#my first terror fic... hopefully more to come!!

[edwardlittlesboyfriend]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Francis Crozier & James Fitzjames Characters: Francis Crozier, James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848) Additional Tags: Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, just another one of my post-canon thoughts fics, nothing special here just thoughts really, super intrigued by A. what happens after they return and B. the crozier fitzjames friendship, and kinda a set up / intro for something larger, oh and the ocean yearning. the married to the sea and the boat thing. love that Summary:

After their rescue, when the ice finally lets go, Francis returns to London, to a home that doesn't feel like home anymore.

///

Just a small fic I wanted to put up on Ao3! Pleased by this. Hoping to write more in the future.

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 5: Burning Pinecones

[ part 4.5 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 6 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

warnings: the usual violence/blood for sagau fics.

"Traveller, would you like to accept a personal quest from me?"

Aether stared dubiously at the man in front of him, which the Cavalry captain noticed "Come on, aren't we friends?" The blond and Paimon stared at him incredulously, then the two travelling partners stared at each other, engaging in a mental conversation.

'Do they not trust me that much?' Kaeya felt a bit hurt but brushed it off when the duo turned to him once more. "You're not going to ask us to hunt down this 'imposter' are you?"

It was the blue haired man's turn to stare at them flabbergasted "My, you think so little of me. Haven't you heard the saying Innocent until proven guilty?" "We know that!" Paimon huffed "it's just. . you're still in the knights of Favonius, We're surprised you haven't gone all. ."

"Murderous" Aether offered.

"Yeah! It's a surprised you aren't as murderous as Jean and Lisa were with this lookalike." Paimon pointed out. "That's fair, but I would prefer knowing all the details before acting."

Aether sighed, "all right, then I'm guessing you want us to track down the lookalike and gather information to help decide whether they are the imposter or not. . right?"

"Astute as ever dear Traveler" Kaeya clapped with a Cheshire like grin. "Why can't you do it though?" The traveler questioned "You're more familiar with the region as a resident of Mondstadt."

"Be that as it may, I am a member of the Knights. I expect Jean will be ordering all of us in a mandatory man-hunt for the 'Imposter.' You two on the other hand have a chance of not partaking in it in the guise of already being on a separate quest."

Aether and Paimon frowned, "are they really set on killing them?" He asked, he did not like this, he did not like how they were acting. Upon first meeting them, they seemed reliable and level-headed, now they seemed like. .

"Faith does a lot of things to a person traveler, Paimon. You will find that once word spreads across Teyvat that person will no know peace, even if they end up really being the Creator. So hopefully you find them first."

Golden eyes stared into periwinkle eyes. "Should I warn them about everything?"

Kaeya combed his locks "I'll leave that decision to your judgement in character. I should go now, I have a feeling that Jean will have someone call for me soon."

"Then me and Paimon will head out now, but. . have you any idea where they might be?"

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Thanks to the effort of the Samuchurl and the other hilichurls you had recovered quickly. All though the scars remained littering your body, still the pain that lingered was gone, you were no longer bothered by the lingering effects of electro from Lisa's attacks.

Your stomach was no longer empty and you were no longer in tattered clothes. The Pajamas although salvaged was now in a rucksack, you debated on whether throwing it away but seeing as it is your last memento of a life so far away from your grasps. . you decided to keep it in the end.

Now however, what draped your body was clothes that you could only describe as traditional or ethic, the type of clothes you'd see hilichurls wear. Luckily it fitted you and covered you properly considering hilichurl clothings usually cover the lower half of the body if you compared it to the in-game models. It reminded you of Claude's first attire in 'who made me a princess'*.

However the Hilichurls did not wear shoes so you had were still going to be walking barefoot. Dvalin or rather in the current timeline, Stormterror, had not returned to the area, you assumed he would be with the abyss mages or terrorizing mondstadt so you weren't scared for your safety (not like Dvalin would ever hurt you but you don't know that-) and you could stay with the hilichurls and your pyro buddy who were the best company right now!

Still. . you can't help but let your eyes linger away from the hilichurl camp. Despite the trauma that would no doubt haunt you for a long time, you still wanted to just. . explore Teyvat and everything it had to offer, well except for the people, you wanted to try the cuisine, wear there clothes and if it seemed like you'd be stuck here till you die. . maybe open up a shop or find a permanent home.

Inazuma would be nice as it would be based on Japan, but Liyue's culture also caught your eye. . but then Mondstadt's scenery, Fontaine's architecture and fashion. . .

"So while the hilichurls were busy you decided to take a walk, of course, some inkling inside you knew to avoid any humans and since your choices were either the brightcrown canyon teeming with enemy mobs or go south and find your way to dawn winery and then wolvendom. .

Brightcrown canyon was your choice of course.

"What-" you stare at the pyro slime that was angrily bouncing in front of you, as if stopping your escape. "I'm just going to take a walk."

It's stare was unnerving, clearly not wanting you to go anywhere else but the hilichurl camp. "I'm not going near any mondstadters if that helps my case!"

It stopped, blinking and then began happily prancing around you in circles.

You chuckled at the cute pyro slime as you scoped him in your hands, you didn't question how you weren't harmed by its flames, you were afraid to know what that means for you after all. Would that be considered proof of being an imposter?

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"Okay so last that anybody has heard of this creator lookalike, is that they fell off the cliff behind the headquarters of the knights and landed in Cider Lake" Paimon repeated as she and Aether were just outside of the city, across the bridge and in front of a fork in the road.

The left road would lead back to the whispering woods then to the lake, then the beach where they came from when Aether first came to Mondstadt. The middle one would lead to Wind rise and farther off would be cape oath. Then the path that led to the right of them would lead to a small village named Springvale, then to dawn winery and Wolvendom and the farthest place there would be Stormterror's lair.

They stared at the map that Kaeya had kindly given them, marked with numerous locations that were well known in Mondstadt. "Okay then what happened after is that Stormterror came during the commotion which led to a chance for the person to escape. . then when they fell into the lake, followed by soldiers trying to catch them. . Stormterror took a sip or rather bite out of the lake and ate the people there?"

Aether continued with a distraught looking expression as he tried to imagine it, well he didn't have to imagine it for long because due to a commotion near the lakeside he turned, finding Amber and a few knights pulling a net which contained fish, clothes and . . dismembered limbs.

Paimon paled, floating behind him as she covered her eyes.

Despite the nauseating feeling he approached to inquire about the bodies, it would be bad if the creator lookalike had been eaten by Stormterror. "Oh Traveler come here!" Amber waved over as he gulped but nonetheless reluctantly got closer. The smell of iron filled their noses, nauseating them.

"A-are you finding the 'lookalike' I heard they fell into the lake?" Aether offered, trying to ignore the close up looks of the bodies in his peripheral vision. "Yes, we are looking for the 'imposter' we need to make sure they're dead." The outrider corrected, with a disturbing look the travelling duo could not quite place for a lack of better terms.

The blond haired boy scrutinized the outrider in front of him, sure they had a rough first meeting when Amber was very suspicious of him but he got past that because she was doing her job, this however. . hunting down a person just because of the face they were born with, was this her job as well as an outrider? as a knight of Favonius? This was not the person he respected, and that made it all the more disappointing.

This entire situation flabbergasted him, perhaps it was because he was not of this world but. . was it common sense to hunt someone down and kill them on sight for having the face of a God? would there be no trial? no interrogation or due process? He understood the appeal to devote ones self to the Creator, for he felt their lingering warmth and love even from an inanimate statue in their image.

He also understood that there was a prophecy of an imitator, a devil disguising themselves as the creator and being a sign of chaos, and sure Mondstadt was in a chaotic state but what if the prophecy wasn't real? prophecies weren't exactly reliable anyways and was it worth risking the chance of harming and offending their Creator if that person wasn't an imposter??

"What got you so quiet?" Amber noticed as the boy flinched, "nothing, it's just the smell is bothering me."

"Oh- that's fair, Sorry for making you come closer I should have approached you instead" she at least had the nerve to be sheepish about it "This is the first time Stormterror killed someone. Mostly they have been causing disturbances with the storms and some injuries here and there, but this would be the first recorded casualties."

"Does that mean, Stormterror's gotten ticked off by something?"

"Probably, it's probably because of the Imposter" the brown haired girl's lips had thinned considerably "I guess Stormterror has a bit more common sense to attack the Imposter as well. That's nice at least, if only he had finished the job."

Aether forced himself to laugh awkwardly, "well, I uh see. . anyways I need to go. I have a quest to fulfill."

Not really noticing his behavior, Amber offered something with a smile "Oh where are you headed? I'll be going on a search and exterminate party with a small group of knights maybe we could join together and help each other."

"Maybe some other time-" Paimon finally spoke, cutting Aether off "Sure! Where are you headed?" Amber who brushed off what Aether was originally going to say "We're going to comb the areas around the lake, if Stormterror didn't managed to kill the imposter then it's likely that they were able to swim to the shores."

"Wait-" Paimon quickly elbowed her friend before turning to Amber "then uhh, we'll pick the farthest one, it's more important that we find the Imposter after all, right Aether?"

"I- oh yeah, I guess." he quickly said after realizing why Paimon was agreeing to the suggestion.

Paimon's eyebrows had ticked in annoyance at the subpar acting Aether possessed. Honestly, could he not be so obviously weird about the imposter-lookalike situation!

Amber meanwhile smiled "That's great!" she was none the wiser "It's nice to see you prioritizing the more important things in life!"

She unrolled the map as she let them take their first pick, Paimon and Aether glanced at each other, wondering which place should they take.

Their outrider friend(?) was called away by a knight so they spoke in hush whispers. "where do you think they'd go. ." aether hummed as paimon whacked him in the head, "hey!" he hissed "what was that for!"

"For you terrible acting, could you be anymore obvious?? You know we have to find them first!" Paimon complained tugging at his ear, "right look sorry!" he swatter her much smaller hand away "but we have to choose now."

Paimon bit her lip "but what if we picked the wrong location and Amber and the others find her first. ." The traveler sighed "It's a risk we have to take, hopefully. . her luck doesn't run out."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"I need some herbs and spices, oh and some more sweet flowers and berries. . It'd be nice if I could catch some meat too." You absentmindedly said, as your pyro slime friend stared at you curiously, you love food after all so it's not entirely weird to be collecting ingredients.

The rucksack on your shoulder was already filled with mint, mushrooms, matsutakes, pinecones, sweet flowers and a few carrots. It was getting fairly heavy but still, you were excited to begin cooking with the ingredients and food that Teyvat had to offer. Would the mushrooms taste even slightly different from the ones in real life? is sweet flower sugar a better type of sugar than the one in real life as well? what about pinecones? how do they taste? she actually tried biting it but it wasn't any good, since the description of the item in-game was about having oil-rich seeds you assume it was either a substitute for cooking oil or the seeds are actually eaten or could add a taste to the few recipes that used them in the game like the hash browns.

"Want one?" you offered an apple to the pyro slime who shook in your hold, "so that's a no. Do you prefer sticks and coal? or what about pine cones?"

The pyro elemental being stared at the pinecone you handed him, and proceeded to eat it, simply by burning it inside of him. "Oh. ."

Luckily he seemed to like it enough when he jiggled like a happy jello. "We really need a name for you!**" you smile, petting him. There was a couple that went to your mind however before you could decide you stop by the coast or shores of the lake, you could see Mondstadt in the distance where the city was under dark gloomy skies.

'serves them right'

your eyes widened, surprised at your own bitter thoughts, one part of you loathed the city that traumatized you and rejected you but a part of you couldn't help but think of the poor people. .

"it's going to be okay, the traveler will save Dvalin and everything will be fine."

You basked in the sounds of the water and the chirping of the birds, as the smell of burning pine cones and freshwater filled your nostrils. You felt a sense of calm despite seeing the city under a blanket of darkness, from the looming dark clouds above it.

*snap!* body freezing up as you hear footsteps and the shaking of bushes. Your pyro slime friend jumped out of your hands, wiggling threateningly at the direction of the noise.

Turning slightly, you see two people getting out of the bushes. A boy with long blond hair, braided neatly and another, much smaller, floating near the other with silver hair.

Aether and Paimon. .

*this is claude, of course the clothes are not that open so your chest is covered (tho depending on you there may be a side-boob view (based on the shirt cut meme)) ** I will be posting a poll for the pyro slime's name, you are free to recommend names here, and if a name has been chosen, the person who gave the idea can request for a special chapter from this series (that can happen canonically, or not, or in a diff region.) however if a name I have suggested for has been chosen then I'll give a list of ideas for special chapters you can vote on that will be written.

ONE ACCOUNT IS ONLY ALLOWED TO SUGGEST AT MOST 2 NAMES (this applies to me)!

Current compiled suggestions: Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru)

taglist: @fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa

[lady-of-tearshed]

Temporary

Pairing: Azris

Summary: Just a cozy morning between secretly mated Azris... they're adorable. This takes place before the IC boys annual snowball fight. 🥰

Word count: 1.4k words

Warnings: Mention of sex, mention of oral sex, brooding, slight/almost IC "hate" (Eris is a hater, apologies. Tho he does not 😚)

A/N: Aaaah Azris, my heart. This is my first time writing a homosexual pairing, so, yay? Yay! Anyways! Tell me your thoughts, I'm really excited about sharing this one with yall. 💕 ALSO! Let December, the merriest month of the year (in my modest opinion), BEGIN!

If you want to see what Eris... jumper looks like in the fic below, click here!

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

The sound of crackling fire doesn’t send ripples of raw terror down Azriel’s spine anymore. His hands don't start shaking at the mere sight of a flame, and it doesn’t make him recall the way the fire had licked the skin off his hands as his brothers laughed devilishly.

No, not anymore. Now, Azriel has found a way, someone, who makes him see the flames as other than fear and danger. Now, he can enjoy the warmth it provides him. He can even just watch how the flame dances in the fireplace and just relax. Enjoy. Admire its beauty…

And the person who managed to accomplish this Gods damn miracle is currently curled around Azriel’s pillow, their and Azriel's scent filling the room. It's a perfect combination of warm cider and cinnamon, with a hint of cloves mixed with Azriel’s night-chilled mist and cedar unique scent. The smell clings to the bedsheets, much to Azriel’s delight. It probably will stay that way for a few more days, hopefully. This scent, his mate's scent, his lover’s scent, Eris scent.

Warmth flooded Azriel’s chest, and he stills. The feeling of the bond in his chest still makes him unsteady. Hasn't quite gotten used to the way Eris feels through the bond, nor had he mastered to control the massive waves of emotions he sometimes sends down his mate's side.

The Illyrian steps closer to the bed, keeping his footsteps light and discreet. He sits down beside Eris' sleeping form, his eyes roaming over his utterly naked skin. The light coming from the fire burning in front of Azriel's bed dances over Eris’ freckled back, casting the most enticing shadows on his skin. Azriel sucks in a breath, Eris looks like a God. The Mother herself must envy the male, honestly.

Azriel, unlike Eris, is dressed and almost ready to leave the house. Today, Azriel has planned to leave his secluded flat and fight the frigid weather of the largest peak of Velaris mountains. Today, like every year since centuries, he would not only have to fight the cold and the wind, but also his brothers’ ruthlessness.

Azriel is anticipating his 200th snowball fight victory this year, and hopes to get it over with soon, so he can just crawl back in bed with his favorite redhead to claim his prize.

Fuck the birchin, he would most likely get kicked out anyway. Thoughts of Eris haunt his days and nights now, and the heat of the birchin would just remind him of the heat emitting from his mate’s body when his mouth parts open and Azriel is buried deep in-

“Az, this is an ungodly hour to have these kinds of thoughts,” Eris grumbles, rolling over to face Azriel. His amber eyes meets Azriel’s. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Azriel responds, his voice barely above a whisper. His scarred hand reaches down, and cradles Eris' cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you up.” His thumb traces the freckles on his cheekbone, the softness of Eris’ face makes Azriel shiver. Eris' lips twitch with amusement, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. And Cauldron boil and fry him, Azriel has to fight every instinct in order to keep his clothes on and not claim Eris' pretty mouth with his cock right here and then.

If Rhysand isn’t already growing suspicious of his spymaster's behavior, he would definitely suspect something is going on if Azriel fails to attend their traditional snowball fight without warning them. He can't allow Rhysand to start questioning him, because Eris would kill Azriel for that. Not quite literally, at least. But he would be greatly displeased.

It’s not that Eris wants to keep it a secret forever. No. Eris is a jealous, and quite possessive male. He truly wants nothing more than to make the world know that Azriel is his. Problem is, with his new High Lord position and Autumn closed-minded population, announcing it publicly could create chaos. Eris cannot allow that to happen. His Court is still weak, courtiers are constantly on a rotation, people are tense… A bad reaction to this news could quickly degenerate. Eris still has to build some trust and respect amongst his court, and change a few things up before publicly announcing his mating bond with a male. A male and an Illyrian.

Azriel gets Eris' point of view, and he respects this. Eris considers himself the luckiest male in Prythian for that. Just comprehension and respect, no questions, no pushing.

