#all the angst

[ricksmarlene]

THE WALKING DEAD: THE ONES WHO LIVE (2024) title sequence

[seraphinitegames]

what was going through A’s mind if during the LT route, you train with N and hook up on the grass?

A very odd mix of being glad that the two of them are so happy and the heart-wrenching agony wishing that it didn't happen!

A is really torn between the depth of their feelings for the MC, wanting both their oldest friend and the MC they care for to be happy especially together, and their desire to be the one in N's shoes.

There's a lot of added angst in this route, hehe! :D

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[sherlockruiningmylife]

What is currently killing me about merthur is the whole Merlin fell first but Arthur fell harder. Because if this is true (which I fully believe it is) and Merlin was so so broken over Arthur's death. And waited dutifully and solemnly for 1500+ years. Then just imagine, imagine (!) what Arthur would have done if Merlin died. Broken wouldn't begin to describe it. He would have raged and torn the world apart to bring him back. If Merlin turned dark in s5 trying to prevent the end, then imagine how dark Arthur would become if he lost Merlin. Nothing, I mean nothing would have stopped him from bringing Merlin back.

[ohraicodoll]

Prompt request from the angst portion of that list: “you can’t be bitter now, this was your decision.”

I’m mostly just ill for both Joel and your writing so do with this as you please but bonus points if you make it hurt. 🥲 🖤

You and your angst 😂 You asked for it!

Bitter Joel Miller x f!Reader/OC The Last of Us 3.2k Words Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: Joel makes a decision for all of them when they finally find Tommy in Jackson. Part 2

There were only a few minutes in Jackson where Joel was actually happy. That initial reunion with his brother, where he had hugged him and smiled so big it had eclipsed the sun, had been the happiest he’d ever been. She’d never seen Joel smile. Smirk, yes, but it was never joy that turned his lips. Reluctant humor, small satisfaction, but joy wasn’t an emotion she had seen on Joel Miller’s face in the time she’d been with him and Ellie. It lit his whole features up, took years off his face, turned his usually dark eyes brighter where you could see the hints of hazel. She watched from the horse, never feeling more like an outsider. But that only lasted a short while.

The hesitance, the discomfort, caution all sank back in as the reality that he had found his brother who hadn’t been in danger at all settled in. They’d offered them food. The soup from the older couple had reawakened her taste buds after months of eating questionably aged canned goods or whatever small animal they’d managed to kill. Her mouth practically flooded at the warmth of the meal put in front of them.  She knew how they looked. Ellie barely breathed, she was shoveling food into her mouth so fast and even Joel was having a hard time, standing on the border of looking respectable and desperately sating the hunger they’d felt for weeks. She didn’t bother and had long since given up caring about what looked respectable. But that didn’t stop her from eyeing their hosts, keeping track of everyone around them, feeling the eyes on their backs. 

Tommy hadn’t outright questioned Ellie or her presence but there was a hint of one towards her when he introduced himself. A prodding that made her itch as to what her relationship was with the gruff man next to her and the kid between them. “I keep the kid safe,” was the answer. Nothing more, nothing less. She had joined them because of Ellie and Joel had made it clear he let her come along because of Ellie’s attachment. It hadn’t been his choice exactly. But there was no need to delve further into her and Joel’s connection. 

They’d butt heads from the start and continued to even after that night where he’d helped her relax to sleep, making her come on his fingers and then on him, and then subsequently had done so frequently after in the small private moments they could get. There was hardly anything gentle between them. They weren’t anything. She watched his back and he watched hers, both dragging each other along through life against the other's wishes. 

She knew about Tess. Ellie had caught her up, told her of the smuggler who had been Joel’s partner and how she was no longer around. In the spaces between her words, she could see exactly what Tess had been to Joel and how that role, in a way, had switched to her reluctantly. Someone to have his back, help release the tension and satisfy that need for another person even if it was only through sex and her presence. But the woman whose ghost lingered had been smart, calculated, using Joel as a battering ram rather than get her own hands dirty but wasn’t against doing so. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t clever. She was nothing but instinct and claws and rage. So often it was Joel pulling her back, leashing her, telling her what to do even while she gnashed her teeth even at him. It was him in control. She was a weapon but somehow one he so often didn’t want to use. He yelled at her for her recklessness, for each scrape and bruise and cut she received like it was his job to keep her safe as well as Ellie. Each morning he checked her over, making sure her weapons were in the correct spot, the straps of her bag secure, enough bullets in her cartridge. And now, she noticed Joel’s back stiffening at her answer and the obvious lack of connection to him. Caught his eye and the furrow of his brow. They’d learned to read each other so well over the months and could communicate silently and she could see the slight flicker of anger in the line of his jaw. Maybe it had been the wrong answer. Maybe she shouldn’t have answered at all, had put too much emphasis on Ellie or downplayed Joel’s role as the protector and escort. People weren’t her expertise and she was already on edge from there being so many of them and having Joel’s brother of all people staring down at her. She didn’t know what she was to him, but could at least define what she was to Ellie. And that’s what she answered. She wasn’t sure why that tick of anger was on his face and wasn’t going to get into it with him while Maria was staring them down, particularly Joel. Especially after he tried to excuse the woman, saying the conversation he wanted to have was for family. Except he didn’t excuse Ellie or her from the table as if it didn’t register that they weren’t.  Then Tommy shared the news that Maria did, in fact, fit in that category. More so than she did.

Somehow Ellie was the most cordial of the three of them, nudging Joel into congratulating them with gritted teeth. She kept eating, head down, ignoring the itch of too many eyes.

Throughout the tour of Jackson she could see the wall that had been slowly unraveling around Joel come back up. He stayed behind with his brother, brow furrowed, distance between him and the two girls with him. She watched Ellie take everything in, laughing at the sheep, loving on the horse, but her companion only seemed to withdraw more.

That silent communication they had was gone, cut off.

Maria had suggested they get cleaned up, giving the boys the opportunity to split off and catch up. Instinctually, her eyes went to Joel to see what he thought of the suggestion. They never split up, were never far from each other, and now this woman she didn’t know wanted to take her somewhere else away from him. Ellie was hesitant too, looking at the man as well.

But his eyes stayed on the ground and he walked away.

She didn’t see him for a while after being carted away by Maria.

