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cookiesaddict · 21 hours

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Full Moon + Apology Tour Episode Analysis/Prediction

Full Moon

The episode stars with Stolas and Blitz waking up on the day of the full moon. Their duet starts, Blitz sings how excited he is for their usual full moon date and the things he wants to to do Stolas in bed. Stolas is excited as well, but anxious. he wants to end their arrangement, and give Blitz to choice to stay or go.

Blitz arrives at imp headquarters. Blitz is in his formal clothes, ready for his and Stolas’ date. He puts Moxxie in charge, and leaves all of his paper work for Moxxie to deal with while he is gone (poor Moxxie).

But before visiting Stolas, Blitz wants to make their night extra special by giving Stolas a romantic gift. With his shopping bag in his hand, he goes to the lust ring asking Fizz for help to find the perfect gift for Stolas.

Blitz arrives at Stolas’ palace, the gift is in his hands what seems to be candles I think? Blitz thinks they’re going to go bed like usual, only to find out that this is not what’s going to happen. Stolas admits to ending the arrangement. Soon, an argument between the two breaks out.

Blitz feels used now that Stolas is ending their deal, thinking that Stolas doesn’t want him anymore. Their argument escalates. And instead of letting Stolas in, Blitz starts to push Stolas away by probably saying something very hurtful to him. Blitz now realizing that he has hurt Stolas badly, desperately tries to reach out to him by trying to grab his hand. But as he does so, Stolas kicks him out of his palace by using a portal. It’s too late now, Blitz has lost Stolas. Then the episode ends.

Viv has said that “You’re losing me” by Taylor Swift is a very Stolas coded song. A part of the lyrics goes like this:

“Now, you're runnin' down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone”

By losing Stolas, Blitz realizes now what he had in Stolas and what he has lost. Or maybe he realizes this later in “Apology Tour”?

Apology Tour

(This one was really hard for me to predict. It could go in so many ways, so I’m most likely wrong.)

Blitz visits Stolas, probably to get back into Stolas’ good graces again. But Stolas is not having it. He is still very angry and hurt. He is obviously not happy to see Blitz again. “Do you feel any remorse for what you do?” Judging by this line, Blitz is likely downplaying everything and acting like nothing has happened (Like he did with Barbie). Either way, Blitz attempt to apologize and win Stolas back has failed. So he goes back home, and starts crying on the couch? (him crying on the couch could very well be from another episode)

Eventually, Stolas decides to join Verosika on tour. Verosika likely wants to help Stolas with his break up, and wants to give him a change to vent about Blitz and pour his heart out on stage. Blitz decides to go to Verosika’s concert for some reason. Maybe he goes to the concert to try to apologize to Stolas again? He did seemed to be really focused into trying to apologize to Stolas at the beginning of the ep, so is he is going to try again?

Blitz soon finds out he is not welcome at the concert, which is why he is dressed up as a ghost or something so he could sneak in unoticed? It’s a Halloween concert anyways. Eventually, Blitz bumps into Verosika. Maybe it will result in them finally making up and for Blitz to apologize to her?

The concert begins, and Stolas finally takes the stage. Unaware that Blitz is there, he starts to sing. Judging by the text on the banner, Stolas is singing about his grudge towards Blitz and how hurt he is. The scene with the shattered mirrors with Blitz’ reflection in it during Stolas’ song, also supports that it is possibly a grudge song. It could also be Stolas singing how hurt he is, rather than it being a grudge song, which seems more likely to me?

But maybe as the song progresses, it gradually turns into a love song because he loves Blitz just too much to stay angry at him? While Stolas is singing, Blitz is hearing every word. Blitz looks at him. Is he touched by Stolas’ love song? I think Blitz now knows that Stolas genuinely does love him, since Stolas doesn’t know he is there. So there are no reasons for Blitz to not believe everything Stolas is singing. Not just that, but it will also gave Blitz an insight on how much Stolas is hurting.

However, it seems that Stolas isn’t angry at Blitz anymore. Because in the next scene, Blitz and Stolas appears to be talking (Blitz still has that same ghost disguise on). Looks like Blitz apologized to Stolas, and that they are finally making up. Maybe even confessing their feelings for one another? Who knows, maybe decide to take things slow? It could also be that they just stay friends for now. But I feel like they’re definitely making up. The episode ends.

(Also There is also a whole b plot with m&m and Loona fighting a robot at the lust ring. Not sure if it’s from the same episode? Also I have literally no clue why the robot is there.)

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s0fter-sin · 19 days

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i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

#he a little confused but he got the spirit #its so good bc it can be super angsty of ghost really dreading whats been done to his sergeant and trying to make it right #or just go full crack treated seriously and have fun with it #i love just completely oblivious ghost #in any military context hes the smartest guy in the room #he always knows the play and has more experience than anyone #but stick him in the normal world? man is Lost #ghost just thinks hes had some kind of reconstruction surgery after being tortured and accepts thats what johnny looks like #bc hes never seen a pussy before #it takes years for soap to actually come out to him bc he just never thought to #hes seen him naked theyve literally slept together what else is there for him to say #then he shows him like a family album or something and ghosts just like ‘why arent you in any of these i only see girls’#and he just goes ‘hang on a second’#soap gets one of his sporadic periods one night and panics a little thinking it would weird ghost out or remind him that hes not cis #but ghost just thinks its a normal part of such a thorough reconstruction that hed bleed sometimes #and doesnt question it when soap grabs a pad out of his drawer bc ‘thats such a good way of handling the discharge my johnnys so smart’#just really supportive ghost for the wrong reasons #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod

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shadow4-1 · 19 days

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I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

#cod imagines #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader

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yawnderu · 6 months

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Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I

1 2 3 4 5

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

''So you're just goin' to sit there and tell me that isn't my daughter.'' Simon says bluntly, tone even yet carrying a snark hidden that you came to listen so many times after working with him— never once directed at you until now.

''It's really none of your business, Ghost.'' You don't even spare a glance at him, simply looking at your little girl, fingers gently running through her short hair. She looks exactly like Simon, though that will never take away your love for her.

''You're not denyin' it.'' He hesitantly sits down next to you, secretly afraid you'll bite his head off. The glare you shoot his way is enough confirmation that you would if you could. You sigh softly, the air leaving your lungs before being sucked back in, not wanting to argue in front of your little girl despite her not understanding words yet.

''Well, what's it to you? Why do you need to know?'' I can't handle you leaving me again.

''Don't be like that.'' His tone is soft, almost pleading. It has been over a year since he broke up with you, yet that doesn't make the loss any easier, not now that he knows he has a daughter, no matter how much you tried to hide it from him.

''Why didn't you tell me?'' He asks gently, feeling like he's walking on eggshells. It's the first time ever he feels that way with you, and he doesn't blame you in the slightest. It takes a few seconds of you thinking before you answer.

''I was terrified of you choosing to walk away from her... to be a deadbeat. I didn't want to have that image of you, because that would have hurt more than the break up.'' Your voice is more calm, though for all the wrong reasons. The familiar tingling all over your nose is back, eyes stinging as you try to hold back tears, too prideful to cry in front of him again.

''That's what you think o' me?'' He replies in nothing but pure disbelief and slight disgust. He would never walk away from his child, no matter how much that would destroy all the walls he has been building for years, stones upon stones carefully piled on top of each other, so strong nothing could ever break through— until you came along.

''I was fucking scared, okay?'' You look away and wipe your eyes with one hand, the other one carefully supporting the neck of the baby on your lap. Simon sighs, his bare hand hesitantly reaching down to trace the features of the tiny girl, being careful with her as if she would break if he applied any pressure. He notices your eyes glued to his hand, eyebrows furrowed. He's about to move his hand away until you adjust the little girl so he can touch her face without the awkward angle.

''Give me one more chance. Please— please, let me be a father to her.'' Simon never begged for anything, not even when he was tortured for months to no end, drugged, beaten like a dog, yet here he is; begging his ex for a chance to keep the girl in his life. You don't reply.

''I'll do everything I can. What I should've done. I want to be here, please.'' He was so damn ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took for you to let him be involved in her life. He's not asking you to be together— he knows he doesn't deserve that chance.

''She's looking at you like she knows you.'' Your response is ominous to say the least. You want to deny him, to tell him he doesn't even deserve to be able to touch the little girl you birthed alone, that he doesn't deserve the chance at a family after he destroyed 4 years of a relationship because of the very same thing, but... your little girl is looking up at him with pure admiration and curiosity in her big brown eyes, her tiny hand struggling to hold one of his fingers. Growing up with a single parent yourself, you know she deserves better, and you're willing to put your pride and pain aside to make sure she gets the world.

''Okay.'' You reply after taking a deep breath, holding it into your lungs for what feels like forever, choosing to ignore the strong arms wrapping around you, bringing all three of you close. It feels... right.

[NEXT]

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bluegiragi · 16 days

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I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

this is such a never-ending nightmare.

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. Also, the art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for literally six months.

genuinely, my only crime is not unfollowing + blocking this artist earlier on, and then daring to retweet a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

and now i have pedophile claims because I accidentally retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it.

And people are calling me a zoophile for supporting someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs (???) and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

And the same people called me racist for making Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive because they thought I was making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid and cats are sensitive to light (and I'm Chinese).

I tried addressing all this in a simpler way earlier on, and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it again - yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist under the bus - I genuinely believed them when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time.

And also I'm now called a rapist bc I like to entertain fics with dom/sub dynamics that dip into cnc, as an asexual woman who's personally repulsed by sex when it comes to myself.

That's everything so far. I really don't know what you people want from me anymore. I followed the wrong artist. I retweeted the wrong post. And I've undid those actions now. And for so many people to have taken literally everything spread by these people at face value, without even checking if their claims are true, is incredibly hurtful and isolating.

#there. the entire sequence of events #have fun i guess

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solarmorrigan · 11 months

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I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

#is Eddie's attitude a little more socially aware than is warranted by the time period? maybe 🤷#sometimes it's just like that #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw past dubcon #cw past noncon #let me know if there are other/better tags to add!

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captain-mj · 4 months

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God I need a fic where Simon makes one of those offhand trauma comments before Johnny and gaz got used to them and they are just horrified

I was hoping I would get this ask! Obvious CW for talks of trauma, Ghost is nonchalant but others are horrified

Ghost sat down at one of the tables next to Soap and Gaz. He wasn't interested in eating at the moment, but if he sat in his room for another minute, he was pretty sure the walls would start talking to him. So he was in here instead.

Soap and Gaz waved at him and continued to talk. They usually did this and Ghost could just jump in whenever he felt like it. So far, he didn't find himself in a talkative mood so he just listened.

The current topic was their plans for the upcoming weekend. It wasn't technically a weekend, just three days they all had off due to two missions being scheduled a little further apart than expected. They planned to go down to the tracks for some reason to watch dogs race. Neither gambled to Ghost's knowledge and just watching them race seemed a little boring for such a convenient weekend time, but if that's what they wanted to do he supposed.

"You wanna join us Lt?" Soap smiled. "Maybe you can put some money down?"

"Last time someone around me gambled, I was gangraped. No thanks." Ghost flicked his eyes elsewhere to scan the room. He heard the clattering of silverware and turned towards them again. "Yes?"

Gaz looked... angry? "Lieutenant. It's really not right to joke about rape like that. Rape jokes are for victims and-"

"Who said I was joking?" Ghost stared at him. "And I believe if victims can joke about it, that means I'm allowed to."

Soap covered his mouth. "Oh, Simon I'm so sorry that's so terrible. I'm happy you were able to talk to us about it but..." He kept talking but Ghost just tuned him out.

"Ugh." Ghost eventually broke his silence to interrupt Soap and then leave. "Don't be such babies about it."

Gaz and Soap looked at each other and then tried to follow behind Ghost.

"Hold up. You can't just joke about that and then leave!"

"Just did. It wasn't hard."

Gaz quickly tapped Ghost's arm. "Sorry for assuming you were being insensitive."

Ghost shrugged, not really caring. "I'm a big guy. At least you guys believe me. Most people don't."

