#you should see the state of my brain. there’s way too much Dune in there rn

[homenecromancer]

Children of Dune, aka Kinnie Drama With Added Sandworms,

[hajimesh]

𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!” 

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you." 

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub. 

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

​​what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones. 

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?” 

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

[kikis-writing-world]

The Reason

The Reason

Summary: You can’t sleep as you near Moff Gideon’s ship, but neither can Din. He wants to tell you about what happened on Morak.

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating/Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15!!!! Other than the spoilers, it’s all fluff and no editing lol. But seriously, if you’re avoiding finding out what happens in Season 2, Episode 7 / Chapter 15 of The Mandalorian, don’t read this yet. It takes place after, and there’s talk of what happened during the episode.

A/N: It seems like every freaking week I watch the episode and tell myself “don’t write something. Everyone will be writing something, you don’t need to add in your silly fic too.” (Not to say I don’t enjoy reading them, but I just always feel like I won’t be adding anything new.) Well, this week I said fuck it and cranked this little ditty out this morning after the new episode. I hope y’all like it.

Edit: Follow-up drabble here

You sat silently beside Din as the ship - not the Razor Crest that had become your home over the past months, but Boba Fett’s ship Slave I - travelled through space. If the coordinates were right, you were heading into what was sure to be a hard-fought battle but it would be worth it. It was all to get Grogu back.

You willed yourself not to cry as you thought of the little green child you’d come to think of as your own. What he must be feeling right now. Alone and scared while they did unthinkable experiments to him. You’d cried several times since he’d been taken from your care, sick with worry over him. You were sick of crying. Soon would be the time for action, for getting him back.

Fennec and Dune were both sleeping on the opposite side of the bay. You tried to sleep, knowing you’d need your wits about you when you reached Moff Gideon’s ship, but sleep wouldn’t come. Sleep was hard to come by lately.

A whisper to your left surprised you. The low, modulated voice speaking your name. You had thought he was also asleep, reserving his strength for the battle to come. You should have known he’d be struggling to sleep too.

He nodded his head to the side as he unbuckled the harness keeping him secure in the seat. You nodded as you unbuckled your own and followed him to the darkened corner of the hold. You waited for him to sit in the corner, knowing he liked to have his back secured and a view of the room. Instead, he gently led you into the corner and sat with his back to the others. You were too surprised to ask, you followed his lead and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

He hadn’t said much of what happened on Morak, but you hadn’t been expecting him to. You’d learned long ago he wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter. There were times he tried, for you and the kid, helping to fill the silences as time passed on the ship. Hearing him strain, pushing the boundaries of his usual comforts to ease the minds of you and his foundling, was one of the ways he snuck into your heart.

It wasn’t easy loving The Mandalorian. He was so used to being alone, both physically alone and having few people to trust. It took a while, but you earned that trust. You knew you had. You also knew he cared about you in his own special way. He would take your hand in his larger gloved hand to avoid losing you in a crowd. His hand would squeeze yours when you were visibly anxious. A hand on your shoulder, your back, or your hip as he passed you in tight quarters. Leaning his forehead against yours anytime the two of you parted.

To most these fleeting moments wouldn’t look like much, but you knew the stoic Mandalorian didn’t give these touches lightly. That his keldabe kiss was just as precious as any lip-to-lip contact.

You didn’t fully understand his creed. He answered questions when you asked, but a lot of it didn’t make sense to you, an outsider. Even so, you never pushed him to break it or put him in a position that made him feel like the creed was in danger.

“I know you’re worried,” his voice was quiet. The crackling of the modulator even more prominent as it tried to broadcast his hushed tone. “We’ll get him back.”

“I know.” You nodded, looking down at your crossed legs. If anyone could rescue Grogu, it was the man sitting across from you.

That large gloved hand entered your vision, resting lightly on your knee. A small smile broke through your worry at the man’s attempt at comfort. You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of him through the smooth leather.

“I-” He started to speak before stopping himself. While it wasn’t unusual for him to search for his words, he usually did so before starting to speak. By the time he spoke, he was confident and sure in what he had to say. That short, clipped syllable caught your attention in how different it was. He was trying to tell you something, but still wasn’t sure how.

“What is it?” You gently prompted, squeezing his hand with your own.

“On Morak…” He sighed.

“What happened on Morak?” You asked after a beat.

“I did what had to be done.”

His answer confused you. You knew that already of course, but it also sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as you.

“I know that. You got the coordinates. We’re going to find the kid because of you and Mayfield.” You smiled at him, praising him for the success. It was easy to overlook the triumph when it was just a stepping stone to a much larger problem.

“I had to…” He looked away from you as he once again searched for the words. Your smile dropped a fraction with his unease. “I had to take off the helmet.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to reveal, but it hadn’t been that. You knew that he had taken the helmet off months ago, but that had been a life or death situation. No one had been around, just the IG droid who had treated his wounds and saved him. This was a mining refinery full of people. Full of imps.

“Are you okay?” You asked, moving your hand from where it was resting on top of his so you could grip his hand fully. “What happened?”

“I-I had to.” He stuttered. “The terminal had to scan my face to get the coordinates.”

“Mando,” you didn’t dare speak his name - something he had shared with you in confidence - with others around. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once. Relief filled your body. You foremost worry had been for him, and how he would have felt to have broken his life-long creed. You supposed with the explosions, anyone who would have seen his face was likely dead. Unless Mayfield had seen him.

His hand slipped from yours as he brought both of his hands up to the sides of his helmet. He started pushing it up and your eyes widened as a sliver of skin was revealed. You surged forward, covering his hands in your own to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to. To show you.” He explained. His voice came in this awkward mix of his natural timber through the bottom of his helmet and the modulator still trying to pick up his voice. You could see his chin move as he spoke. Your heart was racing. It was the most you’d ever seen of his face.

“You don’t have to.” You told him firmly.

“I think… I think there are reasons to keep it on, and reasons to take it off.” He spoke slowly, like it was something he had been thinking about. You thought of the Mandalorians on Trask who claimed the creed was outdated. You thought of Boba Fett in the cockpit, who wore his newly-polished armor with the pride of a mandalorian despite being without it for years. Thought about him revealing his face for the information needed to save his foundling.

“I want to show you my face.” He told you, his voice unwavering. It was the surety, the confidence you had grown used to from him. “I want to show who I am to the one I love.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. You knew it in your heart, but he’d never said the words aloud to you before. You bit your lip as you felt the tears welling in your eyes again, this time from happiness instead of grief and worry.

“Okay.” You breathed, barely able to find your voice.

With your hands still on his, he lifted the helmet, revealing his face inch by inch. You held your breath as he was slowly revealed to you.

The scruff covering his jaw. His plush lips. The mustache over his mouth. His aquiline nose. His deep brown eyes. His shaggy dark brown hair. He set his helmet in his lap as your eyes scanned his face.

Wow.

You hadn’t realized you had said that out loud until his eyebrows furrowed. That was new. You were used to guessing his emotions through his body language, his tone of voice. Now you had facial expressions to read. He was waiting for your reaction and you hadn’t given him much to go by.

“You’re gorgeous.” You told him. It was the only way you could think to describe the ridiculously handsome man sitting in front of you. You were almost mad at him for hiding his face away for this long.

His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, a single dimple appearing in his cheek. Maker, you thought he’d already taken your breath away and then this-

“Come here.” He ordered. His natural voice was deep. Rich. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Huh?” Your brain wasn’t processing. It was in some kind of overloaded state. Din’s face. Din’s voice. Din’s beautiful brown eyes that you could simply drown in.

His hand was on your cheek, pulling you into him. You gasped, holding your breath as his lips brushed against yours. You had dreamed of this, but not a single one of those dreams lived up to the real thing.

He was hesitant, clumsy even as he kissed you. His lips were chapped against your own, the stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. He smelt of sweat and blaster fire, of fresh air and leather. Maker, you could melt into the floor of the ship never to be seen again and you would have been happy with the life you had lived.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips. You felt him smile in response.

You brought your hand up to his cheek. Feeling the lines of his face with your hand, you trailed your hand to his hair. It was damp with sweat but so soft. It felt amazing between your fingers.

“Where’s Mando?” A voice across the bay shocked both of you, the two of you shooting away from each other as if you’d been burned. You felt like a teenager who had been caught making out by your parents. You looked over Din’s shoulder as he pulled the helmet back into place - his strategic placement of the two of you making sense now. Not only did he not want them to see his face, but he trusted you to have his back. That thought made your heart speed up even more than it already was.

You saw Fennec shaking Cara awake. Luckily she hadn’t looked in this direction yet. Had Cara woken first, she likely would have seen the two of you.

“Sorry, we’re over here.” You admitted, trying to calm the heat in your face. It was dim in the hold, hopefully they couldn’t tell. “We were talking, didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should be sleeping.” Fennec told you,  leveling you with a gaze that truly did make you feel like you’d been caught doing something wrong by a parent.

“I should be sleeping.” Cara grumbled, cranky for having been woken up for no reason.

“Come on. We’re all gonna need to be at our best.” Fennec said, ignoring Cara.

“She’s right.” Din admitted, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him help you to stand. “Let’s try to get some sleep, cyar'ika.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @thisisthe-wayson​ @insideafictionaluniverse​

[kelieah]

flowers (din djarin x reader)

summary: din attempts to show his gratitude to the one person who’s been by his side all along

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

edited: also pls go easy on me lmao, i’m not following the plot bc it’s just a quick fluffy blurb w a lil bit of background! allsssooo please refill out or let me know if you want to be tagged for my star wars / din djarin fics

a/n: sdjhbfdsfb yay! first star wars fic (not technically but let’s go w it), i’ve been wanting to write for their characters for the longest time and idk what’s stopping me ?? so here we goo

main masterlist | din djarin masterlist

You worked all your life as a mechanic, studied different droids and ships yet here you are now, taking care of a child. The child of a Mandolorian who constantly came to you to have his ship fixed. 

It all began when the two of you first met, he landed in your hangar with his busted up Razor Crest and asked for repairs. You told him you could do it for him with the help of your droids. Although, he was quick to reject your droids and asked for only you to work on it. You obliged in the end when he offered more credits, five hundred credits to be specific, for his request. 

While you were repairing his ship, you had to take a look in the interior as well because of how grave the damages were. But while you were fixing the inside, a faint noise startled you. That’s when you discovered the child, who is also known as Grogu. You and Mando, or who you now call Din, found out not too long ago. 

Your relationship with Grogu came naturally and easily. He grew attached to you immediately as did you. Although with Din, that was an entirely different story. After countless visits to your hangar and getting to know you, he fought with himself to make the decision to ask you to come along. He knew only so much about you but knew about your strong crave for adventure. It was a conflicting decision for him to make, he felt his odd sense of responsibility for you but he also emphasized with your past living and hardships. Eventually he asked you and to his little surprise, you agreed to come along with no hesitations.

Now, here are the three of you on a typical day of resting. Din lets you know that him and Grogu are going to the market. You find it odd that he doesn’t ask you to come along like usually would due to his overprotectiveness and slight trust issues but decide to brush it off. “We won’t be long,” he says while putting Grogu into his side.

“Whatever you say, tin head,” you yawn and turn back to your tinkering. 

He rolls his eyes beneath his beskar helmet at your comment and walks off towards the coordinates of the nearest village. Even though it annoys him, he had to admit he never got tired of your insults and nicknames for him. 

The village wasn’t too far from the ship and besides, he wasn’t really planning to get anything new. If you check now you’d realize you all didn’t need any more food or supplies for another week. He’s actually on the search for a gift. Din’s not one to express himself properly so after a short catch up with Cara Dune, he realizes he should be thanking you more. Not that he doesn’t thank you after you help him all the time, but bigger acts of gratitude. Though what would he know? 

“You really don’t know a thing, don’t you? Look, maybe get the girl some flowers and give her a nice big kiss to show her how thankful you are,” Cara chortled while chugging down the rest of her soup. Din pursed his lips and scoffed in response. “You got something good for you here, Mando. I wouldn’t let it pass,” she teased and patted the table, before dismissing herself. As he watched her walk off, her words remained in his mind for quite some time.

“Do you see flowers anywhere, kid?” he mutters while striding through the busy village. Grogu coos in response and reaches out to an area. Din turns around and glances in the direction he reaches out toward only to see a stand full of flowers. He walks towards the stand and looks around the selection, uneasiness settling inside of him like before when Cara told him to get you flowers. He huffs in annoyance. Why were there so many different types? And colors? And scents? 

This is a waste of time, he briefly thought to himself about to turn around until the merchant speaks up. “A Mandolorian buying flowers? Never thought I’d see that day, special someone?”

He lets out a quiet sigh and turns back around, nodding at her. Special is one way to describe it. He thinks deeply for a moment and stares at the variety of choices, debating which one would suit you best. He shakes his head due to being unable to make up his mind and turns away. He picks up Grogu who was beginning to walk off toward a frog and heads toward the other stands to clear his conscious. Not too long after, he purchases a snack for the kid and you. He eventually comes back to the flower stand and tosses the previous merchant a decent amount of credits. “I want it all,” he says firmly. The merchant gapes at the currency in her hands and glances up at him with a shocked expression. She nods quickly and hurries herself to gather all the flowers.

You start to wonder what is taking the two so long until you hear a series of short grunts and noises of, dragging? You place down your tools and press a button to open the back gate. You walk down to see Din dragging along a floating cart full of a ton of something covered high. Grogu reaches out from his bag and smiles at you. You walk over and scoop him up in your arms, pulling him close. Din turns his head towards you as you raise an eyebrow at him. “What is it?” you hesitantly ask and stare at him oddly.

His lips curl into a slight smile at your confused expression. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your face is a bit flushed from the work you were doing. Your lips are molded into a pout and the quirk of your eyebrow amuses him. He realizes soon enough that he’s staring and curses himself. “See for yourself,” he steps aside from the cart and fails to keep his eyes off of you. 

You glare at him warningly and hand him Grogu, reaching out toward the cloth. He smirks slyly and holds the child, nodding for you to continue. You mutter incoherent insults that he easily picks up and chuckles inaudibly. You grasp it and begin to pull it down until Din startles you by yelling just to scare you. Grogu giggles at your reaction. “Dank Farrik! Din! Don’t- don’t do that!” you swat at him and huff, finally pulling off the cloth. He chuckles quietly and waits for reaction. Your eyes widen at the crate full of flowers, the scent overwhelming your nose and the vibrant colors blinding your sight. “Oh, stars,” you mutter and reach out for a bunch, gently caressing one of the petals. “What are these for?”

He shrugs dismissively and looks at Grogu to avoid your adoring gaze. “For you,” he states and bounces the little creature in his arms. You smile widely and look back at the flowers with pure joy, sniffing once again to enjoy the blissful aroma. Grogu squeaks to be let down and Din listens, placing him down. Uncertain of what else to say, he only stands back up and observes you taking in his gift.

“Why though? It’s not my bornday,” you bite your lip attempting to contain your excitement due to receiving such a thing from Din Djarin himself. Over the course of months you’ve got to know this stubborn Mandolorian, you knew expressing himself was one of the hardest things for him to do.

“I know.”

“Then?” you take a step towards him and avert your eyes toward the flowers once more.

He exhales and purses his lips, searching his mind for words to put together. “To thank you,” he trails off and notices your look of encouragement for him to keep going. “For everything you’ve done for Grogu and I. For me,” he adds and cringes at his weak explanation. “Look, you mean a lot to the kid, and me. Besides giving you some of my credits, my sleeping quarters, food and—” he begins to list off things he provides you with which should be a given, especially since he asked you to come along. You raise both your eyebrows in unamusement and cross your arms, tilting your head at him. He couldn’t hold back a grin at your sudden attitude and shakes his head. “I wanted to thank you for everything you do, with flowers. Because, they’re. Uh, flowers.”

You press your lips together and nod in acknowledgement, restraining yourself from insulting him like you usually did. For once, you believed this wasn’t the time to. You briefly avert your eyes back and forth between him and the flowers and decide to show him your thanks as well. You jump into his arms and hug him tightly, or at least attempt to hug him with his bulky clad of armor on. 

“Oof,” he mutters and freezes up at your unexpected actions, unsure of what to do.

“Hug me back, laser brain,” you grumble.

He feels an unfamiliar discomfort in his stomach, his heart beginning to quicken and his cheeks starting to warm up. In disbelief of this feeling, something he begins to remember he hasn’t felt in a long time, he smiles at the thought. He hugs you back, pulls you close and rests his chin upon your shoulder while wrapping his arms around your waist gingerly. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly.

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[rainydaydream-gal18]

The Mandalorian: Imagine Din Being Protective of You

(Author’s Note: Oh my goshhhh, so I finally did it.  I finally decided to write a Mandalorian fanfic.  I hope you enjoy!!!!

Warnings: Creepy character at the cantina.  Nothing graphic.)

   The task was supposed to be simple.

   You would take a seat next to the shady character at the cantina, catch his attention, and get some information on Din’s next target without letting on that you were an ally to the Mandalorian

   However, the shady character was being way more forward than you’d anticipated.

   When faced with the dilemma of obtaining information without causing a disturbance, Cara Dune suggested you charm the target to get the information and not alarm him.  The three of you were hatching a plan aboard the Razor Crest, with the child watching curiously from his seat in the cockpit.

   “She has no training,” the Din Djarin stated, his voice crackling slightly from the modulator.  Though his protest wasn’t wordy, it was still a protest.  He did have a point.  You were not a trained fighter.  You accompanied the Mandalorian to aid in caring for the child and also because you were in danger too if you stayed home after the conflict that was brought to your town.

   “That’s precisely why she should do it,” Cara replied.  “I’d be a dead giveaway.  He’d see me coming from the moment I set foot in that cantina.  ________ here will have the element of surprise.”  She smirked at you, and you ducked your head when Din’s visor faced your direction.  “Besides, it’s not like we’d ever let anything happen to her.”

   “Believe me, I’m not really crazy about this idea,” you admitted.  “But I want to help.”  A few moments passed as he took in your hopeful expression.

   “Alright,” he said finally.

   Fast forward to you sitting on a stool in the cantina.  You had done your makeup and mustered your best flirt attempt, and he responded positively with the occasional raised brow at first before scooting over to strike up a conversation.  He was definitely leaning too much into your personal space, but you had to pretend that it was welcome.

   “So what do you say?  Want to get out of here?”

   “Hmm...Well, you seem like an interesting fellow.  Though, I doubt you’re more interesting than Rangar Illigar.”  You sipped your water, giving him a moment to take the bait.

   He scoffed.  “Rangar?  He’s not that tough.  Why, I beat him in a fight.”

   “Oh?” you raised your brows, feigning interest.  “Is that so?  How did you ever end up in a fight with him?”

   “We played sabacc in this very cantina.  I won.  He couldn’t pay.”

   “I suppose he couldn’t show his face around you after that,” you chuckled.  “What became of him?  Do you know where he is?”

   “Enough about that bantha-brain.”  He smirked, leaning in to place his hand over yours.  “I’m more interested in learning about you.”

   Ugh.  You were so close to getting that information.  This was turning out to be more difficult than you thought.  You forced a smile.

   “But I just have to hear the end of this story; how you sent Rangar running.”

   A look of suspicion crossed his features, and you worried you’d pushed too much.  He stared at you for a long minute before downing his drink.  “I see.  You’re just playing the game.  Well, you’d better watch it, sweetheart.  If you don’t come with me, I might have to make you.”

   His words chilled you, but before you had time to worry about what you’d do next, the target’s head was suddenly slammed into the counter.  A gasp left your lips as you jumped back.

   “What’s the big idea?” he slurred, lifting his head to face the attacker.  Familiar beskar armor shone even in the dim lighting of the cantina.  Din’s visor was staring the target down.

   His voice was even.  Eerily so.  “You don’t talk to her like that.”

   “A Mandalorian!”  He scrambled away from the counter, making a break for the door.  You watched, heart pounding, as Din let him leave before looking at you.  There was a moment of silence in the cantina as others stared for several seconds after the confrontation had occurred.  Eventually the music started back up, and they averted their eyes or helmets.

   Cara came strolling in, shaking her head.  She leaned against the counter.  “So much for getting the information quietly.”

   “Or at the very least, getting the information,” you sighed dejectedly.  “I’m sorry.”