They both took a shower, a hot shower, and the girl in the mirror staring back at her afterwards was unrecognizable. No longer a girl, but a woman in her middle age. Twenty years, come and gone. Scars, so many scars, and spots dotted her skin all over. Her eyes were a little dull and hair lackluster, a bit too long. There was a faint fading bruise on her collar bone under the stars tattooed there from where Joel’s teeth had bit days before. Buried underneath that flesh had once been a girl who was shy and smiled at strangers for no reason and was warm. A rose, all blushing and bright, who only worried about her military family’s approval and writing down her songs in her journal. Now she was all thorns and crumbled petals. Meant to draw blood and nothing else. She’d gotten dressed quickly before she could shatter the mirror. Finding out about Sarah from Maria…a part of the picture that made up Joel snapped into place and things began to make sense. He was a dad, was always going to be a dad because it was engraved in him, and the young teenager traveling with them was a constant splinter in an open wound. No matter how much he pushed and yelled and raged, he always made sure Ellie was okay. She’d caught him on more than one occasion staying up to keep watch when the girl was anxious. He taught her to make a fire, how to use and take care of her gun properly, what to look out for. Joel Miller was a dad to the very foundation of his being and he was terrified because he’d already lost one daughter. The panic attacks were making sense. They would flare up at the possibility of danger, of uncertainty, not for him but for them. All the close calls. After the older couple’s house. The infected that almost got her in the woods. All had triggered one and she hadn’t known why, only that she had to calm him down and be there to center him. If anything, the knowledge made her feel more protective of him and their small group. It was a vulnerability and that meant something she had to guard it. It’s what it meant to watch each other’s backs. She didn’t miss the way Maria didn’t trust him and accused him of being a bad person. The things she had heard were probably no different than what she still did. Survival was ugly and Maria knew that from the bodies scattered alongside the river, but couldn’t seem to let that go for Joel.

If Maria only knew what she was capable of doing, the blood that covered her own hands. Killing meant so little to her now. The movie theater made her skin crawl, filled with sound and laughter and too many bodies. Ellie was the one to give her permission this time, telling her she was okay to go back to the house where it was quiet. She’d fought hard with herself over that. Joel was who knows where and letting someone else watch Ellie felt like blasphemy, but her heart was in her throat and she couldn’t focus with so much sound. 

So she’d gone back, huddling on the worn dusty couch with her knees against her chest, and unable to stop feeling her clean skin as if it were someone else’s. Her mind didn’t stop imagining every awful situation that could happen while she was gone. Ellie came back first and barely managed a nod at her, mouth tightly pressed together and silent as she climbed the stairs to the room that had once belonged to another teenage girl. Another dead one. She tried not to think about that, how Ellie always seemed to inhabit the echo of another dead daughter. First Sarah and now the room’s owner.

Even for her, Ellie was an echo of her younger sister.

She understood that. Inhabiting the shadow of a dead Tess herself. 

Joel came back next. He stopped, looking at her still with her knees drawn up. His face was darker, more heavy, like he had aged five years in the time she’d last seen him. Grief and pain and indecision lined the crow’s feet around his eyes and her fingers tightened, feeling like a bomb was about to drop. “She good?” he asked in a voice that was all gravel. “She’s whole. Upstairs in the room on the right,” she replied, eyes on the ground. He nodded, hands on his hips, and silence took over. Joel’s presence always felt like a cold fire. She could feel where he was in the room constantly. “You're gonna stick by her, right? Protect her?” Joel’s voice was harsh but not angry, just tired. 

She frowned, brow furrowed, and looked at him fully. There was a look on his face that she had only seen during his panic attacks. Like the weight of the world was crashing down on his shoulders and he was a second from not being able to hold it up, about to be crushed from it. “Is that really a question?”

“Just answer me, Red.”

His eyes were dark and he looked so tired and she was overwhelmed by this place. So she nodded, sighing out a simple, “Yes.”

He seemed to chew on the word, rolled it around his mind before nodding in answer, “Good.”

His steps were loud drum beats in her ears as he ascended, a door opening a bit later followed by the distant sound of Ellie and his voices.

She didn’t know if she should follow. Didn’t know if she’d be climbing into his bed that night or take the separate room on the first floor so far away from them both. Finding Joel’s brother had been the goal, was supposed to be a good thing, but all three of them only appeared to be in worse moods.

The bomb dropped a few moments later.

Ellie and Joel’s voices raising drew her from her spot on the couch and up the stairs. She could hear them arguing and hear the pain in the kid’s voice.

Joel was handing them over to Tommy.

Joel was handing both of them over.

Joel was leaving. 

It felt like a limb had been chopped from her. The ghost of where it was still there, a phantom pain, but its absence felt even stronger. He was leaving them. When he rushed out the door of Ellie’s room, he stopped abruptly at seeing her in the hallway standing stock still. The air had frozen around them dangerously, her anger a silent thing poised to strike and his own tinged in grief. “Just like that, huh?” she bit out, face blank and voice eerily emotionless. A muscle in his jaw ticked, teeth clenched as he spit out, “Just like that.” He moved to go to his room across the hall but something had snapped, urging her to follow like a shark scenting blood. She slammed the door behind them and it reverberated throughout the house, enclosing them in the room together. Something like betrayal coated her tongue and in the back of her mind she wondered at it, wondered if it was her trust or the trust of the teenager across the hall. “Are you really that fucking stupid, Miller?” she hissed at him, “She’s followed you for months and you’re just going to kick her out the door at the first chance? We were supposed to get her to the Fireflies-” He whipped around to face her in the dark, taking an angry step towards her, “I’m sending her with Tommy! That was the job! He knows where he’s going, he can take you both, but there’s no we. Never was.” The smile that slid onto her face was aggressive, canines showing, and he was reminded of those images of wolves snarling and licking their fangs, “Wouldn’t have pegged you as being a quitter, Tex, but glad you cleared that up.” “What’d you think was gonna happen, Starshine? A happy fucking ending?” His tone was mocking, condescending, and it was one of the few times he used his height on her to his advantage to look down his nose, “You, me, and the girl settling down somewhere while the Fireflies cure the world?” She had never thought that far, never allowed herself to think that far, because she hadn’t wanted to think about what the end of the journey would mean. For years it had been surviving one day to the next, long term plans were meaningless. But she knew enough that she wasn’t ready for this to be over and it made her angry. Because Tommy wasn’t Joel. Tommy was good and cared about being good and that wasn’t her. Joel chuckled bitterly, “You that girl’s protector? Then go protect her with Tommy. It ain’t got nothing to do with me. Jobs done.”

