles behind his neck pierce him and he looks forward again.

Shoko looks at what is in her hands. She managed to get one of the needles that were on Kugisaki’s nape. She needs to discover what is that.

_

This is the first time Megumi sees Maki be shaken by something. She seems happy when finds out Nobara is alive, but, as they hears what happened, her eyes get wide and they staggers when walks. When she goes to the infirmary and sees her unconscious from far away, Maki doesn’t move a centimeter until she finally moves away, without saying a word.

_

Yuji passes most of the night awaken. He can’t sleep because can’t stop thinking he could have stopped that. If he didn’t faint, maybe the two of them could have been saved. But the vision of Nanami’s burned skin and flesh being torn apart alongside Nobara’s eye exploding out of her face, knowing that the two of them would be dead, made that his body couldn’t take it anymore and got prepared to die.

After circa one hour rolling through the bed without being able to close his eyes, he finally gets up and starts wandering around the school. There’s no goal, he just needs to walk around, trying to empty his head from the pain. In some way, his feet take him unconsciously to the infirmary door, and he looks inside.

Just the two of them are there, the lights on. The ones that have been wounded at Shibuya or have been practically healed or are on the graveyard. They look exactly like earlier, however, there’s a slight frown in Nobara’s forehead when she sees him. Nanami, although, just opens his eyes a little bit in his direction.

Yuji runs, opens a bathroom’s door and pukes.

While he walks around the property again with no direction, he sees himself again at the door of his dormitory. He thinks of going back to his room until he hears something, a low sound. It comes from Megumi’s room.

He looks through the door. Even in the dark, his eyes identify Megumi’s body lying down in fetal position while hugging one of his dogs. His back oscilate slightly and the sound comes from him.

Without making any noise, Yuji enters the room and slides to the bed, putting his arms around Megumi and staying there until his breathing calms down and the crying sound stops. Maybe this happened because of the many people he’s lost in such a short time.

The whole night, Yuji tries to ignore Sukuna laughing at the back of his mind.

(this is the part two of a fic of mine. If you want to read the part one, go for the tag "the shape of two souls")

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii i have returned with my ramblings on SITH like i do every chapter lol :))

omg the mention of friedrich being “scary looking” reminded me of that time u said that only the mc genuinely finds him handsome & i still have not recovered from that /pos

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABT THAT TIME FRIEDRICH BEAT HER UP DURING TRAINING, THE MEMORIESSS

i love how much falco looks up to the mc & how this chapter kinda showed her being a mentor to him, it was so sweet <3 falco being out of breath from JOGGING is so real, like he’s just like me fr we’re both terrible at running

I CALLED IT THAT FRIEDRICH WOULD INHERIT THE JAW, ALL THE SIGNS WERE POINTING TOWARDS HIM LMFAO

the irony of colt being the first of the trio to inherit his titan & also being the first who will die. idk if u plan on diverging from the canon plot & having him live or just sticking with canon plot, but the “i’ll be the first” line rlly hits hard either way, & it’ll hit especially hard if he still dies.

now that i think abt it, the trio rlly is just the found family trope & im gobbling that shit up bro, i love them with all my heart 🫶 i feel like they’re not only soulmates, but also the “our fates are intertwined in every universe” trope as well. so even if one of them dies & the other two have to live on w/o them or two of them die & the last has to preserve their memory, all 3 of them will meet again in another lifetime. they just can’t be separated (they come in a set LMFAO). that’s my take on their relationship at least.

i hope u like my theories & takes lol. when im super invested in smth, i always like talking abt it & going in-depth bc that’s just what i like to do. even if i get some shit wrong (when theorizing or analyzing), that’s ok, bc im just having fun & enjoying smth im interested in :))

hope ur doing well & taking care of urself!! remember to hydrate & get lots of rest. and dont overwork urself (even tho that’s prolly easier said than done). <3

— 🪐

HIII I love your ramblings I always smile when I get the notifications!!

LMAOOO I would like to slightly revise that and add that friedrich isn’t really considered ugly by anyone either he just always looks 0.5 inches away from snapping so people are too busy being scared of him to think he’s handsome. Ofc the mc knows him so well that she sees past that and can appreciate him for what he is <3

HAHAHA IT WAS SO LONG AGO THEY WERE SUCH LITTLE BABIES BACK THEN!! So much has happened since then 🙁

I wanted to somewhat show Y/N being a good person again since we’ve seen so many chapters of her struggling and overcoming her faults and traumas. She’s definitely not a perfect person but she can be very kind at times and she is canonically super good with kids so I thought showing her and falco bonding and her doing something for someone other than herself would balance out the heaviness of everything post-athyae. falco is so sweet I actually love him sooo much but I was lowkey dying writing him in this chapter because he’s just so hopeless 😭 I would like to add that in the running scene Y/N is the one jogging…my man falco is SPRINTING to keep up with her 😩 up to interpretation whether it’s because “slow” for Y/N is fast for like anyone else or because falco is just really not athletically blessed.

I feel like friedrich being the jaw titan is the most obvious choice. He’s way too slippery (does that even make sense?? Idk how else to describe it) to be the armored titan and way too independent to be the colossal, he could be the cart but tbh Y/N just exemplifies the cart to me I couldn’t see anyone else inheriting it, colt being the next beast has been a thing since like the first chapters of the fic, and he just…is not a girl so I can’t imagine him as the female titan.

I won’t spoil the trio’s fates, but writing that scene knowing their futures was definitely painful. I’m trying to write and update more often so you don’t have to wait years to find out what happens to them because there is SO much planned for the future of this story. I’ve been struggling because the past two mini arcs (which were titled return to liberio and warrior’s welcome if you were wondering) have been the hardest to write so far. They’re a lot more introspective and focused on Y/N’s mental development, conflict, and recovery, so it was a lot of just “people visiting houses” with inner monologues as opposed to plot and external conflict. The next mini arc is very different though so I’m excited to get to that!! One more chapter of warrior’s welcome and then I’m finally free 😭

I ADOREEEE FOUND FAMILY!! That’s why endure and SitH are my favs, I feel like they both have their own versions of the found family tropes that make me feel so 😫 but the trio and the endure crew are definitely super different. like the endure found family is just a bunch of siblings (case in point Y/N and Jean) but the trio defies categorization. They’re in love but they’re best friends but they’re somehow more than that?? Idk their dynamic isn’t something I’ve written before but it’s definitely one of the most interesting I think!! (I’d say it’s my favorite but my favorites are endure jean and y/n, endure eren and y/n, and promise y/n and tullia, with an honorary mention to endure y/n and tullia)

I LOVE YOUR THEORIES SO MUCH!! I won’t confirm or deny if they’re right because I don’t want to spoil but I love reading them and responding to them so much. It makes me sosososo happy that you’re so invested in this random story I decided to write on a whim one day and that you’re having as much fun with it as I am. Your asks motivate me sm because with a story like SitH it can sometimes feel like I’m only writing for myself (which is good because it gives me creative freedom but sometimes demotivating as there’s no engagement)

Thank you so much and remember to take care of yourself as well!!

[actuallysaiyan]

The Girl Who Came To Stay; Chapter Two: Stomach Tied In Knots

Author: @beneathstarryskiess Word Count: 3,035 Summary: Mina faces off with the trio of devil hunters. When she comes face to face with Vergil, she makes a rash decision that lands them in a place Vergil never thought he’d see again. Warnings: Mina (oc) x Vergil, suggestive themes, canon typical violence, trauma Author’s Note: None!

Masterlist

Flashes of green light and black smoke surround the devil turns into a young woman. She’s dressed in a tattered dress and long blonde hair spills over her face and she pushes it back. Mina is dazed for a moment before stepping forward, making her way to the dead wolf laying on the ground a few feet ahead. She kneels beside it, her fingers curling through the gray fur as tears sting her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

It’s difficult to know this poor animal died so horribly at her command. She hadn’t expected that to happen. Usually, these devil hunters couldn’t make it past a wolf, much less all the way to her. She knows the only reason the fight didn’t go on longer is because of her powers, she was able to keep the devil hunter distracted with her scent. 

 So many questions tumble through her mind as she stumbles to the small cabin she’s called home since she was a teenager. She’s still thinking about what’s happened as she gets a shovel and returns to the wolf. Having potential devil slayers come to the forest wasn’t a new occurrence for Mina. Often she’s been able to scare them away by sending animals after them, but when that doesn’t work she doesn’t have any issues taking them down. That woman was different. She’s never seen another devil before…She can’t help being curious about it. 

She’s just finishing up burying the wolf when she hears someone walking through the woods. She looks up, half expecting a fight, but instead, she sees George walking toward her. 

“Dad,” she cries as she runs to him. 

“Are you alright, Mina?” he asks quietly as he holds her close. 

“I’m okay,” she sniffles as she looks up at him. “She just ran off.” 

“She’s coming back with help,” George frowns. “The mayor is really serious about it this time.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Dad. I don’t want to hurt people anymore.” 

“Maybe I haven’t done right by you,” George says sadly as he looks down, noticing the fresh grave.

 From the moment Mina showed up on their doorstep, he feels like he’s made the wrong choices to try to keep her safe. His sweet, unassuming daughter has blood on her hands and deep down he knows it’s his fault. He resigned her to the fate of being the devil that lurks in the forest. 

“I should leave,” Mina says finally. 

“They should be returning tomorrow. You need to rest tonight. I’ll try to hold them off tomorrow to give you a chance to leave.” 

“I’ll send a signal when I leave,” she sighs. “A rabbit.”

He nods, “I’ll be on the lookout.” 

They bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways for likely the last time. Mina returns to the cabin and starts cooking dinner. There’s not much for her to pack to take with her. In a small leather bag, she packs a few family mementos she wants to keep with her. After dinner, she cleans up and changes into some fresh clothes. 

She tries to rest, knowing she’ll need it, but she can’t bring herself to sleep. Her mind keeps wandering back to the devil hunter. She was different than the others. She was strong and capable…And she was a devil. It makes Mina wonder how different her own life could truly be. Was all this hiding and killing truly necessary? 

The idea that she’s been wasting her life in this forest for nothing makes her chest tighten. She tries to remind herself that George was acting in her best interests. She was just a kid when these powers began to show and that terrible accident happened. 

Briar, Dante, and Vergil arrive in Aston around noon. Briar parks the car a bit outside the village, and the three of them walk towards the gates. She scowls when the mud sloshes under her feet. The mayor is anxiously awaiting their arrival, wanting more than anything for this business to be put to rest. He’s suspicious when he sees the two large, white-haired men following Briar. 

“This is a nice place,” Dante remarks sarcastically as some of the villagers eye them suspiciously. 

“Is this your backup?” The mayor asks. 

“Yeah,” Briar answers curtly. “If they can resist getting seduced, that is.” 

“I’ll escort you,” the mayor starts to follow them. 

Vergil shifts uncomfortably when the mayor falls in behind him, “That won’t be necessary.”

“Sorry about him, he lacks charm,” Dante pats the mayor on the back. “We can take it from here.” 

The three of them walk through the village and through the fields. Briar lets out a groan when she spots George coming out of the barn. He doesn’t hesitate before making his way to the trio. Briar notices he seems even more uptight about her presence than he was the day before. 

“You back so soon?” he asks, trying much too hard to sound relaxed. 

“Gotta finish the job,” Briar answers, she tries to move past him but George stays close. 

“You know, maybe you ought to leave it alone. The only people who ever get hurt are the ones who go in there trying to start trouble.” 

Briar stops suddenly and turns to the farmer with furrowed brows, “Didn’t the mayor say this thing killed your daughter?” 

“That’s his theory,” George says quietly. 

“Then what’s yours?” 

George fumbles for an answer, looking towards the treeline with a pained expression. Dante and Briar both wait for his answer, their curiosity piqued by the farmer. Vergil follows his gaze, and he sees the small brown rabbit that the farmer is watching jump through the fence. He notices the green aura around the creature and the glowing eyes. It all clicks in his mind. Without saying a word to the others, he begins walking towards the forest. 