   “No,” Din stated.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

   “Yeah, Mando here couldn’t sit back and let you be in potential peril for just five minutes,” Cara chuckled, rolling her eyes.  “It was worth a shot, anyway.  Why don’t we try a different lead?”

   “We’ll have to,” you said.  “That jerk did say that he won in a fight against Rangar.  He said he beat him in a game of sabacc right here in this cantina, but Rangar couldn’t pay.”

   “So, perhaps he’s a regular,” Cara nodded in approval.  “Good going!  I knew you could handle it.”  You beamed, glad to have been helpful.  As she walked out the exit, you turned to follow but were stopped in your tracks by Din’s deep voice.

   “________.”

   You weren’t used to him saying your name.  It almost sent a shiver down your spine, only this one was more welcome than the one the creepy target had caused.

   “Yeah?” Your voice came out much quieter than you intended.

   “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it,” Din said.  “Believe me, I know you can.”  He paused, visor angling toward the floor before coming back up to meet your gaze.  “It’s just…difficult.  It’s difficult for me to see you in danger.”

   You weren’t quite sure what to say to that.  He was admitting that he cared about your safety beyond the requirements of the mission.  Din was not the most vocal about things, but it was obvious in his actions.  The child, for instance.  He was tasked with caring for the child until his proper home would be found.  You didn’t hear him say anything about love, and he didn’t gush over the child as others did.  Yet, you saw his affection for the little one in how he fussed over his safety, took the time to teach him new things, and made sure he was well taken care of overall.

   When it came to you, he acted similarly, but in a more subtle way.  He did show concern for your safety, though it was more guarded since you were not a little one like the child.  He made sure you had something to eat and got some sleep when you were so stressed that you felt you couldn’t.  Din also began teaching you about the ship, how to fix a few things here and there.  

   You never thought in a million years, though, that he’d speak a word of it.

   When you didn’t respond right away, Din turned to walk out of the cantina.  This time you darted forward to stand directly in front of him, lifting your eyes to look into his visor.  The rise and fall of his armored chest increased when you stepped into his space. 

   “Thank you,” you said quietly.  “For protecting me.”

   He didn’t respond, just gazed back at you.  It made you feel vulnerable; for him to see every emotion play out on your expression even in the most miniscule ways, and yet you could not catch a glimpse of him in return.  Finally, you stepped away and headed out the door, Din following with a glance over his shoulder to see if the two of you caught anyone’s attention.

   Upon returning to the ship, the child waddled up to you, reaching up with his arms.  You smiled and picked him up, hugging him against your chest.  You could tell by his expression that he was curious.

   “We have a lead,” you told him quietly.  “We have to go back to the cantina later to see if this guy shows up.”  The child cooed as if understanding, and you nodded.  “And how are you?”  He cooed again, this time louder, and you laughed in amusement.  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Din glancing your way, and you tried best to pretend that you didn’t.  

   Who knew where this situation would take you?

(PART 2)

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures, Episode 37: The Client

When last we left off, Akar’Niel showed himself before the adventuring party, the Cultbusters for the 2nd time in two weeks time, after their group finished the most important part of their dungeon delving quest within the Tomb of the Fallen King.

With his re-introducing words of “Did you miss me?”, Akar’Niel takes the stage.

And there he was, leaning on a pillar.

Face to face again, this time before rest would overtake them, Akar’Niel makes himself known to the party. The Half-Elven man is met with a mix of intrigue from Jun and Luck, distaste from Mournimar and Belli and a careful study by Malak.

Morgan surely would be by his partner’s side due to the surprise appearance, while Arryn? Arryn was taking a well needed rest, oblivious to the conversation that was transpiring.

With the semi-hostile atmosphere coming from the party, Akar’Niel reveals to the lot of them that he is the client, who requested the fetching of Ena, currently in Luck’s possession.

From the initial interrogation, it’s hard to tell much about his intentions with the blade, aside from keeping it gathering dust in the tomb, or a museum to just be gawked at. However - Belli and Mournimar gather that he’s asking intently about the sword, but based on his physique, there’s a reason he’s not trying to wrestle it off. And Jun? 

Jun knows he lied and knows who River is. There’s an eyebrow twitch, when Luck asked why it mattered to him. He’s very emotionally invested in this artifact.

Furthemore, he tells the party he is of the Circle of Shaksban, the exclusionary spellcaster guild in Crystalgate. To try and gain the party’s trust, Akar’Niel offers himself to be placed under a Zone of Truth spell and willfully fail his save.

Belli casts said spell and a question and answer series begins, wherein he re-affirms he is who he is and what his intentions for the sword are. To hand it to the Darksbane Army for use, specifically, as they are considered by many, in different tones, as “the noble sort”.

During the talk, while Belli slips up and mentions that there’s only one human in their party, despite Luck wearing his disguise, Jun takes note of something about Akar’Niel.  She can see his eyes have a bit of a yellow flicker that moves like a vine in the wind. Furthemore, There’s almost like a faint breeze going through his hair, despite there being no wind?

The conversation carries on for about as long as the Zone of Truth permits, with an air of tension being raised from a half-suspicious and half-amicable side of the party. And Ena herself speaks to Luck, when he asks her what her take is on this arrangement.

Ena finds the party’s client a smug man, but is indifferent in who wields her, as long as blood can be shed. A bit unnerving, if honest answer from the weapon of a late king.

A deal ends up being struck, where the party agree to return Ena themselves, rather than hand it over at this moment to Akar’Niel. And that whenst he checks on the group the sound of wind chimes will follow.

With his departure, the six go to sleep, taking a long rest.

And in the morning? Luctan brings out the Dragon Skull for Malak to question. After debating what the questions should be...

Malak casts Speak With Dead. And for flavor and more amicable conversing, he asks in Draconic:

- 1. ”What were the names of you and the other dragon that attacked?”- “I’m Izyr. Lord of the Sands. My companion is Zamberrut , the Barbarian.”

- 2.“What destroyed the dwarves and dragonborn?” – “A magic not even I know.”

- 3. “Do you know who cast it?” – “The wizards. The magic users, who enforced my brother and I.”

- 4. “Do you know any of their names or locations?””I don’t know their names. They gave us fake ones.”

- 5. “What were the names they gave you?” – “We met with a man, who called himself Nehren and a woman, who called herself Seriza.”

Curious.

Very curious. And requiring further questioning.

Malak would ask again, after sharing his findings with the party.

- 1. “What did they use to compel you and the other dragon?” – “The same thing it always is. A fuck ton of cash.” They were bribed!

- 2. “What did the people that compelled you look like?” – “Well, the tiny one had a weird face, gray hair. Very old. And the woman, a heavier set woman. Human?!”

- 3. “Where did you first meet them? At the mountains, a little bit north of here. Right near the border.”

- 4. “Were they wearing any identifying marks? Jewelry, anything. Special cloaks.”- “No? I don’t think they did. This was like five years ago, man. One of them had this three headed dragon guy, which I found weird.”

- 5. “Did he have 3 heads or a symbol with 3 heads?”- “A symbol.”

Interesting info. They were hired. But it wasn’t clear if it was the work of the council. But one of them was a Fornas worshippers, the little graying man. A 3 headed Dragon symbol meant just that.

Why though? Why would a Fornas worshiper do this sort of cruelty?!

The party once again agree to proceed to Guan.

And so begin the days of travel once again.

On the first day, they go north and come across what one can tell are the remains of a town, just based on the slight shapes. There are visible peaks of what was once the town of Hertis. The travelers could hear faint whistling as they’d pass through. A jaunty little tune.

How jaunty? Jaunty enough that it slaps!

Following around a corner of the remains of a building, the group finds themselves in front of a lone tent. A campsite. This here seems to be a homemade farm with tomato plants in buckets. And the whistling is coming from inside the tent.

As though we are heard, the tune carries on with it’s performer stepping out to see their guests. And it is a female Kenku, 3ft tall and carrying firewood in her arms.

Most of them hadn’t seen one since the tournament, from the team of rogues, but as she speaks in a variety of intriguing voices, Luck and Belli remember hearing of this particularity of the Kenku before. They were cursed to not speak in their own voices, so they learned to mimic others’.

“Well hi!” Zooter would say in one voice. (which we later learned OOC was of the gril from session 3 or 4, who flirted with Belli).

From what the group can gather, Zooter, as she introduces herself, is a lil’ survivor, making a life out here for themselves.

The Cultbusters and the lone citizen, Zooter exchange pleasantries and foods. With the party giving her dried meats for a potato, much to her delight. To a point where she even states that if they ever need a safe spot to rest the night, she will offer them one.

(Seriously, Zooter has such a cool mix of voices. Scorpion among them.)

Surprisingly, from the corner of their eyes, Luck, Belli and Mournimar can see the inside of the tent. What the surprising thing is the small shrine to Ebriosus, which eventually also comes to Jun’s knowledge.

And she reaches into her wares, pulling out tens of platinum coins, which she hands Zooter and the two bond over their connection through Her.

Excited, Mournimar buys of the plant that would grow into the intoxicant “Steam Root” and through some big brain thinking, decides to plant it in the pot Malak bought for him.

(And many weed jokes were had.)

“You know? I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Zooter would say to Jun in another familiar voice, which she herself would specifically and only her recognize.

Later down the line, the group would carry on with their journey, parting ways with Zooter, the friendship made that day cherished forever.

And some good progress is made in travel.

On day 2, nothing really happens. If there’s any nasty shit in the desert, they see and avoid it. But that night, as they settle down, take their usual watches and the like, Jun has a dream to herself.

Day 3. That evening comes to a close and on the next day it’s very open dunes. They travel on more rocky/mountainous terrain. Very hilly. (And they are alive with the sound of music). Their awareness of our surroundings is good enough to where we’re safe. They sleep and nothing happens.

Day 4, the sand is less and the rock is more. Still wasteland, still no water They come across small streams at least once a day.

On the evening of the 5th day, Malak has a specific dream as well.

On day 6... They climb to the top of a little canyon that’s going on. Because they’re higher up, there’s no risk of danger. They get a feeling that for the next few days they’ll be pretty safe.

The 7th day comes and goes and on the 8th, Luctan has a dream. A promissing dream.

Then comes  Day 8.  Smooth as fuck.

Day 9.  They march and march on through and Arryn informs his travelmates that at this point today? They’ve been in Guan for a few days. He didn’t want to mention anything, ‘cause he didn’t want to jynx the group when they passed the border on day 6.

On day 9  the travelers come across to a barely a settlement. A few tents. Some lizard folk, the occasional kobold too. No farms, but there are caravans. We can tell they’ve been there for a while. On the outside, there is one Lizardfolk, more beefy than the rest.  And he is digging a hole. Diggy-diggy-hole.

He welcomes the party and proclaims that they are coming through in a good weather season. “Isn’t it lovely?“ Sand storms and humidity. Yep.  It’s been wild.

He introduces himself as  Eknam, the town burrier. So essentially, he is the undertaker of this settlement. Low on town people, but he’s optimistic that things are turning around. One of their ladies is swollen. So, it might be a big clutch!

They lost their town location, but what’s left of them, they’re called the Gromlets.  Eknam’s idea was Bog Creatures, but they have no bog.

They’re trying to find a place that’ll support them and the water supply isn’t tainted?! Aside from the side effects, there’s the whole limbs dropping off if you drink water 2 years in a row?!  Due to their resistances, it takes longer for the Lizardfolk to be affected, but for others? Much-much quicker.

Malak offers help and eventually clears the water for several days with Purify Food and Drink, while speaking to the settlers in draconic: “Hello, I’m the water technician. I’m here to clean your pipes.”

Greatful, Eknam welcomes the lot of them to Guan.

Eknam notes, upon us mentioning where they’re headed, that they’re going in the right direction of the capitol. Only have to go east and if they don’t get to it, they’d go north.

After some more directions, regarding going through the canyons, Eknam mentions that if the party bring them anything interesting they’d enjoy, they’d welcome the Cultbusters into the family.

While the directions are given,  Jun shifts into a lizard folk and searches for the pregnant lady, whom she finds in an open tent, resting comfortably, big and next to an egg that had recently been laid by her.  Bless her.

Jun congratulates her, before going off to search for the strongest camp person. Who would be Eknam in this case. The expecting mom’s a bit confused about the congratulations, but is grateful.

It is then that Jun talks with Eknam.

She asks him to keep her safe and sound from any harm. Eknam would ease her concern for what could be by stating how she is their highest priority. Always watched. Noting how every settler in the area kept a close eye on her tent.

“She is always our priority.”

Before the party leave, they give them some stuff to help them along with the developement of their settlement. Clothes and the like.

With goodbyes being made, the party would carry on to the next leg of the journey.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[myriadimagines]

Savior

Star Wars (Sequels) One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Poe Dameron

Other Characters: BB-8, Leia Organa, Kylo Ren, Temmin Wexley, Finn

Warnings: mild swearing, violence, mentions of death, injury

Requester: anonymous

Request: “hi love, i hope you’re having a wonderful day. 💖 can I request a poe dameron x fem!reader one shot where the reader is also a pilot and secretly crushes on Poe. When he gets taken by the First Order, she becomes overly worried and begs General Organa to let her go rescue him. When the General asks why, maybe she yells..“because I need to tell him that I love him!”..or something along those lines. And she and Poe have a heartfelt reunion at the end. Sorry if this was too long ahh🤧”

Word Count: 3,378

A/N: y’all im so fuckin mad!!!!!!! i swear to god i queued this request and now it’s fuckin GONE!!!! thank god i had the actual fic saved somewhere else but i already deleted the ask with the original request so i’m so sorry i couldn’t include what the original request was. im still boiling over about this @ tumblr stop deleting my shit!!! EDIT: omg i hate this the original post just published at a completely random time despite disappearing from my queue and i had to delete it before it got notes. UGH! at least it had the original request in it so i could put that in. anyway, @ the requester, this was not too long at all and a super cute idea!!! i hope you like it!!

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

You crowd around the console, the air of worry that fills the room almost suffocating as your fellow pilots look to you expectantly. The radio shakes in your hand as you bring it up to your lips, and you stare at the screen in front of you, Poe’s ship coordinates blinking at you as other red flashing lights rapidly approach — the First Order. 

He’s surrounded, stranded in Taunul, a desolate desert village in Jakku. Leia had sent him to retrieve the map to Luke Skywalker, a crucial solo assignment which was supposed to be simple and quiet. You weren’t even worried when you watched Poe leave, despite always being worried for Poe when he goes on missions. 

How the hell did the First Order find him, all the way on a planet you had never even heard of before the mission?

This is it, you think, watching the First Order close in on the village, with no signs of Poe’s ship making an escape. This is your absolute worst nightmare. 

“Poe,” you urge, your fingers gripping the radio as you can hear his labored breaths on the other end. “Get the hell out of there!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Poe exclaims, and you can hear the engine of the X-Wing firing up, can hear Poe flicking on switches as he prepares for takeoff. You’re almost about to feel a sense of relief, to relax ever so slightly, but everyone startles at the unmistakable sound of a blast. There’s a low rumble, and you can hear Poe curse under his breath before he informs you, “I’ve been hit, my engine’s down!”

Your chest tightens as you heard murmurs of worry around you, everyone nervously looking amongst one another. You desperately try to rack your brain, try to come up with any solution you can to help him, but your thoughts are interrupted as Poe tells you, “I’m giving the map to BB-8, it’s safer with him than with me. BB-8, get as far away from here as you can, you hear me?”

“Poe, don’t!” you try and stop him, already knowing he’s refusing to run. Poe ignores you as BB-8 bleeps in response, and you try and interject, “You’ve got to get out of there—”

“I’ll come back for you!” Poe tries to reassure BB-8. “It’ll be alright!” 

You look up at your squad, catching Leia’s gaze from across the console. She can see the clear torment in your features, and you run a hand through your hair, flinching as you hear the loud sounds of a blaster being fired. Shaking your head, you look up as you plead, “General, we have to help him—”

“No, it’s too dangerous!” Poe interrupts, his voice barely audible over the loud static from the radio. He ducks behind a dune, watching as the villagers are rounded up while none other than Kylo Ren descends from his ship. “I—”

Poe’s voice is quickly drowned out by static as the connection temporarily falters, and you clutch the radio, eyes wide as you exclaim. “Poe? Poe!”

You turn to Leia, utterly powerless as you silently beg her to do something, the radio clattering onto the table as you drop it. She frowns, shaking her head slightly as she knows there’s nothing either of you can do but hope that the First Order doesn’t find BB-8, that Poe can somehow get himself out of the mess he’s been dragged into. 

There’s a muffled voice, and you pounce on the radio, feeling a tiny flicker of hope as you wait to hear Poe’s voice. 

Back on Jakku, Poe is yanked to his feet after being caught and brought before Kylo. The stormtroopers search him at Kylo’s orders, and one digs the comlink out of his pocket. Poe helplessly watches as he hands it to Kylo, shaking his head as he informs, “Nothing, sir.” 

“Put him on board.” Kylo orders, before crushing the comlink in his gloved hand, letting the metal slide out of his palm and into the sand. You lean up against the table, about to collapse, as everyone seems to slump in defeat. It’s the last thing you hear before the radio goes dead. 

—

Your head snaps up as you force yourself to stay awake, and you tiredly rub your eyes, failing to fight off sleep as your gaze fixates on the map in front of you. You reach forward, zooming in on the screen as you run a scan on the system, desperately trying to find any sign of Kylo’s ship, where Poe is imprisoned. The glowing colors begin to blur together as fatigue sets in, and you let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes again as you blink, trying to focus your vision. You look down as your droid, R0-Y7, hums beside you, and reach out to place a hand on his head.

“I have to find him, Roy.” you mutter to the droid, who shifts closer in an attempt to comfort you. Your trusty R0 unit had spent all night by your side, and you smile down at him, grateful to have some company in the otherwise empty room. Resting your elbows on the console, you continue, “I have to save him.”

You can see the first stray beams of the morning sun through the windows of the control room, and you straighten, stretching your arms above your head before rolling your shoulders back. Despite the exhaustion that weighs you down, you refuse to sleep. You know you won’t be able to, anyway, until Poe is back in the Resistance base, safe and sound. It’s been two days since his capture, two torturous days of worrying about what unspeakable acts First Order is doing to him, who are no doubt torturing him for the map. You hate how no one seems to be doing anything, how you feel as if you’re the only person in the entire Resistance who’s desperate to have him back.

You try and tell yourself it’s because you refuse to leave anyone in the clutches of the First Order, but deep down, you know it’s so much more than that. This may very well be the end for Poe, you realise, and you never got the chance to tell him how much you love him.

And something inside you so painfully aches at the mere thought.

Tears sting your eyes as you shakily lower your head, the scan coming back empty with nothing more than some small cargo ships. Zooming the map back out, you begin to expand your search to the neighboring system before the door hisses open, and you startle before looking over your shoulder. You squint, letting your eyes adjust to the bright light that floods in from the hallway, and you recognize Wexley lingering in the doorway. You immediately sit up as Wexley says, “General Organa sent me to find you. We found Kylo Ren’s ship.” 

Your eyes widen, and you jump to your feet, rushing past Wexley with R0-Y7 whizzing besides you as you make your way to the main conference room. You push past the pilots and spies that intently listen to Leia’s instructions, and you manage to maneuver your way to the front just in time to catch the end of Leia’s debriefing. 

“While the Alpha Team are rescuing Poe, I want the Beta Team deployed to find the droid. We need to find BB-8 before the First Order does.” Leia insists, and everyone nods, studying the map of Kylo’s destroyer that’s projected in the center of the room. Leia’s gaze locks with yours, and she continues, “Let’s move. Time is of the essence” 

Everyone quickly scatters, scrambling to make preparations as you make your way to Leia. Something inside you feels invigorated, finally able to do something instead of sitting around feeling utterly powerless. Nodding at her, you say, “I’ll go with Alpha Team—”

“No,” Leia stops you, shaking her head as she lays a gentle hand on your arm. Despite how desperately you’re trying to hide your feelings towards Poe, Leia can clearly see how distressing his capture has been for you. You frown, not understanding what’s happening, and Leia insists, “It’s best if you stay here.”

