#word count: 1687

[veilkeeper]

The Sacrifice of Souls, Part 1

alt title: the completely surmountable issue of dying

welcome to my 2-part essay about the conclusion of emmrich's story line. this part will focus on the actual quest(s) involved and analyze the decisions we make. part two will be about the effects on the romance, particularly as i am approaching it with my rook, corentin.

spoilers ahead! beware that both essays are going to assume you have completed The Sacrifice of Souls and at least one of the follow up quests, Heir to the Dead or Will and Testament. if you have not, i suggest returning to this later and playing it out yourself.

so what are we even talking about?

for my purposes, about 90% of the sacrifice of souls is irrelevant. here are the important bits: hezenkoss puppets a giant skeleton monster powered by the gloaming lantern, manfred sacrifices himself to rip it out of the thing's chest, and emmrich risks his life to free the souls trapped inside, symbolically overcoming his fear of death (for the moment).

when manfred's beautiful skeleton body is brought before the lich lords in the necropolis to ask if his spirit can be recovered, the lich lords give an ultimatum: they will allow emmrich to bring manfred back, but it will remove his candidacy for lichdom.

"how many exceptions 'til tyranny?" they say. if emmrich is to become a lich, he must be able to accept that people he cares about will die as he lives on.

emmrich is obviously extremely conflicted. he's being forced to choose between his life's work or having his pseudo-child back; he is torn because he at once wishes to spare himself the pain of losing someone, while also wanting to "honour death and let him rest."

from there, the choice is given to the player: encourage emmrich to bring manfred back, or encourage him to pursue his life's work and become a lich.

if you save manfred, it starts heir to the dead. you accompany emmrich to the necropolis, reminisce about manfred, and summon his wisp back to his body. he shows a newfound knack for magic and becomes an apprentice, while emmrich gets to go full dad-mode and commit to preparing manfred for the now inevitable future where, one day, emmrich will pass on. but when asked how he feels about that, emmrich simply says that though he will always wonder about what could have been, he "would not trade this for anything."

it's been brought to my attention that most people have probably picked the manfred ending without really thinking about it. which makes sense, everyone wants to save emmrich's (and if you're romancing him, your) skeleton son. but it does mean you haven't seen the lich ending, which is kind of a shame because it's also really good.

first, it does take a little convincing. it's not enough to simply say "but this is your life's work!" emmrich expresses that he wasn't prepared for the reality of what it actually meant to have people he cared about die (which is an interesting thing, because even though he is an orphan, his parents died when he was quite young. this may be the first time someone as important to him as manfred is has passed away while he was an adult who was able to fully process what that feels like). rook goes on to tell emmrich that it's enough to just remember those who have passed—while acknowledging that one day, they too will count among that number.

with that encouragement, emmrich agrees that he has to let manfred go, and he decides to begin preparation for his final rites into lichdom, starting the quest will and testament. like before, you accompany him to the necropolis, only this time you will be acting as his chosen witness as he enters the chambers beyond to have his soul measured by the dead and, if successful, will emerge as a lich.

as an aside, even if you have no intention to play the rest of the game with lich!emmrich, i highly recommend playing far enough to see the conclusion of this quest. there's a weight to it all, particularly if you've romanced him, and the cinematic is quite beautiful. you very much get the sense that you're sending your friend/lover away to potentially die.

when he emerges, it is as a lich—exactly as he said he would be. skeletal, but still in complete "possession of himself." it transitions to a short scene where he informs the rest of his friends of his transformation, and after receiving a response of support, his quest line is concluded.

okay, so why are you talking about this?

well, because it makes me insane, if you can't tell already by the fact that we're 600+ words into the first of two essays on the topic. but why does it make me insane?

the first answer to that, and perhaps the most important, is that the writing is really good. i'm going to say some critical things after this, so i want to be clear up-front that the writing is really good. sylvia feketekuty has managed to make a decision that otherwise would feel like a very black and white "good end" vs "bad end" feel like two viable, valid endings that just have different pros and cons lists.

and it's also just ludonarratively extremely good. all of the endings for our companions are meant to translate into a more support focused or a more combat focused "hero of the veilguard" ability, and for emmrich's these mesh extremely well with the conclusion of his story. an emmrich that has accepted a role as a caretaker for manfred is more supportive on the field, and an emmrich that has accepted a role as a powerful defender of the necropolis is more effective while fighting. it's by far the least important aspect of all this, but i enjoyed it and it's useful for something i'm going to say next so i wanted to put it here.

the second reason this makes me insane is that we are making two completely separate choices at the same time. we are answering two vastly different questions ("should you save manfred?" and "should you become a lich?") with a single dialogue option.

i understand why. combining these two choices and making them interdependent on each other raises the stakes. it's a really clever way to complicate what would otherwise be a wildly easy decision. it also, as said before, creates two extremely distinct endings for emmrich (see, i do these things for a reason), which is important not just for replayability but also for narrative satisfaction. endings that are extremely similar or that have no stakes make your choices as a player feel irrelevant, which is something that you don't want in an RPG. a non-lich emmrich without manfred is not going to feel like a significantly different ending than what emmrich had been doing before these quests concluded, and thus would not be satisfying. likewise, lich!emmrich with manfred would mean that emmrich would have everything he ever wanted with zero sacrifice, which is boring.

however... making these two choices at once puts us in a sticky spot, because they're contradictory. emmrich's arc has largely been about his inability to accept mortality—and not just his own. if you bring him along on blood of arlathan, you can overhear him responding to elgar'nan's attempts to entice him with the promise of being able to bring back the dead. despite being a Mourn Watcher, he just hasn't been able to bring himself to accept that people die, and you shouldn't be able to do anything about that (remember that big, bold lich lord quote up near the top?).

so when the climax for his arc comes along, you get to tell him to accept his death but not manfred's, or to accept manfred's death but not his own.

do you see the contradiction? nowhere in there are we truly encouraging him to accept the natural, inevitable cycle of life and death (as a Watcher probably should). we're just telling him which death he should accept as natural.

conclusion...?

i'm not saying either ending is unsatisfying, nor am i saying that there wasn't good reasons to write the endings as they are. for the purposes of this game, feketekuty did an amazing job with emmrich. she managed to take a character that i think in any other game would have been written off as boring and make his story extremely compelling.

but in a way, looking at it holistically and outside of the context of what bioware's writers were required to do, it feels like there's this massive gap there, where we've failed to properly address the actual underlying issue that made this choice so difficult for emmrich. and his brief bout of bravery at the end of the sacrifice of souls is forgotten, when it could have been potent fuel for an argument against lichdom as proof that he can face death when he has something to fight for (or even as an argument for lichdom; facing his death head-on like that may have only intensified his fear of his own fragility), but instead it just goes unaddressed.

additionally, by combining the choice to save manfred and the choice to become a lich, it removes the possibility for us as the player (and rook as a character) to voice concerns about what lichdom means and represents. to be fair, other characters largely handle this in banter (lucanis in particular has excellent banter about the cost of immortality, which i have briefly discussed before), but not being able to voice concerns, especially as emmrich's lover, feels like a missed opportunity.

in the most ideal world, we as the player would have been able to discuss lichdom, mourning and grief, our thoughts and feelings on death, etc with emmrich over multiple conversations, and through a tally of our expression of opinion on the topic, emmrich would come to a decision on lichdom and saving manfred himself. but due to the constraints of this being a video game, for obvious reasons that is not the case.

again, i cannot stress enough that i actually loved this quest line. regardless of your decision, emmrich ends up in a place he can find satisfaction, and his journey feels earned. i fully recommend trying out both endings in replays, because i think you might be surprised by how well they both work. i just think there's a little bit left on the table still.

which gives me something to play with. stay tuned for part 2 on the romance stuff. we're going to need a scalpel for the gutting we're doing.

(link to part 2)

[pitchsidestories]

underneath your clothes II Cata Coll x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1687

a/n: based off the cute request here. We're really craving a tattoo on our own now after finishing this oneshot. 😂

You knew tattoos were your passion since you had gotten your first one aged eighteen. So by opening your own tattoo studio with your best friend, you had fullfilled one of your life goals in the last year.

It was not always easy but you loved your job, especially when you could make your clients happy with your artwork. But at the moment, business was slow.

You were focused on wiping down the counter when your best friend and coworker Carla grinned at you: “Your favourite customer is back, y/n.”

Surprised, you looked up and saw someone walk towards the door of your studio: “What? Oh, she‘s not my favourite customer, Cata has been her only once before.”

“She‘s still your favourite.”, Carla shrugged with a smug look on her face.

You grimaced at her: “I don‘t have favourites.” Turning to your customer, you greeted her: “Cata, hi.”

“Hi.”, the goalkeeper smiled at you.

“You‘re here for another tattoo?”, you asked politely.

She nodded: “I am.”

“Do you have something specific in mind?” You noticed her gaze linger on the inked skin of your left arm.

“Uhm, yeah…”, she replied, catching herself and looking back at your face.

You bit back a smile as you thrust your arm in her direction to show her the floral tattoo wraping around your forearm: “Liking this one?”

Catas cheeks reddened: “I do. It‘s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”, you replied. You could feel Carlas eyes on you.

“But I actually wanted to get something for my sister today. Maybe next time.”, Cata explained.

“Oh, that‘s sweet.”

The football player continued while she gestured towards her upper arm: “Yeah, I want it to be on my arm. I was thinking about a wave or something.”

“Is there a meaning behind the wave?”, you asked curiosly while simultaneously trying to picture the perfect tattoo for her.

Cata nodded with excitement: “Yes, we grew up in Mallorca…”

“Thats is adorable. I love when people tell me the meaning of their tattoos.”, you happily replied while getting your sketchbook.

“Ever been to the island?”, Cata asked while she watched you starting to draw different kinds of waves.

Without looking up from your work, you explained: “Actually, yes. My mother was born there and part of her family still lives there so we spend all of the vacations in my childhood there.”

You could hear the astonishment in her voice: “Wait, you did?”

“Yes.”

“That‘s a funny coincidence.”

You slid the sketchbook in Catas direction so she could have a look: “Who knows, maybe we‘ve met each other before without knowing. So which wave do you like best?”

The goalkeeper looked thoughtfully at the drawings in front of her:” I like that one.”

With a dreamy smile on her lips Cata continued: “This is a nice thought actually. That we might have already met before.”

“I agree.”, you responded in a warm tone.

“I’m going to the coffeeshop, would you two like an iced coffee?”, Carla chirmed.

“Sure.”, you nodded.

“Nothing beats iced coffee on a warm spring day.”, the Barcelona player confirmed.

“So true.”, you agreed.

After Carla left the coffeeshop Cata promised you with a wink:” Next time, I’ll bring you an iced coffee before I show up.”

“You want another one already? Don’t you get into trouble for it from your coach or something.”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

Confidently she waved it off: “Oh, no. If it’s done in my free time, he can’t say anything about it.”

“Okay, good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry. I won’t get in trouble.”, the professional athlete replied.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Also, it’s just a small one.”, Cata reminded you while you were drawing the wave on her skin with a needle.

For a moment you looked up from your work:” Right.”

Meanwhile Carla had returned, bringing the coffees immediately to both of you:” Hey girls, I’m back.”

“Thank you, Carla.”, you answered sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”, she mumbled.

You quickly took a sip from the coffee before asking her:” What do you think of Catas new tattoo.”

After your friend took a closer look at your art piece, she whistled: “Oh, this is nice.”

“It symbolizes my sister.”, Cata explained beaming.

“How cute.”, Carla smirked.

While they talked for a bit you added the finishing touches until the tattoo was done:” Now you’re ready to go, Cata.”

“Thanks. I love it.”, the goalkeeper told you happily.

“My pleasure.”, you said and meant every word whole heartedly.

She stood up excitedly:” I’ll call you soon for a new appointment.”

“Alright.”, you answered.

After Cata has left your best friend declared dramatically:” That poor girl.”

“What?”, you frowned at her.

“Oh please, don’t play dumb.”, Carla begged you groaning.

This was the moment you realized what she has been hinting at:” Don’t worry. Next time, I’ll ask her out.”

Normally you didn’t open to customers like you did with the Barcelona player. Even though it was you who was the person who has seen her upper body without clothes, her dark eyes seemed to have seen right through you.

“You should.”, your friend grinned.

You couldn’t help but to blush as you thought about Cata:” She’s so cute, Carla.”

“I could tell that you thought that.”

Guys! Cata has a crush on her tattoo artist!“, Claudia yelled full of excitement.

