#at worst you deserve to be dead. in the sense that SOMEONE you screw over will eventually get back at you

[killuagirly]

hai!

If u are still taking requests, could I get fem!reader that was recently cheated on and broken up with being comforted and taken in by a yandere character and reader (through emotional manipulation and other means) starts developing yandere tendencies back?

They both proceed to... get rid of her ex :)

Character can be anyone of your choosing! Though if I have to say a couple options, Neuvillete, Childe, Alhaitham or Ayato could be good options, but it's your choice!

Anyways Merry Christmas from bonk anon!

Yandere!Childe x Yandere[?]F!Reader

Summary: Reader was cheated on and broken up with by who was meant to be her loving partner. At her rescue was Childe, who was there to take Reader in and comfort her at her worst. Although, after a while of his constant putting thoughts into your head, the Reader begins to feel in the same way Childe does, a violent way. Who better to take it out on than your cheating ex?

Notes: I think I put said this on a previous post, but it's alright. You're getting an exception for requesting on Christmas![Sorry I took so long to write it] I don't take requests for any characters that aren't already written for at least once on the Masterlist, mainly since I have a hard time writing for characters I don't have a thing going for. Which was actually why this request was kind of hard and probably ooc, but I wanted to use one of the characters you listed. Merry extremely late Christmas, and happy New Year Bonk Anon!!

CW: Yandere, Obsessive tendencies, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Murder, etc. Read at your own risk!!

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Childe

☆ Sadness was overtaking your emotions, did you do something so wrong to deserve this? Your partner that you had loved and trusted more than anyone, was seeing someone else behind your back. Not to mention once you had found out, they bluntly ended things with you as if your feelings and the time you both spent together had meant absolutely nothing. On the bright side, you had a savior like an angel made just for you, Childe.

☆ He was there to take care of you instantly, no second thoughts. As soon as you told him about what had happened, he practically swooped you off your two feet and brought you home. No worries about living situation, he'll get that taken care of for you as well. Childe can cook for you, clean, and help you get yourself back together.

☆ Although you couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be doing more than just helping you get over that cheating bastard, but he would also out thoughts into your head about what he would do in your situation. Violent thoughts, things that you could do. The ginger haired male would go on about how being the bigger person is just like letting him step all over you, and how you could hurt him just like he had hurt you.

☆ "Y'know sweetheart, I could help you get rid of them. He deserves it after staining your pretty face with tears for so long." Childe spoke, dragging out his words. "Get rid of them? You mean like.. for good?" the thought would have seemed absurd beforehand, but now the idea was intriguing. It's as if there was something lost in your head, a screw loose; but maybe that's not a bad thing?

☆ And so, despite the something somewhere inside you trying to reason with your senses, you spoke words you could no longer undo. "Count me in." Childe's eyes lit up like fireworks at your statement, he was practically jumping with joy. Not long after, you had a dark-colored but still flattering outfit on to stay as much out of sight as possible yet not sacrificing your darling looks.

☆ In the dead of night you and your 'companion' stood on the doorstep of that dreadful one you used to speak of as your lover. "There's no going back now sweetheart, let's get on with this." Following his lead, the two of you wandered into the living quarters of your ex. The events following happened swiftly and without much thought, describing the scene would be like a large rush of adrenaline overtaking your senses.

☆ The next morning, people your now deceased ex-lover used to spend the most of his time around had begun to get concerned more and more throughout the day. Although once their corpse was discovered it was far beyond saving, not to mention there were no clues leading to who the culprit might be. Oh, if only they knew, if only you knew how this would affect you.

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Masterlist

#KilluaGirly #Genshin Impact #Yandere #Bonk Anon #Anon #X Reader #Yandere Genshin Impact #Yandere Genshin x Reader #Fem!Reader #Childe #Yandere Childe #Childe x Reader #Yandere Childe x Reader

[kitramune]

I love the plot of movie 2 SO MUCH. Like the idea of how it uses Tale of the Bamboo Cutter and Princess Kaguya as the villain, while also relating it to Kagome's situation of not belonging there and maybe being forced back home when she doesn't want to be? Brilliant. Naraku faking his death to try and get the ultimate power up? Noice. But it suffers from some glaring "Sunrise" characterization issues that ruin it for me...

First off the group just like... IMMEDIATELY split up?? Despite not having all the shards and how close they've all become as a little family, Sango and Miroku just instantly peace out. (Separate to even each other?? Someone correct me if I'm wrong but weren't they already engaged by this point??) Even if they didn't immediately go seeking out more shards, I have a really hard time seeing them all just... part ways. Relax for a bit, sure. But the narrative paints it as them not really planning on coming back, since Inuyasha's shocked to see them later. Kagura and Kanna finally being free and Kagura just instantly decides to serve someone else because... idk, she said it'd level up her freedom somehow? I assume Kanna was still being manipulated by Naraku, but Kagura going along with it made no sense. Kikyou being tasked with a little girl's dying wish to protect this super important object and then IMMEDIATELY giving it to the enemy is so fucking funny in the absolute worst way. X_X It's never even elaborated on, that's her ONLY role in the movie. And then there's the worst offender, which is Inuyasha himself. The writers still have him clinging on to the "I wanna become full demon" narrative, which was dead and buried by this point in the story. Inuyasha had already vowed to never use the Jewel and instead break its bloody cycle (manga only scene unfortunately) had already been cautioned by Miroku about potentially losing his mind and devouring Kagome instead of being better able to protect her, and then had that nightmare proved true after blacking out and slaughtering the bandits with his transformation and explicitly telling Toutousai that he doesn't ever wanna transform again - hence why he overcame the heavy Tessaiga in a whole-ass metaphor for accepting himself as a hanyou and getting stronger AS A HANYOU. But then Sunrise decided "nah screw that character development, he's still thinking about it." I love Kagome yelling "I love you as a hanyou" as much as the next fangirl but it just shouldn't have been on the table in the first place. In fact, y'know what would have been great? Movie 2's plot with movie 1's characterization and InuKag moment of "I need you, Kagome." Double down on that returning to the moon (metaphor for Kagome's time) conundrum and Inuyasha and Kagome BOTH worrying over whether Kagome stays there once her purpose is complete, or if she'll have to pick a time. I know the manga wasn't complete back then but imagine that A+ foreshadowing. idk, just shower thoughts I had today. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk and all that. InuKag deserved a kiss outside of weird timings!

#Inuyasha #InuKag #meta #analysis #Sunrise is so bad at these characters I swear #I feel like I'm stamping all over peoples' love of this movie but I swear I'm not trying to #I just wish I could love it instead of love-hate it

[musical-chick-13]

Unhinged Girl Watches Control Z, Ep. 3x06

-FINALLY Sofía is getting a plot line that doesn’t involve Raúl, I actually genuinely love the “secret half-sibling” twist.

-The actress who plays Sofía during the first scene visiting her father? Her best acting on the show, that scene was SO GOOD.

-What...what does Sofía’s dad mean by “You won’t face your secrets” does he mean Raúl, please tell me he’s not talking about Raúl. Because I doubt he knows about Susana, so what else could he be talking about? Unless it’s him because he’s the worst father alive, but that seems too much even for this show.

-I’m sorry, but the theme music is so ANNOYING.

-Poor Sofía, she looks so done. She’s tired of Solving™ teen crimes, she’s tired of hiding, she’s tired of everyone around her lying and being a terrible person, FINALLY, the character I liked in season 1 seems to be coming back.

-...I just jinxed it didn’t I.

-Quintanilla is getting...a lot more focus, especially about being a Kind Teacher (which...what.), which furthers my REAL and slightly-more-logical theory that it’s him. As for motive? Maybe he wants to get back with Nora by Bonding™ with Sofía, maybe he wants to punish Sofía’s dad for hurting Nora via infidelity, maybe he just really hates his students, idk. Idk anything about this show ever, lmao.

-YES SOFÍA GETS TO GET ANGRY, SHE GETS TO UNLEASH RAGE AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH A ROMANCE SUBPLOT I LOVE WINNING

- (Speaking of winning.) “The first person to turn someone in wins” OOH, WHO’S IT GONNA BE I CANNOT WAIT

-NATALIA WHAT ARE YOU DOING IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HER IS2G

-Is...is this about racism? Is it white people staying in Mexico hating their Latino peers?

-”IT ALREADY HAPPENED” THAT ONE OF THE GROUP WAS THE CULPRIT™ AND THEY IMMEDIATELY SUSPECT ALEX, BUT NOT RAÚL????!!!?! WTF???!!!!?!?!??!!

-Like...Raúl LITERALLY started this whole thing, WHY ARE THEY BEING SO LENIENT WITH HIM, AT LEAST ALEX’S POOR CHOICES HAD A POINT, YOU’LL NEVER GET ME TO FEEL BAD FOR RAÚL, SHOW. NEVER.

-WAIT WHAT IF IT’S JUST RAÚL AGAIN. I kid you not, if they double down on Raúl being awful and that he never changed and that Sofía should never have been with him, I will actually forgive this show for everything, I will take back every negative thing I ever said. Like...he jumped off his bike without any kind of payback, his Threat Message was not even a threat (because All His Secrets Are Out, apparently, which...I doubt that but whatever). IT WOULD MAKE SO MUCH SENSE

(-That won’t happen of course. But in a perfect world.)

-At this point, I think Alex deserves to turn someone in. As a treat.

(-But not Natalia, because I actually like her. Anyone else, though.)

-Why...why did Claudia specify “men or women” when talking about other directors she could work with during a conversation with the director she’s involved with IF SHE’S NOT BI, WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

-WHY IS SOFÍA STILL DEFENDING RAÚL

-”I don’t want to screw you over” HE ALREADY SCREWED HIMSELF OVER! BY MAKING THE WORST POSSIBLE DECISIONS! AND BEING THE WORST BOY ALIVE!!!! WTF!!!!!!

-Like...he should have ALREADY been expelled, courtesy of all he did in season 1. I’m so tired. Not unlike Sofía. Though for wildly different reasons.

-...Who has no family right now? RAÚL! New theory is that it’s Raúl again, just because I want it to be true.

-Idk why it would be him again, but at this point I don’t really care if it means he ends the show alone and miserable and/or dead.

-”What am I blocking” “MY WILL TO LIVE” I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, Natalia is an icon. She’s had the best-constructed arc out of all the characters, and I can’t believe I like her this much now considering where she started.

-WAIT, Claudia is publicly spilling her secret HERSELF so that this ““relationship”” doesn’t have power over her anymore, and she’s not beholden to AYS, YES LET’S GO

-YES GIRL DRAG HIM

-I’M SO PROUD OF HER

-...And then it didn’t matter. Because they made Sofía post all the threat videos anyway.

-I...can’t believe I’m saying this, but God, poor Gerry. First being outed to his family, then to his INMATES IN JUVIE, he’s actually trying to do better! Unlike some people!! But I guess this could be an opportunity to treat the situation differently than he did the first time, to show how far he’s come. But getting outed twice...shit, man.

-OH. THIS PARALLEL. OH THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT.

-Gerry being outed version 2: electric boogaloo, but he just goes YEAH I’M GAY I’M ALL THE SLURS FOR THAT TERM, SO THE FUCK WHAT, and he only fights in self-defense. AND THEN BERNARDO WHO IS LUIS 2.0 HAS NOW BECOME THE GERRY TO GERRY HIMSELF. Sort of. In the sense of fighting him because of homophobia, yes. But the situation’s a bit more complex than that, because Bernardo didn’t choose to instigate the fight, he was bullied into it. So like...yes, it’s reminiscent of Gerry and Luis’s dynamic, but it’s not exactly the same, which shows us just how far Gerry has come.

-AND THEN GERRY SEES LUIS’S FACE. Okay, you know what? Fine. Gerry is a well-written character, I support him not dying from this fight, getting fully better, and having a nice boyfriend and going about his life, OKAY SHOW? YOU WIN. YOU GOT ME. I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF.

-YES ALEX TURNED IN RAÚL (I mean, Javier did, too, which... :/ I don’t think that holds up with his previous consistent attempts to be better than he was when he was younger, but. Alas. They have to make Sofía/Raúl endgame, and that means ruining the other part of the love triangle to attempt to make that fit narrative-wise. I hate it here.)

-WE GET TO FIND OUT WHO IT IS THE NEXT EPISODE I AM HYPE

#mc13 watches ctrlz #anti raul leon

[sunnie-scribbles]

bad guy | tsukki

“There was no place in heaven for someone like him. But damn it, Tsukishima would do his best to earn his place with you.”

pairing: tsukki x reader

warnings: angst angst angst akjsjkskja slight fluff at the end tho

wc: too many i think jk 2127

Tsukishima has never claimed to be a good person. 

He’s arrogant and mean. He’s never been the openly kind and caring type. He had a nasty habit of provoking people, and often found himself rather enjoying making fun of them. He’s also been told that he intimidates people very easily. Tsukishima is pretty sure these things don’t make him your usual run-of-the-mill good boy. He didn’t gain the nickname ‘Suckyshima’ among his teammates and friends for nothing. 

But at the very least, he’s always thought that when it really mattered, one could find goodness at his core. 

He knew you believed it, too. He could see it in your eyes; could hear it in the tone of your voice, the way you spoke to him; could sense it in the way you relaxed your shoulders and laughed so easily around him. Tsukishima never understood why. Nobody has gotten close to him as easily as you did— not even Yamaguchi. You were, by all accounts, his polar opposite. You only ever had kind words, and rarely scowled at anybody. You were polite, sweet, and his mother just adored you. You had sharp edges too, sure. Everyone did. But you were the goodest person he knew. 

Which is why it kept him awake, every night, remembering what he did to you. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trailing after him as he walked away from the gym. There was a tremble in your voice and he hated it. “I don’t understand why you’re being like this, Kei.”

“I’m saying this as simply as I can,” he replied over his shoulder. “I don’t want to be with you anymore.” 

“But why?” He could hear your footsteps coming closer. “You just keep repeating that, but you don’t tell me why.” He felt a hand wrap around his wrist, tugging him backwards. Tsukishima sighed and stopped in his tracks. He wasn’t sure he’d make it out of this alive if he turned to look at your face. So he didn’t. He shook your hand away, sighing.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Tsukishima was completely certain you were crying. 

“No, I don’t.” He replied. Tsukishima heard your breath hitch, and his heart stopped. He hated this. He hated this. 

“No,” you told him. “I don’t believe you, Kei. I don’t believe it.” 

“Fine,” Tsukishima said, pushing himself forward. “Don’t believe me. I don’t care.” 

You lunged after him, throwing your arms around his waist. Tsukishima’s breath stopped. “I don’t believe you Kei,” you repeated, tightening your grip. “Not for one second.” 

He took a breath and spun around, mustering as much strength as he could in that millisecond. “What’s wrong with you?” He spat, pushing you away in one swift motion. “Don’t believe me, that’s fine. But I’m telling the truth, I don’t want to be with you anymore.” 

“You’re a liar, Kei,” your voice was just barely above a whisper now. Tsukishima was almost certain this was worse than having you yell at him. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes. And tell me that again.” 

“I don’t owe you anything,” he replied, trying to keep his voice from trembling too. “But if this will make you stop, sure.” He took a breath. “I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted. Between you and volleyball, I just can’t keep up. You always expect so much of me, and you never leave me alone. Do you know how tiring it is to be with someone who constantly needs reassurance? Who always needs me around? I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be with you anymore. ” 

He was sure that the look in your eyes at that very moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. Tsukishima has never hated himself as much as he did right then. 

“Fine,” you muttered. “That’s fine. I understand.” 

Tsukishima turned on his heel and silently walked away from you. This was the worst thing he had ever done. If he’s ever believed that there was any good in him before, now he was certain there was none. 

Tsukishima tried to convince himself that it was the right thing to do. If you hated him, it would be easier for you to move on. You would be free. You’d be better off without him. He’s never been any good for you in the first place anyway. He couldn’t give you what you deserved. 

It’s been three weeks since that evening. Tsukishima had become angrier, more bitter. He could tell from the way his teammates walked on eggshells around him. Kageyama wasn’t snarky with him and Hinata brushed off his back handed comments. Bokuto had tried reaching out to him, odd as that was. Daichi and Sugawara had tried to talk to him too, but he brushed them off. He knew they all meant well, but they wouldn’t be able to make it go away anyway. There was no grace in heaven for someone like him. 

Tsukishima only ever saw you in the halls. When Yamaguchi made excuses not to walk home with him after practice, Tsukishima knew he was going to meet with you. He tried to tell himself it didn’t bother him. Maybe you and Yamaguchi would fall in love. The thought made his chest tight and his throat burn, but Yamaguchi was better for you than he could ever be. It wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t bother him. It was better this way— or at least, that’s what he told himself. 

But it did bother him. All of it did. It bothered Tsukishima that Yamaguchi got to look at you, hear your laughter, walk you home, and do all these things with you that Tsukishima would never get to do again. It bothered him that you would never look at him without sadness in your eyes ever again. It bothered him that he knew he would never love anyone else, because he would rather be lonely than hurt anyone again— than hurt like this again. 

Tonight, it bothered Tsukishima that his hands were cold. He shoved his hands as deep in his pockets as he could. He thought about stepping inside Coach Ukai’s store for a bit, maybe warming his hands and belly with a meat bun. But even as he was a good distance away from the store, Tsukishima could already hear the bellowing laughter of his teammates. He knew that if he stepped inside, the laughter would slowly quiet down and they would start throwing him these sympathetic looks. He didn’t want to spoil their fun. So he kept walking. 

Tsukishima kept his eyes trained on the road in front of him. The music streaming in from his headphones blocked out pretty much most of the sounds around him, keeping him locked inside his head. That was fine. If he was lucky, a car would come crashing towards him and he wouldn’t be able to notice until it was too late. 

That’s why he didn’t even notice you until you were right in front of him. 

Tsukishima stopped dead in his tracks. Those shoes were very familiar. He looked up at you, his heart thumping in his ears. 

“Hello, Kei,” you said, slowly. The gentleness of your voice took him aback. Tsukishima spent many late nights imagining what it would be like to run into you for the first time since the breakup. He imagined you would either completely ignore him, or yell at him. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but he knew for sure that he deserved both from you. He wasn’t expecting this, though. 