You struggle to maintain your composure as you can slowly feel yourself coming undone. Keeping your shaking voice steady, you reply, “With all due respect, General, I should be on this mission. I need to help rescue him—”

“y/n,” Leia interjects, noticing your trembling hands and your breaths becoming shallow. Trying to be as gentle as possible with you, she continues, “You haven’t eaten or slept since Poe’s capture, and you’re not in the right state of mind. I can’t risk anything going wrong—”

“Please, General Organa, I have to go with them.” you’re begging now, your voice overlapping hers, and you can’t hold back your tears anymore as they stream down your face. “You don’t understand, I need to be on the team—”

“Why, y/n?” Leia asks, somehow managing to keep her voice calm as you feel yourself falling apart, piece by piece. She holds your hands in hers as she continues, “I don’t doubt your skill, but—”

“Because I love him, and I need to tell him!” you suddenly exclaim, and the entire room seems to freeze, everyone around you halting in their tracks. Leia’s eyes widen, and you’re suddenly grateful for the fact she’s holding you, as your sudden confession suddenly takes all the energy out of your body. Your voice lowers, and in a quiet whimper, you repeat, “I love him.”

You feel simultaneously lighter and heavier with the truth out in the open, finally coming to terms with your feelings and accepting them. But your confession raises the stakes that much higher, and you feel the weight of your new burden crashing down on your shoulders. 

You have to save him, or else you’ll never forgive yourself.

Leia sighs, giving your hands a small squeeze. She knows it’s a bad idea, knows she should insist you stay at the base and just wait for the teams to come back, but the desperation and heartbreak in your eyes softens her. Silently nodding at you, she whispers, “Go.”

You let out a quivering sigh of relief. Nodding gratefully at her, you pull your hands away, turning to sprint towards the hangar as your heart pounds loudly in your chest. 

You’re going to save the man you love. You don’t even give yourself the option of failure. 

—

You watch as Beta Team’s ship navigates its way towards Jakku, and you lean forward to press your communications button before speaking into the radio, “Good luck, Beta Team.”

“Right back at you, Alpha Team.” a voice responds, and you take a deep breath as you see the First Order ships in the distance. Both teams are hiding in transport ships, Beta Team in a salvage freighter intended to blend in with the scavengers on the planet, while your team is in a transport ship supposedly delivering weapons to the First Order. 

You look over your shoulder at your squad, some of which are disguised in First Order uniforms as they prepare to infiltrate the ship. Nodding at them, you ask, “As soon as you find Dameron, you radio back to me, and I’ll get the ship ready to escape. Got it?” 

The team nods in agreement, and one pipes up, voice full of determination, “Let’s get Dameron back.”

You look forward, punching some numbers into your monitor as you prepare to communicate with the Destroyer in order to get inside. You flinch as you see a TIE fighter swoop out of the hangar, and you feel yourself tense up as you immediately go on the defensive. The TIE fighter suddenly ducks under the destroyer, and everyone jumps back in alarm as you watch the cannons activate, rapidly firing at the rogue TIE fighter. Your brow furrows in confusion, and you turn to see your copilot equally as perplexed at the scene unfolding before you. The TIE fighter opens fire, destroying the cannons, but it’s not long before missiles suddenly dart through the sky, heading straight for the TIE fighter. 

On the TIE fighter, the newly named Finn frowns as Poe pilots the ship back towards Jakku, and Finn asks, “Where are we going?”

Poe flicks on a switch above him, attempting to figure out the ship’s communication system while trying to steer the ship. He grins as a light flashes green, and he presses a number sequence for the Resistance into the screen in front of him as he replies, “We’re going back to Jakku, that’s where.” 

“No, no, no, we can’t go back to Jakku!” Finn yells in protest. “We need to get out of this system.”

“I gotta get my droid before the First Order does.” Poe responds as Finn stammers in disbelief. Before he can protest more, Poe turns on the radio, yelling, “This is Poe Dameron, I repeat, this is Poe Dameron, does anyone come in?”

Back on your ship, you lunge forward, scrambling to press the communications button as you hear Poe’s voice in your radio. Around you, you can hear the sounds of disbelief and confusion, and you lean forward as you splutter, “Poe?”

“y/n? Oh, thank God, y/n!” Poe recognizes your voice instantly, and tears of relief and joy well in your eyes to hear his voice. The connection is jumpy, his voice barely audible, but it’s him. 

“Roy, hone in on the frequency.” you urgently instruct, and beside you, R0-Y7 quickly plugs into the control panel. You anxiously watch as the droid’s arm spins, manipulating the frequencies as Poe’s voice becomes briefly garbled before the audio crispens, his voice is loud and clear. 

Interrupting you before you can ask your endless stream of questions, Poe says, “I’ve escaped the First Order on a TIE fighter, and I’m heading back to Jakku for BB-8—”

“We’re in the Jakku system, we were coming to rescue y— wait, a TIE fighter?” you exclaim, stumbling out of your seat to lean forward, peering out of the cockpit window to see the TIE fighter on your right, the missiles still hot on its tail. “Please don’t tell me you’re in the TIE fighter that’s about to be shot down.” 

Despite the wildly inappropriate timing, Poe chuckles, and you hate how you can’t help but smile upon hearing his laugh. You always seem to find yourself in these situations, with Poe somehow managing to crack a smile out of you no matter how dire the circumstances. Nodding, Poe replies, “Yeah, that’s m—” 

You gasp as the ship is suddenly hit, the wing exploding, and the ship begins to spiral out of control. You jump back into your seat, swerving the ship towards him as you yell, “Hang on, Poe!” 

Your ship is bulkier than you’re used to, not as fast and sleek as your X-Wing, but you’ll have to make do as you watch Poe’s TIE fighter burst into flames as it enters Jakku’s atmosphere. You grip the steering mechanisms of the ship as you watch the TIE fighter careen towards the sand, but not before a parachute suddenly bursts out of the cockpit, and you can see Poe strapped to the seat. The parachute is tattered, tangled in the wind as Poe is thrown in the opposite direction, and you steer the ship towards him, not seeing the second parachute being released as Finn narrowly manages to escape the TIE fighter before it crashes into the sand. 

You practically crash your own ship into the sand, the ship unsteadily rocking as you land. You snatch a blaster hanging off the wall, just in case, before slamming the button for the ramp to open. You sprint outside, your team quickly following suit, and you run towards where Poe has fallen, unconscious as he lays on his side in the sand. You crouch beside him, gently rolling him onto his back, resting his head in your lap as you caress his face in your hands. The side of his head is sticky with blood, matting his dark curls, and there’s cuts on his cheek and bottom lip. You gently brush his hair out of his face, urging, “Poe, please wake up, come on—”

You let out a sigh of relief as Poe’s eyelids flutter open, and he squints at you as the sun bears down on him, blinding him as he can feel a dull pain throughout his body. His eyes slowly adjust, making out your face hovering above him, and he can’t help but think you look angelic, the sun shining behind you, and your relieved smile makes his heart swell in his chest. 

“y/n…” he croaks out, trying to sit up, but you quickly stop him.

“Wait, wait, careful.” you insist, gently holding him down. “You were in a pretty bad crash, and you’re all banged up.”

You look over your shoulder, gratefully nodding at your squad as two of them have already brought out a stretcher from the ship. The rest of the team help you load Poe onto the stretcher, and he frowns as he starts, “We have to find BB-8—”

“Already on it. There’s another team who’s searching Jakku now.” you reassure Poe, offering him a smile which he returns, despite all the pain he’s in. He weakly reaches out to you, and you immediately reach for his hand, clinging to it as you jog next to the stretcher, helping to load it onto the ship. Your copilot quickly fires up the engines as soon as the door closes, and you nod at one of your squad members as you instruct her, “Tell General Organa we’ve got him, and see if Beta Team has any updates.”

“Got it.” she nods at you, securing the stretcher in the back corner of the ship before giving you and Poe some privacy. 

You finally let yourself relax, and you feel heat settling into your cheeks as you realise you and Poe are still clinging to each other’s hands, his fingers interlocked with yours as he refuses to let go. His smile is gentle as his gaze meets yours, and he gives your hand a little squeeze as he softly greets, “Hey.”

You smile, instinctively leaning closer towards him. “Hey.” 

“Thanks for coming to rescue me.” he says, shifting towards you, and you try your best to ignore how his arm ever so slightly grazes yours.

“It’s my job, at this point.” you tease, biting back a grin. “You’re always getting into trouble, aren’t you, Dameron?”

“Yeah, but I know I’ll always have my savior.” Poe nudges you. A smirk makes its way onto his face, a smile that makes your heart flutter, and he jokes, “I mean, I did have everything under control…”

You scoff, and Poe can’t help but laugh at your reaction. His smile is so goddamn beautiful, and  happy relief expands through your chest as you jokingly roll your eyes in response. “Don’t, Poe. Don’t even go there.” 

Poe is still laughing, shaking his head as he musters up enough strength to prop himself upright. His laughter dies down, and your breath hitches as he looks at you, his gaze so full of tenderness and unspoken things, and you can see his eyes flicker ever so briefly down to your lips. Your lips part, as if words are trying to escape, but you’re suddenly rendered speechless as you realise no words can fully express how much you love him.

So you lunge forward instead, reaching your other hand up to caress his face as you kiss him, and Poe doesn’t even hesitate to kiss you back, running his hands through your hair as he pulls you closer to him. You feel yourself dissolving at his touch, instantly melting into his lips, and when  you break away, breathless, you finally tell him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Poe replies, with a smile spreading across his face that’s brighter than the sun. It’s more glorious than everything you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and nothing across the entire galaxy can make you happier than seeing his smile. 

And you’re even happier knowing he’s smiling because of you.

tag list: @proudchocolateaddict​​​ / @myfriendmagislit​​​ / @dragon4123​​​ / @fire--pheonix​​​ / @gofandomsandotherstuff​​​ / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @fairytalesforever​​​ / @emmacata​​​ / @hauntedpocdreamer / @fangirlsarah16​​​ / @adaleya​​​ / @floup-doodles​​​ / @batfam16​​​ / @multifandomwriter121​​

[darkhymns-fic]

How Can I Keep You

At the Tower of Salvation, he could hear her voice again. 

It hadn't stopped there.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Raine Sage, Genis Sage Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, day 7: Free Day. Slight angst edition. And something I’d like to fix up better when I have more time.

--

The stairs in the Tower of Salvation seemed never ending, along with the floating rows of coffins, all of them housing a person that must have been mentioned in class. Another Chosen failed, another person lost and tucked away into nothingness. He didn’t want Colette to be a part of this, her name lost to history. So he reached out to her, even as she seemed about to turn away.

His heart was beating against his ribs when he could hear her voice the moment their hands linked together, moving through his head as easily as the sunlight over his skin. For some reason, I still feel like I want to cry. And all he could offer was his own tears.

“Colette! If you realized what was going on, then why…?” But he hadn’t understood just then on his own terms, just how softly his blood was pulsing when her voice echoed inside him, sliding so effortlessly into that rhythm.

You can hear my voice? Colette was saying. Or not saying. He didn’t know what was right, not as he clutched at her hands, finding himself shaking while she remained so still. I’m so happy! I can still say goodbye…

But he clutched harder, so hard that it must have hurt her hands, except that she couldn’t feel anything, not even his own tears dripping down to clash against her skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Colette, I’m sorry…” His guilt pierced through him, gutted through his chest until he felt it open up, bare and grieving for her. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

Even when he couldn’t speak, the flow of all his feelings came rushing out, like a torrent, and he wondered if it would overwhelm Colette. But she was looking at him, holding him back just as tight until an unseen force lifted her away.

I love you too, Lloyd. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry.

And maybe by then, he couldn’t tell their voices apart, even as she pulled away from his hands. She was in him, had always been in him, and he wanted to further crush her into his chest as much as he could to make that even truer. It was why it was so painful, like ripping off his very arm, when she had floated out of his reach.

Still, her voice resounded in her head. But it had always belonged so close to him. He didn’t realize the strangeness of it then.

--

Though they rushed through the Renegade Base, Colette stayed a fair distance away, wings out and casting a faint light across the floor. Sheena was unlocking the Rheiards from their holds, and time was running short.

“How do we bring Colette with us?” Genis was asking. “Would she just ride one of these herself?”

Sheena had taken a moment, biting her lip as she stared at the red-eyed girl, back straight and arms as still as unmoving weights. “She can come with me. I have some warding charms to help me if I really need it. I’ll keep her safe.”

Lloyd didn’t like the idea, but he said nothing yet, his head still rattling with so many other questions that he was unsure which to ask first.

And her voice cut right through them, a wave crashing upon a battered shore, smoothing out the dunes. It was muffled, warped, out of focus. But it was there.

I want to stay with Lloyd.

He blinked. It had been just like at the tower, everything else shutting down the moment she spoke to him. He turned to her, finding no expression, but despite the hollowness he felt, he didn’t turn away. “Colette? Did you say something?”

Genis, who was standing next to him, turned to Lloyd with a questioning eyebrow. “Uh, Sheena was the one that just talked,” he supplied helpfully.

Lloyd started, eyes glancing to Genis before going back to Colette. She hadn’t turned, made no movement at all. But then-

Lloyd? Her voice soft and familiar, and slightly frightened too.

He shook his head, not sure what was happening. But if there was one thing he was good at it, it was thinking fast when the situation called for it. “I mean… I can take Colette with me on the Rheiard. She might fall while we’re in the air, so I can hold onto her.” He felt everyone’s eyes slide over to him, tried again to keep his reasoning sound. “She can be really slippery, you know!”

Now it was Raine’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Slippery?”

“You saying I can’t be trusted to keep her safe?” Sheena argued, and maybe this was another gamble, but Lloyd went with it, still remembering the cadence of Colette’s voice inside his skull.

“Not that, just…well, you tend to fall a lot also. And with Colette, that probably makes it harder on you!”

A soft pause before Genis’ snicker broke the silence. “Ha, he’s got a point, you know.”

Sheena frowned, but her flushed cheeks indicated that she was too embarrassed to keep arguing. “Fine. You can take her, but then I’d better not catch you dropping her either!”

Lloyd nodded, already going to Colette as he heard the weird metal contraptions unfold, like a bird stretching out its wings. “Colette?” he called out to her, timidly reaching for her hand.

He grasped it. She didn’t react or say anything else, slowly walking with him to the Rheiard. Had he just imagined it? As he went to his seat, she carefully sat behind him, hands reaching for his belts to grasp safely.

Thank you.

He heard it again, soft and dim. Lloyd reached behind to grasp her hand one more time before going back to the Rheiard’s handles.

He had no idea what was going on, but either way, he’d keep Colette safe this time.

--

It was Raine who asked him straight off, just after everyone recovered from their shaky landing, (and Lloyd feeling much better that he had been the one to fly with Colette and keep his Rheiard from crashing too hard) about what he heard.

“Why did you think Colette was speaking with you earlier?” she asked. Her voice was asked in a low tone, not loud enough for either Genis or Sheena to hear. “She hasn’t been able to speak since the fourth seal.”

Lloyd considered his next words, still unsure himself, but the look in Raine’s eyes didn’t make him want to reveal much of anything, if at all. “I- I think I was just tired. I just got knocked out before we all had to run from those weird Renegades, remember?”

Raine looked unconvinced. “You did the same thing back at the tower. You acted like she was speaking.”

He had kept himself from saying anything too stupid, such as, ‘Didn’t you hear her too?’ But he remembered the way her voice had flowed all around him, like it was familiar, natural. So much a part of him.

“I just didn’t want her to leave,” he said, turning away. The pain he felt then was not forced. “I didn’t want to think how much I failed her.”

Lloyd? Are you there?

He stopped, looking to the far side of the cliff. So that hadn’t just been…

He then gave a quick glance back to his teacher, seeing Raine struggle with what to say, gripping her staff with her forefingers. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. It’s been hard for all of us. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and hadn’t suffered any brain trauma from that fight earlier.”

“Hey, you always say I have a pretty thick head,” he replied. He could only summon a small smile with his words. “I’m just gonna make sure Colette can find her way to camp.”

Raine was about to ask something else, he knew, but seemed to think better of it with the way she closed her lips then. Lloyd was thankful. “Not too long. You should get yourself some rest. We’ll be taking turns for the night, alright?”

He nodded, saying nothing more. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more. He went towards the cliff edge of the mountain they were camping in, guided by the soft light of pink painted against the black of the night sky.

Not even more than a few feet away did he hear her again. Lloyd.

He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t hearing things. It was her, reaching across whatever chasm that her angel state locked her in. It was Colette through and through.

He knew because as he reached for her hand, he felt something hold him back tight. Not her hand, but…her, in a sense. Her own being. The muffled voice of hers grew clearer, stronger. You can still hear me.

“Of course I can,” he said, grinning at her then. The spikes growing around his heart, ever since he thought he lost her, seemed to pull back, letting him breathe. “And…you still remember me?”

Yes! From that word, he could imagine her all happy, turning to him with a smile, the shell in front of him did none of that. She continued staring out across the sea of trees that made up this world of Tethe’alla, wings highlighting the golden waves of her hair. I don’t feel as alone now.

“I promised I’d never leave you alone,” he stated. “So…you can hear me too. Can you hear everyone else?”

Mm, came back her echo, and he visualized her nodding to the question. But…when I tried calling out to them before, they didn’t say anything. They couldn’t hear me. But you did.

His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. Her voice in his head should have been scary, or at least he felt like that was what people would say. But he didn’t feel that at all. He felt like he was less alone.

“I guess I don’t really get it…but that means you can keep talking with me, can’t you?” Hope that had nearly died out when Colette floated away came flooding back, giving warmth to his limbs. “We can talk like before.”

Yeah… Her wings just barely brushed his shoulder, their span much larger than he recalled. But maybe it was because Colette usually didn’t have her wings out for this long. Just sometimes…it’s hard to keep going. I keep wanting to sleep. Like something keeps calling for me, and it sounds so sad when it does. A pause. It’s a strange feeling. And… I know if I sleep, my body might do things that I don’t mean to do sometimes.

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Even if that happens, it’ll be okay. I’ll make sure to watch out for you.” He thought on something else then. “Can you see me though? Like… or is it different?” He still didn’t fully understand it.

I can see you, just sometimes…things are fuzzy. A little bit. If Colette could move, she would be sighing, or clasping her hands together. Or were those just actions that he expected of her? I feel like I’m moving through water. And that there’s.. something so sad that tries to keep pulling me back. What if…

He knew the fear before she said it. Or…thought it. However this worked. But he smiled, taking a step closer. The others had said she was in self-defense mode, but he trusted Colette. “We’ll find a way to bring you back,” he said. “You won’t have to be stuck like this. Then you can move and talk again like you used to.”

He could feel Colette’s gratefulness through him – like a smile, like the soft ways she would hold his hand, even if the one in his own was still limp. But also, she said then, a small lilt to her voice, like a giggle. I kinda like talking like this with you. Like…it’s our secret. No one knows about it but us!

“Heh…guess you’re right.” He looked over the forest with her, the wind pulling at his hair. It pulled at hers too, and it made him reach out to try and push back some of the strands from her face. “So like, secret conversations between us…” He thought on it. “It’s not too different from before, when you wrote on my hand. Except…I bet we can do this from anywhere!”

Yep! Maybe, even if we’re far away? Colette inquired.

“Yeah!” He had heard from far off just earlier, so it made sense to him. “If I’m stuck in a boring conversation, you can keep talking with me instead!”

Hehe. That way, we can never lose each other, can we? she asked him, her voice subdued.

He clung to her hand even more. If only she could feel it, but one day they would fix this. He had to believe in that. “You won’t ever lose me. I promise.” Then he tried something else, wondering if what they shared between them was a two-way street. He tried not to feel too embarrassed from it.

Because I’m always with you. His thoughts traveled more clearly than they ever felt. They rushed to her like the path before him was clear. Can you hear that?

A few seconds before there was laughter again in his head. If he had told someone about that, they might have looked at him funny. But it was the laughter that he recognized. Less muffled, clear as the sky over Iselia on those sunny days.

I can hear you! So you can do it too. Colette was as excited as if she had come across a cute puppy. Does it hurt your head when you do it though? You’re scrunching your forehead a lot!

Ah, no! I’m okay. Immediately, Lloyd stopped trying to make a face. It was already feeling natural to speak to her this way, something about it making him feel comforted, despite the circumstances. It’s just new to me. I should practice it.