“So that’s it?” her fists were clenched so hard her nails made cuts in her skin, “You pass her off and leave me with your brother and simply walk away? Wipe your hands clean of us?” “You don’t get to be bitter, it was your choice to come along and watch that girl,” Joel put his hands on his hands, teeth grinding, “That’s what you wanted. I didn’t ask you to join us. I didn’t want you.” She huffed a laugh, mouth twisted in a bitter smile, “That’s ironic.” His features darkened and she knew she was touching something they didn’t talk about out loud. They never really discussed those moments in the dark, acting like they didn’t happen during the day and especially around Ellie. But they’d happened. Over and over again. “What? You think because I put my dick in you this means something? You ain’t-” “Tess?” In the darkness of the room, the walls felt like they were pressing into them. Both their rage filled the space around them and settled in the air but she could almost see the heat coming off of him. She knew it was dangerous grounds, especially after the conversation with Ellie, but this was it. This was the last bit between her and Joel Miller and if he was making her hurt, she wanted to hurt him right back. His nose wrinkled, voice low and quiet as he hissed out, “You shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” Joel was so close, almost nose to nose, but spitting mad and muscles tense. She almost wanted him to hit her, give her an excuse to fight him and deal with this invisible pain she was feeling and didn’t know how to cope with. It hurt. Him leaving them hurt and she hated that he had somehow managed to wound her without even trying. “You’re right, Tex,” she spit the words out like they were covered in blood, “This didn’t mean anything. I didn’t ask for you. It was you that crawled into my bed.” A laugh left her as if mocking him would make her feel better, “This how you want it to be? Fine. But don’t you lie and say that girl means nothing to you because that’s a pile of shit no one is going to swallow.” His eyes were black in the darkness, but she could feel them as he snarled, “We’re done.” With a smile that was more a grimace and rage lining her face, she backed up, “Fine. Have fun in that hole you’re going to sink into, Miller.” The door shook as she slammed it behind her, pausing to breathe in the space of the hallway between both rooms. She was shaking. From anger, pain, sadness, adrenaline, she wasn’t sure, but she stared down at her hands as they shook unsteadily and the tiny cuts shone red with blood. He was making a mistake. She knew that but words weren’t her forte, violence was, so it was hopeless to try and convince him otherwise. The ghosts of Joel Miller’s past loved ones had haunted them for so long, she should have known he would choose them in the end. That didn’t keep the reality of it from hurting any less. She knocked softly on Ellie’s door, opening it upon hearing her tentative reply. They didn’t speak. Ellie only silently scooted over on the bed, giving her some of her space. In the darkness of the room, she tried to ignore the pain in her chest and hold onto the rage she felt. Because it was better than feeling the alternative, than acknowledging the feeling of abandonment. When the young girl curled into her and held her tightly that night, she didn’t say anything about it later or when she felt her shoulders shake quietly. She simply held her back and tried to ignore the empty space on her left where Joel usually occupied. ______________________ Feral Tag List: @alouise20

[karxx]

This quote from Kaiba on DSOD makes me sooo sick 😭😭

Kaiba is so dependent on Atem for his happiness. Like I joke about “haha Kaiba gay for the pharaoh” but it runs so deep. He truly believes he has no meaning without him— he has no goal. Who is he without his rival? In a way, it’s like a one sided partnership. Atem can exist without Kaiba, but Kaiba can’t exist without him, or so he believes.

And so he tells the grieving Yugi that he needs him too. He can’t even begin to understand why Yugi isn’t agreeing to be a vessel in the first place. WHO is Yugi without the man who made him who he is? Who is he without his partner? Kaiba probably deems him as selfish, selfish to just move on from Atem.

Lord I could go ON about them.

[night-market-if]

Chapter Two

The second chapter of Book 2 is now up on Patreon. Join the Bog Witch tier to read it early. The public release is slated for December 1st.

In this chapter, join MC as they discover more about artisan alley, and go see their RO's. :)

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨ 

🌿 Free Demo 🌿Book 1 Steam🌿Book 1 Itch.io🌿🌿 Patreon 🌿Discord🌿FAQS🌿

[sugurusmoon]

He said to lose my life or lose my love

That's the nightmare I've been running from

So let me hold you in my arms a while

I was always careless as a child

And there's a part of me that still believes

My soul will soar above the trees

But a desperate fear flows through my blood

That our dead love's buried beneath the mud

Let's grow old together

And die at the same time

Let's grow old together

And die at the same time

I said I've got no time, I have to go

And I was more right than now I'll ever know

He said my heart is faint, will minds regret?

And left him crying next to the chapel's steps

Let's grow old together

And die at the same time

Let's grow old together

And die at the same time

He said, "Let's grow old together

And die at the same time"

"Let's grow old together

And die at the same time", he said

He said to lose my life or lose my love

That's the nightmare I've been running from

So let me hold you in my arms a while

I was careless as a child

There's a part of me that still believes

My soul will soar above the trees

A desperate fear flows through my blood

Our dead love's buried beneath the mud

A desperate fear flows through my blood

Our dead love's buried beneath the mud

“To Lose My Life” by White Lies

black and white fan art by xo_romiiarts on 🐦

[steddieangstyaugust]

Steddie Angsty August coming to a tear filled timeline near you.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[zombiejaws]

Optiratch angst from the memory loss eps… 😔🙏

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED THE ANGST I CAN COOK WITH THEM U DONT UNDERSTAND. I REMEMBER NOT TOO LONG AGO I WAS DUMPING NOTHING BUT SOUNDSTAR, MEGASOUND, AND OPTIRATCH ANGST IN MY FRIENDS DMS. It was crazy bruh

So basically Orions memories r wiped and Megatron is using him for the decoding, all the while they r back together bc Orion doesn't realize hes been married for the past 4000+ yrs.

Megatron uses Orion without actually loving him, usually leading to neglect and Orion not really knowing why there was such a change in behavior

Soundwave is horribly pining after Megatron, whos now completely unobtainable due to being with Orion once more

Starscream hates all of it because its so obvious that soundwave wants Megatron, and starscream is doing everything he can just to impress soundwave and its not working bc that mech is hopelessly in love w someone else

Ratchet is home upset as shit because his best friend/life partner genuinely thinks hes not a good person and its back with his ex and hes got no idea what to do

Thats all i got for now, Thank u for listening to my angst rant that makes me so hapoy to talk abt bc my little multishipper heart skips a beat when i can rant abt all the angst

{Have a question? Pop into my askbox!!}

[tadpolejourney]

Day 21

This is so fucked up. Mystra is so fucked up. I've never hated her outright; I firmly had her in a neutral sort of position along with the majority of the pantheon. As in, I didn't really think of her at all.

I hate her. I hate Mystra more than I've ever hated any other god.

She sent THE Elminster (apparently he and Gale are friends!) to tell Gale to use the orb to kill himself and destroy the Absolute in the process. That would be the only way he can earn her forgiveness and, according to her, the only way to destroy the Absolute. She granted Elminster the power to keep the orb from needing to consume magic. Now instead he can unleash its power at will. Mystra wants to ensure he will kill himself at just the right moment. She could have stabilized the orb at any point, or even rid him of it entirely, but instead she's let him suffer all this time and now she wants to use him. She's no goddess. She's a fucking piece of shit monster.

Gale seems resigned to it. He thinks we have no choice, that there will be no other solution because the goddess of magic and the greatest wizard ever couldn't come up with a better solution. He's too blinded by his love for her and too devoted to her to comprehend the situation for what it is. He doesn't see that this is absurd. It's pure madness. She wants to punish him and discard him, that's what this is. But this is no mere punishment. This is cruel sadism. It's overkill.

Powerful as Mystra and Elminster may be, they're not out here fighting in the trenches every damn day like we are. They're not close to this situation, at all. They're outsiders, telling the man I love, one of MY people, to kill himself. And they can fuck off.

I hate Mystra. I hate this. I hate everything.

<<< Day 20 | Index | Day 22 >>>

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 6 - "You Lied to Me"

I decided to try something different today, and I hope y'all don't mind. Introducing Link, the Hero of Power—predecessor to Captain Link, the Hero of Warriors—and Queen Zelda, the Sacred Diplomat. Together, these two legendary figures, alongside Gerudo Chief Hemisi, split Ganondorf's soul into pieces and sealed him away across time and space as a permanent way to end the ageless curse (before that got reversed in Hyrule Warriors). Anyway, here's a little angst with them!