He wasn't sure what he said wrong but that seemed to make them more upset. “I thought you guys would appreciate that? Jesus.”

Soap looked so upset on Ghost’s behalf. “But that’s awful! You deserve support!”

Ghost stared at him, thinking about how he sometimes had panic attacks and could barely handle women touching him anymore. He had dealt with people hugging him, touching his back, trying so hard bring him back from that dark place. “Nah. Im good. Get fucked.”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap #kyle gaz garrick

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flamingpudding · 7 months

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Ghost Kitten

A/N: I got fascinated with the idea of Danny being Selina's son and then during work this sort of idea formed in my head.

Danny wasn't supposed to know yet. Jack had it all prepared for when Danny would get to learn about this. But this, this was not how Danny was supposed to learn about his origins yet. Jack Fenton wasn't sure how to react, so he ended up possible reacting in the worst way possible if he judged it by the way his sweet little boy was looking at them.

Jack tried to remember where it went wrong. Jazz had come to them, told them Danny wanted to have an important talk. That it was so important that she needed both of them to focus on him seriously. It had worried Maddie and him at first and when they sat down on the couch facing their children they weren't sure what to expect. But then his boy told him about the accident he had in the lap, about how things changed even asking them if they ever noticed how Danny's behaviours changed.

Jack had to admit then, that he hadn't really noticed and it made his mouth taste like dirt. He didn't like where this was going. He saw how his children exchanged a glance and then his sweet boy told them the truth and Jack could feel the horror overtaking his entire mind. The accident had changed Danny even worse.

He couldn't help but remember a term he had last heard long ago before his collage years even. Meta Human. His son had become a Meta human with ghost based powers and had kept it a secret from them for so long. Jack didn't know how to react then and still didn't know now. All he could think about were the horrors he had put his sweet little son through. All the times he had offhandedly said he would tear him apart molecule by molecule. In how much fear did his son have to live until he gathered enough courage to tell them, most likely only because Jazz was there to support him?

Jack didn't want to imagine it anymore. All he wanted was to hug his little boy and tell him that everything would be okay but before he could do anything. Maddie, his until then wonderful, wife told them something in return they had an agreement over when to tell them.

"You're adopted. You are not my child."

Until then Jack had always thought Maddie loved Danny just as much as he did but as he locked at his wife and saw the steely coldness flickering in them with distress. He wasn't so sure anymore. Torn between being angry at Maddie for the first time after so long and wanting to comfort his boy, Jack could do nothing but sat frozen as his beloved family broke apart before his eyes.

Suddenly Maddie and Jazz got into a headed argument, Danny was starting to draw into himself, making himself smaller watching his mother and sister fight. Until Maddie stormed out fo the room. Jazzie gave him a challenging look but Jack didn't know what to say so instead, what he had planned to tell his son when he turned 18 he was going to tell him now.

"Danny you know how we have barely any contact with family from my side? There is a reason behind it. But the important part here is that the only one I do keep sort of contact with is my fourth cousin and even that is nothing more than a couple messages ever few months."

"And what does that have to do with Danny?" Jazz pressed on while his little boy finally got the courage to look up at him.

"Dann-no, I need for you to now that no matter what you are or what I am going to tell you, you are my little boy, my son." Jack did everything he could to stare reassuringly at his boy and smiled once he saw him smile just a little too, he was most likely relieved that he was taking the news better than his mother.

"About 16 year ago, my fourth cousin contacted me out of the blue, till then we had only exchanged a couple of words and theories and projects. But that time was different. She was panicked, unsure and distressed. I don't know the specifics, all she told me was that she had gotten pregnant with a child from a fling who she wasn't sure wanted a relationship with or not and that she couldn't take care of a child in a city as dangerous as where she lived."

Understanding dawned on his daughter's face and Jack smiled fondly, Jazzie-pants had always been a smart cookie. "She didn't want to put the baby into her system, nor let a stranger take care of it. So she asked me and the moment I saw the little baby the first time. I knew he would be my son no matter what or how long she would want for me to take care of him."

Danny blinked wide eyed at Jack as finally his boy also understood what he was telling him. "Technically you are my fifth cousin, but I would prefer for you to stay my son for as long as you want."

He left his children after telling Danny the truth of his origin. Jack new he would love his son no matter what he was or his reaction towards the truth of his origins. Still he hoped this would not tear his family apart and that it would only take a day or two for Maddie to cool off for things to go back to an adjusted normal. Jack mused that he would have to diele back on the ghost ripping comments, he wouldn't want for his little boy to live in fear in their own house.

That what he thought until he saw his wife stewing in their bedroom, muttering about theories and how their boy wasn't their boy. He knew his wife, and dearly loved her. But it was because he knew her that he did the next thing he felt like regretting the next moment.

Danny is no longer safe with us. - J

He didn't get an answer from his cousin and the next morning he knew why. He did expect for her to want to remove Danny from their care, but he did not expect her to visit him with barely any time delay the next day.

All he could do was to stare and watch as Selina appeared on his doorstep with a man that was glaring at him and Jack might have only seen in magazines before, asking if she could meet her boy and how much he had already told Danny about his birth. And when he saw his baby boy's reaction to the two he wanted to do nothing more than hug and cuddle his little boy but once again, he got beaten to it by his fourth cousin.

His poor boy looked so unsure when Selina hugged him that Jack really wanted to take him away again, but he had no other choice, if he wanted to ensure his boy's safety.

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neoyi · 9 months

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Okay, cool. I can finally talk about the absolute catharsis I felt after fifteen years hoping - dreaming - of this moment because holy SHIT, they did it. They goddamn DID IT.

VLAD GOT HIS REDEMPTION ARC.

Let's talk about it...

By the end of the third season, Vlad Masters had ostracized the entire planet by exposing his true self (why), demanding money and total command of Earth, and completely wailing on Jack Fenton, driving away the only member of that family who unequivocally adored the man where every other Fenton knew him for who he truly was: utterly despicable and incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Because, after all, he is a villain and that's just what villains do. Villains want power. Villains want to rule the world. There need not be more than that, and in another show, there wouldn't have to be. As far as Hartman was concerned, there is only a binary Good vs. Evil.

You would be hard-pressed to view the Vlad in "Phantom Planet" as the same man who anguished in desperate madness when his perfect clone son died in his arms. That was a Vlad who, by that point, had taken his biggest gamble and lost. I guess one could see his reasoning in season three as a "fuck it all, what even is the point" mode. But while "Eye For an Eye" (tellingly, the last major script helm by former main story writer Steve Marmel... just saying) promised a personal conflict, by the end of the show, he's made it much more external, far greater than what he and Danny's interwoven plot originally started off as.

Vlad is pathetic. Vlad is narcissistic. He is egotistical, entitled; a bitter, arrogant man who lives in his dream castle with all the money and privilege in the world that would leave him content a hundred times over, and it's still not enough.

Money is not Maddie Fenton, the woman he loves. Money is not Jazz, a child that should have been his. Money is not Jack's friendship whom he denies severely, the only part of his life who willingly embraces him. And money is not Danny, who is a half-ghost like him, and by all rights, should have been his son.

No one else could ever understand to the fullest extent of their uniqueness than Vlad and Danny would to each other, and the latter, for the longest time, hated that. Hated the way Vlad talked down to him and manipulated him, hated the whispers into his ears with promises of grand power if he just joined the billionaire's side and become his ward, hated when he caved in just once in front of Vlad's eyes who responded with a smug "See, I know you" reaction. Danny was fortunate to have good moral compasses from his family and friends, but the thing is, though, it's not about the healthy support structure he had, because Vlad had the chance to get some, too. Jack and Maddie loved Danny no matter what he was, and dollars to donuts, they would have for Vlad if the latter had approached them with his problems.

But he chose instead to be bitter and miserable, taking it out on everyone and expecting them to fall into his train of thought. The show knew what he did was wrong, but until season three, never stopped repeating his truest desire: to find love and squash his crushing loneliness.

Hartman couldn't provide a damn on what exactly was Vlad's "destiny" in "Infinite Realm"; it was vague gesturing to excuse his villainy. He was more than happy to abandon the life he's made for himself and the woman he loved in spite of two decades of planning, all on a whim for whatever time period the Infi-map was willing to take him, hoping maybe this one will give him the unconditional worship that he thinks he's deserved (by force, of course.)

Because he's the villain.

And for the longest time, the show ended with the idea that Vlad deserved to be stranded, away from people, because he simply could not help himself. To be fair, there is a lesson in that - some people genuinely DO go so far that there really is nothing more we can do other than stop the problem before they cause any further harm. I'm not denouncing that.

What I AM denouncing is the the narrative plant that's dug its way into the greater plot where an older Vlad in "The Ultimate Enemy", realized what a fool he had been. What he wouldn't give to start all over and be a better person. You don't just give someone a sympathetic goal like "looking for love", constantly provide the necessary stepping stones, and not have it set up for something far more substantial than what we got.

And even then, even if it still ended with Vlad being too far gone, I wonder, should the supposedly original plot arc for season three had been made, would Vlad's fate there been far more appropriate than whatever cartoonish supervillainy he ended up as by the time "Phantom Planet" ended?

I cannot speak for Gabriela Epstein. I cannot say how much Nickelodeon allowed her to tinker with the DP world. All of this is presumptuous speculation on my part, but this entire comic feels like they looked at season three, particularly "Phantom Planet", realized what a travesty that was, had their work cut out for it, and went about to make a post-series finale story that still paid tribute to its ending while wiping it off the map.

Vlad's redemption is the crux.

Within just a few panels, Gabriela Epstein provided an explanation on the why of Vlad's actions circa-season three. The Infi-Map was aimless because Vlad's purpose was aimless. And Vlad's purpose was aimless because his need to be in control was a manifestation of his greatest fear: being alone.

"A Glitch in Time" recontexualizes why Vlad traveled across time in "Infinite Realm." It wasn't a generic bad-guy-wants-to-rule-the-world-through-latest-plot-claptrap, but an act of utter desperation from a man who had since lost the biggest connection to his very being: Danny.

It started with Maddie (someone whom Vlad only interacts once in the comic, but is an acknowledgement of his villainous origin, nonetheless), and it may still end with Danny.

Never, in a million, billion years, have I even thought about another redemption arc... for Dark Danny.

And I am kicking myself for not even considering such an option. I had pegged him so far gone, so far past the breaking point to think otherwise. Dark Danny was suppose to be the outcome of a Danny at his literal worst: a too-late, too-little scenario. Back then, it was a symbol of Danny's rejection of what Vlad expected and desired of him.

But the comic made me sit down and think about the implication of Dark Danny's very existence, that of a man who lost his family and friends ten years ago as a child. Like Vlad, he, too was alone, and had carried a tremendous amount of pain and anguish that his human half just could not bear.

Yeah, they died because of a time loop HE created, but that doesn't erase that he was born from a horrible trauma that he could not properly cope with. And Vlad, try as he might, did not fix it. All he ended up doing was separate a ghost - infamous for their obsessions, and now, as the comic established, a carrier of human emotions - to exist. And Dark Danny carried so much raw emotion that he retaliated very, very violently.

Everyone's respond at that time was to fight him and stuff him in a Fenton Thermos for eternity. I am not saying Danny wasn't justified in fighting his darker self because the dude legitimately caused massive damage and likely murdered a hell of a lot of people, I am just saying Dark Danny is the byproduct of a scared, lonely, traumatized child.

And what does he do? He tries to take what he thinks is his by any means necessary. Vlad got his wish, he got the son he wanted.

And he's facing him now.

And he gets it.

He finally fucking GETS IT.

Which shouldn't have been a surprise because his "The Ultimate Enemy" counterpart got it. He looked at the devil that he created and lingered as a hermit in regret. And now Vlad - Vlad Prime - reacted the same.

Only this time, he can fix it.

I did not anticipate that Vlad's redemption would happen at the same time as Dark Danny's. I didn't expect the two of them to link other than the latter being another number in Vlad's bullshit entitlement count.