“Have you been well?” No, he hasn’t. Tsukishima found himself unable to speak. He averted his gaze, feeling the shame crawl up his spine. Even without looking at you, he knew you would be wringing your hands behind your back— it’s what you did whenever you were nervous. He knew you would have your hair done the same way it’s always been, pushed up your forehead with a ribbon and falling down your shoulders. He knew exactly how beautiful you would be, even under the dim yellow light of the street lamp. And most of all, he knew there would be tears in your eyes. So, no matter how much he wanted to meet your gaze, he didn’t. 

“Alright then,” you conceded after a few seconds without a reply from Tsukishima. “It was nice seeing you, Kei.” 

You stepped sideways in an effort to avoid him, but as you walked past, Tsukishima’s arm shot out. His hand desperately wrapped around your wrist. He hated how much it reminded him of how you did the same thing the night you broke up. His heart had risen up to his throat, and he felt like he was going to vomit. Tsukishima couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he didn’t want you to leave. 

“I haven’t,” he croaked. “I haven’t been well.” 

You looked up at him, surprised. Tsukishima’s cheeks burned, suddenly feeling silly for acting on impulse. He let go of your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he said, finally looking at you. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s alright..” you said, slowly. “I haven’t been well, either.” 

Looking at you hurt him. You looked so small and fragile, standing in front of him with that look on your face. It made his chest constrict, and he hated that he was the reason you looked so downcast. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Before he knew it, his feet propelled him forward, carrying him away from you. Apparently, this was all he knew how to do. Walk away. 

Tsukishima couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned, replaying every second of your earlier interaction in his head. The image of you, small and vulnerable in front of him, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He couldn’t stand seeing how he’d hurt you. But somehow, he couldn’t stop picturing it. Part of him knew he needed to make it right, that he needed to apologize. An even bigger part wanted to take it all back. To beg for your forgiveness, to say, screw it— everything’s just no good without you. And if you would still have him, he would do everything in his power to deserve you. 

But he knew he had no right to do any of that. Tsukishima sat up and put his head in his hands. This must be what going crazy feels like. 

Tsukishima pulled on a hoodie, and made his way downstairs. He slipped into his sneakers, convincing himself he’d just go for a walk. Only to clear his head. But he’s never really been good at convincing himself. Before he knew it, his feet were taking him down a familiar path. One he’d walked countless times before. And he couldn't seem to stop. He only did when he came up right at your door. 

“Kei, it’s two in the morning,” you swung the door open, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Tsukishima looked at you, and it occurred to him that he didn’t know the right words to say. 

“It’s cold tonight, huh,” he said, shoving his hands sheepishly into his pockets. 

“Yeah…” you answered, rubbing your arms to keep warm. 

“It’s been like this ever since that day,” Tsukishima continued, nodding to himself. “Cold as winter, every single day. I mean, not literally, but like, that’s how it felt…” he couldn’t believe what he was saying. He shouldn’t be here. But it’s too late to turn back now. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “That’s how it felt to not have you in my life.” 

“Kei…” tears were welling up in your eyes. 

“And I’m sorry,” Tsukishima continued. “I’m sorry for everything that I said. I didn’t mean any of it.” He took a deep breath. 

“Then why—” 

“I was terrified.” Tsukishima could feel the wind brushing against his face and pulled his hood up. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this vulnerable. 

“I love you so much,” his voice was soft. “The stars pale in comparison to how much I do.” His breath hitched, and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “And I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” Tsukishima chuckled bitterly. “I was right.” 

“Oh, Kei..” you reached out for him, taking his face in your hands. It was the first time you’d ever seen the great Tsukishima Kei cry. “I’ll spend the rest of my life being sorry that I hurt you,” he whispered. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day making it up to you.” There was no place in heaven for someone like him. But damn it, Tsukishima would do his best to earn his place with you. 

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukki #tsukki x reader #haikyuu!! #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima angst #pain #just so much pain

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 17

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, violence, suspense, kidnapping

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Nat kept a watchful eye on Thor when he came back to the waiting room. He was twirling his phone in his hand when his eyes connected with hers; He shot her a hard glare before shaking his head. She grimaced, letting out a scoff and stood up a little straighter. She turned her attention back to assist Clint with asking routine questions to Bucky, Carol, and Val. Bucky’s eyes connected with hers, and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nat tried to focus on doing her job, but she was too close to this. You were one of her best friends, and she was scared for you in this situation. She wanted to believe what Thor was saying about Jig and Billy being the same person, but she needed proof or some sort of evidence, pointing them in that direction. Steve’s phone was the key to this, but she couldn’t go through it in case they needed it to use against him in court. She didn’t have a problem with lying, but if the defense found out what she did, she would be screwed and possibly lose her job. Billy deserved to be locked up for everything he did to you, and that cell phone would be another reason on a long list of reasons to lock him up. She wanted to protect you like Thor did, but it needed to be done right. 

“Natasha,” Thor shouted, forcing her head to snap in his direction. He was heading their way with Sam behind him. “Sam can confirm Billy and Jig are the same person. He met Jig once.” 

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Is this true, or are you making it up?” 

“It’s true,” Sam nodded. “I met him one night at Happy’s. It was a quick meeting, but you don’t forget that white boy’s pretty face.”

Nat’s mouth dropped open, covering it with her hand in shock. Bucky was beside her, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She looked over at him with tearful eyes as her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario. Bucky pulled her into a hug, and everything around her became white noise.

Billy got to you; he abducted you and almost killed Steve in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Bucky closer. How did this happen? How did he even find you? How long has he been here? What was going to happen to you? All these unanswered questions flooded her mind until everything went silent. This was what she needed, evidence to find you and bring you home safe. Her eyes snapped open, pulling away from Bucky. She smirked at him, and his blue eyes narrowed at her. 

“Keep me updated on Steve, will you?” She whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks.

He nodded. “As long as you do the same with YN.” 

She kissed him, turning around and catching Thor’s eye. “Thor, let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?” Thor was looking between everyone as if asking if they had the answers.

“To find your sister, but we may have to ask for a little help.”

“But, I thought you weren’t technically on the case?”

“Small technicality. Nick will forgive me; I’m one of his favorites,” she winked, and Clint nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m also a concerned friend of the victim, and I’m just following a possible lead. It could lead to something, or it might not.” Nat shrugged, looking over to Clint. “Cover for me?” 

“It’s what I do best.”

“Let’s go get this bastard,” Thor stated, giving Nat a forgiving nod. 

__________

The soft melody coming from the radio woke you up, but you didn’t move. A breeze hit your face, and the smell of the ocean hit your nose. A calm sensation came over you as you moved ever so slightly, feeling your hands bound, restricting your movement. Taking in another breath, a hint of familiar cologne came to your senses. You gulped, turning your head to what you hoped was a window. A sharp pain hit the side of your face, making you wince, causing your eyes to flicker open. The car sat parked near the ocean, and you could see the sun rising in the distance, cascading a soft glow over the landscape. You glanced at your hands, seeing a zip tie wrapped around them. You gulped, looking over to the driver’s seat to find your ex-husband wrapping his wrist. Your eyes widened as your mind flashed to him on the other side of the door, Steve laying motionless on the ground, the struggle in your condo, Cosmo attacking, and a punch to your face that knocked you out cold. 

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“What… what did you do?” You stammered, feeling tears start to form in your eyes. 

He smirked, taping the gauze on his wrist. “I think the better question is what did you do?” You narrowed your eyes, wincing as a sharp pain traveled alongside your face. Your hand shot to your face, touching the tender area between your eye and cheekbone. “I warned you what would happen if you left. People would get hurt, but you didn’t listen.” 

“Is he dead?”

“Who? Steve? Would it make a difference if he was?” He quirked an eyebrow as your bottom lip trembled, staring out the window at the ocean. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked as a sob escaped from your mouth. “He was a good man.”

“Steve was a great guy. I didn’t want to hurt him. I liked Steve. He was one helluva pool player, and we were friends,” he paused, your head snapping in his direction. “But, when he put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him.” Billy clenched his fists, shaking his head. “Steve doesn’t deserve you. He was never good enough for you. Hell, he was just using you to get over his dead wife.” He let out a breath, his dark brown eyes connected with yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you stayed home and didn’t leave me, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Steve wouldn’t be dead because of you.”

Your stomach dropped, with tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes shut as the sharp pain radiating from your cheek was welcoming compared to what you were feeling inside. You swallowed down a sob, but your shaky breath didn’t dissipate. Your head clouded up, blocking out any other sound besides your racing heart. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to blink the tears away, but a few escaped down your cheeks and landed on your jeans. You stared at the wet droplets, unable to move, only being able to concentrate on your breathing. You sniffled, clearing your throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Does it matter?” He arched a brow at you. “I will give you some credit though, leaving that note saying you and Loki took an impromptu trip together. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, you two are attached at the hip, so I knew you would be back in a few days, but you never did come home. Even after I saw Loki’s posts about being back home, but still no you. ” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth. 

“The most frustrating part of all was that you never returned my calls, which led me straight to Loki, and he told me you were staying with him for a few more days. I thought, ‘Alright. I get it. You want some time.’” He sighed, shaking his head. “After a few more days of no new texts and no returned phone calls. I decided to sneak into Loki’s and quickly realized you weren’t staying there. In fact, it looked like you were never there. Then I proceeded to go to your work, which I now realized I should’ve done to begin with because I discovered you quit.” He paused, hitting the steering with your palm, making you jump in your seat. 

“It was embarrassing to find out your wife left you in front of her co-workers.” He clenched his jaw, staring daggers at you. “This led to me tracking your phone, but it never did tell me where you were.” He smirked. “I am almost positive it involved an anti-tracker app. Smart play.” He nodded. “Nice to know you learned a few things from me during our time together, but I’m surprised you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Who's to say I didn’t,” you countered, wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

He cackled in the seat next to you, shaking his head, and in one quick motion grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. You tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold. All the mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with his harsh gaze. He clenched his jaw, making you gulp and stare into the depths of his emotionless eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Running off to your big brother, thinking he would protect you. It’s cute really, but deep down, he didn't do his job the first time, let alone this time. He didn’t protect you. He didn’t keep you safe. It’s comical, just how easy it was to get you back.” He scoffed, licking his lips. “And Loki’s all the same. They’re both egoistic, self-absorbed, and out for themselves. It’s poetic, how you were always there for them, but they were never there for you like I was.” He reached over and dragged his fingers against your cheek. You clenched your jaw, pulling away from his touch.

“What do you want from me?” You mumbled, observing him from the corner of your eye. 

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to come home where it is safe. Come home to someone who actually cares about you. My god, YN, you have no idea how much I have missed you and….and I’m sorry,” he confessed as his voice cracked. Your head snapped in his direction to see him running a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole for how I treated you, and I can’t believe I became that person.” His gaze caught yours, noticing his lips trembling. “I told you I would change, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I want to change, but I don’t think I can do it without you. I need you. You have always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I don’t want to lose what we have together. Please come home to me. I forgive you for running. I want to start over, start fresh, start that family you always wanted. Anything; I will do anything,” he begged with tears on the verge of falling. 

You swallowed, staring wide-eyed at him, not knowing what to say. Billy has always been a confident talker, telling you what you wanted to hear and making all the right promises.  He could coax you into coming back every time you left him with his caring apologetic words. You believed you could trust him time and time again. He could persuade you into getting what he wanted, not what you wanted. 

You rubbed your lips together, knowing what you should say or at least what he wanted you to say. But, you didn’t need him anymore, like he needed you. You moved on, and in this moment, he couldn’t control you anymore. “I want to start a family, Billy.” His shoulders sank in relief as a smile crossed his features. “But, I don’t want it with you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Our relationship is a repeating pattern that causes both of us pain. I can’t do this with you anymore,” you breathed, your eyes flickering to his; they changed from sincere and honest to dark and destructive in a matter of seconds. 

He brought his hand down his face, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say when this is over. I do.” He let out a deep breath and slapped you across the face. You yelped, sending a shooting pain down your same cheek, bringing tears to the corner of your eye. You leaned away from him, reaching for the door handle, and tried to push it open, but he grabbed a hold of you and held a knife to your throat. 

 “STOP MOVING,” he grunted through clenched teeth. You quit squirming and stared at the blade against your throat. “It didn’t have to come to this. ” He clenched his jaw, grabbing the passenger seat belt and strapped you in. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear as he whispered, “I have a plan, but unlike yours, it will work.” 

____________

Thor and Nat walked through the doors of your dispatch center. Thor’s eyes scanned the many individuals typing away at their screens and talking into their headpieces. It was a different scene than what he was used to. It felt calmer and less hectic, but on the other end of the calls, he could only imagine what people were going through.

Bruce made eye contact with them, holding up his pointer finger as he helped one of the dispatchers at their desk.  

“Bruce, busy man,” Thor chuckled, and Nat hummed in agreement.

“Thor, Nat, hi. Any news? Have the police found anything?” Bruce asked, walking over to them.

“Don’t get me started on the police. At YN house, they were walking around finding clues and placing their little yellow numbers by them, and taking pictures. Like, what is that going to do? They should be out looking for her since I already told them who abducted her, but no one believed me.” Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Calm down, big guy, it’s called procedure, and we were finding evidence.” Nat patted him on the shoulder before turning to Bruce. “Anyways, we came to ask for a favor, and we think you could help us with it.”

“Name it,” Bruce nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“We need to track this number, but the fastest way without a warrant is to go through dispatch, or so I heard,” Nat hinted, raising her eyebrows.

“What is it? Landline or cell phone?”

“Cell phone.”

“Cell phones are trickier since we don’t get an automatic address like we do with landlines. Our system has to digitally request the phone’s location from the cellular network. I will have to put in a manual request, which won’t be a problem, it will just take some time,” Bruce stated, going over to one of the computers. “What’s the number?” Thor read the number off his phone as Bruce typed it in and quickly filled in the necessary information.

___________

Billy pulled into a gas station and parked the car behind it. He reached behind your seat, hearing him shuffle around and come forward with a scissor, wet nap, and a baseball cap. He cupped your face in his hands, using the wet-nap to wipe your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the pain on your cheek. “There’s my girl, all cleaned up.” He lifted your head with his finger and tilted it in all directions. He grabbed ahold of your bound hands, cutting the zip tie from your wrists. “Put this hat on, and just know, if you run, you don’t want to know what I will do.” 

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. He squeezed your hands before getting out of the car and coming around the front to get you. He opened the door, instantly putting his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you. You tensed up, smelling the all-to-familiar cologne that sent your nerves firing in warning. It was a cologne you loved, having picked out for him when you first started dating, but now it filled your head with many unpleasant memories. 

“Loosen up, hon, you can trust me,” he whispered in your ear, hitting the bill of your hat, making you readjust it. 

You gave him a hard nod, forcing a tight smile. He let go of you as someone was walking out, holding the door for the two of you. You looked the man straight in the face, hoping he would take a look at you and help in some way, but Billy mumbled a quick thanks and took your hand. You glanced at the guy behind the register, but he stared down at his phone while Billy dragged you to the drink coolers. 

“What do you want?” 

“Can I run to the bathroom? Can’t pick anything on a full bladder,” you smirked, squeezing his hand.

“Of course, make it quick,” he nodded, letting go of your hand.

You walked back up the aisle and down another, glancing at the man behind the counter, who was still staring down at his phone. Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, you snatched a set of permanent markers from the shelf and hid them in the front of your pants and under your shirt. You took one last peek over your shoulder to see Billy’s eyes following you and opened the door to the ladies restroom.

You locked the door and leaned against it, taking in your surroundings, but there was nothing that could help you. It was a single stall bathroom with no windows. How come the only bathrooms that ever seemed to have windows were in the movies. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. There weren’t many options left: leave a note and hope someone sees it and gets help. It felt silly, but what did it hurt? You pulled the markers from the front of your pants and grabbed a brown paper towel, scribbling out a message and placing it by the sink along with the markers. 

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, you let out a deep breath, staring down into the semi-dirty sink. You removed your hat, running your hand through your hair, and looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It was like you were right back to where you started, staring at the fragile woman you thought you left behind. The color around your right eye was changing to a dark black and blue, your cheek was puffy, and there was a small cut on your lip. 

“You can get through this,” you reassured yourself, splashing cold water on your face. “Someone is looking for you.” Splash. “Someone will find you.” Splash. “Steve isn’t dead because of you.” Splash. 

You stared at the water flowing out of the faucet as images of Steve started filling your mind. His signature smirk, his chest-grabbing laugh, his caring yet determined personality, and how he... Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You squeezed them shut, sniffling, before opening your eyes to your reflection. “No crying; not yet at least; first, you need to make it out.” You cleared your throat, promising yourself with a nod. You slipped the hat back on and opened the door, jumping in surprise to find Billy waiting there.

“Grabbed your favorites,” he grinned, holding them up. You forced a smile, following him to the register. Billy placed the drinks, snacks, and a few wound cleaning supplies on the counter. You smirked, remembering Cosmo’s rescue efforts. The front door jingled, pulling your attention to a mother and her young daughter walking in.

“Okay, Monica, run to the bathroom, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” You let out a small sigh of relief, smirking at them going their separate ways. 

“We should start a family once we settle into our new home,” he whispered into your ear with a smirk on his lips.

“New home?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s part of my plan.” He wiggled his eyebrows, paying the man with cash. “You always wanted a family; why not start now.” He shrugged, leaning into you. He smiled at the clerk, grabbing the bag and holding out his other hand to you. You took it, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

Billy dragged you back out to the car and let go of your hand. He opened the back door while you headed for the passenger side door. “Wait, don’t get in; we’re switching cars. He should be here any minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure the police already have the make and model of this car through surveillance video or the license plate number from the note you left in the ladies room.”

“What note?”

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not an idiot, besides why else would you be smirking at a mother and daughter,” he sneered while a car pulled up beside them. “Speak of the devil, right on time.”

A Rolls Royce Wraith pulled up, forcing you to roll your eyes. This was his getaway car, more than a quarter of a million-dollar car, and he expected to get away with you. It was the same car he owned in New York, but this one had updated California license plates. A bald man got out of the driver's side, coming over to you and Billy. It was hard not to be creeped out by him, with a milky left eye and a scar underneath it. 

Billy’s phone buzzed once more in his hand. He looked down at it, letting out a quiet snicker. He read off the abduction alert, including your name, what you looked like, and what you were wearing last. “Turns out you got someone looking for you after all. It’s a shame they aren’t going to find you.”

