#I love silly boom!Shadow ok

[cjau-x-ehf-au]

A fic ramble by mod Observer

 Insert SB playthrough stuff. With the arson ending. But since this is the chaos jester variant you know Obs will make it silly (especially after seeing all the sad fire ending art/writing on tumblr lately...)  Burntrap is down below doing Burntrap things. When Glamrock Freddy is about to set the place on fire, though, you know the chaos jesters aren't going to let their fellow jesterbot perish. Plus Juni, EHF alpha Helpful’s twin, is bonded with the jester gang, so you know the pack isn't gonna be happy, nor is the All-Mother. "ENOUGH!" booms a new voice from above, echoing around everything and louder than the crackling flames. "This needs to end, but not in a way that takes so many lives! Mechanical or no, I can see all your sparks, none of you deserve to have them put out except that undead wretch." 

 A being appears surrounded by pure white light. She has enormous wings spread wide, banded with dark and light, and her form, though humanoid, shows catlike grace as she lands on her feet. The white aura around her shoots throughout the massive building, snuffing all the flames instantly. As she advances on Burntrap, the murderbunny feels pure terror wash over him. This being... this deity can see into his very soul. And he knows there is no escape.

 "Undead wretch, what you have done can never be forgiven. Those who fell to you deserve to be set free, and you... you deserve to go back to the shadows from whence you came." 

Her voice is still echoing around him, the enemy can feel the ones whose lives he ended growing excited; the goddess is going to let them punish him as they see fit. And that's not even factoring in the divine justice he has coming.

He tries to run, but a clawed hand grabs him from behind 

 CJ!Moon: "You tried to get me and my brother killed. Only I'm allowed to pick on him. And thanks to you i had to deal with that *ugh* 90s nightmare (EHF Fresh!Sans) and his murderbeast (Rowan). I may not be one of the ghosts that gets to decide your fate, but I really don't like you. So..." 

 Burntrap gets multiple painful controlled shocks. Ok who gave Moon a taser?

 CJ!Sun gets a turn punishing Burntrap too. He's less physically violent than Moon but being scolded by him is almost as bad as a mom lecture from Helpful. Chica and Roxy are sharing popcorn in the background at the public humiliation of Burntrap, enjoying every second of this. 

 When the daycare bots are done, it's Monty's turn. He's so violent Obs isn't even going to write out what he does to the guy that caused him to try to kill a child. Because of the goddess binding BurnTrap, he's kept conscious this entire time.

 Freddy goes full disappointed dad mode. Though not as physically violent as Monty, Burntrap acts like he's been hit. Disappointed parent mode is surprisingly effective. 

 Roxy is really mad that this psycho caused her girlfriend to get hurt. Naturally when it's her turn she's more violent than Monty. Chica is just enjoying the chaos. After the chaos, Roxy and Chica kiss in front of peepaw afton, which he gets all offended by. The girls also make an obscene gesture toward him. Obs hcs Burntrap as not even having the decency to accept that love comes in many forms. And this time Sun doesn't complain about the obscene gesture like he normally would. 

 DJMM just takes advantage of his massive size to destroy Burntrap a few times and MapBot settles for being annoying. Obs isn't sure what glamrock Bonnie does but he gets a turn destroying Afton too.

Even the chaos jester crew shows up, supporting their fellow clowns. Marx manages to annoy Afton by existing because he screeches a lot. Jevil and Dimentio also kiss in front of the jerk and make an obscene gesture. 

 "How many times do i have to end your game before you get the hint?" growls Dimentio, magic sparking between his fingers. He does the magic box/explosion thing about 20 times in quick succession to hurt the enemy as much as possible, then it's Vanessa's turn.

 "You mind controlled me and manipulated me into going against my own job and harming rather than protecting. You know, like I'm supposed to do." She uses her taser with extreme prejudice as well as martial arts and even uses the weapon her Vanny persona had against the guy who made the Vanny persona in the first place. No Obs is not going to write out the violence. 

 "Ya know," says a familiar obnoxious voice from behind, "Ya really upset my wolf and my alpha by tryin' ta get me killed. Even da rest o' da pack ain't happy with ya." 

 Burntrap screes in absolute horror.

 "Why are YOU here?!" 

 "Because I summoned him" says a child's voice. 

Helpful pads over, unafraid. "My pack is on their way. We both know you tried to force the robots to kill me. And I had to hurt them to stop them, which they did not deserve. I also know how long it takes for mine to break you. Of course he also brought his explosives to physically break you. Dimentio, do you mind trapping this enemy in a box so mine can have his fun?" 

 "Not at all" purrs Dimentio

 Burntrap is caught again and surrounded by explosive furbies. Yes those are canonically Fresh's main weaponry, even outside of EHF. A few dozen rounds of explosions later, it's time for annoying the enemy by existing. Within 5 minutes Burntrap admits he preferred the explosions to hearing Fresh talk. Which only encourages him to annoy the murderbunny with cringe.

When he's done Rowan proceeds to violently remove the murderbunny multiple times with teeth and claws, the goddess's spell preventing Burntrap from staying down for too long to make him suffer for what he did. 

As the rest of the pack appears, they each get a turn using their respective weaponry as many times as desired. Bow, axe, knife, sword, bone attacks, sharp tendrils, blasters, scythe, hammer, battle brush, strings, etc.- all are used multiple times on Burntrap. They eventually stop to permit the alpha to get a turn and what the little shapeshifter does is too brutal to write out here. 

Juni even gets a turn, though she is much less confident than her twin. She still makes use of her claws of course. Once all who want a turn to punish the enemy are finished (Gregory included; he uses the laser he got from fazer blast), they go back to their respective verses, all except the All-Mother.

 "Little spirits, come to me. It is time." 

 The ghost kids that fell to Afton all appear to surround the goddess. "Do as you wish to the one who harmed you, little ones. I shall bind him in the limbo where you are held until you are ready to be set free. I shall remain with you until it is time to send him to the depths." 

 The blinding white obliterates all the corruption within the building, leaving the robots unharmed as the structure is destroyed. The chaos jesters provide housing and charging stations and stuff to the robots until an up to code place is built for them. 

 End scene

Note: the All-Mother character, Helpful the EHF alpha/their twin Juni, and Rowan are all my personal characters and (C) me, Mod Observer. The EHF version of the UTMV is (C) me and Mod Maxils. All other characters (C) their respective creators

#cjau #ficlet #im sick of angst #so i made a good ending #fnaf sb #chaos jester au #oc stuff

[khinesthetic]

I, too, will sell my allegiance, for a single crepe,,,

Managed to suck the funny out of it, but here is one of my favourite scenes from the Sonic Boom fic Dark Boom that I wanted to try drawing like the little fool I am :)

#sonic boom #dark boom #shadow #eggman #doodle #gawd what have I done #WELL things don't make much sense when you take out all the context :'D #just have this thing that got really out of hand 💦 #I love silly boom!Shadow ok #also love having a negative humour stat #sorry this looks like s*t I can't comic OTZ #uhmmmm #go read the fic :))) #myart

[heyitscalypso]

Elain restoring the 8th court &  being the witch

Hello there! I have these thoughts about Elain and I would like to debate them here ;)

Before I start to talk about it, I need to say 2 things:

1- these  thoughts are based on other’s theories (that I will link in the text), so all the credits are their. The thing is, I just obsess with this possibility of plot and I really need to talk about it (before I go crazy).

2- these ideas are already crazy and English is not my first language, so it may be a little confusing. But please, be patient and give it a chance.

Ok, let's start with the theory of restoring the 8th court. This amazing girl (shadow-singing) shows us how Elain’s journey can be about the prison and the 8th court. I will not go into it - because she already said it all- but I think this plot can also be related with the Fourth Object in the Dread Trove.

I mean, I think that Elain’s will go to the prison looking for this object and after facing the obstacles she will be able to get it and free the Faeries of the Dusk court. Also, there is a post of psychee92, where she/he talks about Elain +Nuala+ Cerridwen friendship, and how Elain feels comfortable around them. A lot of people relate this fact with Elriel being an endgame. But I would like to comment that we can be looking at it in the wrong way. What if it is not about azriel, but is about Elain? This friendship and even Elriel relationship can be a clue the Elain is comfortable with shadows, because of her  journey  and the Dusk court! I mean, dusk is the moment of the day when there are more shadows, right?

I also believe that this will be the plot of Acotar 5. But, I think that Sarah will leave the Koschei’s defeat to the last book. 

The next thing that I want to discuss is this particular quote here:

‘’ Not as the voice of the second and final piece of the book filled the room, sang to me.

Life and death and rebirth

Sun and moon and dark 

Rot and bloom and bones 

Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me. ‘’

When I read it for the first time, I got a little confused, because it doesn't match very well with Feyre’s character. What if the book is talking to another person in the castle? This particularly part of the quote (‘’Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn.’’) could be about Elain, and that is why I think that:

During the books, what character is most described as a sweet person ( ‘’ Hello, sweet thing ‘’)? Elain! ( I don't want to say that Feyre or Nesta are not sweet too!). Here’s a quote from Feyre’s POV:

‘’ Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.’’