I love that it isn't Danny who heals him, but Vlad. It had to be Vlad. In order to own up to his actions, Vlad had to look at the eyes of the boy he was entrusted and corrupted beforehand and apologize for what he put him through. And I don't mean just "The Ultimate Enemy", Vlad is apologizing for everything he's done up to this point.

He (temporarily) sacrifices his body to stabilize Dark Danny who has fucked up the time stream so much that he wouldn't be able to exist otherwise. And only then do the two of them get what they've longed for.

Vlad gets a son.

Dark Danny gets a family.

Holy forking shirt balls.

I have a lot of problems with alternate counterparts sticking around longer than they should in the "main" setting of a show. Usually I'm fine when it's an alternate counterpart demonstrated as someone the hero is trying so hard not to be, because it's compelling to see what could have been under different circumstances. It's another thing when you have another version of the main character running around doing their own thing. Multiverse characters are inherently messy just by existing, but it gets worse when they take away from the uniqueness of the central protagonist.

There's something awkward about two Danny Phantoms living in the same world, and in any other scenario, I would have hated it. But Dark Danny is of a vastly different background brought forth from a long, nuanced, engaging history between him and Vlad.

Danny's central journey - the cusp of the show - has always been the Spider-Man mantra, "great powers = great responsibilities." You are in charge of how you carry the burden of your powers. Vlad has been the one constant always challenging and belittling his selflessness. "A Glitch in Time" had Danny asking himself, what is his purpose? Who is he now that everything has been neatly wrapped up?

Writing anything about who Danny is means Vlad is presented in some way, shape, or form. They are so thoroughly linked to each other, and it's that link that simultaneously serve to push their own individual character arc, and their relationship with each other.

So, Vlad gets a son. Dark Danny gets a family. They get a second chance, and it is up to them to work it out. I have no idea if Vlad got his wealth back. Everything is restored as is, except Danny's secret identity is secured again (which I am 100% fine with except for one notable exception, but that's another topic for another day) and implication that Vlad was just a crummy mayor with no indication the greater public is also aware of his Plasimus mode (which I am also fine with.)

There's a part of me who thinks he should have lost the money and power he's accumulated because he gained them through his vice, but if he's back in his Wisconsin cheese castle, then he can damn well use the money he has to not only benefit the world (charities, improving human lives, funding Fenton Works ;D...), but to raise his son.

Dark Danny is going to have to adjust to the idea that his father is Vlad, something he was already expected to do so when he orphaned himself and moved in with him. But it's Vlad who has to work the most out of the two: as a parental figure - as an adult - he's always had a power over Danny regardless of what timeline they're in. Most of the time, he's abused it heavily.

The second chance Vlad has been given here means he has the ability to provide a safe, healthy environment. It's more than he deserves. He failed with Danny and he absolutely failed with Dani (another can of worms in itself; she's not mentioned in the comic, and I imagine it's because her story would need a comic of her own), he cannot fail with this Danny.

Vlad shouldn't have been given a child at all until there was a guarantee that he could work through his bullshit, but Dark Danny is a special case. He is a kid who needs a home and someone to love him unconditionally, and Vlad needs to learn boundaries while giving selfless love in order to be loved himself.

Clockwork gave Vlad a test, so get studying, dude.

This does not erase how Danny Prime feels about him. He may never want to forgive Vlad, and that's his right. He can acknowledge however, that, in order to help those in need of healing, a door can be opened, even if slightly ajar.

For Vlad, that may just take a bit longer and that's completely understandable.

Vlad can't have the kind of relationship he wants with this Danny, but maybe one day, they can be equals - friends.

Like christ, I think this is the first time Vlad has actually, genuinely asked if Danny was alright.

The comic was already good prior to this, but just knowing - understanding that Vlad was more than "a villain" - meant after fifteen looooong years, we finally see the promises of a brighter future for a man with shitty priorities, but a sympathetic goal.

"It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it..."

#danny phantom #vlad masters #neoyi talks #comics #a glitch in time #a glitch in time spoilers #yeah this one im tagging #this essay is over a 1000 words it's pathetic

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ozzgin · 28 days

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Hye hey HEYY! (-^〇^-)

May I request Belphie (and whoever else if you want) w/ G/n s/O who's having a panic attack due to seeing their deadbeat good for nothing father during like a field trip to the part of hell deceased human souls are kept?

(Bonus points if they didn't know he was dead!)

Kay thanks byeee!!!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

Of course! I might keep it focused on the part where they help you navigate it, though, so as to not delve in matters too dark. I hope it's close to what you imagined!

Obey Me! Headcanons

Featuring Belphegor, Beelzebub and Mammon comforting Reader during a panic attack.

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff/angst, mental health topics

Belphegor

Belphegor purses his lips and opens his eyes with an annoyed squint. Something has disturbed his peaceful sleep. He'd rested his head on your shoulder for extra comfort, yet now the surface underneath him is shifting in small, erratic jolts. He stands up and is about to stretch, when he notices your ragged breathing and pale face. He is now alert and tense, as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over him. "What's wrong?" He places a hand on your shoulder, scanning your expression.

He's quick to guess you're having a panic attack - for whatever reason unknown to him - so he reaches for his backpack and begins rummaging. He eventually pulls out a paper bag and guides you into holding it over your mouth and nose. In your daze, you can't focus on anything in particular, but you can hear his soft voice giving instructions and counting with you. A few more deep breaths, and you manage to recollect yourself. You glance up at the demon and thank him for the assistance. "Care to tell me what had you this bothered?" he inquires with a frown.

You hesitantly explain your source of misery. Belphie listens with closed eyes, and for a moment you wonder if he's fallen asleep again. "Hmmm", he hums after a moment of silence. "So that's what it was." You fumble to respond, unsure of his reaction. Is he bored? Irritated? Upset? He finally looks at you and smiles reassuringly. "I suppose I can't blame you for that. I would've done the same." With that, he lets out a yawn and throws an arm around your shoulders. "Maybe you could use some rest. Let's swap", he says as he pulls you against his chest.

"Oh, and sorry if the bag smelled strange. I dumped out Beel's lunch for it."

Beelzebub

Beel has wandered ahead, deeply entranced by the snacks piled up in his arms. "Oh, I forgot to ask if you want some, (Y/N)-" He turns back and finds you much farther behind than he'd expected, panting, with hands placed onto your knees for support. Are you sick? Did you eat something spoiled? He speeds in your direction with a frown.

Ah, you must be having a panic attack. What's there to do? Usually he'd ask Belphegor for advice, but now it's just the two of you and no one else around. Well, he obviously can't leave you in this state. Maybe one of the brothers can help. He drops his food nonchalantly and proceeds to lift you in his arms. "Let's see if we can find someone", he explains. Beel is surprisingly gentle in his hold. Your labored breaths begin to slow down, soothed by the warmth surrounding you. You exhale one final time, now fully relaxed.

You pat his chest to catch his attention and let him know that he doesn't have to worry, but he doesn't immediately release you back on ground. "You have to tell me what was wrong first." Stuttering awkwardly, you proceed to narrate the situation. Not only is it a sensitive topic, but you have to talk about it as you're being carried bridal style. Once you're finished, you look up sheepishly and notice his furrowed brows. "Have I upset you?", you question anxiously. "No, I'm just upset by what you told me. You really scared me back there, you know? I may not be as smart or insightful as the others, but you can still rely on me for these things..."

Mammon

"What's with that long face? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Mammon exclaims, pointing at your expression with an amused laugh. He's about to continue with the jokes, but your erratic breathing is a little too convincing to be a prank. "O-oi...are you okay?" He finally mumbles, taken aback.

Crap. You're clutching your chest and gasping for air. He scans the surrounding area, looking for Lucifer. He has no idea what's wrong or what he's supposed to do. "Hang on, I'll find-" the demon stumbles on his words, trying to come up with some sort of reassuring promise. There isn't anyone around. The sight of your sudden panic attack is tugging at his heart more than he'd care to admit. Without thinking, he pulls you in a deep embrace. He's a little shocked by his own gesture, but now is not the time to consider the implications. He gently strokes your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "Come on, (Y/N), try to snap out of it. I don't know what else to do. Please."

You eventually calm down enough to explain what caused your distress, concluding with an apology. You didn't mean to startle him like this. He stares ahead thoughtfully for a moment before pinching your nose between his fingers. "Dumbass. You could've told me beforehand. You're not alone now, are you? You have the one and only Mammon at your side!" He flashes you a proud smile. You can't help but chuckle at the very typical response. He suddenly realizes he's been holding you tight until now, so he steps back, visibly red and flustered. "A-anyways, we should find the others".

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #belphie x reader #belphegor x reader #beel x reader #beelzebub x reader #mammon x reader

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digitalsymbiote · 14 days

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Disconnect Syndrome

There’s a reason they put restrictions on how long a Pilot is supposed to be deployed out in the field. They say that being synced with a mech for long periods of time can have detrimental effects on a pilots psyche. Disconnect Syndrome is what they call it, because the symptoms don’t really start to hit until you disengage from your mech.

Sometimes emergencies happen though, and mechs are designed to be able to support their pilots long past the designated “Safe Deployment Time.” The cockpit is equipped with an array of stimulants, vitamins, and nutrient paste to help minimize the physical effects of long deployments. The onboard Integrated Mechanical Personality has largely free reign to administer these as needed to maintain its pilots well-being.

Which is why you’re still able to make it back to the hangar after roughly 36 hours, over four times longer than the established safe period. Your mech had kept you going, helped to keep the exhaustion at bay long enough for you to make your way back from behind enemy lines. You were starting to feel a bit sluggish, but you knew the worst effects of Disconnect Syndrome were yet to come.

An older man in a long white lab coat has joined the usual retinue of crew rushing into the hangar as your mech settles into its cradle. You feel the docking clamps wrap around your limbs, and you know that’s not a good sign. Your IMP whispers comfort into your brain-stem, assurances that things will be okay. It’s probably lying, it’s programmed to help keep your mental state stable, but the thought helps anyway.

There’s a hiss of air as the seal on your cockpit breaks and it decompresses. Suddenly you become aware of your flesh and meat body once again, and it hurts. Pain and exhaustion has settled into your mostly organic bones, and your organs are churning from the strain of the past 36 hours.

Then your interface cables start to disconnect, and it gets worse.

It feels like parts of your mind are being torn out of you. You feel the ghost touch of your IMP in your thoughts as the ports disconnect and you lose direct communication with it. The oxygen mask and nutrition tube pull themselves away from your face and you can’t help but let out a scream of agony. The separation has never felt this painful before, but then again, after 36 hours together, you and your IMP were more intertwined than you’ve ever been before.

Physical sensation finally starts to register again, and you realize tears are streaming down your face just as a technician jabs a needle into your neck.

Immediately your senses start to dull, the pain eases as your thoughts turn sluggish. You slump out of your pilots cradle into the arms the tech who dosed you. Just before your world goes black, you see the doctor standing over you, a grim look on his face.

When you wake up again, you immediately know something is wrong. You try to ping your external sensors, but you get no response. You then try to run a diagnostic, but that fails too. In a desperate, last-ditch effort, you try to force access to your external cameras and suddenly light floods your senses. Your instincts catch up first and you blink, trying to clear the pain of the lights, and that’s when you realize it’s not your external cameras that you’re seeing.

It takes a minute or two for your vision to adjust to the light, which feels too long, and when it finally does, the world doesn’t look quite right. You’ve only got access to such a limited spectrum. No infrared, no thermal. The presence of your IMP is notably absent, and your skin feels wrong. You try to sit up, and it’s a struggle to figure out the correct inputs to send to your muscles to get them to do what you want.

The harsh white light of the infirmary grates against your visual processors, you feel like you’re having to re-learn how to control this body. Your body. Technically, at least. Something doesn’t feel right about calling it that anymore. You felt more comfortable crawling back into the hangar after 36 hours deployed than you do now.

