#I'm sorry I just woke up this is could be more coherent probably

[albertasunrise]

Back to Reality - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy 😘)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

You gawked at Ben as the piece of information he'd given you set in. Frankie. Your Frankie thought you were dead. Ben watched you closely as a myriad of emotions flitted across your face. His arms gently bounced Esme as she settled against his firm chest and fell asleep once more. He knew this was a difficult idea to process but he also knew that you had to understand that Frank was delicate right now and needed time to assimilate this world instead of the one he'd been trapped in for weeks.

"Titch?" He piped up after you had been silent a while, his eyes searching your face for any sort of understanding.

"He thinks I'm dead?" You asked and he nodded grimly "What?… How?… What do you mean?"

"When he woke the first time, he was sobbing about how he was going to see 'her' again. Initially, I had thought he meant Mel but it soon became clear it was you he was talking about." Ben answered as he rested his cheek against the crown of Emse's head "The doctor believes that when he was in a coma he was dreaming but aspects of reality trickled in." He continued "So those days we sat by his bedside and you asked him to come back to you, he could hear you. Or I suppose the ghost of you."

You couldn't hold back the sob that fell from your lips. Your heart shattered completely and you sank to the floor as you processed what Ben had said.

"So all that time he's been living in a world where I died and he's had to raise little Esme all alone." It wasn't a question. It was just you stating a simple fact and Ben could do nothing but watch as you fell apart on the clinical hospital floor.

"Titch, I know this is a lot to take in and I know your first instinct is probably to run back in there and try a convince him that this world is real and that you are too but…"

"I know what you're going to say, Ben." You interrupted "He's fragile and we need to be careful with him. I get it!" You snapped "I will stay away."

"That's not what I am saying." Ben groaned as he carefully lowered himself onto the ground beside you, his large hand cradling Esme's head as he slid down the lino-covered wall "He just needs a few days to adjust. He's been in a coma for close to two months. He's confused and it's going to take a few days for the fog to clear. So perhaps we ease him into this gently."

You nodded, knocking a few tears loose with the action and Ben smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"He's back with us Titch and he's getting better." Ben stated as he nuzzled the downy hair on Esme's head "You and him and Esme are going to be a family but he's still got a road ahead of him."

You nodded, taking Ben's free hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"We just need to help him walk it. At whatever pace he can manage."

The next few days were torture. You avoided the hospital like the plague, handing Emse off to Ben each day so that he could take her to see Frankie. You knew he was going to try and get Frankie to come around to the fact that you are real. That this isn't a dream but Frank was out of it during his visits. They had kept him mildly sedated in order to keep him calm as he got used to being awake. Ben and Will watched as his awareness slowly but surely ebbed its way through. Fish became a little more coherent with each visit.

"You think you feel up to holding her today?" Asked Ben as he took the bottle of water Frankie had been sipping from off of the man and placed it on the table "She seems smaller than I remember." The man said and Ben shared a look with Will.

"Remember what we talked about yesterday Catfish?" Will asked as he perched on the bed "You've been sleeping for a while and what you remember of Esme was a dream."

Frank's brows drew together as he tried to remember the conversation in question. Things were still so fuzzy. Memories felt heavy but he tried to figure out which ones were real and which ones were just a coma-induced fantasy.

"Who's been taking care of Esme whilst I've been gone?" He asked, his voice quiet and uncertain as his eyes flitted between the two Miller brothers.

"Titch has been." Ben stated "She woke up a few days after you had your heart attack." He continued as he placed his hand on his friend's and squeezed in in a reassuring gesture "She really wants to see you… She's missed you like crazy."

Frank just closed his eyes and shook his head as a few silent tears slipped down his flushed cheeks "Why would you say that to me." He choked "Why give me hope when there isn't any."

"Fish I am telling you the god's honest truth." Ben urged "Titch didn't die. It was all a dream."

"Ben." Will piped up, giving his younger brother a look that silently said 'That's enough.'

"I would like to hold my daughter now." Frankie stated plainly and Benny nodded, smiling down at little Esme as he scooped her up and placed her into her father's waiting arms.

The pilot beamed as he looked down at his daughter and it was the first time in days that either Miller brother had witnessed genuine joy from the older man.

"Hello, princessa." He cooed as he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose "You are so pretty." He resumed as he stroked her plump cheek with the tip of his pointer finger "Just like your mumma."

"Titch is such a natural with her man." Ben beamed as he watched the scene unfold "Seems to know what Esme wants before she even cries. It's mad." He chuckled but Frankie didn't look at him. Didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken.

Ben's shoulders visibly shrank at that.

Will motioned for Ben to follow him as he stood from where he had perched on the bed and made his way out into the hall, letting the pilot know they'd be back in a moment before stepping far enough away that they were out of earshot.

"I think we need to bring Titch to visit." Will stated plainly.

"But he still doesn't believe she's alive." Ben argued, glancing at the man through the glass wall of his cubical before returning his attention to Will.

"He's stable. The doctor said today that his vitals are strong and he's confident that the worst is behind." Will stated as he scraped a hand over his short blonde hair "I think it's time we bring her here. So that he can see for himself that she's alive and well."

"I don't know Will." Ben replied, shaking his head as he thought about it "You remember how he was last time he saw her."

"He had just woken up from a 7-week coma and he was confused." Wil growled "He is now awake, lucid and talking so I think now is the time to rip that bandaid off. We're gonna need to eventually"

Ben nodded. He knew his brother was right. Frankie was going to have to see you at some point and he had promised you that it was a few days that Fish needed to get himself used to this reality. Well, those 'few days' had long passed.

"Fine." Ben conceded "I will bring her with me tomorrow when I come to see him with Titchy." He replied "You're right."

"I know." Will teased as he gave his bother a friendly pat on the arm "Happens more often than you think."

"Shut up." Ben grumbled before they returned to the pilot's room.

"Are you sure about this Ben?" You asked as he led the way to Frankie's room.

When he had said it was time you visited with him and Esme you had been sceptical. You didn't want to go through another ordeal like the one you had experienced before. In just over a week you had witnessed him go into cardiac arrest and then wake up and beg you to leave him alone.

You weren't sure how much more your heart could take.

"Will said that it's time we rip that bandaid off and I agree." He stated simply as they came to the ICU "He's stable and getting stronger every day so I think it's time he starts to get used to the idea that you are very much alive and kicking."

"Your arse if this doesn't go well." You added and he chuckled.

"Fair enough."

You stopped outside Frankie's cubicle and noted he was sleeping and you felt yourself grow more and more nervous by the second. Ben didn't need to look at you to see this.

"I will go in, and let him know he has a visitor. Give me a few minutes okay?" He said softly as he placed a comforting hand on your arm "I'll wave at you to come in when he's ready okay?"

You simply nodded and watched as Ben stepped inside the glass room, his smile growing wide as Frankie's eyes cracked open and fixed on him.

…

"How are you feeling this morning brother?" He asked as he sat himself down beside his friend.

"Little stronger today." The pilot answered and Ben grinned at his reply.

"That's good Fishcakes." He chucked when the pilot groaned at the nickname "Feeling up to a visitor?" He asked and Frankie gave him a perplexed look "Titch is here." Ben stated and Frankie's eyes widened "She really wants to see you." He finished as he looked over his shoulder at you stood in the ward as you fidgetted with your hands.

Frankie's eyes followed Ben's and his eyes widened further as he saw you standing there.

"You can see her?" He asked Ben and the younger man chuckled.

"Course I can."

"She's really there?" He asked and Ben just smiled at him sweetly and nodded before motioning to you to come in.

You nervously stepped inside. Esme's carrier in one hand and the other pushing the glass door open. Your eyes never left Franks. Not even when you placed the carrier down on the floor beside you. The two of you just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Ben finally spoke up.

"I'll leave you two to catch up." He said as he picked up Esme "We're gonna go say hi to Esme's fans… Aren't with Titchy." He said as his voice adopted that high-pitched tone that was only for her.

Neither of you looked away as he left. You just continued to stare like it had been years rather than weeks without seeing or speaking to each other. When you couldn't take the silence anymore you spoke up whilst taking a seat at his bedside.

"How are you doing?" You asked, your voice quiet and timid as you searched his face for something.

"Stronger." He replied simply and you nodded "Still confused."

"I bet." You replied, trying to lighten the mood that had settled over the room "I'm so happy you're awake."

"Am I?" He asked and it was your turn to look confused "What if this is some sort of coma-induced dream?"

"Frankie-"

"How do I know that this isn't just my dying brain showing me what it is I want to see?"

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks as you and him just continued to stare at each other.

"I want to believe this is real." He hicupped as his own tears started to fall "I want to believe that the woman I love is alive and sitting right in front of me but I can't."

"I am real." You urged as you grabbed his hand and brought it to your face "Does this feel real to you?"

"Everything there felt real too!" He stated as he snatched his hand away "The pain… The heartbreak… All of that felt so real."

You sobbed loudly then as he continued.

"The pain I felt when that car struck me… it was so real. The pain of not being able to breathe as I lay there dying felt so real and I…" He trailed off but you knew what he was going to say.

He had been ready to die.

"What can I do to convince you that this is real?" You sobbed as you hugged yourself.

"I don't know." Frankie answered honestly "I don't want to accept this, that you are here right now, alive and well only for me to wake up one day in a different hospital bed and realise that it wasn't real. I can't lose you again."

"That's not going to happen!" You pleaded but he just shook his head.

"I wish I could believe that."

You were saved by the Ben.

The younger Miller strolled in with a grinning Esme in his arms and you quickly wiped away your tears and schooled your features.

"Titchy here is quick the chick magnet." Ben chuckled as he bounced her and she smiled widely as she shyly shoved her head in his chest "Awe… You weren't all shy a minute ago."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to willingly babysit when I go back to work?" You chuckled and the man just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Because I'm an amazing uncle?"

"That you are." You said fondly as you took Esme from him "Time for someone's lunch you said as you sat down again and pulled down your tank top. Smiling as Esme eagerly latched to your breast and started to suckle.

Ben watched a moment in fondness before his eyes travelled over to Frankie who was watching in awe. His eyes were red and teary. From what, Ben wasn't sure but he did wonder if it was partly due to the beautiful spectacle of you breastfeeding Titchy.

He had been able to sense as soon as he walked in that your reunion hadn't been what you had hoped. So instead of prying, he tried to bring some joy and Titchy was nothing but pure joy in his eyes. He knew that both you and Frankie would talk about what had happened when you were ready. He wasn't going to push the subject. He knew this was going to take time and he was there for the ride.

So in the following weeks, You visited with Ben, hoping that each visit would bring him around to the idea that you were alive and that this wasn't some fever dream.

Then when the doctor announced that Frankie was well enough to go home, Ben helped you move into the pilot's house. You had figured he would be more comfortable in his own environment but he still needed help. He was getting stronger every day but he still had days where he felt rough and bone tired.

"Can I get you anything else?" You asked as you walked into the lounge and placed the freshly brewed coffee you'd made for him down on the table beside him.

Today was one of Frank's worse days. But he hadn't wanted to stay cooped up in bed. So you had helped him to the couch that you had set up with pillows and soft blankets. Esme was now napping on his bare chest, skin-on-skin time being something he had demanded the moment he had gotten home. You couldn't help but glance at the large scar between his pectorals. It was healing well but still looked pink and slightly angry. It was a clean cut. Almost a perfect straight line, right down the centre of his chest. The surgeon had said he was sure that with time, the scar would fade to the point that he almost wouldn't notice it but Frankie hadn't really cared all that much.

He was littered with scars from battle after all.

"No, thank you." Frankie replied as he glanced up at you and smiled before returning his attention to the drooling baby on his chest "She's so perfect." He stated as you sat down on the armchair across from him "I still can't believe that you and me made her."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." You chuckled "I still have to pinch myself on the daily because I can't believe she's real." You flinched at your statement, internally scorning yourself for your choice of words but Frank didn't appear to be phased.

"I hope she is." Was all he said as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at his precious angel.

You watched him for a while. Admiring how much of a natural he was with her. Since getting him back home you had started to express, allowing him to do some of the feeds whilst you cooked or cleaned, whatever needed doing.

Frankie did what he could on the days he felt well enough but on the days that he didn't you know he was torturing himself. He hated how weak he felt. This was a man who had never been afforded the opportunity to be weak. He was expected to be strong every day of his life. To walk away from battle even if he'd taken a bullet to the leg.

"I never told you how wonderful Esme Nursery is!" You said after a little while "You didn't such a wonderful job. Especially as you were squeezing it in between caring for her and visiting me in the hospital."

This made Frankie pause and he blinked up at you as he studied you closely.

"Ben told me that if you weren't with me at the hospital or caring for Esme, you were spending every waking moment getting that nursery finished."

"I had to keep myself distracted." He replied, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he remembered how every time he'd closed his eyes, he pictured you as your face paled and your eyes had drooped. The alarms had rung in his ears for days.

"I know it must have been really hard for you, Fish." You said softly as you gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Not as hard as it's been for you." You didn't react to this.

This was the first time he'd acknowledged you and what you had likely been through whilst he'd been in a coma. He had still been weary of believing you were real. The odd comment here or there making it clear to you that he still didn't believe this was real.

But you could see that he wanted to.

"I don't want this to end." He whispered, so quietly that you almost missed it but you didn't.

"It won't." You replied with a smile.

Frankie glanced at you and noted a new expression you'd not seen before. Something that almost looked like hope so you hoped that your next statement would give him that.

"We're here to stay."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[cgetbrmj]

hi hello I just woke up so I’m sorry if this is not coherent whatsoever!! Anyway, *throws my headcanons at you.*

Coriolanus Snow:

Literal definition of just a little guy. Does he go on to be an awful person? OK YES MAYBE but for now he’s a little guy

Probably like a baby regressor. I cannot be the only person who saw him in the hospital and was like ??? Are those children’s pyjamas ??? (It was a hospital gown and I know that now.)

Has such a strong hate towards regressing like he will actively avoid it,,,he’s probably never would’ve done it willingly if Sejanus didn’t talk him into it like a lot.

Def regresses because of trauma. He’s lived through a war and never really had a childhood!! *shakes your shoulders aggressively* HOW ARE WE SLEEPING ON THIS????

He is such a crybaby…but like in the way where he tries so hard to bottle everything up because he doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone (no I’m not projecting wtf are you talking about?? /sarc) anyway he fails every time

It’s also always a battle to get him to eat, you must act like this is the most yummy thing in the world then maybe just maybe he’ll take a bite.