The other Barcelona players looked up from their team dinner with varying degrees of curiousity and surprise while Catas cheeks turned red. A minute ago, she had just shown her new tattoo to Claudia and Patri but the youngest midfielder had immediately caught on as she heard the way Cata talked about her tattoo artist.

“Oh, that’s why she’s getting so many tattoos recently!“, Ona exclaimed with laugh.

“That’s not true.“, Cata tried to defend herself.

Mariona just smiled sweetly at her: “That’s so cute, Cata.“

“Guys, stop.“

When Alexia finally spoke up, Cata had hoped that she would call her teammates back to order but instead she just tilted her head: “So, when are you going to see her again?“

“Whenever I get my next tattoo?“, the goalkeeper shrugged.

Patri raised an eyebrow: “And that’s soon?“

“I mean I do have an idea for the next one.“, Cata admitted with a small smile on her lips.

Salma shared a knowing look with Patri: “Guess this means very soon.“

Cata was back at your tattoo studio only a few weeks after her newest tattoo, this time with an iced coffee in hand. You caught yourself smiling subconsciously as you watched the football player walked in.

“Hi Cata.“, you greeted her and gratefully took the drink from her that she handed to you. “Thank you for the coffee.“

Cata smiled as you took a sip: “Told you, I’d bring you one.“

“Appreciate it.“

It was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter. Exactly how you liked it. You set down the coffee on the front desk and thoroughly looked at the goalkeeper: “But you know that you don’t have to get tattoos all the time to ask me out on a date.“

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

Cata looked at you dumbfounded: “Wait, what?“

“Cata, would you like to go on a date with me?“, you asked politely.

Her face immediately lit up: “I would love to.“

“Great.“, you said and had to bite back a laugh as Carla pumped her fist in excitement behind Cata.

But the goalkeeper caught your attention again: “When is your shift over?“

“At 5 pm.“, you replied truthfully.

Cata nodded with a big grin on her face: “I’ll pick you up then?“

You nodded happily: “Yes, okay.“

“Perfect.“

Cata left the studio without a tattoo this time but she did leave the feeling of butterflies in your stomach instead.

At exactly 5 pm, Cata waited for you in front of the studio. From what you saw through the window, she looked great in her button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to showcase her tattoos. You could barely wait to close the studio.

When you finally locked the door behind yourself, the two of you awkwardly smiled at each other and you had to admit that Cata looked even better when she was right in front you.

You pointed at the picnic basket she was holding in her right hand: “Where are we going?“

“Just trust me, follow me.”, the goalkeeper replied warmly.

You didn’t know why but you trusted her immediately. Walking along side Cata made you feel safe and welcomed. When you reached the destination, you stood there in awe: “Oh my god, the view is stunning.”

“It’s, right?”, she grinned at you.

Truthfully you told her:” Yes, I love it.”

“I hoped you would.”, the player answered satisfied.

Watching at Barcelona from a distance made your worries surrounding your tattoo studio look small in comparison and you felt lighter in the company of the other woman, so you mouthed into her direction a heartfelt thank you.

“Here’s some food.”, Cata hummed, handing you some antipasti to eat.

Closing your eyes you mumbled:” It’s delicious.”

“Wine?”, she asked you, proving to be the perfect gentlewoman.

“Sure.”, you nodded, as the goalkeeper filled your glasses and you both took a deep sip.

“You know I would have come by to get a million more tattoos just to spend time with you.”, Cata confessed with a wink.

You looked into her eyes amused:” I do, so I had to save you from yourself.”

“That’s sweet. But I still want some more.”, the goalkeeper smirked.

Quickly you promised her:” You can get them one at a time.”

“I will.”

With that said you went forward to kiss her, she gladly replied to the kiss, pulling you closer to her, to fully embrace you in her strong arms.

A few weeks had gone by, and Cata and you were officially girlfriends. You were in the tattoo studio when Carla excitedly exclaimed:” Y/n? Thanks to your girlfriend a lot of her teammates have asked us to do their tattoos!”

Hearing that you hugged your girlfriend gratefully:” Love!”

“You’re welcome.”, Cata whispered.

[qutiesquish]

“Cliché”

Headcannons᯽ Incorrect Quotes᯽

Authors Words: I love this man sm and I tried to do something for him, please don’t judge me I can’t write HCs

Word Count: 1687

Character(s): Xavier Thorpe

Pronouns: none used(masc coded)

Warning(s): both the reader and Xavier fall under the multisexual umbrella, not only is this “friends to rivals to lovers” trope but it’s also an “idiots in love but in denial” trope(yw), not proof read

⚰︎ You and Xavier were once best friends, you mainly got along due to you both being able to manipulate stuff, him drawings and you Shadows

⚰︎ However you both winded up falling for the Wednesday Addams, and you both being best friends quite easily caught onto the others feelings for the alternative girl

⚰︎ Though neither of you physically or verbally fought over her, you both definitely had some kind of mental arguments and created tense atmospheres whenever the two over you were around the other to the point it could be cut with a guillotine

⚰︎ What neither of you seemed to notice however was that you both definitely started to catch feeling for each other after being ditched by Wednesday(for Tyler) on more than one occasion, together

⚰︎ Specifically on Outreach day at Weathervane where you both were (unfortunately) to work together for the whole day and practically get rejected by your shared love interest at the same time

Picking up dirty mugs off one of the boothed tables and wiping it down you had caught the voice of your EX best friend.

Eyeing a glance to see what he was doing you found him in the middle of a conversation with Wednesday. That would simply not slide with you. So taking your wet rag and leaning next to your old friend you join in.

“Oh yeah? You want-“

“Oh hey Wednesday.” You said, quickly cutting Xavier off. “You want a Kaffee or something?”

You caught a glance of Xavier side eyeing you but you just brushed him off and kept smiling. However Xavier decided to add to your comment with his own. Seemingly dragging himself back into the conversation you tried to overtake.

“It’s one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment.” He said, to which you nodded in agreement. Sure you didn’t want him to be a part of this conversation but he definitely was right. The best part of this assignment was the free coffee.

“I’m actually here for Tyler.” Wednesday said to which you crossed your arms and scoffed at.

“I told you he was bad news.” Xavier replied verbally.

“Twice, from both of you.” She said flatly. “But who I speak to is my business.” She continued before ringing the bell.

Your face scrunched at the annoying ding but brushed it off as Tyler came out from the back.

“You rang?” Tyler said.

Wednesday looked at you and Xavier as if asking you both to leave them. Both you and the brunette scoffed before you grabbed Xavier’s forearm.

“Come on Xav.” You said as you dragged him away in the other direction.

Xavier pulled his arm out of your grasp and looked at you in disbelief. “Xav?” You couldn’t tell if he was offended, hurt or something else. “Really?”

“What?” You replied, questioning him before you paused, finally processing what you did.

“Whatever. Get back to work, Thorpe.” You turned on your heel and went back to wiping tables, now feeling some kind of pit in your stomach for the rest of the day.

⚰︎ After that things pretty much stayed as they were

⚰︎ You did get pretty jealous when Wednesday asked Xavier to the Rave’N dance, but for some reason you couldn’t exactly tell who you were jealous of and just winded up avoiding anything to do with the Rave’N dance altogether

⚰︎ Only after the Rave’N dance did you find out that Xavier and Wednesday didn’t go together and you felt relief flood throughout you

⚰︎ However after that you did start skipping any and all classes you had with Xavier and Wednesday, because you felt that put in your stomach from your Weathervane assignment all over again

⚰︎ You only ever showed up to class for any possible tests and to pick up class work you missed, other then that you isolated yourself in your dorm and gave the silent treatment to your vampire roommate if they ever tried to ask about what was happening with you

⚰︎ Quite literally, you disappeared into the shadows of your guys dorm room until they stopped questioning you or they left

⚰︎ That continued all the way until Xavier was arrested for supposedly being the monster(that you managed to find out is called a Hyde due to your roommate)

⚰︎ Though due to you knowing Xavier for as long as you have and how you were both practically attached to the hip before the whole Wednesday thing, you knew damn well you would’ve been dragged into the whole thing way before Wednesday even showed up, therefore automatically telling you Xavier was innocent

⚰︎ However you were confident that Xavier was not the Hyde monster, you couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed due to you anxiety and insecurities eating you up and telling you that you’re only saying he’s innocent cause he’s your best friend

You laid on your back facing the roof, headphones over your beanie blasting music as your head swarmed with thoughts.

Was Xavier really the Hyde?

Was it because of Wednesday? Is that why he didn’t tell you? No, the monster had been around before her and the whole Wednesday crush thing.

Could he have just not trusted you with his secret?

Were you not trustworthy?

You wouldn’t have told on him, he was your best friend. So why wouldn’t he have trusted you?

Were you a bad friend?

⚰︎ After sitting like that for an hour or so you told yourself to “man up” and decided to go and find out if you or your anxieties were right, which was pretty easy for you to sneak out of a Nevermore and into the police station due to you being able to manipulate shadows

⚰︎ You remember the whole night as if it was yesterday

⚰︎ You remember sitting next to his cell and asking him questions that he answered

⚰︎ And him and you both sitting on opposite sides of his cell back to back holding hands as you both cried and apologized to one another

⚰︎ You remember all of it

⚰︎ You also very much remember him pulling your hand through the bars and kissing up your arm as far as he could while saying “sorry” before you had to disappear into the shadows before one of the deputies walked in

⚰︎ You also remember after the whole crackstone thing where you had thanked Wednesday for taking an arrow for Xavier because “he’s an idiot”

⚰︎ And how she immediately went to asking if you and Xavier were a thing

⚰︎ You and Xavier were practically dating after the whole night in the police department and didn’t even realize until then

⚰︎ (That was just something you both laughed about after though, alongside both of your guy’s old crushes on Wednesday)

⚰︎ After you guys came to terms that you both liked one another everything had practically gone back to they way it was before, just you guys being more than friends this time

⚰︎ Though one thing didn’t change however

⚰︎ And that was your guys rivalry

⚰︎ Everything was a competition and or a fight now

⚰︎Examples:

➣

You, in a whiny voice: “Xav I’m tireddd.”

Xavier, in a mocking voice: “Xav I’m tired.”

➢

Xavier would always answer (basically) all your questions and requests with a “no” before actually answering/fulfilling your request(s).

You: “Hug me.”

Xavier: “clingy much?”

Xavier: *hugs you anyways*

➣

You’ll both wind up fighting over who can eat faster anywhere at anytime. You could be having dinner with both your families and friends and still wind up scarfing down all your food to beat the other.

Xavier: *eating quickly so he can go draw*

You: *eats just as fast so you can listen to music*

Both: *Glaring across the table as you both scarf down food trying to clear your plate before the other*

➢

Xavier: “I can’t believe we fell in love. We literally became the Rivals to Lovers trope irl.”

You, smirking: “Who doesn’t live a good cliche?”

➣

Xavier: “Hey, you want some leftovers?”

You: “What's that?”

Xavier: “You've never had leftovers???”

You: “No, because I'm not a quitter.”

Xavier: “… that’s a fucking lie.”

You: “Fuck off and die.”

Xavier: “Bet.”

You: “Wait no-“

Xavier, Smirking:

You: “I hate you.”

Xavier: “Good.”

➢

You: “I live to spite you.”

Xavier: “Then why are we married?”

You: “To ruin your life, duh.”

➣

Xavier gets up an hour earlier just so he can say he brushed his teeth first.

Now you both go to bed at eight and wake up around 3:40 just to beat the other.

➢

You: “I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you.”

Xavier: “10 times 0 is still 0 though.”

You: “Jokes on you, I can't do math.”

Xavier:

➣

You: “Three words. Say them and I‘ll buy dinner.”

Xavier: “Three words.”

You:

➢

Xavier: “Okay, help me with this drawing… please.”

You: “Got two words for you.”

Xavier: “I bet they won't be helpful.”

You, with a close eyed smile: “Your problem.”

Xavier: “I was right.”

➣

He also does his best to remember dates just so he can pull shit like this:

You: “Can you please be serious for five minutes?”

Xavier: “My record is four, but I think I can do it.”

You: “Why am I dating you?”

Xavier, smiling: “Because you said “I love you” first.”

You:

You: “Did I?”

Xavier:

Xavier: “March 2nd at—“

You: “jeez okay fine just shut up.”

Xavier, smirking:

You: “I hate you.”

Xavier: “Keep telling yourself that.”

➢

He would probably give you his left kidney with absolutely zero questions but won’t give you his phone charger even if his phone is at like 70%

➣

Trivial matters trip both of you up and you both being stubborn, wind up arguing over said matters.

You: “who’s turn is it to do the dishes?”