X

The water was almost too hot as it bubbled against his skin. Link sighed, trying to relax into it, accepting this odd vacation he and Zelda had been given. The Gorons weren't unfriendly by any means, but it was strange that they had invited the monarchs to their hot springs for some time off.

Stranger still that Zelda had accepted.

Link glanced over at his queen as she bathed in the water, her figure wavering in the heat as it lazily drifted up from the surface. He was still curious why she'd agreed to come. The pair had never taken time off, and most certainly never together alone. This was a bizarre move, and it made him slightly uneasy. Although it felt beyond freeing to leave the castle, he missed his children. Relaxing like this was a foreign concept to him at this point.

What are you up to, Zelda? he wondered.

He decided to try his luck, swimming over to her. She turned in the water as he approached, face imperceptible as usual.

"Why are we here?" he asked softly, cautiously.

"The Gorons invited us," Zelda answered simply. "I wasn't going to refuse such kindness."

"Because they would view it as a slight, or because of something else?" Link pressed. When Zelda watched him a moment longer, he continued, "We've... been married for years, my queen. I imagine we can speak plainly to each other by now? It's just you and me."

Zelda's façade cracked, her lips twitching, gaze falling to the water level. "You can call me Zelda, you know. You do that, sometimes, when we are being intimate."

He supposed he did. And he supposed this was a moment of intimacy and vulnerability. "Then what's this about, Zelda?"

"I just..." Zelda faltered, showing uncharacteristic hesitancy. It reminded him of how she'd acted at her father's funeral, when it had just been the two of them, long after the crowds had dissipated (and after she had left). "I just wanted you to have something nice. I... I wanted us to have something nice."

Her voice grew so quiet as she added the last statement, nearly shriveling into the water. Link could understand why. She wasn't exactly responsible for giving him anything nice for a long time.

Well... aside from their children. But even then...

A bitter part of him let her look this small and defeated, demure and timid and so penitent. A part of him was angry that she was even trying.

You had promised a brighter future for all of Hyrule, that voice snapped. You lied to me.

It wasn't a lie, though, and he knew it. Just because he had sacrificed his happiness and his life didn't mean the rest of Hyrule wasn't thriving.

Link sighed tiredly. Despite all the hurt between them, he still didn't like to see her like this. It wasn't as if he was the only one who had sacrificed everything. He leaned forward, pulling her close, letting her rest against him, his finger absentmindedly tracing the green paint that adorned her arms, watching it slowly trail off her pale skin. "That's... considerate of you."

Zelda's own hands traced a scar on his chest, and he swallowed, feeling his heart start to race. She pulled away, though, calming his rushing blood and making him curious again.

"I figured I'd... try," she said quietly, refusing to make eye contact. "After... we don't do this much. Spend time together."

Why would they? This marriage hadn't exactly been his choice. He'd hardly spent enough time with her to create an heir the first year. Though in the years after that, he'd used her as his escape as much as she'd used him as her political toy.

So was she using him now? Or was she being genuine? He remembered she was capable of being kind to him.

Was she lying to him now?

"Is this some sort of favor to the Gorons?" he finally asked, letting himself be candid. She'd requested as much, anyway. "Creating a child in their homeland? Would they view that as some sort of honor?"

"This isn't--this isn't about that," Zelda shook her head. "I just wanted you to be able to relax. Back home, you... you're usually taking care of the children more than me."

"Then why did you come along?" Link questioned further. When Zelda winced and swam back a hair, his wariness died down, replaced by guilt.

She really... she just wants to spend time with me?

Oh.

She was lonely.

Link huffed, looking away. Goddesses above. He really was being self-centered, he supposed.

"Well..." he trailed off awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. "Even sacred diplomats need a break, I guess."

Zelda smiled a little forlornly, still looking into the water. Link moved towards her again, letting his body sink into the bubbling warmth so he could look up at her from where her gaze had stayed. He rose up to her with an inviting kiss, and she let him lead.

Though the act was nothing new, it held a bit more tenderness to it than ever before, a sort of mutual pain that emanated between the quiet couple as they sought comfort in each other. Typically after the fact the two would go their separate ways, but this time they basked in the heat, letting themselves dry off on the volcanic rock, draped in towels. Neither had anything to say—at this point what could they say—but they stayed, and Link settled into a nap that was more restful than he'd had in years.

[thosehallowedhalls]

The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm (1/2)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne/MC (Emma Rose)

Summary: Trystan is haunted by regrets. But when he's granted a wish to undo the worst of them, he finds that the price might be more than he's willing to pay.

@choicesjanuary2024 @lilyoffandoms Day 10, "Change"

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

When the first flurries of snow fall and Christmas lights begin to go up, Trystan always battles a certain melancholy. Growing up, the holiday season was a time of year when royal responsibilities were somehow more overwhelming. His mother always breathed down his neck a little extra hard, which made the extra number of public appearances, guests, and boring so-called ‘parties’ more unbearable.

Then, during the one holiday he spent with Juliana, things shifted. Juli loved Christmas. Her enthusiasm and joy were so contagious that Trystan found himself genuinely enjoying it for the first time. She talked about the annual Christmas ball they would hold when they were king and queen, and she swore it would be an enjoyable one - unlike his parents' usual tedious affair.

He has wrestled with bittersweet memories ever since.

But this year is different. This year, he has Emma. She makes everything better, and he finds himself looking forward to the season for the first time in years. She always makes sure to attend the Rockefeller Center tree lighting in honor of her dad. He’s looking forward to going with her this year.  He’s looking forward to a lot of things.

He can’t completely banish the regrets, though. This year, Sebastyan has joined Juli in his personal hall of ghosts. He no longer blames himself for their deaths, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever fully get over the guilt of not seeing that they needed protection.

He hasn’t told Emma this, but he imagines she knows. She has her own regrets, after all. Her own ghosts.

“Trystan, are you going to help or are you just going to fool around?” Exasperated, Emma tries to wrestle the Christmas lights out of his hands.

He pretends to think about it. Then he wraps them around her. “Option B.”

She blows the hair out of her face. “Seriously?”

He plugs in the lights and grins when she starts to sparkle. “Oh yeah. They look much better on you than they would on the tree.”

“You know, when you asked me to help you put up some Christmas decorations, I assumed that we’d be decorating the tree.”

“But you’re so much more interesting than a tree.”

“Then why, exactly, did we bother going to that horrifyingly packed tree farm yesterday?” She shudders. “Seriously, when a New Yorker tells you that a place is bound to be too busy, listen to her.”

“But the people were the best part! When those two elderly gentlemen almost came to fisticuffs over the tallest fir? The angst. The drama.”

“The extra half an hour that breaking them up added to our day.”

He waves this aside. “You’re determined to see only the negative. Besides,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Didn’t I make it up to you when we got back to my apartment?”