We can keep practicing, Colette assured. The moonlight bounced off her crystal, the light looking so alive for a moment within. I want to always keep talking with you.

Lloyd felt much easier about so many things now, even on this new world with her. He held her hand, picturing a smiling Colette that he could feel from her hidden voice.

And once he did that, he realized something else. Realized what had happened back at the seal.

Does that mean… you heard me before? he asked. Lloyd turned to face her fully instead of the forest. Whether by instinct, or if Colette could somehow control the soulless body that was once hers, she did the same, her boots crunching against the glass. Back at the tower?

In his head he heard a soft noise from her, like a gasp. She took a moment before answering him, the night air from this new world blowing gently against them. I heard…that you…

You said it too, didn’t you? He gripped both her hands, tried to see into her eyes that were blank and lifeless, but they were still Colette’s. She was still there. That you loved me too.

Was it silly to talk like this? When she was so close to him, when he could still use his own voice? But something about whatever space they shared felt so personal, that it only belonged to them. Whatever happened at the tower made something open, made him feel something connect him to her even stronger than before.

He faced her, just as he did there. I love you, Colette.

Colette seemed to know it just as well. Lloyd…I…

Her hands moved.

Lloyd didn’t realize the meaning of that, not until they rested against his chest, not until she moved close. His first instinct was to kiss her, as he had always wanted to. He wanted to kiss her deeply, carry her away from everything. And as she looked at him, the soft tinge of red leaving her eyes, he wondered if he truly could.

But something pulled her back. He felt it so keenly, like the wind buffeting against them both. She seemed to know it too.

I’m sorry, Lloyd. I want to keep hearing you. I want…

Colette? he called out to her, from across that chasm. Her eyes blank pools of red, her hands moving back to her sides. Whatever thing that grabbed at her from within pulled her away from him, until only the echoes of her voice were left inside of his head.

In front of him stood Colette, soulless, as she had been at the tower.

Lloyd wondered then if all that had just happened had been in his head, if his mind had been so messed up, that he had imagined it all. “Colette…” he whispered aloud, feeling the weight bear down on him. Had he just been so wishful that he put it all on her?

Until he saw the tears falling from her eyes.

Lloyd watched quietly, letting one hand reach to touch her cheek. She didn’t push him away, didn’t act like the weapon that Yuan had kept saying she was. Something quiet nudged in his mind. Colette. Sleeping. It had been so long since she slept.

If he thought of it that way, she wasn’t gone. That was why they came here, to help her find her way back to her family, her friends…to him.

I’ll be here when you wake up, Colette, he said to her, his mouth shut, his thoughts traveling across the darkness in the hopes that it would reach her. He pressed his forehead to hers, watching for the girl that was gone but not. I’ll keep listening for you. If he focused more, he could feel the light that was her, just across from him.

He could feel her. And softly, before Colette would be pulled back to that sleep, to that darkness where a sad being wanted her to keep away that cold and jarring loneliness, I can hear you, Lloyd. She sounded so tired. Lloyd was frightened of what that meant, but he couldn’t let that fear overtake him. I can hear you. Then silence again, then rest.

Lloyd waited through the night, listening and listening for her voice to come back. He’d wait for as long as he could.

[autumnhobbit]

this seems like the perfectly rational time to post an absolutely horrible thing i wrote in response to an absolutely horrible concept @lurkinglurkerwholurks introduced to me. take two guesses what it’s about, judging by my usual fare.

Bruce found the warehouse too late and too early.

The entire search was hell, from the realization that Jason was gone, to finding his note, to tracking his location, to realizing the Joker was out and had activity in the area, to finding the truth about Jason’s mother, to frantically flying as fast as his plane could take him to the desert, to being forced to land two hours drive from the village. All the while, he was trying to reach Jason, to warn him. Jason hadn’t answered once. Bruce would have been willing to chalk it up to spite, to distrust, to Jason’s emotional state. Which Bruce hadn’t noticed, hadn’t realized the scope of, hadn’t fixed until it was too late.

But once, as he was halfway there, Jason picked up.

“Jason!?” Bruce couldn’t stifle the desperation in the way his son’s name escaped him. He shouldn’t be doing this...this was Robin’s line, he shouldn’t call him Jason, but he couldn’t, he can’t bring himself to protocol.

No answer. Bruce listened, breathing hard, foot jamming the pedal to the floor.

A rattling echoed fuzzily across the line, and a mad, gleeful cackle followed instantly after it. Bruce’s blood froze in his veins.

“Jason! Jason, talk to me, please—“

A gulp that sounded wet. A scuffle, and then a crack! The line disconnected.

Bruce felt as if there were no air left in the car. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he wondered if there was any spaces between beats. If there ever would be again. He had Jason. Joker had Jason.

Joker knew he loved Jason. He’d known that for God knows how long, but now he had Jason, and Bruce wasn’t there. He couldn’t protect him.

Bruce wanted the car to go faster. He couldn’t make it go any faster. The temp gauge was already far beyond what it should be. Bruce couldn’t think about it overheating. About it stopping, not working. About Jason, alone with the Joker. Jason, who sounded bad. He sounded like he was drowning. They were in the desert. He highly doubted Joker decided to douse him with water to give him a little cold.

Bruce tore the cowl off. He couldn’t breathe in it. He scraped his gauntleted hand across his face, smeared the uncontrollable wetness from his eyes all over himself.

God. He can’t. He couldn’t do this. Jason sounded like his mom, when he watched her blood froth from her mouth, even while it pooled on the front of her dress. When he’d heard her like that, she hadn’t lasted three minutes. Maybe not even two. She gasped and she gasped and she choked and she stopped.

The car leapt off a dune and crashed down into the dip below it. Bruce’s face was rammed into the steering wheel by the inertia, and blood joined the snot and tears coating his face and the chestplate of his armor.

He had to get there in time. He had to.

He sobbed again in earnest when he saw the warehouse in the distance, huddled among a few abandoned buildings knotted together in the midst of the empty sand. He steered the car directly for it. Up the hill it climbed at a speed it was definitely not designed for, on footing it was definitely not designed for. He didn’t care.

He swerved it when he realized he was coming up too fast, and nearly rolled it over. It screeched to a stop hard, and he didn’t even wait for it to fully stop. He didn’t put it in park, he didn’t even turn it off. He leapt out and hit the sand, and as soon as he was halfway to his feet again, he ran.

He rammed the door with his shoulder, and it gave without a moment’s pause. He ran inside.

It was shockingly darker inside the warehouse than it was out in the heat of the sun, but his eyes were drawn to the small, bloodied shape, anyway. It would be hard not to. Jason was on his side almost in the center of the warehouse. There was a short trail of blood behind him, from a thick, dark pool of the stuff just a few feet back, surrounded by bloody handprints and smudges. He’d tried to get away. Joker had done it there, had beaten him over there, and Jason had tried to crawl away, but had only gotten so far. Even from the distance, he could see Jason’s shoulders hitching, his chest trembling as it moved slightly, oh so slightly. But the noise. The noise was so awful, he nearly threw up instantly. Bile rushed up in his throat and he had to force it down, because he didn’t have time for it. Jason wasn’t moving aside from the twitch, up and down, jerking faintly the whole way, and all that was left of his voice was a small, shrill whistling that sounded drenched with blood. Bruce could see it on his face, trailing down his chin.

All this, in barely the space of a heartbeat Bruce could almost irrationally swear he didn’t have. The next instant, he was on his knees beside Jason, his hands shaking above his son’s small, broken body, and only now did he see something else that made his stomach turn. He hadn’t even noticed the other, larger body sprawled out less than six feet from Jason, the body Jason’s shattered wrist was reaching listlessly out towards, lying on the concrete. Sheila lay there, her eyes open and staring, a bullet hole in between them. Her brain was blown out the back of her skull.

Bruce sucked in air that smelled and tasted like blood and gunpowder. Oh, Jason. Poor baby.

Jason’s eyes were open, too. But they were rolled halfway back in his head, only a small smudge of brown visible. They were half-lidded, like he was half-asleep.

Bruce ducked down to his eye level anyway. “Jason,” he whispered helplessly, his voice shaking. “Jason.”

Jason’s eyes didn’t shutter. He just lay prone and breathed blood. Up and down. In and out.

Bruce’s clumsy hands were in Jason’s hair and ever so lightly cupping his face. His jawbone gave just a bit and Bruce nearly doubled over, barely inches away from him. “Jason,” he sobbed.

Still nothing. Bruce took a breath through his teeth that hissed with tears, and forced himself to rally. He had to get Jason out of here. He had to get him help.

“Jason, I have to...” he choked off, looking again at Jason’s body. How his uniform was torn, his ribs were crushed in on one side, his legs were twisted and broken like toothpicks, his arms were splayed and unmoving. “I have to move you.”

He moved his hands, unwillingly, from Jason’s fragile, beaten skull, to his swollen shoulder and his bruised knees. He felt sick tucking his hands beneath his son, smearing the blood and likely hurting him, but Jason probably was in so much pain he was in shock, anyway, even before the blood in his lungs and nose and mouth, and what choice did he have?

He still had to close his eyes an instant and sit, trying to steel himself. The rattle of air going into Jason and coming out soggy went on.

“It’s going to hurt, baby, I—I’m sorry,” Bruce choked out, and lifted halfway through.

He didn’t even make it a foot off the floor because Jason wailed, head back, shattered ribs heaving, right in his ear and the most agonized, childlike cry he’d ever heard in his life. Bruce had him laid back down again faster than if he were a hot poker he’d accidentally grabbed, and it took him a moment to get his breath back, to make the blackness ease off from the corners of his vision. And it came back quickly, because Jason was crying. The jagged rise and fall of his whole body was now punctuated with broken, half-realized sobs, that still carried more pain than Bruce had ever heard from a human in his life. His baby’s brown eyes were invisible, now. Clenched shut.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Bruce realized he was crying, too, repeating the inadequate phrase over and over like some sort of spastic. He didn’t think Jason could hear him, so lost in his pain, drowning in it. He was shaking finely from head to foot.

Somehow, under it all, Bruce heard beeping. He glanced up.

A red timer stared back at him. It was at a minute and seventeen seconds.

Bruce looked down at Jason. His child’s face still had unspeakable suffering written all over it, even as the life had slowly but surely seeped out of him. His breathing was weaker, his movement more muted, but he was still whimpering very faintly, even as more blood frothed from his lips, darker.

And Bruce knew right then that he couldn’t move him. He’d probably kill him trying.

Jason was likely all but unconscious at this point. He was barely breathing. Bruce didn’t need to check his pulse to know his heart was probably in the midst of failing under the strain. His eyes were closed, his face slack and empty. His cheeks were ashen under all the blood and grime.

But he was still crying in his sleep.

He was his son, his child. He’d made him laugh on the day his parents died. He’d been by his side, whether as Robin or as himself, for the last few years of Bruce’s life, and Bruce had never, ever imagined he could be so happy after his mother and father. He’d had glimpses of it with Dick, and he loved Alfred like a father, but Jason was his child, wholly his, and loved him like that were true. Like it was the only thing he knew to be true.

And he knew that Alfred and Dick were no less loved than Jason, and the thought of them struck him like a knife through the heart, but Jason...Jason was lying beneath him. Dying. God, Jason was dying.

And he couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t leave him alone. Even if Jason would never know.

Bruce laid down on his side facing Jason, between his mother and him. He took his gloves off and gently laid his hand atop Jason’s outstretched one, only curling his fingers as tight as he dared. The other hand he wrapped around Jason as much as he could, his arm circling his back and his hand cradling his head. He took a deep breath and settled there.

Briefly, he wondered if he should try to get his comm. Call Alfred and tell him goodbye, and he was sorry. Tell him he loved him, and to tell the same to Dick. To thank Jim, and Barbara, and Leslie, and Lucius.

But there wasn’t time. A glance cast over Jason’s body told him the timer was at fifty-seven seconds. He wouldn’t have time to get all that out, and it wouldn’t be fair, to Alfred, or Dick, or any of them. He had made the necessary preparations years ago, when he’d first left to find his way, before Batman was ever born. Alfred would know where the will was, and what needed doing. He’d updated it regularly since. He’d updated it when he’d taken Jason in, to make him one of his heirs and to ensure he’d always be cared for and looked after. Bruce had wanted him to live on, long and healthy, after he was gone.

He choked at the thought, but just held Jason tighter. He tucked his head up under his chin for a brief moment, then ducked to press a hard kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Jaylad,” he said, to the near-silent air. “I love you, Jason.” He hadn’t said it enough before. He would say it now, and keep saying it. Even if Jason couldn’t hear him.

The timer crawled on. It was going by quickly, but he couldn’t help but feel it was dragging, too. Probably had something to do with the fact that he knew it was coming and was trying to brace for it. It felt like it should be faster, but when he glanced up and saw the thirty-one left on it, his breath left him.

He didn’t look at the timer again. He looked at Jason’s face.

Even marred by bruises and a broken jaw, his son’s face was familiar to him. The jagged jawline, the button nose, the freckles. The delicate eyelashes and hard, expressive brows. All the little pieces that made up Jason. His Jason.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

Jason’s eyes fluttered.

The beeping went on.

Jason’s eyes opened to dull slits. Bruce? he whispered soundlessly, bloody lips moving with nothing coming out.

The bomb went off.

___

Bruce’s eyes opened once after, and he was surprised they did. He regretted it, too, as he was instantly smothered in agonizing pain across every inch of his body. His face and neck were scorched and burned horribly, shrapnel stuck out of the suit every few inches, and the inside of his lungs felt as scorched as his face. Drawing breath smarted enough to bring tears to his eyes. The sky was dark and grey, and lit up from the bottom by flames. Something heavy was pinning his body from the side down, and he couldn’t feel his feet.

Somehow, he realized by shifting minutely, he’d held onto Jason. His son’s body was still entangled with his own, his black head still and silent against Bruce’s chest.

And Bruce didn’t have to check him to know. He was gone.

He’d known it was coming. He’d known it was coming quickly. But it still hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes and pulled Jason closer to him, no longer afraid of hurting him.

The tears cut streaks down his charred cheeks and stung and itched, but he had no capacity or will to stop them. He held Jason and cried softly to himself while the smoke billowed up and drifted back down and hung in a suffocating cloud above him, blocking off the stars.

___

It was thirteen hours before Alfred realized the gravity of the situation.

It was thirty-six before he had managed to find and collect Master Richard and make his way to the desert in another of the planes.

It was thirty-eight before they found the warehouse. They’d been looking for an intact building. Instead they found a pile of ashes and smoldering rubble, and a column of smoke towering a mile high.

Alfred had a feeling they both knew before they landed, but they searched anyway. It took them another solid eight hours to scour the rubble, with the caution of responders practiced in search-and-rescue.

It was Alfred who uncovered them, lifting a piece of roofing only to see the charred face of a boy he would recognize anywhere, in any condition. The same face he had seen for the first time over thirty-four years ago, when Master Thomas and Mrs. Martha had brought him home from the hospital, scrunched and silent in a striped white blanket.

He was curled up on his side in the rubble, like he had been when Alfred had put him to bed the night his mother and father had died.

For a moment he thought to try to shield Master Richard from the sight. But the lad was too fast, and had crossed the mess to be behind him the instant he’d paused. Ah well. Sooner or later they would have found them. Alfred tamped down his own grief, magnified by the sounds of his other grandson’s mourning, and positioned with him to lift the rubble off them fully, uncovering both bodies.

Master Jason was shockingly small in Master Bruce’s arms, even for the lanky form he’d just recently grown into. His body was mutilated beyond belief, and Richard pivoted and threw up upon seeing him, but his face looked almost peaceful against Bruce’s chestplate, cupped gently there with a large hand, stiff in rigor mortis.

Together, Alfred and Richard carefully lifted the bodies onto a gurney to be covered with a sheet. They could not separate Jason from Bruce, and they did not bother to try.

On the flight home there were friends to be called, bad news to be delivered, crying over the coms to be done, arrangements to make.

But when Clark Kent, and Diana Prince, and Donna Troy, and Barry Allen and his family, and Barbara and Jim Gordon came to the Manor’s grounds for the private interments in the family cemetery, only one grave was dug. Bruce and Jason were buried together, side by side.

[prixmiumarchive]

It had to come to this...

Hello followers and friends.

So, back when tumblr made its very dubious policy move to become a Site For The Eyes of Children without actually addressing the problem, I figured its days were numbered. I got irritated, hadn’t been having a lot of consistent fun on the website anyway, and began to look elsewhere. So far, there really isn’t a viable tumblr alternative, though pillowfort and mastodon both seem to have their merits. I’ve been spending most of my time on twitter and a little bit on dreamwidth.

However, since tumblr’s slow demise (that I still think may happen in the future) didn’t happen quite as quickly as I thought it might, I decided to go about making a new tumblr to ride out what may come. There are a couple of reasons for this.

1) I had considered making a fresh start in the past, but this blog had become such a time capsule of my time on the internet and the Earth in general that I had a lot of emotional sunk cost in it. However, when it seemed like tumblr might take aim at random blogs from orbit for having too many pictures of sand dunes or something, I found a really nifty backup utility that allowed me to create an absolutely ginormous backup of everything I’d ever posted on this silly website to the date that I backed it up. That makes it so that I really don’t have any fear of losing anything I might later come to regret anymore, given that my backup file doesn’t go poof, and by that time, I imagine I might have bigger problems. Therefore, it seemed like as good a time as any to make a clean break while any good was left to be had out of this website, come what may.

2) On that note, giving up the followers I had here as reliable viewers of content seemed like a big ask at one point. I have over 800, but honestly? People talked to me more when I hovered beneath 200. I think that I gained most of my followers during that halcyon summer of 2014 right after Captain America; The Winter Soldier came out. We didn’t have an orange fascist as President here in the United States, people were happy, things were as decent as they’ve been in recent memory in terms of the zeitgeist, and everyone was doing happy positivity promoing contests, and I was in on a wave of happy fandom. Then... really... that follower count became a fluctuating mass that just sort of created a lot of anxiety for me. If you’re reading this and we’re not personal friends (who are in a different category obviously anyway), please don’t think I mean you, specifically. Rather, I mean the dozens upon hundreds of people who at some point clicked that follow button only to abandon their blogs later or to continue to tolerate me despite no contact and despite no interest in anything I ever posted. Despite my follower count, I generally get/got notes from the same 25~ or so people unless it was activity from something I posted in a tag as original content and got lucky. But then, anytime I posted ANYTHING I would lose followers. It was a recipe for second-guessing myself after that particular following-culture changed. I no longer covet a huge, imposing number if those people don’t really wanna engage with me or my interests.

3) Over time, my interests have expanded, contracted, morphed, and evolved, and if you’ve been here for a long time, you probably know what I return to most-frequently. However, I find that in 2011, I was an extremely western, live-action-centric fanperson. Often, people who consume only that media feel a certain kind of way about anime, and I can’t say I blame them for Anime Culture at large. However, in the time since about 2015, big parts of my fan-life have been centered around a very short list of specific anime. However, I think a lot of my casual followers sort of judged book by cover and aesthetic and jumped ship. Starting over will allow me to gain followers only on the merits of the kind of content I post now, anime, live action, text posts, and all, without worrying about upsetting expectations from over five years ago.

And I think those are the big, main ones.

So, I’ve decided to archive this blog.

Before I go, I would like to use my largest follower count on any website to ask for good vibes and prayers for one thing, though: As I write this, my dad is at the hospital. He is in stable, fairly himself-seeming condition except for an ongoing headache. However, the reason for this headache is that he suffered from a subdural hematoma, a bleed between the skull and the outermost lining of the brain. If the body heals itself, then he should return to normal. However, they are keeping him for observation to see if they need to intervene in order to get the bleed to drain. I’m very worried, and I have an excellent relationship with my father I’m very thankful for. He is one of my best friends, and I honestly don’t have local friends except my parents. So, if you pray or anything like that, I would very much appreciate your remembering him. I still need him around a lot. Finally dealing with this blog thing is basically just a way for me to do something while waiting around for it to be morning enough to hear if there’s any news even though he was fine when I left.

If you want to find me, here are some handy links. If you bothered to read this, I don’t mind you following along. However, please be mindful that I am going to try to keep my follower count reflective of people I actually might mutually interact with, so don’t feel pressured to.

