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hana-no-seiiki · 7 months

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WHAT’S UP DANGER?

— [ CH 01 ] WITH GREAT ABILITY COMES GREAT ACCOUNTABILITY

pairings: yandere! various (batfam, spiderverse) x miles morales! reader

tw/cw: no yandere themes for this chapter, characters get aged up later on but are teens to young adults now, reader is gender neutral but characters refer to them with masculine terms (hijo, man, dude), spoilers for spiderverse movies. but ofc since this is a crossover it won’t be completely the same.

status: unedited

[masterlist] [next]

REPLY TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

“Mama, stop you’re covering me with your saliva—!” You groaned as you made a half-assed attempt at pushing your mother away.

It was the first day of your attendance at Gotham Visions and you weren’t the least bit nervous. Not at all. Totally. It wasn’t as if you were just thrusted into this situation with no choice whatsoever in addition to the pressure of your family’s wholeass livelihood on your shoulder. No. You were completely cool with this situation. In fact, you were so cool that you’re almost late to your first day of classes.

“But you look so adorable, mi hijo!” Your mother rubbed her face all over yours, messing up whatever you decided to put on.

“Papa what are you doing? Arrest this woman at once, for gross misconduct or whatever—“

“You do look adorable, and if I do I’d have to be fair and arrest you for vandalism.”

You freeze at your father’s not so subtle call out, before swiftly slithering away from your mother’s bear-like grip.

“Augh! I’m going to be late! Hasta luego!”

It was August. The start of a new school year for you. A new life away from your family and friends.

Gotham Visions University. A campus filled with elitists; fancy rich people. The cream of the crop. Your future school. Being a scholar there would have been fine, amazing even! If it wasn’t something you won through a lottery. You felt like a thief, an imposter. Going to a school for prodigies and rich kids as an average old joe is one thing, going to a school for prodigies and rich kid as a poor lottery student is another.

“[Y/N]! How you doing man? Lookin fancy. The uniform so fits ya.” A kid hangs his arm around you. If you were being completely honest you weren’t sure about his name, but you hung out often for basketball and other activities around the neighborhood. With the amount of people that knew you around the community, it was difficult keeping all those faces in your head so you often covered it up with nicknames.

“Psh. See ya next friday for shawarma?” You winked, cringing a little inside for your actions.

But to your utter surprise, the kid in turn blushes before giving you a massive grin. “You bet. My treat!”

And just a few seconds afterwards, he hits you at the back of the head before leaving, “Hey! Ow.”

“[Y/N]! Good luck on school dude! We’ll miss ya! Don’t be a stranger okay? We’re still friends even if he isn’t here.” He waves you goodbye before returning to your mutual posse of friends.

You wave back at them, your expression slowly turning into a solemn one. “I’ll miss ya guys too.”

Grabbing your trusty wireless headphones, you make your way down the block. Sticking random name-tags you drew this morning to distract yourself from the overflowing anxiety in your system.

Unfortunately, it never is a good idea to be so distracted when walking by yourself.

“Contra!” You hissed as your body hit the pavement. No doubt ruining your uniform that your mother painstakingly agonized over getting perfect and neat for your first day.

Then, the sound of a police siren entered your ears.

Can your day get any worse?

“What did I tell you about not looking both sides twice before crossing the streets?”

Your father’s sermon began.

This . . . was going to be a long ride.

“That I shouldn’t do it.” You replied, completely uninterested in the conversation and looking out from the window.

“You’re lucky it was me y’know! What if some deranged man decided to run you over?”

Your faced smooshed on your hand as your elbow rested on the window sill. “I’d send my cop of a father after them then.”

“Don’t act cute with me [Y/N].”

“But it works oh, so, well.”

Your father sighed, “It does.”

“But with great ability comes great accountability!

“Yeah yeah, that isn’t how the saying goes! . . . It was my bad it won’t happen ag…” Right as you were about to tune out of the interaction with your father once more you notice a bunch of people looking towards your direction.

People you knew.

And now they were taking pictures.

“Wow, aren’t you the popular kid?”

“Mier — Can’t you run the red light or shout at them or something? My poor privacy is being invaded!” You desperately tried to hide yourself with your hands but to no avail. The sounds of clicking only grow louder, and your father’s pace on the car slower.

“Yeah yeah~ not this cop.”

“Papa!”

Suddenly, the attention is ripped off of you as a loud crashing noise resounds from above. “Woah.”

Your dad flicked his tongue in annoyance as he checked the damages. “Those vigilantes! Red Hood is one thing, but that Spider-man partner of his. I swear. He just swings by without a care in the world. I just got this repaired last week!”

“I think he saved you from having to get yourself fixed as well. You know, in a hospital. The place with all the bills that just tears holes into your wallet.” You checked the situation outside, confirming the lack of interest in your situation as people crowded spider-man’s fight. “And myself from a mob too. That man’s a whole multitasker and a half.”

“If you ever get a sibling, remind me not to teach them cheek.”

“That if depends on you, yknow.” You gave your dad the smuggest grin you can muster.

Hey, if he’s going to make you face hell for the next few years you might as well give him a portion of it while you had the time.

The car halts, signaling your arrival at the aforementioned hell. “Study well. Our future depends on you, [Y/N]. Love ya.”

“I know.” You groaned, struggling a little to pull your baggage outside of the vehicle and leaving as soon as you got it secured within your grasp.

You are only able to take a few steps when your dad interrupts with the police car’s loudspeaker.

“Where’s my ‘I love you too, papa’ huh?”

“Papa! Seriously?” You screeched, unimaginably embarrassed beyond belief.

“I love you.”

“Right in front of my future peers?”

“I loovveee youuu.”

“On the first day of class?!”

“Mwah mwah—“

“I LOVE YOU TOO!” You relented. Making a sharp turn from facing the originator of your future bully’s material, towards the entrance of Gotham Visions.

Once you get in you make an attempt to greet the people there, but is cut off by their mocking voices referring and imitating the situation earlier.

The embarrassment fills you up once more and you fail to notice your path intersecting with another.

Directly bumping into people seriously knocks the wind out of a dude. That’s probably why those people in those ‘mangas’ he always made you read fell in love at first sight. They were just so light-headed that they couldn’t think clearly.

“P-pretty girl—“

“It’s nice to meet you too.” said pretty girl as she steadied your form. Noticeably less affected by the impact “You’re quite the looker yourself.”

“Ack, sorry! I just get nervous around- yeah.”

She giggled. Oh lord, even her laugh was pretty. “Lovely papa you got there.”

“Augh, you don’t have to remind me.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly regaining your balance.

The bell rings. The real hell has officially begun.

Once pretty girl made sure you were alright, she began running off.

Wow, even the way she ran was pretty.

“W-w-wait, what’s your name?”

“Gwen!”

You sighed as left you behind in the crowd of students.

This wasn’t so bad, you thought. You made one acquaintance at the very least. Maybe your new life at this school would be better.

Your new life at Gotham Visions was, in fact, not getting better.

You were fumbling through the motions like a newborn thrown to the wolves. If you hadn’t built a relatively tight knit friendship with Gwen you were sure you would have ran away by now.

Everyone always ignored you when you greeted them. Your dormmate didn’t even see you as someone worthy to interact with and would often stay awake at ungodly hours doing whatever the hell he was doing on his laptop while you suffered from his ‘background music.’ Your parents only ever talked to you about academics when it was the last thing you wanted on your mind at weekends. You were always, always late to class.

You were practically falling apart at the seams.

You just . . . wanted everything to end. But you couldn’t bring yourself to defy your parents and so you brought it up to your studies. Purposely failing exams so you’d be kicked out soon enough.

“A zero. How terrible. A few more of those and you’ll have to kick me out huh?” You looked at your Physics teacher with a loosely smug look on your face. You hated Physics, the sciences and mathematics the most out of all subjects. Everything second you spent learning about it could have been spent drawing or doing something you actually adored.

You shrugged, “Maybe I’m just not right for this school.”

“If a person wearing a blindfold picked the answers on a multiple choice exam at random do you know what score they would get?”

“. . . Around 25%?”

“That’s right!” She flicked her pen towards you face before pressing the butt end of it to your paper.

“The only way they would get all the answers wrong . . . “ She then twirls around, marking your grade from 0 to 100 by placing the respective numbers to each side. “Is to know which answers are right.