Personal headcanon that he never actually gave the plinth family that photo, like he had full intentions too but dude kept it for himself and would get a little sad and small when he sees it :((

ANYWAY GOING BACK TO CANON NOT BEING REAL BECAUSE ITS SAD. Definitely like needs baby stuff like pacifiers and fluffy pyjamas and stuffed animals. Because first and foremost he’d look so cute with them and secondly Sejanus would so have the money for it like dude would probably build a nursery

Coryo is so anxious to use said baby stuff because he partially thinks he doesn’t deserve it and partially thinks that he shouldn’t be regressing in the first place which like :((

Final thoughts is that Sejanus is definitely main cg I mean hello?? And Lucy Gray and Tigris babysit him sometimes

Sejanus Plinth:

Caregiver. Fretting overprotective caregiver to an anxious crybaby Coryo. 

Definitely leans towards the sappier nicknames, “sweetheart, baby,” occasionally “kiddo.” 

Will spoil Coryo to hell and back. 

Not strict whatsoever, the biggest punishment this man would be willing to give would be a five minute time out. Realistically. He’s also morally against punishments so Coryo would probably have to do something absolutely awful to deserve that.

Definitely better with younger Littles, which is why him and Coryo fit so well together.

Realistically he won’t leave Coryo alone for even a second in headspace, one he’s just clingy like that, and two, he doesn’t want anything happening to him while he’s gone.

Brings Coryo his Ma’s homemade cookies. He knows this boy doesn’t eat as much as he should be.

:3 just felt a little silly goofy 

also love love love LOVE your hc so much thank you for feeding into my new obsession lol

Pretty sure we have opposite time zones then hahaha Thankyou for gracing me with your hcs!! Adding another break because I just kept ranting about them hahaha

obviously, Sejanus would spoil Little Coryo for sure - and I've definitely thought about Coryo being a regressor from trauma and lack of childhood because YES. ALSO THANKYOU!!! THE HOSPITAL SCENE??? So glad we have mutual feelings on that because he was giving some strong kiddo vibes there

I always get scared to hc characters as baby regressors - I personally regress in the baby/young toddler area and idk I just get worried I'm projecting too hard so that was a pleasant surprise to see you hc lol - I feel like Little Coryo would be in more of a toddler bracket most of the time but then slip younger when he's tired or emotional - or god forbid, sick.

also thankyou for totally understanding the crybaby thing - he's just an overwhelmed little kid - literally anything could be the thing to push him into a breakdown - he's trying his best!!

and YES can we PLEASE discuss Little Coryo's relationship with food because herbfi;erbfuibf - I think he's difficult no matter what, and I feel like it'd be one of the ONLY things he'd 'act out' about - I don't think Little Coryo would really understand why he feels weird about food - definitely whines about being hungry but then won't accept anything offered to him - says that he 'doesn't like' something when Sejanus knows for a FACT he does - stuff like that. Also (as someone who, no matter how badly wishes they did like it, I don't like basically any fruit ever 😭) HOWEVER, I just have a feeling based on nothing, that Little Coryo would love most fruit. Like it's one of the only consistent snack options that will work on him

DO NOT TALK TO ME ABOUT THAT PHOTO 😭😭😭

Sejanus would 100% put together a nursery for Coryo and Coryo would 100% tell him to get rid of it immediately and then secretly adore it - the self hate Coryo would have over anything regression related is real

Coryo definitely plays very intricate imaginative storylines out with his stuffed animals and can never really explain it to Sejanus who would sit and watch and try to figure out what the hell is going on for half an hour

Sejanus my love - so overprotective - so gentle with Little Coryo. He absolutely uses 'sweetheart' and 'baby' all the time. In my opinion, he'd get so proud of anything Little Coryo does and would have such a hard time keeping his regression a secret because he'd just want to brag about his kiddo all the time. Drawings? Reading aloud? Eating? Looking cute? Sejanus is so proud of him! He wants everyone to know that Little Coryo is his! Sejanus would never do/say anything Coryo wouldn't want though - so he just makes sure to praise Little Coryo, all the time.

Completely agree - Sejanus would not be a strict caregiver at all - he does not see the point in punishing Coryo when he could explain why he shouldn't do something - especially when Coryo is going to feel guilty enough already for acting out

Also was thinking earlier about Little Coryo having a NEED to soak up all of Sejanus's attention and was thinking about how through his childhood Tigris had definitely looked out for him, but really they were leaning on each other - and also totally fending for themselves - Tigris was a wonderful cousin but she's barely that much older than Coryo - and then started thinking about how Coryo's mother died in labour, when he was already quite young, which would basically mean that most memories of his mother he has, she'd be pregnant. So pregnant mother and a father who's left to help fight the war when he's VERY young, then two dead parents, a grandmother who's pinning her faith on HIM, and a cousin who's doing her best to look after him, while he grows up scavenging and pretending he's not only fine, but actually living a perfect rich life??? The childhood trauma here is really unmatched - of course he's clingy and a bit of a cry baby when regressed, of COURSE he wants to steal every bit of Sejanus's attention!! When has he ever been the SOLE POINT of someone's attention? ughhh I can't stop thinking about all the fic opportunities.

anyway THANKYOU VERY MUCH for the hcs and I hope to scream about more of them soon with you lol <3

[nothin-but-smalls]

Omg I can finally talk to somebody about my love for mysme g/t!!! Anyways, I had a dream one time that I was a borrower living in Seven's bunker, but I woke up the moment I got discovered. I would've loved to continue that dream, though. So what do you think would happen after Seven discovers a borrower?

SORRY THIS TOOK MONTHS TO RESPOND TO, I DON'T REALLY HAVE A REASON OR EXCUSE BEHIND IT KHNGJH

This is a very good question though, because I can see it going in a few different ways. Let me see if I can sort them out coherently (no promises)

Discovering a borrower in his house would be alarming. Not only because holy shit a tiny person , but also because of his line of work. Who knows who this person is or if they're working for anyone.

I can imagine Luciel and the borrower holding eye contact for an extended period of time, both either running through what they could do about this situation in their heads or their minds going completely blank. As the trope goes, the tiny would make the first move. Trying to run, using the mess that is 707's house to make their escape, but unfortunately the redhead would be more than capable of cornering them and/or grabbing them in his hands.

Holding this person in an iron-fist, he'd probably look the borrower over inquisitively, trying to sus them out.. but, assuming they(or, I suppose, you in this case) are innocent, he wouldn't be able to find anything suspicious.

This would call for heavy silence, the borrower frozen in fear or struggling, and Seven keeping a firm grip while waiting for them (and himself) to calm down.

Then you'd get a very awkward conversational exchange, introducing names, asking what the borrower is doing there.. but if they plan to stay, Seven would either set down ground rules or completely deny them (he can't risk anything regarding his work getting out, even if you do seem innocent).

Regardless, there's potential for them(or the both of you) to bond, it would just take time! And I can easily see angst in the future of this concept too.

(small bonus)

But, but but but! If he finds a borrower at someone else's house or on the streets, that's a bit of a different story. Less anxiety-fueled accidental aggression, I'd say. Probably just curiosity?? Following them/chasing them, being his goofy self upon introductions... YEA!

Sorry if this isn't to your satisfaction, I'm relatively new to posting/doing G/T stories/concepts

[mxtxfanatic]

In one of your recent reblogs, I think you had a semi rhetorical question asking smth like, what could JCs actions be if not homophobic? And ever since I've been trying to put my headcanon into words and figure out *why*.

(Pls take this just as an alternate headcanon, not me trying to push my views.)

I've been trying to remember why JC didn't seem homphobic to me at first glance when I read the book, then I realized - my headcanon was that he would have reacted the same way if it was a woman - that he's romance and sex repulsed in general, not just between men.

If it had been a woman WWX had been with on that final night in Lotus Pier, a woman that WWX cuddled up to and then bowed before his parents with... that's still a different person taking *his* spot as important to WWX.

That he got angry at the bowing scene, not because they weren't paying respect properly - but because it was so final, like WWX was saying "thank you", "I'm sorry", and "goodbye" - that he'd no longer need to come back to him. (Bc he can still want wwx back no matter how he actually feels about him. He should be here, under him; what right does he have to leave again? ... which is a bunch of BS, but who *ever* said JC is a logical, rational person instead of a ball of conflicting emotions.)

So... yeah. I think he would have hated whoever WWX brought - that it was *Lan Wangji* was icing on the cake.

Then why didn't he get fussy when his Shixiong always flirted with girls? Because they weren't *actually* a threat. WWX never even considered *actually* following through on any flirting - not until his Lan Zhan. He didn't seem thrilled with it either, though, but he couldn't really say anything bc it was more normal to everyone else, and WWX would tease him about that.

...I hope this is coherent; I just woke up and had the explanatory brainwave insisting I reasons to that rhetorical question *right now*.

In summation: my headcanon is that JC is romance and sex repulsed on all levels, and would have hated it just as much if Lan Wangji was a girl that was taking WWX away.

Hm, I agree with everything here except the romance- and sex-repulsion, but also in a slightly different way (and I see the other ask about this not being a defense of jc, so I won’t respond to it as such). These are where I diverge:

Just to get this out of the way, the text establishes Jiang Cheng as homophobic upon his first meeting of “Mo Xuanyu,” who was doing nothing at the time for jc to feel any discuss towards if his issue is romance or sex, so that’s an established fact. But with that out of the way, I agree that jc was really territorial of Wei Wuxian and that he definitely picked up on the finality of wwx’s actions in the ancestral hall. I also agree that jc would have acted just as acerbically towards wwx bringing a woman, but for a different reason: he would have probably seen a woman as a threat to wwx’s servitude due to the history of wwx’s father leaving the Jiang to follow his wife, as wwx had done (for entirely different reasons). This is also supported by the way jc is always upset at wwx in the scenes where wwx “flirts” with other girls and women, like when he is teasing Mianmian and in the lotus pod seed extra when he “flirts” with the girls who gave them watermelon, so maybe you have a point there. But jc being dismissive towards wwx flirting with women as a way to dissuade wwx from pursuing them is different from the marked disgust he shows towards the idea that wwx could like lwj, something he felt the need to “expose” (his words). So while jc would hate anyone wwx brought home, he’d hate a woman because she threatens wwx’s loyalty to him, but a man because he’s a homophobe.

However, I disagree that this is sex- and romance-repulsion because jc only shows this towards wangxian, not towards the idea of other couples like Jin Guangyao and Qin Su or Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. Jc would have been present for jyl and jzx’s courtship, but is famously shown as being fine with them being together, no problem. It’s even mentioned in the wedding dress scene that jc had been the one reassuring jyl about her outfit, meaning he was also intimately involved in that planning of his own free will, past the requirement of just picking a date and passing everything else off to servants. All jc saw was wangxian hug and decided it was “too intimate.” He doesn’t show this same disgust when wwx flirts with women, just annoyance and dismissiveness. That’s just the homophobia babes lol

[moldcorpse]

I HAVE SOME SELF INDULGENT THEORIES AND HEADCANNONS FOR SHADOWS OF ROSE

I make no promises that this will make any coherent sense cuz the theories and headcannons are probably mixed up with each other, but fuck it I need to get this out. Also really sorry, I'm on mobile and can't figure out how to do read more...

.

.

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So, a lot of people are wondering where the Lords are in Shadows of Rose, right? Well, I saw one theory talking Duke having some memories from them that got mixed into him when Miranda was making him (which side note, I don't think the Duke we know from the main game is dead because based on Evelyn, Ethan, and Miranda they act same as they did in life, but thats another thing.) But what about the rest of the Lords' conscious?

In my mind, those in the Megamycete are more forced to stay in their own memories. I think someone that has a connection to and is around the Megamycete when they dead once they enter it they stay in their memories. They might have some influence on where they are in their life and can stay there, like we already know where Ethan got his little space settle as. So, those that just enter are stuck there until they have a reason to get out and start building up power like what Miranda did to get to the other levels (I forgot what they are actually called).

So, with the Lords, I feel like they are, more or less, content in their memories. At least once they got some control over where and when they were cuz I can't imagine at lot of it was pleasant. The Dimitrescu girls probably all found a way to their mother and they are all living it up in the castle in their memories. Beneviento might stay in the part of her life where her family was in still alive. For Moreau, I'm not really sure since we don't really get much on him beside how utterly devoted he is to Miranda, so something to do with her? Only Heisenberg I could see at least once popping out of his memories to see whats gonna on sees Miranda still on her bullshit, said "Fuck that bitch, I'm good", and hops back into his memories. I can't really expand much more on this part more cuz this is a almost baseless theory on where the others are in the Megamycete, but it feels right to me.

Now with Ethan I think once he realized that he is dead and now just a consciousness, he knew Miranda would continue to try to get Rose somehow. He doesn't really have experience with powers expect his healing which isn't gonna do much. But this is Ethan and he's gonna try anyways. I think when someone who has died enters the Megamycete they start on the deepest level and thats why we only get a glimpse of Ethan in the Beneviento at the entrance of the next level. Why Ethan warns that its harder to get out the deeper you are. Because by the time Rose shows up he hasn't gotten enough power to fully manifest himself at the top only able to do just simple thing aka the words, manifesting objects, and moving objects. Unlike Miranda who was able to manipulate the outside world some, so if we go with my idea she can fully reach the top level.

Okay, hopefully last thing. I truthfully don't think Ethan's consciousness died at the end. I know people are like "Oh my god, Ethan died a third time!" I don't believe he's dead. He didn't crumble away like Miranda before Rose woke up. I think only an outsider, aka someone like Rose, can kill a consciousness in Megamycete. The copies of Rose aren't real, we've seen that they become the monsters that we fight in the DLC at the end, then once they're dead they become goo. So, the only real death we can work with is Miranda's and I think Ethan's okay at the end. Maybe without Miranda around he builds up his power to manifest himself, to some extent, in the real world to check on Rose and really is the figure we see in the end cut scene.

Anyways, that my spiel. Maybe when its not almost 7 am I'll expand on some of this, but for now I think I'm good.

Have a good morning, good evening, and good night!

-Twig

[masontalo]

«Addict»

«I can’t take it anymore. Why… what's happening? I…»

- Do you think we should bring him to the hospital? What if he's just a regular addict?

Vayt tried to open his eyes. Whose voice is that? Clearly male and quite rough. It's so hard to open eyes.

- He even reeks of weed. He can be dangerous

The man clearly treated Vayt badly, well, or at least for now.

- What if he's not? What if it's deeper than you think?

It was another person's voice. Also male, but more... gentle? He sounded very concerned. Oh shit... time to open eyes.

Vayt opened his eyes hard and slowly. It was a cafe of some kind, but it was empty. Vayt realized he was lying on chairs. The two men who were talking were literally a couple of meters away.

One had swarthy skin, blond colored hair, and brown eyes. He thought he was colored because his beard and eyebrows were brown. Vayt also noticed he had piercings on his right eyebrow, nose and lower lip. He was wearing a red shirt and a black tie.