This part (‘’Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn’’) can also be related to Elain. Why? What character is usually compared with fawn? Elain! There is a quote of  Feyre’s POV again:

‘’I saw the painting on my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death,shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection… that knife”  

this part (‘’Hello, lady of night, princess of decay.’’ ) is the  only part that matches with Feyre (in my opinion). But if we think about it, it can also be a foreshadowing for Elain’s journey. What can princess of decay be about? Decay can be about a court that fell and nobody even remembers it? 

This part  ( “Life and death and rebirth / Sun and moon and dark / Rot and bloom and bones’’) is a really tricky one.  I already read theories that involved all the 3 sisters in this statement, but what if it is talking about one in specific? 

Life and death and rebirth can be relate with Cauldron; sun and moon and dark can be relate with Dusk (when the sun/day meets the moon/ dark); and rot and boom and bones can be relate with spring and garden  (I think that everyone here agrees that this season is really relate with Elain, right?) 

These thoughts led me to the question, how the book can be talking with Elain, if in this part of the story she is a human yet? Or even why the Cauldron loves her so much?

I am not intelligent enough to understand why, but I feel that maybe involves the fact that Elain is so different from her 2 sisters. Like, why she is the only one that has brown eyes (I know that it may be silly, but this makes me wonder) or even her personality. 

Could we have here a backstory? This  backstory shows us that Elain, since her human birth, is linked with Faeries and /or the Cauldron?

My guess is that she is the witch and she will play a very important role in  Koschei’s defeat. 

 I really don't like to talk  about the romantic part of it, because I truly believe that Elain's journey can be discussed without involving men. But I can’t help think that both Azriel and Lucian will have important roles in it. I think the first one will help her in the prison journey - and we will discover more about him-. But I also believe that Lucien will play a very important role in  Koschei’s defeat.

Last and not least, I just hope that Sarah shows us how amazing Elain is and proof that there are different sorts of strengths, and that being an introvert and a kind person doesn't mean being weak or boring. 

 What do you think about these thoughts? Should I go to a therapist after that lol? Please let's discuss it! And remember, we can be respectful when we express our opinion!

#elain archeron #elain #acotar 5 #acotar theories #sjm #azriel #elucian #elriel #acotar

[shadowrosess]

Celebrate New Year headcanons\drabbles

Hello! I wish everyone who reads this first a happy new year!

Since I saw so far no headcanons\drabbles for it. I decide to write some myself with a little help from one of my friends on tumblr. @thedyingmoon She helped me through correcting this. So I want thank you again! 😙❤

Anyways I don't really want to speak more then I hope you guys like it! ^^

Enjoy!

Nero

- You and Nero spent the New Year’s Eve together in your shared apartment with Nico as your guest

- The time you spent with them was so worth it, merely because Nico suggested to play silly games like “Truth or Dare” with you (which turned out to be really funny, since the Artisan asked awkward and very private boyfriend – girlfriend questions that made Nero blush hard).

- You three looked at the clock as the last minute of the year approached. “Three, two, one!” You counted loudly with them and when the clock showed midnight, you heard the loud noises of the fireworks and cheers outside.

- “Happy New Year, babe.” Nero greeted as he pulled you close for a kiss.

- Now, the moment would be perfect if it weren’t for Nico spraying half of the contents of the champagne bottle on the both of you. “Get a room, you two!” She teased with a silly smile on her face.

- Nero would’ve said something rude to her if it weren’t for you turning his face back to yours for another kiss and a sweet greeting of a happy new year.

 

V

- You and V were already outside, welcoming the new year as you looked up at the bright, beautiful, and colorful fireworks in the clear, night sky.

- He’s holding your hand as he, like you, glanced at the sky.

- A slight tug at your jeans brought you back to reality. You realized Shadow was looking at you with her bright, red eyes.

- “Aww, is the big kitty afraid of some fireworks?” Griffon, who just materialized, mocked the feline, to which he was only answered with a hiss.

- And when a loud “bang!” boomed all over the place, the “big kitty” jumped up in the air in fright and took cover behind you.

- “Hey, it’s ok, Shadow” you cooed as you patted the huge, demonic feline. And when she finally calmed down, she started purring as she rubbed against your leg.

- As you were about to watch the fireworks display once more, you felt V’s hands gently turning your face towards him. He was smiling at you when he laid his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

- “Happy new year, my love.” He, then, whispered to you afterwards.

 

Vergil

- Unlike V, though, this man is not fond of this event.

- The loud noises and the fireworks in general were irritating to his ears and they annoy him every year, so he hates them.

- Despite you telling him it’s traditional to launch rockets in the air during this time, he still hates it. And because he was just so stubborn, this devil would never change his mind.

- Still, you tried to convince him to celebrate it with his twin or with his son, just without the fireworks. But, to no avail.

#I thought writing headcanons would be easy.. #But no everything what have to do with writing is HARD! #Vergil x reader #nero x reader #v x reader #v x you #v x y/n #nero x you #vergil x y/n #vergil x you #dmc #dmc vergil #dmc devil may cry #dmc nero #Dmc V #dmc 5 vitale #dmc 5 nico #dmc 5 nero #dmc 5 #dmc 5 v

[sunflowercakemix]

Chuuya Nakahara x fem/Reader

/Part 3

/Part 1

Chuuya P. O. V

The days to come have grown to be full of twist and turns for Chuuya's behavior. Now instead of rushing straight to his apartment after work he would now pass by the bakery where Y/N worked. It felt so easy to talk to her whenever they got a chance to hang out. Of course her treats were another part of the appeal.

He once stopped at the bakery when she wasn't working there and it didn't taste the same.

Sometimes when the stress and worry from the mafia became too much. Chuuya would walk by the bakery where he would see Y/N listing to music as she cleaned before locking up for the night. They way her h/c tresses would sway, her crooked dance moves and the peaceful joy she carried made him stay and watch for a while before he would leave so she wouldn't see him.

The rush he once felt when driving his motorbike was now replaced with a rush when he saw her e/c eyes glimmered when she talked about baking.

,, One day I'm gonna open my own bakery! Just you wait and see!" she would say her voice rich with passion.

She was sunshine in a bottle and he, a mafioso, drawn to it.

Reader P. O. V

Who knew that all it took for me to start liking closing shifts was a short read head man.

I didn't even realise before how much more free time I had to experimente in the kitchen at these shifts. That's why was now using that time making a special treat for Chuuya.

It wasn't rare to hear him gush about wine. So I decided to surprise him.

Decorating a pastry with a strong scent of wine I heared a jingle from the bell signaling a customer.

,, Chuuya?"  seeing him at the door made me smile ,, Just the man I wanted to see!"

,, Eh?!" comes from him

,, You know where to wait I'll be right back!" I yell out as I run back to the kitchen grabbing the plate.

As I walked back I saw him sitting at the table, taking of his hat and ruffling his hair. " Damn boy, that was hot!" I think "Snap out of it Y/N" I yell in my head.

,, Since you said you love wine soo much I made this for you~" I place the pastry in front of him.

,, You made this for me?" he asks.

,, Nooo, it's for Santa. Of course it's for you silly! Now try it I want you tell me if it's good"

He smriks ,, I'd be more surprised if it wasn't"

I raise an eyebrow hoping to distract him from the blush he caused on my face.

He takes a bite. Closing his eyes he licks his lips ,, What did I do to deserve this? This is amazing!"

,, Im really glad you like it!" I respond.

Happly I watch the street through the shop window when Chuuya suddenly speaks up.

,, Hey. Would you like to go somewhere after you lock up?" he shyly asks between bites. A single butterfly flutters in my heart ,, S-sure!".

I look down at myself ,, You just gotta give me time to tidy up. I look like a disaster. "

,, Oh, of course no problem" he swallows another bite. I get up from the table and go to change from my work chlotes. As I opened a door to the staff room I hear footsteps running towards me only to see Chuuya who starts yelling ,, We need to leave NOW!"

,, Huh?!" he grabs my arm and takes me to the back door to the back ally. "This shit again? " I think.

Chuuya crouches behind a trashcan pulling me with him. ,,I saw that Port Mafia rat go this way" echoed near us. Then everything clicked ,,You're with the Port Mafia?!? " I whisper yell.

,, Ssshhh I'll explain everything later. Just please stay here, I don't want them hurting you!"

My jaw drops until I hear a loud bang  wich made Chuuya leave me behind to step in front of the shadow yelling.

Chuuya P. O. V

I step out to see the acid controler in front of me. "Good.." I think. I can beat him this time, I can't let him hurt Y/N.

,, You back for more?!" I say as I activate my ability.

,, I should be the one asking you that!" he shouts sending a wave of acid at me.

I dodge and start attacking him, mindfull of the place where I left Y/N. It seemed like I was about to corner him when I heard shuffling in the back. Worried I turn to look, only for my attention to be snapped back by a loud bang.

I turned to find Y/N beating the living daylights out of the acid controler with a trash can lid.

