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aftgficrec · 6 months

Note

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here

‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated 2018]

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words] Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

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thevoidstaredback · 11 days

Text

Bruce figured out their civilian identities pretty quickly. He had to, in order to recruit them. Either way, he knew the names of all of the Justice League heroes and they had no idea who he was.

Most of them either ignored their personas - like Wonder Woman and Green Lantern who didn't talk about their civilian life in costume or vice versa - while others - Superman - sang their own praises as civilians.

Superman's whole having three names thing was useful, and a pretty good cover, but Batman had spotted that the relationship between Clark Kent and Lois Lane was the exact one that Superman and Lois Lane shared, so that was a bit of a moot point.

Personally, Bruce liked his way of keeping people off his tail. Not only were Brucie Wayne and Batman polar opposites, but they were both each other's biggest haters. Although, Bruce publicly admitted that he thinks Batman has the right idea, just not the best execution. While Batman, not on record but definitely heard, has said that Bruce Wayne does good things for Gotham as a whole.

The kids all think it's hilarious, but no one - except Tim, but he's a special case - has managed to cement his civilian and caped identities as being the same person.

Well, maybe Harvey has, but that's because of a lot of reasons. As long as Two Face doesn't reveal that information, and Bruce knows he won't, then all's well.

The point is that Batman knows who the Justice League are outside of capes and masks, but they don't know who he is. Of course, revealing himself would mean revealing his kids, and they wouldn't like that if he was boring about it.

The only natural solution is to be over the top and dramatic about it.

He could keep his name to himself, but where's the fun in that?

Though, it'd be funnier if he managed to keep the appearance of Batman and Bruce Wayne hating each other, especially if he reveals that the Bat Cave is under Wayne Manor.

That'd be funny. His kids would be proud.

His kids will want in on this.

He's got some conspiring planning to do.

Part 2

#not canon compliant #like at all #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #dc #the batman #batman #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #secret identity #secret identities #justice league #Batman is dramatic and I will die on this hill

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joemothersfavoritechild · 6 months

Text

“across the street” pt. 2

-3k-ish words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: thanks for all the love on my last post!! i took some inspiration from a few joel miller fics for this one. also, referring to the ending, gotta let it marinate or sum. and if you get the orange reference, marry me.

summary: you have a late night phone call with yk who, and build furniture in the morning.

part one is here!

————————————————————————————

You plopped down in your chair, sighing while rubbing hand sanitizer over your hands. Your shift had been busy as hell, this being the first break you had all day, and it was only halfway over. You wiped your now clean hands over your eyes, trying to rub the tired soreness out of them. At least the pay is good, you thought.

Your coworker calling your name pulled you away from your thoughts.

��25 wants you again.” They said.

“Why me?” You whined.

“I don’t know, I think she prefers women.” They answered your rhetorical, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck me, I’m going to have to take my lunch after this. I’m never working another Sunday.” You said, standing up on your practically creaking legs.

This was how the rest of your afternoon went, running in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off. “23 wants an ice cream,” “25 pulled out her IV again,” “Call security on 26, he’s trying to leave.” It was an absolute shit show, you hardly had a chance to see the time on your phone, let alone check for a text that you were desperate to receive.

Your drive home was quiet, soft music playing to hopefully decompress you. It always seemed to help. You pulled into your driveway, noticing the lights on at a certain someone’s house across the street, his old Accord telling you that he was home. You turned your car off, trying to stop looking at it from your rearview.

Walking into your house wasn’t as satisfying as you’d hoped, boxes still covering the floor. You took your shoes off as you set your work bag on the ground. You looked at your bed frame again in the dark, not bothering to turn a light on. Was a day too early to expect a message? Was that considered desperate? Probably, you thought. But fuck, you were so desperate. He checked all the boxes,

cute? : check

siblings? : check

caring? : check

a little mean? : check

dorky as hell? : check

abandonment issues? : probably check!

You forced yourself to pull your eyes off the box. As the saying goes, a watched fish doesn’t get caught.

That’s not right, you think. Your tired brain can’t decipher what you were trying to go for, but you knew it would’ve worked.

Anyways, constantly thinking about someone texting you doesn’t help anything. You plugged your phone into the charger near the couch, purposefully ignoring staring at it for too long.

Your eyes fell back to the boxes surrounding you. You passed them all, going straight to your bathroom to shower.

The shower was the right call, you decided. Scorching water loosened your muscles and kept your mind in the present. Washing the outside world off your skin was the highlight of your day.

You got out of the shower, eventually. The warm water didn’t last as long as you had hoped, though it did try. Your nearly hour-long shower would overwhelm any water heater on the market. You quickly dried yourself off, taking the time to brush your teeth and apply your skincare before wrapping your towel around yourself and stepping into your bedroom. You threw on some pajamas from your suitcase that moved with you; pajama pants and an old shirt.

You balled up your work clothes into your towel and put them all in the laundry basket in the corner of your room, already beginning to overflow. You reminded yourself to start the laundry sometime tomorrow as you walked back to your temporary bed, the large green couch in your living room.

You pulled back the covers on the couch, piling into it. You had completely decked it out; two blankets, a comforter, two pillows (one for your head, one for between your legs), and the fan dialed up. You closed your eyes, listening to the white noise of the fan above you.

You were interrupted by the shrill noise of your phone ringing behind you. You groaned, folding your blankets over so you could get off the couch and walk to the charger. You ripped your phone off the charger, taking it with you as you laid back into your bed. You re-adjusted your blankets before pulling the phone under your ear and swiping to accept the call.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Hey.” A voice responded. It took you a moment, but eventually, you recognized it. You were suddenly awake with nervousness.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hi. Um, I texted you,” He said, sounding more like a question than a comment. “A few times, not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were alive.” He joked.

You paused, trying to quickly check your messages.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I’ve been working all day. It was super busy, so I didn’t have time to check my phone, and when I got home all I was thinking about was sleep.” You described.

“No need to be sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You responded.

“Good, good,” He pauses. “So, um, how was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.” You summarize, hearing him laugh in the background.

“Tell me about it.”

So, you did. You proceeded to tell him all the gritty details about your job. What your coworkers are like, the patients that you had to deal with, the frequent fliers, all of it. He asked a lot of questions, making you feel more comfortable rambling on to him.

“What’d you have for lunch?” He asked.

“I had leftover wingstop, I barely have any food at the house.”

“What’s your order?”

“Eight-piece boneless, classic hot. With fries, ranch, and a huge coke. It was amazing,” You said, practically salivating remembering it. “What about you and Abs?” You asked.

“It was very fancy, I don’t know if you’re prepared to hear me talk about it, you might be jealous,” He said sarcastically. “I made cheese quesadillas.”

You laughed a little too long at that, surprised. He was funny, another check.