Dante follows “Where are you going, Vergil?” 

“This devil didn’t kill his daughter,” Vergil says as they keep walking. “The devil in the forest is his daughter.” 

“You got some balls, farmer!” Briar says before running after the other two. 

Mina is making her way to the other end of the forest when she senses the entrance of the three devil hunters. Her heart pounds when she feels how much demonic power surges in them. She tries to keep running, hoping to lose them but in only a few seconds she can feel them closing in on her. She’s not sure she has the energy to trigger yet after not sleeping all night. 

“We should split up,” Vergil suggests. “To cover more ground.” 

The three go in separate directions, and Mina jumps up into one of the nearby trees to keep track of where they are. She sees Dante walking in her direction. Vergil keeps straight while Briar heads in the opposite direction. An idea enters her mind as she jumps from the tree, landing a few yards away from Dante. 

Her eyes begin to glow as she silently beckons him to her. The smell of cigarettes catches his attention, and although he remembers what Briar had told them about this demon he can’t help following the smell. The closer he gets, the more intoxicating the scent becomes. Hints of clove and coffee mix in. It’s as though the scent is curling under his skin, taking over his senses. Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of Mina but he can barely make her features out through his hazed vision. His eyes glow green as she reaches up to cup his chin. She pulls him down to be face to face, and he bends for her with ease. Looking into his eyes, it’s easy to see what Dante desires. 

“Sweet man, you want to be loved.” 

“Y-yes,” Dante slurs. 

“By that woman? You want her underneath you, don’t you?” 

“I do.” 

“Go get her.” 

Dante turns away, an aura surrounding him as he stumbles in the direction of Briar. Mina lets out a breath of relief before taking off running again. She feels a little guilty for manipulating the man in that way, but she’s relieved it didn’t come down to violence like before. 

She sees Vergil in the distance, and she quickly changes course to try and avoid him. He seems to have keener senses, as he easily finds the direction she’s in. Mina gasps when a glowing, blue sword whizzes past her head and lands in a tree ahead of her. Before she has time to blink, Vergil is in front of her. A faint afterimage lingering in his trail is the only hint that he’d moved at all. She comes to a stop so quickly she skids and falls backward. Her heart pounds as Vergil steps towards her. 

“It’s hard to believe such a little thing has caused so much trouble,” he says. 

“Please,” Mina whimpers. “I just want to leave.” 

He stands at her feet, towering over her. Mina doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t have the energy to trigger and this man feels more dangerous than the first. She summons up a bit of energy, her eyes slightly glowing as she does so. 

Vergil frowns, “Are you trying to trick me?” 

The smell of leather bound books draws him in despite his best efforts to resist. Mina manages to scramble to her feet, putting out more energy. 

“Stop this!” Vergil growls. 

She steps towards him now, filling his senses with geranium. Vergil steps back when he feels warmth tingling across his skin. He almost feels like he could fall to his knees now, but he won’t be forced into submission by a silly girl. 

“Please, I just want to leave,” she keeps walking towards him until they’re inches apart and Vergil is completely taken by the smell of books, geranium, and spiced tea. 

Mina swallows hard, “Help me.” 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Vergil is unsheathing Yamato. Mina watches as he turns away from her and he slices through the air in a cross. A portal opens up, and he grabs her by the waist and pulls her through it with him. 

They step into an old, dusty house. Mina tries to pull away, but Vergil’s grip stays tight around her waist. The scents she’s giving off awakens a deep longing he’s hidden away. He leans in close, dragging his nose over her neck as he keeps breathing in her scent. His palms drag over her waist, and Mina almost loses herself to his touch. Guilt tightens in her chest when she remembers he’s not exactly acting on his own accord right now. 

As soon as Mina breaks the spell, he’s pulling away with a deep frown. He looks around the room in a bit of a daze, unsure exactly what happened. He mutters curses as he sheathes Yamato again. 

“Dammit, woman,” he growls. 

“I’m sorry,” Mina steps away. “I was scared.” 

He shakes his head as he turns away, looking around the room to figure out where he’d taken them. It seems to be Arkham’s house, a place he never thought he’d step foot inside of again. He crosses his arms as he thinks of what to do next. 

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she whispers.

“You couldn’t hurt me,” Vergil says without looking at her. 

He paces the room, still unsure of what to do with this situation. Mina looks down at her feet shyly. 

Mina leans against the wall, “So, um, where are we?” 

“All that matters to you is that you’re out of the forest,” Vergil opens the front door and steps out on the porch. 

“What’s your name?” Mina steps outside with him. 

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. She looks so small and shy standing beside him now. Her hands twist nervously around the worn-out strap of her bag. 

“Vergil,” he sighs. 

“I’m Mina.”

“Come on then,” he steps back into the house and begins his trek up the creaky old steps. 

Mina struggles to keep up with his pace, but she tries not to fall too far behind. She has to admit that she feels a little relieved not to be in the forest anymore. It might be unwise to trust Vergil, but something about him makes her feel safe. He seems so sure even though the situation was beyond his control. She can’t help letting her eyes linger over him, her cheeks burning. She’s never really been around a man aside from her father before. Sure, there were teen romances (which unfortunately led to her exile in the forest) but neither of those instances compares to Vergil. He’s different from anyone she’s met. Strong and elegant, yet so quiet. 

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she says quietly. 

“Am I not the one who brought you here?” 

“Yeah, but…I made you. I know it must not be what you want.” 

Vergil can’t explain his own motivations at this point. He should be angry about what she did to him, but he can’t help feeling a bit endeared at her resourcefulness. Part of him relates to that determination to survive, even if it means using whoever is closest to do it. 

“You must promise not to do that to me again,” he says as they go through the old, rusted gate. 

“I won’t.” 

“I said you must promise.” 

“I promise.” 

A rotten step shatters beneath her feet, pulling a squeak from her lips as her feet fall through the wood. In her struggle, she reaches for the banister, only for it to fall apart when she grabs with more strength than intended. Vergil turns to her with a huff and wraps an arm around her waist. She gasps and grabs onto the lapels of his coat when he lifts her with ease. He sets her on the step with him, but their eyes stay locked as neither of them loosens their grip. His hands feel strong and steady against her waist. 

“Thank you,” she whispers shyly. 

“Isn’t it much better when people help you of their own accord?” 

He releases her from his grip and continues up the last of the stairs. They come to a long, dark hallway. Vergil flips a switch, and Mina is surprised that the lights even come on. This didn’t look like a place anyone would bother keeping the electricity turned on at, but someone did. Vergil walks a few paces down the hallway and stops in front of one of the wide, oak doors.

“This was my room when I stayed here before,” he says. He points to a door across the hall, “You can stay in there. It used to be occupied by a young woman. You may be able to find clothes.” 

“Oh, so I’m not the first girl you brought here,” Mina’s joke falls flat as Vergil’s frown only deepens. “Right, sorry.”

Mina swallows hard before going to the room across the hall, she looks over her shoulder to look at him again but is met with the sight of the door closing. She sighs before going into the room. The room is cold and most of the furniture is covered in white sheets. She crosses to the window and opens it up to let some fresh air in before uncovering some of the furniture in search of the wardrobe. She frowns slightly when she finds the wardrobe and opens it up to find a variety of short skirts and dresses. She was hoping for a pair of pants at least. She wonders if there are other options somewhere in this old mansion, but she’s too tired to worry about it right now. 

She falls onto the old bed and tries to rest. Only her mind is still running wild with what happened today. She tosses and turns for a while until she gets out of bed. She goes across the hall and knocks lightly on the door. There’s not an answer, and she lingers dejectedly for a moment before trying again. 

“Come in.”

She lets out a sigh of relief before pulling the door open and walking into the room. Vergil sits on an old ragged sofa, his coat neatly laid across the arm beside him. When she walks in, he doesn’t look up from the book propped open on his knee. Mina practically tiptoes closer. She looks around the tidy room before coming to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. Vergil spares her a brief glance before letting out a sigh. 

“You should at least look for some new shoes. You won’t make it far barefoot.” 

“I made it all the way here,” Mina smirks. 

He returns to reading, only to be pulled away when he feels her leaning closer. The scent of geraniums hits his senses when she’s close, but she doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose this time. 

“What are you reading?” she asks, and he quickly closes the book before she can see that he’s doing research on seducer demons. 

“Nothing,” he sets the book on the small table next to him. “What are you doing?” 

“I was bored.” 

“That’s not my problem,” he mumbles. 

“And yet, here I am.” 

“You need to watch your mouth.” 

She narrows her eyes, “Why?” 

“Because I could take you back to that woman who wants you dead,” Vergil reminds her. 

Mina pouts slightly as she settles back against the sofa, “You know, you’re not stuck with me. I’m sure I could make it on my own.” 

“You don’t even have shoes,” a smirk flashes across his features so quickly she almost misses it. 

“I did look through the clothes,” she blushes slightly. “They weren’t very practical.”

“Yes, she had a particular taste.” 

“Was she your girlfriend?” 

Vergil scoffs, “Of course not.” 

“Hey, just asking.” 

She stands up from the sofa and wanders around the room a bit more. Her eyes wander over the bookshelves slowly, noting an assortment of demonic texts sitting side by side with works of poetry. Vergil watches her from his seat on the sofa before finally letting out a sigh. 

“You should go back to your room and get some rest.” 

Mina pouts softly, “Fine.” 

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO EXO COSMIA, OBANAI IGURO. 🌑

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: Monet age: 24 pronouns: She/They ooc contact: @thebankery on twt other characters in xc: Philomena Roxbury, Prince Papillon

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: Obanai Iguro age: 21 pronouns: He/They series: Demon Slayer canon point: End of The Entertainment District Arc (Ch. 97) app triggers: Deaths/Murders, Human Sacrifice, Child Abuse, Eating Disorder, Mutilation

personality: Harsh, strict, and intense as hell, Iguru is the quintessential edgy snake guy. Not but seriously Obanai is someone who focuses on structure and order. He obeys the rules of The Demon Slayer Corps perfectly, and keeps everyone who doesn’t in check. And not just because they saved his life. He’s quick to lose his temper when things aren’t going how they’re supposed to. There’s no room for even a little failure when they’re living in life or death situations.

At first, Obanai only seems to have two emotions - anger and temporarily not angry. But get to know him and it’s obvious that his attitude comes from a deep sense of self-loathing. Most of his criticism is directed at himself more than anyone on the receiving end. He thinks himself completely unlovable, a self-described ‘piece of shit’ from an evil family, with nothing but sludge coursing through his tainted veins.

But when he does care for someone or something, he really really cares.

something your muse struggles with: Self-Love, Tact, Being Open About His Emotions, his mental health is terrible…

your muse’s greatest strength: (Origin of it be damned,) He’s extremely determined, strong-minded, and generally formidable. Also really good at caring for people…when the opportunity arises. 

history / background:

Obanai was born into a wealthy clan of thieves who worshiped a serpent demon. In exchange for her riches, they fed her newborn babies.

Obanai escaped this fate by being the first male born into their family in 370 years. His heterochromia only made him more valuable in the eyes of his family and the snake demon. Viewing him as a prized possession, they kept him locked in a wooden cage and fed him offerings of foods so rich and pungent and in such large quantities it made him sick. At night, the serpent would circle his cage and keep him awake. He never knew what it was or what it wanted. All he knew for sure was that life wasn’t safe outside of that cage. At 12 he was allowed to leave the cage for the first time and see the snake demon face-to-face. Despite how often they tried to feed him, was so small, sick, and frail she put off eating him for even longer…but she did cut his mouth wider to be ‘more like her’. Obanai was cut 

After this he began to plan his escape. Using a hairpin he stole from a family member, he began to carve away at his wooden cell. As he did this a small white snake slithered in and kept him company. After a long, long time, he was finally able to break out and run. The snake pursued him and killed 50 of his family members before The Flame Pillar slayed the serpent. There was one survivor in his family, his cousin, and she blamed Obanai for all of their deaths. He internalized her words and carries it with him to this day.