Vayt couldn't see the second man, because his back was to him, but he had light skin and blond hair, too. Vayt thought he had a rather unusual haircut. His hair was shoulder-length, but shaved at 4/6, and the tips were colored a soft blue.

Vayt slowly sat up. The brown-eyed man noticed this and said:

- He woke up.

The second man stepped closer to Vayt.

- Are you okay? You passed out in the street. - he said to Vayt.

He could now get a good look at the man's face. His features were not as rough as the first man's, and he had sky blue eyes. He also had a yellow hairpin in the shape of a star.

Vayt was a little taken aback by the question, but he did his usual thing:

- Yeah, yeah, it's okay. It happens, I'm fine.

Vayt spoke with a tortured smile and a slightly shaky voice, and his eyes open enough to even see the whites.

The blue-eyed man understood that coaxing Vayt was useless, but he couldn't leave completely without help.

- Okay, in that case, why don't I give you my number? If you need any help, you call me. - he said, clasping his hands together out of worry for the stranger.

Vayt took a deep breath. It was probably the quickest and easiest way to get away without embarrassing himself with his odor, appearance, and talk.

- All right, dictate. - Vayt said, pulling out his cell phone, which looked about... 100 years old?

The blond dictated his number, and Vayt wrote it down in turn, then began to speak:

- Thank you, Mr....

- Just call me Anthony.

Vayt nodded and called the contact "Anthony." The guy hid his phone and put his backpack on one shoulder.

- Well, thanks for your help, - Vayt said, stumbling back. -but I've got to go.

Vayt's back bumped lightly against the door.

- Are you sure you're okay? - Anthony asked. His eyebrows arched, creating a worried expression.

-  Yeah, yeah, thank you so much for giving me the number. I'm sorry for interrupting work. - Vayt gibbered, trying to fumble for the doorknob behind his back.

Once he had that, he opened the door and before closing it said one last thing:

- Thank you and sorry again. - Vayt gave one last fake smile and disappeared out the door.

Anthony sighed.

- He's a strange guy. - said the other man.

- We don't know anything about him. - Anthony replied to this statement.

The man sighed.

- Think he'll call?

- I'm not sure. – Anthony drooped his eyes to the floor and clasped his hands tightly together.

- Okay, we already wasted enough time on this guy, we should get back to work.

Anthony nodded, and they got back to work.

At this time, Vayt was sitting on a random stairway. He wanted to scream from the shame he felt. To pass out in the street, even like this. His thoughts went from one extreme to the other.

«I won’t do it, it’s too embarrassingly.» - the only coherent thoughts that broke through the rest of the stream of random experiences.

Vayt held his head and tried to calm down, bowing his head almost at knee level.

He doesn't know how much time had passed, but looking up finally Vayt saw the orange sky. Was it sunset already?

The boy threw back his head and took a deep breath.

- Calm down, it's okay. Tomorrow, they won't even remember you, it's all right. – Vayt calmed himself, finally taking a deep breath.

But his chest still hurt like hell from the nerves. But as soon as the pain subsided, Vayt went wandering around the neighborhood until late at night, as usual.

Usually at three a.m. all kinds of evil things show up, but the only evil thing that showed up in this house was Vayt. Although he wasn't much worse than the others.

As usual, a smoke-filled apartment. Why haven't the neighbors called the cops if this has been going on for over six months? Maybe they're just so tolerant as Vayt.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he immediately wanted to just disappear just to not see them.

After stepping over two sleeping bodies in the hallway, Vayt reached the window and opened it wide. After another obstacle course, consisting of the same two people and a pile of bottles, he reached the balcony. After repeating the same operation as with the window, he began to look for some quiet corner, so that he would not be touched while he slept.

Walking beside the couch, Vayt saw his "friend" was carefully tucked in and covered with a blanket, his long hair tucked behind his ear.

"It's surprising someone wasn't stoned enough to pick HIM up. And lay him down so gently." - Vayt thought as he left the room.

Pressing himself against the farthest wall, he held his backpack tightly against him. It wasn't the best place to sleep, but for now it was better than outside. Or in HIS house. Vayt slowly closed his eyes, falling into sleep and another nightmare.

[the-force-awakens]

Hi, of course feel free to ignore this but I'm pretty sure we were mutuals until last night and you blocked me which is absolutely your right but I just wanted to say I'm sorry it I did anything to make you uncomfortable and I think your gifs are absolutely gorgeous! 💗

Aw thank you, I appreciate that you like my gifs! I did accidentally block one person late last night, and I am assuming that Tumblr didn't take when I unblocked them.

However, and I'm certainly not upset and I understand the concern of doing something wrong (it happens to me when I find I've been blocked by someone), I do just want to take a moment and state for future reference: it makes me extremely uncomfortable receiving messages like this.

I don't treat blocking (or following blogs, for that matter) that seriously, because I'm big on cultivating my own internet space. Sometimes it's just simply because I don't vibe, and sometimes more seriously it is because that person was racist or ableist.

But that said, I've had people come to me before about this - once on an entirely different platform - and it's just an awkward situation for everyone involved, I think, to be in, especially depending on what the answer could be.

Hopefully this was coherent, it probably wasn't (I was up til four and woke up at eight), but I thought maybe it was worth stating for the record. Thank you for your concern though, and for the compliment 💛

[lumilasi]

lately i see a lot of people have their complain or think pieces about how they felt disappointed with how hori made the story for the villains, lot of them felt like the pace it's too rushed. i even remember back then there is a post about how hori actually have so much planned for the villains story, but since the majority of the audience (jp) doesn't care that much about the villains he tune it down.. but still i'm proud of him to still gave us mva. so wdyt about that?

I've enjoyed the story for what its worth, it has some of my favorite manga art styles too!

That being said, I do have thoughts to offer I guess? Sorry this will probably get rambly lmao:

Now, IDK about the 'being rushed' thing, but .........I Do feel like Hori might've made a mistake in choosing what audience he was writing for. (This is just my personal thoughts about this btw, so take it all with a grain of salt lmao,)

(I also just woke up so my brain isn't the most coherent yet)

I've always felt like he should've written a Seinen manga instead of shonen, because he seems to shine/put a bit more effort in when writing with more serious tones and moral complexity with difficult, no-easy-answers questions, that tends to fit better with stories for older target audience. (Shonen is primarily meant for teens after all, even if older peeps like me enjoy reading them too) Not to say this can't work with shonen of course, there's obvs examples where it has worked well! (FMA comes to mind)

It's just that...idk if Hori can write 'shonen' that well, personally? It always felt like the manga has two badly clashing tones, and the more hero-focused parts (that I feel are more typical shonen manga in tone) could get downright boring to me, and I'm someone who grew up reading shonen a lot. Even after becoming this mythical thing called 'adult' I still enjoy reading them.

Or....I suppose its perhaps not that the hero parts aren't that good, but rather the tones clashing makes the manga feel like it's meant for two veeeery different audiences, and I happen to prefer the "My Villain Accademia" story. Therefore, in contrast the hero-writing can get dull to me, because it clashes too much with what I perceive as story worth of my emotional investment. He struggles to combine the two tones together in a good, seamless way in other words.

That is probs the more likely answer to my personal gripes with the writing, now when I think about it: at the start before the villains truly showed up I didn't mind the hero writing, but after they got to shine the kids' shenanigans just felt...kind of disconnected from the actual story going on, and therefore pretty boring to me?

I think that could be one of his big problems: the story he wants to write (essentially what we saw in MVA, from my understanding it is generally considered as one of the best arcs in the story, tho I could recall wrong - it was one of the best to me at least lmao) is different to the story the chosen audience wants to see, so it makes the quality suffer because he can't necessarily do what he actually wants with the story.

That's of course just my theory/thoughts on the matter so I can't say any of this is fact. Just some thoughts and musings I've had about the story for the longest time now.

All I know is that the manga feels like two very different ones in the same package (to me), meant for different audiences, and the story tones clash a bit too much sometimes as a result, because Hori isn't doing a good job blending them together IMO.

Also its rarely a good idea to limit a creative too much, let them tell their story how they want for the most part, or, well...it might not end up that good in the end. If this is what happened with Hori, it can partially explain the rushed feel and everything. IDK again though, I'm not Horikoshi, I'm just some rando online with theories and speculation, who enjoys his story for what its worth as said, and wishes her own creations were half as liked lmao

[starpros-sunshine]

I dreamt Valkyrie had a song called 「Memento Mori」 and it was the sickest thing ever.

[dr3amofagame]

Do you consider a possibility that c!Punz never betrayed c!Dream in the first place and whole "I'm sorry, Dream -- but you should have paid me more" thing was a facade and undercover for Punz? Like Dream said that Punz should not associated with him, so it was intentional-

staged disc finale theory my beloved !!! :D it’s definitely one of my favorite theories, though i’m still holding out (for now) as for believing super firmly in one direction or another (tho the staged finale is definitely the one i prefer for Many reasons, haha.) c!punz is so so fun no matter if the betrayal was intentional or not, but oh boyyyy if it was something planned ,,, man . 

*c!dream voice, after quackity starts visiting*: the risk i took was calculated, but man am i bad at math. 

anyway c!punz and c!dream interactions make me soft as heck so have this !!

tw: implied torture, abuse, violence, blood, injuries, emotional distress, panicking, dehumanization, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy mindsets, illness, trauma, flashbacks, starvation mention, suicide mention, death mentions, dark content, dark imagery, prison arc/pandora’s vault themes, c!quackity critical/dark portrayal of c!quackity

Dream comes to in vague moments and flashes. 

There’s a hand brushing over his forehead, too gentle to be Quackity or the Warden, not Techno because Techno is Gone and he has Left and won’t come again, running through the sweat-soaked locks and pulling them back out of his forehead. He’s unbearably hot, shifting around on the ground, only barely registering it moving beneath him. Water, cool and clear, is tipped in between his lips, quenching his thirst and easing the dryness of his mouth. Someone speaks, voice low and rumbling, and even though he’s unable to make out the words, there’s something about the cadence of them and the specific rhythm in which they move and rise and dip that is bone-achingly familiar, enough to lull him into a fitful sleep. Through it all, there is always something, someone, lingering in the edges of his vision, a shadow standing near and watching over him; part of him remembers Quackity, remembers the Warden, and recoils in fright; another part of him remembers Techno, remembers the barest flashes of a life before obsidian and lava and pain and hell, and wants nothing more than to get closer. 

When the fog in his head finally clears away enough to think, the first coherent thought he has is oh fuck, I need to piss. 

Which, out of all possible things to think, is probably up there as one of the worst, and he’s sure that when his head feels a little less like it’s trying to actively kill him (ha, let it- it’s far from the first to try) the panic will settle in as it always does. As it is, he’s exhausted, and hungry, and he really really needs to pee- so he forces his eyes open to move away from where he’s probably still stuck in a puddle of dried blood in the middle of his cell.

The second coherent thought he has is this: this isn’t Pandora. 

The realization has him thoroughly awake, eyes snapping open out of his previous fatigue to take in his surroundings, feet kicking out to the weight on top of them that he hadn’t even noticed was there, panicking against his restraints that end up not being restraints at all, giving way easily under his thrashing and resolving to what appears to be a thick blanket when he has the mind to look. With the covers gone off of whatever he’s lying on (a bed?) he’s suddenly, unbearably cold - the prison has always been hot, the lava baking into him and leaving his skin sticky with sweat, and he thinks that the room he’s in is probably not meant to feel like a fucking freezer, but after months of being one wrong step away from heatstroke, anything cooler than the goddamn Nether feels like literal ice against his skin. The room is wooden and cozy and oddly familiar, an open door leading to what appears to be a bathroom and a closed one going who knows where, window panes built into the opposite wall to let the sunlight in. It’s a nice room, all things considered, and Dream fucking hates it. 

He pulls himself to his feet, cursing at the wobbly edge to his stance when he finally manages to stand, his vision wavering dangerously in time to the spinning of his head. His eyes flick between the two doors - he still needs to go to the bathroom, and using it now will lessen the amount of things to get in the way of his escape in the future - but at the same time, there's no knowing when people will come to (hurt him, beat him, starve him, punish him, leaving him bruised and bleeding and half-dead on the floor just as he deserves) him and he needs all the time he can get to get the hell away. In the end, he slinks into the bathroom, ignoring the thudding in his chest as he does so - at the very least, the cabinets in the thing might provide him with some manner of a weapon. 

He’s only just past the door on the way out - a fucking broomstick in his hand because it’s all he could find - when his ears catch on the sound of metal clicking against each other and his eyes fall on the knob of the other door shaking as someone makes their way in. All at once, panic slams into him - goddammit, he should’ve just run when he had the chance - and he directs quick, desperate glances at the window. Maybe, if he’s fast enough, he can book it out of there and disappear into the trees; it’ll hurt, but it’ll be better than getting caught. Anything would be better than getting caught-

 “Dream?” 

Dream blinks. All at once, the same feeling of getting the air punched out of him returns, but combined with something warm and floaty wrapping around his chest, something almost a little like relief - and hell, if that isn’t something he’s not felt for a while. 

“Punz?” 

Punz is standing in the doorway, hoodie rumpled, expression more than a little frazzled; Dream’s breath hitches at the sight of the sword strapped to his side, but their face holds none of the harsh edges and cold-dark-hard hatred that had characterized the Warden and Quackity’s visits, mouth slightly parted and eyes shining with nothing but what appears to be shock and concern. The sight of them, again, nearly has Dream dizzy, a swell of tangled, unexplainable emotion rising to the back of his throat as he sways on his feet. He hadn’t thought that he would see Punz again, he realizes, had never thought he’d see his stupid gold chain and his stupid outfit he never bothered changing, ever, or that same lopsided smirk and pale blue eyes- the last time he’d seen them, it was in that vault, their mouth twisted up in the act the two of them had decided on and eyes shimmering with unease and regret; as far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t the worst, not when Punz was one of the few to never leave him, not really, not when something ached in their expression other than the hatred that had colored all of the other expressionless faces watching him die. Months later, alone in Pandora, he must’ve grown resigned, or something, the repeated reminders that he would die alone and afraid and it would be nothing more than he deserved settling into his skin and against his bones; Punz’s expression twists, visible even across the room, and- oh. 

They must’ve thought the same thing, too.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Punz asks, finally, and Dream decides not to point out the way his voice cracks harshly in the middle, especially when the other man strides forward and starts to awkwardly herd him back in the direction of the bed - covers still thrown to the floor - in the middle of the room. Dream lets them, not replying because he doesn’t really know where to even begin describing the tangled knot of panic and shock that had strung his muscles tense when he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, not knowing if he can really describe it all at all, trying his best not to flinch at the hands flitting in the corners of his vision as he falls back into a sitting position onto the bed. His fingers settle into the mattress, pressing into the bedsheets cautiously and marveling when they fall away under the pressure. Punz watches him, expression odd, gathers the blankets from the ground and presses them over and around him in a way that’s entirely awkward but does leave him warmer than he’d been before, before walking back on his heels with an odd expression that makes Dream’s insides twist. 