“You’re trying to quit, and I’m not going to let you.” The smug look only your face slowly dissipates and transfers to her own visage. “Now I know you’ll probably try to worm yourself out of this which is why I’m calling in back-up.”

“Wayne.” The woman moved her gaze to your classmate. A strained smile on her lips as she stared him down.

You didn’t know the billionaire’s son that well, or any of your peers but Gwen for that matter. Just that he was as stuck up as his gelled up hair. Always sneering at you whenever you had to sit beside him with those uncannily pretty green eyes of his. You thought that it may have been your smell or something. Maybe he could tell how poor you are in comparison by your scent. But judging by the fact that he was just as much of a loner as you were if not more, you’re beginning to think otherwise.

“I’m assigning you two an essay, not on physics but on yourselves. What kind of person you want to be. I know you two are quite different in terms of personality and backgrounds, but I have a feeling it’ll all work out.” She walked behind the two of you, roughly placing her hands on both of your shoulders before squeezing you closer together. “And no, Damian. I’ll know if you decide to finish it all yourself. Don’t test me.”

“You two are dismissed!”

Damian takes one look at you and you can tell he’s listed a thousand things he disliked about you already. He re-secured his backpack prior to giving you one, heftily stern warning. “Listen, we’re going to meet at my house this weekend. 6pm. Don’t be late.”

“Sure! Where’s your . . .” and before you could even complete your question, he was gone. Just like that. “. . .house. . .”

You grabbed your own belongings with a moan; betting that the trust fund kid’s own probably costed a hundred if not a thousand more times than yours.

You swiftly go to your room. Mind completely empty and disassociated before an idea crosses your head.

You dial in the numbers on your phone before you could even think properly.

“Hey, Unc. Mind if I come over?”

No matter where you went. The route to your Uncle Aaron’s house was always in the back of your head. He was your true home. The only man who understood you — who made the effort to understand you.

You spot him on his couch, looking as cool and swag as ever with his legs spread a little bit apart. He laughed as you smooshed your face to his window before opening it and letting you tumble into his abode.

You lazily dropped the bag you brought filled with spray paint.

He patted your head and massaged your scalp, the stress you felt already noticed and acknowledged. “Sup little dude. You lookin’ down. Is this about . . .”

“What? No. I’ve already moved on—“You shook your head. In all honesty, the only good part about Gotham Visions was that it kept you distracted from grief. But before you could continue you spot a familiar image settled in a frame. Emotions started crashing down upon you like a tidal wave. “You . . . kept the picture.”

Aaron rubbed his thumb across your cheek as your eyes began watering, “You know I can bring you over to visit him. It’s pretty close by y’know.”

“I- I think I’m good. I came here to just chill out, y’know?”

“Let’s go, I know a spot we can let some of that pent up art juice out.”

A smile. A real one. Not one you forced on yourself whenever you met with your classmates, Gwen or your parents started to make a reprise on your face. You almost don’t remember the last time you did it because of your emotions and not due of the façade of being okay.

“See ya.”

You take one last look at the photo before rushing out with your uncle.

“Mig.”

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kiragghar · 1 month

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My Baby Don't Cry

Pairing: -

Kir's notes: he's my adopted son the moment I saw his backstory :( pls take away all his pain, double it and give it to his parents :(

Tags: spoilers from chapter 260, Kaiser's backstory, 12 y.o Kaiser, mentioned child abu$3, fostering, the reader is gender neutral, the author is bad at comforting

word count: 1507

It was a bit late and you were walking home to your apartment, until you saw a figure in a hoodie curling up like a ball in an alleyway with a football in his arms. You approached the little kid, thinking that he was lost.

"Hi there little guy, why are you out here?" You squat down and ask the kid. He looked at you, his right eye bruised and his face a bit dirty. "A-are you okay?" You asked. He looked away for a while, hesitation in his eyes then shook his head.

~•~•~

Kaiser looked away from the stranger, if he says yes they'll probably leave him or take him back to that nightmare of a house. So he shook his head without making eye contact. "Oh, do you want me to take you home to your p-" Kaiser cut that question off with a hard shake of his head. "How about my place? Well, until you're a bit better," they ask, his heart was moved, and they asked him in a soft tone, the tone that he never heard, no one had treated him like that before. He nods, he wants to go far from that house. And this person seems nice, purely having good intentions.

~•~•~

"Okay then, let's go" You stood up and reached your hand down to him, hoping that he trusted you, aside from all the answers you got from him. He grabbed your hand and stood up himself.

You both walked along the now-closed shops, you let loose of your grip a bit thinking he would too, but instead, he gripped your hand a bit tighter. "So, what's your name?" you asked, trying to start a conversation. "Michael… Kaiser" he answered with a tired voice. "Michael Kaiser... That's a pretty name," you said. "Thank you..." He replied. It ended there, your walk was awkwardly silent until you arrived at your apartment.

~•~•~

The second they turned on the light switch, Kaiser felt weird. He never saw a house this bright and homey. Their apartment is filled with generally cute things, shelves with organized books sitting there, and a balcony with plants.

“You sit there okay, I'll get something for you to eat,” they say, pointing to the sofa and then disappearing into the kitchen. He sat on the sofa, ball in hand, and looked around, it's his first time sitting on a sofa, and it was comfy. He laid his back on the sofa, he felt more comfortable, the feeling he never got in ‘that’ house. The coffee table in front of him is neat with a succulent in the middle. A marveled at the foreign surroundings for a few minutes until they called him into the kitchen.

~•~•~

“Wash your hands first okay,” you ordered him. He nodded and walked to the next where you're standing. You turn the tap on and he reaches to the flowing water. When he finishes you turn off the tap (ofc) and dry his hands with a tea towel. “Wait,” you said to him as you dampened one corner of the tea towel. When you reached his face, he flinched back. “I won't hurt you, promise,” you assure him. With that, he permitted you to wipe the dirt off his face clean. When you're done cleaning his face you ask him to sit down at the dining table.

~•~•~

Kaiser sat down, grabbed a spoonful of food, and put it in his mouth. It's warm… And tasty… another weird feeling. He chewed and savored the food. This will probably be his first and last night here before going back to that miserable house.

They sat across him, eyes focusing on him. “I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself… I'm (y/n),” they introduce themselves. “Oh… N-nice to meet you…” he replies. They hummed in acknowledgment.

~•~•~

After he finished his meal you guided him to your bedroom. “You'll be sleeping here tonight, I'll be on the sofa if you need me,” you informed him, he looked at you and nodded unsurely. He walked to your bed and sat on the side of the bed for a bit. Then he lay down on your bed. “Good night Michael, sweet dreams,” you said as you slightly closed the door, leaving it ajar. You walk to the couch and lie on it. Your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and closed, finally asleep.

A few hours later you woke up to hear sniffling sounds from your bedroom. You walk and open your door slowly to see Michael lying facing away from the door. You slowly approach your bed and turn on the lamp on the bedside table. “Michael, are you okay?” you asked, you're worried something is wrong with him. He only shook his head in response, still facing away from you. “Do you want to tell me ab-” he shook his head. “Alright, I'll be here if you need me okay,” you inform him, he nods in response. After that, you walked to your desk and stayed there, finishing paperwork due in a few days. While you're finishing it, you think of something, he looks familiar, but you can't recall.

“(Y-y/n),” you heard a soft voice calling you. “Hm? What is it, Michael?” you asked. “You'll put me in the police station… right?” He asked, worried. What kind of question is that? You've heard about lost children being turned in to the police station when they're lost. But you don't think that's his case. “Do you want to?” You asked. He shook his head, hard. “I… I don't want to go back there…” he says, voice breaking, on the verge of crying. “Michael…” you said as you sat beside him and hugged him, comforting him. “I… I don't want to go back… My father, he… he hates me…” he uttered, and you feel his tears soaking into your shirt. “A-and he… he likes to… beat me up…” he continued. You're shocked when he said that. His father is insane, no guy would beat a child this bad. “There there… You're safe now, no one will beat you up here,” you assure him hoping that you don't hurt him. He only nods, you can understand how hard it is to talk while crying. “How about you stay with me here for a while,” you said. “Y-yeah,” he replied in agreement.