Though sometimes when Eris is away, he looks at the stars and moon and wonders if this was the right decision. He also wonders how much longer? How much longer until he can truly be free, until he can stop hiding? On darkest days, like when he has to stay away from Azriel for over a week or so because of his High Lord responsabilities, he wonders if Azriel will get bored of hiding. Wonders if he'll get tired of waiting, and end this, the special thing that they have. Eris’ most prized treasure. He wonders what, and if, and why…

A pinch on Eris' cheek snaps him out of his thoughts. “You’re scowling.”

Eris' nose scrunches and frowns. He hates that Azriel can so easily read him. He also hates that he makes Azriel worry, he wants to make him happy when they're together, not stressed or worried about him because he can't stop brooding. “Yeah, because that’s my jumper you’re wearing.” He lies easily. Azriel doesn't notice.

“Jumper?” Azriel looks down, pulling at the navy and dark orange fabric. “You call that a jumper?”

“What do you call it?”

Azriel chuckles and just shrugs. “I don’t know. Like, a sweater? A pullover?”

“That sounds like a cheap piece of clothing. A jumper is fancy.” Eris protests, pulling the sheets further up his body and crossing his arms.

“Yes, yes. Very fancy, my heart.” Azriel leans in, and pampers Eris' scowling face with kisses. Eris looks like a ruffled angry bird, which makes Azriel laugh once more. Before Eris can snap at him for making fun of him, Azriel leans down and nips at the tip of his nose before pulling away. “I have to go now.”

“With my jumper on?”

Azriel halts. He feels the heat creeping up his cheeks. He rolls his neck, trying to ease the unease that settled in the muscles there. “Uh, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Eris props himself up on his elbows and stares. Azriel has to force his eyes to stay focused on Eris’ face, else they will venture down to stare at the sheet dropping dangerously low to his waist. Eris bites his lip, his eyes still assessing Azriel. Eris looks at him up, then down, without any ounce of shame. After what feels like an eternity, Eris just shrugs. “Yeah. Let the ba…”

Azriel's stare hardens, giving Eris a warning. So Eris thinks before continuing what he was about to say, wisely choosing his words. Not without rolling his eyes first, he tries again. “Let your… friends, I guess, know that a delicious smelling person shares your life now. I don’t mind. Just… don’t tell them everything, please. Not now.”

Azriel nods, and before Eris can start to justify himself, he shuts him up by placing his lips on his. He kisses him slowly, savoring the few minutes he has left before he really has to go. When they break apart, reluctantly, Eris' cheeks are tinted with the prettiest shade of pink. “Will you still be there when I come back?” Azriel asks.

Eris chews his lip and runs his hand through his messy auburn curls. “Maybe. I don’t know. I have… stuff waiting for me in Autumn. So… I don't think so. I'll see.”

Azriel nods, though he would have prefered a more certain answer. Because what else can he do about that?

This– the bond–is still new for both of them, but Azriel would be lying if he said he wouldn’t love to have his mate here, in his small apartment, in his bed every day of his immortal life. But he understands. Plus, this is all just a temporary situation. At the moment, Eris has responsibilities, more than ever since he became High Lord. He has a court to rebuild and… hounds waiting for him to get back to them, spoil them and care for them.

Does Azriel feel a bit jealous of the hounds? No. Maybe? Just a little bit. “Alright,” He hesitates, then asks Eris, “Will you come back?”

No matter how many times Eris makes his way back to Azriel, the fear of losing him forever always lingers in the shadowsinger's head. So Azriel always asked, just to be sure, and Eris never questioned. He simply smiles fondly at him and speaks the truth like he always does. “Always.”

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103

[liberifatalis]

I don’t know how long this was in my inbox for, I’m assuming it’s been here for like 3 years so I’m SO sorry anon lol. I’ve been going through writers block for like years at this point and I still struggle with it. 

BUT recently I’ve gotten back intowriting kinda, and since I’ve been writing a Sephiroth fic I thought I’d finally start writing headcanons again. The FF7 writing community outside of in-game ships is dry as fuck right now, especially the headcanon/reader-insert side of fandom, so hopefully you’ll enjoy this if you’re still out there anon! I apologise again TTTT

This is a mix of SFW and NSFW headcanons as it’s been a while since I’ve posted any headcanons, and my view on Sephiroth has sort of changed since the last time I posted headcanons for him, so it might be different to my previous interpretations. But I have included more spicy headcanons, so hopefully you'll enjoy!

I would like to add that while these are my own interpretations of Sephiroth, I have also been influenced by many other interpretations/headcanons of him as well! Most of these aren’t adding anything original at all, and I’d say a lot of blogs on here say about the same kind of thing in regards to him. So if anyone disagrees, that’s okay! This is all interpretation and I’m just mainly having fun.

SFW and non-SFW below All headcanons are of CrisisCore!Sephiroth

DISCLAIMER: long post below, lots of text.

SFW

I know he’s like…technically half alien, and that’s a big reason as to why he’s always felt and kind of behaved differently, but to me, he’s very very neurodivergent coded. I don’t want to use a specific label, but he’s absolutely neurodivergent to me. He’s always felt like an outcast, he stands out, he holds himself differently, he’s aloof, stoic, doesn’t really know how to say things without coming off as intense and kinda intimidating. He barely socialises with anyone other than his friends because he doesn’t really know how to. He never seeks out friendship with anyone, and he became friends with Genesis and Angeal originally because of proximity. I’m not saying the friendship wasn’t genuine, it was and he cared for them, but he’ll never be the first to initiate a friendship or anything like that – the fact that Genesis and Angeal were in SOLDIER, therefore in proximity to Sephiroth, is what sparked the friendship. He would have never been like “hey bro, let’s be buddies”. It was more like, he had to see these people regularly, so he had no choice but to socialise with them, and then he ended up finding out that they weren’t too bad and he enjoyed their company, and friendship and a deeper bond formed after that. 

He struggles to relate to people, but grows very attached to people he can relate to. Whether that’s being an orphan, being an outcast, shared hobbies,  ANYTHING. If he can find anything to relate to someone, something you can share, it sparks his interest (platonically) and will make him feel slightlyyyy more at ease around you and want to get to know you more.

A lot of people headcanon him with anxiety or PTSD, and I completely agree. He’s very neurotic. But I think that’s quite obvious if you consider his past and how he was raised. No one could come out of that completely mentally healthy and sane. He’s prone to insomnia, night terrors, panic attacks, but it’s never shown to anyone but him. In canon, we can see that he’s almost always composed and professional, and he is constantly putting in effort to maintain that demeanor. 

Has no identity outside of SOLDIER/Shinra. Him being neurodivergent also makes him struggle a lot more with this, so he’s kind of internalised being a SOLDIER and it completely defines him. Poor boy is lost.

He likes people (platonically and/or romantically) that can “keep up with him.” Zack, Genesis and Angeal were his only friends, and it makes sense. They can, at least somewhat, keep up with him. He likes a slight challenge (physically and mentally), someone that can keep his brain moving. I think he’d be amused by someone who was a bit hot-headed or blunt, as well.

Very dry sense of humour, as we see in canon. A lot of the time people can’t tell he’s joking unless they’re close with him. 

Very very intelligent and academic. Loves to read. Lil nerd. Will read encyclopedias, dictionaries, thesauruses, history books, articles, textbooks, science books, anything non-fiction. Not only does it calm his brain and his neuroticism, but he is genuinely interested in anything where he can gain knowledge. Knowledge is power, and he needs to feel powerful. He is a fast reader too, able to finish an average 500 page book in under 6 hours.

Only listens to classical music. Literally does not understand anything else. There can’t be any vocals, just instruments. 

Horrible at expressing himself honestly and genuinely, and spontaneously. Everything is carefully thought out and spoken bluntly, as if he’s reading from a textbook. He will literally stand there silently, eyes narrowed in deep thought, for a minute if he needs that time to think of a reply, because he’s not one to fumble over words. If he’s with someone (a friend or partner) who will give him the space and patience to speak openly and awkwardly, it will still take him time to be completely vulnerable. A partner who is open and vulnerable and doesn’t shy away from being a little awkward with their feelings will involuntarily demonstrate vulnerability for him, and give him an opportunity to try it for himself, and he’ll kind of learn from them.

^^^ Adding on to this point, there are so many scenes in my rough drafts of Flood & Flame where Sephiroth and reader are literally standing there staring at each other like this gif, and mulling over what they should say LMAO. A lot of these scenes made the cut, too. Just two neurodivergent folk falling in love, nothing else to see here!

Takes ages for him to get comfortable with someone and trust them. The process is easier if, as mentioned before, he can relate to you in any way, if you’re open with him first, or if you’re in proximity. Eg, if you work in Shinra or SOLDIER, you mention your mum died, you say you like swords, you mention you like combat, etc etc. It can be something so small, but because he’s neurodivergent and has felt alone his whole life, he’ll latch on to it and that will be the starting point of the friendship/relationship developing. He needs an opportunity to get  closer to you, or else it will be difficult and near impossible.

He needs to feel in control or else he’ll spiral. I don’t mean in a toxic way, as in “you’re my friend/partner so you can never look at anyone and can’t have friends and blah blah blah”, I mean it as in he needs to constantly upkeep his professional demeanour and look like he has his shit together, even if he hasn’t slept for two days and has barely eaten and has been having panic attacks. He will slip, sometimes, maybe being a bit more snarky or moody than usual, or saying/revealing something he didn’t mean to, but ultimately he has control over every facet of his being. This makes him a very intentional person, too. He means everything he says, and sticks to his word. 

He loves routine, it keeps him grounded. But this means that he dislikes change and has a hard time dealing with it. It can be as little as Shinra changing the ingredients to his shampoo and conditioner, or to what happened to Genesis and Angeal in Crisis Core – change on any scale is overwhelming to Sephiroth.

Definitely not a love at first sight kind of guy. Even if you’re like, strikingly beautiful, everyone just is when he first meets them. You’re just a person (and this isn’t in a condescending way lol) like everyone else. He could only develop romantic feelings and love for someone after getting to know them. Then he starts to see you as beautiful and so much more. It’s really sweet.

If he ever developed feelings for anyone, he wouldn’t even know he was developing feelings for a good chunk of it lol. He’d think he was just fascinated by them. Eventually he’d realise, oh shit, do I…love this person? He’d start catching on once he starts thinking of them more often and seeking out their company, and eventually when he had the impulsive urge to kiss them, he’d realise he was in too deep.

Touch starved and also kind of touch repulsed. He’s a contradiction sometimes, and it confuses him.  He’s more touch starved than he is touch repulsed, but when you haven’t had ANY physical affection all your life, and all you know is war and death and being tested on, you of course are going to go into a bit of a shock if anyone touches you. He’s used to combat, to having his guard up and being skeptical. So if you happen to brush your shoulder accidentally against his, or your hand accidentally touches his, it sends a wave of electricity throughout his entire body, almost burning him on the inside. He wants to reach out, but he stops himself. Unsure why he wants to, why he likes it, and Sephiroth not knowing something means not having the upper hand and not having control, and that makes him disgusted and disappointed in himself. 

Physical affection (platonic, romantic, sexual) will take time. He needs to let his guard down to accept it and embrace it. If he trusts you, it will be easier, but still tedious. Once he gets there, even just by a little bit, you’ll see him start to initiate affection, and then once he is fully comfortable being with you, he is obsessed with it. He is always wanting to be in your presence, just like a cat. Even if you’re not doing anything, just being able to see you and be near you is enough and what he needs; this is partly to do with wanting to know you’re safe and worrying that something is going to happen, that something is going to change and he’ll lose everything. Like I said, he needs to be in control, and if he’s around, he can stop something from going wrong.

He comes to love physical affection, it is so so calming to him and comforting. Loves to hold you and smother you. Loves to smell your hair or the soap you used in the shower, he just loves the presence and feeling of you. Eventually he is very clingy and touchy with physical affection, and it’s one way he shows his complete love and devotion. Is a big fan of cuddling (he never calls it that though) and holding your hands–kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand, lightly caressing and dragging his fingers over all the lines and landscape of your hands. Also really loves resting his forehead against yours.

Due to his upbringing and the way he is, love is all-consuming for him. He loves to the point of obsession and even possibly madness. It takes over him. He would happily let it consume him like a wildfire. He would kill for it. I don’t mean this is an inherently toxic way either, BUT this can become very destructive, and if he happens to be so very unlucky and ends up with a person who doesn’t have good intentions, then it could definitely be a bad thing and end up destructive. Now, in the fanfic/fiction side of things, this is obviously very compelling and fascinating to read, and a love like what I described is quite romantic if it’s in a genuine, passionate and non-toxic way. But I just wanted to add that disclaimer that it can become quite the opposite of romantic and be destructive if it’s not a relationship that is trying to be healthy and trying to grow. I don’t mean it in the way that Sephiroth will become abusive, I just mean that he is obsessive naturally, and that can turn out to be a positive or a negative, depending on the situation. He can be a flame that is burnt out, or a flame that burns others. 

MORE SFW + non-SFW

He’s a virgin. I said this before and I stand by it. Has never kissed anyone, has never been touched–the man hasn’t even been hugged, damn it! 

I do think, realistically, if I wanted to be 100000% accurate, I’d consider him asexual and aromantic, especially after Crisis Core timeline, and if you wanted to see him as some narcissistic, entitled, eldritch-horror sort of villain, which he very much is tbh. BUT he is half-human (to me), and I don’t think it’s far-fetched at all to believe he has urges like everyone else. So, for me, I see it the same way as I do with how he’d fall in love with someone. I don’t think he could ever be sexually/physically attracted to someone unless he was close with them and trusted them. Once he develops feelings for you, then he’d start to immediately be sexually attracted to you. Before all that, you were just another person, you just are–your body is a body, it is functioning, it just is. But then, when he has feelings for you (and as I mentioned before, he doesn’t even understand until much later that he has feelings for you), suddenly your body…it takes his breath away. Your shoulders. Your chest. Your everything; it paralyses him, almost. You are a walking goddess/god to him, so beautiful and bright he is transfixed and can’t look anywhere but at you. Your face looks like it was sculpted by an artist that was gifted with magic from the Cetra. A rare beauty, one that he cannot put into words as it is a beauty so special and intricate that no human words can do any justice. When you look up at him, smile at him, he loses sense of time and place, nothing else exists outside of the small moment you are sharing, and he only sees you. The man is a poet at heart.

Since he is a virgin, and is so damn enthralled by you, he doesn’t really know how to act lol. He looks confident and like he’s in control, but he’s not, especially the first time you do anything. The first time you kiss, you’ll have to lean in first, or give him a sign you’re wanting him to kiss you. Honestly, you’ll probably have to tell him it’s okay to kiss you. It’s just a soft, chaste kiss at first. He’s never done this, remember. But like everything, he’s highly skilled and intelligent, and kissing is natural, so once he’s confident again it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of things. 

He has many kinds of kisses. Soft ones that last long without breaking away, reminders that he’s there and he isn’t going anywhere. Other kisses that are quick, multiple long pecks, that are to tell you you’re beautiful and he’s thinking of you and he’s grateful. Then there are the passionate ones, the ones where he throws in every desire and intense feeling he can’t ever comprehend or describe, where he’s losing himself in you–kissing you as if it’s all he knows, changing the rhythm and speed because he’s in the moment. It’s as if he can’t get any closer to you/can’t get enough. Sephiroth’s passionate kisses are exactly how he is–intense, skillful, intentional, and overwhelming. He kisses with the same skill and intent he uses to wield Masamune. 

Sexually repressed boy. Sex is extremely vulnerable, and he doesn’t understand or know how to express his sexuality. At first he’s afraid he’s going to hurt you. 

The first time he has sex, he is in awe and is so curious. He focuses more on you, ignoring himself, wanting to know every contour of your body. His hands are all over, eyes focused on you, trying to gauge every reaction so he can store it in his memory. He always cares more about your pleasure than his own, and he is genuinely turned on when you are. He is slow and gentle, taking his time, and he needs your instructions to figure out what to do. 

Once he is familiar with your body, and his own, he’s literally insatiable. He needs you, every day. And since he’s SOLDIER and not completely human, the man has stamina. Jesus christ. He could go for multiple rounds and he’s good to go even after he came. He knows he’s built differently though, like a fucking tank, and unless you’re into overstimulation, he’s perfectly happy with whatever you want. 

I think a relationship with Sephiroth, that eventually includes sex, will include a lot of exploration for you both. But especially with Sephiroth. He’s never been this vulnerable and open before, never really understood his sexuality and urges and was kind of disgusted in them. But I think he’d discover a lot about himself, and it surprises him just how much desire he really has.

Sex with Sephiroth is not just fucking. It can’t be. He couldn’t have sex with someone he didn’t trust and have strong feelings for. Sex is an act of love, an act of devotion and adoration, an opportunity to tell you without words just how much he’d do for you and how deeply he loves you. Just like when he kisses you, it’s like he can’t get close enough, and even though you’re pressed against each other he still needs to be closer. 

He really loves the feeling of your bare chest against his. It almost makes him primal. 

