#off screen loss of limb
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How The Owl House did amputee representation right before Eda ever lost her arm - Disability in Media
[ID: A screenshot of Eda from The Owl House, an old woman with pale skin, very large, grey hair and pointed ears in a red dress. Beside the screenshot on a dark pink background is text that reads "Disability in media, How the Owl House got amputee representation right before eda ever lost her arm." /End ID]
Dana Terrace's The Owl House has some of the best disability rep I’ve seen on a Disney channel show in a long time, with Eda, the main character’s mentor, being one of many stand-out examples.
Plenty of people have discussed how Eda’s curse and the loss of her magic can work as an allegory for disability and how refreshing it is to see a story (especially one aimed at a younger audience) who’s focus is not on her “overcoming” it, but learning to accept it as a part of her and go from there. Eda’s story tackles a lot of subjects that are often mishandled in other examples of disability representation, from the subject of parents who refuse to accept, to glass siblings and much, much more, The Owl House handles all these topics beautifully.
But one thing that dawned on me during my most recent re-watch of The Owl House is how well Eda (and later Lilith) worked as amputee representation, long before Eda actually lost her arm.
One of the side effects of Eda and Lilith’s curse is that sometimes their body parts, mainly their limbs, can fall off. It doesn’t hurt them, and Eda is seen removing them intentionally at multiple times in the series, but they can always be reattached.
[ID: an image of Eda holding her sister Lilith's hand. Lilith is a pale woman with long, black hair, wearing grey clothes. She is looking at her other arm suprised, as her hand is missing. Luz, a Latina girl with short brown hair and a purple hoodie is looking on, smiling. /End ID]
While most likely unintentional, the way the show depicts this with Eda in particular is exactly what I wish more people would do with their prosthetic-using amputee characters.
Eda detaches her limbs, especially her legs, when they’re inconvenient or when she’s relaxing.
[ID: an image of Eda laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]
The fact that this is mostly played for laughs is actually a good thing in my opinion (though obviously, the show’s overall tone is part of that), as it shows the audience who are mostly children and teens, that in a world of weird and downright scary (from the perspective of the characters) things, this isn't one of them. It’s just a thing she and Lilith can do, and it can even be funny.
[ID: An image of Luz and Eda dressed as pirates. Eda is sitting on the ground, her legs detached and off screen somewhere. /End ID]
It does startle Luz and Lilith on a few occasions, but that’s more because they didn’t know the curse could do that, but once they’re introduced to it, it’s never really brought up as a big deal again.
I’d love to see more amputee characters who do this with their prosthetics. So often media is almost afraid to have amputees take their prosthetics off on camera or on the page. For some folks, our prosthetics are like a part of our bodies, but that doesn’t mean we never take them off. Show your leg amputee flop on the couch and throw their legs across the room. Have them go without on occasion, not because they have to, but because they just don’t feel like putting them on.
Likewise, the owl house creators never shy away from showing Eda when her limbs aren’t all attached. A lot of media, and kid’s shows in particular, will avoid having an amputee character’s stump visible if they ever do take their prosthetics off - treating that part of the character’s body the same way they treat gore or nudity. I’ve talked before how this actually does have a real impact on how kids in particular react to amputees - I’ve legitimately had kids I worked with cry when I took my prosthetics off, then immediately calm down when they see there’s nothing "scary" under my socks.
As much as I love How To Train Your Dragon, it’s very guilty of this. Hiccup looses his leg at the end of the first movie, and wakes up with his prosthetic already attached. The Netflix series has a few instances where he has his prosthetic off, but the camera almost always avoids showing it until he can cover it up again, or is super zoomed-out so you wouldn’t be able to “see anything”. To their credit, they do get better with this in the last movie (though it's still always covered), but for the majority of the series, they are very reluctant to have any shots where hiccup’s leg is in view without the prosthetic (unless they’re very far away).
[ID: a screenshot of Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon 3, a white man with short brown hair, and one leg missing, wearing armour made of black dragon scales and no prosthetic. He is holding onto toothless's head, a black dragon. /End ID]
Ironically, Eda does (permanently) loose an arm at the end of season 2, but I don’t really have much to say about her as amputee representation on that front, since she’s absent for a lot of Season 3, and when we do see her again, everything is so hectic, the story doesn’t really have any time to focus on her missing limb (which is reasonable). I will say, I do appreciate that they kept the amputation when she's in her owl-beast form in the finale, but there's honestly not much more to say about it. We do see her again in the epilogue after she’s had some time to settle into the amputation, wearing a hook prosthetic, but it’s, once again, too quick to really say anything from a representation standpoint. There's a few little nit-picky things I could bring up, like the fact they seemed to change the type on amputation she had (when she looses it, we see the split was very close to the elbow, but in the epilogue she has most of her forearm again) but those read to me more like animation mistakes or an odd prosthetic/clothing designs rather than a representation issue - and as someone who's worked in animation, given the stress the team was under for the finale, I'm not really worried about it. Like I said, it's more nit-picky than anything.
[ID: A screenshot of Eda, her hair tied back and wearing a red robe and a hook for her right hand. /End ID]
Despite all that though, I still think Eda is still good amputee representation, but mostly because of how they depict her curse’s side effects rather than her actual amputation. She’s honestly one of the only characters that I think you could refer to as “amputee coded” (outside of maybe Teen Titan’s Cyborg), and I genuinely wish more creators would treat their actual amputee characters the same way the Owl House treats Eda in that regard.
#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg#Writing Disability#Disability#Disabled#Disability Representation#Writing#Writeblr#Authors#Creators#Writing Advice#Disabled Characters#On Writing#Disability in Media#The Owl House#TOH#Eda#Owl House#Eda The Owl House#eda clawthorne#eda the owl lady
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It's taken me a while to process the fact that Crosshair lost his hand, and I've seen many different takes on the subject. All takes and sentiments are valid and I understand they all come from somewhere, and I'm grateful to have seen such a diversity of opinions before forming my own. Cards on the table, I disagree with the sentiment that Crosshair losing his hand was a bad writing choice on the basis of it meaning that he's now healed.
Let me elaborate (and I will elaborate a lot on this):
I feel like the relation between the hand coming off and the tremor/PTSD stopping is more a symbolic connection that the fandom perceived rather than something explicitly established by canon. It was never said after Crosshair lost his hand "he is now healed because of this." If anything, the way Crosshair was written through season 3 shows us he is putting in effort to healing way before losing his hand. Meditating, slowly opening up, moving past the horrors of Tantiss, etc. These are all things Crosshair does throughout the season that help him move forward. When the subject of Tantiss is brought up again, the tremor returns, and this is a very normal response.
But if I'm honest, I doubt how much PTSD and the concept of healing is truly understood by those so openly criticizing this writing choice, because that would also mean understanding that healing is not linear and it does not come magically through one sole act, deed, or loss. If the aforementioned was understood, so many people wouldn't have an issue with this connection in the first place because, symbolic as it may be, it is not fact. It is a symbol. What we did see was healing being depicted throughout the season: you work through your issues and you do better but then you can be back at square one the next day. Even if you're doing well for a period of time, the source of your PTSD can return, and your physical symptoms along with it, and of course this is normal and valid and it is wonderful to me that this was put on screen with Crosshair.
If it had been explicitly established on screen that Crosshair was magically healed because his hand's no longer there, I would have some other things to say about the matter, but again, it was not. This is something that fandom is coming up with and people are now deciding they have an issue with, because canon did not turn out to accommodate their theories and beliefs. And, even if it had been established that Crosshair fully healed from his past demons because he lost the hand that had the tremor, that wouldn't erase all the healing he had beforehand. I think it's invalidating - to the writers, to anyone with PTSD who relates to Crosshair, and to the character's phenomenal character arc - to assume that Crosshair's hand loss is the most significant part of his healing when he did so much work on himself before it.
And I would also argue that the loss of a limb is a traumatic event in itself, and I question how exactly it would be possible for one trauma piled on top of past traumatic events is supposed to heal someone.
I hate the fact that Crosshair lost his hand as something that happened to him, I hate it because it's Crosshair. Because I saw him getting hurt on screen, more than he already was. Because his whole body was trembling when it happened. Because I witnessed a man I've loved since day one, who's so kind and caring and has grown so much have to go through something so terrible. Because he had to endure pain and suffering yet again. Because I love him. Because my heart breaks for him.
As a writing choice, however, it was shocking, but it led up to a key moment between Crosshair and Hunter, and by extension, the climax of the finale. Yes, it would be significant for Crosshair's hand to have stopped shaking for him to take the clean shot, I wouldn't have objections if that had happened in canon either. But I think the power of Crosshair landing that final shot wasn't in the hand tremor. It was in losing his shooting hand, after a lifetime of equating his own worth to being a sniper, then hearing his brother Hunter, who he went through so much trouble and resentment and forgiveness with, encouraging him. Hunter really said "you can do it" and that was when Crosshair stopped thinking of himself as a sniper, and more as a brother. And he helped saved his sister. And with that, he saved all his other brothers on Tantiss. As a writing choice, Crosshair losing his hand is something that I accept and acknowledge as canon and I have processed the initial shock to the point where now I can talk about it more, and analyzing the scenes further makes it not just sensate writing, but poetic.
Back to the subject of the PTSD, Crosshair was able to rise above losing his hand in the moment on the bridge to team up with Hunter and save Omega, and that is admirable. And even if he was peaceful in the finale, one thing we can say for sure because it actually works that way in reality is that Crosshair will have to do a lot of healing and a lot of coping post losing his hand. I arrive at that conclusion quicker than I would conclude that "he's fine now" because the latter is not humanly possible. Even when people are capable of summoning the strength in the moment, there is a lot of healing and coping needed afterwards.
Being strong in the moment and mustering a smile when things turn out alright does not invalidate the struggle and effort put into getting better both before or after that moment of strength. Crosshair was so brave on Tantiss, but he's not fully healed upon returning to Pabu because no, PTSD is not stored in the hand, and I sincerely don't think that was the writers' intention on what to convey. If anything happens afterwards that we don't see on screen, I would anticipate it's the continuation of his healing process, which is not linear or constant.
And before anyone gets angry and wants to come at me with a pitchfork, let's remember Tech's wise words: Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you. While I see and understand the reasons why many people perceived this writing choice as a lazy one, I only wish to shine light on reasons that to me make this choice make sense. I've suffered PTSD from more than one traumatic event in my life, and for a total of twelve years (and counting) I have put in the work. I have had my share of non-linear healing. I have seen first hand and know this process all too well and it is yet another reason why I think Crosshair's character arc was masterfully done.
Lastly, I want to make one final call to be respectful towards the writers of The Bad Batch for how they chose to write their story. Here on tumblr, many fanfiction writers would be appalled if a reader came up to us spewing the things they hated about our story and how we should change it. I would be appalled too. That is not a cool thing to do to a writer. So let us treat other writers with the respect we want for ourselves.
May the Force be with you all ❤️ Now that the finale's done, us writers have the whole world of TBB to explore, adapt, and make into our own, and all of it will be valid and beautiful. Just be sure to always embrace others for their differences, for that makes you whole.
#the bad batch#tbb finale#tbb season 3#tbb analysis#tbb crosshair analysis#tbb crosshair#tbb spoilers
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#10O1623M ❞ THE LAMP.
── ౨ৎ ‧˚ ft. miguel o'hara/wife!reader
synopsis: peter attempts to comfort your widowed husband—but he doesn't care. all he wants, is to be with you.
・⸝⸝ mini-series (2/4), angst, no comfort, peter b trying his best, implied child loss, implied character death, arguing, delusional character, no use of y/n
spider-verse | back · next
Miguel breathes in heavily, his chest heaving as he lets it out. His head throbs from lack of sleep, yet can never bring himself to do so. Every time he closes his eyes he sees you. Your smile, your daughter, your family, and then in a flash—he sees a glitch.
And now you’re crying. He sees the image of you staring wide-eyed at him as you hold Gabby tightly in your arms, sharing the same terrified look he had on his own. It haunts him, embedded deeply in his mind as something he will never forget.
Another flash—and you’re gone.
He wakes up in a pool of sweat. It’s not worth it. He thinks, throwing himself back into work. Better than having to see the expressions you and Gabby had before… He shakes his head. Best not to think of it.
“Miguel,” he hears Peter B call for him. “This isn’t healthy, man. You gotta take it easy. You know, eat something? And when was the last time you got any sleep?”
Miguel ignores him, continuing his focus on the screens, watching.
“Miguel,” he tries once more—and again, he is met without an answer. Sighing, Peter walks up to Miguel, grabs him by his shoulder, and forces the stubborn man to look at him. Peter is shocked by what he sees.
His friend looked sickly. His once tan skin was now a shade of pale, and his eyes were sunken in. He looked malnourished. Weak. His once muscular body held no structure.
“Christ Mig,” Peter spoke again.
Miguel shook him off, mumbling something about getting back to work.
“I need to fix this. I need to come back to her, I need her to come back to me.” He ranted under his breath.
To Peter, it was like looking at a mirror. But rather than a pitiful Peter Parker from his past, he is met with an even pitiful version of himself: Miguel O’Hara.
“She’s not coming back, Miguel. And neither is Gabby,” he grimaced, but it had to be said.
That got his attention.
Miguel swung his sickly body to stare daggers into Peter’s eyes. “You don’t know that,” he started. “I’m so close. Just a couple more days or months and she’s back. They'll both be back."
“Or never, Miguel! Do you seriously think doing all this is going to get them back?” He paused, “Think about it. By some miracle you end up ‘fixing it,’ then what? You'll bring them here?”
Exasperated Peter continues, “Her universe will be put in danger, just like the other one! Worse, by some rarity she manages to stumble into the Spider-Verse, she steps one foot onto this Earth and we’re all fucked. You can't keep hoping that enough tweaking on that gizmo will let you defy the boundaries of the universe!" Miguel twitches.
"What happened before was enough—this is all insane, Miguel. And I'm not going to sit here and watch you kill yourself!" Peter barks out.
Miguel turned back around, huffing stubbornly, and grabbed the syringe on his desk before injecting himself with it.
Taking in a shaky breath, he grunted, "Get out."
"Miguel, c'mon–"
“I said, get out!” Miguel roared, and this time Peter got the memo.
"Fine! Whatever. Kill yourself for all I care," Peter muttered—slamming the door shut as he left.
After what felt like hours Miguel sat back down with a shaking body. His limbs shook and his eyes were blurry. Calm down, he grasped onto the desk edge like a lifeline to stabilize himself.
When he finally caught his breath, he mumbled the same mantra about finding you.
back | next
Credits: [divider/s] @/benkeibear, [editor/beta reader/co-writer] @/nastygyal
Notes: I have exams tomorrow—my wrist is dead
#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#atsv#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#atsv x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o hara#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o hara x you#miguel o hara x y/n#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel x reader#miguel o hara imagine#miguel o'hara imagine#angst#no comfort#mini series
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Whump List: Gintama
Character: Sakata Gintoki (+ few bonus ones)
(Image credit: E264)
DISCLAIMER: Gintama is predominately a gag anime. Therefore, most of the earlier episodes (1~100) and a few later ones are mostly comedic in nature, but the whump is still there. Also, I've excluded some hits and bleeds that are purely used in a comedic fashion (such as Gintoki being thrown off a high story building to dispose of a bomb in ep. 5, or getting stuck in an elevator in ep. 174) unless they are part of an arc, otherwise we'd be here for a while. This also means that the episodes rarely have any aftermath, especially outside of arcs. I've added whatever aftermath I saw, but don't expect injuries to stick for longer than a couple of episodes at best.
This post will be extremely long.
Additional notes: i) I've added each arc name for easier viewing, ii) I haven't added the season numbers since Gintama is counted as an overall series, despite having multiple separate seasons (although, I have added the name of the season in which the episodes appear, e.g. "Gintama°" to refer to S4), iii) some episodes with no whump have been added as to not break up arcs, iv) some timestamps have been added between square parenthesis, v) the format used is for easier browsing, hopefully it holds true for there are many things to scroll through, vi) episodes with a red colouring are to indicate some whump moments I highly recommend watching, vii) I've added some extra characters (like Hijikata Toshiro) here and there because it's good whump and I'm definitely not making another list.