~•~•~

Bonus: in the end, Kaiser's father goes in jail for child abu$e, reader adopts Kaiser, they grow a parent-child bond, reader supports Kaiser knowing little about soccer and lives happily ever after ✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧

#michael kaiser #bllk #blue lock #Kaiser is my son #kaiser michael #blue lock michael kaiser #bllk michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x gender neutral reader

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rockalillygirl · 6 months

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Murderbot Holding Hands

(Minor spoilers alert for Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy pls check the tags)

First real post because I’m shy. Don’t know why it’s going to be a hyper-specific murderbot meta but here we go:

I’ve been rereading all the books after finishing System Collapse <3 and I want to talk about a small moment in Artificial Condition that I’d never noticed before. It’s near the end of the book when Tapan is in ART’s medsystem after nearly dying, and SecUnit says that when Tapan wakes up it’s holding her hand.

When Tapan woke, I was sitting on the MedSystem’s platform holding her hand. (Artificial Condition, p. 155 in my ebook)

I thought it was a really sweet moment, but it also kind of puzzled me because of SecUnit’s aversion to touch. Later when I was reading Exit Strategy, I noticed a similar moment when SecUnit holds hands with Mensah to help disguise them as they’re trying to escape TranRollinHyfa.

[Mensah] took a deep breath and looked up at me. “We can look calm. We’re good at that.” Yeah, we were. I did a quick review to make sure I was running all my not-a-SecUnit code, then I thought of one more thing I could do. As we stepped out of the pod, I took Mensah’s hand. (Exit Strategy, p. 87)

Reading these scenes felt different in a couple ways. In my opinion, SecUnit taking Mensah’s hand in Exit Strategy seemed like more of a big deal because it was a part of SecUnit’s reunion with Mensah, and we see its thoughts and emotions leading up to it. And it tracks that SecUnit might feel ok holding Mensah’s hand in that situation because of their close friendship. But the moment in Artificial Condition is more mysterious. We don’t get any of SecUnit’s internal monologue at the beginning because the scene opens when Tapan wakes up. And even though it’s clear in the book that SecUnit likes Tapan along with Rami and Maro, I wouldn’t say their relationship is anywhere near as close as its bond with Mensah. So why did it hold her hand?

I think it’s a neat moment that’s fun to ponder! And I have some vague ideas I’d like to share about it. (Some of this is based on the books and some is my speculation as an ace/aspec person dealing with touch aversion.) (Also none of these thoughts are mutually exclusive!)

Maybe SecUnit saw holding Tapan’s hand as a form of first aid after her traumatic experience and didn’t want her to panic waking up in a strange ship’s medsystem. This fits with SecUnit bracing itself to hug Mensah in Exit Strategy. (The memes of this moment are perfect lol)

But I was the only one here, so I braced myself and made the ultimate sacrifice. “Uh, you can hug me if you need to.” She started to laugh, then her face did something complicated and she hugged me. I upped the temperature in my chest and told myself it was like first aid. (Exit Strategy, pp. 82-3)

But I feel like SecUnit might not care as much about comforting Tapan in a similar way if it hadn’t already built up some kind of trust with her? Which brings me to Thought 2:

I think SecUnit might have felt safe holding Tapan’s hand because of the moment in Artificial Condition in the second transient hostel when Tapan laid down next to it. (Ofc I think rescuing Tapan from Tlacey’s ship was also a factor, trauma-bonding and all. But to me this moment in the hostel is more important.)

Thirty-two minutes later, I heard movement. I thought Tapan was getting up to go to the restroom facility, but then she settled on the pad behind me, not quite touching my back… I had never had a human touch me, or almost touch me, like this before and it was deeply, deeply weird. (Artificial Condition, pp. 136-7)

This is one of my favorite sequences in Artificial Condition (which is also my favorite book in the series because of ART! And because I find it quiet, reflective, and weirdly cozy even though objectively few cozy things happen now that I think about it). The scene is pretty mundane with a lot of fun bits like SecUnit pretending to need to use the restroom, be on a diet, etc. And we usually don’t get to see SecUnit hanging out with only one person. So it gives room for some small, but important feelings that I don’t think SecUnit has time to explore when it’s busy saving the day. Like how it feels about physical contact with humans.

(idk it reminds me of how like in ghibli films there’s usually at least one scene with the characters eating a meal or something because it sort of grounds everything else. I just like it!)

Tapan being close to SecUnit seems to throw if off-guard, but the context of the scene feels non-threatening and pretty mellow. So I think this gives SecUnit the opportunity to check-in with itself about this new experience. It still feels weird about it, but not in a scary or upsetting way. I think it’s almost this mutual vulnerability (Tapan feeling vulnerable and seeking comfort and SecUnit feeling vulnerable about her closeness and its own boundaries) that creates a bond between them, and that’s why SecUnit reaches out to Tapan to comfort her when she wakes up onboard ART.

That scene has become really special to me. And I would argue that it’s an important moment to SecUnit too because it brings it up again in Exit Strategy, along with a later moment in Rogue Protocol, thinking about times when it’s experienced physical contact with humans in a non-traumatizing way.

Except it wasn’t entirely awful. It was like when Tapan had slept next to me at the hostel, or when Abene had leaned on me after I saved her; strange, but not as horrific as I would have thought. (Exit Strategy, p. 83)

These moments seem to lead up to SecUnit offering to comfort Mensah later on because it’s reached a point where it feels willing to do so for her sake, even if it doesn’t want to seek out that kind of comfort for itself. And it’s really cool to see SecUnit navigate this throughout the books.

SecUnit starts the series with a strong innate sense that it doesn’t want to be touched by humans, but it’s allowed to refine those feelings in light of its new experiences. It’s boundaries are situational and personal, and even well-meaning humans sometimes struggle to understand them at first. Other times, SecUnit finds it difficult to understand it’s own feelings regarding touch and even changes its mind. But, importantly, the narrative always presents this as valid and worthy of respect.

This is a much more nuanced and realistic portrayal of defining boundaries than I’ve seen in a lot of media- one where it’s a constant and sometimes confusing process of self-discovery.

And these might seem like obvious concepts to some people, but they weren’t for me growing up. I really wish I’d read these books when I was younger, and maybe I would’ve given myself more grace to define my comfort level, grow, and change. But I’m glad that I’m in a place now where I can see and appreciate these things in what’s become one of my favorite series.

Anyway, I don’t want to say "thanks for coming to my TedTalk” lol. But very grateful to anyone who reads this and hope it was thought-provoking. Would be interested to hear other people’s thoughts on these scenes!

#murderbot diaries #murderbot meta #murderbot #secunit #artificial condition #rogue protocol #exit strategy #murderbot spoilers #too many feelings

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joelsgreys · 8 months

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🍂 joelsgreys weekly recap 🍂

hello friends! here we are at my very first weekly recap! i really wish i could have come up with a more creative name but this is all i got. anyway, i am so grateful to be back to engaging with the community, this is the best i have felt in a long time, i feel…i feel human again. and because i feel human again, i have the capacity, time, and energy to really engage with others and not only that, but i can enjoy it. thank you all sm for welcoming me back after several weeks of me just popping in and out, after a name change, and after i had all those bumps in the road.

fic recs

here’s some of what i read and enjoyed over the last couple of weeks!

🔥 indicates smut, please be sure to heed all tags/warnings by the author, all blogs and works are 18+ only, MINORS DNI.

Sequins by @trulybetty 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you.

Deliver Me From Nowhere by @atinylittlepain

Joel Miller x OFC Reader

there is no series summary, but please mind the tags as this fic does involve dark themes including domestic violence. but it’s such a beautifully written story, Gin’s talent is out of this world.