,, Y/N WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! "I yell.

,, TAKING OUT THE GARBAGE!" she yelled knocking the guy unconscious.

,, And you... "she pantted,,  Owe me answers"

                                  - || -

,, So you're with the Port Mafia?" Y/N asks softly.

There's no point in lying now. ,, Yes. I am"

I hear her swallow and my heart shatters "Crap she's scared" I think.

I finish tying up the acid guy so I can look at her. She's starring at the ceiling.

,, Are you scared?" I ask

,, I don't know... I mean you were with the Mafia when we met and if you wanted you could have killed me way before. But now that I know..... It's just the good I see in you doesn't match with the force I saw you use"

My chest clenches ,, I would never hurt you Y/N and I think you know that" I take a shaky breath ,, I didn't tell cause I know how dangerous this job is. Getting you involved would either scare you away or end up getting you hurt. I'm sorry"

,, See that's the Chuuya I know! The loving and caring one, the one I just saw can't scare me when I know what's on the inside"

,, So you're not gonna run away from me?" my throat shakes

,, Unless you try to kill me!" she smiles weakly. Stepping closer she wraps her arms around me. Her light and warmth getting into my veins making drops of tears in my eyes forcing me to blink them away.

My body clings to her. To her sofftnes and shaking from all the fear. To the familiar scent of her kitchen making me dizzy.

Reader P. O. V

I couldn't say that I wasn't living on needles after learning that Chuuya was in the Port Mafia. But knowing about it made our relationship soo much easier. He opened up to me about more of things I never dared to ask. It made me fonder of him even more than before.

That explains why I agreed to go on a date with him. "I'm felling badass" I thought to myself "I'm going out with a mafioso"

Me and Chuuya met near the city center. And wow he looked handsome in the evening glow.

He saw me and greeted me with a smile. ,,Thank you for agreeing to this"

I wave him off ,,Oh please, the pleasure is all mine!"

I look him in the eyes ,, Really though, thank you for asking me out". The look he gave me made me blush.

,, Shall we go then?" he asked.

,, Yes please!" I answer laughing.

                                  - || -

Laughter escaped my chest as I walk next to Chuuya. After such an evetnfull day I didn't think this could get better.

I stopped laughing when I saw Chuuya give me a deep look. ,, Is everything ok?" I ask concerned.

,, You said you have a fear of heights, right?"

,, Yeah... What of it?" as I said this his eyes light up. ,, Follow me!" he said as he started running.

,, Huh?!" I yell as I run after him trying my best to keep up with his fast pace.

I stop when we reach a tall building. Panting I look around until I hear him from the roof.

,, WHat the...." I breath out

,, COME OVER HERE I REALLY NEED TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING!" he yells. I enter the building to find the closest lift to get to the roof top.

The second I got there Chuuya grabbed my hand ,,Do you trust me?". Now I was scared. He didn't wait for a reply instead a red glow stared appearing around me making me weightless.

,,HOLLY SHIT!" booms from my mouth as I get higher. I close my eyes and tense up, scared out of my mind.

I keep like that until a familiar voice crackls in my ear.

#anime #nakahara chuuya #Chuuya x reader #Bungou stray dogs #Bsd

[kurtty-drabbles]

The Switch (part 6 and final?)

N/A: An opening ending for those two. Kurt has things to deal with his family and Kitty can´t back away from magic.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @tieflingteeth

Meditation is becoming the new normal to Kitty Pryde. Even more so, as the X-men are finally aware of Kitty´s potential at wrapping reality and what this could mean to everyone. In a sense, Kitty ponders if that was how it was meant to be, she bluntly confessing her new ability as she saves her friends once again.

When you defy gravity. You can fly. This was a line Kitty repeats in her head as she meditates. You see, she was never once one to enjoy musicals all that much but as her shadow is the only thing stuck on the floor...this line has merit.

She opens her eyes to linger on her master, Wanda Maximoff, floating and her eyes are closed. For a moment, Kitty has the sense Wanda is galaxies away from her. "I can sense your wandering soul, Wanda" is a line Kitty loves to use.

"You do? Fantastic...wanna go to Shiar see a new weeding?" Wanda states with her eyes crimson and a tiny smile on her pretty face. Kitty responds by only shaking her head. "Very well, if you see one wedding ...you saw it all"

Kitty chuckles at this. Then, her smiles die and her worries come back with a vengeance.

"Ok, I can sense your worries too. Tell me, what´s afflicting your big brain?" Wanda gentle jabs. If Wanda is the poster-child of a typical witch, then Kitty is the poster child of an atypical witch.

"Well, I was just thinking...I told Kurt about my powers and I...don´t think that was the reaction I was hoping for" biting her lips as her eyes fell. Down to the rabbit hole. Only metaphorically speaking.

Wanda hummed softly as she seems to take time to measure her words. "I can´t say how it should have gone...in my humble opinion, that was not bad outcome...no one is asking you to reshape reality at your will" is not clear if this is a joke or not.

Better not ask. Wanda is Scarlet Witch and also the Sorceress Supreme...she saw enough, more than enough.

"Well, yes...I guess...but, Kurt looks so mad, betray at me..." she can´t stop biting her lips. "Shouldn´t he be happy for me?"

"Should he?" Wanda counter-ask now lowering them down. There´s nothing more polite than talk about feelings while still grounded.

"Well, yes?" the dubious tone is stronger than her old petulance. Kitty is no longer a pretentious little girl, no, she´s now a young woman whose magic is the result of a big mistake of a silly little girl.

Wanda remains mute for a minute. That´s never good.

"I mean, I take my magic seriously. I don´t use to harm people...so, I´m not sure why he would be so betrayed at me" Kitty confessed.

Wanda hummed again.

"Is not my role to tell you this...I´m hardly Kurt´s friends, let alone someone that knows him as X-men" is an honest confession. No hatred in her words. Only the truth. "But I know enough about his foster family. The Szardos" Wanda concludes.

Kitty is paying attention. If Scarlet Witch has something to tell...you listen closely.

"Margalia Szardos is, well, let´s say, was...a terrible woman and can´t even be considered a mediocre witch" Wanda commences. "I...know this story thanks to all the whispers and rumors the magic society provides"

Kitty is itching to make a Harry Potter joke right here and now.

"And because, unlike what a certain saga says, we witches can use phones...Agatha loves to be on Instagram" her face recoils. "And she did well on her promise on going to a nudist beach"

Kitty mirrors Wanda´s expression right now. "Me too...I chose to see that Agatha is confident in her body to do that...I took something positive from that...story"

Moving on...

"Anway, the Szardos are the ones who posed as Romani and milk all the harmful stereotype from my people" Wanda´s tone is not hiding her anger and disgust.

"Wanda..."

"And I know that I, myself, is a Romani woman. I know...I know what people say about me and my people. Hell, I even know how some Romani groups fear me..." her eyes look away as her face fell a little.

Kitty takes her hand and speaks. "Look at me, I´m an American, Jewish, Mutant, and Bi woman" her tone is strong as it should be. As is always is. "and now I can do magic, do you know how many jerkasses use this to degrade my heritage? Lots...do you think I let them win? Hell no" flashes a smirk.

"I talked with my family about my new founded powers and while it is new and strange...it doesn´t take my Jewish away" Kitty has a firm look on her face, full of determination and something else.

"I see" Wanda has a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I´m Romani...and I hate how my powers are enough to make some people think the persecution of my people was justified...I fight my battles with and without magic" her tone mirrors Kitty.

Master and pupil have something in common.

"But my point is, the Szardos milk those cliches ...and killed children to boost their magic power," Wanda said that in a clinical and cooly way. Kitty´s mouth opens and closes...She can´t see Kurt being among child killers.

"It was a magic guard, so to speak, not sure if they have a real title, anyway...they captured Margalia and Jimaine...Margalia used to be a lover of Azazel and took one of his offsprings, I think is Kurt"

Kitty´s eyes flare-up. "Kurt is not a demon and never will be"

"I trust your judgment then. Azazel, for his part, seems to think he could have been a great demon" Wanda shakes her head. That´s not the point. "Along with many other crimes, Jimaine used magic to disguise herself as...Amanda"

The name causes dread into Kitty´s being.

"Yes, she dated her own step-brother and manipulated him"

Kitty shakes her head. Remembering an Amanda whose name was often spoken with distaste by Ororo and Logan.

"From what I heard...Amanda and Jimaine often exchange bodies for their own plot...and at the time, she was seeing Kurt"

Kitty wants to throw up.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Dr. Strange indeed is back. Agatha would be proud to know she was right, but at the moment. Dr. Strange is back and is only responding to his wife. Clea is not exactly unhappy nor happy with this revelation.

"You...were dead? I bury you!"

Dr. Strange then shows his hands. "I did this to get higher learning...I learn how to fix my hands and still use magic"

"And the price was your life?"

"temporarily"

Clea has lots to think about and doesn´t want to be near Dr. Strange. Her mind is fuzzy. Is magic worth all that much for him?