Her lips twitch. “We could’ve had another two hours for you to make it up to me if we’d had a tree delivered.”

Trystan gives her a pitying look. “What would your father say about having a Christmas tree delivered?”

“… He would say only philistines do such a thing. How could you possibly know that?”

“Easy. A man who takes his daughter to see the tree lighting every year is a man who takes Christmas seriously.” He wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her still glittering form close. “I intend to carry the torch.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “Am I being managed? Did you ask me to decorate with you to make sure I have fun this Christmas?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m simply lazy and unwilling to decorate an entire tree by myself.”

“Did you even have a Christmas tree these last eight years?”

“Naturally. The biggest tree of them all. A veritable tree farm in my living room.”

She kisses his jaw. “Not that I want you to make managing me a habit, but… thanks.”  With a sigh, she pulls back. “It’s getting late. I have to go.”

“Stay,” he murmurs, his lips against hers.

“I can’t.” She nuzzles his neck, her tone making it clear she wishes she could. “Tommy has a date with Sofia. I promised to tend bar tonight.”

“Responsibility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he says forlornly.

“Welcome to adulthood.” With a last kiss, she walks out.

He drops down on the couch, intending to watch a movie, but finds himself musing on Emma’s words.

Did you even have a Christmas tree these last eight years?

He tried once, the second Christmas after Juliana’s death. But it felt like a mockery. An accusation. Christmas was always Juliana’s thing, so what right did he have to enjoy it? Why should he have a good time after failing to save her?

As usual over the last several weeks, thoughts of Juliana turn to thoughts of Sebastyan. Bas always did enjoy Christmas more than him. Did Juli’s death also ruin the holiday for him? He could ask Mags or Lydea, but he isn't sure he wants to know.

He wishes he had not drunk so much the night of Mags’ debut. That he hadn’t fallen asleep almost as soon as he and Juli fell into bed. That he had been a better brother to Bas. That he’d been able to save them both.

Perhaps, if she had lived, Bas’ life would have been different. He never saw the charm and warmth that Marguerite talks about, but they apparently existed once. Maybe he would have moved on with his life without the specter of Juliana to haunt him. Fallen in love with someone else. Been happy.

Maybe.

Regrets coursing through his veins, useless wishes clamoring in his heart, Trystan dozes off.

The scent is the first thing that stands out to him. It’s easy enough to recognize – after all, it was filling his nostrils only yesterday. Firs and spruces, hot cocoa and candy. The Christmas tree farm where he spent a chaotic yet marvelous afternoon with Emma.

What in the world is he doing here?

“Hello?”

“Oh, hello.” The man who sold them his fir yesterday smiles. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

“You were… what?”

“Lots of visitors this time of year,” the man, his name tag reads Jacob, says.

“Well, yes. I would assume that late November is a busy time for Christmas tree farms.”

“Indeed.” Jacob nods sagely. “And an even busier time for regrets.”

Well aware that he sounds like a broken record, Trystan blinks. “What?”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why everyone is here.”

“About that. You sure work late. Or early, depending on your perspective.”

Jacob waves this off. “2 AM is the perfect time for regrets. No other time of day invites them quite as enticingly.”

Trystan shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me."

"You have regrets, don’t you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Ordinarily, you deal with them well. But every once in a while, they suffocate you.” His gaze sharpens. “Tell me, Trystan, if you could have a second chance, if you could undo a regret… what would it be?”

He's given up on trying to understand what's happening. The oddity of the question doesn't register anymore. It only brings back to the surface the wish that's been playing on his mind in a painful loop. “I would save Juli and Bas.”

The alarm goes off too early, as it invariably does. He stirs when he feels lips on his cheek, fingers trailing down his chest.

“Mm. ‘S nice.”

The responding giggle is melodious, beautiful, and very familiar. It sounds an awful lot like… like…

“Good morning, my love.”

His eyes snap open. Awareness slams into him like a freight train. “Juli?”

“For your sake, you had better not have anyone else waking you like this,” she teases. “Happy Christmas Eve. Now get out of bed and let’s get to work.”

“Juli? He asks again, dumbfounded and wondering when in the world he started lucid dreaming. Because this… surely it is only a dream?

Concern softens her features. “Darling, are you all right? Do you want me to fetch the doctor?”

He struggles into a sitting position, feeling the silk against his skin and realizing that… oh. This isn’t a dream. But then…

I would save Juli and Bas.

Oh my god.

“Juliana?”

“That is my name, yes.” Her tone is light, but she only looks more concerned. “Wait here, I’ll have Elias call the doctor.”

“No, wait.” His hand shoots out, taking hold of her wrist. “How are you here? How am I here?”

“Where else would we be? The Christmas Ball can’t very well happen without us.”

The Christmas Ball?

He looks at her, truly looks at her. She’s as beautiful as always, but there’s a new maturity to her face. This Juliana has lived longer than twenty-two years. “What year is it?”

Her eyebrows disappear under her hair. “Oh no. Please tell me you aren’t hungover. We have a million things to do today.”

Trystan tries to smile. “Humor me?”

“2023, of course. Same as the last 356, and the next eight, days.”

She’s thirty now.

She’s alive.

He throws his arms around her in a hug so sudden that Juliana squeaks in surprise. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She curls into him, bringing on a deluge of emotion and memories that nearly topple him where he stands. She still wears the same perfume. “Likewise, husband of mine.”

Husband? But…

She presses her lips to his, tenderly stroking his cheek. For a moment, Trystan holds motionless. Part of him feels twenty-two again, kissing the woman he loves when love is a new and dazzling experience that he never expected to have. But deep inside, a voice blares a warning.

Wrong.

He pulls back. Juliana considers it a tacit suggestion.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. We need to get to work. There are a hundred details to finalize and even more to double check. I’m happy that we’re to finally be the hosts of this ball, but I don’t think I truly realized how much work it was going to be.”

If they’re hosting the Christmas Ball, then that means he’s… and they’re…

Fear trails cold fingers down his spine, and he finishes untangling himself in a burst of panic.

Where is Emma?

“Well? Are you ready to get started?”

His royal training kicks in, allowing him to keep his turmoil in check. “Right, yes. Remind me what’s on the agenda for today?”

She rattles off an intimidatingly long list, complete with receiving the guests who would be arriving for the week. “Bas and Em will be here any minute now. Play nice.”

It’s unexpected that Sebastyan and Emika would arrive anywhere together, but the warning is fair – or it would be, if he weren't so relieved that his brother is alive. Presumably, he thinks with a pang of shame, this Trystan still despises his little brother. “I’ll do my best.”

“I mean it, Trystan. You know she doesn’t like you, and the last thing we need is you antagonizing one of our guests.”

He stops. “She?”

“Oh, please get it together. Emma already didn’t like you before. Now that she and Bas are together, she’s unlikely to see you in a more positive light. You know how in love they are.”

Everything inside of him goes cold.

It can’t be.

“Of course. What is Emma’s last name again?”

She gives him a look. “Trystan, darling, Rose is hardly a difficult name to remember. What is the matter with you today?”