Born lucky, under a bad star by @softlyspector

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Joel has always been lucky, in the worst of ways. *major spoilers for tlou part 2

daydreams by @morning-star-joy

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: It's been years since Joel's kissed anybody, and your lips are all he can think about.

a matter of time by @cupofjoel 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THE RAIN by @psychedelic-ink 🔥 (i’m not yelling okay the title is in all caps….but i am yelling at how hot this was)

Javier Peña x Plus Size Female Reader

Summary: it's the 80s. when the dig you've been working at has to take a short break due to escobar and politics, you decide to wait it out at medellín. while hitchhiking, a charming stranger pulls up.

stay here, honey by @swiftispunk 🔥

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: [no outbreak] p*rn no plot. you sit on dbf!joel's lap at a party, it's a whole thing

Divine Dynasty Series by @cavillscurls 🔥

AU Mafia! Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Your father had been a loyal asset to the Miller Clan for his entire life. After his passing, Joel feels a responsibility for you and your safety; inviting you further into his world, and your desires.

a lover’s pinch by @hier--soir 🔥

AU Professor! Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

*only 1.5 chapters in so expect to see this in the next recap too lmao.

beautiful fall divider by @saradika

#vee’s recs #fic recs #weekly recap

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togament · 5 days

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Hi Bibi, i just want to say you’re doing amazing and your post are literally ADDICTING. I was a little worried because I didn’t know if Wind Breaker would get a lot of attention on Tumblr yk? (Just because it’s new) AND YOU CAME AND SAVED ME. I love you, your brain, and your page. Please keep going and I WOULD LOVE to hear your thoughts on new episodes/chapters (only if you want). Thank you for feeding my delulu brain. Hugs 🫂

OH YOU SWEETHEART COME HERE YOU!!!! 🫂 I’M NOT CRYING I SWEAR.

thank you for the kind words dhdjkd i don’t know if i’m worthy of such praise too like—everyone leaving cute (and unhinged ofc) stuff in the tags and in my inbox gets me all giddy and blushy and!!!!!! Seeing you guys enjoying my stupid ramblings means the absolute world to me (i see you guys in the tags and i read every single one. Love you you freaks 😏) fun fact, I only started writing fics on this account and only for windbreaker so all the interactions and thirsty feedback I get genuinely, genuinely makes my heart do the boom boom. So smooches to every one of you!!!!!! (only if you want them. you could exchange it for a headpat if you want ig)

ok enough of the sappy stuff. WINDBREAKER TIME!

windbreaker blowing up on tumblr is so so so well deserved. i was genuinely shocked because it took a little bit for the hype to catch on???? the seiyuus are literal legends (in my eyes hehe), the animation’s SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE HELLO!??, the op and ending song aren’t ass??????? I’m super excited for what’s to come for our fandom and the anime. ALSO fun fact, I have the fattest crush on Umehara Yuichiro so him voicing Togame literally brought me to my god damn knees, bro. I’m expecting Eguchi Takuya to secure a character too bc ofjfkdkd his voice would be perfect for a villain.

also may or may not have picked windbreaker up bc I saw a character named Kiryu and an eyepatched character and I 😮👈😮👈 YAKUZA REFERENCE!!!!! (probably not but the coincidence is silly to me)

I’m not super caught up on the anime (on episode 7 atm!) I wanna savor every episode and binge them back to back (also bc my hubby’s got so much screentime I wanna savor that him EVEN MORE YUM YUM YUMMY). Caught up on the manga though and I Have Thoughts.

(spoilers under the cut)

the endo fight’s scaring me, man. also super fucking worried about ume bc WE HAVEN’T SEEN HIM FOR SO LONG??? the chair throw spooked me. also worried about ume’s vegetable garden. I know it’s getting trampled to shit. also very worried about sakura. he’s getting all banged up by endo, his nose is probably broken now wtf he was bleeding SO MUCH.

chika’s scary too. both him and endo. i honestly don’t know what’s gonna happen next like, they’re both so unpredictable and unhinged that my butthole’s clenching in sheer terror.

I’m also very concerned about suo. WHY HAVE WE NOT SEEN HIM EATING (or maybe I’ve missed a panel lol) but with every food offer he’s ever been given, he turns them down. also the fact that we only know him on a surface’s surface level even when he’s one of the main boys is scaring me. we’re 140+ chapters deep and not one single suo morsel for us to nibble on. I don’t want a betrayal thing happening ok lol that would be my tipping point i fear.

OKAY I WAS RAMBLING TOO MUCH AHDHSHAHHA

if you guys want me to yap about a chapter or an episode or potential seiyuus for other characters or if you just want my thoughts on things (i am a Certified Yapper), i am directing you to the askbox! This was super fun!! Extremely forgetful too so this could help me remember all the stuff that’s happened so far.

thank you so much again for sending over an askkskfnnxnx heaven knows i needed a little pick me up today. you delivered and made my entire day, sweetheart!!!!! Ily!!!!!!! 🥹

#wind breaker #windbreaker #bibi yaps #BIBI YAPS A LOT.

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

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Recollections - A Seamstress and the Sailor Story

Request: I was thinking very generally and vaguely about either Billy and Ida or Bess and Tom, something about how the romance started? As in... How the soft feelings and affection built up during their teenage years, the pining, the mutual comfort from one another, just spending time together every day being friendly? Just... I want the sweet teenage romance fluff ya know? The deep friendship, the love that they have for one another when we meet them and how it started. @annoying-leftist-donkey

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

Warnings: Language, one teeny smutty thought, very minor spoilers for The Seamstress and The Sailor if you haven’t read that.

Word Count: 3.9K

Southport, 1925

“We blame it on a tough week at work, or too much going on at home, but children know. They’re more connected to the earth than we are,”

Tom turned in his seat when he heard his father mention children. Next to Douglas, Marie Bennett was repacking the picnic basket.

“They can sense changes in the weather and all that,” Douglas waved to the sky beyond the bus’ dirty windows. “S’why they’re agitated today. Spring tides. The moon,”

“Alright, Papus,” Tom’s mother smiled at her husband and, with delicate touch, biffed Tom’s nose with a napkin. “Nosy,” He stuck his tongue out and turned back to face the front. Albie Vaughn, with his scabbed and spindly legs, sat next to him, busying his hands with the hair of the two girls in front of them. Lois Bennett and Cora Vaughn were ten and too old to engage with their younger siblings. That is, until they got to the beach at least. When Albie finished tying the girls’ pigtails to each other, he nudged Tom in the ribs and they laughed. From a seat across the aisle, a pair of dark eyes watched the boys.

“Bess Vaughn, what have I told you?” Etta swatted at her daughter’s legs from the seat behind her and the little girl swung her legs down, eyes still focussed on her brother and his friend.

“What?” Albie said.

“Nothing,” Bess’ voice was quiet, and Tom stared at her. There was something about Bess Vaughn that gave him the creeps. Before he could ruminate on why, the bus juddered to a stop and Fergal Vaughn jumped from his seat.

“Take the baskets down for you mothers, lads,” Fergal said, hoisting little Dot into his arms. Lois and Cora whinged as Douglas struggled to untie their hair, and Bess followed her mother and Marie towards the beach. She’d overheard Douglas, telling Marie all about the weather, and how people became agitated when it changed. He was right, too, about the spring tide. The faintest slash of silver was visible on the horizon, a barely there strip of receding sea at the edge of miles of sand. The boys instantly dumped the picnic baskets by the sand dunes and sprinted after Cora and Lois, their shrieks rising into the grey April sky. Fergal unfolded a chair and perched upon it, Dot babbling away on his knee. Beside him, Marie, Etta and Douglas lay a blanket, and when the women were seated upon the sand, Douglas made his slow way towards the water, shoes off, trousers rolled up, hands in pockets. Bess watched the boys chase her older sister and Lois, and Douglas strolling towards the horizon. She decided to follow him.

After an hour of chasing the others, Tom ran to the edge of the dunes. Cora was it, and too slow to catch either him or Albie, making do to run after Lois. He plucked an apple from the picnic blanket and blew a raspberry at Dot, making her giggle.

“Where’s dad?” Marie answered with a point at the sea. There, silhouetted against the glistening water, were two figures. One tall, stooping every now and again to point at something, the other small, collecting whatever the other passed to them. Apple in hand, Tom sprinted along the flat sand, dodged Cora’s attempt to tag him, and towards his father. Bess saw him coming before Douglas, and stood still to watch him. Her stare caught Tom off guard and he faltered, his run becoming an awkward walk. They watched each other a moment.

“What are you doing, dad?”

Douglas smiled at him then at Bess. He nodded his head at her, some sort of encouragement to speak. When she didn’t, he answered. “I’m teaching Bess about the shells and the creatures that live in them.”

Bess held out her hand to show Tom the shell in her palm. “Dog whelk,” was all she said.

“Right,” God, she’s weird. “Well, um, do you want to come and play it with the rest of us? It’s getting a bit boring with Lois and Cora, they’re rubbish.” And he’s my dad, not yours.