You gulped, noticing the bald man smirking. “As requested, your new phone--” he handed Billy a flip phone while Billy handed him his smartphone “--with a few contacts that you can trust and help you if it’s necessary.  And everything you requested is in the back seat, but knowing you, Billy, you two have already disappeared.”  

Your breathing quickened at his words, your eyes darting between the two men shaking hands. Billy had the perfect plan, and you were stepping right into it. You were going to disappear, become a ghost, and no one was going to be able to find you. Your defeated eyes caught Billy’s, not missing the amusement dancing in his. You bit your lip, staring into the distance, hoping the daughter saw your note and called the police. But it dawned on you that help wasn’t coming, which left you with two options: start over and try to be happy with him, or adapt and overcome. 

“Thank you for your help, Agent Orange. I’ll owe you one.”  Orange nodded at Billy, walking over to the previous car before getting in and driving away. “Well, get in, honey. It’s time to go on our road trip.”

___________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 17! This doesn't sound like it will be a fun road trip, and from the looks of it, Billy seems to be one step ahead of her with every move she makes. How is she gonna out think him? If you haven't noticed already, Billy is a real piece of work, and I'm hoping he came off as a psychopath in this part. If not I tried my best, it's hard to tap into a dark mindset like that! Haha! I will say though, Ben Barnes, who plays Billy Russo, is an attractive man, but I will admit his brown eyes can get scary dark sometimes. Like when he's mad, you can just see it in his eyes, so I tried to play off that. And it seems like he has a buddy helping him, Agent Orange, I wonder how they know each other? Also, we kind of have a better understanding where Nat's head was at at the end of the last part. She was worried about her friend and wanted everything to be done right, and put Billy away for good. And what do you think of her and Thor teaming up to find her? And can't forget that little assist from Bruce, but will they be able to find her before she disappears forever or will something worse happen along the way? Is Steve gonna pull through? And man, I sure hope Cosmo is doing okay! Until next week, thanks again!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers x female reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #firefighter!steve #firefighter!bucky #firefighter au #steve rogers series #captain america #captain america x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #avengers #avengers au #avengers fanficition #first responder au #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction

[ihopesocomic]

I saw you guys seem to know about Warrior Cats- I wanted to ask about your thoughts on Mapleshade? She’s one of my favorite villains and I really enjoyed her book but some fans who try to defeat her actions and bash the other cats in her book can get on my nerves. Now, it seems she’s kind of shoved aside to a background character and she now feels like wasted potential of a good villain.

RJ: Mapleshade is interesting to me because I used to be a huge Mapleshade sympathiser back when her novella was released. I thought she was completely screwed over by everyone around her and did not deserve what happened to her.

Naturally, I was wrong.

Mapleshade as a character made some serious errors. She was disloyal to her Clan, she came across as somewhat immature and - my biggest gripe with her now - she thought having Appledusk's kits would complete everything for her. Which is one of the worst reasons to have children. Don't have kids to fulfil some kind of fantasy or to tie a man to you, you'll just end up hurt in the long run. Didn't make her a necessarily evil character at this point but I kinda got the impression that she was pretty selfish and just didn't think things through. And she was pursuing a forbidden relationship with a guy who may or may not have murdered her leader's son and his apprentice. And she decided to lie and say this dead guy was the father of her children. Oh dear.

People tend to overlook that, by the way. I certainly did at first. However, let's be real: Mapleshade lied to a grieving family and led them to believe her kits were their kin.

Even before the main events of the novella, she was just... incredibly reckless and had absolutely no consideration for the feelings of other characters at all. Not the Clanmates she grew up with at least. I wouldn't say she was as heartless as someone like Tigerclaw but her needs and that of her children and - by extension - her connection to Appledusk came first.

So even before her descent into murder and such came about, she wasn't coming across as the most sympathetic of individuals at all. I don't think I need to go over the rest of what she did because it was heinous and brutal. Especially what she did to Frecklewish. I get that people say Frecklewish deserved to die because she watched innocent kits drown but hindsight is 20/20 and she assumed that they would be OK. She didn't just think 'sucks to be you guys' and left: she thought they would be saved.

Honestly, the only character that came out looking nearly as bad as her in the novella was Oakstar. I don't care about him exiling Mapleshade. She lied about his dead son. But exiling the kits as well? I've never understood that. Especially when Mapleshade was exiled for breaking the Warrior Code and Oakstar also broke it by placing the kits in a dangerous situation. idk it just came across as double standards in the writing to me.

____________

Cat: Since I never read the book and only summaries of it, I have a kind of limited perspective. But from MY understanding, she's written to be sympathetic and I don't think she's sympathetic at all. She's a lot more interesting as someone who genuinely hates her clan mates, and doesn't actually care for her children outside of using them as a pawn to trap Appledusk in a relationship with her.

It makes it seem like when her kittens drowned she felt bad about it, and it was everyone ELSE who wronged her. And I just can't get on board with that. I especially can't get on board with a character that is shown processing grief but they're not only portrayed as being evil for being mentally distraught, but they're also shown as being in the right.

It would be one thing if she believed one thing, but the reality was another. But it just doesn't seem like that was the case and that they tried writing her to be sympathetic. If that makes sense

She's much more interesting to me as someone who is selfish and always believes they're in the right and everything everyone else does is wrong and against her, and doing everything for all the wrong reasons, than as a mother mourning the death of her children.

#ask #ask us stuff

[pocketfulofrogers]

Love Me Anyways

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What is there to say? You’re a dark and twisty assassin and Steve Rogers is definitely... not that. When you get an opportunity to run, will you take it?

Notes: Tiny bit of smut and angst with a happy ending. If you feel like you’ve seen/read this before, you may have. I’m reorganizing and this was previously part 1 of Haunted Woman, Broken Lover. When I originally wrote this, it was meant to be a one off, but sad endings don’t always feel right. I then struggled to turn it into a series, so here is HWBL reimagined with a different ending as a one shot. The series will still be a thing, but now I actually feel good about it!

They call you a ghost. It isn’t for the way you seem to slip through walls or the way you look at death as a reflection. It’s the hollowness of your eyes that earns you the nickname. Hazed over orbs coated in grey.

Clint asks you if they’ve always been that color, you tell him you can’t remember anymore.

Fury lets you run your own thing after you agree to attach yourself to the badge. He’d rather not know how exactly you get the job done, so long as you’re on their side.

You’re solo most of the time, it’s better that way.

They learn quickly how deadly you are, leaving your enemies questioning the validity of your existence and holding the same vacant stare as you. It wasn’t just physical injuries you specialized in.

The first time you met Steve Rogers was an accident. You had a rogue Armenian scientist tied up in his basement. He had been about to run when you appeared at his kitchen table, and, for a moment, you thought a heart attack might get him before you could.

You were sat before him, leaned forward with your tools on a bench beside you. A small blade aching to break skin sat hot between your fingers, but so far, your words had been enough. Steve opened the door, barreled down the steps, and stopped in his tracks. You locked eyes with him and, in a flash, you saw something hauntingly familiar within the blue.

That’s when something inside you shifted.

He took one look at the scene before him and shut it down immediately. You slipped away when he called it in and left no trace of your existence except for a long thin line gushing red from the scientist’s throat.

Steve find’s the plans for a chemical attack on his desk that night and where to find each accomplice wrapped in a pretty bow of nylon. Alive, your note assures him.

“She’s like a cat. Brings home dead things to show her affection.” Clint says one day. You promptly shove an elbow in his gut.

He learns how to spot your work past blubbering grown men and catatonic stares. Natasha tells him you hold your liquor well, Clint comments on your gambling abilities. He asks if your eyes are naturally that color, they tell him you don’t like to answer that question.

Later he asks Fury how they found you. He’s not sure how you became what you are today, but he knows this world has not treated you well, yet here you are, working to protect it regardless of what had been done to you. That’s the only reason he didn’t order Clint to take you out.

“So, she’s good?” Steve asks.

Fury pauses for a moment. “For our sake, I hope so.”

The next time you see Steve Rogers, you’re slinking through the Triskelion halls trying to stick your nose somewhere it probably doesn’t belong. He bumps into you, grabs your arm and your side to steady you. You know he can feel the scars beneath the thin material of your shirt and jump from his touch.

He shakes it off. “Tell me,” He starts. “Do you have an actual name or are you really just a ghost.”

You think for a moment. “Y/N.” He raises a brow, both your voice and an answer surprising him. “What, were you expecting a cryptic answer on the relativity of life and death or something?”

He chuckles. “Guess not.”

A moment later, he gets distracted, turns a way for a split second and then you’re gone.

“Yeah, she does that.” An agent passing by comments.

You continue on your path, leave him the gift of a solved problem on his desk sometimes. He sets up cameras and lasers, trying to catch you just once. It takes him a few months to realize the janitor drops the files and notes for him. You and Natasha laugh at his expense.

He starts to leave files in various places he knows only you could find. The worst of the worst. Men and women he thinks you’d be happy to cross off. You can’t tell if he leaves them for you, or because they’re just terrible people. Either way, the change in narrative surprises you, but you never bring it up. You’re the last person that would ever judge someone.

Natasha taunts him over it.

“It’s a modern-day love story with an assassin twist.”

“Why not that one?” “She doesn’t like Oklahoma.” “How do you know that?”

“She sent booze as thanks for your last tip. Are your cheeks seriously red right now, Rogers?”

Eventually, you concede and stop leaving him only the locations of gift-wrapped bodies with detailed lists of committed crimes. Complete with proof, of course, you weren’t lazy. You start to send him alive leads, people that can be questioned. Sometimes they’re unharmed, usually they’re mostly coherent. He’s surprised by the change in narrative, but he never brings it up. Sometimes people change, but that was none of his business.

Natasha is sure to point it out, though, consistently.

“You see him more than anyone else.” “That’s not true!” “…” “He’s here more than you, so it’s only by default.”

“Wait, you left that guy alive?” “Steve needs to question him.” “What about that one guy I needed answers from?” “You didn’t say please.”

“I’ve known you longer.” “He leaves me sex traffickers.”

When a body comes up dead that shouldn’t have, your signatures blatantly displayed, they send him to bring you in. He doesn’t believe for a second you could kill a kid, but he’s the only one who can get close enough. Fury’s only half sure you won’t kill him.

You battle with the idea of running, knowing they’ll never find you if you don’t want them to. You saw the evidence; you knew you were screwed. Fury told you from the very beginning that if he ever sensed you had turned, he’d take you out. No warning, no questions. Still, you wait patiently in your living room.

The window by the fire escape opens and Steve slides through, tip toes his way in and around the corner only to find you sitting there, an amused smirk tugging your lips.

“What calf exercises do you do? They look fantastic.”

He rolls his eyes and catches site of the artwork around him, the soft whites and greys of your walls and furniture giving spotlight to their colors. He never even considered you could have a home. You follow his gaze and shrug. Assassins can have taste too.

“The diplomat’s son, did you kill him?” He asks. You watch him silently. “Fury thinks you did.”

You walk slowly towards him, watch him curiously and tilt your head. “And if I did?” You prompt.

“I have orders to bring you in.”

You’re a breath away now, gliding your fingers along the Kevlar of his arm and trailing your way to his jaw. You trace his collar with a fingertip, watch as the pulse of his jugular quickens. You look up at him and he swallows thickly.

“And if I don’t want to?” You graze tentative fingers along the edge of his jawline. “Tell me, Captain, would you kill me?”

He hopes the eagerness in your voice is misplaced, the envy misinterpreted. Or perhaps the girl who surrounds herself with death does it with the idea that it may one day take her.

You don’t give him the opportunity to dive into that rabbit hole.

When you place your lips on his, soft and remnant of something sweet, he can only taste the brilliance of life. He wraps himself around you, slips in his tongue when you’re startled by his sudden switch. You thought you’d leave him shaken enough to slip away, disappear with the rising sun.

But now? Now you’re just as hungry for him.

He carries you, lays you across your bed. He runs the pad of his thumb along every scar left behind by a blade, places a kiss on each one from a bullet. You knot you fingers in his hair as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh, scream his name when he brings you higher than you’ve ever been before.

When he slides into you and stretches you deliciously so, you allow yourself to feel just this once. He catches the shift in your eyes, convinces himself his mind is playing tricks on him when the grey haze appears to fade.

He moves slow before he finds his pace. You dig fingernails into his back and trail them down hard enough to make him hiss. He nips you from shoulder to jaw, hips rocking into you, and you swear nothing has ever felt this good.

You lay there in silence, sweat coated limbs still entangled. He sighs heavily and you just know he’s about to ruin the moment.

“Stay.” You whisper. He looks down at you wrapped around him. “I’ll go with you in the morning, just stay tonight.”

He tightens his grip on your bicep and nods. “Ok.”

You’re still awake when dawn breaks, you had gotten lost in the simple rhythm of his heartbeat. A dream that one day life could be even just an imitation of normal. The thought makes you sad more than anything else.

You slip from his arms, grab a bag, and pack the essentials. Watching him sleep, he seems so peaceful, so good. You ache to wake him and stick around long enough to fix this mess. He deserves that.

Could you do it? Forget your past and pretend to be anything other than the hollow shell those before carved you into?

Ah, but this was your MO. Slip away in the dark when things took a turn either way. ‘Flight risk’ has always been written on the back of your eyelids. You weren’t quite sure why you felt you owed Steve more, but you did.

He awakes to a bright sun and a cold spot beside him. There’s a torn piece of paper where your head should’ve been. He brushes his thumb over his name and opens it. It states your innocence and exactly who he should be looking for, where to find them. At the bottom is a separate line.

‘Careful, Captain, or I just might be your future.’

Three years later.

You grab the tiny umbrella in your drink to twirl the ice around again. Undoubtedly a nervous habit you picked up in response to the very crowded beach bar you’re currently sitting at.

It was an alert you received in the middle of the night notifying you of your cleared name a year ago. You can’t be sure how whoever it was reached you, but the screenname ‘Tiny Dancer’ gave you a few ideas.

In that moment, reading those last two words you’re free, something changed. Perhaps it was months of being on the run from people who you allowed to know you well enough to track you that left you felling so drained. 

Of course, you thought about the beautiful man you left behind first, knowing that there was no one in this world who would fight harder for your freedom. You wanted to go find him, you really did, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt different this time. Like maybe this was your chance to start over. A chance to live a life that had been stolen from you so long ago. 

The bartender, a lovely middle aged man who strictly wore floral button ups, watches you down the rest of your drink and is quick with the refill. You try to thank him, but he waves you off.

“Anything for my favorite customer.” 

You push your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Are we not friends by now?”

He barks out a laugh and leans forward against the bar in front of you. “Friends get invited to drink with me, which you do almost everyday. Family gets invited to the cookout. Which is Sunday, by the way. Show up early and bring an appetite.” He shoots you a playful wink before pushing off to help another customer. 

You lean your head back slightly to feel the warmth of the sun and tune into the sound of the crashing waves. It’s the lightest you think you may have ever felt with the sand sticking to your bare legs and salt water in your hair.

Nothing could interrupt this perfectly blissful moment. 

Well, almost nothing.

“Sand looks good on you.” A deep voice says beside you and you smile, face still tilted towards the sun.

“Took you longer than I thought.” You turn to Steve still smiling. “How long can you stay?”

He moves his sunglasses from his eyes to the top of his head and looks around for a moment taking in the view. When he turns back to you, the smile that breaks across his face almost stops your heart.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #mcu #marvel #avengers

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

well... this was taking forever so just gonna leave it here and say it’s done? as always, it ended up longer than intended, then I wasn’t going to include all the scenes then I thought well it’s all written anyhow so, may as well...

1.18

It seemed like ages until the scene was secure and documented; there was so much to deal with between the dead art thief and his house full of stolen treasures.

As usual, Weller was running the show so Jane had little to do except keep an eye on the irritating criminal who had gotten them all involved in the unlikely scheme. Which was enough of a task in itself, as Rich had started jabbering again, once he'd gotten over the shock of seeing the damaged painting.

"That was a pretty slick move you guys pulled off back there, even if it did almost destroy a priceless piece of art," he commented.

"All that silent communication, interpreting body language, talking with the eyes stuff, if you will. That is 100% my jam."

"Especially in the heat of the moment, with lives on the line. You two must have worked together a long time to read each other that well."

Jane flashed Rich the fiercest glare she could manage, while simultaneously checking around to see if Allie was within earshot. Although she knew he was just trying to rile them all up by getting underneath their skin, it was hard not to feel tense whenever he opened his mouth.

Even when she kind of liked what he was saying.

Jane shook her head mentally as she felt her stomach swim with conflicted emotions. She wanted what was best for Kurt, and Allie seemed to be a perfect fit. No matter how much it hurt to see another woman in his life, she knew it couldn't be her place. Not with everything she was hiding from him; all that she really was.

And yet she hadn't entirely hated Rich's commentary, said just loudly enough that she and Allie could overhear him at the doorway.

Tell me again why you're with Allie? When Jane's the one you look to first whenever anything goes wrong, or goes right for that matter?

Weller hadn't even denied it, and that was another thing altogether.

"You realize you do it too, right?"

Jane snapped out of her reverie and turned her head back towards Rich, doing her best to appear uninterested in whatever he was about to say.

"You're always watching him, checking in. Like he's your responsibility."

"I mean, I get it. You're like partners and all. That intense bond between cops, that's actually one of my fetishes, unlikely as it might seem…"

"Shut up, Rich," Jane growled, unwilling to let him go any further into his thought.

Of course she didn't bother to tell him that they weren't partners in any sense of the word and had not been working together for long at all. Especially not when they'd first encountered the mouthy criminal, when they'd supposedly had so much chemistry.

It was true though. No matter how much she'd tried to shrug it off, she'd felt it. The way he touched her; even back then. It had seemed so easy, and right. Just like how they did look to each other first, whenever something happened.

She'd never even questioned it, the way in which she and Weller worked so perfectly in sync. It had just always been the way between them, even way back at the start when he'd trusted in her abilities more than she did.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I just thought it'd be a good chance to put it out there, seeing as how you're definitely not pining over Stubbles, and we have some chemistry too. I mean not like the way it is between you two of course. But if he's not willing to see what he has, then…"

"Rich!"