I think he’d be really into edging, and he’d have a praise kink. He’d want to be worshiped but would also be worshiping you. It would be two people literally feeding each other’s egos lmao. I also think, considering how much control and power he does truly have, he’d also be happy to relinquish it from time to time, and enjoy a partner who’s a bit domineering and bossy, and one that takes control. So if you want to push him down on the bed, ravish him and boss him around, and ride him till the sun sets, he’ll be more than delighted. 

Loves giving head. Yes, everyone likes receiving it, but when he gives head, it’s like he’ll never be able to do it again. He goes down on you as if it’s his last day on the planet. Absolutely devours you like Shinra has ordered him to. His tongue and jaw never get tired, by the way. 

Not very loud but he does get more vocal the more you have sex. Grunts a lot and has a very deep, guttural moan. 

He’s very attuned to the senses. Sound, smell, and touch turn him on so much, and have a significant effect on him. The sound of your voice can send him into a frenzied state, and even if it’s the middle of the day and he happens to smell your perfume or scent on his sheets or his clothes, he starts to go crazy. 

More often than not he has to tie up his hair every time you have sex or he goes down on you. It always gets in the way, and you do NOT want to find a long strand of his hair in between anywhere. 

I can’t decide on whether he has super sperm due to Jenova’s genes or if he’s infertile. Like it’s either one or the other to me and I feel like both make sense, but still can’t quite decide on one. He’d either be the type to have sperm so strong that even birth control couldn’t stop them, or he’d be infertile and no scientific method whatsoever could help. Who knows honestly.

[phantoms-lair]

Crack Fic Poll

So the school year is over and I discovered rather than a long vacation I am unemployeed due to budget cuts.

Need to drown my focus in crack fanfiction. Which of these werid little crossovers/AU does anyone want to see

Options are:

Power Ranger Multi Cross - Zordon needs five overbearing and overemotional individuals. And sure the grid could grab the people right there in Angel Grove. Or it could maximize the good done by pulling from the multiverse of people who would benefit from a second chance at life (in most cases literally). Red Ranger Charles Rowland, Blue Ranger Edwin Payne, (Dead Boy Detectives) Black Range Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom), Yellow Ranger Adam (Frankenstein), Pick Ranger Grace Garlond (Shadow Hearts: From the New World) (And her +1, the souls of her murderous boyfriend she dragged along with her) and future Green Ranger Jason Todd, fresh from the lazarus pit, has not had time to confirm what Talia said about his Dad replacing him, and has to figure out his moral compass on his own.

WeirdWolf (Batman)- Jason Todd aka the Red Hood has borken into Titan's Tower to teach a little birdy a lesson. Except Tim Drake is almost completely feral, not Robin, and oh yeah the real Jason Todd is here and some kind of werewolf? What the Hell is going on?

Of Fire and Dragons(Avatar the Last Airbender/Overwatch)-A weird dimensional glitch switched Zuko and Genji. And in this strange Spirit-touched place with talking gorillas, and new eyes that glow red, Zuko has never felt more out of his depth. But the longer he stays, the more he questions if he truly wants to go home. Meanwhile former Overwatch Black Ops member, Genji, thought taking out Firelord Ozai would end this war without children needing blood on their hands but he might have just escalated things. Oops.

Side Effects Include (Splatter House)- Rick has saved Jennifer from the Corrupted, detached from the Terror Mask, and returned to normal. He...has returned to normal, right? Yeah it turns out turning into a combat monster was Masks doing, but beefing himself up by feeding on necrotic energy? Yeah that was a Rick choice and some side effects may occur.

When Cousins Come Calling(Danny Phantom/Superman/Freakazoid) - Danny can keep his secret from his parents no problem. But when his Dad's brother and his wife go on a vacation and leave their sons Duncan and Dexter and at the same time his Mom's younger sister asks if cousin Jimmy can stay with them for a while because Metropolis is getting too dangerous, the full house might make it a little difficult.

A Dangerous Mind (Power Rangers/The Shadow)- Billy Cranston didn't think much about the cousin he hadn't known about coming to visit. He certainly doesn't think he'd about to uncover multiple generations worth of family trauma, including that he's far from the first Cranston to be a superhero.

Vagabonds(My Hero Academia/Sentinels of the Multiverse)- The Mistgates pulled all manner of heroes and villains though it in an attept to save the Multiverse by destroying Oblivaeon. But as Fey Diamond died to her power, they destabilized and dragged in those with the potential to become such. In which Izuku, Todoroki, and Toga get zapped across the multiverse by an errant mistgate at a young age and are raised by Darkwatch, with occasional uncle Ansel G. Moreau

Of Soulstone and Spiders (Malifaux/Into the Spiderverse)- Miles Morales took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up lost in the multiverse, in some weird eldritch horror Wild West place. Taken in by a performing troupe who operate as smugglers, he needs to figure out who are his allies, where he stands, and hopefully how to get back.

[mudisgranapat]

I. Lights Out

Word Count: 2,7 k

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X F! Reader

Content: zombie apocalypse, mention of dead bodies, mention of death, children

Summary: A virus has taken over the world, turning people into zombies. Amidst the chaos, Simon has managed to stick together with the other operators of Task Force 141, his life barely any different than it was before. That is, until the day he crosses paths with a woman that keeps a well hidden secret and holds something he has long forgotten existed: a baby

Note: This is my first fic (and first tumblr post)! Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I already have the story planned out, and will be posting the next chapter soon if anyone cares about this. If not, I’ll pretend I never posted this lol

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Sitting on the back of the Humvee, Simon could almost believe that things were normal. The constant hum of the engine numbed his mind, as he stared into the sewing of the padding covering the old seat. Soap was seated directly across from him, blabbing his mouth to Gaz, who acted like he could hear anything besides the huge vehicle's obscene noise. Behind the steering wheel was his Captain, Price. Although, that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not ranks, not names. Nothing was normal, and the reality outside that Humvee was something Simon, not even in his worst days, ever believed could happen.

He had witnessed bleak images. Cruelty in abundance. But the world he saw now was unlike anything he had ever seen before - the dead, roaming among the living. Not that he hadn’t encountered his fair amount of corpses, after all, that came with his job. But this, seeing the bodies of civilians, once full of life, now life-less and decaying at an evolving speed, nonetheless persisting, chasing the taste of human meet… It was different.

When the early signs of the apocalypse started to show, most of the people downplayed it, him included. He had always been a skeptic, and it just didn’t seem viable that a virus could bring down humanity with such strength. Regardless, Simon hadn’t been too worried about the so-called “end of the world”; He thought that his military ties would be enough to keep him informed with privileged intel of the real situation.

He had been deployed with the 141, far from civilization, when shit really went down. For obvious reasons, they came out empty-handed from the recon mission. Turns out terrorism doesn’t come first in the list of the insurgent’s priorities when there is a deathly virus going around. It was only at his team's fruitless attempt to land back at base that he found out that his ranks and years of service didn’t matter when the world was collapsing. They had been out for long enough that, when they came back, there was no more government in place. No hierarchy to follow, and no rules to structure society. And no one cared about them enough to let them know beforehand.

Some people had stayed in their houses, probably clutching their kitchen knives close to their hearts while they heard their neighbor's inhuman noises. Others had divided themselves into smaller groups, in the hopes of giving humanity a fighting chance. The lucky ones had made it to what once were the quarantine zones, now just simply a bigger group of people that managed to stick together and with far better resources. From there, all the typical apocalyptic mayhem developed: gangs, revolutionary groups, miracle safe spaces, cults, and so on. The chaos you would expect to see in a movie. Apparently, they weren’t that far from reality.

Along with the 141, Simon fell into the “smaller group” category - not that the four men would give humanity a fighting chance, they just didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Being military men, their lives revolved around structure and order, so it was natural for them to stick together. Whatever ties to the old world they had before had long been severed, and quickly they realized that it was less painful to hope that anyone they cared about had had the privilege of dying a quick death.

Not that that mattered to Simon either. He didn’t have anyone. So sitting at the back of that Humvee they had stolen from an abandoned base, things didn’t feel that different from what they used to be.

Soon enough, the group expanded, thanks to Soap, who had managed to fix an old radio and get in touch with a few other military personnel who were scattered around the globe. That is how they found Laswell: she had managed to seclude a select group of people from the military in one of the bases that were abandoned in the turmoil. They didn’t mention that she never tried to contact them while they were away on that recon mission, and she didn’t bring it up either. Now, over two years had passed, and the topic was long forgotten.

They were a bunch of people tied together by the hope they could still save humanity: scientists, agents, medics… Everyone had their place in the small society Laswell had created. And Simon… Well, he was a soldier. And soldiers are always useful when in the right hands. That was why things hadn’t changed much for him, and for the first time in his life, the fact that he never had a home to come back to was a relief.

Price was currently driving towards an abandoned research post, that had once been filled with people working to find a cure for the virus that plagued the world. Now, it was just a pile of junk and hopelessness, where Laswell swore they could still find valuable intel - maybe someone had forgotten to scrub their hard drive, or left behind a notebook with notes. At this point, even a post-it with bullet points would be considered a success.

As they pulled up to the location, they decided to park a few meters away from the entrance and proceeded with the skillfulness of a well-oiled machine. Soap and Gaz cleaned the era, taking out the few zombies in the vicinity with their knives, as Price and Ghost scanned for any intelligent life form that could possibly cause trouble. Not that they were expecting to find anything, it was just a precaution, as anyone who once lived there had either fled the area or become another roaming corpse.

They were about to follow the small dirt path that led to the makeshift building when Gaz held up his hand, a signal to stay put, while he used the other to hold the thermal vision glasses to his eyes. “I’m reading two heat signatures - one small and the other even smaller. Looks like it could be a woman and a child. The woman seems to be armed.”

“Let me see this, Gaz.” Says Price as he analyzes the scene himself. “He is right. Two signatures, one is armed.” Gaz makes a look of mock surprise behind the Captain, as he hadn’t just said that. He had become a lot more sassy since he could not be demoted.

“What do we do now?” Soap asks. “It’s not like we can just shoot a kid.”

Price pretends not to hear the last sentence. “I will approach, unarmed. They are probably just scared and trying to find a safe place to live. I’ll tell them we can give them some of our food if they come out and let us take a look at the place.” Before anyone can suggest an alternative, the Captain is removing his guns from the holster, and making his way towards the old science lab.

He is only a few feet away when the sound of gunshots fills the air. The bullets, all aimed just inches away from the captain’s boots, trace a line as if saying “Do not come any closer”. Immediately, the rest of the 141 aim their guns at where the shots came from, taking cover behind the trees, waiting for permission to shoot from the Captain, one that never comes.

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY!” A woman’s voice rings in their ears. This confirms part of what they had seen in the thermal goggles: there was a woman inside and she was, indeed, armed.

“I just want to talk, kid.” Price states calmly, standing his ground. He doesn’t take a step forward, so the shooter doesn’t feel challenged, but doesn’t take a step back either. He is not a man that backs away from a fight. “Name’s John. No need to shoot”.

“You can tell that to your men.” The woman is positioned behind a window, the scope of her gun pointing fearlessly at the bearded man. Not expertly, Simon notes to himself, as he can see the slight tremble that reverberates through the metal parts. Although her voice screams confidence, he can tell the person behind it is not as courageous. But she would probably still shoot that gun - Simon has seen more people pulling triggers out of fear than bravery.

“Alright. Stand down, boys.” And they do. “We just want to take a look around, we don’t want trouble”

The woman laughs. “You say, as you carry automatic weapons and wear a bulletproof vest.”

“Just protecting myself from these troublesome fellas around. You know, the ones with their face falling off, trying to eat people.”

“We both know no one needs that much gear to fight some brain-dead walkers.” She doesn’t seem to want to match the light-hearted tone John is trying to bring to the conversation. “Now get out, or my men will shoot you.”

Now it’s Price’s turn to laugh. “Sweetheart, we both know there’s no one else there with you.” He puts both his hands on the shoulder straps of his vest. “That is, except for the child.”

John was just trying to assert his dominance by showing he had more information than he had let on. However, an angry string of bullets directed toward his feet, again, showed that the comment had struck a nerve. “Get out.” She said through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear. “Or the next ones are going straight through that stupid fucking hat of yours.”

“Listen here, kid.” The Captain was angry now. He didn’t like when people commented on his hat. “I have three men ready to shoot your ass into oblivion if you don’t comply. If you can’t tell, they are military-trained, and they will have you down before you can aim at my stupid fucking hat. So quit being dumb and put that gun down.” It was surprising he had let her go as far as shooting at him twice, but he was done negotiating.

“Are you with the Resistance?” Simon almost wants to laugh at that name. The Resistance was a group that, surprise, surprise, wanted to resist the Government. People have too much faith in the Government, in his opinion, as it had crumbled before he came back from his mission. To be fair, it had been a long mission, so maybe he was being a little harsh. Now, the Resistance was a group of rebels that had nothing to rebel against, and who, ironically, had become the closest thing to a government you could have nowadays.

“No, we are not.” Simon could tell John’s patience was wearing thin. He isn’t a big fan of the Resistance either. “We are a group that’s still trying to fix things in this goddam world and that lab might have valuable information. Now let us through.”

At that, the woman puts the gun down and stands up. She probably didn’t know that, but by the tone of his Captaion’s voice, she had probably taken her last chance to avoid a conflict. “Name’s Y/N.” She says. Simon can see her face now - she looks like she is in her early twenties, with long hair tied in a tight ponytail. She disappears behind the window again, coming out the front door with a baby in her left arm and a pistol in her right hand. “I’m keeping the gun.”

“Suit yourself. Come on, boys.” With that, the three of them are taken out of their trance. He knows what they were thinking because he was thinking the same. Who in their right mind has a baby in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Either this woman was crazy brave or crazy crazy. A baby was a rare sight, a healthy one even more so. But there she stood, baby in her arms and a furious gaze.

They walk past her and her gaze only intensifies. Clearly, the woman was hiding from something, or someone. But that was neither here nor there. They were on a mission, and they were going through with it regardless. Nothing had ever stood in 141’s way.

They don’t ask the baby’s name. Simon had a feeling she might point her gun to his head if he did. Not that he was curious, he could care less about the women or the child.

She doesn’t ask their names either. After all, there is no reason for formalities. If all goes well, they will be gone as suddenly as they appeared.

Inside, the lab was what you would have expected, except for a few things that showed that someone had been living there. It wasn’t hard to find their way around the place, although incredibly annoying to do when there was a five-something-foot-tall woman following them around with a disapproving look. He understood - after all, they were in her house. However, that wasn’t even a house in the first place. Simon tried to mock an equally disapproving look while scavaging for something useful. As if reading his mind, Johnny asks “May I ask why you are living here, of all places? I mean, there are real houses across the street, lass.” Always a gentleman, he was. He could tell the scot had put real effort into that sentence not to sound judgmental.

The building wasn’t too messy, courtesy of the current tenant. It wasn’t too big either. It resembled a house from the outside, and had two stories: the bottom floor looked pretty much like a regular house. It had one room filled with a not-so-normal number of beds, a bathroom, a simple kitchen, and tables everywhere, where it looked like people used to do research and eat, probably simultaneously. The top floor, on the other hand, seemed like something from another world: Wires covered the walls, feeding energy to dozens of different lab-related equipment. Some were big, some were small, and Simon couldn’t name them if his life depended on it.

“The place runs on solar energy. So the showers and appliances installed still work. Except for the cameras, I shut them down a long time ago, along with all this science crap.” So Simon’s intuition was right, she was hiding from something, and knew too much about the place for her to just have stumbled upon it on pure luck. They had already looked at the cameras and made sure that they weren’t working. They were small, installed mostly where it looked like the scientific research went down and at the entrance. She must have been looking for them, as he was pretty sure a regular civilian wouldn’t have been able to spot all of the cameras. But she did, despite the fact that it looked like those were the parts of the house that she used the least. And although Simon's first reaction was to be suspicious, he couldn’t deny that part of him was impressed.

“Smart.” Gaz said, but his tone seemed to reflect some suspicion as well. He had been sitting down in front of a computer since they arrived, trying to recover any data, while the rest of them tossed things around. Unfortunately for them, the scientists who had previously worked there had remembered to scrub the place clean - no documents or information was left behind. “Price, I think I got something.”

Whatever Gaz had been doing in that giant computer, seemed to have worked, as it looked like files were being restored. But the victory was short-lived, and they hardly had time to gather around the machine before the energy shut down. “What happened?” Soap asked.

“I don’t know, it looked like it was working.” Gaz proceeded to furiously tap the keyboard, probably having no idea what he was doing.

“Well, get it to work again then.”

“It’s not that simple, Soap.” As fast as the power went out, it came back on, and the distinct beep of the weird machines splattered around the place could be heard again. “It seems like the whole place rebooted. It was probably easier for them to have all the controls gathered in one place. Simpler.”