____________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt is perched on his window mulling over the facts. Oh, Kurt can be accused of hating introspection, he can´t, however, be accused of not doing it.

Kitty is a magic cat now. What does this mean for them?

Kurt is unsure and he doesn´t like to be so unsure. No one does.

"Knock, knock" a voice gently boomed into his room and golden eyes notice the doe eyes of one Kitty Pryde. "Can we talk?"

Kurt said nothing. Is a silent invitation if Kitty ever needed one.

"You dislike magic and I can see why...but Kurt, my magic won´t change...I´ll never hurt you or anyone else"

"Amanda said the same...how can I know you´re not going to do the same?"

"Because you´re my best friend, Kurt. I rather die than hurt you in any way"

"I´m...confused"

"and I´m here...Kurt, talk with me...please"

"Ok, where do I begin..."

#the switch au #kurt wagner #kitty pryde #kurtty friendship #magic #will this have more? no idea

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 Day 3 - Sculpture

Summary: The cast of Champion have arrived in Kirkwall for filming. Costars Briala and Malcolm decide to explore the city and find some less than impressive statues along the way. At least Malcolm knows how to take pictures.

(That Dragon Age Actor AU, DA2.)

---

There was something about on-location filming that made Briala's heart beat a little faster. Or maybe that was the jet lag?

It was overcast in Kirkwall – it often was. Something about the whole damn place being cursed fucked with the weather patterns. Of course the weather man would never say that, but it was something the locals believed. When Anders sent Elthina to hell, he forever angered the weather gods. Apparently, they were Chantry supporters.

Dumbasses.

“Well, here we are in Kirkwall. It's not raining, this is just the perpetual gloom of the city.”

Briala swirled her phone around to catch the view of the city from where she was standing. Once, they called where she was standing Hightown. It had been pretty much burned down after the mages had broken free of the Gallows, so eventually a lot of set design was going to have to happen. Right then, it just looked like a city.

And she looked like a one-armed punk rocker with a purple mohawk, so she couldn't exactly complain about accuracy.

“No wonder your Shadow Empress' lyricist.”

A voice from above boomed out quietly. Briala didn't aim her phone upward as she broke gaze. By now, she had learned better than to catch Malcolm on camera. He wasn't a big fan of social media to say the least, and she could respect that.

She stuck out her pierced tongue anyway though. “I save my best stuff for the band, you're getting my b grade shit.”

“Well, I'm honored.” Malcolm's Antivan accent probably made all the men weak in the knees, but it was doing nothing for Briala's Ferelden sensibilities. “So, we have time before we have to go where we need.”

They did. She had half expected him to wander off once they had gotten to Kirkwall, but for some reason the giant was sticking by his gremlin. They were definitely getting looks and more than a few whispers from the locals as they walked through the remains of Hightown, picking their way through the bleached rib bones of what had once been the city of chains. It was probably the height difference, given the city's history. Once you saw a pairing like that, there wasn't much else it could be.

Briala shrugged her shoulder as she stowed her phone in her pocket. “Want to check out the Hanged Man? I heard they rebuilt it.”

“Can you handle yourself in-” He stopped. Smart move – she had played in more than a few dive bars since she had started running with Shadow Empress. “No. We'll be there soon enough for shots with Varric anyway.”

Well, boo. Wasn't like she wanted a drink or anything anyway.

Briala fell into step behind Malcolm as they threaded their way through the streets. It certainly didn't feel like they were in Kirkwall, but it wasn't like she knew what it was supposed to be like anyway. Even with the gloom, it just seemed like a regular city. Maybe she had expected abominations or something, or the ghost of Meredith herself to wander the streets at night, still glowing from corrupted lyrium. Kirkwall was supposed to just be... something... and to actually be standing there was kind of a let down.

Ok, maybe she had built it up a little in her mind, but whatever.

“Blooming Rose then?”

“No.”

Briala snickered as she threaded her arm behind her head – the gesture would have been cooler with two, but she didn't exactly have a leg to stand on there. “I was kidding, Malcolm. But since you're shooting me down, how about you make a suggestion?”

“There.”

He had stopped moving, and was pointing a finger towards where the courtyard of the Gallows had once stood. Here, if history served her right, had been where the Hawkes had watched as the Chantry blew sky high on one of Kirkwall's darkest days. Now it was just a plaza, with benches and shit, but there was still the sculptures someone had erected there.

That's when she got the feeling in her gut.

“Yeah... let's go there.”

Together, Briala and Malcolm made their way to the plaza. Here, tourists were gathered with their cameras to take pictures of the statues erected by the city to tell the story of how the Mage Rebellion had gotten its start – you know, besides when Head Enchanter Fiona actually set the whole thing off. Excuse her for being a little sensitive towards elven accomplishments, thank you very much. Still, Anders was important too... though not as much as Fiona was in her mind. Again, see above.

The statues were cast in bronze and stood in battle poses. Each one had a plaque at the base of the podium explaining who they were and why they were so important. The one that represented Meredith was particularly fierce, though Briala half wish they had embedded some LEDs in. The red spotlight was nice, but it would've been better if the damn thing glowed like she had. Still, no doubt it was spooky during Halloween.

“Look, it's you.”

Malcolm was pointing at the second shortest figure in the garden. Briala walked over to it without thinking, stopping at the podium. Cast in bronze and with her sword raised was the likeness of Avery Hawke. Her mouth was open, showing off a pretty impressive fanged grin. That came from the reaver blood, or so the stories said. Her sword should have been glowing too, but apparently bronze wasn't the best medium for that.

They were close to the same height. Maybe the famous hero had a bit more height on her, but everything else was pretty close. If Avery hadn't been wearing her armor, they probably would have had similar builds as well. She had seen plenty of pictures of the woman, but standing next to a sculpture of her was something else altogether.

She brought her phone out without thinking and tossed it to Malcolm. “Can you get our picture?  You just have to hit the button in the middle when you've got it all lined up.”

He caught it – no surprises there – and she got into position. Avery's posture was a little hard, given she had two arms in it. Still, Briala did her best as she mimicked the shot and expression. No doubt with her bright purple mohawk and facial piercings she looked a little silly, but it didn't matter. She was there, that was enough.

Malcolm didn't take long to take the picture. Once he was done, she relaxed and hopped down. At least they hadn't attracted much attention – the tourists were still doing their thing, the locals were giving people the stink eye. All in all, it was a normal day in the former city of chains as people went about their day, no doubt preparing for when traffic was going to be fucked up during filming.

She felt like she should have apologized for that, but it wasn't exactly her fault. She hadn't been the one to decide on on-location filming anyway.

“Thanks, man.” Briala grinned as she inspected the image. “Nice. That one's going on Instagram for sure.”

Honestly, she wasn't sure if he even knew what it was. He was kind of a hipster that way, but she wasn't about to call him out on it. If he wanted to run without social media, that was his choice. Actors were weird like that.

Briala hummed to herself as she fell behind Malcolm – he had said something about a museum to visit. She was working on posting the picture to her social media after doing some mild editing. A few more clicks, and everything was up.

And then she felt the tug on her vest.

There was a tiny hand there, attached to a kid that couldn't have been more than 5. Their little baby horns hadn't even erupted yet – they were just little nubs waiting to become impressive one day if their parent was anything to go by. Either way, they were looking at her with big purple eyes that made her long dead antinatalist heart flutter a little.

“What's up, big guy?”

They let go of her vest and stepped back to a respectful distance. Maybe they were thinking of retreating behind mom's skirt. Said parent had a camera, so they were probably tourists too. What a lovely vacation – come see the city of chains where qunari got their shit rocked by Hawke.

Sounds like the shit her parents would've dragged her to, and that was why they didn't get holiday cards anymore.

“Why aren't you riding on Moses?”

The little one pointed a chubby finger towards Malcolm, his hood still drawn up as he tried to look inconspicuous. The math was floating above Briala's head as she started to put the pieces together. Even she knew she didn't look like Avery just yet, but apparently that didn't matter to the kid. See a tiny gremlin, see a fucking giant human, and presto. You got Hawke.

Well, shit.

Her brain whirred through possible responses as she grinned at them and ruffled their hair. “I gotta stretch my legs, you know. Can't have you outgrowing me before you're 6.”

“I'm 4!” They giggled as she messed with their hair.  “Is there metal in your tongue?”

Briala stuck her tongue out for emphasis. “That's why you don't bite down too hard on your fork when you're eating. The doctor said he could get it out, but I would've had to keep my mouth shut for a couple months and I couldn't even make a day.”

Their eyes went wide as if she had just told them the secret to everlasting life. Mom on the other hand held a chuckle behind her sleeve. Briala mentally sighed in relief at the reaction. For some reason, parents had strange reactions to her tongue piercing.

“Daddy's waiting for us, Adan. Let's leave the nice lady alone.”

The little qunari nodded their big head and turned back to her. “Bye-bye, Hawke!”