Allie was walking by and gave him a solid death stare before closing her eyes tiredly and striding away. Jane exhaled irritably in Rich's ear, hoping it would at least keep him quiet until the Marshal was out of earshot again.

"She looks like she has a headache," Rich mused. "She should probably get that checked out; you should see the studies on concussions coming out these days. I mean I'd be pretty worried if my girlfriend got knocked out like that."

Jane frowned, both in concern at Allie's head and at Rich's implication. Weller had checked on Allie right away, as soon as he could. But then she thought about the conversation that had followed, where Allie had said she was seeing two of him.

At the time Jane had just assumed it was mostly a joke, a way to shrug off the injury. It was something she would do herself, in an attempt to throw off Weller's overprotectiveness.

But then Kurt had taken Allie at her word and had gotten right back to work. He hadn't even demanded that she get checked out by a doctor, or tried to tell her to rest while he dealt with the scene.

Jane couldn't help but remember all the times she'd been forced into the medical room by him, after taking much smaller hits than the one that had left Allie unconscious. Maybe Weller just felt he couldn't tell Allie what to do because she worked for another agency and wasn't under his command. And yet she knew that wasn't it.

"I'm sure Allie's fine," Jane said, scowling in an attempt to deter any more comments.

Rich nodded sagely, as if agreeing with her. But of course he still didn't shut up.

"I'm sure she is," he mused. "I mean, Weller's her man and he doesn't seem worried at all."

Of course both Weller and Allie came within hearing range at that moment, making Jane close her eyes in dismay. No matter what she did, Rich's non-stop commentary wouldn't stop.

"I'm sure he'd be just the same if you were showing obvious signs of brain trauma."

Jane groaned inwardly as Kurt stepped closer and frowned at Rich's words, before turning towards her and looking into her eyes carefully.

"Did you take a hit I didn't see?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Jane sighed. "He's just going on about nothing again."

But of course Rich nudged her with his elbow and raised his eyebrows suggestively as Allie stepped up beside them. And still Kurt's eyes remained on Jane for a long pause before finally accepting that she really was okay.

"Let's get back to the NYO," Weller finally said, sounding annoyed at the situation in general.

"We need to figure out what to do about the damaged painting"

Jane exhaled in relief, glad to get away from the irritation of babysitting Rich. He seemed determined to screw with their heads, and their hearts. And, despite the little twinge of joy she got from hearing the mouthy criminal go on about how she and Kurt should be together, Jane knew that it was wrong. She hated the idea of breaking up Weller's relationship, especially because Oscar had tasked her with just that. Kurt deserved to have someone that was as great as Allie seemed to be; someone who could make him happy.

She had to find a way to tell him.

Even if it ended up being as awkward as it played out in her head.

###

Allie Knight walked out of the conference room at the NYO, fuming on so many levels. Getting played by Rich Dotcom after agreeing to his wild scheme and dealing with his 'insightful' comments all day was already making her a little crazy. And then there was Kurt.

He'd been pissing her off since that morning. The worst part was he was completely oblivious to it; had no idea he'd done anything wrong.

Which in turn made her even more mad. And maybe a little bit sad.

It had been going so well, or so she had thought. He'd even invited her to meet his dad, an unbelievable occurrence in more than one way.

But you knew, Allie told herself. You asked and he answered.

What's the deal between you and Jane?

That is not what this is about.

But obviously it was, even if he somehow couldn't see it.

She couldn't even be pissed off at Jane, who seemed to be doing everything she could to stay out of their relationship. Surprisingly, Allie actually kind of liked the other woman, despite her obvious effect on Kurt.

But the way he looked at her and acted around her. That wasn't the Kurt Weller Allie knew. That was some other man, full of emotion and a softness she didn't recognize at all.

Their relationship was still mostly based on mental and physical release; which was why the invitation to family dinner had seemed like a big step. But even though she'd come over and met his dad, Allie had always had the sense that she'd never really know all of him. Weller would always be that guy with her; good-hearted and fun but emotionally guarded. Yet it was obvious that he wasn't like that with Jane.

She could feel him walking out of the room just behind her and knew it was time to make a choice. He'd shown his hand, with far too many tells.

When she'd walked in on them that morning, it wasn't so much that Jane was hugging him. It was that Kurt had let himself be so emotionally vulnerable in front of her; crying while letting himself be held. And it had been pretty clear that they would have been there for awhile if she hadn't interrupted.

If she'd hugged him, of course he would have accepted it too. But a little stiffly and definitely with dry eyes; as if trying not to take too much comfort from it. He would have been her Kurt, so desperate to remain in control of his feelings that he buried them deep and pretended they weren't there.

Allie sighed, knowing what she had to do and yet still a little reluctant to let go. It had already been a shit day, right from that awkward moment in the locker room onwards. Goddamned Rich and his stupid escapades and his never-ending spiel of comments.

She was pissed at herself for letting him win, both in his plot and in his head games. But Allie had to admit he'd really only vocalized what had been itching at her the entire time. Kurt did look to Jane first, and worry about her more than anyone else. It was impossible not to see when around them.

"All right, so we gonna wash the day away with some nice scotch?" Weller asked.

Allie turned and swallowed back the last of her regret.

"I think I'm gonna pass," she replied.

"Why?" Kurt asked, reaching out for her.

"Hang on."

Allie sighed internally as she stopped and faced him. He really had no idea.

"Because of what Rich said on the roof?" Weller asked.

"He was just trying to throw us all off balance."

"It's not about what he said, all right. It's about what I saw," Allie retorted, feeling all of her annoyance ball up in her throat.

"And what'd you see?"

Did he really not understand how it looked from the outside? Especially to the people who knew him the best. Or even to the criminal who'd only met them twice.

"That there's something between you and Jane, okay?" Allie stated.

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

To his credit, Weller didn't try and argue. Just stood there dumbstruck as Allie declared that she needed some space and strode off before the sadness kicked in.

Walking away, she felt both lighter and heavier all at once.

Even if he didn't know it, she'd confirmed that day what she'd always suspected - that she'd never have all of his heart. It was entirely possible he was lying to himself about how he felt; she knew those Kurt Weller walls and his ability to burrow behind them. But she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

So she wasn't going to let him hide behind her anymore, use her as a way to avoid the truth that they all could see. He was in love with Jane and couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even if he couldn't admit it to himself.

It stung a little but not as much as Allie thought. Every step forward in their relationship had been a struggle, and now she understood why. Seeing him with Jane was like being around a different man.

Now it was just time for both of them to accept it and move on.

###

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

He hadn't denied it because she was right of course. Well, and also because he'd been a bit stunned; somehow hadn't seen it coming at all. Even after dealing Rich's comments all day, Weller thought Allie's skin would have been thicker. But then her words sank in and he forced himself to actually look at his behaviour.

What Kurt realized was he'd been doing his best to pretend that none of it existed. All the ways Jane made him feel, every time he looked to her first. After he'd declared her off limits in his own mind, he'd tried so hard to treat her the same as everyone else. And obviously failed miserably at it, as pointed out by the annoyingly observant Rich Dotcom.

So Weller hadn't examined what it was, or put words to it. But, then again, it wasn't like he didn't know. Jane made him feel things that were entirely new, all the time. The emotions he'd gone through in the relatively short while that she'd been in his life were so intense, sometimes he was completely overwhelmed by them.

Kurt watched Allie walk away, feeling bad about the situation in various ways. He thought he'd been successfully avoiding the mistakes of the past with her. But he knew she was right too. He wasn't being honest with himself or with her.

Weller walked down the hall in a daze, angry and sad and everything in between. They'd gotten played by a smart-mouthed crook and then he'd gotten dumped. Oh, and his dad was dying.

He really needed that scotch.

"Hey, are you okay?"

His neck tingled at the sound of her voice and his head snapped up to meet concerned eyes.

"Fine," Weller deflected, feeling his heart rate start to amp up. She'd caused him so much stress that day and yet none of it was her fault at all.

"Um, I'm sorry about today," Jane said, a bit timidly. "I wish he would have just shut up."

He shook his head, having had the same thought the entire mission. He would have given anything to close the whole thing down and send the mouthy criminal back to maximum security. But he also couldn't get Rich's words out of his head.

"Tell me again why you're not with Jane?"

"Some would say it means that you're more worried/excited about her."

"Life's too short, Jane. Follow your heart. Tell Weller how you feel."

Now though, the irritation at having a criminal comment far too astutely on his love life had mostly seeped out. But that meant Kurt was just left standing there with the obvious truth in Rich's words still ringing in his mind; all while Jane was standing in front of him looking too worried for his liking.

How did she feel?

And why did his heart thump even harder just at the thought?

"He was just trying to mess with us," Weller said. "Don't worry about it."

"None of this is your fault."

Jane's expression lost a little of that guilty edge, and she offered him a small smile, as if she was trying her best to believe him.

He wanted to deflect her attention from that line of thought, trying to put it out of his own head too. Searching for another topic to focus on, his mind traitorously turned back to that morning, where he'd broken down in front of her and found himself crying in her arms.

The comfort he'd found within them had been immediate and somehow familiar; even though he normally felt awkward accepting hugs. Even now he was somehow okay with how much emotion he'd shown her and how soothing it had felt to be held by her.

He wanted that comfort right now too, for her to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Of course he didn't give in to that inclination but it gave him an inspiration; a way to distract both of them from the day they'd just had.

"Hey, I'm about to head to the hospital to see my dad. Do you want to come?"

Jane's eyes lit up at the idea, like she was so happy to be able to do something for him. And Weller couldn't deny how it felt in his chest, seeing a shy hopeful grin tug at her lips as she nodded eagerly.

He hated that Rich was right. He did look to her first.

And it seemed like the entire world already knew why.

###

The entire day had been so incredibly awkward. Yet slipping her hand into his and tucking their fingers together felt so normal and comforting. And when Weller returned her tentative squeeze with a more forceful one, Jane finally remembered to breathe.

For a long moment they just stood there silently, and Jane could see that Kurt was doing his best to contain his emotions but they continued to spill out. He'd been so thankful to her for visiting his dad, which felt good in a way. But then there was the lie.

She felt so guilty. And yet, the little lie had made him so happy. The look on his face when she said she'd remembered. It broke her heart.

So there she was, standing there with his hand in hers, wishing she never had to let go. That he could be hers.

Tell Weller how you feel.

There was so much she wanted to tell him that she couldn't. Especially now, when he was with Allie and his dad was dying. What would she tell him anyways? That she had plotted all this, planted herself in his life and had known it for weeks now but not told him. Oh and I'm in love with you, that too.

She'd tried to tell him just the opposite, in the most awkward way she could come up with. She still cringed thinking about it.

So Jane just stayed silent until Kurt let go and started to set up an emotional wall.

"I should take you home," he said, staring at his feet.

"You can stay, I can make my own way back," she said, sensing he was on the verge of something he didn't want to share.

"No, I don't want…" he stammered.

"It's hard to be here alone and he's going to be out for awhile now."

She wanted to reach for him again but held back. He wasn't hers, she had to remember that.

"Okay, let's go then," Jane said.

Weller was distant, a little lost looking on the way back to the car. She wondered what he was thinking about, if he wanted to talk about it.

He isn't yours she reminded herself again. He had someone to talk to if he needed to.

And yet when they sat in the car and he was still so quiet, it was all she could do not to physically reach for him. He kept glancing over but didn't say anything, and she couldn't think of anything that didn't sound trite.

When they got to her safe house, he insisted on seeing her in even though she told him it wasn't necessary. At the door, she turned and he was giving her an undefinable look.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Weller turned his head quickly, wearing that same sad frown that made him look so vulnerable. But then he reshaped his features, attempting a small smile but not quite succeeding.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day, and not a very good one," he muttered.

"I know… I'm sorry," she started, feeling the need to apologize for everything going so wrong at the penthouse party.

"No, you did everything you could," he said. "We should have never let him set any of this up."

He shook his head and looked so weary.

"It's just been hard. I messed it all up. I should… I need… "

Weller sputtered a bit, losing his words again. And just the same as that morning, Jane instinctively reached for him, wrapping her arms around him.

He was shuddering a little and she pulled him close, wishing she really could tell him how she felt. Instead, she was just offering him some comfort, for whatever his unspoken need might be.

After awhile she realized he was crying into her shoulder, at about the same time he came to that realization as well.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she soothed. "You can let it out, I won't tell anyone."

He laughed against her, then cried some more. And Jane had to admit she wanted nothing else than to keep on holding him, telling him everything was alright.

So for that moment at least, she did.

I love you Kurt Weller, she thought. And I want to hold onto you forever.

That's what Rich would want me to say.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch #s1fic #i wrote this

[starkerdestroyedmylifee]

Thief

Peter tries not to feel the weight of his backpack as he makes his way up from the lab. He really does. But, it’s heavy. 

‘Well, of course it is.’ 

Peter curses himself, popping up each step and hoping- praying- he doesn’t bump into anyone on the way. It’s still heavy, though. Even with his super-strength; heavy, and metal, and not his, because he really, really shouldn’t have it.

At all.

When the day had begun, Peter’d played the part of ‘devastated mentee’ to a T. His eyes had been puffy, exiting his aunt May’s car, rubbing his runny nose on the cuff of his suit.

No, not his suit.

Some store-bought thrift that didn’t quite fit his shoulders. A black jacket with fabrics frayed at the base, and dress-pants not quite long enough. Pepper had offered paying to get something tailored, but Peter’d declined quickly. It didn’t feel right, taking money from Mr. Stark’s fortune, even beyond the grave. They hadn’t known each other well enough. Which is odd, considering he’s currently attending said man’s funeral.

Peter tries not to linger on the fact that he’s technically (Technically meaning actually) stealing from Mr. Stark, and instead makes his way through the crowded living room. The majority of guests seem to be winding down now, what with Tony’s eulogy all said and done. Only soft, meditated tones, and consoling hands on shoulders, and Ms. Pepper Potts- smiling politely, but dead on her feet- striking up some conversation about sewage. He meets her gaze, and the weight of his backpack is bone-breaking.

She doesn’t walk over to him, thankfully. Of course, he’s just another kid wrapped up in her late husband’s antics. The invitation sent their way had been courteous at best, but worded as something that was supposed to happen, despite being a bit inappropriate. Peter’s a stranger, after all. And, what happens when you invite strangers into your house?

They steal your stuff.

Still, Ms. Potts nods his way. Soft; disinterested. Her gaze quickly slides over him, onto another guest far more deserving of her attention. Despite this, Peter’s back goes rigid for the few seconds spent on him. He holds his breath- freezes- before letting it out in relief.

‘This is horrible.’ Peter thinks to himself. ‘I’m literally going to hell for this.’ 

It doesn’t matter at this point. Not with his mind fogged in an overwhelming cloud of grief, or his eyes still stinging from such a heavy cry, or his throat burning from yet another wave of anguish. ‘No,’ he decides, tapping his aunt’s shoulder. ‘It doesn’t even matter at this point.’

He feigns a stomach ache, by which May thinks he’s playing sick to escape the depressing atmosphere of his idol’s funeral, and drives him home before Happy can so much as woo her to stay at his place.

Up the stairs.

Through the hallway.

Into his bedroom.

He shuts the door. Crumbles to pieces. Because-. Because, he finally starts realizing what he’s just done.

‘Oh, god. Oh god, this is so much worse than I thought it would be. This is- This is literally the worst idea I’ve ever had. Stupid, stupid, stupid!’

Peter can’t help his hands from shaking as he lifts the metal helmet out of his bag. It’s cold against his skin, which only makes his mouth go dry. Mr. Stark used to wear this. He used to wear this, and it’d been cold. Heavy and cold.

“...I really fucked up.” He says out loud, which only seems to solidify it.

Well, he can’t take it back now. Not if Pepper ends up noticing that it is gone. A monument. A goddamn trophy of Mr. Stark’s. One of his earliest models, with the classic red spray and golden faceplate. Christ, if he’d wanted it so badly, why didn’t he just buy a replica?

Because it wasn’t the same.

It isn’t the same.

But, damn it all, it’s also not his. 

Peter had just wanted something to remember Mr. Stark by, and-. God, that helmet had called to him like a siren. 

‘Mr. Stark would want you to have it.’ His brain had supplied.

Which-.

Uh.

No.

No, he would not want a literal child hanging onto his legacy like a fucking baseball card, instead of in a museum, or some well-maintained pedestal, or in a safe to be preserved for the next thousand years. Tony had been over the top like that. He liked to think his work was worth something. It was meant to adore.

The thought of Peter one day throwing it on top of his dirty laundry made him want to cry.

“Oh, god. Oh- Oh, shit. Okay, Peter. This is-. Oh, shit.” He tosses Mr. Stark’s helmet on the bed, and really does almost cry. A High-Tec, revolutionary piece of hardware, worn by Earth’s savior had just been thrown on his rumpled bedsheets, and goddamn fucking shit Peter is definitely- definitely- about to have a panic attack. He throws his arms up.

“That’s it.” Peter rambles sharply. “I’m screwed. I am so screwed, because I-. Oh my god, is it chipped? Of course it’s fucking chipped, Peter. It-. It’s Tony’s. Of course. Oh my god, I’m going to jail.” He peeks out the window, half-expecting to see cop cars at the entrance of his apartment complex. “Why did I do this?”

That’s the big question. Up until this point, Mr. Stark had only ever been an idol. Then a mentor. Then a father figure.

And, then-.

Okay, no. Peter is not going there. He paces around his room, onto his walls, the ceiling, hanging off his fingertips before plopping back onto his bare feet. He sighs, cursing, before making his inevitable journey back to the helmet.

Picking it up, his senses note a slight rise in temperature. It’s still cold, obviously. His room is well-heated though, unlike the lifeless cellar they’d had it cooped up in just hours before. Which makes Peter feel a little better about things- he smiles, tilting it this way and that. ‘Ha! A real home.’- before noticing a patch of crumbs on the helmet’s jaw from when he’d eaten Cheetos on the bed, wiped his fingers against the sheets, and seamlessly forgotten to throw them in the wash.

Peter almost faints.

Luckily, they’re easily wiped away by some bed-side tissues (Peter tries not to remember what he uses said tissues for. He’s already mortified by his poor treatment of it.) He sits on the bed with a huff, settling Mr. Stark’s tech in his lap like a pet. Peter runs his fingers over it apologetically, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. He sighs, lowering his head.