With blood on his hands and guilt weighing him down, Obanai decided to join the team of people that saved his unworthy life. He put his all into training to become a Hashira, a Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps. But his life won’t be worth anything until he rids the world of all demons…and after he’s gone, too.

powers / abilities: 

Breathing Style - Serpent Breathing ; A focus on the twists and turns of a slithering snake. His attacks tend to be unpredictable and quick.

Techniques: First Form: Winding Serpent Slash - The user moves like a slithering snake and releases several slashes in a winding pattern.

Second Form: Venom Fangs of the Narrow Head - The user dashes behind their opponent at blinding speed and aims to swiftly slice off their head.

Third Form: Coil Choke - The user circles around their opponent while using their sword to slice them from all directions.

Fourth Form: Twin-Headed Reptile - The user leaps forward and performs a horizontal slash that slices through the target.

Fifth Form: Slithering Serpent - The user curves their sword in multiple directions and slices their opponent, making it capable of decapitating multiple enemies at once.

inherent abilities:  

Strong As Fuck - As all Hashiras are. Despite his short stature Iguro is stacked, easily pinning people twice his size. 

Inhuman Speed, Reflexes, & Stamina - As all Hashiras do. items / weapons: 

Kaburamaru - A relatively small white snake, more of a friend than a pet. He can see through his eyes. He can also understand speech, follow directions, and solve basic puzzles.

Twisted Nichirin Katana - A lavender winding sword shaped like a slithering snake (think Indonesian Kris Sword). His scabbard is designed so that he can unsheathe his sword vertically.

starting ability: First Form: Winding Serpent Slash  starting item: Kaburamaru

extra:

5’3” , Bi

Talks to his snake more than he talks to people.

He is afraid of women. dont laugh im serious

Mostly blind in his right eye.

Can go days without eating. snakekin.

discord id: snake.pillar

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i've talked quite a bit about the problems created by medium bleed between the novel, cql, the donghua and the manhua, but i also think it's important to remember that these versions of the canon all exist in conversation with each other, too. and i think the best example of this ongoing conversation is the last image we see of jin guangyao in cql, and the below excerpt from near the end of the guanyin temple sequence in the EXR translation of the novel.

Suddenly, someone screamed. The sound of cups and saucers shattering on the ground came from the second floor as a guqin crashed down, smashing to pieces as it hit the center of the hall. It scared the wits out of the people enjoying themselves at the nearby tables. AnXin had also almost tripped, yelling, “What happened?!”

Meng Yao cried, “Mom!”

AnXin looked up. A burly man dragged a woman out of a room by her hair. AnXin tugged the client beside her, whether nervous or excited, “She’s at it again!”

Meng Yao rushed upstairs. Covering her scalp, the woman tried her hardest to pull her clothes up her shoulders. As she saw Meng Yao run over, she hurried, “I told you not to come upstairs! Go down! Go down this instant!”

Meng Yao went to peel away the client’s hands as he received a kick in the stomach and rolled down the stairs, causing a wave of exclamations. This was the third time Wei WuXian saw him roll down flights of stairs from a kick.

With a loud scream, the woman had her hair pulled by the client again, all the way until she was dragged downstairs, stripped, and tossed onto the street. He spat on her naked body, cursing, “Hags do nothing but haggle—an old whore thinks she’s fresh meat!” (EXR translation pg. 976)

i think there's just something so poignant and heartbreaking about what these two moments, taken from two different versions of the canon, illustrate about the bond between young meng yao and meng shi. that they loved each other, loved just spending time in each other's company as the sweet moment between them at the end of cql demonstrates, and wanted to protect each other. and ultimately, their love and devotion to each other wasn't enough for them to protect each other from a terrible fate.

but the love was there and it mattered. it still matters.

[fandomsbyladymelodrama]

I know you busy with your jorleesi fics and I am asking the with the utmost respect, but why have you never written Obidala?

Ohhhh good question ❤ So I love Obidala. Like, since I was 13 years old 😂😍 Natalie Portman was one of my faves growing up and Ewan McGregor was one of my first crushes thanks to The Phantom Menace. So def one of my first ships and now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure "One Path" was the first fanfic I ever read (like, ever) and girl, I WAS IN LOVE WITH IT. Read it like 10x in a row. And it was so eye-opening. Both in introducing me to the fact that fanfic existed (I was like, wait, adjkladkjdks people actually do this? 😍 And where do I sign up? 🤗) and that there were other people out there who realized that George Lucas had no idea what he was doing with the prequels (I mean, okay, okay, granted maybe he knew what he was doing 💰💸-wise but as for writing the greatest love story that ever was - major hit and a miss 😂)...anyway, to me, that fic was perfect (imagine me holding the placard up Love Actually style 😂). Well, let's say the first 1/3 was perfect (the next generation stuff got a little convoluted and strayed too far from Obidala for my tastes tbh). But, at the time, I was too young to think about how I might improve on what (to me) had become canon. And I’m kinda glad because baby ladymelodrama’s writing was, ummm, a bit too melodramatic 😂 I think I have some ideas percolating now, and your side-blog is helping with that btw. Love. It. 🥰 Like you said, I’m a little occupied with Jorleesi (and other) fics atm 😂 The other problem is I was never that into Star Wars except for Obidala. Like I’ve watched the original trilogy only once and nothing of the new movies 🤷‍♀️ so my familiarity with the deep lore is lacking, to say the least...which probably doesn’t matter, considering it’s Star Wars, right? (seek balance in the force, done and done 😂) And any fic I write will be pure Ben and Padme fluff, fluff, FLUFF 😍  But yes, someday. That’s the answer to this question 😊 9385783783% someday... (and p.s. maybe I’ll try to do something very small in the meantime just to get my feet wet, like literally Obi-Wan and Padme sitting side by side with their feet in a pool in Naboo or something ❤)

[ephemeral--dreams]

love or death

Scaramouche/Reader

Rating: T

Word count: 1222

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Scaramouche being Scaramouche

Notes: *holds my 193 fates* He will come home. 

☆ ☾ ☆  ──────────────────   

Scaramouche turning traitor had been the main topic of all the gossip in the palace for the past three weeks. Especially for those like you, who had been his direct subordinates. He'd evaded all attempts to get to him, whether that was to capture him or simply kill him and take the gnosis back.

You missed him. Not that you'd ever say as much out loud for fear of being branded a traitor as well. But how were you to simply turn off your feelings surrounding the harbinger?

Then the Tsaritsa herself had summoned you and passed on what she deemed an important assignment… To you, of all people. 

Find Scaramouche and get the stolen gnosis by any means necessary.

It had been a most terrible idea to send you in particular. Weak, visionless, a little too-smitten-with-your-former-superior you. Perhaps that was why. You'd been as close to him as anyone could get to someone like Scaramouche. Did they think that would make him back down? Somehow protect you from getting brutally killed for trying to bring him in? It wouldn't. This would not end well, but what could you do? Certainly not go rogue like he had. They'd hunt you down in an instant. There was no betraying the Fatui.

If you had to die either way, you supposed you'd rather do it at his hands than anyone else's. So you tracked him down and ended up here.

"They really sent you? Of all people?"

"Scaramouche, just come back. I'm sure you can reason with the Tsaritsa about your actions-"

His eyes flashed. "That's not happening. But if you think you can make me come with you - or kill me, is that it? - then I'd love to see you try."

And so you were forced to fight him. You had never once won against him during sparring, so any hope of winning now, in a serious fight where one of you had to die… Well, you'd never had any hope in the first place.

Even if you were capable of it, you'd never kill him. Your heart was too attached for that.

Still, you tried to hold out as long as possible. So few of your blows landed. He was barely winded whereas you were quickly tiring. You were bruised, bleeding, aching—

Then he seemingly got tired of playing around, hitting you with his full strength. You found yourself on the ground, trembling, panting for breath, adrenaline pumping through you as you scrambled into a sitting position.

You tried to reach out for your weapon, but he took it up before your shaking hand could. It would've been useless anyway. You were in far too much pain to be able to continue fighting him. It was difficult enough trying to scrabble back, away from his approaching footsteps despite the weakness in your limbs. You didn't get far.

He tilted your chin up with the tip of your own sword. For a long, silent moment, the two of you took each other in. You tried desperately to still your trembling, to calm your racing heart from beating it's way out of your chest. His smile was all sharp edges. "You look so afraid. I'd almost call it cute."

"Just get it over with already."

"You're not even going to beg for mercy? At least make this interesting for me. Maybe I'll even consider letting you live if you do well enough~"

All nothing more than teasing. Of course he wasn't going to show you any mercy. Scaramouche wasn't known for his kindness, after all. You were already defeated. Did he have to drag out your suffering? You had to will the tears away before they fell, eyes lowering from his. "Why are you wasting time...? You know they're just going to... Send someone stronger than me, next. You should run."

"Bold words from the pathetic excuse of a Fatui member that just tried to kill me," He tossed the sword to the side - far out of your reach - before kneeling down to your level. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

The impatience and irritation in his tone made you listen to him, returning your gaze to his. He was so much closer now. Despite the situation, something inside of you still melted at how pretty he was. You should've hated him for hurting you so badly, for the fact that he was going to kill you, but the feelings that had damned you to this fate in the first place remained. The concoction of fear and exhaustion and attraction was as overwhelming as the intensity of his full attention on you.

"See? Even someone like you can be trained to listen," That was almost praise, coming from him. He tilted his head appraisingly. "Did you just come here to die, huh? You're more worried for me than yourself."

"...Well, I wasn't stupid enough to think I was going to beat you in a fight."

"Could've fooled me," You flinched as he raised his hand, but all he did was wipe at the blood on your cheek. The gesture would've been sweet if he hadn't been the one to cause it. "If I don't do it, they'll kill you for failing..."

"So you're... You're going to make me wait for the Tsaritsa to punish me instead of just finishing it? You hate me that much?" It was a level of cruelty you hadn't anticipated. Didn't he have at least enough fondness for you to make it quick? 

Scaramouche laughed. "If I hated you, we wouldn't be having this discussion. Don't play dumb."

Perhaps the pain was making you hear things. Or making it too hard to think straight. Had you lost enough blood to start hallucinating? You truly wondered. You wished he would be less confusing.

"Scaramouche-"

"I'll kill you if that's what you want. Or you can go on the run with me. I'm not going to be nice enough to offer a second time, so make your choice quickly."

The sheer shock you felt was enough to stun you silent. There was no way he... This had to be another taunt, right? To give you false hope before he shattered it. But his expectant expression said otherwise.

He wanted you. It was a risk to himself to keep you alive. But despite all his harshness and his insults and everything, Scaramouche liked you enough to keep you around.

Something warm swirled inside of you.

"Clock is ticking-"

"L-Let me come with you!"

His smile seemed to soften ever so slightly at your agreement. "The right choice. You'd better be obedient, or I might change my mind, got it? You're already going to be trouble as it is, with how weak you are."

You only nodded along, barely listening to whatever insults he made against you. This was a far better outcome than you had imagined. Your happiness at the idea of being able to continue at his side was almost enough to make you forget everything that led to this.

On the run from the Fatui, heavily injured at the hands of the man in front of you, still accepting the idea that you weren't dying tonight. Yet none of it bothered you the way it should have. As long as you still had Scaramouche, nothing else mattered, did it? 

[mara-xx217]

Michael Myers x Nurse!Reader Commission- Lost Then Found

Ohhh boy, this is one long ass fic and one that I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! Oh, and, uh, Merry Christmas...? XD

@prettycutebunny commissioned this fic from me, and I hope you enjoy it beautiful~ 🥰

"You were his Bunny, and he was your Mikey. He might have lost you once, but now that he's found you, he won't lose you again..."