Xavier:

Xavier:: “ I think it’s yours.”

You: “But I did them yesterday.”

Xavier: “No you most definitely did not.”

You: “Did too!”

Xavier: “Did not!—“

And it continues.

[thepaperpanda]

Floral Hair Adornments || Ao’nung x fem!Omaticaya reader

Masterlist

Summary: You braid Ao'nung's hair, though at first he is hesitant about the idea. However, as you work on his hair, he comes to appreciate the result and is pleased with the outcome

Warnings: none

Word count: 1687

Author: Rouge

A/N: prior to reading, it’s important to know that: the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ today’s prompt: putting flowers in their hair

As a member of the Omaticaya clan, you had a deep respect for the ways of your people. When you joined Jake Sully and his family in the journey to the Metkayina clan as they fled to seek refuge, you knew that it would be a challenge to understand the reef clan customs.

____________________________

The air was thick with the sounds of the sea, the chirping of insects and the calls of strange animals echoing in the distance. As you made your way through dunes covered with lush unspoiled vegetation, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the coast.

The Metkayina clan was known for their love for the sea, and you were curious about their way of life. You had heard many stories about the reef people, about how they lived in harmony with the ocean and the creatures that called it home. As you approached the shore, you saw a group of young Metkayina men gathered around a fire, laughing and joking with each other.

One of them caught your eye. His name was Ao'nung, and he was the chief’s son. He was unlike any other Metkayina you had ever seen. He was brash and overconfident, always pushing his limits and testing the boundaries of his abilities. Ao'nung was also known for his arrogance and rough demeanor, and he had a reputation for being disrespectful to others.

As you approached the group, Rotxo, a close friend of Ao'nung, noticed you and leaned towards one of the other boys to whisper something. Soon, a burst of loud laughter erupted from the group.

Curiously, you asked, "What are you laughing at?" Though, deep down, you knew they were likely mocking your appearance.

"Look at her skinny tail, it's like a twig," one of Ao’nung’s friends said, gesturing with his hands.

"Yeah, and her legs and hands are so thin, useless," another chimed in, laughing while giving you a cold glance.

You tried to brush off their comments, but it left a sour taste in your mouth. You couldn't understand why they found it amusing to mock someone's appearance like that. “Ha-ha. Your current behavior is quite amusing. Were you not taught that making fun of others is impolite? Perhaps it's not something you can understand with your limited intellectual capacity, though…” You commented bitterly, slowly raising one of your brows.

As you spoke to him, the young boy felt his cheeks flushing with anger. How dare you pick on him, he thought. He clenched his fists and tightened his jaw, trying to hold back his emotions, but it was no use. "What's your problem?" He snapped at you, his voice laced with bitterness.

After glancing around and stopping your glance briefly at Ao'nung, you spoke up, "You started this, and there's no reason to be so unkind to me." You then turned and left, walking along the shore and letting the little waves bathe your blue feet, knowing there was no use in sticking around with young Metkayina boys. As you walked away from Ao'nung and his friends, you felt hurt and upset by their cruel words. However, you didn't expect to see Ao'nung following you shortly after.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking down at the sand after lining up with you. "I didn't mean to hurt you. My friends can be harsh sometimes, and I should have stopped them."

You were surprised to hear him apologize, but also felt a sense of relief that someone from the group seemed to care. You replied, giving him a brief glance, saying "It's fine, really. I've gotten used to the mocking."

Ao'nung couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt gnawing at him as he reflected on his past behavior. He had been so cruel, mocking not only the way you looked but also Sully's siblings. He could remember the way you had looked at him, hurt and defeated, and he couldn't shake the feeling of regret. He knew that he had been in the wrong, and he wished that he could turn back time and make things right. The memory of your brief glance made him cringe, and he couldn't help but feel like a monster for making you feel that way. “Listen, Y/N, can we start all over?”

You stopped in your tracks and placed your hands on your hips, giving him a withering look. "Are you seriously asking me to forget everything that was said? You were absolutely horrible, not only to me but especially to Kiri and Lo'ak. But, I don't like to hold a grudge, so we can give it a shot."

Ao'nung turned to you, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "Tell me more about yourself then," he said, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by his sudden interest. "What do you want to know? And are you seriously going to leave your pals behind?"

"Everything, and yeah, I bet they can hang out a little without me," he replied, a grin spreading across his face. "What do you like to do? What do you dream about?”

You hesitated for a moment, not used to opening up to strangers. But there was something about Ao'nung's expression that made you feel comfortable, so you began to share your interests and aspirations.

As you talked, he listened intently, his eyes bright with fascination. It was a refreshing change from the teasing and mocking you had experienced earlier, and you found yourself warming up to him.

When you finished speaking, Ao'nung smiled. "You're really something," he said. "I hope I can get to know you better."

“Maybe,” you replied a little softer than you intended. As you walked along the dune near the shore, you couldn't help but admire the beautiful wildflowers growing in the sand. They were bright and vibrant, contrasting with the neutral colors of the dune. You felt a strong desire to pick some of them up and take them with you. You turned to Ao'nung, eager to share your admiration of the flowers with him. "Look at these flowers! They're so beautiful, aren't they?" 

Ao'nung glanced at the plants, but didn't seem to share your enthusiasm. "I guess they're okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't understand how he wasn't mesmerized by their beauty. "Don't you think they would make a great decoration for our homes?" 

Ao'nung shook his head. "I think it's a little silly to pick flowers just for decoration. They belong here, in the wild, where they can grow and thrive."

You realized that he had a point, but you still couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. The flowers were just so lovely, and you wanted to take a piece of that beauty with you. "Can I braid your hair?" You asked suddenly, a little shyly.

Ao'nung's eyes widened in surprise, and then he burst out laughing. "Braid my hair? That's not necessary and a little ridiculous!" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes a little.

You gave him a look. "It's not ridiculous," you said. "You owe me something after all, for the mocking you used on me. And I would be happy to braid your hair, if you'll let me. Perhaps I could completely put the past behind us and give you the opportunity to know me better.”

Ao'nung hesitated for a moment, then he shrugged. "Fine, but don't expect me to like it."

You picked two plants and apologized to Eywa for picking them without a particular purpose. Then, you turned to Ao'nung and as he sat down on the sand, and knelt behind him, carefully undoing his hair and slowly brushing it with your long, thin fingers. You braided Ao'nung's hair with skill and precision, weaving the strands in a beautiful pattern. As you finished, you delicately placed the two flowers you had picked earlier into his hair, creating a stunning adornment. “There. It looks good! Check it out, if you want.”

Ao'nung was hesitant at first, not used to wearing flowers in his hair, but he trusted you and let you work your magic. When he looked at his reflection in the water, he was surprised to find that he actually liked the way he looked.

"Well, it's not bad, actually. It's a bit too feminine for my taste, but I'm sure my sister would have loved it. Tsireya enjoys decorating my hair with various types of adornments herself," he told you, smiling a little.

As you and Ao'nung were enjoying the view, a loud whistle caught your attention. You turned around to see Rotxo approaching, and as soon as he noticed Ao'nung's hair adorned with flowers, he burst into uncontrollable laughter, holding onto his stomach. "What the hell, Ao'nung! I had no idea that you preferred your hair to be so tidy!”

Ao'nung had enough of Rotxo's teasing about his hair, and he straightened up, fixing his gaze on him. "Enough, Rotxo," he said firmly, "It's called fashion, and if you can't appreciate it, that's your problem. I like it, and that's all that matters."

Ao'nung's words elicited a chuckle from you. It was surprising to know that he had an understanding of fashion, given he was portraying himself as a bad boy. "We should start heading back to the village, the eclipse is coming soon," you suggested.

Rotxo approached Ao'nung and attempted to adjust one of the flowers in his hair, but Ao'nung swatted his hand away with a loud hiss as he showed Rotxo his sharp fangs.

As Rotxo gave his friend's shoulder a little push, the three of you began making your way back to the village. "I wonder what others will say about your new look, Ao'nung," Rotxo pondered.

Ao'nung shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't give a damn."

As the three of you arrived at the village, the sky was already darkening, and the first signs of the eclipse were beginning to show. The air was getting cooler, and the wind had started to pick up. The village was abuzz with activity as people gathered to spend time with their loved ones.

Ao'nung turned to you and gave you a sly wink, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the connection between you two and a sense of warmth and connection with him, despite the awkwardness from earlier. The eclipse was a beautiful and awe-inspiring sight, and you were grateful that the promise of a new beginning was on the horizon.

[littlemissaddict]

Hi! I have a request, if that's alright. Could you write an Eddie Munson story with a reader who is shy, it's almost hard to even hear her when she speaks, so polite, the type his uncle jokes might actually be a good influence on him once she gets there to work on a project they've been paired together and he is shocked (and maybe kinda turned on lol) when they get alone and start working and basically have a real conversation for the first time just for him to find out that sweet looking girl not only can actually talk a lot when she gets excited but she also swears like a damn sailor.

Of course it's alright to request, I love receiving other peoples thoughts and ideas for Eddie!! I hope this is what you were looking for but if not let me know and I'll try to tweak it but without further ado....

Word Count: 1687

Wayne was at the counter making himself a coffee when the door to the trailer opened and as he did everyday when he was home, he greeted his nephew. “Hey Ed’s how was scho-you’re not Eddie” he spoke accusatively, finally looking up to see the girl who was now standing a few feet from him in the doorway looking very out of place. He noted how instead of answering she bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet as her wide eyed gaze shifted out the open doorway, looking for god knows what until he heard the familiar voice of his nephew.

“I’ve got it-what’s wrong?” Eddie’s smile dropped the moment he saw the worry etched onto her face and as he slipped past her to see the narrowed gaze of his uncle he realised what was going on, “Hey Uncle Wayne, it’s alright she’s with me” he explained. He knew his uncle had a tendency not to trust people, especially not people from the other side of town where she was from, but he also knew that his uncle trusted him and hopefully his judgement when it came to his friends. At least he hoped they were.

Wayne relaxed a little, stepping back from the counter and coming around to meet them. “M’sorry, it’s not often Eddie brings home new visitors and especially not pretty girls” he apologises, holding his hand out to her, “I’m Wayne”

“We’re lab partners” Eddie chides, noting the way she drops her head and hides her face behind her hair which has him narrowing his eyes at his uncle for clearly making her feel uncomfortable, “and we’ve got our report to work on” he explains, shouldering his backpack which is what lead to this awkward meeting when he had to go back to retrieve it from the van.

Taking this as a hint they were moving on, she timidly shook the outstretched hand still being offered to her as she introduced herself to him, “It’s nice to meet you Mr Munson” she adds with her voice barely above a whisper as a small smile graced her lips even though she can’t bring herself to meet his eyes as she speaks.

“Well then I guess I better leave you guys to it” Wayne nods before turning back to the counter to reach across for his coffee and once he has it he heads for the door already reaching for his cigarettes and she assumes he’s going to sit out front. “Oh and Eddie, I’ll be leaving for work shortly so try and stay out of trouble” he adds with a gruff laugh as he leaves through the door and they hear him settling into the chair placed out front with the following clicks of what sound like his lighter.

“Your uncle is scary” she mumbles quietly just in case he can hear her still as she follows Eddie past the kitchen and down the hallway to his room.

“Nah he just acts all big and bad but he’s a softie really, he just doesn’t show it much because life ain’t like that on this side of town” Eddie explains with a sad smile, hoping it would put her at ease so she wouldn’t be too anxious while here but then again from what he’d seen she was anxious anywhere she went no matter who she was with. “You can guarantee later on though he’ll be all ‘you should keep her around she might be a good influence and help tame your wild ways’ or something along those lines” he jokes, earning himself a laugh from her and god did she have a nice laugh, one he’d imagine would be described in romantic works of fiction as all sunshines and daisies or that it could light up any room she walked into and all that crap. Crap that he’d always been cynical about but he could feel some of that cynicism slipping away.

“Anyway should we not be getting on, I don’t wanna keep you here too late or your parents will be after me with pitchforks thinking I’ve kidnapped you or something” he says it like it’s a joke but you would never know with this town, they all seem to have it out for him because he’s a freak.

“Oh trust me they wouldn’t mind” she says, words slipping out of her mouth before she has a chance to stop them and he gives her a puzzled look. “I spend too much time in my room apparently because according to them I need to get a fucking life” she mumbles with a roll of her eyes as she drops down onto Eddie’s bed, her back flat against the sheets with her legs dangling off the bed as she stares up at the ceiling.