“No,” Bess went back to staring at the collection of shells Douglas had given her.

“Go on,”

“Leave her alone, Tom,” Douglas’ voice was soft, his eyes back to scouring the sand for treasures.

“But she never plays, I’m just trying to be nice!” He stepped forward.

“And you can’t force people to play with you,” Douglas turned a rock over in his hand. Tom huffed and grabbed Bess’ arm.

“Come on,” he dragged her towards their siblings.

“Tom-” Douglas had no time to admonish his son before Bess did it for him, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his arm. “Bess!” Tom howled, tears pricking his eyes as he lunged at the little girl. Douglas pulled his son away just in time, his hand wrapped around his son’s scrawny arm. With he other, he took Bess by the hand and marched them back up the beach. “You two can sit with your mams for the rest of the day.” Both children made to protest but he cut them off. “And if I see anymore of that behaviour, from either of you, you’ll be on the first bus home.” Behind his back, Tom and Bess scowled at each other.

St Thomas’ Secondary, 1929

The bell rang, and Bess’ heart sank. She’d spent the last hour hiding behind the bicycle rack, leant against the wooden fence that separated the secondary school from the primary. She peered through the wooden slats, and saw Dot running to class, hand in hand with her friends. Bess sighed and stood up; if she timed it just right she could wait for the others to go inside and still be on time for history. At least being V in the alphabet meant she was sat at the back of the class, and the others would forget she was there. They never usually bothered her when Cora was around, just gave her funny looks. But Cora was at home in bed with a head cold, sadly refusing Bess’ pleas to “just get up and try.”

She watched as the other children filtered through the wooden double doors, Mrs Keith ringing the bell in her hand that called them to lessons. Queenie Warren’s golden curls bounced in the afternoon sunlight, and a pang of jealousy prodded Bess’ insides. The last to go were Frank Smith and Walter Watson. Bess saw their eyes dart around the playground before disappearing behind Mrs Keith. With everyone inside, this was her chance. She ran across the playground as quickly as her little legs would take her, ready to join the queue filing into classroom six. The skirt of Queenie’s dress was just fluttering through the classroom doorway when Bess tripped, her face hitting the book she was carrying as she landed on the ground.

“Where’ve you been then?” The boy’s voice wasn’t kind, or curious. It was tight, teasing, smug.

“She’s a witch, Frank. Remember? She can make herself disappear.” Walter stood over her, one leg either side of her torso, preventing her from standing.

“Wish she would. Her and her whole Paddy family.”

“Please,” Bess’ voice quavered as she spoke, trying to push down the skirt that had ridden up in her fall.

“Been saving this for you.” Walter said, producing from his satchel a carton of milk from the canteen. “You Micks always reek of dirt and incense, what’s another bad smell?” And he poured the sour liquid over Bess’ copper hair.

She whimpered, mouth tight to avoid the rotten milk as she struggled to wipe it from her eyes. There was a dull thud as something hit the floor beside her, and whatever it was groaned. Looking tentatively sideways, Bess saw Walter Watson on his side, looking up in nervous apprehension. She followed his gaze. Frank was cowering against the wall and next to him was Tom Bennett. He said nothing, only stared down at the boy on the floor.

Bess rarely saw Tom these days, aside from the back of his head in class. He’d taken to skipping lessons, only appearing for sports or undoubtedly the few days after his dad had caught him skiving. Tom had hardened since Marie’s death, the plucky friend of her brother making way for the rebel stood above her. At just twelve, his face was already sharp, his shoulders beginning to fill out as teenagedom approached, and his piercing eyes already bore signs of that most adult emotion; weariness. His grief had not been gentle. Tom was always popular at school, but now he was intimidating.

The four children stared between each other, Tom’s eyes not once leaving Walter’s. When Frank stood forward to offer an explanation, Tom slammed him into the wall with surprising force.

“It’s ok,” Bess wobbled to her feet and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “I’m ok.” Tom watched her a minute, before releasing Frank and glaring down at Walter.

“You so much as look at her, at any of us, I’ll put you in the Infirmary.”

Walter nodded and scrambled from the floor, Frank in his wake. They ducked into classroom six, and Bess and Tom were alone. She watched the floor, embarrassed of her milk-sodden hair and her rescue by Tom.

“I’d better, you know-” she gestured to her face.

“I’ll tell miss where you are,”

“And don’t tell the others, please.” Tom nodded and watched Bess hurry to the girls’ bathroom. He didn’t see her again until 3 o’clock, when she was leant against the school gates. Somehow, she didn’t seem as nervous as normal and Tom smiled, knowing that he might have something to do with it. Her hair was wrapped in the Miss Abbott’s, the librarian’s, scarf, and she gave a small wave to him as he approached.

“How’s your hair?” he asked, noting only the faintest whiff of dairy about her.

“Washed it in the sink, Miss Abbott said I can keep the scarf.” She beamed, though Tom knew the scarf was less of a gift, more a case of not wanted the ruined garment back. He nodded and began his walk home.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Albie?” Bess called, not moving from her sentinel at the gate.

“His got lines with Mr Hughes,” Tom called over his shoulder. Bess tutted and hurried to meet his steps, standing a step away from him than perhaps was natural. They walked together a while, Bess silent and Tom chatting to friends as they departed for their homes. It wasn’t until they rounded into their street that she found her voice.

“Thank you, for earlier.”

“S’fine.” Tom kicked a stone before laughing. “Why didn’t you bite him?”

“Pardon?” Bess stopped outside her front door.

“Walter. Why didn’t you bite him?”

“I-well-”

“You bit me when you got angry,” he smirked.

“I was eight!”

“Would have come in handy back there,”

“I don’t want to bite Walter Watson, I’ll catch something,” she gravely, wrinkling her nose. With a loud laugh, Tom waved and strolled across the street to his own home.

“See you tomorrow, Bess.”

“Yeah, bye.”

St Thomas’ Cemetery, 1933

“-thinks the sun shines out her arse, and I know you’d hate me saying that but it’s true. She can’t do any bloody wrong in his eyes.”

Tom picked up a branch of fallen yew and thwacked the foxglove looming from the ground of the next grave. He’d been coming down to visit his mother a lot recently. Bess told him about it, how when she was sad or angry, she’d come down and talk to Etta. Sometimes she and her sisters brought picnics and blankets, sat by her grave and spent an hour chatting together. He glanced across the graveyard to where Etta lay. The Vaughn’s last offerings of brandy and flowers were gathering crisp leaves. Looking at the small posey of flowers he’d stolen from other people’s gardens, he swiped the branch of yew through the long grass. Compared to the effort the Vaughn’s gave to Etta, his offering was pitiful.

“FUCK!” Again and again he thrashed the foliage, sending pollen and leaves into the evening air. When there was nothing but tombstones left to hit, Tom launched the branch across the cemetery. “FUCK!” The word tore from his throat, causing it to crack. He flung himself on the ground at the foot of his mother’s grave and wept.

Sometimes, he thought his mum and Albie were the only people that understood him, but with Albie still deep in the grief of losing Etta, Tom found he had no one to turn to. The five years anniversary of Marie’s death hit Douglas hard, and his relationship with his son had been fraught ever since. Tom thought it was his father’s timidity, Lois’ seeming perfection, Tom’s inability to commit to any one thing that caused the friction. What he didn’t realise was that each time Douglas looked at his son, he saw his wife. The same passion, same loyalty, same quick temper. Tom cried and cried, brushing angrily at his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away the traitorous tears. If she’d have been here, his mum would have made a joke about Douglas’ humour bypass and rubbed Tom’s back until he was calm. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. The grass rustled at his side and he looked up.

Bess was wading through the overgrown cemetery towards Etta, a long piece of string stretching between she and him. Attached to the string, glinting in the sunlight, she’d dropped a tin can by his knee. When Tom looked back to Bess, she was already sat at Etta’s grave, holding up her own tin can and smiling. He sniffled and held it to his ear. She said nothing, only smiled.

He watched her while she spoke to Etta and tidied her grave, replacing the flowers and dusting off the brandy bottle. She gave the gravestone a gentle kiss and walked back to Tom. He patted goodbye to his mother and met her in the centre of the cemetery, under the ancient yew. As was always her way, she stared at him before speaking, her way of assessing which step to take in conversation. Bess took in his red eyes and furrowed brow, the fidgeting that always happened when he was angry, like he was fizzing with energy.