But Simon wasn’t focused on Gaz’s explanation. He was focused on the cameras, that he had physically confirmed were shut down, now red light shining bright. Apparently, the machines weren’t the only thing that had turned back on. “Shit.” He heard the woman say behind him. Her face was pale, and she hugged the baby tightly, shielding the child’s face against her chest.

Whatever she was hiding, Simon was willing to bet all his money it had to do with that baby.

[yellowocaballero]

hello i am here to gush. genuinely obsessed with all of your fics but this time ab star wars specifically bc i got into clone wars recently and CANNOT stop thinking ab roleswap AU. both the regular and no chip versions make me so fucking insane. i have never encountered a parent/child relationship that breaks my heart quite like that one. the fact that literal-solider-raising-a-kid-in-an-active-war is the LEAST fucked up part ab their dynamic is incredible. also i love thirty with my whole heart

Aaaahhh thank you!!! This ask is so appreciated lmfao. I am VERY CLOSE to being done the No Chip rewrite (I have decided to rewrite every story in the AU and add another one, because I'm insane) and I'm struggling so hardcore with the last story I need to complete before I finish. I want to share them with y'all so bad because a few of them are really freaking good and people need to witness it. I will take the encouragement and hopefully it shall help power me :)

Regarding the insane Cody & Obi-Wan thing: it has to break your heart. Originally, the gulf between them was due to their difference in stations, social status, and personhood, and Cody's unwillingness to close that gap even if Obi-Wan waned him to. But in no chip the gulf is pretty much 100% shitty decision after shitty decision after shitty decision. There are huge themes of cycles of abuse, authoritarianism, and toxic masculinity, and although the effects of these things are a problem in almost every clone, it's definitely worst in Obi-Wan and Cody.

Cody feels helpless, I guess. He has zero control over his life. He can lead the GAR, he can lead the Imperial army, but no matter how much power he tries to take he can't fill that pit of helplessness-induced despair inside of him. He can seize power again and again, he can exert control over Obi-Wan's life more and more, and he can justify everything terrible thing he's done by saying that it's to keep the people around him safe, but he knows that there's no way to do that. The heartbreaking part is that he cannot protect his kid and his family. He'll never have the power that he thinks a father needs to have, the power that Jango had and that he coveted so much. And that his endless struggles to do the impossible causes 80% of problems in the story.

There's a recurring motif in the story about how love can ruin (This Is Star Wars.). I can't really say if Cody's a good person or a bad one, but I can say that love has made a ruin of Obi-Wan's life.

Thirty loves you too. I also love Thirty. I'm doing the Ben POV rewrite now and he's gotten so insane.

Thank you for the encouragement! Please subscribe to my channel so you can see when the story is finally posted. I am vaguely ballparking that it's 200k words, plus the Ben POV rewrite. Snippet of the Order 66 story under the cut :) What I like about the O66 story is that this snippet is cute out of context and very horrifying in context!!!

Another nightmare came. 

They didn’t get any less scary. The terror was the same, again and again. Obi-Wan thought he was going to die three times a month at least, he faced down armies of battle droids again and again, he had come face to face with a Sith. Maybe these things used to be scary, but Obi-Wan was fourteen now. Nothing freaked out fourteen year olds. Look at Quinlan, he didn’t give a kriff about anything. 

The nightmares never changed. They were just as scary as the very first time. But Obi-Wan knew that everyone was sick of dealing with them, so he had convinced Master and Grandmaster to just ignore them when he woke up in the middle of the night again. Fourteen year olds did not make three people wake up just for one nightmare, and Obi-Wan had to shape up.

Cody said it was always okay to wake him up. And clones didn’t need that much sleep. And…and Obi-Wan’s soul was really convinced that he was going to die, that one day everybody was going to die, and somehow Obi-Wan ended up knocking at his cabin door at 0100. 

Regret hit instantly. Cody opened the door almost as quickly as regret, blinking down at the sleepy and terrified Obi-Wan wearing his robe over his sleep clothes. Obi-Wan second-guessed all his life decisions. 

“Uh,” Obi-Wan said, “wanna hang out?”

Cody, still wearing his day armor, leaned backwards and obviously looked at the clock. Obi-Wan started sweating.

Then Cody looked back at him, shrugged, and stood aside. “Alright. If you stay quiet, you can stay as long as you like.”

And then Cody let Obi-Wan into his room.

Cody had been inside Obi-Wan’s room over a dozen times, but the other way around felt different. Clones were insanely private people, and although Obi-Wan’s newfound access to the barracks had opened up a world of wonder and mystery, certain people still remained enigmas. Cody was one of them. For somebody who was so dominant in Obi-Wan’s life, he didn’t actually know a lot about him.

The cabin didn’t help. It was completely bare, with one trunk at the end of his bed containing his personal belongings and identifications. It was the same trunk every clone had, probably with the same personal belongings and identifications. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. He was at least hoping for wall-mounted heads of vanquished enemies. What he deserved for thinking Cody might have a personality. 

The reason why Cody was still wearing his armor became quickly evident. His small desk bolted to the wall was piled high with formwork, and the softly glowing white lamp evidenced how Obi-Wan had interrupted him in the middle of his midnight formwork. 

Obi-Wan squinted judgmentally at Cody. Cody refused to be ashamed. Obi-Wan squinted further, insinuating that shame was the only appropriate emotion to feel when you were up at 0100 doing formwork. Cody abruptly looked very frightened. 

“When did you get so good at that?”

“I pick up some stuff, you know.” Never would Obi-Wan ever admit how much. He shucked his robe and carefully hung it up on a peg next to Cody’s bucket, bouncing over and depositing himself on Cody’s cot. He’d never seen such neat corners. “Can I help you with your formwork?”

“I have it handled. Take the cot and get some rest.”

Obi-Wan looked dubiously at Cody. “Then where are you going to sleep?”

“I already slept.”

“You liar.”

“I only lie if it’s important.” Cody sat down at his desk, swiveling the stool back and re-asserting his focus over the formwork. He picked up a stylus, only to halt hard. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

What was there to say? It was just the usual. Death, destruction, a million voices crying out in pain before being silenced. It wasn’t anything Cody hadn’t heard before. That Obi-Wan hadn’t felt before. Yet Obi-Wan still couldn’t beat it. 

“Don’t take any vacations to Alderaan,” Obi-Wan said wisely.

“I don’t take vacations.”

“You’re fine, then.”

“Go to bed.”

Obi-Wan embraced the slightly surreal experience of snuggling under Cody’s thin blanket and tightly fitted sheets. Cody turned the lamp low, leaving a single dim star shining in the cabin’s darkness, and soon Obi-Wan heard nothing but the omnipresent hum of the ship’s atmo control and the creaking of Cody’s stool. 

“...Cody?”

Cody spoke without looking up from his work, implying his complete lack of faith that Obi-Wan would stay quiet. Harsh but fair. “Yes, Commander?”

“I seem pretty stupid, right?”

Cody continued signing the formwork, completely unphased. “Not at all. The future’s a scary place.”

Obi-Wan pulled the thin blanket higher, trying to bundle up in it. It was such a thin and scratchy blanket. He was literally a Marshal Commander, why didn’t he have nicer blankets? Obi-Wan had a soft and fluffy one brought over from the Temple. 

“Are you scared of it?”

A little wryly, he said, “I’ve been reliably informed that I’m not afraid of anything.”

Obi-Wan would absolutely believe that, but Cody didn't sound as if he did. “Then what are you scared of?”

Without pausing, almost absentmindedly, Cody said, “Something happening to you.”

Oh. Wow. Obi-Wan pulled the blanket up higher, close to his ears. “Really?”

For the first time, Cody halted. He looked up, staring at the wall. Obi-Wan couldn’t see his expression, but he spoke slowly and strangely. As if he was surprised, or had come to a belated realization. “I…suppose so.” 

Alright, Obi-Wan had to feel guilty now. He had really thought that Cody scolded him for doing dangerous things because it was against regs. “Sorry for jumping off a cliff with that rocketpack Rex stole.”

Cody leaned back a little, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t turn around, and Obi-Wan had a hard time reading his microexpressions. The dim light cast him in a strange glow, a shadow against the dark. “I - remember that. I remember watching you jump off that cliff. I didn’t even see the pack. I just saw you, and…I’d never felt like that before.”

“Felt like what?”

“Petrified,” Cody said distantly. “Like my galaxy was in its last second before neutron collapse. I think I’m scared of that feeling too.”

“I promise not to jump off any more cliffs,” Obi-Wan said, truly distressed. “No more cliff-jumping for me, I swear.”

Cody just huffed a silent laugh. He bent back down over his formwork, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Maybe I’m just scared of you, Commander.”

“What? Me! I’m not exactly going to turn Sith and start commanding a droid army, you know.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything.

He quickly slid off the bed, trotted over to Cody, and gave him a very tight and very awkward hug from behind. Cody froze. Obi-Wan released him, trotted back to bed, and slipped back underneath the covers.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

[gourmetjello]

nikto x reader : intimidated

oh gosh loves it feels so good to be back after such a long break! i’m sorry i disappeared for over a month. sickness, late trainings, writer’s block, studying and barely hanging on by a thread took a toll on me but i’ll try to be back ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

i know it sounds unusual but i’ll try my best to write for other characters too. i know i’ve teased a little list before but now i’m starting to see a pattern form and these are the people i’m most likely going to write for : könig, krueger, ghost, ‘09 ghost, nikto, roach, soap, capt. soap, ‘09 makarov (•̀ᴗ•́ )و

hopefully you all are satisfied with the list! if you have any more suggestions just let me know somehow. now hope you enjoy the fic! ♡

tw ; alcohol, mention of drugs.

—

“drink up, drink up!”

a voice yelled from behind you and all you could hear was the sound of shot glasses being knocked against each other once again. the sound was so familiar by now that you even made a mental note on how glasses sound different when they’re filled and when they’re empty. actually, why was someone raising toasts with an empty glass?

“bottoms up, y’all, don’t be pussies-“

but you didn’t have a glass in your hand, not now. you just stared at the people that were having fun and you couldn’t help but think about how you even ended up here.

there was a friend that you shared with this one guy, that’s quite literally all you were one hundred percent sure about — basically nothing. you could be looking at them directly and you would have no idea who they are, thanks to the cliche ‘friend of a friend’ circle going around this whole party. nobody knew each other, but friends and relationships don’t exist when you’re just drinking, right?

so there was that guy. and when you finally saw his face for the first time, you got the chills down your spine. he immediately seemed like someone you shouldn’t really be messing with — like he was planning something evil? or maybe he already did something bad, it felt childish to think about things like these at your grown age and you couldn’t even put your finger on what your senses told you about this person. just leave him alone and get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

just as that thought crossed your mind, a yell broke through the happy little murmurs and drunken words.

“y’all, what the fuck! get outta’ here! right now! cops outside! holy fucking shit!”

cops outside? what the hell? why?

before the panic settled in, you blinked outside and you were amost immediately sure this wasn’t the fucking police. at least ten men dressed in black tactical outfits stood right next to the huge outdoors pool in the nicely maintained backyard. the well trimmed trees gave them an even scarier look too, painting shadows in the night all over their already dark forms.

you could even see from the corner of your eye that some were equipped with ballistic shields like it was some kind of movie. you have never seen one of those in real life before, and now it gave you a really bad feeling (pretty obviously). their faces were hidden and they were coming closer and closer to the main building all of you and your.. acquaintances were inside.

the guns hanging from their torsos.. wasn’t a nice sight, to be honest. you were convinced that these men were probably legally allowed to do anything as long as they got a bit closer to what they wanted to achieve. and for that, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. come on, shutting down a (not so) little house party with people who look like came straight out of a counter-terrorism organization? isn’t that a tiny exaggeration?

you could have sworn that you only looked away for a few seconds but the next moment you looked around the whole room was empty. fuck. well that’s a situation coming your way for sure, because one of those monsters was heading right towards your direction with a slightly wrinkled paper in his hands.

you wanted to yell and scream at him, to let him know that you absolutely had no clue what this whole thing was about and that you weren’t involved with whatever stupid drug smuggling anyone around you did — since you were sure that you weren’t the target, and they knew that too. but they had to listen to anyone they could catch.

“party’s over..” a deep voice mumbled with a heavy accent. you could recognize it anywhere. a russian accent, gosh.. you’re fucked.

and soon the paper was pressed right into your face. your nose was rubbed against the thin material, not even allowing you to see whatever was printed on it. but it was most likely a person, or at least that was what you could make out when he held it a little further away from you.

“missy, you know this fella?” the man asked.

you had no idea who was on the photo. it was a man with a beard and he seemed way too damn old to be right here, in a house party with some silly college students? he couldn’t be here, you’ve never even seen his face before.

you hesitated a little, not knowing which answer would get you out of here quicker.

“do not keep that mouth shut, come on. you’ll get outta’ here faster, come on.”

your brain immediately sobered up and a small whine left your mouth as you finally took the time to examine the terrifying person that was standing right in front of you. face mask made of kevlar, a gun hanging from his side and a pistol on his right thigh. bulletproof from head to toe. ballistic shield placed next to his other leg.

this guy was going to kill you. one hundred percent. or at least le looked like he would try to do that.

“come on, we don’t bite?”

he tried to speak normally but his statement sounded a lot more like a question, like he wasn’t sure about it either. it could have been the fact that it probably wasn’t usual for them to talk to people that look like they don’t even know where they are. and you were just like that right now. lost as fuck.

you stared up at the photo of the man once again. the black and white printing was so bad that you were barely able to make out the details on it.

“i- um.. no idea w-who’s on the photo.”

“do not lie, missy.”

“i really- i don’t know!”

“well, then let me tell you so you maybe remember, hm? this dude right here,” he gently knocked the face of the man on the paper, the material gently crumbling under his heavy, gloved finger “whose house you’re at right fucking now, has a fuck ton of cocaine under these,” now he kicked the flooring, “these little tiles.”

your eyes widened and to a person who had no clue that you were just as lost here as they are, it would probably come across as some realization. but no, it wasn’t any kind of realization — you really didn’t know about any of this! and it was hard to believe too. you didn’t even see a single line of coke on this party, it was too expensive to be wasted on little college student get-togethers?

“s-sir, i really don’t-“

“we know you know.”

“but i don’t!”

the man’s eyes widened as you started losing your shit. he probably heard the unsure shake in your voice as you slightly raised it — which was probably a stupid idea, but the situation was already bad enough when you’re locked into a burning hot little room that smelled like alcohol with someone who’s straight up dressed in carbon from head to toe? this was getting out of hand.

“missy, i’ve got the legal right to shock you, and if you refuse to give out any information then i’ll just have to do that..”

you were becoming annoyed. you were intimidated as hell and you knew that you couldn’t do anything in a situation like this, you were shaking scared. this man was making you feel so uneasy.

maybe he did it on purpose because as you stayed silent he just stared into your eyes, like a madman. he wasn’t even blinking behind that mask, the black face paint covering the area around his eyes making the color of his irises pop out from the black atmosphere around it. you just weren’t sure why he was doing this.

he placed a hand on his gun now, like he was about to slip out his pistol. but he didn’t have the right to kill or shoot you or anything like that, right? right? panic was filling your brain and goosebumps were running up and down your body as you had no idea about what these men could and could not do to an innocent civillian that actually had no clue about whatever was going on!

“we can play this game, missy. but you won’t like it.”

“i’ve said everything i know! nothing.”

“for fuck’s sake, just say something, anything.”

“but i don’t know! i accidentally ended up here, too.”

“whatever. fuck you, missy.” the man grunted as he finally let his pistol down, letting you back out from the corner he had held you in this whole time. it felt like you could finally breathe again and the cold sweat running down your temples felt like a normal reaction again.

“get the fuck outta’ here and if you know anything. keep your mouth fucking shut. am i understood?”

“y-yes sir.”

you were breathing heavy as you finally made it out of that room. it was a feeling you never wanted to experience ever again — you almost got yourself killed. and you were 99% sure that if you said the wrong stuff he wouldn’t have hesitated to use that pistol. what is wrong with humanity..

the man peeked above his shoulder to look at you walk away. he didn’t take his eyes off of you until you finally exited the whole damn house. you’re never ever coming back and that’s for sure. holy shit.

—

sorry about how bad and rushed this was! :(

[leatafandom]

First Cold

Fandom/Ship: Supernatural - Sam Winchester & Gabriel

Rating:Teen

Word Count: 1,104

Warnings and Tags: sick fic, angst, self-pity, stuffy nose, post Asmodeus, cannon divergent, platonic bed sharing, past sexual relationship, complicated relationship, Gabriel gets sick, Gabriel low grace/powered down, human Gabriel, Sam takes care of Gabe, he is the worst patient, flu, sneezing, mentions of vomit, nausea

Summary: Of all the human things Gabriel was stuck with after being enslaved in Hell, being able to catch a cold was definitely the worst.

Written for @spnfanficpond May prompt: Being sick!

Author Note: You could probably read this as straight up sabriel, but in my head they've gone from enemies with benefits to friends with benefits to almost relationship to just friends/trauma bonded. I honestly didn't know how to tag that.

Read, First Cold, Rated Teen, in full below or on my Ao3.