Eddie stops short from where he was just about to join her, shock setting in as he wonders if she is the same girl from moments earlier. That quiet, painfully shy good girl just swore and is now laid on his bed seemingly unaware of just how much her skirt has ridden up, exposing so much skin that he would be almost positive that she should be a flustered mess by now. He must have been quiet for too long because she sits up with a sigh, smoothing out her skirt before she turns to him.

“I’m sorry I’m supposed to be here to study, not to complain about how much of a shit show my life is”

She did it again. Never in a million years did Eddie expect to hear much from her except the almost whispered hello’s and morning’s that she’d greet him with when he sat down next to her each class but now he could actually hear her voice properly and she swore. Twice.

“Hey no, you’re fine I just wasn’t expecting you to cuss or you know talk so loud, well not loud but louder than you normally do” he tries to explain but he’s still trying to get his head around the surprise.

She lets his words sink in for a second, trying to work out what was different but then it hits her. “I guess I don’t feel I have to hide around who I am around you which is silly because we hardly know each other but for once I’m not scared of how I’m being perceived, I know I can just be me and that’s okay” she rambles, finally for the first time meeting his eyes as she talk which is a big thing for her because she never feels comfortable around anyone. Although the more she thinks about it in all the time she’s be paired with him in class never once has he teased or made fun of her for being quiet; he’s never given her those dreaded looks of pity when she struggles with nervous stutters when most teachers and classmates do; or when she does talk he always listens with rapt interest as if what she’s saying is the most important thing in the world even when it’s not and there is probably so many other things he’s done that have given her every reason to trust him, to feel this way now that she thinks about it.

Eddie is once again speechless, he’s not used to people feeling comfortable around him. Weirded out by him, yes. Avoiding him, yes. But to be the only person someone feels like they can be themselves around, that was new, sure he had his friends and they all had each other whereas from the sounds of it she had no one. It seems he was feeling a little selfish today as he didn’t want this to be like other times where he took little lost sheepies under his wing and gave them a space to feel safe, this time he wanted to keep her to himself and get to know all her little quirks that made her who she was. If he was being honest it had been something he’s wanted even since before she’d surprised him not that long ago but the urge was even stronger now, though he didn’t want to scare her off.

“I’m truly honoured that you feel that way but me? Are you sure there’s not someone better than the town freak?” he asks, trying to play it off just how much it means to him that she feels that way.

“I’m sure besides isn’t the whole reason they see you as a freak,” she makes air quotations with her hands as she says the word, “because you refuse to be anyone other than yourself?” She asks with a pointed glare as if to drive home her words and Eddie finally relents, both of them forgetting about the report they were supposed to be working on in favour of getting to know the other for who they really were.

And little do they realise that through Eddie’s open bedroom window, Wayne can hear every little word that is being said and while Eddie was right that Wayne had hoped she would be a good influence on the boy, he was also rather proud that by being himself Eddie had managed to help someone else feel comfortable enough to be themself. He would be sure to let Eddie know later on even if it flustered him but then again wasn’t it his job as a - stand in - parent to embarrass his kid every once in a while. The thought made him chuckle, though there was no doubt that it couldn’t be heard over the laughter coming from the trailer and from everything he had heard, he planned on making her feel welcome whenever she came around in hopes that between him and Eddie it would encourage her to be herself a little more wherever she went so that she didn’t spend the rest of her life worried about what everyone else thought of her because Wayne knew from experience that the world could be a cruel place but the only people who were worth listening to were those that truly cared for you.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

hanging clothes

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Harry Crosby x Sandra Westgate Rating: M Word Count: 1687

Summary: They’d let the night grow late around them, cozy by the fire, and then she’d said goodnight, and then she’d reached for him, and then she’d reached for him again.

If it was wrong (it was), at least it was honest: how he was looking at her. How Sandra knew it. God help Crosby because he hadn’t been subtle, but she’d been letting him get away with his long glances, the heavy gaze he kept foisting upon her. She’d always looked away. I can see that you’re married, she’d said when they’d met. Now, why did that fact work on her and not on him?

He loved his wife. He loved her so much that he didn’t just go and say something stupid like, I love my wife, and then make a move on his roommate regardless of that little legal commitment. He loved Jean too much to use her to cover his ass. If he cheated, he wouldn’t let it touch her.

Trying to pinpoint the time if became possible made him nauseous—and Crosby knew nauseous. If he had to guess—and Crosby knew guessing—he’d have said it was losing Bubbles. Bubbles had idolized Crosby and Jean’s relationship, gently though, practically. The letter that had found Crosby here at Oxford did something unexpected: it placed Jean, who was alive, alongside Bubbles, who was… who was dead. To Jean, Bubbles was just as alive as Crosby was, which, rather than sustaining Bubbles’ vitality a little longer, instead made Crosby feel as though his wife’d had a premonition of his death. It didn’t make him feel good, reading that letter. Somebody was always out of place.

Since he’d left her back home, Crosby had thought it was Jean. She’d seemed like she was on the other side of a high fence, and everything he had to do was part of a climb to get back to her. The first time he’d vaulted the fence—surviving a mission—he’d realized there would be more than one. After that, he’d kept jumpin’ ’em, but now, most of the guys he’d known missing or dead, he wasn’t even sure he felt like running anymore, let alone throwing himself up and over another fence that wouldn’t be the last. He couldn’t see the end of them. And the sight of Bubbles’ name in Jean’s handwriting… It was like Bubbles had gone over a fence Crosby couldn’t crane far enough to see the other side of, and it was killing Crosby that it felt as if Bubbles were with Jean, both of them forever untouchable, preserved someplace. He didn’t know how to write his wife back and tell her to stop mentioning Bubbles in her letters. He just wanted Jean to know without having to write it down. Equally, he didn’t want her to know. He wanted her apart from all this. He guessed he wanted two lives.

Don’t touch her, Crosby thought as Sandra set her glass on the table with a solid clack, getting out of this sad bar for two before last call.

But then she leaned towards him and gripped his arm. It was sympathy in her eyes, that was all, round and shiny with the reflected flames from the fire and the alcohol she’d tossed back with a tough elegance he’d felt someplace in his spine.

Crosby looked down, not yet embarrassed by the emotion he’d shown, but beginning to collect himself, to tell himself it was no good now, crying alone by the fire. He didn’t know for a fact that he’d have the strength to stop if he was on his own.

Sandra was on her feet and almost past him when she touched him again, her fingers trailing along his shoulder. Crosby’s heart pounded. In a flash, he’d reached up and caught her fingertips. He swallowed, then glanced up to her face. The first touch, he’d understood, but the second? Call him crazy, but it felt like Sandra’s answer to all his staring.

She returned his look like she was what the British officers believed Crosby to be: a foreigner out of their depth, unversed in local customs. Again, the relevant custom was sex, and Sandra was a self-declared “undersexed” Briton; he, a married man. But Crosby looked at Sandra and thought her naïveté was brave. Not ignorant, not something to be ashamed of. The room assignment hadn’t alarmed her. His stares hadn’t warned her off. They’d let the night grow late around them, cozy by the fire, and then she’d said goodnight, and then she’d reached for him, and then she’d reached for him again.

“Tell me what to think,” he said, holding her gaze and her fingers.

“I’m not sure I know myself, Captain.”

“You’re still a terrible liar.”

He got to his feet. Her fingertips brushed the softened pleat in his pantleg when he let them go. On impulse, he stroked her neck with the back of his fingers and felt the rabbit leap of her pulse. She watched him from the corner of her eye. He stared at her, longing.

When Sandra went, Crosby followed, leaving behind the glasses, the bottle, the fireside scene any romantic with half a brain could populate with a couple of lonely hearts. There was the faint swish of her stockings on the carpet, the thicker shuffle of his socks as he padded across the floor after her. They’d done their talking in his rooms, because it would’ve been so much more dangerous for her to invite him into hers—where he went now, navigating the corridor that separated their living spaces, not drunk but warmed through.

She stepped just inside the bedroom and turned. He glanced past her, taking in the bed, the full-length mirror, the chair just like the one in the bedroom he’d been assigned. He’d sat on his chair that morning to tie his shoes.

“You’re not coming in,” Sandra remarked.

Crosby rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t seem to be leaving either.” He laughed softly.

Tell me what to do, he wanted to request, as easily as he’d requested that she tell him what to think. Tell me who to be. Tell me it’s ok, or that it’s not. Tell me you know my type, and then describe it to me so I can figure out who I am again.

He just wanted something tender. He’d go to war just so he wouldn’t be in pain for a while. And she was lovely in the light of the fire, in the cool dark of the bedroom behind her. Both ways.

Sandra touched him again, cupping his cheek in her palm. He shut his eyes.

“We can pretend it was an accident,” she murmured, her hand slipping from his face.

Crosby opened his eyes because he didn’t know what she meant, only to see her closing the door in his face. Except she stopped while it was still ajar. He wanted to ask whether that was goodnight then, but he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to because he could still see the mirror through the cracked door. His eyes met Sandra’s in her reflection as she clicked on a lamp and began to unbutton her shirt.

Oh, this. This could be the accident. His cheeks flushed dramatically the instant he understood. His jaw clenched as he watched her, her pace unrushed but steady, each button slipped free of its hole with intention. Sandra gave her shirt a tug to untuck the tail from her skirt, then finished with the buttons. She was wearing a camisole underneath. It wasn’t sexy—nothing you’d paint on the nose of a B-17—but she wore it close to her body, under her uniform, and so Crosby was blindsided by how womanly it seemed, how private, how feminine.

Sandra painstakingly unrolled the sleeves she’d shoved up her arms earlier in the evening, then slipped off the shirt and walked out of Crosby’s field of view. He smiled at the thought that she’d probably gone to hang it up. He couldn’t imagine she’d be concerned about whether or not putting her clothes away properly was seductive, but he found that it was. He appreciated her routine. He liked that she couldn’t lie.

When she returned before the mirror, they found each other again and he felt something more. Sandra unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt. Crosby realized he was squeezing the doorjamb, his heart beginning to race. She pushed the wool down her hips, then started to bend over to, presumably, put it away as neatly as she had her shirt, but she straightened abruptly. He could tell by the way she avoided his eyes in the mirror that she must have been blushing. She nudged the skirt aside with her foot, and his gaze fell on her legs, roving from the girdle that covered her hips to her toes pointing in transparent stockings.

He didn’t think she was married, but he wasn’t sure. Did Sandra have a somebody too? A somebody who wouldn’t understand what she wished she’d never had to know? Crosby needed her so badly. He needed her to answer questions he felt he could only articulate with his body. He’d bet she felt the same. He couldn’t say another damn thing out loud, but he didn’t think he’d need to, not with Sandra. It could all be an accident. A botched room assignment—whoops. A little too much to drink by the fire—an honest mistake. His body on hers—fast, before they could think, so fast he didn’t get his pants all the way off.

His hand was on the doorknob.

How quickly could you fall in love? And was it worth it, to love more, when love burned the water out of you, making you weep in old buildings with near-strangers? When all you wanted, selfishly, was for the love you already had in you to stop? To stop, to end the pain in your chest, your throat, your gut? Crosby could enter, and they could search for answers without words.

He drew the door closed.

“Goodnight, Captain,” Sandra said from within.

“Goodnight,” he replied from without.

Crosby rested his forehead against the door and sighed. He felt an odd sense of mercy, but he didn’t know who it belonged to.

[atearyamallari]

New Surroundings

Second entry for @tmnt-write-fight in the bag! Big shout out to @sonderquill for providing the following writing prompt:

Klunk is new to the family and spends some time bonding with Raph. (It may or may not be against Raph's will, and Mikey may or may not have planned it)

Get ready for some cuteness guys. And as always, glory to the Foot Clan!

Words: 1687

Rating: Gen

Tags: Fluff, Fluff Without Plot, Sleepy Cuddles, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life

Iteration: 2003

You can also check out the fic here on AO3!

Enjoy!

//

Raph’s knuckles stung as he threw punch after punch into the sandbag. It had been hours since he started, and by now they were probably bleeding. He didn’t care, though. The more pain he felt in his hands, the less he’d think about the hundred things that were making him upset that day. It was working, too; he couldn’t even remember what had gotten his blood boiling in the first place.

Panting, he stopped and caught the sandbag as it swung back into place. Sweat dripped from his forehead and slid under his mask, stinging his eyes. His attention shifted from the pain in his hands to the growing ache in his shoulders, well-worn from his strenuous workout. Exhaustion settled over him like a warm, cozy blanket. That was enough training for one day.