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Death, Blood, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape-Noncon, Marking, Stockholm Syndrome

Your closest childhood friend was largely unremarkable. Quiet, but not exactly shy, he always tailed closely behind you, practically glued to your hip. You couldn’t help but to drag him around by his hand, blabbering about this and that, though he never really seemed to mind too much. Being one of the very, if only, few children that frequently played with him throughout his youth, it would be an understatement to say that he was rather attached to you, just as you were to him. You even made him promise- pinky promise- that when you two got older, you would marry one another, no exceptions. He was your Mikey, and you were his Bunny, even if you never really knew that. There was no future that you could possibly imagine where you were without your best friend. Until that fateful Halloween night…

It all happened so fast- one night, the two of you were having fun, trick-or-treating and running around unsupervised, and then the next… You were told that you wouldn’t be able to see your friend anymore. Full stop. None of it made any sense to your seven year old brain. Michael… did something bad..? What was it? Why would he just… go away, just like that and not say goodbye..?! It was devastating, and you didn’t even get to learn the real reason why Michael vanished out of Haddonfield until you were in high school.

…He killed Judith?! No, no fucking way-! It wasn’t possible. Why would seven year old Michael kill his big sister..? He adored her, from what you could remember, and not only that, but why would they even assume that he was responsible for such a horrific crime from the beginning? It just didn’t make any sense… A part of you grew obsessed with getting to the bottom of what really happened that night. No one wanted to remember what happened, and it was treated as a completely open and shut case. It drove you mad.

What seemed to be a terrible injustice to you is precisely what spurred your dive into the healthcare profession. It shocked everyone, but your parents hardly complained with their baby girl fitting into such a well paying industry. You largely kept your little obsession of Michael Myers to yourself, lest your family or friends try to talk you out of your career choice. You needed to know the truth, and there was only one way that you would figure it out. It was a lot of work, a lot of blood, sweat and tears, but you finally did it. You were a licensed nurse, with a specialization in psychology.

Smith’s Grove Sanitarium always felt… understaffed, almost unprofessional, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You kept your ulterior motive to yourself, and just focused on working normally for a while. Much to your surprise, not only on your first day, but the first hour there, you were warned about a specific patient. One known to be extraordinarily violent and that must have constant and vigilant supervision at all times. Michael Myers… It was surreal hearing someone talking about Michael like that. This person that they were speaking of… he sounded nothing like the meek boy that you grew up with. You didn’t believe it- how could you believe it?! They were talking about him as though he was some unfeeling monster and not a living, breathing human being.

Somehow, you were immediately thrown into the spotlight. You had heard about Michael’s doctor- Loomis- briefly in your time while getting your degree and residency. And… you weren’t very impressed. He seemed like one of those quacks that uneducated people warned their friends about, dissuading them from seeking legitimate, professional psychiatric help. Unbelievably, he already knew about you. Dr. Loomis already knew that you were Michael’s closest, if not only, childhood friend. Glossing over that this was incredibly creepy and unnerving, he tried to approach you with a specific goal in mind, all but cornering you in one of the many tiny break rooms of the Sanitarium.

“You want me to do what now?” A part of you was genuinely offended on your old friend’s behalf. How can you possibly take this man seriously when he was treating one of his patient’s like they were some feral animal and not a human fucking being with serious psycological trauma. Dr. Loomis sighed, exasperated.

“I can understand how… odd of a request this may be, especially for… you.” An uncomfortable amount of emphasis was directed at your person. Your frown deepened. “But! I think that something may come of this.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff.

“Really? The only thing that will probably come of this is another shitty book, isn’t it?” You gently scooted around him and left the break room, completely disgusted with the doctor.

He wanted to use you to get to Michael. To make him upset. To and trigger some kind of response from him. Any response. It wasn’t right. As his doctor, he shouldn’t be poking at Michael like he’s some sort of trapped animal. He’s a human being for God’s sake! It only hardened your resolve. You’re sure that they must be mistaken. Michael may very well be violent, but from how everyone is treating him, you don’t think you can blame him. You’ll be tasked to watch over him, soon. That’s when you’ll show them all that he’s not some monster, but a human being, just like the rest of them.

…

It was truly surreal catching your first glimpse of Michael Myers after so many years apart. He has certainly grown up, and my oh my, how tall he has become! Handsome, too. It was difficult to focus on such pleasantries, with how chained up he was. A necessary precaution, you were told, and maybe they were right, but it was nonetheless still hard to stomach. You thought about how his time at Smith’s Grove was. Lonely? Scary? Claustrophobic? Did he have any visitors? Any family let whatsoever? You had heard that he hasn’t had any visitors in nearly a decade, and that simply broke your heart. It must have been terrible to be so alone in such a hostile place… Something told you that Loomis’s fear mongering certainly had something to do with it, despite the fact that you had no solid proof. Though you certainly couldn’t do much, you hoped that you could ease some of his worries, if only a little bit.

You were startled out of your thoughts suddenly as a guard none-too-gently ushered you out of the way as Michael was escorted into the small recreation hall of the Sanitarium. You were tasked with watching a handful of them, and today was finally the day you’d see your old friend properly, face to face, after so long apart. Your heart skipped a beat when he finally emerged from the long hallway, flanked on either side by armed guards. It almost seemed ridiculous to have such tight security for only one patient, but you were assured numerous times that this was indeed necessary. Would he even remember me..? A strange anxiety washed over you as Michael passed you, appearing as though he wouldn’t be sparing so much as a glance your way. It would be a lie to say that it wouldn’t be disappointing if he didn’t recognize you, but if he did? His dull blue eyes briefly flick in your direction before setting forward once more. Before you could even process his nonreaction, his head suddenly snaps in your direction.

Apart from his eyes subtly widening, Michael’s facial expression remained completely neutral. Some things truly never change… You mused silently, fighting a losing battle against your upturning cheeks. The three guards escorting him became prickly, all but shoving him forwards and away from you. Without thinking, you immediately say: “W-Wait! It’s alright. I- We grew up together, and I suppose he’s just surprised t-to see m-me?” You finished far weaker than you intended, all but wilting under their harsh gazes. One of the guards tried to push Michael along once more, only to have him firmly stand his ground, shrugging off the hostile hands firmly gripping onto his biceps and shoulders. A silent panic began to rise in the room. Nurses and guards alike seemed to go on the offensive, preparing for the worst. Even the other patients began to show signs of unrest, fidgeting and mumbling as they worked themselves up into an anxious mess. You suddenly felt small and vulnerable. All eyes were on you and Michael, staring and silent as though they were to be a crowd onlooking something truly terrible. Did… you make a mistake..? Surely not! B-But Michael is just…- He’s silently staring at you, unmoving and barely blinking. It was always difficult to tell what he was thinking, and right now you were completely in the dark. Was he angry? Upset? Happy? Neutral? …something else? You genuinely didn’t know, and with how the guards were going for their weapons, you were certain someone was about to get hurt. Or worse… The tension was becoming unbearable, and if this keeps up-

“Wait!”

Dr. Loomis’s voice broke the stalemate of silence. Staff members straightened up and quickly shook off their shock, opting to rush to their patients’ sides and tend to their panicked states. The guards remained poised and defensive, one attempting to worm his way in between the small space between Michael and yourself, but falling just short. They’re all terrified of him… If that’s the case, then why did Loomis bring a stop to it..? Your eyes jump in between Michael and his doctor, unsure of the strange man’s intentions. Loomis firmly places one of his hands on a guard’s shoulder, silently urging him away from Michael. They all look unsure and hesitant, but end up giving him some space. All the while, Michael hasn’t so much as looked away from you, quietly studying your features as though trying to remember something, or rather, trying not to forget. He made no move to step closer or further away from you, and just out of your peripheral, you could see Loomis all but salivating at the possibilities laid before him.

“Let’s all just… calm down, yes? Michael was just… surprised to see his old friend, that’s all. Right, Michael?” Your old friend doesn’t acknowledge his doctor in the slightest. Anyone else would have been seriously unnerved by the way he was looking at you. Anyone, but you. Somehow, you weren’t afraid in the slightest. You just knew that Michael would never do anything to hurt you, and this would be the perfect moment to show everyone that he was just as human as they, themselves, were.

“H-How’s about Michael and I take a seat and- uh, just, um-” You didn’t want to simply say “So we can catch up with one another'', that would have been terribly unprofessional of you, yet you were unsure of how else to put it. Thankfully Loomis cut you short and gestured towards an unoccupied table.

“Perhaps it would do Michael some good to have some… familiar company?’ Something inside of you cringed. Looks like the quack got what he wanted in the end… You were a little annoyed, but the strange girlish glee that you felt being able to finally speak with your friend greatly overshadowed any drawbacks you saw of it.

Awkwardly scooting between the guards and Michael, you motion for him to follow you to the nearest empty table. To everyone’s shock but your own, he trails behind you without complaint, mutely taking a seat across from your own as you clasp your hands over one another on the table’s top. It’s smooth and cool surface helps steady your nerves as you make slightly awkward small talk with him, before eventually relaxing as he subtly leans in as though hanging on to your every word. Everything to do with Michael revolves around subtleties. All of his reactions, all of his emotions- everything was almost imperceivable to the ordinary person. But somehow, you managed to just barely catch onto his little cues early on in your young friendship, and for Michael, having someone that seems to understand him with such ease as yourself meant more to him than he ever realized.

He didn’t know until he first glanced at you, but he missed you. He missed you. He missed your voice, he missed the way you scrunched up your nose when you smiled, he missed that little glint in your eyes whenever you talked to him about something you were passionate about, he missed the way you would always talk with your hands, all your little quicks… Michael missed you so damn much… He had almost forgotten what it was like to feel… something, anything, let alone something as strong as… this. His heart wouldn’t stop slamming stubbornly against his ribcage and his mouth was almost painfully dry. It annoyed Michael to no end that Loomis was still sulking around, doing everything in his power to sour the moment, no doubt. But he wouldn’t give that quack what he wanted, and neither would you. You made your distaste for the doctor no secret, and that pleased Michael to no end. You haven’t changed a bit, and for that, there’s no way in hell that Michael would ever let you go ever again.

…

Your visits with Michael had become a regular part of a daily routine set forth by Dr. Loomis. Along with your regular duties, this was another part of a normal day for you, though you certainly couldn’t complain. According to Loomis, Michael’s behavior had improved dramatically. Suspiciously so, as stated by him. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes. Of course he’s doing much better now! Michael actually has someone to talk to, now! It seemed pretty obvious to you, but Loomis thought something more… sinister was at play here, but decided to keep it to himself. With you here, he’s able to observe a side of Michael he didn’t even think he had, let alone could express at all. It was as fascinating as it was maddening, and he wished his patient would just… open up just a bit more…

Even with you, however, Michael never did speak. You were asked how much he talked as a child, and thinking back… you couldn’t remember. Odd, but you never thought anything of it. He didn’t need to talk as far as you were concerned. Michael did interact with you during your little visits with him. He was always attentive when you spoke, and he appeared thoughtful at times, as though fully digesting what you were talking about. He would silently work on some masks under your supervision, and was almost completely docile under your watch. It shocked everyone at Smith’s Grove, and the staff were simultaneously grateful that he was more under control and very disturbed by it. Some were worried that his temperament would change on a dime, like it usually did, others were worried what would happen if you were to miss work for any reason. There were too many uncertainties, but no one could deny the effect you had on him.

Candy was one of your biggest assets. Michael always had a massive sweet tooth, and when you brought an entire bag of candy corn in to share with him and the other patients, you could have sworn that you saw him drool. Somehow, no one ever figured out that he simply loved candy, and you began to genuinely wonder if Loomis was even trying to connect with Michael at all in the many years he was his doctor. You made sure to bring a little bit of something for him as often as you could. Sticky pockets and a lighter wallet were well worth seeing the glint of glee in Michael’s eyes everytime you brought him something sweet to eat. Every time he seemed surprised you got him something, and every time you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling ear to ear.