*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.

First Cold

All in all being subject to temperature wasn't too bad, stealing Sam and Dean's clothes was fun after all, having to eat wasn't bad at all it just meant he had a reason to eat all the things he loved even if Sam was beginning to complain about how much of what he ate, and even the bathroom had its upsides –Gabriel found he adored a hot shower. Before catching a cold from some horrid human at the supermarket, Gabriel had thought the worst of it was the sleeping, being stuck with memories turned nightmares that had him crying out at all hours and being woken by Sam's pitying face was… uncomfortable to say the least. But now, after the sniffling horror in the store, the last archangel could firmly put the lack of immunity to any and all diseases at the top of his list.

"Ugh," a groan left him and then a sneeze seized him, echoing through the hallow walls of the bunker. "Fuck," he grumbled, resettling into the pillows he was propped up with against the headboard. 

"Here," Sam said, pushing more tissues at Gabriel with a wince. "And try to cover your mouth and nose… please."

The ‘please’ was tacked on as an afterthought, having reminded the archangel too many times to continue being polite. There was no way that he wasn’t going to catch Gabriel’s cold by the end of caring for him. A grimace pulled on his lips and slummed his shoulders, not looking forward to the prospect of catching whatever flu the archangel had come down with.

Out of all the annoyances of having Gabriel here, this was probably Sam's biggest one. The brunette had thought the worst of it was Gabriel's unhealthy eating habits. The archangel forgetting that he had to actually eat food for fuel and not just fun had been driving him off the deep end with concern and worry, but having the youngest of the ancient celestials with what seemed like a virus far surpassed that. Gabriel was worse than Dean when he was sick, and Sam had the urge to stick the archangel in a bubble the next time Gabriel insisted on coming with him for a supply run just to avoid ever being faced with the miserable entity.

Gabriel whined, taking a tissue from the offered box with a huff before doing his best impression of an elephant. "How long is this gonna last, Sam?" he bit out, wiping his nose and tossing the dirty tissue angrily towards the tin trashcan before taking another from the box.

"A week or two, hopefully," the hunter grumbled, frowning at the other as he threw the crumbled balls of tissue, sighing when at least one of them actually made it into the trashcan. "Think you can keep some food down?"

“Ugh.” Gabriel's lip pulled up with disgust at the thought of food, turning slightly onto his side and curling his knees back up to his chest. "No more of your damn broth, Nurse Sam," he grumbled, wiping his face on the pillowcase closest to him.

Sam mirrored the archangel's expression, biting back his protest to Gabriel wiping his dripping nose over their shared pillows. After a month of night terrors and running down the hall, Sam had thought it would be easier for them to simply share. It wasn't like they hadn't been in bed together before, granted that was under much different circumstances, but being a gentle reminder of what was real wasn't a role that Sam was unhappy with filling, nor was it one he didn’t understand needing, and Gabriel had been more than happy to reciprocate whenever Sam was trapped in his dreams. 

"I thought Cassie was gettin' me medicine?"

Sam nodded at the other's half muffled, half grumbled words. "Yeah, he and Dean made a run for some more cold stuff," his eyes went to the bedside clock and sighed. "I'll check on them and be right back…" he stood from the edge of the bed, putting the tissues within Gabriel's short reach, "With more of my damn broth."

"Ugh, I want a different nurse," Gabriel complained, curling the blanket's closer to himself.

"And I want a less whinny patient, preferably, one that doesn’t miss,” he complained, bending to scoop up the tissues that hadn’t made it into the trash with a disgusted twist of his lips. “But we can't all get what we want," Sam snarked at him, using a wet wipe to disinfect his hands before looking back to the pouting sniffling archangel. He frowned, walking back to him and placing the back of his hand on Gabriel's clammy forehead. "I'll get you a cloth, too," he mumbled, thinking about where Dean had left the thermometer last time one of them was sick. His frown only deepened when Gabriel leaned towards the press of his hand, running his fingers through the archangel’s hair. “I promise this will go away eventually too, Gabe,” he said in a gentle whisper. “You just gotta deal with it a bit longer, alright?” He asked, offering a weak half smile and cupping Gabriel’s cheek, disliking how warm he felt. 

Gabriel closed his eyes, enjoying how cool Sam’s hand felt against his face, only now realizing he probably had a fever again. “No choice,” he grumbled, opening his eyes when Sam pulled his hand away. He looked over the concern he still couldn’t get used to seeing in Sam’s eyes while being directed at him, but unable to say he didn’t like it. “Thanks… for taking care of me,” he said, gaze dropping to the trashcan and then to the bucket Sam had cleaned for him after his first attempt at broth this morning. “Try my best not to get you sick.” 

Sam chuckled a humorless laugh. “I think that ship has sailed, Gabe. Maybe just try to not sneeze directly on me anymore?” He smiled, resuming his way out of the room. “Or at least promise you’ll return the favor when I get sick,” he added after a moment, not thinking that the archangel would agree. 

“I would gladly be your nurse after this Sammy,” Gabriel huffed through his stuffy nose, grabbing another tissue and surprising Sam, causing him to pause in the doorway. 

The brunette stood watching Gabriel as he groaned into the tissue before throwing it, seemingly trying harder to actually aim for the trashcan than simply around it. He smiled at the archangel who snuggled back into his blankets, hesitating on leaving him before quickly moving from the archway so he could return all the faster to the whimpering ancient.

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 22: Taissa/Shauna, Dual

Continuing along with the Tai/Shauna thing.

1480 words, 41 minutes

Quasi...explicit?

See tag "my yj fic" for everything that came before. Coming soon, hopefully, to AO3.

*

She's lying next to Shauna in bed, face to face, like they're at a slumber party sharing secrets. The windows are dark but the curtains not drawn, and she just knows without looking that the air is heavy with almost-snow. She just feels it, that expectant December hush. That feeling like her lungs won't expand to their full depth anymore, like everything is close and closing in. She reaches out and she runs her thumb along the length of Shauna's nose. The gesture's not really meant to be affectionate, more like testing out if she's real, but Shauna smiles anyway and when she does she actually looks sweet.

In the wilderness, Tai really did think of herself and Van as being married, in some unspoken, fundamental way. It wasn't just a joke. She was in the one place where people like her could be honest and free, and it was either a sick twist of fate or some kind of warning, that in so many other ways it was hell. She had to dig so far down into herself there. Excavate all of herself. Live scraped raw and pained but real. And that part of herself, truly, was Van's wife, and she knew it every day when she woke up and when she went to sleep at night.

She understands this now with a particularly rare sort of clarity, the kind of clarity that doesn't come about in the real world very much, because she's just fucked a married woman in the guest room of that woman’s house. But it's Shauna so it almost doesn't count.

She had Shauna first, after all. Not chronologically, exactly. Jeff was hooking up with in the backseats of cars and the off-limits upstairs bedrooms of house parties, long before Tai thought of her as anything but a teammate. But he didn't really know her. He wasn't there through the terrors that Tai saw her through. He married her but he's never been wilderness-married. He just doesn't understand. It's not the same.

Shauna takes her hand and kisses it right at the heel. She's so loose and free, she looks like a different person, her hair wild around her face as she turns over onto her back and looks up. One of her arms is stretched up over her head, across the pillows, straining at the headboard. The other has brought Tai's hand down to her breast, as if it were an accident, but Tai knows that it's not. She lets her fingertips trace stray patterns along Shauna's skin, around her nipple, down toward the center of her chest. She has great tits, but even now Tai's not sure how she'd react to hearing that out loud.

The first time she slept with a girl in a real bed was at Howard, after she and Van were broken up this time for real. Another girl from the soccer team—she played striker, like Jackie—who had purple streaks in her hair. They'd had to squash together on one of the narrow dorm mattresses. It was weird, to be with someone new. She realized afterwards that she wasn't really over her ex, but she waited a couple of days to say it, just to make the letdown a little less harsh.

What she and Van should have had was a king bed and high thread count sheets and fluffy pillows and everything—the best indulgence like apology for all those nights on the floor, and the nights before that in the hidden corners of the school or the back of Tai's car. Fuck. If they got what they really deserved maybe they'd still be together. Maybe somehow fairness and accounting and cosmic ledger sheets really could work just like that.

She lets her hand fall lower, down to Shauna's hip, down to her inner thighs. She's not trying to start anything up again but Shauna hums as if she were, and gives Tai this look that's all dare. A reminder again of what's so attractive about her. Why Jeff fell for her, and Melissa, and—this isn't the time to be coy—even Jackie. It's that sense that anything could happen, that sharp danger about her, that bite.

Tai curls in a little closer, feels along Shauna's most sensitive skin, not teasing but just feeling. Taking her right to it while she has it. "I didn't think this was what you meant by spending the night," she admits.

"I didn't." She shifts a little, gets more comfortable against the pillows, crosses her arms behind her head. The blankets are tangled down past their knees. Shauna, in this position, looks beautiful and obscene. Gorgeous, in her obscenity. Tai could memorize her like this. "I didn't plan this any more than you did. But I don't regret it." Confident until the last, then she shifts her gaze to Tai, fast and questioning.

"I don't either." She doesn't have space for regrets anymore. "Did you always know you were attracted to girls?"

Shauna smiles, in an arch, wolfish way. "I don't know. I mean, what's there to know? I always knew I'd marry a man."

That twists her up inside but she won't admit it. She never knew that. Would never do that. Kind of just thought, when she was younger, that she'd always have a secret life or else she'd just end up alone. She'd always be so far ahead of the world and its slow-changing pace.

(In the far-future again, she’ll stand with her wife and smile for cameras—you’re like the queer Kamala—)

"But probably not Jeff."

Shauna closes her eyes a moment. Tai expects she'll admonish: we can't talk about him now. Instead, she says, "If you're really asking about Jackie—"

"I don't expect you to want to talk about her now."

"We were never like that. We were a lot more than that. You know.” Her breath tremors, but she doesn’t stop. “Like parts of a whole or something."

She's damn honest when she's vulnerable. Tai hums, and tucks her head in closer against Shauna's side. She lets her brain go numb. She drags her nails slowly up the sensitive inside of Shauna's thigh, and hears her quiet moan, and is filled with a hollow sort of affection for her that does not admit, cannot really believe, a certain awe of all the things she's seen this body do. How intimately she knows this body. How deeply she knows it.

She spreads Shauna’s legs a little wider just to know she's splayed and wide just for her, and leans up and looks her in the eye again. "Right now it's like there's no one but you and me," she says. And Shauna stares up at her wide-eyed and nods.

That's the best feeling she knows in this world: shutting absolutely everything else out and just leaning in and kissing her.

The other side of the coin: sitting side by side on Shauna's bed, not quite touching. Shauna's hand has settled down below her stomach, and Tai wonders if the gesture is instinctive, or like some message she's trying to send to one or the other of them, or to both. "You know I'm pregnant," she says, and Tai just blinks at her.

"Am I supposed to say congratulations this time?"

"Well, you could, I guess." She considers a moment, and self-consciously takes her hand away. "Not a lot of people know. Just Jeff and, like, his parents. It's early yet, just a few weeks."

Tai's own hands are curled around her knees, and she notices her grip is talon-like there, and purposefully stretches out her fingers. "Did you know," she asks slowly, "before, the night you picked me up at the station?"

"It's not yours, if that's what you're asking," Shauna says, a little sharp, like she actually thinks this is a good joke.

"Funny."

She rolls her eyes. "No. I suspected, though."

"Was it—I mean, do you want a kid?"

She shrugs. That's a no, then. "Jeff does. And. I don't know." She waits another moment, breathes in deep. "I think it probably is going to be okay this time."

Tai takes her own slow, shaky breath. A baby. A kid. Shauna as a mom. She's turned all these thoughts around in her head before, and she's back there in the cabin, and she's right here in Wiskayok, back home, and none of these places are home and they all are. It's like some sort of well-grooved path has been formed in her head and now all she can feel is fear, fear, fear. Irrational feelings of fear. And she supposes that she's not the only one. 

She doesn't know what else to do so she holds out her hand for Shauna to take. Palm against palm, and a strong grip, that holds the rest of the universe in it.

[subzeroparade]

hello there, I would just like to say that you are an inspiration to me and my own writing journey. you have such a profound way of skillfully weaving a story, I adore your works. it really reminds me a lot of madeline miller and her amazing stories (I really like a specific style of writing, lol)

may I ask what your writing process is? I myself have trouble sticking to motivation and finishing my own works. hope this message reaches you well, cheers <33

(Long post warning, and sorry to the people still languishing in my inbox, especially anon who sent me a similar writing ask - I will get to it, but hopefully in the meantime you can glean something useful from this, too.) 

Thank you! Also, yes - I came back to creative writing a few years ago (after many years of nothing but academic writing, grad and post-grad) around the same time Miller published Circe, and my ER work definitely pays tribute to that. In the genre of modernised(not modern)-greek-myth-retellings, hers are the only ones I tolerate. (That’s not true, I do like Pat Barker’s work to an extent, though she’s much less lyrical than Miller. But sometimes you need that). 

To answer your ask, here's my writing process - but first, a couple of disclaimers:

Disclaimer 1: Everyone’s method is different, etc etc; this is a given. But I also have a decade’s worth of disciplined professional writing under my belt, which is very helpful when it comes to sitting down and just choking something out on paper, even when my brain is unwilling, or the spark is not there. This takes time to cultivate. 

Disclaimer 2: No writing method or process is going to work if you are not actively reading. All the time. There is never a time I don’t have at least one book going. When I am feeling cheeky, I commit to four or five at once, all very different: novels (from disparate genres), edited volumes, anthologies, non-fiction; regardless, a wealth of different voices to draw from. If you are super busy, and we all are, at least try to read a bit before bed, it’s good for you. 

Anyway! Process:

STEP 1: A thing I might want to write: a scenario. A scene. An interaction between two characters. A short sequence of events. A long history. This particular climax, and its aftermath. The POV of that particular character. How am I going to do that? What do I need to know? What are the possible approaches - which POV, past or present, told or retold, and in what manner? 

Ex: before I sat down to write Litanies (Bloodborne), I knew I was interested enough to commit to a fic about the Fishing Hamlet. There are a million ways to do this. It was only while reading/watching certain material - journals, accounts of 19th century expeditions, a book about piecing together the mystery of a murder on another planet through conflicting eye-witness testimony, watching AMC’s The Terror - did it make sense to do an “interview” style, slow-burn mystery-box-esque piece, in which an interviewer has to piece together first-hand accounts of what happened (just like us, the Hunter!). Could I have done it another way? Yes. Would it have been nearly as interesting from a storytelling perspective? Not remotely. 

Tdlr; Who and what will I write about? In what way, and how will that approach make the work even stronger? How many things do I need to clarify about where and how this is going before I start writing? The tighter your plan - it doesn’t even need to be written down - the less likely you are to hit a wall later because you don’t know where you’re trying to go or what you’re trying to say. 

STEP 2: I start plotting scenes. For Vanitas (Elden Ring), I knew I wanted to write the history of Godwyn’s war and subsequent allegiance with the ancient stone dragons. I would need battle scenes, political intrigue and broader worldbuilding, alongside more intimate, dialogue-focused exchanges with Fortissax. On my shitty little notes app, I started writing these as they came to me, as I mulled over the ways to make them fight, meet, agree, quarrel, separate. Mostly, I start with the core of a scene - what is the question being answered, the main point, the crux of it? - and then build the rest of the scene around that. In that way it’s rarely, if ever, meandering and useless. Especially in short works - every scene should matter, and keep its focus where possible. You will be surprised how many disparate scenes you can merge into a single one for more impact.

Tldr; elevator-pitch style, what’s this work actually about??? And what scenes do I need for my readers to get it?

Big huge disclaimer here: at this stage, if I am starting to construct little bits and pieces in my notes app (everything from swathes of dialogue to jumbled “then he does this” reminders) they are in a very raw form. HOWEVER, at this point, I need to know how the story will end, especially if it is multi-chapter. I need to have outlined how these scenes flow into each other, and why. If it’s a vignette or one-shot, I need to know exactly what I will show, mood and message, so that it never becomes any longer than necessary, or loses the thread that holds it together, so to speak. 

STEP 3: I have a lot of material in my shitty little notes app (this will vary, depending on the size of your piece. The outline of A History of Iniquity (Elden Ring) was about 8k, which makes sense for a work that’s gonna top out at 80k). It’s time to bring it over to proper writing software. There, I start sorting my notes into scenes, as well as supplementary material (stuff that feels useful, or important, like worldbuilding tidbits, but that I have yet to weave into the story progression). Personally, separating all my notes into these individual scenes makes me feel like I have a better handle on the work, and can bounce around from scene to scene without having to work in linear progression, which I almost never do. 

Tldr; organise. Today I feel like writing scene 4, tomorrow scene 2. Because I have a handle on the work’s structure and I always know where it will end up, this is easy to do. 

STEP 4:

Write it.

Sloppily, badly, plainly. Commit to writing a scene, or x number of words per day, and get it done. A bare minimum of what happens in that scene. Dialogue. Actions. This then that and then this. Just put it down.