—
Gintama (2006-2010):
E009 - challenged to a fight, cut shoulder, bleeding, in pain
Harusame Arc:
E013 - hangover, attacked, outnumbered, manhandled, stabbed, fall from great height, nightmare, bandaged, collapse, in pain, fights while injured to rescue loved ones
E017 - threatened with a sword to his back, cut hand
E027 - [20:00-21:00] ring fight, blow to the side, blood from mouth
Memory Loss Arc: (overall comedic)
E031 - vehicle accident, bleeding, amnesia, bandaged, hospital, worried loved ones
E032 - amnesia (cont.), tied up, taken hostage, protected by loved ones/friends, memories returned
Umibozu Arc:
E040-041 - no whump
E042 - fight, bleeding, hurt arm, self-sacrifice to save loved one, punched
Infant Strike Arc:
E051 - no whump
E052 - cut shoulder, death (imagined)
Benizakura Arc:
E058 - [hit with hammer, black eye, punched (comedic)], sword fight, slammed into wall, slashed chest, stabbed, blood from mouth, collapse, fainting
E059 - bandaged, [slapped, threatened (comedic)], goes to fight despite injuries
E060 - thrown off vehicle (comedic), [22:00] fight against arc villain begins
E061 - sword fight, in pain, wound reopened, heavy breathing, cut, blood on face, unconscious, captured, rescued, thrown, tired & shaking, supported to walk, fight against multiple opponents
E062 - (aftermath of Benizakura Arc:) bandaged, fussed over by loved ones, (otherwise comedic)
Fuyo Arc:
E069 - [scared, fainting (comedic)], pursued
E070 - fight against multiple opponents (no whump)
E071 - punched, blood from mouth, stabbed, bleeding, in pain
Yagyu Arc:
E076-077 - no whump
E078-079 - (whump for Hijikata Toshiro)
E080 - sword fight, slammed onto ground thrice, panting, hit, bleeding, bruised
E081 - [1st half] attacked, hard fall onto structure. rest is comedic/has no whump
Okita Mitsuba Arc: (Hijikata Toshiro whump)
E086 - angst
E087 - angst, goes to fight against mob on his own, shot in the leg, bleeding, covered in blood, dragging his injured leg behind him, using a wall as support, heavy breathing, surrounded, rescued by friends in time, trouble walking, keeps fighting despite injuries, bandaged & using crutches, crying (off-screen)
Shinsengumi Crisis Arc:
E101-103 - (whump for Hijikata Toshiro)
E104 - bleeding, sword fight, held in place by strings which he fights against, cuts around limbs from strings
E105 - sword fight (cont.), cut shoulder
Guardian Dog Arc:
E107 - [17:30+] attacked, grunting, shot in the arm, bleeding, dizzy, poisoned, falls to his knees, outnumbered, pursued, panting, vomiting, slashed, blood on clothes, shot in the stomach, fall into river
E108 - no whump/aftermath apart from visible bandages around his arm
Ghost Ryokan Arc:
E131 - (overall comedic:) scared, attempt to knock himself out by banging his head on a rock, loved ones get possessed by ghosts & leave him on his own
E132 - (overall comedic:) scared, threatened with loved ones' safety & forced to work, crying, treated badly
E133 - locked in a prison cell, referred to as a dog, breaks out of cell, cornered, thrown, blood from mouth, slammed into wall, punched, bleeding, belittled, beaten up
E134 - knuckles bleeding, punched
Yoshiwara in Flames Arc:
E139 - no whump
E140 - stabbed with kunai (comedic), attacked, hit, blood from mouth, thrown onto ground, worried over loved one
E141 - [17:10] stabbed with kunai (comedic)
E142 - no whump
E143 - [16:00+] fight with arc villain begins, severely outmatched, hurt in front of friends, straining, thrown, bleeding, head grabbed & pinned against the wall, groaning, in pain, collapse, kicked, unconscious
E144 - covered in blood, [13:00] wakes up, fights despite injuries, tired, kicked, spitting blood, slammed into wall, hit on his side
E145 - fight (cont.), panting, takes hit meant for friend; stabbed by 3 kunai, bleeding, groaning, on his knees
E146 - [in the beginning] covered in blood
E150 - [05:30 - 07:05] bloodied (special episode, no follow-up)
Tama Quest Arc:
E167 - (overall comedic:) exploded, punched, smashed with a hammer & shrunk
E168 - face grabbed & head slammed by lookalike, headbutted, bloody nose
E169 - butting heads with his lookalike resulting in general harm (for both), lookalike electrocuted
E170 - more infighting with his lookalike, flown into wall, light angst, lookalike loses limbs (& gets them back shortly after)
Red Spider Arc:
E177 - [2nd half:] surrounded
E178 - attacked by arc villain, stabbed with kunai multiple times, bleeding, slammed against wall & strangled, slashed shoulder & back, fall into water, presumed dead, rescued by friend, bandaged, worried over by loved ones
E179 - bandaged (cont.), angst
E180 - bandaged (cont.), fight with arc villain, stabbed through the hand, bleeding, heavy breathing & tired
E181 - no whump
Gintama' :
E209 - [06:30-10:45] backstory, time in war, fighting, bloodied (special episode, no follow-up)
Kabukicho Four Devas Arc:
E210 - (overall comedic:) pretends to have broken bones, spits blood, stuck in trash bin filled with concrete
E211 - jumps into water to save someone, worried over mother figure, running for an extended period of time, panting, holding himself, heavy angst, flies into rage & attacks strong opponent, fight, thrown, stabbed through forearm with sword & pinned, bleeding, grabs blade with his bare hand, punched, collapse, crawls under heavy rain while injured
E212 - bandaged, slammed against wall & yelled at by friend, angst, punched & comforted by loved ones, surrounded by mob
E213 - bandaged (cont.), fight against mob (no whump)
E214 - bandaged (cont.), fight against multiple opponents while hurt, covered in (so much) blood & bleeding, stabbed twice, heavy breathing, slashed, collapse twice & tired, final 'fight' with 'enemy', (even more bandages as aftermath)
Jail Arc:
E225 - (overall comedic:) arrested & jailed, threatened by warden multiple times, hit on the head & bleeding (comedic), threatened by prisoners & lifted by his shirt, 'stolen' item planted on him so that the warden can harass him further
E226 - prison break (comedic), blood on face (not his)
Baragaki/Thorny Arc:
E244 - [~11:00] hit by car & arrested (comedic)
E245 - chain & ball shackled around his wrist that he briefly uses as a weapon (comedic)
E246 - (whump for Hijikata Toshiro), [near the end] Gintoki reveals his own secret identity
E247 - [~11:30] identity revealed and arrested (comedic)
Gintama': Enchousen:
Kintama Arc:
E253 - forgotten by everyone, angst, mindfuckery, [stripped to his underwear, tied up & whipped (comedic)]
E254 - suicidal & jumps off tall building (an act to save someone), rescued by loved ones
E255 - accused of murder, seen as an enemy, pursued & attacked by friends and loved ones, slashed, bleeding, in pain, protects friends even though they're trying to capture/kill him, fall from great height, heavy breathing, stumbling & grunting, holding his middle
E256 - bleeding, fight w/ arc villain, thrown around, sacrifices self to save everyone, comforted
Courtesan of the Nation Arc:
E257 - (overall comedic:) stabbed with kunai on the head, kicked & nosebleed
E258 - surrounded, imprisoned, freed
E259 - fight against multiple opponents, angry, fight with strong opponent, blood on face, falls down stairs, pierced by poisoned darts, bleeding, paralysed, thrown, protected, fights against strong opponent again, (flashback: war time, bleeding, restrained, loved one gets taken away), straining, punched, spits blood, face grab, pierced & paralysed again, so much blood, unable to move
E260 - covered in blood (cont.), shot with antidote, worried over by friend, goes against strong opponent yet again, hurt & bleeding, slammed, pierced multiple times, fall from great height, (flashback: restrained, bleeding, promise with loved one), stabbed through the arm, hit, spits up blood, impact after fall
E261 - covered in blood (cont.), helped to stand & supported by loved ones, [7:10-7:15] bandaged & surrounded by loved ones, [11:51-12:20] bandaged & walking with crutches
Laser Beam Arc:
E262 - no whump
E263 - pretends to be an asshole & goes to fight the arc villain by himself, overpowered, blood on face, stabbed & pinned to the wall by sword, coughing up blood, almost killed, rescued by loved ones
E264 - covered in blood (cont.), removes blade from his side, collapse, grunting & in pain, spits blood, tries to fight despite injuries, trembling/unsteady & using his sword for support, panting, comforted by loved ones, collapses again, worried over by loved ones
Gintama° :
Joi Patriot Reunion Arc: (overall comedic)
E271 - strangled, (flashback: backstory, time in war, covered in blood, bandaged), at gunpoint/swordpoint
E272 - more backstory & infighting with friends, very scared & jumpy, targeted along with friends, surrounded by 'ghosts', gassed, (more blood in flashback)
Shinigami Arc:
E279 - [near the end] blackmailed
E280 - (flashback: imprisonment, flogged, bleeding), fight
E281 - fight (cont.), shot, bloody clothes, collapse, on his knees, (flashback: reason for imprisonment), accepts death, cut neck & bleeding, in pain from being shot, (flashback: imprisonment, prison escape (post torture), bruised, trouble walking, in pain, using wall to keep from falling & holding himself)
Soul Switch Arc: (very comedic) (entries for both Sakata Gintoki and Hijikata Toshiro)
E287 - [Gintoki:] kicked, chased, [both] hit by truck, soul switched between them (& cat's behind), bickering & punched multiple times. [Gintoki in Hijikata's body:] exploded by grenade & bleeding, at umbrella-point, plunged in water, briefly unconscious. [Hijikata in Gintoki's body:] dangled upside down from great height, head hit & bleeding, dragged, kneed & thrown, at swordpoint, plunged in water, unconscious
E288 - [both] surrounded by loved ones who see each as an enemy, stepped on. [Gintoki in Hijikata's body:] at swordpoint, hit & blood on his head. [Hijikata in Gintoki's body:] rope around neck & dragged by vehicle through the street, blood on his head
E289 - [Gintoki in Hijikata's body:] kicked, head slammed & bleeding. [Hijikata in Gintoki's body:] head slammed & bleeding. [both] thrown
Kaientai Arc: (Tatsuma Sakamoto whump)
E290-291 - some backstory but main focus is on Sakamoto, whump for Sakamoto
Shogun Assassination Arc:
E300 - no whump
E301 - pursued, surrounded, (+ whump for Okita Sougo)
E302 - attacked & pursued by multiple strong opponents
E303 - surrounded by strong opponents, face grabbed & head slammed, thrown onto floor & held in place, hit & blood on his head
E304 - covered in blood (cont.), fight w/ childhood friend begins, (flashback: war, bloodied), cut shoulder, hit multiple times, (many flashbacks to childhoood), thrown, stabbed through the wrist, cut multiple times, collapse
E305 - fight (cont.), (more childhood flashbacks), covered in blood, big slash on chest, heavy breathing, punched & spits blood, kicked & thrown back, tired, (flashback: loved ones in peril, forced to choose), hit & punched multiple times, angst, continues to fight despite everything, (flashback: forced to kill, crying, heavy angst), stabbed in the abdomen & shoulder, spits more blood, strong opponent appears
E306 - covered in blood (cont.), heavy breathing, exhausted, trouble standing & picking up his sword, attacked by many, fights again, helped by previous enemy
E307 - covered in blood (cont.), supported to walk, loved ones worried for him, collapse, in pain, in the hospital & bandaged
Farewell Shinsengumi Arc: (picks up right after the SA arc)
E308 - angst, bandaged (for the duration of this arc), using crutches to walk & limping, bruised, angst, surrounded & at swordpoint
E309 - takes punch meant for someone else, bleeding, at swordpoint, handcuffed, rescued by friend & running away
E310 - (flashback: angst, hand shaking)
E311 - no whump
E312 - cut cheek, (+ whump for Katsura Kotaro)
E313 - (whump for Kondo Isao & Hijikata Toshiro)
E314 - cut shoulder, ambushed, stabbed through the wrist, bleeding, hit by blast & pressumed dead, fight with strong opponent, angst, hurt arm, sword on neck & blood drawn, rescued by loved one, heavy breathing, (+ whump for Okita Sougo)
E315 - (whump for Katsura Kotaro & Kondo Isao)
E316 - everyone's in bandages, angst, saying goodbye
Gintama.:
Rakuyou Decisive Battle Arc: (picks up right after the SA & FS arcs)
E317 - nightmare, in hiding, shot at & at gunpoint
E318 - flashbacks to childhood & angst
E319 - shot at, almost falls from great height & rescued
E320 - (whump for Katsura Kotaro)
E321 - (whump for Sakamoto Tatsuma)
E322 - (comedic) fight, illusions of himself killed
E323 - flung back & cannon pointed at him, rescued
E324 - no whump
E325 - picks fight w/ strong opponent, punched & bleeding
E326 - fight (cont.), covered in blood, punched & kicked multiple times, spits blood, face grabbed & held in place, worried loved ones, broken finger, trouble picking up his sword & strapping it to his injured hand, angst, stumbling & collapse, heavy breathing, loved one attempts to protect him & protects loved one instead, slammed against wall & unconscious, wakes up & keeps fighting
E327 - covered in blood (cont.), supported, bandaged & using crutches
E328 - bandaged & crutches (cont.), some angst
Movies:
Gintama: The Movie 1 (2010) (Benizakura Arc) - sword fight, stabbed, bleeding, collapse, bandaged, fights despite injuries, knocked out, captured, rescued
Gintama: Be Forever Yorozuya (2013) - (flashback: war, cut, cursed), presumed dead, angst, attacked, fight with future self, hit multiple times, spits blood, hair grabbed & face slammed into a wall, kicked down a flight of stairs, more angst, goes back in time to kill his younger self (unsuccessful), fight against multiple opponents, cut multiple times, comforted by loved ones
—
The ones below will be added as a reblog to this post as soon as I finish the anime.
Gintama: Silver Soul Arc: TBA
Gintama The Final (2021) - TBA
#gintama#sakata gintoki#whump#anime whump#whump list#(bonus characters included:)#hijikata toushirou#kondo isao#katsura kotarou#sakamoto tatsuma#okita sougo#mine#this took so long
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The Key To Your Heart - Track 10
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader
Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.
Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Panic/Anxiety Attack. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f). Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).
Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!
Word Count: 6.6k
Series List: Here!
Miss Track 9? Here!
Hi!!!! Once again I want to apologize for taking so long with this. I can't seem to ever stay awake to do anything. That being said, here it is! This is the last main chapter of our little lovebirds. There will be at least one, likely two bonus tracks coming soon though :) Also there's a smidge of Spanish in here from Pedro, but the translation is included in the end of the sentence. I took some Spanish classes back in the day but I don't speak it and had to use Google translate. So if it ISN'T right and you do speak Spanish, please let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these little cuties on their first date. There's a lot, a lot, a lot of kissing in here (sorry...) and overall they're just grossly in love lol. Please let me know what you think, and if you've seriously read this far, I LOVE YOU! This is my first series, and honestly my first fic other than the one I wrote in my diary lmao. Like the reader, I am incredibly inexperienced so writing a relationship has been a bit of a challenge and half the time I don't believe the actual words I'm writing. But I really only started writing it as a way to write down my daydreams :) So to have support means the world to me, and hearing people comment/DM me saying how much they relate has meant so much and makes me feel a lot less alone, because ultimately, it doesn't matter how fictional it is, most of reader's feelings are my own. To anyone else in the same boat, I get you! Hang in there. I think there's a Pedro out there for us all. Someday. Anywho, pardon my ramble. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. ❤
The next morning, you woke up and stretched your limbs, rolling over in your comfortable bed as the sunshine poured in through the window. At the shuffling of your body, Skipper groaned, wiggling a little in bed, nearly shoving you off the edge. You reached for your phone, blinking through your sleep a couple times before seeing a text from Pedro. “Good morning beautiful! I can't wait for our date today. I was thinking maybe we could start around 2:30 and spend the day together, if you'd like. But if that's too much, we can just make it a dinner date. Up to you which you would prefer. I understand either way. Love you ❤️”
He wants to spend the whole day with me!? And he sent me a good morning text and called me beautiful? Then signed it with a heart and love you?!!!! How did I get this man?
Your grin eclipsed your face, making you squint. If Mr. Grumpybutt weren't sharing the bed with you, you'd probably squeal and kick your feet. Tapping your phone screen, you typed out a reply. “Morning handsome ❤️ I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. I love you too!” You sent the message before crawling out of bed gently, receiving a dirty look from Skip.
“Alright Grump. Go back to bed. Geez,” you laughed. If looks could kill, you thought. He turned back on his side, letting out a grumble and sigh, resulting in a laugh from you. Acts like he pays rent and works 40 hours a week…
You took a relaxing shower, making sure to be all nice and fresh for your date with the man of your dreams. While brushing your teeth, you noticed he had replied. “Great, I can't wait. I'll be at your place at 2:30. :)”
“Can't wait to see you. What do you have planned? I'm wondering how to dress.”
“Wear whatever you feel good in, baby. I'm sure you'll look amazing. Probably something casual you can walk around comfortably in for the day. Maybe something a little dressier for the evening, but you don't need to carry it around. We will make a stop at your place before and you can change”
Wow he really has this planned out.
“What have you got planned, P? This sounds elaborate. You know you don't need to put in all that effort, I'm already yours ❤️”
“You deserve the world, my love.”
Dressed in a pair of leggings and a light sweater, you felt reasonably cute while still being comfortable for whatever activity Pedro had in mind. Plus, with the crisp November air, you would be nice and warm. You were just finishing tying your sneakers when your doorbell rang.
You opened the door to find your handsome boyfriend standing on your step, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Mi amor,” he handed you the roses, kissing your cheek and hand. “Thank you Pedro,” your cheeks heated. “Come in,” you pulled his hand across the doorway towards the living room. Skipper pushed past you to investigate, causing Pedro to drop your hand.
“Well there he is! That handsome boy!” Skipper’s tail wagged and his butt wiggled as Pedro crouched to give ear scratches. “Oh, I love you too,” Pedro answered when Skip kissed his face frantically. A fit of giggles erupted from Pedro, making your heart swell with joy. He has the cutest laugh, and the fact that your dog is causing it was surreal.
“You're just a beautiful boy! Aren't you?! Hermoso, igual que tu mamá,” he held Skipper’s face, kissing his nose. (Beautiful, just like your mama)
Your chest was filled with butterflies. Holy shit, he's charming. “Thank you, Pedro,” you said in a whisper, not even sure if he would hear. Turning his head from your dog, Pedro looked up at you, giving you a gentle smile; but the eye contact was quickly torn away when Skipper pressed a needy paw to Pedro's chest. Both of you now giggling, Pedro continued to pet Skipper, stopping to give him a hug and some more nose kisses.