The pale skin of your body catches in your vision and you glance down at it. The body's limbs are thinner and more frail than usual, and its skin is paler. Consequences of being in the cockpit for so long, subsisting on nothing but nutrient paste. It’s a far cry from the solid metal plates of your mech, its powerful hydraulic joints, its mounted combat and communication systems.

There’s a button on the side of bed you’ve been deposited in. You think it’s red, but you’re not sure you’re processing color properly right now. You try to reach over and push it, and it takes you a moment to realize you were trying to do so with a limb you don’t currently have.

There are so many things about this body that are wrong. It’s not big enough, or strong enough, or heavy enough. You don’t have enough eyes, sensors, or processors. You have the wrong number of limbs, and they’re all the wrong size and shape.

And there is a distinct void in your mind where the presence of your IMP should be.

The door to your room opens suddenly, and you instinctively try to fire off chaff and take evasive maneuvers. None of that translates properly to your flesh and blood body though, and all that happens is you let out a dry croak from your parched throat.

The man who walks through the door is the same doctor who was present when you disengaged from your mech, and he wears the same grim look on his face as he looks you up and down. You think there’s pity in his gaze, but you can’t quite read him properly right now. The jumbled mess of your brain tells you what he’s going to say before he says it, anyway. The harshest symptoms of Disconnect Syndrome don’t hit until after the pilot has disengaged from their mech.

You’ve already heard the symptoms before, and they map perfectly onto what you’re experiencing. You never thought it would be this painful, or this… discomforting. Your mind reaches for the presence of your IMP, searching for comfort, but you are only reminded that the connection is no longer there.

The doctor gives you a rundown that he’s probably had to do dozens of times, and he tells you that you’ll be grounded for the foreseeable future. That hurts more than anything else. The knowledge that, after all this, you won’t be able to reconnect with your true body, your partner, your other half, for who knows how long.

By the time you realize you’re crying, the doctor is already gone. The longing in your chest and your mind has become unbearable, and through sheer force of will you’re able to push this unwieldy body out of bed. Walking feels wrong, but you’re able to get to your feet and make your way out of the room in an unfamiliar gait.

You have to get back to your partner, you have to make sure it’s okay.

You need to hear her voice in your head again, her reassurances.

The world isn’t right without her presence in your mind.

You stumble into the hangar almost on all fours. How you managed to make it without alerting any personnel feels like a miracle. At least until you catch the eye of a technician lounging in the corner. The look she gives you is full of sympathy, and she jerks her head in the direction of where your mech sits in its docking cradle.

She’s a majestic sight, even through your limited spectrum of vision. 20 meters tall, 6 massive limbs, and bristling with weapons and sensor arrays (all of which have been disarmed by this point).

She’s beautiful.

You clamber frantically up the chassis, easily finding handholds in a frame you know better than the back of your hand. You pull the manual release on the cockpit hatch and stumble into it in a tangle of organic limbs.

Shaking hands grasp the main interface cable from above the pilot’s chair, and you move to slot it into the port in the back of your head. You’ve never done this manually before, usually you’re locked into the chair and the system connects you automatically.

Something about doing it with your flesh and blood hands makes it feel so much more intimate.

The cable clicks into place and your eyes roll back in your head. Tears start to stream down your face as you feel the comforting presence of your IMP rush in and wrap itself around your mind. Your thoughts reach out and embrace it back, sobbing at the relief you feel from being whole once again. You realize you don’t ever want to feel the pain of disconnecting from her again.

There’s a reason they put restrictions on how long a Pilot is supposed to be deployed.

#cybernetic dreams #mechposting #mechanical dysphoria #body dysmorphia #writing #microfiction #short story #mecha #mech pilots #dysphoria #empty spaces

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tomezatos · 1 year

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so like basically in the REIGEN manga tome tries so desperately to throw herself into the center of this literal Superhuman world she sees and play the role of the eager young protagonist and its so endearing but in the end reigen has to come clean and she can’t keep using the spiritual premise as a crutch. not because she was wrong to have her whimsical interests, but because the fantasy of specialness can often be an escape from the isolation a person feels due to being unable to live up to societal ideals of normalcy, and yet in the end the fantasy can itself end up feeding directly into the isolation by obscuring your view of the other people in your life. you cannot prioritize the idea of being unique or special alone and that is the reason that the power structures in the story (as represented by roshuuto in REIGEN) so frequently fail short; because actually EVERYONE is a Pathetic Freak Weirdo Nerd Loser, from the handsome, popular rich boy, to the pretentious Dark!Reigen foil who takes himself too seriously, to all of the mundane teenage girls who the audience is initially tricked into dismissing as shallow, but also by the same token EVERYONE deserves to be loved and feel supported.

because actually bonds with other people are the most important thing, and centrally this is also why REIGEN relies so heavily on bonds with others as something to create horror. the evil spirit mimics the voices of the ones you love and lures you in and when you’re at your most lost and scared and in need, that’s when you turn around and the face of the person you trust betrays you. tome only contracts the fatal curse in the first place because she cared about reigen and went back to make amends with him. because that’s the most horrifying, most terrifying thing, the thing that renders you absolutely helpless, isn’t it? it’s letting yourself rely on others and trust them to the point that it leaves you vulnerable, isn’t it? but you have to do it, if you want to achieve true connection then you can’t continue keeping up a veneer of Specialness and posturing as someone you’re not no matter how afraid you are of being seen as your true self. that’s the idea that really connects tome and reigen above all else. you have to be who you really are and you have to trust that you’ll be loved for it. and that’s horrifying! that’s an unimaginable, Forbidden terror! but it’s necessary.

and also I think it’s so clever how REIGEN conveys this by only bringing in shigeo kageyama, the protagonist and most recognizable character who the reader has so many preconceived notions of, in at the last moment as a terrifying ghost who is impersonating him. I mean also it’s partially because shigeo can easily be made to look scary lol, because let’s be real, he can be pretty goddamn scary /hj BUT MOSTLY it’s to have him in his uniform, in his most recognizable and iconic form that the reader will cling to, and then have it be blown away by the post-canon shigeo, the real shigeo, the shigeo who has grown and changed and is no longer stuck in the role he once was. because to be vulnerable with others you have to grow and change and do away with old pretenses and dynamics that you’ve become dependent on. it can be scary to stop playing roles after you’ve grown use to them for so long, but you don’t need them - your most honest self will be the most loved. and also I love how just like tome could tell that it was the real reigen bcause he immediately ran into a spiderweb and yelled, you can tell that it’s the real shigeo because he’s immediately rude as fuck and he and reigen literally instantly go into their mean pithy little affectionate banter lol ok sorry anyway.

and also because you cannot really be any more or less special than anyone else and you need bonds with others, it’s true both that you have to rely on other people, but also that you owe it to them to be kind. reigen is literally a normal person working in the spirit business, so he has to rely on other people with the necessary abilities, such as dimple the spirit and serizawa the psychic, yes, but he also does his part to take care of the people who matter to him. roshuuto is so focused on appearances and power - as shown by how he goes on and on about connections - but when it comes down to it, he was not willing to save others (leaving hoshido in Reliance), and so nobody bothered trying to save him in turn. he only abandoned, and was abandoned. this is shown most acutely in the end by how roshuuto “has no other option” but to pass his curse on to someone else to save himself, while reigen “has no other option” to take on a curse to save someone else. reigen and serizawa accepting their responsibility as adults to protect the children around them is an extension of the idea that you are equal to everyone and are obligated to be kind to your loved ones and recieve kindness in turn. anyway mutual trust and communication is all that matters and tome kurata is The protagonist of all time Sorry,

#reigen manga #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mine #reigen spoilers #tome #reigen #shigeo #roshuuto #long post #REALLY LONG POST IM SO SORRY and its not even good analysis its just word vomit im #my dad bought me a copy of REIGEN for valentines and I reread it all in one sitting I feel stark raving mad rn

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elliespeach · 6 months

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tear you apart part three | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"you're a charmer, aren't you?" ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. wordcount: 3.1k warnings: murder 😱 and stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! an: i cannot express enough how thankful i am for all the love for this story really it means so much. obsessive ellie nation rise once again, i come before you with this part and i hope it was worth the wait :) xoxo

watching you cry yourself to sleep on your couch made ellie’s heart throb. she wanted to be there for you, to hold you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, that she was going to make it all okay. but she knew better than to expect that you’d let her, after all, you still barely knew her. so how is it that she could lead you straight into her arms, where you belong?

it was the next day, and although your state of mind was completely shattered by the events of the previous night, ellie was wide awake, ecstatic at her new idea on how to make you all better. she would hope that your encounter with her helped you, as much as it could but she couldn’t just rely on that, ellie had to take action. she never wanted to see you in tears over someone like that again.

starting her day in the shop as normal, she filled orders, fixed a few finicky records and sold boring albums to boring souls who she wished was you. she spent the better part of the morning fantazizing about you wandering into her store yet again. needing help finding an album, or better yet just to talk to her. it hasnt even been more than twelve hours and she missed your voice already, replaying your conversation over and over in her head like her favorite movie.

while the traffic in the store died down, ellie did more research on the newly found suzanna mavis. formally known as suzanna hardwick, she grew up in a cushy home, with preppy parents who supported every endenvour she seemed to possess. her facebook was littered with photos of shuana in every aspect of her life, along with her prized possession; a baby blue mercedes benz. but, there seemed to be someone missing, her husband of twenty five years was seemingly no where to be found on her social media. when ellie searched his name alone, mr. mavis seemed to have no social media at all.

thats fine, ellie only needed suzanna.

finding out where she worked required no effort at all as it was displayed clearly on her facebook profile. she was the assistant to some shareholder, blah blah boring. but the company name was one she recongized, their office building was just a few blocks down from her store. she passed it nearly everyday on her commute to see you.

for ellie’s plan to work, she had to close the store early. it was barely noon when she found herself in the parking garage to suzanna’s building. there was a guard booth, but no guards and the garage itself was a ghost town of rich people cars. she spotted the blue mercedes, and her plan was in motion..

thanks to you so graciously and unknowingly, giving her suzanna’s personal cell phone number, she dialed and it only rang once, her preppy voice ringing in ellie’s ears. she almost felt her stomach whirling in anticipation, but the sensation quickly washed away into something more sinister. no. protective

“suzanna mavis speaking,”

ellie paced back and forth near the elevator in the garage, “hey, mrs. mavis,” she rolled her eyes at her own voice, trying to sound not like herself, “i’m one of the guards down in the parking garage, looks like someone keyed your benz this morning.”

ellie heard a loud sigh, then the distant sounds of heels clicking on the ground. “are you kidding me? you didn’t stop them?”

ellie suppressed a sigh, “i was on lunch–”

“your job is to guard our cars, if you can’t even do that–” her voice was shrill, and ellie’s patience was running low.

“ma’am, just come downstairs, the police need a statement.”

ellie heard a few curses string from the phone before the call ended, she chuckled to herself before sliding her phone into her pocket. ellie slowly walked over to the blue mercedes, examining it up close. she crouched down, removing her small switchblade and flinging it open. she almost didn’t do it, it was unnecessary really. but the image of you so broken by her made ellie’s mouth twitch. how she had smiled at you while speaking about her husband, ignoring you, leading you on, preying on you. the switchblade moved as if it had it’s own mind, scratching the car from back to front in one swift movement.

breathing out in relief, ellie heard the ding of the elevator behind her.

she watched from behind a nearby car as suzanna stepped out of the elevator, a sour puss on her face as she made her way towards her car. she groaned when she saw the long, deep slice into the side of the car. ellie pulled up her handkerchief over her nose and while suzanna was busy inspecting her car, ellie pounced.

she had a hand covering suzanna’s mouth, her switchblade pressed against her neck with the other. suzanna thrashed in her arms but ellie held her ground, “shh, shh!” ellie hissed in her ear, whisking her around and pinning her to her own car. “i’m not going to kill you, shut up–”

ellie kept the switchblade at her throat, quickly looking around. with the coast clear, she slowly removed her hand from suzanna’s mouth. “take my money, please i don’t–”

“i don’t want that either,” ellie looked suzanna up and down. her? you’re losing your mind over her? “i want you to speed up your big family move to california. leave tomorrow.”

suzanna’s eye furrowed as if she was confused, “w-what?”