They were waving as their mother took their other hand and guided them away. Briala's hand went up without thinking as she also waved goodbye. Then they were gone, and her shoulders slumped in relief. Talk about on the spot acting. Wouldn't Shadow Empress be proud?

“Maybe you should switch to chopsticks.”

Malcolm's deep voice rumbled across the open space as she returned to the fact he was still here. His face was blank, but she knew that tone anywhere. Her smirk gave way to a loud laugh as she fell into step behind him once more.

He had jokes, alright. And that was better than a smart phone any day.

“What, I was working on my feet. Couldn't actually tell the kid I keep fucking beefing it.” The bruises on her ass were proof of that. “Come on, we got museums to look at. First one who finds the best dick pic wins!”

“You're on.”

And then they were off with time still to kill before their next meeting. Briala had a spring in her step as the likes already started to roll in from Instagram, but that was besides the point. Maybe the gloomy city wasn't so bad after all.

She would probably change her mind about that in a few weeks, but hey. Let her live in her delusion a bit longer.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #That Dragon Age Actor AU

[idontworkforsega]

Wow, how many did I scavenged?

And also, I should’ve done this in the first place (silly me)

“Sonic!Boom head canon: Sonic, with Valentines’ Day approaching, asks Sticks if Amy has mentioned anything to her about wanting Sonic to do something for her (and of course she has). Sticks, however, mixes up what Amy has said, and chaos ensues. (What do you think?)” | “Could you do a knuckles-and-sticks headcanon: possibly sticks needs someone to go on a hunt/chase after something whacky, and the others are too grounded to believe her? I’m intrigued as to how sticks will get along with the others ;) thanks!” | “For the prompt meme: #1 with SonAmy, please? And could I please have it in the cyborg Sonic AU I explained to you in message? Thank you <3” | “for a promp, how about the Sonic Boom Picnic? How did Amy convince Sonic(or maybe Sonic was the one to ask but wanted to act cool about it) to go on it? What happened before Orbot ruined it and after?” | “May I request something like Boom!Amy on the spotlight? Or anything that involves Amy taking the attention away. Believe me, we all had that phase where we want a character to be on the center stage. Your fics are awesome btw! :-)” | “Hi! I have a prompt, however it’s a little different than the ones you have been given. Here it goes: Sonic, Knuckles, Tails, and Amy venture to Blaze’s world to help her and Silver with something (you can feel free to be creative in regards to what this something is) It isn’t necessarily a SonAmy prompt, but some hints would be appreciated ;) Have fun with it! 😊” | “Oh, you’re doing a prompt! It’s really hard to choose, but I would ask for sonamy in #4 (amy is the angry one ofc haha) or #5 (sonic is saying that)? I can imagine a situation like those! :D and thanks!” | “Soooo I was wondering, maybe you could write a kinda story about Sonic and Amy being a lil bit older (so amy is not 12 lol, maybe shes 16?) and being secret lovers? I dont mind if they’re actually dating or not, but it would be so cool if they had these "make up sessions” in secret or something. If you can set it up in Modern, please? Thanks!“ | "ok ok hun, sweetie, you… you have to continue that prompt! please!!! you know the one with the new character in Sonic Forces and is evil and Amy Rose and Sonic coming for her BUT SHE IS NOT THERE HE TOOK HER WAY omg I need more of that!!! PLEASE I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING </3” | “What’s your ideal Sonamy hint that could be in Forces? Not like a love confession, something that is actually somewhat feasible to see in a Sonic game. Love your blog!” | “Can you do a boom sonamy prompt? Like sonic realizing he likes amy? And she is kinda like "whaaaats goin on?” just a collection of sonic acting adorable and embarassed around her is good for me :)“ | "I’ve had this idea for a while but imagine a more mature sonamy (& by mature i mean older like in their early adulthood or something xD) , like sonic coming to terms with his feelings for amy and deciding to do something about it perhaps? i trust you fully with this and your amazing capability to write! (You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but i would just loveeeee to see it) You’re the best my pal !” | “Hi! If you aren’t too busy, would you mind writing a modern or classic (your pick) sonamy prompt? So, a new hedgehog arrives, and *somehow* falls madly in love with Amy. And Amy, being the person she is, is flustered, but is still loyal to Sonic. You know. 😅 And during this, Sonic is annoyed and maybe even a biy jelly. Again, please write this whenever you feel like, because I wouldn’t mind, and don’t want to be a burden. Thank you! :)” | “Ok, are you still doing Sonamy prompts? ‘cause if you are, here’s a 'silly’ one: Remember how you said you wanted to do an actual GOOD SonamyShad love triangle? Ok. Now, have you heard 'Satisfied’ from the Hamilton musical? There, see. Eliza is Amy, but if you want to, you can switch Sonic and Shadow for Alexander or Angelica, you can make Shadow the outcast or you can do a platonic/romantic Sonamy where he is the outcast! (not sonadow) IDK, I just love the feels. :’) You’re the best!” | “Hey this is kinda random, but how would Amy react to the custom character asking for love advice or something?” | “Here’s a sad Sonamy AU: Years later, Amy has move on from Sonic and only sees him as a close friend. While he just does his own thing, he ends up falling for her, but nobody knows this and he fakes his way through. He helps Amy and she ends up marrying, He’s sad but still can pull off a smile. She asks him to dance but he despises slow dances, she offers to teach him and he gives up. Some blushy moments later and he accidently confesses his love for her. What’s next is up to you. ;) (Not Boom)” | “Do you know that thing where people say if you ignore a guy they’ll notice you more? Do you think you could do a prompt of someone telling Amy that and she attempts it on Sonic, only to take it too far and have Sonic go in a downward spiral of longing?” | “Hey! I really love your prompts! They make my day! I was thinking…have you seen that boom!sonamy comic where they’re in a cave on a mission and Sonic is expecting Amy to maybe try to flirt with him? Could it be something along those lines? It’s ok if you don’t do this, I’m sure you have plenty other requests too lol I’ve been craving some good sonamy fics and who better to go to than you? ;)” | “If you’re still doing prompts off of pictures I was wondering if you could do one with this? It doesn’t have to follow it exactly, just the idea of Amy going super would be great ^^” (Art Prompt Trade from @mangaanonymous) | “OK so I need you to find some prompt memes that I can pick from for you to write shadamy and sonamy to cuz I got a craving now thanks to you 😃” | “Amy kicked and squirmed, being held perfectly horizontal in the clutches of the giant robot…” <- first sentence of the prompt | “Tryin’ to keep it Canon” | “Can I have some more jealous boom!Sonic please? I like seeing him fuss over Amy, it’s quite adorable xD (btw your Sly Cooper au’s are the best things to happen to me :D)” | “Can you do a boom!sonamy prompt about sonic and amy raising a child? I don’t think you have done this before, have you?” | “Modern Amy: Just tell me! ~ Boom!Amy: I-pfft! I have no idea what you’re even talking about! -shifts in seat-” Does chats like this also counts? | “Could you maybe write a Boom!sonamy prompt where Sonic and Amy are flirting or arguing and knuckles and Tails are getting quite annoyed and so one of them yells "just start dating already” and things get awkward? Thank you!!“ | "Sonic: Tails? What even is Sonamy, anyway?” | “Maybe you could do a prompt of everyone playing a board game that Amy has." 

That’s all I got…

~For now *sneers

Stay awesome Miss Marya <3

---------------------------------------------------------

My dear, you are amazing, thank you!

However, can you please send me these in small turns? I’m afraid it’s too much and I can’t just go through Mayra’s stuff and find all these prompts and come back to this and remember which ones I have found and which I haven’t... I lose my spot.

If any of you wonderful Cuties (What Mayra call her followers) find any of these prompts and check the notes to see that ‘Idontworkforsega’ (Me) hasn’t reblogged them yet, could you please send a link or a way to search the prompt to me? I would be very grateful!

I know there are many prompts out there I haven’t gotten to yet, and your help means the world to me and Cutegirlmayra! But I just need help in sorting these out in smaller submissions or asks instead of all at once. And an easier way to find them would be appreciated!

Thank you for your hard work, you’re amazing, it truly shows we all want Mayra’s handiwork safe and sound somewhere. I’m hard at work right there with you!

#Idontworkforsega #cutegirlmayra #prompts #prompt help #help find prompts #submission

[roger1na]

careful ch1 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert. When you’ve got your material and the goofy band is set to leave, you learn that John Deacon may be the sweetest gentleman to ever grace this planet.

words: 2.5k+

warnings: swearing

author’s note: this is my entry for @bensroger 3k fic challenge! congrats <3. the promptline is bolded at the end. (and just as a little nod to me, the magazine Seven doesn’t exist in real life, at least i don’t think so. i took it from a horrible gossip magazine in finland, Seiska, who’s known for paying celebrities to get into scandals so they can write about it.)

[ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] [ch6] [ch7] [ch8]

chapter one

The venue was filled with people. Screaming girls and guys who wanted to play it cool in their leather jackets and long hair. Every atom in your body was begging you to leave, to not get caught and melded into these people, but you pressed on, earning dirty looks from some hardcore fans. You held on tightly to the camera your magazine, Seven, had lent you for the evening, adrenaline making your hands tremble ever so slightly.