Life was good to you. You had a job that you loved, you are giving back to the community, you’ve reconnected with an old friend, and you’ve managed to meet someone new… It all felt like a dream at times, a very, very good dream that you desperately didn’t want to wake up from. You’ve made it a point to keep your personal and professional lives completely separate from one another. Your boyfriend knows that you’re a nurse, but that’s about it. He never pries, and you're thankful for it. Things have begun to move quickly in your personal life, and before you knew it, the question was popped, which you screamed a high pitched YES too. Though you never said it aloud, most of your colleagues noticed, but other than a few quiet ‘congratulations’, not much else was said. Some of your coworkers did actively ask about your personal life, but you always leave it purposefully vague as to not insinuate anything. Something tells you that Michael might not like to know such things, but you could be wrong. For now, it’s best to just leave things as they are. For now, at least.

You’ve been working at Smith’s Grove for nearly a year now. Huh, a whole year… It’s all flown by so quickly, though not in a terrible way. You thought you’d never get to this point, but here you are; comfortable in your new career and more or less respected by both your colleagues and your superiors. Something crazy or dangerous happens almost every single day here, at your work, but so far it’s not been anything you or your peers can’t handle. They say their jobs have been far less exciting since you’ve started working here, though in a good way. No one has had any close calls with Michael since you reentered his life, and really you don’t feel like you can take much credit for that. All you do is treat him like a fellow human being, and he seems to respond quite well to it. They say that it’s only like that with you, but you don’t see how that can be true. Loomis must be putting crap into their heads…

How is it possible that such a biased man could become a doctor, let alone a psychologist? You scowled at the rapidly cooling cup of coffee that was set in front of you by a colleague. Yeah, Loomis was good at spreading shit, and unfortunately for you he’s learned about your private life somehow, and it’s left you anxious and uncertain. He had asked you here, in one of the many break rooms of the Institution, to talk about… something. This must be some kind of breach of… something or another, surely! Your private life has nothing to do with your professional one, and if he so much as insinuates that he’s going to tell Michael to get a rise out of him, you will report him to the higher ups and kick his ass while you're at it.

You don’t understand why he’s so damn interested in making Michael upset, especially when you are the subject matter. Loomis says that he’s never seen Michael act like how he does with you. Ever. You point out that you are the only one treating him like a human being, and Loomis always waves you off. ‘You don’t understand! Michael is very abnormal! This is abnormal, even for him! What if we could get a genuine reaction out of him?! Wouldn’t you want to see that as well?!’ No, no you fucking wouldn’t want to see that! Michael is just… Michael! He doesn’t need to be anything else, and it’s assholes like Loomis that have stunted any possible healing or growth that Michael could have possibly experienced! A part of you was genuinely worried about your old friend, with how Loomis’s obsession with your relationship with his patient seems to be getting more… extreme. Surely he wouldn’t do anything stupid and jepordize Michael’s well being. Would he?

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to-”

“Whatever it is, no.”

Loomis balks, halfway in between standing and taking his seat across from your own. You don’t care if you come across as unprofessional. At this point you’re past being polite about the shit Loomis is trying to pull. He sits across from you, sighing heavily. Loomis knows that you can’t stand him, and that any bullshit that he tries to pull would be completely stonewalled by yours truly. He held up his hands, showing that he had surrendered. You eyed him suspiciously, taking a long sip of your disgustingly cold coffee. After a few more awkward moments, the doctor dares to speak up once more.

“Alright, I know that we might have gotten off on the wrong foot since you’ve arri- Wait! Please, just allow me to finish, first!” You closed your mouth against your better judgment. You couldn’t help but to at least give him another chance. But only one! “We most definitely got off on the wrong foot, and for that, I apologize.” You quirk your brow, but allow him to continue. “My intentions with Michael have always come from a good place, but it would seem that I have taken several missteps in my treatment of him. Not only that, but I’ve damaged the trust between the two of us not only as a superior and a subordinate, but as colleagues, as well.” Your shoulders relax ever so slightly, as do your facial features. Is… he actually serious, or is this some sort of ploy to get something he wants..?

“Now, I have noticed that, recently, you’ve been engaged- Wait! All I want to say is that maybe it’s time for you to take a little break from work, that’s all!” You frown. What? Is he serious? It takes you a moment to fully digest this information. Why would someone superior to you actually want you to take some time off? Sure, you have neither called in sick or called out at all this year, but you genuinely enjoy your job, and would rather not leave unless there was cause to. But, well… then again… You would like to spend just a little more time with your new fiance…

“Okay, but what’s the real reason why you’re bringing this up? What are you planning, doctor?” Loomis relaxes in his seat and you can’t help but to watch him carefully. Something’s up, what, you don’t know, but it’s surely nothing good…

“There is no ulterior motive, I assure you. You’re a good nurse and a hard worker. I believe that you deserve a break to enjoy this engagement of yours, that is all.” You stared at your cup thoughtfully. Damn, you’ve barely had any time off all year… And this was a special time that you should have the chance to enjoy… But, then again…

“I assure you, everything will be alright without you here. Just… think about what I proposed, hmm?” As Loomis stands, he leans over and pats you on the shoulder. You can’t help but to glower at him, causing him to quickly retrieve his hand before awkwardly clearing his throat. “Ah, w-well then… Good day?” He quickly scurries off and out of your sight, leaving you to sit to yourself and think. Would it really kill you to take just a little time off to yourself..? Surely, it was something that you deserved, and it wasn’t like you didn’t have the extra vacation time to spare. Not to mention, it is a fully staffed hospital full of trained staff. It’s not like anything terrible would happen in the few days that you would be taking for yourself, right?

It took a lot of back and forth with yourself, but you finally decided that some time off couldn’t hurt. And it seemed that Loomis had already put a word in with HR, since they were more than prepared to give you an entire week off. Just like that. Really, you were grateful, but also a little anxious. It would be odd for you not working for a week, but really you aren’t complaining. Michael, however didn’t seem too happy with your soon to be absence, but didn’t cause the fuss that Loomis claimed he would cause. Everything seemed to be more than fine, and you were excited to spend some quality time with your fiance. Though, unbeknownst to you, shortly after you had said your goodbyes to both Michael and your coworkers the day before your break, Loomis had spent the first quality time with Michael in years.

“So, Michael, how are you today, hmm?” Like always, Michael doesn’t respond. He barely even acknowledges that he is being spoken to. No matter. The doctor certainly has something that will pique his patient’s interest…

“I’m sure you’re aware of your friend’s little vacation, yes?” A blank stare like always. Loomis couldn’t help but to be irked at how you were able to pull such genuine reactions from Michael without even trying. It was as fascinating as it was disturbing, and he’s sure that Michael is completely infatuated with you, even if you don’t realize it and he doesn’t outwardly express it. Why else would he modify his behavior to something that you, personally, would approve of? Or hang onto your every word as though mesmerized by your voice? How could Loomis possibly pass up an opportunity like this? To finally get an honest reaction out of him…

“She won’t be gone for much longer than a week, I do believe.” No reaction. “Though I suppose she would be missing work at a later date…” Barely perceivable movement of Michael’s eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Interesting… “After all, she will be celebrating her engagement with her new fiance-”

There was a new quality to his lack of expression, almost as if he was in genuine shock. Eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and his lips just barely parted. Loomis had never seen such a look on his patient’s face, and it only spurred him to draw further reactions out of him. Michael could scarcely hear anything else that was said to him. You… are going to get married..? You are going to get married… You are marrying someone else..?! Every subsequent jab that Loomis directed towards Michael only fueled the rage that he felt crawling underneath his skin. ‘Why, she looked positively radiant, didn’t she, Michael?’ ‘Did you see how bright her smile was?’ ‘Such a shame that you won’t be able to attend the wedding, isn’t it?’ ‘I’m sure that she’ll be sure to send plenty of photos your way so you won’t miss a thing…’

Security had to be called for the first time in nearly a year to restrain Michael. It was a miracle that they made it in time at all with how quickly he had jumped up and tried to strangle Loomis in spite of the restraints binding his wrists together. Even after they heavily sedated him, Michael was still a burden to force back into his room. To everyone else, it was confirmation that Michael was a monster that had some sort of dependency on you that you either weren’t aware of or didn’t care to acknowledge. To Loomis, this proved everything that he thought to be true. Michael really was just a sick animal, an animal that had a bizarre attachment to you, personally, and he would never get any better. Ever. With or without you here. You might keep him docile for a while, but when you leave? It won’t matter. He was a monster that needed to be kept under lock and key, away from the public and all decent people, no matter what.

Even with such high security in place, could they really hope to contain an evil like that indefinitely? Surely, sooner or later, a mistake would be made and just like that, he would be able to slip away leaving a trail of destruction in his wake unlike anything the State has seen in decades. There wasn’t any time. Loomis knew that he had fucked up in a major way. Guards and staff were dead, and though he knew exactly where Michael was headed, there was no one that would give him the time of day. Everyone believed him to be a quack, a poor excuse of a doctor, and he couldn’t agree more. He was a joke, and a terrible one at that. If no one would listen to him, then- then perhaps he could take things into his own hands. If he can just… reach you in time, then maybe he can put a stop to this before it goes any further. At least, that’s what the doctor hopes…

…

It’s been a long, but quiet day for you. You had to run a few errands that had run a bit late, and by the time you were finished, the sun had already set and kids were already out and about with their parents and older siblings. Huh… It was Halloween, wasn’t it? How could you forget..? It was a holiday that you always enjoyed. Cursing yourself slightly for forgetting such a beloved holiday, you make a mental note to keep better track of things. It’s only been two days and I’m already getting dull… Sighing, you check your phone. No calls or texts. Odd… Your partner would have at least confirmed that he saw your texts of you being late tonight. They haven’t even been read..? Something was up, but he could be as absentminded as you are right now. No need to jump to conclusions. Everything’s probably fine. Maybe he’s already started dinner…

You didn’t pay it much mind. Focusing on making it home as quickly as possible, you ignored the underlying dread that was creeping up your spine and settling at the base of your neck. Though you weren’t sure why, every hair on the back of your neck stood on end the closer you drew to your shared home. That dread grew even more intense as you realized that all the lights were off in your home. That’s… What’s going on? Was he hiding from trick or treaters or something? Something was unnerving you. You tried to call his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. Against your better judgment, you rushed to the door- Locked..? What the hell is going on here?! You shakily jam your key into the lock and open the door.

Quiet. It’s very quiet, and you are getting very uncomfortable. You call out to your fiance, but there is no response. Panic blinds you to the obvious actions that you should be taking: back out, call the police, wait for help. But if he’s hurt… if he needs your help..? You check the bottom floor. Nothing out of place. You began to check the second floor. So far: nothing. As you reach the bed room, you nearly slip and fall on your ass. W-What the-?! Your shoes squeak as though something liquid is underfoot.

Then you smell it.

You nearly gag and start hyperventilating. Blood. It’s blood- fucking blood it’s blood why is it blood oh GOD-! You shrilly cry out your fiance’s name, hoping against hope that this wasn’t actually happening. That this was a dream, or a really, really shitty joke with a punchline that was far too long- No response. Even though your instincts screamed for you to run- run and get away and hide- you didn’t. You threw open that door, even though you knew you wouldn’t like what you would find in there. It was much worse than you could ever hope to imagine.

There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the furniture, the fucking ceiling- He’s dead! Oh GOD HE’S DEAD-!! A scream was bubbling up somewhere inside of you, from the depths of your soul, but it wouldn’t be released. A hand was clamped firmly over your mouth. It was much, much larger than your own, and it was warm and had the stench of fresh blood all over it. You gagged and attempted to fight back. Biting, kicking, screaming, scratching- fucking anything for this… MONSTER to unhand you unharmed. They didn’t so much as flinch at your pathetic attempt to fight back. That’s it… this is it..! You’re going to die. Your fiance is dead, and now you’re going to die as well… Tears welled in your eyes, overflowing and streaming down to your attacker’s hand. To your utter shock, your mouth is released. Before you had the good sense to start screaming again, the hand goes to just under your eye, catching one of your heavy tears before smearing it across your cheek.