“You,” Punz says after a long second, voice wavering, “are a fucking idiot,” and it’s all the warning Dream gets before a white-and-black blur is rushing towards him, arms wrapping around his chest and his vision whites out in alarm and panic. When the pain doesn’t come, he comes back to his senses enough to realize that Punz’s arms are still wrapped around him, shoulders shaking as he holds him close but not painfully, careful not to pull too much against the places on his ribs and back that leave him gasping with small shocks of pain, head pressed against the crook of Dream’s neck and hair tickling his face. Dream can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but as the panic dies something warm and long-neglected stirs in the middle of his chest, and he melts forward with a quiet hum. This is- nice. Really, really nice. 

“What were you thinking?” Punz mutters, too quiet to really be directed at him, hands curling tighter into the folds of the hoodie - oh, he’s wearing one of those, not the same stiff, bloodstained material of the prison uniform that had chafed against his skin, another constant source of pain and discomfort of thousands in the hell that had been Pandora’s Vault  - on him, and Dream doesn’t really know what to do except sit there and blink dumbly, listening to the heartbeat of the person leaning against him rumbling against his ears. It’s oddly calming, has the pressure on his chest lightening enough to take a full breath, and then another, the warmth of someone leaning against him almost too much but not enough at the same time - his eyes burn, and he ignores them. 

“I-” he doesn’t really think that Punz was really asking a question, but just ignoring his question seems rude, too, and even despite the fuzzy warmth settling into his skin and into his bones from the pressure of Punz’s arms around his body and their head against his shoulder, he’s still unable to shake the anxiety of leaving a query unanswered, a constant murmur to listen obey do as you’re told or you’re going to regret it put on a damn good show or suffer the consequences remaining no matter how hard he tries to push it away. He wets his lips when his mouth feels too dry to keep speaking, eyes fluttering closed as he leans forward further, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You-” Punz cuts themselves off with a wet, incredulous-sounding laugh that has Dream jerking back despite himself, meeting their ice-cold eyes when they pull themselves back to look at him. He doesn’t really recognize the expression he wears, Dream realizes with a jolt, the way his lips are pressed together and the churning in his eyes, and his lungs seize in his chest. 

“Sir-”

If anything, Punz’s expression only seems to harden, and the warmth disappears as Dream looks into their eyes - cold, two polished shards of ice, frosted over pools of water in the middle of the tundra, flinty and sharp and brilliant blue. His hands shake as he pulls them back to his chest, trembling from the chill that’s made its home in his muscles and frozen them in place - sir sorry sir please don’t hurt me im sorry please I didn’t mean to

“Fuck, Dream,” he shakes his head, and only then does Dream see the slight wobble to their bottom lip, the waver to their words like they’re struggling to keep themselves together, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

 What?

You almost died, you know,” he keeps going, not meeting his eyes as they direct their gaze out the window, “Several times, honestly. Fucking hell- when Techno brought you out- I didn’t think you would survive. I didn’t think anyone could survive that.” 

Dream swallows. He doesn’t remember getting out, doesn’t really remember much at all if he’s being honest; there was the black of the cell, the heat of the lava, Techno promising to get him out before disappearing in a flash of purple, Quackity throwing him against the wall (Where the fuck did Techno go? You better have a fuckin’ answer, pal, if you want your death to be anything resemblin’ quick-) then nothing. Everything. His heart hammering in his chest and blood slick against his skin and the press of metal against his windpipe and pain, the only constant within it all, the only thing that made any goddamn sense when the room seemed to flip and turn and twist and his feelings knotted and frayed between anger-betrayal-distress-sadness-fear-grief, when reality swirled into a dizzying blur of colors and feelings and sounds carving themselves into the inside of his skull- then here. Dream flexes his hand experimentally, marveling at the feeling - the pain is almost gone. 

He’d forgotten how it felt, really, to live and not hurt. 

“Dream,” Punz calls again, voice low and worried, and Dream can’t help the way his head snaps up to meet their eyes and can’t help the flinch that twists his neck back when their frown deepens. It’d been a show, at least he tells himself, because Quackity would stop earlier if he screamed more, but- his hands tremble at his sides, twisted into the sheets of the bed, a near-constant litany of reminders and rules beating like they have a heart of their own in the back of his head. It was a show- he feels himself almost buckle, give in under the force of the stare leveled at him, and hates himself for how weak he feels, pinned under the eyes trained on his own. He’s not sure how much of a show it is anymore. 

“Dream,” Punz repeats, words even softer, and the ugly feeling of shame and anger twists inside Dream’s chest again. Punz- ever unflappable, deadly with almost any weapon and never letting anyone see him as anything but deliberately apathetic - is watching him with an expression so uncharacteristically and unbearably gentle that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve died,” he says once again, and the look that paints his face is so terribly vulnerable, feelings pouring over like a cup overfilled, bubbling forward and bleeding from every corner, and Dream- can’t. He doesn’t know what to do in the face of such stark emotion, doesn’t know how how to handle the way his eyes burn and his heart throbs like an exposed nerve, the way everything yawns wide in the middle of his chest into void and emptiness and pain so deeply carved in the space within his ribs that he half-thinks he’s been hollowed out entirely.

“But I didn’t.” 

Punz pulls back, but Dream isn’t looking at him, is staring at the scarred surfaces of the backs of his hands and the knobs of his knuckles sticking out against the thinned-out skin and the yellowed nails he’s pushing against the blanket, the fourth and fifth ones of his right hand missing. They shake, no matter how long he looks at them and how hard he tries to make them stay still, and he can feel a voice whispering in the back of his mind, tone too familiar to ignore. Weak. 

“I didn’t die,” he says when Punz doesn’t reply, looking at his scarred hands, weak hands, broken hands. “So it’s okay. We can keep- we can keep going.”

“Dream-” their voice is a blade scraping against an anvil, nails scraping over his ribs, his hands clamping over his ears before he’s realized he’s moved and his brain screaming at him for doing so once he realizes that he has, “-what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Still, he hadn’t survived months of Quackity’s visits by bending over the second he was pushed, so he forces his tongue to move from where it’s fallen to the bottom of his mouth like lead, feels his eyes go steely even from under the way his vision has already begun to wobble. 

“It’s not over yet,” he continues, trying to keep his words even, “‘cause I didn’t die, so we’re not done. I gotta- we have to reevaluate, of course,” he can’t stop, because the second he stops talking is the second he falls apart, so he ignores the way that Punz stiffens and stills and doesn’t let anything stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth, “because the vault and the prison- um, obviously didn’t go as planned, but it’s fine. Just a minor- um, minor inconvenience. A setback- but it’s not- it’s not unsalvageable- we just have to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Punz cuts him off with a sharp laugh, disbelieving and just on the wrong side of desperate, and the air in Dream’s lungs freezes into a solid block of ice in the middle of his chest, “you- you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Punz?”

Dream’s voice comes out small, himself shrinking back into the bed, keenly aware, suddenly, of how there is nowhere he can go to run - Punz doesn’t seem to notice that he’s spoken at all, one of his hands moving up to tug through his hair, which is - now that Dream is looking - fluffier and messier than he remembers, sticking up in all directions like they didn’t bother to smooth it down.

“You think this is fine? You think that because you didn’t fucking die, that this is all okay?” Punz’s voice rises in volume slowly, not loud enough to be a shout but enough to go hard and unyielding like a threat, and with each word every remnant of the vault comes crawling, clawing back up to the front of his head, a pounding reminder to play his role, put on a show, behave behave behave-

“Goddammit, Dream,” Punz startles him out of his own thoughts, looking straight into his eyes with their ice-blue ones, “have you seen yourself?”

 Have you seen yourself? Lying down in your own goddamn filth like a fucking mutt- prime, you disgust me. 

“Your ribs were basically shattered. Your legs had fractures on both sides, and your back was so fucking torn up that it looked like more blood than skin. You’ve been starved- enough for me to see every goddamn bone in your body, it feels like. Your throat was bruised to hell- I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to speak again, fuck, and like a day after we got here you got fucking pneumonia.” Punz’s breath hitches, “Your skin was a literal fucking oven- I thought you’d bake yourself from the inside out. You could’ve died- you should’ve died.”

 You should’ve died a hell of a long time ago, pal- should’ve saved us all the fucking trouble and offed yourself like Wilbur fucking Soot.

He flinches, and this, Punz seems to notice, eyes widening a fraction before they pitch their voce lower, clearly taking a few breaths to calm down and reaching forward to take one of Dream’s hands loosely in his own, thumb smoothing over the bumps of his knuckles. 

“You’re not fine,” he says after a long while, shaking his head. “Hell- I’m not fine. But we’re not doing anything like- like the vault or the prison again, dude. I told you they were shit ideas- fuck. We never should’ve done that.”

“It was worth it,” Dream butts in, because he can’t imagine a world where it wasn’t, can’t imagine a world where all of that was for nothing, “it was worth it-” 

“No it fucking wasn’t, are you out of your mind?” Punz replies immediately, voice overlapping over Dream’s own, “have you listened to a single thing I’ve said? You- look at you! How was that worth it?”

Dream shakes his head stubbornly, already feeling the way his jaw is trembling around the words he forces himself to speak. “The server- it was all for the server-”

“Fuck the server!” 

Punz seems startled by their own shout, drawing back at the same time Dream does, breathing ragged. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, bringing his hand to his face as Dream sits stock still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Fuck the fucking server, okay?” Punz says, finally, voice cracking in the middle, “You lost two damn lives for this server. You got fucking tortured for fucking months for this shitstain of a server. Just- fuck them. I’m not watching you tear yourself to fucking shreds for this- not again. I can’t sit around and watch you fucking die again, Dream, I can’t drag you out bleeding out in my fucking arms again- fuck-” Punz shakes their head, and oh. They’re crying. 

“No more. Fuck the server. I’m done, Dream- we’re done with them.” 

Dream blinks, so thoroughly surprised that he thinks the shock knocked him straight out of the building panic attack, leaving nothing but a slight thrumming of anxiety still simmering beneath his skin. Almost instinctually, in a motion he doesn’t really remember but still has the muscle memory for, he opens his arms- and in a similar, near-unconscious response, Punz tumbles into his arms. 

He blinks, not moving his arms to curl around the other, feeling the weight of another person against his again and the sound of their breathing and relearning them both. This is- new, for both of them. Dream was never emotional, not before the prison, not that he wanted to be after it either- but Quackity always had a particular affinity for tearing him apart, shard by shard. And Punz- he’d never been like this, even back in the day, when things were easier and they didn’t bear the constant burden of netherite against their backs. They’d always been stoic, sharp, sarcastic, cool and dry in a way that chafed against Sapnap’s fire and always led to Dream laughing at them sooner or later. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling the heat behind his eyes finally sear too hot and boil over, tears squeezing through his closed eyes and falling down his face. 

“Okay,” he says, finally, and there’s nothing easy about the acquiescence, not when he had poured blood and sweat and the better half of himself into this place, salted the earth with his tears until no more would come and nothing else would grow. He thinks that he will have more to think and more to say and more to protest come the next days, that the binds between him and his goals have been weaved too deep with the fibers of his soul for him to tear them free without sacrificing what broken pieces of himself he has left, but all he can think right now is how fucking tired he is. He remembers Techno’s voice, going through myth after myth to pass time in the prison, and thinks with something like humor and something like grief - let someone else be Atlas for a day. The sky is too heavy right now. Punz’s arms tighten around his body, enough to remind him that they’re there but not enough to press at his still-healing ribs, and he thinks that they might understand. “Okay.” 

[possiamo-andare]

Just You (4)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 4.3k

a/n: I probably should've said this at the beginning but it's prolly obvious by now; the Rafe I'm writing about is not the same Rafe in the show. I'm writing him as a good person and not a, you know, psycho. So, keep that in mind lol

~

Y/N did not feel good for the rest of the night. It was an indescribable feeling; one of nervousness and anger. The nervousness crept up on her as JJ walked her home. They had barely spoken; the only noise came from their footsteps hitting the pavement. Y/N wondered if JJ was going to say anything at all but, on the other hand, why would he? As far as he knew, Rafe was just being hospitable. Nothing more, nothing less. At least it should've been. But with what had been revealed to her earlier in the night, Y/N knew she'd have to have a conversation with Rafe eventually.

That's when the anger set in. It was after JJ had dropped her off. After the goodnight kiss, he placed on her cheek and even after she got into bed. The anger hit her as she opened her book, planning on reading a bit in bed before going to sleep.

Her first thought was an intrusive one. Why would he throw me a party? Then, a second thought. If he does like me, why has he been so annoying? This second question stirred some resentment in Y/N. And the longer it settled in her stomach, the more that resentment turned to pure anger. How dare he throw that party for me? she thought. What does he expect from me? To swoon at the sight of him. She spiraled and soon, she was pacing her room, quietly arguing with Rafe in her mind.

This went on for longer than she'd care to admit. Only when she heard a soft knock at her door, did her pacing stop. She sat at the edge of her bed, glancing at the unread book on her nightstand. Rafe's foolishness had even interrupted her nightly routine.

"Hi honey," Her mother's voice sweetly cooed, opening the door of her daughter's room just enough to peek through. "You dad and I are heading to bed. Promise me you'll get some sleep?"

Y/N nodded, smiling at how concerned her mother was. "I'm going to bed now, mom. Sorry, I was just thinking."

Her mother furrowed a brow. "Is everything alright? Did something happen at the party?"

Y/N instantly shakes her head. Maybe it was too quick, but she convinced herself that if she tiptoed around the truth, then that wasn’t an outright lie. Technically, nothing did happen, just some stolen glances and a bit of awkward tension. "No, I'm just nervous about tomorrow." Technically not a lie either.

Y/N’s mom raised her brows, a small smile on her lips. "Ah, I see. Nervous for your date with JJ tomorrow?"

"Mom," Y/N whines, a bit embarrassed. "It's not a date."

Y/N’s mom smirked, snorting just a little. "Oh, sure. You're just getting ice cream near a beach with a boy you like.”

Y/N could tell her mom was being sarcastic but instead of denying anything, Y/N found herself changing the subject. “I’m going to bed now.”

Y/N’s mom nodded, understanding that her daughter did not want to delve into that subject this late at night. “Okay, honey. Goodnight.”

Y/N smiled, tucking herself under the covers and pulling them close to her chin. She hadn’t realized how tired she truly was until she rested her head against her pillow. “Goodnight.”