You were almost at the front of the stage, unscrewing the lens cap slowly, painted nails shimmering in the show lights.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight, we really appreciate it darlings,” the booming voice of tonight’s band’s frontman echoed through the concert hall and was met with loud cheering. Freddie Mercury sure could handle a crowd. You peered at him through your camera, lights catching his eyes and shadows strengthening his jawline and snapped a picture.

Queen was worth every bit of praise ever given to them by fans and undeserving of the snobby critique from so called experts in music. And they could really put on a show. It was a real perk of part-time magazine work. Free (but, to be fair, very lousy) tickets to noisy concert halls and backstage passes and enough confidence and status to elbow your way to the front of the crowd.

You’d never seen Queen live before. Of course you knew their music, who didn’t, but their tickets were either costly or the shows were at bad times. Your training schedule didn’t allow too much time for late nights and parties. You only had one day off a week and even that was spent stretching and practicing, making sure your joints didn’t ruin themselves with the amount of ballet you danced. You began wondering if you should’ve come sooner. Everything was mesmerising.

When your favourite song of theirs, Liar, started playing the bassist moved very close to where you were standing. His brown curls bounced as he skillfully played his solo, occasionally bringing his index and middle finger to his lips and licking them to keep them running more smoothly on the strings.

You turned on your camera flash to catch the metallic glint of his bass strings and he saw the light in the corner of his eyes and turned to you, small smile playing on his lips. He locked eyes with you for what seemed like forever before turning back to his instrument, licking his lips slyly. A small blush tingled at your cheeks.

Disappointment washed over you as they finished the final note of their last song, Nevermore. “You’ve been a lovely crowd, London! Thank you very much!” Freddie bowed on the stage, absorbing the cheers of the crowd. Somebody in the crowd was crying. Each member had sweat glistening on their cheeks and they were breathing heavily but still managed to look perfectly put together.

They disappeared backstage and you had to rush to beat the crowd. With your backstage pass you slipped past security, waving your Seven worker ID and made your way quickly to the dressing rooms. Though you had tried you best to beat the groupies and one-time fans, the amount of people yelling and waving autographs and chattering excitedly was almost sickening. It was worse backstage. Your heart jumped to your throat and your chest tightened. “I fucking hate this job,” you mumbled.

You’d spent the day rehearsing as an understudy for the main role in Swan Lake, then you had to rush to the office to grab your camera and audio recorder before taking the tube to a small concert hall in east London. You were tired, anxious and now had to fight for an interview with the band.

A wave of dizziness and nausea cut through you and sent you walking funny, looking like a drunk. You set your hand against the wall to gain your balance, bile rising to your throat. The nausea came in waves, each one stronger than the last, sending you weak at the knees. When was the last time you ate? You skipped lunch to rehearse extra, then didn’t you have that meeting? You drank coffee? Black as usual. And then? It’d been hours. You steadied yourself, breathing slowly.

”It’s going to be ok,” you told yourself. ”Not going to make a fool of myself. Not today.”

And with the balance of a newborn calf you hobbled ahead in the crowd, using your elbows rather rudely to get to the front. Once you were faced with an underpaid security guard, you coughed to get his attention.

”Excuse me, I have a backstage pass, can I get through?”

His face scrunched as if to say I’m-totally-tough-and-qualified but his nervous nod told you he was just a buff college student.

”Thanks,” you say without looking him in the eyes and quickly slipping past.

The dressing room door was adorably adorned with a star with the band name Queen on it, just like in some movie. You supposed the movies must’ve gotten their inspiration somewhere. You knocked determinedly, hearing clamour inside as loud voices fought over who should answer.

”Listen, John, you’re closest to the door, it makes sense!” An annoyed voice ushered someone inside.

”Freddie, you’re the frontman, I don’t want a 16 year-old drooling here again, you can turn them away,” a quieter voice replied.

You had to roll your eyes, before replying. ”Listen, I’m not a drooling teenager. I’m here to interview you, Y/N Y/N/L, from Seven.”

A triumphant laugh was heard before the lock turned. A sheepish bassist gave you a soft smile, hiding mostly under his hair. You returned the smile, before stumbling in, legs still shaky. ”You okay?” He grabbed your arm to steady you.

”Yes,” you nodded. ”It’s just been a long day.” He looked wary to let you stand on your own.

The band in all their glory, looked like silly kids, with their brightly coloured dressing gowns and long hair and little snickers and inside jokes that ran around the room quickly, sometimes only through eye-contact.

”Y/L/N? Don’t think I’ve heard of you before,” Freddie spun around gleefully in his chair.

”Well, I don’t usually write the articles or get credit. I only work part-time, getting the material, then a more popular writer takes the credit so we get more buys of the paper,”

”Scandalous,” Freddie laughed, before gesturing to the grey and slightly dumpy sofa across from him. ”Sit, I want to get this over with while there’s still hours left of the night.”

Slowly, the rest of the band gathered around you. Brian May with his poodle hair and soft laugh, Roger Taylor with his high-pitched singing voice but incredibly scratchy speaking voice and the shy and quiet John Deacon, who was the most attentive, laughing at just the right moments.

You set your little audio recorder on the sofa before beginning. ”So, I had to fight my way through quite the crowd of- John, how’d you put it? Drooling teenagers. How’s that feel?”

The extrovert in you shined as you chatted with the band, each of them giving you half-assed but hilarious answers.

”Oh you know, it’s our scene. This is usual.” Freddie flicked his wrist bashfully.

”I have to battle fangirls when I step outside all the time,” John quipped back and you threw your head back laughing. Queen was making it big, but was yet to hit that sweet goldmine of number one songs. And they were yet to have too much of an international career.

The interview continued well but soon the boys grew tired of talking about themselves and were arguing about meaningless things together. With that you shut your little recorder and took one last photo which showed them deep in discussion before coughing loudly. ”I think that’s it, Queen. I got some good material. Thanks!”

”I’m up for a drink now. Talking so long parched me.” Taylor got up, fluffing his hair slightly. The band hummed in unison, getting up and dusting themselves off.

You flipped through the notes you’d taken to help the final writer get an idea of the scene as the dressing room emptied. John stayed behind, packing his bass carefully into the its case.

“Not the man for partying, are you?” You leaned closer to him on the couch.

“Ha, well not today. It was a long show.”

The voices of the band got further and further away. You stayed sitting for just a little longer, intently watching John in thought. You thought it wasn’t possible to look flattering in bright white lights but clearly he was here to prove you wrong. He glanced at you when he felt eyes on him and you both blushed before turning away.

“Right,” you snapped your notebook shut. “I’ll get going.” You maneuvered yourself off the couch and managed a few steps ahead before the world went black.

It was disorienting to find yourself on the floor with no memory of how you got there. Your ears were ringing and the light stung your eyes. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He was leaning over you, long hair tickling your cheeks, eyes wide with concern.

“Mmwh happened?” You started to mumble, throat dry.

John sighed, relieved before helping you sit up against the couch. “You must’ve blacked out.”

“Lovely,” you said sarcastically, rubbing your head.

“Should I be concerned?” He whispered to you, sitting down awfully close. You felt your heart rate pick up. He smelt like a generic brand of after-shave mixed with something fruity, like a cocktail.

“Not at all,” you slowly rose to a more upright position. “I just haven’t eaten in a while,”

“That’s not very good.” He chuckled. “I’ll be a little concerned, just in case.”

You managed a feeble laugh and looked down at your hands. “I’ll be ok.”

“Yeah, once you’ve gotten home and eaten. You must be so overworked. I can drive you home.”

You set your face in your hands, embarrassed, and sighed. “God, y’know what I told myself today? That I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself. And here I am, not only being a fool but being a bother.”

“You’re no bother. I would’ve had to drive out of here anyway. Now I’ve got company.” He gently pried your hands away from your face.

“You’re too sweet.”

You were both very close, hands on top of each other on the floor. When he looked your way you could feel his short, shallow breaths on your face, as if he was afraid to break the moment. “It’s nothing.” And yet, in those few memorable seconds, it was everything.

“Right then,” he coughed and stood up. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you bit your lip and tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. He helped you stand and you leaned on him for support.

“I feel like a right idiot,” you started.

“Don’t fuss about it.”

Meekly, let him help you into the van, his long fingers wrapping entirely around your wrist. When you were safely strapped in, you looked up at him. He was leaning on the roof of the van and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks. ”Thank you,” you managed to breathe out.

He looked away, red spreading on his face. ”You’re welcome.”

He got into the driver’s seat swiftly, turning the keys in the ignition. The purr of the engine lulled you softly into a trance-like state of only taking notice of the cars passing you by. John kept stealing glances at you. You were so breathtaking. Even when you weren’t talking, he was sure you’d captivate a room with you clever eyes and the left corner of your mouth that twitched upward when you were suppressing a laugh.

“I never asked any questions about you,” he finally spoke up as he turned to you. “I spent all that interview talking about myself and never once wondered about you.”