“It’s n-nothing. Give me a moment.”

He locks himself in the bathroom before she can reply.

He can’t breathe.

Emma doesn’t like, let alone love him. She’s in love with someone else. With his brother. The words keep replaying in his mind, equally unbelievable each time. It’s like someone completely changed the rules of the game and threw away the handbook.

He doesn't know how to live in a world where Emma doesn’t love him.

All this time, when he was wishing he could have saved Juliana, he never stopped to consider that if he had, he and Emma wouldn’t be together. Much less that Emma might be with Bas.

What the hell does he do now?

The thought emerges fully formed. I want to go back. But can he truly wish for a world where Juliana and Sebastyan are dead, simply because the woman he loves is in love with someone else? Is he truly that selfish?

Trystan emerges back into the suite with a forced smile. “You go ahead, I’ll get dressed and meet you in a moment.”

His heart is hammering in his chest when he heads to the front entrance, fully dressed and looking as regal as he’s capable of looking. Juliana is hugging Bas, and right next to him is… He sucks in a breath, drinking in the sight of Emma, holding back the desire to rush to her side and take her in his arms. Then she looks up and sees him standing at the top of the staircase.

Her smile fades.

His heart trembles. Even when they first met, before he wormed his way into her good graces, Emma never looked at him with such patent dislike.

Juli and Bas break apart, and she moves to hug her. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been too long.”

“I know. I’ve been busy. For that matter, so have you.”

Juliana waves this off. “Never too busy for a friend. I thought you’d be coming over sooner. Didn’t you arrive a few days ago? Oh, what am I saying. Bas wasn’t going to let you out of his apartment after spending all that time apart.”

Sebastyan wraps a possessive arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I didn’t get to see her in over two months. I wasn’t ready to share her.”

Juliana laughs, then glances over her shoulder. “Trystan! What are you doing up there? Come greet our guests.”

Somehow, his feet carry him to the foot of the stairs. “Hello, Bas. Emma. It’s good to see you both.”

“Trystan.” Sebastyan’s stiff tone says that he doesn’t like him any more than he did in the original timeline. But Trystan can tell he’s making an effort, probably for Juliana’s sake. “We appreciate the welcome.”

“No need. This is your home, too.” It’s probably Sebastyan’s home more than it’s ever been Trystan’s, but that’s neither here nor there. His eyes slide over to Emma’s.

She lifts her chin a fraction. “Your Majesty.”

It’s all wrong. Emma has called him Your Majesty before, but the tone was always affectionate and teasing. This… this sounds like she’s talking to his mother. Polite. Formal. Cold.

“Please, Trystan is fine.” He holds out a hand, and after a brief hesitation, she takes it. He resists the impulse to pull her to him, but he can’t help savoring the feel of her skin.

Emma’s hand tenses in his, and he realizes that he’s been holding on to it. He lets her go quickly. “Well, you should be shown where you're staying.”

Juliana gives him an odd look. “They already know where they're staying. In the same room where Bas lived for twenty years, and where they stay every time they come over.”

He would be more confused by that twenty years remark if the singular room hadn’t sucker punched him. His gaze falls on their entwined hands. “Of course. My apologies, I’m afraid I’m running on little sleep today.”

All three of them look like they don't quite believe him. But Emma… Emma looks the way she always does when a new mystery fires up her mind. He can practically hear the cogs of her mind turning.

Then she shrugs and turns to Sebastyan. "We should unpack."

Juliana smiles. "Certainly. Don't forget that we're having a small family dinner this evening."

"We'll be there," Sebastyan says, before wrapping an arm around Emma's waist. They both head upstairs.

Trystan's gaze follows them. Sorrow swells up in his chest.

What the hell has he done?

[pastaxandria]

"I'm Sending A Raven" (Matt Murdock x Reader fic, Heavy Angst 🌧️): Chapter 3

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its shelves: I'm Sending A Raven: Chapter Three

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Your hands began to shake as you signed again, the tears now sliding freely down your cheeks until they hit the edge of your muzzle. Yet now, despite your best efforts, somehow your own words seemed like the real lie, a tattered, torn life jacket already sinking beneath the endless waves. “M-A-T-T TAKE SUBJECT HOME S-O-O-N. SEE D-A-D. SEE F-R-I-E-N-D-S. M-A-T-T HOLD SUBJECT AGAIN. GO HOME… S-O-O-N.” It had to be true. He would come, and take you home, and everything would be alright. Because if he didn’t… What would you have left?

Wordcount: 9.5k

Warnings for this chapter (here we go): mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide (Month 5), brainwashing, torture, guns, blood, canon-typical gore, non-graphic mentions of attempted sexual assault (first journal entry, 3rd paragraph), Matt and Frank dealing with the person who attempted said ASA ('rape' specifically mentioned and Matt's thoughts on what happened), death (take a guess who since Frank's there), dehumanization, human experimentation.

Read me on Ao3 if you're looking for part two of Pasta's Train to Pain Town

Recommended listening: Far From Home (The Raven) by Sam Tinnesz

matt is not having a good time and neither is jane so let this gif stand in for them both

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Closer

Summary: Your due date is close and you finally give in and reach out to Frankie to talk over things. But before the talk can happen you run into him. And his son.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. Reader; Marcus Pike x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, fluff, angst, implied complications at childbirth, implied character death

A/N: so. yeah. this escalated quickly.

Part of the (Ir)replaceable series

You were getting closer and closer to your due date. And by closer you meant next week.

You, for some reason, hadn’t run into Frankie anymore. And you didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand you were happy, because he seemed to respect your wishes, on the other hand… 

It was his child you were carrying. Yes, he hurt you, more than you would ever wish to anyone, but he was the father of your child. Your little girl.

God, you wished you could just handle this like every other break up and move on. But you would have to see him at some point. If he chose to have a relationship with this child, your child, that was. You didn’t even know if he told the truth about having told his wife. 

“Sweetheart?” you turned your head, a smile sneaking to your face as you heard footsteps. 

“I’m here,” you called out, your smile widening when you saw Marcus walk on the patio. 

He kissed your forehead before he sat down next to you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulder.

Marcus had turned out to be your biggest surprise. Again.

Yes, he had come home with you, and yes he continued to be a big support for you but there was a voice deep inside in your head that told you every single day that he would leave. 

But it’s been months and Marcus had been to every single doctor's appointment with you. He had gone to birthing classes with you. He had been your rock. 

But you both decided that you would take it slow. 

Not only because you both had been burned in the past, but because you were a hormonal mess and Marcus was scared you would hate him once you had given birth and your hormones were back to normal. 

And while you wanted to laugh as he told you about this fear, you ended up kissing him softly and agreeing to wait. 

Which was why even though you were sleeping in the same bed, you haven’t had sex yet. Much to your (and his) frustration. 

“You really wanna go to the store? I could get what we need,” he asked. 

You smiled, taking his hand. 

“Might be the last time we can go alone to the store together for a while,” you hummed and he smiled. You both rested your hands on your belly that looked like it was ready to burst. 