You talked on the phone for a while, so long that you were talking about the most boring stuff. Like how Abby was a picky eater, and it annoyed Mike because all he wanted to do was eat a good burger now and again. It was sickly sweet and felt like being a teenager again. Whispering as to not wake your parents up, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you up past your bedtime.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you fell asleep on the phone. Mike was talking about something, maybe about the tv show he had been watching. You’re not exactly positive, but you know that you passed out cold.

Your eyes fluttered open, the phone still pressed up against your cheek, warm from the contact. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your dream in your mind. You had to think hard, as it was delicate. If you let it go, you’d never remember what it was.

It was a good dream, as most of yours tended to be. You didn’t remember a lot, only pieces of it. But you knew Mike was there. You knew that he had led you to your bed, pulling you under the covers with him. You talked, cuddling close to him. God, it had felt so real. You could practically see the lines under his eyes and the pores on his nose. You smiled, but this felt a little creepy at this point. Borderline delusional, your mind added. You barely knew him and you were already dreaming about him.

You grabbed the phone from under your face, groaning as it got unstuck from your skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t dead. You unlocked it, taking the opportunity to look at the texts that you had gotten the night before.

Yesterday, 12:36 pm: hey, this is mike. i’ll need you on the weekends from 8 am-4 pm. and idc that you said not to pay you, i’m building your bed too.

Yesterday, 2:49 pm: you okay?

Yesterday, 5:03 pm: not to be creepy, but i think i’m going to call you. you’re worrying me a little lol

Today, 1:45 am: i think you fell asleep, i’ll talk to you in the morning :)

You smiled, making a contact for him. “mike <3” was now typing. Three little dots popped up on your screen and you quickly swiped out in nervousness. You opened it again when you got a notification.

Today, 10:23 am: i dropped abby off for school and slept in a little, is it okay if i come over to build that bed frame for you?

You smiled again, quickly replying to make up for last night.

Today, 10:24 am: yeah, ofc. give me a few minutes to wake up lol, i need to brush my teeth and clean up for a second.

He replied immediately.

Today, 10:24 am: lmk when you’re ready

You willed yourself to stop smiling, god it had been too long. You hardly knew how to act with a potential date.

“Oh, god.” You muttered to yourself, realizing you had to talk to him. Why did you have to talk to a man to get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t it just happen telepathically?

You sighed, rolling off the couch. You plugged your phone back into the charger, making your way to the bathroom. You completed your morning routine and ran to your bedroom to pick something out to wear for the day. You decided to go for casual, grey sweatpants and a green hoodie. Didn’t want to seem too desperate. You pulled your socks up your feet, laughing at yourself.

You grabbed a quick breakfast from your kitchen, consisting of leftover cookies and a slice of cold pizza. You tried your best to tidy your place up, moving boxes to the corner of the living room. Running down the hallway to your bedroom with your boxed bed frame in hand, you placed it on the floor, taking the other boxes and moving them to the hallway. You scrubbed your toilet and sink, turning on the air fresheners you had placed around the house.

You washed your hands, drying them before returning to the living room. You texted Mike, letting him know that you were ready. He liked the text message, and in less than two minutes he was knocking on your door.

You eyed the door at the noise. Jesus, he was not playing around. You took another deep breath, opening the door to see him standing there with a small smile. He went for casual too, you noted. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. He held a bag, which you assumed was full of tools.

You smiled at him as a greeting and opened the door wider to allow him to walk into your house.

“Hey.” He said as you walked past you.

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” You responded. “You didn’t have to, the payment feels premature.” You joked, shutting the front door. He looked a you for a second while taking his shoes off at the entryway.

“Shut up, you can’t sleep on the couch for a week”

“I totally can.” You bite back.

“You won’t, where’s your bedroom?” He finished, looking at you again.

You were shocked into silence, feeling your cheeks warm up. The comment made your head spin. Fuck, could he tell that you liked that?

You said nothing, ignoring his little smirk as you walked him to your bedroom. He followed behind you, dropping the bag on the floor with a small thump.

“Do you need any help or something?” You asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

“No, I’m good. I’ve done a lot of stuff like this,” He answered, shrugging. “You could put on some background music?” He suggested.

“That, I can do.”

You nodded, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You hesitated, before choosing a slower playlist of yours. Something calm, that you didn’t have to focus on. He nodded in enjoyment, then began to open the box that held your bed frame. He spilled the contents onto the floor, then kneeled on the ground. He started pulling stuff out of his bag. You guessed correctly, it was full of tools.

You just watched, sitting down against the wall of your room. It was attractive, him expertly putting your bed frame together. He was good with his hands, you wondered what else he was good at. He looked at you after a moment.

“You just gonna watch?”

“If that’s okay.” You shrugged, he nodded at your sort of question. He tried to hide his smile.

He was going to town, drilling, piecing parts together, all while completely ignoring the instructions. He didn’t need them.

After a while, you could tell he was getting hot. His black shirt was sticking to his skin. You hated to admit that it did something to you. You felt a warmth settle in your stomach and tried your best to will it away. Your eyes settled on his back, looking up to his neck when he turned towards you.

“Why’re looking at me like that?” He asked, eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

You made eye contact with him like a deer in headlights. Smiling at you, he laughed a little. Your words were stuck in your throat, embarrassed about being caught.

“Um, do you want some water?” You settled on.

“Sure.” He answered, chuckling at your suddenly shy demeanor.

You stood up off the floor and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. What the fuck was that? You scolded yourself, internally. Now he was going to think that you were a horny weirdo. I mean, you were, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

You shook your head at yourself as you poured him a glass. This was ridiculous, you needed to chill out.

You came back into the bedroom and handed him the glass. He took it from you gratefully, fingers brushing over yours as he grabbed it. Telling you a small “thank you,” he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink greedily. You watched him as he downed the glass, some dripping down his chin.

When he was finished, he wiped a hand over his stubble. He looked over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He held the glass out to you and you took it, quickly walking out of the room.

You placed the glass in the sink, blinking to try and bring yourself back to life. How did someone make drinking water look so good? How was that even possible? And god, the look he gave you.

You needed to get it together before you blew it. Talk to him, say something, anything other than just fucking staring at him.

You walked back into the room with a mission, you were going to talk to him. Taking your spot on the floor, you cleared your throat.

“So, what’s your favorite food?” You decided on.

He barely paused before answering, “Definitely pasta, like a good chicken alfredo.”

“Shit, that’s a good answer. I’m really into sushi right now. Can’t afford it, but into it.” You said, smiling at his willingness to answer.

The stupid questions continued for a few minutes. The two of you got to know the smallest details of your likes and dislikes. Turns out, Mike can’t stand the color yellow but loves orange. He’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he can’t afford it, but he does occasionally smoke weed. He’s a cat person but would get a dog if Abby asked for one. It killed you when he talked about his sister because it was so obvious how much he loved her.

Eventually, he finished your bed frame. The gentleman that he is forced him to carry your mattress in from the laundry room, helping you set that up too. Mike may have been on the shorter side, but he was strong as hell. The two of you put on your sheets, blankets, pillows, and finally your comforter. It was almost too domestic, too real.