New tumblr: http://shirouemiyas.tumblr.com

Carrd (a fancy static site the cool kids on twitter are using); https://prixsilentx.carrd.co/#

Twitter: https://twitter.com/prixofheroes

There are a handful of people I’m going to go ahead and follow over there because I’ve known and talked to them. If I miss you, please don’t be offended and feel free to find me there. If you choose to let this be your parting of the ways with me, I wish you all the best.

Thank you, dear March 2011 tumblr and friends, for the long haul.

[hillywooddestiel]

The Road to Recovery

Characters: Sam x reader, Dean

Warnings: fluff, little angst, injury, Sam being a lil awkward muffin

Word count: 2.1k

@ohmyjack asked:

I was wondering if you could make a sam request where the reader is hurt and sam is taking care of them and he keeps being there as she slowly heals from a shot wound during a hunt. As they spend more time together then they end up admittint their feelings for one another. Maybe some cute fluff or a kiss

A/N: Hello! I guess I’ve been neglecting spn of late so this took dune time to get into. At first I hated it but then I finally finished it and you know what, I actually quite like it so I hope you all do to. Sorry about being a little MIA but exams and stuff ya know? xx Masterlist

Story:

Your entire torso feels like it’s on fire, burning from the inside out with the majority of the pain coming from your left hand side. You groan audibly as you open your eyes, feeling the urge to throw up.

“Hey hey hey, no. You need to rest.” Sam runs over to the bed, gently holding you down to the bed by your shoulder.

“What happened?” Your mouth is dry but Sam is on it, holding a straw to your mouth. It’s a strange feeling, drinking whilst lying down but you’re mostly just thankful for the much needed hydration.

“To put it simply, you got shot and also hit your head. One of the vamps had a gun and jumped out at you. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. You didn’t lose too much blood and we got the bullet out but you have a pretty nasty shot wound and probably a concussion.” You appreciate his honesty: you don’t care for cushioning the blow of bad information, it only makes the truth so much harder to hear.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” You gasp, wincing as a wave of pain sparks through your body.

“Dean had to go, got another case with Jody, but he left the car. I thought I’d let you rest up for a few days then we could go to the bunker.” You can’t see him exactly, being stuck on your back, but his tone is comforting.

Day one and two are a major struggle. Sam brings you soup and spoon feeds you like a child, propping your head up on several solid pillows. You smile awkwardly at each other, quickly running out of things to talk about. It’s kind of odd but, you’ve never actually spent that much time with Sam alone. There’s been the odd hunt here and there with Dean, the three of you working together. He seems like he wants to talk, opening his mouth ever so slightly, he just never finds the words.

Day three, Sam helps you to the Impala. He looks to you for permission before lifting your shirt to check the stitches are still intact, the both of you blushing furiously. The drive is long and you nod off more than once.

“Y/N… Y/N… you awake?”

“What?!” You jolt awake, a side effect of hunting, growling in discomfort at the pain caused by sudden movement.

“Careful! Sorry, I shouldn’t have woke you up. We’ve arrived though, at the bunker.”

“Great!” I smile. Sam doesn’t respond, he just stares at me for a good while like the adorably awkward nerd that he is. “Should we maybe go inside?”

“Right, yeah… sorry…” Sam hurries out of the car, opening your door before you can even reach for the handle and helping you into the war room. He lowers you onto the couch, muttering apologies every time you let out a gasp or wince. He’s been very attentive, looking after you, and you’re very grateful for it. Who’s to say what would have happened to you if you’d been hunting solo? Also, you highly doubt Dean would be such a good nurse.

Sam gives you one of the many spare rooms, closer to his own so that he can keep a close eye on you, finding an old wheelchair in the storerooms for you to use. It’s a little wobbly and one of the wheels keeps squeaking but it’ll do the job. It’s when the lights go out that things take a sour turn.

It’s late. Sam has long since gone to bed, satisfied that you’re sound asleep and okay. Your skin is coated in a film of sweat and your muscles won’t stop spasming but you aren’t awake. Instead, you’re mind keeps showing you twisted images: the people you couldn’t save, their horrid deaths on repeat, their blood running across the floor. Sam comes running into your room, summoned by the pained sounds he hears, in his pajamas with his hair all tousled. A quick check of your forehead temperature with the back of his hand indicates a high fever. A little panicked, he peels back your t-shirt and uncovers your wound, bracing himself for the worst. It’s gone a strange, almost black colour and veins around it run darker- you’ve got an infection. He doesn’t want to leave, for fear of your condition getting worse, but he has to; he needs to get some antibiotics and quickly.

Fumbling with the needle, Sam manages to pierce the bottle and fill the syringe with penicillin.

“Sam…” you groan breathily, grabbing a hold of the bed sheets.

“I’m here. You’ll feel better in a second, just breathe for me.” He tries to calm you in your partially conscious state. Meanwhile, he is busy searching for a good vein on your arm to inject you with the one thing that will really help right now. Upon finding one, he wastes no time in inserting the needle and injecting the fluid. The effect isn’t immediate. It takes a long while and a little praying from Sam before you start to calm down. Sam sighs with relief when your regular breathing pattern returns, unaware that he is now holding tightly onto your hand.

You wake up slowly, your brain muddled with sleep and nausea. The room is cool, the air conditioning on full blast making goosebumps rise on your skin. It’s quite chilly actually. Except for one hand. One of your hands is oddly very warm. Your eyes take a moment to adjust but the sight before you is not what you were expecting. Sam is snoring, his head resting on his arm and one hand clutching onto yours. You don’t want to wake him up so you decide to choose your eyes again and get a few more hours of sleep.

“Morning!” You greet Sam brightly, wheeling into the kitchen down the makeshift ramp made of two planks.

“Good morning! You feeling better? You kind of scared me last night.” He cuts up strawberries on the chopping board, not looking at you.

“I did? What happened?”

“You had a fever and I had to give you penicillin. I think you should be fine now…” Sam confesses, pushing a plate of fruit over to you- the food is always healthy when Sam is in charge.

“Oh… well thank you, for saving me. And for looking after me, I don’t mean to be a bother.” You poke at your breakfast with a fork, mushing up the banana slices.

“You could never be a bother Y/N…”

“Um… thanks…” you smile shyly, cheeks flushing. “… I think I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Do you need a hand?”

“No! No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.” You answer too quickly at first but recover quickly. Sam notably flinches a little, failing to hide it with a fake cough. It wasn’t your intention to scare him but the situation is getting a little strange.

By the end of the second week, you’re back on your feet. You find yourself grabbing a hold of whatever is nearest to help you along, sometimes that ends up being Sam, but you’re more or less recovered. Despite the rocky start, you and Sam have actually grown closer. He’s funny, incredibly smart, loves to goof around (much to your surprise) and he’s very attentive when caring for you even though you are nearly back to full health. Hunting will definitely be off the table for maybe another month or so- just to be safe- but you can’t wait to get back to driving out on the open road again. It’s been fun, having the stability of returning to the same bed every night and someone to talk to. The company is what you think you’ll miss the most. Hunting can be the most lonely job in the world, up against the hidden horrors from literal hell all alone. Sam would make a really good partner- in more ways than one.

Also, at the end of the second week, Dean returns from his hunts with Jody. He pulls you into a bear hug immediately, happy to see you back on your feet and feeling much better. Sam makes a fuss at first, warning him to be careful of your injuries, but Dean just waves him off saying you can handle yourself.

“Chill out Sammy, I know you love to play nurse but Y/N is a big girl and doesn’t need you fussing.”

“Dean!” Sam groans at his brother’s mockery while you just laugh.

“Did he get his special thermometer out?”

“He did, yeah.” you admit, not wanting to torment Sam further even though it is funny to see him squirm.

“Dean!”

“Alright alright! It’s good to see you both.”

“It’s good to see you too Dean.” You hug again, unaware of Sam shooting daggers at his brother.

“Hey, can we talk?” Sam pokes his head around your door late at night, startling you a little.

“Yeah of course. Is everything alright?” Sam comes in and sits beside you on your bed before speaking.

“You’re pretty much healed now, right?”

“Yes…” you respond unsure. He’s trying to gently kick you out, you can tell.

“I… We… Dean and I already have another case and… well, since you’re feeling better I thought-”

“You thought it’s time for me to go. It’s fine Sam, you don’t have to wrap everything in bubble wrap.” You finish the sentence for him. And even though you kept telling yourself that it was going to happen, you can’t help but sound bitter about the whole situation. “Thank you for looking after me and saving my life. I’ll get my things and be out by morning.” You move to get up but he grabs your arm quickly.

“That's not what I was gonna ask at all. I want you to come with us.” He reveals, skimming the pad of his thumb over your clenched hands.

“Wait what?”

“You're a good hunter, I want you to come with me- us.” Sam saves himself, but not fast enough for you not to notice.

“Oh… Well I guess it would be good to get back out there. I won’t be able to do much though.” You ponder, hand ghosting your injury.

“I get that. I would never put you in harms way Y/N if you weren’t ready. But, you’ve been down here for a long time and it would be good for you to get out for a while. You can still work a laptop.” Sam reasons. You remain quiet for a moment, weighing up your options. You could stay and be bored, binge watching ANTM and eating pizza. Or, you could join Sam and Dean on this hunt and help them. Plus spending some more time with Sam wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Sam pulls you into an unexpected hug, wrapping his arms around your whole body. At first, you’re a little too shocked to do anything but his warmth relaxes you and you find yourself hugging back. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you can smell him with each inhalation. His cologne is musky with a hint of vanilla. It mixes with his conditioner, minty and like tea tree, to make the scent that is Sam Winchester. You can feel him holding on tightly and breathing in your own perfume. He finally starts to release you from his hold, the two of you backing away slowly from each other until you’re looking into his hazel eyes. Something primal takes over within you, and within Sam. You launch forwards, crashing your lips into his with such passion that you surprise even yourself. Sam responds equally as passionately, his hand getting lost in your hair while the other supports your lower back, almost pulling you into his lap. You wrap your own arms around the base of his neck and angle your head more to the side to get even closer if that’s possible. The two of you only break away to come up for air.

“Woah…” Sam gasps, his breathing laboured.

“Well that was... “

“Surprising.” He laughs, still yet to catch his breath back.

“Yeah!” You laugh breathily, “About time though.”

“Yeah!”

“I suppose now would be a good time to admit that I might like you. A lot.” You look to his face shyly, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Well that’s a relief to know it’s not one sided. I like you too Y/N.” He smiles in the most adorable way, eyes not leaving your lips. This time it’s Sam who leans in first, gently this time, and kisses you softly and slowly like all there is left in the world is you and him. Well, you, him and Dean catching a glimpse of the two of you and rolling his eyes so hard they almost get stuck. Took you two long enough!

[econ23econlive]

Substance Abuse and Addiction during the Pandemic

Substance Abuse and Addiction during the Pandemic

Addiction is a plague to our modern society. Whether that be drugs, alcohol, nicotine, sex, video games, etc. most people have a habit they are struggling to break. We become dependent on these things for pleasure, or to simply help us through our daily lives. The main causes to drug use in particular, are depression and boredom. Depression itself also has many causes. It can be clinical, and purely based on the imbalance of chemicals in ones brain. It can be situational, which means it is based on a circumstance that brings a lot of emotional pain, such as the loss of a loved one or a bad break up. This is typically temporary. It can also be developed due to childhood trauma, whether that be physical or mental trauma. All these causes of depression, however serious, are mostly treatable. Whether that be through therapy, anti-depressants, or both, depression is largely treatable in the modern age. Boredom, the other cause of substance abuse, is obviously very treatable comparted to depression. Boredom can simply be fixed by entertaining the mind. Whether that be going out with friends, playing sports, or working, boredom is relatively treatable, and largely less serious than depression. Those who are depressed turn to something comforting, something that makes them temporarily feel uplifted. This is typically drugs, alcohol, and sex. While both alcohol and sex are not wrong or illegal, they should be exercised in moderation. Having too much sex can make you dependent on it for pleasure in your daily life a study by addictioncenter.com states. And obviously, too much alcohol can make you an alcoholic. Those who are bored typically turn to other simpler and less dangerous ways to entertain their brains, but in some cases they turn to drugs, alcohol, and sex to fascinate them throughout the day.

Economics of Drugs

Just like any society, there is an illegal side of the economy. Just because illegal drugs are not taxed and not considered for a nations GDP (at least not Americas), does not mean there is not an economy behind it. The drug market is largely elastic. This is due to their addictive nature, and there not being many close substitutes. For instance, let’s say Jack and Sally are addicted to heroin. Jack and Sally are so dependent on heroin, that even if prices double, they would still find a way to get the heroin.  This defines an inelastic demand; as prices rise demand does not decrease at the same rate, or even relatively close to the same rate. Alcohol on the other hand is much more elastic. This is not due to how much less addictive alcohol is, as it is still extremely addictive, but to how many close substitutes there are. There are many types of alcohol, and as it is legal to consume, there are also many brands and sellers. This means if one alcohol brand raises its price, it is likely a consumer will purchase a different brand, making alcohol largely elastic.

 How the pandemic has Affected Drug Users

The pandemic has taken its toll on most of us, but it has particularly affected those of us who are extroverts. One study from The Dunes back in 2019 stated that the majority of drug abusers would classify themselves as introverts (at least when not high). Introverted people do not prefer much human contact, so naturally the shutting of the economy and schools did not affect them as much as the rest of the population. A poll from Washington Post back in May 2020, stated that boredom and depression were the two main ideas people complained about when stuck in quarantine. Naturally, this caused drug and substance abuse to skyrocket. One thing I found particularly interesting that was not mentioned in the study is who was taking these drugs. Those who were already substance abusers did not increase the quantity of drugs they purchased, rather the rise in quantity of drugs sold was due to a large increase in customers. This is likely due to extroverts, who now could not have a social life, turning to drugs.

 How the Pandemic has affected Drug Economics

This change in demand for illegal substances not only affected society, but also the illicit economy. Drugs for the most part, has a fixed supply curve. Given that there is a domestic and international drug trade in America, there are multiple sources for drugs. International trade is very risky, and therefore there is typically not much fluctuation in the amount of drugs entering America. As seen in the Narcos documentary (which took place decades ago) as well as documentaries that take place in a slightly more modern time, the majority of drugs enter America on only a few fronts, and there is a finite amount entering on a monthly basis. As for the domestic drugs, they are typically produced in a lab. It is unlikely the increase in demand would cause a large increase in the supply, as the majority of people that would accept the drug dealer lifestyle, already have. Not many people will pull a Walter White and make their own meth to sell. As a result, the increase in demand will instead cause the price of drugs to increase without an increase in supply. This has made drugs a slightly rarer resource, causing people to seek it out all the more, given its inelastic demand. This is causing money to leave the hands of people already struggling during the pandemic, and money being received by those who were already making a huge profit prior to the pandemic. Not only are we in the midst of the pandemic that is covid-19, but we as America are experiencing another pandemic altogether; substance abuse

 How this has Affected me Personally

I have never been a drug user. I occasionally will have a beer with friends, however never let my brain reach a drunken state. When the pandemic hit, I lost contact with a lot of friends. For months on end, I was unable to see anyone, which led to incredible boredom. At one point, I went four weeks without any human contact besides my roommates and the grocer. I am extremely extroverted and value my social life heavily. This boredom was new to me and I did not really know how to handle it. I tried playing video games, watching a new TV show, and picking up guitar. None of those tasks really stuck, as they were not real human contact. Gradually this boredom morphed into depression. Every day was the same, and it seemed like I was going nowhere. I was working hard in school, but due to the nature of online learning, I felt like I was retaining very little knowledge. As a coping mechanism I turned to drugs and alcohol in order to feel some sense of pleasure and accomplishment. This made me feel better temporarily, however left me in an even worse state when I was sober. Eventually I became dependent on the drugs and alcohol to even get me through the day. That was this fall. Since then, I have been able to pull myself up by the bootstraps and stopped substance abuse altogether. This did however not fix the greater problem at hand, the lack of social interaction. Covid-19 has taken its toll on us all, and it affected me in this way. I really hope those in our government begin to realize the mental toll this lockdown has taken on the people and strive to open the economy back up. Obviously, they need to do this in a safe way, however taking away peoples social life, takes away a part of what makes us human, and can lead us to do things we’d never dream of doing.

 Timothy Boshaw

#29888700

[olga-eulalia]

100% pure self-indulgent PG-rated SilverFlint trash. Pre-S4. ~1700 words. (Warning: Unbeta’d. Non-native speaker writing here. Read at own risk.)

Next to him, Silver skidded to a halt, pulling a grimace. He looked drained, his skin pale in the moonlight, and white sand powdered his hair.

"Are you all right?" Flint asked, surveying him from head to foot.

“Yeah,” Silver said. Though he was still in the process of catching his breath, the skin around his eyes creased again and a grin brightened his face, flashing as sudden as rocks in a storm.

Charmed by the audacity of it, Flint smiled back. All that frantic beating of his heart, all the desperate worry about retreat having been the wrong choice, about moving too fast for Silver to be able to keep up the pace, seemed a bit unreasonable now that they had made it so far without getting chased down.

Silver craned his head upwards. "Do you think they foll--"

Flint shushed him by putting a hand over his mouth, watching with bated breath as an avalanche of sand trickled down the slope towards them like fine sugar.

They listened. Silver with wide, unblinking eyes, even after Flint had removed his hand and used it to ready his pistol.

Cool night air moved along the sand and among the grasses with the stealth of a skilled hunter. Even though the beach lay otherwise deserted at this hour, it was impossible to tell whether someone was drawing a weapon or someone else was giving a low whistle to indicate their hiding spot when the sea spilled itself in wave upon wave onto the shore in such a noisy, fitful play, one lazy whoosh continuously interrupting another.

The intensity with which Flint’s senses were straining opened them up to other sensations as well. He noticed how Silver’s body had untensed and relaxed back into the sand, how it was lying there so compactly now, so unlike the ungraspable, uncontainable idea that always replaced it in its absence and attached itself to every other thought in his mind, how drawn he felt by the real warmth and the real scent of it, both of which were well-known and comforting at this point like--

Flint refused himself the rest of the thought. He dug his boots into the sand and, bit by bit, pushed himself back up the steep incline, almost having to claw his way to the top, so that he could take a peek over the edge.

"Anything?" Silver whispered, busy brushing the sand out of his beard and shaking it from his hair, when Flint came sliding back down to him.

Flint's tongue flicked against the inside of his lower lip impatiently. "No."

"What if they return with reinforcements?"

"Unlikely."

"Or hounds?"

Flint pulled his coat aside, exposing his knife holster, and pulled the blade from the sheath there, airing the glint of its sharp edge for a moment.

Silver was not comforted by the sight. "You've never been chased by a pack of them, have you?"

"And you have?"

"You know I was against this whole endeavour from the beginning,” Silver deflected.

"You might also remember that your concerns were duly noted," Flint said, entertained by the way his words made Silver’s mustache give a displeased twitch. "And that I said I’d prefer it if you stayed on the ship."

"I was curious," Silver said, on the defensive.

"Curious?" Flint raised one eyebrow, disapproval of the proverbial cat tinging his voice.

But, of course, Silver would not have wanted to be left out of an important meeting. Nor should he have been.  

Captain Marling of The Eagle, who was bolstering their war effort with ample manpower and their fleet with a sturdy three-master, had made contact with another interested party, whose support could swell their force to a size that promised swift and certain victory over Rogers’s men. All this potential ally still needed was a bit of convincing, a task for which there was no one better suited than Silver. If anyone could have tipped the man’s opinion in their favour, it certainly would’ve been him.

They’d rendezvoused in a ramshackle tavern on the southern coast of an island that held little strategic import, where Rogers’s spies were less likely to keep an eye on their activities and where they could hone their plans far away from everyone else’s overbearing manners and hampering views. But not even an hour into the talk, the sight of five mounted soldiers steering their horses towards the building had made a quick exit through the back door unavoidable and then demanded that they split their group in two. While Captain Marling and his acquaintance had hightailed it up north, he and Silver had made their way towards the beach, their flight taking them through some bushes of stunted growth and across a landscape of coastal dunes, where it had been interrupted by a rather abrupt drop.