“Alright. I gotta ask…” you prompted, causing Pedro to turn his head towards you again. “Are you just dating me to hang out with my dog?” You smirked.
Pedro turned back to Skipper, speaking in a low voice. “She's catching on to us buddy. We've been made.” You burst out laughing, Skipper looking over at you as if his plan really had been foiled.
Pedro gave a final pat on Skipper’s head before standing and walking over to you. “Nonsense,” he pecked a kiss to your lips. “I do love that sweet boy of yours,” he replied before turning his face to whisper in your ear. “But I'm absolutely enamored with you, Mamacita.” The hair on your neck stood as a chill rushed down your spine. You bit your lower lip, and he stared back into your eyes, leaning in for a passionate kiss.
“You look beautiful,” he tucked your hair behind your ear.
“You look rather handsome, yourself,” you replied. His hair was brushed back and to the side, his curls neatly swept and threatening to break free around his face. You wondered whether he asked for help to make his hair look extra nice for your date or if he styled it himself.
Running your fingertips over his patched salt and pepper beard, your hands found the small heart shaped patches near his chin. You brushed your thumb over his jaw before leaning in to press a kiss on the bare skin, causing his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. The whiskers tickled your cheeks as you continued kissing up his jawline, back across his cheek, and on his nose before pulling away to look into his eyes.
He opted to not wear glasses today, allowing you a closer look into his deep brown eyes which were softening under your gaze. “You ready to go, baby?” He asked you, his hand on your hip as he rubbed circles with his thumb.
“Absolutely,” you smiled. He wore a pair of dark jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearm. He looked absolutely… incredible.
While you were grabbing your bag, he grabbed Skipper's leash. “Is Skipper coming too?” You asked, confused.
Skipper was twirling now, impatient to go somewhere.
“Sure is! Couldn't leave him out. But don't worry, you and I will have the night to ourselves,” he winked.
You looked downward, feeling shy and flushed. “Okay,” you giggled, clipping Skip to his leash and heading for the door.
“Do you want to take my car? You'll get dog hair and slobber in yours,” you offer.
“I don't mind! I love dogs,” Pedro replied, opening the door for Skipper to climb in the back seat. After closing the door, he opened the passenger door for you. Such a gentleman, you thought with a sigh, getting in and thanking him.
As the car sped along, you looked over at your boyfriend driving the car. Boyfriend! That'll never get old… you thought to yourself. The air conditioning blew the few loose strands of hair on the top of his head, and his left hand gripped the wheel, making the veins on his hand prominent. With his right hand, he reached over, holding your left in his, resting on top of your thigh.
He really did look beautiful. You couldn't help but stare at him as he expertly drove the car, hand flexing as he turned the wheel. His mouth pursed and he licked his lips, his tongue slowly jutting out to wet them.
Damn, I want those lips on mine. That tongue in my mouth, you thought, feeling rather warm, despite the air conditioning swirling around the car.
“So where are we spending the day?” You asked, trying to quiet the flames of attraction licking at your pulse.
“It's a surprise! But we're almost there,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.
Pedro looked in the side mirror and laughed. “Babe, look at Skipper.”
You looked to see him with his head out the window, ears and lips blown back with the wind, his tongue lolled out to the side and blowing with the speed of the vehicle.
You both chuckled before you warned him, “your car is going to be covered in slobbers, Pedro!” He gave another quick look to Skipper before replying. “That's okay. It'll help me remember this day until I wash it again,” he looked over at you and smiled. It felt so natural. So… domestic, the two of you sitting in the car, going on a date, him holding your hand while driving, and the two of you laughing at your dog in the back seat. It was just perfect. Everything you dreamed.
He wasn't joking when he said you were almost there. It was only about five more minutes until the car pulled into the parking lot of the dog-friendly beach.
Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of salty sea air and hearing the chatter of gulls. The breeze blew your hair gently, but the day was relatively warm for November.
After the three of you exited the car, Pedro opened the trunk, pulling out a large picnic basket and tote bag. “You really came prepared, didn't you? Pedro, this is really special. Thank you.” Your eyes felt teary and the smile you held was genuine. Nobody has ever put this much effort into anything for you. Other than him.
“You don't need to thank me. I want you to be happy and I want the three of us to have a nice day,” he added, pecking your lips.
“Wait.. Pedro,” you frowned. “It looks kind of crowded. Should I be nervous about paparazzi or anything?” Your stomach bubbled with nervous energy.
“Don't worry, sweetheart. Celebs come here all the time. I've come here before. If they do, they might take pictures, but usually it's pretty low-key here. Try not to worry too much. I want you to have a nice time,” he squeezed your hand affectionately.
“Okay. I trust you,” you smiled at him as the three of you walked towards the sand, finding a nice place to picnic. Pedro unpacked, laying down a large blanket before setting up the spread of sandwiches, veggies, and fruit. He offered you a cold drink from the basket and the two of you sat, using a metal stake to secure Skipper’s leash near your blanket. He flopped onto his side, content to be sunbathing with some of his favorite people.
The lunch consisted of peaceful conversations and laughter, learning more about each other despite having talked for several months now. It seemed you could never run out of conversation topics. But even in the quiet moments, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt relaxing. You were both content being able to sit together in silence and just enjoy each other's company.
After your meal, you packed up the basket and headed for the car again to put the things away, opting for a walk unburdened by carrying items across the sand. Neither of you brought a swimsuit today, but despite the California sun, it was still November, and the Pacific ocean was never really warm, even in the middle of summer. That didn't seem to bother Skipper very much though. As the two of you walked hand in hand near the water, barefoot in the wet sand, he ran laps around Pedro holding him on the leash, occasionally splashing through the shallow water before joining close by his family again.
He would definitely need a bath later, but you didn't mind. He was happy splashing around, having a great day. You were happy walking with the man of your dreams, fingers intertwined together. Everything felt right. You weren't even nervous, despite the way Pedro looked like the most handsome man you've ever seen, or the fact that he was famous, and that you occasionally received stares from other beach goers. Instead of the usual first-date nerves people get, you just felt love.
“So,” he started excitedly, “Obviously I have most of this date planned, but I also wanted to check in with you and see if you had anything particular in mind that you wanted to do together.”
You thought for a second, letting a memory burn into your thoughts. “Well,” you began, "I don't want to sound like a total creepy fan or anything...” you added, cautiously. You kinda were, with all the photos of him you had saved on your phone (prior to deleting them before your first meeting in person). But that's not important right now, and he probably doesn't need to know that. Maybe it can be a funny story later.
Pedro laughed, that cute little wheezy laugh he does with his giant smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. Those same somersaults you've been getting since you first saw that smile on the screen and knew you were absolutely screwed until you got over this crush. Or, unexpectedly, when you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you were now.
“But…?” he pondered, looking down at you sideways, with a playful smirk and those big brown eyes that could make you lose your mind. They absolutely glittered in the sunlight right now, reflecting all the joy and love he felt for you.
“Okay maybe I'm a little creepy…” you nudged him with your side, still gripping his hand in yours as the two of you walked peacefully. The beach was crowded, but you and him, and Skipper, were the only ones here as far as either of you were concerned. There could be a loud scream and it wouldn't compare to the squealing in your mind. A firework show would simply feel like a projection of your sparks. A tornado couldn't sweep you off your feet as well as he could.
“Is this where you tell me you've been watching me sleep through my window for the past three years or something?” He raised an eyebrow, playful smile still on his face as he licked his lips.
“What?” You squeaked, laughing. “No. I mean… I did have some pictures saved of you, and have maybe read a fictional story or two about you and your characters…” or a few thousand, you thought.
You cringed. Why the fuck did I say that out loud?!
Your cheeks felt hot and you diverted your eyes away from the man beside you, a nervous grimace painted across your mouth. He barked out a laugh, pulling you into his side for a hug. “Baby, you're cute. I don't mind that you used to read those. I don't even mind if you still do. No different than a book, right? Maybe it'll give us some fun date ideas.” He rested his head on top of yours innocently.
Oh, if only he knew the things you read.
“Right. Fun date ideas,” you smirked to yourself. He pulled away to look at you, eyebrow raising playfully.
“Sweetheart,” he interrogated in the same tone you use when Skipper steals a sock from the laundry, “what kind of stories are you reading about me and my characters, huh?” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You'd feel nervous from his tone if he didn't flash a smug, knowing grin at you.
“Oh, you know…” you shrugged. “Just the typical romance stuff,” you turned, facing him and resting your hand on his chest, tracing a circle over his heart with your finger. You felt his pulse pick up under your touch, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.
“What kind of thoughts are going through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, raising his brow while you continued tracing little hearts into his shirt with your index finger.
“Wouldn't you like to know?” You winked before removing your hand from his chest. Starting to walk away, you continued your earlier statement. “Anyway, as I was saying-”
“Oh, no you don’t,” he interrupted, laughing. “Don't think you're getting out of this conversation that easy,” he gently pulled your forearm, stopping your movement and sending you twirling into his arms once again.
“Maybe someday I'll tell you,” you giggled, booping his nose.
“Someday? Why not tell me now?” He ran his thumb over your lip, eyes drifting down quickly before returning to your eyes.
“I'll show you the fanfics I read about you when I know you're stuck with me and you aren't going to run for the hills,” you laughed nervously, only partially joking.
His playful demeanor vanished before your eyes, turning into a look of… concern? Oh no. This is it. Where he realizes what a mistake he made. Where he says he doesn't want to be together. Where he breaks my heart.
He gently held your arm, rubbing soft strokes. “Honey. What are you talking about?” His soft brown eyes searched your face. You gulped, not wanting to make eye contact, but he again pulled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I…” you floundered for the words. “I don't want to scare you away.”
“Why would I be scared away?” he asked in almost a whisper, concern and sadness lacing his features.
“Because I just had this huge, huge crush on you. So, I read fanfics and I saved all your photos and I watched all your movies. I spent more time on social media looking for updates on you. Just so I could see you, or imagine what being with you would feel like. Like a total crazy person. An absolute psycho creeper.”
“Baby…” he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You aren't any of those things. I actually think that’s kind of sweet. Although, it makes me a little sad thinking about the pain you must have felt, having these strong feelings and not having found each other yet.” He brushed your hair out of your face, settling his other hand on your waist before continuing.
“Feelings make us feel a little crazy sometimes, and although I never read fanfiction about you, or had any pictures to save, I would be lying if I said I didn't take a screenshot of us that first night you showed me your face.” He rubbed his neck bashfully.
Fanfic about me? What? If that even exists, I gotta see what people are saying…
“You did?” His admission surprised you, to say the least. He sighed before answering. “Yes. I had - have,” he corrected himself, “a pretty big crush on you too, baby. But I felt like I was betraying you in a way, taking a picture of you during our video chat. I just wanted to remember your face if I never saw it again,” he sighed.
“I fell in love with you the first time I heard your song... I heard you sing about your feelings and daydreams. So… you admitting about fanfiction and pictures isn't all that surprising.” You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.
“Hey, look at me.” He stroked your cheek. You looked up and he continued. “I took that picture because I had already fallen so head-over-heels for you that the first time I saw your face, I stopped breathing. Although I knew I wouldn't be able to get the image of you out of my mind, I couldn't risk forgetting the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”
You dropped your gaze again, cheeks feeling a permanent state of warmth and butterflies dancing from your stomach to your chest. “You don't honestly mean that, Pedro.” You sighed. “I appreciate it, but there's no way. I really don't know what you could ever see in someone like me,” you whispered, barely audible. If you weren't standing so close, he would've missed it.
Instead of responding, he dropped his arms from your body. At the loss of contact, your heart sank. But when you lifted your head to meet his eyes, he was fishing around his pocket for his phone. Calling an Uber to leave? Your self-doubt pestered.
A few taps to his screen later and he held up his phone. There you were, sitting at your table in your favorite dress, with your favorite food and flowers on the table. You had the biggest smile on your face and in the bottom corner, you could see Pedro looking handsome as always, and absolutely smitten with you, the largest grin painted across his features.
At the sight of the image, your heart warmed. “See what you mean to me?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you choked out, leaning forward to mold your lips to his. They fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He pressed back before opening his mouth ever so slightly to lick at your lips. Matching his movements, your tongues met, dancing a waltz in exploration as he pulled you forward by your lower back, seeming as if trying to get as close as possible somehow.
As the two of you paused for air, he ran his hand further down your back, just barely grazing the dip of your spine where your torso meets your butt. He gave you a look, almost to determine your reaction, asking permission to let his hand continue. When you didn't back away, going as far as pulling him closer around his neck and leaning in for another kiss, he pressed his lips against yours in return and let his hands wander a little further down. When his hand wrapped around the cheek of your ass, you squeaked. This is new… and I like it, you thought. His whole hand fit across your cheek. His huge hands. You whimpered as he gave a squeeze, like he was claiming you as his own.
“I love you too.” He finally responded, pulling out of the kiss to search your eyes. “So tell me… what was this activity you wanted to add to our date? The one you fear makes you sound like a creepy fan?” He let out a small laugh, brushing your nose with his.
“This,” you replied, pressing another kiss.
“Kissing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over your waist and resting his forehead to yours. “I think we've already been doing that, if I'm not mistaken.” He pecked your lips with his.
“Yes,” you kissed. “Well,” kiss. “Actually,” you pulled away enough to explain. “I read this interview you gave a few years ago about your ideal first date?”
“Yeah?”
“You said something about ‘a date that doesn't feel like a date. And
hopefully by the end, or throughout, very
good kissing.” You said, slightly cautious at your memorization, a bit nervous at the implication of what you're saying.
“Oh, is that what you want?” He flashed his eyes up to look at you, giving a devilish smirk.
“Well, as someone who hadn't been kissed yet when I read it, I sorta lost my mind over it,” you laughed. “Obviously we've kissed before, but if it were up to me your lips would never leave mine,” you pressed your lips to his again.
“I think we should be able to make that happen,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss. “Mmmm” you sighed, pulling away from his lips. “Never gets old.” You held his hand in yours, the two of you walking again down the beach.
“So I was thinking,” he began, “since you said you deleted all your photos, and I only have the one, maybe we could make some new photos… together,” the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. You grinned and nodded excitedly. “Please!”
Pulling out his phone, the two of you took several photos together. Some just smiling, some with Skipper, and your personal favorites, the ones with him kissing you. This will make for a perfect lockscreen, you imagined.
As you approached the edge of a rocky cliffside at the end of the beach, a sea lion barked in the distance. Skipper perked up, tilting his head and letting his ears twitch before returning a “boof.” The two of you laughed, ushering your dog away from making any wild ocean friends, and headed towards the boardwalk.
After grabbing an ice cream at a candy shop, you were so deep in conversation and laughter that you didn't notice the girl off to the side looking nervous. Slowly she walked over. Skipper put up his guard, but as she approached, she gave a kind wave. “Hi… I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a big fan of you both.”
“Us… both?!” You responded, surprised. Pedro shook his head with a laugh before thanking the fan.
“Of course! Your music is amazing! I listen to it on my way home from work everyday. I relate to so many of your songs.”
“Wow, thank you so much. I never expected to be recognized. You're so kind,” you replied honestly.
She asked for a photo with you both, and after obliging, she mentioned before leaving, “by the way, I was following all the news that went down. I just want to say I think it's cute how you guys got together and you make a really cute couple. Okay bye! Thank you again!!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving you to look at Pedro in surprise. “Wow” you replied with a laugh. “I can't believe I'm getting recognized,” you spoke quietly.
“How do you feel about it?” Pedro asked cautiously.
“I feel… okay, so far. This was a nice interaction, and even though people keep looking at us… being able to be out in public with you, to show my face, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “it makes it all worth it.”
“I couldn't agree more,” he looked into your eyes, giving a soft smile. You matched his expression before his face slowly faded into concern. “Do you think work will go okay for you? Now that it's out there?”
You took a deep breath, walking a few more steps with him down the boardwalk before replying. “I don't know. I guess so. Or… I hope so at least. I've had a few of my friends and coworkers message me kind words of encouragement. So at least I'll have some people on my side, even if anyone else has something to say. But really, they shouldn't. They already know me. They knew I liked you,” you leaned into him. “So they should be happy for me if anything. And if not, then… well, they didn't deserve to be my friend anyway,” you shrugged. “But I think I might take some time off to figure out everything, career wise,” you added. Still leaning into his side, Pedro unlatched his fingers from yours, opting to reach his arm around you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and rubbing soft circles into your upper arm.
“Baby,” Pedro began, his voice vibrating through your body as he leaned his head on yours, “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you how strong I think you are?” Your cheeks warmed and you grinned. “Thank you Pedro,” you wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him. “But I don't think I'm that strong. I struggle to open pickle jars just like the rest of us,” you joked.
Pedro gave a quiet snort. “You know what I mean, honey,” he laughed. “I don't mean physical strength. Though I'm sure you could hold your own in an arm wrestle, I mean your ability to handle all of this thrown at you so quickly. Your ability to adapt and stay cheerful about everything. You just keep continuing to amaze me,” he pulled his head away from yours to meet your gaze. He smiled softly and you thanked him.
“I don't feel very strong,” you mumbled, breaking away from his stare. “You are, though. You're strong, smart, beautiful. Talented. Passionate,” he kissed your lips.
“Pedro, I love you, but you always seem to use all these words I don't feel. You see me as someone completely different than the way I've always seen myself. I want to believe you, but-” you sighed. “No one else has ever shown any indication that those are true,” you pouted, trying not to tear up.
“Hey, hey, whoa. Stop,” he halted your movements, pulling your chin up to his face. “Maybe they didn't see you, but I do. I feel all those things about you, and I'll spend every single day trying to prove it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved in romance a long time ago. But you changed all that.”