Although Don had set up some heating units and insulation, some of the January chill still made its way inside the lair. Even the short walk to his bedroom was enough to cool Raph down – and being cold-blooded definitely didn’t help. His reptilian instincts were telling him to bury himself under all the thick blankets he had in his hammock and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. It wouldn’t be a bad idea if he couldn’t count on his brothers to bug him at some point. But while the lair was quiet and his brothers were occupied, he might as well squeeze in a nap. He stretched his shoulders, then reached for his hammock, ready to climb in.

Then his hammock hissed.

He jumped back, his hands instinctively flying to his belt where his sais normally were. The blankets shifted, then a small orange kitten peeked his head out from underneath the layers. Klunk.

His relief soon gave way to annoyance as he remembered what had gotten him so angry today. Klunk had decided to use his workout bench as a litterbox. And then Mikey had the gall to say that he shouldn’t be so upset about it. “Aw, come on, Raphie, he just doesn’t know any better!” Mikey had said. “He’s only been with us a few weeks, and he’s still not used to his new surroundings. Don’t be such a cat-hater, alright?”

Raph didn’t hate cats – in fact, he was more of a cat person than a dog person. What he didn’t like was their new pet thinking he had the run of the place. Like right now – Klunk was nested in the middle of the blankets as if the whole hammock was his personal hiding spot.

“Ya mind scoochin’ over?” Raph asked.

Klunk remained under the layers and wearily watched as Raph attempted to move the blankets around to make some space in the hammock. Each time he grew closer, he earned an angry hiss.

“I’m not tryna hurt ya,” Raph said. “I just wanna sleep here a bit. That too much to ask?”

Klunk hid deeper under the blankets until the only thing Raph could see was his glowing green eyes.

“Look, Klunk, I think you’re a little confused,” he continued. “This here’s my room, alright? And right there, that’s my hammock. You’re welcome to come in anytime you want, but you can’t sleep there. That’s my spot.”

The only response he got from Klunk was a slow blink. Raph wasn’t sure he was expecting from him, but he had hoped that Klunk would have gotten the message and jumped out of the hammock already. The coolness of the lair was starting to seep into his skin and take hold of his bones. He rubbed his arms to try to keep them warm and clenched his jaw so that his teeth wouldn’t chatter.

Maybe Klunk was cold, too. Now that he thought about it, it made sense why Klunk wouldn’t leave. If Raph were a small creature wandering around in the cold sewers of New York and he had stumbled upon a pile of blankets, he would’ve also probably made himself right at home. Perhaps if he showed Klunk an equally comfortable place to sleep in, he could him to move out. Kneeling, Raph rearranged the pile of pillows that he kept underneath the hammock. “See? You’re welcome to sleep here. Lots of soft pillows.” He tentatively reached his hand out to the kitten. “Whaddya say?”

Klunk emerged half-way from his hiding spot. Just when Raph thought he was going to leave the hammock for good, he batted his hand with his paws, raking his needle-sized claws across his skin.

“Ouch!” Raph yelled, recoiling. “Fine! You can have the stupid hammock. I’ll just sleep down here, no thanks to you!” he shouted.

With a huff, Raph rearranged the pillows on the floor and laid down on top of them. Now he wasn’t tired anymore – his chest burned with anger and all he could think about was how much he hated that stupid cat. Of course, Mikey just had to adopt a kitten as dumb and stubborn as he was. Klunk even had the same sense of youngest-brother entitlement and arrogance. At this point, his only saving grace was his adorableness, otherwise Raph would’ve punted him across the lair like a football by now.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he was aware of was the feeling of his body trembling. His arms and legs were stiff, as if they had frozen solid, and he could barely feel his fingers and toes anymore. It was a sign that he needed to get up and walk around and get some feeling back into his limbs, but it was too cold for him to even move. Raph squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to sit up. But the cold was winning, taking over his survival instincts and forcing him into a state of lethargy. His head started to feel fuzzy, as if someone was stuffing it with cotton.

Brumation. Despite the haziness of his mind, Raph somehow remembered that word. Don had told him about it, about how reptiles often went into a state of inactivity when their environment became too cold. In the wild, that sluggishness would keep turtles alive. Some survival mechanism. All it did was remind Raph why he hated the winter so much; it made him feel vulnerable. It was a harsh reminder that the world was cold and uncaring, and that sometimes there was little he could do about it. There were just some problems he simply couldn’t punch or stab his way out of. The only thing he could do was take the hit on the chin and embrace the suck.

A soft meow came from the hammock above him, then he heard the blankets shift and the soft padding of paws on the floor just a few feet away. Klunk had finally gotten out of the hammock. But as much as Raph wanted to jump off the floor and crawl under the blankets, he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was curl his arms and legs as close to his chest as possible to try to get some warmth back into them.

Klunk’s light footsteps grew closer, then Raph felt his nose nudge at his hands. The kitten then wormed his way between his arms until at last, he was pressed up against his chest. With a yawn, Klunk rested his head against his plastron and began to purr.

Warmth radiated from the cat’s body and spread its way across Raph’s chest and torso. It was amazing how much heat could come from such a little kitten. After a few minutes, a sense of feeling returned to his arms and legs, and he could feel his hands again. When he was finally able to move them, he reached over to gently pet Klunk. His fur was soft and warm, and the steady purring filled him with a sense of calm. This was much better than a blanket.

“Hey, Raph?” came Mikey’s voice from outside his room. “Have you seen…” He popped his head inside and found the two of them cuddling. “There you are, Klunk! Aww, the two of you look so cute right now!”

A comment like that would have earned him a whole lot of shell kicking. But Raph couldn’t bother to get up and smack him upside the head. Part of it was because of the lingering cold, and part of it was because he’d have to get up and leave Klunk on the pillows. “Shut up, Mike,” he said.

“Maybe I should take a picture with the shell cell. Leo would never believe me if I just told him.”

“I swear, if you tell Leo about this, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.”

Meowing, Klunk slunk out from between Raph’s arms and took a long deep stretch, his tail arching emphatically. Then he padded over to Mikey and jumped into his arms. With a gleeful giggle, Mikey spun him around. “Aww, are you finally getting along with Raphie boy?” He gently took one of Klunk’s paws and made him wave. “Yes, I am!” he said, pitching his voice into a falsetto. “I love Raphie a whole lot. And now that he’s gotten over his hatred of cats, we’re best pals.”

“That cat is way too patient with you,” Raph said with a wry grin. “And like I told ya before, I am a cat person.”

“Uh-huh. Likely story,” Mikey teased.

Now that Raph was feeling more awake, he pushed himself off the floor. “You better watch yourself Mikey. I might steal Klunk when you’re not looking.” He gave his brother an affectionate noogie.

With a meow, Klunk hopped out of Mikey’s arms. A case of zoomies suddenly took hold, and he dashed out of the room. “Hey! Wait a minute, come back!” Mikey said. “Aw man, it took me forever just to find him, too. Being a cat dad is harder than it looks, I tell ya.”

“Don’t worry about him, Mikey. He’ll turn up again.”

“You think so?”

Raph wrapped an arm around Mikey’s shoulder, and they walked out of the room. “Yeah,” he said. “I gotta feelin’.”

[aylacavebear]

Retribution Chapter 2

18+ for numerous reasons

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Sexual Abuse (memories), Physical Abuse (memories), DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Alcoholism, Self-Deprecation, Thoughts of deserving to have it all done to "you".

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

Word Count: 1687

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2 - Too Many Thoughts

When you woke, it was still dark outside, and your entire body hurt as your head was throbbing. You barely managed to glance at the clock on the night table; after seven. This was probably the worst hangover you’d had, or at least, hoped you’d ever had. Just as you were attempting to sit up, your stomach churned, forcing you to run to the bathroom.

That’s what I get for not eating anything for two days and drinking an entire bottle of whiskey.

There was only what was left of the whiskey in your stomach. That came up, along with stomach acids, and before long, it was only dry heves. You were physically and mentally exhausted. You knew it was your fault for being where you were. You knew better.

With a groan, fighting against the pain in your body, you managed to at least rinse your mouth out before making it back out to the bed. Lying so that you were on your side, you grabbed your phone and dialed the local pizza place, ordering a meat-lovers. Your body needed some sort of nourishment, and this was better than nothing.

“I’m not mad. I just wish it would stop, Sweetheart,” Dean told you as the two of you cuddled in bed. “I don’t remember any of it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do to make it stop. I hate that those things are happening to you,” you told him, feeling guilty as you’d seen the new bruises on him. Yeah, he was a hunter and got beat up a lot, but this was different. These bruises were from your other personalities, and you couldn’t stop them. Just seeing them made you want to disappear. He sighed, pulling you closer to him, “I know I’ve asked before, but… Do you have any suggestions?” You thought for a bit, contemplating something that had been on your mind for a while, “What if you forced it? Made whoever is doing this finish you?” You were quiet when you answered him, as you weren’t sure how he’d react to that. Dean was probably the most kind-hearted man you’d ever met. Not only did he hunt monsters, keeping strangers safe, but he’d gone and fallen in love with you, of all people. Then, he’d stayed with you even after the abuse had started. You knew your suggestion was something he could never do, but you had no idea what else to suggest. “I can’t do that. You know that,” he sighed sadly, “Every time I touch you when that stuff happens, you get violent.” He paused, wanting to lighten the mood, “You know, you’re quite strong in your sleep. There aren’t too many things that have hit me as hard as you have,” he chuckled lightly. “Not funny,” you mumbled, still feeling bad. You saw it again, the switch, as you let the memory play out. You had wanted to be close to him intimately, but that wasn’t what happened. “It is kinda funny,” he said playfully, letting his hand find its way to your hip, gripping slightly. Before he could lean over to kiss you, you pulled away, “I can’t this morning. I’m sorry.” You slipped out of bed and began dressing. This had become the norm, and the man still hadn’t cheated on you. 

The knock on your motel room door pulled you from the memory. Forcing yourself up, you grabbed some cash out of your wallet and opened the door. The smell of the pizza wasn’t enticing at all, but you needed to eat. After paying, you sat down on the bed again, the pizza in front of you.

If it weren’t for the throbbing in your head, you would have turned on the TV to at least focus your thoughts on something other than the memories flooding your mind. You did manage to eat a couple of slices of pizza, though, even if it had taken you almost an hour to do so.

Even the vibration of your phone going off hurt your head, but this time, you picked it up and stared at it for a while. 

I should at least let them know I’m alive, shouldn’t I? They shouldn’t worry if a monster is okay. A monster needs to be killed.

Your hands shook at that thought, but you felt oddly calm. Turning off your phone, you glanced at the second bottle of whiskey, debating drinking again. Luckily, you weren’t in the mood for a worse hangover the following day.

Putting the pizza box on the table, you drank some water, then crawled into bed and turned off the light. You hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come, but there was no guarantee anymore. Since becoming a singular, things just hit you out of the blue.

You were in that invisible bubble again, between the door and the bed. Your body was lying on the bed, alone.  Where’s Dean?  To the left of the bed was the desk, and that was where he sat, just watching your body sleeping in the bed the two of you shared. You put your hands on the invisible bubble, leaning a little closer. The dream shifted, and now he was sleeping in the chair. Your heart went out to him, and you wanted to cry, almost as if you knew what was coming. Your body on the bed reached over, finding his side of the bed empty. So, they sat up, looking around before smiling when their eyes found him. They got out of the bed, sauntering over to him. With how he was sitting, there was no way they were going to get his sweats off of him or even low enough to have sex with him. You wondered how this would play itself out. They knelt in front of him, caressing his semi-hard cock through his sweats. Their movements were slow, skilled, and moved with a purpose. He shifted in his seat, making it easier for them. That also made it so that they could slip him loose of his sweats.  You could see the smile on their face, and you screamed at them to stop, pounding your fists on the invisible bubble. It didn’t make them stop, though. They leaned forward, slowly dragging their tongue along the underside of his cock, causing him to not only moan but also twitch in their hand. They started at the tip, teasingly letting their lips slide down his cock, flicking their tongue along the underside. He moved slightly in his sleep but hadn’t touched them yet, so they kept going. They dropped the back of their tongue, opening their throat, then deep-throated him a couple of times before slowly lifting their mouth off of his cock. Their eyes had never left his face, always watching him. With a smile on their lips, they straddled him, lining the head of his rock-hard cock with their entrance. You could hear them moan in delight as they descended on him completely. They ground their hips against his, holding onto the back of the chair behind him. They were careful, though, not rocking him too much, as they didn’t want to wake him. It wasn’t long before you could hear them cry out with their orgasm, but he’d come too. You weren’t sure how you knew; you just did. He never woke up. Once they came down from their high, they slipped off of him, then licked him clean before cleaning up themselves and crawling back into the bed to sleep. The tears had been streaming down your cheeks, and you were on your knees, sobbing again.

