#oh look another thing I lost somehow and had to rewrite. rip me

[ikemenomegas]

do you have any favorite headcanons for omega kakashi? love your blog -3-

Cooking Kakashi (insert cooking mama ver kakashi icon... which is a game I would play the hell out of. I want him to like me so bad...)

I love that Kakashi can canonically cook very well and that he likes cooking for his loved ones. Even though the first of those people are no longer here, it brings him a lot of peace to cook for his Alpha.

He likes that he made something with his own two hands that contributes to the joy and health of his loved ones. It’s also an act of living that makes him feel more human and cooking tasty food for himself was one of the things he used to ground himself during his worst moments or when he was alone after missions (a good weapon needs to be able to at least function -> (eventually) I am a person and it's okay to enjoy things because I deserve it).

He was not originally much of an experimenter, but he learned enough about the basics that he was able to start improving upon recipes. His recipes are full of annotations because even though he's got a stellar memory, he's old enough he knows there's only so much space up there. However, half of these notes only make sense to himself. Good luck trying to replicate those dishes...

He's not much of a "collector", anti-clutter Kakashi

So his preferred method of receiving affection is not gift giving.

However, Cooking Kakashi™️ might accept a few things. Recipe books are a little hard because Kakashi has to be interested in more than just two or three things in the book. He typically prefers to decide on these himself. He likes to work through everything in the book and pick out his favorites. If you tell him you want to buy it for him though, he'll let you. A bookshop date, anyone?

The one thing he does love is the cooking supplies you buy him. High quality ceramics, one of a kind glassware, accent-like cups or bowls. If you're careful about only buying a piece here and a piece there, it doesn't build up clutter, and it becomes a nice special occasion kind of gift. Hot pot is not his most favorite meal ever but he loves the donabe you got him.

He also doesn't have a lot of spare nesting materials, but if you can talk him into letting you take him to a nesting supply shop, he'll usually buy something (because he thinks you think he needs more soft things, which makes him feel cared for but can also get overwhelming on occasion).

Overall though, quality time and some physical touch are his preferred ways of receiving affection.

Cat person who has dogs Kakashi

Kakashi shows up whenever he wants or perfectly on time, prefers only certain people and usually small gatherings or being alone (although being alone with his Person doesn't really count as company), has a lot of very, let's call them specific, habits, is incredibly particular about certain things... and is also something of a prankster.

In a way it's very funny because he's the pack leader of his ninken.

Very respectful but incredibly kinky Kakashi.

Consent is sexy and Kakashi is the sexiest because he's the kind of person who won't act without permission. He's also the kind of person who's almost too shy to even think of his Alpha in an explicit way. This isn't a purity thing. It's just a him being shy and feeling undeserving thing. Have to be careful because he's the kind of sub to say "you can do anything to me, I don't mind" and mean it, and part of a long term relationship with Kakashi is teaching him about his own boundaries.

I'm a big fan "yes he does wear that many layers" Kakashi

Part of it is a feeling of security. But it makes me wonder if he just tends to run cold for some reason. Bundle him up in blankets and feed him soup.

The hospital is very grateful for Kakashi's mate. He tends to run away less if his mate is allowed to either stay with him while he recovering and there's a few times where he's been very happy to get discharged home earlier because Tsunade knows someone responsible and capable of getting Kakashi to sit still while he's getting better.

Lazy Kakashi

Kakashi doesn't hate being a ninja. I get the sense that he thinks ninja are necessary in the world, and he's seen both the good and bad that shinobi missions can do. He doesn't hate it, but he's tired of it.

There's a difference between working hard because you have to and because you want to. I'm a huge fan of lazy Kakashi, no work Kakashi! he doesn't want to go on tiring missions anymore and he certainly didn't love being hokage! don't make him! Let him stay at home every day and do whatever he wants to do, let him spend all day in bed with you and a book and his puppies if he wants!

That said, he's been a shinobi so long, he would miss the athleticism if he ever had to leave, he likes being skilled. That's why he goes back to doing non-combat and teaching jobs after retiring. But he leaves plenty of space for well earned leisure time.

Hobby Husband Kakashi

He's used to having somewhat structured time, so sometimes he has trouble picking something to do on his day off. After the war, he also has to figure out how to fill additional hours since he doesn't stare at the memorial stone all the time.

He actually does like to just try new things. He's the type who naturally ends up pretty good at almost everything he tries though so there's not much he pursues more than one or two times. Once he settles in with his mate, he likes to do things with you. It's more fun and fulfilling than doing activities alone. His favorite hobby is reading though. Reading usually gives him an idea of what he might want to try next.

#from the notebook #oh look another thing I lost somehow and had to rewrite. rip me #i should go back to using a normal word processor instead of the drafts here #this is ask is from the first of february #truly the worst sorry #I needed a break from jjk content because it's making me feel very sad lately #finishing these was a perfect change! #hatake kakashi #omega!kakashi #naruto #omegaverse #alpha!reader #headcanons

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Stress relief

mind your bisnuess I’m working through some shit 

Atsumu x reader

warnings: smut, just- so much smut, Oral, car sex, fingering, Daddy kink, degradation, marking, ass play, dirty talk,Brat taming, slut shaming AND virgin shaming (we got it all folks), hair pulling, cum play, creampie, breading kink, drinking/ Drunk sex, angst annnnnd swearing. 

word count: 4,800 (about) (yes really get off my back)

summary: Atsumu is a dick, but he’s got a good dick at least you have no idea how mad I am I’ve already used the title Enemy with Benifits. 

“Are- Are you fucking kidding me?” you asked, Atsumu just shrugged. 

“No, I’m not fucking kidding you what’s your deal?” he said casually. You took a deep breath. You had been trying to work on your anger issues, Not blowing up on people over nothing. But this really felt like something worth blowing up over. 

“Myia, be honest with me, do you think I’m stupid?” you asked. He smirked.

“I think you’re a lot of things babe-” you stood up getting in his face jabbing your finger in his chest cutting off his no doubt horrendous flirting. 

“You fucking ripped off you’re entire part of the project! How the fuck did you think no one would notice?” you shouted. You had known this was going to be a train wreck the moment Atsumu was assigned as your partner. He was such a fucking moron, he’d only gotten into this College because of his sports scholarship. You would have been better working on your own.

“I cited the article I copied, what's the deal?” he snapped, the volume of your voice irking him. 

“That’s not how this fucking works you can’t just hit copy-paste and call it a day the point is you come up with your own ideas, although in your defense I’m not sure you’re brain could manage something like that,” you shouted. He sneared. 

“I’ll rewrite it just stop being a bitch alright?” he scoffed, turning to leave your dorm room. You wanted to hit him, how dare he call you a bitch when you were just looking out for his dumb ass. Even high schoolers knew you’d be expelled for plagiarising. Once Atsumu left you slumped back in your seat looking at the presentation open on your laptop. You were already so busy but somehow you’d have to find enough time to do half of the project unless you wanted to fail that was.

“Hey, you’re working with (y/n) on your project right?” Osamu asked, setting his volleyball up in the air over and over again. 

“Yeah, they totally blew up on me today so now I gotta redo the whole thing,” Atsumu sighed 

“They’re hot though,” his brother said. Atsumu smiled to himself, remembering your angry face as you chewed him out.

“Really hot,” he agreed. 

“Are you gonna fuck them?” 

“Of course, they might an asshole but they want me,”

“Hey (y/n),” you looked up at the sound of your name only to groan seeing Atsumu run towards you. He had clearly just come from practice, he was still in his jersey. Fucking jocks. 

He probably thought he looked hot, with a light sheen of sweat that made his skin glow and tousled hair. He did look hot, it made you want to kick his shins. 

“If you aren’t going to tell me that you finished your half of the presentation I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped.

“Well then you aren’t going to be happy then but there’s a game this weekend, you should come, cheer for me,” he said winking. You rolled your eyes. 

“I was already planning on going, but you’re nuts if you think I’m gonna cheer for you,” you snapped, still a little heated about your last encounter with him. 

“And why not?” he asked, smirking, it pissed you off. You just knew he thought he looked so cute smiling at you like that. 

“I cheer for winners,”

You and Atsumu were at each other’s throats for the rest of the year. Atsumu Gave up on his plan to sleep with you and you gave up on your anger management, at least around him. If other people were in this situation they might stay away from their sworn enemy, but not you two. 

You made it to every volleyball game just to tell Osamu how great he did and how handsome he was looking today. Atsumu sat next to you in every class you shared talking your ear off making sure that you didn’t learn a damn thing. 

It was annoying as hell, you wanted to strangle him, but it was nice in a kind of way. If you were stressed or pissed off you could drag Atsumu as a little fun. And even if nothing else in your life was going right. You could always count on this blonde dick to be the worst to you. 

“Damn we had the exterminator here last week but there’s a roach right here,” Atsumu sneered over the thumping music at the party. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“You need to look up more insults you’ve already used that one,” you barked back, normally seeing Atsumu would be enough to dampen your mood but the booze must have been doing its job because you still felt all light and buzzed. 

“Beer?” he asked, holding up a bottle for you, ever the gracious host. 

“I’m good,” you said holding up the can of seltzer you’d been drinking out of it was fruity and only had a little bite to it, you were already on your third one. 

“Right I forgot that a baby like you couldn’t handle the taste of beer,” he scoffed, he was closer now, towering over you and pressing one of his forearms to the wall by your head as he leaned over you, shielding you from the rest of the party. You never realized before how big he was. Tall and wide. Muscular too, it was no wonder half the people at the Volleyball games creamed themselves just seeing him. 

“You’re such a dick, why do you always have to be so mean?” you asked before even realizing the words that you’d spoken.

“You aren’t exactly nice either princess, besides that’s how this works, that’s our dynamic,” he said. He must be pretty drunk too. Nothing he was saying was making any sense. 

“Still, how do you expect anyone to put up with you when you’re such a douche bag all the time?” you said the anger you associated with Atsumu finally setting in. 

“If it works it works, I mean you’re obsessed with me,” he said. You gagged and shoved his chest, he didn’t move, god how strong was he?

“Fuck off I hate you, why would I be obsessed with you? God you think that the world fucking revolves around you. How could any-”

His lips met yours effectively shutting you up. His hand came up cupping the back of your head and you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, pressing your body against his and dropping your drink so your hands would be free to rake through his hair. You weren’t nice about the kiss either, your teeth gnashed against his when he tried to push his tongue into your mouth. You bit his lower lip and tugged at his hair, moaning against his mouth when he did the same to you. 

He broke away breathlessly, still holding you close to his body while you caught your breath. He was so pretty his cheeks flushed his lips wet and glossy. God, you wanted to kiss him again, even if he tasted like beer and he had been right in his assessment that you weren’t a big fan of the taste. 

“Good to know theirs one way to shut you the fuck up,” he teased. You groaned in frustration pulling him back down into another kiss. This one was just as passionate and fierce as the first. He pushed you against the wall and pulled up one of your legs and forced it around his waist so he could grind against you. You shuddered feeling him rut the seam of your jeans against your clit. 

“Woulda fucked you a lot sooner if i'd known you made such pretty noises when you were touched,” he muttered reaching up and palming your breast through your shirt. Atsumu started kissing, or maybe biting was a better word. The top part of your neck even pays some attention to your jaw and earlobe while he humped and groped you. 

“I knew you were a pervert but I never knew you were filthy enough to fuck me out in the open like this,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. You could feel your panties get sticky with your arousal and you wanted him to take you out of here and fuck you already. 

“You’re gonna let me fuck you?” he asked, pulling back so he could look at you and smirk. You smiled back, the fight wasn’t out of you yet. 

“Why would I do that? I’d rather sleep with someone who could make me cum,” you spat and his grin quickly fell, there was a competitive fire in his eyes that you normally only saw when he was playing.

“Oh Daddy’s gonna make you cum you fucking brat, I’ll make you squirt, you’re gonna cry with how good my dick feels,” he growled in a low voice you’d never heard before and suddenly you were regretting your comment. 

“Daddy?” you snorted

Atsumu detangled himself from you and grabbed you by the wrist tugging you out of the frat house and to his car. You shook your head and broke free of his iron-clad grasp. 

“I know you’re stupid but this is a new low, both of us are way too drunk to drive,” you shouted. Atsumu just laughed at you, opening the back door to his car. 

“We aren’t driving dumbass now get in,” he said. You bit your lip and slid into the back seat shortly followed by Atsumu who locked the door behind him. 

The seat wasn’t large but it was big enough to move around in. He pressed you onto the leather upholstery, your legs bent and splayed out at an awkward angle to fit him between them. He went back to kissing you sloppily while his hands went to work taking off your shirt and bra. 

Your nipples hardened once the cold night air touched you. “Wanted to suck on your pretty tits for the longest time,” he groaned quickly lowering his head, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while he fingered the other twisting and pinching it. You yelped when his teeth grazed over the bud. His eyes flicked up to yours and he let go of the spit-soaked nipple blowing on it lightly making you shiver. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been fucked huh? So many guys want to fuck this sweet little pussy but you’re too stuck up to let that happen.” he snears sucking the other nipple into his mouth. 

“Bet you’re still a fucking virgin,” he said speaking around your mouth. 

“ I a-am not,” you whined, you’d lost your virginity in high school, but you really hadn’t gotten fucked since then. 

“Oh listen to you whine you totally are,” he scoffed 

“No I’m Not!” you protested he let go of your nipple and kissed you again threading his fingers through your hair and pressing your face to his. 

“Shut up you fucking virgin,” he said sweetly, before pulling off his shirt, and before you could admire his chiseled chest he distracted you by biting your neck again. You pressed your hand to the center console to keep from slipping off with one hand and clinging to his shoulders with the other. 

Atsumu deftly unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hands in your pants touching your through your soaked underwear. You felt him smirk against your neck but he didn’t make any remark about it. Good thing for him too because you could feel his hard prick pressing up against your thigh and you were ready to drag him for it if he commented on your own arousal. 

God, you could feel his cock. It was big, heavy, and hard, pressed against your leg. You wanted to see it, touch it, feel it inside of you. He’d pushed your panties to the side now so he could push his large fingers inside brushing against your velvet walls. 

“A-Atsumu,” you said, pitching your leg up to rub against his dick.  “I want to suck your cock,” you whimpered. You felt him twitch. 

“Here I thought you were a virgin but you’re just a slutty whore aren't cha?” he growled against your neck picking your hips up and yanking your pants down your legs leaving them pooled around your ankles leaving you to kick your jeans off completely. You felt a little stupid naked except for your shoes but Atsumu quickly distracted you by folding you in half pressing your knees to your chest and leaving your pussy completely exposed. 

“I’ll fuck your throat later, right now I gotta make you cum remember?” he said playing his hands over your thighs keeping g you folded before lowering his head and diving into your folds like a man starved. 

Just like he kissed you, he was mean about it, sucking so harshly that you cried out and spanking your cunt just to make you jump. The only time he pulled back was to spit on your asshole lubing it up enough to slip a finger inside. 

“Sumu please,” you cried out as he filled you with his tongue pressing against your G-spot over and over again while he pinched your clit. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. He just hummed in acknowledgment, whatever you were begging for he wasn’t going to have it. 

“Daddy,” you pleaded, finally caving. Atsumu smiled to himself. He wasn’t nice but he did reward good behavior. 

He switched it up sucking your clit into your mouth and plunging the fingers of his clean hand, the one that hadn’t just been your ass, inside of you curling up and pressing against your g-pot over and over again until you came screaming so loud that you were sure people back at the house could hear you. 

“See didn’t that feel good slut?” he cooed condescendingly. There was a pool of cum beneath you soaking into the leather seats. Good thing this was Osamus’s car. Now all he had to do was make you cry. 

“I-I’m not a slut,” you whined. 

“Oh? Which is it? Are you not a virgin or are you not a slut?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond. 

“Well I think you’re a slut, Daddy’s little slut,” he snapped. 

There was a dark stain of precum staining his jeans where the head of his cock was leaking he quickly shoved down his pants and boxers before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You hovered above him as he pumped his cock in his hand running the head of his cock through your soaked folds and bumping your clit. 

“You’re gonna be a good whore and ride Daddy’s cock right?” he asked, lining the head of his dick up with your entrance. You bit your lip and nodded, shakily lowering yourself down on him. Atsumu hissed feeling your tight heat wrap around him. 

You gripped his shoulders feeling how well he filled you up, the tip pressing against your cervix. You took a minute to adjust before lifting yourself up on your knees and started to fuck yourself onto him. 

Atsumu brought you close and kissed you again, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to stroke your clit while you bounced up and down on his cock.  You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he touched you. He filled you up so well, you had teased him about not being able to get you off but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him so deep inside of you. 

“You feel that baby? You feel Daddy pressing up against your Cervix, I’m going to blow my fat load right into your slutty little womb,” he snarled his hips snapping up to meet yours. You whined, throwing your head back in pleasure, almost hitting your head on the headrest. 

“Gonna knock you up, gonna stuff this slutty pussy with cum,” he growled, he was talking more to himself but you couldn’t help but shudder at his words. You were on birth control but you desperately wanted him to fill you up. 

“Are you gonna cum princess?” He asked, “I can feel your cunt squeezing my cock like that, you’re gonna cum.” He was right, you could feel a second orgasm welling up in your core as his cock pulsed inside of you. 

“Atsumu-Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned kissing him sloppily, your hips faltered when you came but Atsumu’s hands went to your hips moving your body for you as he chased his own high, true to his word he came deep inside of you filling you up and pressing his cock against your cervix. 

You collapsed against his chest gasping for breath. He ran his hand soothingly over your back. 

“You look tired, you wanna crash somewhere babe?” he asked. 

“We’re still too drunk to drive,” you murmured. 

“I have a buddy in the frat house, I’m sure he’ll let me steal his bed for the night, especially for a cutie like you,” he said. You pulled back to look at him.

“You had a bed here this whole time and you still made me fuck you in the car?” 

When you woke up your whole body hurt. Your head ached your eyes stung and your body was littered with bruises. You didn’t even want to check in with the lower half of your body. You groaned sitting up in bed clutching your head. Then you felt the bed beside you shift, you froze remembering how you’d ended last night. 

Atsumu cracked one eye open and his face split into a huge grin. “I had the best dream last night-” he teased you and moved to hit him but he caught your wrist and flipped you on your back pinning you to the bed. 

He hovered above you his breath hitting your face in soft puffs. You leaned up and kissed him, suddenly you were a mess of limbs and hands trying to tear each other’s clothes off while you kissed. You hissed as his fingers grazed the bite marks on your neck. 

“Go easy on me I’m still sore,” you complained. Atsumu smirked.

“Did I wreck you that badly baby?” he asked, teasingly grinding his morning wood on your leg. You shuddered. 

“Shut up and fuck me asshole,” you demand. He tugged off your underwear and hooked your legs over his shoulders. 

“As you wish your majesty,” he scoffed and slowly pushed two of his fingers into you

Your cunt ached and it hurt to feel his fingers prod you open, but soon the pain dissolved into pleasure as he continued to finger you. 

“Such a pretty wet little cunt, so wet and sticky for me,” he purred, “you like this slut? You like getting fingered first thing in the morning?” he asked. 

“Do you like humping my ass like a fucking dog first thing in the morning?” you spat back. He grunted and roughly jerked his finger up hitting your G-spot making you cry out your back arching off the bed. 

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed before completely pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth sucking on your juices. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you keep being mean,” he said shoving down his own clothes 

“Shut up, I bet I’m the only one you know who lets you get your dick wet,” you growled. He snapped into you in one swift motion. You cried out your nails digging into his shoulders. It hurt but the pain sent a rush of endorphins making you moan. 

“Really you think that I could fuck you like this without any practice dollface? Don’t forget you’re the virgin here,” he teased drawing his hips back before ramming back into you. This pace was much harsher than what you’d set last night. You were helpless, and entirely at his mercy, he had you folded in half, and you could only moan and scratch at his back. 

“Imna fill this cunt with cum, nothing better than emptying my balls in your warm cunt first thing in the morning,” he muttered to himself as he continued to fuck you. 

“Already?” you teased.

“Fuck off or I’ll fuck you until you pass out,” he threatened. 

“Hurry up and make me cum, I’ve got shit to do today,” you snapped. 

“God do you ever stop being a bitch?” he asked, pulling out of you and flipping you over, jerking your hips up and sliding back into you. you moaned feeling his cock hit new sweet spots. You arched your back pressing your hips to his and burying your face into the pillows. 

The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall with a loud bang. Atsumu brought his hand down on your ass making you jump, it stung and you were reminded of his killer serves that you had seen so many times. 

“There, no more bitchy comebacks? Have you gone braindead on my cock?” he mocked spanking you again. 

“Daddy!” you pleaded. Your thighs trembling as wetness dripped down your legs. 

“Awe theirs my sweet little slut, ready to be good now?” 

“Y-yes,” you whined desperate to cum.  Atsumu grunted and finally went easy on you, rubbing your clit and easing into you in slow, deep thrusts until he felt your pussy cream around him. 

“There you go baby,” he said pulling out of you, his hard cock dripping in your juices. “You still want to suck on my cock?” he asked. You bit your lower lip, embarrassed at the memory. You shifted on the bed settling in between his legs taking the head of his cock into your mouth and wrapping your hands around the rest of his dick. 

You licked softly at the slit in the head picking up the bitter precum with your tongue.  You slowly took more of his cock in your mouth hollowing your cheeks out around him. His dick was just too big for you to fit completely into your mouth so you moved your hands up and down his shaft while you took as much of him as you could, swirling your tongue around the head. 

“You’re doing so well baby,” he moaned, smoothing your hair back from your face. “I didn’t think a virgin like you’d be so good,” he teased. You glared up at him as you continued to suck his dick but you resolved to bite him if he made a comment like that again. 

“I think I like you better like this you’re so pretty when you shut the- OW watch the teeth,” 

You could taste it as the precum dribbled out of his cock smearing over your tongue, you were getting used to the bitter taste and it wasn’t that bad. You pushed your head down pressing his cock to the back of your throat suppressing your gag reflex. 

“Fuck, baby just like that i’m going to cum down your thoat,” he groaned his hips stuttering upwards pushing his dick down your throat deaper making you choke. Atsumu didn’t care,he was moaning loudly as his hips spasmed up into your mouth. 

You choked when his semen flooded your mouth. “Fuuck,” he sighed, pulling out of your mouth. You sluptered trying to catch the mess that bubbled out of your mouth. 

“Ah, swallow what you can baby,” Atsumu said, whipping your chin with his thumb. You did as he asked, choking down what you could. He pushed you back on the bed kissing your neck, his lips running over your bruises, 

“I like you like this, we should fuck more often he teased,” you shoved his chest, but weakly, it was clearly just for show. You didn’t want to admit it but you agreed with him. 

You kept seeing Atsumu after that. He was a little nicer with you normally. Or at least, he saved his mean side for the bedroom and was a little sweeter to you. If you were a little more naive you might have even started to fall for him a little bit. 

That was the Chliche right? You start out hating someone but then after a few nights of passion you were in love?  Bullshit, it was all Bullshit. 

you knew Atsumu hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t exactly saving himself for you. You couldn’t count how many times you’d walked in on him making out with some random chick, you’d even walked in on him while he’d been balls deep in some other girl. 

That being said, you hadn’t changed either. you still had a temper like no other and were quick to snap, especially at Atsumu. You didn’t have many friends who put up with your bullshit so why would He even fall in love with you?

You shouldn’t be in love with him. He was an asshole, a heartless fuck boy. So why did you like him so much? why did it sting when you thought about how hopless your whole situation. 

It sucked, this whole thing was just awful. That being said, you still jumped at the chance to see him everytime he called, you really were hopless. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as Atsumu drove. You didn’t recognize this street and you knew you weren’t going to his place. 

“It’s a surprise,” he said. You scoffed and crossed your arms. He pulled into a parking lot and you were surprised to see you were at a park. 

“What are you going to fuck me on the slide?” you asked, following him out of the car and into the park. 

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid, me and my brother would play here,” he said, ignoring you and walking to the swings, you followed. 

“And I still come here a lot, it’s a good place to think and it’s just a really special place for me,” he said sitting on the swing and gesturing for you to sit on his lap. 

You did, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” you said furrowing your eyebrows. It was almost the middle of the night so it was dark but you could still see the dopey lovestruck look on his face. 

“Stumu, you’re not supposed to call me for stuff like this,” you said unwrapping your arms around his neck, you were going to get off his lap but he wrapped his arms around his waist keeping you there. 

The two of you had agreed only to call each other when you wanted sex, this mushy romantic shit was defently not sex. 

“You’re so pretty baby, let me be nice to you,” he said kissing you and you melted into him, just like every time he kissed you. 

“You’re never nice to me,” you protested. He reached under your shirt groping you. 

“Because you never let me,” he protested. 

“What’s with you?” you asked, grabbing his wrist and shoving him away from you. 

“I love you,” he said. You couldn’t deal with this right now, you got off his lap and started walking back to the car

“Take me home,” you demanded.  “I don’t want to talk about this,” you said. 

“(y/n)-” he said running in front of you stopping you. 

“Please, I know you hate this shit, but please can we talk,” he pleaded taking your hands in his, 

“You can’t just say shit like that Tsumu! We’re not supposed to love each other we’re supposed to fuck and get under eachother’s skin and fight that’s how this works!” you shouted.

Atsumu kissed your knuckles, seeming to ignore your yelling. 

“We didn’t used to fuck either, we used to just get under eachother’s skin,” he pointed out. He wrapped you in his arms. You pressed your face to his chest and you felt your cheeks get wet with tears. You hiccupped and sobbed,  trying to keep your emotions bottled up was hard.  

“I love you,” he said again.  You shoved him and whipped your face. 

“I don’t want to do this Atsumu, take me home,” you demanded. He deflated. 

“Okay baby, let's go home, I’ll be waiting, when you’re ready,” he said rubbing your shoulders and taking you back to his car. 

You drove in silence. You hated this. Yout hated him. Atsumu was a playboy, an idiot and an asshole who only cared about Volleyball. You just wanted to insult him and fuck him to blow off steam. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. You weren’t supposed to love his cocky smile and his stupid jokes. His stupid flirty remarks weren’t supposed to make you blush. 

“Baby?” he prompted you blinked and saw you were sitting in front of your dorm building. “Hey,” he purred, wiping the tears off your cheeks. You didn’t need him to tell you that he loved you, you could tell every time  he did something like this. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. 

“I really wished we’d had sex tonight,” you whispered. He laughed. 

“fuck am I really that ireaistable doll?” he teased, pinching your cheek as he pulled away. 

“I do love you Atsumu, I just- I just don’t know what to do about it,” you admitted. Atsumu smiled lazily. 

you meant it too, you loved him so much. but it was impossible to get the image of the time you walked in on him sleeping with another girl out of your mind. Was that what it meant to be in a relationship with him? If so then you weren’t going to do it, you weren’t signing yourself up for that kind of heartbreak. Maybe you should just give up on him and block him. 

“Like I said. I’ll wait for you, and next time I promise we’ll have the best sex of your life-Not that’s a hard bar to clear you virigin,” he teased. You smiled and playfully hit him in the arm. You got out of his car and walked into your building as he drove away, and at least for tonight. That was enough. 

#haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!

[strange-lace]

Meltdown (Rewrite)

I suddenly decided to do a rewrite of an old story I did for my Monkie Kid OC here since then, she’s gone through quite a bit of changes and I found myself not happy with that story anymore.

Content warning for body horror (it’s kind of the main premise of this fic with Nagi’s shapeshifting powers going wrong). Enjoy!

Nagi had long since became aware that while her shapeshifting was very versatile, it had made her body unstable as a consequence. There was a limit to how much she could shapeshift in a day, how many transformations her body could handle before things got… messy. Both physically and mentally.

She had made a list of symptoms that she could keep an eye out for a long time ago, when it was still new to her. The list had long since been lost during her countless travels but the words were practically etched into her very brain.

Yet the demon seemed to have forgotten the list in most dire of times.

Her new family seeing her meltdowns for the first time.

It was the aftermath of another battle with the Demon Bull King’s forces where Nagi admits, she had already been pushing herself with multiple changes in her form. Shifting into a Bull Clone, numerous animals, Red Son, even a shadow on the wall on one point, all for the purpose of causing confusion for the enemy and allowing openings for MK and Mei to do their thing: causing complete chaos. She wanted to prove herself useful to the team while still remaining a hidden element, an ace up their sleeve if need be.

She was feeling strained after it all but in a pleasant way, like the ache in your muscles after a workout. Exhausted but nothing that she couldn’t handle after some rest or another shot espresso in her system. And the sight of her friends, her family, all gathered together in celebration made her feel a warmth in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since…

It wasn’t important now. What was important was teasing her little brother figure for trying too hard to be cool.