This is my big secret: I am a good writer, but I am a better editor (alas, a thing you could never tell from the state of some of my Tumblr posts). Writing is the painful part. Editing is a joy. It’s all there - what is left for me to do but to make it smoother, shinier, more polished? Remove what is superfluous, add a punch where needed. I much prefer making a drab paragraph sing than the initial act of writing that paragraph. 

I spend more time on editing than I do writing. I read, I reread. I go away. I come back, fresh, and reread again. I reread my work until I know enormous amounts of it by heart, then I go away, put it out of my mind, read something else, come back and edit again. There is no way around this, especially if you are writing fic and you don’t have a beta (or at least a first/second reader). It can always, always, always be better. The more aggressively you edit, the better you train your critical eye, and the sharper you are on your next first draft, or if you’re kind enough to beta for someone else. I am a ruthless editor (and I can and should be even worse), only because that’s what helped me, and I’d hope anyone better than me taking the time to look at my stuff would do me the same courtesy. 

STEP 5: Publish, go away, cry. If it’s fanfic, come back and read it for some last little edits. If it’s in an academic volume, cringe and hope no one reads it (/jk. Mostly). 

To come back to your initial point about motivation and sticking the landing -  some of that is going to have to come from you, personally. On my end, I finish what I start for three reasons.

I do not truly start the honest-to-god writing unless I have that body of notes already, and it’s hefty enough to serve as a skeleton. If I’m unsure, I’ll often leave ideas in this nebulous state of notes/ideation until I can come back with a clearer vision of what it would look like as a finished piece.

I do not start unless I am 100% committed to putting this work out there. If it’s too daunting, I’ll write it as a vignette or a one-shot, which is great practice, and there’s no excuse not to finish one. 

I do not start a work unless I know exactly how I am going to finish it. I more often than not know the last sentence of my work before I make it to the first draft stage. I know in amateur circles/fic writing it’s fine to just see where the work takes you, or leave the chapter count open, or whatever - it’s all practice, anyway - BUT I do think that if your main goal is closing a piece, then you need to be strict about how you get there. There’s plenty to do along the way, but at minimum know the scenes you need to make it to the finish line, and give yourself the tools to get there. 

THIS IS SO LONG I am terribly sorry, clearly I lied about being a good editor. 

Hope this helps! 

[kanerallels]

My first fic for @spectre-week!! This one was born from my obsession with N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards series (go read it, y'all, it's amazing) and is hopefully vaguely comprehensible. Here it is on AO3!

The forests of Kaller are not particularly noteworthy to most of the galaxy. The snow lies heavy on the surrounding mountains, and the wind sings sharply through the branches of the conifers and the kallnut trees. It’s not a top tourist destination, despite the beauty.

The current residents are more focused on the war that is being fought over this planet and hundreds of others. The Clone War has ravaged the galaxy for close to three years now, and at times it seemed it would never end.

Until now.

But there’s something much darker going on in the forests now, as an army of clones hunt for a missing Jedi Padawan crouched in a tree.

The last thing Caleb Dume should have been focusing on was the trees around him. His master was dead, and the clones who had been his friends and allies mere moments ago were now hunting for him.

And yet. As he leapt from branch to branch, heart pounding with terror, he found himself noticing. Noticing the deep brown barked trees with three pronged leaves that were sprinkled in between the conifers here and there. Kallnut trees, he remembered his master calling them. As he crouched on one of the branches, his fingers wrapped around the grooved bark, and Caleb felt a tug in his heart.

This way, the trees seemed to whisper. This way.

But he didn’t have time to indulge in daydreams, so he kept running.

When the clones found him and he fell from one of the trees, it wasn’t a kallnut. He kept running, until he made it to a ravine. One of the clones tried to convince him to come back, but Caleb knew he couldn’t. There was no one he could trust anymore, no one who wouldn’t try to end him for the saber at his side and the holocron in his belt pouch.

When he leapt across the canyon, he heard it again. The whispers, leading him deeper into the forest.

This time, he had nothing to lose from following it. So he did, led by a trail of deep brown barked trees.

Miles away, he found it. The biggest kallnut tree he’d ever seen, looming above them all ominously. The wind rustled the light green leaves, and Caleb almost forgot about the clones chasing him, about what he’d seen mere minutes before.

The fear receding, he moved slowly closer. There was a strange energy to the air, a humming. The Force rippled strangely, in a way Caleb had never experienced before.

When his hand touched the tree, for a moment his fingers fit perfectly in the grooves of the bark.

And then there was something like a flash of lightning. A dagger of pain went through him, and he hit the ground, unmoving, while fire blazed through him.

When he woke, Caleb Dume was blind. 

He was blind, in the middle of the woods, on an unknown planet with hunters out for his blood.

His hands were shaking as he pushed himself upright. All he remembered was touching the tree, and then… something strange. Something rushing through the Force like a wave of fire, crackling towards him and consuming him.

But he wasn’t dead. Just blind and achy, his stomach churning and his hand throbbing with pain. Instinctively, Caleb reached out for the Force— then recoiled.

It was like looking straight into the sun. Too bright, brighter than it ever had been before. The world around him was burning with life and green fire.

How could that be true when it also felt far too empty now, without Master Billaba?

Fear and grief swelled in his chest, but Caleb stubbornly pushed it back down. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his face, feeling a cold breeze chill his face.

There were no sounds that indicated he was still being hunted. But he couldn’t stay here. He’d freeze to death or be caught. The only way was forward, even if it was going to be slow.

Vaguely, Caleb remembered seeing a stray branch laying on the ground not far from the tree he’d approached. Staying on his hands and knees, he felt around in the grass crackling with frost. The snow hadn’t reached through the thick branches of the kallnuts here, but it was still cold enough that the ground was hard and the tips of Caleb’s fingers were stinging.

It was only a few minutes before his hand closed around the branch he’d spotted. Tentatively, he pushed himself to his feet, using the branch for help. It was a decent length for a walking stick, and it was solid. Sturdy.

He clutched it tightly as he cautiously started through the woods around him.

It took him a long time before he’d made it back to the nearby city. By the time he did, Caleb had sort of gotten the hang of navigating without eyesight. The walking stick helped, though he was still unsure. Still scared.

The city was worse than the woods. In the woods, he was alone and surrounded by trees. Safer than anywhere with people— and worse, clones.

But they would know to look for him in the woods. Here, he would blend in, and he was less likely to freeze or starve to death.

He came pretty close to it anyways, until Janus Kasmir found him.

The Kalleran took pity on him and fed him. And, when Caleb begged him, he let him come to his ship, giving him some place safe to sleep. Even if it was only for a little while.

He hadn’t really slept since losing his master almost a week earlier. Only fitful bursts here and there. Now, scrubbed clean and curled up on one of Kasmir’s bunks, he dreamt of blaster fire and screams, and kallnut trees growing high above everything else.

When Kasmir helped him the next morning, he commented, “I didn’t remember you being blind, kid.”

“It was… recent,” Caleb said quietly. He didn’t know how else to explain what had happened, the strange fire that had burned through him. 

“Huh. Have something to do with that burn on your hand?”

The burn. Caleb hadn’t seen it, but he’d felt the pain, the throbbing agony. Without any better ideas, he’d torn a strip from his robe and wrapped it up. Until last night, when he’d been cleaning up. In the fresher, he’d… seen it. Not his hand, but the burn, more like a brand. A symbol, one that he’d never seen before, but knew the meaning of immediately, instinctively.

It was a kallnut tree. Vibrant and green and growing and solid. Unwavering. And it was part of him now, in a way that he couldn’t express in mere words. Caleb vaguely remembered reading about something like this in the Jedi Archives, but at the time he’d been too tired to even try and figure it out.

“Kind of,” he said, and Kasmir seemed content to leave it at that.

He’d thought that would be the end. Kasmir clearly didn’t intend for him to stay, blind or otherwise. He’d most likely just throw him out on the street, and the Kalleran had clearly planned on doing just that.

But then his emergency signal went off.

The Jedi, who he’d thought were dead, were calling him back to the Temple.

Relief flooded through him for one magnificent moment. He could go home. The masters, some part of the Council, surely would have made it. Someone would know what to do about his blindness, and he would have some small piece of his life back.

But he had no way of getting there. And Kasmir flatly refused to take him there when Caleb asked him— begged him to take him to Coruscant. The Kalleran refused, then stalked out of the ship, telling him to finish his meal then get out.

Frustration boiled in his chest, and he threw the bread Kasmir had given him across the ship. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he bit back a scream of helpless frustration.

I have to do something, I have to be able to get to the Temple. But without a ship? Without the ability to see what he was doing?

As if on cue, a tiny crack of light blossomed around the corner of his palm. 

Shocked, Caleb yanked his hand back. The light in the ship was dim, but to his eyes it was blisteringly bright. Blinking back tears of pain, he stared, unbelieving at the ship around him.

He could see again.

There was no real time to take in the shock and relief pounding through him. He was already charging into the cockpit, starting up the engine and taking off. The coordinates to Coruscant were easy to remember, and Caleb was working on autopilot. He was going home. He was going back to the Jedi Temple.

Only minutes away from exiting hyperspace, he received a new message.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for all remaining Jedi…”

Caleb listened to the words, numb with horror. The only thing that jolted him out of his panic was the ships surrounding him as he floated above the planet’s atmosphere. Coruscant wasn’t safe, just like Kasmir had said.

He barely made it out alive. And when he got back to Kaller, Kasmir was furious with him. The Kalleran barely seemed to notice he’d regained his vision, or care. He just tossed him off the ship and told him to never come back.

But Caleb truly didn’t know where else to go. So he stuck around, until one day, he saved Kasmir.

Sort of. Kasmir didn’t seem to think he’d really done him any favors. But it got him a job with the Kalleran, which went… interestingly. In the end, Caleb stuck with him. Despite the fact he insisted on calling Caleb “kid”, and had sold him out as part of a con, and was gruff and sarcastic.

He was familiar, and he wouldn’t betray him. At least, Caleb didn’t think he would. And he was only a little nosy.

“So, you didn’t stay blind long,” he remarked one day as they sat in the cockpit of the Kasmiri, watching hyperspace blur past them.

“Yeah,” Caleb said slowly. “It… I don’t know. I wasn’t lying.”

“Nah, I could tell that,” Kasmir said with a dismissive wave. “Ya know, I heard stories about that kinda thing, once. About people going temporarily blind, and when it stopped, they were… different. Kinda like the Jedi, but it was different. Green men, they were called, since they had this tie to some sort of plant.”

Caleb’s throat was dry, but he managed a nonchalant shrug. “Hmm. Sounds like an old story.”

He could feel Kasmir watching him with narrowed eyes, but then he shrugged. “Eh, just a legend. Could be a real one, or not. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Right,” Caleb said, the tightness in his chest easing a little.

Green men. He knew that legend, a little bit. Stories about the seventh son of specific families in parts of the Outer Rim. Their connection with different kinds of plants, the power it gave them. Caleb had never actually met someone with those abilities.

But now… he glanced down at his hand, covered in a glove. Beneath it glowed the kallnut tree— sturdy brown trunk, three-pronged leaves shimmering a light green. Strong and steady, humming with a power that he didn’t quite understand.

Part of him wanted to test it, to reach into that well within him. But he knew better. It wasn’t safe to be a Jedi, and the green men weren’t safe either.

So he kept it hidden. As the days slipped by and he kept working with Kasmir— until things went sideways, and he had to leave. To protect himself, but to protect Kasmir, too.

No one was safe around the Jedi any more. Caleb was better off on his own.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Caleb Dume was better off dead. Kanan Jarrus was better off traveling on his own, far away from anyone else who could die. Far away from the Force, too. And that was the way things stayed.