When you were finished, you didn’t want him to leave. You think he felt the same. This was confirmed when he saw the tv sitting in your closet.

“Do you want me to mount that for you?” He asked.

I want you to mount me, you fought against saying.

“That would be great.” You agreed.

Mike probably spent three hours helping you put your bedroom together, setting up shelves, arranging your cabinets, and helping you put your pictures and posters up while you talked his ear off.

Even though you told him a million times that he didn’t need to, he hung your clothes up in your closet while you folded the rest to go in your new dresser. Finally, your room was fully decorated and unpacked.

He rubbed his hands together, settling on the end of your bed. You sat next to him.

“Thank you, seriously. I was dreading doing all of that by myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said.

You both looked at each other for a second too long, the tension between the two of you becoming thick. You took breaks from looking at his eyes by moving down to his lips. You took a deep breath, noticing him moving closer to you.

He hesitated, pushing a stray hair behind your ear instead. His hand lingered on your face, eventually moving down your arm to put your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers together, pulling it close to him and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. He held you there, hand resting on his chin. This was almost more intimate than a kiss, you thought.

“Do you not-” You started, getting interrupted.

“I want to, believe me.”

You looked at him, willing him to continue.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” He explained, you nodded. You know that this was him being respectful, but it made you want to tear his clothes off even more. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“Let me take you on a date, tomorrow on my lunch break. I know a place you’d like.” He continued.

“Okay.” You said, smiling.

————————————————————————————

**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

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intriq · 7 months

Text

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Scabious

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Theme: Angst

Character: Dick Grayson

Word Count: 855

scabious; unfortunate love

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Dick had always been your close friend. Your close best friend. The best friend you fell in love with.

But he didn't feel the same. He loved someone else, not you. He loved Kory. Not you.

Even though he'd rejected you, made it known he only ever thought of you as a friend, you still loved him. Loved him so much that it made your lungs hurt and fill with flowers.

Which is how it lead to now.

Your both on patrol together, like always. Except the only difference being your waning strength as the flowers in your lungs greedily consume you, growing off that suffocating love you've got for Dick Grayson himself.

One particularly nasty cough makes Dick turn to you, worry evident all across that pretty face of his. "You sure you are in any condition to be on patrol tonight?"

"I'm fine, trust me." You reply in return, crumpling those bloody flower petals in the palm of your hand that you'd just coughed up moments before. "Just allergies kickin' my ass."

"C'mon, there's something you aren't telling me here." Dick's gaze locks on your own, even if your gaze is focused on the city below. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Dick. It's just a stupid cough from allergies, I'll be fine in a few weeks." You lie instantly, refusing to meet his gaze.

Dick is almost upset that you insist on lying to him. Did you really think he wouldn't notice the signs? The bloody flower petals that you've been coughing up?

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Dick's tone is enough to make you flinch. "You think I didn't notice those flowers you've been coughing up?"

"Nothing get's past you, huh?" You weakly laugh, a pained smile on your face before you begin to cough again, more flowers stained a deep red by your blood falling into your waiting palm.

"How long?"

"Few months now, I think."

"There's a way to fix this, right? There has to be. I can't lose you."

Your face scrunches up, contorted into pain. You barely had any time life, really. Very little of it. Sure, it was selfish to keep on loving Dick, even if he was begging for you to keep living. But in order to keep living, you had to get rid of your feelings for him. And you, in all honestly, didn't wish to do so.

Dick doesn't say anything. He can tell from that saddened look on your face that there isn't a whole lot that can be done, a whole lot left to do. That you don't have time to do anything else about it.

So perhaps it's the desperation over the fact he doesn't want to lose his best friend that makes him take your hand and pull you closer and kiss you.

He doesn't quite like you the same way you like him, but it'll do something, right? It has to. Dick doesn't want to accept any other answer for it. He needs it to account for something, to do something.

You pull away almost instantly, violently coughing up more flowers. Because Dick's desperate attempt to fix you, only worsens the problem. And when you can finally breath again after coughing more flowers into your own lap, speckled in crimson, you speak.

"Dick, please. Don't force yourself. Don't force yourself to pretend as if you feel the same way I do. Please."

"I may not love you, but god! You're my family, okay? I care about you. I don't want you to die, especially not because of me!" Dick pleads, holding your hand with both of his at this point. Voice shrill and desperate.

"I know it's selfish but.. God, I can't lose you. You've saved me more times than I can count. I can't lose you. I can't.. Please, please don't leave me alone."

Dick's voice is pitiful, pathetic. Selfish, but pathetic. Weak. And not only that, but he's crying. Sobbing, even. All because you're dying.

"Dick, please. Either way you'd wind up alone and without me. I love you. But not in the way you love me.”

Dick opens his mouth, as if to protest what is you’re saying, but he pauses when you continue to speak.

“You don't love me the way I wish you would. I love you. Not a friends kind of love. You don't love me the way I wish you would."

You're the one who should be crying. You're the one whose dying, after all. But yet here you are, hands reaching up to wipe away Dick's tears instead.

After a bit more back and forth, begging from Dick, your answer stays the same. You refuse to get the surgery, no matter how hard it makes Dick cry over this revelation.

But when weeks pass, and your final day is dawning upon you, Dick is there. Even if he can't stand to watch you die, you deserved someone by your side, at least.

So you die while Dick holds your hand with both of his. You grow cold and limp in his grasp as the final flower in your lungs bloom a beautifully macabre shade of deep, dark crimson.

A flower that blooms as a result of your pitiful and unfortunate affection.

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

#gender neutral reader #oneshot #gn reader #angst #dc universe #non canon compliant dc universe oneshot #hanahaki disease au #hanahaki #no use of y/n #dc fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x gn!reader #no comfort

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wierdshenanigans · 7 months

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Types of Fanfiction as Canon's lovers-

Canon Compliant: Their soulmate, their one and only, pets Canon on the head and calls them 'honey'

Alternate Universe: Broke up with Canon by saying "It's not you, it's me"

Canon Divergent: Slashed Canon's tires, printed a note saying "fuck u" and nailed it on Canon's door, the crazy ex partner

#im just saying #i noticed a pattern #fanfiction #fanfiction memes #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 stuff #archive of our own #canon compliant #canon #canon divergent fic #canon divergent #alternate universe #au #wattpad #fanfics

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aikann · 3 months

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Minato Mugino's Letter

Dear Yori Hoshikawa,

I used to be afraid of you, the same dumb reason everyone else believed was true. That you were a monster. But, you never were. You were just some boy who remembered the names of flowers, laughed and giggled like you knew everything in the world, smiled as if nothing was wrong. I know I could’ve stepped up for you many times in class, but the peer pressure got to me.

What even is a monster? Someone who’s done wrong? Wouldn’t that make us all monsters? I have so many questions - why you claim you have a disease - why you have a father like that - why you left me, alone with the planets in our safe place. Our little rocketship. I’m sorry for never standing up for you, for watching you get bullied for being you, for having a fight and covering you in paint (you looked beautiful in paint splotches). Still, to this day, I haven’t digested the term of sexuality, or gender, or anything like that, but I think I liked you. I think I cared about you, in some sort of way.