“Was it a bad one?”

“Not really,” Tom sniffed and she watched as his lips twitched into a pout. She licked her own. “Just dad being dad, you know. Wishes I was the one gone, not mam-”

“Shut up. You know that’s not true.” Bess’ voice was harsh, a new development in her growing confidence, but one that Tom admired. He watched as she wound the string around the tin cans.

“Thanks for that,” he pointed to them.

“S’ok, wanted you to know you’re not alone. We’ve forgotten, me and the others, just because your grief has been longer, it doesn’t make it easier than ours.” Tom never knew what to say when Bess came out with her moments of profundity. She didn’t say much but when she did, God, she knew what you needed to hear. Bess Vaughn had a knack for rendering him speechless. “I got this done for you, too.” From her dress pocket she pulled a key. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.”

Tom snorted. “What will he say if he catches me having a late-night tryst with his most reliable daughter?”

“We do not have ‘trysts’,” Bess began walking from the graveyard and Tom followed. “’Reliable’? God, how boring. Is that all I am?”

“Dependable, then? How about that?”

“I sound like a piece of furniture,”

“You’ve got the legs for it-” Tom broke off with a laugh as Bess hit his arm. “Violence in the churchyard! Don’t let Father Michael see.”

“Says the one swearing and beating up the plants,”

Longsight Labour Club, 1939

“I heard that Bess is coming back today? She could give me a break on the keys,” Connie shuffled her sheet music and watched as Cora and Dot strung bunting from the light fixtures. Owing to her nights singing at the Labour Club, Lois had secured the small hall for her birthday. A table of cream tea was at its centre, the trestle tables ready to be whipped away for an evening of dancing.

“That she is,” Cora said from atop the ladder as Dot fed her bunting. “Perfect timing for you, Lois.”

“Not just for me,” Lois stood at the bar watching her friends’ handiwork. Little did they know that the comment was not directed at them, but her brother. She winked at him and Tom raised his eyebrows. He and Albie were cleaning glasses behind the bar, laughing occasionally at their sisters as they struggled to reach the rafters.

“She’s had a good time then? At the atelier?” Connie asked them.

“God, yeah,” Dot said, lightly slapped by Cora for her language. “She’s got all these fancy clothes and rich clients. And she gives me her copies of Vogue when she’s done with them.”

Connie looked impressed. “Might have to get her to send me some too.”

“She even makes their patterns now. Promised to sew me a new summer suit.”

“If you pay for the fabric,” Cora cut in.

“Better start saving then, my girl.” Fergal had arrived with some of the older residents of the street. Over the next twenty minutes, people of all walks of life trickled into the hall. Mrs Flaherty and Mrs O’Connell, Mrs Mason and her brood of offspring. Queenie Warren who immediately ran to Albie and Tom. Even Harry Chase and some of his private school chums. Tom and Albie looked at each other pointedly as the group of young men approached the bar.

“If it’s brandy and cigars you’re after, lads, the Con Club’s your best bet. You’d be more welcome there too.” Tom muttered the last sentence under his breath and Albie laughed.

“Tom,” Harry held out a placating hand which Tom shook a little too roughly. From behind them, one of Harry’s friends whistled lowly.

“I might consider voting the other way if the reds attract that kind of woman.” The gaggle of men, Tom included, looked to the door. His mouth ran dry. The light pouring into the hall illuminated perfectly elegant cut of her dress and the sway of her hips. He could see, through the white fabric, the faintest outline of her legs and he swallowed with difficulty.

Each man jolted when a shrill cry rang out through the air. Dot was careening towards her older sister, Cora close behind. Having greeted her siblings, Bess made her way towards Lois, and Tom was absolutely cunt-struck. When she left for her apprenticeship at the atelier, Bess still hid herself from strangers. She kept her eyes averted from others. Now, she moved with graceful purpose and her eyes, though still dark, shone with self-assuredness. She knew the effect she had on the room, and Tom felt his cock twitch at the power she held.

“That’s my sister you’re staring at.”

Tom turned his head slowly towards Albie, his eyes slightly unfocussed. When his friend frowned, Tom smirked.

“Wouldn’t you love me as a brother? Anyway, she could do worse,”

“She could do a lot better and all,” Albie gave him a warning look and turned back to the bar. When Tom looked back across the crowd, momentary terror washed over him. Bess, in all her white-clad and gorgeous glory, was heading towards him. Suddenly he felt underdressed in his shirt and threadbare jacket.

“Hi,” What sort of wet fucking hello was that?

“A glass of white please, barkeep.” Bess smiled at him as she leant against the wooden bar. Behind her, Harry’s friends were agog that she was speaking to him. Confidence bloomed in his chest and Tom stood a little straighter.

“Anything else the lady wishes?” Tom reached overhead for a wine glass, not missing the way Bess’ eyes watched the muscles of his arm.

“You working the bar all night?”

“Depends if my sister lets me off. Perhaps the birthday mood might strike her right.” He poured the wine, still feeling Bess’ eyes on him. If she had become a woman during her time in central Manchester, Tom had become a man. His shoulders were tight in the jacket he wore, its collar open just enough for Bess to see the muscles of his strong neck. She traced it upwards with her eyes. The underside of his jaw was sharp, his pink lips casting a small shadow on his sharp chin. His brow furrowed as he poured her drink, and Bess wanted nothing more than to lean across the bar and kiss the small wrinkle that had formed there.

“I hope so,” she sipped her wine and licked her lips. “We have so much to catch up on.” With a smile and nod to the other young men, Bess strolled towards the table of cream tea, perched next to her siblings and engaged in conversation with the older women, each eager to know about her time at the fashion house. When she looked up to see Tom watching still her, her dark eyes flashed with mischief, and she winked. In his pocket, Tom’s hand thumbed the key to the Vaughn’s house.

“Fuck me,”

Notes: I said I’d wait until Borne & Bound was out there, but my head ran away with me. I’m splitting the request into two so there will be a Billy and Ida follow up.

Each little scene was referenced somewhere in the plot of TSATS, and I enjoyed fleshing them out to show why they were so meaningful to Tom and Bess! Papus, mentioned by Tom’s mum, was a famous mystic. Royal Infirmary was a hospital and asylum in Manchester.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @ewanmitchellcrumbs @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #tom bennett x ofc #the seamstress & the sailor

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

Text

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 24

Lost Kingdoms

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: weapons; language; angst; minor spoilers for upcoming "Boil & Trouble" chapter.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: News arrives from an unexpected source.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The second Cerra drew her blaster, every clone in the garage followed suit—except Rex. The newcomer’s face twisted contemptuously. He leaned casually against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest, not making a move for the dual blasters holstered to his thighs.

“Nice to see you, too, Cerra,” he said.

“Stand down,” Rex commanded.

Cerra growled. “How the hell did he find us?”

“I told him we were here,” Rex replied.

“What the kriff?” she asked, shocked. “You?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, trust me,” Rex said. “But he said he had urgent intel. Now stand down. That’s an order.”

The rest of the clones lowered their blasters, but Cerra refused, clenching her jaw stubbornly as she kept her weapon aimed at the intruder. Her pulse hammered, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Didn’t realize you needed an attack dog, Rex,” the clone said.

“Who says this is about Rex?” Cerra snarled. “I’ll blast you just for my own satisfaction.”

“Same old Cerra,” the clone said. “You’re loyal, I’ll give you that.”

Rex reached out and rested his hand gently on Cerra’s shoulder until at last she complied and holstered her blaster. Gregor and the rest of the clones stared alternately between Cerra and the newcomer, confused and unsure of the situation but trusting Rex’s orders.

“What’s going on?” Fireball asked. “Who is this?”

“GAR’s biggest dickhole,” Cerra replied.

Rex sighed. “Everyone, this is Captain Hart.”

Judging by the blank expressions on the clones’ faces, the name meant nothing to any of them—except Nemec, whose eyebrows shot up. “The Captain Hart? I thought you were just a myth the shinies made up to give themselves hope after their first battle.”

“Oh, I’m real.” Hart glanced around the garage. “Quite the operation you have here, Rex, old man. Aren’t you worried a repair shop full of clone troopers is going to attract attention?”

“This deep in the lower levels?” Cerra asked. “Nobody cares what happens down here.”