At least, they stayed that way until he met Hera Syndulla.

~~~

Hera still wasn’t completely used to having a new crew member, even after a full month of it. Not in a bad way, by any means. While Kanan was a shameless flirt (though he’d toned that down a little, thank the Force) he was also a hard worker, quick to pick up on the plans she made and even quicker to come up with his own. He also made her laugh, although she’d often refuse to admit it.

But having a new person on the Ghost was, well, new. Hera was used to looking out for herself and Chopper, and Kanan threw a wrench into that dynamic. Most of them were easy to cope with— someone else using the refresher, his insistence that they didn’t subsist on only ration bars, which resulted in a lot more shopping, to name a few.

However, he also had a habit of disappearing whenever they landed in a remote area, especially when they were near a body of water or trees. Hera had asked him about it, and he’d just said he was meditating in the vaguest possible way. Considering he was a Jedi, that was most likely true.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the neck sometimes. Namely, when they needed to leave, and Hera couldn’t find him.

She’d accidentally left him behind once. While Hera had realized it before she’d even broken through the atmosphere, and had gone back immediately, Kanan had been VERY dramatic about it. So Hera had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

Which was why she was now taking a not so lovely stroll through a stand of trees on Tythlona, in search of her crew member.

“Kanan?” she called out warily, weaving between tangled brush and ancient trees. The forest here was old, but most of the trees were smaller, with twisted limbs and golden-green leaves. They all reached above Hera’s head, but not by much, and she could see the evidence of fallen fruit underfoot. “Kanan, can you hear me? It’s time to leave.”

There was no response, and Hera let out a sigh of annoyance. They were due to leave soon, and she hated to linger on a planet where she’d run a mission, even if it was just dropping off supplies. There was still a chance, however small, the Empire could track it back to them. 

She opened her mouth to call for Kanan again, then stopped. There was a break in the trees ahead, and something was moving.

Instinctively, her hand twitched towards her blaster, but she didn’t draw it yet. Instead, she moved forwards through the woods, staying at the ready.

It wasn’t long before the trees fell away, and Hera was standing at the brink between the cool, shady woods, and a wide open plain of golden grain. A small expanse of grass split the ground before the grain sprang up, and it was there that Kanan was kneeling, his back to her.

Hera’s voice stopped in her throat at the sight before her. She’d never actually seen him meditate before— but she’d seen other Jedi do it, and it didn't seem like much. It certainly hadn’t looked like this.

All around Kanan, plants were springing up in a long half circle. Saplings, Hera realized as she slowly approached, staying as quiet as she could. The tallest barely brushed the top of his head, buds twisting to life on the spindly branches. As she watched, crumpled leaves smoothed open, their three tips stretching towards the sun. They were growing before her very eyes.

The saplings seemed to hum with life and a rich green energy, framing Kanan until he almost looked like he could be one of them. Hera stood, uncertainly watching him, until he finally moved.

Lifting his head, he turned and looked at her through the leaves. Surprise flashed across his face, and he got to his feet, moving carefully out of the ring of small trees. Their rate of growth had slowed a little, but the tallest of them already reached Kanan’s mid-chest.

“Hey,” he said, pausing in front of her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Well, you were clearly distracted,” Hera said, her gaze flashing from him to the small ring of trees. When she looked back at him, his expression was… self conscious. Embarrassed, almost.

“Yeah. I, uh…” he paused, looking back at the trees for a moment, a half-smile crossing his face. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t a Jedi thing?”

Hera’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I suppose that explains why I’ve never heard about it before. Then… what is it? If you want to share,” she added immediately. “If it’s none of my business, then tell me that.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning a little. “Hey, it’s all your business at this point, Captain Hera.” He lifted his right hand, and Hera saw he wasn’t wearing the fingerless gloves he always had on.

She quickly realized why. On his palm was etched a burn scar, deep and old. But it wasn’t just a scar. It was something more. Something that, as Hera watched, shimmered with a green light the same shade as the leaves on the tree.

“There’s an old legend,” Kanan said quietly. “About the seventh son in certain family lines— usually in Outer Rim planets, although I couldn’t tell you which. But those seventh sons have a connection to a plant, and that connection grants powers that I don’t really understand. All I know is that they’re strong. Strong enough that it’s a miracle I haven’t been spontaneously growing trees this whole time.”

“So… you’re one of those seventh sons?” Hera said slowly.

“I never knew my birth family, but… apparently, yes.” Rubbing at his palm, Kanan said, “I learned about this growing up– at least a little bit. But I never understood the scale of the power, of what all it would mean. I was only fourteen when I got it, but I’ve barely used it since then.”

“Fourteen?” Hera did some rapid math in her head. “So that would have been—”

“Right after the Purge. And I mean right after.” Kanan let out a wry laugh. “Not the best timing. I’ve… I’ve never actually told anyone about this.”

Hera knew what that meant, coming from him. Kanan wasn’t closed off, necessarily. He was open enough, and friendly— more than just friendly, with his flirting. But he kept his secrets close to the chest.

Or at least, he had. These days, he was starting to be more and more open with her. And that wasn’t something Hera was going to treat lightly.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she told him quietly, and he smiled.

“I know. You’re nice like that.”

Hiding a pleased smile, Hera commented, “You know, just when I think I have you figured out, you come up with something new. Any other mind-blowing secrets you have hidden?”

Rubbing at his beard, Kanan frowned in mock concentration. “Well, my killer good looks aren’t a secret to anyone, so… nope. Looks like you’re the mysterious one, now.”

Hera laughed. “I’m honored, dear. Are you ready to go?”

“One minute.” Kanan turned, bending to pick up his gloves from where he’d left them. For just a moment, he lingered by the trees, fingertips tracing over the tops of the dancing leaves. And then he was pulling on the gloves, turning to face her. “Let’s roll.”

As they headed back to the ship, Hera asked, “What kind of trees are they?”

“Kallnut trees,” Kanan said. “Apparently the nuts are pretty good, but I’ve never stuck around one of them long enough to find out.” He glanced at her. “Any more questions?”

It was a genuine question— Hera could tell. She took a minute to consider, then said, “What does it feel like?”

A thoughtful frown knitted Kanan’s brows as they came out of the trees. The Ghost was landed nearby, and Hera knew it was only a matter of time before Chopper came out to demand where they’d been. But Kanan stopped anyway, looking like he was turning the question over and over in his mind.

“It’s different from the Force— and the same,” he said. “The Force is just… there. Always. Like a river you’re walking next to, and can dip your feet in at any minute. It’s easy to reach, like breathing. This is… brighter. More persistent. They’re both easy, but if one’s more confusing, it’s the kallnut tree. But it’s strong. I— I don’t know how to explain it other than— can I?”

He slipped off a glove and held his scarred hand out to her. Hera’s breath caught, but she took his hand. His fingers were gentle and warm as he rested his palm against hers.

For a moment, there was nothing. And then, a flare of warmth from the knotted scar. Hera gasped as a humming brightness tangled around her hand. It was alive and strong and felt like roots deep in the earth, leaves reaching for the sky. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and was somehow fully… Kanan, yet not Kanan.

It was gone a heartbeat later, and Hera was aware of Kanan watching her. “Make any more sense?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Hera said, forcing herself to breathe evenly. “And no.”

He nodded, still holding her hand. “Same here.”

And then Chopper’s loud, accusatory bwomping cut through the stillness surrounding them, and Hera forced herself to let go of Kanan’s hand. But her fingers still tingled from the contact as she headed back to the ship.

Of all the potential crew members she could have ended up with, Kanan was definitely on the stranger end. But she found she didn’t really mind that.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 25: Storm, “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave”

The second prompt is more vibes then anything, there’s no dead guys here. Probably. Hopefully.

This is a continuation to day 22 :) It’s a lot of plot, but it’s plenty painful as well heh heh. There will be another part after this as well.

Day 22

Read on ao3

Warnings: much of the same as the first fic, more creepy vibes, blood, injury, some implied kidnapping, a liiiittle body horror, and an animal injury

————————————————————

A scream shatters Twilight’s peaceful sleep, and he jolts awake, sitting up and looking frantically around before realization hits him.

It’s Time. Woken by a nightmare yet again.

Twilight sighs, sad acceptance settling over himself as he calms down, and he looks over at the older hero. But the sight isn’t the usual one they’ve become accustomed to these past weeks, and Twilight immediately moves closer.

Time is gasping for breath, both eyes wide as they stare up at the sky, and Warriors is unsuccessfully trying to get him to look at him. He’s pale and shaking— which, unfortunately, has lately been the norm— but usually by now Time is sitting up and getting ahold of himself, and acting like he’s fine.

Instead he continues to lie there, gasping like a drowning man.

“Time,” Warriors repeats, Legend kneeling next to him with a pinched look on his face, “Link, can you hear me?”

Time’s breath rattles, but after a long moment, his eyes finally turn towards Warriors, blue and white both blown wide in terror.

“Did... what happened? He’s never done this before, was... was it the same nightmare?” Wind finally asks quietly, voicing what the rest of them are wondering.

“No,” Time gasps, face white, sweat pouring down his face. “No, it was— it was different.”

Twilight and Legend exchange looks, and Time chokes in another gasp, still trying to calm down.

“...I think you’d better tell everyone your dream, Time,” Warriors says in a grim voice. “And then you can explain to us what was different this time.”

Time gives him a look, but Warriors is firm.

“The time for secrets is over. If we’re going to figure this out, we need everyone’s help,” the captain finishes more softly, and Time closes his eyes, dragging in another ragged breath.

Twilight grabs his necklace and shifts into wolf form, moving to sit beside Time. His mentor reaches out a shaky hand, and Twilight allows him to run his palm over his head, running down to the thicker fur at his neck. Normally he balks at being petted like a common pooch, but under circumstances like these, he’s found it’s the best way to provide comfort.

And it helps. Time’s gasps slow, his breath evening out. His hands still shake, but he looks more settled, and begins to explain the nightmare he’s been having for nearly a month now.

Twilight already heard the explanation once, but it’s almost worse the second time with the others listening, knowing what’s coming. All of them are dead silent as he speaks, faces holding several differing emotions, but Legend’s face especially seems to crease more and more as he tells them of the violence and death he’s privy to every night.

“That... sounds like a legend in my time,” Legend murmurs as Time finishes the explanation. “Of the Hero before me. The Fallen Hero.”

“Who?” Wild asks in a whisper, and Legend’s throat bobs as he hesitates.

“Legend goes that the hero before me fought against Ganon, but... failed,” he explains, crossing his arms. “The princess of the time was forced to seal Ganon away without him, with the help of six other sages.”

Legend swallows.

“There’s a bit more to it, but... the legends say the hero died. Like... in Time’s dream.”

Time seems to have lost what color he’d regained, and his hand clenches slightly where it’s resting in Twilight’s fur.

“But you said it was different this time,” Warriors interjects, voice steadying. “How did it change?”

Time breathes out, and launches into a second explanation.

He tells them all how the beginning of the dream had been the same, but at the point where it usually ended, it had continued, into a confusing darkness and broken bodies, and images Time had trouble explaining, and couldn’t make sense of. Twilight wonders if he might leave a few details out based on how he hesitates at certain points, but he doesn’t call him out.

“And the end was clear,” Time finishes in a more serious voice. His fear seems to have hardened into anger, and Twilight eyes him worriedly. “The rest was confusing, but there’s no mistaking it. An enemy I thought long gone is back... Majora.”

Legend and Wild both look up, and the champion hesitantly reaches into his pouch, pulling out a mask in almost dizzying colors, with yellow eyes and small spikes at the edges.

“You’ve mentioned an enemy by that name before... when I showed you this,” he says cautiously, and Time nods.

“Yes. The mask that housed it was identical to this one,” he says as Wild hands it to him. “Though this one is empty, possibly a replica. Many years ago I destroyed the demon, but... it should not have been possible for it to return.”

They all chew on that for a moment, an owl hooting somewhere in the forest.

“...Unless it’s the Shadow’s doing,” Warriors finally says in a grave voice. “He’s brought back many an old foe. Who’s to say he can’t resurrect a demon?”

“That would take a lot of power,” Hyrule speaks up, his face shadowed with worry. “Even a dark being like the Shadow would need some kind of help, a conduit, or cursed object maybe—”

“It doesn’t matter how he’s back, we gotta stop him!” Wind interrupts, his face dismayed. “If Time’s dream was real, then there’s at least two people he was possessing and captured! They need our help!”

Twilight breathes out, and shifts back into a hylian, sitting down next to Time.

“You’re right sailor, but we don’t know where they or the demon are,” he says. “Time just said they were in a dark, stone room. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

Somebody makes an odd noise, and Twilight looks over at Legend, raising a worried eyebrow at how pale he suddenly seems.

“...Veteran?” Sky asks, and Legend swallows.

“I have a mask like that as well,” he says in a low voice. The others turn to stare at him. “I could tell it had some dark magic in it when I found it, kept it for safekeeping. Maybe... maybe it’s like Hyrule said. Maybe all the Shadow needed to bring the demon back was the mask.”

A stunned silence falls over them, and Twilight looks at Time, his face still pale and grim.

He’s a bit less receptive of his ancestor’s mood now that he’s not a wolf, but there’s an equal mixture of anger and fear and worry on his face, along with the dark circles from so few nights of sleep. A change in the routine of torture he’s been submitted to seems to have woken him up a bit, and his face is more alive then it’s been in a while.

As horrible as the circumstances are, Twilight is a little glad.

“Where is it?” Time asks finally, and Legend pales again, as if he’s just realized something.

“It’s at my house.”

(...)

They break camp and leave immediately, knowing time is of the essence. It’s still dark out, but they’re close enough to Legend’s house that the veteran knows the way, leading them silently with a pinched look on his face.

Twilight can only imagine what’s going on in his head at the moment. Legend’s house is right by the castle, and not much further from Kakariko— if there’s a demon loose, it could have already wreaked all sorts of havoc.

Not to mention the fact that Legend’s house isn’t empty.

Twilight glances at Legend again, the veteran looking like he’s barely keeping himself from bolting off with his Pegasus boots.

Legend’s never explained exactly who Ravio is, but you’d have to be a fool not to notice how similar they look. Twilight is sure there’s a story there, but the point is, Ravio is important to Legend, despite what the veteran may show outwardly.

And he’s all but confirmed to be in the same location as a demon Time tells them once destroyed the world.

“...he means nearly destroyed, right?” Wind asks in a quiet voice as Time explains a little more about Majora to them, but Time doesn’t answer.

The information doesn’t make much sense, and neither does any of the situation, really. All they know for sure is that Time’s been plagued by nightmares for nearly a month, identical to each other except for tonight’s, in which two people had been alternatively possessed by a demon mask in a dark room somewhere.

They’re working solely off of assumptions and coincidences otherwise, and there’s a large part of Twilight that desperately hopes all of this truly was just a nightmare.

He knows better then that though. Nightmares like Time has been having aren’t normal.

They never are.

They reach Legend’s house at dawn, rays of sunlight barely peeking through the clouds that blanket the sky. Twilight feels a little hopeful at the lack of obvious destruction from the outside of the building, or the surrounding area.

The fact that the house is still standing must be good, right?

Legend doesn’t waste a moment in running up and shoving open the door, the others right behind him.

The veteran’s house is always a disaster, but as Twilight walks in, he sees it’s even worse then normal. Furniture has been knocked over, and books and maps and items are all over the place, mixing with glass from a broken window. Twilight sees clear signs of a struggle, things that look like they’ve been thrown, weapons fallen out of reach.

Any hope that it’s a coincidence goes out the window when he sees blood on the floor, and Legend quickly checks the rest of the house, shouting for Ravio.

But there’s no sign of the purple merchant, and Legend comes back into the main area with a grim look on his face.

“The mask is gone,” he reports in a biting voice, looking at a particular portion of the wall. “And so is Ravio.”

“There was dark magic used here, a lot of it,” Hyrule says quietly.

“That all but confirms it,” Warriors says as he closes his eyes, a grieved look on his face. “Majora is back.”

A quiet chirping noise punctuates the end of his sentence, and Twilight pricks his ears, turning his head towards where it had come from.

“Rancher?”

“Shh,” Twilight says in reply, and the others go quiet as he picks his way across the room.

He steps over a pile of what look like various magic rods, and over to a stack of maps, fallen all over the floor in a large pile. The chirp rings out again, and Twilight follows it to the corner, where the maps are piled particularly high.

Twilight lifts up several pieces of paper and parchment, and near the bottom, he startles at a little blue and white bird underneath.

Sheerow’s wing is crooked, blood in his feathers, and he fluffs up at the sight of Twilight, angrily clacking his beak.

“What is it?” Four calls, and Twilight crouches next to the bird, studying him.

“...It’s Ravio’s bird.”

“Sheerow?!” Legend asks, and the bird perks up a little, letting out a pained squawk as he shifts his wing.

“Easy, little guy,” Twilight soothes, and Sheerow glares at him a moment longer before slowly smoothing his feathers.

He blinks and tilts his head curiously as Twilight continues to make soothing noises, and Twilight scoops the little bird into his hands. Sheerow lets out a tired peep as Sky picks his way over and runs a finger over his head, and the bird looks relieved to have finally been found.

“Yep, this is Sheerow,” Sky confirms, having studied the bird a few times before.

“Ravio never goes anywhere without that stupid bird,” Legend mutters with a frantic undertone, starting to pace among all of his items thrown on the floor, “and I’ve never seen Sheerow get hurt, not even when he’s pulled weapons off me in stupid dangerous areas, or dragged me home even, how could he have—”

“Legend, calm down,” Warriors says, and Legend whirls on him.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he yells. “My house has been broken into, my roommate’s been kidnapped, it’s extremely likely a mask got stolen and a demon got resurrected using it, the whole kingdom is probably in danger, and not to mention all those stupid dreams Time keeps having that are telling the future or past or I don’t even know!”

Warriors goes silent, and Legend swipes an angry hand across his eyes.

Sheerow lets out a squeaking sound in Twilight’s hand then, and nibbles his finger, bobbing his head towards Legend.

“Whoa, okay, you want to see Legend?” Twilight asks softly, and Sheerow chirps in an insistent way. The rancher picks his way back across the room, Sky in tow, and holds out his hands to Legend, the veteran looking at him with emotion swirling in his gaze.

Sheerow squawks, and jumps out of Twilight’s hands onto Legend’s shoulder, pecking lightly at his ear.

“Ow, what is it you stupid bird?” Legend asks, all bark and no bite, and Sheerow lets out another urgent series of chirps.

“Wait... I think he’s trying to tell us something,” Wind says, eyes wide. “Is that it, Sheerow?”

The little bird chirps, bobbing his head, and the heroes exchange looks.

“Wait, do you know where Ravio went?” Twilight asks suddenly.

Sheerow chirrups louder then ever, and Legend scoops him off his shoulder and into a hand, rifling in his pouch with the other. He pulls out a potion, and pours some into his palm, offering it to Sheerow.

Somehow the little bird knows what he’s doing and eagerly sips it up, beak clacking. He stretches his bent wing a few moments later, no longer bent, and does a little loop in the air, a triumphant caw ringing through the house.

“Can you help us find Ravio?” Legend asks seriously, and Sheerow chirps in a determined way and flies right out the door.

Legend leaves his disastrous home without hesitation, and the rest of them follow, Twilight staying by Time’s side as they run. The older hero has been doing a little better since they’ve been given something to do, but he’s still running on barely any sleep, and Twilight admittedly isn’t sure he’ll keep up.

Sheerow guides them to the east, the land growing more hilly as they go. The clouds above them thicken as well, white turning to grey, and Twilight can smell rain in the distance, a mark of the coming storm.

Time drags the longer they go, but he stubbornly keeps at it as they follow Sheerow up crumbling stairs and across old bricks. It’s an hour or two after they leave Legend’s house before they reach the yawning maw of a large temple, and they pause, getting their breath back, looking to Legend for information.

“Eastern Palace,” Legend reports, Sheerow flittering nervously around his head. “Pretty easy dungeon on the scale of things, mostly low-level monsters. I had to do it twice actu— would you stop that?!” he snaps at Sheerow, and the little birds chirps in offense and goes to sit on Sky’s shoulder. “As I was saying—”