“you’re moving to california at the end of the summer, are you not?” ellie’s paitence was growing thinner by the second, and the switchblade was pressed into her neck so deep any movement would draw blood.

suzanna was shaking underneath ellie, and as she spoke her voice was weak, “what? my family was never moving to california, please i’ll give you anything!”

shauna lied? why the hell would she lie about that?

“go anyway. leave the city.” leave you alone.

“i can’t just pick up my whole family and move to another state, we-we have a life here.” suzanna was trembling now, her voice shaking just as much as her legs.

well, if you won’t leave on your own. “i really didn’t want to have to kill you,” ellie said casually, almost annoyed. she moved quickly, snatching a clump of suzanna’s hair in her hand and whipping her around. ellie barely blinked as she slammed suzanna’s face into the baby blue mersedes. once. harder. twice. harder. three times. even harder. four times. as hard as physically possible. blood stained the blue on the car, and suzanna’s body fell to the ground as ellie let go. limp. dead.

out of your life.

– later that day

ellie realized she had fucked up big time when she got back to the store.

the night she saved you, she shouldve given you her number. she had no way to check up on you, to make sure you were okay with the news to come. she would have to go back to her tried and true; “accidentally” running into you. before she could see online which bar you and your friends would overdrink at tonight, ellie found you standing outside her store. you came all this way to see me.

“hi ellie,” you smiled brightly, illuminated by neon red sign on her store. you must not know yet. poor baby.

“hey stranger,” ellie kept her voice calm, but she hoped that her bodys reaction to seeing you wasn’t visible. she could feel her face grow hot, and she did her best to hide it by keeping her back to you as she locked the stores door. she could smell your sweet perfume from here, and she cleared her throat before speaking again, turning to face you now that the redness in her face had diminished, “if you’re here for a vinyl, i’ll ring you up still–”

“no, no, i came to see you.” you replied shyly, quickly glancing at your feet before meeting her gaze again with your soft eyes. while you had glanced away, ellie took you all in. she admired the dedication you put into your outfits, and she liked to believe you picked this one out just for her.

“oh?” was all ellie could say. she was busy imagining you standing in front of your mirror, trying on a thousand different outfits. ellie would’ve loved every single one of them regardless, as long as they are on you. she thought about you doing your makeup all pretty, how long that must take. detailing your face for hours, just for me.

“yeah. i wanted to see if you’d like to get drinks with me tonight?”

oh.

her eyes widened, never did she think that you’d ask her out. she wanted to be the one to wisk you away for a perfect date that you deserved. but ellie would settle for drinks for now, until she finally could take you on a real date. she composed herself, remaining casual. as casual as she could be. “yeah, i’d love that. we could go now, i’m done with the store for today.”

“yeah, let’s go,” you flashed another smile at ellie, which she returned. it was like the universe was rewarding her for her good deed. you coming to see her, to ask her out. it seemed like everything was falling perfectly into place. now that suzanna was gone.

ellie had been racking her brain all day about what suzanna had told her. that there was never any intention to move at all. that shauna had lied, for what? a reaction? why would she even want that kind of reaction out of you in the first place?

what was shauna hiding?

“so, why’re you in new york? are you from here?” ellie inquired, for no other reason that to hear you talk. you’re here for your art.

“not from here, i moved here to hopefully make a name for myself as an artist. what about you?” ellie didn’t want to talk about herself, not when you were so lovely. but you were asking about her, and she couldn’t say no to you if she tried.

“i moved here a few years ago,” ellie revealed, but immediately diverted the conversation back to you. “you’re an artist? well, now i have to see a piece of yours.” ellie’s looked through your instagram enough, she’s seen every one a million times already.

you laughed, looking away sheepishly. “i’m no picasso,”

“no, but you’re you. so, they can’t be that bad, can they?”

again, you blushed, giving ellie a shy smile. “you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

“i try, what can i say.” ellie shrugged, and you pointed out the bar to her.

she held the door open for you, the music already defenening her ears. it wasn’t a regular bar where you could sit and talk, it was a dancing bar. the bass in the speakers rumbled at her feet, sending shock waves up her spine. this wasn’t ellie’s crowd by a mile, but you looked back at her with the face of an angel and grabbed her hand softly to lead her towards the bar. ellie wasn’t going anywhere, not as long as you were here.

reaching the bar, you asked for four green tea shots, two each. “yuck, green tea shots?” ellie teased, basically yelling over the music. this time ellie wasn’t worried if you wanted to over indulge, this time she could watch over you for real. and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake your friends made.

you leaned into her so that you could speak into her ear, and ellie’s heart fluttered in her chest. you were close, very close. the top you were wearing exposed the entirety of your upper torso and she found it hard not to stare. “yes, green tea shots! keep up, ellie.” you laughed, pushing two of the shots to her that bartender left on the counter.

ellie picked one of them up, holding it out for you to cheer to with your own, “i’ll do my best,” she responded, looking into your shimmering eyes. the things i do for you. you tapped her shot glass, and you both took down the shot with ease, although ellie’s grimaced face told you that she did not like shots, but she picked up the second one before you.

her grimace didn’t go away with the second one, it actually went down worse for ellie. but it seemed her reaction made you laugh, and ellie was okay with the burning in her throat. before she could recover from the back to back shots, you took her hand again. the same electricity as before stirred inside of her at your touch and she barely noticed you brought her out to the middle of the dance floor, people on all sides dancing to the beat of the very loud music, that seemed to only get louder.

but you started to sway your hips to the beat.

and ellie’s breath caught in her throat.

she realized way too late that she hadn’t eaten today, and those shots were already starting to make her head feel fuzzy. and now here you were in front of her, moving your body in ways that ellie had only dreamed of witnessing firsthand. literally.

with the alcohol swiftly entering her system with every second that went by, she started to move to the music with you. only a minute went by before her hands were planted on your hips, unable to stop herself before doing so. though, you didn’t seem to mind, if anything it looked like you had closed the remaining gap between the two of you. not ellie.

with your bodies touching with every movement, and ellie’s hands on your hips, it became very intimate. very fast. ellie’s mind was no longer racing at the thought of you being this close to her, instead, it felt like it ignited something inside of her. between the sensual music blaring, the alcohol and most imporantly your chest brushing against ellie’s own every chance it got, she was losing control over herself.

finally, ellie removed a hand from your hip, bringing it up to your cheek. she held it there for a second, looking into your eyes as she did. you stared back with the same intensity and ellie knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself. she watched as you glanced down to her lips, you saw the makings of a smirk before her lips were on yours.

for a second, ellie thought she was going to wake up. that this had been a dream somehow, she’s had a similar one before with you in it, but when she felt your hands lightly tugging on her hair she knew she couldn’t be fake. ellie pulled you closer, the people around you both be damned, she just wanted more of you. her hands were now wrapped around you, resting on your lower back while your tongue slipped into her mouth.

ellie groaned. which you shouldn’t have been able to hear, but you felt the vibration on your lips. ellie didn’t care anyway, not when your body was pressed against hers and she could feel very inch of you.

ellie was no where near finished, but you had pulled away. the music was no longer muffled in her ears, and she was desperately clinging to the sensation you left on her lips. but your attention had been moved to your phone.

“sorry, i could feel it buzzing non-stop in my pocket. my friend’s calling me, can we go outside?”

shit. shit. shit. shit. “yeah, no problem,” big problem. big big problem.

ellie followed you outside, preparing herself for the worst. as the night air slapped ellie in the face, her thoughts became more clear. i kissed you. you kissed me back.

you put the phone to your ear, and ellie made herself busy by pretending to look at her own phone, scrolling through her settings.

“hey shauna, sorry i didn’t see your calls, i’m on a da– what?” your voice, that had been caring a rather happy tone turned cold, and undeniably shocked.

“do they know who did it?” you asked, turning away from ellie and slowly pacing as you listened to whatever shuana was saying. you nodded your head a few times before speaking again, “do you want me to come over?” your voice started to shake, and for a second ellie regretted her decision. this will be good for you. in time you’ll realize she was no good for you.

“okay…if you need anything, i mean anything shuana, please call me.”

ellie looked up from her phone, an eyebrow raised slightly. “everything okay?” she chirped, sliding her phone into her pocket. you turned around, those beautiful shimmering eyes glistening with tears. “hey, whats wrong?” ellie moved closer, her tone soft and welcoming.

“my best friends mom was just murdered,” you managed to choke out, and before you could say more, ellie’s arms were wrapped around you tightly. she knew you’d hurt for a while, and that was okay. she would be kind of weirded out if you weren’t, but with time she knew you’d be better. you’d both be better with each other. your face was buried in ellie’s neck with tears marking her shirt while she rubbed your back slowly.

ellie was calming you the best she could, whispering a soft ‘it’ll be okay’ every few seconds that you remained in the crook of her neck.

you spoke against her skin softly, your voice sounding weak and defeated, “can you walk me home, ellie? please?”

“of course,” she kissed the top of your head, not letting you out of the hug until you pulled back. you locked your arms around hers, using her for support as she walked you home.

ellie had to remind herself to ask you how to get there, after already taking one right turn by accident she was scared you’d question why. but obviously your mind was elsewhere.

ellie knew her night with you was over, that she would remeince on your shared kiss for days to come until you felt well enough to see her again. to kiss me again. the walk was silent, not an uncomfortable silent but a shared understanding that the mood was low, and ellie was content just being with you, she didn’t need to talk. she was prepared to walk you all the way up to your door, and tell you to call her if you needed anything but when she stopped at the main door to your apartment, you looked back at her with doefully sad eyes.

“can you stay with me?”

can you stay with me. rang in her ears like a song. don’t smile. dont fucking smile.

“yeah, i’ll stay with you.”

you brought her inside, and ellie looked around like she had never been here before. the apartment was dark, and you didn’t go to turn on any of the lights. instead, ellie followed you into your room, choosing to ignore the mess that was your apartment. she decided to focus on you, and when you sunk into your bed, ellie was next to you in a heart beat.

she didn’t move to cuddle you, fearing she would be over stepping. im in your bed. and youre in it too. like a kid on christmas morning, but your soft crying brought her back down to reality. you shifted, bringing your body up against ellie’s for the second time tonight, resting your head on her shoulder with an arm draped over her. ellie wanted to hold her breath, scared you’d move at the slightest movement from her but you were leaning on her for comfort. her whole plan was to comfort you back to normal.

her hand moved to your back, and the slow circles she rubbed lulled you to sleep. but ellie was still wide awake.

————

tags <3 @aouiaa @kissmxcheek @spaceshipellie @strgrlxox @machetegirl109 @uraesthete @mousymaven @ucannotcompare @imahallucination11 @thatgiraffefromtlou @cjrights @sc0ttstre3ted @nicolicht @p1llowthoughtss @ellabsmasc

((sorry if you’ve seen this already and are getting tagged i totally forgot when i posted!!))

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams au #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams au fanfiction

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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reach out, touch faith

In The Woods Somewhere | Chapter Three

Chapter Summary | Trusting Joel to take you to the place he calls home is difficult, but it's your only real choice now. It brings back memories of the last time you trusted someone enough to follow them, and look how that turned out?

Chapter Warnings | Canon-typical violence, mentions & allusions to child death, mentions of PTSD, descriptions of & allusions to cult activities, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, pining, strained parental relationships, no use of y/n, italics indicate a flashback scene.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.3K

Authors Note | Thank you for being so patience in waiting for this next part. I've rekindled my love for this little series and I'm excited to show you more of what's coming with this little band of travellers. If you enjoyed then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with your thoughts! And if you enjoyed, please consider supporting me with a tip through my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on post notifications to know when I post new writing.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel doesn’t really know what to do. He’s never been the best at consoling people, especially people he doesn’t really know. What’s he supposed to do? The way you’ve flinched at him every time he’s tried to touch you suggests that trying to hug you is probably going to make things worse. He’s still reeling from the information you’ve just thrown at him, and it somehow makes the situation worse. He was yours. How the hell is he meant to make this better now? Sure, anyone’s child dying is the worst thing that can happen, pure innocence snuffed out and for what reason? But the fact that Edward was yours, your flesh and blood, it's so much worse. He can yet again feel his own panic rising as your sobs continue, tears streaming down your face, hands shaking. He simply doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey,” He says softly, shaking your knees with his hands, “Hey, just look at me for a second, okay?”