W-Wha-..? You stared down at the hand. There were a few scars littered here and there, along with angry, irritated markings around the wrist that your eyes were immediately drawn to. No, wait. Restraints? This person was restrained recently..? Your heart suddenly drops to your feet and your ears begin to ring. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you turn your head. The assailant makes no move to stop you. No… Please, God… Please don’t- You were going to vomit and faint.

“M-Mic-chael…?”

…

It wasn’t fair. All Michael ever wanted was you. His little Bunny… That’s how he always saw you. A little rabbit. Small, skittish, fragile, precious… You were always precious to him. Always. That never changed, even after he was forced into Smith’s Grove. And after so long, there you were, once again. His little Bunny had returned to him, safe and sound and all his. It was like a weight was lifted off of his chest. Everything was so clear and bright… But then… he learned that you were stolen away, right from underneath him. It wasn’t fucking fair..! He had to be locked up and away from you?! He had to allow some… some perverted bastard lay his hands all over you?! No, no he couldn’t fucking stand it..! He had to make you his. You were already his! Don’t you remember..?! You promised him that you would be with him forever! You didn’t forget, did you?! He would make you remember! You don’t make promises like that and just… break them like they don’t mean anything, God damn it..!

Your lips were split wide as Michael slammed his face into yours. You squealed in pain and terror as you struggled to back away from his grasp, only managing to lose your footing, slipping in the copious amounts of blood coating the floor. Using this to his advantage, Michael pins you to the floor, mere inches away from your dead fiance. You struggle, kicking and flailing and crying and biting- but it’s no use. Michael doesn’t even flinch, and you are left helpless and screaming as your partner’s still warm blood begins to soak through your clothing. You want to vomit and you gag, giving him enough time to shove his tongue in your mouth.

God, this isn’t happening to me..! You whimper as your struggles die down along with any hope of escaping this attack alive. Wrists pinned above your head with one of his large hands, the other began to roam your body, roughly exploring over your clothing before quickly diving underneath it, excited to finally be able to touch you the way he’s only dreamed about. Shame and humiliation and revolusion rapidly curled your toes as Michael grew more bold the more noises involuntarily left your throat. When his hand dove past the waistline of your pants, you cried out and squirmed under his hunched over form. You couldn’t create any distance, and the more you struggled, the more it seemed to excite him further. It was pressing into your upper thigh. A thrill ran down your spine, and you moaned inadvertently as unskilled fingers mapped out your slick sex.

More nausea crashed over you as your hips bucked against your will as he shoved two fingers inside of you. You thrashed around, trying to renew the fight as you struggled beneath him. You weren’t going anywhere, little rabbit. The more you resisted, the further it pushed Michael along. He needed to show you how you made him feel. No one has ever made him feel anything at all! He needs to make you feel what he feels, then you’ll understand why you’re so important to him! The kiss is broken, and you cry out as loudly as you can. No one will hear your cries tonight. It’s Halloween, after all, and dumb kids are always playing dumb pranks in this neighborhood. What’s a screaming woman crying for help on a night like this..? Nothing but background noise. And what beautiful noise it was to Michael… Between heaving breaths, you beg for him to stop. To just fucking stop- Michael I thought we were friends how could you do this…?! How could you- NNGHH-!!

It was against everything you wanted. You were sick. Fucking sick and hot and wet- Why did it have to feel so fucking good..? You cried as your pants were roughly yanked down, past your ankles and tossed carelessly to the side. God knows you don’t want this… Y-You don’t want this… All this time, he’s been staring at you, dead eyes glassy and stained with blood. You don’t want to see him. You fucking don’t- A tight grip on your hip makes you cry out, but it’s quickly choked back as Michael’s hardened cock brushes past your inner most thigh. No- No, don’t- You tried to push him. You tried but you were too weak and small and tired- All you could do was grip onto his shoulders as he pressed painfully inside of you.

You wanted him to stop. It fucking hurts..! Michael was so much bigger than anything that’s ever been inside of you, and you thought you would faint before he got it all inside of you. If only… He couldn’t wait for you to adjust. He’s waited for so fucking long for this exact moment..! It was all you could do to not choke on your own tears and bile. Dried blood stuck to your body in a filthy film, making you gag along with every uneven thrust of Michael’s hips. God, he was looking..! Y-You didn’t want- You don’t want-! A reflexive moan escapes the back of your throat as that sensitive spot inside of you was suddenly slammed into. Tears of shame welled in your eyes as Michael buried his face into the crook of your neck, his mouth latching onto your throat as you continuously moan wantonly into his ear.

The coil in your gut was already about to snap in half. WIth the way your head was forcibly tilted, you had no choice but to look your dead husband to be in the eye as his murderer forced an orgasm out of his wife to be. You are desperate to say it was forced, that it was completely painful and sickening, and it was- But it wasn’t. Michael was forcing noises out of you that you’ve never made before. He was hitting places that you never knew existed. He was making you feel fucking good, and you hated yourself for actually enjoying it. You don’t enjoy it. He murdered the love of your life. He’s forcing you to look him in the eye as he rapes you- But why does it have to feel good…

Michael’s sudden release inside of you spurred yet another orgasm from you, forcing your legs stiff and your back to arch off the crusty floor. The soreness inside of you was painful, much like the broken and raw skin of your neck from where he was constantly mouthing and marking you. Is it over..? Is he going to kill you, now..? Michael gently grasps your face with both hands, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your flushed cheeks. The way he’s looking at you. Something sickening twists inside of you as he leans in and gives you another awkward open mouthed kiss. No, of course he isn’t going to kill you. Michael would never hurt his Bunny. Don’t you realize that he loves you..?

Maybe it would take some time, but you would understand what you were to Michael. You wanted to never see him ever again, even though when he went out on his hunts, you would get incredibly anxious for his return and feel genuine relief when he made it back safely to you. You hated his guts, but couldn’t bear to see him suffer and alone. You wished that he would never touch you again with those filthy hands of his, but you couldn’t deny that no one has ever made you feel this way, not even him. Especially him… You wanted to lie and say that you never fantasized about him taking you, there in the hospital, in his room or in an empty rec room, but you could only lie for so long. Everything inside of you is all twisted up and wrong. Michael fucking ruined you. You’ll never be the same ever again, and you will never leave his side, even if you wished him death every single waking moment that you were granted by his love and his love alone for you. God, you fucking hated him, and you hope that you’ll be with him forever…

@randomyklol

@kennbb

@furanshinufuransu

@space-arsonist

[majesticwren]

Remind Me How the Birds Sing (ChrissyxEddie)

Summary: Inexplicably a connection exists between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson that bonds them even after “death do us apart”. Even being lost to what Chrissy believes to be the afterlife, her path crosses Eddie’s, once again bringing them close, despite existing on two different planes of existence.

Trigger Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Chrissy is a Ghost, Afterlife Concept, Mention of Death, Mention of Violence, Mention of Suffering, Mention of Drugs and Drugs Consumption, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers. Eddie's POV so LOTS of swearing.

Part 0 | Part 1

Words: 5.3k.

Gif by: Tagged.

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Tagged: @hiccup005 @a-sweet-little-fangirl

Part 2 - Close to Midnight.

Shit was going down.

He certainly didn’t know what the fuck was going on. But stuff was going on.

He just literally saw a girl lifting up mid-air, bones snapping, getting sucked into the ceiling of his trailer and ultimately having what looked like if her brains and eyes had been vacuumed from the inside.

Calling it grim was an understatement. Traumatising? Yes, plenty of that.

Either something big, like ghost, poltergeist, demonic-possession, coming of the antichrist kind of crap was happening… Or he was completely losing his mind.

Yes. Maybe it was like that. Maybe people could finally be happy and claim that Eddie Munson was a freak, a nutcase and ultimately a murderer.

He had to run. There was no other way. No one would have ever believed what he saw. No one would have justified him. Risking to find someone to be on his side was mental.

They would have crucified him.

He was the only witness to Chrissy Cunningham's death.

She was the queen of Hawkins High and the nicest girl in town. Everyone knew her. Everyone liked her.

Him? Oh, Eddie was easy to be transformed into a villain. And he would bet that the Hawkins crowd wouldn’t have let him get away with being arrested. They would have caught him, hurt him… Maybe even killed him.

Personal vengeance kind of shit. Hanged from a tree branch, with a sack over his head and crosses carved into his chest kind of bullshit.

Already having to explain how she ended up in his house would have been impossible.

No one would have ever believed that she was looking for drugs. Because he struggled to believe it too, frankly. But he wasn’t one to judge requests of that kind…  

But no one would have ever taken seriously the fact that she was the one who contacted him and that she chose to be there.

Just as it was, people would have immediately jumped to conclusions, brushing it off as him being a predator who lured her there, or worse kidnapped her or some shit like that, without knowing the truth of Chrissy deciding to follow him and him not having any sort of dirty intention whatsoever.

Because he could have been known to be mean and scary, but he certainly wasn’t a bad guy.

Let alone the fact that she was now dead. Murdered nonetheless. By an invisible force. In the middle of his living room.

Fucking fuck, shit, fucking hell.

Most of his recurrent thoughts were cussing against whatever fate decided to curse him with. And the rest was filled by his mind running in circles, making his panic and anxiety spike, broadcasting all the possibilities he had.

Which weren’t many and generally all ended in injustice, violence, death penalty or institutionalization into a psychiatric ward.

As if his newly developed trauma that he still didn’t have much of a chance to deal with, his constant state of panic that was making him swing so fucking close to a mental breakdown, and his anxiety spiking to maximum levels making him feel like he would have a damn heart attack at seventeen – which in all honesty would have been a fucking blessing -, wasn’t enough, there was the mourning.

When the image of Chrissy's terrible, cruel and gruesome death left his head, and anytime his paranoia would quiet down… Then sorrow would quickly settle in.

He liked Chrissy. Not liked, liked. Because she was a completely different creature, coming from the normalised, stereotypical world he was so against… And admitting to having a crush on her since the sixth grade was disgraceful and shameful. Not in a wounded pride kind of way, but simply because they came from different worlds.

She was the perfect golden girl, the example set for all the other girls in school. Not to talk about the fact that she was really pretty. And with pretty he meant a beauty. Nothing to do with the weird, nonconformist, held back from graduating on time, drug dealer with no money and no promise kid he was.

He stood absolutely no chance with someone like her. Never did.

Or at least so he thought. Until that very afternoon, when his brains went to mush and he decided to use a lot of his flattery, theatrical, ironic side to catch her attention – not even on purpose, and she laughed. Not at him, but with him.

And for only a moment he thought maybe something had happened.

They talked long enough for her to accept to go and see him and his band playing. Enough for her to feel comfortable and trust him enough to follow him to his trailer.

He was sure she wasn’t stupid and so naïve to follow a complete stranger to…

Well, it didn’t matter. Maybe she shouldn’t have chosen to trust him.

She should have stayed as far away from him as she always did.

Maybe it was all his fault. He should have treated her the same as he did to everyone else who would try and bully him because he was different and liked different things.

If she didn’t go with him, maybe she would still be alive and much of all that mess wouldn’t have happened.

Eddie kicked a chair out of frustration, clenching his jaw so hard he could hear his own teeth creak.

With a heavy brush of his unsteady hands, he cleared the tears off his face, pushing back his emotions and the need to crumble on the ground. The corner he hid his sorrow eruption was comfortable, but he certainly couldn’t hide there forever.

He needed a plan to escape. He needed money, maybe a car, to get as far away as possible from Hawkins and all the shitstorm that would have ominously followed every single one of his steps.

He ran without thinking about a proper plan. He didn’t bring clean clothes, food, or money, he didn’t even have any spare cigarettes – he was left with only seven, which sounded like torture enough.

So, now he was stuck in Rick’s house alone with his thoughts, standing on very thin ice.