His chocolate brown eyes felt like they looked directly into your soul as he attempted to unravel your self-doubt. With a deep breath, you calmed enough to reply. “I love you, and I feel all those things for you as well. I'm glad you opened yourself up to love again.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad I met you” you sucked his lip. “I'm glad you're mine.” You kissed him again, deepening it, letting your tongue press gently to his and tangling together in passion before pulling away.
Skipper had completely rolled into his side in wait for you both, between the conversation and the kissing. When the two of you broke away with matching grins, you looked over to see the sun had sunk down to the border between sky and ocean. In its wake was a bright orange sky, with pink, purple, and yellow streaks mixed in, as if a painter had gotten a bit too carried away with the paints. It was blindingly beautiful.
Drawn to it like moths, the three of you walked towards the shoreline once again. You started to sit, but Pedro pulled you into his chest and fished for his phone.
You gave him a confused look before he kissed you deeply and held out his arm. Unlatching his lips from yours with a pop, he held up his phone to you with a smile. In front of the vibrant ocean sunset, the silhouette of a couple shared a loving kiss. For once, it was you in this couple photo. You and the man you love.
You walked a little farther down the sand before sitting down just above the line of wet sand to admire the sunset. Pedro sat behind you, his legs on either side of you while you lay back into his chest. As you leaned into him, he hugged around your body, molding himself to you and tracing light circles into the skin on your arms, making the hairs stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine.
Skipper flopped down nearby, clearly sleepy after a long walk and plenty of new smells. You ran a gentle hand down his back until you heard soft snores, then let him sleep, leaning your head on Pedro’s arm around your shoulder. “This sunset is beautiful,” you sighed, watching as the sun descended further below the ocean. It looked as if it was sinking deep below the surface, offering its light to the deep sea anglerfish miles below.
“It is amazing,” Pedro agreed, staring at you. “But my view is even better,” he added, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he kissed your shoulder. You looked over at him, meeting his eyes, now sparkling with the orange of the sky. “Mine too,” you whispered, tilting your head to press another kiss to his lips.
When the sun went down completely, you headed to the car and Pedro drove back to your place so you could get ready for dinner.
Pedro sat on the couch patiently, stroking the fur on Skip’s back while he snoozed, his head in Pedro's lap. In your bedroom, you searched for the perfect outfit to wear, finally deciding on a nice dress and sweater.
Hopefully the restaurant isn't too cold, you thought.
Walking out of the bedroom, you joined your boys in the living room, only to be greeted by Pedro’s jaw hitting the floor. “Te ves tan hermosa mi amor,” he stuttered in Spanish, flipping languages so easily when he was overcome with emotion. (You look so gorgeous my love.)
He gently stood, sliding out from below your dog, before walking over to you. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe and back up again, making you feel nervous. “You… you look… wow.” He rubbed his hand over his chin, his thumb grazing his lip. His pupils grew, making his eyes ever-so-slightly darker. You shivered under his gaze.
At your shiver, his demeanor shifted. “Shit, are you cold? Baby, you look incredible, but if you're cold -”
“I'm not cold, Pedro,” you interrupted.
“Are you sure? I saw you shiver.” He stepped towards you, touching your arm. A buzz crept under your skin like a live wire. “It wasn't from the cold…” you replied.
“It wasn't from-?” He paused, the realization hitting him as he understood your shiver wasn't from cold but frankly.. the opposite. “Oh,” he hummed, settling his hand on your hip and stepping closer.
Another chill.
“Feeling excited for our date, huh?” His voice caressed into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to take gentle nibbles on the skin of your collarbone, neck, and chin, before pulling you in by your waist to press a deep kiss to your mouth, his tongue finding yours.
This was starting to feel natural, kissing. And you two were getting good at it together. Knowing just the way his tongue moved, finding just the spot to make you whine. You even managed to find a spot of him that made a groan slip from his lips nearly every time. Kissing him was addicting, and you had no intention of kicking the habit.
He pulled away, pulling your lip with his teeth as you let out a slight hiss. “I'd love to do this all night, but I promised you dinner, my love,” he kissed your cheek, his beard scratching your face just right. You sighed, agreeing to dinner and taking a minute step back. It felt much warmer in the room than before, and you could tell he felt the same. As your eyes drifted across his body, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Slowly sweeping his eyes down his body, it was evident you both wanted something beyond dinner.
But the gentleman he is, Pedro stepped forward again, taking your hand and leading you toward the door.
Pulling up to the curb, Pedro opened your door for you before handing his keys to the valet. Linking his arm with yours, the two of you walked into an elegant Italian restaurant. He gave the waitress his name, and she led you back to a secluded room where a single booth sat.
The room was dimly lit, illuminated by candles and twinkling fairy lights. They lined the ceiling, mimicking the starry sky, were it not for the smog of the city. You two walked toward the only booth, settled against the nook of a window, draped with a soft, thin white curtain covering the view from outside. Only the reflection of street lights peered through the thin drapery.
Sliding into the booth, Pedro sat next to you, close enough to touch, yet due to the curve of the corner booth, you were able to converse without craning your neck awkwardly. At the center of the table was a single red rose in a vase, sat next to the glow of a candle. The table itself was rounded and draped with an elegant dark red tablecloth.
Grabbing the triangular folded napkin off your plate, you folded it across your lap, Pedro doing the same. He reached over to you, taking your hand in his. He rolled his hand over the top of yours, linking his fingers between your own and giving a gentle squeeze while offering a soft smile.
You looked into his eyes, searching for the words he might be thinking. In his eyes you only found love and appreciation, pure happiness oozing from his features. When the waitress came back, she set a basket of bread with butter on the table and took your orders.
The night went smoothly, chatter filling the empty spaces while you enjoyed your meals. “Pedro, I know this is technically our first date, but I gotta say, I think I consider our video chat for my album as the first date. It was the first time I felt like I might actually have a shot with you. You put so much effort into that night and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn't know I could fall for you any harder than I was, but you proved me wrong. And even though we didn't say it was a date, and I didn't have much experience before you, it felt more like a date than anything I had ever felt before. You're a real romantic, P.”
He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “That felt like the first date to me too. I knew for sure that I loved you that night.” Your cheeks heated, and you leaned your head on his shoulder.
It was only when the bill arrived that you broke apart. Though you offered to pay, at least for your meal, Pedro wouldn't stand for that. After all, he told you, this date was his idea. So instead, you thanked him and left the restaurant the same way you entered, arms linked.
As Pedro pulled up outside of your home, you let out a sigh. It was already after 9 PM. You had spent nearly eight hours together and yet you dreaded the moment you'd be saying goodbye. It was almost that time already, yet it felt like only five minutes had passed.
Though the walk from Pedro’s car to your front door was rather short, you both managed to prolong it, walking as slow as possible. Clearly he wasn't ready for it to end either. Two love sick fools, just wanting to spend every moment together.
Teetering on the edge of goodbyes, you awkwardly stood by your door. There were no nerves at a first kiss, fortunately. There had been plenty of kisses shared today, and yesterday, and the day prior. In fact, if it weren't for breathing, eating, and other bodily functions, you'd be fine having your lips glued to his indefinitely.
So with that in mind, and the burning desire to spend more time together, as he said goodbye, placing a kiss to your lips and beginning to walk away, you grabbed his arm. “Wait,” you plead.
Pedro turned, looking at you as if you had something to say, or you had forgotten a sweater in the car. But instead, with your heart pounding in your ears, you quietly asked, “would you like to come in? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”
The question could be taken with so many potential implications, or none at all. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to spend more time with him. What happened next could be decided in the moment.
His eyes flashed surprise for a moment. He looked at you, trying to read your face for any details in your question, then stared at your front door before turning back to you and finally answering.
“I would love to,” he smiled.
And so the two of you walked through the threshold of your front door, buzzing with new possibilities just inside. But no matter how the rest of the evening takes place, you were in love, and for once, you were loved back.
The end! Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the bonus tracks, and once again I'd love to hear what you think! Reblogs are appreciated as well :)
Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)
@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors @emmalostinwonderland
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#a! wrote a fic#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x afab!reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x musician!reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x plus sized! reader#pedro pascal rpf#rpf#key to your heart#pedro pascal smut
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"You've got a mustache."
Hey guys! Sorry, my art style is like the least consistent thing on this planet... I just like trying new things out :)
Anyways, continuing on our Rex parenting journey we have Chapter 4 - Pancakes and Apologies.
Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 03 Next chapter: 05
Summary: Rex gets some news on Echo, pancakes are made, tantrums are thrown.
CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, talk about injuries from landmines (nothing too in depth)
Chapter 4 – Pancakes and Apologies
Rex sunk down into his couch with a sigh, leaning his head against the armrest. Fives had been tucked in and the hallway light was left on. One kid taken care of, one to go.
Rex pulled out his phone and opened a text from Cody: I have some more info. Call me when you’re ready.
The phone only rang once before it was picked up.
“Cody, is he okay?” Rex tried to keep his voice down so he would not wake the boy sleeping in the next room.
“He’s…” Cody trailed off and Rex could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
“What? He’s what?” Don’t say dead. Please, don’t say dead.
“He just got out of surgery. They had to amputate both legs and an arm,” Cody was trying to keep if voice calm and leveled, but the words came out a little choked. “I’m so sorry.”
Rex stared across the living room and into the kitchen, he’d know the boy’s injuries would be bad if he had landed himself in the ICU, but the loss of three limbs? That was too much.
Cody continued, “Echo’s okay for now. He hasn’t woken up yet, so there could still be some complications, but they are optimistic about how the surgery went.”
“Both legs and an arm?” Rex asked, still processing his brother’s statement.
“Yes,” Rex heard Cody take a deep breath on the other side of the line, “He stepped on a landmine.”
“Wh- How?”
“I don’t know. No one told the hospital how it happened either.”
Rex was silent, but his mind screamed.
Screamed in anger.
In sadness.
In pain.
In guilt.
It was his fault. His.
“Rex? You still there?” Cody’s voice cut through the phone.
“Yeah,” Rex said a little absently. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Alright,” Cody said, tone laced with worry. “You should get some rest. I’ll text you any developments, but don’t stay up for them.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?”
“I- I’m not sure.”
“Try, okay?”
“I will.”
“I love you, Rex’ika.”
“Love you too, Codes,” Rex dropped the phone from his ear as he disconnected the call.
He rolled onto his side and curled up on the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting the world melt around him as tears spilled down his cheeks.
Rex woke, panicked from a dream he couldn’t remember and drenched in a cold sweat. From what he could tell it was early morning, the living room was washed in a dim warm light. He was not sure when he had fallen asleep, but he could not have gotten more than four hours.
He reached for his phone on the coffee table and found it, bringing the screen close to his bleary eyes. He had some texts from Cody from around 3 am:
Just found out Kix is Echo’s doctor!
He came into the waiting room to tell me that Echo seems to be responding well to the surgeries.
He’s sleeping now, but he woke up for a bit while I was in there and asked for Fives.
Kix said he thinks you guys should be able to visit today.
Rex felt a surge of relief, Echo was going to be okay. He was going to be alright. Not only that, but Rex had known Kix since he’d been in a group home with him and he knew the boy was in capable hands.
Rex swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up to type out a reply, thanking his brother profusely.
“M-mister police officer, sir?”
A small voice cut through Rex’s thoughts, and he jerked his head up. Fives stood stiffly on the other side of the coffee table. Rex was taken aback, when had the boy slipped into the room? At least the kid looked like he had slept well, “Yes? And Rex is fine.”
“Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
Rex was initially going to deny the request and insist that he make breakfast for Fives instead, but realized he could not assume Fives was only offering because it was something required of him previously. Perhaps the boy really enjoyed cooking. Rex wouldn’t know so instead he put down his phone and smiled, “Why don’t we make ourselves some breakfast together?”
Fives’s eyes widened a bit before he nodded consent.
Rex stood and stretched, “What should we have? I’ve got eggs, pancakes, oatmeal, cereal, or bread for toast.”
Fives seemed to debate something before looking up at Rex, “What are pancakes?”
“Pancakes?” Rex parroted, a little shocked.
Fives blushed and turned away, muttering a quiet apology.
“No, it’s okay, it’s good to ask questions,” Rex tried to amend quickly. He hurried over to his pantry and grabbed his box of pancake mix, showing the box to the boy, “This is what they look like. They’re really good and you get to put maple syrup on them.”
Fives whipped his head around to Rex at the mention of maple syrup, an excited grin plastered onto his face, “Maple syrup is from Canada.”
“Uh, yeah?” Rex said taken aback by the random fact.
Fives turned back to the pancake box, “Echo had a book about flags. Canada’s is a maple leaf because of all the maple trees there and maple syrup comes from the maple trees.”
“Do you and Echo like to read a lot?” Rex asked.
“Echo does,” Fives said, shoulder’s tensing. “He tried to teach me, but I’m no good.”
Rex didn’t like the boy’s defeated tone, “You know, I didn’t learn how to read until I was a little older than you.”
“Really?” Fives asked. “Because Echo learned when we were little.”
Rex wondered what “little” meant to the boy because in his eyes the twins were still very much just little boys. “Different people learn different things at different times, it’s not a contest.” Rex shrugged, taking the pancake mix from Fives, “Do pancakes sound yummy? They’re one of my favorites.”
Fives nodded, then shrugged, “But I don’t know how to make them.”
“That’s okay,” Rex said grinning. “I can teach you.”
Fives had been a surprisingly competent chef for a seven-year-old boy. He knew how to measure ingredients and pour things without spilling, and, once Rex had helped him up onto the counter, had proved that he could work a stovetop. Rex made sure the boy was aware he was not to be climbing on things or using the stove without permission first.
Rex watched as Fives took his first bite of pancake. The boy chewed slowly and then grinned up at Rex.
“Good?” Rex asked, taking his first bite as well.
Fives nodded enthusiastically and began shoving the rest of the plate into his mouth as fast as he could. He was finished before Rex had swallowed his third bite.
Rex pushed the glass of milk he’d poured the boy closer to him, “milk first, and then you can have more.”
Fives eyed the glass suspiciously before carefully taking it in both hands and downing it, seemingly without stopping for breath. When he put the glass down, he had a little milk mustache. Rex couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“What?” Fives asked, looking down at his plate, searching for whatever was so funny.
“You-” Rex broke out into another chuckle, “You’ve got a mustache.”
“No, I don’t,” Fives said, folding his arms.
“Yes, you do. Go look in the mirror.”
Fives gave Rex a confused look before heading off to the bathroom.
Rex shook his head and finished up his breakfast, smiling to himself.
Fives emerged from the bathroom a minute later with a clean, smiling face.
“It was from the milk,” the boy explained, as if Rex didn’t already know.
Rex nodded as Fives joined him in the kitchen, “Do you want some more pancakes?”
Fives shook his head as he sat back down in his chair, then he looked up a Rex, “Could we bring them for Echo?”
Rex shook his head, giving himself a few seconds to figure out the best way to explain to Fives, “Right now Echo’s in the ICU. Do you know what the ICU is?”
“Like the hospital?”
“Yeah, it’s a part of the hospital where they put the people who need a little extra help to get better. It stands for intensive care unit.”
“Is he going to die?” Fives had clearly picked up on the fact that someone already in the hospital needing extra help was bad. His voice was so small.
“We think he got through the worst part. He woke up last night and asked for you, which is a really good sign, but we can’t bring him anything from outside the hospital because he had to have some really big surgeries and we don’t want him to get infected.”
“Oh,” Fives’s eyes darted back and forth before they made their way back to Rex’s. “Can- can we still-? Are we allowed to see him?”
Rex nodded, “We can head on over after we get dressed and brush our teeth.”
Fives jumped up out of his chair in excitement and made a beeline for Rex’s bedroom. Rex marveled in the boy’s ability to switch his emotions so quickly, and his inability to hide any of them.
As Fives got dressed, Rex washed all the dishes as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t have to keep the boy waiting for long. Not surprisingly, Fives finished getting ready before Rex put the last dish on the drying rack. The boy bounded into the kitchen, bouncing on his toes and grinning.
Rex couldn’t help but match his grin, “Alright, get your shoes and coat on while I get dressed.”
Fives nodded and hopped over to the entry way where his tiny set of shoes sat next to Rex’s boots.
Rex threw on his clothes and swished some mouthwash around in his mouth (brushing took too long) before joining Fives in the entry way. The boy was practically exploding with energy and Rex had to tell him multiple times that his shoes were on the wrong feet before he stopped jumping up and down and sat so Rex could fix them.
As soon as they got onto the road Fives asked how long it would take to get to Echo, and not wanting the entire 45 minute car ride to consist of 45 “are we there yet?”s, Rex made Fives his navigator. He knew the way to Kamino General well enough that he would tell Fives to remind him to turn right when they got to the next intersection or get off the highway when he saw a green sign with the number 79 on it. It kept the boy surprisingly occupied as he seemed to take his role very seriously.
As they neared the hospital and sat waiting in city traffic, Rex glanced at Fives in the mirror, “Fives, there’s something I need to tell you about Echo before we see him.”
Fives twisted forward to look at Rex from his position analyzing the city outside his window.
“He got really hurt and he- his-” Rex started to explain, struggling to find the right words.
“His legs were gone,” Fives interrupted, eyes wide.
Rex stared at the boy in his mirror, “You saw?”
Fives nodded, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” Rex didn’t know what else to say.
Fives shrugged, “Green light.”
“Huh?” Rex gaped before he realized what Fives was referring to as the car behind him honked, “Shi-oot!”