I think I liked you more than I liked the world. Hoshikawa Yori, I think you were my world, my monster, my sign of life. The planets in the solar system revolve around the sun just like I revolved around you. I mistreated you so many times to count, if I could redo it all I would. I would have taken you away from your dad. We wouldn’t have ran onto the tracks that day. You wouldn’t have to save me the way you did. We were in fifth grade, but I needed you.

Hey, remember the day you said you were moving? When you hugged me and I pushed you away? I wasn’t used to being touched like that. It felt like - too much for someone like me to handle. I never meant to hurt you, but how could you forgive me numerous times for harming you? Why can’t I say sorry and hear you forgive me?

"Monster where are you?” I’m here, flashing my light towards you. I hear the train tracks approach, my phone clutched in my hand. Let’s be reborn Yori, this time, I’m not letting go of you, let’s stay the same.

-Mugino Minato, your monster.

#monster #kaibutsu 2023 #monster 2023 #minato mugino #yori hoshikawa #letters #not canon #not canon compliant #alternate universe #death #kaibutsu #poems and poetry #2023 #movie #movies #angst #no comfort

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declawedwildcat · 18 days

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Kuras doing Mhin's top surgery. That's it that's the post

#touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved kuras #thoughts from their birthday peek of collarbone today #I do like amab mhin as well and I can't imagine anything about this scenario being remotely canon-compliant with the universe #but certainly some soft imaginings to be had there

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penvisions · 8 months

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 4}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian succumbs to more than one of his instincts regarding recent quarries, a fight to maintain that which he deems worthy of saving ensues.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideation, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, guns, gun violence, shooting, injuries, blood

A/N: please excuse any mistakes with the mando'a, i've been using a combination of a translation code and star wars lore to piece together the language. this chapter was a little hard for me to write, it was a heavy one and my weeks have not been great lately. but it's here, i worked through it and i will be out of town for a few days to get some much needed mental space before the semester starts.

thank you so much to everyone for the love and support, and hello to the 70(!!) new followers i've gained recently ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Watching him leave the space of the Crest and down through the entrance of the city had a foreign feeling settling in your chest. There was a weight to it, something that you hadn’t experienced before. It was akin to panic, your palms sweating and your heartbeat tittering. Your brow was smooth, though you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, some kind of anxiety taking over all of a sudden.

The shine of his newly minted armor in the blue light of dusk was a beautiful sight to behold. The strong form of the Mandalorian backtracking to right a wrong he didn’t have the resolve to stick by, despite everything he had done and every action he had taken up until this point to ensure the completion of his job. His steps were sure, his hands still at his sides, his helmet facing forward. The cape he had allowed you to use as a resting pad billowed with his steps, moving behind him in a mesmerizing show, the rifle strapped down his back holding most of it still, save for the end of it.

Eyes tracked him almost greedily until he was lost in the maze of the buildings that lined the streets. You were usure of how much time had passed since he had disappeared, though the sun had begun to descend toward the horizon.

A beeping started down in the hold, causing you to startle a little. You wracked your brain to figure out what it was without moving to inspect it. It wasn’t your ship after all, you didn’t want to go snooping around and find something you weren’t supposed to. Or, with your luck, end of messing with whatever was making the noise and get injured or blindsided by a trap. Then it clicked. It was the tracking fob he had carried around on Arvala-7.

Climbing down into the hold space despite how sore your body was, you found it atop the bed that was in his small personal quarters. The door had been left open in his haste to get back into the city. It was flashing a red light, the beeping continuing at a steady pace. Your nerves tingled as you realized what it meant. The job was back on for the entirety of the Guild. It would be a free for all, the hunt for the Child back on. You took it with you back up to the cockpit, watching as the sun began to disappear on the horizon, the fob tight in your hand.

You had managed to silence it, but the light still glowed red on the face of it.

You were still in the cockpit, taking in the surroundings of the ship when you noticed the way the same busy streets you had been watching all day seemed to clear, nearly desolate in the waning day. They had cleared as twilight had delved into early evening; the sun having dipped completely below the horizon now. A lot of the main throughways had emptied at the same time. The panicked feeling grew stronger in your chest.

It was something that made your instincts itch to run, to warn the Mandalorian. But you had no way to, the integrity of his armor had been damaged and then replaced with a completely new set. You doubted the outdated communications cuff you had in the bottom of your old bag would even connect to his, if you even had his chain code or communications number. You had no idea if you could maybe contact somehow with the controls on the ship, there was no time for you to figure it out.

Mechanics weren’t your strong suit. You could fly should the need arise, but you didn’t know enough to comfortably mess around with the older model of this ship without risking messing something up or throwing something out of sync in the settings. Silently cursing this ugly planet and dangerous city, you took off into the streets you had been monitoring.

You wandered a few streets into the city before actually beginning to search for what you wanted.

Making sure you hadn’t gained the attention of anyone or were being followed. Cautious as always. It was an odd feeling being down in the winding streets, it had been so long since you had been anywhere of your own volition. It was not lost on you that you were out on your own for the first time in who knows how long, to be seeking out help for someone else in your first moments of pseudo freedom. You had no motivation to seek out a ship of your own, to hide, to run. You had a mission, one that you felt deeply enough about to put your own true freedom to the side for the moment. The Mandalorian had somehow etched himself into your mind and you wanted him to succeed in this endeavor. In this rescue.

Not just for the sake of the Child. It was also for the man who had obviously connected with him, sensed something in him enough to regret turning him over as agreed when he took on the job.

It made you wish that someone had felt strongly enough about you to free your own fate. Or at least to aid you in achieving it yourself. You had been honest and ready to face the ramifications of your request upon the Mandalorian’s arrival at that compound. Asking him to kill you, to take the one thing you held close throughout your entire life, you had been ready. Ready to be free of the cycle that played out time and time again. You were tired of the running, the hiding, the scheming. Of watching over your shoulder every time you dared to leave a safe haven, a hiding place, the comfort of being alone for the sake of absolute safety. You didn’t see anything other than this being your life, until the end of your life.

You would agree with anyone that called you a coward, too afraid to take your own life but willing to ask for it. You would agree with them in absolution, it felt like a betrayal to those who had seen potential in you. To those that had taken you into their temple, taught you everything you knew, had seen the gift that they claimed you held. It would feel too much like disrespect, a slight to them in their deceased states after fighting so hard to protect what they believed in, who they believed in only to fall themselves. It would be a smear on your entire existence, to take your own life after they had laid down their own in protection. Despite the very fact that the gift they had seen in you, had set you on this very path.

The Mandalorian hadn’t mentioned anything other than this being a hub for the Guild in passing, where he would retrieve pucks and return captures. But there was something else about the city that had to mean something to him, to keep him returning and adamant about it as you had looked over his travel logs stored in the control system. He seemed to return here, to this outer rim location more than any other, sometimes stopping between every other planet. It had to be other Mandalorians.