“Well, that’s good. I wasn’t the one being interviewed.” You shrugged, a bit dazed but still paying attention.

“Can I ask about you now?”

You tried to not let a blush rise on your cheeks as you replied. “Sure.”

“You mentioned you only work part-time at Seven. Why’s that?”

“I’m a dancer student at the Royal Ballet Academy. But it’s costly and celebrity gossip pays surprisingly well.”

It was like talking to an old friend. Conversation flowed easily. He asked about your career and you talked about his music. John felt like he’d been quiet for forever and finally it was all spilling out. The fame he’d taken on after auditioning for fun as a student. The anxiety surrounding meeting fans who screamed his name.

You finally park on the corner of the street you lived on. A line of rusty cars and motorcycles with chipped paint made it very hard to park the van. You let yourself yawn, your mouth opening wide, like a lions. Not only had you been practically starved all day, it’d also been way too long since you slept. John helped you up out of the van.

“Are you tired?” He whispered. The world was so quiet at 1am in a dusty corner of London.

”A bit yeah,” you grinned. ”I think I’ll eat something and then crash. Boom, out like a light.” You stumbled a bit in your step.

He noticed your weak attempts at walking. ”Here,” suddenly he was leaning in front of you, as if trying to give you a piggyback ride. ”Hop on, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

”What?” You flushed.

”You heard me. I think you’re about two steps from collapsing again.”

With an embarrassed huff, you clambered onto his back, your skirt riding up your thighs as he hoisted you up. You buried your face into his hair as he slowly made his way over to the apartment. ”Sorry the parking’s so shitty and you have to drag me like this.” You whispered, very close to his ear.

”Don’t worry,”

”But seriously. Bet you, this isn’t how you saw the night going.”

”No, but this is better. You’re good company.”

”Shush,” you laughed.

At your front door he set you down and let you settle your skirt before turning around. His hair was ruffled and his cheeks flushed but he grinned like an idiot. ”We’re your castle, I suppose,”

You managed a small laugh before a yawn took over. “Tonight’s been great, thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Alright then.” You paused, wanting to stay with him for longer. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. And good luck. With your dancing.”

“Thanks.”

You swallowed hard, and with a small wave you turned around and unlocked your door looking one final time at this strange bassist, with his bouncy curls and soft smile. You paused a bit before calling out.

“John?”

He looked up, eyes glinting in the orange glow of the streetlights. “Yes?”

“Will I see you again?”

He grinned. “I hope so,” he got into his car and rolled down the window. “It’s a small world, after all.”

You laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “Alright then, John Deacon. I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

And with that, he drove off, music playing down the street through his open window. You felt your heart skip as you closed the door to your apartment.

#john deacon #deacy #deaky #john deacon x reader #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #joe mazzello #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #abbys3kfics #im actually rlly proud of this bc #i kind of struggled with how they interacted #but once i got the hang of it i think it’s good #warnings for overuse of the word blush and flush #but to be fair #who wouldn’t flush with john deacon present? #my writing #careful - jd

[randombtsprincessa]

Ambrosia || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Summary: An Ancient Lore is making the rounds in Heaven, Hell and Earth. What happens when it reaches you?

Warning: Violence

The thuds of running footstep echoed throughout the cold night, pants of breaths that misted and fogged around the panicky man’s face, blurred his vision.

He couldn’t afford to slip and fall.

His assailant was silent, dark as a shadow and equally as frightening. The man hadn’t seen him coming but the next moment there was a chokehold on his neck and muttering in his ear, low and smooth voice whispering words…strange words to him.

He didn’t know how he managed to escape, but somehow he did, wiggling his body away from the powerful grip of the shadow man and took off into the night.

He had to admit, he had no direction, no periphery in the rapidly smoking lanes and he had no clue where he’d turned during his now cursed nightly walk.

He was completely, hopelessly lost.

And by some strange newly developed perception of danger, he could tell his attacker was drawing closer.

He was lane diving at random now, slipping in and out as fast as he could, hoping to confuse his pursuer but he was the one having trouble getting his bearings back.

He slowed down a few times, looking around wildly, hoping that in one of the unintelligible black drawn buildings he’d find the way back to his home, warm and comforting, or at least the way to a more secure location than tumbling about in dark alleyways.

There weren’t even any solid crevices or black spots that would conceal him.

He wouldn’t call himself a religious man but he couldn’t help the tiny sliver of breath that huffed out the four word, “Please God, help me,”

As he emerged out of another dark lane, he felt the tell tale signs of his attackers again; the prick of danger, the chill of apprehension and then he was off, pounding straight across the roads to wherever the path took him.

Somewhere along the way, it had started raining, the cold water seeping through the man’s light coat, soaking his skin to the bones and nearly drowning him in the freezing temperature.

No help came from the god he so pitifully asked for help but instead came his befalling.

His feet skidded on the now wet road, ankle twisting the wrong way as he landed on his front, the asphalt searing across his elbow, leaving behind a jagged cut.

The fallen man grunted, gathering his wits before he turned to see if he was still being pursued. Surely whatever was after him had given up after that hell of a chase?

Headlight flew around the road and the man craned his neck to see a black sedan moving gingerly closer. He almost wept in relief, his god had listened.

He was going to be saved.

It was a second too late that he felt it again, the prick, and the click of a shiver up his spine. It was as if the world was slowing down around him. He could hear the drops of water fall around him, minute and singular. He could ever feel his breath go in, travel around his body and be exhaled, the feel of carbon dioxide warm on his upper lip. He was sure if he would focus, he could feel the earth revolve.

The car was still on its way, it was just infinitely slower and the man barely had time to look around before he felt the slender grip around his neck again.

The muttering was back, the sharp sensations of having something snatched from deep within had started again but this time the man just helplessly let it happen.

Was this how it was supposed to happen? Like this…on the road…? He had a family, a woman he wanted to marry. He had a job he had to get to in the morning…

He was supposed to die like this?

But he wasn’t dying…

The pain in his arm dimmed, the world returned to its axis, yet the man felt nothing.

Even as the car he’d been so relieved to see came to a standstill in front of him, bright headlights glaring into his dilated pupils, he didn’t shy away.

The calls of a man; asking is he was ok, if he needed assistance, if he needed a hospital rand through the confines of his brain, nothing registered.

All the man could do was blink.

Angels.

The term was so…varied.

To some, they were bright, benign creatures full of love and affection, always and forever ready to bestow them upon any and everyone.

To others, they were myths, biblical and enigmas created to show that there were guardians out there who saw all, protected all, and took care of all.

To others still, they didn’t exist at all…

It just so happened, that Angels themselves were happy to promote all three ideas; for various reasons.

They were what was the word…? Oh, yes, you could call them a government of sorts.

A government that reigned supreme and was of time immemorial…

It had endured eras and generations and had never once lost its simplicity and complexity.

Its job was protection, looking after its sheep – quite literally so – like subjects, giving love and showing fondness when needed to keep them from going stray but also to instill enough fear of The Way. No one in heaven cared about the Way of course, God created you, God loved everyone.

Angels had to watch the Creation and they were happy for a long time, until came religion, politics, mayhem…and then came betrayal…

Of course, they weren’t called Angels back then…that term was a lot more recent…

Until now, Angels just existed.

The Principality stood in the lush grass with an easy frame of body, but the being’s brows were drawn closer just so, his hand wrapped loosely around the long thin trident that was his symbol of power.

The plane he stood on was just one down from the highest, able to exist physically and yet be unable to achieve by humans. It served as a meeting place for Angels where their business was decided. The third triad used this plane the most, and was quite fond of the cliff from where they directly watched over their charges.

The term “Angel Meeting” was for all intents and purposes, supposed to sound funny. It would be too, if it comprised of men and women in white robes with plastic feather wings strapped to their backs running about with gold painted halos perched on their heads.

No, behind the silly sounding name, the matter was always serious and with no binary differences. Here was where the Principalities and Archangels offered their younger brothers and sisters their work on Earth.

Yes, even Angels had hierarchy, who knew?

Angels had endured throughout millennia, and they would stay on for more to come, at times, it got boring, at times it got exhausting, but as their creator had intended – not that they had ever seen him or her – they found joy in watching God’s lesser creations – human. Or perhaps, it was more of amusement, entertainment.

They all went about their daily life with a suppressed form of superiority. Especially the men, Lord knew what made them think they were so above everything else. The ill of all kinds were the most stressful to watch, leaving most Angels un-wanting to hover near teens with mental problems, asylums, institutions and hospitals.

An Angel given the job to work these areas was considered the most unlucky even if the concept of luck was foreign to Angels. Their auras were tinged with the diseases humanity faced; sometimes even take a few days off to recuperate as they drained their Angelic powers of the taint of bearing Human Maladies.

Today, the meeting would be grim.

The being turned just as the grass rippled again with a gust of wind, watching closely as three similar beams of light burned the immune grass of the Plane, before the pure light started to take shape in humans.