Rex slammed on the gas and turned into the hospital’s visitor parking lot, “Sorry about that.”
“S’okay,” Fives mumbled. Then his head shot up with excitement, “Are we here?”
“Yep,” Rex said, pulling into a spot.
Before Rex came to a complete stop, Fives unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door, ready to leap out. Rex stomped on the breaks and lunged back to grab the boy’s wrist, lest he fall out of the car, “Fives!”
The boy yelped as Rex dragged him back away from the door.
“No!” Rex yanked the boy towards his face, “No. You do not get out of the car until it’s stopped moving! Do you understand?”
“I’m s-sorry,” Fives stared at Rex, face going pale.
“Do you understand?”
Fives tried to yank his arm away, but Rex had him in an iron grip.
“Do. You. Understand?”
Fives’s tiny fist came up from where it was clenched at his side and struck Rex on the cheek. Rex was so surprised he almost let go of the boy as Fives began screaming “sorry” repeatedly, flailed his captive wrist around, trying to bash Rex’s hand down into the console, and used his free hand to hit Rex’s arm with as much force as he was capable of.
Rex caught Fives’s other arm to prevent any further damage to either of them and held him still while he struggled. Even though Fives’s eyes were screwed shut, Rex tried to soften his expression from the angry one he was sure it held a few moments earlier to one as neutral as possible.
Eventually Fives’s struggles grew weaker, and his apologies died down to a faint whisper. Rex realized the boy was crying, tears leaking out the corners of his shut lids.
“Fives?” Rex said softly, loosening his grip on the boy so if he wanted to remove his arms he could.
Fives opened his eyes and tears gushed down his cheeks, “’m ssssorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m not mad, see?” Rex held up his hands.
Fives stared up at Rex with big watery eyes before slowly reaching out one of his own hands and placing it against Rex’s opposing palm.
Rex curled down his fingers so his hand enveloped Fives’s, “Are you okay?”
In response Fives pulled his and Rex’s hand towards his chest.
“Hug?” Rex asked, remembering last night.
“Please?”
“Alright, come here,” Rex said, hoisting the boy up over the console and into his lap.
Fives held Rex’s hand to his chest as Rex held him to his and they sat just breathing in silence together until Fives shifted to look up at Rex, “Are- are you very mad at me?”
Rex squeezed Fives a little tighter and smiled sadly, “I’m not very mad at you.”
They sat together for a few more moments and this time it was Rex who broke the silence, “Can I explain why I got upset?”
Rex felt Fives nod against his chest.
“Cars can be very dangerous if we aren’t careful in them or around them,” He felt Fives nod in understanding and continued, “One of the rules when you’re in the car is that you always keep your seatbelt on and you never open the door unless we are parked in a driveway or in a parking lot, does that make sense?”
Again, Rex felt Fives nod against him.
He continued, “When you opened the door, I was scared that you might get hurt, so I got upset. But I was more upset that you might get hurt than I was upset at you.” Rex rubbed Fives’s arm, “I’m sorry for yelling at you and for grabbing you.”
“I’m sorry, too. For- for breaking the rules.”
“It’s alright. You were excited, I get it. But next time we don’t jump out of moving cars.”
Fives nodded, sniffling.
Rex grabbed a tissue and handed it to the boy, “Ready to go see Echo?”
Fives smiled, blowing into the tissue, “Ready.”
@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @xylionet @tazmbc1
#sorry for the late post#it's technically still sunday somewhere...#Also#I think tumblr's not letting me mention certain people :(#IDK how to fix that#so I am super sorry to anyone who's not being alerted properly when I update#clone wars#the clone wars#tcw#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#captain rex#clone trooper echo#commander cody#clone trooper fives#superlarva#domino twins#baby dominos
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first vi brainrot
… heyyyy arcaners 😋
getting back into writing after like a month LOL art by lottie-lot :3 @trackinglessons
fck you free palestine.
WORD COUNT: not eem 1k just some plotting
CONTENT: rugbyplayer!vi, femcel!oc… is she deranged or is she in love who knows fr, a lil horny, brief mentions or familial death/grief
rugbyplayer!vi who’s loved dearly. . .
shines brighter than the sun whenever she enters the room; makes every person she comes across glow with her charisma, her laughter. she’s so polite and gracious. people can’t help but gravitate towards her radiance.
no one would’ve ever guessed the turmoil she experienced before moving to her college town. loneliness was no longer comforting. the silence she was once eased by brought forth distress she couldn’t control.
rugbyplayer!vi who moved through university like a ghost who never crossed over. only left noticeable tracks in the smiles she gave people before vanishing to nothingness in her room.
rugbyplayer!vi who had no idea what rugby was. only got introduced to it at a bar where matches played on the tv screen above as she sipped her drink in silence. it seemed like watered-down football and made her nose turn up.
who would’ve thought she’d be at her university’s rugby tryouts a few months later. one poorly made sign with every single one of her crushes in shorts and she ended up with her heels in the wet dirt, nerve wracked in front of both coaches. only then did she realize how out of shape she’s gotten. sports were her escape in high school, but the loss of her sibling destroyed her. crumbled every aspiration she ever had into dust that buried her baby sister.
when she first got recruited, she was fearful. how would she ever be able to focus on practice when she’s surrounded by people she’s desired to emulate? they’re strong and resilient and quick; she’s leagues behind them in terms of skill and she knows it. her brain discourages her like no other.
rugbyplayer!vi who was relentless the first few months of training. the aches in her thighs and the salt leaking from her pores and into her eyes did nothing but motivate her, distract her, drive her to do more. to reach where her peers sat comfortably at the top. she pushed so much that she called out of class multiple times; she couldn’t fucking walk.
it took seven ruthless months to get where she wanted to be. seven months of self-doubt, of quitting and forcing herself to retry. her teammates believed in her more than she believed in herself. whenever she struggled, they were right behind her, carrying whatever weight her limbs couldn’t support.
her teammates swiftly became her family. . . not a day goes by where she doesn’t miss her sister.
it’s been a year since her recruitment. . . her exhaustion finally paid off in wins and meticulous tackles of her opponents. the sport aids her aggression, keeps her attention off of her damaged past for hours as she rides the high of a successor. whenever she walks onto the field she’s cocky, ego blasted to the clouds because she knows people are there for her; every time her cleats sink into the dirt, she’s home.
it’s a rush she can’t explain. she loves this fucking game.
. . . but you love her more.
it’s not an obsession. you’re observant. you enjoy watching people. . . do things. you feel socialized whenever you study the joy, the grief, the yearn individuals exude through their behavior. you don't feel as lonely. almost connected to yourself through other people.
when you first met rugbyplayer!vi, it was through a window during sophomore year.
sat on a beanbag on the second floor of the library, completely distracted from your coursework, you gawked down as she conversed and smiled and laughed with people you didn’t know but wished to. rugbyplayer!vi captivated you like no other. education be damned. you’d drop everything for her at that moment if she asked.
you’re not stalking her. it’s not your fault that wherever she is, you are. call it fate. you never say a word. simply stand off to the side and crave and think and fantasize. your mind is sinister.
rugbyplayer!vi is the sun. you’re a moth, shadowing wherever light trails.
witnessing her rugby career develop was a blessing. you’re always in the stands, hiding in plain sight from her. the muscles in her legs and arms are much larger than when she first started; they flex whenever she snags and throws the ball. pummels other women to the ground. lifts her shirt to wipe her sweat. clenches her fist when she’s angry. what you'd give to ease her tension.
how can you not love her? everything she embodies is perfect. every cell that crafts her being is godsend.
you crave to be in her presence. but you can’t.
people are turned off by you. you’re not sure why, but you’re always alone, comforted by the repulsive compartments of your brain. the voice that encourages you to detach.
so, you go where there’s no judgment. dump all your thoughts of the love of your life where no one can find you. where she can’t find you. forever undiscovered. forever anonymous.
REDDIT.
#rugbyplayer!vi#femcel!oc#vi smut#vi arcane#vi art#arcane smut#vi fanfic#arcane#league of legends#works 𖧧࣪#lesbian
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eddie is very emotionally attached to his hair. he loves the look, obviously, but also loves using it as a shield. he plays with it when he needs to fidget, he pulls pieces in front of his face when he’s flustered or nervous, he sweeps it over his shoulders to hide his face from time to time. it’s a built-in barrier and ever since he’d grown it out at around 15, he’d sworn to never go back. eddie’s hair make him feel safe.
that is, until he wakes up in the hospital post-upside down to find it cut short. too short-- can’t-twirl-or-play-with-it short. once the shock and relief of oh fuck, I’m alive, thanks steve, wears off, he laments the loss.
"steve, it took me years to grow it out. I’ll be 25 by the time it’s back where it was!" he admits during a rare moment when it's just the two of them in his hospital room. the machines beep evenly and steve sighs from his position in the hard, wood-backed chair next to the bed.
"man, I get it. my nickname was the goddamn hair for awhile, so I know it's a part of you but it'll grow back, right? and--"
"yeah yeah, I know it will, that's not the problem. it’s— ugh, forget it.” eddie instinctively reaches to pull his hair over his left shoulder to hide his face and is reminded of what the problem really is. he feels exposed and seen in a way that he can’t control and it makes his skin crawl-- particularly that it's steve harrington he feels so seen by, and he frankly has too many other crises going on to unpack that at the moment.
steve, for all of the ‘dumb jock’ jokes tossed his way, is perceptive. you don't survive high school in hawkins and four end-of-the-worlds without a dash of social intelligence, after all. so when he sees eddie reach for his hair like a phantom limb, he starts putting puzzle pieces together.
"why don't you want people to see you?"
eddie freezes with his hands falling to his chest, the IV in one hand pulling a bit at his skin. "that's not... I don't ... nothing, it's nothing." he sputters, unsure how steve has gotten such a fucking read on him.
"hey, I mean, I get it. kind of, at least? after the last few fights knocked my brain around, I've gotten some gnarly scars and bruises and I uh, I don't really swim or go around shirtless anymore because of it. I know that's probably not exactly the same but... yeah. I can understand. want me to get you a wig?"
steve watches as eddie slowly turns to look at him, and more importantly, to let steve look at him and his hesitant smile with furrowed eyebrows.
"why are you telling me all this?" eddie wants to think it's more than steve being steve, more than him just looking out, that it's personal. that maybe he likes eddie. hell, there must've been a reason he and wayne were the only two in the room when he woke up. and it clearly hadn't been the first time, given how close steve and wayne seem to be now. he'd pretended to be annoyed about their banter over the chicago cubs but really? it gave eddie a glimpse of something he wanted so badly, it made him ache. but that couldn't be it.
eddie's heart monitor beeps a little faster when steve reaches out to place a hand on top of his. steve looks up at the screen and back down to their hands with a small, hopeful smile.
"you're one of us now." steve shrugs and replies simply, as if that answers any of eddie's burning questions. he doesn't want to overwhelm him, but Steve can't help some good-natured Harrington flirting. "and it'd be a real shame for you to keep hiding that blush."
there's something here, steve thinks, a reason he wants eddie to let him look, to let him see, to keep making him blush from his neck to his nose. he'll give it time though. after all, the danger is gone-- they're here, and alive, and the world is safe, and they've got nothing but time to watch eddie's curls grow back.
#steddie#steddie fanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#this is a projection because my hair is waist-length and i will never cut it short#for these reasons#oops sorry eddie i gave you a new personality trait#myfic#this is not edited#i just wanted something soft and cute after writing a rough chapter of over the hills and far away lmao#myblurbs
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Is Crosshair the first Disney era Star Wars hero to lose a limb? Hell character? We haven’t had a Star Wars hand loss in like a decade. And no Echo doesn’t count he lost his off screen.
#star wars#starwars#the bad batch#tbb#tbb spoilers#the bad batch spoilers#TBB Crosshair#crosshair tbb#cbr posts
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After nearly a millennium of innovation, research, and money sank into a far-off dream of galaxies beyond the Milky Way, the world watches with bated breath as the oval portal sparkles to life. Safe in their homes they lean forward on their couches, captivated by the next big step in mankind’s conquest towards the great beyond. The portal lights up in a brilliant display of greens and blues, and the world cheers. Their celebration mixes with the screams from beyond their screens, unheard, a mix of raucous joy and unimaginable terror lasting mere seconds before the broadcast ends.
DEMO TBA ✕ CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS
Note: Demo will be written in CScript, but the full game will be written in Twine.
The Erebus Project is an 18+ sci-fi/cyberpunk game meant for mature audiences, and will include scenes that might upset some readers.
This includes, but is not limited to; death, violence, blood & gore, body horror, loss of control, recreational drug use, unhealthy relationships (optional), harsh language, and sexually explicit themes (optional).
The Earth is the cradle of humanity, but mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever.
- Konstantin Tsiolkovsky.
When humanity first dabbled in the science of portal technology, no one thought much of it. A project of immense proportions, doomed to fail, that's what everyone said.
You were skeptical as well, and that exact skepticism ended up uprooting your entire life. Not that you had much in the shady pits of The Pens, but it was better than the glass cage you've been imprisoned in.
An alien. It came through the portal with a vicious screech and a horrifying visage of a maw large enough to swallow you whole. It did so to the others, tore them limb from limb and left them in pieces, but here you are; safe, quarantined, with that same black ichor briefly appearing like veins on your skin. Poked, prodded, and treated like nothing but a walking test subject, that's what the alien turned you into.
Until it utters the first notes of speech, inside your head like an echo. It learns through you, and for those endless months it was one of the only two voices you heard. It grew angry, restless, loud in your head. It spoke of a threat, and a salvation in words you couldn't comprehend. As it grew stronger, you had to resist it more. Hold down your own fingers, then your hand, then your entire arm. The scientists were exstatic.
Then it broke out. Not from you, as you, and your life would never be the same. From a poor, unassuming resident of The Pens to the most hunted human on the surface of Earth - All the while the alien echoes in your mind, threatening, warning in a low, constant rattle.
It's coming.
Create and guide your Host; a broke and desperate resident of The Pens that learned that when something is too good to be true, it probably is.
Customize the Host! Names, gender, appearance, sexuality, and romantic preference; even clothing style, skin details, and core personality. It's up to you to create your perfect host!
Romance it not lost in the void of space: there are currently four characters to pursue, with possibly more on the horizon. All characters are gender selectable, and available for romance even if the Host is asexual.
Name your alien! It doesn't need a name, but you can't call it 'parasite' forever. Decide whether or not to give it pronouns as well, unless you're content with calling the thing 'it' throughout your journey.
Choose whether to accept the new tenant residing in your cranium, or fight it every step of the way. On one hand, you're technically a bona fide superhero; on the other hand, you have an interstellar, sentient goo inside your body.
Learn why the alien appeared through the portal, and subsequently gain knowledge of a approaching threat that will end your solar system as you know it.
Balance a semi-social life as a fugitive, all while being hunted by the CSI, and keeping the parasite from going on a rampage. Your willpower will be your greatest asset, use it. If not for anything else but to keep the alien from entirely consuming you.
And most importantly: Save the galaxy! No big deal, right?
An extraterrestrial entity with no known origin, the creature that stepped through the portal and found its way into your brain. No tests have proven its existence, and only you can hear it, but scientists are certain it resides somewhere within your body. It rarely spoke in the beginning, but the months you’ve spend in captivity with it has altered it to understand your language, at least. Occasionally it shifts across your body, appearing in rivulets of black, green, and blue across your skin but neither human nor camera has been able to catch it in motion.
Parasitic Entity / Ageless / Color code: ⚫
PROFILE
The more time you spend together, the more you come to realize that it’s not just a mindless organism inhabiting your body, but a sentient creature with knowledge beyond your own, and a desire to leave.
The one who took you into protective custody after your body was retrieved from the wreckage in the portal room. No one knows why they believe you’re infused with the monstrosity that appeared from beyond the abyss, but they’ve kept you alive so far. Their underlings trust them completely, but there are whispers that there’s a separate reason they're keeping you alive and cooped up instead of vivisecting you for the alien that resides within. If you only had more time within the project, maybe you could've learned why their eyes are so cold and distant.
Nathan/Naomi Hanover [M or F] / Lead Scientist / 36 / Color code: 🔵
PROFILE
For months, they were your only contact to the outside world. Observing them through your glass cage only painted them as aloof and cold, disinterested in idle chatter and friendly banter; when they spoke with you alone, they were different. Warm, with sadness in their eyes. Is there reason why they changed so, or is it just a way to manipulate you into trusting them?
A bloodhound, an assassin, a bounty hunter; Vale is your worst nightmare once you shoot up to the top of the CSI's most wanted list. They pursue you relentlessly, and have made it their personal mission in life to either bring you in or put you down. They are on the brash side, with a very prominent “act now, ask questions whenever” attitude and it shows when they get close to catching you, and ultimately makes them lose sight of you again. They’re fearsomely effective and you feel as if you can’t go a second without looking over your shoulder in fear that Vale's cold gray eyes settle on you.
Emerson/Emery Vale [M or F] / CSI Special Agent / 29 / Color code: 🔴
PROFILE
Duty is their mission, but it's not all they are; you've heard their name in The Pens before, an old face who somehow made it out. In contrast to what haunts you, people say Vale was kind, and found a way out so they could help make a change once they did. What happened when they finally found their way out, to turn them into the relentless agent that now hounds your every move?
The heart of The Pens, with a finger on the district's erratic pulse, Shiba is hailed as a celebrity among those who call the rusty cauldron of misery home. It's said that they know everything happening within the shady, artificially lit corridors of their kingdom, and you have no proof that it would be wrong. A royal beacon of unity, Shiba is akin to a leader to those unfortunate who find themselves beneath the pristine city above, but to you they are a friend. You've shared an apartment with them for years now, and you're lucky they let you back in after coming back from a job they told you not to accept.