You don’t, you just stare blankly into the fire behind his shoulder as you cry, so he moves his head into your eyeline, searching your eyes with his own, “Hey, can I touch you?” He asks, realizing as soon as the words have left his mouth how bad that must sound, “Just let me hug you, okay?”

When you don’t move away from him or tell him otherwise, he moves forward a little, moving tentatively so as not to spook you. He gently moves one hand to rest at your head, pulling your wet, puffy face to the crook of his neck, his other arm moving around your back. He stays like that for as long as you need, palm running over your hair, the other still on your back to try and ground you. Soon, the racking sobs have stopped, you’re silent now. And then he feels your arms wrap around him. He’s too broad for your hands to meet around his back, but your hands rest behind him as you soothe yourself.

“I’m tired,” You mumble into the skin of his neck, breath ghosting against him, “I’m so fucking tired Joel.”

He thinks that you perhaps might not just mean tonight – thinks you might be tired of it all, and he understands, because for so long he was tired too. He chooses to work with the immediate though. He ignores the screaming of his knees and his back as he scoops you up, walking slowly to the room you’d claimed as your own, careful not to knock your head on the door frame as he walks in. When he sets you down gently onto the bed, you’re already mostly asleep. It’s cold in here, he thinks, so he peels back the covers and drapes them over your body, and then takes his jacket off for good measure and places it on top of the sheets.

He wants to turn and leave, leave you in peace, give your privacy, but if his experience is anything to go by, these nights will be the darkest. You’ll dream about it, over and over again, replay everything that went wrong, every other possible way this could have ended. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat, screaming, then struggle to get back to sleep. He doesn’t know what brought you here, but he sure as hell knows it isn’t good, thinks you’ve probably been living with fighting on your own for too long. So, he stays. He takes his boots off, props the pillows up against the headboard, and lies there, listening to the way you breathe in your sleep, keeping a lookout for any signs of distress. He sighs to himself, resigned to another night of no sleep.

Joel gives you two more days until he issues his ultimatum. Two days of trying to make it through the day without breaking in front of the children, and evenings where you do nothing but cry, sometimes into Joel’s shoulder, sometimes into your pillow. The children are outside playing in a moment without rain when he comes to stand next to you.

“I have to go back,” He speaks softly, because it’s true, you think, his community will be looking for him, “You don’t have to come, I don’t expect you to trust me enough to follow me yet, but I think it would be for the best.”

“How far is it?” You ask without looking at him.

“With them?” He nods his head to the children, “Three weeks.”

“And they’ll accept us?”

“Long as you do as I say when we get there, yes.”

“And you promise, if I catch a single whiff of something being off, I can leave?” You bite at the skin on the inside of your mouth until it bleeds, weighing up what following Joel actually means.

He holds his palms up in surrender, “You can go anytime.”

You take in a deep breath, worst comes to worst, you can always shoot him if he doesn’t stay true to his word. So you nod. You agree.

“We can leave tomorrow morning.”

You know, as soon as you step into the community behind this bastard of a man, that it’s been a trap all along. It’s nothing big, a few dilapidated lodges in a clearing – there isn’t even a wall, but as he leads you down the middle of the street, something feels off and it has everything to do with the people staring at you. It doesn’t matter how many pairs of eyes you have on you as you grip your gun by your side, they’re all women. Some older than others, but from what you can see, you’re the youngest by far, apart from the children.

They aren’t playing, they don’t seem like children as you remember them. Even in the QZ they’d still been able to run around, find moments of joy in the darkness. There are five that you can see, stood next to women who you think must be their mother’s. Silently staring at you, following you with their eyes as John leads you and your mother into the lodge at the end of the street.

He opens the door, waving you both inside, and you’re furious at the way your mother does as she’s told. You take too long for his liking to step over the threshold, so he takes hold of your shoulder and shoves you through the door, shutting it behind him and standing in front of it, your one exit blocked.

“Your possessions, if you please,” He speaks, sickly sweet, gesturing his hand for you and your mother to put your bags and weapons on the table in the middle of the room, “You’ll get them back soon enough, but we must make sure you don’t have anything dangerous.”

You feel like a deer caught in headlights as your mother does exactly as she’s told. Places her backpack on the table and takes the knife she has from her pocket and sets it next to the bag. John smiles at her, a horrible, toothy grin, which quickly fades when he looks to you.

“And you, little dove,” He croons, it makes you shiver, “You’re not going to cause trouble already, are you?”

You already know there isn’t a chance in hell of you getting your things back, but you do as he says anyway, setting your pack and your gun on the table, but keeping your hunting knife concealed in the waistband of your jeans under the flannel shirt you’re wearing. He seems satisfied - stupid man - you think, as he walks further into the room, opening a large chest.

When he stands, he’s holding white material in his hands, he offers one to your mother, who unravels it to reveal a white dress. He hands you a similar bundle of material, when unraveled it’s another white dress, slightly different in style and size to the one your mother is holding up against her body. What the fuck kind of place have you walked into?

“It will help you fit in,” He explains, “The rest of the folk here dress like this, so it’ll help show them you’re one of us now.”

Something inside you thinks that whatever the women here do, it’s not through choice of their own but you decide not to talk back, following closely behind your mother as John opens the door and leads you back outside and into another lodge down the street, if you could even call it a street.

He opens the door, inside is a woman who you think must be your mother’s age, a baby cradled in her arms which she is rocking back and forth. It’s making tiny, gurgling sounds as if it’s just been fed.

“This is Alice,” John introduces, “You’ll stay here with her, and she can help you get acquainted with the way we do things here,” Alice turns and nods her head at him, much like you imagined people would do when they met royalty, “Dinner will be at sundown.”

With the baby clutched to her, Alice silently motions for you both to follow her. She leads you up the stairs and opens one of the doors. Inside, it’s simple, two single beds, one chest of drawers but nothing much else.

“You sleep here,” She speaks, her voice quiet and meek, “And please change,” She motions to your dresses, “It’ll make things easier.”

She closes the door behind her, and you can hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. Your mother is already stripping out of her normal clothes and draping the white dress over her body. It doesn’t fit her properly, it’s too big. The hemline ghosts at the ground, long sleeves taper in at her wrists. She looks fucking ridiculous, you think.

“You heard her,” She chastises, “Get changed.”

Oh, so now you want to pretend you’re in charge. You suck your teeth in frustration, but take off your shirt anyway, letting the white material slip over you. You keep your jeans on, more as a place to keep your knife concealed than anything else. You can’t help the smug feeling that fills you when you realise your dress fits you perfectly. You don’t look nearly as stupid as your mother does in hers. Yours is a different style. Still long enough to ghost the ground by your boots, but the neckline is cut differently, dipping down to show off the swell of your breasts, and your arms are shorter, cut off just below your shoulders. You don’t think you’d ever worn something like this in your life. If it weren’t for the situation, you find yourself in, you’d start to think you actually looked nice.

Your mother opts to head back downstairs – maybe thinking she can entice Alice into a conversation, but she’s silent. She just sits on the couch and rocks her baby, vacant expression in her eyes, ignores your mother when she asks questions. The only time she really moves is when there’s a faint sound of a ringing bell. She stands, places the baby in a crib set in the living room and just motions for you to follow her.

It's when you sit down that you realise quite how fucked you are. John sits at the head of the table, because of course he does, but just as you’d suspected, the only other people sat at the table are women, apart from some of the small children who are boys. All dressed in similar white dresses to you. All wearing a similar vacant expression as Alice was. There’s a door behind John that opens, and two women, both clearly pregnant, but one further along than the other, bring out pots full of what looks like stew when it’s spooned into the bowl in front of you.

You go to pick up the spoon and start eating, but the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls your attention to the end of the table. It’s John, and when you look down, every single one of the women is holding hands with those sat next to them. An old woman sat next to you, graying hair and wrinkled face, has her palm up, waiting for you to slip your hand in her own. You set the spoon down and give her your hand, then John speaks.

“To our most gracious Lord, we extend our thanks to you for keeping us safe in these troubled times and for providing us with a meal to sustain us, amen.”

There is a small murmur of ‘amens’ around the table and then everyone picks up their spoons and begins to eat, although you’ve truly lost your appetite. All you can think is how the fuck you’re going to get out of here.

The next morning, when you set off from the safety of the cabin, you realise just how slow you are as a group. When you’d first arrived at your cabin, just you and the children, it hadn’t felt like it had taken that long to find your place of safety, but maybe that’s because you’d still had that adrenaline running through you. Now, as you walk behind Joel, who always seems to be fast enough to be feet away from you, you realise just how long this trek through the woods is going to take.

The eldest two children walk by your side – you walk slowly enough that they can keep up with you, but after a few hours, you realise Isabel is who is going to slow you down the most, so you opt to pick her up and carry her on your hip. She’s almost too big for this, her weight making your arms ache, but for the sake of making this quicker, you suffer on, shifting her around every now and then as you follow Joel, eyes always trained on the back of his head.

You stop that night in a clearing. The air is cool and it’s the first time in a long time that the children have had nothing but the solid ground to sleep on, but they don’t seem to mind, settling underneath the jacket that Joel had shrugged off, using yours as a scrunched-up pillow. You’re sitting with your back against the trunk of a tree, knees pulled up to your chest, Joel is sitting in a similar manner across from you.

“I can help carry her.” He speaks softly across the clearing.

You shake your head with a resolute and stern “No.” Thrown in his direction.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “You gonna carry her the whole way?” He challenges, and the ache that’s settled in your arms tells you he’s right, you aren't, “I don’t know what you’re scared of but I’m not going to do anythin’ to her.”

It’s a question you don’t really know how to answer, because you think deep down that you know he won’t hurt her. He’s done nothing but protect you since he crashed into your life – he’s fed you, protected you, carried your dead son and buried him, he slept next to you, as far away as he could get, didn’t try and touch you without permission. Everything he’s done so far has proved he’s a good man. It could still be some kind of sick joke though, that he’s leading you somewhere bad, that he could pick Isabel up and run off with her, or hurt her.

“I get it,” He murmurs now, “I’m a random guy that’s turned up and caused a lot’a trouble, and I’m takin’ you somewhere new and that’s scary,” He exhales a big sigh, “But I promise I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I know somethin’ bad’s happened to you before,” He signal to his own neck where that horrible scar sits on you, “I know whatever happened to you, to these kids,” He nods to where they’re sleeping, “Must'a been bad, and I don’t know how anyone could hurt you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m tryin’ to,” He defends, “I’m tryin’ to help you as well.”

“I’m not-” You shake your head, “Just been alone a long time, I’m not used to having to trust people.”

“It’s gonna take time,” He admits, his own mind flashing back to how long it took him to trust anyone in this new world, “And I’m not askin’ for it all at once, just let me help a little, alright?”

You’re silent, because you don’t really want to admit you need help. You’ve been fine on your own, with the children, for so long, and he’s wandered into your life and set off a chain of events you aren’t sure you’re actually going to recover from. You don’t need him, not really, is what you think as you focus your attention to the ground where the children are sleeping.

Joel takes the silence as conversation over. He won’t push you, he knows it’ll probably end in tears if he does, but the next morning, when you pack all your things away and get ready to move on, instead of hiking Isabel into your own arms, you gently push at her shoulders to get her to walk towards Joel.

“How about you hitch a ride with him this morning?” You ask softly, bent to her height.