“’It’s a beach man, why don’t you take a swim and cool off!’” Nagi mimicked, seamlessly shifting to the form of MK just for emphasis. “You had been waiting to use that one ever since you met Red Son, haven’t you?”

She let out a giggle in her own voice at the sputtering received in response before it devolved into a slight cough, a sudden tickle in the back of her throat. A tickle which soon developed into a full-on coughing fit that left her struggling to speak and had the others looking at her in concern. Now Nagi was the one with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks, gratefully taking the water bottle offered to her by Sandy.

“Looks like I got a little sand down my throat, no big deal!” She said, doing her best to give a reassuring smile while ignoring the strange feeling of… something in her throat.

Symptom #1: Sudden coughing fit followed by the sensation of something building up in the lungs.

Yet even with the water, the constant need to cough just wouldn’t go away. Pigsy and Tang were starting to go from mildly to extremely concerned, especially when the flush on Nagi’s face ceased to go away as they left the artificial beach and back to the shipyard. Not helping was the fact that Nagi was suddenly feeling very warm, to the point that Tang had yelped in shock when he felt her forehead to test her temperature.

If Nagi had sweat glands, she was sure she’d be sweating bullets despite it being a relatively cool day.

Symptom #2: Extreme fever, to the point of body feeling like it’s on fire.

“Nagi, maybe we should have you see a doctor,” Tang said, genuinely starting to fret at the snake demon’s state. Nagi was quick to shake her head at the idea, knocking off the cloth on her forehead that had been soaked in ice water to help with the fever. Going to a doctor was absolutely out of the question for her because, practically speaking, what could they do from someone like her? Human doctors were used to patients with non-regenerating skin, a sturdy skeleton, and ones with typical organs.

None of those things which Nagi possessed.

A part of her was more afraid of just what would be found if anybody had examined her.

“Don’t be ridiculous Tang, it’s just a slight fever! I’m sure I’ll be fine after some rest,” She wheezed, struggling to breathe as the sensation of something in her throat had become thick, cloying and making it difficult for any air to reach her lungs.

Sparks of panic began to bloom in her heart once things started to get fuzzy and blur, as if she was about to pass out. Yet Nagi remained wakeful and suddenly it hit her.

Symptom #3: Sight begins to blur as eyes become unstable.

Her list, how could have forgotten her list.

Shit, it was a meltdown.

She had to leave immediately.

“I just… realized that I have… something to attend to at home. Excuse me,” Nagi said while clumsily attempting to climb off Sandy’s sofa, managing to weave her way past MK, Mei, Tang, and Pigsy before being stopped by the brick wall that was Sandy. She could only wheeze as the room began to spin around her, droplets of something running down her face.

Oh no. That wasn’t sweat.

“Whatever it is, we can take care of it. You should probably just focus on resting Nagi,” Sandy said, placing a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that everything would be fine.

Only for his hand to slowly sink into her shoulder with a nauseating squish sound. And when he pulled away in shock, some of it stuck to his hand to form a goop bridge between the two which drooped lazily before falling to the ground. Nagi could only numbly watch, her hair beginning to droop from MK’s gravity defying spikes before another coughing fit suddenly hit. These were strong enough to force the demon to her knees, hands over her mouth as her lungs convulsed to get whatever was depriving her of air out.

She felt faint relief as she finally hacked up whatever it was clogging her throat.

Only to pull her hands away to see them now stained with a red goop which seemed to fuse with her rapidly softening hands.

Nagi only faintly heard the screams of horror surround her.

Symptom #4: Body begins to destabilize.

“Ah shit…” She mumbled, faintly noting the strings of goop that were trying to glue her lips together. Stumbling to her feet, guilt gnawed at her chest at the sight of the others no longer screaming but the room was still in absolute chaos. MK and Mei were raiding Sandy’s freezer out of hopes that ice could somehow stop her melting, oh right she was indeed melting, while Pigsy did his best to help Tang from getting sick on the living room floor. Sandy was still staring at the slimy remnants of Nagi’s shoulder on his hand, face frozen in shock.

“Sorry Sa-” Her words were cut off with a choke as the world suddenly shifted by only a couple inches, yet Nagi could feel that something had changed. The sensation of a tail sluggishly moving behind her and her ears being much larger gave her a good idea of who she had suddenly shifted to. Or maybe not, as she looked down to see her newfound fur was both peach and black in the pattern of shifting stripes. Her clothes were an unfamiliar mishmash of orange and dark fabrics that were struggling to not fall apart at the seams.

It only hit Nagi that she had hit the next symptom when her tail began to split into two and only seemed to worsen when she tried to reel it in. Her control was slipping through fingers like sand and she was nothing more than a prisoner to the whims of her unstable biology.

Symptom #5: Uncontrollable shifting, often resulting in traits mixing together to a painful degree.

She could only let out a mournful gurgle, regretful at the mess she was making on Sandy’s floor as fat droplets of her being dripped down like candle wax. Said man’s face suddenly lit up, as if hit with a brilliant idea, and Nagi let out a startled wheeze as she was suddenly picked up and gathered into Sandy’s arms. The man visibly struggled for a moment, genuinely surprised at how much she weighed yet persevering. She did her best to not look at the globs of… herself which fell off in clumps that splattered across the hardwood floors and carpet.

Quickly moving to his bathroom, Sandy carefully placed the demon in his large bathtub while making sure to plug the drain. Last thing he wanted was any piece of Nagi going down his drain. She allowed herself to be positioned in the tub, limbs limp and boneless though not out of choice as pain wracked through her body relentlessly. A whimper broke through her waxy lips as large, bull-like horns ripped through the sides of her head, metal material now circling her eyes.

“What’s happening to you Nagi? Is there anything we can to help?” Sandy asked, hearing the others entire the bathroom behind him as they looked upon the bathtub with concern.

“Meltdown… happens when I… use my powers too much,” Nagi wheezed, speaking a struggle as it become more and more difficult to keep her lips separate, the melted strands of her self getting closer to gluing them together. “Can’t do much… except wait it out. Burning up.” She sagged in relief at finally finishing her words, leaning her head against the rim of the tub. Her entire body was on fire, so much so that it was no wonder that she was practically melting.

The loss of sensation in her legs made her look down, only to see her legs begin to melt together into a mockery of a snake tail. Her fangs elongated, poking past her lips, and scales popping out in random patches from her fur, fire hot itchy pain that she had long since grown numb to.

Nagi let out a mix of a croak and squawk in surprise when MK and Mei barged in to start dumping buckets of ice into the bathtub. She could only jolt and squirm helplessly as the cold assaulted her senses, whimpering as she struggled to get out of the tub and away from the cold. Thankfully, Sandy was quick to pull her out of the bath and away from the ice, cradling her against his chest with no mind to her sticking to his hands.

“Kids, you’re not supposed to stick someone with a fever straight into an ice bath, we can’t risk putting Nagi into shock! We gotta start with lukewarm water and work our way from there, C’mon, get this ice out of the bath so we can use it for later.” MK and Mei were quick to follow Sandy’s lead, guilt heavy on their shoulders that they could have hurt Nagi by accident.

Once the tub was clear, Sandy carefully placed the snake demon back in and turned on the faucet. Nagi relaxed as the lukewarm poured over her melty tail, sagging in relief and letting go of the illusion that she had any bones. The mild temperature was a welcome relief to her fever, a sigh leaving her lips.

“There we go, that’s better!” Sandy chirped, patting Nagi on the head before going still again as more goop stuck to his hand. At this point, the previous slime-like residue had dried and caked on his hands, which he was doing his best to ignore until Nagi wasn’t on the knife’s edge of overheating.

“T-Thaaannk yo-” Nagi choked, feeling something almost pop in her chest and in a snap, Sandy’s tub was on the verge of overflowing. He hurriedly cut off the tap, just as surprised to see that a tub that almost looked comically large for Nagi’s small frame could now barely hold her in, the tip of her tail trailing to the bathroom floor. She could only let out a wheeze that was questioning the universe as to why she must suffer this constant discomfort and torment.

“Well that’s… new. You alright there Nagi?” Mo echoed his concerned sentiments, giving a curious meow by the door of the bathroom.

“Juuuuuuussst fiiiiinnnnne,” she said, her words slurring but not wanting to worry Sandy more. Nagi wiggled about to try and get comfortable while he slowly began to add more water to the bath of colder and colder temperature. As the water’s temperature began to drop, the snake demon’s shivering only got worse but Sandy noticed that the rate of her “melting” was slowing down too. He took that as a good sign if anything.

They continued this for hours with Sandy eventually switching places with Tang and Pigsy once the two noticed he looked exhausted.

“Ti… tiiiiirrrrred,” Nagi hissed quietly, struggling to keep her eyes open now that she didn’t feel on the border of falling apart anymore. Her mind and ability to speak was still as coherent as syrup but all the internal alarms were quiet now and she didn’t feel like she was approaching death’s door. “Wanna sleep…”

“I know you wanna kid, just try and eat some of this broth, okay? You need to eat something after all this,” Pigsy said, his tone soft as he held the bowl of warm broth to her lips. She whined but complied, taking cautious sips to put something in her stomach. Turns out being in agony for hours worked up an appetite as Nagi found herself close to devouring the bowl itself once it hit her how hungry she was now.

Thankfully Pigsy was able to pull away fast enough that he didn’t lose his hands by accident.

“Hey don’t eat Pigsy’s hands, he needs those! Take it slow, last thing we need you upsetting your stomach,” Tang joked, less unnerved at the sight of Nagi’s unhinging her jaw with the Monkey King’s face since everything she could do and would do in future paled in comparison to what he witnessed today. In a way, seeing her so vulnerable made her slightly less terrifying to the man.

Just a bit.

Nagi, nonetheless, did what she was told and slowly finished the broth. With her belly not eating itself in hunger and instead filled with warm broth, she couldn’t help the purr which rumbled in her chest. Eyes sluggishly began to close and this time, she didn’t bother fighting the pull of sleep and instead welcomed it. Sleep was always gentler with her compared to the abrupt darkness that was passing out from the agony of a meltdown.

Tang and Pigsy couldn’t help the sighs of relief once they saw that Nagi was finally asleep.

“So… we gonna talk about what happened or…”

“For now, let’s just help Sandy… clean the place up. We can talk about everything when Nagi wakes up. However long that takes.”

Tang let out another sigh before taking off his glasses to clean them. A nervous tic of his.

He could work with that. They could all work with that.

For now.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #monkie kid oc #nagi #sandy #pigsy #tang #mk #mei #mo #my writing #fanfiction

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (12/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Rapunzel, Eugene, Cassandra, and Quirin travel to Old Corona. There, they learn about the past, in more than one way. In which Quest for Varian is actually a quest about Varian.

Read the rest on AO3

hi! Uh. I took the week off cuz my cat died but now we're back on track. Quest for Varian rewrite time! This thing was a monster to hammer out, I kept rewriting scenes and dialogue and blah blah blah but IM HAPPY WITH IT!! A MAJOR thanks to @space-butterflies and @finnoky for helping me with this!

PLEASE if you enjoy this fic leave a comment and like!! It gives me the strength to keep going. And to not focus on my schoolwork haha im a grade below average rip

Maximus’ footsteps trotted one after another, a steady beat in time with Rapunzel’s anxious heart. Cassandra sat by her side, unflinching as ever, but the storm in her eyes said more than enough. So did the bouncing of Eugene’s leg. It was clear as day: they were all terrified. 

“Old Corona is just over this hill,” Quirin muttered, slightly uncomfortable. 

He’d hoped that his words would soothe his companions but it only seemed to irk them more. Rapunzel let out a sharp inhale, biting her lip. A war raged within her mind. She didn’t want Quirin to know the truth; a part of her wanted nothing more than to protect the small child she’d come to see as her own. But it wasn’t fair. He’d been so confused when the princess showed up with grim company. 

She locked eyes with Eugene. He nodded, resolute yet anxious.

Gripping her dress, Rapunzel spoke up. “Quirin, I really appreciate you letting us come with… you should know that, the rocks, they’ve been… reacting. To me. And to a few other people.”

Quirin kept his face impassive but inwardly, he was letting out a massive sigh of relief. So it wasn’t just Varian, no, it was a few people! Thank goodness! He’d been hesitant to bring it up, to confirm that Varian had power over the rocks, but her words made it seem more like the rocks respond to strong emotions in general. And Varian was an emotional child, swinging from sweet to sour to sad. Of course the rocks would react to a child’s emotions, then. Thank goodness!

Never mind the fact that they never worked like that before.His previous theory was definitely wrong, there was no way Varian could have the moonstone! Even if he looked a lot like Ulla, with his big blue eyes and button nose, and he had her curiosity and penchant for mischief… 

The princess’s eyes wandered, trying to find words. “I thought you should know that… stop the cart!” She cried. Max jolted to a stop, nearly sending Cassandra crashing into Eugene. Clear as day, across the path, a single spike protruded from the earth. The party stepped out of the wagon to approach. 

“My dad told me all of the black rocks had been removed…” Rapunzel frowned. She went to brush a hand against it, but decided at the last second not to. There was no use in causing an explosion. All eyes turned to the knight, the apparent expert on the rocks. 

Quirin fidgeted uncomfortably. “We may have… missed one?” Truth be told, this rock wasn’t there last time he visited. And that was last week! How had the situation changed so much in such a short time? 

“Um…” Cassandra said, pointing to the village ahead. “Try one hundred.” 

Old Corona was covered in rocks from head to toe. Nearly everywhere you looked, a rock took up some of your vision. Each house had at least one spike cutting clean through it, and the whole village seemed duller, sucked of life. Bleak as winter, a shadow loomed over everything and blanketed it in eternal night.

“Do you think your father lied?” Cassandra asked. Quirin sucked in a harsh breath.

“No!” Rapunzel stressed. Her voice wavered, clearly unsure. “I trust my father, but he probably doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten.” She took one step forward, then another. Dead grass crunched underfoot. “Come on,” she mumbled.

With each new rock Eugene’s anxiety only grew. All angles were dangerous, each reflected beam of sunlight was dimmed by the obsidian rocks it bounced off of. He could feel his sanity slip like sand, each rock corresponding to a grain in an hourglass. On instinct, he reached out. Rapunzel was his rock, and she was his. They’d get through this together, figure it out side by side. But just in case, he caged her braid inbetween them. Hopefully that would prevent any disasters. 

“It’s the same story,” Quirin said sadly, brushing a hand across the rocks. His tattoo burned so hot he feared his glove would melt. “At first it’s just a few rocks… they’re a nuisance, but manageable. But then they keep growing, and growing, until the town is a maze,” he sighed. 

“And then the King comes and cleans it all up, right…?” Cassandra dared to ask, speaking aloud what Rapunzel feared. 

“...They’ve never been in Corona until now,” he managed. It would be his greatest challenge, sitting in the middle of two royals fighting. One, a King determined to keep his people from panic. Another, a princess who wanted answers. 

He wasn’t sure if either person would be satisfied by today’s end.

“They didn’t show up in Corona until… I did.” Rapunzel muttered. “There’s no question now, these rocks… they hold a secret, and, and somehow- we’re connected to it...” Her eyes shook as she was lost in memory. The use of we was noticed by everyone; each member of the party glanced around to see if they’d made the connection, but no one spoke. 

“And maybe we’re… even responsible for it.” 

Eugene’s normally smiling and charming face filled with solemn grit. His voice deepened as he spoke. “What do we do now?”

“If I may,” Quirin cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I have an… old friend who researched the rocks a while ago. I entrusted her with a graphtyc that may have some answers.”

Princess and boyfriend locked eyes. That could only be one person...

“I’m sorry Eugene, I know you don’t want to be here. But we need to find that graphtyc, so that’s what we’re gonna do.” Rapunzel said.

At first the ex-thief was silent, and his face impassive. But slowly, it broke into the faintest of smiles as he grasped her hand. Their foreheads touched together briefly, and Rapunzel melted into his warmth. Their fight from the other night was still fresh in her mind, seeing as it was the only real fight they’ve ever had. Neither of them had been particularly wrong, but they both knew it was time to put personal discomfort aside. 

For Varian.

For their son. 

Quirin and Cassandra stood to the side. When a figure rushed by, they both turned, catching nothing but the wind left in its wake. 

-

The walk to the house was quiet and tense. Each wrong step caused Rapunzel’s hair to light up like a beacon, and everyone would flinch in preparation of an explosion. Thankfully, nothing happened, and they eventually reached the manor. Out of all the houses, this one was in the worst shape. Every window had a cluster of spikes protruding from indoors. A piece of roof cracked and fell to their feet. One thing was clear: the house was on its last legs, wheezing for breath. 

Eugene’s feet felt stuck to the ground, unable to take another step further. Behind this door was, supposedly, Varian’s mother. She and Gothel tied for his least favorite people in the world, but he couldn’t help but also feel grateful. Oh how he wished Varian had a loving mother, but because he didn’t, it allowed them to meet, it allowed for Eugene to grow and love. 

Quirin knocked steadily. He took one deep breath, then another.  

The door crept open. Its hinges screamed and rang through the air. 

And there she was.

The best and worst thing of their lives.

“Ulla,” Quirin breathed, eyes softening. Her hair was askew, like it had been thrown up. Wild eyes scanned him up and down, before relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Were you followed?” She hissed. That earned a nervous glance between party members. Cassandra glanced back; now that she thought about it, she hadn’t even seen any villagers…

“It’s just us,” Quirin replied. “Listen, we need the graphtyc, you said you’d translate it, remember?”

“Oh I remember,” she drawled. Unimpressed eyes scanned the group. Distantly she recognized the princess, her hair was unmistakable, but then, her eyes widened. “You-!” 

Eugene’s eyes flashed. If it wasn’t for the fact that they needed her help, he’d punch her square in the face. “Yea, not thrilled to see you either, can you help us or not?”

The mood shifted instantly from uneasy to flat out hostile. Teal eyes glared through him as she searched for a fifth person who wasn’t there. And probably would never be there again. 

How unfortunate. After he left it’d been so calm… for a while, anyway. Their time apart gave her space to think up some new theories and tests, too bad they’ll never be utilized. Finally, she stepped aside to let everyone in. 

A shadow loomed over the wood.

Ulla turned her nose up as they entered her lab. It was cluttered with notes collecting dust and farm tools. “I will help Quirin, but not the rest of you.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us enough.” Eugene’s words were biting, barely contained fury clear as day. It was only Rapunzel’s hand on his chest that kept him from springing forward and tearing her to pieces. 

Out of them, Quirin seemed to be the only one happy to see her. “Thank you, Ulla.”

She gave him the faintest of smiles, before her face turned impassive again. “I’ll take Quirin to get the graphtyc. Don’t touch anything… please.” The last word was tacked on solely because Rapunzel was there. The two elders vanished up rickety stairs. 

“So… this is Varian’s old home?” Cassandra’s eyes flicked to and fro. Dust laid claim to every surface. “Seems… about what I expected.”

To her left, Eugene hummed in agreement as he trailed a finger across the table. His eyes trailed over a few of her notes. Most of them were mundane, farm reports or apple science. “You know someone should sit this lady down and have a frank discussion about the importance of having an organized, clutter-free workspace.” Well, a frank discussion about a lot of things. But that’s a good place to start. A nice, simple conversation not about Varian that wouldn’t end in a screaming match and/or murder. 

But murder was still on the table. 

Especially when Rapunzel, curious, foolish Rapunzel, couldn’t help herself. In the far corner, covered in dust, sat what looked like an invention covered by a tarp. Hesitantly, with bare feet tapping against stone, the dust irritating her nose and the smell of it thick in the air, she unveiled the invention. 

A chair, with shackles. 

Tiny, child-sized shackles. 

She let out an agonized cry and stumbled back into Eugene’s arms. It was like a hole had been punched in her chest. So this is what Varian meant when he said no more…

“We shouldn’t have come here. We should’ve stayed in the castle where we were a happy family.” She whispered, clutching tight to Eugene’s vest. 

“Come on, Raps, you don’t mean that,” Cassandra soothed. She sent Eugene a helpless glance. Regardless of how the chair was used, the implications were agonizing. 

As much as Eugene wanted the satisfaction that he was right, that she was agreeing with him, he knew deep down that it wasn’t true. 

“Sunshine,” he mumbled. “I know what I said before about forgetting all this, and never speaking to… her, but this,” his eyes drifted to the window, from which a massive rock extended. “Is way, way worse than I or anyone else imagined, and one thing has become clear.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face. “People are in danger. A lot of danger. Not just from the rocks. And the Rapunzel I know was never one to run and hide from a fight.”

No sooner had those words been spoken, the door burst open. 

-

“Is there a reason you wanted to speak to just me?” Quirin asked as soon as they walked up the stairs. “It’s rude to leave her highness alone.”

Ulla scoffed. “She’s not alone, she's with the thief.” Her words were sharp as the rocks she studied. 

Thief? Well sure, he used to be, but most people looked past that by now. He’d seen firsthand how Eugene went from a castle annoyance to maids crowding him with gossip and parenting advice. 

“You mean how he was Flynn Rider? I can assure you, he’s a very nice young man-”

“A nice young man who is harboring a disappointment!” 

The silence rang like a funeral bell. Quirin’s face dropped to neutral. God did Ulla hate when he did that; he was impossible to read. Finally, he spoke. “So it’s true. He’s yours, isn’t he? He’s… he’s the moonstone.” It was finality, the sealing of a child’s coffin. It also earned him a frustrated eye roll.

Ulla turned to her bookshelf. Let’s see… which book is it again…? “He’s not the moonstone, he’s the moondrop. Crucial difference.”

“That being…?”

“You can’t manipulate or control it the way you can the moonstone.” Quirin couldn’t help but flinch at her word choice. “The translated incantations will only work if he says them. Which renders him useless to me.”

More like useless to her plans, Quirin thought dryly. “So you abandoned him.” 

“He’s an experiment gone wrong. Nothing to do but scrap it and start over.” She smirked at how the man paled at those words. Finally, her fingers brushed across the book. She opened it to reveal a shining scroll case. It felt bittersweet to see so many hours of work be handed over to Quirin, but what can you do? They spent a whole year together, collecting the pieces of the scroll for translation, trying to solve the mystery and destroy the moonstone. Only fair that he gets to see their hard work completed. 

Quirin’s hand brushed against the graphtyc… but then froze. Wait. That didn’t make any sense. “Ulla... he can control the rocks…” 

“What?” It was like a bullet had gone off, Ulla’s ears were ringing that loud. That… that little brat! How long could he control his magic? Did he send these recent rocks to her… to mock her? Did he just enjoy causing her misery!? 

She schooled her face back to impassive, though the cogs in her brain were already off to the races. New theories, new experiments, if she only had a little more time with him…!

Teal eyes batted up at Quirin, who stood awkwardly under her intense gaze. 

She opened her mouth.

-

From the splintered doorway, a large man stepped forward. His face was hidden behind a masked helmet, a black cloak trailing his red coat. He held out a gloved hand. “Hand over the graphtyc.”

Eugene growled, stepping in front of Rapunzel and shielding her. “Who is that?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I got him!” Cassandra cried. She charged at the man, skidding under his legs up and around him. She grabbed his staff and pinned it against his neck. The man huffed, grunting against her weight, before throwing himself forward and sending Cassandra flying. She landed on the table with a thud, sending notes and chemicals every which way. One chemical turned to goo the moment it hit the floor, trapping papers underneath.

Aha!

Rapunzel grabbed a spare of it, and with all her might threw it at the attacker. In a flash of pink smoke the man’s legs were trapped in place. 

“Go go go!” Eugene cried, grabbing Cassandra off the floor.

“What about Quirin!?”

“No time! He’ll just have to catch up!” 

The door to the house flew open with a bang, nearly shattering as they ran past. Each rock lit up a vibrant blue the same color as Varian’s hairstripe whenever Rapunzel ran past. 

“I don’t know how long we’ll have before that guy breaks out, but-” Rapunzel’s voice was cut off, gasping as a masked man stood on the other side of the rocks. How…? 

“Clearly not long!” Eugene cries, and they turn, only to come face to face with the same mask. “How fast is this guy?” Finally, they break out of the rocks, outside the village. With huffing breaths, the party came face to face with several identically dressed men; the masks crowd them, filling their very bones with dread. “Oh, that explains it.” 

“Hand over the graphtyc,” the chant is repeated over and over, each man taking a turn to say it. Never mind the fact that they didn’t even have the damn thing because Ulla wanted to speak to Quirin about god knows what.

Not a moment later than the thought had come and gone, Quirin manifested from behind the Princess. His large, hulking form easily towered over the men, and it took only a few punches for each masked man to topple. 

A neigh bounced around the clearing, its sound ricocheting off rocks, and Max galloped in carrying a frying pan in his mouth. Combined, the two defeated the small battalion in under a minute, before the young adults even had to lift a finger. 

“Sorry,” Quirin whispered to one of the guards before knocking him to the ground. 

“Max! Quirin! Oh you couldn’t have come a second sooner!” Rapunzel gasped as she and the others ran over. It was a tight fit to get them all on Max, but he was a big horse, and Rapunzel could sit on Eugene’s lap if needed. 

“Do you have it?” The princess’s eyes lit up when Quirin produced a small trinket. “These guys want whatever that is pretty badly,” it was an odd game of telephone as Quirin handed it down Max and to Rapunzel. “And something tells me we won’t make it back to the castle.” 

Quirin opened his mouth to argue, but Eugene cut him off. “She’s right! We need somewhere to hide and come up with a plan.”

“No, I don’t think we really need to-”

“I know just the place!” Rapunzel spurred Max faster as Quirin sighed in defeat. 

-

It wasn’t a far ride, just a trip down a cliff and then some, but soon enough they were at a small alcove covered in vines. 

“Man, this is terrible.” Eugene muttered to himself.

“I know,” Cassandra sighed. “Those men are following us.”

“No, I was talking about my vest. But yeah, that’s bad too. Rapunzel, are you sure this place is safe?”

She snorted. Safe? Hidden? This place was the most hidden spot in all of Corona for 18 years. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize this place!” With a flourish, the vines peeled back, and she faltered. “Actually… I’m not sure I recognize it either.” 

Her tower. The place she once called home. Now surrounded by spikes.

Night falls, and with it comes a moment of reprieve. Eugene gladly gave Max a tour of the tower; well, as much of a tour as he could. “And this is where I died!” He said, proudly pointing to a spot of blood on the floor.

With a jolt, Rapunzel recalled an incident from the other day. Eugene had told Varian a watered down story of how they met, and where Rapunzel’s hair came from. The toddler had been so upset to hear that Rapunzel had been locked away for so long… was his anguish subconsciously causing rocks to appear in places he’d never been? 

The other three humans sat together, fidgeting with the graphtyc. “It sounds like there’s something inside…?” Rapunzel held it up to Cassandra’s ear. They both glanced over to Quirin, who opened it with a crack. Inside sat an unassuming piece of paper. Or rather, it was unassuming until he pulled it out.

The scroll was torn in half, with only two columns visible; one had a sun dripping down onto a flower, the other, a moon onto rocks. Strange characters covered the columns, with fresh pencil markings scribbling all around them. 

But before Quirin could explain, Eugene cried out from where he stood at the window. “Guys… we have a problem. Or rather, many problems. Masked problems.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Rapunzel gasped. “How on earth did they find us!?” A fire lit in her eyes, the likes of which her father had tried to smother earlier in the week. “These guys just ticked off the wrong princess. I came here for answers, for a solution, and by god we are going to get it!” 

Quirin rubbed his shoulder, trying to hide his flinch at the word solution. “What will you do, your highness?” 

She didn’t respond at first. Instead, she stalked forward, letting her braid fall loose. “I’m letting down my hair.” The intensity of her voice took them all off guard; Eugene hadn’t heard her that angry in a long time, not even during their fight. 

It was the righteous anger of a protective mother. 

Her hair brushed against a spike, causing it to glow brighter and brighter, even more than the stars in the sky, then the moon, and even the sun. A shockwave sent the masked men flying away, their backs hitting cliff walls. Quirin had to grip onto the tower windowsill in order to stay upright; Cassandra and Eugene weren’t as lucky and were thrown backwards. 

Then, as fast as it started, it stopped. All was quiet, all was still.

Elsewhere, a small child fell to the ground as a blinding headache racked his skull. He shrieked, startling his babysitters.

A new rock sprouted. Then another. Black obsidian punctured the tower. Before they could even try to escape the rocks grew up through the stairwell leading outside. 

“Up there!” Cassandra cried, pointing to the skylight. “That’s the only way out!” 