Shiloh "Shiba" Barnes [M, F, NB] / IT Specialist / 27 / Color code: 🟠
PROFILE
Beneath the bright charisma and dazzling presence, Shiloh is only human. Revered as they might be, you've come to learn their personal side; the person who trips on the upturned corner of a carpet, spills marinara on their interascreens, and whispers encouragements to the ancient microwave as it unsteadily hums away. They are the first one to learn about the stowaway in you head, but will they forfeit friendship in exchange for unimaginable riches?
#intro post#the erebus project if#interactive fiction#if wip#wip if#twine wip#twine if#if game#TEP if#the erebus project
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The Morning
Din Djarin x f!reader, TMTC Universe
Rating: explicit, breeding kink
—
“You go on ahead, Kid. I’ve gotta mend something on the coop before I go.” Din grabs the small leather satchel off the back of the kitchen chair, following The Kid out the door.
It’s early — school starting in a half hour down in town, the dark night still skating at the edges of the slowly lightening sky— and while it used to be that Din needed to lift the kid into his saddle, he watches with a small smile of pride at the child’s practiced motion as he climbs in himself.
Legs that are longer than they used to be dangle, fitting boots that are bigger than they used to be in their stirrup and securing the bag onto the side of the horse, Din gives it a pat on the rump, watching him trot off down the hill.
Making his way inside, he’s careful not to let the screen door swing shut so he doesn’t wake you. He gathers the breakfast dishes as quietly as he can, setting them in the basin for soaking and pulling the curtain at the window to the side, he checks to make sure The Kid is out of sight.
Making his way into your bedroom, you open your eyes and smile when you hear the slight scrape of his boots against the wooden floor.
“I heard you say you had to mend something,” you yawn, stretching languidly. “You’re supposed to be at work, aren’t you? What needs mending?”
“Nothing.” His reply is simple, a wink when you catch his eyes and he thumbs his suspenders off his broad shoulders; one, the other. They drop limply to his sides, and he reaches back to grab hold of his cotton shirt, pulling it over his head and off.
You couldn’t put it into words what is so attractive to you about the motion, but it is. Christ, it is.
His broad shoulders and flat plane of his chest on display, he balls the shirt in his hands, tossing it onto the floor.
“Hey, mister,” you scold, rolling onto your side to watch his forearms flex as he works the button of his trousers open. “I just washed that shirt yesterday.”
“I know you did, girl.” He bends at the waist, tugging on the laces of his boots. You inwardly pout at the momentary visual loss of the dark collection of hair trailing from his navel downwards that he left exposed to with every button of his pants undone. “I watched you do it.”
He stands up, toeing off the boots before pushing his pants down and off his bare hips and when he stands there by the bed, completely nude, you only have a second to fully appreciate the view before he’s climbing in with you.
“Your shirt was soaked with the water,” he continues, gently pulling your blankets back, revealing your naked curves. His eyes darken, his voice lowering as he takes you in. “I could see right through it.”
“You couldn’t see anything good though,” you tease, knowing just the kind of show he likes. Your small hands palm the weight of your breasts, pushing them together in offering and the bob of his throat with a hum makes you bite your lip. “Just my corset.”
“I know.” He adds his hand to rest above your own, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stretches out alongside you. He laces your fingers with his, kneading; gentle, then a little harder. “It was a shame. Thought I would stick around this morning and see if you’ll give me a good look this time.”
You laugh, and he smiles, his eyes crinkling with happiness, with age. It’s a transformation from the weary, narrowed gaze that used to be fixed on his face — although the look of lust that it slips into now is just as familiar as it used to be back then.
The mornings never fail to delight you, the novelty never wearing off. He used to leave, and now he stays, and every morning when the sun rises, it’s like your gratefulness renews and expands; the same look mirrored in his own expression. The discovery of a morning Din you get to keep is one you hold tight every day.
The happiness between you flows through your limbs, coming out in the form of a tease. “You got your look last night. The show is over.”
His brow drops into a stern frown. “Lemme look at something else then.”
When you shake your head no, he leans in, whispering in your ear.
“I can pay, girl.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, his nose nuzzling through the fine hair just above it. “I’ve got enough for the night, and the next day too. Is that enough for a look? Or can I also get a taste?”
His eyes alight with mischief, he lets your breast go and kissing the top of your hand, he starts to slide down your body. His mouth grazes your belly, sliding over your hip, pressing along the top of your leg and when you open up to make room for him, he settles between your thighs.
His shoulders look even wider with your knees hooked over them, and his large hands wrap around the top of your thighs, holding you open. His eyes drop down to your spread cunt, waiting for him.
“Lemme kiss it.”
Your body lighting up from the inside out after the first lick, he does kiss it.
He kisses it like he kisses your mouth: reverential, savoring, laving like a man starved for your taste. Arching into the wet heat of his mouth, you push your fingers through his dark curls, letting your mouth drop open as you close your eyes.
It’s so early — his mouth moving just as slow as the sun does when it makes it’s way up into the sky — and you start to roll your hips in a circle, the rhythm of it making him groan. The sound rumbles straight into your core, stoking your flame higher.
“Din — oh god, keep going. Yes.”
You pull on his silky strands, looking down at the crown of his head bent in task. Another groan let out into you, another, his dark eyes looking up from the vee of your thighs and you watch him for as long as you can stand it, until he pulls back to make his tongue visibly drag through your folds.
He hallows his cheeks for a moment, and then spits — immediately swiping the liquid mess up with his tongue before his mouth is buried again with a groan. It’s a lot — both him, and his mouth.
He licks you open through your sweet sighs, until your thighs drop apart, until they tremble against his cheeks, until they tense just like your fingers in his hair, until they freeze in his hold when you cry out.
“You’re as wet as you were yesterday, girl,” he rasps, kissing damply up your body as you lay there and catch your breath. “Though I think you could be wetter, don’t you think?”
You bite the plush pillow of your bottom lip, nodding and he pulls at it with his thumb, opening your mouth. He kisses you, his solid body resting on top of yours and his tongue is thick with your taste, his chin smeared with it. It reminds you faintly of Gracie, and you wind your legs around his waist, slipping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
This is your favorite part — to be covered by him, surrounded by his weight and his scent and the smooth slide of his skin. The tickle of his moustache, the firmness of his muscles, his body, moving with intent against yours. His strong embrace, holding you tight.
Curling your hands around his biceps, you give them a squeeze and when he slips inside of you, you inhale sweetly with the stretch.
“I think I gotta fuck you wetter, girl,” he groans with a husky strain, rocking his hips forward to fit every inch. “Make you come again, this time on my cock.”
Your knees hitch higher along his sides, until his hips are fitted with yours. His lips press gently against your cheek, the action a direct contrast with what he says next.
“What about fucking you full, hmm? Fill you until you can’t take anymore, and then use my fingers to push it back inside?”
The vocalization of what he did to you last night makes your eyes close with a frown, your jaw clenching as you whine and nod. You meet his thrusts with a flex of your hips, seeking him to be buried as deep as possible. You want to feel him when he leaves for work, while you do your chores, while you fix dinner and then shift on your chair as he sits across from you with a knowing smile.
Fitting his face into your neck, he breathes you in; the sun now fully bright outside your window. The sheets rustle with your movement, your hands spanning his sides and the play of the muscles along them shift under your palms, the ripple of them a rhythmic bunching.
His breath is hot when it bursts over your skin in pants, and you bury your face in his curls, inhaling their familiar scent.
“I am wet. Don’t you feel how wet I get for you? How much I want it?”
His body seems to melt on top of yours with the soothing murmur of your voice in his ear, even when his hips pick up their pace.
You keep talking, now digging your nails into the meat of his ass to force him deeper. “Keep fucking me. Keep going. You feel so good, I — oh god. I never want you to stop. Make me feel it, Din. Make me feel it.”
His face pulling back, he looks down at you with lust blown, open eyes and you meet his gaze, his body moving above yours. “You want it hard? You want to feel me when I leave for work, girl?”
Yes, you cry out, angling your hips so he’s hitting that spot just right. He presses a kiss to your cheek, the round of your jaw, your mouth before he lifts himself off you.
What happens next is fast, and it reminds you of the way he must handle his bounties — using his own leverage and strength to maneuver them into a prone position before they can react. He does it to you now, flipping you onto your stomach to flatten you against the mattress with his weight, wrapping his hands around your delicate wrists to push them into the bed on either side of your head and when he pushes back inside, it’s a more brutal stroke than before, his hips snapping against the curve of your ass.
It’s not enough for him though, and he quickly reaches down to grab the bend of your knee, forcing it higher so he can bury himself deeper. Again, again.
Your hand reaches back for him, and he tucks his chin over your shoulder, your hand cupping the crown of his head.
“This is what I wanted, girl. What I think about all day at work. What I dream about at night. This sweet cunt that takes me so well, and the sweet girl it belongs to.”
When you round your back to force him deeper, his hand curls around your hip with a heavy groan, his fingers digging into it to keep you in place. Your mouth catches against the pillow when your breath hitches in your throat, and he can feel you tighten like a slick, silky vice around him, getting ready to come.
“Just like that, girl.” His hand shoves under your body, seeking out your clit and when he finds it, he grinds his hips deep. “You’re mine. You’re mine and I’m gonna fuck everything I have into you until you can’t take anymore, make you take it until it leaks out, until you grow round with it —“
The sound you make when you come tips him over the edge too, his release pouring into you and filling you full just like he said it would.
He’ll be late for sure this morning, his shift starting over an hour ago and though you’re not complaining, you eventually say something after a couple minutes of content, sated silence.
“You’re gonna be late, Din.” Absolutely no conviction in your voice, your eyes slide shut as he nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades with lingering presses of his mouth everywhere he can reach.
“Can’t a man lay in bed all morning and fuck his wife?”
You huff at his wry humor, his direct statements the tone of a man used to getting his way. “You can, I’m just not sure they’ll pay you for it.”
You feel him shrug behind you, his arms tightening in their embrace and you smile, laying your head down on the pillow. “I’m not sure your wife could take it either. She’s pretty — hey!”
You yelp with a laugh, his hand surprising you with a sharp swat against your ass. He laughs too, the rumble of it transferring between your bodies.
“Hey now. That’s not the girl I married,” he scolds, lifting to allow you to turn under him. You part your legs, making space and he settles back on top of you.
“Where is the girl from the brothel? The one who would fuck me all night and then some? The one who woke me up, who begged me to fuck her harder, who was insatiable until I begged her to leave me alone?”
You’re laughing fully now underneath him, and he smiles. “I’m pretty sure that was you, not me.”
His grin is boyishly handsome with his mussed curls, the dimple in his cheek deep. “Oh yea. I think you’re right.”
“Also —,” you start again, shifting under him, looking down. “Did you just get yourself worked up talking about the way you fuck? I swear you’re getting hard again right now and —“
Your sentence ends with a renewed laugh when he clamps his hand over your mouth.
“Hush, girl,” he smiles.
You stay still for a moment, looking at each other. These were games you would play in the dead of night, knowing your time was limited — but to play them in the morning now is a different thing. A lighter thing. One that makes you float, instead of sink.
He traces the line of your eyebrow, trailing his knuckles over your cheekbone and his face is solemn for a moment while he does it, his eyes taking you in.
“I told you I have enough for the whole night, and the next day.” A small smile curls at the edge of his mouth. “I’m not leaving until I get my fill.”
He winks.
#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin/you#din djarin/reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian/you#the mandalorian/reader#pedro pascal
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I obviously don't want you to let any cats out of bags if you're planning this for the main fic, but "Please talk to me. I need to hear you." for Abby and Aegon post-Rook's Rest?
So good news: My ass doesn't have anything planned for the Dance quite yet, so we're going into the general canon for this. So Aegon and Abby were in KL, they were crowned, and things continued as they did in canon.
warning: violent pregnancy loss (off-screen), grief, mentions of past violence. ANGSTY
It had been three weeks.
Rain patters on the wall of windows facing the sea, the deep blue and green curtains pulled back to let in the watery light of the miserable day. The fire crackles in the great hearth and braziers are lit to keep any chill away from the king. There is still dust lingering along the corners she finds from where Aegon smashed his dead father’s Valyrian model, and how he’d screamed for it to be tossed in a trash heap, for every single shattered piece of it to be hauled away never to be seen again.
Abby thinks of how she decorated the room after their coronation. Once all of the old things - including the bed that the rot of the king had melted into - had been taken out. There were the erotic mosaics still etched in the walls that Aegon enjoyed, as well as a tapestry of her above the fireplace in their bed chamber, the one of Sunfyre above the hearth in the main room. Couches overflowing with soft pillows and blankets, her drawing supplies by the great doors to the balcony.
Often, the room was filled with flowers - wisteria and roses, her favorite.
Now it smells of burnt flesh, of medicinal poultices, of milk of the poppy, of her own tears. She sits in the great chair beside the bed, eyes red rimmed. Surely, she’s cried enough to turn the streets of King’s Landing into rivers. Her needle stabs into her fingers, drawing blood but little sound from her. Drops of it dot the white of the blanket she’s embroidering for the baby that will never come.
Not after that terrible night.
Her ribs still ache from the blows, the swelling along her face having gone down that she can at least see out of both her eyes again.
First it was Aegon, furious at what had been done to her, helpless to take away her pain, their pain. Now it is she who is angry and helpless, impotent at his bedside.
Thunder rumbles outside and she tosses her embroidery across the room, the anger in her a muted thing, difficult to feel in the most visceral ways. It hugs her insides, curling through her bones and wrapping around her limbs like mist. The only sound is her wet gasping, the crackle of the fire. Aegon’s own soft wheezing. The left side of his face is burned, the injury skating down the side of his body but thank the Seven, thank the Old Gods, thank them all, that his armor did not fuse into him to be cut away and cause him more pain.
“Come to the Sept,” Alicent had tried to console her. “Come and pray, it will ease you.”
“The only one I’ll ever pray to is my husband,” she had growled, pulling away from her cousin’s hold. “Leave me. Leave me with him. There is nothing left to comfort me while he is like this.”
“Please talk to me,” she whispers, barely audible to her own ears. “Please, I need to hear you.” Her voice cracks. “mo réalta geal, please.”
Please don’t leave me.
Abby stares down at him, her eyes tracking over the planes of his face, the feel of him one that she knows so intimately that she can feel the sensation of his skin against her fingertips - phantom and comforting. Her breath hitches and she bites down on her fist, eyes shutting tight as another wave of pain, of grief, of loss so acute in her empty belly, in her hollow ribs, threatening to drown her as she wept. “Aegon,” she sobs, her voice small, her plea lost in the hiccups as she bows over him, her tangled, limp hair absent of its luster.
She doesn’t know how long she weeps, but long enough that she falls asleep, her head resting on the bed beside where his hand rests, bandaged fingers little comfort but enough. Her face is a mottled mess, red and puffy, her lashes stuck together from her tears. Abby drifts into her dreams, snatches of memories. Of the maester confirming her pregnancy, of the way Aegon whooped and lifted her into his arms, and she thought they would never be happier.
But then the pair of them came, to rob them of their joy, to take her babe away, to take them both from Aegon had Ser Criston and Ser Arryk not gotten to them. But they had each other, and they would get through it, they would survive this horrible attack, they would defend their family and their home.
Until Aegon flew, crashing with Meleys above Rook’s Rest. The Red Queen plummeted to earth, but Sunfyre had survived. Aegon had survived. Somehow.
Fingers brush against her forehead and she whimpers, rubbing her face into the light blanket and her eyes cracked open.
Aegon’s fingers came into focus as they wriggled, and the rasping, hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry,” crackled in the air. She couldn’t breathe. Abby blinked, her hand trembling as she touched her fingers to his and slowly, as if she’d wake from a dream, she lifted her head to see Aegon’s own, heavy lidded and unfocused. “I left you for so long.”
“Aegon?” Was he real? Was this his voice?
His mouth twitches slightly as he tries to smile at her. “You are so beautiful.” Slurred and crackly, but Aegon all the same. Abby carefully lifts the bandaged hand in hers, kissing him softly as she moves further on the bed. His uninjured hand moves, heavy and slow from disuse, to cup her cheek with a clumsy movement that causes her to wince. “Sorry,” he whispered, fingers gentle. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere…” a sigh, his eyes fluttering. “Found you….. Mine now.”
“Yours,” she promised. “Yours.”
#hotd tag#my fics#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x oc#aegon ii targaryen x oc#aegon ii targaryen fic#oc: abrogail strong#aegon targaryen fic#SERIOUSLY THIS IS THE MOST ANGSTY THING IVE WRITTEN IN AGES#merc tag#you unlocked something in me
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𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞?
⸙͎۪۫ 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Park Junggun x F!Reader
⸙͎۪۫ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You were on. Running away from your father, your problems and a cartain someone who is hell bent on making you his masterpiece.
⸙͎۪۫ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : cursing, indication of reader having sex when she was a minor (don't do that guys), just a tiny itty bit of angst, slight smut, making out, kissing, grinding, cock-block,
⸙͎۪۫ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐮𝐬 : Hello people. If you like the one-shot then please leave a like. English is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Enjoy ♡
MAIN MASTERLIST || LOOKISM MASTERLIST
"Let's wait a little more then we will start streaming." You said looking in the came as you wait for more viewers.
Honey_07 : are you wearing blaze mascara?