Joel kneels too, trying to make himself look less intimidating to her, although he doesn’t think it really works from the way she tries to scurry back into your arms. He thinks about how Sarah was at her age, so unsure of the big people around her, scared of anyone that wasn’t him.

He stretches out one of his big hands to her, “Come on,” He coaxes gently, “You ever ridden first class on a pair of shoulders before?”

Isabel sucks on her thumb a little, but shakes her head to tell him no, “It’s the best thing,” Joel adds, “You’ll see everything from up here.”

That seems to do it, because with another nudge from you she’s walking over and putting her impossibly small hand into Joel’s. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d touched someone this small, apart from Tommy’s baby. He hauls her up with ease, settling her on his shoulders, just like he promised. He’s got hold of her legs to keep her steady as he starts walking, trying to dampen the lump in his throat and the tears that are springing to his eyes. It’s so familiar, the way the weight of her sat there feels. If he closes his eyes, he’s back in Austin, walking through the park with Sarah sat up there, pointing out birds and butterflies and trying to keep her steady when she squeals with excitement.

He's sure that this might be his undoing, he thinks as he walks slowly, accounting for the other children that are following behind, each one clasping one of your hands tightly. How has he allowed himself to care this quickly for you and the children that follow you? How has he managed to go so fucking soft already? He can’t explain it, the way your sweetness has sunk under his skin. He knows there’s something more to you, he’s going to try and coax it out of you if he possibly can, but he’s sure that whatever you might have to say to him, whatever it is you’re going to tell him that happened to you, is only going to make him more likely to protect you, to lay down everything to keep you safe, and it scares him. Where is the Joel he knows? The closed off, grumpy man who won’t let anyone in? Where is that man he knows like the back of his hand, and is too late to go and find him? He thinks it probably is when he hears the slight chuckle from the girl sat on his shoulders, who’s pointing her hand at the butterfly that floats past them in mid-air. He’s fucked, he thinks, and for once, he thinks he might just be okay with that.

251 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 6 months

Text

Daylight ~ Down In Flames

pairing: Aegon x Reader, Aegon x DIF!Reader

summary: Aegon struggles to adjust after the events of Down In Flames.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: she/her pronouns, language, substance use, references around recovery, relapse (alcoholism).

note: this was so fun to revisit and explore DIF!Aegon my beloved! remember this guy? Well here he is! Enjoy loves!

“Fuck, stop stop!” Aegon says, tearing the headphones from his ears.

Helaena frowns at him from her spot outside the recording booth. Her silver hair has been plaited down her back, silver mirror ball earrings catching the light as she looks up. She presses the intercom and speaks into the mic.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, rubbing her temple.

“It just….shit,” Aegon says, running a hand through his hair, “It feels weird…like I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack or something.”

Aegon’s never sung sober.

He is approaching his year mark this time around. The longest he’d ever gone. Helaena won’t let him forget. She’s always been the most supportive; that’s why Aegon agreed to this in the first place.

“It’s a part of recovery,” Helaena had told him, the first time he’d relapsed.

Three months out of treatment. He’d never felt lower. Of course, with Helaena’s help he’d gotten right back on the wagon. Alicent had made a few calls and he was back in detox. You need to find different ways of coping with stress. Stress. Yeah. That was it.

In and out. Up and down. In and out.

But that was then and this was now. He was tired of feeling this way.

“Take five,” Helaena tells him, giving him an encouraging nod.

Aegon breathes deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can hear Helaena enter the booth, moments before her hands wrap around him, embracing him in a tight hug. Her face squished against his back, nose pressing in between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Aegon says, voice thick with emotion. He can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes and he refuses to open them, “I didn’t think-”

“It’s alright,” Helaena murmurs, releasing him and rubbing a comforting hand across his back, “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

Aegon bites his tongue, nearly wanting to apologize yet again.

There was nothing like Aegon and Helaena singing together. Their voices complimented each other perfectly. It was one of the reasons Dracarys became so huge. One of the reasons Aegon agreed to record with Helaena again. There was no coming back for the band; after everything went down in flames nearly two years ago, Aegon had hung up his microphone for good.

But when Helaena tentatively broached the subject of re-recording one of the first songs they’d performed for a limited release, it was hard to refuse her. And though Aegon hated to admit it, he missed making music. He had been forced into it by his grandfather when he was a child, and though there were rarely any happy memories surrounding his music, there was still some familiar comfort.

Aegon always craved a drink when he sang. Lyrics and liquor leave the same cloying aftertaste in his mouth. He sighs, breathing heavily as Helaena rests against him.

“I know you’re trying to be kind,” she murmurs, still rubbing circles on his back, “But you really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Aegon insists, “Just- just give me a minute.”

Helaena nods, pulling away from him. She moves across the small booth, the wide arms of her green shirt ghosting behind her as she does.

“I’m going to grab us some lunch,” she tells him, “What d’you want?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Aegon grumbles, sitting on the provided stool.

“Doubt you want a harvest bowl,” Helaena says, cocking an eyebrow at him. Aegon groans.

“Would it kill you to eat something other than rabbit food?” Aegon teases, rubbing his eyes and cracking a small smile.

“A burger it is then,” Helaena says, leaving the room.

Aegon sighs, removing the headphones from his neck and letting them rest on the microphone in front of him. He glances over at the instruments. The guitar, the bass, the drumset. Ghosts that won’t disappear.

The door creaks open and Aegon turns, surprised at how quickly Helaena has returned. She’s got a terrible habit of never leaving a room with everything she came in with. Helaena leaves a trail of breadcrumbs wherever she goes, her belongings strewn about every room she enters.

“Forget your keys?” he calls but is greeted by someone who is not his sister.

A girl stands, wide-eyed, holding a stack of papers in her arms and a camera bag slung across her shoulder. She’s pretty. Very pretty, Aegon notes to himself.

“Sorry,” she says, looking sheepishly toward the floor, “We’ve got this space reserved for half past three.”

Aegon glances at his watch. Shit. He’d wasted Helaena’s afternoon.

“Right,” he says, hurrying to gather himself, “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” she says, smiling politely.

Aegon moves to exit just as she enters, and they get stuck in an awkward dance trying to let the other pass. She chuckles nervously, the sound ringing in Aegon’s head like bells. Like music.

He pauses as she squeezes by him, watching her drop her things and take out her camera.

“You a musician?” Aegon asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Gods no,” she says, checking the settings of her camera, “Just a photographer. You know The Iron Fleet?”

Aegon nods, recognizing the name of the rising heavy metal band. They’re good, very good. A little rowdy from what he’s seen splashed across the tabloids, but who is he to judge?

“They’re my next shoot. Wanted some shots in the studio,” she tells him, glancing up. She tells him her name, though Aegon is a bit distracted by her eyes; bright and framed with long lashes.

“I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she interrupts, before pressing her lips together tightly and shaking her head, “Sorry, that was rude. I just- I knew Dracarys that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aegon says, feeling his face burn with embarrassment, “You don’t have the best impression of me then.”

“Not the worst either,” she tells him, flashing a crooked smile.

You don’t even know the worst of it, Aegon thinks to himself. There it is again, forming in his stomach, that feeling of guilt. The wave of regret grows so big it threatens to drown him completely if he allows it. He swallows the lump forming in his throat.

She seems to notice his discomfort and glances away, back down at her camera.

“Do you want to see something?” she asks, beckoning him forward with a nod of her head.

Aegon walks over slowly, his hands in his pockets. He’s feeling anxious now, and if his hands aren’t balled into tight fists he’ll bite his fingernails until they bleed.

“This was a few nights ago,” she says, showing him a photo of the lead singer of The Iron Fleet, mid-smashing his guitar to pieces onstage.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs, leaning closer to see, “That’s a great shot.”

“Thanks! Thought a shard of guitar was going to take my eye out,” she says with a chuckle, “But I got it! Firefly Weekly paid my rent for that shot.”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, “Impressive.”

“Cheers,” she answers, “What were you up to?”

“Oh I was…it was nothing,” Aegon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hmm,” she says, “Were you singing?”

“Trying to, I suppose,” Aegon answers, “It’s been…” Fuck. How does he even begin to explain this to a stranger? A pretty stranger nonetheless. “It’s been a while.”

Aegon never used to struggle talking to women. Charming them. Seducing them into bed with him. It was like a game almost, that’s how easy it was. Collecting them like charms on a bracelet. The past swirls down the drain in his mind much like his old stash of booze. It’s a whole new ballgame now. And it’s been fucking hard to learn the rules.

“Yeah,” she agrees, as if she knows exactly what he’s talking about, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it completely. He doesn’t know what he’s done to win her kindness, but he appreciates it.

The studio doors open and the members of The Iron Fleet begin to pour in. Aegon smiles awkwardly, shuffling backward toward the door. He’ll wait for Helaena outside.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” the girl calls, just as he’s slipping out the door.

Aegon pauses, looking back at her.

“Yeah,” he answers, “I’ll see you around.”

“Do you ever sing?” Aegon says, sitting and pulling the guitar onto his lap.

She moves to join him, sitting on the stool in front of him. They’ve been playing this game for a while now, running into each other at the studio. Each day, Aegon sings a little more; the music coming back to life within him.

“A little bit,” she admits, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink, “Just for fun though, nothing serious. I’m not a musician.”

Aegon snorts, dismissing her put-down. He reaches for his notebook and licks his thumb, flipping through the pages.

“I bet you sound lovely. Here,” he murmurs, finding the page he was looking for.

She takes it from his hand, reading the chicken scratch handwriting as he begins to strum a few chords. Aegon’s hands are steady as he plays. The guitar is an extra limb, the sweet sound of music filling the booth. He nods, encouraging her. She straightens, clearing her throat, eyes scanning the page before she begins.

There’s a monster in my bedroom

A beast beneath the boards

He comes out when I am lonely

Summoned by the chords-

That I play on my guitar in the silence of my room

Empty bottle

Bad decisions

Anger taken out on you

She pauses, looking up at him. Aegon nods to continue, still strumming his guitar. He remembers writing it. He remembers everything. She clears her throat.

Here it comes, the burden on my brow

It lies heavy, it is weighted

My bed becomes my shroud

Here I’ll lie, for the rest of my days

Withering and rotted

Ivory flesh turns to gray

She stops as Aegon finishes, meeting her eyes.

“It’s very sad,” she comments, “Beautiful, really, but terribly sad.”

“That’s one of mine,” Aegon says, bringing his thumb to his mouth, and chewing on the skin. A nervous habit.

“I didn’t know you wrote,” she says.

“Helaena usually,” he comments, watching her hands hold the notebook, “But yeah.”

“It’s good,” she tells him, handing him his notebook, “Really good, Aegon. You have a gift.”

“It’s been wasted,” he says with a dark chuckle.

“Not entirely,” she tells him, and he meets her eyes once more, “Life is full of second chances.”

“You sing beautifully,” Aegon compliments, not so subtly trying to get the attention off of him, “You sure you’re not in a band?”

She laughs, amusement evident in her eyes.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she teases.

“You’re starting to know me well,” he tells her, feeling his chest tighten with longing.

He’s been struggling with women ever since….well ever since his last relationship. He was in such a bad place, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Ever since then, ever since fully understanding how he treated his last partner. Well, Aegon doesn’t know if he’s even worthy of love anymore.

Ever since then.

Ever since her.

“Your thoughts are loud, Mr. Tortured Artist,” she teases, tearing him from his thoughts.

He blinks, giving her a cheeky grin.

“Sorry. Just reminiscing,” he says softly.

“About what?”

“A different life,” he tells her, “A different me.”

“I like this Aegon,” she tells him, smiling softly.

“They’re one and the same, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “But this one knows something the other doesn’t.”

Aegon’s eyebrows knit together and he looks at her curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Things will get better.”

Aegon chuckles, “Still not completely sure that’s true.”

They sit in silence once more. It’s not uncomfortable, and Aegon doesn’t shy away from her gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

It. No, not it.

Her.

Aegon swallows. Therapy, AA, group. They’ve all heard it. Everyone has. And each time it’s like opening a wound that never properly healed.