You felt so fucking huge, you were ready for this pregnancy to be over. 

Lately you had caught yourself wishing it wasn’t Frankie’s baby, but Marcus’. A thought you felt guilty about. But then you had talked to your therapist about it (oh yes, you had started therapy to work though all of those feelings and issues) and they had told you that it was normal for you to imagine this with how you had been hurt by the biological father. 

Marcus had practically moved in with you. He still had his apartment and he still had his job back in Washington. But three weeks ago he had officially asked to transfer to the office here which was only a formality. The FBI was glad to have him here. 

“I can’t believe you’re due next week,” he said.

“Me neither,” you sighed. 

“Have you… Have you thought about reaching out to him?” Marcus asked hesitantly. 

“Honestly?” you asked. He nodded. 

“I think about reaching out every single day. I… Even though he hurt me, he has the right to see his daughter. And I have to…. I have to come to terms with seeing him. If he wants to see his child that is.”

Marcus kissed your temple. 

“Maybe ask him to come over to talk? I could go so you could talk about everything and…” you shook your head. 

“I want you there when I talk to him. You are going to be part of her life too. You will most likely spend more time with her than he will. You… I can’t do this without you,” you said. Marcus squeezed your hand. 

“Tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“Which one?” Marcus held up two different brands of mint chocolate chip ice cream and you pursed your lips in thought. 

“Both?” you said after a while and he chuckled. 

You had texted Frankie, left your phone at home and then went to the store with Marcus. It was almost 10pm and the store was pretty empty. Only a couple of people walking around. You were pushing the cart, which was mostly filled with snacks you had been craving throughout your pregnancy. 

Marcus came over, his hand resting on your back after he put the ice cream into your cart. You grinned up at him and he kissed you, his other hand resting on your belly. 

He was obsessed with your belly, talking to your little girl all the time, telling her goodnight stories when he thought you were already asleep. 

You wondered if Frankie would have been like that too. Was he excited to be a father? And to two children at once? 

You wondered how his wife took the whole affair and second baby thing. You didn’t know if he told the truth when he told you he had confessed everything to his wife. 

You blinked your eyes, getting rid of the thoughts as you pushed the cart forward into the next aisle. 

And suddenly he was there, his eyes already on you when you stopped in your tracks. 

You could hear Marcus say something, but it was like you were under water as you looked at him. But it wasn’t him that had your attention, it was the child strapped to his chest. You only got out of your trace when you felt Marcus hand on top of yours, your knuckles white from the way you were squeezing the shopping cart. 

You felt the familiar panic inside of you building as you looked at Frankie. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Marcus tilted your head towards him and you blinked up at him. 

“Do you want to leave?” he asked quietly. You gulped, letting go of the shopping cart to let him guide your hands to his chest. He breathed with you, in and out until you felt the fog in your brain disappear.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked again, his eyes full of concern. His eyes left yours only briefly to look behind you before they were on you again. It was forever before you shook your head. 

“Are you sure?” he asked again, checking in with you. You nodded, taking a deep breath before you turned around again, finding Frankie still at the spot you had last seen him. 

Marcus' hand on your back was grounding you as you slowly made your way down the aisle. 

You were tired of running. 

And until you moved to another city (which was a whole other conversation you would have with Marcus at some point) you did not want to walk around town, scared you would run into the man who broke your heart. 

“Hey,” Frankie said as you stopped next to him. 

He looked…. He looked miserable. His eyes sad and exhausted. And you hated the part of yourself that was happy about it. 

“Hey,” you said back, your eyes wandering down to the sleeping baby against his chest. 

It looked so tiny against him as it slept peacefully, the squishy cheek resting on his chest. 

“Uhm… Hi. I’m…. I’m Frankie,” you watched him reach out his hand towards Marcus, who shook it. 

“Marcus Pike,” he said with a nod, before his hand came to rest on your back again. 

“How… How are you?” Frankie asked and you shrugged. 

“Almost there. My due date is next week so… Any day now,” you said and he nodded. 

“I… I got your text. I wanna talk. I just….” he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I have to bring him, if that’s okay,” he gestured down to the sleeping child. 

“What’s his name?” you asked softly. 

“Mateo,” Frankie said with a small smile as he looked down. 

“It’s okay to bring him, but why? Can’t you leave him with… with your wife?” you asked. Frankie looked briefly at Marcus before he looked at you before he shook his head. 

“She’s… He came early, got out of the hospital only yesterday and there were complications during the delivery and…” Frankie shook his head, clearing his throat. 

“I can’t leave him,” he said, looking at you. 

You looked up at Marcus, whose hand ran around your back, resting on your hip, squeezing you softly. 

“Come over for lunch tomorrow?” you began to speak. Marcus nodded at you and you looked at Frankie. 

He nodded at you. 

“Okay. We’re… We’re home all day. Just come over around lunchtime. So… So we can talk,” you said. 

“I’d… I’d like that,” he nodded. Frankie looked down at Matteo just as he blinked his eyes open. You smiled softly. He was really cute. 

“See you tomorrow then,” you said and Frankie looked at you. 

“See you tomorrow,” he whispered before he slowly pushed his cart forward and walked away. 

You stood there for a couple of moments gathering your thoughts before you looked up at Marcus. 

“Do you think…?” you whispered. He sighed. 

“It sounded like it….”

Marcus pulled you against his chest, kissing your forehead as tears sprung to your eyes. 

“Let’s go home,” you whispered. He nodded, taking your hand, leaning down to kiss you softly.

He didn’t let go of your hand until you went to bed and you fell asleep in his arms. Safe. 

[circesays]

A little fic inspired by Jimmy’s newest Empires video and a conversation with @anachronistic-cat about said lore implications! Enjoy! (Not related to my Cursed Toy AU, btw :D)

Jimmy wrung his hands as he slowly approached the house above, anxiously scanning his surroundings and keeping up his guard. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to turn to him.

(But this world and his friends have taught him that he rarely gets what he wants, and he has to lose to keep it. He still flinches when he remembers his friends, emperors and Hermits alike, surrounding him, throwing that damned potion and suddenly painpainpain and picking him up and tossing him around and forcing him to run-)

So here he is. Tiny, alone, and at the mercy of the very god that started this entire mess. He’s no toy, not really, yet he has a sinking feeling that this will not end well.

(But Fwhip had trapped him in a death loop. Fwhip has crushed him, shot him, felt joy at trapping him in one place and hurting his newest almost-deputy and friend and oh gods he hopes Scar is okay.)

“Joel!” Jimmy yelled, his voice confident and loud despite his smaller size (don’t think about that part- anything, anything else-).

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite toy sheriff! Come to play?”

And there he was. Standing at the top of the floating staircase, his wings shining silver and gold in the sunlight, and for just a moment, Jimmy remembered when Joel meant safety.

“I need your help.”

Joel smirked. “Really now?”

“Yes. Now are you going to help me or not?”

The god of lore laughed, casually making his way down the floating bits and pieces of terrain. He picked Jimmy up and held him in one hand. “Come this way, and tell me all about your little problem.”