“You might be surprised,” Hart replied, sauntering closer to the group. “I’ve stayed off the scopes of the Empire and the Republic for a long time, and I didn’t do it by being this careless or stupid.”

“You always this charmin’?” Gregor asked, arching an eyebrow.

“This is him at his most charming,” Cerra cut in.

“Why are you here, Hart?” Rex asked. “You’re making me regret agreeing to this meeting.”

“Hospitable crowd,” Hart replied sardonically.

“You got a bounty on your head yet?” Cerra asked, quickly running out of patience. “I could use the credits.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he shrugged. “You definitely do, though. Congratulations, Cerra. You’re wanted for murder and treason.”

Shocked silence descended abruptly on the garage as every gaze snapped toward Hart. Cerra’s breath stuttered to a halt, her mouth feeling suddenly very dry.

“What are you talking about?” Rex demanded. “Where did you learn that?”

“Got a lead on a new agency—Imperial Security Bureau, they’re calling it,” Hart replied. “Doesn’t matter how I know, and I’m not revealing my source, so don’t bother asking. They sent me this.”

He tossed a datachip to Rex, who plugged it into the holotable. A datafile flickered into view. Cerra stared into a hologram of her own face, accompanied by a brief but damning wall of text.

IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU Case #21118378 Suspect Identification Name: CERRA KILIAN Chain Code: NONE Occupation: SOLDIER - DESERTED Wanted for: MURDER; TERRORISM; TREASON Status: AT LARGE Criminal Profile Criminal Activity: Abandonment of post; murder of Imperial officer; impersonation of an Imperial officer; destruction of Imperial property; theft of Imperial property; aiding and abetting a Jedi fugitive; seditious activities; spice running Arrest Record: ISB #4212187 - DAIYU Known Associates: Admiral (retired) Shoan Kilian - uncle, estranged (see interrogation record #57047195) CT-7567, Clone Captain "Rex" - DECEASED (disputed, see casefile #5127066) CT-5555, ARC Trooper "Fives" - DECEASED CT-5385, Clone Trooper "Tup" - DECEASED CT-5597, ARC Trooper "Jesse" - DECEASED CT -6116, Clone Medic "Kix" - MISSING IN ACTION Remarks: Suspect has extensive combat training and experience. Consider armed and extremely dangerous. Escaped custody after killing an ISB interrogating officer and stealing an Imperial shuttle. Linked to suspected terrorist organization - if possible, apprehend alive for further interrogation. Current Location: UNKNOWN

Cerra’s heart stood still as she read “Shoan Kilian - uncle, estranged (see interrogation record #57047195).” Please, Maker, no. She couldn’t bear the thought of Shoan being subjected to the ISB’s interrogation methods. He was a tough old man, but for kriff’s sake, he’d suffered enough.

“Not a half-bad holo of me,” she said with a forced laugh. “You know, for being taken in a holding cell.”

“Karabast,” Rex said grimly. “I guess this confirms our intel about the secret intelligence agency.”

“Oh, I got confirmation firsthand,” Cerra replied, gesturing toward her bruised, battered face. “Just hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”

“Anything in that datafile true?” Hart asked.

The group fell silent as they all turned to Cerra, awaiting her response.

“They’re half right,” she replied uneasily. “It’s not murder when it’s self-defense, though I doubt the Empire would agree. Can’t say they’re wrong about the treason part, though.”

“And the rest?” Hart pressed. “Terrorism? The Jedi?”

“No idea what they’re talking about,” she lied. “Making kark up for propaganda.”

“What propaganda?” Hart demanded. “This is an internal ISB datafile. Nobody is supposed to see it.”

“I don’t kriffin’ know,” she snapped. “Maybe they think I’m someone else. Or maybe somebody with a grudge is finding a way to justify the resources to hunt me down. Or—or—I don’t kriffin’ know!”

No way in hell was she revealing to Hart what Yularen had told her about Ahsoka Tano. Rex might trust him—Maker alone knew why after the shit Hart had pulled—but Cerra wasn’t taking a chance. Particularly not before she told Rex; he’d been close to the young Jedi, and he would want to know she had survived the carnage of Order 66. How the hell did everything fall apart so quickly? What the kriff am I supposed to do now?

“It doesn’t matter. The question we should be asking is what we’re going to do about it,” Rex said, as if he’d read her mind.

Cerra licked her dry, chapped lips as she considered. Rex was right. This changed things. With the ISB hunting her, she’d be putting the rest of the team at risk if she stayed at the garage. They couldn’t take that kind of heat. Her heart gave a painfully hard thump as she realized what this meant.

“It’s not like this is a surprise,” Gregor said, meeting Cerra’s eyes. “The Empire was never going to just let you walk away. Besides, you’ve been wanted for years.”

“This is different,” she argued. “Nobody was that interested in tracking down a nat-born deserter. But with these charges? They’re interested now.”

“They’re offering a bounty,” Hart interjected. “Sixty thousand credits.”

“Fierfek,” Nemec muttered.

“We can handle a bounty hunter or two,” Gregor said.

“It’s not going to be that easy, and you know it,” Cerra replied.

“There are options,” Hart said quietly, and if Cerra hadn’t known what an absolute dickbag he was, she would have thought his voice held a sympathetic note.

Nemec jerked his head toward Hart, his eyes growing hard. Cerra forced herself to keep her breath at an even pace even as her palms grew damp and her heart raced so fast she could hear it thundering in her head. She fought down the rising tide of panic as she silently ordered herself to hold it together.

“No.” Rex’s voice was firm. “Not a chance.”

“Hart is right,” Cerra said hollowly. “I’m endangering everyone else by staying.”

Her eyes stung and her vision blurred. She inhaled carefully through her nose to try to force the tears back down.

“Cerra?” Fireball stared at her, distress and confusion in his eyes. “What are you saying?”

She turned to Rex, her eyes begging him to give the explanation that she couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud.

“Hart has… connections,” Rex said slowly. “He’s been helping clones disappear from the GAR and the Empire for years.”

“What do you mean, ‘disappear’?” Gregor asked. “Go AWOL like us?”

“Not exactly,” Rex replied.

“I’m not that sloppy,” Hart cut in.

“Kriff me, you really are a dickhole,” Gregor said without heat.

“Call me whatever you want,” Hart shrugged. “Doesn’t make me wrong.”

Rex steered the conversation back to the point. “When Hart extracts someone, he sets it up so no one will ever come looking for them. If they were on active duty, they’d go MIA during a battle, or they’d end up listed as killed in action.”

“And then?” Gregor asked.

“Then, nobody would ever see them again,” Nemec said. “So the rumors really are true.”

Gregor glanced back and forth between Rex and Cerra. “How long have you two known about his little operation?”

Rex hesitated, so Cerra replied, her voice coming out in a hoarse croak. “A while.”

Gregor was silent for a moment. “You’ve used him before, haven’t you?”

“Believe me, we wouldn’t have if there’d been any other way,” Rex said.

Gregor waited expectantly, and when none of the three seemed inclined to elaborate, he asked, “Are you going to tell us—”

“No.” Three voices snapped simultaneously.

The commando shrugged. “Worth a try.”

A tense, uncomfortable silence descended. Nobody seemed eager to break it, but inevitably, Rex turned to Cerra.

“I can’t order you to stay,” he said slowly. “But, Cerra, you don’t have to go.”

“It’s the smart move,” she said quietly.

“Banthashit,” Gregor snapped. “Everyone in this garage is either wanted or presumed dead. What makes you think you’re so special that you should be the one to leave?”

Cerra stared at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes. Her stomach churned, and for a moment, she thought she might actually throw up.

“It’s a little harder to fade into the crowd when there aren’t millions of people walking around with the same face as you,” Hart pointed out.

“Are you really going to stand there and pretend you need to sacrifice yourself to protect the rest of us?” Gregor continued inexorably, ignoring Hart’s interruption and stepping closer to Cerra. “We’re soldiers, for kark’s sake. We can take care of ourselves. And there isn’t a clone in this room who’ll agree to this.”

“Gregor—” Cerra began, still refusing to look him in the eyes.

“Ask them!” he exclaimed. “You think Fireball is just going to let you walk away? Nemec? Fuck, Cerra, do you think I’m going to let you go?”