Twilight hears thunder off in the distance, and a light rain begins to fall on their heads, small noises of dismay coming from them all. They move to go inside the palace, but then Sheerow lets out a noise like a shriek, and Time stops dead in his tracks.

The rest of them stop as well, drawing their weapons seconds after Time does, and Twilight hears Time let out a sharp inhale as footsteps echo from the entrance to the palace.

Two yellow eyes appear, and then a figure steps out into the rain, bringing with it sharp inhales from them all.

The figure that’s stepped out is barely recognizable as Hylian, his tunic torn and covered in blood that the rain begins to wash onto the stones at his feet. Darkness is coalesced around where the blood is thickest, patches over his skin in several places, twined like vines across his arms and legs. It covers the injuries that must be there, but what’s most noticeable is the mask covering his face.

It’s identical to the one Wild possesses, but its eyes glow with an extra malice as it seems to look around at them, stopping when it’s gaze reaches Time.

“Well well. I was wondering when you all were going to show up,” the boy says in a voice that makes Twilight’s heart stop.

He sounds almost exactly like Time.

He spares a frantic look at his mentor, and sees that Time’s face has gone eerily blank, though the glint of horror in his eye is impossible to erase.

Who’s under that mask?

“Where’s Ravio?” Legend demands, his gaze like steel as he points his sword at the demon.

Majora ignores him.

“My, you’ve grown, Hero. I see you’ve had some fun with some masks yourself!” he titters, staring at the markings on Time’s face. “Power like that is enticing, isn’t it?”

Time doesn’t falter. “Fight us as yourself,” he demands, his voice more matching the thunder that’s growing closer. “A puppet is unbecoming.”

“On the contrary, I rather like him,” the mask giggles, tilting his head so a few blood-soaked strands of blond hair are visible. “I’ve waited for revenge at my only defeat for a long time, and this only sweetens it. No... I think I’ll be keeping him.”

He pauses, and a flash of lighting strikes nearby, sending him into sharp relief.

“Or should I say... you?”

Pure horror hits Twilight like an arrow, and Time moves at the same time as the boy, a horribly familiar laugh ringing over the sound of thunder.

[prepare4trouble]

So, after my post about finding old fic, I decided to make a post, of fanfics I’ve loved over the years. I thought maybe other people might enjoy them too.

It’s not a complete list, there are a lot of other fics that aren’t in the list, mainly because I have and have had favourites saved all over the place, and I’ve got still more that I probably haven’t remembered. I’ll add more later.

All of these are complete, I haven’t included WIPS as much as I have some I loved, I doubt they will ever be finished now. Maybe I’ll add them later too, with warnings of course.

Most of these are pretty long. They are all ones I’ve gone back and read over and over, some though, I haven’t read in years, so maybe they’re not as good as I remember. Hopefully they are though.

This list is mainly for my own benefit, but I hope someone else gets some enjoyment out of these too, and please feel free to reblog and add your own faves.

So, in no particular order:

Cruel Necessity by Epona Harper - Real Ghostbusters fanfic. 79k words.

Summary: An attack on Peter has far-reaching repercussions.

No Little Charity by Perspi - House MD fanfic. 37351 words.

Summary: It was an old ritual, old magic from before the world had rational explanations and cold science. Cold science had failed House; Wilson had nothing left to try but this. (You need to be logged in to view this one)

Tarred and Feathered by Crydamoure - Good Omens fanfic. 75735 words.

Summary: It was the most obvious punishment. The Archangel created to carry Her voice suddenly rendered mute.

(Gabriel falls, personally inconveniencing Beelzebub)

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan - Good Omens fanfic. 10452 words.

Summary: "All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?"

Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval.

 "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."

 AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it

Eclipse by AconitumNapellus - Star Trek TOS fanfic. 82773 words.

Summary: Spock is blinded in an explosion on the Enterprise and relocates to Earth for his rehabilitation. While he grows used to his new world and finally returns to the Enterprise, he and the crew must find out if the explosion was an accident, or terrorism.

(This one is part of a series, but you can get to the others from this one)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm. Good Omens fanfic. 99423 words.

Summary: As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following:

--His clothing was expensive and stylish;
--He wore very strange but noticeable cologne;
--His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;”
--He looked angry;
--He was wearing sunglasses.

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

The Manipulation of Julian Bashir By The Tystie. Star Trek DS9 fanfic. 218000 words

SUMMARY: When you have lived a lie for over half your life, how do you cope when the truth comes out? A story about Julian Bashir, set in season 5.

[joels-darlin]

Monday Morning - The Aftermath

Chapter 3

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ only. kidnapping/hostage situation, violence, angst, hurt, allusions to rape, mentions of weapons, restraints/being tied up, mentions of injuries, panic attacks, mental health, anxiety, night terrors, lots of fluff though. (I think that's all sorry if I missed any)

Summary: The aftermath of recovering from your traumatic kidnapping comes with some surprising consequences.

Word count: 2736

Author Note: It’s here, the final chapter. I’m not going to lie this was a struggle and writers blocks have been kicking my ass for weeks, apologies to those who have been waiting but hopefully it is worth it! I’ve enjoyed writing my first multi-chapter fic and have learnt a lot during the process, hopefully here’s to many more. Enjoy this cos it’s just pure fluff and lots of soft!Javi (sucker for him). Any feedback is appreciated, thanks all ♥️

This wouldn't be happening without the help of my dearest friend @ladybess-a03 ♥️ Just thankyou, I am forever grateful for all your help, support and encouragement. You made this ending so much better than I had planned and will forever be in your debt!

AO3 Link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The recovery process would undoubtedly take months, both mentally and physically. But, as promised, Javi was by your side every step of the way. He could tell the physical injuries didn’t bother you anymore, but the mental scars were the ones that hit the hardest.

As expected the first week was difficult. Even though your DEA issued apartments were adjacent to each other, Javi had basically moved in, albeit not straightaway. On one of those nights where he was unable to switch off, drifting in and out from slumber every hour or so, he was woken by the blood curdling screams and hysterical sobbing from the other side of the wall. Knowing it was you straightaway he had bolted from the bed and through the door of the apartment, forgoing the fact that he was only wearing a pair of shorts.

The minute he stepped foot in the room his heart broke, red puffy eyes and tear tracks marring your cheeks - pain and horror evident on your usually happy features. He had noticed since the incident you had become a shell of your former self. A once happy and carefree persona now replaced with sadness and constant fear. Eyes losing their sparkle, replaced with dullness and emptiness accompanied by the dark circles on your pale skin - although to him you still looked beautiful.

That was the first night you had let him hold your trembling frame, staying intertwined until the sun started to peek through the yellowing blinds of the bedroom. It was a new experience for him, the only time in weeks since the heavy ache in his chest had subsided whilst embracing you. From that moment forward he made a vow to never leave you alone in these four walls again. He only left your side for a few minutes the next morning to pack some of his belongings into a hold-all bag, finding them a home in your apartment. ────────

Everything changed after that night, and although you were still in a constant cycle of anxiety and panic attacks, they were not as frequent. Javi had thrown everything into the role of caretaker, working tirelessly to establish a routine aiming to bring some normality back into your life. It was only after some further coaxing that he finally succeeded in getting you to leave the confines of the apartment on a random Sunday, accompanied by him of course.

It was a specific place he had chosen and quite often frequented. Somewhere not far, a small café just down the road, planning ahead in case you changed your mind and wanted out fast. Javi couldn’t help the grin that spread across his cheeks. Admiring as you sat across from him on the rickety, old table, a breath-taking but shy smile adorned your features as you sipped away on a coffee. In that moment his heart stopped.

Javi wasn’t one for long-term relationships and couldn’t remember the last time he was in one, often just paying a visit to one of his many informants for a moment of stress relief. But here you sat in front of him, fingers softly grazing his knuckles across the table, looking happy for the first time in weeks and he was close to crumbling into pieces. Wanting nothing more than to call you his. But he had to wait; you were still too vulnerable.

────────

It was easy to see that you had both slipped into something that could be considered more than friends, even without there being any words yet to be spoken on the matter. The comforting touches between one another increased and evenings were spent curled up on the couch barely paying attention to the TV, not forgetting sleeping in the same bed completely wrapped around one another. Which seemed to keep your nightmares at bay…sometimes.

What you were both unprepared for was the brown Embassy issued envelope that dropped through the letterbox a couple of weeks after the coffee shop. You had come on in leaps and bounds since then, the coffee ‘dates’ slowly becoming something that happened multiple times a week. You’d even managed to go as far as going back to the market where you had first been taken from, albeit for a brief visit, but in Javi’s mind that was steady progress.

All Javi could do was watch as you opened it with shaking hands, spotting the tears starting collecting at your lash line. Taking every ounce of strength in his body to resist pulling you into an embrace, giving you a moment to take in the words on the page.

“They-they- want me back in,” you said. He had waited patiently for you to speak but the words barely came out as a whisper.

“Cariño…” he whispered softly, “If you aren’t ready you don’t have to do anything, I can pull a few strings get you a little longer,” he said, reaching his hands out tentatively and resting them at your waist, calloused thumbs grazing softly at the small amount of exposed skin.

He was furious. Seeing how much progress you had been making and now this, not failing to spot you retreating back into your shell from the moment you had opened the letter. The room was virtually silent, the only sound being the faint banging of footsteps from the apartment above. It was only a few minutes that passed, but they felt like hours, Javi just watching intently as you took a deep breath in before exhaling loudly, sensing that the cogs were turning in your head.

“I-I-think it might be good for me to go…back” you said, and his eyes widened at your response.

“No, sweetheart, don’t rush on their account. It’s barely been two months, fuck them all!” he said, his anger evident from his tone.

“Javi…I can’t stay here locked up in the apartment forever. I’m going to have to get back to real life soon enough,” you said. You were right, as always, eliciting a sigh from him. Moving his arms from your waist he reached out grabbing your hands, linking your fingers with yours.

“Honey, look at me…” he watched as you raised your head, locking eyes with him “…are you sure this is what you want?…You don’t have to make the decision now”.

“No Javi, I do. I want to get my life back on track… I can’t live scared forever,” you said, and he nodded, accepting your reasons.

“I’m with you every step of the way, you got that? Just say the words and we are out of there,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at Javi. He’d gone above and beyond for you these last few weeks, and you truly didn’t know where you’d be without his support.

“Thank you, Javi” you said.

He said no more to you on the matter; truthfully, he didn’t need to. You’d made up your mind and he’d never stand in the way of your decision. There was nothing else to say now, but he chose to use his actions instead to convey just how serious he was about supporting you; how serious he was about you. Closing the space between your bodies, he pulled you into an embrace, laying a soft kiss on your hair. For the first time in a long while, Javi was becoming less frightened to show you just how he felt about you. ────────

You going back to work came around faster than expected. Today was the day you were going back to the office and Javi had been dreading it since the letter dropped through the door. As he stood in the bathroom, eyes locked on his pale and clammy figure staring back in the mirror, hands gripping the contours of the ceramic sink, his knuckles practically white and ready to burst out of the skin. He felt it all, the anxiety and nerves coming and going in waves across his chest. All he wanted was to protect and keep you safe from any harm, and today, for the first time since you were rescued, he wouldn’t be able to do that.

You had been quiet all morning, as expected. He didn’t make any extra fuss, giving you the space and time needed to slow pad around the apartment doing your morning routine. He could only observe from the couch, munching on a slice of now cold toast which was threatening to make a re-appearance at any given moment. He didn’t want you back today, it was too soon. But this was your decision, and he had to respect that.

The drive to the office was quiet. Javi tried to distract himself by tapping his fingers on the leather of the steering wheel. Whilst stuck at a red light he took a moment to glance over to your figure in the passenger seat. The dark circles under your eyes caught his attention, knowing full well that you hadn’t slept at all last night, the constant tossing and turning in bed being the obvious sign. He’d done his best to still you, letting you snuggle into him more than most nights. But it seemed like nothing was working, and as such neither of you had a good night’s sleep.

Javi pulled up into his designated parking spot and turned off the engine. You didn’t move to undo the seatbelt, instead sitting rooted to the spot. Javi turned to you, smiling solemnly, and reached one hand out to hold yours.

“Hey…are you alright?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was a resounding ‘no’, but you’d probably never admit that. Sure enough, he was right, and as you turned to look at him you put on your best fake smile and nodded your head.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Just nervous,” you said, squeezing Javi’s hand in yours.

“I can drive you home? Tell our boss you ain’t up to it yet?” he offered, his deep brown eyes staring at you almost pleading, begging for you to grant him permission to do so. But you were nothing if not stubborn, and shook your head.

“Thank you, Javi. But no, I…I need to do this. If not now, when? I don’t want to get into my own head about this too long, or else it’ll just make my inevitable return so much more difficult. I’m still just on desk duty for a while at least, so that’s something,” you said, not realising that the only reason you were being kept at the station was because Javi had basically demanded that be the case. The day after you’d received your letter he’d gone straight into your boss’ office, thrusting the letter on their desk, requesting that you not be put on any missions for the foreseeable future.

“It’s enough that you want her back so fucking soon, the least you can do is keep her out of harm’s way,” he’d said, not even waiting to hear a response before storming out of the office and back to his desk. He’d learn by the end of the day that they had agreed, and you’d be psychologically monitored before being allowed out from behind your desk. He’d breathed a sigh of relief that night, and packed up his things almost immediately to go back home and tell you the news.

“Okay sweetheart, but if you need anything-,” he began before you cut him off.

“I know, Javi. I know. I’ll come and find you,” you said, smiling.

“You better,” he chuckled.

“I always will, Javi. And, listen…thank you. For everything. I know you still don’t think I should go back to work today, but please don’t forget that if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t even be considering this. I owe you everything,” you said, one or two tears spilling down your cheeks. Javi smiled faintly, undoing his seatbelt so he could lean over to you more and brush away the tear tracks.

“Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry. What you went through was horrible, and I’m constantly blown away with how strong you’ve been,” he said. You smiled at him, staring into his deep brown eyes. Eyes that only seemed to soften for you, you’d noticed.

“Will…will you be moving out now?” you asked, biting your lip a little, your voice barely above a whisper. Javi chuckled, getting a little closer so your foreheads could rest together.

“Only if you don’t want me there, hermosa,” he whispered, your lips so close to touching, Javi’s hand still cradling your head.

You pulled back ever so slightly to look at him in the eyes, and Javi thought his heart might burst. He’d completely fallen head over heels for you, but it was only after having spent so much time with you these last few weeks that he’d come to realise this. He wondered how long he’d been harbouring this feeling towards you, but that was in the past now. He just hoped that, going forward, it would be something he could one day express.

Smiling sweetly, your breath slightly shaky, you leant back in towards him. Your lips pressed against Javi’s and you kissed him softly. His eyes widened a little at the contact, not quite expecting this from you, and his heart sped up. Once his brain had caught up with what was going on, he kissed you back, the hand cradling your cheek landing in your hair to keep you close. You smiled against his lips when he kissed you, glad that Javi returned the affection you too had been nursing for the last couple of months, the feelings making themselves known ever since he came to look after you.

He didn’t want to overstep with you, never having expected something like this to even happen in the first place. He pulled back slowly, but kept himself close to you. You smiled, a flush on your cheeks and for the first time in weeks you felt alive. It would undoubtedly take a long time before your desire to be intimate with anyone to come back, but for now gentle kisses could be how you showed Javi how you felt.

“I…I don’t want you to move out, Javi. In fact, I wondered if you’d like to move in more permanently?” you asked, trying your best to hold back a cheeky grin. Javi chuckled, elated that you still wanted him around, but also delighted to see you smiling and laughing again. Slowly but surely you were coming back to him, and he was willing to be patient and stick by you for as long as that took.

“If you’ll have me, sweetheart, then I’ll start packing tonight,” he promised, pressing one final soft kiss to your lips. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, now feeling much less anxious about today.

He pulled back and hopped out of the car, then came around to your side to let you out. Locking the vehicle, Javi thrust the keys in his pocket before leaning down to grab your hand. You interlocked your fingers, and he gave you a small squeeze before heading off.

The two of you walked through the front doors of the DEA’s office, hand in hand still. You smiled at Javi, the first genuine smile you’d done this morning. You were still sleep deprived, yes, but he’d lifted your spirits immeasurably, and for the first time since the kidnapping you were starting to believe that you could do this. Your strength in yourself might still not be back to where it was, but today was the first day where you could see yourself slowly getting back there.

For as long as you had Javi by your side, you’d be okay. It might take a few more weeks, or even months; but he was going nowhere, he never wanted to let you go again now. Together you’d be able to overcome what you’d been through, and that was a future you were excited about experiencing.

[pynkhues]

hi! I don’t know if you can open TikToks but I just saw this really interesting one by a New Orleans tour guide that really goes into the gay (and cruising) history of the French quarter. My first thought was Loustat my second thought was you because of ✨the cruising fic✨ and because you recommended this velvet mafia to me before, thought you might like it (you might even know about it already) https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdryKcj6/

if you can’t open TikTok I also just found it on Instagram! 🫶🏻https://www.instagram.com/reel/DIRHWr_tjeM/?igsh=MTQxdWpld3kyazNuNQ==

Hi! And oh my gosh, this is SO interesting, thank you for sharing it! I knew bits and pieces of this, but not all of it - particularly I didn't know that the wrought iron fixtures were designed by a gay man, nor that poetry books were used to signal in the cruising sites back then! I'm definitely going to fold that into something in the future. It's actually been a bit of a challenge to find sources specifically for the late 1800s/early 1900s when Louis would've been cruising in New Orleans, so it really is useful to know. Thank you again!

One of the only good sources for the late 1800s / very early 1900s I found was actually about a Black hotel in Storyville which would let mixed-race couples hook up in rooms upstairs (very illegal at the time), but would also turn a blind eye to gay couples slipping down into the liquor cellar - gay couples could be caught by other patrons though, so even though the staff turned away, it was still really dangerous. I actually put a blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of that into Steady Murmur with Jonah and Louis:

No, suddenly with the wail of weather and the shuddering curtains around the stage, Louis was nine years old again and home in Louisiana, chasing after his daddy as he boarded up windows, fireplaces, any place that might let the weather in. Louis was fifteen, wind cutting at his cheeks as he hauled a babbling Paul in from what he promised wasn’t any sort of rapture, twenty-four between Jonah’s trembling adolescent thighs, down in the liquor cellar beneath the colored hotel off Bourbon Street, thirty-three in flesh, thirty-eight in years, exasperated, hammering nails into plywood and spitting fury at Lestat, who danced through the house like a hurricane all his own, feeding off the weather outside, and oh - - it hadn’t been fury at all. Not when Lestat had his hands on his, pulling him up and close, the bright sparking look in his eyes catching in Louis’ own, and Lestat was new to this, new to hurricanes, but it wasn’t dread or terror in his gaze, but enchantment and so much fuckin’ love, and the way he’d said it. Louis, this wild, wonderful city of yours, she’d have us hear her tonight! as he pulled him in for the dance, it - -

I really enjoy finding these little real historical moments and folding them in to hopefully make it all feel a little fuller and a little more lived in, so I really appreciate you sending me that!