Jobs, you were mostly sure of getting his payment and to obtain more, but he couldn’t possibly be coming back just for employment. You spied a large figure lingering in a doorway down the same street you were on. The streetlight glinting off of his helmet for the barest of seconds, but it was enough for you to see a similar looking visor. You knew it wasn’t him, it didn’t feel like him, but the figure still brought a sense of comfort low in your nerves. You had been correct in your hunch, it was other Mandalorian’s bringing your captor back to this planet time and time again. As if it were a base of operations for him.

You watched as the large figure moved about the streets, his armor glinting blue in the pale light of the moon beginning to show her face as night blanketed the planet. Unlike the Mandalorian you were currently captive to, this one had what appeared to be a jet pack fastened to his broad back. Large machinery was attached to him as well, but you couldn’t make out if it was a blaster or some other kind of weapon from your distance.

The figure deemed the street safe enough to briskly make their way down the length of it and around the corner of a building. A gloved hand came up to the side of the helmet and pressed something, as if they had activated something in the visor or mechanics of the helmet. They continued on, dipping silently down a flight of stairs that led into a lower-level alley. They paused in front of a nondescript door, the wood barely kept together with how warped it was, but as he reached for the handle you closed the distance with a deliberate scuff of your foot and spoke softly to them.

“Jatne vod, gar vod cuyir o'r burun.”

Sir, your brother is in danger.

The armored man swung around quickly, his hands going to the handle of the rather large machinery tethered to his form. Gun, it was a gun of some sort. Perhaps a modified blaster? His visor aimed down at you and tried your best to keep calm. Instincts not liking the focused attention. You didn’t know this man, but you knew of his Creed. He would cause you no harm unless threatened. While fighting and weaponry of a part of their culture, so was respect and the willingness to aid those in need.

“Pehea vaabir gar kar'taylir mando'a? bic cuyir a ranov'la joha par ner adate. Ner adate shi.”

How do you know Mando’?. It’s a language for my people. My people only.

“Gedet'ye, Jatne vod. Ni cuy' ti solus be gar vod. Kaysh cuyir o'r burun. Te beroya. Gaa'tayl, kaysh's at cuyir ru'ram'or jaon ad'ika.”

Sir, I am with one of your brothers. The bounty hunter. He is to be attacked over a foundling.

You knew of the Mandalorian culture putting great worth on foundlings, on those in need of guidance in the face of whatever circumstances that left them alone and needing for it. You hoped that the mention of one would help to convince the man in front of you to give aid to your captor. The Child deserved to be protected, to have someone looking out for him. And if that person needed help in the beginning of their journey, then you were going to kriffing make sure that he had it. You were worried about them both, wanting for this to story to have a good ending even if you weren’t going to be so lucky.

No one was ever going to be in your corner half as much as you had witnessed with the Mandalorian and the Child.

“Te beroya cuyir kovid. Kaysh liser akaanir.”

The bounty hunter is strong. He can fight.

“Jatne vod, anade. Val cuyir at jehavey'ir.”

Sir, everyone. They are to ambush him.

You shook your head at his words, not wanting to argue with him. He needed to understand that you weren’t diminishing their strength, either as a whole or individually in the case of the Mandalorian you were trying to save. If the entire Guild and the remnants of the Empire here on this planet were to mark him as a target, there was no way he would leave the confrontation alive. He was capable, but not when up against impossible odds. You had faith in him and his abilities, his title, the way he lived his life. But this….this was going to be a carefully executed slaughter. Your captor would need someone watching over his back. He would need help of his own.

“Pehea vaabir ni kar'taylir ibic cuyir nayc gaanaylir par mhi an?”

How do I know it’s not a trap for us all?

The armored man so similar to the Mandalorian you knew, gruff nature. Hesitant to take words as they were presented, seeing the threat in them even if it was false and only a misconception of one. It was what kept them alive in the face of attempted extermination, you would know. The Jedi and Mandalorians shared a similar history, though you knew they were once fierce enemies. If the tables were turned, you would have already walked away from him. You would have seen it as a ploy to get you out into the open as well, to be attacked yourself and to be captured.

“Ni ru'kel vaabir nayc such kebi.” You stood your ground, despite having to look up at the visor of the taller figure now staring you down. His gloved hands were at the ready atop his control cuff. Prepared to either take you out or to jet off with his pack as far away from you as possible. You closed your eyes in a long blink, gathering the courage to admit something aloud. Something that had become rather apparent even back on Arvala-7, even despite the circumstances that you came to know the Mandalorian in the first place. “Ni ganar baatir par val oyay.”

I would do no such thing. I care about his life.

The man must have felt the truth of your words. For his next move was to lower his hands from his weapons and face you in a completely open manner. He looked you up and down, the helmet moving with the scape of him taking in the way you were standing tall, trying to hold firm to your decision to seek him out. He noticed the fading bruises around your neck, the collar of the borrowed Mandalorian’s shirt wide on your shoulders. The bags underneath your eyes were still visible, but you were aware of how you must’ve looked. Like a spooked thing recovering from something awful, hiding in the shadows of the dirty buildings in this seedy settlement. All to seek out help for someone you barely knew anything about.

You could feel his gaze burning over you, dissecting you for everything you both willingly and unwillingly put on display.

With a nod, he said he would take your words seriously in Basic, and he disappeared down the street.

You took your time getting back to the ship, making sure no one had been witness to the exchange that had just taken place. If you were to be recognized or targeted, at least your last moments had been used to ensure the safety and protection of the Child, of a foundling in need of family and support. You kept your head on a swivel, not wanting to be taken off guard or to run into anyone who might have connections with the fallen Empire that was very much still alive on this outer rim planet.

As you turned down one of the more narrow streets, there was a figure slumped down on the ground, upper half leaned up against the side of a building. They were completely still, you weren’t sure if they were passed out as a result of too much spice or drink or dead. You cautiously swiped the bag of credits that had been on display, dangling from the man’s belt. You pocketed it, the borrowed pants the Mandalorian had loaned heavy as you made your way back to the ship.

After swiping the credits, you felt distant eyes watching over you. There was no hint to where or who they were, but you had a feeling it had to do with the Mandalorian you had sought out. Maybe he was keeping tabs on you to ensure the truth of your words, or had appointed someone else to do so.

As you began to ascend the ramp of the Crest, you turned to look over your shoulder one last time. You had hope that whoever it was that was tailing you hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to follow you aboard the ship. It wasn’t yours, but as you hit the button to close the ramp, a figure stepped out of the shadows and turned down the main street. It was a Mandalorian in yellow and orange armor. They had a hand held up close to the bottom of their helmet, no doubt reporting what ship you had just boarded via commlink.