She looked up, and the abrupt motion finally caused her tears to overflow. She inhaled shakily. “I—”

Gregor rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I know your head is all twisted up because your family rejected you when you needed them most, but we’re not them. We’re not going to turn our backs on you.”

Her chest felt tight; her throat too tense to speak. Her head ached with the effort of holding herself together when the galaxy was falling apart around her.

“Can someone make a Force-damned decision soon?” Hart demanded. “I don’t have all day to stand around watching a holodrama.”

“Leave, then,” Gregor replied, not taking his eyes from Cerra’s. “Nobody here needs you.”

Hart looked impatiently at Rex, who frowned. “It’s her call.”

“The hell it is,” Fireball blurted. “She belongs here.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Nemec added.

Something deep inside Cerra’s chest cracked and crumbled, and she gave a pained gasp, her eyes darting around the group as she realized something she should have known from the very beginning: she wasn’t alone, and she never had been.

“Well?” Hart asked impatiently.

She turned to him, her gasping desperately as she tried to formulate a response.

“You’re not—” Fireball swallowed hard. “You’re not going with him, are you, Cerra?”

She wiped her tears ruthlessly away with her clenched fist, and at last, she spoke. “No, Fireball. Not today.”

“Not ever,” Gregor said firmly.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” Hart muttered with a resigned expression. He rummaged through his pockets and eventually pulled out a scrap of flimsi, which he handed to Cerra. “If you change your mind.”

She glanced at the card. “A fortune teller?”

Hart nodded shortly. “Ask for Tas. Tell her I sent you. She’ll know what to do.”

Cerra tucked the card into her pocket and finally asked the question that had been bothering her since Hart had shown them the datafile. “Why are you helping me?”

He almost smiled. Almost. “We used to be friends.”

“So this is, what, nostalgia?” she asked. “Seriously, why did you come here? You could have just sent us the datafile. Why risk it?”

He observed her for a moment, considering his words before he replied. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it's a damned time bomb out there. We don’t stand a chance on our own. Kriff, we might not stand a chance together, either. But it’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“You want to be allies now?” Rex asked. “After everything?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve put aside our differences for the greater good,” Hart said pointedly. “Look, I don’t expect you to trust me, at least not any time soon. But the time might come when some of you will need to escape the Empire’s attention for good. When it does, you know how to reach me.”

With that, he turned and stalked toward the exit. Rex walked with him, and as they reached the landing platform, he drew a deep breath.

“Spit it out,” Hart ordered.

“How is she?” Rex asked quietly.

Hart froze, then turned to Rex with an icy glare. “She is none of your business any more, and she never will be.”

Rex clenched his jaw and looked away. Hart stared at him for a moment before he sighed and relented.

“She’s fine. She’s… with our mutual friend at the moment.”

Rex’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You mean—”

Hart grunted, mounted his speeder bike, and without another word, he was gone.

Inside the garage, the group relaxed slightly. Howzer and his men milled about somewhat awkwardly, while Fireball and Nemec showed signs of wanting to celebrate Cerra’s return at last. She cast a longing glance toward the refresher, fantasizing about the shower that she still hadn’t gotten, but before she could excuse herself to go get cleaned up, Gregor tugged her behind a stack of crates for privacy.

He traced his fingertips along her jaw, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “You all right? That was a hell of a welcome home.”

Home. The word echoed in her mind, and she leaned close to Gregor, burying her face into the nook where his neck met his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in a comforting embrace.

“Your fight isn’t over yet, Cerra Kilian,” he murmured.

She shook her head slightly. “It’s a big fight, Gregor.”

He kissed the side of her head softly. “Good thing I’m here to watch your back.”

---

Next chapter

Thank you so much to @nika6q for the stunning mugshot of Cerra! I appreciate you more than words can say.

#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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sixth-light · 8 months

Text

WoT 2x08 thoughts

WoT s2 really, I haven't got to blog the season like I would have wanted because (checks notes) everybody in this household has been sick for a month and counting (do not recommend). No order here, just things as I think of them, full series book spoilers possible:

They really did stick the landing on this season for me, as well as line everything up so neatly for next season. I think S2 is really going to reward a rewatch.

Particularly re:Lanfear. I literally choked when she walked up to Bayle Domon and started talking about the pieces of cuendillar she'd sold him. I know the Dark Prophecy is probably still legit because we flashed back to Ishamael reciting it as he released her BUT ALSO I am now imagining her lying on her bed surrounded by screwed-up drafts as she tries to make it sufficiently ominous.

The Forsaken shenanigans this season have just smashed it out of the park and we only had two of them. I presume we're going to highlight one or two a season for practical purposes (and ofc TSR/TFoH are the Moghedien-Nynaeve books) so I reckon next season we mostly get Moghedien and...I guess Asmodean if we're doing that plotline at all?

Man I so liked my "evil Seanchan/less evil Seanchan" theory but the way they ruthlessly killed off every named Seanchan character this episode (yes we didn't see Suroth and Alwhin's bodies, but that seemed pretty fatal, they explicitly did NOT show any ships getting away) says to me that they want to put that plotline on ice until the Corenne and Tuon arrive. It could still work but we'd have to introduce more Seanchan nobles to make it happen...or...they could make the whole Extremely Dysfunctional Imperial Family dynamic real by having one or more of Tuon's siblings tag along. That was a very tell-not-show element of the books and then rendered irrelevant by Semirhage murdering all of them at once.

Extremely out-there theory: the way they're focusing on Moghedien being 'insane' and having Lanfear refer to the rest of the Forsaken as 'the boys' and being visibly wary of Moggy...what if they merge Moghedien and Semirhage? After all, Moggy goes after the Sad Bracelets first even if Semirhage is the one who uses them...

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP as that gifset going around demonstrates, this really was the theme of the season. I continue to love how much these kids love each other (and the lingering fear the show has planted that it won't matter, because look where Lews Therin and Ishamael and Lanfear ended up...). Totally bought that they would all just roll with running into each other like that when there was a clear and present threat.

Rand is still so much in his 'just trying to protect my friends' era, poor kiddo, we're going to see that get more and more worn away as the Pattern forces him into bigger and bigger confrontations.

MAT, goddamn, his story took a bit of time to get moving but looking back all the pieces are there. Everything about the knife-on-a-stick sequences was just. fjlkfsdjklfsadjlkfsd. Amazing foreshadowing AND a funny and effective piece of storytelling in the moment. Particularly enjoyed the use of the dagger to open the box with the Horn.

Re: Min's vision: I'm thinking that at some point next season someone will report back to her what actually happened and we're going to see an arc with her learning about her own power and realising that her visions can be partial or metaphorical.

Man I hope Egwene gets lots of nice things next season because this one has been (not unexpectedly) brutal. Completely on board with her killing Renna. I wonder if they're getting rid of the 'sparker/learner' distinction in the show, given what she said to Renna about sul'dam just being very weak in the Power. I also wonder what 'very weak' actually means coming from Egwene, who canonically in the show can hold up against a Forsaken for some length of time (another change I am fine with).

Fascinating to think about Perrin in 2x08, straight-up killing Geofram Bornhald for killing Hopper, vs Perrin in 1x08 deliberately choosing pacifism. I don't actually mind that they gave him some unquestionable culpability here; in the books it was always SO obvious he wasn't in the wrong that it felt silly.

Relatedly, I think what's going on with Nynaeve (to the extent that anything is, she certainly didn't suffer for screentime this season) is that like Perrin her PERSONAL plot actually stalls out around book 8-9 - they're slowburning her block storyline for the same reasons they're slowburning his Wolfbrother one, I reckon. I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't heal stilling until much later in the show than the equivalent of book 6.

I didn't even notice that we left all the White Tower-related plotlines behind entirely this episode until I got to writing this post. FASCINATED to see where we pick up with Verin, Alanna, Siuan, et al next season...not to mention Liandrin

I haven't even talked about Aviendha! She hasn't had a lot to do beyond be introduced/introduce the concept of the Maidens and the Car'a'carn but it was solid set-up for next season and in line with how much she actually had to do in TDR.

My one big lingering question for this season is whether Ingtar isn't a Darkfriend on the show or whether he IS and they decided that his verbal confession wouldn't happen/work in the show and left it as a subtextual easter egg for book readers. I think both positions are arguable from the text, I'm curious what the intent was.

#wheel of time #wot tv show #wot s2 spoilers #wot book spoilers

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