“I bet you think this is pretty funny, huh?” Peter supplies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it’s not… It’s a little funny, but only because I know you’d probably have some quippy one-liner set up for me.” He falls onto his back, bringing the helmet to rest against his chest. Breathing out through his nose, he raises the metal mask just above him, so he can stare up at it. His bedroom light catches the surface of gleaming red, and Peter feels like a dirty slob just touching this rare treasure.

“Something like…” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “‘Oh, Peter. Looks like you’re a head of the game…’ That was really bad.” He chews his lip. “‘Sorry, kid. I want you to fill my shoes. This is a little much.’ God, no. That doesn’t sound like Mr. Stark at all.” Peter turns onto his side, letting the helmet lay against his pillow. They stare intimately at each other. ‘They’ being Peter and a lifeless curve of metal. He pulls the mask a bit closer.

“‘Woah there, Spiderman. At least buy dinner before you take it to bed.’” Peter turns his face into his pillow, groaning pitifully. 

“Why are helmet jokes so hard?” He pauses, mulling his complaint over. “Okay, that one wasn’t bad.” Like that, Peter angles his face to check on the helmet, and looks to see its reaction. Which creeps him out, of course. Alright, so maybe there are even more implications to stealing his idol’s helmet then the fact he stole it. Maybe it’s just bad to have an inanimate object symbolic of Mr. Stark around him.

‘No shit.’ Peter thinks to himself, drawing a hand down his face.

Still…

He places a finger along the metal mask’s faceplate; feels the cool of its surface, the crisp curve of each indent. It’s nice. Really, really nice. Which is exactly why he has to pull away and face the wall of his room.

‘Nope. No chance. Time out, Peter.’

He closes his eyes, counting back from one hundred. He does it seven times. Eight. It doesn’t matter. Peter turns around to face it again, and does exactly what he’d been doing before. His fingers map out the metal slabs, just imagining what it must’ve been like inside.

‘It probably smells like him.’ Peter’s brain coos.

‘What? Like booze, and sweat, and morning breath? Is that what you’re tempting me with?’

‘Yes.’

It doesn’t smell like Mr. Stark, for the record. It smells sterile and lifeless and unworn, like someone went and purged it of everything Tony. Which, Peter assures himself, is completely, totally fine. It doesn’t bother him a bit.

Not one bit.

Not when he slips a hand inside and feels the strange padding used to cradle Mr. Stark’s head. Or when he pulls it out, not devastated to find the man hadn’t shed any hair. Nope. Not even a little. Because that would be weird, and a little obsessive. A lot obsessive. It’s not like Peter could clone Mr. Stark if he had any kind of DNA. It’s not like Peter wants to.

He checks his alarm clock, the same one still ticking five years after the blip; 10:47.

Not crazy late. On the contrary, it’d be amazingly early for the hyper-active teen to turn in just yet. That’s what he tells himself as he reaches over his night stand, tugging the string of his lamp light. The room goes dark and Peter tries (Read: fails miserably) to fall asleep. Looking his crime in the face anymore than he already has to is punishment enough, at least for today.

He tries to ease his muscles, but they just won’t let up. There’s a weight in his bed that he’s not used to, and it sets all his human nerves on edge, even with his Spidey-senses dormant. Peter should put it in the closet, but he can’t bear the image of allowing it to collect dust. On the contrary, the thought leaves him choked and wanting a glass of water he doesn’t have the energy to grab. The idea of mistreating anything Tony Stark-related has the young vigilante in shambles.

Which is why he soon finds himself rotating around to face the helmet in his bed. Even through darkness, he can make out a sharp outline of lunar beams streaming in through the window. It’s soothing. It’s reprimanding. Peter sniffs, blinking away what feels like an ocean of tears.

“I’m sorry…?” He offers shyly. His tone breaks, shoulders bunched, brow pinched with a grimace only offset by the flush of his cheeks. ‘At least here,’ Peter thinks to himself, ‘I can get some kind of closure.’ 

Which is exactly what leads him to kiss the metal armor.

Soft, across where he’s sure Tony’s lips would be located. It’s quick. Innocent, really. If things weren’t so different in the 21st century, people might mistake it for a platonic peck. Because Tony- brave, wise Tony- was like a father to him, in the only way he understood a father could be. It’d been so tender, after all. With those sweet, thin fingers caressing, not pulling, and palms that cradled, not smooshed. Nothing demanding. Nothing sexual. Just a good ol’ fashion kiss, which lasts no more than a few seconds.

Peter promises himself it isn’t anything else. It’s a platonic kiss on the lips. Which is a thing. It is, but other people might make it out to be something more. Someone like MJ would probably cackle her ass off if she knew he’d given the mask a kiss, as short as it is.

The few that follow after are a bit longer.

By the time Peter finishes, he’s relaxed in the worst way possible. He feels groggy, worn at the lips, and shitty as all hell because that last kiss had definitely been excessive. 

And, okay.

Peter has a massive crush on Mr. Stark.

It’s terribly obvious. And tragic as shit, since the man is dead. Despite reminding himself, he can’t help but cling onto that damn feeling of metal on chapped, teenage lips. He feels sleepy, and he suddenly doesn’t want to be. It feels immensely inappropriate falling asleep next to a helmet he smooched to pieces.

Like sleeping next to Tony in Peter’s perverse, miserable fantasies.

Where Ms. Potts is away on business, and Mr. Stark is oh-so alone, and oh-so desperate for some kind of bodily touch. Where Peter is his sexy young intern, who has the confidence to wear feminine lingerie under his work clothes, and doesn’t mind brushing hips. They could make hot, passionate love in the lab for all he cares, and Mr. Stark would call him Baby, and Peter would call him Daddy, and it would hardly be funny to say in the moment, though he might snort when thinking over it later.

Best of all, Tony likes Peter best in his fantasies.

Parker is his favorite.

It’s only ever fantasy, though. Peter knows better than to indulge it.

In a conflicting fit between putting the helmet away, or pulling a sheet over top, or entertaining the notion of sneaking it back in place before anyone notices it’s gone, Peter decides to give the mask his bed while he sleeps on the floor. He’d much rather give Mr. Stark his best than chance disrespecting the man’s memory in favor of comfort. He obviously can’t be trusted, getting too close to Tony-related objects.

Laying on his bedroom floor twiddling his thumbs, Peter can’t help but wonder: What has my life come to?

#Starker #Peter x Tony #Tony/Peter #Fic #I don't know anymore guys #I miiiiight continue this?? #Or maybe I'll just leave the babe to suffer

[handonhaven]

So they just realised the summary for 4x01. And it made me nervous and mad at the same time. It says that the super squad comes up with a risky plan to save Landon and Cleo. While Josie is off on a date with Finch.

Nervous bc how risky is the plan? Risky plan is a little to vague for me lol. Because that can go in so many different directions. And also bc the title is "You have to pick one this time" so does that mean that Hope will have to pick between Landon and Cleo. Bc if that is the case then I'll truly believe she'll pick Landon. And find a way to save Cleo later. Bc I can't see Hope picking Cleo over Landon not after what she did to Hope in s3. But I also feel like it can go another way. Like maybe it's not Hope making the choice(maybe Kaleb) and he has to pick, and he picks Cleo. Which would screw over not only Hope, but also Landon as well(yet again). And after what everyone else did when it came to Landon I wouldn't be surprised. But I would also be very very very mad about that bc Landon would still be suffering(I just want my baby out of pain)

Mad bc Josie is is really going off on a date when all this is going one? Instead of staying and helping with these two very big problems. 1.the malivore problem and 2 saving Landon(someone who's supposed to be her friend) and Cleo. I'm sorry I have nothing against Josie(most of the time). But with everything going on now is probably not the best time to be going on the date.

But that thing about the summary that also makes me upset as well. Is that Hope is again doing whatever she can to save the day, while other people are off doing normal teenage things.

P.s lol the summary of one episode should not drive my mind crazy as much as it does. Bc I have so many theories and what not that could happen.

It makes me nervous too, yeah “risky” definitely sounds like things could go wrong, as usual (which they probably will). As for the title, I talked about this in another post as well, but I really don’t see how Hope having to pick between Landon and Cleo would make sense? How would that even be a question for her? She’s been picking Landon and has said she’d do it all over again, so unless they made her act ooc, I have no doubt she’d pick Landon. And exactly, after all Cleo did to Hope (and Landon too) last season, why would Hope choose her over Landon? And yes, I think it would make much more sense for that line to be spoken to someone else, and you make a good point about Kaleb. Because in 3x08 when they asked him if he was gonna help save Landon, I can’t remember exactly, but it seems like he didn’t really make a clear choice? So that could make sense if he has to make a real choice this time. I even wondered if it’s being spoken to Alaric since he was sort of on the fence in 3x08 too. But it really could be anything, it may not even be about choosing between Landon and Cleo. But yeah, if it is and Kaleb or anyone else prioritizes Cleo over Landon, that could definitely screw over Landon and Hope. And yep, I also would not be surprised at all if something like that happens, in fact, I’m expecting it to. And same! I’ll be so upset if it happens as well, that’s why I’m trying to prepare myself because I’m sure we’re gonna get more of what we saw throughout season 3 with no one but Hope caring about Landon and Landon continuing to suffer as a result. I need him to be out of pain too, just let him be free already. 😭

Yeah, I’m truly not surprised about Josie going on a date in the middle of all this. I mean, both her and Lizzie did that sort of thing all throughout season 3. Playing outside in 3x01 when they knew what happened to Landon and that Hope was struggling with that. Not caring when Landon was “dead” and Hope was grieving, Josie leaving altogether and Lizzie being totally insensitive, etc. And then again with how they acted in 3x16 when Hope was off with Clarke. They’ve often been wrapped up in trivial things, like dating, while Hope and Landon are suffering, so this is nothing new. And so true, this is probably the worst time for Josie to go on a date, so that’s gonna be frustrating to watch. And once again we’ll probably be going back and forth from watching something very serious, like Hope trying to save Landon, to something insignificant in comparison, like a date. Which means we’ll end up losing screen time for the important stuff because the writers feel the need to throw in these other things at the weirdest times.

And yep, again, I’m not surprised that Hope is in this very dire situation while people who are supposed to be her friends are playing around. Both Hope and Landon deserve so much better.

But yeah, haha, I understand, it’s so hard to know where they’re gonna go with this show that it can really drive you crazy trying to figure it out!

#answered #4x01 #legacies spoilers #spoilers

[mxrekai]

You see this tweet? This tweet right here?

It’s gross and I’ll tell you why, and I’ll break down the article as well because it makes me as angry as a bull.

You simply CAN NOT break these characters down to these (biased!) individual traits. And in Jason’s case, it’s not even a trait, it’s just damn slander with a photo of him dead attached to it, because DC still likes to push the narrative that it’s his fault he died. When in reality, he was a CHILD who was tricked and betrayed by his mother, and in the end still tried to save his mother who was responsible for his death. Joker and Sheila are responsible for this child’s death, NOT HIM.

These are all incredibly complex characters, with incredibly biased descriptions.

For Dick (the only one with his hero name for some reason), the oversexualized Robin by the fandom is more like it rather than ‘the cute Robin’. Which is kinda sad because he has a lot of depth that can be explored and stories that have been told that are really great (not Ric, screw that guy). Like his relationship with Bruce, his relationship with Damian, his relationship with his teams, his life outside of heroism, police life, dealing with his mental health, etc.

From what we’ve seen if I had to pick a single descriptor for him, I’d pick “The protective Robin” or “The first Robin”

Because he’s always willing to throw himself into harm's way to save others. Especially when it comes to his found family. Or the first Robin works well because he was the first. He started the whole Robin line.

For Tim, I’m sorry but I can’t really comment on Tim because I haven’t read his run yet, it’s on my to do list. But from what I have seen from other comics that include him, ‘the smart robin’ doesn’t fit very well because to be Robin they ALL had to be smart. And they all were smart Robins.

If I had to describe Tim, it would be “the detective Robin” because out of all of them, he is the best detective and is the most proficient at it.

For Damian... oh boy, I’m so sorry but he’s not my favorite Robin at all. But I know he’s complex and has depth. If anyone who reads this is a Damian stan, feel free to add onto this and tag me.

And last but definitely not least... Jason Todd.

This whole tweet and the article attached is Jason Todd slander (not what I pay for the DC Universe app for!) and a misrepresentation of his character.

“The Robin we’d like to smack some sense into.”

He👏was👏not👏a👏bad👏robin👏

He was a CHILD who just wanted to help and make a difference! He wanted to help the people in crime alley because he knew what it was like to be in that situation and he wanted to save people! When he first put on his Robin suit it gave him MAGIC. He had Robin magic but that Robin magic wasn’t enough to save him from getting beat to death by the joker.

Yes, sometimes he did not listen but that goes for EVERY robin, my girl Carrie Kelly included.

He had sense, he was also a child who made mistakes! Like all the other Robins!

Then he was brought back under the WORST possible circumstances, to come back and find out his death had little to no impact (unbeknownst to him of Bruce’s grief). Then go under some intense training, deal with pit madness, have his mind tainted with, then grow some problems with the man he loved who took care of him. His father.

If I had to pick a label for Jason? It’d be the discarded Robin. He was this boy who was thrown away by the fandom at the time by murder. Then like a broken toy, the writers proceeded to get a new Robin.

Or the redeemed Robin. When Jason was reborn as Red Hood, overtime he became a fan favorite in the DC community. Even won DC’s sexiest man. He was hated at first but is now loved by many.

Heck, maybe even that label because he’s grown from his first resurrection so much. Instead of being angry at the world, he’s now chosen to accept what happened to him and even reconcile his relationship with his family.

Or even the

Now onto the article...

Holy moly, this article sucked all the life out of me until I was left DCeased (get it?). It is way too obvious an angry stan wrote this.

Oh. My. God.

How is this in any way Jason’s fault? I don’t recall him having the ability to write his own comic book? This is the writers fault, not Jason’s.

Onto the second one.

Okay, sure it was rude to interrupt them, I’ll give them that one. But I’m also pretty sure Jason’s insert was for comedic effect. Tons of comic books have these moments.

I had to laugh at the “SO NATURALLY JASON TODD DID SOMETHING ANNOYING TO INTERRUPT IT” it’s just, damn. This article just reeks of bitterness.

This one confused me, so I went to go read the comic book that they were talking about. This, once again, was intended to be a comedic moment. Jason was simply expressing his excitement for going to go to the Gotham library so he blurts our “Holy Gutenberg!”. Bruce spins him around and tells him to never do that again. Even Jason’s confused on why he doesn’t like the reference. I think this is simply comedy, such as when he threatens to fire Carrie if she moved the batplane in the animated movie.

If a crowbar was right there Bruce NEVER would have grabbed it to hurt Jason over a REFERENCE. No sane person would.

Let’s look at the keywords here,

“Nightwing took a heavy dose of Scarecrow’s fear gas and had an extended nightmare about an alternate life.”

Once again, YOU WANT TO BEAT JASON UP FOR SOMETHING OUT OF HIS CONROL, AND NOT HIS FAULT? TO TOP IT OFF, NOT REAL?

Want someone to blame? Blame Scarecrow and the fear toxins for making Dick see all that. This was an alternate dream reality, no characters were in control or even there.

Yknow what, valid. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the heroes there have memorials elsewhere as well and Jason only got that robin suit on display (which was honestly more so to remind Bruce of his failure and make himself feel guilty), but fair.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, this better have been some abstract marketing (which I hope it was) for the new Death in the Family movie coming out.

All in all, the Jason slander from DC was infuriating and frankly unnecessary. He deserves so much better because once again, he is a complex character who deserves a deep dive. 

Please remember that this is just my two cents/opinion, and it is totally okay if you disagree with anything I said here. 

Have a good day :)

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Red Hood #Red Robin #Carrie Kelly #I saw this tweet and got to WORK #this was longer than expected #that dive on the article was improvised #We don't stand for Jason Todd slander in this household #Or Dick or Tim slander

[wizardysseus]

i was thinking about once upon a time (abc) in bed this morning so i decided to write this list

subject to change, since awhile ago i was in the middle of season 6 when they took it off netflix and i never quite got around to picking it back up. i’m gonna finish if it kills me i promise

top 5 things about once upon a time

5. anna frozen

when ouat introduced frozen characters, most fans decided the show had jumped the shark. they were not wrong. however, it was this very thing that allowed the show to be fun again! after an excruciatingly bad season 3 (we will get to that), bringing on anna and elsa literally transported directly from their own unaltered story in cheap ass versions of their unaltered movie costumes allowed the show to let loose and do... basically whatever it wanted. this became the hallmark of the show for those who stuck with it: absolutely not making sense at all, but being fun about it. post-season-three ouat becomes a totally different soap opera from season one, but by god you are never bored.*

personally, the flashback episode where anna annoys rumpelstiltskin and gets the better of him and he’s so fucking mad about it is like top 10 episodes**

4. 2x16 “the miller’s daughter”

this episode is just another personal favorite. it exemplifies what this show was really good at when it was good, and also where everything went wrong. i think cora is a great example of a good ouat villain, i think the twist on the rumpelstiltskin story is great, i think the dramatic beats really work.

...and in typical ouat fashion, cora immediately dies and two more villains we don’t care about at all are introduced. (sonequa forgive me you know i’m in love with you but tamara was nothing. it’s not your fault.) yes we get that great scene of snow aggressively doing archery practice while listening to “bad reputation” but was it worth killing off a compelling villain just as you’d dug into her story?

3. the commitment to regina’s redemption

and lana parrilla in general. i mean i’m gay and she’s hot but the worse the show got, the more acting lana gave it. and this is just speculation, but i think lana is more comfortable with drama than with camp? because regina becomes a much more interesting character as someone conflicted and on the path to redemption than as a villain. and by god, they were gonna redeem regina.

if only she had been gay we really could have had it all.

2. rumpelstiltskin

the sweet spot with rumpelstiltskin for me was seasons one and two when he was unabashedly bastard, there was an attempt to make him sympathetic but nobody except belle actually liked him, you weren’t quite sure how much he knew, he was pulling all the strings, and he was just really fucking weird. it will surprise no one who follows this blog to hear that that is my type of wizard.