With one massive throw, Rapunzel formed a rope for everyone to climb, onto the roof and into the night.

“I don’t understand… I thought you said this was dealt with?” Rapunzel bemoaned to Quirin. He winced. On the one hand, he never said anything, her father did. On the other hand…

“It wasn’t like this when I visited last. There were a few rocks, but-”

“Hang on, you lied to us? You were lying this whole time!?” Cassandra butt in, eyebrow raised. She wasn’t nearly as matronly as Rapunzel, if she had it her way Varian would’ve been shipped off to an orphanage, but she was still fond of the little tyke, and she sure as hell didn’t want him blamed for this mess. 

“Well, yes, but-”

“And what happens when the village is overrun? You never finished that story from earlier!” Eugene added. “Is this it? It chases everyone out?” 

“Can we maybe discuss this on land!?” The man cried. There were more important things, like not getting impaled as the tower roof collapsed! 

Blue glow now shone in tandem with the yellow of Rapunzel’s hair. She frowned, weighing her options. “Guys, there’s only one way down. I think I have a way out, but it’s a little crazy, so you’re just gonna have to trust me!” 

Eugene flinched, grabbing her hand anxiously. He had no idea if he could trust her, even though he loved her dearly. He needed to live, now more than ever! He needed to keep his son safe! If these men were after them just for the graphtyc, imagine if they found out about Varian! 

The tower buckled, sending them all into a heap. Never mind, not the time to debate! “Uh sure, let’s go for it. I’m up for anything at this point.”

With that, in tandem, they all lept off the tower as a glowing sphere that rivalled the sun engulfed them, a sea of gold soft as a pillow yet strong as a diamond.

The ground was soft at their feet. 

“Are we all seeing this? Is that new!?” Cassandra laughed, ecstatic that they survived. But Rapunzel paid her no heed. She could only watch as her first home crumbled and shattered before her eyes. Dust flew in every direction. A deep, wicked part of her wanted to run home and yell at Varian, blame him for her loss. But she couldn’t. He was a child, and she’d be no better than Ulla. 

Besides, he and Eugene were her home now. 

That didn’t stop her from shedding a tear, though. 

Eugene placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ok?” She shook her head, and wrapped him up in an embrace. “I will be.”

“Uh guys?” Cassandra said. “Look.”

From the wreckage, the masked men slowly shook themselves out. Only, they were not masked anymore. One man’s helmet laid shattered beyond use as he slowly lifted his head up. 

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Pete?” she gasped. A quick glance around showed that all of them, slowly standing up, were members of the guard. 

“Princess, forgive us…” Pete said. “We had orders to recover the scroll before you.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “From who?” 

The man hesitated. Then slowly, a shaking finger pointed behind her… to Quirin. 

-

“Quirin,” Ulla said. “You know we weren’t able to recover half of the incantations. The one to control the rocks is still lost.”

“Because Adira still won’t tell me where it is, yes,” He grumbled. She had never been a fan of his methods, and now he could see why. 

“But we can still control them, stop them… as a family.” His eyes shot up to Ulla’s smile. She seemed nearly peaceful, if he didn’t know her true nature. 

“A family…?”

Her laugh was that of a funeral gong. “Be reasonable Quirin. Who do you think Varian’s father is?”

#varian #tangled the series #tangled #tts #tts varian #tts eugene #tangled eugene #eugene fitzherbert #team awesome #new dream

[fantasyinvader]

Kamen Rider Saber: Finale and Series Review

Okay, before I start disemboweling this series I want to give the finale two points of props.

It was nice to see the main trio fight the big bad together rather than it just being the lead Rider.

The ending really feels nostalgic for me. It's like one of those old games or anime that tried to do something like Evangelion, mostly Star Ocean 3 comes to mind.

I was going to add another point: how the ending didn't have to rely on a cosmic retcon to turn things into a happy ending like Build or Zi-o did, leaving those who died dead and having some level of maturity. I was going to give the show that point, even if it felt like it was leading into Touma essentially becoming God, but then the show did it and...I'm going to be honest here, I was saying fuck you at the screen. Multiple times, kinda like when Doctor Who's 50th anniversary where it turns out Gallifrey wasn't destroyed, the Doctor sealed it away and just couldn't remember it. Like, that is the level of bullshit I was calling out, and with Doctor Who I only said it as an “oh fuck you” rather than just “fuck you fuck you fuck you” until I noticed I was doing this and stopped myself.

Got it? Good. Now let's put Kamen Rider Saber on the examination table, rip it open, and see what went wrong with it.

Oh my god, where to begin with this series?

You ever see a show or movie that tries to do too much for it's runtime? Maybe a book that has some ultimately good ideas, but it never fleshed them out properly? That's my biggest feeling with Saber. Individual parts of the story, some arcs and characters are good on paper. Not to mention, Touma has two incredibly sexy upgrades (the Ryuki-inspired Draconic Knight and the berserker Primitive Dragon). But there is just so much in here that, given the proper focus could have carried the show if properly developed. It's a case of quantity over quality.

But the main problem comes to it's central McGufffin, the Omniscient Tome. This book is supposed to have all knowledge and later on all stories contained within it. It's what powers Wonderworld and the Wonder Ridebooks that are the main collectable trinket of the season. But when you stop and think about it, Saber is a world where there is no free will and the antagonists are all rebelling against this in their own way. Kento's dad (former Kamen Rider Calibur) went rogue in the backstory because he was given a vision of the future through his sword, and it led to the former Saber taking up the role of Calibur and going rogue in order to learn the truth. When the other riders are turned against Touma, the argument is over how he's destined to become more powerful, making Touma seem like he's seeking power and could be a future threat. When Kento returns from the dead, he's haunted by visions of the world ending in multiple variations, leading to him trying to seal the Sacred Blades in order to stop it. But then Master Logos is revealed to be buttfucking insane, wanting to rebel against his position in the world. Then it turns out the monster faction's leader, was a former poet who lost hope when he learned that all his creations were already in the Omniscient Tome, so he decided he would end the world his way rather than the predetermined ending. And even then, the world still ended the way it was always fated to end, even with Touma disappearing to nu-Wonderworld if only for a year.

The world wasn't saved, it was destroyed and then rebuilt because Mei wrote an online post that encouraged people to share their stories, which they did in oblivion even though these guys shouldn't have seen the post at all and instead just heard her voice.

Like, maybe the nu-World has free will. I'd buy that. But when applied to the 47 episodes I've spent the last year watching (alongside the Zenkaiger crossover episode), it felt pointless because it ended the way it was foretold in the Omniscient Tome. It didn't matter that Storious was defeated, fate was not averted. It's like, the complaints people have about the MCU post-Loki. It doesn't matter that Tony decided to sacrifice himself, because he didn't have free will. He was always going to sacrifice himself. Thanos was always going to snap away half the universe, and it would always be undone because choices didn't matter before Loki's ending.

And that's not even going into how they final arc reveals that Touma can somehow create stories not present in the Omniscient Tome. That he can somehow, because the personification of Wonderworld choose him as a child, that for some reason he's the only writer in history that can do this. His catchphrase is about how he'll be the one who'll decide how the story ends, but with the idea that everything was set into stone? It's laughable.

Like, my problem with Zero One's ending was the last scene. Aruto had learned a lot about the Humagears and was an advocate for them finding their own dreams as they became self-aware AI. So him trying to treat a new humagear as just an amnesiac Is  and try to help her “remember”? That felt like a betrayal of the character and what he stood for. But the post-series movie revealed that Is left a copy of herself in the Zero Two driver, and merged with the non-self aware nu-Is who the movie kept reminding us wasn't the Is we knew. Aruto even had a sobbing scene about what he was doing, lowkey acknowledging what he was doing but without overtly calling him out. It fixed Zero One for me after that last scene left me with a bad taste in my mouth that overshadowed an otherwise excellent show.

You can't fix Saber with a single movie, that's what I'm getting at here.

So, with that out of the way let's go into my thoughts on each character.

Touma: Is one of the blandest main riders in the franchise. His sense of style is probably one of the worst I've ever seen though. Like I know they like to try and give the main riders their own look rather than having them dress like normal people, like Aruto wearing a hoodie under his suit jacket alongside with his very bright shoes, but this wasn't a W or even something like Ghost (where honestly I really liked Takeru's robe-like shirts). What they eventually settled on with Touma was a stupid hat, really baggy pants, and shirts that look like they came out of a stern librarian's closest. You know, the type with her hair in a bun and their horned-framed glasses on a chain.

Rintaro:Is one of those cases where he's meant to be the secondary Rider of the series, but is overshadowed because the writer likes to use someone else more. The idea of him having to turn against the organization that raised him (like a child soldier) could have worked really well if the series had a more free will-direction. But alas.

Kento: Kento's the one character I found I could really like. His arc was more interesting during the first quarter, his return as Calibur, but then he returned to being Espada and, as much as I love that suit, he just became Touma's main cheerleader. Really, I felt like towards the end it was a waste of him, especially since he doesn't get any power ups like Rintaro did to solidify him as one of the main three. He definitely feels like a victim of rewrites or just the writer not knowing what he was doing.

Mei: The female lead. Honestly, I just found her annoying most of the time. A womanchild to match Touma's more manchild moments, with a potential romance with Rintaro thrown in to only be confirmed in a future movie. Really, she should have taken over as Espada after Kento disappeared early on (especially since she's one of the three in the Ending dance while Kento isn't).

Daishinji: I'd say best boy, but he became a background character pretty quick.

Ogami: An older Kamen Rider who is also a father to a young child? Cool, and could even have worked in contrast to Rintaro's raising as essentially a child soldier. But alas, it was not to be.

Ren: OMG. A somewhat psycho younger Rider, idolizing Kento, and his social Darwinist beliefs on strength leading to conflict as Touma gets more powerful, leading to him abandoning the team to train with an enemy monster? HOW DO YOU MAKE THAT NOT WORK! I swear, Ren should have been the secondary Rider of the series, with his changes in beliefs being used more effectively.

Yuri: One of the most competantly written characters in the entire show. One of the original swordsman who became his sword, returning after 2000 years and not only feeling the culture clash of then and now but even how the idea of what makes a hero has changed? Good boy. Also loved him using a shadow body early on during fights.

Sophia: Why are you even here?

Reika: Oh boy, the swordswoman who leads the rest to distrust Touma under the orders of Master Logos, and doesn't sway from this until he's proven to be batshit insane? And even then, reluctant to join the others? Could have been better, especially if her relationship with her brother didn't come across as incesty. Though, could we please return her to Magine in Zenkaiger? Reika hugging her was really cute, in a socially awkward type of way.

Ryoga: Reika's brother. With his powers being something out of Jojo, time manipulation powers which are a bit hard to explain. He starts them and to his opponents things seem like the fight is continuing as normal, but he really exists outside of that and then can attack from a blindspot? Could have been really good with if the series had gone Team Free Will is all I'm saying.

Master Logos: What I mentioned above, but his Rider suit is one I'm in lust with. Just laughs like a madman and you're wondering why Reika and Ryoga don't rebel against him earlier.

The Megid: Two are a waste who I never bothered to learn their names. Fall out of focus for a bit and only return to be beaten, with the sad fact that they were once human. Storious is the exception, but even then I felt he was a little too late to save the series.

Tassel: Bon Lecture! I still hate you you weirdo, even if your death scene made me feel a little sad. The fact that you treated the early parts of the show as a story you were reading? Have you seen my other complaints?

As for the message of what the show tried to say? I don't really mind it. It's encouraging people to love stories, even if they are copies (considering the controversy of Time Paradox Ghostwriter and Cheat Slayer within recent memory, I'm trying not to make jokes about Saber encouraging plagiarism). And I don't think that's a bad thing in itself. Hell, how many stories take stuff from older stories and just tweak elements to make them their own? I love the Elric saga, but that was based on old legends and meant to subvert the likes of Conan the Barbarian, and some other stories I've liked have borrowed elements from it as well. The idea that stories can be used to pass on our hopes, thoughts and dreams to others is pretty nice as well, rather than writing being a form of masturbation on the author's part.

But in the shadow of the Omniscient Tome and it's implications, I really feel the story should have taken another route.

A lot of Riders start of weak, having to introduce the plot as well as the main release of whatever trinket they want kids to gorge themselves on this year. But they usually start getting better towards the end of the first quarter, while maybe stalling a bit towards the end of the second/third. Saber was a series that I felt never really found it's legs. Too many bareboned plot threads on the go, dropping some for a while only to pick them up again after they've been forgotten about. This is not a good series, to be honest I think Zi-O and even Ghost were better, and really feel it would have been better handled in the hands of someone who could actually write. 

Not to mention, this gave me flashbacks of Power Rangers Megaforce over how much this series relied on fight scenes. Throw in greenscreen everywhere, lack of civilians...oh god, it is Kamen Rider Megaforce. And it felt like Saber was trying to have a story, unlike Megaforce, but it has the same “it’s a kid’s show, we don’t have to try that hard” energy.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Hey, uh, do you take request for any epilogue stuff or just Henry suffering? Because if the former, well, we never got to see Old Sport apologizing to the lost souls, and since now that's his job... could we get that? Sorry to bother ^^' - (copied by me, original from AO3)

(Every kind of request is welcome! That is something I meant to write anyways, but I’m still really scared of it- it’s something very important, that HAS to sit just right. I doubt I will manage, but hey, at least it’s out of my mind after this one. OH AND I JUST REALIZED YOU’RE RIGHT ABOUT THE “we never saw”- FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE FINALE I knew I forgot SOMETHING, I thought I had it all written down, but I DIDN’T. Urgh, no point in crying over spilled milk I guess, but have my apologies, I know that you especially were looking forward to it ;n; Now I’m lowkey stuck between a rock and a hard place- either I make this into a proper epilogue thing, in which technically shouldn’t be able to apologize- or I go back and make this as a fix-it/rewrite scene from within the action. I think I’ll try to make it an epilogue and bullshit my way into Old Sport being able to apologize. Bear with me)

Forgiveness isn’t something you can work towards as a single person. It wasn’t like they hadn’t known that when they made their way to the first few restaurants, but it still always left a little crack behind in their optimism. Of course, there was nothing they could do about it. Freeing souls was actually a terribly ungrateful job, something that surprised Dave. Sure, Old Sport had warned him beforehand, but still. It stung. Not that Dave wasn’t on some level aware that he’s the one everyone’s anger was targeted at- for good reason, he had created this scenario in the first place- but a selfish part of him despised the kids for not playing along right away. Henry had told him back in the day that he needed to get a grip on his desire for instant satisfaction- and he was right. As much as Dave hated to think about it, he was right. There were things he easily lost patience with. Hell, he had pressured Old Sport far, far more than he should have. A sudden surge of stubbornness settled into his chest. It was FINE, it worked great with Old Sport. He didn’t do anything wrong. He DIDN’T. He’d do it again! … … that wasn’t the right attitude for a man on the road of redemption, but he couldn’t really help it yet. Deep down he hoped the attitude change would come with habit. There was no way he could get around to it on his own. Old Sport was… doing okay, all things considered. Being almost ripped out of your own body, because you resembled your worst enemy more than your former self was pretty- terrifying. So nowadays, he was… quiet. A little car chase always managed to rip him out of his thoughtful moments, returning the grin to the place it rightfully belonged, covering most of the Orange Guy’s face- but it was only moments, minutes, not long enough, not nearly long enough to satisfy him. Or at least calm him. Old Sport knew that too. When he glanced over at his friend- his partner, his lover, all these words that almost seemed to make no sense, they felt like weren’t supposed to be applied to HIM, him the soulless guy shambling from place to place- When he glanced at Dave, he saw the tension radiating off him like a swarm of bees. Even in his smile, it was clear, he wasn’t outright happy, he was- Like a bow, tightly strung, ready to escalate. There was nowhere left where he truly could let out his chaotic desires, as each Freddy’s they walked into was another mission that had to be done perfectly, like clockwork. Cheesy words, little theatrics, the same patterns over and over and over and over and over- It was what had driven Old Sport over the edge the first time. It wouldn’t happen again though. Maybe they should go to Vegas. However, he didn’t really want to let Dave loose anymore. Not now that their actions felt so… intertwined. Whatever Dave did, he felt responsible for, thus he tried to keep him in check. And now… … now he almost felt scared of Dave, from time to time. Now that he was trying to take the lead. It- wasn’t right. No, no. Fear, fear implied HE was the one afraid. This was different. Worry. He was worried for Dave and he worried for the world around him. But that was the price he paid for being moral and wanting things to work out for everyone. It felt a bit dirty, just picking up a morality, not due to experience and inner passion for these things, instead only because morals came as a set. Really, he still wasn’t a whole person. … at least he was working on it. “What’s wrong with ya, Sportsy?” Dave stretched his neck out towards him, drawing a smile out of the Orange Guy. Somehow seeing Dave becoming all- noodly- always brightened his day. “Nothing! Nothing. I was just thinking about the next place… apparently the Freddy’s burned down, but the animatronics are still in the area?” “Is that what the bear told ya?” “Yes. Which means setting up the party and getting them to stumble over it will be more dangerous than usually… we’ll have to lure them there. We miggt have to walk through the town while wearing the suit!” “Sounds like fun!” Slightly Old Sport smiled. This was something Dave still was great at. “… if you say so. You’re the only one who thinks of waltzing around in sweaty suits, while potentially being chased by dog as ‘fun’.” “Yeah, right- I’m just the only one of us who can admit it! That’s ‘cause ya can’t admit to your feelings, Sportsy! It took ya YEARS, DECADES to finally give into your BURNING DESIRE FOR ME-“ “Sh-shut up! Don’t be weird!” His cheeks were reddening as Dave laughed. This was the one way his constantly building up tension melted away. If he didn’t think for a few moments, the world seemed okay. “Welp, either way-“ The Purple Guy continued, pulling the car to the side. “- we’re at the destination. This is the burned down place. Wait- doesn’t burnin’ them usually free ‘em anyways? Ya know. If all stops have to come out?” “True. There are only two souls around, the one inside of Freddy and the one inside of Chica. The rest was freed by the fire.” “So, we’re dealin’ with two REALLY nasty bastard kids?” “You shouldn’t say that. That aside: yes, you’re right on the money.” “Urgh, those are the worst. Can’t we just break them and burn the pieces?” “No.” “I knew you’d say that Old Sport. Yet I’m STILL disappointed.” He sighed, as he parked to the side. Getting suited up as soon as they could, they looked around the forest area, the lights of the town far in the back, but still very much visible. No taking roads, yards were fine, forest first though. “… alright, this will take time.” Old Sport looked over the wrecks. “Good we have plenty of things to set up a little party anyways. Dave?” “Yessir?” “You go out and try to find them while I set up. We can’t really afford wasting too much time, especially if they might be genuinely vengeful.” “Splittin’ up? First mistake in the horror genre, tsk, tsk-“ “Sure, because either of us is at such a risk of ACTUALLY DYING. EVER.” He waved his hand at him. “At least stake the place out. So we know which places are easier to cross while seeking. And how much we roughly have to look over.” “Fiiiiiiine.” Clearly not pleased, but accepting of his role, Dave walked past him- Just to abruptly and grab Old Sport by the mask, pulling him close into a pretend-kiss, which was somehow even more flustering than an actual kiss. “DAVE!” “C’mon, somehow I gotta motivate myself, right?” Happy as can be, he nuzzled his snout against Old Sport’s, before letting go and skipping away. “Be back soon! Don’t cut any cake without me!” When he was gone, Old Sport slowly sighed. “He… won’t hurt anyone.” The suit echoed. ‘He won’t. As long as you won’t.’ Old Sport winced at the familiar voice- it was soft, caring, and so, so sad. “Fredbear-“ ‘The birthday, Old Sport. Birthday first.’ Nodding to himself, defeated, he pulled out the tools from within the car. Candles, banners, lights, plates and hats, a music player… … they were prepared to create a party out of nothing, out of a charred place of dirt, if they had to. Thankfully the walls were at least still mostly preserved. Ashes to ashes. Places like this reminded him of… “… I never apologized, Fredbear.” ‘That is true.’ “They were gone. I knew what Mike did, I just- couldn’t- I couldn’t face the Toys anymore. I didn’t even know their names. Mike knew their names, right?” ‘He did.’ “I can’t ask Mike. I can’t ask him for the names.” The words stumbled out of him. Fredbear tended to join him every time that they were setting up, not in his true form right away, but as a presence within the suit Old Sport had to wear. It was reassuring in some regard- But at the same time, the memories he brought Old Sport were suffocating. ‘You could.’ Old Sport wanted to scream, his busy hands still setting up, regardless of the conversation. “Yes. Yes I could. And I could kill Dave. And I could jump from a high building to try out to fly. And I could adopt twenty cats. And I could hijack a train. And I could- what is there I couldn’t do!? But I don’t want to, because I’m not dumb, I KNOW it’s wrong, I know it’s terrible, I know-“ Shortly he paused to take a breath. “There’s so much I could be, and nothing that I am, but I WANT to be something now. So I can’t.” For a moment it was silent, Fredbear not saying the many things he could have. Yet somehow, it felt as though he could still hear them. Spiteful whispers, stuck in the suit, banished from this place, but remaining as echoes. Nothing ever truly disappeared. He had stained the suit, and the suit had been stained by the one wearing it before him. Blood remained with any object, no matter how well you cleansed it. “… I need to apologize to them.” ‘So you can forget?’ His mind knew that Fredbear would never say something like this with spite, but it still cut him deep. “… so I can… know I did something right.” ‘We never can right our wrongs.’ “Since when did you become so cynical!?” ‘It is not cynical. There just are wrongs we cannot turn back the time on. Well- perhaps the dog could have, he never wanted to however. I have blood on my paws from making you, trusting a creature that never was a human… and I have damned a man to hell. And not even when I should have, only when it was too late.’ Finally, this managed to shut Old Sport up for good. Don’t look so hurt, other people have problems too. Except he didn’t have any problems. No, he was fine. It didn’t keep him awake at night. It didn’t bother him. Just the knowledge that there was something on his checklist to reach a goal he set himself, something that he would never be able to cross off, it irked him. Petty. A hint of sadness took ahold of him. “… how old are you, Fredbear? Or- were you, when you-“ ‘I lived many lives, those that joined me. Many more than I wanted to count. I feel so old, I cannot remember. And everyone I carry with me is so different too.’ “Alright then.” They were busy enough anyhow, trying to make the place look like new, like a place to feel happy at, to play and not to think about anything- Making it up. Celebrating the birthday they never had. Making a lie into a truth, a lure into a genuine gesture. Follow me. Old Sport did it once- now he played the part of Henry in the freeing missions. It was important to follow the old pattern, to overwrite it. Who would be doing the luring? Who would be cutting the cake? What games would they play? Fredbear kept quiet about it until they knew exactly where to go and all other preparations had been done. One thing at a time, he always said. “Fredbear?” Old Sport quietly asked. ‘Yes?’ “… can I- can I apologize to you? In their place I mean. Apologize to you like I would to them- just so- I have it out. And if you think it’s any good, then maybe you can tell them what I said.” ‘… it’s alright. We can do that.’ Understanding warmth- yet it didn’t feel like it was meant for him. He couldn’t accept it. At least this was something he was looking forward to- now he only had to figure out the right words to say. Lost in thought, he didn’t even realize how fast the time passed, until- “OLD SPORT!” Yelping the Orange Guy jumped, thankfully not triggering any springlocks. “DAVE! God- don’t- DO that!” Sheepishly the Purple Guy in the bunny suit tilted his head. “Sorry! Sorry Sportsy, really am, but I have- good news and bad news.” “Bad news?” “Ain’t nothing ya can do here.” Instantly turning more serious, Dave shook his head. “These are mine and mine alone. I guess I was really… passionate about the whole shutting down Freddy’s stuff. I lured them on my own. You can’t even be nearby.” His voice was so different. So much smoother, more clinical. It was nice and yet it wasn’t. Old Sport nodded. “… good news?” Perking up, back to his usual self, he pointed into the woods. “I know where they are! And I know how to lure ‘em, seein’ as they fuckin’ hate each other!” “… so two lost souls hate each other and you see that as a win?” “Yeah! It’ll be great! I can tell ‘em to meet here to fight and then- oh.” He scratched his fake ear. “… actually, now that ya say it, it might be a bit more of a hassle.” His expression turned pleading. “Spoooortsyyyyyy…? Ya always have such good ideas, so…?” “Depends on why they hate each other. Why are they fighting?” The pressure was on! “Uhm. How about you do actually send them here to fight, for one last time. Tell them that you’ll solve the fight once and for all. I think it will be the truth.” “Great!” “But Dave- remember- they might be fighting about who is at fault for their death. You… sure you want to get between that?” “Eh. It’s fine. If they’re upset about that, then it’ll be even easier to get them to calm down. Ain’t nobody’s fault they died but mine!” A hint of envy stung through Old Sport’s chest. “… you… really don’t mind, do you?” “Nah. It’s fine.” Curiously Dave looked at him. “They’ll give me a good beatin’, then they’ll be on their merry way. I dealt with worse pain before!” “That’s… not what I meant.” He said to much, and turning away didn’t help- Within a second, Dave’s hands were on him, as he pulled his orange lover closer, petting over the back of his head, a gesture he could feel even through the layer of metal and fur. “… did Fredbear bully you again? You should take the suit off.” “He never bullied me.” “He’s telling you stuff that upsets you! Over and over again!” Upset Dave scoffed. “Sounds like mistreatment to me! I’m telling you, if he gets too much, we’ll just get rid of him. We’ll figure the saving souls stuff out ourselves!” “I KNOW you would get rid of him.” That was exactly why he didn’t talk about it. “See? You know you can count on me!” For a moment Old Sport remained tense- then he slowly melted into the hug, trying to relax. “… I’m- Fredbear really didn’t do anything. I’m taking the suit off in a bit, when I’m sure he has nothing more to say- but it’s not the problem anyways.” He sighed, to himself. “You shrug it off so easily. I want to do it too. Or- I would want to, if I weren’t-“ It was hard to put it into words with Dave, who never really saw the world how he did. Once more he attempted. “If I’d do the thing I’d do, I would become worse for it. Worse and worse. I would do more bad things. So I’m- worried about messing up. I worry that if I start shrugging it off, I’ll never care in the first place.” It was obvious Dave frowned, even with the mask. “… I- don’t get it. Gotta be honest with you, Sportsy. Why do you think if you don’t make yourself feel a certain way, you’ll feel the exact opposite way? You’re yourself and do what you think feels right. Why would one bad thing lead to another? Unless you wanted to do all these bad things anyways? You don’t have to pretend with me.” “I… guess. But we made a deal. We’re freeing them. What happens after that…” Stumbling over his words Old Sport tried to gather himself. “I want to be someone. Someone better than who I am.” “… but if you want to be someone you deem good, it means you by yourself think that person is good. You, for yourself, have decided you like these traits. So if you want to be someone, then only because you can recognize what’s in them from something that’s within you.” “Dave, you’re scaring me when you’re this serious.” The big, moon-like eyes inside of the suit slimmed down to match a cheeky grin. “Ya can say that Old Sport, and I can dumb myself down for ya! Stop worryin’, dunce, leave all of that to me. I’ll be able to reel ya in if ya ever go off the rails!” Raising an eyebrow, the Orange Guy looked at him. “… you kill people for fun and profit.” “Yeah, but that ain’t a BIG deal, right? I can let ya stay home while I do it.” Playfully Dave responded, before turning away. “You need to have some more faith in me Old Sport… and for now, nothin’ of this matters! Let’s free some souls! Or rather, let ME free some souls, while ya have a nice evening. Watch some stars! Is everything ready for the party?” “All is set up!” “Fantastic, that’s why I love ya, Old Sport!” Instantly flustered, the Old Sport made a movement at him. “Quit saying that at EVERY opportunity!” “What?! Why?! I just say it when it’s true! Like when you laugh, when you make breakfast, when you burn breakfast, when you talk to me on the road, when you-“ “DAVE. EYES ON THE PRICE.” “You’re the only price I-“ “D A V E.” “Fine, fine, be the killjoy. That’s why I lov-“ “GET GOING. THE NIGHT ISN’T FOREVER.” “Sure, sure!” Waving at him and still laughing, Dave made his way down the hill, leaving the bear-suited guy inside of the ruin that was covered in glitter and lights. He had taken off the suit. Stargazing for now. Music came from the ruins of the old Freddy’s, music and light, glimpses of another world. It radiated outside in waves, catching up even the place where he and Fredbear sat. Soon enough he would change his form, leaving to join the two spirits. At least so far there wasn’t any screaming or crying, or fighting- it means whatever Dave had said to them or done with them worked out. Old Sport wished he could have joined them. Maybe he wouldn’t be caught up in all these thoughts still. “… Fredbear? Do you think what Dave said was right?” It was silent for a moment. Then the bear suit shifted a little, seeming more energized in presence of the party. ‘… no. But he is not entirely wrong either. Being good does not come naturally… and neither does being bad.’ Once more, quiet. The stars seemed a little bit closer than usually. “Fredbear. I want… I think I can say my apology now.” Wind breezed through the trees around them, sounding like whisper. Maybe mocking him? But all of a sudden, he felt a deep calm. Maybe mocking. Maybe expecting. No matter what, he would say what he needed to. ‘Go ahead.’ There was no soul to reach into, but his heart was still beating, still working, still doing its jobs. The heart could be wrong and harmful and petty. Perhaps even evil. It was better than nothing however, it was the one thing he had in contrast to Henry. “I… wanted to apologize.” He started. His voice quiet. “… and it won’t be a good apology, because what I want to apologize for isn’t something that… you CAN apologize for. I’ve been trying to find the right words for a while now, but there aren’t any. At least though, I can offer you a why. Why I did what I did. Something so wrong and cruel. I… did it, because it didn’t feel real. And that is abhorrent, I know exactly why, because now it is real, what I did was real, IS real, what I did to five real kids, who had their own lives, that I just TOOK away. It’s not fair, I shouldn’t have been able to do that. It’s insane to think that I could have done so, that the universe let me do it. God, I wish I could do something to make it up for you. That I somehow could replace everything I took. Yet, I can’t. I can’t even ask you what I could offer you. I’d let you borrow my body, wear me like a skinsuit, I’d bring you things that remind you of better times, more peaceful times, something that makes all the hurt go away for a few moments. This apology is one of the few things I can do for you, something I wanted to do for you for a while. I wanted to be there for the party. But I know I shouldn’t have, so I didn’t. … carried around these words and feelings with me for a while. I hope that wherever you are- knowing that I’m paying for what I did, every day a little. There’s justice in this world, even if it looks weird and doesn’t come around right away.” For a moment he paused, staring at the shining stars, that didn’t seem to care. “… I wish… I wish you all have forgotten me already. That would be right. Yes, I hope wherever you are, you don’t even remember the day. I hope you’re having fun and that you are free, that everything is just right, that I’m a nobody now and will stay that way forever- that you only remember those who were kind to you and made your life better. I hope you’re happy and I’m inconsequential. And I will keep paying and giving my best. So that you leave in your wake only good things.” His head hurt. This hasn’t been a good apology- but it was all out there now. He said what felt right to say. He said the things that he wished that they knew, deep down, even if he wasn’t the one saying it to them. Next to him, the real Fredbear stood up, shaking his golden fur, before putting one of his paws onto Old Sport’s shoulder. “THE PARTY NEEDS ME NOW. I WILL GET GOING.” “… yeah. Thank you Fredbear. Bring the kids somewhere nice, will you?” “I WILL.” With that the bear trotted off- Leaving Old Sport to gaze at the stars. At some point, someone sat down beside him. Then someone else. Then another one joined in. And a last. They didn’t forgive him. This was not something you could forgive. But they sat with him until the dawn broke, sun touching the grass, coloring it orange.