The sight of Mandalorian at the head of the main street, having come out of an alley had you standing from where you were daringly seated in the pilot seat. That same, nearly panicked feeling, from earlier sparking in your chest when his beskar armor reflected the moonlight that shown down. The wrapped bundle in the crook of his arm was still, but you knew he had been successful in his rescue.

As he had turned onto the main street, bounty hunters appeared all around him. From the entrance of alleyways, down the main thoroughfare of the street, from parked speed bikes and smaller inner-city transport ships. The man you recognized as Greef Karga, from the transmission the Mandalorian had watched with you in the cockpit, stood near the entrance archway. His back to the shipyard and to you. He had people flanking him, seeming to be the one in charge as the head of the Guild. You couldn’t make out what was going on from so far away and within the relative safety of the ship, but you could tell words were being traded.

The Mandalorian didn’t have any weapons at the ready, his focus had been on the bundle in his arms. He snaked his right hand down to hover over the blaster in the holster at his hip. He had blasters of all shapes and sizes aimed at him, though you weren’t sure what the specifics of his new armor was but it had to be enough for him to still hold the confident air you could see on him from here. He stood his ground, not making moves to take in his surroundings. He had to have known that he was utterly surrounded, even from above where you could spy sharpshooters stationed on rooftops.

Some sort of agreement seemed to be achieved, as the Mandalorian began to take slow steps toward a wide, open speeder. Every pair of eyes and blaster barrel followed the armored man’s movements. He came to a halt right in front of the speeder, helmet aimed down at it as he thought something over. He notched his head to look at the bundle in his arms, still as a statue.

In an explosion of movement, he jerked his hand down and wielded his blaster and was firing shots in seconds. He continued to shoot as he jumped up and spun to land lengthwise within the interior of the open speeder. The lip of it and the cargo it contained helping to shield him momentarily from the barrage of shots that rained all around the street. Lights of blaster bolts bright in the early night.

The speeder began to move forward, and as it did so the helmet of the Mandalorian popped up over the top of some strapped down cargo. He had just enough vision to shoot a few bolts, the hits landing and taking out some of the opposing figures. The speeder only got about halfway down the street before someone had the thought to take out the droid that had been operating it. It came to a crashing halt, the hover optics were no longer working and it slammed hard into the ground.

Everything stilled, bounty hunters slowly approaching the downed speeder. But the Mandalorian’s rifle made a slow, steady movement and a shooter up above was taken out. Their body disappearing in a burst of ash and the bits of fabric from their clothing that didn’t burn up flitted down to settle on the street below. Other people began to disintegrate as the Mandalorian took aim again and again. Some took cover, some took off completely. But it was still far too many for him to take on alone and make it out unharmed, let alone alive. You worried for the Child, who was surely not enjoying being caught in the middle of the chaos lest he have awoken during your separation.

Dust flew up, making it hard to decipher anything else below. Flames erupted from where you knew the Mandalorian was still hunkered down in the speeder. It was a chaotic scene of blaster bolts lighting up all around. Suddenly, figures in familiar armor and helmets descended down into the street. Jet packs aiding them in quickly gaining the upper hand. You heard the ramp of the ship open, but you hadn’t been the one to initiate it. The battle raged on for a good while, until you finally saw the form of the Mandalorian cross the threshold of the archway that let into the city. His silhouette having formed before he appeared through the smoke and dust of the fighting.

He was walking briskly to the ship, the Child safely in his arms.

You rushed out of the pilot seat and began to make your way through the upper space of the cockpit. A foot settled on the first rung of the ladder when a voice you didn’t know sounded through the space from behind the Mandalorian. He turned to face the man standing at the top of the lowered ramp, beside the carbon freezing chamber. You rushed down, coming to stand just behind your armored captor.

“Hold it, Mando.” You watched from behind the broad wall the Mandalorian made, fighting down the urge to gently reach around him for the Child and bring him into your own arms. You saw the way that the Mandalorian’s arms tightened the hold he had on the bundled up form in his protection. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.”

The helmet moved to the left, seeing that he was positioned just beside the freezing chamber. He discreetly pressed a button on his cuff, a metal cord shot out and activated something in the chamber.

Just as a thick steam began to fill the space of the hold, the shine of a blaster being pulled from a hidden holster flashed in the lights of the ship from the opposing man. The determined man aimed them both at toward the interior of the ship. A barrage of shots rang out, fuzzy lights filling the space between you all.

One of them pinged off of the newly fashioned cuirass protecting the Mandalorian, another settled itself in your ribcage. Others rained around you, pinging off of crates and the floor. It hadn’t been a blaster that had hit you, it had been some sort of gun with actual bullets. You tried to muffle your shout, not wanting to disrupt his concentration should he need to continue the standoff. But both men were good shots, the Mandalorian’s had landed directly over the opposing man’s chest. His one to the other man’s many.

You carefully lowered yourself to the ground as something buried in your skin protested, the warm feeling of sticky blood soaking the fabric of your borrowed shirt was paired with a sharp pain that made it hard to take in a full breath. You realized that the wheezing sound was you, Greef Karga was unconscious at the end of the boarding ramp that had begun to close. Your eyes caught his form still on the ground as your own began to convulse. Your wheezing turned into a wet cough, followed by another and another.

Hands were on you, searching your back for the injury that was causing the concerning sounds to fill the enclosed hold space, the steam clearing. You were trying to hold yourself up on your knees and your left arm, your right held to your mouth as you continued to wheeze and cough intermittently. You tried to shake the concern off, he needed to get the ship up in the air. He needed to get away from the people that would surely follow up into the air and space given the chance.

“The ship!” You ground out, bringing your hand away from your mouth, eyes widening at the alarming amount of blood that was puddled in your palm, dripping thickly to the durasteel flooring of the ship. A groan sounded from you unbidden as you felt yourself be turned over onto your back, the dark fabric of the Mandalorian’s shirt shiny with your blood. Your eyes were getting heavy, you closed them, lips parting to try and bring air into your stinging lungs.

“You’ve got to get us into hyperspace. They’ll kill you for the Child.”

“This isn’t a blaster shot.” His large hands had lifted the fabric up enough to see the entrance wound, gunpowder marring the skin around it and mixing with the steady flow of blood that was seeping from it.

“The ship, jatne vod.” You wheezed out, grabbing his hand and removing it. You pushed at him weakly, hands on his cuirass. He didn’t so much as budge, his helmet was aimed down at you, the dark visor bleeding into dark streaks across your vision. When he stood, it was then that you realized in the back of your mind that he had been holding you up off the floor with one arm and checking your wound with the other. Your body moved easily as he held you behind your back and underneath your knees.

“They’ll kill you and take us both, please.”

You found some strength as panic seared in your very psyche. Your hands gripped the cowl underneath his helmet and you brought it down closer to you. You pressed your forehead against the metal of the helmet over the visor, eyes straining to focus on something, anything beneath the dark of it. For him to understand that you didn’t want that, you didn’t want him killed and you didn’t want to become someone else’s captive alongside the Child. The arms around you tightened.