Less than a quarter of a mile separated them from the spit of land to the west behind which their longboat lay in wait. But Flint didn’t want to risk getting caught by cavalry on open terrain, so they would continue on the more arduous path across the dunes. Five men patrolling the shoreline out here, in a place situated at the edge of nowhere, were at least three too many to be a coincidence.

Along these lines, Flint had just begun to brood when his thoughts found themselves violently rousted.

Silver, making himself more comfortable where he rested with much of his throat and upper chest exposed, exhaled loudly. "Yes, curious,” he said. “It was something that -- well, I’m not going to name names, but -- most of the crew told me they’d noticed."

"And what was that?" Flint asked, vaguely interested.

"That you seemed gentled."

"Gentled?" Flint threw a surprised glance at Silver. Of the many things he’d expected to hear, this was was not one of them.

"That was my first reaction, too," Silver confided. His voice was smooth and low, just loud enough to be heard, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself. "But it seems that a certain distance made it easier for them to see, long before I did, that you'd become less unforgiving, less prone to anger, less unmovable."

Flint took a long, hard look at the sand with its moonlit ripples and the spindly vegetation poking through. In that moment, everything except Silver’s words seemed very muted and distant, and the deep ocean lapped against the island as meekly as a tamed beast that had chosen to forget its roar for a while.

"Softer somehow," Silver went on. "And I was racking my brain, but I knew it wasn’t drink or some other narcotic. And I knew it couldn’t be blind confidence, either. Or its opposite, for that matter, because I'd seen you back then and it wasn’t that."

Flint’s eyes narrowed as he was trying to figure out just how exactly, especially now that his new reputation ascribed him less anger, he should react to the fact that the state of his mind was deemed an acceptable topic of conversation among his crew and that even Silver joined in ruminations about it instead of simply posing the question to him outright.

"The amount of time I spent trying to untangle this is embarrassing, really, especially when the solution is so obvious,” Silver said.

"It is?" Flint asked, blinking once, his gaze meeting Silver’s.

"Of course. Considering his enthusiasm for the cause, the contempt he holds for every man who would call himself a civiliser, the enormous expertise he brings to his captaincy, the way he commands his crew by just being, it is not so difficult to imagine how someone could feel themselves drawn to Captain Marling."

"Captain Marling.” Flint stared.

"I mean, not that his dashing looks are not worthy of note," Silver said. "One should never underestimate the power of such. I bet there are a couple of men who’d tell you that they’d joined his crew for no other reason."

The smile on Silver’s face was soft and timid, and like a shy thing it went into hiding when Flint failed to encourage it with one of his own.

"It's not Captain Marling," Flint said, slowly and carefully, trying not to clench his jaw, well aware that he wasn't disputing the rest.

"It's not?" Silver asked, swallowing hard.

"No, it's not," Flint said.

Silver thought for a long moment. "You’re certain?"

"Yes." Flint nodded. His eyes were tracking the way that Silver, by shifting just a little, acquired a curious tilt to his head, a calm perceptiveness in his expression. “Quite,” he said.

They might as well have been reciting, in turns, the text of a half-forgotten rhyme or a sea shanty, the words to the spell mattered little beyond the way they focused their attention on each other completely and the way they coaxed tenderness out of her hiding place and made her strike up her old song which would soon have them humming that familiar tune which kindled the heart and lit up the face, which made every breath feel deep and profound, but the ribcage still too small to contain the boundless sense of anticipation, this longing for another glance, another fleeting touch and, hopefully, an affirmation.

"James?" Silver said. His face, framed by the dark spill of his hair, was turned wholly towards Flint. The shimmer of moonlight was between his lips and in the feathery shade of his eyelashes also. It pooled in the dip of his throat next to his silver pendant like liquid waiting to be sipped at.

"Yes?" Flint said, moving closer. He stretched out alongside Silver’s body and angled himself towards it so that they could confer more intimately, so that their secrets would be safe even from the most insistent breeze.

Silver reached out and cupped Flint’s cheek with a warm and tender touch, brushing his thumb back and forth over the beard at the corner of Flint’s mouth.

Flint peered down into Silver’s eyes, feeling unstable, about to take a plunge, and reached out, too. Singling out a lock of Silver’s hair, he brought it to his lips and kissed its silky end as it curled around his finger.

Silver, this time, didn’t respond with words, though it seemed for a moment that he might. He simply clasped the side of Flint’s head more tightly and then guided him further down, home, while the moon was bright, but the stars faded.

[siodymph]

Science Bros Day 4

I gotta say, of all the prompts this year I was the most excited for this one. I’d been thinking of an idea for this story and when I saw the word “pierce” I figured out how to try and put it together.

This is inspired by a hulk comic I read years ago, but for the life of me I can’t remember the name or issue. I think it was a one-off story, possibly apart of the “What if?” stuff. Basically the premises was Bruce got sent to either the future or an alternate dimension where humanity had fallen into post-apocalyptic ruin. And because of Bruce’s powers the radiation only made him stronger and he ruled as king over a whole city of survivors who worshiped and feared him. There was also an underground rebellion trying to take the Hulk down and free everyone from his tyranny. I think they were also the ones to bring Bruce to their world and ask for his help. (If anyone recognizes this story and could let me know where it came from, I’d be eternally grateful! lol)

So for my story today, both Bruce and Tony have been sucked into the alternate universe and agreed to help the rebels in their fight, only to come face to face with their ruler, the Incredible Hulk!

Hope you enjoy this and if you have any requests feel free to send them my way by the 21st of July!

You can read this story under the cut or over on my AO3!

word count: 4593 (rip folks on mobile, this is my longest story for this week.)

Coarse sand on his skin was the first thing Bruce felt when he slowly began to regain consciousness. Groaning, he shifted and tried to lift his face off the ground and open his eyes.

Sand and dirt. Lots of it. He could see giant hills in the distance. Billowing hot wind blew sand off the top of the dunes. The emptiness, the heat, but there was something else that Bruce could feel. Something was seriously wrong. It made Bruce’s instincts scream at him to run, hide, anything besides lying there like a sitting duck.

Where the hell had he woken up?

He couldn’t remember being knocked out, and he also couldn’t remember what had triggered the Other Guy either. But he must have, how else would he end up in a dump like this? He let his face fall back into the dirt, racking his brain to try and remember what happened. What could he last recall?

They had all been together. The Avengers Team. They were with Thor’s family in Asgard. They had been preparing to travel across the Bifrost home when… something started to interfere.

Bruce’s eyes shot open when it all came back to him.

He hadn’t transformed. That interference was enough to disrupt the bridge, warping it. Everyone one else had been on one side, but he and Tony… Oh god, Tony…

“TONY!”

He looked desperately around him, searching for any sign of red or gold, and spotted him a few yards behind where he fell. He was on his hands and knees. Staring at the ground.

Bruce scrambled for footing on the sand and rushed over to him.

“Tony! Oh my god, shit, I’m so sorry! Are you ok?”

Bruce reached out to touch his shoulders but pulled back when Tony raised a pointed finger in the air. Give him a minute. Bruce obliged, giving Tony some space and take care of himself. But he still felt horrible. It had taken the original team members, those closest to Tony, days to persuade him to come with them to Asgard. They all knew how he felt about teleportation but they had really needed his help. And now looked what happened? After all the times they had reassured Tony that everything would be fine.

Bruce stepped back, giving him space to breath, and looked more closely at their surroundings. All around him, seeming to stretch out forever was a complete wasteland. Bruce couldn’t even define it as a desert. At least deserts had some growth, some life hidden within it. But this was just… Nothingness. And for how hot it felt, Bruce couldn’t see the sun. Colossal red clouds covered the sky, so thick sunbeams could hardly pierce them. They definitely were on earth. Anywhere humanoid. Anywhere that even developed life possibly.

And Bruce’s instincts were still going berserk. He closed his eyes to focus on the feeling more. Normally if he’d woken up somewhere unfamiliar after changing into the Hulk, he’d feel exhausted. Weak enough to fall back asleep. And as a medical doctor, he knew that even if he hadn’t transformed, he should still feel tired or even sickly from this heat and dehydration. But he felt fine. In fact, he’d go as far as to say he felt good. Energized, in a way no normal human should in this state. He looked carefully down at his hands. And for a brief, terrifying moment, his skin seemed to ripple with green. It disappeared just as quickly as it came, almost making Bruce think it was a trick of his eyes. He clenched his hands into fists. He felt strong. Even without transforming he felt strong. In his experience within labs and backpacking around the world, he discovered only a tiny handful of circumstances that could make him feel like this.

“Tony?” Bruce asked, carefully stepping back towards him while he was still composing himself. “Normally I would suggest taking off the helmet, but right now you really, really shouldn’t. I this area is radioactive.”

Tony brought his hand up, scanning the area. And when he finally spoke he sounded tired. “Yep, high too.”

Tony seemed to be alright now and accepted Bruce’s hand as he pulled him up to his feet, suit and all.

“Where the hell are we?”

Bruce looked out at the wasteland, completely alien. “I have no idea. I’m sorry.”

Tony’s hand clench into a fist, and Bruce heard him breath heavily over the mic in his suit. “Well that’s just perfect! I can’t reach anyone. I can barely talk with Friday-”

“Wait, get down.” Bruce, grabbed his arm and tried to pull Tony down. But it was too late.

There was a group of figures sprinting towards them. Directly towards them.

“Get behind me.” Tony said briskly, standing in front of Bruce and readied his gauntlets to attack.

But the figures raised their hands in surrender. Tony let them get closer, though his hands were still raised. As they got closer Bruce saw how they were all wearing hoods and googles. Only three of them had obvious firearms but they were holstered. Nobody had weapons drawn actually.

When they were finally close Bruce realized just how young they all looked, they were all college-age at best. Maybe even high-school. One of the people stepped forwards, the leader Bruce could only assume. She pulled down her hood, openly gaping at the two of them.

“It worked...” She breathed, awed. “It actually worked!”

If Bruce could see Tony’s face he was sure he’d be furious. “Woah! What worked? What did you kids do to us?”

“We were trying to send out a distress signal and you answered it! Right?”

“Try dragged out of mid-teleportation!” Tony snapped. “Did you have any idea what you were doing?!”

Bruce touched Tony’s shoulder as he stepped out from behind him. He wasn’t happy about their current situation either but he didn’t want to escalate the situation any further. These were the only people they came across, in an area Bruce had thought was inhospitable. They needed answers more than anything. “Ok, but why? Why were you sending a distress signal?”

“We needed help! You’re help exactly, Dr. Banner.”

“Wait, you know me?”

“I’ll explain everything once we get to shelter. But please, we must get out of here now. If we-” She stopped mid rant when everyone heard the sound of a drone. Above them an electric blue craft circled above them slowly before flying off. The whole group became terrified and the leader turned back to Bruce and Tony. “You have to believe us! If we’re caught all is lost! Please!”

Tony and Bruce looked at each other, then back at the group.

“Well… not like we have any other choice.”

~~~

They were taken by the group to a cave network. And that was only after what felt like hours of riding on hover-bikes. It was hard to guess the time when you couldn’t see the sun, just over-cast clouds.

And once they were out of the elements things felt even more muddled. Soon though the group approached a gate. One that seemed centuries away from the rest of the technology these kids had access to. Like their scrapped-together weapons and rusty hover-bikes, everything was obviously home-made or at least repaired older models. But this thing seemed sleek, metallic, something Tony would have designed in his workshop back at home.

The leader punched a code into the door and ushered them into a room lined in lasers. One of the guys spoke as everyone was scanned. “This is the only way to ensure our base of operations stays safe. If you’re made of the right stuff there are plenty of entrances. But if you’re not, you’ll easily find there are no exits.”

“Cryptic.” Tony replied dryly.

A siren began blaring when the lasers fell over Bruce. And the leader quickly hurried back to the wall. “Hang on!” After a few muttered curse words the alarms finally shut down. Then the entire floor began to sink, and she hoped back onto the platform.

“I uh- I apologize, are security program considered you a threat at first. Sorry about that Dr. Banner.”

“Understandable… I guess.” Bruce said, sparing a glance to look up. From the speed the platform was taking, they were descending fast. The laser room was quick becoming a spec above them. “So, is it alright to get some answers now?”

“Yes, we owe you as much, more probably. My name is Talia.” The leader, Talia, answered. She took a moment to breath before continuing, getting her thoughts in order. “Our world didn’t always look like… that, out there. It used to be full of life. But then humanity turned on itself. They did something unforgivable and irreversible. Nothing grows now. It’s dangerous to stay out for too long. But from what our resources know, only a few scattered camps and villages of mutants can survive out in the wastelands. All we have is the city, it’s the only place safe from the radiation we know of.”

As she spoke, Talia and her team began taking off the covering and head gear. Everyone seemed to be wearing colors that might have once been bright neon but had been turned blander and dirtier from so much time outside and in caves. Tony popped his helmet off as they went down, suffering quietly with a serious case of helmet hair.

“How long has it been like this?” Bruce asked.

“Generations.” Talia said. “Humanity as we currently know of it has only survived due to our city. Vast enough to be called a kingdom. It was built by a brilliant man, but ever since it has been ruled by a monster. His rule is tyrannical, letting those he doesn’t favor suffer in squalor while a select few are brought to live in his palace as servants. Most people in the city consider him a god. But we know the truth. He’s not human, and considers everyone he’s supposed to care for as expendable. Unworthy of autonomy. He was alive before the apocalypse, and instead of the radiation killing him, it only made him stronger. Enhanced super strength, senses, intelligence. His entire body is indestructible. And he’s next to immortal with no weaknesses. He calls himself “the Emperor””

“So how do you expect us to take him down?” Tony pushed.

“We’ve been training in secret our whole lives. My people and I could take on the Emperor’s soldiers. If we strategize correctly. But none of us could ever take on the Emperor himself and survive. Only someone with superhuman powers comparable to his…” Talia, and her whole team turned to look expectantly at Bruce.

“Ok, how do you all know so much about me?” Bruce demanded, this was starting to get really weird. “If this earth went through an apocalypse years ago, how would you even know about the past?”

The platform came to a stop finally and two steel doors pulled apart, revealing a giant space, filled with glass cases and computers. Talia stepped forwards, hands outreached, obviously trying to calm down the situation as everyone in the lift got on edge. “We know because we learned. About our history, laws of science and morality, all our heroes of the past. We were taught much about you Dr. Banner, as well as you Mr. Stark. We have a library and museum full of ancient records and artifacts. It’s one of the most precious things in our base of operations. If the Emperor ever found out, we would truly be destroyed… And since our Avengers perished centuries ago, we reached out to other realities. And you were brought here to us. To help us defeat the Emperor. If you transform, you could be his equal, you could beat him.”

Bruce sighed, bringing his hands to his face. And following Talia and the others out of the lift and into their base. “There’s only one problem, when I… transform as you put it, it becomes an alternate personality. I have no control over myself. I refuse to let him loose near people, certainly not in humanity’s last standing city. I could destroy everyone.”

Talia thought for a moment, rethinking her plans.

An old lady in a wheel chair rolled over to Bruce before Talia could say anything. “What if we found a way to evacuate the area? It would have more risk, if we create too much disturbance the Emperor will be even more suspicious than he already is. But what if we managed to isolate the area? Could you risk transforming then? Because if we don’t have you, there’s no point in attacking the big green bastard!”

“Green?” The irking he got while Talia explained her history, the horrible feeling he’d had ever since landing here seemed to reach a peak and he knew in his heart who the Emperor was.

“The only man unbeatable enough to survive the end of the world.” The old woman said bitterly. “Look, if you can’t do it we’ll wait for our next chance. Send you and Mr. Stark back as soon as possible. Keep our history safe, teach the next generation and the one after that if we have to. We can’t risk losing our only base. But if you can, for the love of god, just help us Bruce.”

Bruce thought it over. It was risky. But how could he stand to the side when there was a chance he could do something to stop it?

“Ok. I’ll do it.”

All around him people began clapping and cheering. Talia looked relieved. And the old Lady, the actual leader of this rebellion Bruce now assumed, had a resigned look on her face. Lips set to a stiff frown. “We’ll strike tomorrow afternoon, when the Emperor visits the industry district. And at Dr. Banner’s request, we’ll spread the word to get as many people out of the area as we can. In the meantime we all must prepare for combat!”

Everyone cheered again and Bruce wondered what the hell he and Tony just got dragged into.

“Well, this should be interesting.” Tony said nudging his side.

~~~

Tomorrow came quickly and Bruce soon found himself dressed in similar wears like the rest of the rebels. Hidden in plain sight as they milled about the so-called factory district. Everyone was waiting. Soldiers in what looked like a fusion of mech-suits and gladiator armor began walking into the area, but there was no signs of the Emperor arriving yet.

Everyone one around him seemed excited. They were all full of confidence and restless energy, ready to take on whatever came their way. All last night Tony had helped improve everyone’s firearms and devices. And now he was hiding somewhere in the Iron Man suit, ready to give their forces air support and eyes.

“Any sign of the Emperor!” The old lady bark over their com-links.

Bruce heard Tony reply first. “No, no sight of- Wait… Here he comes! Oh my god!” It took him a moment to realize he was laughing, not crying or gasping for air.

“Get a hold of yourself Stark!” The Old Lady snapped.

“Sorry, my bad. Oh my god, Bruce you’re gonna love this! He looks so old! Got a big grey beard and everything!”

“And he’s the most sinister, powerful mastermind on this planet so you better watch your back right now!” The Old Lady snapped back. “Everyone listen up! This is it! This is everything we’ve been working for. Long before I came into this world, generations of students have been waiting for this day. Fight for everything you stand for, everything within you!”

The last part came in a rushed growl as the Old Lady was no doubt preparing to fight herself. “But if we fail today, if anyone is captured and questioned, for the love of all that is sacred keep your damn mouth shut! Our families have been waiting for generations and our only hope is being able to wait and remember! But today students we fight! For Humanity! For our history, and for our future!”

In the distance, a colossal chariot drove towards them. It took up the entire road and stood at the same height as some of the buildings. And Bruce could see a green figure standing behind it. An old Hulking green monster. Looking directly at him.

“Now.”

The people, the kids surrounding him charged, unsheathing their weapons. Directly attacking the soldiers all around them. The gladiators were caught by surprise and struggled to match the mob closing in on them. It was madness. Chaotic enough he began to feel flashes of green without feeling mad. The Other Guy really wanted to fight, but Bruce tried to hold him off as long as he could. He at least wanted to clear past all the soldiers and rebels before changing. Above, Bruce watched as Tony rocketed forwards, he was supposed to cut off the chariot’s pathway, hold off and weaken the second wave of soldiers running towards the mob.

But he went too far. He was getting too close to the chariot. Bruce wanted to scream but it happened so fast it was already too late.

The Emperor stood up and swatted at him like he was a housefly. And as Tony dodge his giant green hands, he was still for just a second too long and a burst of something powerful and blue struck Iron Man.

TINMAN!

He felt the Other Guy shutter through his mind, but tried to keep him at bay. Not yet… please not yet…

“Tony! Tony can you hear me?”

Bruce heard Tony grunt on the other end. “Shit! Whatever that was it just completely shut down the suit. Ripped right through it. Friday’s offline. Everything is down- Shit!”

When Bruce looked up to where Tony had fallen he saw soldiers all around the Iron Man suit. Piercing it with spears the same glowing color as the burst of energy. Prying it apart like a nut. When the suit was destroyed Bruce saw them drag Tony up, bringing him directly to the Emperor. Bruce’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

“Keep fighting! We can’t give up now!” Talia screamed over the coms.

“NO!” The old lady yelled louder.

“But Grandma Barton we can’t give up now!” Talia begged.

But the old Lady, Ms. Barton refused. “Everyone stop right now, back away from the soldiers. Get out of here if you can. And Banner don’t you dare change! They knew we would be here… we’ve been compromised.”

All at once the mob scattered, adults and teenagers ran in every direction. Many made it out. But Bruce and the rest were corralled into a square formation. The Emperor looked at them all, full of irritation and annoyance.

And the green filling Bruce’s vision was lasting longer and longer. Still he tried to hold the Hulk off. If this Emperor knew about the attack then he probably knew about Bruce and Tony. That would explain why he didn’t look surprised by the sudden appearance of the first fully-functioning Iron Man in centuries. And that meant he was probably prepared for Bruce too. Probably even wanted him to transform.