#old sport #Dave Miller #short warning this isn't funny this is just feels #or me attempting feels

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 4/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 9.2k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3

A/N: Here we go on the longest chapter yet! Continued thanks to everyone who has stuck through it thus far; this chapter puts us past the halfway mark, omg. And eternal thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​ and to @captainswanbigbang​ for putting on the CS Rewrite-A-Thon! chapter title comes from “Take the Heartland” by Glen Hansard.

part 4: should I kill you with my sword, yeah? Or should I kill you with this word?

Thirteen years ago

If Emma closed her eyes and cleared her mind, it wasn’t hard to imagine she was home. Trees were everywhere in Misthaven and she’d basically grown up in the limbs of them; the smell of pine and pitch were as ingrained in her memory as the smell of her mom’s kitchen and her dad’s aftershave. 

The warm, gentle breeze on her face as she sat near the top of a particularly tall conifer almost tricked her into thinking this was just another summer day—that her friends were waiting for her on the ground and her parents would be calling her in for dinner soon.

Until a cannon boom ripped her from the illusion. Lest she forget, she was still in the Arena, and still fighting for her life. 

“What can you see?”

Lily was barely visible on the ground through the branches, but Emma could hear her loud and clear. They’d developed a system pretty quickly: Emma would climb to scout, while Lily kept a lookout on the ground.

“There’s definitely smoke, but it’s all the way on the other side of the arena. Looks more like an explosion than anything,” she answered as she watched the plume of smoke rise. A forest fire wouldn’t have surprised her, so she was relieved that it seemed to be contained—and hoped it stayed that way. “I’m coming down.”

She hopped down the branches as lithely as she’d scaled them, then dropped the last few feet to the ground. Lily was waiting with her crossbow at the ready, dark eyes scanning around them, guarding both the tree and Emma’s backpack. “Which way was it?”

“To the northeast; so we should be good for a while if we head that way,” she said, nodding in the opposite direction as she hefted her bag onto her shoulders. 

“Let’s do it, then.”

She’d met Lily in the training center and they hit it off surprisingly quickly. Graham hadn’t been so sure of creating an alliance with a tribute from Phrygia, for whatever reason, but the girls insisted. Emma had no idea what was going on behind the scenes, but things seemed to be going well so far. There were 6 left in the games—well, 5 now, based on the sound they heard a bit ago. Once they reconnected after a day of wandering (and somehow avoiding the pixees that swept their way through the arena), they’d become what Emma had to assume was a formidable pair.

Lily was good at hand-to-hand combat; Emma had a sword in her hand from a young age—it was how her dad won his games. Between the two, they’d been able to take down anyone that came at them, easily eliminating 7 tributes between the two of them.

Emma’s co-tribute, Billy, hadn’t made it out of the bloodbath at the Apple Tree, but Lily’s was still out there, most likely. “Is it bad that I hope that was Abigail?” she said as they walked, not really in search of anything but mainly to avoid the dangers of staying in one place for too long.

Emma just shrugged. “I think the definition of bad and good doesn’t really matter here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

They found a rocky outcrop that night to sleep on, one that kept them hidden from view but able to see anything (or anyone) coming. 

A packet of trail mix had arrived from a sponsor a bit ago, and they were both munching on it while watching the still forest. Other than the breeze and the occasional forest creature, it was nearly silent; Emma just might be able to let her guard down enough to get some sleep.

A jaw-cracking yawn told her she needed it. “Hey, Lil—Lily?”

She had to repeat the other girl’s name because she was either lost in thought, or really intrigued by a tree. But she jumped at the second mention of her name. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to take first watch, or should I?” Emma asked, silently hoping for the former option. But she didn’t trust Lily implicitly enough to not give her the choice.

“I’ll take first; get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

“Awesome. ‘Night.”

“Night.”

Before she laid down, she unbuckled her sword belt—the only time she did that—and hugged it close as she settled her head on her pack. She was asleep within minutes.

Sometime later, she was awoken by the strains of the national anthem and the announcement of that day’s losses. One was the last tribute from Atlantica, who Emma and Lily had taken out that morning; the other was one of the tributes from Erebor. So not Abigail.

Emma tried to drift back off, but something didn’t seem right. She glanced around and realized she was alone.

“Lily?” she whisper-yelled, then waited. But all she heard was crickets.

She called out again, and silently unsheathed her sword.

After the longest 10 seconds of her life, she nearly jumped out of her skin at footsteps.

“Calm down; it’s me,” Lily said as she hopped back up on the ledge. “I just went to...go.”

“Oh.” Well, now she felt awkward. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Wanna switch?”

Emma was definitely too wired to sleep now. “Yeah, I’ve got this.”

She couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling that had taken over her, though, and found herself jolting at every sound, from Lily’s snores to a bird taking flight. She’d never been more grateful for sunrise when the sky finally took on an orange hue. 

When Lily woke up shortly thereafter, they quickly packed up and headed off, snacking on their trail mix again. 

After a couple of uneventful hours and a stop at a stream for water, Lily paused. “How’s this tree look?” 

It was a little wide, but seemed tall enough. “Sure.”

She dropped her pack, like always, but tightened the clasp on her sword belt; she was spooked enough that she wanted it handy, and it didn’t get in her way. And then she climbed.

Once she got to the top of the canopy, she took a look across the arena. “Looks like a storm is coming,” she called down, seeing some dark clouds in the distance; knowing the Games, there was as good a chance of it being acid rain as normal. “But nothing else looks to be going on.”

A gust of wind blew across the trees then, but she still thought she heard the sound of another voice—not Lily’s.

“Lil? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Wanna keep moving?”

Part of her was screaming not to, but that wasn’t much of an option. “Okay; I’m coming down.”

But before she started her descent, she made what was possibly the smartest move of her life: she pulled the sword from its scabbard, and held tight as she slipped down.

Thank God she did. No sooner had her feet hit the ground than the thwick of a crossbolt hitting wood sounded above her.

Instinct took over and she swung out with her sword as she stepped forward. A cry came out when she connected with flesh, and Lily dropped the crossbow to hold her slashed forearm.

“I thought you said she trusted you,” Abigail sneered from where she stood, just behind Lily. She had a fierce-looking set of daggers, one in each hand and ready to strike.

“I thought she did,” Lily spat back, wincing at the sting of her cut.

Though she was gaping at the pair in front of her, it didn’t take long for Emma to piece everything together, and a pit formed in her stomach: Lily must have set this up when she disappeared last night. She led Emma right to this spot so they could ambush her. 

Weren’t they friends? God, she’d never felt so betrayed. 

Anguish quickly gave way to anger, though. “I did,” Emma growled. “Did you ever trust me?” She swung again with her blade, but Lily jumped back. “Was this a setup from the start?” Her next jab hit Lily in the thigh, bringing her to the ground.

There was a sudden stinging in Emma’s left shoulder; she looked to find one of Abigail’s daggers stuck in it, the girl within striking distance of using the other. But Emma didn’t give her a chance, and thrust forward with her sword, sinking it in the girl’s stomach and twisting. She hated the squelching noise it made, and tried to ignore the whimpers when she pulled it out.

Then she plucked out the dagger, tossed it aside, and turned back on Lily. She placed the tip of her blade not-so-gently under Lily’s chin, forcing the other tribute to look up at her. “Well?”

“I did, for a bit. Figured you’d be good for sponsor gifts. But I trusted her more.”

Emma huffed; of course—of course all anyone could see was what Emma was worth on paper. All the other Tributes had been clamoring to get in her good graces during training—surely, the daughter of two victors would be hard to pass up for a sponsor. Lily was the only one who hadn’t sought her out, which ironically drew Emma to her.

Logically, she knew the alliance wouldn’t have lasted; only one can win. But still—she thought she’d found a tiny glimmer of hope in the shit sandwich that was the games.

So, with a primal yell she didn’t know she possessed, she reared back and forced her sword into Lily’s chest.

The cannon fire came seconds later.

She didn’t waste any time in looting the girls’ bags and had already headed off when the cannon for Abigail finally sounded.

There were two more tributes out there and Emma would be damned if she wasn’t the one to win this thing.

That thought kept her going until she called it a night, hiding up in a tree; she wasn’t about to go stay out in the open all alone. Then—and only then—did she let the grief consume her. Angrily, she tore out the braid in her hair that Lily had made a few nights ago, throwing it into a messy bun instead. Sure, Emma had friends at home, but everything was different now—and Lily got that. 

Had. Had gotten it. Past tense. 

She silently cried herself to a fitful sleep until the chirping of birds woke her in the morning.

Before she left her spot the following morning, a flash of white caught her eye; a feather was stuck in some pine needles. It was too long to belong to any of the birds she’d seen in the arena; heck, it kind of looked like a swan’s, but no one had seen any of those in Pomem in years. Weird.

Still, she added it to her overstuffed pack. The bit of happiness she’d gotten from Lily’s friendship was as dead as she was; may as well take some joy from something else. She could almost hear her mom telling her that it was a symbol of luck or hope or something; as much as Emma didn’t put stock in those kinds of things, knowing that her mother did was enough.

And then she set off to end things. On her own.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Present day

Four days in, Emma still wasn’t sure about all this. The concept of the games was still appalling, obviously, but she was unfortunately becoming a bit desensitized to that. It was the whole working-with-others thing she still wasn’t crazy about. 

She wasn’t ungrateful for the alliance—not by a long shot. Between Killian, Ariel, and Graham, she’d figured out the ropes pretty damn quick. As it turned out, her years of pretending to be in a loving relationship worked wonders on potential sponsors. (It also helped that Tamara was leading in kills. Unfortunately, August had fallen on day 2 to one of the tributes from Erebor—who, in turn, quickly became part of Tamara’s body count.) 

But she knew it was going to have to come to an end at some point, and that would be messy. She knew first-hand just how bad it could get. And, dammit, she actually liked them—especially Ariel, with her bubbly optimism and sweet demeanor. She was a stark contrast to Killian—all dark hair, good looks, and a cocky attitude that Emma could see right through—but Emma got along with him way too easily for comfort, and it was pretty clear to her that it was mostly a front, having seen through a few of its cracks already. Whatever had happened on the elevator last week still nagged at the back of her mind, on occasion.

There wasn’t enough downtime to get that answered, though. If she wasn’t keeping watch over things in the game center, she was either resting or hitting up a potential sponsor. She and Graham were trying to keep things balanced so that one of them was always in the center but god, it was exhausting. The games were 24/7, which meant their jobs were, too. 

Honestly, she was kind of surprised that she was still so busy, given that both Misthaven and Atlantica were down to one tribute each; William had fallen victim to a swarm of pixees—insects native to Neverland that were the product of normal bees getting into an ancient (and long-gone) supply of pixie dust—that had basically been bomb-dropped by one of the girls from Sherwood. But Tamara and Ursula had finally met up and were doing pretty well together. They managed to tag-team the boy from DunBroch, but that was the only move they had made on offense.

That said, there were still some times Emma had to calm herself down; when the image of Lily’s sneer flashed in her memory, or the way life had faded from her eyes. She could feel her magic creeping up her spine in those moments, threatening to let loose; it was only her experience in putting on a face for show (and several deep breaths) that held it back.

She had just watched the girls survive a run-in with some raining fireballs. They’d found shelter by a river and were using the water to soothe their injuries, but they needed burn medicine if they were going to get any farther. Even though it was only a few days in, the price of everything had already skyrocketed. That meant they’d have to hit up a well-endowed sponsor. Which meant she and Killian would have to take a trip. 

Early on, Graham had thought it would be a good idea to split up and maybe learn some tricks of the trade from the other pair of mentors. Emma, being the least outgoing of the two of them, consequently ended up with Killian. “Maybe his personality will rub off on you,” Graham ribbed. (Emma responded by punching him a little harder than playfully in the arm.)

“I know a retired doctor who can help us—might even be able to knock the price down,” Killian said, somewhat casually. He had spread himself over the length of the sofa across from Emma, almost as if he was putting himself on display; not for the first time, her thoughts drifted back to their conversation the other night. She was still pretty ashamed of what she’d accused him of, but then again, he was the one flirting with someone he shouldn’t have been. Not like she’d done anything to dissuade him, but, you know, he started it. As to why she flirted back...she didn’t have time to think about that.

She could have just chalked it up to him being him: he was easily one of the most handsome guys here, and he clearly took pride in (or at least relied on) his appearance—his hair was perfectly tousled and his clothes were expertly tailored. He thankfully hadn’t adopted the outlandish style of dress typical of the Capitol that some victors had taken to; he simply wore a black waistcoat over a light blue shirt with a navy jacket and slacks (of course, his shirt was unbuttoned a bit lower than it should have been, revealing some of the dark hair that covered his chest). 

She couldn’t help it if she was affected by him, given that most were (probably even Graham). And she shouldn’t be reading anything into the charms he used on her; those were probably the only thing keeping him alive. If there was one thing she knew, it was playing a role.

At the moment, he was picking at a small plate of finger food. She wasn’t sure if it was purely out of utility, or just to show off, but he was stabbing each morsel with his hook before eating. So, all told, she found Killian Jones both endearing and annoying.

Given his lack of a sense of urgency, Emma leaned back against the cushions and glanced around the room, taking stock of the rest of the fallout from the firestorm. Large, red Xs appeared over the screens of the tributes who’d succumbed; “Looks like that took out the last tributes from Agrabah and Erebor.” If she needed any further confirmation, Leroy, the mentor from Erebor, grumpily cursed and headed out of the room. Only one other tribute seemed to be tending to wounds, though. “The kid from Sherwood got hit good, too.”

Killian’s gaze left the cheese cube on his plate and flashed up. “Which one?”

“Alice, I think.” She hadn’t been paying enough attention to which one was which. “Not the one with the bow; the other one.”

Suddenly, Killian was on his feet, eyes darting around the room. “Goddamit, Eloise,” he muttered, then held his hand out to her. “Come on, let’s go.”

She ignored his hand and stood on her own, grabbing her sweater and bag. “Lead the way.” 

He took off at a brisk pace, but Emma glanced behind her before they left; Eloise was nowhere to be seen, so he must have figured she was already on it. If his urgency was in order to beat the other mentor to the punch, then Emma was definitely on board.

When they met with the sponsor—an older woman who was clearly well-preserved by the Capitol’s plastic surgeons—Emma turned on her well-rehearsed show face, which had quickly become second nature. It was a bit of a struggle to keep it on when Killian was making plans with the woman for later, but she followed his lead; he didn’t seem too distraught or disturbed by it, even if the woman’s garish black-and-white hair was far from what she’d consider attractive.

They were easily able to convince this Doctor Cruella to pony up the needed meds—more than enough for both their tributes—and, prizes in hand, headed back to the game center.

“I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

“Oh yeah?” she tossed back, feeling a bit giddy. The value on that medicine was probably astronomical, especially with how much they got.

“Aye. With your smarts and my good looks, we could run this thing.”

“We’ll see,” she teased back. With him, it was way too easy to forget that they were literally responsible for children’s lives—and, at the end of the day, would be fighting against each other at some point. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Honestly though, they got along much too well. She didn’t know why that was a problem, but it was.

(Probably because of what she knew she was going to do later.)

Thankfully, nothing had changed when they got back to the game center; night was falling and things typically calmed down then, though not always. But the day had been exciting enough.

“Want me to send those off?” Emma offered, nodding at the small canisters in Killian’s hand.

Oddly, he looked sheepish, like he was hiding something. Now what was he up to?

“Uh, yeah—send this one,” he said, putting one in her hand. “But I was going to offer this one to Sherwood.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and could feel her magic licking at her spine in reaction to her sudden spike of anger; she took a breath to tamp it down before she said anything. “I thought…” She was going to ask him about her earlier hypothesis, but that clearly had been wrong. “I thought those were both for our kids?”

“One is more than enough to get them healed and then some, both of them. If we’ve got more, we may as well help out another realm who’s struggling.”

As poor as Sherwood was, Eloise had actually been doing decently on the sponsor end of things—or, at least, better than usual. Still, Emma had to wonder what kind of angle Killian was playing; briefly, her mind flickered to their first conversation, and the way he was staring at Alice’s screen the other day. 

“You know we can’t save all of the kids, right? Our priority is supposed to be our realm.”

Killian rolled his eyes at her. “You think I don’t know that? Darling, I taught you that. But no one ever said there wasn’t room for a bit of compassion.”

Compassion hadn’t won either of them their games; all it got Emma was a few more bricks around her heart.

“Look, her mentor is MIA and we shouldn’t just leave her to the wolves,” he continued. “Consider it a small act of rebellion, if you must. We may get turned down anyways, but at least we tried.”

Emma huffed; he was definitely appealing to her motherly instincts, which she’d been trying to put on mute while here. But rebellion...she could always get behind that.

“Fine.” 

He didn’t say anything; just turned and crossed the center to the game makers’ office. She tossed her bag on the sofa and rushed to follow, which was probably unnecessary because he let her go first when they got to the door. 

Everything that went in had to be inspected, though everyone knew that was merely a formality—people had sent weapons through before and no one batted an eye. (Something she was counting on.)

She was about to knock on the door when it swung open, taking Emma by surprise. Even more timely, Eloise was leaving. The expression on her face was somewhere between smug and annoyed—or maybe her face was just always that way? Either way, her eyes skimmed over Emma on their way to Killian. 

He stepped around Emma and held out the ointment. “Got this for Alice, unless you already took care of it.” It was rare for a mentor to actually enter the room until the end, unless there was an issue of some sort. 

“No, I didn’t.” Eloise’s tone was cool and indifferent. 

“It’s yours, then.” Killian was oddly serious. 

Eloise glanced down at it, then back up at him. “Send it yourself.” And just as cooly walked away.

Killian sighed in what Emma assumed was frustration, closing his eyes and gripping the container. There was clearly a history there Emma didn’t know about.

“What was that?” she asked. Regardless of whatever their history was, it was odd that a mentor would act so indifferent in the face of a valuable gift.

“Nothing new,” Killian muttered, before shaking his head and stepping forward.

The medicine was quickly approved and they were both given the opportunity to attach a note; Emma scribbled out a quick encouragement while Killian wrote something equally brief. God, that kid was probably going to be so confused, getting a gift from another realm. But she’d definitely appreciate it.

They ended up back on the couches, watching as well-trained birds delivered the packages they sent. (Emma honestly didn’t want to know how they always found their tributes—it probably had to do with the chip each tribute was implanted with, but she wouldn’t put it past Olympus to have something more sinister going on.) It was hard not to smile at the excitement from all three girls when they were delivered, and even Killian let out a sigh of relief. 

“Rebellion feels good, eh?” he teased.

She chuckled back, but answered with “Don’t let them hear you say that too loud. That’s a cursed word here.” She was trying to joke but they both knew it wasn’t far from the truth.

“Aye, I know,” he said, leaning back against the cushions. “I just get so...tired of it.”

“The Games?”

“Yeah. The death, the control. The parts of my life that have to stay hidden. The lies.” 

She definitely understood that.

“I know you know what I’m talking about,” he said pointedly.

But she didn’t appreciate being called out, and her hackles rose at the accusation. “Do you?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Please. I’ve been around you two for nearly a week now.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but had no idea what to say. It was easier to fake their romance when they knew they had an audience, but around Killian, she didn’t have it in her to lie—not about that. 

But she could evade it pretty well. “Yeah, well, what about you and Eloise?”

His brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“Is she some spurned ex-lover?” It maybe wasn’t fair to throw that back at him—again—but if there was one thing the games had taught her, it was that you couldn’t fight fair.

“I thought we were past that,” he answered, sounding slightly more hurt than she’d have liked. “But...something along those lines.”

“Did you break her heart?” She didn’t know why she needed to know. She just did.

“It’s more complicated than that, but no,” he answered truthfully. Then she watched as his armor slip back into place as he sat up and threw a coquettish look her way. “Why—are you jealous?”

“No,” she said, way too quickly and completely unconvincingly. (She was. A little. Dammit.)

Thankfully, he just replied with a deep chuckle, before leaning close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. “Darling, if you want to get close to me, all you have to do is ask. No need to use propriety as an excuse.”

She squeezed a fist as she felt her magic react to him, trying to hold it back—but still, a glass broke somewhere on the other side of the room. One of the stewards picked up the shards and looked around, confused, which was Emma’s cue to get out for a bit.

Hastily, she stood up and ran her hands down her skirts, hoping to shake off the extra static. “I’m gonna take a walk; think you can man the fort for a bit?”

Killian followed. “I should actually tap out; Cruella is waiting.” But he remained close to her. “Can I follow you out?”

“Sure, I guess,” she answered, then didn’t wait for him to follow her out of the center.

They headed down the corridor in silence, Emma trying her best to keep distance between them. The butterflies she’d been feeling in her stomach whenever they got close like this returned, but that was the first time she’d risked exposing her magic because of it. It was kind of aggravating, honestly, how much that was happening—and that she had no idea what the exact trigger was: was it him? Was it just being in Olympus, and therefore in closer proximity to Neverland and its magic? Or was it related to what she had planned for later? Regardless, she needed to calm down.

She started rubbing her arms, either from cold or nerves—she wasn’t sure—but Killian noticed right away.

“Love, you’re shivering; here, let me—” He started to take off his jacket before she interrupted him.

“No, I’m fine; I just left my sweater back there.”

“I could try to warm you up, if you’d like,” he offered, with that all-too-charming grin and a seductive quirk of his eyebrow. Even if she knew it was for show, she couldn’t deny: it worked.

And tempting as it sounded, that was the last thing she needed. “I’ll just go grab it. You go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist. Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Don’t have much choice, do we?”

She turned to head back—or to somewhere, just to walk—but then Killian grabbed her hand as she retreated. She wasn’t expecting it, and another shock let out, this time jolting him.

Shit.

Most of the time, she could play it off as static, but when she looked back at him, there was a wide-eyed expression of recognition on his face, first as he stared at where he was holding her forearm, then as he looked up at her. He knew.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

He swallowed. “I won’t; you have my word,” was his solemn reply. “Especially if you don’t repeat what we said earlier.”

“I won’t.”

He nodded. “Until tomorrow, then.”

“Bye.”

They couldn’t get away from each other fast enough.

She ended up pacing the long hallway for a bit until she’d calmed down enough to go back in, but she knew she wouldn’t make it much longer; gods, sometimes she wished she had one of those magic-blocking cuffs, so she didn’t have to worry about being found out. At least one of the perks to being stuck in this castle was the fantastic baths and easy access to alcohol; even if it was the middle of the night, she’d have no trouble getting her hands on a glass of wine and a long, hot soak. But she had one thing to do first.

She slipped back into the game center relatively unnoticed; each of the few realms left had representation, but Ariel hadn’t yet arrived. And Emma didn’t know if she could face her once she did. She’d just have to hope the kids would be okay for a few minutes without anyone.

Her bag and sweater were still on the couch where she’d left them. She slipped her hand deep into her tote, feeling the smooth wood of the small hatchet she and Graham obtained earlier that day. What could she say? They’d learned from the best. They’d been saving it for the right moment, and she didn’t know if she’d get another.

Alliances couldn’t last forever. She knew that better than anyone. Which meant it was now or never for Tamara, especially with only 7 tributes left.

The door to the gamemaker office was ajar, so she slid in. “I have another sponsor gift,” she told the official at the desk, and pulled out the weapon.

The woman’s sterile expression turned stern as she inspected the tool. “I’m going to have to get this approved; hold on a minute.” Glancing over her shoulder, she called out, “Mr. Hatter? Can you take a look at this?”

The head gamemaker, Jefferson Hatter, was in the middle of a conversation with Sidney Glass, and held a finger up. Emma could hear him tell the other man, “We’ll make the announcement tomorrow. Excuse me,” before coming her way.

Jefferson assessed the weapon with a careful eye, pulling and tapping on it a bit to make sure nothing was concealed. “Looks fine to me. It can go.” Emma smiled to thank him, but he was already gone, off to deal with some other aspect of the games. She both loathed and envied his job.

“Alright, we’ll get this out. Did you want to add a note?”

“Yes, please.” The woman offered Emma a slip of paper and pen. She thought about it for a moment, and then began writing.

You know what to do. —E

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Alice screamed. 

Logically, she knew that was a terrible idea and a sure-fire way to draw an enemy. But, she figured, if anyone was actually close enough to hear her, then they were also caught in the firestorm and, well...they weren’t exactly her problem anymore. 

So she screamed, and she ran, trying as hard as she could to outpace the heat that was chasing her heels and nipping at her skin. In a rare moment of clarity, she’d pulled her shirt over her mouth and nose to prevent breathing in smoke, but the only other thing she could do was get away—fast. 

She ran and ran and ran, focusing only on the feel of the forest floor under her feet until suddenly, the world changed and she had to throw her hands up to stop from running face-first into a tree—which she promptly collapsed upon, coughing and wheezing to get her air back. 

She also may have vomited. But it served her right for thinking that any berries she’d found here would be edible; those had been giving her fits since last night. 

When she was finally able to breathe properly, she took stock of whatever she could. A glance behind her showed the fire was far enough away that she was in the safe zone—but how she’d gotten that far away, she wasn’t sure. 

She shivered, which was awful for two reasons: one, it made her suddenly very aware of the burned skin on the backs of her arms and legs; and two, it sent a static shock through her body that answered her question: her magic had carried her to safety. 