1. season one

it’s a good season. it’s a good season. there are some bad things about it, but it was extremely watchable. it was doing fairy tales with occasional disney nods in a (mostly) cohesive fashion. the lore and the magic hadn’t sprawled out of control yet. it had the strongest relationship, imo, between emma and henry, and emma and snow. as for iconic episodes, most of the greats are here, plus sebastian stan as the mad hatter and giancarlo esposito as a series regular. the crowning moment for me is the scene at the end of skin deep, when regina confronts gold in the town jail and he reveals that he remembers his real name (after beating the shit out of belle’s dad with his cane obviously). god. that is some good television.

worst 5 things about once upon a time

5. the adoption politics but everyone knows this one.

4. WASTING the talent

you had the love of my life sonequa martin-green and gave her nothing. you somehow scored oded fehr as jafar and gave him nothing. you had giancarlo esposito and regina literally forgot he existed. i will kill you

3. rumpelstiltskin.

it’s no secret that robert carlyle was acting circles around most of the cast; my opinion is that the showrunners felt that if they committed to either his redemption or his villainy, they would never find someone else with the talent to fill his shoes as bastard wizard. so they flip-flopped on him every half-season, which ruins his story longterm, slowly kills the light in robert’s eyes, and gets reallllllly old. it’s also no secret that my favorite rumpelstiltskin is bastard wizard, but they screwed over belle BIG time in the process and for that i will never forgive them.

also like. the rumpelstiltskin fairy tale is antisemitic to begin with and they did not minimize that by comparing him to a lizard and naming his storybrooke counterpart mr gold. they just. did that.

2. THE FUCKING NEVERLAND ARC GOD IN CHRIIIIIIIIIIIST THAT HALF-SEASON IS EXCRUCIATING

1. captain hook

*it’s my opinion that if you are bored, you’re watching a hook-centric episode. every time i dropped the show and forgot about it for months at a time, it was because i had been in the middle of an episode about hook and just could not get through it. how do i describe all the things i don’t like about what killian hook jones did to the show? with subpoints!

1a. the episode where gold gives him back his hand and he never changes.

**this is actually the same episode i mentioned about anna and, like i said, it’s one of my favorites and not at all boring. look, i’m not pretending this list isn’t subjective as hell.

remember when hook blackmailed mr gold into magically reattaching his hand, which gold has been keeping in a jar, because hook has a date with emma and wants it to go well? but also, gold tells him that if he reattaches his hand with dark magic, it will turn him evil? and then hook spends the episode doing evil things, only for mr gold to tell him “i was just messing with you! the hand was not evil, you gave yourself permission to be evil ;)”

yeah, that’s basically hook’s mo.

1b. episode where emma tells him his brother is lying to him and he learns the exact wrong lesson from this and never changes.

so emma goes to the underworld to get hook back after he dies (while being evil and doing villainous things). they find his brother down there, too, and emma senses that he has a dark secret (because he does) and is lying to them (because he is). but hook always idolized his older brother, so he won't believe her. when emma confronts the brother directly, hook interrupts to rant to her about how he knows what this is ~really all about.

actual dialogue:

HOOK: i don't need proof to know what's really going on here. emma, when are you gonna admit that this isn't really about my brother? EMMA: what else would you think it was about? HOOK: us. you think if you can prove that liam is a villain, then i’ll somehow feel like i was less of one.

who... would EVER come to that conclusion. and why is the lesson he learns at the end “perhaps i do deserve saving after all” (another direct quote), and not “NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE EMMA WAS LITERALLY RIGHT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER LYING TO EVERYONE”????

1c. the emma dark one arc, where hook never changes.

this would be the arc that leads up to the above underworld arc, and it is deeply dumb, entertaining, and hard to explain. suffice it to say, during this whole arc, killian (along with emma) has all the powers and ~~~Darkness~~~ of the dark one (formerly rumpelstiltskin). unlike emma, he is not aware of this for most of the season. the moment he finally finds out, he turns on emma and goes through with all the revenge plans he’s apparently been holding onto since season two.

it’s supposed to be sympathetic, because emma made this choice for him to be a dark one, which is clearly awful, when he didn’t want it. so i get that. but on the other hand, it is..... boring. because (a) it's nothing we haven't seen him try to do and fail at before, his motivations really aren't that complex. and more importantly, (b) he was the dark one the whole time! the only thing that changed, that made him act evil, was finding out about it. at that point, it's not the ~~~Darkness~~~ making you do evil things. it’s just you. because you’re a dick.

how is this arc resolved? well, he dies. after the underworld arc (which i very much enjoyed tbf), a sizable part of robin hood’s death episode is devoted to people telling emma to slow down and grieve for killian, since at least two arcs have revolved around her inability to let hook go when he is literally dying or dead. (it’s been said a million times but being his girlfriend really sucked the personality out of emma and i miss her.) and in the end he just... comes back anyway. no explanation given; he says it must be a reward from zeus for killing hades... while he and emma make out literally in front of the coffin of robin hood... who actually died fighting hades. killian died half a season before. while he was evil. and emma reverts to tearful girlfriend.

it’s insulting. it’s grating. and it is a Killian Hook Jones Guarantee that his episodes will involve some measure of this.

like, is it more or less the same shtick that the writers kept giving rumpelstiltskin, too? backsliding and screwing over his love interest who gets less and less say in the matter? yes. definitely. the crucial difference is that i, personally, love rumpelstiltskin, while i find hook boring and not self-aware. but clearly i have had a lot of fun complaining about him! again, this is not an objective list.

conclusions

this show ran for 7 years. it got cancelled not because it deserved to, but because no one liked the soft reboot. it was on until 2018.

#thoughts #once upon a time #long post

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Cassell Cynics Chapter 3

@hectabdr

@hectab

Hana Sato walked back into the administrators building alone and shrugged when the Guderian, Manstein and Schneider all sighed at once.

“Hey, I tried.” She said.

“You were gone for such a long time. I got my hopes up.” Guderian lamented. He looked at the CCTV footage. Nathan Phillips was still where he had been all afternoon, but now he seemed to be sleeping. More likely he was just too stoned to sit up straight.

“Did you find out anything?” Schneider asked.

“Well...” She shrugged. “I found out that he’s C-ranked, he doesn’t believe he can actually slay any dragons, and he’s planning on dropping out and having his memory wiped.”

Guderian visibly paled. “Dropping out?! No one ever drops out!”

“I was going to ask you that.” Hana winced. “Do you know of anyone who’s ever actually dropped out?”

“Dropping out is easier said than done. It takes an extremely strong will to do it. Hybrids are fundamentally different from other humans.” Schneider’s voice was very soft. He spun a pen in his hand and his eyes turned distant. “A young person will feel an intense loneliness, the desire to reach out and find people like them without hearing anyone speak to them in a way they will understand. It doesn’t matter if it's a school like Cassell, or a private club, or a religion. Hybrids will wander and search until they gather together out of loneliness and the need to be with those of their own kind. For someone to experience the company of other Hybrids and then to turn away....” He paused, not finishing the sentence.

Guderian sighed, mournfully. “It seems so impossible. But it's true, he hasn’t joined any clubs, and shows no interest in any classes. Shows no interest in any girls.”

“The feeling is mutual. He’s has a reputation of uselessness on a level higher than Fingel Von Frings.” Manstein said. “Few on the faculty want to deal with him. Much less the students.”

“Perhaps that’s intentional. If no one sees him as useful, it's easier for him to disappear.” Schneider said.

Manstein spoke up. “Toyama has said that it is very rare for someone to be able to resist the ‘Cry of the Blood’ but it can happen. If the dragon blood purity is low enough then he might not feel the Blood Cry so strongly. Perhaps he is actually of C-rank and you two are having wishful thoughts.” Manstein huffed.

“Wait, you’re not sure what rank he is?” Hana’s eyes darted back and forth from face to face.

Schneider cleared his throat loudly. “His willfully negligent behavior is unusual for a C-rank and is intriguing enough to investigate. You see, low ranking hybrids are not usually this stubborn. We thought perhaps we could retest him.”

“He seemed pretty normal to me…” Hana responded. The three professors all stared at her. “I… I mean, some of the things he said were things I could understand. He doesn’t like the fact that people are here just to score what he called ‘social points’. He feels he’s here just to please his parents, but because he’s no use to the Cassell Mission it’s pointless for him to work hard. It’s not that he’s rejecting anyone. He seems to know that when the big missions come along, he won’t be called up. So there’s no point in being at the top of his game.”

“There are no useless hybrids at Cassell.” Schneider said. “In order to stay here you have to be above average, answering six out of the ten questions on the 3E exam. If he were just an ordinary Hybrid or possessed only garbage dragon genes, then he would not have been acceptable at all and we would have rejected him. He should know this.”

“I don’t mean to be argumentative, but he’s kind of right.” Hana said. “A-ranked students are called up in dire emergencies only. The last emergency we had, it was only A through S rankers. Since when was a C-ranked student sent on an A ranked mission? Wouldn’t that be the same as sending them on a death trap? No one is going to send a C-rank to kill a dragon king. It just doesn’t happen. What’s more, everyone knows that a B ranking should be the lowest grade on the Campus, for someone to get a C or an F like Fingel, it’s a joke to the whole college and no one would want to be caught dead hanging out with him. The only reason I could sit and talk to him was because I’m already a reject. I can’t get any lower, right?”

The three professors looked at each other in turn. 

Guderian rubbed his chin. “Perhaps you can talk to him again! He seems to like you! He doesn’t usually hold a conversation with anyone for very long!”

“Uh…” Hana smiled. “Honestly, I think I’m better off handling this escort mission alone. He’s made it very clear that he’s not interested in doing the assignment.”

Guderian gasped. “Oh right! The assignment! Yes… about that. Don't worry about that.”

Hana’s jaw dropped in confusion. “What do you mean don’t worry about it?”

“Um… the shipment was delayed. Yes… delayed. So you don’t have to worry about the assignment. More importantly, I think Mr. Phillips can use another interview from you. And we’ll make that your assignment!”

Hana sighed in disbelief. She crossed her arms. “When will this assignment end and how do I know I got a good grade?”

Manstein and Schneider both glared at Guderian and the man flinched. “I uh… heh… The assignment will be complete after this last interrog-... I mean, interview. And you’ll receive a full completed mark for my class.”

“I’ll take it!” Hana beamed. “Now if there’s no more, I have to get ready for my assignment!”

------

“So you were right. There probably wasn’t any cargo assignment at all.  They’re just really interested in the idea of you dropping out.” Hana reached over to dip her pita bread in the tzatziki sauce. “I think I got assigned to you because I was the only one with no social clout you might talk to. So now, talking to you is my assignment.”

“I don’t get it. Why do they care?”

“It’s not because of their ego. It’s because you’re unusual! It’s weird for hybrids not to want to be with Hybrids. The fact that you would willingly want to drop out and fantasize about it? It got their attention. I think they feel they might be wrong about your ranking. You’re C-ranked but you don’t act like it. Plus, it’s not possible for a C-rank to get into Cassell. The lowest rank they’ll accept is B. Officially. Fingel was A ranked when he joined but was demoted after. You were accepted as C… that’s strange. Did they say why?”

The spring air was still chilly but Nathan kept the window open in his dorm. The smell of garlic was strong from both the Greek and the Italian food. Hana and Nathan sat around a table full of half eaten styrofoam clamshells. Nathan sat back, his arms resting on the back of the used sofa, against the open window, shamelessly without a shirt, in the same pants he’d worn all day. His brown hair was roughed by the wind but he seemed to like it that way. “No.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what happened.”

“You had to resonate at least somewhat… right? C isn’t nothing.”

Nathan let out a breath and stood up to go to the dark kitchen and he returned with a beer. “You’re just going to go back and report everything I say. So why should I tell you anything?”

“Worst case scenario, you actually don’t belong there, this is all a mistake and they wipe your mind early. Best case scenario you find out you’ve been under-ranked all along and you can actually go on the dragonslaying missions and you can shove it in the face of all the people who looked down on you.”

He sat back down on the couch. “Both of those scenarios kinda suck.”

“You’re all about reality and truth, right?” She said, “If you really don’t belong here, you shouldn’t be here. If you do belong here, you should be here. If you’re as low ranking as you believe you are? Brain washing should be no problem. But if you’re strong? Having your memory wiped could cause intense anxiety and depression. Because you won’t be able to silence the blood-cry, no matter how hard you try. Hybrids always find each other. Only you will be miserable because you’ll be locked out of the world you belong to. Once you leave Cassell… you can’t come back. People may look down on you because you’re ranked C… but Fingel is ranked F and he’s not leaving. They haven’t kicked him out. Probably because he wouldn’t survive on his own out there. What do you think your chances are?”

Nathan took a drink from his beer. “I know that.”

“I’m on your side here. Just tell me what happened. I won’t tell the professors. I promise. They just said I had to complete the interview. Guderian didn’t say I had to tell them anything.”

He put the bottle down at the table. “You go first then. What did you see on your exam?”

“I was running down an unusually long corridor. And I just kept running and running until I got to the end and I saw myself. Only… My clothes were covered in blood and I was crying tears of blood. I was crying like...the kind of crying where you’re exhausted and you want to stop but you can’t. I felt like I knew what I was crying about, but I couldn’t… say it. Something terrible that shouldn’t be spoken. An incredible guilt. And I deserved what was coming to me.”

Nathan lowered his bottle from his lips. “Sorry…”

Hana just shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. It’s your turn.”

“Okay… don’t tell them, okay? Promise me.” Nathan’s eyes seemed to darken and Hana realized that perhaps she’d managed to convince him to talk. 

“I won’t. I promise.” Already her mind was fielding several different ways she could talk and somehow get away with it. Mentally, she crossed her fingers.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He tilted the bottle at her. “Anyway, I just… saw one dragon. It wasn’t that I saw a real dragon, I just got a sense of what they were. And I thought about how I’d been running behind my brother trying to keep up with him and my status obsessed parents. But when I saw what real power was? I was like… screw it. Everyone is just… rats on a wheel. So… I just stopped. I stopped writing.”

“What do you mean you stopped? You… stopped taking the test in the middle of it?” Hana's jaw dropped in disbelief for the second time that day. “How could you stop?! The visions are uncontrollable.”

“It was hopeless! I felt the deepest hopelessness you can ever feel. Like you were digging a hole thinking you almost reached the bottom and all you see when you look down is more and more dirt and you understand that you’ll die before you reach the bottom! So you just stop!” He slammed the beer on the table. “It wasn’t something I could control or think ‘okay next question’. It was like the universe reached out and said. ‘No.’ There was no choice. Once you understand what we’re up against? You’ll get it. But… I hope you never do.”

Hana couldn’t pull her gaze away from the haunted look in his eyes. They were the eyes of a crazy person. Maybe it was the fact that they were ringed with dark circles and red rims or the moonlight that made his skin look paler than usual. He certainly looked like someone who had a bad trip.

“I can look at you, Hana… and I can tell you flat out. If you meet a real dragon? You’re dead. You don’t understand what these things are. They look real, with eyes and skin and heart and lungs… but that’s just the … physical outward… manifestation of … some sort of Eldritch Abomination!” He fought to find the words to express what he remembered from the 3E. He was so defiant and stubborn before but now that was all gone. “You THINK you can kill these things because you don’t… understand…”

He leaned forward, his eyes were the most intense she’d ever seen. Hana leaned away from him.

“Cassell college is a joke. On a fundamental level. So yes. I’m getting my memory wiped. Because C ranked… A ranked… forget it. We’re toast.”

“You’re not C ranked.” She said, her voice shaking. “You’re not… And you know it. But you’d rather run away… You’re just like Fingel...”

“I think you’re right about that. But Fingel either doesn’t have the guts to cut and run or they won’t let him. The same way they won’t let me. They send you here to stop me from going. But you’re on my side right? Then you tell them the truth and tell them that ‘Yep! Nathan Phillips is just a C-ranked idiot. Just let him hang out here and cut him loose.’ You’re on my side. Right?”

“You really mean that Cassell can’t win?”

Nathan shook his head slowly.  “Not a chance. Not a snowflake's chance in hell. You’re on my side right? Please Hana. Just… tell them I’m a useless C.”

----

Hana stepped out of the dorm. The wind blew and ruffled the skirt of her uniform. She looked at the stately buildings and prime real estate. She had three assignments due the next day, and a presentation due after that. But a long shadow was suddenly cast over her future at Cassell. 

The shadow by the question. “What if he was right? What if it was really all hopeless? Cassell’s mission was to slay dragons but if it was impossible...”

She turned her face up to the single lit window. Nathan’s window was still open and even though she was outside and he was on the second floor, she could smell the weed from here. 

If I ever meet a dragon, I’ll bow down and say, “I welcome my scaly overlords!”

“You were serious...” She whispered. She turned and walked away, her lone figure receding into the night.

#Dragon Raja

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 14: Similarly Marked

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 14. Post-Httyd 2. Eret comes over in the evening to have his measurements taken for his dragon armor. A small misunderstanding leads to Hiccup being reminded of the scar on Eret's chest. It looks awfully familiar to him.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Eret

Pairing: Slight Hiccstrid/ Slight Eretcup

Words: 4 182

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Branding”

Whumpee: Hiccup (+ Eret)

Author’s Notes: That moment when you write a summary, but it's, like, for the second, much smaller, scene.

Written for the prompt: "Branding"

Kinda.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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It is still engraved into the front of his mind, the indescribable pain as a branding iron sears someone's mark into his flesh, the smell of his skin burning away. His throat is still raw from the screaming he's done. He's also not quite rid of the trembles he's been feeling, his body weak, hours after the fact.

Hiccup supposes that it's only natural after today's events, after what's been done to him. Honestly, the worst part was returning to the Dragon Riders and show them the mark he now bears with shame.

They reel with shock and understandably so. Their leader and friend now essentially belonged to someone and that they didn't know who only worsened the blow.

Because that mark, that wasn't the mark of the Dragon Hunters. It represents someone else entirely, someone they haven't seen before. But in order for the Hunters to be able to use this mark, they would need to be working together and close enough that the person or group this tribal symbol belongs would allow them to use it.

That means that, whoever Hiccup now belongs to, they can only be bad.

And that means they have to do something about it.

The hunters who put it there didn't manage to capture him and that means there is still a chance they can reject this claim of ownership. But with a brand, the price of freedom means suffering through even more pain than he already has.