When you did wake, you could feel the tears you’d been crying in your sleep. You curled up into a ball and sobbed. When you were awake, it was the memories of when your personalities had lashed out at them. When you were asleep, it was the memories of what they’d done to him while he slept. 

It wasn’t fair. You were what was left now, and somehow, you had to deal not only with the memories of what they’d done but also find a way to pick up the pieces. Then, you got another idea.

I could call Cas, have him wipe their memories of me. They’d never remember what I’d done to them, how I treated them, the abuse I put them through. And they wouldn’t even know who I was. I never want to forget, though. That is my burden to bear. Would he do it, though?

At least you were sober enough to think a little clearer, even if you still felt slightly hungover from the night before. Your head was still throbbing, so you went and made some coffee, hoping it was the lack of caffeine that was giving you the migraine that didn’t seem to want to go away.

What if it was the other way around, and he wanted to make Cas take away my memories? Is that something that I’d be okay with? Is that fair to them, to him?

You were torn, and it only made your head hurt worse as your thoughts wouldn’t stop. Contemplating calling Cas was something you at least wanted to consider, even if it really wasn’t fair to anyone involved.

As you sat with your first cup of coffee, you thought again about contacting Crowley. He was the King of Hell, after all, and you had his number programmed into your phone. He’d helped the brothers with things in the past and you’d gotten his number out of Dean’s phone at one point in time.

Would I have to die in order to have those things done to me in hell? What would Crowley want as payment? How do I come back from this, from being a monster for so long?

Your thoughts were circular, ruminating on repeat. With all you’d cried within the last couple of days, you were a bit surprised when more slid down your cheeks. The pain in your heart and soul felt like more than you could even bear. 

I’m a monster…

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - Too Many Memories

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl

[the-fiction-witch]

As Sweet As Honey P3

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Y/n (Pale Skin - Tight curls - freckles) Rating - Smut Word Count - 1687

I can’t help but smile softly as Y/n giggling so adorably, blushing hard, her back laid against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, her curls around her on the floor, her dress pushed up to her waist, her panties pushed to the side, her little boots all she had on her lower half now,

“Look at you…” I breathe out quietly, my hands gently resting on her soft thighs again.

Y/n’s sweet giggling and adorable blushing is just too precious for me… I’m almost lost in my thoughts, before I’m gently pulled back out of them, feeling Y/n’s thighs tremble slightly under my touch.

“Are you cold honey…?” My tone is gentle and loving as my hands gently rub her trembling thighs.

she shakes her head "Excited..." She whispered

“Oh… excited huh..? Excited for what, honey…?” My thumbs gently rub her thighs, getting closer to her

"kisses..." She blushes

My smile widens and my heart aches softly as Y/n innocently admits she’s excited for my kisses, and I gently rest my body over hers. “Excited for more kisses, honey…” My voice huskily rasp, a hand coming up to cup Y/n’s rosy cheek and my other hand gently rubbing her trembling thigh.

I stare down at Y/n as she nods so softly, her cheeks all rosy and her body trembling as she lays beneath me. “Where do you want to be kissed, honey…” I whisper softly, my thumb gently running over Y/n’s delicate cheek, as my body gently presses against hers and my free hand drifts between her thighs.

Y/n’s shyness as she hides her face behind her hands and doesn’t say anything, just makes me want to tease her, but at the same time, it’s just so damn adorable.

I lean down, my lips just next to her face, my breath warm against her cheek as I speak softly. “C’mon honey… tell me…”

she giggled and squirmed against the floor as she squeaked like a little mouse "Down..."

I can’t help but chuckle quietly at Y/n’s shy giggles, her soft squirms causing my body to press just a little closer against hers.

“Down where honey…?” I whisper softly, my hand gently rubbing her mound.

"there." She shyly points,

I smile softly as Y/n points toward my hand and I understand, my thumb gently trailing closer to her clit. “Do you mean here?” My voice is a soft whisper, my thumb gently rubbing her inner thigh, just below her damp cotton underwear.

she nodded biting on the sleeve of her dress to keep her quiet and hide her embarrassed little face

“You really want to be kissed right here honey…?” I ask quietly, my voice a gentle teasing whisper against her ear.

"Yes please" she whispered

I lean down to plant a kiss on Y/n’s soft inner thigh, but my mind is fixed on her sensitive bud as I teasingly whisper softly. “Here, honey…? Right here?”

"yes please Jack" she begged

Y/n’s quiet plea has me melting, and I gently lean my face in closer to her, my warm breath against her sensitive bud.

“Right here…?” I ask quietly, my words a gentle whisper against her clit,

"yes!" She yelped fairly loudly but she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes was wide surprised at her own noise.

I chuckle softly as Y/n claps her hand over her mouth moments after her sudden yelp, her eyes wide as she realises just how loud she is. “Don’t worry honey…” I comfort her, and before she can even protest I lean closer and gently kiss her clit “Be as loud as you want… while I give her kisses…”

she began to whine and moan once more as I continued my kisses

Y/n’s beautiful whines and moans, coming from her pretty lips, fill me with desire, and more and more of my restraint vanishes. My fingers slide her underwear a little further to fully expose her, and I gently press a long, slow kiss against it.

"Jack!" Y/n’s adorable voice calling my name, her beautiful head thrown back against the tile floor, her hands gripping at the thin carpet on the floor… it’s all just so adorable.

My tongue runs over her clit, tasting her. “God, Y/n… ummmm As sweet as honey,”

Y/n’s moans in response to my actions only drive me to do more, and my tongue presses harder against her clit, the tip gently massaging it as I continue to lap up her sweet taste, her honey. My eyes glance up occasionally to see her arch her back and squirm her cute feet against the tiles, her hair sprawled around her adorable blushing face. Her moans seem to be building and her body trembling, her hips seem to respond to my movements uncontrollably, her hand comes to twist in my hair, and my lips coated in her sweet ‘honey’,

Y/n’s moans grow louder and louder and her body trembles more and more, my own excitement growing as her hips seem to squirm against her own will. Her hand grips my hair tightly and her ‘honey’ seems to get sweeter and sweeter on my tongue…

I continue to give her clit long, slow and teasing laps, my eyes still gazing up her body to her angelic face.

"jack... Jack ..." The sound of my name on Y/n’s beautiful lips, the way she moans as she speaks fills me with excitement, and my own desire pushes me on, my tongue continuing to lap at her clit. My hand brushes lower, gently rubbing at her wet entrance with my fingers, her ‘honey’ dripping onto them. "Jack ... Please... Be gentle I'm..."

I’ve never been more excited than I am in this moment, and I’m torn between wanting to drive Y/n over the edge to hear the cutest sounds ever, and being gentle. Instead, I slow down a bit and take my time, my tongue making long, slow laps against her clit, as my fingers gently spread her wetness around her entrance, coating my fingers.

The whines and gasps escape Y/n’s lips as her moans rise, her bashfulness fading as her desires rise, and it becomes hard to resist giving Y/n everything she wants.

I’d already slowed down, but I slow even further so nothing I do sends Y/n over the edge, but still drives her into ecstasy. Carefully my tongue presses against her clit and gently circles it, as my fingers gently tease her entrance, coating themselves more in her sweet honey.

"Jack please" she begged

Y/n’s soft begging as she lays beneath me, so close to finishing and yet not yet over the edge, fills my chest with warmth.

“Humm… my pleasure honey,” I growled, as I continued to slowly lap at her clit, and without warning my finger pressed gently into her, softly stroking deep inside her.

Y/n’s adorable shrieking moan of my name, with her shyness gone and her body quivering, brings me to a whole other level of happiness.

My tongue slowly licks her clit, and my finger continues to softly stroke deeper inside her, her sweet ‘honey’ dripping down it, as I watch her gorgeous face in ecstasy. She moans my name over and over and over squirming against the kitchen floor,

I’m almost overwhelmed with happiness as Y/n’s moans of my name grow louder and more frequent, her thighs squeezing a little around my head as I slowly and gently stroke her from the inside, my tongue lapping at her clit slowly and tenderly, my face coated with her sweet ‘honey’ as she finally tumbles over the edge, her body quivering desperately. She gasps when it's over, her body trembling, her bow fallen from her hair given her movements, her thighs shake and her face is bright red hiding it behind her hands humiliated and embarrassed at what she had just done,

I gently sit up, kneeling over Y/n’s quivering and trembling body, and I gently brush her hair from her face as she hides it behind her hands, her thighs still shaking softly against the floor. “You… you’re so god dam adorable…” I breathe out quietly, a low chuckle escaping, “Do you have any idea… how sexy and adorable you are?” I ask in a husky, quiet voice, gently taking her wrists and removing her hands from her face. “I could watch you squirm, listen to you moan, taste you all damn day…”

Y/n’s shy and embarrassed silence just fills my heart with adoration,

I gently lean down, my face over hers, my nose just touching hers. “You… you’re everything…” I mutter quietly, my heart aching as I speak. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you…”

“I- I-... I love you… too…” Y/n’s inability to speak from just how flustered she is makes me chuckle quietly, and a tender smile stretches across my face.

“Does my adorable girl need a break?” I question quietly, my nose still touching hers.

Y/n smiled and softly nodded,

“Let’s get you off the kitchen floor…” I suggest quietly, my arms gently sliding below her, one behind her back, the other under her knees, before I gently scoop her into my arms and stand up.

She turns even redder and she nuzzles her nose into my neck shyly as she sees the mess she made of my kitchen floor, as well as feeling her own wetness now running down her legs,

I chuckle softly as Y/n buries herself against my neck, her bashfulness on display in full as she rests her head against me. “I don’t care about the mess…” I reassure quietly, my arms carrying Y/n closer to the stairs. “I’ll clean it up later… the only thing I care about right now is taking care of you…”

"I'm sorry..." She whispered

“You’re sorry… for what?” I ask quietly,

"making a mess of the floor... And of you... And for being too loud" she shyly whispered

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for honey…“ I reply quietly.

"you’re not mad at me?"

“How could I be mad?” I respond softly, my eyes fixated on Y/n’s shy, blushing face. “You made a mess on the floor and me because I made you feel good… because I kissed you…” I smiled, “I could never be mad at you honey… especially for doing something like this…” I say softly, “Now let's get you clean up,” I cooed as I took her to the bathroom, 

[brandileigh2003]

New chapter: I've got you

The boys are feeling the near record breaking temperatures on the night of the full moon.

Day 6: Summer is a curse @whumperless-whump-event

Fandom: Harry Potter (marauders). Ship: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black. Word count: 1687

[dc-marvel-life]

Strange Feeling

Request: Can you do a Damian x reader where they are best friends and they both like each other? Maybe some fluff 

Pairing: Damian Wayne X Reader 

Word Count: 1687

A/N: Another old request. Request are open right now 

“Damian, I can’t go anymore. This is too much for me to do tonight, I have to call it a night” you say while closing your textbook. 

“Okay we can study more next time then,” Damian says then you both put your books in your backpacks.

“Soooo,” you say looking at Damian.

“Sooo…. what Y/L/N,” Damian says looking at you with his blank stare that you have gotten used to over the years. 

“Why do you still call me by my last name? You have known me for years now and we are best friends” you say back to him.

“I call everyone by their last name,” Damian says and you weren’t going to lie that it hurt a little bit hearing that.

“Anyway, I want to watch a movie. Let’s go to the theater room” you say changing the subject. You grab his hand and go to the theater room. Damian couldn’t help but feel something strange when you held his hand, but he just pushed it aside and let you take the lead.

You guys go to the theater and sit on the couch and not the theater chairs.

“Why are you sitting on the couch? We always sit in these theater chairs,” Damian pointed to the chairs that you guys normally sit in, “Dick and Barbara always sit there and I can’t imagine what is on that couch” Damian says confused.

“I wanted to try something different this time. Now come sit next to me” you say patting the seat next to you. Damian comes down and sits next to you, then you scoot closer to him. You can feel him tense up a little. 

“You pick a movie while I’ll get some blankets for us,” you say and get up to go grab the blankets. Right after you said that Alfred comes in with snacks for you guys. 

“Umm Alfred,” Damian says in a whisper and waves Alfred over, “Why does Y/L/N all of a sudden want to watch a movie and be close to me? Why do I get this strange feeling when they are close to me?” Damian asks Alfred in a whisper. All Alfred could do was let out a little laugh.

“Don’t worry this is normal master Damian” Alfred says and sets down the snacks with the biggest smile on his face then leaves. Leaving Damian even more confused.