Dammit. She’d been doing so well. Er, rather, as good as could be expected when the very air sent her magic sparking.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to will it away, to calm it down, to press it back inside that pool of power deep within. But it was begging for release; had been since she got here, really. She’d always thought it was a tall tale that Neverland was filled with magic, but she’d felt it ever since she arrived—that tingle in her spine, the spark at her fingertips. She’d been doing as best she could to keep it in but it’d finally had enough, apparently. 

“Bloody hell,” she murmured to herself as more sparks fell from her hand, landing near the raw skin at her ankles and then making her hiss in pain. 

God. Fuck everything. 

It didn’t matter that she was still in the middle of the arena, with death and threats all around her; she fell to the ground, put her head in her hands, and cried. Well, sobbed. She’d been holding it all in for days now and was done. 

Just because she had genes that had won the games didn’t mean she was emotionally prepared to be here.

That, and she just kept seeing the way the boy from her father’s realm swelled up when he got stung by the pixees, coughing and sputtering as he tried to breathe but was going into anaphylactic shock. She hadn’t wanted to kill him; she just wanted his backpack. She didn’t know he was allergic. 

God, what had she gotten herself into? 

“You’re the cleverest person I know, Starfish,” her papa had told her before she’d left Olympus. “Trust your instincts and be smart.” She was trying, but was it enough? 

And now it felt like her skin was on fire and she was thirsty and what good were those heavy clouds in the sky if it wasn’t going to rain? She could bloody feel the static from the storm and that just added to her tension.

Her tears did nothing to soothe her skin but did wonders for her emotionally. 

When she was finally spent (or dehydrated; it was hard to tell), she took another long moment to look up at the sky. It’d been painfully obvious to her right away that the stars it showed at night were artificial; her papa had taught her to navigate by the constellations but there were none she recognized. 

Now, though, all she saw was a haze, smoke blending into storm clouds. She needed to get back on the move and find a source of water. The spring she’d been frequenting was probably now nothing more than a steaming crater in the middle of burned-out wood. 

Hauling herself to her feet was, well, a feat, and the more she moved, the more her skin stung and ached. She had a middling knowledge of herbal plants that had helped with the pixee stings (even if she hadn’t gotten the brunt of that one, they still hadn’t been keen on her disturbing their home), but nothing to help with burns, save for cool water. (At least she knew what dreamshade looked like and to stay the hell away. After what happened to her uncle, Papa had made sure of that.)

Which made her search all the more urgent. There was still a little left in her canteen but she knew she’d need that to drink. That meant her only option was to keep pressing on until she found some.

Eventually, she crossed a tiny stream that looked to be reasonably clear; it’d have to do. The cool water helped but wasn’t a complete balm—but what else was she going to do? At least she’d be able to keep the wounds clean and hopefully avoid infection.

There was a thick copse of trees just a few feet away; once she’d finished tending her burns and refilling her canteen (after many long, long gulps of water), she shuffled over and, after checking it over for dreamshade and finding none, collapsed inside it. Night was coming and she definitely needed to rest.

She’d just gotten kind of comfortable when a quiet tweeting started outside her makeshift shelter. Ugh, she didn’t want to get up again. But that sound could only mean one thing: a sponsor gift.

She’d gotten one earlier in the games, after a day or so without food: just a loaf of bread, but one she recognized as coming from her favorite bakery back home, with orange marmalade baked in. It was definitely a rare treat for the games, and possibly undeserved, but it’d given her the energy to keep going. (Which was when she found the spring.)

She poked her head out of her enclosure to see a small container sitting a few feet away, a deceptively slight songbird sitting nearby. It flew off once it saw it’d gotten her attention, back to wherever it was Olympus released the carrier birds from. With a wince, she got up, practically crawled the distance to the gift, then moved back inside as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t a large container, but it looked expensive. A note was taped on top; she peeled it off first and was both surprised and not to see that it didn’t have any words: just a small doodle of a starfish. Which meant this came directly from her papa. “Thank you,” she said into the night, hoping he’d see or hear her (and wishing she could say more).

She stashed the note in her pocket and fiddled with the jar to open it, taking way too long to figure out that the top twisted off, revealing a creamy white substance. She brought it to her face to sniff it—it had a vaguely floral scent—but leaned a bit too close to it and clumsily stuck her nose right in the stuff. Woops.

Almost immediately, though, she felt a cooling sensation on her skin. Did that mean…? She didn’t waste any more time in thought and took a modest amount on her fingers, then spread it on the raw skin of her opposite arm.

The effect was instantaneous, and she sighed in relief. For the first time in hours, that part of her body didn’t feel like it was still aflame. Quickly, she applied the ointment on all her other burns, careful to not use it all up but thrilled to finally feel better.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she called out again. She didn’t know exactly how, but she could tell her papa was watching. Their last hug—in private, before the hovercopters took them to the arena—was impressed in her memory, and she could sometimes still feel the fatherly kiss he’d left on her temple. (Her mother...well, she’d shown as much affection as she was capable of, but it was definitely one of the more awkward hugs in her lifetime.)

God, what would her parents think of her now? Logically, she knew they’d be the last people to judge her, but she’d killed a person now; the pain in the boy’s dying screams would probably play in her dreams forever. Hell, it was starting to again; she put her hands on her ears to try to block it out, though it did little. This was no place to dwell on that, though; with any luck—as morbid as the idea was—she’d have a whole lifetime to. But she had to keep going forward, not looking back. 

Since she had a moment to breathe now, she pulled the bag into her lap and stashed the remaining ointment in one of the smaller pockets. Goodness, this really was a great bag: her jacket was a tattered, melted mess, but this thing barely had a scorch mark on it. She knew that kind of material existed—her realm was responsible for textiles, after all—but civilians never saw anything like this. Olympus bastards, hogging all the good stuff. 

Her brief moment of jealousy was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, so she dug out the blanket the pack had come with, set the bag aside, and tucked herself in; it got bloody cold at night and the blanket just might be her favorite thing. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep when suddenly, it was daylight. Crap. Yeah, she needed the sleep, but that meant she missed the announcement of who had passed away during the previous day; she thought she heard a couple of cannons in the mess of the forest fire but she hadn’t encountered anyone since the boy from Atlantica, so she had no idea who it would be. 

Hopefully not Robyn. She hadn’t seen her, either; they’d been on opposite sides of the Apple Tree and had probably gone in opposite directions. From a logical standpoint, Alice’s odds were better if Robyn wasn’t still in the game—she was fierce with that bow, if she’d gotten one—but she liked her too much to wish she was gone.

And that kiss...her lips tingled at the thought.

(And her heart raced and butterflies flitted in her stomach and all those cheesy cliches that turned out to be cliches for a reason. She was Killian Jones’ daughter; of course she was a hopeless romantic.)

But following that train of thought into daydreams wasn’t going to help her at all. She stood and started to pack up, and noticed that her burns didn’t hurt anywhere near as much; a glance at her forearm showed it was mostly healed. Thank bloody goodness. 

After getting her blanket put away and a quick sip of water, she was in the middle of applying more of the burn cream when trumpets sounded overhead—the ones that usually accompanied the midnight death announcement. God, she’d been more tired than she realized if she managed to sleep through those blaring alarms.

“Attention tributes,” Sidney Glass announced. “There has been a recent change to the rules.” 

Alice tilted her head and looked at the sky, even though she couldn’t see anything but foliage; that never happened this late in the games. 

He continued, “If the last two tributes remaining are from the same district, they will both be crowned victors. Thank you, and remember: all magic comes with a price.”

Alice dropped the container of ointment. Seriously? If Robyn was still alive, they could go home together?

Blindly, she ran out from her hiding place and called out for the other girl. Not that she was going to get a reply, but that was her immediate reaction. Thankfully, no one else was around to hear her outburst, but the images of the remaining tributes were up on the screen—and Robyn’s was still there, right next to Alice’s. She couldn’t hold back her grin. (At least, not until her magic sparked her again.)

It looked like Phrygia still had two tributes in, too, so that was probably the most worrisome competition, though she thought she’d seen the girls from Atlantica and Misthaven together at some point. 

She was getting ahead of herself; would Robyn actually stand a better chance with her around than she would alone? What if she was already in an alliance? What if she didn’t actually want to share a win with her? (She didn’t think that would be the case, but it didn't take much for Alice’s mind to spiral.)

Whatever. It couldn’t hurt to try to find her. Not that she had any idea where to look, but she’d be damned if she didn’t give it a go. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets,” her papa always said. “Well, woman,” he’d add, smirking.

Once she packed up, she headed in the direction of the central lake in the arena; at the very least, it would be a starting point, and with any luck, Robyn would have the same idea. 

She’d hardly gone a few meters when something on the forest floor caught her eye: a feather, white as snow. “That’s odd,” she said to herself. “There aren’t any birds here that look like that.” She’d seen all manner of bluebird, jay, and wren, but nothing so pure and bright as this. It reminded her of a swan’s, but this place was oddly devoid of waterfowl. 

Regardless, she tucked it in her pocket and set back off, imagining her movements were as graceful as that bird’s (and that, if the occasion called for it, she could be as fierce as one).

A couple hours later, she was near the lake, and on high alert; any open area was dangerous, especially this late in the games. Her tattered jacket was tied around her waist and her hair was in a messy braid; the heat was starting to become oppressive, but there was a charge to the air that kept reacting with her magic and making her wonder if a storm was coming.

She was staring at the sky, trying to figure out what the clouds were saying, when she was suddenly flying towards them. Her ascent peaked, and then she yelped as she fell back to earth, only to be jolted to a halt in midair by something that was as soft as it was constraining. She started to fight against it, looking for a weak point, and found many useless holes—it was a net.

“If you’ve got any last words, say them now,” a familiar voice shouted intimidatingly.

“Robyn? Is that you?” she answered, twisting in her restraints to see out.

“Alice?” Robyn called back, now in disbelief. “Shit. Hold on—I’ll get you out of there.”

Alice held still, not really sure what she was waiting for, when she heard the whizz of something flying towards her, followed by her actually falling to the ground; she was higher up than she’d thought and the wind was knocked out of her.

She laid there, taking gulping breaths of air, when Robyn swam into her blurry vision. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

“I’m fine,” Alice coughed, unconvincingly, but took one more deep breath before that was closer to the truth. “Where the hell did you get a fishing net?”

“It was in my pack,” Robyn shrugged as she helped Alice up to sitting. “It must have been meant for someone from Atlantica.”

“Okay, but then how did you learn to do...whatever that was with it?”

She gave a devilish smirk that set those butterflies alight in Alice’s belly. “Remember Alexandra, from school?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember how we had that feud that seemed to end very suddenly?”

She didn’t—Alice was definitely on the periphery when it came to classmate drama—but she could pretend. “Uh-huh.”

“Let’s just say when I got my revenge on her for stealing my first girlfriend, she spent a lot of time thinking about it. While suspended in midair.”

“Damn,” she sighed, but she was honestly more fixated on the ‘first girlfriend’ part of that statement. She couldn’t lie—she’d been worried Robyn might have just been placating her, or getting in some final kicks when Alice stole her kiss; she hadn't been certain Robyn liked girls, too. So at least that was one less thing for her jumbled mind to be anxious about.

And then any other fears were put to rest when Robyn launched herself at her in a bruising hug. “God, I’m so glad I found you,” she murmured into her neck, and Alice didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around her, too. She closed her eyes at how perfect they seemed to fit together, even with the awkward way they were sitting. 

“Me too,” she whispered back.

“You heard the announcement?” Robyn asked without pulling away.

“Aye.”

“Wanna go home together?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Robyn giggled. “Then let’s do this.”

They helped each other to standing, brushed off the forest detritus, and then stared at each other for a long, charged moment, somewhere between intense and awkward (probably both). Because all Alice could think about, yet again, was the kiss, and if the way Robyn was licking her lips was anything to go by, she probably was too. Should she try it again? Was the ball in Robyn’s court? Should she not even be fucking worrying about it because they were literally in a fight to the death? 

At least Robyn didn’t seem as unsure as Alice, and cut through the thick air between them with a “Let’s go.”

Alice fell into step behind her, keeping an eye on both the path and the sky; the clouds were continuing to darken.

“What’s your count?” Robyn asked as they picked their way across the arena, vaguely in the direction of the lake. 

She didn’t need to ask for clarification, and shuddered again at the memory of the boy’s dying screams. “One. You?”

“Same,” she said. “It’s how I got the bow; off one of the kids from Arendelle.”

“Did you get them with the net, too?”

“No; they tried to shoot at me and missed. Turns out my aim is good even without the bow.”

There was a hint of regret in her voice that Alice could definitely identify with. She jogged ahead a bit and reached for Robyn’s hand, giving it what she hoped was an encouraging squeeze. Robyn looked down at their joined hands, then up at her, and the shy smile she gave was just a bit of sunshine in this gray day.

But then a big, fat raindrop hit her nose, making her gasp in surprise. Then Alice felt one on the back of her neck, dripping down her shirt—and it was cold.

They could hear drops falling on the dense foliage in a crescendo around them, and suddenly, they were caught in a downpour. 

“There’s a cave nearby we can hide in!” Robyn shouted, having to over the volume of the storm. 

Thunder rumbled overhead. “Lead the way!” Alice yelled back.

Robyn clenched her hand around Alice’s before letting go, and then they took off in a sprint back the way they’d came. They darted through the clearing where the net still sat in a heap on the ground, then turned and headed in the opposite direction from where Alice had come, hopping over fallen logs and trying to keep their footing over increasingly muddy terrain.

Alice was starting to shiver, but Robyn hadn’t slowed, so she couldn’t either. Her magic was still reacting to the static in the air, so she had to keep that tamped down, too, lest it carry her away again—and they needed to stay together.

Thunder and lightning continued to build as they went, and it felt like they were running towards the center of the storm. As if in confirmation, a bolt of lightning struck a tree not 100 yards from where they were; both girls screamed, but Alice managed to stay upright. Robyn, though, lost her footing and fell forward, then cried out again.

Alice caught up to her and offered a hand to help her up—but Robyn didn’t take it. “My ankle—I think I twisted it,” Robyn hissed.

So Alice did the next logical thing: she knelt down, got an arm under Robyn, and helped her back to standing. “How far away are we?”

“It’s just up there,” she nodded in the direction they were headed. “There’s a big rock formation; you can’t miss it.”

Much slower, they continued on, Alice taking extreme care with each step. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, there it was, almost looking like it had been cut perfectly from the overhanging rock—which it probably had.

It was deeper than it looked from the outside; more than enough to keep them dry. Alice carried Robyn to the far wall and helped her sit down, before both were finally able to catch their breaths.

“At least it’s not acid rain,” she quipped. Robyn gave her a tight smile back, but it quickly morphed to a grimace when she tried to move her leg. “Here; let me check it.”

Alice carefully stepped around Robyn and crouched down near her right ankle, the one that was injured. The light was dim this far in, and though she knew she could illuminate the space with her magic, she didn’t want to expose herself like that just now, if at all. 

“I’m going to touch it, okay?” she said, hoping that if she gave some warning, it’d hurt less. Robyn just nodded at her.

Gingerly, she brushed her fingers against the ankle, watching Robyn’s reaction. It didn’t change, but what was under her touch was far from what she expected. 

They were both soaked to the bone, but her skin was a different kind of wet, almost slimy.

“Oh, no,” she cursed, then jumped up to get closer to the light.

“What is it?” Robyn asked, but her voice was weak.

Alice only got close enough to the light to see what was on her fingers, but it was as she feared: blood. “Fuck.”

She ran back and, without thinking, created a ball of light in her palm; she needed to see what was going on.

And it was worse than expected: a long, jagged gash ran up the side of Robyn’s shin, and it was still trickling blood; Alice was no expert, but it looked deep, and probably had something to do with the ashy she could now see on Robyn’s face.

“You’re bleeding, badly,” she told her. “Do we have anything to sew it up?”

“W-wait,” Robyn stammered, as if she didn’t even register what she’d just been told. “You have magic?”

Alice gave a sheepish glance toward her hand, then back up at Robyn through her lashes. “Uh, yes?”

Robyn just gaped and blinked at her a few times, then her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out.

Bloody fuck.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks again for reading! more drama to come, of course ;) tagging some friends  @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​ @killian-whump​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​

#cs ff #captain swan rewrite a thon #csrt 2020 #my ff #the magic games #(love will see us through these) dark days

[borhapparker]

the end  |  avengers endgame spoilers

requested by anonymous: anything that has to do with endgame bc the end killed me and i need something better marvel did us dirty smh

warnings: lots of angst, some fluff (if you squint), will make you cry, maybe some bad writing (?), endgame spoilers, mentions of death and actual death

word count: 3.5k

full masterlist  |  marvel masterlist

‘Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends, we lost family, we lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams. You know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re gonna win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.’

They were back, her eyes searching theirs as she held the time stone in her hand, smiling at the team, as Clint dropped to his knees, anguish distinguishable on her features.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce asked as everyone watched him, her eyes deciphering his body language and noticing a missing presence beside him.

Putting the pieces together, tears pricked at her eyes, a sob falling from her lips. Everyone slowly put it together, Natasha was gone. Clint explained how the retrieval of the soul stone worked, as they all stepped outside, mourning the loss of a fallen friend. That’s when everyone decided that Natasha would want them to keep going, to bring everyone back and change their destiny. To rewrite everything Thanos had wiped.

Bruce took the plunge, grabbing the new Infinity Gauntlet made from Tony’s tech and snapping his fingers, bringing everyone back. That’s where everything went wrong. Thanos from the past had made his way to the future, destroying the compound.

She had been crushed by debris from the impact, being liberated by Thor, as she stood alongside Tony, Thor and Steve. That’s when the fight began, as every punch, kick, surge of energy was thrown at Thanos, yet it was always deflected. So when Steve called Thor’s hammer to his arms, she knew there was a possibility they could win.

She had been with Steve in Wakanda when everyone had disappeared, including her husband Bucky. When she heard Sam’s voice through her comms as she laid on the dirty ground, she felt hope and disbelief. Portal after portal began opening, as heroes and warriors piled out, all standing tall and ready to fight. Bucky walked through, as she ran to him, tears falling from her eyes. His arms wrapped around her, as she sobbed into his shoulder.

His fingers carded through her hair, as she looked up and pressed her lips against his. Finally.

“Y/n!” she parted, looking behind her as she spotted him, her brother, her younger sibling. Peter.

“Pete!” she ran, colliding with him as they hugged. “Oh, thank God.”

“You’re grown up.” he teased, smile on his face. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

By then, everyone was ready, as they took their positions, Steve giving the green light and it began. Everyone charged at Thanos and his army, weapons being fired, blasters activated, objects were flying and charging at the aliens. Everyone headed towards the first alien that charged at them, Peter swinging through the air as Bucky started shooting, the gun he had with him Wakanda in his hands, and Y/n’s suit materialized over her body, obliterating her enemies as she headed in Tony’s direction. Peter was there, as she kept the enemies from interrupting their reunion, shooting and kicking them away. Two came at her from opposite ends, as they pulled at her armor, before she crossed her arms and pushed against them, a blast wave sending them away.

She watched as Clint handed the gauntlet off to T’Challa, who was then caught between him and one of the weird aliens. Peter ran, swinging himself into the air before catching the gauntlet in a web, his arms coming around it to press against his body as he landed, looking up. She could hear him, as he was near her.

“Activate Instant Kill!” He said, the eyes of his suit shrinking and turning red, as the legs from his armor appeared, kicking and stabbing off the aliens coming at him to take the gauntlet.

She joined her brother, blasting aliens away from both of them as the fight continued on. It soon became too much, as Y/n launched Peter into the air, who was caught by Pepper, handing him off to Valkyrie as she soared through the sky. Thanos was quick to catch on to what they were trying to do, as he oredered his army to activate all the weapons. Soon, blasts were being shot directly at everyone, killing and harming both heroes as well as his own army. A blast was shot directly in front of her, as she was thrown against a rock, her armor shielding the impact but not preventing bruises from flowering.

Peter was thrown from the sky, as he cowered on the floor, gauntlet underneath his body, fear coursing through him. His only thought in that moment was keeping the gauntlet safe, as he closed his eyes, waiting for the moment the blasts would stop.

Then it did. The weapons were somehow being directed at the sky, as everyone watched curiously.

“What the hell is this?” Sam asked, flying towards Cap, while watching the ship.

“Friday, what are they firing at?” Tony asked, as everyone received the same answer: Something just entered the upper atmosphere!

No one knew what it was, until they saw the light. It tore through Thanos’ ship, destroying its weapons and plunging it into the ocean. She lit up the sky, determination spread across her features as the team smiled at their hero.

“Danvers, we need an assist here.” Steve informed her as she nodded, before landing right in front of Peter, who was still clutching the gauntlet.

“Hi, I’m - uh - Peter Parker.”

Y/n laughed at her brother’s manners, even in a time of crisis. Carol smiled at him, noticing his brave demeanor towards being willing to help in such a dangerous situation.

“Hey Peter Parker. Got something for me?”

He stood, gauntlet being held against his hip as he groaned, blood spilling from his nose and a large gash visible in an open slit in his suit. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that.” Peter motioned towards the alien crowd walking towards the team, as she smiled, taking the gauntlet from him.

“Don’t worry, little brother. She’s got help.” Y/n said, patting him on the back as the rest of the female heroes joined her with Carol, all adjusting their weapons, while walking towards the army.

It was an all women battle in that moment, none of them caring wether or not they knew each other. All they could agree on in that moment was that they needed to get the stones back, one way or another.

Carol flew straight through the army, as Thanos headed for her. Pepper, Y/n, Shuri, Wanda and Gamora quickly stood their ground, before firing a blast straight at Thanos, one more powerful combined, as he was thrown off his feet. Yet, it didn’t stop him, as he threw his spear at the van, their only way to take the stones back to the past, hitting the target and destroying the time machine. Everyone was thrown back at the impact, as Y/n didn’t waste any time, quicky running at Thanos, who was heading for the gauntlet. She kicked and blasted him, as he pushed her away, trying once more to grab it. Steve and Thor teamed up, before getting thrown back once more.

Thanos managed to slip on the gauntlet, groaning at the power it held. Carol flew over, using her powers to throw Thanos off his rhythm. Her strength overpowered his, as he reached for the power stone, grabbing it in his hand. Carol’s eyes widened, as he punched her with the force of the stone, throwing her away from him and into a pile of rubble.

Y/n watched, noticing Tony’s gaze on Doctor Strange, who only held up one finger to him. It wasn’t meant for her, but she knew what it meant. She wouldn’t let Tony take the fall for this, so she did the only thing she could think of. She lunged at Thanos, taking him off guard as she wrapped her hands around the gauntlet. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to rip it off his hands, she managed to pry her way around the front, where the stones were. Thanos smirked, as he pushed her away and she fell, away from him.

But she had completed her mission.

Strange watched her, guilt and grief stricken across his face as she saw the glow in her hands, yet stayed quiet.

“I am inevitable.” Thanos said, bringing his gauntlet-clad hand up as he snapped, yet nothing happened. Confusion was written across his features as he watched his hand, turning and noticing the stones gone. He turned, looking at Y/n who was kneeling, the stones gravitating towards her knuckles as they snapped into place.

She groaned, throwing her head back at the sheer power of the stones together. Smirking at Thanos, he knew he had lost, and she had won. Yet, she knew what would happen.

“You thought wrong, ugly ass bitch.” she said, as Thanos looked on, anger coursing through him.

“Stupid mortal. You’re willing to die from the power of the stones to save people who shouldn’t be saved?”

Her head tilted, as she looked at him. “I am. Because they’re my family. And I will do anything to protect them.” she paused, smirking, “We’re the Avengers, bitch.”

And with that, she snapped her fingers.

Thanos’ army began to disappear, all of them fading away, dust drifting off with the wind. Everyone looked on, putting their weapons down and watching the aliens disintegrate with their leader, who knew this was the end. This is what it had come to.

He should’ve known not to mess with her family.

The blow from the stones caused her severe pain, as she stumbled back, leaning against rubble. Her arm was numb, sizzling from the power of the stones. She tried to breathe, as it came out sporadically and with lots of pain. Her head turned, eyes watching everyone as there were no more aliens aroudn them. She did it. She saved them.

Footsteps were heard coming closer to her as someone dropped to their knees before her. She turned slightly, the pain in her neck causing her discomfort as she locked eye contact with her husband.

“Bucky.” she breathed out, smiling at him as he placed a hand on her cheek.

“Darling.” he breathed, a tear falling from his eyes. She reached up with her good arm, wiping the tear from his cheek away, as she slightly shook her head. “Always saving the day.”

“I had to, Buck. It was the only way.” she whispered, as another body landed behind Bucky.

“Y/n?” her brother called out, as he dropped to his knees next to Bucky. “Y/n? We won. We did it, we did it, Y/n.” He couldn’t stop, as she smiled at him, reaching her hand out to hold his. “Y/n? You did it, bunny. You did it.”

“Yeah, Pete, we did.” she slightly groaned, as Bucky shifted her body to the left, ridding the pressure away from her scorched side. “Buck,” he looked at her, “Take care of Pete for me, will you?”

He nodded, frowning and choking away a sob. “I will, darling.” he paused, smiling and leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“You can rest now, bunny.” Peter said, tears freefalling from his eyes as her head lightly tilted, before her breathing stopped.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The team neared her, the fallen hero, as Bucky and Peter sobbed into each other’s shoulders, gripping Y/n’s lifeless body.

“F-friday?” Tony called out, shakily.

“She’s gone, sir.”

Those words rung through everyone’s comms. They dreaded this, dreaded the day something like this would happen.

That’s the kind of hero Y/n was. She was willing to do anything needed to help those who needed her the most. Always putting her family before her, being on the frontline of every battle and willing to risk a limb for others.

Clint dropped to his knee, head lowered as he silently cried.

Carol turned back to see Clint, before she looked at the hero and dropped too.

Wanda followed, Steve next as well as Rhodney, Sam, T’Challa, Shuri, Okoye, Pepper, Quill, Scott, Nebula, Valkyrie, Thor. All the heroes, and warriors, kneeled for their friend.

Tony was the last to kneel, as Gamora disappeared from sight, not wanting everyone to see her and not wanting to create an emotional connection with everyone else.

Bucky traced her wedding ring, still on her finger as he gripped Peter’s body, who was now leaning on him.

Till death do us part. That was the vow he made to her, one he will keep till the end of time. No matter what.

A Week Later

They gathered at Tony’s cabin, all dressed in black. Tony riffled through Y/n’s boxes. She had been staying with him after the ordeal during the fight in Wakanda, taking care of Morgan and helping Tony around. As he packed up her things, he found an old projector, something he had given her a couple years ago. For important memories, he told her. Placing it on the table, he turned it on, as a projection of Y/n suddenly appeared, very much alive and well.

Is this on? the projection asked as Tony’s laugher was heard in the background.

Is the blue light on? he asked as she nodded. Then it’s on, dumbass.

Shut the fuck up, Tony. she mumbled, laughing as Tony waved at the projection.

I’m heading out. See ya! she waved at him as he disappeared before she sat down in front of the projector.

So, um, gosh I don’t know where to start. Um, well, to whoever is watching this, do me a favor and get the entire team for me. They’ll want to hear this.

Tony paused the recording, as he yelled at everyone to head inside. They did as they were told, as he moved the projection to the living room, pushing the coffee table away and making room for everyone to take a seat. Bucky’s breath hitched at the sight of his wife, and Peter choked a sob.

They stayed quiet as Tony resumed the recording.

So, you’re probably all wondering, why did Y/n choose to make a recording? Why is she wasting Tony’s precious tech creating a video diary? I’ll tell you why. she paused, looking down at her fingers and fidgeting. Tony and I cracked time travel yesterday and I think something is going to happen. Now, let me explain because I know you’re all thinking, you’re crazy Y/n! I have a feeling that this could go south.

I mean, we’re fighting against a big purple alien, who’s been coming after us since the fight in New York. We’re going up against someone who has an army, who is more powerful than the team combined, and someone who’s defeated us already.

I’m hoping none of us are gone. I’m hoping we’re all in tip top shape by the time we blast the purple alien back to space. But if that doesn’t happen, if there’s some untimely death, I want you all to know that we’re going to be okay.

It’s stupid, I know. I’ve always had an inkling in knowing when there’s going to be death nearby, and let me tell you something, it’s buzzing. It’s stronger, and I don’t think it’s a mistake.

Everyone knows that happy endings don’t always work out how we want them to. But I’m hoping this time it does. I’m hoping if you play this back, or even find it, it’s in celebration. I’m hoping we restore everything, that we get our families back, that we somehow restore some type of balance into the universe again, if there ever was such a thing.

Everyone in the room was crying, no dry eyes as they watched their beloved friend smile and dream about the future.