Hiccup is sitting in the clubhouse with the other Riders and Toothless, whose head is resting on his lap. They are quiet as they let the shock of this news sink in.

The brand is there for all to see, right on the side of Hiccup's throat.

It was supposed to be on his face, that's where the hunter had originally aimed the iron at, but struggling had caused it to land on his throat instead. It didn't save him from any pain, but it did save him from having that angry red mark of ownership on his face.

Still, his armor and tunic are off. The pain has been radiating and that makes his skin in the surrounding area sensitive to the slightest of touches. He can't stand any clothing on his upper body.

They're all staring at it, at the brand seared into Hiccup's neck. They're all angry at it and they want it gone, but no amount of glaring and hating will make it go away.

But Astrid is standing before him. She cups his face and he leans into it, knowing what's about to happen next and dreading it.

They all want it gone. Not just because they don't want to look at it a second longer, but also for Hiccup's sake.

The Dragon Hunters who put it there are dead, another thing they have in their favor. But should the mark be revealed to any more Hunters, say during a battle that is very likely to happen soon, they could tell Viggo and Viggo would use this as an excuse to wage war on Berk. Because Hiccup belongs to someone and someone is being denied their property.

Clothing, while a good option to hide the mark, is painfully temporary.

But removing it entirely will be painful and nobody is looking forward to it. Not Hiccup, who will be at the receiving end of the removal, and not Astrid, who will be the one to do it.

"I'm really sorry." She tells him ahead of time, her heart breaking and her stomach dropping.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I should've listened. I'm the one who should be sorry." Hiccup refuses her apology on the grounds of it being his own fault. Or he feels like it is.

"You being sorry should mean you're the one to blame. And I don't remember you specifically asking to be branded. Or doing anything that means you deserve to be." Snotlout growls at him, at the mark. Whenever Hiccup screws up, he'll be the first person to rub it in his face and rub it for hours. But he can't bring himself to with something like this.

Hiccup looks tired and defeated. He hates it.

"So are we going to do it or what?" Ruffnut asks the group. It's not like she wants Hiccup to be hurt, but the sooner that brand is gone, the sooner Hiccup can recover, and the sooner this looming threat has been taken care of.

It'll still be there in some way, this detailed symbol will only be replaced with a bigger and redder patch of damage, but at least Viggo can't make any claims if he can't prove that a brand used to be there.

So she's itching to have it gone. She wants to go ahead with it.

"We'll get to it, Ruff, don't worry. It's just... Are you ready?" Astrid originally addresses one of the twins, but then she turns her attention back to Hiccup. They are the closest to the fire burning calmly in the middle of the room. She tries to ignore the sword whose blade rests in the fire. During the silence, they've been letting it heat up.

"I'm not, but the sooner we get this over with..." Hiccup doesn't look at her, at his would-be brander, and that doesn't sit well with her.

The original plan was for Hiccup to do it himself as he didn't want to put his friends through this, but she'd offered to be the one to do it and she didn't take "no" for an answer. She would not let Hiccup hurt himself for pride and freedom when she could harden her heart and do it herself.

"Can-can you guys le-leave?" Hiccup stutters his request as what is about to happen sinks in and he looks at his friends. They listen as they get up to make their way out, but they're doing so reluctantly. They don't want to leave Hiccup like this, but they also understand that he doesn't want them here for it. They shouldn't see this.

Hiccup turns his attention to Toothless next, who lifts his head as he senses his Rider has something to say.

"You leave, too, Bud. I don't want you to see this." He tells him, holding his face by his jaw, but Toothless pulls away, straightens, and then puts on his angriest "human" face, an expression that is supposed to imitate how humans look angry, much different from how a dragon does it.

"Toothless, come on. Now's not the time to be stubborn." Hiccup tells him, but the dragon lifts a foot and puts it down with a yip.

"I think that's him saying he's not going anywhere. And if something like this had to be done to Stormfly, I wouldn't want to leave either." Astrid sides with Toothless on this. They can't force him to get out of the clubhouse if he doesn't want to.

Hiccup sighs in defeat and pets his best friend, his brother by heart and soul, on the head. Of course, he wouldn't leave. Hiccup wouldn't leave him either.

"It might get ugly. You know that, right?" He asks and Toothless licks his hand before he lies back down again and replaces his head on Hiccup's lap. He can't get in the way like this and he'll still get to support his human.

"I think he knows," Astrid says what Toothless is without a doubt thinking. Hiccup looks up at her, the first time he's done so since she forced her offer on him.

"Are you ready?"

"Again, no..."

"Then let me rephrase it differently. Do you want me to go ahead with it? Right now?" Astrid rephrases her question and Hiccup looks down at Toothless.

"Yeah, do it." Hiccup tells her, stroking the top of Toothless' head and letting his hands glide over his scales and spines, hoping that it will comfort him.

It doesn't. Not enough.

His eyes are starting to water in dreadful anticipation and he hopes Astrid can't see it. The sound of the sword being pulled out of the fire reaches his ears and he flinches already, too tense.

Astrid holds it and stares at the redhot blade. She's trembling now and not because the weapon is too heavy for her. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She doesn't want to do this, she really doesn't, it's wrong on so many levels.

He's her leader, her superior, but more importantly, he's her best friend. He's the one she has feelings for, but whether as a friend or something else entirely, she hasn't figured out yet.

Bottom line is, she doesn't want to do this, but she wants him to do this to himself even less.

Grabbing the sword with both hands, she takes a step closer to Hiccup and brings it even closer. Hiccup is usually good at keeping his cool, but his shaking as he can already feel the heat isn't lost on her.

She hates this. She hates this so much.

"I'll-I'll try to be quick." She tells him, but he doesn't respond. He's too busy bracing himself for what's to come.

Astrid takes the blade closer to the hottest part, to have more control.

"I'll try to leave as little damage as I can."

"Please, just do it. Before it cools too much and we have to wait again." Hiccup tells her and she does as she's being told.

Grabbing his shoulder and leaning down, she gives it a squeeze before laying her hand on the back of his head, her fingers buried in his hair. She pulls, but she doesn't have to pull hard as Hiccup follows and exposes his neck to her.

She doesn't remove her hand or even lessen her hold. In the very likely scenario that Hiccup is going to fight her the second the hot metal touches his skin, she needs some way to keep him from pulling away, as horrible as that is.

She takes a deep breath. She's not the one about to go through an excruciating removal process and still she needs a moment.

"Astrid, just do it. Now, please!" But Hiccup can't take the waiting and so she forces herself to make a move, before the metal cools too much.

Tightening her grip on his hair, she pushes the blade into his skin, ensuring that the brand is completely covered, and she holds it there.

The pain is immediate. The brand itself was already still pulling and stinging with the slightest breeze and now it burns even fiercer than it did when it was placed. The surrounding skin, sensitive as it is, swelters and melts beneath the hot blade.

Hiccup's shivering worsens instantly and the tears that have been gathering come down his face. His hands are fists and it's taking him everything not to grab hold of a fistful of Toothless in pure agony. His teeth are clenched and if he had the mind to, he would fear breaking them.

He wants to stay strong. As his skin burns and the smell of burning flesh embeds itself in his nostrils some more, he wants to stray strong. As the brand burns brightest of all...

But he can't. Failing both Toothless and Astrid, it takes him mere seconds to give in to the want to scream, though he's held out surprisingly long even then.

Astrid flinches and Toothless whines, but the former doesn't stop. She can't, she knows that if she does stop and she hasn't done a good enough job, she would need to do this a second time and she just can't do that to him.

He tries to pull away because of course, he would want this to stop, but Astrid tightens her hold some more and forces him to stay in place. It's the hardest thing she's ever had to do and she hopes nothing will ever come close.

"Stop. Stop!" His hands come up from Toothless' head, but they don't know which to grab. Go for the hand holding his head in place or the one holding the sword?

Astrid begins to cry as well and she finds herself thinking how she hasn't started crying earlier.

"Stop! Astrid, please, stop!" The others can probably hear him screaming at the top of his lungs and Astrid is certain she will be hearing them in her nightmares.

"ASTRID, STOP!" She finally lets go, but whether it's because enough time has passed or because Hiccup grabbed both of her hands and tore out of her hold, they don't know.

The chair he was sitting on is knocked over in the action and Hiccup ends up falling to the floor. Toothless is by him instantly, lying flat and placing a paw over his Rider. He purs comfortingly, nosing his hair.

Panting heavily, Astrid glances at the sword and drops it immediately, as if it's something vile now. Not the safest thing to do with a wooden floor, but she can't help herself.

"Fff-fuck. Fuck." He lets out a rare f-bomb as he lies on the floor, hands wanting to go for the injury, but not daring to actually touch it.

Forcing her heavy body to move, Astrid reaches for one of the buckets of lukewarm water they'd readied for this. Toothless pulls away to make room and she kneels and aims. Careful not to get any of that water in his mouth and nose, she pours it gently over his neck. To save as much water as she can and to make sure the stream isn't too rough on him.

The new wound is definitely bigger, but the water distorts its shape. She can see it, however, and that's more than enough.

She did that to him. It was with good intention, but she still did it. She hurt him and a sob leaves.

The bucket runs empty much quicker than she would've liked and she goes for the second one.

This isn't going to be easy. Burns are always difficult to treat properly, the chances of infection, especially with a burn so deep, is always enormous. And then there is the matter of telling Stoick and how.

The door to the clubhouse opens and the other Riders dare themselves inside. The worst part is over, now they want to help treat it.

Hiccup passes out soon after, the experience too much for him.

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When Hiccup asks him to come over in the evening, Eret is at least a little bit nervous to come by for a visit. Hiccup has that effect on him. His Chief, as he calls him, Eret has never been more comfortable with anybody else in his life but him, and yet at the same time, he feels so strangely nervous when they're alone. Nervous in a good way.

Hiccup has asked him to come over earlier that day to have his measurements taken and that's why he's here now, just shy of opening the door.

The Chief, he's quite the inventor. When he first landed on Berk, it didn't take Eret long to find that out. The troughs of water above every Viking home, the dragon wash, the strange stables, Hiccup's left his mark all over the village and it's made everyone's life easier.

He understands why Hiccup is held in such high regard. It's not just that he's their hero in trying times, but he's also the one solving all of their problems. In the last nine months, Eret's admiration and respect for him has only grown.

Blowing out a lungful of air, Eret knocks on the door and soon receives a muffled "come in!" from the other side. Opening it up, he can see Hiccup standing near a table while Toothless lies by the fire.

"Ah, Eret, there you are!" Hiccup greets him, smiling, and Toothless rumbles a hello of his own without even lifting his head, much too comfortable on the floor.

Eret nods their way, gaze falling on the measuring lint on the table.

Hiccup has had the bright idea to create armor based on their individual dragons. His Dragon Riders having such little protection during battle has bothered him more than it used to and he's finally putting an end to that. And as the plan is to use the shed scales of their dragons, chances are they might even be fireproof.

The twins only reluctantly agreed because of their armor's cool design.

According to Astrid, the passing of Late-Chief Stoick the Vast has something to do with Hiccup's want to suddenly control what his Riders wear during their battles. It's something all the Riders think and it's the biggest reason they're listening to Hiccup's wishes, stubborn as they are.

Closing the door and walking further into the room, passing Toothless, Eret reaches his Chief.

"So what do you want me to..." He asks, wondering what exactly Hiccup wants him to do.

"Well, if I want to take the correct measurements, I'm going to need you to take that off." Hiccup tells him, gesturing broadly at the furs he's wearing.

"Okay," But Eret misunderstands, believing Hiccup is asking him to take it all off instead of just his furs, and with his back then turned, Hiccup can't tell him otherwise.

By the time he turns back to Eret, measuring lint in hand, his furs are off and his tunics are nearly off as well.

"Oh Eret, I just meant the furs!" Hiccup quickly stops him, hands up, and a smile on his face.

"Oh! I see." A feeling of embarrassment wells up.

"Completely my fault, I should've been more clear." The other tells him, realizing that his instructions must've been unclear. He needs Eret to wear his tunic as the armor will be worn above at least one layer of clothing and that means Hiccup needs to measure him with his clothes on.

"Well, just so you know, I'm always ready to strip." Attempting to cure his embarrassment with some hilarity, Eret makes a joke, causing Hiccup to laugh.

"So you are!" His laughter is something the new Rider finds himself enjoying.

But then Hiccup suddenly stills, his gaze falling on the blemish on the other's chest. When Eret notices what he's looking at, he, too, grows silent.

The air in the room grows tense then. Hiccup brings a hand up to it, but he doesn't touch it. His hand simply hovers there instead.

"I bet that must've hurt a lot."

Eret looks away, hand covering the brand. Drago may be dead, but that doesn't take away any of the trauma that still clings to it.

Knowing that he's gone makes him feel only a little safer. Having Hiccup here helps as well, surprising as that may seem to those who don't know him.

Hiccup stares at Eret, seeing the broken look on his face. He understands the pain that a brand brings very well, the physical, the mental, and the emotional.

But what he can hardly imagine is carrying that brand and not being able to escape. That must've been his reality before Drago met his demise, to serve a cruel man knowing he can never escape, the threat of punishment, or even death looming above his head every day.

Hiccup's heart aches for him. He's safe now, but that doesn't erase what's been done to him.

But maybe there's something he can do about it. He might not be able to make it better, but maybe he can at least tell him that he's not alone. Or rather, show him he's not alone.

Hiccup nods to himself, reaffirming that that is what he's going to do.

"Let me show you something." Eret looks back at him when he says that.

Hiccup draws away from him and removes his armbraces, leaving both of them on the table nearby before taking off his chest piece. It'll be the first time he's seen him without his armor on and Eret feels like he needs to hold his breath.

But he quickly sees what Hiccup intends to show him. On the side of his throat, there is a nasty, nasty looking scar and he points towards it.

He's always known that there is something there, he could always see just a bit peeking out from the collar, but now he has a full view of it and it makes him cringe. That couldn't have been pleasant and it's not old either.

"This... is from a brand, too." Hiccup drags out his first word of that sentence. It is difficult for him to talk about and the only reason he's bringing it up now is for Eret.

Eret is overcome with surprise.

"Ah-Astrid removed it before anything could come of it. The person who put it there is dead and so are the people who were there to see it, so no one was alive to tell anybody about it. Which means nobody got to claim that I... belonged to someone." It is difficult, much too difficult. Hiccup is breathing hard, memories of the branding, and the removal of said brand coming back in horrible waves.

Even though it was to help him and he knows this, he didn't let Astrid touch him for weeks. It made her feel terrible and that is something he regrets enormously. Fortunately, it ended up not causing a rift between them, but it almost had.

"Do you know who it belonged to?" Eret inquires. Hiccup nods, but he needs a moment before he can say it.

"Drago." So he says and watches the new Rider's face change from horrible surprise to utter shock.

"I didn't know until we met and I saw the exact same brand on you." He hadn't thought much of it at the time either, much too focused on getting Stormfly free the four of them out of that sticky situation.

"I can't imagine how terrifying that must've been." He really can't. When he got branded, as horrible as it was, he at least knew who he belonged to. Hiccup couldn't say the same thing, not until he'd already gone through the trouble of getting rid of it before this mystery person could make their claim.

"But he's gone now. And he never got his hands on me and he can no longer get his hands on you. After everything that's happened, after all the pain this thing still causes me, I can't be more grateful than I already am." But even despite this dark conversation, this confession, and the fact that he's now shaking a little, Hiccup still smiles as he talks and Eret is stumped.

He already knew he had Hiccup all wrong. When they first met each other, Hiccup seemed like a naive boy who was much too good for this world. A heart too big for a world so small-minded. Someone who somehow saw something in the dragons that Eret previously thought wasn't there, but someone that he saw as needing to be protected from Drago's cruelty. It was why he tried to stop Astrid from talking about Hiccup in front of the madman.

Because even though they were on opposing sides, Eret didn't want him hurt. Far from that.

But then Hiccup lost his father and Eret thought for a moment that was it. Drago was a man who left his opponents destroyed. Physically, mentally, emotionally, didn't matter so long as they were defeated and couldn't oppose Drago any longer.

Eret has seen it happen too many times to not expect the same thing to happen to Hiccup. His father had been murdered trying to protect him and his best friend had been used as a weapon, anyone would've been broken by this.

But that isn't what happened. Instead, Hiccup gathered whatever strength he still had left, traveled back to Berk, and finally beat Drago, something so many before him had failed to do. That alone, that show of strength, the reassurance that Eret could count on him, his kindness, all of that was what made Eret want to come live on Berk and follow him as his Chief.

The bonus of getting to ride dragons helped, too.

And tonight, he realizes he has Hiccup wrong again. Young as he is, positive as his mindset is, he is no stranger to strive. And yet, he told him about his brand and then lightened the mood with a simple smile and a few encouraging words.

"You really aren't what I expected. I've been living on Berk for months now and you still surprise me." Eret says, leaning on a nearby chair.

"Oh, I won't stop surprising you for at least the next few years. If I haven't come up with a bunch of new surprises by then." Hiccup tells him ahead of time, nodding, and Eret chuckles.

"I look forward to every one of them."

They let it sit for a moment as it's a really nice one, but Hiccup inevitably has to decide that they better get to what Eret's come all this way for in the first place.

"Come on, let's get to measuring."

#whumptober2020 #no.14 #branding #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfics #tw: branding #rtte #race to the edge #hiccup haddock #eret son of eret #toothless #hictooth #dragon bros #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid #eretcup #hiccup whump #my fanfics #similarly marked

[immortalmoxuanyu]

A Gentleman’s Wager

Wei Wuxian thought it was unfair to expect someone to be smart all the time. He knew he was smart, and that wasn’t him bragging. He had to be clever in order to survive.

 It followed that if he needed to be smart to survive hard times, that in times of peace he didn’t need to be smart and crafty all the time.

That’s what he was telling himself anyway. It was the only excuse for why it took him so long to figure it out.

The thing is, at first he thought it was just his subconscious’s way of dealing with being in a new body and coming back from the dead. Both of those things were decidedly weird and if his sleeping mind responded with something weird, well. It was only a problem when he was sleeping, and it was much, much better than his usual dreams. He would take a light scolding from Mo Xuanyu over reliving the deaths of his loved ones any day.