Y/N dreamed of nothing. Usually when she was this stressed, her mind grew too tired to even formulate a coherent dream. So instead, Y/N slept peacefully, her mind blank. The next day, Y/N woke up later than usual. Her parents didn't mind though. They had checked the clock when she entered her home and it had read 12:43am. That was late for a teenage girl whose social life consisted of cozying in with a good book and reading until 10pm. So, they let her sleep in, even going as far as shutting off her alarm. Finally, at around 9:30am, Y/N awoke. At first, she figured she woke before her alarm since it had gone off but, when she looked to her nightstand and saw that the time read 9:32am, she sat upright. The bright southern light of Outer Banks shone through her window, another sign that she had slept in. On the days she woke with her alarm, she would watch the sunrise little by little from her window. Now, it was shining as bright as ever, creating an orange ombre in the sky.

Y/N walked to her window, wanting to get a better look at the colour of the sky. Instead, the second she pulled back her curtains, her eyes travelled downward. She watched in quiet awe as Sarah ran about her driveway, screaming and laughing at someone who was spraying her with water. It was Rafe and another boy who Y/N knew to be Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. She had met John B only once before, on the beach a couple weeks ago when JJ was first helping her surf. At first, she couldn’t take her eyes off JJ, so she never gave John B a good look and this time was no different. She could care less if John B and Sarah were there; she was more concerned with watching Rafe. She found it ironic that Rafe had watched her from his window all those times before and here she was, watching him now.

He was shirtless. That’s not the first thing she noticed, but it was the thing she was focusing on. His body was lean and tan, muscles flexing as he held onto the long, heavy hose; he positioned it in front of himself as he sprayed Sarah and John B. She watched as John B ran to Rafe, both of them struggling to get the upper hand. It was all in jest, no actual animosity between the two, but Y/N could feel her eyes bulge at the sight of a soaked, shirtless Rafe flexing his muscle as he wrestled with John B. She felt herself grow hot at witnessing such a personal moment between Rafe and the closest people in his life even though they were on their own lawn.

The first thing she actually noticed was his smile. It was different from the one he wore around her. He only showed her a nervous, quiet smile but this one was a confident, carefree one. The only time she had seen this smile on Rafe was when he first greeted her at his door the night before. It quickly disappeared once they got to talking though. She wondered if he would ever allow himself to smile like that around her.

As soon as that thought crosses her mind though, she watches as Rafe stops in his place on his lawn with a frown on his face. Y/N wonders what has caught his attention but when she watches him look up at her bedroom window, she realizes that she’s caught his eye. Y/N panics, dropping to the floor before they can make eye contact. Before he can see that she’s been fully stalking him. She shudders, finally understanding why Rafe might be so embarrassed in front of her. She’s definitely embarrassed now for being caught in the act. Even though it was only a moment’s glance, it still felt as though she was invading whatever privacy they shared.

She feels her heart flutter just at the thought of Rafe noticing her in the window. How did he know? Should she care that he caught her? Y/N doesn’t know how her feelings have changed so quickly but she swallows them. She has a date she needs to get ready for.

~

For the first time ever, JJ was nervous for a date. For one, he wasn’t even sure if it was a date. JJ and Y/N had hung out on multiple occasions before this one and nothing had come of it. They were just trying to become closer and get to know each other. But now, something felt different. He thinks it’s because Y/N didn’t reject him last night when he kissed her on the cheek and maybe that’s the reason. But he also knew that he was nervous because JJ had not felt like this for a while. Sure, the girl before Y/N, Anna, was nice and he had fun with her, but there was just something about Y/N. She was carefree. She was fun. She seemed to compliment his erratic and impulsive behaviour very well. JJ never had anyone in his life that saw him the way Y/N did and yet, here she was, agreeing to go out with him. To JJ, it was a dream come true.

He had gotten to the beach twenty minutes early. JJ was never early anywhere, but he would make the exception for what seemed to be his first date with Y/N.

Y/N arrived exactly on time, rushing only a bit on her bike because she had woken up pretty late. Y/N had decided to wear blue baggy ripped jeans and a black cropped, tight tank top, paired with her classic white sneakers. This was a rushed look, mainly because of the time crunch. She barely had time to put on makeup, deciding to go with a more natural look not because she necessarily wanted to but because she had to. Although a lot had not gone her way this morning, one thing had. Rafe was not outside by the time she exited her home. Wherever he was, she didn’t care. She knew it would be beyond awkward if he was outside when she was, mainly because she was embarrassed, she got caught staring at him earlier this morning.

But he wasn’t, and now she could focus on JJ.

“I’m sorry to do this,” JJ began to joke. The two teens were walking hand in hand on the beach, joking about which flavour of ice cream he'd get. “But I think we have to break our pact.”

Y/N and JJ had made a deal, promising that whenever they were together, they’d get mint chocolate chip ice cream. Apparently, JJ decided against that today and Y/N faked a pout to get him to laugh. “Traitor!”

JJ snickered, his free hand coming to push the hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, but they have this new flavour I’ve been dying to try!”

Y/N shrugged. “Fine, but good luck trying to get me to agree on a second date now that you’ve betrayed me.”

JJ stopped in his tracks. Y/N stopped with him only because her hand was in his. She looked confused for a moment before realizing her mistake. “This is a date?”

She couldn’t take that back and she knew it. All she could do now was smile and nod. “Um, yeah? If you want it to be.”

JJ smiled, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of Y/N’s face. “Of course. I was considering this a date, but I was too afraid to ask.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at his kind words. And to think she was confused last night as to whether she liked Rafe or JJ. It was no competition; JJ made her feel so loved and cared for while Rafe did no such thing. Sure, he had been kind enough to throw her that party, but his kindness ended there. JJ’s, however, did not.

“Cool.” Y/N bit onto her bottom lip, another nervous tick of hers. “Why don’t you get the ice cream while I find us a place to sit?”

JJ nodded, finally letting go of Y/N’s hand. He seemed a little upset to let go of her, but he promised to be back soon. To onlookers who knew nothing about their relationship, they seemed like a lovesick couple who hated saying goodbye and for once, they were right. Y/N felt herself pout as JJ walked away, wanting to be near him at all times.

As he walked away, even Y/N noticed a new groove in his step. He seemed to skip a little, his happiness on the inside finally shining on the outside. They had made this date official. He was one more step closer to making Y/N his girlfriend and sealing it all with a kiss.

Unfortunately, as JJ exited the beach a happy camper, Rafe entered a miserable man.

He had not seen Y/N in the window. They had missed each other by a second, Y/N ducking before he could get a good look. He had initially felt as though someone’s eyes were on him but as he surveyed his surroundings and found no one but Sarah and John B, he figured he was wrong. That it was his anxiety talking.

Rafe was anxious for good reason. OBX was only so big. Eventually, he’d bump into Y/N, and they’d have to have an uncomfortable conversation. He hoped it was a quick one where all he had to do was sit and listen because if not, he wasn’t sure what to say. She already knew he had lied to her, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out his feelings for Y/N. Unfortunately, the more he sat with his anxiety, the more he spiraled and eventually nothing he did could calm him down.

Sarah had seen that his brother was on edge and suggested that John B, Sarah and Rafe all go get changed out of their wet clothes and take a walk down by the pier for some ice cream. At first, Rafe stubbornly declined Sarah’s offer. He wanted nothing to do with ice cream right now. In fact, the idea of ice cream (or any food in general) seemed to make him nauseous. But Sarah was just as stubborn as Rafe, if not more, and wouldn’t let up until he finally agreed to go.

And so, Rafe found himself waiting in a long ass line with Sarah and John B, miserable that he had to be here in the first place.

“Someone doesn’t look happy.” John B teased, his arms respectfully around Sarah’s waist. At first, Rafe did not like John B, but the more he hung around the Cameron’s estate, the closer the two boys got. Now John B and Rafe, along with Sarah, seemed inseparable.

Sarah snickered. “Poor baby.” Rafe could sense the sarcasm in her tone, and it only made his frown deeper.

“Cut it out.” Rafe grumbled, readjusting his cap on the top of his head.

Sarah smirked, glancing at the front of the line (which was very far away) and then back to her brother. “Maybe you can find us a seat near the beach? What flavour do you want again?”

Rafe pondered for a moment, deciding between a couple of his favourite flavours. Finally, he decided on his favourite one. “Rocky Road.”

John B nodded. “Okay, we’ll get it for you. Just see if you can still find a table.”

In truth, Rafe doesn’t want to leave the line. He’d rather be standing in line with Sarah and John B than alone, walking aimlessly around trying to find a table for them. But he understands why they want him to leave. He’s not exactly the life of the party right now but hopefully, with some ice cream in his stomach and sand between his toes, his mood will change.

Except his mood is about to get much worse.

As Rafe crosses the pier and begins walking towards a patch of tables on the sand, he can’t help but let his mind wander to Y/N. It seemed that whenever he had a moment to himself, his mind instantly went to her. Rafe is not an idiot. He knows what a crush is. He knows what having a crush feels like. And Rafe knows that it feels like this. In any other situation, maybe he would’ve felt confident enough to ask Y/N out or try to get to know her better, but they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot. Her impression of Rafe was muddled already and he’s sure that last night’s awkward tension has only made it worse. He wants Y/N to like him, but Rafe also understands that sometimes, life doesn’t work out the way you want it. So, as he finally approaches an empty table, he promises himself to keep his distance from Y/N.

“Rafe?”

Rafe looks up from his phone, his eyes following the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. When they make eye contact, Rafe’s body turns cold. It’s Y/N. She’s sitting at the table across from him, her phone also in her hands. She looks beautiful, her face glowing in the sun and Rafe can’t help but feel like a ghost next to this beautiful girl. There seems to be a minute of awkwardness that passes by, the two of them unsure of who should speak first.

Rafe decides to cut the silence short. “Oh, um, hey. What’re you doing here?” He knows the question is stupid and probably one that’s obvious, but his mind is going blank again. So much for keeping his distance from Y/N.

“Just getting some ice cream.” Y/N awkwardly smiles, suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the space between them. She wants to stand up and sit next to him but she’s sure that will only ever make things more awkward. Instead, she just watches as Rafe nervously takes off his baseball cap and begins bending the brim of the cap.

“Cool.” He hums, nodding slightly and looking back at the ice cream shop. It’s much farther away but he can still see the line getting shorter. He hopes Sarah and John B have gotten his ice cream and are on their way now because he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

Y/N takes a chance and says what’s been on her mind since last night. “I don’t know if this is a good time, but maybe we can talk about last night?”

God, Rafe wants to curl up in a ball and die. If his heart stopped working right now, he’d be the happiest man on earth. He can’t help but also be really annoyed. She’s relentless. He has to give her some credit; although he wishes she’d just forget about it, she just can’t seem to let it go. But Rafe wants her to.

“Uh, no offense Y/N, but this is definitely not a good time.” Rafe stutters a bit, and he knows he’s coming off meaner than he intended but right now, he’s trying to save both of them the embarrassment. Without thinking, he’s up on his feet and striding farther and farther away from his table and Y/N.

Unfortunately, she follows him. “Rafe!”

He doesn’t want to be too rude because if he was in her shoes, he’d be just as curious. Still, he feels the need to maybe tell her off just a little. He stops in his tracks once she calls his name, turning around easily since both of his feet are planted in the sand. She’s about three feet away from him and he doesn’t want any more time.

“I promise you, we’ll have a conversation soon, but I’d rather just hang out with my sister and friend and not be bothered by your drama.” He knows it’s harsh, but he needs her to hate him. He can’t have any hope that she even wants to be his friend.

He can see the shock and anger on her face. Y/N’s a little surprised by his words, confused as to why he would say something so hurtful. Well, it was her turn now. “How dare -”

“Y/N!” This person that has interrupted Y/N’s rant is JJ, but she doesn’t care. She’s afraid she’ll say something she’ll regret if Rafe let her speak. JJ’s voice is still playful and happy. He doesn’t recognize Rafe with his back turned. “Look who I bumped into while I was buying our ice cream!”

Y/N forces another smile, walking past Rafe and towards JJ. The second she’s past Rafe, she sees John B and Sarah, who are both carrying ice cream as well. “Oh, hey guys!”

Sarah pulls Y/N into a hug once she’s close enough, squealing a little. “Hey, girl! I’m so glad we bumped into you and JJ! I was meaning to talk to you guys.”

Y/N hugs John B as well, pulling away from him with a confused look on her face. “Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

Sarah smiles, eating a spoonful of ice cream before continuing. “You know the Midsummer celebration is in, like, two days?”

Y/N nodded. She had actually heard from JJ that there was this festival that the rich and powerful side of Outer Banks hosted. JJ had told her that people dressed up all pretty, danced, and drank all night and even into the morning as a way to celebrate the summer. It sounded pretty interesting but JJ had mentioned to her how barely any Pogues would be there so it wouldn’t be that much fun. She hadn’t thought about going until now.

“Well, I hope you’re going. I know your parents are invited.” Sarah remarked, her eyes pleading with Y/N.

“Um, well, I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if JJ wanted to go.” Y/N knows it sounds stupid to not go somewhere just because a boy wasn’t going but it was the only excuse she had.

Sarah pouted. “You can always invite JJ as a plus one. That’s what I’m doing with JB.”

Y/N looks to JJ, whose lips are turned downward just a little. She knows he’s not too keen on the idea of going to the Midsummer festival but for Sarah’s sake, she’ll say yes. “Um, sure. I guess we can.”

Sarah claps, a small giggle tumbling from her lips. Say what you will about the Camerons, but Sarah is a sweetheart. “Oh, great. And then you can come to the afterparty Rafe and I are hosting, right?”

Y/N merely glances Rafe’s way, wanting to know his reaction. Unfortunately, she can’t tell because his face is somber. She hopes no one notices her glancing his way but JJ does. “I don’t see why not.”

But Y/N knows why going to the Midsummer celebration and even the afterparty would not be a good idea. It seems that every time she’s alone with Rafe, the tension is unbearable. She has to remind herself that whatever she thinks this boy has done for her, it’s all with self intentions. She can’t like Rafe. She won’t.

“Do you guys wanna sit together?” John B asks, stretching his arm out towards Y/N.

She’s confused at first because it looks as if he’s giving her a cup of Rocky Road ice cream, her least favourite flavour. Except it wasn’t toward Y/N, it was towards Rafe. She hadn’t realized he was so close until he grabs onto the cup and only then, Y/N whips her head around. She’s surprised that he’s willing to be so close to her after what he’s said.

She watches as his eyes shift down toward her for only a moment. It feels like forever as their eyes meet and Y/N almost feels sad when Rafe’s gaze is directed back to John B.

“Actually,” JJ begins, Y/N’s attention shifting towards the boy she was supposed to be on a date with. “Y/N and I were gonna go. But we’ll see ya soon?”