You take a slurp of noodles before replying, "Yes, I'm wearing the blaze mascara. They sent me their new kit. I'll be dropping the review tomorrow on Newtube."
"Okay, so let's start streaming." You say as the viewers count reaches your average viewers, "Hey guys. This is your girl Bora. Today, just like now I'll be answering to whatever questions you guys ask. So if you want to know something just ask me."
Sumi_heart: How old are you?
"I'm eighteen, so I'm still high schooler." You take another slurp of ramen as you answer the question.
Hong_Hong: what school do you go to?
"Um, that's confidantinal. I can't tell you that." You laugh awkwardly at the camera.
Cgg_gran: I love you, Bora!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
"I love you guys too."
Everything was going well minus the creepy comments of them loveing you way too much. Your fans asking questions about your hobby, favourite brands of make up etc. Until one comment popped up on the screen.
Babygirl_of_Korea: Is this really what you want?
Colour faded away from your face as you took in the comment and the username. You knew that name so well because you are the who picked that username for him. Your comment section floded with worried viewers.
Soda_00: Are you okay Bora?
Nino_9: she looks sick!
Coco_baby: What happened suddenly?
"No-Nothing happened guys. I'm okay." You force yourself to smile, "Today's stream ends here guys. Bye bye." You wave at the camera and end the stream.
You leaned back on the chair with closed eyes as think. You thought he might have given up on you but no, he is still as stubborn as ever. You ran away from home home two years ego because you didn't like what you family was doing for money.
Your father, Charles Choi, who was the root of almost every illigal crime happens in Seoul and your twin sister, Crystal Choi, who also never hesitated to help him with his illigal business. And then there was that damn fucker Park Jonggun who will do littraly anything for money.
When you ran away you cut of ties with everyone. Suddenly lossing all the luxury was hard for you but you learnt with time. Now you do streaming which pays you more than enough. You knew that your father can find you easily but you doubt he would waste even a second for a useless daughter when his other daughter is business genius.
And that is exactly what happened. No one batted an eye when you ran away. Honestly you would have like the peace in you life but looks like Gun has other plans.
The next few days you felt paranoid. What if Gun knew where you live. The place you chose to live was a rundown part of Busan where neither government nor criminals are interested in. Surely Gun didn't knew right?
"That's it for today. Bye bye guys." You waved at the camera before shutting it off. Today the fifth and no comments from Gun. Maybe that comment was from a fan of yours and you read the username wrong.
You got from the chair and stretched your cramped limbs. You were streaming for last six hours. Maybe you should make ramen. As if your stomach agree with you it rumbled. Well that's my cue.
You walked in the small kitchen adjunct to the living room but the scene in front of you was not what you expected. Gun in your living room. His body dreaping over the small couch as he lazily skipped through channels on the TV.
He averted his eyes from the TV to you like he didn't just break into you house and is lying on your couch, watching your TV, "Done with your stream?"
You glare at him, "What are you doing here, Gun?"
"Is that the first thing you say to after not seeing me for years?" Gun dropped the TV remote on small coffee table and sat up on the couch.
"Stop fooling around. If you are here to 'take me back and make me your masterpiece' then that ain't happening." You air quoted, "I'm done with you and your boss"s bullshit."
Shaking your head in frustration you walk in the kitchen. Gun will eventually leave when you budge. If he is Gun Park then you are also [Y/N] Choi. You started rummaging through cabinets for ramen's packs. You didn't hear any sound from living room for some time. Did he left already? It was easier than you thought.
"You do realise that I won't have it any other way, right?"
You gasped when you felt his body pressed you and hands resting on the kitchen island on your both side, caging you. He brought his mouth to your ear and wishpered
"Don't you miss those days when you didn't had to worry about anything, When we use to spend everyday together, when I held in my arm every night." He asked—stated.
His last two sentences were true. You would be lying if you say didn't miss him. You missed him the most. More than crystal, your father or Goo.
You missed the way he held you in his strong arm and made you feel the most protected you ever will be. You missed the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as much as someone like him could, You missed how his warm lips made you forget every bad thing when they brushed on your cold skin. But that doesn't mean you will go back. No, you won't.
You turned to him and pushed his chest away from you, "Go away Gun. Your sweet talking won't work on me. I'm not going back there. I can't live another day of my life living with people who destroys hundreds of lifes everyday."
"Then come with me." He again inveded your personal space and pulled you in his chest by you waist.
You put your palms on his chest and tried to push him away but this time he didn't budge, "Don't act like living with is any better. You will literally do anything for money."
"You think you are in position to say that?" He squeezed your waist, "You will literally do anything those perverted people in you comment tell you to for money. You are wasting away your potential."
You scoffed in your mind. Obviously he is still thinking about it. He doesn't give two shits about. The only thing he cares about is his successor. His damn successor.
You did mixed martial arts since you were six. Then when Gun was introduced as Crystal's bodyguard. Gun trained you along side Crystal. While Crystal was a fast learner, you had something Gun wanted in his successor and since then he is after you trying to conceive you to become his successor.
"That is all you care about, right?" You glared at Gun, "Did you actually ever love me? Had I not been good with fighting, would you have even looked at me Gun?"
Your eyes filled with tears as you glared at the man standing in front of you but you didn't let any of them roll down. You won't show him any weakness. Gun stared down at you without showing any emotion. But his heart was in conflict. His silence ignited another flame of rage in your heart.
"See you can't even answer my question. If you want a successor go after crystal or Eli. Stop bothering, you damn fucker." You push him away with all your strength and stomped out of the kitchen.
But before you could even pass the living room Gun followed behind you. In a flash you were back in his arm and his lips on yours. Your back hit the wall. Gun brushed his tongue on you lips, asking for a entery. When you didn't, he bit your lower lip.
Your lips opened with a gasp and Gun took advantage and entered his tongue in your mouth. You hands clenched on his shoulders. His lips were and plump warm on yours. And unintentionally you gave in because he may not have loved you but you sure did.
While his tongue explored you mouth, his hands patted the back of your thigh. The sign was clear. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist while he grabbed the back of you thigh. Your one hand made its way to his black, silky hair and you began ran your hand through them. Gun almost purred like a kitten.
Out of breath he broke the kiss and started placing open mouth kisses down your throat. He said between every kiss, "Never. Ever. Doubt. My. Love. For. You."
All you could do was moan his name like a mantra, "G-Gun."
Your hips grinding down on the clear bulge in his pants. Your pussy rubbing on his clothed cock. His hips followed your rhythm. Gun bit down hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder till blood came out.
"A-ah Gun." You tugged his hair, he just grunted in response. At this point your pussy was dripping and leaking through your panty.
You could feel the familiar knot building up in you stomach, "God! Gun, I'm cu-cumming. I'm cumming."
With a loud moan you came undone. Your hand fisted his hair, legs clenching around his waist. You hugged him close to your body. Gun follow behind you, cumming in his pants. You remained in that position. Not sure what to do now.
Ring!
The sound phone ringing broke the silence in the room. You expected him to put you down but he kept holding you with one hand while the other one reached out to his phone.
"What is it?" Gun held the phone on his ear. You could hear muffled words from the other side but could not understand anything. After a few 'yeah's and 'okay's and a 'coming' Gun cut the call and pocketed the phone.
Then without any words he carried you to the bathroom like he new this place like the back of his hand and settled you on the countertop.
He looked you dead in the eye, "Tonight I'll come back. Don't even think about running away. I'll find you." He kissed your forehead, "Good bye, baby."
And then he was gone. Leaving you on your bathroom's counter top, flustered and confused.
#lookism#lookism gun#lookism gun x reader#Lookism gun x you#Lookism gun x y/n#lookism crystal#crystal#crystal choi#park gun#gun park#gun x reader#gun x you#gun x y/n#lookism fanfic#lookism imagines#gun fanfic#gun imagines#gun scenarios#daniel park#charles choi#goo kim#kim goo#park jonggun#gun#Lookism x reader#lookism x y/n#my work
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Fanfic idea for Generation Loss!
This takes place after episode three after an undisclosed amount of time. The setting is a stage that has two seats with a table in-between them. The table has a vase of red roses but their covered and dripping with slime, slime is also all around the stage and staining the chairs. A cup filled with slime is on the table and the other cup will always be empty other then a spider that has taken up residence in the cup. The background of the stage is a big window that only shows the slime dimension.
(Trigger warning for slight gore at the end!)
The host of the “after show” is Slime Demon Charlie and he interviews everyone about their time on the show, like an actual show host would. It’s kind of like how in Big Brother they show clips of stuff that happened and talk about it. It’s basically that.
He will never get up to shake their hand because he’ll get stuck to their hands and also he’s stuck to the chair.
Every single character gets their own time to talk to Demon Charlie, and I mean everyone (minus the SnowFall employees). The rats, Frank, Hetch, the Puzzler and even Charlie’s goons get their small moment to shine and be able to answer questions. I imagine that the rats and goons would share an interview as Valkyrie was the only person that actually spoke.
The interviews go well but the viewers never see the characters walk out to the stage and take a seat, in fact they move so little. Every time an interview ends it cuts to an obscure commercial for something that doesn’t exist or is just weird and useless. But other then that the interviews go seemingly well. The characters try not to be out off by Charlie’s slime and just smile and nod at his smile jokes to keep him happy. They talk about the show, things they did and life in general. Very casual for people who were just tortured, but there’s always something wrong with it.
Austin keeps insisting he has a wife and kids, Niki keeps insisting that she’s nice, Sneeg is kind of a dick and gets asked about the suspected relationship between him and Frank, Ethan talks about his fish a lot, The Puzzler talks about how disappointed he is that he couldn’t party with the four who dressed up, Vinny asks if Charlie has ever lost a sock that he may have, and Hetch talks about how he’s glad his acting was convincing enough to trick Ranboo into trusting him.
Frank’s interview is very quiet and Charlie seems to be hearing the best gossip from him. There’s even a moment where Charlie gets to interview his other personalities but it’s through an obviously pre-recorded screen as they keep talking over each other and sometimes the answers don’t match the questions.
The very last person that comes on the stage is (surprise!) Ranboo. Just like everyone else he is very relaxed and apathetic, just joking around and seemingly looking fondly back at the memories, making a comment that they wished they had dressed up a little more when they all had mistaken one of the puzzles as a dress up puzzle.
And then something glitches, the company’s filter gets lifted for a few seconds and it’s revealed that the entire time Charlie has just been a bloody rag, all the alike around the room is blood. The slime dimension window was actually a false window and behind it there was a lot of blood stains and bloodied tools.
The worst part of it all is that Ranboo is a corpse. It’s his corpse with the box still on his head and everything, covered in dried blood and it’s obvious that the body has been left to lay out for a few days.
It’s revealed the entire time, using the filter, everyone’s corpses have been limp on the couch during their ‘interviews’ being held up and positioned by metal rods stabbed through their limbs. Everything was fake. They’re being useful for the last time to squeeze a little more content out of them.
#generation loss#gen loss#genloss#ranboo#nihachu#generation loss sneeg#charlie slimecicle#generation loss charlie#all the other characters#it went from a Slimecicle fixation to still a Slimecicle fixation but throw GenLoss in there too#fanfic#yeah i have no idea how to tag stuff
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Close Call
Earth and Sky, angst, hurt/comfort and some ending fluff! 3723 words.
Might recognise some of the beginning from wip Wednesday! I finished it!
@idontknowreallywhy If this was a book it would absolutely be dedicated to you at this point. :)
Warnings because its better to be too thorough than not thorough enough? (feedback welcome, Id like to get better at these) -minor off screen character death, avalanche and mum fanon, injury to Scott, some medical stuff, needles, Bereznik allusions, ptsd, I think you'll need tissues.
But happy ending and hugs! Also crying and forehead touches.
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Virgil was waiting for him when Scott returned to Thunderbird Two.
He crunched his way through freezing snow, kicking drifts up with his boots, shivering in spite of his well insulated uniform. He had eyes only for his brother. Virgil, standing there with his broad shoulders hunched, arms hugged across his chest.
Scott broke into a jog.
He stumbled on the last step, usual surefootedness fled in his exhaustion. He would have fallen, slipping on icy metal, if Virgil hadn’t run down the ramp to reach him sooner. As it was, he crashed into Virgil hard.
Virgil wrapped Scott in a bear hug, tight enough to nearly knock the breath out of him. Caught him, held him. Scott clung on. He dug his fingers under the back of Virgil’s green baldric.
Their helmets met with a thunk. What would have been a press of foreheads was a collision hard enough to rattle his teeth. Scott was face to face with his brother. He had to face wide brown eyes, worried, centimetres away through visor glass.
“What did you think you were doing?” Virgil growled, “You idiot.”
“People needed rescuing. I did what I had to.” Scott couldn’t stop himself from going over after them.
Virgil shook him, roughly, gently, Scott didn't care. As long as Virgil didn't let him go.
He had to.
“Scott.”
“I had to.”
The way Virgil’s expression crumpled made him grimace, even as he took comfort in the way his brother was warm and solid, practically holding him up.
Scott turned his head away from Virgil as much as he could, staring down at the glaring white snow.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
He ignored his thumping heart and throbbing shoulder. He barely registered them, his breath coming in fast pants. Between mum’s death and dad’s disappearance, maybe he’d forgotten how to say anything else.
Virgil’s voice was far too gentle. “They were already gone. John scoured every inch of this mountain for life signs.”
Scott flinched, hard, then pressed his helmet against Virgil’s shoulder.
Green and blue filled his field of vision, anything better than white, white, white, red. Snow, delicate crystaline flakes, spattered with droplets of scarlet blood.
Just because he couldn't hide his trembling from Virgil, didn't mean he had to make a show of it. Scott was better than this. He had to be. Someone needed to be able to hold his family together, and the only person left to do it was him. He was the eldest, no one else was left.
He had to stay strong for his brothers. He couldn’t break.
He raised his head and stood up straight. He squared shoulders, even as a pained hiss escaped between his teeth.
He walked up Two’s ramp, all stubbornness and pride. All stupid desperation.
But Virgil still followed him.
Even as he stood in the middle of Two’s module, at a loss for what to do, he could feel Virgil’s presence, hovering.
Scott swayed, taking all of his willpower to remain upright. His left hand drifted to support his right arm without his imput into it, to take the weight off his abused shoulder,
At least Alpine Recovery had taken the body bags. So he didn’t have to see them again except in dreams.
Didn't have to see her, as a frozen image overlaid from years ago. Mum.
His brother’s voice, usual soft baritone overlaid with an edge, snapped him out of it.
“Scotty. Med bed. Now.”
Scott obeyed. His limbs just followed through Virgil’s command without any conscious thought.
He still ended up in his usual position of perched on the side of the bed, ready for flight at any moment. Ended up staring at Two’s metal flooring, had Virgil turned the heat up? Certainly felt like it, the excess snow he’d carried in on his uniform was melting into dark droplets on the metal.
But he was still shivering.
Virgil was already flashing the med scanner over him. Scott blinked at the sudden amber light. Virgil’s jaw was set, harsh lines furrowed between his brows.
“I have to take a look at your shoulder.”
“No.”
“Scott.”
“It’s fine,” he said firmly, in spite of through clattering teeth.
Virgil’s eyebrows descended like storm clouds. “Then let me see it to prove that.”
Scott wasn't sure why he was stopping Virgil. It wasn't that bad. He’d had worse than the spiking, flaring pain radiating from the joint.
“Fine.”
He began the process of taking off the top part of his suit. Frozen fingers fumbled at the zipper. He managed to get his good arm out, all the while glaring at Virgil.
As soon as he tried to take the other out, the pain flared. His vision whited out, worse than in a blizzard’s storm. He gasped, like a punch to the gut.
When the blurry floor of Two came back into focus, Scott made another move to try to get the suit off, before Virgil gripping his good wrist stopped him.
“I’ll get the scissors, that’ll be easier,” Virgil said in his quiet, firm medic’s tone.
“No, I can do this.” He couldn't fail at anything else.
Virgil’s breath hissed from his nose. “Either I help or you let me get the scissors.”
No. He could do this. But his brother’s warm fingers were better than having cold blades near where it hurt. Too many memories sparked that way.
Scott shifted his body the tiniest bit closer to Virgil. He could trust Virgil, he reminded himself.
By the time Scott’s upper body was free from the skin-tight blue material, he was soaked in sweat and panting heavily. Virgil had uttered a thousand apologies.
He didn't argue when Virgil cut away his undershirt. Virgil was so careful to gently pull the fabric away, the metal never touched him once.
Scott couldn't look at his shoulder now it was bare. Virgil’s fingers brushed it and he shuddered. Something there was… wrong.
“It’s definitely dislocated. You need painkillers before I can set this,” Virgil said.
It hurt, badly, but Scott hated the whole process, the fuzzyness that came with meds. How they forced his guard down.
“Just give me a couple of ibuprofen,” he countered.
Virgil’s voice rose in a crescendo, “You need more than bloody ibuprofen!”
Scott ducked his chin to his chest, wincing. He’d worried Virgil enough.
“Just anything I can swallow then.”
Virgil frowned.
“Please.”
Scott knew some of his fear showed through, no matter how he tried to stop it.
He couldn't handle a needle slipping into his skin and muscles and veins, right now. Or that cold feeling of something being injected. Not even the near painless autoinjectors they kept around, fitted with the tiniest pediatric needles. Not even in his brother’s gentle hands. Not with the track mark scars running up his arms from that place.
Virgil stepped over to the medication cabinet, jaw set and lips pressed together, but he didn't protest.
He handed Scott a cup with what he recognised as the strongest meds they had in tablet form. Scott swallowed them dry before Virgil had a chance to get him water.