If it’s restored, I thought I’d do a little video. Just in case something happens, in the case of an untimely death on my part. Tony doesn’t know I’m doing this, hell, no one knows. But I have to. it’s for the best. Part of the journey is the end.

But here’s my point. You’ll all be okay. I promise. I’ve left a couple things in a storage unit that Thor has access to, don’t ask why he knows. I hope it helps, somehow, to keep you all moving. I’m only asking one thing: don’t separate. Don’t do what you did in Germany. Stick together, for me.

Take care of Morgan, please. Tell her stories about our crazy adventures after Sokovia, how we went and served breakfast clad in our suits to homeless families. Tell her how we surprised Peter during lunch that one time and managed to convince the principal to let everyone out four hours early. Tell her when we stole the quinjet so Bucky and I could have some alone time and visit London, where he proposed. Talk to her about the good things and the bad things. She might not understand everything, but that’s okay. At least she’ll know her crazy aunt was a badass.

Y/n quickly turned to the left in the recording, as she stopped talking and frowned. Everyone watched her, before hearing small footsteps in the background, as she broke out into a grin. Leaping from the corner of the table, she spread her arms out, as Morgan jumped onto her. Y/n wrapped an arm under her, keeping her against her hip as Morgan waved at the recording.

Say hi Morgan!

Hi! she cheered, as she giggled, before looking at Y/n.

I love you three thousand, Aunt Y/n.

Y/n gasped eyes wide before looking at the camera with a smirk. Hear that Tony? She loves me three thousand. She returned back to her original posture, gripping Morgan against her body. This mission we’re pulling off is dangerous. But it’s gotta be done. Please, be safe. Be safe after everything. Everyone will be fragile and the earth will be in peril. But stay together. That’s all I ask.

She paused, smiling at Morgan before looking back at the camera. I love you all three thousand.

The recording ended, as tears streamed down cheeks. Bucky and Peter held each other as Morgan cuddled closer to Pepper and Tony. It hurt, watching this before their eyes, a week after their friend passed.

Bucky grabbed the bracelet which contained Y/n’s suit, as he placed it on a little raft of roses in his hands. Everyone stood, now heading outside and following Bucky and Peter. They headed to the edge of the pier, as Bucky and Peter knelt, placing the raft of roses on the water and letting it drift off. They held each other, as the rest of the team watched on, guilt stricken across their faces, heads bowed.

Tony turned behind him, seeing a familiar face standing in the back.

He excused himself, walking towards the person, who looked up when they heard his footsteps.

“Kid?” he asked, as Harley frowned.

“Hey Tony.” he sighed, wrapping his arms around him in a hug before letting go, his arms feeling heavy. “So, she’s gone?”

Tony nodded, knowing that Harley had known Y/n longer than he did. “Come here, I have someone I want you to meet.” he brought Harley over to Bucky and Peter, who watched and scanned the unknown person walking with Tony. “Bucky, Peter, this is Harley.”

“Harley Kenner?” Peter asked as Harley recognized his best friend.

“Parker?” he nodded, as they embraced.

“Bucky Barnes,” he introduced himself, as Harley shook his hand. “Who are you?”

“He’s our childhood best friend. Y/n helped him build his first potato gun when he was just eight years old.” Peter explained, as Harley frowned.

“And you?” he asked as Tony stepped in.

“Husband.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harley apologized.

Everyone had already retreated inside, leaving them to talk and decompress from the memorial. The flowers had drifted away, taking the bracelet with them as well as a piece of everyone’s heart.

It didn’t get any easier after that. Steve had gone back in time to return the stones, yet didn’t return to the present. He stayed, finding a little joy in the past as he went back to where they were, in the future, as his older self. There, he handed off the shield to Sam, who would now hold the mantle as Captain America.

Bucky and Peter moved into a shared home in Queens, where Peter returned to his education, something he knew Y/n would have wanted. Bucky protected over the home, as he indulged in some missions with the team and Peter, still containing some order in the world.

That’s when it happened.

The team had been called to a mission in London, where a villain wearing the Red Skull’s appearance had began to wreak havoc on the streets.

When they arrived, they found the villain fighting someone, a purple haze hitting Red Skull as the impact threw him back. He fell, as the Avengers headed to where the haze had appeared. Friday began to scan the surroundings, a heat signal getting up from a kneeling position on the street.

The dust cleared and they watched the person turn, gasps slipping from everyone’s lips. They analyzed the person before them, clad in a black suit, a powerful haze surrounding them. The person made eye contact with everyone, as they turned completely, confirming everyone’s suspicions, yet raising lots of questions.

“Y/n?”

-

tags:

@hi-mishamigos @bens-hardy @trashqueenbitch @darling-marvel @boohooiamthefool @pbnjparker @drxgxnslxyer @cosmetologynerd @hollandroos @grandmascottlang @hollanderheart @peteparkrrs @bi-writes @blissfulparker

#skye's writing #avengers #endgame #avengers endgame #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #spiderman #natasha romanoff #thor #bruce banner #peter parker #pepper potts #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #peter parker imagines #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagines #a4 #avengers 4 #tom holland #sebastian stan

[emptymanuscript]

One way to REname a character with internal story logic

I want to talk a moment about Zephyr.

Not the wind.

My character. 

(He wishes he was this tough) Not even really the person but his NAME itself, Zephyr, and how it changed.

One of the things I don’t mention too much just to avoid trouble is how extremely different Knights of Day is now compared to how it was originally. At its early height, Knights of Day peaked at 4 authors. The goal was in no way to publish or publicize any of it. It wasn’t even really meant to be any sort of cohesive story. Or even to consist of cohesive stories rather than “adventures” for fun. I’m not even sure I can tell you WHAT it was. It wasn’t quite a piece of fiction, it wasn’t quite a table top rpg, it wasn’t quite rp’ing. It was just its own behemoth of a thing that included all of those. Compared to 1 book and 1 book in progress now.

Case in point: Fun Adventure #3 was ~

Kinda John Edward but real & real evil

Set up: Most Mediums are terrible people who fake their powers to rip victims off when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable. Because when you’ve just irrevocably lost one of the most important people in your life you’ll pay anything or do anything for the even the illusion of getting them back.

What if: Imagine someone who can really do everything they say they can do… but they’re still a terrible predator trying to take advantage of people when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable - they just have more power to make it even worse.

Mission: Save young suddenly widowed mega-rich heiress Helena Lawson from real Medium but still conniving con-man Kenton Dean. Because the greedy, racist, no goo Ted Lawson doesn’t want Kenton Dean to get the money instead of himself. And Ted is willing to pay exorbitantly to make sure it doesn’t. So James and Zeferrello are tasked with finding any reason to separate Helena and Kenton.

Twist: Yeah, Kenton Dean CAN summon and control the dead but it’s so much worse than that. He can summon and control the GOD of the dead. Assuming, of course, that all of this isn’t the god of the dead actually controlling Kenton Dean for its own purposes.

Which Became The Hidden and the Maiden. But instead of a climactic conflict between James, Zephyr, Kenton Dean, and Kherty-Aken decided by force, force of will, and clever use of all magic available inside the seat of Kenton Dean’s power, his theater, “Kinda John Edward but real & real evil” ended with a mildly tense chat between James and Zefferello versus Kherty Aken just kinda hanging out, tensely, next to an ambulance. James points out that Kenton Dean has reprogrammed Kherty Aken like a computer to just believe all this BS. Kherty Aken realizes, Oh Shi-! he’s right, and flys away. Next day, paper says Kenton Dean is dead. So the general idea is there but just not at all the same when you look close.

As an aside, this is by the way why most writing teachers dismiss ‘ideas’ as the least important element of story telling. One version of this ‘idea’ I stuff under a rug and pretend doesn’t exist. The other I sell in paperback for $10 a pop. If the fundamental idea hasn’t changed really, why the vast difference in price? Because of the execution. And if execution is more than infinitely greater in effect 0 -> 10 why bother putting that much effort into the idea when, even if you only go to 5 through execution, that will have more effect than any idea will. I am not 100% convinced by this line of reasoning but it’s not meritless either. A bad idea well written will just get more in the marketplace of ideas than a good idea poorly written. A bad idea badly written is doomed. A good idea well written may or may not do as well as the mediocrity. So, I disagree that it is of zero importance but I do think it is certainly not the most important element for 3/4’s of all story types. Ok, that’s another post, enough asides.

The real thing I’m actually thinking about is the Zefferello to Zephyr change. Zefferello was Zephyr’s original name. The author who created the original character said specifically her thoughts were that she had never had any character under any situation whose name started with Z. So she wanted a Z character and she plucked the rest out of thin air because. And because it didn’t matter, that was cool enough. So he was Zefferello for the first few years of life. No particular reason why. Never mind that nothing in any back round of anything anywhere would give Zefferello as a name.

It was only as I was moving from the first to the second draft of The Hidden and the Maiden that it was really bothering me about this Korean-American dude with the abusive Super Whitey Mega Rich father, the utterly absent and possibly dead Korean Trophy Wife mother, and the abusive DID having ghost but still white mother. Why would any of them give him that name?

Well, the father might do it just to torture his son throughout life. He’s that kind of asshole. As little as he is in it, I actually think of Zephyr’s father as the Antagonist for Knights of Day because he is just pure dagnasty evil because he likes it. He may not appear most on the page or wield the most power - partially because he’s just not my favorite kind of villain, at all, his side-kicks is way more my speed - but there’s no denying he does the most damage. BUT, the father is also very image conscious. Part of what he likes is doing terrible things while other people praise him for it. For making people suffer but having no one believe them because he is such a paragon of virtue. One of his side kicks actually got James to just start punching him toward the end because he kept talking about what a saint Zephyr’s father was and all the haters just didn’t understand what a wonderful person he was and how hard he worked when he never had to to improve the life of others. If I recall correctly James literally held a knife on the guy and pointing to Zephyr: ‘you had to fucking know what that motherfucker was doing to him! You evil lying sack of fucking shit!’ So… torture wasn’t going to work for a reason.

So I’m looking for any great people in history with the name Zefferello. Nope. Nada. Is it by some miracle a Korean name that Eun Ae Gwon might have given him? Nope. No dice. And slowly all eyes  turn to JJ. JJ is nuts. There’s no getting around it. But I’m rarely happy with that as an explanation. Especially with JJ because most of what she does that SEEMS nuts, isn’t. The fundamental rule I made for JJ fairly early on is that she is ALWAYS up to something. She is playing every angle. She is working every leverage. She is a survivor in a way that most people will never be. She’s dead and she is still playing to win. So she will do things that appear unreasonable at point A in time in order to increase her odds of getting what she wants in point B in time.

And I’m looking at that name. That ello. That’s sounds latinate to me. And masculine. I already knew Zefferello’s real name at this point, and it had a Jr. at the end and I started wondering if maybe, just maybe, JJ gave Zefferello a different Jr. name. A name for the father that she wished Zefferello had. Instead of the one he did. He’s hers, and what better to claim a baby she would never hold than to rename him into a family that she wanted to exist but never did. That’s very JJ.

At which point I’m reviewing JJ’s history. It’s sparse-ish at that time. But I know when she got pregnant and I know more or less what happened to her from that point until she died. And there’s nothing in there to hint at a Zefferello Sr. But… there were already some hints about there maybe being a Zefferella. And of course that’s not a name either. But fiddle with the spelling and drop the “el” sound and you do get a Greek female name: Zephyra \

And that was the lightning bolt of inspiration and change. That JJ’s second and last love of her life was a fellow prostitute named Zephyra, and IF JJ could rewrite reality to be anything she wanted then her son would also be Zephyra’s - that they would be the family unit and the other would be the ghostly illusion. And with Zephyra as a real name, I also had a male equivalent: Zephyr. Sounds similar but much more plausible that he might somehow obtain it. Plus, with the idea of Zephyra, his name also becomes a key to unlocking tons of emotion and backstory.

And you’ll know it’s important the second that this repressed little guy walking around giving out the name of Zephyr Wayne, shamefully cringe-admits that his legal name is Peter Bailey Jr. That that exists at all says that there is a story to find down in there and that it isn’t a simple one.

So that’s one to rewrite a name based on the internal logic of a story. Zephyr’s name was researched and found but never picked out of a name directory. It was back-engineered to tell the story I wanted to tell and avoid the random story I didn’t. By following the logic that might lead to a name like his, I was able to find the one I thought was right for him.

And, since the original Cup Bearer was one of the winds, that also worked to my advantage… though it is generally considered the wrong wind. Oy. Which I’ll probably just end up deleting because Zephyr’s name is better for a story hook than anything I made with Thulebelore being the General of the Western Winds.

If you actually got here. Wow. Thank you. If you ever want to solicit writing advice, dropping a question in my ask prompts me better than whatever happens to occur randomly to my head. So, you know, that’s there.

#Knights of Day #Zephyr #The Hidden and the Maiden #Writing advice #writeblr #writeblogging #unsolicited advice

[massieh]

Transfigure ( rewrite ; first draft ), Chapter 1. word count: 3,270.

The full moon illuminated the river, casting the world around us in black and white. The river, a sheet of obsidian glass beneath the glow, wrapped around my feet and begged that I join in with the current. 

Just let it all go; be free.

Something hit my hand, hard and cold. At first, the feeling sent a chill down my spine, and reflex demanded that I throw it. Though useful in the field, that instinct was well out-of-place here. Carefully, calmly, I raised the object into the candlelight.

It was one of the bottles that Kane repurposed for a candle holder, an idea he had when we first found the place months before. The wax stick jammed into the top had already burned down so far into the neck that it stained the glass around it black. Even the wax seal could not hold back the smell. Whatever was inside, its stale scent gave the impression that it could only be useful for cleaning wounds.

I tried to push it back. How did he roll a square bottle? 

“Nah,” he demanded, kicking it back over the short distance I had managed. “We had a deal.”

“Yeah, and I’ll hold up my end with or without yours.” In truth, I was sick of feeling stupid. It sounded fun to face the impossible, but that was before I found out that even trivial things could hold that title.

“Both ends are my end. Now go.”

“Fine,” I mumbled under my breath and raised the bottle again. I tried to ignore all the other details. The shape, the scent, the weight—anything that would be important under any real circumstances was useless now. 

Words. I had to figure out the words.

With the old world gone and the city ripped apart, readers weren’t all that common. This place was built by a group of strangers, after all. Each was stripped from their home and dropped here to make a new life alongside the others. Some kept their families in tow; most came alone. This lack of community, alongside the shared goal of survival, led to an illiteracy rate that I didn’t notice until Kane moved in.

As a neighbor once told me, if the old world’s skills were so useful, we wouldn’t be where we are today. It didn’t make that much sense, but everyone else thought so. Who was I to argue?

Kane was one of the lucky ones. He came here knowing how to read. Though we were left wanting for books, he still managed to keep that talent sharp.

Both of my parents could read. My mother all but spoke in code, and it was holy texts that made up my father’s foundation. Both tried to show me their worlds; both kind of succeeded. Reading, however, was never included.

There were a few words scattered throughout the city that had been burned into my mind through recognizance. “Voodoo” and “girls” made the top of that list. Try to make sense of the Bible on that alone.

Three days after Kane figured it out, he came up with his greatest plan yet: he would be the one to teach me the sacred art of literature. His words, not mine. Boredom replaced his brilliant curiosity with a rabid need for purpose a long time ago. So, as any idiot would, I eagerly agreed. He dedicated our first week to the alphabet. I was to say it forward and back fifteen times every few hours to make sure it stuck. 

Simple enough. 

Then, we moved on to the next logical step: “Sound it out.”

Despite the roll of my eyes, I did as I was told. “J-aysk”

“No, no. Where are you getting the’s’?”

“What do you mean?” And after he hissed the sound back at me, “Right there.”

“That’ s—no, that one makes the same sound as the ‘k’.”

I changed my mind. This sucked. “That makes no sense.”

“The ‘a’ makes the sound like ‘at’, too.’”

“Jac-k?”

“Don’t pronounce them both.”

“Both what? It’s four—”

“Just, ‘Jack’.” He chopped at the air with one hand, but the motion’s meaning was lost on me.

My response was the forced sigh of, “Okay. Jack,” followed by another, meeker attempt. “D… e… nials?” 

Kane snorted behind me. 

As I shifted back to lean on my elbows, the bottle turned over in my hand, allowing me one last whiff of the foul liquid inside. “So, what. This Jack guy was so ashamed of this stuff, he had to say it on the label?” The bottle sang out an eerie scrape as I returned it to the slab of concrete at Kane’s feet, and its ring somehow made more sense than the next word from his mouth.

“Daniels.”

“What?”

He sputtered again. This time, it sounded like a laugh. “It’s Jack Daniels. It was whiskey. Alcohol, but not the kind you use on cuts.” And because I clearly didn’t get it, he added, “A drink for, uh… entertainment.” 

It was exhausting how much he knew about the old world. Some would say too much. Though it was easy to agree, it was almost impossible not to be fascinated by it. At the compound, there were rooms dedicated to artifacts and treasures worth more than any ten men together could afford. It would not surprise me to know all of that, in addition to what was left of the natural wonders, paled in comparison to Kane’s collections. 

“You’re stupid good at a lot of things,” I told him after an agonizing moment of self-debate. The added spice of his own slang would hopefully soften the blow. “But you might be the worst teacher I’ve ever had.”

This time, his laugh was flimsy. “Well, I’m not a Minister or a Control Chief, so that’s a weird corner to throw me in.” 

Oh, good. No harm done.

Kane was always this easy. I could be a little bit mean, and he’d just be happy to hear himself talk in-between. The banter served as a low-effort veil between us and the void of boredom, sure. When things got deep, though, it was the true void that stared back. His teaching needed work, but Kane filled the silence with more knowledge and life in a single minute than any amount of time with my parents ever did—official, familial, or otherwise.

A second bottle clinked against the stone at my left, this one with some of the original contents still inside. I waited for the same set of instructions. Instead, what he gave back read something like, try it. One sip, and I spit it out instantly. “Oh, that’s disgusting.”

“It is what it is. You’re doing fine.” His shift in tone was so swift that I nearly forgot about the acidic film on my tongue. “It’s just been a couple of weeks. It took me like a month, I bet.”

“You’d also be six.”

“And you’re seventeen—“

“Eighteen.”

“The arguments make themselves.” I looked back, and his smile was as smug as his tone. “Like I said. You’re doing just fine.”

If the right response existed, it was lost beneath an awkward laugh and the gentle sound of the flowing river.

Even without many character references to place around him, Kane was odd in a way that even his sacred art of literature would have trouble capturing. Though he only stood a few inches taller than me, no room could contain his personality. His body was more weapon than temple. From appearance to mind to words—everything but his eyes, he kept sharp.

One of the bottles floated out from the cove and into the river without either of us noticing. The water tugged it one way and another. It was the flickering of the light that caught my attention. The flame rose and fell in the hot air, twisting as the bottle bobbed from side to side, and finally went out altogether when it tipped over and washed out.

The light was now too low to read, but both ends were Kane’s, right?

“Let’s go,” I mostly grunted just before scooting from the pavement’s edge and into the river. Wading beyond reach of the shore to where the cool stream rose high enough to combat the humidity, I turned back to face him.

Kane maintained both still and silence surprisingly well.

“I promise it’ll be less fun if we do this by force.”

Only the still broke. He slid from the jutting knees of a cypress onto the slab below to remove his boots, socks, and the sidearm he kept strapped to his thigh. After sliding those over to join my things, he moved on to rolling his tattered jeans until they threatened his circulation. Stalling was routine, same as the distance in his eyes and the occasional sighing.

In a lazy attempt to match his performance, my hand moved in slow, dramatic circles in a gesture to hurry up. By the time he touched the water, my arm was a quick snap away from falling off my shoulder and drifting out to sea. 

It was by no small feat that he was able to reach me. Though the water gathered only at his hips, if even that far, he could only do so with his eyes clenched shut. It was impressive.

“Alright, I’m ready,” he told me once his hands were safely in mine. His stance was so tight that his grip almost hurt. Determined, he may have been, but Kane looked anything but ready.

“I won’t make you do anything yet,” I said. “Just stand there. Get used to the flow. Try to open your eyes, maybe?” They tightened at that. “Hey. If anything happens, I’m right here.”

The sentiment did little to calm him. At the very least, it did encourage the hint of a grin, fleeting though it was. When it was apparent that he couldn’t control his own breathing, mine became slowed and pronounced for him to mirror. After what felt like an hour of coaching, but must have only been a few minutes, his breathing began to fall smoothly in time with the steady sound of waves crashing in the distance. 

Sometimes, when the fog cleared enough to see the endless expanse of the southern sea, and the river rose just a little higher than usual, he would mention his home sector. Not much more was given than what he wanted to remember. I knew it must have been somewhere west because he always mentioned how the morning sun blinded him on the move over. The way he marveled at our trees for the first three years said it must have been pretty dry. 

When Kane spoke about it, he did so in hushed tones, as though home could be all that scary. Maybe it was. In some ways, I was less surprised by his aquaphobia than his decision to tell me about it.

Kane dropped my hands and took another deep breath through his nose, rereleasing it from his mouth in a tight stream of air. Not that his first thought would be the position of his face in relation to mine. A warning just would have been nice. 

“Alright,” he repeated. With just enough bravery sucked in with a second, more generous inhale, he coaxed his eyes open. 

Had I not been watching, I would have missed the literal instant regret set in. “What a face. Think you’ll live?”

His mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Dude. You have to breathe.” Maybe he wasn’t feeling talkative, but at least he was present enough to listen. “You’re doing way better than last time.”

Last time was a wrestling match just to get this far. It ended with Kane falling in and scrambling his way back before we could make any more progress. Victoria thanked me that day for forcing her son to bathe. This time, though fear was still evident in the way his eyes darted between the water below and the sky above, Kane was able to restrain himself.

It was a noble effort—one lost the moment he looked to the branches of the looming trees. “They’re gathering late tonight,” he noted, referring to the growing amassment of crows.

“You think it’s dogs?”

“Probably.” The commotion of subsong and wings replaced our voices for a moment before Kane turned his eyes on me again. He tried to grab my hands again and added a desperate, “I’ll walk with you.” 

My hands were held up for him to see while I backed away. “Hold on, hold on. We have time.” Already, the soil of the riverbed pulled me down, seeping between my toes with each step. I’d seen panic drown too many in this river to join them. So I allowed the distance between us to expand instead.

We were only a couple of meters from the waters’ edge. Still, when I finally reached the wall of trees and turned to face him, he felt oceans away. 

The collection of candles had melted over the bottles’ necks, their labels now impossible to decipher beneath the wax coating. It was as good a time as any to turn in. I raised the last, still burning, high for him to see.

“When it goes out.”

“You know, one pack took out an entire team last week.” His voice was soft, nearly inaudible over the water.

“So I heard.”

“I should really get you home.”

“They got a whole team. Having one extra body won’t keep me any safer. You worry about you.”

A distracted laugh, both forced and cautious, slipped past Kane’s worry just to free-fall into silence. No longer were the cicadas singing, the birds paused in quiet wonder, and for a moment, even the water fell into an uncomfortable still. 

The sector grew quieter by the day, it seemed. Together, we survived war, famine, disease. I’m sure you can piece together what happened to the rest. My uncle always liked to say that book of Revelation didn’t prepare us for an after. Nine years old may have been too young for that lesson, but I understood all the same. 

Over the past week, more stories from the Cage made it to the dinner table. My mother told us that one of the things inside had a wingspan twice as long as its own body. She said it tried to take to the skies, but its wings were too heavy. Instead of lifting itself from the ground, it destroyed three buildings and killed two people before being captured. Suits spoke in hushed tones throughout the Complex about how the webbed pinions left an ashen residue on their uniforms.

The rest was a matter of who told the story.

Kane tugged me from the thought by prompting from his position in the water, “Hey, Andy. Can we tuck in yet? No rush, but I’m starting to freak out.”

To get back to the road meant scaling the city’s deteriorated retaining wall and the roots that had nearly devoured it. Kane beat me to the top and triumphantly threw both fists in the air as if the effort were for glory rather than escape. It was the pair of boots, hanging together from one clenched hand as I remained at the water’s edge to lace my own, that gave him away.

The trees served as a veil between the southern wilderness and what was deemed before my conception as “civilization”. Once we passed through, our usual banter had to be capped. We stepped lightly, even slowing our breathing to a shallow and cautionary flow. The smallest sound could bounce through the empty streets and lead something much worse than the river’s wrath to us.

From the gaping mouth of an old storefront, the sun-bleached cast of a massive, toothy lizard smiled at us. Could you believe it was a real thing? Not the smiling part, but the creature itself. Kane told me all about it when his family first joined the sector.

They were big, sometimes twice as long as he was tall and three times his weight, he said. I asked if he knew all that because he had to kill one. Kane only gave me a strange look and said everyone knew what an alligator was. But that wasn’t true. I didn’t. For all I knew, they were no more real than his Mothman. 

A time did exist where the buildings along our hike were beautiful. Time and the elements faded their colors, shattered their windows, and darkened their doors. Here and there, shop signs still clung to their rusted mounts. Due only to their current state, which was battered too far beyond recognition for even Kane to read, was I brave enough to look at them for more than a glance.

The path was so familiar that I could have walked it backwards with my eyes covered. Every step was as much a part of me as my own two hands. The shape of the street names, I had memorized before Kane joined the sector.

St. Peter.

Bourbon.

Bienville.

And at the end of Bienville was home. Well, it was my home. Kane’s family relocated so often that I stopped keeping track. At first, the frequent moves were quirky. Then, they were frustrating. While the other kids moved on to new friends, I knew there was a different solution. I just had to get good at finding him.

Home was a single cross-section of road, separated from the ruin and wilderness by tireless grooming. Even as we crossed over the threshold between broken asphalt and the intact pavement that bound the structures together, Maintenance took stock of tomorrow’s workload. 

As always, they paid us no mind. 

The Complex stood three stories high and only an echo of its former glory. Like the rest of the city, it battled weathering of its own. The Northwest corner and an entire block of the cemetery were swallowed by the earth four days after my twelfth birthday. Before was the contagion. And after? That was the Summer of Lights, which burned down more than half the city. 

Yeah, it wasn’t that fun.

Kane led me to one of the clone doors and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Tomorrow’s a big one,” he told me.

“You ready for it?”

“Never am. Don’t sleep in.”

And I responded, “Get good sleep.”

He disappeared beyond the dim glow of our stoop light, leaving me to drown at the hands of anxiety. The Course—like I could forget. If I failed, then what? There was always the Ministry, but if I couldn’t read and failed a glorified physical exam, even they would have no use for me. 

As my mind swarmed with thoughts of tomorrow, the still dark of the entry felt like a gift. It meant that my feet could make the weary climb to the second floor without the help of a conscious mind. Mine was too busy repeating the phrase, “Do you accept?” To the question, it shouted the oath.

Outside my window, the moon still shone over the city, either oblivious to its state of distress or indifferent. It lit the single-block cemetery there, and I could swear there was more life in those mausoleums than remained throughout the whole sector. I could see Kane perched on one of the roofs, thumbing through the pages he stashed inside an oven crypt. 

Past him, past the concrete structures, past the contorted knot of crumbling highway, I could see the six points of the Cage reaching into the night sky. 

This was home.

#; there are likely typos in this but again #; first draft of a rewrite #; i'm proud enough of where it stands #ooc.

[webcricket]

Looking Glass

Chapter 26 - The World Ender

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1312

Summary: Castiel is left floundering when fate finally catches up to team free will in the form of a three-letter word. With some reflection, he learns endings are also beginnings. Final chapter for the series. Thanks for joining me on this journey! On to the next!

Miss a chapter? Masterlist Link:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/175727716145/looking-glass-masterlist

What they say about hindsight is true; if you knew, caught up in Castiel’s arms in the kitchen, bodies drawn so close together room to breathe barely existed as you comforted one another in the aftermath of Maggie’s death, that the tender moment would signify the beginning of a rapid and calamitous downward spiral of misfortune to befall the bunker and your seraph, you might have insisted on holding on to him just a smidgen longer.

Not long ago, your world ended; your life too – nearly. Providence interceded in the form a Winchester ferrying you here to find renewal of hope; a place wherein you embarked on a fresh start rooted and flourishing in an angel’s empathy and a rewriting of every experience, conception, and recollection you once wielded as a universal shield of truth to survive.

You couldn’t know, clasped head to chest, sniffling against the silk of his tie, tears darkening the navy cloth almost to black as your fingers sought the well-muscled slope of his spine and skimmed upward until they found the sensitive spot at the base of his shoulder blades eliciting a soft moan from his lips where they lay in a lingering kiss upon your scalp, that your very same savior’s rebelliously carved niche in this one, the sanctuary of support he welcomed you into, a family fixed to each other by bonds – not solely of blood, but of self-made fate, fierce loyalty, and love – was about to be torn asunder.