The cupboards had revealed an assortment of long-expired boxed food and some canned baked beans and spaghetti hoops. Not much more than that… But he still had to do a proper sweep of the house.

Though he didn’t feel like he would have had much better luck.

As things stood, if the police or the angry mobs didn’t find him, then starvation would have soon.

He cleared his voice, trying to find some clarity in the multitude of terrible thoughts gnawing his mind.

Eddie got back up on his feet and immediately grabbed the bottle of beer he left on the counter, guzzling it down his throat as if it were fresh water. He even ignored the off taste of a beer forgotten for too long in the bottom of a fridge in a deserted house. As if that could have washed away his problems.

“Right Munson, pull it together.” He said to himself. Somehow talking to himself kept him slightly more grounded. The sound of his own voice, after all, was better than complete silence.

He looked around on the kitchen floor, looking for the very precious cigarette he tossed earlier out of peak frustration.

“This better fucking lit this time.” He mumbled picking it up and bringing it to his lips, ignoring the fact that it laid on a filthy floor.

He pulled out his matches, trying it again. He hunched over, trying to find cover from whatever damn whiff of air that kept killing the match's flame before. He struck the match literally an inch away from the cigarette.

Again, the flame died almost immediately, but this time he had been quicker, inhaling the air through the cigarette so that it would lit.

“That’s what I’m talking about baby!” He yelled victorious, smiling at the empty space around him with the cigarette between his lips.

He witnessed the unexplainable, horrific murder, of a nice person that didn’t deserve anything of that nature, that he coincidentally also liked. A murder he was wanted for…

The fortune must have granted him at least the bliss of one cigarette. He earned it.

“Right-” He began, inhaling a big puff of smoke as if he was about to start carrying out a plan he still had to design.

Eddie looked around, feeling weirdly out of place. He scratched his head, absolutely unsure of what the book “The People on the Run, Hiding From the Law and Scared Shitless” said.

Was he supposed to eat? Maybe first he should have swept the house for provisions? Or was he supposed to find a safe corner to crawl into and rest? Or was it better to have a shower in the attempt to wash off all those tremendous feelings first?

No. No shower. It would have looked tremendously guilty as if he was trying to wash evidence off his body.

Plus, he really couldn’t afford to lower his focus, he needed to stay on guard. What if the police came? What if someone found him?

Sleeping was immediately rolled out too.

Eddie rubbed his hands together, lying even to himself that everything was fine. He just needed… “This won’t work.” He whispered pushing his joined hands against his lips. He released a deep sigh, closing his eyes.

Another puff. He hoped the nicotine would give him some solace.

His brain was spinning so quickly, so out of control that he couldn’t think straight, not for more than two minutes.

He didn’t stand a chance.

“We are fucked, my friend.”

While he tried desperately to keep it together, his attention was caught by the soft noise of steps coming from his side.

It was a light tippy-tap, as if someone standing on their toes walked closer to him.

Except no one was in the kitchen with him and to his knowledge the house was empty.

Or, was it? It was plausible it could have been a noise from the next room.

Eddie’s eyes shot up to the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. His attention was now focused on the possibility that he wasn’t alone – which meant he could have been completely fucked way quicker than he ever imagined.

He might have had the reputation of being mean and scary – and it might have come very easy to him to act crazy as to keep people away, particularly bullies trying to lift problems. But he wasn’t a fighter.

He had been in a brawl only once and his pride was still wounded.

But he certainly wasn’t stupid. Of course, he lost the upper hand, it didn’t mean he lost the game – whatever that might be.

Eddie took a last, big puff of smoke and then flicked the cigarette in the sink. Then he gulped down the remaining beer, emptying the bottle just to roll it in his palm, holding its neck as a handle.

“Who’s there?” He called. His heart was pounding so loudly that he wasn’t sure he would have heard any reply.

The air was so still now it felt somehow heavier, and the house appeared to be even darker.

He didn’t switch on any light, that would have been the number one rule to be a dumbass. But now part of him regretted that.

The kitchen he stood in was lit only by the faint light of the opened fridge. He was never afraid of the dark, that wasn’t his thing even when he was little – enclosed spaces, that was his thing. And ducks. He hated those bastards.

But now it wasn’t relevant.

Eddie didn’t have any intention to go look, but he decided that if he hoped to have any kind of advantage, he should have moved toward the wall in front of him. To stand in front of the only light source in the entire house was stupid and made him a target.

Not that he was easy to miss regardless.

“I don’t like this, man…” He shouted at the seemingly empty house, trying his best to hide the shaking voice. “I won’t fuck with you if you will do the same, ok?”

Something shuffled on the floor, by the table.

Eddie’s attention shot immediately to where he heard the noise and his eyes jumped to the ground.

A new fear to be added to the list: the terror of having someone crawling towards you, in the dark, out of your perception.

“Fuck-” He whispered between gritted teeth, holding the bottle tighter and lifting it up slightly above his head.

Why didn’t he grab a fucking knife before he decided to move to the other side of the room? That would have been useful.

Also, why the hell the universe decided to curse him specifically that night?

“Listen, I am tired, I don’t want to play. We are probably here for the same reason. Just… If you need the kitchen, just say so. I don’t mind sharing.”

Another shuffle, this time it was clearly a chair. And Eddie saw it moving with his own eyes. It moved slightly to the side, lit by the fridge light.

Except nothing was there. Not on the ground, not standing behind it. Nothing… It moved though; he was sure of it.

Eddie’s heart was beating so fast that his chest ached. Uncontrollable fear took over his being. That possibility of being struck by a heart attack at seventeen became more and more real by the minute.

He tried to control his laboured breathing but failed.

After that night and what he witnessed he could not guarantee that whatever killed Chrissy wasn’t hunting him down too.

If he recollected it properly, she was running from something too.

Someone like Chrissy Cunningham wouldn’t have looked for drugs if it wasn’t to find an escape for a real reason.

And now his problems shifted under a different light. Who cared about the police and running from Hawkins when the fuckery of an invisible force that would break all your bones and suck your brain out was at large?

“Stay away from me.” He barked, pointing the beer bottle to the empty air in front of him.

Eddie wasn’t even sure he was thinking straight anymore.

What did he have to pose any threat against a force such as the one that killed Chrissy? And what hopes did he have? Absolutely none.

Maybe he was truly losing his mind.

“You already got Chrissy, what you want me too now? What are you, a sick pervert hungry for kids’ eyes?!” At that point, he was only rumbling nonsense that he hoped would have bought him time.

Time for what though?

His legs were jelly and he felt petrified. And besides, he saw what happened to Chrissy. She was paralysed, a puppet under the cruel hold of that monster. He stood no chance.

A cupboard door swung open and then abruptly shut again, its sound violently echoed through the empty house as loudly as the roar of thunder. It made Eddie jump.

He pressed himself against the wall behind him, shaking his head, at that point not even caring to appear as a coward.

And then he sensed it, the presence.

Now he decided to give that sensation a specific, imaginary target. Already from before, he felt goosebumps all over his skin multiple times, but not like a cold breeze would make all the hair stand up on his arms or nape of the neck, more like the magnetic charge of electricity would.

It was difficult to wrap his head around that concept but he was sure he felt it already. And now it was close to him.

He was so tense and on edge, that as soon as he felt something touch his left arm he bolted, running in the opposite direction, without even caring about the fact that someone called for his name.

His survival instinct, the adrenaline pumping into his heart and the fear clutching his chest made him completely deaf, concerned only about one thing: staying alive.

“Fuck you.” He shouted running towards the back door of the house.

Victim of pure panic, on his way he grabbed a shelf and pulled it down behind, so it fell and created an obstacle. He didn’t even think that an invisible demon wouldn’t have been stopped by such an effort.

But then again, neither running was of any benefit.

Definitely, he didn’t care about the noise or the mess he just caused.

He ran for his life towards the boathouse in the back, just by the lake, holding the empty bottle of beer, his only weapon, tight to his chest.

Eddie jumped through the door and shut if behind him, pressing his back against it. He didn’t even look back, he only stood there, absolutely petrified by terror, trying to catch his breath and think about a way to stay alive.

“C’mon Munson, you are smart. Think.” He hoped to pep himself, slapping his own cheek. As if that would have snapped some courage or common sense into him.

But how would one fight a damn evil spirit?!

Eddie banged his head against the door, gritting his teeth out of pure frustration.

Only then, at the first moment he actually managed to catch a full, big breath, he huffed rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Damn it-” He whispered between his teeth, lowering his hands.

He was exhausted.

If he had to die, he hoped it would have been quick.

Thinking about all the things he wanted to do and all the dreams he had only broke his heart… But didn’t prompt him to fight. What was there to fight, what could he do?

“You are something else, Edward Munson.”

He shouted, startled by the voice that filled the boathouse.

Even if a second ago he thought he was ready to give up, now he bent his knees and raised both his fists, still holding the bottle in one hand, as if he was ready to fight.

Fear still clutching his throat.

His dark eyes travelled frantically all around the empty room. For some reason, he expected to see someone and when he failed, he felt like a proper idiot.

As soon as the voice disappeared the only noise, he could hear was the incessant rocking of the small waves hitting the boat hooked into the shallow water and its rhythmical banging on the side of the boathouse floor.

“What do you want from me?” He asked to the emptiness around him, choking on his own breath.

“You can hear me?” The voice echoed through the air as if it came from far away, like from a memory or a dream - or it could have been the effect modified audio recording…

To be a vicious, murderous entity it surely spoke a lot. And had a weirdly gentle, soft voice. And sounded like a female – a girl. And one he knew as well.

Eddie frowned. “I can hear you.”

“Oh my God, Eddie, you can?” She squeaked her words mixing to a burst of giggles he definitely did not expect.  

He looked around, suspiciously doubting anything of what he was experiencing was truly happening.

“Sorry, uh-” He nervously grinned. “Don’t take this disrespectfully, but if you’d like to kill me, then now would be a good time.”

“Kill you? Why on Earth I would want to kill you?”

“Who is this?” He checked, leaning his head to the side, looking straight into the empty corner of the boat house.

Knowing what he knew, having witnessed what he saw and all, his brain kept him from immediately recognising that voice. Which was the main why he would have died being a sarcastic son of a bitch, he was convinced whomever what talking to him was playing him.

Was that what happened to Chrissy too? Did she get harassed by a ghost or something?

“Eddie, it’s me!” He felt the presence moving extremely close, with its magnetic tingling crossing his chest. “It’s Chrissy.”

His legs were shaken so violently that he almost dropped to his knees.

For only a second, he wanted to believe it. His stomach twisted as his black eyes sparkled with the emotions he didn’t let himself assimilate up to that point yet.

Chrissy… He didn’t call for her, but he thought about it and a genuine smile trembled on his lips.

But then, he shook his head vigorously. His way of coping was starting to erratically laugh, which was a great way to bottle up his feelings and forget about his grief.

Everything was going wrong, but if he didn’t have to remember that he just watched the sweetest girl in school being literally broken in half then his mental health would greatly improve.

As much as it could be possible, at that point. Because he truly wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on and what side was up.

He had definitely lost his mind already.

Chrissy Cunningham, talking to him from the afterlife kind of bullshit? That was beyond insane.

“No.” He took a big, deep breath, straightening his shoulders. “No, no, no.” He shook both his head and his hand mid-air. “This is not happening. I am losing my mind.”

“No! Listen, something is happening! I have been by your side for a while now-”

“From a while?! You died like an hour ago!”

“That soon? Oh… I would have bet it had been a bit longer than that.”

“Why would Chrissy Cunningham decide to haunt me, of all people?!” He nervously laughed again, shaking his head.

At that point, he gave up. What could he do? What was there to do at all?

He left his arms falling to his sides and gave up any intention to keep fighting, or running. He walked around, letting himself fall on a seat, heavily slamming his weight on it with a sigh.

If that was only a mind game acted to torture him there was no escape anyway.