“D-don’t let them take me.” A sob wracked your injured body, suddenly overcome with everything that had happened the past week. Overcome with the thought that you had risked everything to save the Child, to save the Mandalorian. To give them the chance you so desperately wanted for yourself. Your head fell back from where it touched his armor, eyes clenched shut, his arms curled around you more securely. He didn’t say anything, the sounds of people shouting and approaching the ship ushering him into motion.

Blaster fire pinged off the exterior of the ship, prompting the Mandalorian to walk a little faster further into the ship.

“What were you thinking.” It wasn’t a question, not really, not with the way the words were growled at you through the modulator, static seething into them. His hands were light on you as he settled you into the chair to the left of the main one in the cockpit. He pushed your own hands down on the wrap he had put around your middle, urging you silently to keep them there. “I have to get us up and out, stay put for two fucking seconds.”

He kept glancing back at you as he got the ship up into the air and prepared to jump. The weapon you had been shot with had been modified. You couldn’t keep yourself upright, legs shaking and arms holding your middle. You slowly moved yourself to the floor, not wanting to chance falling over and tearing open the wound anymore. Of twisting the piece of metal that was imbedded deep in your ribcage. Time passed, you don’t know how long, vision and awareness fading. You didn’t see the Mandalorian salute another as they came up into the airspace around the Crest and bid him an all-clear sign.

You were brought back to the present by the feeling of soft leather and something cold and sharp digging into your skin. The ship had jumped, you were sure of it, the mesmerizing colors of hyperspace cascading into the cockpit. Your eyes could barely make out anything other than the washes of celestial light panning over the beautiful armor of the Mandalorian, his focus on your injury as he used a metal tool to retrieve the bits of the bullet that was making it hard to breath. You were whimpering at every small movement of the tool inside your skin, pieces of the offending thing pinged along the durasteel floor of the ship the second they were wretched from your skin. Bloody and smearing the clean cabin as the ship continued to travel on.

You cried out, lungs punching air out of your entire body in a painful surge as the last and largest piece was pulled from you and thrown to the floor with the tool he had been using to retrieve them. You felt fresh, warm blood trickle down the side of your mouth. It coated your lips, you could feel it between your teeth and the taste of it was dizzying. Your head spun, your body hurt, your lungs burned, and your vision began to gray. His voice was sounding but you couldn’t make out any words. Suddenly the visor of his helmet was the only thing you could see through hazy eyes, the darkness of it beckoning you and you were ready to follow.

A sharp, hot feeling washed over you as the sound of another tool buried itself into your head and made you nauseas. You could feel your body jerk but could do nothing to stop it, a pressure was on your chest, over your heart that was holding you still. The quick, disjointed beating of it surely could be felt through your skin. The Mandalorian was working to close the wound with that same cauterizing tool he had used back on Arvala-7. Your mind going fuzzy and all sense of being zapped away as he tried to close the bleeding wound.

“Where would you want to go, if given the chance?” The question bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it. The color draining from your face and the blood soaking the worn leather of his gloves pulled it from within him. He wanted to know something personal about you, he realized. He wanted a small piece of you should this be one of your last moments. He wanted someone somewhere to know something real about you, not only what you were capable of and wanted for. He wanted to be that someone. It was against his creed to ask such questions of someone if your intention wasn’t courting, the notion lost on him in his anxiety.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to train your eyes on the black of his visor. To not be swallowed by the darkness in them. Your eyes were so dull, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he realized he was losing you. The cauterizing tool fell from one hand to clatter soundlessly on the floor. His ears were strained, watching your lips move as you tried to get words out.

“I’ve never been asked that.” You sobbed as you felt him remove his hands from you, leaving you alone and untethered on the floor of his ship. Tears raced down your cheeks, warm and salty when they cascaded over your nose and down to your lips. It was just for a moment, his hands were pressing a bacta patch to your middle, light pressure to make sure the adhesive stuck to your skin. His eyes moved to watch the white rag soak up your blood as he wiped it across your skin, not able to take the sight of your face going slack. You murmured one last thing before your body gave out on you. “I’ve always loved the forest.”

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taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

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the-24-7-lawlu-library · 3 months

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I just remembered this really cute fic where law was reading some books (either medical or fiction) out on the deck or on the aquarium sofa or sth. And luffy would sometimes join him and just sit there with him, and the other strawhats would always be flabbergasted that luffy can sit quietly when he wants. At some point, law even starts reading out loud so luffy can listen. Just...getting together fluff, i think?

Do you know what i'm talking about? Or even just similar recs would suffice pls&ty

Hi lovely anon!

I'm very sorry it took us so long and also that we still have not found this fic, even though so many of us remember having read it.

Shoutout to everyone seeing this post and who maybe knows the fanfic in question or even read one very similar, that they think needs to be shared.

We hope we can instead give you a bit of joy with these two recommendations with a book topic.

More than a battleship by chenziee (G)

Law didn’t particularly care about his birthday. Maybe once, a long time ago… But, at 26 years old he was ready to admit he would really rather do anything else than have to sit awkwardly at a table while people sang a stupid song and congratulated him for being one year closer to death.

Black or white by chenziee (G)

Luffy's been wondering for a while what the thick, old book on Law's nightstand is.

-Mod Raiya

#lawlu #lulaw #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #lawlu fanfic #lawluffy #canon compliant #established relationship #domestic fluff #birthday #fluff #idiots in love #tooth rotting fluff #fluff and humor #canon universe

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dayseternal-blog · 11 months

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Do you have ff recs where hinata is depressed or post war depression? And naruto helps her?

Yes, I think I know a few...

Well, some of these are about Hinata grieving, not necessarily depression.

Naruto comforts Hinata Fics

"Loss" from "When I Look At You" by @happyocelot - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Short one-shot. It hurt so much.

"comforting" from "secret lovers" by @quirrrky - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto and Hinata during the mass burial ceremony

“Sunshine” by @lass-that-is-gone - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. The pain was so intense that she wanted to keel over.

“Breaking Point” by CherryXButterfly - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. When she returned from war, Hinata didn’t realize just how much it had truly affected her. Stricken with depression and anxiety, she closes herself off completely, threatening her budding relationship with Naruto. When he tries to help her, her mental state takes a turn for the worse. Can he reach her before it’s too late?

"Winter Wonderland" from "Naruhina Month" by NaniMok - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. One of the coldest days of Hinata's life and it doesn't look like it will get any better. That is until one Uzumaki Naruto comes along.

The one I wrote:

“Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war.