He tried to keep himself in control. Especially when the Emperor stood from his chariot, reached down swiping Tony into one hand, and began approaching the group of rebels.

“This is how you repay me?” He rumbled. His voice sounded too much like the Other Guy, but it was so strange to hear him speak in full sentences, not to mention the cracked worn age in his voice too. “For all I’ve done for humanity. I built this city for you, kept you safe from the radiation, from the sickness. And in turn you all conspire against me, make plans to kill me… As if I could be killed.”

His voice seemed to drip with venom at those last words. He held Tony higher and began squeezing him. Bruce could see Tony struggle not to make any noise.

“I am not without my mercies however. I made a promise to protect humanity, not destroy it. I will forgive you all, children. But only after you show some sacrifice for your crimes today. A sacrifice in imprisonment, for all of you. And…” When he spoke, the Emperor had glanced from person to person, seemingly randomly. But as he squeezed Tony further, he looked directly at Bruce.

“The immediate destruction of this man.”

When he clenched his fist still tighter, Tony couldn’t hold back a scream he’d been biting down. Bruce could see the pain on his face, his hands were clawing at the Emperor’s grip, even as fruitless as it was.

The Other Guy went insane in his head.

HE HURTING TINMAN!

Please no. He begged inside his mind, trying to shut off the tidal wave of green surging through him. It’s what he wants. This is a trap.

HULK NOT CARE! HE KILLING TINMAN!

He knew a transformation was inevitable. The last thing he heard before falling to the back of his mind was Ms. Barton demanding he not change while the young rebels all around him were screaming in terror…

When Hulk took control, he saw little humans scurrying all around his feet, running towards crummy buildings to hide.

But he didn’t care about them. His focus was solely on the Old Bully who was hurting his Tinman. The Old Bully had stopped squeezing Tinman. He was setting the Tinman down in his chariot.

“Step out of this chariot and you will be crushed.” Hulk heard him threaten his Tinman which only made rage course stronger through him. Then the Old Bully finally turned to face him again, smirking. “Dr. Banner I presume?”

Hulk roared at him. A roar that left all of the Bully’s men quaking and running but the Bully wasn’t fazed. He looked disappointed actually.

“I see… You’re from a world and time where you haven’t learned to control your powers? That’s a shame, I was looking forwards to an intellectual equal. But this should still be interesting.”

Hulk didn’t want to talk. That’s what Banner was for! He was for fighting and yelling! So he charged at the old Bully with raised fists.

But much to his surprise despite how wrinkly the older Hulk looked, he was still swift. Easily dodging Hulk’s slamming fists and bringing how own down, hard onto the Hulk’s chest. And it stung!

“I bet you think you have multiple personalities. You do, don’t you?” The Old Bully asked, shoving Hulk away. “It’s much easier that way… You always have somewhere to put all your anger and fear. A way to disassociate. A way to blame yourself without actually blaming yourself.”

Hulk aimed his hits at the Bully’s jaw. To make him shut up. Hulk didn’t like the things this mean old bully was saying. But the Bully kept talking and he shoved Hulk through the wall of some big building. The inside reeked of chemicals. And the Bully just kept on talking!

“You’re not two different creature Bruce. You’re not a man cursed either. It all you. It always was. Even this infantile manifestation of your rage.”

Hulk charged again, roaring. This Bully kept on using big words Hulk didn’t remember but he hated the tone in his voice. It made him want to smack him into the ground, beat him till his pride broke. If he could just land a damn hit on him! The old Bully kept dodging and deflecting everything Hulk through at him. And despite getting angrier, he didn’t feel any stronger. When the Old Bully shoved him back into a giant vat, he didn’t feel a burn as it burned at his skin. Hulk just pulled himself back up to go hit him again.

But even he couldn’t keep this up forever. As they continued to brawl, Hulk could feel that sleeping feeling creep in. That was his signal Bruce would wake up. He couldn’t wake up Bruce yet. He had to beat this stupid bully first!

Then for a brief second the bully stopped. Looking Hulk up and down. Thinking of something.

“Perhaps I could show you… I could teach you. Help you embrace all of your egos as I have. Help you realize your full potential.”

Hulk snarled at him, spitting a little bit of acid he’d kept in his mouth in the Bully’s face. Out of all the things he tried that day that was the only thing to catch the Bully off-guard. Hulk grinned at the Bully’s disgust as he wiped acid off his face.

“Ugh! You disgusting- Guess I’ll have to teach you manners too!”

Before Hulk could pull away, the Old Bully grabbed him by the shoulders and knocked his skull into his. Stars spun behind Hulk’s eyes and he tried to pull away. But the Bully’s grip wouldn’t let up and he threw both out them outside and slammed Hulk onto the ground.

He was exhausted now. He was too weak. Banner was going to wake up soon. He could feel it.

“Oh no you don’t.” The Bully growled, slapping him across the face. “Your first lesson is this, you can’t use your personalities to escape, Bruce. You got to suffer through all your consequences. There is no Hulk.”

Hulk weakly tried to force the Bully off of him but he didn’t move. Hulk saw him hold something yellow and thin in his hand. And then he quickly brought it up Hulk’s arm. It burned as it cut through him. It pierced his skin. Hulk was unbreakable. Hulk was supposed to be unbreakable, but this needle pierced his skin! Hulk hated needles, hate having people poke and prod at him. He wanted to fall asleep, have Banner come back.

But he wasn’t change back now. Whatever the Bully forced into him was keeping Banner away. Hulk realized he couldn’t even hear Banner. Where the hell was Banner?!

He hated how helpless he felt. The old Bully picked him up and put him in a chair. Metal clamps came down on his hands, feet and neck. Hulk hated being pinned down. Hulk hated being trapped! He looked around desperately, hoping he might find Banner. God, he wanted Banner to come back right now. He’d know what to do…

He felt a tiny weight be settled in his opened palm. The old Bully dropped Tinman in his hand.

“You ok big guy?” Tinman said, rubbing at his thumb. “Big guy?”

Hulk wanted to respond but his mouth felt fuzzy and weird. His whole body felt fuzzy and weird.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” Tinman shouted at the Bully.

“What was necessary.” Was the only answer the stupid, old, stupid bully gave. Then the chariot was off, rolling away from all the little rebels.

Tinman kept rubbing at the hand he sat in. “Hey, hey, come on look at me big guy. It’s gonna be ok. I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we’ll figure this out and get out of here together. I promise.”

Figuring things out was Banner’s thing. Hulk tried to focus of the weight of Tinman in his hand while his eyes shut. Usually when he was tired he could feel Banner there, ready to wake up in his place. But right now he couldn’t feel anything. And as he closed his eyes he could only wonder desperately what on earth the Old Bully had done to his Banner.

[willemsadventures]

2015.

Preface

Many years ago, in a country of cold and craziness, a fire started to burn. And when a fire starts to burn, right, and it starts to spread, well, things spread I guess. I like to think of it as a bright burning flame of adventure. Adventure, with ambition as its fuel. And through adventure and ambition, the decisions in the past years have all accumulated to how I think, where I am, what I do, and where I want to go. However, I have noticed that at times, I measure my adventures against those of my peers, rather than pursuing adventures for the sake of my own happiness. Perhaps for the wrong reasons, I have been pushing myself to find my limits, while withholding me from enjoying the less adventurous moments. I could barely enjoy a slow summer in Denmark, when comparing myself to the lives of the people around me on Facebook, leaving for exotic internships and what not.

              The latter is beyond the point of this summary though, and should only function as a starting point for perhaps another essay. Now considering that you’ve already made it to my page, and hopefully will take the effort to read through the stories that I have put together, I would still like to state the obvious; these stories are cherry picked over the last year(s). Not all days were adventures, and like everyone else, even I love to spend a night or two on the couch, curled up in a blanket, eating pizza and watching shows.

A final clarification, before we get into the good stuff. 2015 will be the fourth consecutive year of which I will have made a summary. The thought behind this self-imposed obligation is the hopeful thought that years from now, when the flame of adventure has found its calm without flares or flickering, I will be able to look back upon one of the most exciting parts of my life, and smile. And the more vividly I capture my stories, the better I will be able to recollect them, relive them, and even retell them to whomever cares to listen, allowing my adventures to shine far beyond their momentum.

              With this preface in place, I believe I am ready to shed some more light on the last year. A year in which I moved abroad yet again, put myself to the test, and was reminded that persistence is an invaluable part of success. All of this, and more, started in January and February.

January & February

To fully capture the beginning of the year, I have to go back a number of hours before the actual start of the year. At the time, I was five days away from the first official deadlines of my masters at KU. My days both started and ended in darkness, and the thought of a NYE party with some of my friends and fellow students was one of the few things that kept my spirit up. As I clear my desk hours before the moment suprème, I find out that the original plans had been cancelled, and for a moment, I panic, until my dear roommate takes me under her wing. Now before you continue reading, put your judgment aside. No, seriously. Don’t be so judgmental. Good. She invites me to a party at her Scientology church. In all fairness, the ‘party’ was lovely, the food was delicious, and the people were delightful. A little strange, but delightful. My January 1st starts with 4 distinct messages, sent to me approximately an hour after I fell asleep. Oh boy, how unfortunate was I for not being awake at the time. The rest of the first is spent in bed, watching Disney movies and eating Thai food.

The following days become a blur and are completely spent in the library, where I complete 2 twenty page papers approximately half an hour before their deadline. Now where the typical Dane would now have three weeks off, I thought an intensive Danish course would be an excellent remedy for a brain sore from studying. Luckily, I was right, and with new friends and a forsmukke Danish teacher, the next three weeks go by fast. During those days, my roommate invites me to be a part of her next videoclip. After spending 6 hours parading my cape in the fierce Copenhagen wind, the video is done. The month ends with a visit from two of the warmest people I know, Pablo and Rachael. I show my first official visitors the city, and they show me that there is more to the city than my unfulfilling university.

With February knocking, I organize the first mentor dinner for ‘my’ group of international students. Back in my role as organizer rather than participant, I feel right at home. Or maybe it were the endearing individuals from around the world that did this. For Carnaval I escape the city to explore Odense with my dear Elena and Martin. Odense exists because of H.C., is cold, yet has better parties. February ends with what I refer to as the highlight of my year. Now I hope no one stops reading after this, because there’s good stuff later on too, but this just takes the crown.

Around Oktober 2014, when my situation finally improves a little, I can’t shake the feeling of missing the Dutch student traditions. With a wild thought in my head, I approach the QA Programme, Studenterhuset, and whomever likes to hear what I have to say. I wanted to organize a Copenhagen Cantus. Danish society being what it is, this idea takes months to take flight, but when it does, I huff, and I puff, and manage to blow air right under its wings. All parties involved ‘consent’, for lack of a better word, and together with my first cantus committee, we bring together an approximate 90 students. As singers, my amazing fellow former board members from I*ESN Tilburg visit from the Netherlands. As I wash away the stress, and burgers too, with Schrobbeler, I make yet another inspection round. Visitors were meant to be on the guestlist, which had been updated nearly every day before the event, and I wanted to stick with fire regulations. Through the door that I had been guarding, Elisa, Yvonne, Sven and Maria walk in, and while the world is running around, I stop. You want to know if you have incredible friends? This is how you know: They drove all the way from the Netherlands to Denmark, bribed one of my committee members, and joined the cantus under fake names. I lost my words, my control of the situation, and by nothing more than their hugs, I start again, and so does the best cantus of my entire life. The crowd needs a little more than three songs, but with my international guests, Jordy in charge of the punishments, and all of us slowly getting drunk, we wrote history. People spitting in each others’ faces, drinking from shoes, and all for the love of beer. Once more, to all of you who came that night, thank you, for you made me the happiest man in Copenhagen. Until I was soaked in beer, rushed to the toilet to throw up, and came back to find the crowd chanting ‘Philip’ instead of ‘Willem’. Ready for the next months?

March & April

Writing the following months, I must admit not everything might have come back to me as vividly as I once hoped, considering that I am writing this in August instead of January. Long story short, my laptop was unavailable and I had lost my previous paragraphs.

Around March, I figured I really wanted to see a little more of the Danish country, and joined a wide variety of people on a bussy adventure. In retrospect, we did a ton of things. We dipped our feet in the clashing seas at Skagen, scuffled through the moving Dunes, spent the night in the longest bar street in Aalborg, and then wandered around some more in the AROS museum (rainbow famous) & shot past Odense. Highlight of the trip was definitely the lack of people in our hostel bunk and the hotel balcony!

Having seen everyone else in the Fall semester, and a number of my friends in the Spring semester, heading to Lapland, I knew that for the rest of my life I would regret. Lonesome me spent the first days and a half in a frozen tomb called Helsinki, and from then on the trip was basically a succession of incredible events. On the night bus I met two of my favorite people on this planet, and together we ran into the arctic ocean across the Norwegian border, rode reindeer and fell while leading a pack of huskies (in a bright pink flurry), and alternated between vodka shots in our bare butts in the Finnish sauna and dips in the snow under a magnetic sky whirling with the Northern Lights. In all, the trip was filed under ‘best trip ever’.

With March sliding into April, I did a ton of other things too, always having this blog in mind. Luckily that went by eventually. Together with a number of fellow students, we organized the KUA Cognition Conference, which in the end was a surprising success. That evening I roamed the campus to recruit volunteers for the Copenhagen Summer Cantus, because the Faculty Director decided that he would not give his green light just yet. Next day, I fly to the Netherlands for Tilburg Zingt & Kingsday and I wonder if all the money was worth it, especially since I just missed the biggest I*ESN cantus. Ending April, I visit Berlin, which is much different from what I expected in terms of the entire experience. My clepto-co traveler booked a bus instead of a train, which we missed. The city was much larger (and more modern) than I expected, and despite it all I did manage to see my ESN friends, and explore the deeply rooted culture that makes Berlin (Brandenburg Tor, the wall, checkpoint Charly). And all to end with a giant gamble in order to venture home, and into the next two months.

May & June

May, the month I am writing approximately a year and a half post-factum, starts with the official news that the van Wickle gates would open for many, including me. Brown was in the pocket, but other matters were more pressing at the time.

I remember how most of my time was allotted to the organization of the Copenhagen Summer Cantus. After the remarkable success that was the Copenhagen Cantus, I felt that a second cantus was long overdue, and together with my ragtag team of students we started the organization of an event that went well beyond the previous cantus. Together with my roommates efforts an actual band was secured, under the watchful eye of my committee I was able to persuade the Faculty Director that the ultimate celebration of brotherhood was meant to take place at the Festsalen, and with a mere 2 weeks of promotion, we pulled off a gathering with almost a 150 visitors from 27 countries! The Wilhelmus was sang, punishments were given, and in the end the cantus ended in a blissful drunken haze of red, white and blue (partially due to the university misplacing an entire keg of beer after the cantus).

The following days both Julia and Koen make their arrival in Copenhagen, and are part of vastly different experiences. Julia and I dance the night away at an impromptu silent disco, whereas Koen experiences the hard rains of the city after our bike ride to Dyrehaven. Not to mention the escalated rum pre-drink, leading up to the Gatsby party.

Yet all suns set and soon I found myself at the desks of the KUA library till the break of dawn once again. However, surprisingly, I was not alone this time. On occasion I worked sided by friends, but always near my companion Rene, who had the same deadlines due as me. I remember how one night the clock passed 5 and I still had to find my way home, and another, when we threw the skippy balls off the second floor. Despite the discouraging hours, the papers came with relative ease.

June ended on unexpectedly happy notes. Maria joins me in Copenhagen on a Erasmus ending adventure including a visit to Tivoli and a surprise from the window cleaners. Numerous goodbyes pass from my fantastic mentor group. Then, Sofie invites ‘the gang’ on a visit to their parental home in Thy. The train is delayed, while Evie fights to contain her excitement to meet Sofie’s brother. During that weekend, our mother of dragons takes on through their estate, drives us to the beach, and makes room for her parents to torture us with traditional Danish schnaps for breakfast and dinner. Concluding, the month ends with Distortion in the streets of Norrebro and Vesterbro. The streets are flooded with people, sunshine, and the deep drums of techno music. The second night, I even lose my friends, join a Spanish speaking community, and have trouble finding my way home. A month with ups and downs.

July & August

As the weather (FINALLY) starts to improve, Roskilde Festival makes its appearance in the grand scheme of things. Last minute peer pressure provides me with a ticket. Together with ‘the Danish Squad’ as I have come to call them, we challenged our livers in a 10 day drinking frenzy. The first four days are spent tent drinking and beer bowling (you actually sit in a chair, throw either a ball or a Converse shoe, and aim for the beer can on the other side of the pitch). A game without a competitor. As the heat strikes, mornings are spent floating out of the sun struck tents, while spending the afternoons eating, drinking, and seeing key performances. Personally, Kygo (literally) stole the show. Months of pre-Roskilde preparation made this moment a lasting memory. The festival ends with Sir Paul McCartney, while the squad stands arm in arm. An ending that was worthy of the festival.

The day after, I fly to the Netherlands to surprise my younger brother at his graduation ceremony and spend the week with family and friends. Back in Denmark the stress for the collection of the right documents for the US gets to me. Acceptance letters, Embassy visits, visa requests… but all for a greater good. Also, Marina and I finally travel to Monsklint, Louise drives me to Tisvilleje beach, and I organize a goodbye barbecue to which I invite most of my remaining Danish friends. An unexpected fellowship, but one of which I hold fond memories. The day pre-departure, I take my friend Eline on an inaugural night of partying, during which I snap the most stunning picture of the final sunrise over Nyhavn.

My favorite roommate escorts me to the departure area on the 17th of August, and yet another adventure begins.

During my first minutes in Iceland, I happen to stumble upon Karolina at the airport. Soon after, Lilja picks me up with her little silver car, barely able to carry all my luggage. For the next 3 days, she is my personal tour guide, and Reykjavik our unexplored destination. From the Golden circle, to whale watching, Reykjavik proved to be fantastic, but nothing could top the final day spent entirely in the Blue Lagoon.

On my birthday, I receive delightful snaps, a business class seat, and my first small iced cappuccino from TIM HORTONS. Sebastian picks me up from Pearson International Airport and his family’s basement is mine for the next few days. However brief, during my Canadian visit I have so many love filled reconnections. Sebastian’s family takes care of my in every way, Michelle and I have a chickenwing frenzy, Janine takes me to a beach near her hometown, with Anna we dance the night away one last time at Phils, and Deepiga shows me the endearing details of her Toronto. My only regret is reunion of La Bastille, but perhaps the future holds this card.

After an exhausting NINETEEN hour bus ride, I finally find a pause in my journey in Providence, where I take the wrong bus… twice. Eventually I find my way to Amy street, where the front door key is left under a broken vase. Jess hooked me up with a couch in her house for my days of homelessness, and Phil, Jess and Walter Shrimp (the cat) give me a warm welcome for the first days. August ends sunny.

September & Oktober

Whether it was August or September, around that time my Game of Thrones inspired post catches the attention of the inhabitants of Wickenden 230. Days after I moved in I knew the extended Dickenden family and I were a match made in heaven. My walking distance campus is perfect, my street is buzzing, for as far as that was a thing in wicked Wickenden, and my roommates sing, swear and sit around. Life is good. On September 8th, convocation day arrives. Now if you have done any research on Brown’s traditions, convocation is when the van Wickle gate opes for the ceremonial procession of new students into the academic world, followed by a commencement speech. And this is where my memory is really clear again, two years later, because after the commencement Sandra took a fantastic photo of me, and together with her and Juhi we went for the best tasting milkshake (at Johnny Rockets) that I have had in my life so far. Strawberry. While at Brown I figured I should take up some sports to acquaint myself with the local students. Now I figured that in general knowing some ballroom dancing would be pretty advantageous for my future, and occasionally I go to classes. On the first Friday of lectures I happen to get lost on my way to my lecture, and while strolling back I see some students playing Quidditch on the main green. One game in and I am sold. Running, throwing… all great if it weren’t for that damned broom between your legs! For the rest of the first months, while the readings are not piling up, Jess and I feel the Bern in Boston for an evening, we spend a morning watching the Brown – Yale football game, and Mathieu drives all the way down from Montréal to share some whiskey shots! Tabarnaque, what a slitchy time! Oh, and the final highlight is a weekend away to Cape Cod with Dickenden. The trip there, what a high, video games, gazing at the stars, watching seals at the beach, what more could you ask for in roommates?