Not that any mediation could have occurred to alter the outcome. Once a rift is opened, in flesh or between two divergent worlds, flow of blood seemingly staunched by a ripped band-aid of spell work, the canvas of unseen space is weakened forevermore; there’s no mending it without leaving scars.

Naive, deafened to words of reason by a smoldering rage and guilt, Jack needed to be led astray by Lucifier’s lies – a lesson of greed for power learned too late leaving the Nephilim cosmically impotent.

Nor can destiny itself be fully caged, although the details, like the plot of a story, may be altered in revision – a showdown of apocalyptic proportions between two sets of brothers was ordained by God to occur in Detroit, and so it did in the shadow of a church alter in darkness flattered faintly by the fragmented glow of stained-glass and violently unbridled grace.

And Dean, well, the righteous man was always going to say, “Yes,” to Michael; Fate deigned that archangels must be defeated by a designated sword, and she can be forestalled for only so long.

So much of who Castiel is, what he fell for, fought for, and believed in dwell on the foundation of free will. Sam and Dean served proof to him of one’s ability to defy fate and choose their own destiny time and time again. Emulating the brothers’ boldness, choosing humanity over Heaven, doubt dogged the angel’s every step; but through the doubt, the concept of having choice seemed certain to him until now.

Now, he wonders if Dean ever had a choice at all; or, if the march of years merely delayed the inevitable. The weight of death, destruction, pain – emotional and physical – the blood shed in the name of choice washed from his vessel’s hands yet nonetheless staining the calloused surface crimson as he stares down at where the palms limply spread in supplication on his knees, and the heavy regret muffling every beat of his angelic heart crumple the seraph’s frame where he sits on the map room stair.

“Cas?” The flutter of a black feather on the grey concrete floor at your feet, disturbed by your guardedly creeping movement around the corner, steals your focus as you peer into the library from the hall leading to the garage where you retreated with Mary and Bobby at Cas’ unyielding request when Michael stormed the bunker door.

Stooping, you pluck up the bedraggled plume in your fingertips; spying a bloodied mass of pulp at the end of the quill, you flinch and shrink back, fright tightening your throat. “Cas?” you repeat in a fear-stifled shout; glancing wildly beyond the strewn carnage of traumatically extricated feathers, books thrown from their shelves, and toppled tables and chairs, you see the angel’s silhouetted and unmoving figure slumped against the threshold. “Cas!” Lunging forward, tripping over a few stiff-spine tomes, you forget caution in favor of panic.

He stirs to look sideways as you near; stumbling down the stairs, you sink ungracefully next to him. You ignore the corpse of Michael’s meat suit in reclining repose against one of the far most pillars; it’s a sight that should be a relief, but nothing about Cas’ dampened blues and vacant gaze hollowed of hope remotely suggest a sense of relief; neither does the notable absence of the Dean.

The angel’s regard shifts slightly over your shoulder, chin somberly shaking at Mary and Bobby’s questioning faces where they followed in your frantic footsteps. You all half-hoped after Sam’s phone call saying he and Jack were alive, Lucifer was dead, and they couldn’t be sure of Dean because he disappeared with Michael, that perhaps against all odds Dean somehow returned to the bunker. The two hunters retreat in silence to give you space.

“What happened?” Reaching up, you brush a collection of unruly chestnut curls from Cas’ brow and compel his concentration to you.

Already pale lips crush into a taut line and blanch. Wet lashes lower and a subtle shiver of pain courses his vessel.

You mold a palm to the cool pallor of his cheek, swiping a thumb soothingly over the prickly skin.

He swallows the guilt girding his throat before speaking. “Dean said, ‘Yes.’ He let Michael in,” he pauses as if saying it aloud makes the reality infinitely more painful. Carrying blame for himself, his jaw tenses around an admission of defeat, “I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t-” Leaning into the warmth of your touch, eyes closing, his voice chokes in grief, “I couldn’t even follow him.”

You suddenly understand the scattering of feathers and disarray of a struggle; Castiel tried to follow his friend in flight – tried with his whole heart in defiance of the damage to his wings, and failed. “Oh, angel.” Curling your fingers around his neck, you ease his head onto the pillow of your thighs. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault,” you reassure, softly whispering as brine freely brims his lids.

“Everything we worked for,” he says between sobs, “it was all for nothing. It’s impossible to escape fate. Dean is lost. This world … it’s lost.”

Tenderly cradling the angel, showering him in light caresses so he knows he isn’t alone, you let his emotion drain, waiting until the jagged shallow jolt of his breath quiets with deeper regularity. Gaze drifting to the high ceiling of your new home, the angel you love lying on your lap, a reflective smile cavorts your countenance at a thought which undulates your tongue in speech. “I used to believe a lot of things were impossible – alternate realities, loving angels, second chances – then I met you and all that changed.”

Shifting at the curious statement, he straightens to peer into your aspect.

Smile stretching, you continue, “Nothing is impossible, it just seems that way until a door you didn’t know was there opens and you see what’s on the other side. We’ll find the right door, Cas.”

“You really believe that?” The question is moot, divine being or otherwise, he intuits your conviction without asking.

“You’re my proof.”

Gloom-dim irises glide searchingly between your fondly smile-creased eyes and the mirror image of himself reflected as evidence within their lustrous pupils. Seeing his echo afloat in a soulful sea of belief, leaning in to trace salt-laced lips over the smiling swell of yours, he can’t help but begin to believe too.

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel reader insert #spn x reader #castiel x y/n #castielxreader #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #reader x castiel #you x castiel #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #spn fanfic #castiel x au!reader #cricket writes cas

[that-was-anticlimactic]

He Used To Be Mine — Lloyd Songfic

After HoT, before SoG, song is She Used To Be Mine from Waitress

----

It’s not simple to say that most days, I don’t recognize me

Lloyd gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror, his usual brilliant green eyes shadowed and made dull by the bags that lay underneath them.

With these shoes and this apron, that place and its patrons

There were times when he looked in the mirror he could see the smallest shadow of himself as a kid. He was young, he was fun…

Have taken more than I gave them

More often than not, he only felt older when he did so, his hair far longer than it was before, his facial features more pronounced. Even his eyes were older. They held wisdom.

It’s not easy to know, that I’m not anything like I used to be

Oh what he would give to have his childhood back, to take a look at himself in a mirror and not be able to actually see himself because he was too short.

Although it’s true I was never attention’s sweet center, I still remember that boy

There it was- that wide, toothy smile… when he looked now all he can see is a thin, straight line where his grin used to be

He isn’t perfect, but he tries

His ears used to be so full of kids at Darkley’s laughing, of the sound of candy wrappers opening and teachers telling him to do his work… now all he could hear is shouting. Battle cries and the shouts that led to death plagued his once joyful ears.

He is good, but he lies

As a child he had lied to get what he wanted. Now, he lied just to be left alone.

He is hard on himself, he is broken and won’t ask for help

If Lloyd squinted he could see a faint scar running along his nose and another on the left side of his chin. Battle scars. The one on his nose was from his dad. The one on his cheek was from the Tournament.

He is messy, but he’s kind

Despite being faint, he knew everyone could see them. The scars were usual, always there. He forgot about them. Fans, the press… those scars are the first thing they all see

He is lonely most of the time

In the reflection, he sees the image of his father. Garmadon’s hand is on his shoulder, a proud smile taking over his face. But as soon as Lloyd would lock eyes with his hallucination it would vanish, leaving him alone once more.

He is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

He longed for that back. Those few years when his family was whole. His dad, his mom, his uncle, even his brothers…

He is gone, but he used to be mine

He wanted to look away. But each time he pulled his face away, he somehow always came back.

It’s not what I asked for

He could see the green on his gi, ugh, that green. He didn’t ask to be the green ninja, he didn’t want it.

Sometimes life just slips in through the backdoor

He didn’t ask to fight his dad, he didn’t ask for all the power, all of the enemies and fame.

And carves out a person and makes you believe it’s all true

But it was destiny. A destiny he wished he could change. But no, he had to accept the fact that this is who he is. He didn’t want to.

And now I’ve got you

When he looked in the mirror, he saw fakeness. He saw lies, betrayal, hurt. He saw the longing to run far away and never look back.

And you’re not what I asked for

He didn’t want to be fake. It’s always a fake smile, fake optimism, a fake “I’m okay”.

If I’m honest I know, I would give it all back for a chance to start over

Maybe he wouldn’t have been the green ninja if he hadn’t been kicked out of Darkley’s… or maybe if he hadn’t unlocked the serpentine tombs. Maybe then his destiny would have changed.

And rewrite an ending or two, for that boy that I knew

Then he wouldn’t have had to fight his dad. Or the Overlord. Or Chen. Maybe Morro wouldn’t have possessed him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight anyone.

Who was reckless just enough

He was the reason Zane had died, if he had been faster, smarter, or strong enough to fight the Overlord himself the white ninja would have been fine.

Who gets hurt, but who learns how to tough it up

He was the reason that Kai had been corrupted for a few minutes during the Tournament, Kai should have been the green ninja. Not him.

When he’s bruised, and gets used by a man who can’t love

Sometimes he dreamt of his dad, his dad that despised him because he wasn’t evil enough, or perhaps because he had died for good because of him.

Then he’ll get stuck

He was the reason Cole had been turned into a ghost. They wouldn't have gone to the temple if he hadn’t been possessed.

and be scared of the life that’s inside him

He was the reason Jay was jumpy. He didn’t know why exactly the blue ninja was jumpy, but he always asked Lloyd not to leave him again. Again?

Growing stronger each day

Wu, his uncle, is gone, lost in time… he could have saved him… he should have saved him.

Till it kindly reminds him to fight just a little

He had to be Master Lloyd, he had to lead the team and pretend like he was okay.

And bring back that fire in his eyes

Then he would look in the mirror, and all of the lies would wash away as his smile faded. He can lie to the others, but he can’t lie to himself.

That’s been gone but used to be mine

He ran a hand through his blonde hair and stiffened in that position, his tired eyes lackluster and aimlessly gazing at the sight before him.

Ohhh, used to be mine

All he could see was green, that stupid color. He ripped his gi off of his body, exposing his chest to himself. A grunt escaped from his mouth and he threw the dastardly piece of clothing to the floor.

He is messy, but he’s kind

He kicked the gi, his breathing heavy. He looked back into the mirror.

He is lonely most of the time

He was alone. Alone in his burden, alone in his pain. No one understood.

He is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

He was tempted to shatter it, break the glass. Then it would be broken, like he was.

He is gone, but he used to be

But he didn’t he never did. He bent down, picked his gi up, then walked away.

Mine.

----

aka I’m posting this because work was really rough and just not good in any way today so lowkey venting by posting this so I hope you all enjoyed (also I want to finally contribute something to the fandom)! I just feel Lloyd gives off serious She Used To Be Mine vibes and I was sad one day so I wrote it, it’s a beautiful song, really. Sorry if it sucks, I don’t generally write songfics but this seemed like a depressing but not too depressing oneshot I could post to vent so yeeeah. Sorry if it sucks, thanks to anyone who read this far:)

#ninjago #ninjago lloyd #ninjago fanfiction #she used to be mine #songfic #lowkey venting sorry

[huntertales]

Part Four: Your Way Isn’t Always Right. (Citizen Fang S08E09)

Episode Summary: Sam asks a hunter named Martin Creaser to keep an eye on Benny without telling Dean. However, when Martin tells Sam there was a vampire kill and he thinks Benny responsible, Dean defends his friend. When things get messy, the reader is forced in the middle and has to make a very hard decision about who’s judgement she can trust before someone else can get hurt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,412.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Now that Benny was in the wind and Desmond was dead, it was time to get out of town and head to Texas where you knew a pissed off Sam would be waiting for you. You settled yourself into the passenger seat with every intention of sleeping on the way there, the exhaustion you felt was giving you no choice of staying up. The hunt seemed to have taken more out of you than you expected. This had been a particularly stressful one for many different reasons. Partly because your life was put in danger and nearly thought you were going to have your throat ripped out. The fighting between both of the brothers had been brewing over the past day and a half since involving yourself with Benny again. And the guilt weighing heavily on your chest from the things you had done to Sam. Making him think all sorts of terrifying fears that nobody should have to go through.

You shut your eyes and leaned back in the passenger side of the Impala's front seats, letting the rocking motion of the car and music Dean was quietly playing in the background lull you off to sleep like the hundreds of times before. Dean occupied himself by driving the way there, every so often stealing glances from the corner of his eye, watching as you fell asleep. When he knew that you were finally asleep, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of a hunter he knew was left high and dry by Sam. Who knocked Dean out and handcuffed him to a radiator before locking you in the bathroom to put a stop to the Benny situation the way he wanted with Sam.

Martin answered after only two rings. “Hey, Dean.” “Look, I'm just calling to let you know that the situation is resolved.” Dean said. He got straight to the reason why he was calling in the first place, not in the mood for small talk between the both of them for the sake of being polite. “Benny was not lying. There was another vamp, me and Y/N ganked him—together.”

“Oh. That's good, Dean.” Martin said. The hunter seemed rather...oddly calm when he heard the news. It sounded far different from the person Dean saw a few hours ago back at his motel. Something about it fell off, but Dean blamed it on the breathing techniques or whatever kind of therapeutic crap Martin learned in the loony bin to keep his head on straight. “Yeah, shut up and listen to me.” Dean said, cutting off the man from saying anything else he wasn’t in the mood to hear. “Benny's long gone, and he won't be coming back, ever. So for your own sake, do not follow him. Are we clear?” “You don't have to worry about me, Dean.” Martin reassured the man. “I'm long gone, too.” “Oh, and, Martin?” Dean was about to end the call, but he decided to be a friend and give the hunter some unsolicited advice before he ended up dead. “Find a new line of work.”

Before Martin could respond to the advice, Dean ended the call.

+ + +

Dean couldn't remember the last time he got to enjoy riding in the Impala with his music playing and nobody distracting him with an argument or a conversation he really didn't want to have about a case. You were a heavy sleeper for the most part, you weren’t disturbed when Dean turned up the music a little bit louder to enjoy and started to softly sing along to the lyrics burned in the back of his mind while tapping on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the beat. Dean was only fifteen minutes away from getting out of town when his phone started ringing again.

He noticed that it was from an unknown number he didn’t have saved on his phone. Not thinking much of who the caller could be, he answered it with a simple yeah, presuming it was Sam. Only the voice on the other line was female, and had the slightest bit of a southern accent Dean heard earlier today. He turned down the music and spoke Elizabeth's name in a worried tone, suddenly a bad feeling settled in his stomach.

“Y-You told me to call if I saw…” Elizabeth gathered what nerve she had left and tried to form a proper sentence for him, but she found herself trailing off for a moment before finishing. “Him.”

“What do you mean? Roy? Is he there right now?” Dean asked the woman, trying to figure out the situation. But the other line went silent for a second. “Elizabeth, what’s going on?”

“Just come.” Elizabeth pleaded, her voice breaking as it echoed from the other end of the line.

All that was enough for Dean to realize that something happened, something that he couldn't ignore. Dean slammed his foot on the break and turned the car around one-eighty, sending you jolting awake after feeling yourself hit the car door. It took you all of two seconds to realize that something was going on when you saw the look on Dean's face, the kind that you had seen time and time again when trouble brewed for the people he cared about.

While you expected Martin had grew a pair and did something reckless, you didn't expect it in a way that put an innocent life in danger, even if they were a personal connection to Benny. You saw the diner Benny had been working at for the past month come into view from the Impala's headlights, looking deserted except for one car. And a woman sitting on the steps. You realized that it was Elizabeth when you stepped out of the car and headed towards her, noticing right away she looked absolutely terrified out of her mind.

You felt your stomach sink in fear when you saw her shaking on the bottom step, her skin and clothes covered in blood. She didn’t say anything, all she could do was point a finger over her shoulder to the restaurant where the situation happened that left her covered in blood that wasn't her own. However you noticed that there was a cut on her neck that was still bleeding, appearing deeper than your own that you had sustained earlier tonight.

You had found a clean cloth in the Impala after you left Benny fo the first time and kept it on just in case the wound started bleeding again. But it seemed Elizabeth needed it more than you. Pulling it out of your back pocket, you gave her a small, yet sympathetic smile as you sat yourself down right next to her, ever so softly placing the cloth against her neck to stop the bleeding and try to somehow make her feel a bit safer. You decided to stay with her and keep her company while Dean headed inside the restaurant to see for himself who the victim was, the vampire or the hunter.

Right away Dean could tell the scene wasn't going to be a pretty one; droplets and a small pool of blood greeted him when he stepped through the door. In the darkness that was slightly lit by the neon restaurant sign outside, Dean made his way through, passing by flipped over chairs and tables that indicated a fight broke out here. Someone fought for their life, but lost.

Dean saw a pair of legs in the far distance fo the restaurant, and ever so slowly, he approached it. In the back of his mind he was expecting to see Benny lying on the ground, his head detached from his body like Martin and Sam wanted. Karma's way of biting him in the ass for what he did to his brother. However when he approached the body, it was of a familiar face, but not one that he was expecting. Martin Creaser laid on the ground with his throat ripped out. He went up against the beast, but it seemed he was the one who ended up dead.

+ + +

It sounded horrible to say, but you were happy to hear that Martin was dead. Tonight proved that he was a lousier hunter than he was to begin with, and more reckless than he should have been by putting Elizabeth's life on the line to get Benny where he wanted him. But it only ended with him being the one who took his last breath. You and Dean didn't say much on the way out of town after you made sure Elizabeth was somewhat okay and the cops got the story. You wanted to sleep again, but you were kept up by the sight of Elizabeth's shaken up face and Martin's ripped out throat. You've seen so many awful things, but it never got any easier.

You were sitting in the passenger seat staring out the window when you heard ringing coming from somewhere in the Impala. The both of you looked around for a moment trying to figure out where it was coming from before you realized it was coming from the glove compartment where you stashed all of the old burner phones collected over the years. You popped it open and looked through a few until you saw the one lighting up. When you looked at the small screen to see the caller I.D., you felt your heart stop when you saw Sam’s name pop up on the screen. You let out a quiet sigh from the dreaded conversation you didn’t want to deal with right now. But you forced yourself to flip open the phone and put it on speaker.

“Sammy?” You answered the call. “Is that you?”

“‘Sam, I need your help. Come quick.’ Nice one.” Sam repeated the infamous text message you saw Dean type out in front of you. You could have stopped him at any moment and told him that it was the wrong thing to do, but you didn't. You let out a quiet sigh from the panic you had put him through. "Swapping Amelia's phone out with a burner, sending a distress signal...you got me good, Dean. When did you do that?"

“While back, in case I needed it. Looks like I made the right call.” Dean said. “Did you see her?”

"Yeah. Yeah, I saw her." Sam said. You heard him clear his throat as he tried not to get angry over what his brother did. He thought this was Dean’s way of making him realize that Amelia’s life went on without him, that she forgot about him. "And she's doing just fine. But, 'course, you know that."

“Actually, I didn’t.” Dean admitted. “I did know it was the only way to get you to lay off.”

Sam scoffed at his brother’s way of thinking. "So? Is it done?"

“Yeah, it’s done.” You answered the young man’s question, reminding him you were still here.

"Any casualties?" He asked, you bit the inside of your cheek from the news you were going to have to tell him. When you told him the other dead body was Martin, you could just imagine the pissed off look on his face from how the way things turned out. "Was it Benny?"

"Look, Sammy, I don't play to play devil's advocate, but...he had it coming." You said, finding yourself defending the vampire one last time. You knew it was only making him more angrier at you from the way you were letting all of this slide in a way that a hunter shouldn't. "I'll tell you what happened."

“I know what happened, Y/N.” Sam said, stopping you from coming up with a story that painted Benny to be the good guy he was told to trust. You rolled your eyes as you let out a sigh from how you were being treated by him. Not that you could blame him.

“Okay, you want to listen to me or not?” Dean asked his little brother, Sam responded by hanging up the phone. You shut the phone a second later and placed it down on the seat so it was now sitting between the both of you. You heard Dean let out a scoff as he started to shake his head, mumbling an insult underneath his breath. "Stupid little freaking brat."

"Can you blame him for being angry?" You found yourself asking the older Winchester, suddenly becoming sick and tired of his attitude. Dean took his eyes off the road for a moment to give you a slightly confused look as to why you were giving him grief. "You really shouldn't have sent that text, Dean. It was bad as Martin going after Elizabeth."

"You were all for it when I did it." Dean said, defending himself against your judgement. "And it's nothing like what—"

"Yes, it kind of is. You made Sam scared out of his freaking mind wondering if something awful happened to Amelia. Maybe if you took five seconds to stop judging him you'd realize that he loves her...the way you love me." You said, your voice dropping to a slight whisper. Dean expression changed slightly as he turned his attention back to the road. "If you haven't noticed, Sam's kind of got a cursed love life. But Amelia's different."

"People like us don't get normal lives, Y/N." Dean reminded you. "I think by now the both of you would get that."

“And being friends with monsters isn’t what hunters are supposed to do. But here we are.” You snapped back at him with his stupid ideology he was trying to win the argument with. Dean took his eyes off the road one more time and gave you a look, almost as if he was tempting to ask you what had gotten into you. You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the seat. “Wake me up when we’re in Texas.”

You didn't say anything else to Dean for the rest of the car ride, but you wanted to. You wanted to tell him so many different things from how his friendship with Benny wasn't worth it in the end. Or how he was pushing his little brother way because he was being a stubborn bastard. Most of all you wanted to tell him the reason why your emotions were fluctuating all over the place. But you kept your mouth shut and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

[Next Part]

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#huntertales update #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader #spn #spn imagine #spn fanfic #spn reader insert #spn x read #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #citizen fang #citizen fang: part four

[badlydrawndrawnings]

ASOUE SEASON 3, Part 2

There are some things that I enjoy, some things that bug me, and some of those things that bug me are thing I do enjoy but i have to question regardless. The post grew so long I’m cutting it into two parts, and frankly this covers The PP and The End (part one won’t be linking because idk what Tumblr did with that update with links).. We are in the second half of the season, and boy, do I have a lot of hot opinions! Most of it it’s under the read more to not cog the tags.

Frank, Ernest, and Dewey: I feel so validated my theory of Dewy was talking to the Baudelaires last and pretending to be Frank or Ernest is confirm...here at least! Speaking of them, I think Frank was the first one the Baudelaires talk too, then Ernest talk second. In the first convo, Frank or Ernest was Serious and To the Point, and Frank (confirm in book it’s Frank)) was like that with Violet. In the second convo, Frank or Ernest was Friendly and Emotional with his words, and Ernest (confirm in book it’s Ernest) was being a bit cheeky with Klaus and humorous when lassoing Larry Your Waiter up (RIP). Sorry about your brother you two... but boy the shot Dewy floating in the water looks beautiful. 

I think the show was trying to pull a red herring that Kit was ‘evil’ due her asking Dewy to give Frank her regards because no one knows about the unicorn that is Dewy.

Lack of Sir and Charles/Switching roles/The JS Debate: I learned beforehand Charles’ actor couldn’t make it to filming so they had to rewrite him out. Didn’t expect to get rid of Sir (granted, I hear Sir’s actor is like..expense to get back or something and season one was lucky to get him). Still, nice to see that they were able to get Jerome to fill in his (kinda) canon role and Charles. Also, are Charles and Jerome together? That’s a great step up Jerome! Also, nice to know Babs and Miss Bass are together (man I wonder how the in-laws will react to that). I think what really threw me into the loop is that the Netflix Show made JS, the person behind it all, to be Justice Strauss with others JS helps. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the book had ‘JS’ be anonymous as not even Justice Strauss or Jerome knew who is the real JS since they thought it was meet for them (with theories saying it’s Lemony pretending to his brother and the taxi driver in the PP is him. Thanks Netflix for actually confirming the taxi driver part). Didn’t mind Nero being with Esme. I like that (they didn’t show the report who name I freaking forgot. Guess that says something).

At the Opera Tonight & (Lack Of) Bertrand : Hey, Netflix...Olaf’s parents death was A HIT MURDER by Beatrice, The Snickets (Kit and maybe Lemony if 13 Secrets is valid, who know about Jacques), and most importantly, BERTRAND. The books made it clear both were involved in some way or form. In fact, the lack of Bertrand is so insulting. Lemony may not say talk about him too much, but damn it, Lemony liked and respect Bertrand and never hold a grudge. Lemony in the show is the same, just less because the writers really did put more of an emphasis on Beatrice as the Lost Lenore and true OTP (????). In fact, why did the Opera events paint the noble side of VFD good with the accidental death? It was hit, and everyone was guilty and not free of sin. Here though, they are guilty as hell but free of sin as ‘it was an accident’. Well, since Bertrand wasn’t involve in the events here...the guy is actually innocent and free of sin good job Bertrand you don’t have blood on your hand (this sounds like sarcasm but it’ not). Also. you a handsome man.

Personal Headcanon That I Will Never Let Go Now Due to the Above Nonsense: Olaf’s parents were part of VFD, and were sympathetic to the fire starting side of schism, but overall close to neutral (Olaf didn’t and will never know, and book implies the schism wasn’t bad until after Olaf did his thing to frame Lemony for the crimes), due to their positions of society as aristocracy, a father in a high government related job (thanks Netflix for making Dad the Chief of the Official Fire Department it almost lines up perfectly) and mother as A-List Theater Performer. They managed to get a faster reunion when Olaf is 17 (Lemony, Olaf, and a few others are supposed to be the same age while the other siblings are older by a few years, and 18 seems to be the legal age of becoming an adult in this world). The three were at the opera for their first time reunion, and Beatrice and Bertrand were given the task on getting rid of them, and they thought ‘oh this will be easy’ because Kit was helping to deal with Esme and they succeeds. They were about to celebrate and leave when they hear Olaf and see him running to his dead parents (they have no idea he was there. If Lemony was involve, then they did knew but used Lemony as a distraction to make sure Oalf won’t witness the deed. As to why Olaf as to see the body? Because seeing a body adds extra fuel to people waiting revenge). Olaf is still on the noble side at this point (if barely), and he doesn’t know the truth until later, after somehow losing the family fortune and a switch to the fire starting side. Incompetent banking may or may not be involve. 

Hotel Denouement (Fire): Bit upset the sign isn’t written backwards, but hell, I want to stay there regardless!!! Also, I like how the show kept most of the fates a mystery expect Justice Strauss (how did she get down from the roof). The books implies Mr. Poe will die another night, so ergo in Netflix Show Mr. Poe and oddly enough, Vice Principal Nero of all people, survive as well. Thanks Nero for saving Mr. Poe for his offscreen date in the future. Side topic, but my headcanon in the books is (excluding Mr. Poe as his is given) Esme, Ernest, Hal, Hugo and Colette and Kevin survived. Those that made it out but died due to fire related injures later on (within a day or a week) would be  Frank, Jerome, Charles, Sir, Nero and the Teachers, and Carmelita. Everyone else is 100% dead (guess I got to change my 100% dead Justice Strauss status lol). The choices were pick due to drama (Esme cares for Carmelita and would be 100% heartbroken to see her die after the two made it out. For Frank and Ernest, I figure losing one brother would change their hostile relationship to a reluctant team up to get out of the fire together. Frank, being noble, gets Ernest out first resulting getting injuries and dying later, leaving Ernest all alone. Sir and Charles were still holding hands when they got out, but Sir died first and Charles went next due to a broken heart) or luck (Hal survived one fire already; I want Hugo, Colette, and Kevin to catch a good break). 

I cried when the ending happened that song f*** me up so bad like things could have been different and happy but I’m stuck in misery and woe. 

THE END/VFD AND SCHISM: I HATE THIS EPISODE SO FREAKING MUCH. Well, the Island parts (lol the red herring of Beatrice II being Sunny just by wanting to be call by her last name). They cut characters stuff with Friday (and her mother), the mutiny (that was the best part!!!)...almost all the stuff that made The End good! Also, wtf was with the BS of Ishmael making VFD? Like, I like how he was the Principal, that I can accept. But I got the impression, and it was actually implied, it been around for a long time before Ishmael was even born. He made it sound like a book club for the prestigious good people that are rich and bored. Newsflash Netflix: IT’S NOT.  Kit flat out mentions that the schism started when she was four, and it only got worse when her generation came. In fact, the schism only got worse when Olaf went after Lemony, making it the schism everyone knows today. The way the show paints it...it’s the pettiness form of petty and revenge and actually revenge I would like normally but I hate it in the context. I have more, but I’m be making a post about it...a (crack-ish/shitpost comparison of sorts you will of sorts. All I can say is the the White Face women are younger than they look or lost their family and sister in a fire while in their 20′s or 30′s (Ishmael and the Man with Beard but no Hair and Woman with hair but no Beard and Co -> Lemony and Co aka Schism start at teenage/young adult years -> Baudelaires and Co).