“Alright, so I only could find one blanket so we have to share this,” you say coming back with one big blanket.

“What are you talking about? We have so many blankets to choose from-” Damian gets cut off by you putting your finger over his mouth.

“Just share the blanket with me Wayne,” you say and he looked at you strangely.

“Why did you just call me by my last name?” Damian questions.

“You call me by my last name, thought I would do the same back,” you say and he just nods back not liking you calling him by his last name. He likes it when you say his name.

“Did you pick a movie?” you ask and he shakes his head. He goes through the library trying to pick a movie and you guys finally find one that you both want to watch. The movie starts and you throw the blanket over both of you guys and get a little closer to him. 

Damian can feel you getting closer and he tenses up not knowing what to do. It's not like this is the first time you guys have been close to each other over the years, but this time was different for Damian. The same strange feeling came back to him and he didn’t know what do to or feel. 

You put your head on his shoulder and Damian's body shut down. You could feel him stiffen up and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. You let out a sigh and sat on the overside of the couch. 

Damian notice and was a little sad that you aren’t close to him anymore. You guys finish the movie and you look at the time.

“Well it is getting late, I am going to head home,” you say and start to clean up. You know that Alfred will do it but you feel bad about it so you help a little. You grab the blanket and put it back in the closet that is filled with blankets. 

You go to Damian’s room to get your backpack then head downstairs to see Damian waiting at the door to say bye.

“Well, Wayne-” Damian stops you.

“Can you call me by my first name? I rather you call me Damian” Damian says nervously.

“Well, Damian I will see you later,” you say and give him a hug. This was normal for you guys to do before you leave, but this time it was a little more than normal. You leave and Damian goes looking for his brothers. He finds Dick and Jason in a room chatting.

“Good you guys are together, I need your help with something,” Damian says sitting down.

“Wow, Damian is coming to us for help. Can you believe it?” Jason says to Dick.

“No, I can’t. I would have thought you would go to Tim since it is “smarter” than us” Dick says putting air quotes up when he says smarter.

“Drake can’t help me in this situation. I doubt he knows what is going on, it has to deal with humans and not computers” Damian says, Jason and Dick look at each other and then sit down to see what Damian is going to ask them.

“So Y/L/N was over here earlier doing some homework for class. Once we were done, we went to watch a movie. For some reason, they wanted to sit on the couch and share one blanket when we have many. Then they were getting close to me watching the movie, and I got this strange feeling in me. All I could do was tense up and not move, and Y/L/N noticed and went to the other side of the couch. Then I got upset that they weren’t next to me and when they didn’t say my name. They just called me Wayne and it was weird. To top it all off when they hug me bye, I got the strange feeling again” Damian says out of breath at the end. Damian looks at Dick and Jason and can see that they are trying to hold back their laughs.

“Will you idiots help me here?! I came here being open with you two and you guys are laughing!” Damian shouts.

“Calm down little demon. Have you ever had a crush?” Jason asks.

“I don’t think so, why?” Damian ask.

“Well, how do you feel about Y/N?” Dick ask.

“That’s easy, I like having Y/L/N because they are just amazing. I can talk to them so easily about anything that is on my mind. We can just be in the room and not say anything and still be comfortable. Every time that we are together, I always have a great time. There is so much that I like about them that I can’t even say them all to you right now” Damian says. 

“Yeah that’s a crush Damian,” Dick says and starts laughing along with Jason. Damian sighs and gets his thoughts together.

“Dick, Jason, I really need your help right now,” Damian says in a low tone. Jason and Dick both stop laughing when Damian says their first names; they know it is serious right now.

“Okay Damian, it seems like you do like them. Do they like you back?” Jason asks.

“Well they are starting to hang out with me more and getting closer to me,” Damian says. 

“Of course they like Damian! Who else comes over here as much as they do and still likes to hang out with him” Dick says.

“So what should I do?” Damian questions his older brothers.

“Tell Y/N how you feel,” Dick says then Damian thanks them and leaves the room. He goes back into his room and starts to think about you. He thinks about all the time that you guys spend together, then he hears a knock on his door. He yells come in and it is Bruce.

“Hey Damian, are you ready to go on patrol?” Bruce asks.

“Not tonight, I have to do something important. I am taking the batmobile by the way” Damian says jumping out of his bed and running now into the Batcave. He quickly changes into his robin suit and gets into the batmobile. He drives to your place and climbs to the top of your building and knocks on your window. 

You go up to your window and see Damian there; you open up your window and let him in.

“What are you doing here Damian? Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol right now?” you say looking at the time. 

“I am supposed to be on patrol but I needed to tell you something important” Damian says and starts to get nervous.

“Must be serious since you didn’t send me a formal text” you laugh and see that Damian’s face is serious. You stop laughing and let him speak.

“So today I realize something that was right in front of me the whole time and I was blind to it” Damian pauses trying to find the words to say, “I get these strange feelings when I am around you,” Damian says.

“What kind of strange feelings?” you ask.

“The kind of strange feeling that makes me like you,” Damian says shifting side to side.

“I like you too,” you say and smile.

“No, when I mean I like you, I mean I like you like you,” Damian says to make sure you understand.

“I know Damian, I like you like you too,” you say, and Damian comes and hugs you then gives you a kiss.

“Would you go out on a date with me?” Damian asks and you say yes.

[light-and-shadow]

Beating the HELL out of my word count!! All I was expecting was the 1667 each day, but yesterday I ended with 1687, and I still have a few hours today, and already have 2088!!! AND I have a higher WC than my English teacher, who is also participating!!! I'm having the time of my life!!!

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 26/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 1687

Rating: Teen

Pairings: familial/parental relationships

Warnings: past character death, anxiety, guilt, minor references to predatory behavior, Victor Frankenstein-typical actions, mild gore(?)

~~~START~~~

Maybe watching the news wasn’t the best thing for Virgil’s mental state, but like a train wreck, he couldn’t look away.

Roman had taken Patton upstairs to the playground a while ago so that Virgil could have some alone time, and how he was choosing to spend that time was slowly working himself into an anxiety attack. Some of the news had been regular things — sports, weather, an elementary schooler’s community garden — but every mention of a supervillain attack was a reminder that Virgil was a coward and a failure.

Most of the city’s supervillains — who had already been emboldened by the sudden departure of the city’s two heroes — were having a goddamn field day in the wake of the city’s vigilante’s murder (except of course for Virgil’s villains, who’d all been reeling). Over the past year, the Agency had dispatched a few heroes to the city, but the only ones who’d been effective had been the ones on loan from other cities, and they’d had to return to their own cities pretty quickly once their villains realized that they were gone. There had also been several of what Virgil could only assume were new recruits — heroes with clearly not enough experience in the field, or with less than impressive powers — they tended to get overwhelmed quickly and would leave the scene after no more than a couple weeks with zero wins under their belts. Virgil didn’t know where they went.

Then there was the repeated coverage of Sandman’s death. Seventeen-year-old high schooler Remelda Sanchez, illegal vigilante, murdered in an explosion presumed to be the handiwork of Dr. Frankenstein. Just another thing to remind Virgil how much he sucked — if he’d been protecting the city, then the supervillains wouldn’t have been running amok, and if the supervillains hadn’t been running amok, then a teenager wouldn’t have felt the need to take matters into her own hands–

So yeah, watching the news was a bad idea.

Especially today because today, the Director of the Metahuman Affairs Agency Dr. Hazel Agon herself was giving a speech. Her speech was supposedly lamenting the loss of such a promising young super, but there was a barely concealed undercurrent of blaming Remelda for her own death — which tracked, honestly.

Virgil hadn’t had much of an opinion of Director Agon when he’d first met her — she’d been a little keen, and he hadn’t liked how much she felt the need to touch him, but she’d just been promoted from Head of R&D. He’d just shrugged it off.

Then Patton was born.

Director Agon looked at Patton like a dog looks at a steak. She would make comments about how Patton had Orin’s eyes or Virgil’s nose, and how he would grow up to be a hero just like his daddies, and that’s when Virgil started to realize.

There were no people in Dr. Agon’s world, only assets, liabilities, and test subjects. Patton wasn’t a baby to her, he was a future asset at best, or a future test subject at worst. And worst of all, the moment Patton became an asset, there’d be no guarantee that Virgil would ever see him again.

And the longer Virgil heard her talk about the safety of the city and the good work of the agency on the news, the clearer the picture became in Virgil’s mind: if Sandman wasn’t an asset, then she was a liability, and liabilities needed to be dealt with.

He was pulled from his train of thought by a short knock at the door. He waited, expecting Roman to bring Patton in without waiting for an answer, but instead there was a second knock. So not Roman then.

Virgil answered the door and was shocked to find Dr. Frankenstein waiting on the other side.

“Good afternoon, Virgil.” Ever since the incident where Virgil set off the alarm for the second time a few months ago, Franky was walking around with regular wire frame glasses on instead of his shaded goggles and calling Virgil by his actual name instead of Knightcaster. Virgil was still getting used to it.

“Uh, hey,” Virgil replied. He had no idea how to talk to this man, and even though Franky had dropped a lot of his guardedness, this was the first time he had ever shown up at Virgil’s door for anything even remotely resembling a casual visit.

“I heard that Roman was taking Patton to the rooftop park, and I thought I might utilize this time to ask you some questions if I may.”

“What kind of questions?” Virgil asked, somewhat suspiciously. Surely Frankenstein had enough information on Virgil that he could find out anything he wanted to know with ease, why ask Virgil directly?

“I am curious as to the extent of your healing powers. The government’s classification system is not particularly detailed on the qualifiers for the different ‘power levels’ and I have not had many opportunities to observe that specific power in the field.”

“Oh, yeah sure,” Virgil shrugged. Then, because he had no idea what the appropriate thing to do in this situation was, “do you want to come in?”

“Thank you,” Franky accepted, making a beeline for the dining table.

Virgil fired off a quick message to Roman on what was essentially a walkie talkie asking them to keep Patton for a little bit longer before taking a seat across from the other man. The man in question had pulled out a small notebook and pen to take notes that would no doubt find their way into Virgil’s file.

“I believe the best place to start would be: how do the power levels work in relation to the individual’s ability?” Franky started immediately.

“So, for healing powers, the level is determined across three weighted criteria — the severity of the injuries one can heal, the energy they expend healing said injuries, and the speed at which they can heal injuries,” Virgil explained. “So, for instance if you can only heal minor bumps and bruises, but you can do it quickly and with little effort, then you’d still be considered a level 4 or 5.”

Franky nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a level 7,” he observed. “What does that entail for you?”

“Yeah, so I can heal some really serious stuff pretty quickly, but it takes a lot of energy — hence why I passed out a few times when Patton and I first got here.”

“How serious of ‘stuff’?” Franky pushed, the air quotes around ‘stuff’ pretty heavily implied.

“Cuts, bruises, broken bones,” Virgil listed. “I can’t cure bacterial or viral infections, or fix long-term damage like scars or anything, but if you got hurt in a fight, I could definitely put you back together again.”

“Can you reattach amputated appendages?” Franky asked.

“If you still have the appendage and the damage hasn’t scarred over yet,” Virgil nodded. There was a nagging in the back of his head that said that Frankenstein was after something specific, but he pushed the thought away. Frankenstein was a scientist; he was just curious.

Of course, sometimes Virgil’s paranoia knew what it was talking about.

“Virgil, would you be morally opposed to assisting me in saving a life?”

So Virgil ended up in Doctor Frankenstein’s — Logan’s (“if you are going to assist me then you will need to trust me. In order for you to do that, I feel I must signify to you that I trust you in return; please, call me Logan. Logan Croft.”) — laboratory for the third time. This time he was in a smaller room off the main lab; it was freezing, and Virgil had a terrible feeling about the thing that was lying across the table under a white sheet that looked suspiciously like a body in the center of the room.

“I feel that I must inform you that I will be moving forward with this whether or not you choose to assist me or not,” Logan said as he checked over a variety of machines, several of which had tubing or wiring that ran underneath the sheet. “I do not require your assistance to meet my end goal, but your intervention can make this swifter and less painful for everyone involved.”

He was being manipulated, Virgil knew he was being manipulated, but still… If he could keep someone from suffering, he had to help.

“Just tell me what we’re doing.”

Logan smiled — it was almost an evil smirk, but Virgil could see some genuine relief behind it.

Virgil’s heart was already somewhere around his stomach, but when Logan pulled back the sheet, it sank even further. The body was covered in mottled and torn skin, bones were broken or shattered, original appendages had been lost or destroyed so completely that they were deemed unusable; but still, someone — Logan — had gone through and carefully sewn up the gashes, set the bones, and replaced the missing appendages with likely unethically sourced transplants.

None of that changed the fact that the body was dead.

“I can’t fix death,” Virgil choked, gaze flicking between the body — Remelda Sanchez, Sandman — and Logan.

“No, but I can,” Logan said calmly. “As I have said: I don’t need you. Your healing powers would speed up the process, certainly, but I am perfectly capable of bringing her back without your help.”

“Why do you want to do this?” Virgil asked. He was struggling to understand any of this. What could Logan possibly gain from bringing the teenager back from the dead? If it was just to prove that he could, he could have brought any ole person back, why Sandman?

“She’s my daughter.” Virgil’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “I ask you this, Virgil: what would you do for your son?”

“Anything,” Virgil answered immediately. He looked at Remelda again; a lot of her injuries, even with Logan’s fixes, would take ages to heal properly, he wasn’t sure what Logan’s methods were, but she would probably be in pain. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, Virgil.” Logan flicked on a few of the machines before turning to face the body of his daughter, his hand already glowing blue. “Let us begin.”