John B nods, eying Y/N for a moment. He saw the passing glance Y/N gave Rafe and he’s slightly confused and suspicious. Seeing as he was JJ’s friend, JJ told him that they were going out on a date. He assumed Y/N liked JJ but now he’s not so sure.

JJ turns to Y/N, handing her his ice cream. “I’m gonna bring my truck around. I’ll meet you on the pier.”

All Y/N can do is nod and watch as JJ says bye to his friends one last time before jogging away. She knows they were supposed to have their date on the beach. She knows that JJ lied to John B and Sarah. But she doesn't know why. The truth is, JJ doesn’t feel comfortable when Y/N and Rafe are in the same space. That’s the main reason why he doesn’t want to go to the Midsummer festival. He doesn’t know why but something about them talking so secretly last night and now how awkward they are this morning, makes JJ uncomfortable. He trusts Y/N, but he doesn’t trust Rafe. They’ve never been friends, JJ and Rafe, but they were always friendly. But if Rafe thinks he can steal Y/N away, he has another thing coming.

“Well,” Sarah smiles, “we’re gonna go find a place to sit. See you soon Y/N.”

Y/N nods, a forced smile on her lips. She seems to be forcing a lot of things recently just to keep up appearances. “See you soon.”

Although John B and Sarah begin to walk away, Rafe hesitates. He wants to tell Y/N not to come to the afterparty. He wants to tell her that he physically can’t handle being in the same room as her. It’s too painful. But he knows it’ll only confuse her more so instead, he stays quiet.

Y/N mistakes this as a time to make a joke. It’s not entirely her fault since this whole situation is uncomfortable and all she’s trying to do is lighten the mood. “So, is the afterparty being thrown in my honour as well?”

Rafe scoffs, a tad embarrassed over the joke. He hides behind his cruelness to save himself from embarrassing himself further. “Kinda selfish to think everyone adores you like that, no?”

Y/N smirks, getting a little deja vu. “Nah, not everyone. Just you.”

~

taglist: @tovvaa @canyoubuymetoast @multisimpinghoe @devcarlsons (i know you didn't asked to be tagged but i saw your comments and hope a knew chapter brightened your day!) @pogueslandia @theywantedplayer

[funtimebunnyblog]

Nobody really asked for this but uhhh... I kind of needed it 😶😇😂 Please excuse me for being self indulgent for this one time! ❤❤❤ But most of all, please enjoy! 😘

The Pillarmen (separate) with an s/o on their Period...

(Under the cut for length!)

(Warning! This contains content all surrounding a Woman's menstruation cycle and all the absolute joys that come with it 🙃 like: graphic descriptions of pain and blood, more blood and lots of blood. Viewer discretion advised! In other words, you have been warned...)

Kars:

• Chances are, Kars will always be long prepared for your periods monthly arrival.

• Even in the time when you were first getting to know each other, he picked up on your cycle patterns quickly.

• The first time you confided to him you were on your period he was prepared then too, pulling out a fresh pack of pads for you seemingly out of nowhere.

• The way you reacted, he'd swore he had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

• From then on he knows exactly when it will happen, he's done all the calculations and has the date marked on his desk calendar.

• When the day comes, he'll have a box of stuff already waiting for you by the bed; a hot waterbottle, some chocolate, pads/tampons, a bottle of Motrin, you name it.

• It's no surprise that even if you happen to be late or early he'll still be prepared; heck, he'll take one look at you and know.

• If you're cramping or feeling bloated and icky he knows some good teas to help you with that too.

• Kars is also prepared for the emotional and intensive side of things when you're undergoing your cycle.

☆

The door creaked open quietly, a tendril of light cutting through the dark as the wrapped head of Kars poked into the room, ruby eyes settling on the lumpy form quivering under the pile of blankets covering the bed.

He had heard you crying from the hallway one his way back to his Office.

The Pillarman's lips came together, however, he didn't hesitate for a moment as he stepped further into the room. "My dear," he spoke, approaching the bed. Your shaking form visibly tensed right up. It was obvious you hadn't even heard him come in. "Is your back giving you grief again?"

You had started just a day ago and of course things were carrying out as usual; cravings, back pain, nausea, all things he expected.

What he didn't expect was your answer, which was a wet sob, words muffled as the blankets moved; a shake of the head was his only coherent response.

He only frowned, the bed dipping with a low creak as he sat down on the very edge right at your back where you laid curled on on yourself under the covers.

"Your stomach then? You feel nauseous, is that it?" He pressed.

Another shake of the head, his sharp ears strained to hear the watery response from underneath the thick layer of blankets, leaving Kars with no choice but to finally peel away the barrier covers between you and him. Your very red and very wet face was finally revealed to him, your lips knotted and quivering as you sniffled.

Your state was only worrying him further, it was plainly obvious you had been crying for some time and on top of things, you weren't even looking at him.

There was an unmistakably guilty look to your watery expression.

"What is it then?" He asked, a huge hand plucking the stray hair from your soaked cheeks and eyes. "What's wrong? I need you to talk to me, dear."

His pressing only made the tears come much harder, his hands instinctively going to your back and rubbing softly.

"I'm sorry, Kars..." came the staccatic whimper.

He blinked twice, "For what?"

"I ruined the sheets!" You cried, hugging yourself tighter. "I... I laid down because--because my back was hurting again and I f-fell asleep and when I woke up it was just... all over the place!"

Your Husband listened to you quietly, suddenly coming to the realization that the bed had indeed been stripped of the sheets beneath the blankets; you were only laying (probably not very comfortably) on the thin white plastic mattress cover. His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room where the ruined fitted sheet and the thin matching over sheet had been simply balled up into a big lumpy wad and thrown there.

"You ruined your pants as well then," he hummed, remembering that you had been wearing a particular pair; your favourite fuzzy lounging pants with the stars on them.

A nod was his only response this time.

Kars let out a sigh, leaning down to lay his head on your shoulder. "Oh, my sunshine, it's alright. We have plenty of sheets, one ruined cover is nothing to me."

"I--"

"I know you didn't mean to." He cut you off, already knowing what you were going to say, his gentle ministrations unceasing. "It was an accident, I would not expect you to have control over something like this. These things happen. We can always get new sheets and buy you more pants and undergarments."

It relieved you to know he wasn't upset with you over this, or worse disgusted by the prospect of your mess, and you found yourself letting out a shakey breath you didn't know you had been holding.

The covers peeled away and you nearly yelped as you were suddenly hoisted into his arms, the Pillarman carrying you right out of the room without another word.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You squeaked, your confusion making the remainder of your tears ebb a little more.

"I'm taking you to get cleaned up." He answered without missing a beat. "No doubt you're probably still soiled, so you're going to take a nice hot shower. I'll leave you some fresh clothes and replace the sheets while you're in there and then we can crawl into bed and watch that program you like."

"I-- I thought you had work to do tonight." You said, watching him owl eyed as he set you down gently on the toilet and began to putter around the bathroom, pulling towels down from the cupboard and turning the shower on.

He hummed, "Oh, my work can wait until the morrow. My duties as your Mate come first, you know."

You felt a quivering smile tugging at your lips as he peered over his shoulder with a soft smile, cocking an eyebrow at you.

Kars was undoubtedly the only one in your life who could sweep up the shattered remains of a problem and fabricate it into something treasured.

He was the only one who made a this week out of every month truly bearable.

Esidisi:

• Growing up, Esidisi had been around the Women of his tribe and his Family a lot.

• He's definitely prepared for something like this and even upon first getting to know him, you could talk to him openly about it.

• These kinds of things don't faze him in the slightest; you're a Woman and as long as you're healthy there was no issue.

• Esidisi will almost always be able to tell whenever your monthly cycle is approaching, being an intuitive man and all.

• He knows your behaviors and habits and he can easily spot your telltale signs leading to your period, like: any erratic sleep patterns, a shift in your overall mood, your eating habits taking a sudden change, any ofd facial acne popping up, etc.

• He'll definitely be prepared for the day it does hit because he makes sure to go out and do all the necessary shopping prior.

• When your period does hit, it basically hits both of you.

• If you get emotional, he gets emotional; when you're in pain, he's in pain.

• Half of the ordeal might just consist of both of you crying and holding each other.

• The other half of it consists of him doing his very best to help you feel better and alleviate any discomfort you happen to feel.

• However... his methods in doing so are very unconventional.

☆

You did your very best to lay still as the calloused pad of a thumb swiped along bare skin, just under your navel, where you lay; leaving not only a trail of paint but a ticklish sensation that nearly made you giggle.

However, it was easy not to laugh while feeling nothing but waves of uncertainty and mild irritation rolling over you amidst all this.

The deep timber of Esidisi's voice thrumming out the tones of a mantra in some language you couldn't identify did little to comfort you as you laid there before him on the bed. You were dressed only in your underclothes and already painted with several other sigils along your body as he finished the one directly over your womb.

The room was dark, save for the light of two candles, one at each bedside table, allowing you to see him partially where he stood over you in the shadows.

His eyes, normally two sapphires glimmering, shined like rubies in the dark; animalistic and a reminder that he was something indeed inhuman.

You weren't really one to believe in rituals, especially not while you had some Motrin in a bottle downstairs that would fix up your prediciment just fine, but your Husband insisted on this instead.

You were starting to regret telling him you were still cramping with every sigil he drew and every stone and flower placed particularly around and over you.

"Esidisi," You whined. "Is this really necessary?"

The Pillarman's rythmic chanting fell to an abrupt halt at your words, his eyes fell on you incredulously.

"Of course this is necessary!" He cried. "You want the pain to stop, don't you?"

You grimaced, "Well, yes, but I just think this is..." teeth dug hard into your lower lip as your Mates brow came together, full lips twisting and arms folding over his chest as his gaze burned holes into you, awaiting the end to that sentence.

What could you possibly say that wouldn't hurt his feelings?

That is was a bunch of hoo-hah?

That he didn't know what he was doing or how a Women's body worked?

That the ancient medicine of his people that he was still using was something long outgrown in today's society?

That it most definitely wouldn't work and it was a waste of time?

"This is, what?" He pressed, chin raising as his foot began to tap quietly on the floor.

You could feel sweat sticking uncomfortably to your skin, or perhaps that was just you suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the feeling of the oil on your body he had slathered you with prior, as you fumbled to finish.

"Er... that is is... a little.... much?"

A bare brow cocked as he echoed you. "Much?"

"Well, I mean, you've painted at least 13 symbols on me now and you've smudged the air with so much sage my head hurts and the crystals and the flowers and... just the whole shebang here..." your hand went up to guesture to everything that was laid out, things both on you and on him.

His attire was something close to ridiculous in your eyes; he was even more naked than usual! Dressed in nothing but feathers covering his nether region and his usual hat, he stood before you covered in swirls of orange paint all along his body rather than just his cheeks.

"Isn't this just a little much?" You asked, unable to stop the frown from tugging on your lips.

Esidisi blinked owlishly, "Well, how else am I supposed to banish the evil spirits from your uterus and alleviate your pain?"

It had greatly surprised (and upset) him to find that the medicines and practices he was weaned on as a child had faded away into non-existence along with the name of his people.

Apart from Kars, who had taken to (ugh) more "modern" practices with those placebos and chemicals made in labratories, there didn't seem to be a soul out there who knew how to properly do these things!

Esidisi wasn't going to let you suffer or be harmed in any way shape or form, not when he knew how to stop it. He had learned early on how to cleanse the womb and heal it of any harmful curses or diseases that would happen to plague you. His Grandmother had been the one who had taught him and he had spent his youth putting them to much practice.

If you thought that this was much, you were definitely going to be in for a surprise for when you became pregnant one day; he planned to preform regular hour long sessions daily then.

You couldn't stop yourself from sighing, a hand reaching up to give a light slap to your cheek as you groaned.

You would just have to explain to him what really caused all the pain of menstruation. "Honey, there's no evil spirits--"

A finger pressed to your lips, stalling anymore words from falling from them. "Shh, beloved. You mustn't keep disrupting the ritual." The man chided softly, leaning down to press a dotting kiss to your brow as he swiped the final line of paint over it. "Now just lay there and let me handle this. Trust me, you'll feel better in no time."

Your lips turned downward as you watched him step back to fetch his singing bowl, sighing softly to yourself as you adjusted the bouquet of herbs and flowers that he had pushed into your hands.

It was hard to get comfortable when you could feel the mint leaves he had scattered in your hair scratching against your scalp and the orange peeling he had stuffed it on your bra was an entirely different matter all together.

You supposed that somehow it could've been worse and you had to be content that this was relatively harmless all in all.

At least the hollow ring of the singing bowl and the continuation of his mantra would put you to sleep while he carried out the rest of this ritual...

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu knew very little on the concept of Women and their monthly cycles; until you came along into his life that was.

• He knew how it worked of course and that it indeed happened but embarrassingly, he had sort of... forgotten about it in a way.

• Really, you supposed you couldn't blame him. This wasn't exactly something that was part of his everyday life, growing up with only 3 other Males the majority of it.

• The first time he happened to smell blood off you, it sent him into a panic and he immediately thought that you were hiding an injury from him; demanding to know where it was so he could treat it.

• Embarrassed, you tried to be discreet and prod him gently in the direction of what was happening. However, every code word for it just seemed to fly over his head; inevitably confusing him further.

• "It's high tide." "What? Beloved, we do not live by the ocean." "Er... the blood moon has risen?" "The blood moon isn't supposed to appear for another few months. And it is daytime, beloved." "Uhh... It's shark week?" "Why are you talking about a T.V. program at a time like this?"

• Finally, after a long, LONG session of going back and forth like that, you had no choice but to scream that you were on your period.

• Wamuu's beat red face and his impossibly huge eyes will be an image forever burned into your brain.

• After that, even though he wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, Wamuu did his best to at least be attentive to your needs.

• He does his best to understand your patterns and the entirety of what exactly you go through.

• He's always checking in on you every so often, sheepishly asking if you're feeling ok or if you need anything.

• Just say the word and He'll get you pads or food or water, perhaps even a distraction like a movie...

☆

The wet sounds of sniffling hitting his eardrums was what caused Wamuu to be roused from his deep and comfortable sleep, the Warrior blinking in the dark of the room and instinctively raising his head to locate the source.

"Beloved," He breathed, eyes falling onto your form. You were also awake, your back to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in on yourself. His lips fell into a frown as you continued to sniffle, now trying to stiffle the sound upon realizing that he too was awake now.

Wamuu slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, "what's wrong? Why are you awake?"

It was still the dead of night, just a little past 1AM, he couldn't think of a reason for you to be awake and crying other than the possibility of you having a nightmare.

" 's nothing..." you hiccuped, scrubbing your eye. "Go back to sleep."

His frown only deepened, scooting across the bed to get closer to you. "No. What is it? What has you so upset?" He pressed, an arm encircling around your quivering form. "Did you have a nightmare?"