November and December

With the days growing shorter, academic responsibilities steadily grow larger. Most of my days are spent reading and writing articles, and various locations for study are explored. In the midst of all these academics, I luckily do manage to find other ways to occupy myself. One of them is by winning the regional Quidditch championship with the Providence Ashwinders. This leads me to one of the highlights of 2015, namely the Ivy Leadership Conference at Harvard University. Now, as a kid with any ambition, you hope to set foot in Harvard at least once in your life, regardless of your purpose there. But being invited to participate in a conference is a whole other game. In all, the most important learning to take from Harvard is that they know how to throw a party, and that you should avoid rubbing ‘lucky’ objects. Not to mention visiting its bathrooms. In other words, John Harvard, please forgive me. Furthermore, the month of November ends with a super sunny spectacle in North Carolina. At the airport I get my shoes brushed, which is a god given delight. Everything goes well during my first domestic flight experience, until I am stopped at the door of my airplane. Guess what, I was booted off my flight. Semi-stressed I wait for assistance from the airline, and a little less than an hour later they offer me a significant compensation for my missed flight and book me onto a new one. Later that day I arrive in Raleigh, and together with almost-Danish darling Evie, I spent the next few days exploring a new state. Sunny beach? Check! Traditional thanksgiving dinner? Check! A full American tailgate? Check! One more it is confirmed that having friends from all over the world is a blessing. 

Back in Providence after a 19 hour bus ride, deadlines present themselves, leaving me to seek refuge in the SciLi long after the sun had risen again. All-nighters almost become a regular occurrence, and mutual support is found in Mariana, who was always there for a midnight adventure. In the meanwhile I continue to apply for embassies, with marginal amounts of success. Yet, once again, persistence proves to be the crucial ingredient for success. Out of an approximately 20 applications, I end up with 3 interviews. Some go well, others less so. One morning at 10h00 AM, I notice I have an email in my inbox, and as I upload one of my last remaining papers, I allow myself to open up the email. I mumble a short hail Mary before I start reading, and the further I read the more my heart starts to pound. Finally, redemption. Oslo wants me as an intern! -now I will exclude the South-African side story here- and focus on my blissful morning. With only a single paper left, and starting preparation for Oslo, my beloved roommate Aaron invites me to Boston for New Years. I happily accept, and live with his family for the next few days in the suburbs of Boston. Time to find peace after a tumultuous number of weeks, in the snow surrounded house. The year officially ends at the Boston Common, after searching for the fireworks of that night. The actual celebration is not so eventful, but the tranquil environment certainly did me well.

Now it would be unfair not to note that the final commentary to this post is written only 19 months after the described events. All I can give now is a perspective from the future. A perspective that evaluates the year from a distance. With this in mind, I would like to say that persistence once again proved paramount. Without it I would not have made my way into the Ivy League, nor would I have had the opportunity to set foot into the world of diplomacy, and everything else on my path. What this really all comes down to is two clichés; ‘Keep your head up’ and ‘Nothing worth having ever comes easy’. I remember how I felt when writing the preface of this post. I felt like everyone else’s life was measured against mine, and getting ahead was impossible. I had to compete, live abroad, be adventurous. And in retrospect, I am happy to see that I lost that urge. My rush for adventure is no longer fueled by a sense of competition, but instead relies on my ambitions. I do what I want. I go where I want to. And no one can stop me.

Don’t believe me? Just watch! 

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 28

Hiya!

Next part is ready - sorry its rather long but I must admit I’m quite proud of the ending so I hope you enjoy it too!

Promise the Joker will eventually return! (sorry there hasn’t been much for a while!)

Let me know what you think - I love hearing from you guys!

Trigger Warning: There is a mention of suicide - its literally just the word and doesn’t go any further than that really but don’t read it if it’ll trigger you please!

Masterlist

When I woke up the next morning, I was staring up at the ceiling. I blinked a few times - not knowing where I was for a moment and could feel my heart pounding before my situation rushed back to me and I calmed slightly. All too soon though the night before came back to me and my heart seemed to skip again. “Oh my god…” I groaned out loud, turning over in my bed and burying my face in the pillow, throwing the little bit of duvet over me that wasn’t in a pile on the floor.

I stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to build the momentum to get myself out of bed and attempt to be alive. Eventually I rolled out, catching myself before I hit the floor and giggling too myself. Obviously I was going insane, or maybe I was just still seriously tired.

I dragged my feet around the house as I got ready for the day – luckily not having a shift at the pub until late that evening. As I flicked the kettle on and pulled down a mug from the shelf above the sink I heard a knock on my front door.

I looked at my cup in confusion. No one ever called at my house – did anyone even know where I lived? I moved toward the door cautiously, hearing another knock - more impatient this time. I moved a bit quicker toward the door and pulled it open. There, stood before me, was Frost. He was dressed in his usual attire of suit, jacket and a frown, but compared to last night, he was much more orderly - his shirt crisp and ironed, his tie neatly knotted closer to his throat. He looked smart and rested.

I scowled at my unwelcome guest. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Asked.” He stated simply, pushing past me into my house. I didn’t bother to resist him, just let him push past as I was left stood in the doorway looking out into the yard with my forehead crinkled in confusion.

“Who?!” I exclaimed wildly - at a loss as to who knew where I lived. The only person that should know was the Farmer I rented from, I’d never told anyone else – it took a while for me build that sort of trust up, especially now.

“A women in the Bed and Breakfast,” called Frost as he walked away, “the maid? Or maybe she was the owner? Might have been both.” He said dismissively.

I remained in the doorway, glaring daggers at his retreating figure, “I’ll have you know Maggie is a perfectly nice lady! Don’t be so damn rude!”

He ignored my scolding and continued down the hallway without hesitation, peering into each room he passed. I sighed in exasperation at his lack of response and poor manners as he just causally strode through my home. I slammed the front door shut in frustration before following on behind him, muttering to myself “How the hell did Maggie Dune know where I lived?!”

Frost must have heard because, as he turned into my kitchen at the end of the hall, he called back over his shoulder, “You appear to be the talk of this small town – I was questioned by nearly everyone in that tiny house when I asked about you.”

I sighed shaking my head at this. Small town gossip. I should have known. Everyone knew everyone here and actively sought out information about new people. I was lucky that I had covered my past well before moving here or else it wouldn’t have taken long for them to dig it up – well I had it covered up until the other-day.

I turned the corner at the end of the hallway and entered the kitchen to see Frost peering around the small room, apparently unimpressed with it based on his facial expression.

I was about to demand what he was doing here when the kettle signalled for attention with his high pitch sharp whistle. I pushed past Frost who was stood in the middle of the room and grabbed my mug before pausing. I sighed again – curse my good manners – “Do you want a cup?” I reluctantly asked, turning slightly towards him.

“Please.” He affirmed, “Coffee. Black. No sugar.” He directed. I nodded at the instructions and turned my back to him again as I made the drinks, whilst Frost leant against one of my counters, continuing to observe his surroundings. I couldn’t help but wonder, as he stood there, what he was thinking. Did he have training for this? Did he just enter a room and immediately clock all viable escape routes, all possible weapons in a room? Was a spoon a weapon? I thought looking at my counters where there was a few dirty dishes and cutlery say. I shook my head – pointless thoughts. I would never know because I would never ask and I was almost certain he would never tell – at least not the truth.

I turned back to him with the two mugs, handing him one of my more sophisticated mugs that didn’t have funny words or pictures on them and was slightly less chipped than most – though he still seemed to look at it with a certain amount of disdain. I rolled my eyes at his pickiness and moved to the opposite side of the small room, copying his stance as I leant half on a counter and half on the sink, sipping my drink.

We stood in awkward silence again, the openness we had gained from last night’s frankness and alcohol having been boarded up once more with fresh morning and formalities.

I fought back the urge to fidget and swallowed the nerves I could feel growing in my stomach. “So why are you here?” I asked outright.

“I thought I made that clear last night.” He said, raising one eyebrow at me as though he was wondering if I had some sort of memory loss problem, and taking a drink, his eyes not leaving me.

“Not here, as in the town. Here as in my house!” I clarified hotly, gesturing wildly at the room with my free hand.

“I thought that would be obvious.” Frost stated vaguely. I could feel him getting on my nerves quickly, but I didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose.

“God I preferred you when you weren’t sober.” I muttered in annoyance at my floor by his feet as I took a sip from my mug. When I looked up I noticed he had raised his eyebrows at my comment

“I told you my side last night. You need to tell me yours.” He told me, un-amused by my little side comment. “Don’t think you can skip town on me either.” He added his frown deepening - indicating that he had seen my suitcase sat in the corridor on his way in. “I know you’re alive now. I know ways to track you that wouldn’t even cross you mind – I’d always find you down eventually.”

It was true I had considered making a run for it last night before I had collapsed into bed, but in the cold light of day I couldn’t for the life of me remember what my sleep-deprived brain had been thinking of in terms of a plan. I could no longer see any situation in which I could run and avoid Frost – like he said, he could easily find me. The real question was – why did he want to? Why was he so desperate to talk to me so much? Surely knowing how I died would make no real difference to him?

I shrugged at him, unfazed by his warnings as I wasn’t actually planning on it anymore, “You can’t really blame me for considering it.” I said to annoy him a bit.

Frost sighed deeply as if there was a large stress on his shoulders, “Look [Y/N], I get why you left-“ I slammed my mug down on the counter top next to me.

“Do you?!” I demanded, ignoring the liquid that slopped over the edge of my mug and was forming a puddle around the base of my cup. “Do you understand every little tiny detail that was going on in my life?!  Do you understand how everything made me feel? How Penguin made me feel?! Did you know he was going to hire me out as ‘entertainment’” I cried, quoting angrily at him with my fingers, almost in hysterics, “all because that damn clown had shown an interest in me and tricked me into fal-“ I faltered then, dropping my head and covering my face with my hands as I sobbed loudly. I couldn’t admit it to Frost; it was too embarrassing, too fresh and too painful.

Frost didn’t say anything, clearly lost by my sudden outburst and not use to dealing with emotional women – angry gangstas, powers mob members, armed cops - sure.

A pathetic girl crying her heart out in front of him – that was something he wasn’t trained for and had basically no experience with – other than maybe putting a bullet in their head.

I remained hidden behind my palms, as the tears continued to stream down my face, but I heard Frost put his mug down and felt him move towards me slowly, almost cautiously. Suddenly I felt his strong arms wrap around me and I was pulled against him, my hands dropping from my face and instinctively landing on his large, hard chest, maintaining a small distance between us.

“What-“ I sniffed in confusion and surprise.

“Just shut up for a second.” Frost commanded gruffly and I closed my mouth. The shock of the gesture had stopped my tears and I let my hands drop in defeat so they hung limply at my side, his arms pulling me deeper into the hug. My body was now completely against his, my face pressed into the lapel of his jacket. I could feel my face getting hot even with cooling water on my cheek which was now dampening the material beneath me. I was glad my face was largely hidden from his eye - it had been a long time since I was this close to a man and it felt weird to be so intimate with Frost.

Frost didn’t seem to know how long he was supposed to hold me, but being crushed into the cashmere material made it hard to breathe and I was constantly sniffing in a desperate attempt not to ruin his suit with my runny nose. I tried to pull away slightly but I was pitifully weak compared to his strong embrace.

“Uh –Frosty?” I tried to gasp out faintly, speaking into his chest and tapping him as best as I could with my arms pinned to my side.

He released me and immediately created distance between us by stepping back a few feet. I dropped my face to hide the state I must look and frantically wiped at my eyes and nose so I would look slightly more presentable. I looked up through my eyelashes and saw Frost observing the ruined patch I had created on his jacket. I quickly grabbed a box of tissues that I had sat on the microwave and vaguely waved them at him without lifting my head. He grabbed a few with a murmur of thanks and then I did the same.

We both stood on opposite sides of the kitchen hopelessly trying to tidy ourselves us. It felt surreal.

After a while I thought I was slightly more together, but continued to pretend to be fixing myself because I didn’t want to stand in awkward silence again. I cleared my throat, swallowing the lump that had gathered in my throat, along with my emotions. I let out a deep breath in an attempt to gain back some control over myself, any annoyance or frustration with Frost having melted away with his unusually tender gesture. I felt like I needed to match his kindness by getting him out of this awkward situation of how to move forward. Best thing for him to do is ignore what just happened. I appreciated it, but I knew he’d be uncomfortable talking about it.

“So what do you want to know?” I asked frankly, ignoring what just happened in an attempt to show the same kindness back that he had shown me – I knew we were in the awkward situation of how to move forward, I also knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. Best to pretend it didn’t happen, even if I appreciated it.

He looked up from his jacket when I spoke, briefly looking puzzled before he recognised what I was trying to do. He placed the tissue on the side, straightened his jacket out and faced me straight on, “How is it your alive?”

I wasn’t surprised at how blunt he was – I was finding it to be a clear Frost trait. I moved away from the counter - stuffing my used tissues into my back pocket and picking up mug - and went to sit at the small kitchen table. Frost followed in silence with his drink in hand and sat opposite.

As so I told him. I explained my original plan as well as what actually happened, no longer bothering to keep track of anything that I should maybe hold back from it. It was nice to confide in someone for once, feel like I could talk to someone without judging or people thinking I was insane – hell, Frost had probably heard much worst from him.

“That’s actually pretty impressive.” Frost admitted once I had finished, though I could tell he meant it was impressive for me, not necessarily him.

“Gee thanks.” I muttered sarcastically, partially still lost in recollection as I stared at my finger tracing the lip of my mug. The only thing that had really gone wrong with my plan was dropping my gun. I ran over the moment in my head, the faded and cloudy but I remembered hitting the water and, if I thought hard enough, I felt that I might be able to remember the point at which I lost the weight of the gun in my hand.

But maybe it was for the best. It stopped me thinking so much of him, it stopped me murdering someone, and it stopped me being traced back to Gotham – heck how was I going to explain I had a dead girl’s gun who looked a lot like me?

“He has it you know.” Said Frost out of the blue, breaking into my thoughts. “Your gun.” He clarified. Damn mind reader.

“I know.” I murmured, glancing slightly up at Frost, but continuing to draw a circle around the top of my mug with my index finger. He looked at me confused. I stood up and moved just behind Frost where I opened at draw in the counter and pulled out the old Gotham Gazette. “This found its way into the pub the other day.” I explained dropping it in front of him before sitting back down in my chair and taking a swig from my cup – the coffee now lukewarm. “Hence why I was ‘raving’” I quoted, smirking slightly.

Frost nodded in understanding, unfolding the paper and skimming over the article. I waited as he read, sipping aimlessly at my drink and staring into space. Eventually Frost refolded the paper, leaving the picture of the Joker with his unemotional rictus and dark blank eyes. I stared at it for a while, unable to take my eyes off it before I abruptly shot myself forward and flipped it upside down so only the text from the articles and a few adverts were visible. When I settle backed down in my seat I could feel my heart beat pounding against my skin and I stared at the colourful cup before me.

“He jumped in the river.” Stated Frost calmly, but making me jump slightly none the less. I looked up at him but he was staring in his own mug at the pool of dark coffee that remained in the bottom. “There was a moment when I actually thought he’d finally lost it.” Frost admitted, “Gone suicidal.” He explained, pausing before lifting his head to meet my gaze.

“But Boss remerged a few minutes later with your gun in his hand.” Frost told me, “Though that wasn’t what surprised me the most.” He shook his head slightly, as though he wanted the memory out of his mind.

“What?” I murmured, barely above a whisper, not bothering to correct him that he fallen back into calling him ‘Boss’ again.

“His face. It terrified me. He looked almost tortured. Like he’d seen something in those waters that had struck him to the core. That’s why I was so certain you were dead. I thought he’d seen you.

I couldn’t tell you what emotion he was feeling at that point – he looked angry at one angle, sad at another, but he always kept that damn grin of his on – though for once it didn’t me-“

“-meet his eyes.” I finished with him. He nodded at my guess. “That’s what I see when I look at that picture” I said quietly, and he knew I was talking about the newspaper.

“The only time I’ve really seen him like that before was when he went off on a rage at Penguin’s.” Frost said truthfully. I perked up at this.

“When did he do that?” I questioned.

“It was the afternoon after you jumped.” Frost informed me, “Penguin called a meeting with the Boss like he often has. I waited outside.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know the whole story – I couldn’t hear everything. He seemed to tell the boss what happened to you – Boss didn’t take it well. I think I heard him ask Penguin why you would have done it – Boss didn’t like that either.” Frost shook his head, “Then he just lost it. Completely. Damn near strangled that fat man to death. Took out most of his men – and it wasn’t quick and clean either.”

I looked away and gulped. I couldn’t imagine what it was like – I wasn’t that creative – but I knew what he was capable of.

“Once we’d made it outside we commandeered a vehicle and went to the bridge. Then he jumped.”

We fell into silence again as I digested the information.

“[Y/N]” Frost suddenly spoke up – clearly wanting to say something he’d been holding back for a while. I looked at him with concern – what was he so worried about? “[Y/N].” He repeated and I nodded to encourage him to go on, “I need you to come back to Gotham with me.” he said frankly.

I didn’t say a word, just stared at him in wide eyed shock. So he was here to take me back! Had he lied to me?! Had he known I was alive? Had he known I was here? Did the Joker?!

I could feel my mouth was slightly agape at but I couldn’t find it in myself to do anything about it. “You lied to me.” I breathed at him, “You said you didn’t know I was alive. You said you weren’t here to get me.”

“No -  [Y/N] – it’s not –“

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” I muttered, staring at the table in front of me, “I knew I should have run when I had the chance. I should have run when I saw that paper. I’m not far enough away.” I babbled to myself.

“[Y/N], you don’t understand. The Joker is doing all of this because of you!” Frost said, grabbing the newspaper that had been left forgotten on the table and flipping it so the main picture faced up again. “If you came back –“

“No!” I cried, pushing myself up abruptly so I stood before him, “Don’t you dare blame this all on me!” I screamed snatching the newspaper from the table and thrusting it in his face. Frost sat in silence, no retaliation leaving his lips. As I stood there in silence, holding the newspaper aloft and breathing heavily, I couldn’t help but think - What had got the Joker acting like this? It did seem to be me. But that couldn’t possibly be true. Maybe he was just pissed because I had found a way out of his traps. That I had escaped and he couldn’t play and torment me anymore. I was just a toy he had lost – he’d get over it soon and find a new person to turn into his life-size doll.

He was a manipulative, psychopathic torturer and I needed him completely out of my life. That meant no more thinking about him, no more newspapers, no more Gotham and definitely no more Frost.

I strode over to the bin and let the paper fall from my hand, shutting the bin over the top in with a satisfy thud. I then took a calming breath and turned to the henchman before me. “Frost. Thank you for telling me all this – though a part of me also wished you hadn’t” I admitted truthfully, I shook my head – I had to be strong, stern. “I see no further reason for us to see each other,” I stated briskly, “so I shall walk you to the door and I wish you well on wherever you are going now.”

Frost looked surprise at my sudden turn of mood, and stood up alongside me, the coffee mugs left cold and forgotten on the table, “[Y/N] I –“

“I would also like to inform you,” I interrupted him, “that I shall be moving on from here as soon as can be arranged and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to find me.” I told him formally but firmly, though already I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and my throat going tight.

“But [Y/N] –“

“Enough! Frost.” I cried, biting back my tears as they welled in the corner of my eyes. “There is nothing else I can give you! You have the answers you wanted! Isn’t it time you left me in peace?” I insisted. Frost looked lost as to what he should do now, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “Look, I’d like to consider you a friend.” I said honestly trying, but failing to hide the emotion in my voice, “So can you be a friend and let me get on with my new life, without all this drudging up of my past?” I begged.

He looked at me and I think he could see how desperate I was to get him out of my house. He finally gave me a silent nod and followed me out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door. I opened it and he stepped out. “One last thing Frost.” I called, “Please promise me you won’t tell anyone about me, especially him.” I looked him dead in the eye and he looked back. There was something there. He still wanted to say something. “Promise me.” I pleaded and I could feel one traitorous tear fall down my cheek.

He nodded. “Say it!” I cried.

“I promise.”

And with that, I slammed the door closed.