Please feel free to add more if you know of any for anon!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #naruhina hurt/comfort #naruhina canon-divergent au #naruhina canon universe fics #naruhina blank period #naruhina canon compliant fics

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aftgficrec · 11 days

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oh i caught you open! can we get some either andrew & kevin or neil & kevin being best friends and supporting each other? i feel like they're not explored enough and the potential is right there :)

Luckily, Kevin and Andrew’ friendship is a topic the fandom is pretty interested in. So much so that we’ve split this ask. In this post we’re concentrating entirely on Andrew and Kevin, Neil & Kevin’s friendship will be addressed in another ask. - S

Some previous recs:

Andrew & Kevin’s friendship here

Kevin & Andrew’s relationship here

Kevin as Andrew’s best friend here

Kevin’s friendship with Andreil here

‘Where The Wild Things Are’ here

‘I know that you'll come if you want’ here

‘N for nebulous’, ‘And Then There Was One’ and ‘Wear it to Eden's’ here

‘Reckless’ here

‘Trust Me’ here

‘Searchlights’ here

‘fugue in red’ here

splinters beneath our nails by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 3719 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew hasn’t decided what to do about Kevin Day. A few days ago, he’d have said that Kevin was dead to him. If things had gone differently, that might still be true. Today, he walks up to the car and throws open the door.

Not again by LetThemCuddle [Rated G, 698 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew circled the stony striker when silence answered him. “Hello? Anybody home? The answer is yes, a lot of nobodies, just one is missing. I’ll give you three guesses.” “Pass.” “Never took you for a quitter. This is quite refreshing.” The goalie quipped, lighting a smoke. “Come on, the cars’ still running.” “I’m going to stay here.” Kevin’s quiet voice echoed through the abandoned stadium. Somber, lacking the usual spiteful energy he towed.

right on time by dayurno [Not Rated, 10915 words, complete, Aftg Mixtape Exchange 2023]

"Has your Butcher called back yet?" Oh. “No,” Kevin replies, frowning slightly. “It’s understandable. He is a busy man.” “Kevin Day making excuses,” pulling away, Andrew puts down, “at this rate, you might just write his name on the margins of your books with hearts around it.” “What? No, why would I do that?” “Why wouldn’t you?” Kevin gives him a perplexed look. “Andrew, do you think I like the Butcher of Baltimore?” Alternatively, when the Butcher of Baltimore issues an order for his subordinates to bring him his childhood idol, he forgets what his choice of career entails. Kevin would hold it against him if he didn't find the man so fascinating.

tw: (accidental) kidnapping

Rescue Me by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 words, complete, 2022]

“I can protect you, from him and yourself,” Andrew said in a tone Kevin couldn’t quite place after a long moment filled with nothing but the muffled noise of the game playing on Kevin’s laptop. “I can help you stay instead of running further or back.” Kevin stared at him then, finally letting himself actually look at him, and the same feeling from before returned, feeling like a hand clenched itself around his lungs and heart. He pushed his laptop closed, the game’s audio abruptly cutting off, and turned slightly to face Andrew, whose expression had shifted back into the grin that seemed to constantly be present in the day and whose eyes looked almost dead. Kevin’s lips parted, words rising in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t get them past his tongue. How was he supposed to do this? The memory of Andrew the night before floated through his mind again, when he was as close to sober as he could get, more vulnerable than Kevin felt he’d ever seen a person despite the fact that Kevin was the one halfway through a breakdown. "Why?" --- Aka, how Kevin and Andrew make their deal. (Potential triggers are listed in the tags, please be careful!)

tw: self harm, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts

The Tide by zoeellendraws [Rated G, 20473 words, complete, 2022]

Kevin and Andrew participate in a showcase that could make or break their ballet careers and discover a promising new talent in the process. Or Mysterious Ballet AU

tw: implied/referenced violence

I came for the safety (stayed 'cause you made me feel) by Charcoalll [Rated M, 4621 words, complete, 2021]

“Day? We’re gonna get you out of here okay? Minyard’s gonna make sure you get out of here and down to the bus” Kevin looked over Wymack’s shoulder where he could see the figure of the small blonde man. Kevin nodded, how could he do anything but nod? These people were sticking out their neck for him in a way he couldn’t remember anyone doing before. No words could ever describe his thankfulness. Or: A little glimpse into Andrew and Kevin's relationship before, during and after AftG.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse

biting down by vincevangothh [Rated T, 2257 words, complete, Aftg Exchange 2017]

kevin learns that in order to understand something, you have to allow yourself to learn, and talks to andrew about neil. '“Did I or did I not tell you that you have asked as many free questions as you are permitted to today?” This time, as Andrew snaps, Kevin hears it. “Free?” he asks around a mouthful of rice, swallowing hastily before he continues. “So if I give you something, I can ask more?” It's a rhetorical question, but Andrew grants him a small nod anyway. “Neil and I have - had - a thing.” Kevin agonisingly anticipates his next words as Andrew scoops up another mouthful of food. Static silence stretches out between them until he swallows again. “Truth for truth. For everything you ask me, I ask you something.” “Deal.”'

Reasons by orphan_account [Rated T, 1895 words, complete, 2016]

“You took me with you when you recruited him,” Andrew muttered, but he knew Kevin was listening. They both knew that it was the closest Andrew could get to a thank you, so they both kept quiet. A list of the times Andrew met Kevin, interwoven with the list of times Andrew met Neil.

Kevin, Andrew and their friendship by @andrews-jort-loving-pipe-dream [tumblr, 2023]

“Why are we here?” “I'm here because it's Josten's birthday next week. You're here because you can't be alone.”

Andrew and Kevin watching a movie together after one of them wakes up from a nightmare. by @foxesbettingpool [tumblr, 2018]

He’d been up the majority of the night, wasting away on a bean bag chair with textbooks, papers, and a mountain of notes surrounding him.

tw: nightmares

Future Andrew & Kevin hc by @thepalmtoptiger [tumblr, 2018]

Andrew and Kevin stay close friends after leaving the Foxes and going pro.

Kevin asks Andrew to be his best man hc by @palmettofoxden [tumblr, 2017]

Kevin asks Andrew to be his best man at his wedding and Andrew just stands up and walks out of the room without answering or even reacting.

Art

andrew & kevin brotp edit by @mint-and-memories

Andrew and Kevin meme art by @foxhole-doodles

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finlands-world · 2 months

Text

Whatever You May Be

As Crawley, the demon in charge of the first temptation, chatted with the angel of the Southern wall, Adam and Eve escaped by the Eastern gate, menacing the principality guarding it and stealing his flaming sword (Or at least that’s what the paperwork implied).

Over the millennia, Aziraphale and Crowley have managed never to meet one another, living their own completely separate lives.

One day, Hell sends an unusual request: This little bookshop in central Soho needs to be watched, and Crowley is assigned to the case.

Crowley didn’t own much, and of what he did own, there was very little he actually cared about. Excluding the lush plants, of course, all his prized possessions could fit into a simple wooden jewelry box, worn out by centuries of regular touch. It had once been adorned by skillfully drawn flowers, but the pigments had faded and the paint had cracked before flaking off, bit by bit.

Inside, a pearl necklace, a few rough-shaped rings, some coins of another time, whisps of fabric and buttons of all kinds, simple relics from those who’d broken his loneliness for a while, the humans who had appeared in his life and worked their way into his heart, taking a bit of it as they left, never by choice but by fate. Lovers, friends, or something in between.