A particularly harsh sob cut through you as you shook your head, burying your face in your hands as if trying to hide from him, "No! Go back to sleep!"

Chartreuse eyes softened considerably, the massive man only hugging you closer to his body as he chose to press further.

"If it's not a nightmare than what is it?"

"Oh, you'll laugh!" came the moan.

"I will not laugh." He replied, quite matter of factly.

"You'll--... You'll be angry!"

His brow knitted together sternly, one huge and warm hand wrapping around your much smaller one, uncaring of the fact it was wet with tears.

"I will not be angry. Please, just tell me why you are awake and crying, my love."

You fell silent, save for the staccato of your hiccupped breaths, Wamuu waited with all the patience in the world.

"I--" you paused, swallowing thickly. Your expression contorted in an almost painful manor, a hand slamming over your eyes as you only began to sob harder than before. "--I want... CHICKEN NUGGETS!"

The Pillarman blinked in surprise, that confession had completely taken him off guard. You were crying over food of all things? At 1 o'clock in the morning?

Realization washed over him, making him frown deeper for only a second as he suddenly remembered the fact that you had started your monthly menstrual cycle yesterday evening.

You must've woken up craving and hurting, of course those things would drive you to cry helplessly like so.

If anything, the Warrior was relieved it was nothing serious.

Wamuu smiled softly, only hugging you tighter to him. "Will chicken nuggets get you to stop crying?" He asked softly, carding his fingers gently through your awry bed-head hair.

You coughed, sniffling as your whimpered response rose up from your throat painfully. "Yeah,"

He nodded, "Alright. How many do you want and what kind?"

You sniffed a few times, managing to calm down enough to tell him what would suffice enough to satisfy your hankering. Wamuu pulled on a simple hoodie and some pants as you talked, he even asked you if you wanted to come with him but you declined, not really in the mood to go very far.

He put the Television on for you, turning it on to a program and kissed your head, telling you he'd be back with an order of nuggets, a drink you liked and perhaps something sweet to enjoy after.

You felt guilty for troubling him with something like this, it was even worse that it was at an ungodly hour in the morning but Wamuu didn't care about those things, what mattered to him was your comfort, your happiness and your needs met...

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana isn't very much educated on the subject of menstruation and your cycles when first getting to know you.

• However, he could tell immediately that something was happening to you even before your cycle started.

• He mentioned that you had a stronger smell to him, like your hormones were given a signifigant boost. He claimed he could also see that you looked a little softer somehow.

• After sitting him down (a little embarrassed) and explaining to him what was going to happen soon, the dots connected for him and he understood.

• You were his Mate afterall and he followed his natural instincts to care and provide for you.

• He doesn't really like letting you out of his sight when it does happen, preferring to keep you close to him and he'll help you out in any way you need.

• You have to be specific with him though. If you send him to the store telling him that you need tampons, he might just come back with the entire isle of boxes in tow.

• This whole thing is always a learning experience to him, even though he can't undergo the same thing he does his best to understand and at least be attentive.

☆

"Oh c'mon..." you groaned, practically begging now as you curled in on yourself on the bed. "Kick in already!"

You had taken that Motrin over 10 minutes ago and still nothing was happening, your back was still aching and your stomach was cramping.

It was impossible for you to move now, you had laid down and there was no way in Hell you were going to get up again until all the pain was gone.

However, you were very much regretting not having the foresight to grab your heating pad on the way here, at least with that it would make it bearable but alas, it was all the way downstairs.

You couldn't even get up without fear of fainting or worse; ruining your pants.

Another wave of nausea shot through your gut, curling up in an icky tendril to your throat straight from the pit of your hurting stomach. All you could do was try to breathe; breathe, ride out the pain, hope it would be over soon and try not to vomit because of it.

A litany of begging was now falling through your lips like a prayer, pleading for anyone or anything listening to make it stop. Tears were beading at the corners of your eyes threatening to fall as your spine felt like it was being twisted, rung out like one would a wet rag.

"Please, please, please stop." You grit, hands turning to fists. "Please, please make it stop."

Little did you know your pleas didn't go unheard.

Santana watched you from the doorway where you couldn't see him, peering in with a thoughtful frown and a tilt of his head. Each quiet moan and whimper made his hands instinctively grip the door tighter, fingers digging harshly into the wood.

You were having a hard time. You were in a lot of pain and he hated to see you as such.

With only a moments thought, the Pillarman knew what he had to do, taking off quickly down the stairs; his feet barely making a sound on the steps.

Your back was hurting, he could see it in the way you kept trying to roll onto it. You used a strange device to help, one that emanated heat with a click of a button. His eyes scanned the living room for the familiar blue fabric with the white chord.

He snatched it off the couch, tucking it under his arm as he went into the kitchen next, finding himself opening and closing cupboards and doors without really knowing what he was looking for this time.

You had already taken one of those pills and he was certain you said something before about having to wait a couple of hours before you took another so that was out of the question.

The bright colours of your waterbottle sitting all by itself on the kitchen counter caught his eye. He didn't know how long you would be up there resting so maybe it was best to put it by your bedside for when you needed it. He also grabbed a couple of snacks from the cupboard, simple wrapped treats you enjoyed here and there.

He put the bottle under the tap, making sure to only stop until it was filled right under the brim with cold water.

Water... hot water. The red-head blinked, humming softly to himself as the gears turned in his head.

Your stomach had been obviously giving you grief as well, it didn't go unnoticed by him that you were clutching it; trying to curl in on yourself. You had something you used to help that too, he had seen you fill it up a few times before.

Waterbottle and heating pad under arm and snacks clutched to his chest, he went back upstairs. He went right past your room and straight into the bathroom, prying open the closet and digging around for the strange rubbery sack he could clearly see in his memories.

He pulled it out triumphantly, the object limp in his grasp like a pelt as he turned on the tap. He waited until the water was hot enough to make steam rise up from the sink before plunging it under to fill and corking it.

His arms now completely full, he shuffled back to your room with the goods; pleased his little scavenger hunt was successful.

There you lay, right where he had left you; from the look of it you definitely hadn't improved.

You were so consumed with your own discomfort you didn't even hear him or see him.

Santana approached the bed quietly, setting the waterbottles (both hot and cold) down on the nighttable with the snacks before fumbling with the heating pad, plugging it into the wall.

The massive hand being laid on your side startled you somewhat, eyes popping open with a shudder before being greeted with the sight of your one and only Mate standing over you at the bedside with a frown.

"Roll over." Came the quiet command, his hand pushing you further onto your side and slipping something familiar underneath you before easing you onto your back again.

"Santana, wha--" was all you could manage out.

Santana clicked it onto the medium setting, reaching for the hot-waterbottle next and holding it up for you to see. He draped the wiggly rubber sack over your stomach, an audible "bloop!" sounding from inside as your arms instinctively curled around it with a sigh; already relishing in its warmth.

The bed dipped as he crawled in next to you, the Pillarmen kindly pulling the blankets up around you both as he curled into your side protectively.

You could feel the heat seeping slowly into your back, the pain starting to ebb somewhat and the heated weight over your stomach was soothing; it all left you near to deliriously blissful.

You realized belatedly that he had brought you all of these things without you even having to ask, you turned your head with a sleepy smile, meeting the gaze of the red-head. He was so sweet you swore at times your heart would melt.

A hand reached up to tangle in his mane of wild hair, "Thank you, honey..."

The Pillarman nuzzled into your neck, almost purring at the gentle touch. He had made you better and that was enough to leave him content for now.

"I will always take care of you, my Mate..." he murmured, smiling softly as you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep. It wasn't long after that he did the very same...

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Yandere Halloween ask yandere alien! Josuke or okatsu abduct darling?

Alienation

(yandere alien okuyasu X female reader)

You laid on your bed Smiling as you were texting your new boyfriend. You remembered the feeling you had when you finally confessed to him. All of your emotions threatened to bubble over only to bloom into the most blissful feeling when he said he loved you too. You clung your sheets with joy like a child as the memory played over and over in your head.

You looked at the time and realised it was 1:30am, you should probably head to sleep.

So you put your phone onto your bedside and try to sleep but you can't help but toss and turn as you tightly shut your eyes but just as you feel yourself beginning to drift of a harsh light disturbs you. You flail out of your sheets, ready to unleash on whoever turned the light on but it isn't. The whole room is enveloped in light like it's midday. You turn to the window and see something baffling. A pure white light, so bright it's blinding. You use your hand to try shielding your eyes as you see a silhouette appear from it. From there everything went black

💫💫💫

You woke up and felt the goosebumps over your body, you were freezing cold. You looked around to find yourself in an odd place, everything was metallic and a few small lights shone every once and awhile. The only things that brought you a tad of comfort were the sheet you laid in and a large pile of stuffed toys and clothes. Your body remained tense as you kept your guard. This place wasn't like any you'd seen before. Then a door opened and you saw your friend Okuyasu.

You quickly ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Okuyasu, where are we?" You asked him. He was quick to hug you back, a red blush covering his face.

"Sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to scare you" he apologized which caused you to freeze.

"What do you mean?" You asked as you pushed him away.

"I brought you to our ship, it was supposed to be a surprise… I wanted to be romantic and take you back to my world" he said nonchalantly.

You had to bat your eyelids a few times as you looked at him, there were no comprehensible sentences that your brain could form. You barely understood what he had just said.

"I knew you'd be speechless" he said as a smile formed on his face, he seemed rather proud of himself.

"Okuyasu...um I don't see you as anything more than a friend, I'm already dating someone" you explained as that was the only thing you could say.

"Come on, what was so special about that guy? I thought we had something going on" he said, not really phased by your response.

"I'm sorry that you felt that way but…um...ugh...eh" you were really struggling to make a coherent sentence.

"T-that's besides the point, I wanna go home… you better take me back!" You ordered him.

"I don't think that's possible, we passed Mars awhile ago" he shrugged.

You began to tremble as you heard him say that… ship, world, the lights. It all came together and a painful scream built up in your throat, like a volcano it threatened to erupt.

"Besides I want you to meet my dad, I think he'll love you almost as much as I do" he commented.

Finally the ear piercing scream escaped your mouth.

"I've been abducted by aliens!" You shouted as you took several steps back from him.

"Are you some kinda shape shifter? Where's the real Okuyasu? What did you do to him?!" You screamed at the creature. That  freaked him out a little.

"Oi Okuyasu, could you tell your girlfriend to be quiet… I'm getting a headache" you heard another voice yell.

"Sorry Josuke… I don't think she's taking it well" he apologized to the owner of the voice.

"Whoever you are, you better turn around and take me back now!" You screamed at them.

"I can't, my nephew's gonna be pissed if we delay our return any longer"

"I don't give a fuck! You turn this UFO around and take me back!" You continued before Okuyasu grabbed you and covered your mouth.

"Sorry about her dude, just close the door and I'll sort it out" Okuyasu apologized and the door closed.

"I know you're shocked but you need to calm down, if I let you go now you're gonna stop yelling and screaming right?" He said as you felt his grip on you loosen, you nodded and he let you go.

Dread kicked in as the gravity of the situation finally settled. Everything you knew was going to be left behind. All the people you loved were going to be horrified by your disappearance and would never find an answer to what happened. You would never feel the comfort of the nature earth had. You were going to be thrown into a world you knew nothing about.

Tears rolled down your face as you began to cry like a child, depression slapping you like a tidal wave. You felt like you had a giant hole inside you.

"Hey (Y/n) don't cry. I don't like it when you cry" he said as he tried to comfort you.

"I love you a lot, I couldn't just leave you there" he explained.

You knew you couldn't reason with these aliens, you were terrified of what lies beyond the unknown and what your world would be like when they realised that you were gone.

"I don't think you understand, just how much I'm hurt… your selfish act to take me away… has completely destroyed me" you barely managed to speak.

"All I know is gone and all that lies beyond scares me" you continued.

He was hugging you tightly, yet he didn't really understand what you meant. 

"Come on (Y/n), it'll be fine. I know you're nervous but it'll be fine" he said.

"After a couple of days you'll get used to it, you'll barely be able to tell the difference between your home and mine. My dad and brother will just adore you" he continued.

He's absolutely delusional, does he not comprehend how colossal of a problem this was to you. Perhaps things would be easier if you just accepted this.

"How long will it take to get to your planet?" You asked.

"I think it's about two months" he replied, a little uncertain.

"Alright…" you muttered.

[catrasredemption-moved]

I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

[jaskiersvalley]

So I'm sure that a lot of people tell you this and that I myself told you not even a few days ago, but you are an amazingly talented person

With so many people being so nice (repeatedly!) I need to watch my ego XD I honestly have no idea what I can do to return the kindness other than offer the only thing I have which is more stories. Today it’s a hurt/comfort kind of day - heads up for blood, infection and injury.

Of course Geralt had warned Jaskier to stay out of the way, to follow Roach and leave the fight to him. But could he? Not in the slightest. Jaskier had stayed close to watch, to draw inspiration for his next epic. Well, first epic. Usually, he was more for happy ditties and memorable drinking songs. But a bard could dream! So he had stayed and watched Geralt battle the...something. It had a name that simple wouldn’t be fit for singing so Jaskier had promptly forgotten it in favour of taking note of the swirling blackness that shifted along barbed tentacles. The dripping fangs and the spider like body heavy with the grey-green sludge that trickled and dripped from the wounds Geralt had inflicted. The stench of it hit Jaskier all at once and he was hard pressed to keep breathing, retching noisily. Which only served to draw the creature’s attention and a tentacle shot out. Jaskier turned but it was too late, barbs sliced through his back, sent a burning agony through him. The pull which tried to reel him in stopped and Jaskier let out a cry of relief, the tentacle fell limp from his back. Turning,he was Geralt had sliced it clean off and was now on the creature’s back, sword raised for the final, killing plunge.

Black eyes looked over to Jaskier. “Alright?”

There was no way Jaskier was going to admit to being foolish and being injured as a result so he gritted his teeth and shot back a tight “peachy”. It seemed to do the trick as Geralt hopped off the monster’s back and set about his post kill ritual. Parcelling up useful parts of the creature, bits to sell and the head to claim the bounty. Then it was a matter of finding Roach and heading back to the tavern. It was slow going, Geralt led the way, holding Roach’s reins while Jaskier tried to keep up. His back was a burning somewhat fierce and he wondered whether he could slip off to see a healer while Geralt was sleeping.

His hopes were dashed when, as soon as they were back, Geralt was telling him to pack up, they were leaving as soon as he picked up the bounty. No amount of wheedling and nagging seemed to change his mind. So, Jaskier did the only thing he could. Put on a dark coloured shirt and a leather overcoat. It was too warm for it probably but it was the only thing he had which wouldn’t soak through with blood. He tucked his shirt into his trousers, keeping he waist looser than usual. That way, any blood would trickle down the shirt and not soak the back of his clothes.