 The first dream, which he had on his way to Dafan mountain, went something like this:

“Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian,” cried a voice that was both familiar and strange all at once. He couldn’t see the source, because the space that he was in was pitch dark. It didn’t seem to be a cave though, which was nice. Nothing good came of cave dreams.

“Wei Wuxian, you traitor,” the voice accused, drawing his attention back to the ‘present’.

Wei Wuxian, being himself, just raised his hands in surrender and said, “Who is it I’m accused of betraying this time?”

A figure stepped into view, easy to see even though there was still no light in this place. He was mildly familiar, in that his face was the one Wei Wuxian saw looking back at him when he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

 Well. That made sense then.

 “Hello,” Wei Wuxian said with a little wave. He was trying for friendly.

 Mo Xuanyu glowered at him. “Wei Wuxian, you bastard. You were supposed to get revenge for me,” he spat.

 Wei Wuxian pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I revealed how they abused you, publicly shamed them, and then caused their death, sort of. Is that not enough?”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu cried. “If I’d just wanted them dead I’d have found a way to poison them. You were supposed to make them suffer,” he said, stepping closer to shove at Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.

 Shaking his head side to side as he considered, Wei Wuxian eventually responded with. “Fair enough.”

Mo Xuanyu was not mollified. “Fair enough?” he began to rant. “You utterly fail the only task for which you are back on this earth and all you have to say is ‘fair enough?’” He shook Wei Wuxian again. Or tried to, anyway. Even in a dream, Mo Xuanyu was not very strong.

“Yep. I don’t know what else you want from me. An apology maybe?” Wei Wuxian replied with his usual flippancy. He stepped back and out of Mo Xuanyu’s reach.

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to get it right next time,” Mo Xuanyu said. “I want to you make him suffer. I want him to lose everything he holds dear. I want you to make him pay .” He raved.

 Wei Wuxian nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he placated. “I don’t suppose you could give me any insight on who you want me to punish?”

 Mo Xuanyu just glowered at him. “If you can’t figure it out you’re even dumber than you act. Some mad genius you are, Yiling Patriarch,” he snapped. He turned and stormed back into the darkness and the dream ended, quickly replaced by something less pleasant.

Upon waking up from that, the conclusion Wei Wuxian came to was that the Mo Xuanyu in his dreams was a manifestation of his guilt at having benefited from a troubled young man’s suicide. Having been a troubled young man himself once… it didn’t feel right.

Asking dream Mo Xuanyu about the identity of the final cut was silly, though. A figment in a dream couldn’t know anything that Wei Wuxian himself didn’t know, right?

 Mo Xuanyu showed up frequently in his dreams after that. He provided some commentary on Wei Wuxian’s nightmares that he could have done without, but he also somehow managed to just. Change what Wei Wuxian was dreaming about. Usually to something about Lan Zhan. At the time he thought that his subconscious was not being very subtle in trying to make him confront his feelings.

The ‘dream’ of Mo Xuanyu got less and less hostile over time. Wei Wuxian thought he and Mo Xuanyu could have been good friends if things had turned out differently. He was bitter and sarcastic, but still witty and perceptive.

 It took him until they were on their way to Guanyin Temple for him to figure out that Mo Xuanyu was not a dream at all. Later, he would be annoyed that this ghost hadn’t bothered to give him any hints as to who the culprit was, but at that point, he was entirely too busy with other things to confront the matter.

 After the events at the temple, Mo Xuanyu was silent. Wei Wuxian had      hoped this meant Mo Xuanyu had moved on. He was sure the Jin Guangyao thought that what had happened there was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to him. Surely that would be enough to appease Mo Xuanyu’s vengeful spirit. The curse thought it was enough, at least.

He might miss Mo Xuanyu, a little bit. When he wasn’t angry, he was fun to talk to, and their conversations kept his less pleasant dreams at bay. Still, if anyone deserved to be able to move on to the next life, it was A-Yu. Wei Wuxian just hoped that whatever had gone wrong in the spell would allow for it.

 ----------------------

Saying goodbye to Lan Zhan again was probably the hardest thing Wei Wuxian had done since he returned to the world of the living. He was sure their separation wouldn’t last forever. Probably.

It was just that Lan Zhan was chief cultivator now. Wei Wuxian knew that his Lan Zhan would uphold his vow to protect the weak and uphold justice. He didn’t need someone like Wei Wuxian getting in his way, didn’t need Wei Wuxian’s still dreadful reputation hanging over him like a cloud of resentful energy.

Wei Wuxian understood why Lan Zhan had not asked him to stay this time (even though this is the one time he might have been tempted to say yes). That didn’t stop it from hurting deep and cutting. It felt a lot like the wounds Mo Xuanyu had left behind on his body, but this time there was no clear path on how to fix it, no revenge to pursue. There was no one to blame but himself.

 Becoming a rogue cultivator seemed like the best thing to do with himself for the time being. He really did need to work on this body’s cultivation, for one thing. For another, it was nice to do something to help the common people. There were many problems in the world that were small enough that the big cultivation sects couldn’t be bothered to assist with. (And, a small, selfish part of him added, if he could become someone who was known for doing good things, maybe his reputation would become good enough to allow him to return to his Lan Zhan’s side).

 Wei Wuxian was completely content with this turn of events, he told himself.

 Mo Xuanyu was not.

The same night that Wei Wuxian parted ways with Lan Zhan, Mo Xuanyu reappeared, nearly as angry as he had been in that first dream.

“Wei Wuxian, what the fuck?” he shouted. They were back in the dark shadowy place, where he assumed Mo Xuanyu’s spirit resided.

“Uh, hello A-Yu. I thought you’d moved on,” was all Wei Wuxian could say to that. He raised his hands in surrender once more.  

“Don’t you ‘A-Yu’ me. How am I supposed to move on when you’re fucking things up?” Mo Xuanyu said, narrowing his eyes.

 “Easily. I’m not fucking anything up, and even if I was that’s not your concern. Your business here was finished when Jin Guangyao died, was it not?” Wei Wuxian tried.

 Mo Xuanyu scowled and turned away. Wei Wuxian could practically hear him gritting his teeth. He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, then turned back to Wei Wuxian, continuing as if Jin Guangyao had not been mentioned.

“I’ve been watching you pine after Lan Wangji for long enough that I’m pretty sure it’s my business now,” he said. He marched up to Wei Wuxian and pointed at him accusingly. “You are the only man I’ve ever known that had a real chance at happiness with the man he loved. And you’re throwing it away.”

 Ah. Wei Wuxian could see how the current situation might be upsetting to the quintessential tragic cut-sleeve.

“A-Yu,” he chided, channeling his sister’s gentle countenance, “I know it seems like I’m screwing up, but I’m not. Lan Zhan and I just need some time apart.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as he continued, “If death couldn’t keep the two of us apart, I don’t think a few months of me helping the common folk will change things between us.”

What he was saying was not a lie, per se. Lan Zhan cared about him deeply, that much was true, but any romantic inklings he had felt had clearly faded over the years that Wei Wuxian was dead. He really didn’t think that time spent apart would change that. He      knew     that he didn't have a chance of happiness with Lan Zhan. Not the way Mo Xuanyu was thinking. But he was not going to say that when the spirit that somehow lived inside him was angry. That would be stupid.

Mo Xuanyu scoffed. “You’re just going to walk away from him and expect that to be okay? You’re not worried that he’ll move on from you, or find someone else?”

 Wei Wuxian frowned. Mo Xuanyu was usually more perceptive than that.

“If Lan Zhan didn’t give up on me while I was dead, I doubt he’ll do it now,” he pointed out.

 Mo Xuanyu rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

This was starting to bother Wei Wuxian. First Mo Xuanyu thinks that Lan Zhan is in love with Wei Wuxian and wants to be with him, and now he thinks that Lan Zhan is fickle and will abandon him. Surely Mo Xuanyu is the fickle one here, not Lan Zhan.

“How about a wager, A-Yu?” Wei Wuxian proposed.

Mo Xuanyu gave him a flat look. “What kind of wager?”

 “The kind that will get you to stop slandering the esteemed Hanguang-Jun,” Wei Wuxian said with a grin.

 Mo Xuanyu made a ‘continue’ gesture with his hand, expression unchanged.

“I bet that by this time next year, nothing will have changed between Lan Zhan and me,” Wei Wuxian said. “If I’m right, you will stay out of business that is between him and me.”

“And if you’re wrong and things do change between you, for better or worse?” Mo Xuanyu asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, what do you want?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Mo Xuanyu’s brow furrowed at that. “I’m not sure…” After a considerable silence, he asked, “Can I decide later?”

Wei Wuxian knew it had been a long time since someone had offered Mo Xuanyu a choice of any sort, so his indecision was understandable. “Of course. If I lose the bet I will go along with whatever you choose. So long as it’s not something that requires me to get more revenge,” he smiled as he added the last part. It was mostly a joke.

Mo Xuanyu nodded. “Alright, I can agree to that.”

Wei Wuxian patted him on the head before he pulled away. “Good. Now please let me go back to sleep. I have very important rogue cultivator things to do in the morning!”

 Mo Xuanyu rolled his eyes but released him from the dream’s hold.

#cql fic #the untamed fic #wei wuxian #mo xuanyu #hi please read my ficlet

[whenitcounts33]

Join Me

Bella knew something was wrong the minute she woke herself up screaming; her bedroom was cold, but that was normal - she left it open with the thought that maybe he would come back.  She squinted, brain working double time as her senses told her something is not right. Then it hit her, and hope flared up like a wildfire; all-consuming and ruinous. There was someone in her room, in the corner near her prehistoric computer, just standing here, blending in with the shadows. Bella’s mouth went dry, her heart beating faster as fear, the only emotion besides emptiness that she’s felt for a long time, settled in her veins like icy water. 

She went still as the shadow person peeled off the wall and stalked towards her, as smooth and graceful as any feline. The memory came unbidden, bringing with it a sharp pain that stole her breath away. The baseball game last March, the Hunter, searing pain in her hand, cracked glass and blood all around her. The name of the shadow left her mouth in no more than a gasp of strangled air.

“Victoria.” The shadow stopped, red curls swinging around her shoulders. “Hello,” she said, her voice surprising Bella. It was high pitched, soft and girly, like a little girls. “You look awful,” she added, her comment not meant to hurt, merely an observation. Bella knew she looked awful; brown hair stringy and lack luster; all skin and bones; an empty look in her eyes at all times. She looked like a walking corpse, the irony wasn’t lost on her. Wasn’t she begging to become one of the walking dead just half a year ago?

The sound of Charlies snores came pouring into her room and Victoria’s head turned towards the sound, curious, like she’d forgotten someone else lived in this house. “Don’t hurt my dad,” Bella gasped, sitting up so suddenly it shocked both girls. Victoria’s head tilted, reminding Bella of a house cat before it pounced. “I was going to kill you,” Victoria tells her, and for some reason this does not scare Bella. She only hopes Victoria will stop with her and leave Forks for good, that Charlie will survive this even if she doesn’t.

“He left you, did he not?” She then asked, lips pursed, and the truth of the question, the fact that it wasn’t even a question because it was obvious, left Bella gasping in pain, clutching her sides like she could hold herself together. Victoria watched the action, watched the pain flare in Bella’s eyes, and felt sympathy. They had both been broken beyond repair by men, in some way, it seemed. Bella simply nodded and felt the burn of tears in her eyes, the lump forming in her throat, and nodded again.

Victoria made a small noise in the back of her throat, like the cooing sound Bella had heard Charlie make the first night she woke up screaming. The bed dipped suddenly, and Victoria was right there, red eyes bright around the black of her pupil. Bella was reminded of another vampire that was often in her bed in the middle of the night and a sob got stuck in her throat, making her breath hitch. “James was mean,” Victoria says, her little girl voice a soft whisper, as she leans forward slowly, like she didn’t want to scare Bella, and brushed a strand of hair from her wet cheek.

Her touch was ice cold and so achingly familiar Bella couldn’t help but lean into it, still crying and gasping for air, her lungs too stubborn to let her breath properly. “He hunted me for years,” the vampire continued, “I’m good at running away and he could never catch me, much to his chagrin. It became a game to him, while I just made sure that I survived the game.

After 3 years, I let him catch me once I realized I had a better chance of survival with him. He made me dependent on him, I was never good at hunting, never had a knack for it. He caught my food for me, so I ate when he decided I should. He bit me all the time,” her voice went softer, a soft hiss hidden in it. She pulled up the sleeve of her flannel and showed Bella her bone white skin. Bella could see the bite marks on her arm, the same as the one on her hand. “Oh,” Bella gasped, horror making her voice soundless.

Victoria nodded once, “Yes,” she murmurs, “Oh. Every time I disobeyed or spoke out of turn, he bit me. Vampire venom is the only thing that scars us, it was like he was marking his territory.” Victoria shuddered at the memory and Bella caught sight of a bite on her throat, right over he jugular. “I was mad when Edward killed him,” Victoria continued and Bella frowned, shaking her head, the name sending a burning pain through her body. “He didn’t,” she got out through clenched teeth.

Victoria froze, eyed widening, “I’m sorry?” she asked, polite and confused. “Edward,” she ground out the name, “isn’t the one who killed James. Emmett and Jasper did,” she said, her voice getting stronger with each word uttered. Victoria frowned, looking into Bella’s eyes, searching for something. She must have found it because the frowned turned into a scowl and Bella wondered if she would still kill her because she couldn’t get to Alice and Rosalie. Victoria seemed to understand the worry in Bella’s eyes because she snorted, the sound so unexpected and normal, that Bella laughed. The sound was raspy and sounded weak and half deranged but it was a laugh and Bella clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. Victoria raised her eyebrows and tilted her head again, “You’re strange for a human.” She said it indifferently, like she knew Bella might take it as a compliment but wanted her to know she hadn’t meant it with any certain meaning.

“Thanks,” Bella muttered, voice sarcastic, face scrunched up. Victoria touched Bella’s face lightly and the human girl held perfectly still, remembering the meadow with him and how he told her he could crush her skull if he wasn’t careful enough. Was Victoria planning on killing her this way? If yes, she was being kind, talking to Bella, reminding her so much of the lost family that she had wanted so badly to be a part of. Having her skull crushed was a much better way to die than having Victoria suck her dry, her venom burning Bella from the inside-out.

Victoria surprised her by just wiping the tears from her wet cheeks, smiling softly when Bella just stared up at her in shocked silence. She was very beautiful, Bella realized, nothing like Rosalie, but beautiful in the way large, wild cats were beautiful. “I am not going to kill you,” Victoria tells her, slowly and carefully, making sure Bella understood her. Bella frowned, taking in a deep breath, confusion clouding her thoughts, but the worst of the fear left her, making her dizzy. “Why not?” She demanded, surprising both of them. What the hell? The logical part of Bella demanded. Do you want to die? The nonsensical part of her, the Edward-voice-junkie that led her to those drunk guys in Port Angeles, went silent because no, we don’t want to die.

Victoria waited patiently, silent as she watched Bella screw her eyes shut, lips moving to form silent words. “Because” she said slowly, when Bella opened her eyes again. “You do not deserve to die for a crime you did not commit nor had any part of. Your Edward hurt you the same as my James hurt me. We are both stronger without them.” She said them simply, with no fanfare, like she had been thinking this over and knew she was right without any doubts.

Bella knew she was right, saw now how unhealthy her relationship with Edward had been. That didn’t make it any less painful, but it was better that she knew she was better off than spending the rest of her life depressed and waiting for someone that no longer wanted her. It amused her that this feral, feline like vampire was the one to get Bella to realize all of this.

“I came here” Victoria continued, “because, at first, I wanted you to suffer. Then you woke up screaming, and I heard your father wake up and then fall back asleep when the screaming stopped. I realized that this must happen frequently for him to not run in here and take care of you and it made me wonder if it was your Edward that made you wake up screaming. You no longer smell like him, you know, the way you did in the field last year. He left you here, him and his family who so gallantly protected you. You do not hate them though, do you?” Victoria studied her with red eyes that probed into Bella and the sympathy there, the concern that touched her in a way not even her mothers had been able to, broke something in Bella. The words poured out of her in a rush, like water from a broken dam.

“Jasper attacked me at my birthday party that I didn’t even want to have, but Alice made me have one and Edward made me go. They all got me presents, but none of them were actual good ones, you know? Except for Edward’s and Alice’s. Esme and Carlisle’s were pretty good, actually, but not practical at all. I got a papercut from opening their present and, I don’t know why, Jasper went ballistic. Edward threw me into the table and piano and the papercut turned into this huge gash on my arm and all the Cullens had to leave and Carlisle sewed me up and after that for the rest of the week Edward was distant, like he was already gone. He said some really hurtful things, I was catatonic for maybe 3 months after that. It was awful, I really scared my mom and dad,” she finished with a deep breath, face flushed and fingers trembling.

Victoria watched her, just waiting for a panic attack, something she knew humans had when they were running high on bad emotions. After a few moments, her heart slowed down, and Bella chewed on her lower lip. “I am very sorry that happened to you,” Victoria says, giving Bella a tiny smile that she reciprocated before running both hands through her hair, tugging slightly at the roots as she left out a huff of air, lips pursed. “Me too,” Bella mumbles, knowing that even though Victoria was being nice and friendly that she should be still be scared. She just couldn’t bring herself to be afraid. She knew, on some subconscious level that she didn’t understand, that Victoria would not hurt her.

The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds before Victoria seemed to come to some understanding with herself. “Let me change you,” she said in a quiet voice that let Bella know she was scared of asking this. “It’ll just be me and you,” she promises, the words coming from her mouth quickly, “we can help girls that have been hurt by men they believed loved them. It’ll be good for both of us, therapeutic. We’ll show them that we are something without them in our lives, without their conditional love. Please, Bella,” she finished, eyes and voice pleading and then turned to stone as she waited for the other girl to say something. Anything. Bella stared at her, eyes wide and heart beating faster.

Turn her. Into a vampire. Victoria wanted to change Bella into a vampire. She wanted Bella with her, she wanted to help young girls who didn’t know better than to believe what a boy told them.

Bella swallowed hard, leaning forward to take Victoria’s ice-cold hand in hers and nodded once, smiling.

“Yes.”  

#New Moon #Meyer did Victoria dirty for no reason #this took me three hours to write #Bella Swan #Twilight #gabby talks