(Hook.)

Jimmy frowned, shaking his head, but acquiesced and did not complain. He couldn’t afford to, not with his citizens and deputies at risk.

“Fwhip’s gone mad. He trapped me in a death loop, he hurt Scar, and he’s insisting that I’m not right as Sheriff anymore. I don’t…”

(He hesitated because admitting this meant weakness. Meant he couldn’t do this alone. But you’re supposed to share burdens with friends, so Jimmy mustered his strength.)

“I don’t want my citizens getting caught up in the crossfire. And being Sheriff protects my town. Will you help me stop Fwhip?”

They’ve stopped under the Eye of Stratos, the arch above gleaming in the morning sun.

Joel let Jimmy glide off his shoulder and onto the railing.

“Okay. I’ll make sure Fwhip stops. But you have to do something for me in return.”

“…what is it?”

(Line.)

Joel grins, a full-blown, feral thing, and laughs.

“Why, admit you’re a toy, of course!”

Jimmy grit his teeth and shook his head sharply.

“Absolutely not! Out of all the stupid requests- no gunpowder? Alliances?”

“All I want is for you to admit you’re a toy, Jimmy. One little sentence. “I admit that I’m a toy.” Can’t be that hard? All for your town?”

And the Sheriff… he hesitated again. Because the consequences would be dire. He could feel it, every time a new friend teased him or called him a toy.

(He knew he couldn’t come back from this one. But wouldn’t it be worth it, to make sure his friends and citizens were safe? That he was safe?)

A quiet, gentle nod. “Okay.”

(Sinker. And little did Jimmy know, but many of the emperors and Hermits were hidden around the Eye, cameras rolling and muffling giggles, Fwhip and Scar included. This was a better show that they expected! Getting Jimmy to admit he was a toy on camera!)

Jimmy carefully hopped down to the bridge, and closed his eyes. “At least promise me you’ll make sure Norman and Flick are taken care of?”

“What?” Joel replied, confused and suddenly off guard. “Why? I mean I’ll do it but I don’t get why you’re asking?”

Jimmy looked the god in the eyes and smiled.

“I, Jimmy, admit that I am a toy.”

(And there was a pause of silence before the laughter erupted, friends emerging out of hiding places and blowing up the chat. He finally said it!)

And then Jimmy started screaming.

It was a piercing sound, loud and overwhelming and painful. He’d fallen to his knees, his hands on his face, tears slipping between knuckles that were visibly changing. His wails died down slowly and painfully, punctuated by cracking and snapping.

And the others rushed to him, babbling, calling his name in fear, but it was too late.

As silence fell, Jimmy straightened up. His joints and wings were made of wood, his eyes dull and painted, his hair woolen. But the most painful part of all was his smile.

(His mouth was stitched into a smile, everlasting and never falling. After all, toys are meant to be happy!)

“Hello!”

“…Jimmy?” Fwhip whispered, horrified.

Without a beat, the Sheriff turned to face his deputy. “Ah, deputy Fwhip! Hello! I didn’t see you there!”

(Smiling, smiling, smiling, he was so cheerful, what had happened what was wrong?)

“You were screaming,” Sausage uttered numbly, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was just supposed to be a joke.

“Silly Sausage! Toys don’t scream and cry in pain,” replied the Sheriff with a chipper voice.

“Timmy, knock it off, this isn’t funny!”

“Hm? What do you mean, Grian?”

Parrot wings puffed up in agitation.

(Canary wings remained motionless and still, hanging limply off his back. Toys don’t really fly, after all. They fall with style!)

Everyone present looked at each other, unable to figure out what to do.

What had they done?

…

(I’m gonna be honest this started with just the first angsty part but I’m way too soft to leave this on an angsty open end so I added more lol. If you just wanted the angst, this is where this ends. But here’s a lil Team Rancher fluffy end thingy:)

Finally, after a long pause, yelling was heard in the distance as a newcomer flew in.

“Jimmy! Guys! Where are you?”

Tango spotted the group and swooped down to land dramatically, grinning all the while. His grin quickly faded when he took in the pale and haunted expressions on his friends’ faces.

“Huh? Guys? What’s wrong?”

“Oh hello my Rancher!”

Tango looked down to take in the scene, and his face lit up with delight. “Jimjam? What’s up with you? Why are you so small?”

“I’m a toy! I’ve always been small!”

The smile dropped. “You’ve always insisted you’re not a toy, though.”

“But I am! See?”

Jimmy went to pull at his joints and Tango lunged to stop him with a very on-brand squawk-meep sound. “Nononono no need for a demonstration!”

Tango turned to Joel.

“Fix him.”

“What? How?! How do you expect me to fix this?!”

“You got him into this mess when you said he was a toy. Tell him he’s not a toy and everything should go back to normal, right?”

And Joel clearly hesitated, because it was funny. Of course it was funny, teasing Jimmy always was!

(But his friends were now looking at him, and this was his fault, and his brother in all but blood was smiling and distant and looked dead-)

“You’re not a toy, Jimmy. I was wrong.”

And Jimmy glowed softly. But it wasn’t enough. So Sausage stepped forward with a big anxious grin.

“Yeah you’re a normal avian!”

The others began to join in.

“Sorry, Timmy.”

“Please come back.”

“You’re a great Sheriff.”

“You’re not a toy!”

With each apology, Jimmy glowed brighter and brighter, until, with a flash he was just a normal avian again. Tango giggled in delight and swooped him into his arms, princess style. Jimmy was fast asleep.

And everyone cheered.

~

Jimmy woke up in a soft bed, surrounded by fluff and next to someone radiating heat. Lazily, he cracked open his eyes to take in the room.

It was Tango’s room, in the Ranch. The yellow blankets and Tango’s heat protected them from the worst of the desert cold. A glance out the window told Jimmy it was early dawn.

“Tango,” he whispered, poking the grumbling netherborn. “Tango wake up.”

Tango’s eyes fluttered open, taking in Jimmy’s clear chocolate eyes before he shot awake with a whoop, startling Jimmy so badly that the avian almost launched himself off the bed with his wings.

“Jimmy! You’re awake!”

“Well yeah that’s generally what someone does in the morning- what’s going on? Last I remember I was… at Joel’s?”

Tango frowned. “You’ve been asleep for like, a whole day and a half now. You turned into a toy, remember?”

(And Jimmy does remember. He remembers screaming, trapped in the depths of his mind, watching his friends finally finally realize what they were doing is wrong and they tricked him!)

“Woah, slow down there cowboy, it’s okay now, I’m here buddy.”

And Jimmy could vaguely feel the frustrated tears rolling down his face as he clung to his soulmate and sobbed. He was finally free.

“They promised to drop the bit. Fwhip, Pix, and Joel already took down the walls, along with half of the Hermits. And Shelby left some healing potions downstairs if you needed them. They care, Jimmy, they do. I’m sorry it took so long for them to get their heads outta their butts.”

And Jimmy laughed, and Tango grinned, and it would all be okay.