~~~END~~~

In my outline, the chapter summary is “hey Virgil are you morally opposed to saving a life? 🙃”

For some reason, back when I was figuring out how to turn this fic from a oneshot to a multichapter, I was worried that Logan was going to get super unsympathetic here. I don’t know why I thought that, he’s making morally gray decisions, but it’s whatever

Anyway, Remy’s coming back :)

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14

[meditating-honey-badger]

Chapter: 13/15 | Chapter Word Count: 1687 | Total Word Count: 17226 | Rating: Mature | Warnings/Tags: Rehab, Relapse, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Detox, Betrayal, Things do get better

A year after TK & Carlos's wedding, TK's world fell apart when his father was killed during a fire call. TK relapsed, spiraling down into darker depths with his addiction than he'd ever been before. After trying and failing to convince TK he needed help, Carlos went to extreme measures to get TK into rehab.

This story begins on TK's first day in detox, and is initially told through letters that he writes to Carlos on his journey to get back home.

Inspired by the song "A Long Way to Get" by Bob Schneider

April 21, 2024 | April 29, 2024 | May 14, 2024 | May 24, 2024 | May 31, 2024 | June 14, 2024 | June 17, 2024 - Part I, TK | June 17, 2024 - Part II, Carlos | June 17, 2024 - Part III, TK | June 18, 2024 | June 19, 2024 | June 20, 2024

Long Way to Get

June 24 - July 15, 2024

June 24, 2024

Austin, Texas

TK,

When I got home the other day, I found your letter waiting for me. You really are my favorite tom cat, and I’ll always let you in. And the visit was nothing like what I expected it to be. It was harder than I could have ever imagined, but it ended better than I could have ever hoped. I feel like we’re on the precipice of the next chapter in our story, and I can’t wait to find out what happens next.

On Sunday I went to dinner at Tia Lucy’s, and everybody was so happy to hear how well you’re doing. My mom looked like an enormous weight had been lifted off her and my dad said, “I knew he wouldn’t let this beat him.” He looked so proud. Everybody sends their love. 

Read on AO3

[iminlovewithpercyjackson]

on nov 2, i did writing sprints with @bookishjules. i wrote most of the rest of chapter one, and my word count came out to 1687 words.

november writing diary

for my november challenge, i'm going to try and keep track of my writing here.

for my challenge, i'm attempting the 50k month, with 1667 being the daily goal. i'm rewriting a novel i finished the first draft of a couple of years ago. i reworked the outline oct 27 - nov 1, making minor adjustments as i go (and as jules looks through it and gives me notes)

summary: the novel follows the story of katya arrison, the princess of othusen. when an assassin comes after her, she is forced to flee the country with her maid and their new friend, valentina. valentina brings them to her home in the western country of thanavel, a country conquered by othusen years ago, their people captures and enslaved and forbidden from returning. there shouldn't be thanavels living here, but there are. and as katya adjusts to life among them and working with valentina's brother, nicholai, she learns secrets about her family, and she learns about the former thanavel rebellion dedicated to freeing their enslaved people. no one should be enslaved, katya says, so she and her new friends start scheming to make sure that their people aren't anymore. they bring the rebellion back, work together, and fight against othusen to save their people.

on nov 1, i finished the outline for this story. i wrote the prologue and part of chapter one, which came out to 2060 words.

[multifandomwritings]

Hi could I please request the valentines prompt wings - Birdy for Din Djarin please! Thank you so much (I love your writings so so much) 💕

Ah of course, and thank you so much, I'm glad! :)

Valentine's song prompts | Wings (Din Djarin)

Fandoms/characters: Star Wars/The Mandalorian (Din Djarin, reader)

Song: 43. Wings - Birdy

Genre: Romance/angst/fluff

Format: Oneshot

Word count: 1687

Summary: After a close call in a dangerous situation, Din blames himself and begins to push you away as he realizes his feelings are deeper than he thought.

Warnings: angst, mentions of a minor injury. Sorry for any mistakes, also!

Notes: Love this song so much, and I adore it for him! I really hope you like this :) And I'm sorry if this isn't to your taste, it's kinda simple/basic and bittersweet but I hope it's okay! And don't mind me keeping the situation at hand very vague... :^) (One left after this btw. Sorry for how slow I've been!)

The silence was heavy. You sat in Din's ship, still planted in place, waiting for him to say something.

Din's life was rarely easy and safe. You knew that. But you liked him. You expected nothing from him, however, contented to only remain in his company. To see the things that he saw and be allowed the adventure of it all. But with adventure came risk and danger, a fact that hit Din hard at the sight of you getting hurt.

"It really isn't that bad," You said, unable to stand the silence any longer. It was barely more than a scrape. It stung, but you took care of it (or rather, DIn did, as soon as you were both safe again) and it wasn't the first time. You couldn't see his expression, but you could sense the tension, and you didn't understand why it bothered him so much.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, the confidence behind your voice dwindling, "I'm usually more careful, I-"

"No," He replied, "It's my fault. I shouldn't be involving you in these things."

"I want to be involved in things," You quickly replied, "And it's not your fault."

When he didn't reply, your heart sunk. Despite him having said so little, you knew something was wrong. More so than him just being upset you'd been hurt. But you couldn't seem to muster up the courage to press, mostly for fear of what you'd hear if you did. You just wanted to forget the whole thing and keep on as usual. But a nagging feeling inside you warned you that that wasn't going to be the case.

***

"Where are we going?" You asked, the first words spoken in hours. Din turned toward you, ignoring your question and answering instead with another.

"How is it?" He asked, gesturing his head toward your injury.

"It's fine," You shrugged, "It's really not that bad."

"Good."

He wasn't sure why he was so worked up. You'd been scraped up before. Granted, it was never such a close call, but you'd still managed your way out with nothing seriously wrong. He should be relieved. He was relieved, but the sinking feeling of guilt ate at him.

He had gotten used to you. Your conversation, your presence. You were comfort and familiarity, you were special. And for that, he had needlessly and thoughtlessly dragged you through every manner or situation. You never had a single complaint, which only made him feel worse.

The thought of you hurt, threatened, or in any kind of peril made his stomach lurch. But there was something else that bothered him, a loose thread that he had begun to unravel as he sat in the silence, pondering over the events of the day. He had long admired you, and long cared for you, but the instincts he had when he saw you hurt were something new and unfamiliar. A blind panic, followed by his mind going blank and his heart racing for hours. When he saw you were okay, that it was only a scrape, he wanted to pull you into himself and keep you there, hidden away and safe.

"Where are we going?" You repeated nervously.

He turned, examining your nervous expression, the tension in your shoulders. He let out a sigh before replying.

"I don't know," He admitted plainly, "I was thinking about taking you home."

"What?" You asked, your throat tensing up uncomfortably, "I didn't ask-"

"You didn't have to. I shouldn't have been bringing you along like this anyway."

"Din," You said, finally getting him to turn to you completely. He waited, his heart racing and mind spinning in confusion. He wanted you to plead with him, give him a reason to change his mind. He shouldn't, he knew, but there was a hidden part of him that wanted to be selfish. He wanted you to want to be with him, despite everything, to crave his company as he had begun to crave yours.

"I don't want to go," You said, trying to hide the croak in your voice, "I like being here, with you."

"But-"

"Have I done something wrong?" You continued, certain you must have. Your heart pounded at the thought of it. You'd tried so hard to do everything right. To be thoughtful and helpful and to keep your own feelings in check, drawing boundaries between you. Surely one simple thing wouldn't put him off you so easily? "I'm sorry if I have, but please tell me. If you really want me to go, then I will, but-"

"No, that's not it. You haven't done anything wrong," He said, his heart twisting up at the sound of hurt in your voice, "I don't want you to go," He admitted reluctantly, eyeing you in such a way that you would have understood right away if you could see him, "I just can't always be there to keep you safe. I don't want you hurt."

"I know you don't," You said sympathetically, "I don't want you hurt either. I worry about you too, more than you know. But I'd never tell you what to do, or try to change you. That's why-" You began, stopping yourself quickly.

"Why what?"

You kicked yourself for even saying anything. It would only make things worse. But then again, you thought, maybe being honest was for the best. At least then everything would be out in the open.

"Why I haven't ever told you I have feelings for you," You admitted, barely able to put one word in front of the next, "I don't want you to feel pressured or anything. I just want to be here. I've stayed, despite the risks. It's worth it," You said, which was only half true. He was worth it, more like. "I don't want to overstay my welcome. I don't want to stay if you're uncomfortable. But if it's just because of my safety..."

Din examined you seriously, glad you couldn't see the shock on his face. He had never once suspected your feelings towards him were anything but friendly. You said it with such a casual tone that he wasn't even sure he'd understood you right. The racing of his heart continued now even harder as he processed. The thought of you, contented to perpetually be in his company as nothing more than a companion and friend, made his mind spin. Even he couldn't exactly say the same, his feelings having slowly grown to the point where he had a hard time remaining friendly with you. To think that someone like you could feel that way toward him was almost overwhelming.

You sat in silence, waiting with as much patience and understanding as you could. His expressionless helmet, his stiff, reserved body language gave you nothing. For all you knew he was uncomfortable, scrambling for a way to let you down as kindly as he could. You expected nothing, and yet, a small part of you wished he'd give you some glimmer of hope and relief.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," You finally said, your voice hushed and full of badly concealed emotion. You wished you could just fold into yourself and disappear. That was the last conversation you'd expected to have been having with him that day, especially just because of such a minor injury.

"No, I'm glad you told me," He said, before he could even think. He'd been in all kinds of nerve-wracking situations in his life and none had him quite so flustered as you staring at him expectantly like that. Not much genuinely scared him, but the prospect of being honest had his stomach twisted into knots. The thought of opening himself up to you, making himself available to someone in such a way was, at best, unnerving. But he loved the thought of it, the thought of you, with him in ways he didn't even know he wanted. He knew he was torturing you, seeing your feigned attempt at patience. The part of himself he thought better of wanted to just turn around and take you back to your home, but he wasn't even sure he'd be able to manage it at that point.

"I want you to stay," He finally said. You perked up visibly, which only tugged at his heart strings further. He didn't deserve someone like you, who had such selfless feelings for him. "I...Care for you, as well."

He watched your reaction carefully, unable to tell what you were thinking. Your head tilted forward slightly as you stared, as if trying to figure him out. He smiled a little to himself at the thought of it.

"Are you sure?" You asked, "I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I don't. And I'm sure," He said, trying to ignore how nervous he really was, "That's why I reacted the way I did to that," He said, tilting his head toward your injury, "I don't want to see you hurt. Especially not because of me."

You tried to hide your giddiness and relief, not wanting to react too soon. But you couldn't help the involuntary smile which slowly spread across your face. The heavy tension felt relieved slightly, now twisting into a different kind of awkwardness.

"You know, it is worth it, though." You replied, earning a raised eyebrow and smile that would unfortunately remain unseen. Still, you could sense his change in mood. You couldn't help but wonder if he cared for you the same way, though. Once more mustering up your courage, you continued, feeling ridiculous for even pressing. "When you say you care for me though, do you mean...?"

He tilted his head forward, waiting on you to elaborate, as if he didn't know exactly what you meant. When you only stared, giving him an expectant look, he just nodded.

His heart could have burst with how a simple nod could elicit such an expression from you. You quickly lessened the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his helmet. Just earlier you'd wished none of it would have happened, and now you were glad it had, thinking of how you might otherwise have gone on unaware of each other's feelings.