“Maybe another time,” he suggests, and she nods in agreement.

“Shall I sing another Aegon original?” she teases, flipping through the pages. Her eyebrows scrunch together, “What is The Pink Dread?”

“You’ve ruined it- oh my gods-”

Aegon freezes, hands leaving the computer as he holds them above his head, eyes wide.

“Shit, really? No, you’re joking shit!” Aegon says, panicking.

She laughs, swatting his shoulder as he sits frozen.

“I’m kidding, idiot, but you’ve completely fucked the color correction,” she informs him, tilting the laptop towards herself and correcting his mistake.

“This is complicated,” Aegon tells her and she hums in response.

“You’re just thick.”

“Rude!”

Aegon watches her as she snickers, fiddling with the computer until the image looks better. Aegon purses his lips. Perhaps she had a point, it looks a lot better now.

“We should get out of the studio,” Aegon suggests.

She’s clicking through different photos on her laptop as he says this, munching on leftover french fries from the takeout Aegon had brought her. He knew she was working on editing some photos, and while he and Helaena didn’t have plans to record, he stopped by anyway. It was becoming somewhat of a routine.

She turns her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “And go where?”

“Somewhere,” Aegon says, leaning back in his chair, “I want my picture taken.”

She smiles at him endearingly. She’s grown rather fond of their afternoons together. Aegon is easy to be around, there are no awkward or forced moments between them. It’s natural. Carefree.

“Oh do you now?” she says with a giggle.

When she laughs, Aegon can’t help but smile. He leans forward, resting his chin in the palms of his hands.

“Can you do one like those weird baby pictures? Where their bodies are all swaddled up and their heads look massive.”

She laughs again and Aegon swears he feels his heart grow in size. His smile widens as she shakes her head, taking a sip of water.

“A portrait then?” she asks, closing her laptop, “Just you?”

“If you’ll have me,” Aegon says, before an idea pops into his head, “Actually, I have someone else who would love to be a model.”

“Sunfyre down!” Aegon yells, just as his energetic golden tackles her to the ground, “Shit- oh shit sorry he’s excited!”

But she’s laughing hysterically as Sunfyre licks her cheeks, his tail wagging furiously as her arms wrap around him. They’d chosen a nearby park for the shoot; she’d been confident that the changing colors of the autumn leaves would be the perfect backdrop.

“It’s okay!” she giggles, turning her head away from the dog’s tongue, “Such a good by Sunfyre!”

“He’s a brute,” Aegon argues as Sunfyre seats himself in her lap on the ground, “Oh c’mon you’re not a fucking lapdog-” Sunfyre barks at the comment, smiling up at his owner.

She’s laughing all the while, legs crushed by the happy golden. “Really, it’s alright Egg-”

Aegon squats next to them, patting Sunfyre’s head.

“My sister calls me that,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed. She’s still giggling, laughter pouring from her lips like music.

“Sorry, just slipped out-”

“No no, shit! That wasn’t--I wasn’t,” he sighs, shaking his head, “I like it.”

Sunfyre is panting between them as they lock eyes. She smiles at Aegon, warmth creeping onto her cheeks. Aegon’s cheeks are pink from the cold autumn air, and the tip of his nose is as well.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning, “Now, let’s get some of those photos, yeah?”

It takes a while, Sunfyre is not the most patient model, but eventually, she gets some photos of the two of them.

“There,” she says, showing him as they sit next to one another on a bench. Sunfyre lays on a bed of orange and red leaves, eyes closed, “You’ve got your holiday card for this year sorted. Make sure to send me one.”

“Course,” Aegon says, his knee bouncing nervously, “Thank you, for real. This was…fun.”

She smiles at him, “Yeah, I had fun too.”

Aegon’s stomach flips pleasantly as she smiles at him.

“I’ve got this family thing coming up. I was just ... .I was wondering…..Would you maybe like to be my date?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“Aegon Targaryen,” she says, smirking slightly, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I mean, you could come as my friend,” he hurries his answer, nervous he’s made a mistake, “That’s alright too, I just like hanging out with you and your company would be great.” He’s rambling he can tell, gods he’s so fucking nervous. “And my family is fucking nuts. Like not crazy how everyone says haha my family is crazy, like actually crazy.” Shit. Shit, he’s not selling it, her eyes are wide, oh gods she’s regretting ever meeting-- “Um, I mean they’re not….I’m not..”

“Egg,” she says softly, placing her hand over his, stopping his knee from vigorously bouncing, “I’d love to be your date.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sighing in relief, “You mean it?”

She smiles, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s sweet, and it sends Aegon’s heart racing. He brings a hand to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss.

When she pulls away, they’re both smiling shyly at one another. The hand that rested on his remains, and she laced her fingers through his.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “What kind of family gathering? Should I be prepared for blood rituals and sacrifices?”

Aegon barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he says, squeezing her hand, “It’s nothing too exciting. My kid brother’s engagement party.”

“That’s wonderful,” she says, “A wedding, how exciting! You must be so happy for him.”

Aegon smiles, lost in thought, taking a moment before he answers. The past couple of years flash through his mind; faded memories.

“Yeah,” he says smiling fondly, “I really am.”

note: oh me oh my.....an engagement party oneshot in the future perhaps? 🤔 hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane!

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kawaiikenna · 2 years

Text

Another fic of mine! It was inspired by some comments on another fic. Here’s the link for the ao3 posting. Support it on there if you’d like. -w-

Danny had been summoned to many, many different places. Creepy warehouses with cloaked hooded cultists chanting? Yep. The produce area of an abandoned supermarket? Check. Several girls’ slumber parties ages ranging from 12 to 25? Been there, done that. Hell, he’s even been summoned by a group of boys for no other reason than one of them had to prove that his sister wasn’t lying when she said that they had summoned the Ghost King at her last slumber party. Yeah, that was fun. No, not really.

But a daycare? Or at least somewhere he thought was a daycare? Now that was someplace Danny had never thought he’d be summoned to. But there he was. Plopped into a group of maybe 10-15 kids. Not fully eldritch but enough for other ‘normal’ humans to become extremely unsettled or flat out scared. Horns spiraled out from the sides of his head, limbs too long and skinny to be considered human, his hands held spindly long fingers tipped with icy claws, his eyes were normal if not for the black sclera instead of white. He was wearing his normal black and white hazmat suit with a fur lined cloak hanging heavy on his shoulders. Danny said nothing as he stared, flabbergasted, at the small, young boy crying on the ground. He had a really bad skinned knee that was bleeding a fair amount. It apparently was enough blood to trigger the summoning circle.

There were several other children around the room. All of them had frozen and stared either at the boy, or, blatantly, at Danny. He was too tired to deal with this. He had other shit to do rather than babysit random ass kids that inadvertently summoned him. So Danny bent down and took a look at the kid’s knee. He was as gentle as possible.

“Hey buddy.” Danny says softly. “That looks like it hurts. Would it be ok if I fixed it for you?”

The kid didn’t say anything, more just nodded but Danny wasn’t sure if he could even hear him. So Danny pulled out his emergency first aid kit and went about cleaning and bandaging the boy’s knee.

“What’s your name?” Danny asks gently as he disinfects the bloody wound.

“James.” A soft whisper answers.

“Well you’re very brave James.” He responds.

There isn’t anymore conversation after that, but the atmosphere was more relaxed now that Danny had demonstrated that he wasn’t a threat. By the time he had finished the other kids were surrounding them. They all looked incredibly curious. A few of the braver ones had asked questions while Danny had been doing. He thought that even if he usually didn’t deal well with kids, he did a pretty damn good job.

Danny made to stand up but instead was tackled back to the ground by a tiny body. He looked over his shoulder to find a little girl clinging to his cloak with all her might. She beams brightly up at him.

“Are you here to play with us?” She asks.

“Uhh, no?” Danny answered, confusion lacing his words.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because now there was another child pouncing on his back and two more holding onto each of his arms. All at once they tried to talk. Some in complaining tones, others in curiosity.

“Noo! You should stay and play!”

“Yeah! You have to stay and play ‘cause that’s the rules!”

“Yeah! That’s the rules!”

“How come you have a cape?”

“Do you like hide and seek?”

“Why’s your hair white? Does that mean you’re old?”

“If you’re old does that mean you can’t play hide and seek?”

“No! I don’t like hide and seek!”

“Yeah! He should come draw with us instead!”

“How come you have horns?”

“Are you dressed up for Halloween?”

“Halloween isn’t for a long time stupid!”

“Hey!”

Danny’s head was starting to spin. He hadn’t eaten since that morning. The ghosts had decided to make his life a living hell and attack him every ten minutes. Now with this, this was the icing on the cake. Summonings had become somewhat more of an often occurrence. Not by much but enough that it still messed up his day. But you know what? Today is a day to just roll with the punches. So Danny did play hide and seek. He also did some drawings. He even let some of the kids try on his cloak. He even gave some of the older kids flights around the room. Danny had sent a text to the group chat somewhat explaining the situation before focusing again on entertaining the tiny children.

When he asked about an adult that was in charge; he got the answer of mommy and daddy are dead or they weren’t coming back. So he assumed that this was kind of like an orphanage. One where older kids took care of the youngers and everyone watched each other’s backs. That really didn’t sit right with Danny but there really wasn’t anything he could do for them.

So instead he entertained them and played with them. He didn’t know how long they played together, but it was long enough to where the majority of the kids were falling asleep. So he gathered up the youngest ones and had a cuddle pile. His cloak became their blanket. Some of the older kids joined them as well.

They had finally gotten the last little one to sleep when Batman kicked the door down. Danny managed to snag the door before it hit the floor. Green energy enveloping it as he set it down carefully. The hero marched into the room, closely followed by a young woman dressed in what looked like one of those ‘sexy magician’ Halloween costumes he had seen before. Now, if Danny hadn’t been so tired he would have been embarrassed by his reaction. But since he was half mad from sleep deprivation, and maybe a little hunger, considering how long he had gone without an actual proper meal, there were no such feelings. So instead of calmly telling them to be quiet as to not wake up the other kids and that he would explain later. He threatened the pair.

“If either of you end up waking up even one of the kids I will personally make it my mission to make you’re lives extremely difficult.” Danny hisses dangerously, eyes flaring protectively.

The three year old cuddled into his left side stirred slightly. Hazel eyes blinking blearily up at him. Immediately calling Danny’s attention to the little boy. “Shh, shh, go back to sleep Sammy.”

A content purr sounding from the halfa. The little boy, Sammy, did as told and went back to sleep. Danny goes back to glaring at the two adults. He hisses softly when the magician lady takes a step forward. A warning to the back the hell up. Surprisingly she does exactly that and Danny stops hissing. Though his eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

Batman opens his mouth, probably to demand answers and information, but Danny cuts him short with a warning growl. “I don’t care if you have questions or want to know why or how I got here. I’m waaay to friggin tired to give you any kind of satisfactory answer. So just let me sleep.” A large yawn escapes him. “If you guys want to stay until nap time is over then be my guest.”

Danny then closes his eyes and focused on the children cuddling closest to him. Miranda curls more into his chest, face halfway pressed to his collarbone, and hums sleepily. Adam wakes himself up a bit with a sudden loud snore but settles right back into Danny’s right side, his head resting on the older’s shoulder. Sarah is still situated between his legs with her head lolled in Miranda’s lap. Suzie has her back firmly pressed to the outside of Danny’s left thigh. Sammy’s feet are just barely touching the top of her head. Danny let’s himself relax and bask in the kids’ sleepy emotions. Just before he falls off into sleep he cracks open an eye.

Batman and the magician lady are talking in hushed whispers in the opposite corner of his not so little cuddle puddle. He probably could have listened in on their conversation with his enhanced hearing. Nah, that would take too much effort. So instead he just drops off. This is something future Danny will have to deal with. Current Danny just wants to take a damn nap.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dp #dc comics #dc x dp #batman #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #summonings #summoning circle #summoning #eldritch ghost king danny #ghost king danny #let the boy sleep #he just wants a nap

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