Honestly the good stuff was Sunny thinking of pushing Olaf overboard, and the whole thing leading up to Olaf and Kit’s death I cried so much.

Chapter 14: Okay, I’m a sucker for a happy ending after so much crap happened. Lemony and Beatrice II found family again (if for a short time), Fiona and Fernald got a Pushing Daisies ending when Captain Widdershins shows up (referring to Emerson Cod’s reunion with his daughter), Quigley reuniting with his stock footage siblings + Hector, the Troupe having a happy ending fulling their dream, and IDV maybe making it to the the islanders in time. Do I admit that the whole point of their ‘last appearance’ with the Great Unknown (or IDV just disappearing) is to give a message that you can’t always know what happens and mysteries are still out there (imo). Yes, but again, I’m a sucker for happy endings, so I’m fine either way. Also, in Season One there was a narration of Lemony with a very tiny Self Sustaining ship in the BG. Since we know Lemony is actually narrating from the future...it’s a given the Quagmire and Hector would survive. It’s a blink and you miss, but it’s there. So yeah, while everything else could be chalk up as a fake happy ending imagine by Lemony and/or Beatrice II, the Quagmire Triplets and Hector were given a happy fate from the start! Okay, I guess they still need to come down at some point but...

I would watch the PP episodes, but never the End unless I want to make myself angry.

#netflix asoue #denouement triplets #dewey denouement #beatrice baudelaire #bertrand baudelaire #asoue season 3 #a series of unfortunate events #ASoUE #spoilers #asoue spoilers

[raywritesthings]

Can’t Bear to Lose 3/?

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: The DoctorDonna supposedly thinks of things the Doctor never would. Why not a way to fix the metacrisis? AO3 link

Recently, Donna had been quiet. Lost in her head. The Doctor tried not to let it bother him.

But it did.

What if she was having second thoughts about the repair kit? Eternity was a long time, and while Wilfred and Sylvia were still a phone call or a short trip away, to an immortal like Donna, that would be over in no time at all.

She probably resented him. Maybe she’d been the one to think of the Mire, but she only had because it had been in his head. It was his fault she was this way, there was no way around that. Of course she resented him.

He decided to give her her space, heading under the console for some long-overdue maintenance. He’d only been at it for an hour that particular day, however, when Donna came to find him.

“Spaceman?”

“Yeah?”

“So I was thinking about the other repair kit.”

The Doctor climbed out from under the grating. “Did you decide who you wanted to use it on?”

“Maybe.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, and the Doctor found himself increasingly curious. He hadn’t thought they’d met anyone recently that Donna had gotten that attached to.

“How soon do you have to use it on somebody for it to work? If they’re injured or- or dead, even.”

He blinked. “Um, well, hard to say. I think there’s a bit of a grace period. Probably if I studied the mechanics a little more extensively I could give you a better answer. Why?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking — if it were possible, I mean, that we could, um, go back and- and,” she stammered, twisting her fingers around each other and not quite meeting his eyes.

“Donna, what is it?” He was starting to fear the worst, but surely Donna wasn’t about to suggest reviving a family member that had passed on. She wasn’t irresponsible that way, and she’d have to realize the repercussions on time—

“Jenny,” she suddenly blurted. “I thought we could go back to Messaline and use it on Jenny.”

His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t find his voice.

“Cos we didn’t see her funeral, right? So who’s to say she even had one? It wouldn’t be rewriting the timeline. We just go back after we left.” She took a step towards him. “Would that be okay?”

“Okay?” He echoed numbly.

“I’m not bringing it up just to make things worse.” Donna was watching him nervously, clearly thinking she’d overstepped. “I only mean, if it’s possible, that’s what I want to do.”

The Doctor had a million thoughts and questions, but he only managed a hoarse, “Why?”

“Because Gramps was right,” she said. “Nobody should have to live without their children. And I know I can’t make it all better, but if I can even do this much—”

Of course. “Donna, the chip is for you to use on someone you can’t lose. Not me.”

“You don’t think I miss her, too?” She wasn’t indignant, though she easily could have been. “My family’s both said no, there’s no one else I’m gonna meet—”

“You might—”

“I’m with you, you prawn,” she replied in the same breath. “That’s not changing now or ever. I am happy the way things are. The only person I could see fitting here in our life is Jenny.”

Now that she’d pointed it out, he was having a hard time not agreeing with her. Selfish though it probably was, the Doctor was rather accustomed to how things were with him and Donna both on their travels and the TARDIS, and an unknown interloper was bound to upset that. But Jenny would be different. Jenny with her wide-eyed, unbridled enthusiasm and her limitless capacity to learn.

Donna wasn’t done either. “And the way things happened, doesn’t she deserve another chance at life? Don’t we deserve another chance to get it right?”

His hearts were both doing funny things and he thought it’d probably be better if he were sitting down. But he was frozen where he was.

Jenny. He could have Jenny back. He could have his daughter back. They could be a family, not the same as the one he’d had before but no less important or special or beloved. And losing them would never be an option.

“Doctor.” Donna’s voice was as soft as the hands she laid on his chest. He met her eyes. “Will it work?”

“I think so,” he mumbled. “If we time it right, just after we left. Should still be enough for the chip to work with.”

“And then we have Jenny back.”

“And then we have Jenny back,” he repeated, a wondrous smile stretching over his lips at the words.

Donna was smiling back, so brilliant and beautiful, and he was overcome.

A laugh escaped in a single burst from him, and the Doctor kissed her, arms winding around her waist and pressing them together. He needed desperately to be as close to her as possible. They’d not had a chance to since their trip to Victorian London .

Somehow one or the both of them walked her back against one of the coral struts, and Donna’s hands were in his hair as his lips descended down her neck seeking more and more.

Between each kiss he gasped a, “Thank you,” into her skin.

“Well, don’t thank me yet,” she teased, a little breathless but not enough to stop her talking. “Let’s go and get her.”

He looked up, momentarily stunned by Donna’s hooded eyes until her words finally registered. “Right! Okay, just let me recalibrate the repair kit for Time Lord!” The Doctor raced off down the corridor and made it about halfway to his workroom before he stopped in his tracks.

“Looking for this?” Donna asked when he re-entered the console room at a sheepish trot. She held out the device in question.

“Yes, thanks.”

He took it, kissed her cheek, and left again, though not before catching her smirk as she shook her head at him.

Him, Donna, and Jenny, just like it was supposed to have been. The Doctor could hardly find it in himself to wait.

—-

The TARDIS had barely finished materializing when the Doctor wrenched the doors open. Donna made sure they’d actually parked before hurrying after him.

She didn’t blame him for his impatience; seeing his excitement made her all giddy, and she was eager to see this greatest of injustices finally undone.

“Hello?” Spaceman called.

They’d landed in the room where Jenny’s body had been laid out, only it was empty. A white cloth still rested on the table, but there was neither human nor Hath present, much less a Time Lord.

“Where is everyone?”

“Don’t know. Hello?” He paced to the archway that led out of the room and down into the tunnels. “What- what was the boy’s name?”

“Cline,” said Donna.

“Cline!”

It wasn’t long before the human and his Hath counterpart came running to meet them. “You’re back!”

“Yes, we are.”

“You’re in different clothes,” the boy noticed.

“Right, we changed,” Donna replied, hoping to get them back on topic.

The Hath bubbled something.

“Oi, that better not have been anything rude!”

“Cline, where is Jenny?” The Doctor asked.

“Jenny?” The boy looked at each of them. “Well, er, it’s a bit odd.”

“What do you mean?”

Donna could tell her Spaceman was on edge, but it didn’t sound as though they’d been too late. Rather that something unexpected had gone on in their absence.

“She sort of…” He started, seeming confused more than anything. Cline turned to the Hath, who bubbled again. “Well, yeah, guess I am telling her dad.”

“Cline,” said Donna. “Just try to explain what happened. Doesn’t matter how strange, we’ll believe you.”

“Well, we were preparing the ceremony, only this gold smoke sort of left her mouth and she woke up.”

“What?” They shouted together.

“It was like she’d never been shot. Just completely fine.”

“Hold on, gold smoke?” Donna turned to the Doctor. “Is that regeneration?”

“It can be a side effect of one that’s recently happened,” he told her.

“But she didn’t change?”

“Maybe her being born counted as a regeneration. Hard to say when she’s the only Time Lord like her in existence. One of a kind.” The Doctor wasn’t quite looking at any of them, seeming to need a minute to process his shock. Donna thought he sounded a tiny bit proud nonetheless.

Then he looked up. “Cline, where is she?”

“Er, well that’s the thing. She left.”

Donna’s mouth fell open.

“Left? Left for where? What’s there to leave in?” The Doctor spat each question out one after the other too fast for anyone to hope to answer. “You haven’t even got a proper atmosphere yet!”

Cline gestured vaguely behind him. “We had the settler’s rocket. She took that.”

“Oh, my God,” said Donna. “Well, if there was any doubt left she was your daughter—”

“How long ago did she leave?” The Doctor was already asking. “Do you have some sort of tracking system for the rocket?”

“We didn’t even know we had it till today,” Cline reminded them. “I’d say she left within a half hour.”

“Half an hour,” the Doctor echoed, his hands going up into his hair. He paced away from them.

“How far do you think she could get?” Donna asked.

“Depends on the make of the rocket, the speeds it could reach. But I don’t even know what all they had on board.” He spun back around towards her, and, thick as she knew it was, she really did have to worry about his hair with the way he was nearly ripping it from his head. “What if there was no navigation system? She’s got no idea what’s out there. She could be flying it straight into a asteroid belt!”

“Okay, well, let’s not panic,” said Donna, which seemed useless to her when she wanted nothing more than to panic. “We’ll just have to look. Find the nearest planets or- or asteroids or what have you and see if she’s landed there.”

“That could take ages!”

“Well, good thing I’ve got the rest of my eternal life then!” Donna stepped forward and tugged his hands down. “We’re going to find her, Doctor. No matter how long it takes.”

His harsh breathing gradually calmed as she held his gaze. Then he swallowed and nodded once.

“Where do we start?” Donna asked him.

“We’ll need a map of the surrounding planets in this system. The TARDIS should be able to provide one. Come on!”

The Doctor took her hand and raced right back into the ship. He let her take care of most of the dematerialization process while he started bringing up information on the monitor screen.

“It’s going to be important to get the timing right, too. If we land too early or too late we’ll miss her.”

“How do we know if we’ve got the timing right?”

He looked up at her. “Uh, well, we’re mostly guessing.”

Donna snorted. “Brilliant. Business as usual, then.”

There was one marked difference, though. This time, they weren’t just wandering. They had a goal, something to set their sites on.

And though she hoped it’d be short, their search for Jenny was bound to be quite the adventure.

#doctor x donna #ten x donna #donna noble #tenth doctor #doctor who #the doctor #my writing

[inky-imagines]

Dragongirl’s OC Special

Hey, @dragongirl98765​!

I finally finished your OC special!

I apologise for the delay. I did have it ready(ish) when I came back, but then I read it and decided it needed a rewrite. 

And then I got stuck rewriting another OC special so yours got put on the back-burner and it was just a terrible mess. Again, I’m truly sorry! 

Honestly, I’m still not 100% happy with it, but I thought you shouldn’t be kept waiting because I’m perfectionist.

Enough about me and my inadequacies, here’s your OC special! I hope you enjoy it!

Length Warning: This is easily the longest piece of writing on my blog at 8 pages (3000+ words), so most of it is under the cut.

In addition, I apologise if there’s an increase in grammatical errors in this. 

I always proofread and edit before I post but I’ve never written anything this long before so some may have slipped through the gaps. Please let me know if anything needs changing!

Again, I hope you enjoy!

If he hadn’t been in such a rush, Chrome might’ve noted how different the laboratory looked at night, how the place seemed alive from the magic of the day, lit with the silver moonlight pouring from the windows.

But he was, so the laboratory’s unearthly beauty went ignored in favour kicking down the guard captain’s office door.

“Ezarel!”

The elf leapt in the air with surprise, the once neatly stack paperwork on his desk flying everywhere in disarray.

“What is wrong with you?” Ezarel snarled, hand over his heart. “Can’t you knock?”

Chrome ignored him, slamming his hands on the desk, “I need your help.”

Ezarel’s eyebrows shot up, the looking at Chrome as if he’d grown an extra head. “After that entry? No.”

“It’s important.”

“Enough to break in my door at 11PM?” The elf scoffed and turned away, bending to collect his lost papers.

“Serenity’s birthday tomorrow. I need your help for a party.”

That made him pause.

“What?”

“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” Chrome repeated, a tad impatiently, “I want to throw a party.”

“Wait, wait,” Ezarel dropped the papers, massaging his temples. “She hasn’t said anything about this to me. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Chrome crossed his arms, scowling. “She wasn’t gonna say anything about it, I found out completely by accident.”

“She was pretty against a party when I suggested it but,” His look softens and he drops his gaze, “I thought it’d be a nice surprise for her, y’know? She’s helped us a lot over the last year, I figured it’d a bit dicky not to do something.”

There was a brief pause then Ezarel sighed, no doubt deflated his girlfriend wasn’t going to tell him about her birthday.

“I see. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“So you’ll help?”

Ezarel grumbles, searching through his cabinet drawers for spare paper, “Like I have a choice.”

“Oh wow, you’re actually are a decent boyfriend. I guess I was wrong about you.”

Sniggering at Ezarel’s dirty look, Chrome sat on the edge of his desk, then became serious once more.

“So here’s what I was thinking…”

                                                            -

They managed to plan the party by the end of the night.

Though they didn’t have many supplies thanks to the party’s last-minute nature, Chrome was proud to say the plan they had was manageable.

Then they’d asked around for help.

It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control; suddenly they needed a bigger room for all the self-invited guests, more food to feed them and entertainment in form of a goddamn orchestra (it was a small one but still).

Fortunately, the number of volunteer helping meant the party wasn’t impossible, but it’s scale meant Chrome couldn’t be fussy about any offers of help.

Even if they came from the birthday girl herself.

“Geez, what’s Karuto’s up to?” Serenity grumbled, shifting the food container in her arms, “Why’d he need this much food all of a sudden? We’re not running low or anything.”

Chrome shrugged as best he could with his own load, pottering behind her, “I dunno.”

“It can’t be a festival.” Serenity continued, “We don’t have any of those until August. Besides, they specifically send the familiars out to do some foraging this morning. That suggests this was kinda last minute, otherwise, they would’ve just used previously allocated rations.”

“Huh.”

Serenity cast him a side-eye. “You’re not being conducive to this conversation, Chrome.”

He flushed, glancing away.

Despite being a shadow member and a teen, Chrome didn’t like lying, least of all to Serenity who could read him like a book. The only way to ensure he didn’t tip her off was to keep quiet, but apparently, even that was suspicious.

“What do you want me to say?” He huffed, head still turned as if he was sulking, “That there’s a massive conspiracy going on? We’re just carrying food, Sere.”

He chanced a look at her. She seemed entirely unconvinced, peering at his face with a discerning eye.

“W-what?”

“You know something.”

“Wha-? D-don’t be stupid, “ He scowled, praying his nervousness wasn’t apparent, “You think they’d tell me if they were planning something?"

“Probably not.” She admitted, “But Floppy told me that you joined the familiars on the food hunt.”

“What? Why? That little-!“ Wait. Floppy hadn’t joined the hunt.

He knew what he was going to see before he looked at her, the victorious smirk on her face just affirming he’d fucked up.

Sweat poured down his neck. He’d fallen for the simplest trick in the book and now he was going to pay for it.

Maybe he could simply brush it off?

Nope. The raw curiosity on Serenity’s face told him that she intended to rip the truth out of him whether he wanted her to or not.

He swallowed, “I-“

“Chrome!” Never had he thought he’d be so happy to hear that voice?

“Karuto!” The faun stood just outside the pantry door, scowling furiously.

“It’s about time you show up-“ He stopped, noticing Serenity, “…What’s she doing here?”

“I offered to help Chrome carry the collected food.” She explained, a protective tone replacing her interrogative one. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that a pro- Of course it is!” The faun bellowed before rounding on Chrome, “You think you can just push your work on other people?”

Taking the box from Serenity’s arms, Karuto dumped it on Chrome’s, making the boy sway precariously.

“Hey, that’s too heavy for him!”

“He’s fine,” He dismissed before glaring at Chrome, “You! In the kitchen! NOW.”

Chrome gave Serenity a weak smile, mouthing his thanks before sprinting unsteadily into the kitchen.

She took a few steps forward to follow him.

“Where’d you think you going?” Karuto demanded, stepping in her path.

“You can’t expect Chrome to unpack that all by himself.”

“I can and I do.” He said, “Now scram! You’ve got work to do, don’t you?”

She shook her head, “Not really.”

Karuto scowled, racking his brain for a way to get rid of her quickly. He couldn’t start on the party until she was gone, and he was already running low on time.

“Your boyfriend was looking for you.” He lied, arms crossed.

“Ez?” She frowned, “He said he didn’t have time for me today though…?”

“I’m just repeating I’ve heard. Now shoo! I don't you need buzzing around my workspace.” He flicked his hands at her as if she were an annoying fly.

“Okay, okay!” She relented, taking another step backwards. “But before I go… You’re cooking a big meal, right? What’s the occasion?”

He scowled, clearly debating between telling her or sending on her way.

“A celebration.” He finally said, deciding honesty would get his peace faster, ”For a very special someone. Now get going.”

She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, probably about this special someone, but kept quiet, nodding her thanks before she jogging away.

For a brief moment, Karuto felt a tad worried. No doubt, Ezarel was still hard at work on the party’s decorations. Everything would be ruined if Serenity were to burst in unexpectedly.

Then he shook his head, returning to his kitchen.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ He thought, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

-

Normally, Ezarel was happy to see his girlfriend.

Whenever she visited, she provided a pleasant respite from his mind-numbing work and often brought honey cakes, which was always a plus.

However, when he had an office filled with her last-minute gifts and a helper – Yhkar – who’d insisted on hiding in his closet, he wasn’t so pleased to see her.

“Karuto told you what?” He frowned, praying that the old coot hadn’t just dumped a significant amount of trouble on his shoulders.

“That you needed me for something.” She repeated, distracted by the scraps of wrapping paper on the floor. “What are you doing in here?”

“Just packaging some light-sensitive equipment.” He lied, thankful he’d insisted on transmuting plain wrapping into something more appropriate instead of outright using birthday paper. “Listen, I think the old man was messing with you. I haven’t asked for you at all.”

Which was true. If anything, he’d told everyone to keep her away from his office so he could apply all of the literal magic touches on the decorations and presents easily.

“So, I got tricked?”

“Basically.” He shrugged then froze as the closet door opened slightly.

Yhkar stuck her head out, looking between Serenity and Ezarel nervously.

Shaking his head, Ezarel tried to discreetly motion for her to get back in, but she refused, jerking her head pointedly to the side.

Following the motion, Ezarel saw the source of the brownie’s concern.

When Serenity had first knocked, they’d scrambled to shove all party related items out of sight: under his desk, behind a bookcase, in the cabinets. Somehow, somehow, they’d missed a small stuffed animal on a small end table by the door. Easy to miss when walking in, impossible when walking out.

Normally it wouldn’t be a big thing – at worst Serenity would think it was his – but the ‘Happy Birthday Serenity!’ stitched over the plushie’s heart would most certainly tip her off.

It only took him a second to decide what to do.

“Actually, Serenity,” He said, standing up so suddenly she actually started back. “I do need you for something.”

She pulled a face at him, confused. “But you said-.”

“I just remembered,” He said apologetically, guiding her to his side of the desk while Yhkar crept quietly out of the closet.

“What did you need me for then?” He sat her down, purposely turning the chair’s back to Yhkar, before rummaging through the desk’s drawers.

“I need you,” He grinned when he found what he was looking for, “To help me adjust this.”

In his hand was a stunning bracelet, clearly elvish in design and material. It gleamed in a way the flaunted the rules of physics, the silver almost captivating in its hue.

“Oh wow.” She took it from him, turning the bracelet one way than another, “It’s gorgeous, Ez.”

“I’m glad you think so.” ‘It’s for you after all.’

He didn’t want to let her see the gift before it was time, but even he knew the party was bigger than his ego, though that didn’t stop him from scowling as he fixed it on her wrist.

“It fits me perfectly!”

“Of course it does,” He snorted, crossing his arms while glancing at Yhkar still creeping towards the bear, “You’re the same size as the person I’m giving it to.”

Her face fell a little, eyebrows drawing together as she looked at him. “It’s a gift? For who?”

“Someone.” That made her frown even more, and she glanced away from him.

“A special someone?”

“Not in that way.” A pause, then, “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not,” She said, though her eyes said differently, “I just heard that we’re doing something for a special someone in the guard and thought-“

“It was for them? You’re not wrong, I suppose.”

She glanced away. “Are they special to you?”

Ezarel blinked then grinned, never one to miss a chance to tease someone.

“Of course, “ He purred, “They’re the smartest, kindest, most wonderful person I know.”

With each praise uttered, Serenity’s pout grew fuller and fuller until it was all Ezarel could do refrain from laughing.

“They sound wonderful.” She bit out, still not facing him.

“They are,” He agreed, tilting her face to gently rub his nose against hers, “But you’re still the person I tolerate the most.”

Her face lost its irritated flush, replacing with an embarrassed one.

“…You have a weird way of saying I love you.”

“You’ve been with me for a year now. What else do you expect?”

She giggled, leaning forward, her lips brushing lightly against his in silent invitation. One he would’ve accepted happily had she not pulled away at the last second, a flash of orange catching her eye.

“What the…”

Before he realised it, Serenity had pulled away, leaning around the chair to stare at Yhkar, who was half in the closet, looking like a deer in headlights.

The room was silent.

“H-Hey, Serenity!” The brownie greeted awkwardly, “How long have you been here?”

“…What are you doing?” Yhkar flushed then paled, glancing left and right.

“I-I-I needed to get something on top of the cabinet here!”

“So why are you climbing in? And isn’t this Ezarel’s office?”

The brownie flushed again, “You know I have short legs and-and “ She glanced at Ezarel, begging for help.

“I said she could come in here to grab something earlier,” Ezarel said, gently placing his hands on Serenity’s shoulders. “I’m guessing she thought she could reach the top if she used the inside as a stool.” Yhkar nodded vigorously in agreement, her face regaining some colour.

“But when did she…?”

“Bracelet please.” He interrupted, holding out his hand.

“What? Oh.” She unclipped it, still glancing at Yhkar, and handed it over. “So, Yhkar what did you need?”

“Confidential,” Ezarel spoke for the brownie, gently ushering the shorter girl out. “It’s actually something we need to talk about right now so…”

Letting herself be shepherded to the door, Serenity frowned, “Is related to that special person? Who are they?”

He simply grinned, placing a kiss on her forehead before he shoved her through the door.

-

The last few rays of the sun warmed Serenity’s face as she lying in the gardens, enjoying the warm breeze blowing through her hair.

Or she would be had it not been for the thoughts racing through her head.

It was an open secret, the guard was preparing something for a ‘special someone’. She didn’t mind being left of the loop (okay, maybe a little bit), but other than Chrome this morning – which she’d gathered he wasn’t supposed to do – nobody would let her help with it.

Denied from even her from usual duties, she’d been forced to spend the day with the numerous familiars recuperating from the early morning forage. Of course, they also knew what was going on, and despite her pleas, they kept quiet, insisting she’d find out eventually.

 “It’s ridiculous!” She complained to her companion, “It’s clear they need the help, but they won’t let me? It’s like they don’t trust me enough to do anything…”

She sighed, rolling on her side, “Did I do something? Is this a unique form of punishment? What do you think, Oz?”

Oz – an ostrich-like familiar with a similar temperament to her blue-haired master – squawked, tilting her head at Serenity in what would be a cute fashion if Serenity hadn’t understood exactly what she meant.

“…I realise you’re incapable of empathy, but you could at least try.”

Oz honked in mirth, preening smugly.

“I don’t know how Ez puts up with you,” Serenity sighed, facing the darkening sky again.

Ready to sink into her thoughts, she closed her eyes and-

“Hey, Serenity!”

She jolted up at the unexpected yell, turning to her caller.

“Did I startle you? Sorry!” Alajea laughed, bowing her head apologetically.

“You could do with tempering your voice.” Serenity scolded lightly, “I can hear just fine.”

Pause. “Do you need something?”

“Would you please come with me? I have something to show you.”

“Something?” Already she was getting to her feet, despite every fibre of her wanting to stay in that comfortable spot.

“Yup.” The mermaid grinned at her, grabbing her hand.

Pulled firmly along, Serenity followed the younger girl into the guard, only mildly surprised to see Oz –who’d been surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange – trotting behind them.

Even though she could see a number of people milling around, the guard felt empty, as if a large chunk of it were missing.  

“Did something happen?” She asked, but the mermaid gave no answer, casting a secretive smile in direction and pulling her passenger along harder.

“Here we are!” Alajea cheered, before letting go of Serenity and knocking the door.

After a moment, she nodded turning to Serenity.

“So what did you want to- Hey!” With one smooth motion, Alajea shoved Serenity through the door and she tumbled forward.

Righting herself, she got ready to cuss out Alajea then she looked up and lost her breath.

The room was awash with floating lights, each emitting an enchanting glow that lit the room with a soft yellow light. Familiar faces filled the space, some of which were already picking a most impressive spread on the two tables that spanned the length of the room.

At the front of the room an invisible orchestra was playing, the instruments played by invisible hands, next to it a pile of presents stood.

Hanging from the walls were banners weaved from the most exotic flora she’d ever seen, all reading: Happy Birthday.

“Wha-“

“Happy birthday!” The crowd cheers, flooding her with well wishes and cheers.

She’s overwhelmed, her voice cracking as she spoke, “I don’t know what to say…”

“Thank you would be nice.” Chrome huffed, stepping out from the crowd. Then, more gently “Happy birthday, Sere.”

Serenity laughed, running to envelope the boy in a hug. “Thank you!” She gushed, placing a kiss, which she knew he’d hate, on his forehead. “Thank you all so much.”

“Ugh, don’t get all mushy on me.” The teen snapped, wriggling away at last, “I didn’t do this so you could bring out the waterworks.”

“I’m not crying!”

“You kind of look like you’re going to though.” Alajea teased.

Serenity sccowled, but couldn’t keep up the façade for long as she was all but dragged to the dancefloor, her friends swarming around her.

It wasn’t long before the party was in full swing, people dancing or conversing amongst themselves.

Serenity sat in a corner, taking a few moments to nibble at some food and take in what had been done for her. She almost didn’t notice when Ezarel came to join her, a tad breathless.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He collapsed next to her, stealing some of her food from the plate as he did.

She snatched the plate away from him, giving him a pout. “Where’ve you been?”

“Had something to finish,” He explained, reaching for her plate again, “Enjoying the party?”

Her face lost it’s playfulness, becoming more sombre, “I still can’t believe you guys did this all for me.”

He snorted, reaching around her for another nab at her food. “Surely you didn’t expect us to tiddle our thumbs and do nothing.”

She frowned at him, before dropping the plate in her lap, her shoulders slumped. “But it’s so last mintue. This can’t have been easy...”

“It wasn’t,” Ezarel agreed, “But I’d say you’re worth the trouble.”

A flush rose to her face, and she ducked her head. “Gosh, Ez. You’re almost romantic when you say stuff like that.”

“That was the intention. Now shut up and give me your hand.”

She blinked at him before raising a hand.

Taking it with surprising gentleness, he clipped a bracelet on her wrist; similar to the one she wore before, but far more intricate in design, her name engraved elegantly on the centrepiece.

“There.” Ezarel nodded, satisfied. “The other one looked too plain on you, so I thought I’d change it a bit, hence why I was late. Like it?”

Serenity stared at the bracelet, mesmerized by the craftsmanship.

“You-You do like it, don’t you?” She looked at him and for a second he feared she might cry.

But no, she laughed, setting aside her food to launch herself at her boyfriend. “I love it!”

He stiffened, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around her in turn, and whispering in her ear, “Happy birthday, Serenity.”

#eldarya #eldarya oc special #sweet oracle this was a pain to get done #and im not 100% happy #but im still proud of it #pls let me know if you like it #or if you dont #all feedback is good