Leaving the town, Jaskier sighed. It hurt to play his lute, each breath pulled at his back. So he opted to stay quiet and tried to keep pace with Geralt who was leading Roach rather than riding her. Probably because she had a fair few things attached to her saddle.

The first night, they settled under the protection of some trees, a little way off the road. Remembering Geralt’s superior sense of smell, Jaskier was sure to stay downwind form him and also liberally applied his scented oils to drown out the smell of his blood. His whole back was sticky, the shirt clung to his skin. It was quite disgusting but Jaskier refused to admit his foolishness. Now, it was more because Geralt would be angry at the fact he didn’t mention it at all, rather than the fact that Jaskier, once again, failed to listen to him.

Sleeping on his back was out of the question, so Jaskier ended up on his front, breath only hitching once as he turned. It took a while to fall asleep but he hoped it would do him some good at least.

It did not. Jaskier woke feeling cold but sweaty. His whole back felt tender and stretched, like someone had taped a balloon of molten metal to it. Breakfast was out of the question as nausea made him squeeze his eyes shut. Still, he got up, applied his scented oils, ignored how his shirt had dried to his skin and pulled with each move. He let Geralt go ahead with Roach and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Up front, Geralt was saying something about a hunt, some creature or other. Jaskier honestly couldn’t care less though, his attention eaten up by moving forward, by trying to keep up. His foot caught on a rock and he tumbled, hand shooting out to catch himself. Something on his back gave, warm sludge trickled lower, slowly, too thick to be blood. Geralt didn’t even notice, he might have been talking to Roach for all Jaskier knew. It was certainly more than Geralt usually spoke.

“Geralt,” his voice was strained, “stop.”

Silence engulfed them. Jaskier blinked, patches of dark were dancing in his vision but he could still see the frowning glare Geralt sent his way. A few steps were all Jaskier could manage when a sudden gust of wind from behind picked up. He saw Geralt’s nose twitch and his eyes widen.

Warm hands were on Jaskier, guiding him down slower than he would have met the ground at his own pace. Words rumbled near him but other than knowing it was Geralt’s familiar voice, Jaskier couldn’t focus. His back was hurting, shoulders being forced to roll to slip out of the jacket. Behind him, Geralt sounded angry and Jaskier tried to shy away, not wanting to cause more problems than he already had. However, a hand held him down and something was cutting the back of his shirt open.

Pain was the only thing in Jaskier’s world after that. Pressure on his back increased but the pressing discomfort that radiated from within seemed to ease. The burning of something being poured over his back might have made him scream, Jaskier couldn’t tell if his voice was more than whimpers now. Finally, he slipped from consciousness.

Occasionally he roused. The rhythmic jostle of a horse moving under him while an arm was curled around him to keep him upright. It might have been night or Jaskier could have had his face tucked against a warm chest, he didn’t know.

Another moment where there were people gasping, the world tilted and the sound of feet running while Jaskier floated on a bed of pain.

A bed, it didn’t smell like tavern or Geralt or home. His back was on fire, a thousand tiny prickles which only got worse as he tried to move. Solid hands held him down, there were words somewhere near him but Jaskier couldn’t make out what they were saying. All he knew was that he was in pain and wasn’t being allowed to escape it.

The sheer agony was less the next time he was aware of the world. More bearable but he still didn’t want it. Jaskier was on his front, a few blocks of ice along his sides which made him shiver. Someone brushed a warm hand over his forehead before offering him a few sips of tepid water that tasted sweet yet rotten.

“Geralt?” he called out the next time he woke, a little more coherent.

“He’s sleeping,” a voice called and Jaskier twisted to look. Yennefer sat next to him, looking as beautiful as ever. Even if her eyes betrayed the fatigue she’d never actually show. “Once he knew you were going to pull through, he crashed. It’s been almost a day for him, eight for you.”

Guilt washed over Jaskier at that. Eight days of people fighting to keep him alive. All because he had been stupid and not listened to Geralt.

“Sorry.” It wasn’t often Jaskier apologised but this time, he felt he ought to. “And thank you.”

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with a Witcher,” Yennefer replied haughtily and Jaskier’s stomach tightened. He dreaded to think what Geralt had traded this time. “Relax, he didn’t do anything stupid. Paid me in scented oils - orange and lilacs. Said he couldn’t face their scent after they had been tainted so badly.”

Maybe it was fair that Jaskier’s scented oils were traded for his treatment. And if Geralt couldn’t stomach them now that they reminded him of Jaskier, oozing puss and blood as he fought for his life, well, it was perhaps for the best to be rid of them.

“You said you’d wake me if he came to.” It didn’t sound like Geralt was particularly impressed with the world. More so than usual.

“He’s been awake for three whole minutes. I had to check he was fit for company.”

There was a rumble of response from Geralt as he approached, sat on the edge of Jaskier’s bed and reached to smooth hair from his face. It was a move that felt familiar and Jaskier pressed into it.

“How are you feeling?” It was such an honest question, heartfelt in a way it rarely was from Geralt that Jaskier could only reply honestly.

“Like I’ve spent the last week dying. I certainly smell like it.” That drew a snort from Geralt, not quite filled with humour but close enough. It made Jaskier brave, he wrapped weak fingers around Geralt’s wrist and tugged lightly, adoring how easily the other followed. “This is your signature smell on a good day, you won’t mind a cuddle with someone who smells as bad as you.”

The cuddle was gentle, more like Geralt was cradling the most fragile, precious thing in the world. And to him, he might as well have been. Jaskier let out a sigh and burrowed closer to him, basking in the warmth and comfort.

“I should have listened.” His half-assed apology was lost to the muscles of Geralt’s chest but it didn’t stop him being understood.

“I don’t say things for the fun of it. But if you hide an injury from me again, I will personally kill you.” Geralt replied, his arms tightening just a little. Behind him, Yennefer snorted and stood.

“Well, that’s all on the up. I’ll check in on you in a couple of hours.” She made to leave but turned. “And Jaskier will not be up for any bedroom acrobatics for another couple of days. Don’t even try it.”

While she didn’t get any response to that other than some soft snickering, she wasn’t surprised when she returned, as promised, that Jaskier was curled up into Gerlat’s bare chest, both of them sleeping and looking rather dishevelled yet smug. Idiots, the both of them. Very deserving of each other if they couldn’t listen to simple instructions.

[norcumii]

I'm gonna be predictable and put in a really basic prompt: more Domino!Bad Batch. I don't have an exact prompt other than this, just a bunch of possibilities to choose from? Finding Fives, meeting up with Rex after getting Echo, Rex actually being told Domino is ALIVE??? There's so many ideas.

...this hit 1.6k, I think I can (SHOULD) declare this done. >_>

THANK YOU, THIS WAS AWESOME! For this set of prompts, based upon this plunnie. Armor designs are based on @mercysewerpyro’s gorgeous speculations!

******

“I hate being back here.” Droidbait glared around the hallways, his body language obvious to Hevy. He didn’t respond beyond a click of acknowledgement over the comms, because they all did. Kamino might be home to a lot of brothers, but it just held a lot of hurt and memories for him.

It ached, every time he thought about how they hadn’t been here, hadn’t been able to save their brothers when the Seppies attacked. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing the underside of his left bracer, where 99’s number rested on the inside against his wrist. Cutup saw the gesture, and leaned in to bump shoulders. Hevy rocked with the motion, nudging back with an elbow, and tried not to sigh.

They were specialists, a commando squad that went everywhere and did everything. The past was past, and back then....

He hated to admit it, but their presence might well have done nothing but add to the body count.

Yeah, he hated being back here too. At least this was just another routine checkup, and then they could go.

It still felt so weird, walking through Kamino’s halls in their armor. It was ARC style, bulkier than standard with better protection, pauldrons and kamas, all in their dark gray with subdued – but extensive – dark blue markings. It was better for stealth than the typical white, but it made them stand out like highlighted targets in the endless stark white of Tipoca City. It meant the local brothers – young, you could tell from the body language and the tight way they clutched at their weapons and watched them too overtly – were staring at the squad in a mix of awe and concern.

“There seem to be an awful lot of armed brothers here?” Cutup asked, way too casual.

“Someone’s nervous about something,” Hevy muttered back.

A loud scuffle and a yell behind them had the squad whirling around, hands on blasters but not drawing yet. There was some kind of escort squad there, longneck in the lead – at least, they had been. Some brother in reds had shoved the Kaminoan down, was wrestling weapons from the guard squad in a way that was damned impressive. Sure, garri-troopers were...not the top of the line soldiers, but this guy was good. ARC quality, probably, to get three down that fast without a single shot fired. The restraint was one of the reasons Hevy and the others didn’t draw – the other was something...familiar? Some weird sensation crawling up Hevy’s neck.

The rambunctious brother was arguing with a medical droid, then the Kaminoan slammed an alert button. The hallway lights went red, the brother grabbed the droid and ran, and Cutup cried out.

Droidbait managed words, which was more than Hevy could do upon seeing the fleeing brother’s goatee and temple tattoo.

“Fives! That’s Fives!”

-----

By the time they figured out what was going on, Fives was already en route to Coruscant. Droidbait didn’t bother asking permission; he just sauntered into their ship with a droid in tow, and poor AZI-3 was claimed as part of the team.

On the plus side, he and Reesh seemed to be okay with each other, and by the time they arrived at Coruscant, it was obvious they were keeping him. The intel he carried, though – that was...concerning.

Fives was crazy, but not the kind of crazy that would make up some kind of wild conspiracy theory.

They had a plan, they had a helpful med-droid, and all they had to do was stop being at least one step behind the action.

-----

Fives woke up. He hadn’t expected that. He distinctly remembered getting shot, and it hurt, and then it was just darkness grasping up and pulling him down.

But here he was, waking up. He opened his eyes, and that worked too. The ceiling looked like any other in a transport ship, which meant he could be anywhere. Limbs felt all accounted for, and he was far clearer headed than he’d been when–

When things went bad.

Noise to the side drew his attention: three troopers were there, in dark armor that probably indicated some kind of specialists. Well, they probably had answers.

“I’m dead?” he asked, not sure how death was actually supposed to work.

“No!” a cheerful, familiar voice declared, and AZI-3 floated into view far too close to his face. “You are still alive and now back to almost normal levels of functioning!”

“AZI! You’re–” He bit back a relieved sigh, because he was terrified the poor tinny was going to be recycled. “You’re ok?” He sat up, wincing at that feel of deep pain in his chest, a low ache that meant bacta had been applied and done its work, but it was recent and his body sure as hell remembered what had just happened to it.

“Okay, and part of the squad!” The little droid did a happy twirl, showing off a new paint job that was in the same subdued blue as the troopers.

Fives looked over at the one standing in front of the other two, jaig eyes on his dark bucket and a ‘1’ on  both vambraces. “Congratulations. The squad?”

The leader nodded. “Experimental unit Clone Force 99. The Bad Batch.”

Oh-kay. “That’s a rousing endorsement.” He didn’t mean to be disparaging, but he was still getting over being dead.

The brother on the right shrugged – his bucket had an impressive set of fangs detailed on it, as if some large creature were trying to swallow it from behind. “S’what we get for bein’ weird,” he said, funny lilt to his voice and apparently not caring about Fives’ tone at all.

The third trooper sighed, giving the second one a look. “Unconventional, the word you’re looking for is unconventional!”

Trooper Two’s bucket waggled mockingly at Trooper Three, as if the brother there were making rude faces. Fives couldn’t hear anything, but he was willing to wager a few credits he didn’t have that there was something being taunted over a private channel.

The leader ignored the byplay. “Fives....” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m sorry, I just have to ask: you do realize that you might as well be dead to the Republic? The GAR?”

He’d been trying pretty hard to ignore that. Fives allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and just breathe. “I was raving, wasn’t I.” His voice was quiet, and he’d meant it as a question, though it didn’t come out that way. “At General Skywalker and Captain Rex. I didn’t give them anything coherent, did I.”

The silence went on too long. “I’m sorry,” the leader said.

Fives opened his eyes, and he thought he saw sympathy in the brothers’ body language. “What happened?”

AZI puffed up, the droid ready to infodump in the way that he did, but the third trooper raised a hand in a polite, minimalist gesture to stop – and miracle of the Force, AZI did.

“AZI made up a cocktail to slow down your body’s functions, to let us fake your death” the leader said, crossing his arms. “We’d hoped to snipe you before things went to shit, but – that didn’t go so well. The Guard–” His hands balled into fists, and while it was nice to see this guy had emotions. “No one can figure out why the fuck they weren’t shooting to stun, which is basic fucking protocol, but – they got you. We tagged you at about the same time, swapped bodies en route to the morgue, and now we’re about mid-rim.”

Fives’ hand went up to his chest, to where that ache still lingered. “How close was it?”

“Very.” AZI sounded subdued, which both was, and really really wasn’t an improvement. “Someone drugged you before we did, and the chemical combination was bad. But we worked through that and now you’re back!”

He couldn’t stop himself, frustration boiling over till he slammed a fist against the examination table he was on. “Nala Se,” he growled, because he could at least keep from shouting. “It must’ve been on the transport to Coruscant!”

The Bad Batch was patient enough to let him calm down, then the leader took a step forward. “You’re certain there’s a conspiracy. That the Chancellor is....”

“Bad news,” he growled, brain shying away from that unfortunate memory.

He nodded. “Then I’ve got an offer for you. Fives is dead. We’ll need time; none of us are great slicers but we make do – and we could use a new member to the squad.”

“And you’ll help me stop this?”

“Yes.”

Fives held out his hand. “Then you’ve got a deal.”

The leader grasped his wrist and they shook. “I gotta say.” His voice sounded...off; too thick and almost shaking. “I’m glad. Welcome back to the Bad Batch, Fives.”

“Back?”

The two troopers removed their buckets. The smartass had a neatly trimmed, minimalist beard and mustache, and a wry grin. He was crying, like his brother. That one was cleanshaven, with closecut hair and some kind of snaky tattoo coiling up from the neck of his blacks.

Then the leader took back his hand, and pulled his helmet. He had some impressive old burn scars along the face, but that didn’t obscure the matching designs that wrapped around his neck and up onto his cheeks.

Fives stared at those familiar Z-6 blaster cannons, and on some level through the shock he realized he was crying too. “Hevy?” he finally managed, looking over and registering that it was Cutup and Droidbait, then looking back because this could not be happening. “I thought you said I wasn’t dead.”

He was swamped in a sudden group hug, and through the laughter and tears he could hear his brother. “You’re not,” Hevy promised. “You’re not, and we’re not, and we’ll explain everything, but most of all we are going to solve this. Together.”

~end