Or maybe he had already spent too long by himself. Maybe it was the PTSD kicking in?

Dehydration?

Oh God, what if it was the off-beer he just had that was expired from so long the yeasts sent him tripping?

“I don’t know why I am here. Maybe is because I died in front of you?”

Eddie heard her voice move closer, so he looked in her direction, deciding to completely succumb himself either to death, a bad trip or madness. He hunched over, balancing his arms on his knees.

“Fuck it. I want you to know I didn’t hurt you. Ok? If there’s anything like absolution then…”

She giggled. “You’d be absolved only if sin was committed, dummy. And I know it wasn’t you.”

Hearing her talking, existing in a way, warmed his chest up. It could have been his imagination or reality, but at that point, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have openly admitted it, ever, but he was grateful to hear her voice again.

“Yeah? Do you know who did?”

“Ouch, we aren’t being subtle, are we?”

“Sorry, I-I don’t know how to talk to a ghost.”

“I don’t know who or what killed me. But it was like a demon.”

“A demon?” He didn’t know why he acted so surprised. After what he saw it wasn’t hard to believe.

Though it wouldn’t have helped his case. What did he hope for? The testimony of a dead girl and the entire community believing in the supernatural?

Eddie rubbed his hands on his face, releasing a deep sigh. “Ok – fine. So? What now?”

“You tell me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes to the ceiling, breaking into another nervous burst of laughter. “Oh, you expect me to know what to do? Ah, then we are slightly fucked, darling.”

“This must mean something, right? There must be a reason why I am here! And why we are talking…”

“Yeah, I am sure. I am going crazy, that’s the reason. Eddie the Freak is no more, I am Eddie the Mad. Quite fitting if you ask me.”

“No, listen. You only now started to be able to speak to me but… I’ve tried to make you notice me already. It’s… Growing, I think.”

“What is growing?”

“This. And my state is changing, clearly.”

“Care to elaborate on that thought, sweetheart?”

“No need to be grouchy.”

“Sorry, I get slightly testy when I am on the verge to lose my mind, talking with the girl I watched being murdered in my house, all the while being on the run for said murder because how can I explain it? Or any of this-”

“Well, I am dead. So, I think I win the contest.”

She wasn’t wrong. Eddie nodded towards her, pulling a guilty smile. He really didn’t mean to be rude, but his nerves were literally frazzled and exposed, being constantly hit.

“Sorry. Please, explain to me what you mean.”

“I am dead. As such I was getting used to my new existence, I guess. By the way, the afterlife sucks-”

Eddie pulled a face, theatrically pushing his hand to his lips. “Oh, my Lord, Chrissy Cunningham can swear!”

“It’s being around you. You swore so much I am now brainwashed.” She giggled.

Hearing that sound made him smile too, genuinely. Maybe he was going mental but if there was even the slight chance that it was happening for real, then it could mean Chrissy was really there.

“Anyways, it was all darkness and emptiness. It was literally like a pure feeling of nothingness. Soothing in a way, or at least it was for me. But then, you broke through it. I wasn’t sure how, but when I realised it was you – and you were running – I decided to follow you.”

“Why?”

“You were willing to help me, trusting I wasn’t going to rat you out but also with not an ounce of judgement towards me… I thought it would be only fair if I tried to help-”

“Help me?”

“Yeah, why not. What do I have to lose?”

“Sweetheart, I do not think you can do anything to help me, at this point. I am quite fucked as I like to say it, or far gone as you’d prefer.” That time, when he used the pet name for her, it wasn’t to be sarcastic.

“From endless nothing you appeared. I started to feel things again, to have more linear thoughts… In the beginning, you were only standing in the same darkness I was lost to, but now… Now I am here!”

“What do you mean?”

“It started progressively. At first, I could only see and perceive you. Then what you would touch I could see too and if you were still touching it, I could too. I started to gain my senses again, you know? Smell, taste… And then I was able to see the room you stood in, touching things even when you weren’t. I mean, look!” There was a shuffle in the invisible air in front of him, and then the door of a close-by cabinet containing fishing equipment swung open. “See?”

Her voice was shaking with her excitement in a way that made him smile. He closed his eyes, for a second, inhaling the fact that she sounded so positive, so alive… A literal ray of sunshine through that endless night.

Oh, how much would have he suffered when his intoxication or whatever that was would have ended…

“So-” He rubbed his smile off his lips, trying to turn serious again. “You are the reason why my heart literally almost exploded in the kitchen a minute ago.”

“I am afraid so. Not my finest hour. But I needed to get your attention somehow, I tried to speak to you, to calm you down, but you couldn’t hear me.”

“How about next time you write a note, instead of that poltergeist shit?”

“Next time I’ll surely make sure to bring my pen and paper to the afterlife.”

“Fair point. So, now I can hear you.”

“Now you can hear me.”

Eddie was extremely hesitant. If that was a fantasy, then it was a very well-built thought in his mind and the human brain could truly go the extra mile to make insane people think that what they experienced was truly there.

At that point, of all his life decisions and everything that brought him to that point, were they worth it? Had anything about his life ever been worth it? He wasn’t a fighter, he was a runner, but how long was he able to do it? Look where it all got him, and it’s literally been a minute.

He sighed, rubbing his hands on his face again, with the firm intention to impress some common sense into his brain.

“Say something, Eddie.”

Part of him hoped that the prolonged silence that followed her last words meant that she was gone. But he was clearly wrong.

He looked back up to the direction her voice came from. but didn’t indulge in her request.

He pulled a sad smile, huffing a defeated, truly tired chuckle.

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. And in that moment of desperation, the only thing he thought that made sense to do was to lift his hand in the air, pulling his arm out, towards her. His palm turned upwards.

He didn’t have to wait long, but for the second it took, he felt like a dumbass.

Though, as soon as his palm was caressed by the warm sensation of fingers sliding onto it, followed by a small palm nesting in its centre, he found himself reconsidering everything he thought to be real up to that point.

Eddie gasped, choking on his own breath, and then looked up into the invisible air where he assumed she was standing. “You are really here.”

“Yes.”

“I can feel you-” He pulled her hand closer. “How is this possible? You feel warm, soft, and small… A-and real.”

His eyes jumped from one side to the other and all over the place, never focusing on anything, in particular, moving with the same speed his thoughts were doing, as he was desperately trying to trace a coherent design of the situation in his mind. Clearly failing and spinning more and more out of control at every second he kept thinking.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was as soft as a whisper. “But I can feel it too.”

He didn’t move an inch as he felt her crossing her fingers to his, embracing a hold that any other time he would have considered intimate, yet then felt different. Awkward in a way, but also soothing, somehow.

He didn’t want to be alone. That was the whole and simple truth.

He was terrified and knowing that he wasn’t by himself – may it be because of paranormal stuff or because of his running imagination – made him feel better.

He felt her moving closer, the now familiar tingling sensation of her energy surrounding him as she stepped into his personal space. She stood in front of his knees, and he let her.

The air was so thick Eddie was struggling to breathe properly.

Without even thinking about it, Eddie pushed a hand in front of him. He didn’t know what he expected to discover, but a wave of disappointment filled his chest up when he only found himself waving it into the air, without touching anything.

He thought he could have felt her. He thought to feel another person – even if a ghost, even because he was going mad, would have made him feel less unhinged and lost.

“I am losing my mind.” He sighed, more to himself than anything else.

But then Chrissy caught him, just in time before he dived into darker thoughts.

She pushed her other hand around his face, over his jawline, scooping his cheek up in her palm and again he let her, with absolutely no strength left in his body to keep fighting against it. She pulled his face up, directing his eyes right where she wanted them.

He could see only the ceiling, but somehow he knew she was looking right through his eyes. “You are not. I am really here.”

[morning-glory215]

a small Discussion

(Please assume that I am referring to characters throughout this post - as a blanket statement here)

I’ve (+ many of my discord friends, hello Home Home) noticed something. Tumblr isn’t safe from Dream apologism; it’s got a different brand from Twitter, and it takes the form of my high school English essays. Y’know the ones, where you need two thousand words and you’re only at 500. So you crack open the good ol’ thesaurus and throw out any narrative discussion, in lieu of bullshitting your way through it.

Add in some condescending fuckery and ta-da! Your run-of-the-mill Dream apologist Tumblr/Twitter take. 

Joking aside, there’s this idea I’ve seen arching across nearly every Dream apologist post; that he had/has little to no control from around the Revolution, up to now. That he was the puppet being controlled (by who? Wilbur? Tommy?) and that he never meant anything he did! He was being forced into it! Dream, to many, was a hapless victim being pulled along by the whims of his servermates. He isn’t a villain (he is), he isn’t a tyrant (he sure wanted to be!) and his hand was forced to punish L’Manburg/Tommy/Tubbo/whoever-the-’villain’-of-the-week-is (it was never forced). 

This all just so… reductive of his character?

Dream is, narratively (and yes, the SMP has a narrative that is driven by conflict) the villain. He is the overarching force the protagonists fight/fought against. Actions made by Dream, of his own volition, drive the plot along - even without him present his actions are felt. In the most literal sense, Dream is the villain. He tried to become a tyrant through using attachments against people.

How quickly one forgets, willingly or not willingly, the Hall of Attachments (evil) in his Stereotypical Evil Villain Lair (evil).

Depriving the villain of nuance, that he had full control of his actions, by claiming his critics/antis deprive him of nuance by assigning him a narrative role is counterintuitive. Dream apologists claim they’re winning his nuance back, while in the same breath taking it away. Dream is interesting because he’s so sinister and evil and fucked up; what makes him so interesting is because he’s so calculating. I roleplay Dream pretty regularly, and I hate him because he’s so slimy. Don’t take it away by framing him as the victim, when he made it pretty clear (before the Prison, because I think he’s trying to garner sympathy) that he was Top Dog. He was the predator, everyone else was his prey.

He has always seen himself as the apex predator. Everyone else is his little game.

So let’s move onto my OTHER gripe with Dream apologists. They often have to put every character under the sun against him, in apparent attempts to highlight how victimized he is. Everyone is against him and that must mean he is being targeted for no reason. This post won’t even touch upon Tommy’s Exile with Dream much, but I think that whole plotline could eviscerate that point on the spot. Most Dream apologists like to employ what I call Higher Level Headcanons (coined by me, please pay me royalties if used! /j); they take the in-betweens of canon, extrapolate to such a degree it isn’t canon, and then call it canon. They take moments of “weakness” Dream has shown, often to win sympathy and make his victims try to placate him, and use that to show that other characters have wounded him to such degrees he’s just forced to hurt them.

Tommy gets this treatment the most (and arguably, George and Sap too) but who’s next? 

Wilbur.

Dream apologists love to mix these two up. Wilbur is the manipulative villain, and Dream is the one backed into corners. Who was it that took a look at an obviously erratic exiled man and decided to arm him? Was it Wilbur? No, it was Dream; Dream has always hated L’Manburg, Dream has never liked them because they growled at his bite during the Revolution. Who has always held the physical upperground, who punched when he was called names? If there was a weakness to exploit, Dream dug his grimy fingers in and pulled. Wilbur is, and I say this lovingly, a coward. 

When he was backed into a corner, Wilbur often floundered. He doesn’t like violence and only resorted to it in his darkest moments. Wilbur did, and does, the things he did because he felt caged and cornered and his entire world was crumbling before him. He says fucked up shit now because he has nothing to lose but Tommy now. Wilbur is a scared, lonely and broken soul. He's a modern tragedy in the way that he had little control over his fate.

Dream is a Classical tragedy in the sense that he set himself fully up for failure. He saw the warning signs, he knew the full scope of his actions and cursed the Gods anyways. This isn’t to say you’re a bad person for seeing yourself in some of his actions or that him being a villain demonizes you for liking him. How often do we see people upholding other traditional villains in media? 

Overall, this post is less telling Dream apologists they’re terrible people and more so about picking apart some iffy shit I’ve been seeing floating around in that community. Thank you for reading!