“I need a couple of x-rays while those kick in. Okay?”
Scott nodded. The exhaustion was fast pulling him down.
Virgil positioned the portable x-ray machine over him, and took them. Scott let his eyes slide half shut, just watching through the slits when he couldn't bring himself let the dark engulf him completely.
As Virgil read through the results projection, he mumbled, “You’re lucky nothing’s broken,” to himself.
Him, lucky? Scott’s luck extended only to not ending up in a body bag every time he should have. Every time everyone else did.
“What happened there?” Virgil said louder and more definitively.
Scott flinched before his brain caught up, that Virgil was asking about his shoulder, not there.
“Grapple cable as I went off the cliff,” he admitted. He didn't have the energy to lie. “Further than I thought. I— I didn't look. Just had to get down there.”
“Again?!” Virgil exclaimed, “That thing is meant to be clipped to your harness not held in your fucking hand!”
“I know. But I saw someone. And they were moving.”
“But they weren’t still, by the time you got there? No matter how fast you went.” A flat statement, not a guess.
Scott bit his lip, hard and nodded. Virgil got it. He’d been on rescues like this too. When all the pain was for nothing.
The silence stretched out between them. Scott could only hear his and Virgil’s breathing against the hum of Two’s heaters. Outside, the snow muffled everything.
Virgil cracked it gently. “The meds will have had enough time by now and the scans look okay.”
Scott knew what he was asking. It would hurt still. “Just do it.”
Virgil set his shoulder as Scott stared straight ahead. He didn't make a sound. Couldn't close his eyes. Just tried to breathe through it as best he could, even as each was fast and shallow.
When Virgil pulled away to reach for the supplies to strap his arm up, Scott curled into a ball, arm tucked against his chest. The pain tore at him through the muffled curtain of the medication, like a landscape through a sheet of snow fall, half visible, half not.
It took all the strength he had to let go for long enough for Virgil to check his shoulder over and immoblilise it with a sling. He still held the other over it protectively, even as his left was strapped against his chest and he couldn't move it.
His shoulder hurt less, but he was still shivering.
He refused the icepack Virgil tentatively offered him, but took the anti-inflammatory meds.
“The soft tissue damage is going to keep you out for weeks,” Virgil stated, softly as he could but it still hit Scott like a blow.
More work for his siblings. And they were already snowed under. It was his fault.
“You can’t keep going like this,” Virgil pleaded.
“I have to.”
“I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. Breaking yourself down against unyielding cliffs, over and over.” Virgil’s voice broke.
“I have to.” He had everything to live up to, with all he failed.
Virgil turned away, dashing his hands across his eyes. Scott’s heart clenched.
“I do it because I can’t not.” He had to make Virgil understand this part, somehow. “Everyone needs me. They needed me down there. Dad needed me. Mum did too.”
Virgil spun back to him, tears streaming openly down his face.
“Those aren't your fault! They never were. You’re doing your best but that was outside of your control.”
Scott swallowed hard.
Virgil kept going, “It still matters you tried, it always does. But you can’t tear yourself apart in the process.”
Scott clenched his jaw against every bitter word he could say against that. He tried, but it all still ended this way.
Virgil’s voice was rough with sobs. “We need you because you’re Scott, not because you’re a hero.”
Scott threw himself at Virgil.
Virgil caught him, like he always did, like he had for both their entire lives.
Reflex tears welled up in the corners of Scott’s eyes.
From the pain of jarring his shoulder in the collision.
Because he was all exhaustion and hurt.
All his stubborn desperation was worn threadbare, too thin to keep out the cold.
He was shivering. But Virgil was warm.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
Virgil’s voice rumbled through his body, drowning out the rest.
“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”
Scott leant into him. But he still mumbled into Virgil’s uniform, “I can’t just give up.”
Gently, ever so gently, Virgil’s arms tightened around him, holding him closer.
“Needing to rest isn't giving up. Being human isn’t giving up.”
Scott shook his head. “I can’t. I have to—”
Virgil took Scott’s head in his hands, tilting it up to look at him. Scott sucked in a shaky breath.
“You don't. I’m here for you. We all are.”
Brown eyes caught his. Brown eyes filled with tears, utterly unmovable in their conviction.
“You’re not alone in this,” Virgil said, “Never will be. You don’t have to tackle the world on your own anymore. Lean on us, we can take the weight.”
“I don't think I remember how to do that,” Scott whispered.
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Virgil swiped his thumbs across Scott’s cheeks. Scott hadn’t even noticed the moisture that had gathered here.
He’d been too exhausted to cry before. As if the cold numbness from the snow had gotten into his bones and frozen there. All the pain in his past had only taught him to hide it, to never give in and let them know they’d won. Too many lessons learnt there.
And fear, fear was something his brothers were never allowed to see. He had to be strong for them, had to be brave. Because no one else was going to stand between his little brothers to protect them from the world.
But no one was there to protect him.
But Virgil was here now.
Of course it was Virgil showing him another way.
Scott could lean on him before he broke. Somehow he’d forgotten a fundamental core of how the world worked.
Virgil had his back.
All his brothers had his back.
He just had to let them in.
Scott leant forward and pressed his forehead against Virgil’s, pouring all the love and fear he had into the simple gesture.
Virgil’s hand found the nape of his neck easily, pulling him closer.
Scott had to shut his eyes against the tears. More tears.
From all the grief finally catching up to him. From the pain. From the terror that had frozen him before the mission, before he leapt from One, before he leapt from the cliff, falling gracelessly until the wrench of his shoulder when the grapple caught him.
Because he didn't have to do this alone anymore.
Maybe the running in the dark, running, running, pushing himself desperately further when he thought he couldn’t go on, maybe that didn’t have to be his every day. His whole life.
Hope was crushing. But Virgil wiped the tears as they ran down his face, with calloused fingers slightly rough and completely gentle. Even when all Scott was was the jagged scars he’d had for years now. It was his brothers who taught him he was more than that.
Virgil had always been Scott’s rock, the wall for him to break against, to catch him when he falls, the strength and sense when he fails. He trusted Virgil’s judgement more than his own sometimes.
He trusted him now.
Virgil was warm and solid, forehead still pressed against Scott’s. Their tears mixed and fell away. They cried together; Scott could feel Virgil shaking. He was shaking too, but neither of them had to hide it.
They’d weather out the storm, survive the blizzard because they’d make it through this together.
The edge of Virgil’s sash dug into Scott’s chest, but nothing could force him to let go. Not when Virgil was clinging to him too, the hand wiping the tears away moving to an arm wrapped around him when the tears flowed too thick and fast. Not when he could hear the way Virgil’s breaths caught with every sob, raw and torn.
Scott found Virgil’s side with his still working arm even with his eyes shut, then tucked it around Virgil, rubbing at his brother’s broad back soothingly.
He’d scared Virgil. Badly. Virgil had been angry too, emotions warring in low piercing words, a clenched jaw and soft brown eyes made sharp beneath thunderous dark brows. What it took to push past the terror. Virgil was the most even tempered of them all. Scott knew for sure he’d gone off the edge, figuratively and literally this time. It hadn’t been fine. He hadn’t been fine.
But Virgil caught him in the after. Scott clawed his way back to him for Virgil to pick up the pieces, the dance a familiar routine by now. After everything.
This was what Scott needed. Not more mountains to climb, or the frigid air flowing past him, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he jumped. But his brother, holding him close. To be able to hold onto him too. No more running for what was sliding from his grip. Virgil was here, right now. Scott didn’t have to anymore.
They could work the rest out later. Minutes passed by, as their hearts beat more steadily, the air growing warmer from Two’s heaters, the Thunderbird sheltering them from the outside.
She wasn't Scott’s own, but Virgil big green ‘bird held some of the same reassurance in her cahelium frame. The Thunderbirds were as different as their two pilots but, like them, were made of the same stuff.
Scott opened his eyes when both of their breathing was deep and even, while they leaned heavily on each other.
No longer so lost blue eyes found vulnerable brown eyes. Scott was close enough to see how tears clung to Virgil’s lashes. His face was red and puffy, and Scott knew his own couldn't be any better.
“Virge.”
“Scotty,” Virgil rasped out.
“We’ll be okay, right?” Scott had to ask, because of the ever present threat of icy fear trying to drag him back.
“Yeah. Always.”
Scott swallowed and gently knocked his head against Virgil’s in place of finding the words.
“Love you.” There were words after all, easy ones, frequently said.
“Love you too,” Virgil replied, lips tilting up at the edges.
Warmth filled up the places the cold had been. Scott realised his shivering had stopped a while ago.
When Virgil pulled away, he didn’t go far. Just an arms length reach, to get Scott in view to check him over. Still the medic, and who was the smotherhen in the family, really? Right now, Scott didn't even mind the fussing.
It meant Virgil stayed close.
And letting Virgil help seemed to calm him too. The need to look out for each other was a family trait, and letting them in was something Scott could do that would help, he realised.
Virgil momentarily turned his back to rummage through the storage lockers.
Scott watched him across the module room, so he saw how Virgil’s fingers tightened in the red flannel of the shirt he held.
“You’ve been pushing for months, Scott,” Virgil blurted out, “Late nights, early mornings, longer and longer rescues.”
“I didn't think you noticed,” Scott admitted.
Virgil sucked in a pained breath, “I didn't think you’d let me in. And I was helpless to stop you.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. But at least now we can fix it. Together.”
“Together.”
Scott took the shirt from Virgil, briefly gripping his hand. He let Virgil help him settle it around his shoulders and negotiate the sling.
The flannel was soft and comfortably too large. Very plaid and very Virgil. There were clothes of his own stored away in Two’s lockers, Scott knew, but Virgil had chosen to give him something of his own. He buried his nose in the collar. It even smelt like his brother, of paint, engine oil, coffee and Virgil.
Their well worn silence was comfortable too, as Virgil also changed out of his uniform. It settled around them and filled Two up, letting Scott’s aching body sink into the med bed’s pillows.
Fastidious Virgil dropped his sash and harness in a pile on the floor, on top of his fallen over boots. So he could get back to Scott sooner. The near unthinking gesture struck Scott deep.
“We’d better call John,” Virgil eventually said, standing close again, wearing his own flannel, “Let him know how we’re going before he worries himself sick and works out how to get here himself.”
Scott wouldn't put it past John. He’d cross the earth for his siblings; John would cross the skies from the stars.
He nodded. “I want to go home,” he said softly
“Let’s go home.” Virgil’s words overlapped his.
Home. To the island, to their family.
Virgil glanced toward the cockpit, but instead tapped on his communicator.
John responded immediately to Virgil’s hail, voice drawn out thin. “Thunderbird Two.”
“John, I need you to remote pilot Two out of here.”
John’s hologram looked around, catching on Scott on the med bed.
“He’s okay. We’ll be okay,” Virgil reassured.
John acknowledged everything with a quiet, relieved, “FAB.”
By the time Virgil grabbed a pile of blankets and made it back to the med bed with Scott, Thunderbird Two’s VTOL engines had begun their warm up rumble.
Scott knew Virgil hated allowing anyone else pilot his ‘bird, especially remotely, as much as he did. But he was letting it happen, for Scott. To be with Scott.
They were going home. As far away from falling snow as they could get.
Exhaustion and warmth were making his head fuzzy.
Scott moved with Virgil as he wrapped blankets around him. He ended up covered in one in his favourite shade of sky blue.
Blinking tiredly, slowly, Scott twisted around to see as Virgil settled himself behind him.
Virgil smiled fondly at him and patted his chest, “Lean on me.”
So Scott did. He let himself lean on Virgil, let Virgil take his weight.
Virgil tucked his arms around him securely, careful of his shoulder, as Two shifted into flight. Scott snuggled closer, lulled by the rise and fall of Virgil’s breaths. By the hand finding its way into his hair.
Stroking his hair when he was sick or hurt had been Mum’s thing, until it became his brothers’ thing. Virgil’s gentle fingers were as familiar as hers. Sleep crept in, as quiet as footsteps and a door opening just to check in on him.
Scott curled up against his brother, eyes gently closing, surrounded by warmth and love.
John watched over his two closest brothers from the comms as he and EOS remote piloted One and Two. Both were asleep now.
He’d make sure they got home safe.
In the mean time, he’d let them rest. He kept a screen open, just to see they were okay, until Scott and Virgil were back on Tracy Island and he could take the elevator down to be with them himself.
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Febuwhump Alt Prompt 3: Found Footage (AKA Day 27)
Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood and injury (described in passing), loss of limb (described in passing, doesn’t actually happen on-screen)*
Twilight has been missing for three days, as a result, Time and Wild are out of commission. Everything falls to the remaining six, who find what might be their best bet at finding the hero.
I like to think the Sheikah Slate/Purah Pad can record and store videos. The answer to it all is magic. (No idea if this 100% counts as found footage).
* If I need to add any other warnings to this, let me know!
Read it on AO3!
Missing Link
Warriors dragged a weary hand through his messy hair. The sleepless nights were catching up to him, and caffeine could only do so much for him now. He was dead set on finding Twilight, and at the very least finding clues to his whereabouts. “You look like shit.” Legend came up next to him, a teasing lilt to his voice to try and keep up a sense of normality. A quiet huff of laughter came from the captain; thank you to the veteran for stating the obvious, even when he didn’t look any better.
They were being driven into the ground. The stress and worry of Twilight’s well-being, coupled with the poor states of Time and Wild; when they had found the blood-smeared clearing with all of the rancher’s weapons and items, the two had shut down. Reasonably so. The others weren’t fairing that well either, Wind had lost his chipperness, Hyrule and Sky had become eerily quiet, Four and Legend became easily agitated. And Warriors? Steadily reaching the end of his rope.
Luck seemed to be on their side in such a situation, as they were essentially sitting ducks, unable to move Time or Wild, no monsters had attacked them for the entire three days. A pinch brought him back to reality, blinking slowly at Legend, who stood in front of him with his form of a concerned expression. “Four finished cooking, and you look like you need to sit down,” Warriors opened his mouth to refuse, “Ah, don’t. That wasn’t a suggestion, Wars.” He sighed, accepting defeat, letting Legend drag him over to the fire, forcing him to sit down.
Wind settled next to him quietly, fingers wrapped tightly around the slate. The lack of bubbliness from the young sailor was off-putting. Warriors wrapped a gentle around him, pulling him to be squished into his side. If he could’ve, he would’ve comforted the younger hero more, but all of his cognitive functions were going towards keeping everyone afloat. A throat being cleared made him jerk his head up, finding Legend standing in front of him with a bowl. With a small smile in thanks, he reached for the bowl, only to flinch back when the slate suddenly whirled to life. The others around the fire jumped at the noise, swiveling their heads to stare at Wind, who slowly peeled himself from Warriors, staring incredulously at the slate. The noise, unfortunately, hadn’t garnered reactions from Wild and Time.
“What’s wrong with it?” Four had crept up to sit on Wind’s other side, eyes shining with violet. The sailor shrugged, and held it out to offer it to the smith, who carefully took it from Wind’s care. The other three stood in front of the sitting heroes, various degrees of curiosity painting their faces as they watched Four navigate the device. With a triumphant noise, he successfully completed his navigation, opening the album. The champion had a lot of images and videos in there. One in particular had a red exclamation mark. “Open it.” Sky’s voice was raspy from lack of use, and a surprise- a welcomed one at that. Four nodded and tapped on the video, angling the slate for everyone to see.
A collective gasp ripped across the group; the subject of the video was Twilight. The rancher looked seriously banged up, bruises of various colors and dried blood. That wasn’t the worst part, no, the worst part was definitely the fact that Twilight was missing his sword arm, chopped off at mid-bicep; his sleeve was torn and bloody, red-stained bandages covered the stump. The speakers crackled to life.
“These three days dragged on like walking through sand, huh? I’m sorry for any pain my disappearance caused, you all must be as confused as when you first came across a dungeon puzzle.” A laugh. “Everything is fine, even though my appearance doesn’t quite mirror it.” Another laugh, although it sounded strained, getting cut-off as the video ended.
Warriors jumped up and raced over to his bag, grabbing the leatherbound journal that was set next to it, nearly tripping over himself as he made his way back to the others. His mind was racing- he had done something similar to what Twilight had, and luckily for the hero, Warriors also had experience in decoding these types of messages. He could feel curious gazes boring into him as he flipped to a blank page, sliding the charcoal out of its holder, and wrote down the three words Twilight had emphasized. “Sand, dungeon, mirror…?” The only issue? He had no idea what these words were referencing.
A mumble from the bed rolls made the six heroes all look over that way, eyes wide as they saw Time get up, taking shaky steps towards them as he got used to standing, legs likely numb from sitting for so long. The eldest hero placed his hands on Warriors and Wind’s shoulders for stability, “He’s at Arbiter’s Grounds.” The old man’s voice cracked from lack of use. Legend raised a skeptical brow. “No offense, but how exactly do you know this?” Why did this place sound familiar to Warriors? Time chuckled, albeit a little humorless.
“It’s a temple in the desert, which is made of sand, and houses a giant mirror, or at least it did.” He said matter-of-factly. Warriors couldn’t pinpoint the familiarity, but that was for another time. They knew Twilight’s location now. “How do we get there?”
#linked universe#lu#linked universe twilight#lu twilight#linked universe warriors#lu warriors#linked universe wind#lu wind#linked universe four#lu four#linked universe sky#lu sky#linked universe time#lu time#linked universe hyrule#lu hyrule#linked universe wild#lu wild#this one had a mind of its own#i love found footage things and i did NOT do it justice#mars writes#febuwhump
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