No one out of heaven was willing to keep their 12 feet tall selves exposed with multiple heads of various creatures.

The first one to step out of the blinding white light was Seokjin, big dark eyes inquisitive as he studied the Principality.

The Principality in turn returned the look evenly.

Seokjin, gorgeous Seokjin was never one to come for any old job. He was an Archangel, twin to the Evening Star himself. He had been ignorant of his brother’s mutiny, and yet was left distraught when his other half was cast out by his Eldest, Michael. Unable to stay with the rest of his siblings he had relegated himself to the lower class, happy to keep out of Michael’s way.

If possible, he would stay out of it now, but the angels were desperate. They needed him.

The other beams of light, more colored than the pure golden white took more time to step out.

Out of the gray tinge, stood out Namjoon and in the end, from the purple beam came out the youngest and most recently born, Taehyung.

Both hesitated in front of the more powerful auras that Seokjin and the Principality together exuded.

The Principality swished the trident once in acknowledgement. “Welcome, brothers,” he said, voice booming across the grassland. “I thank you for joining me here so promptly.”

The younger two angels inclined their heads while the older remained impassive, prodding the higher being to get to business straightaway.

“I suppose you know of the attacks on human beings?” the leader asked, steeping his fingers together, trident clutched between his thumbs.

The Angels nodded. Of course they knew; they watched the news too. Sometimes, they had the misfortune of catching a murder happening but they didn’t have jurisdiction to directly intervene unless they were specifically ordered to be Guardians. Even the Guardians didn’t randomly go about protecting people. They were given to special souls, worthy souls.

“Is that what you have called on us for?” Seokjin asked voice curt but the indifference in it was not missed. Seokjin might not have rebelled but the way his father had treated his brother over the meek creatures had stayed with him since forever.

More often than not, he did not see why his father cherished these cattle breeds more than he did his own children.

The Principality could only watch him with sadness. He had once been the most gentle and most benevolent, and the one who had been around since the Throne turned his back on Lucifer.

“Yes, it wouldn’t have been; but it has fallen on our radars and that is a cause of concern.” He said finally.

“What would you have us do?” asked Namjoon. He was a strategist, mainly getting posted to the industrial sections of humanity, office workers and the like.

“What can we do? We cannot just go about and play detective Namjoon.” Seokjin said, eyeing the Principality, almost daring him to say something.

The Principality just shook his head. “Too many have died, brother, we cannot let this slip.” He said, finality ringing in his tone.

“Then send Michael, or Gabriel even Raphael, aren’t they the warriors?” Seokjin asked.

A clap of thunder echoed across the parted sky.

“Careful brother,” Namjoon warned but Seokjin couldn’t be bothered. Not one of his brothers had dared face him for ages, what would change now?

“It has been anointed to you already. Nothing has changed. You will go to Earth, you will contain the situation, you will find the culprit and subject him to Heavenly Justice.” The Principality commanded.

Each glanced at one other before nodding to their oldest as their wings erupted behind their backs to engulf them in Angel Fire again.

Namjoon, black, grey and white wings flapping once was the first to vanish, followed by Taehyung as he drew his feathers closer together.

Seokjin eyed the Principality for a second longer before erupting in a rosy beam as well, sparkles leaving behind.

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #taehyung angst #taehyung #bts #bts v #ambrosia

[wandering-through-wonder-land]

I have a writing prompt! What if... Deceit was a main part of Thomas at first. But then the light sides start to change everything. Deceit angst? >:)

Hoo guuuuurrrrrlllll! Two days and it’s done! I hope you like it! I do, even if it broke my heart at times while writing it. Heh, ;)Not One of Us, (Anymore).Deceit remembered a time when he had been accepted, when he hadn’t been shunnedor hated, when he hadn’t been Deceit. He remembered before he had a physicalform, when his being had merely existed in a void of nothingness, aconsciousness without a body, without a care but to do his job. He couldremember what it had been like back then, not breathing, not moving, not speaking,just thinking, just existing. He hadobserved Thomas’s life, birth and onward, without ever living a life of hisown. He watched, and he advised. He watched as the boy grew, as he learned, ashe bonded with others, as he was hurt, and as he healed. Through it all he wasthere to whisper words of encouragement, a voice disembodied in the darkness,echoing out into the nothingness, a gentle comfort. Back then he had beenReassurance, not Deceit.

His existence never changed, and there he stayed, within thedarkness, watching, comforting, observing, calming. The day Thomas broke hisarm he whispered that it would heal. When the boy accidentally broke hismother’s vase, he had shushed him with reminders of his mother’s love andpromises of her forgiveness. When the family pet had to be put down due to age,he reminded the child that there was nothing he could have done. Thomas didn’tunderstand a school assignment and he assured him that he had plenty of time tolearn. This was his job, and this was all he did: Reassure the child of whatwas true when he became distraught.

Then one day he couldn’t do that, and it broke somethingdeep inside of him, he wanted so badly to reassure the child that everythingwould be fine when his grandfather fell ill…. but he couldn’t. It wasn’t true.So he lied. He told the boy that it would be alright, he told him that hisgrandfather would heal, that the old man would come home once again, that hewould hear deep laughter ringing through the halls once again. He promised thathe wouldn’t die. He swore that Thomas had no reason to worry. And then hisgrandfather had died. And he had known all along that he was lying to thechild.

He had thought little of it, the minor guilt he felt fordeceiving the now distraught child giving way to the knowledge that Thomas hadnot been inconsolable with grief the last few months. Now he did his proper jobagain, reminding him of his grandfather’s love, reassuring him that his belovedelder was no longer in pain, that he would see him again one day. And in time,Thomas stopped crying. That should have been the end of it, things should havegone back to normal. But they didn’t.

The consequences of the boy having lied to himself formonths became clear all too quickly. He started to think to himself that maybe,when he broke the lamp, he could say that he tripped rather than saying that hewas playing around. He thought that maybe he could say he lost his book ratherthan admitting that he just didn’t want to read it. When he was upset he saidhe was fine. He didn’t do his chores and he said he forgot. He, as manychildren do, learned that lying could ease his path just a bit, get him out oftrouble and hide things he didn’t want to be known…. He had learned thatsometimes lies hurt far less than the truth. And through it all, Reassurancetold him that it would be alright. That things would be fine, that he would beforgiven if he got caught and that there was no need to be afraid if he didn’t.Oh, how he had never meant for his reassurances to turn into this….

The force of Thomas learning to lie, of needing morereassurances because of it, warped the void around him. He hadn’t expected it,and he almost failed to reassure himself that everything was ok. Thenothingness changed from and inky black to an ashy grey, seeming to move aroundhim, shapes like shadows peeking through the darkness, until they solidified. Abox of dark grey, the top and bottom of which were black, a bed draped inyellow sheets and black blankets, a dresser and wardrobe of glossy black, and adoor a deep brown framed in yellow.

He seemed to hover at the center of it all, his beingshifting and changing as he took it all in. He felt lighter than he ever had,yet impossibly heavier, it took him a moment to realize this was because he hadnever had a body with which to experience either of these sensations. The roomsoftly stopped shifting as he was set down, everything around him solidifying. 

A sudden softness startled him, and he looked down. Two barefeet were resting in a black rug so soft you could almost sink into it anddisappear. ‘Was that where it had comefrom? That strange sensation?’ He could see those feet leading into legs thatdisappeared in soft back pants, where the pants ended he could see the faintoutline of hips. Above that was a gentle curve that lead up into a firmer section…astomach, and a chest…these too were encased in fabric, a deep charcoal grey.Two pale arms hung loosely at either side, soft grey encircling them as well. Hestared, trying to comprehend what was happening.

A sudden sensation flared in the center of his being -pain,he distantly realized – and something higher up unhinged -his jaw he dimly notedlater on- a gasping sound echoing in newly formed ears as coldness raced down intohis being and into the now expanding chest he was staring at. ‘This… this was his body. And that was…. hewas breathing. How? And why?’

He knew, of course, that there were pieces of Thomas’spersonality that had physical forms: Morality, Logic, Creativity. But he alsoknew there were far more pieces that did not: Calm, Self-Preservation,Fight-or-Flight…. him. So why did he have a physical form now? The other threewere an integral part of Thomas’s personality, making up the majority of hisvery being, his every action and who he was. Having a physical form betterenabled them to interact with each other and do their jobs… ‘Oh. Was that it? Was he here now because Thomas needed him more?’

That was not…. ideal. That his host should be in so muchdistress as to need him in a physical form, but he would do his job as best hecould. There was no use worrying over it now. He faced the door and paused amoment, deciding to take a day and learn how to navigate this body, how to useit properly, and to familiarize himself with his surroundings, before he wentthrough that opening. He figured out how to walk and run, how to twist and turnhis body, how to move his limbs, and how far he could move before it hurt. Heopened his mouth and learned how to speak, only biting his tongue a few timesat the unfamiliar sensation. As he lay down that night, he looked to theceiling and saw little white dots scattered along its expanse, glowing. ‘Stars’. He realized. He smiled softly ashe counted them, remembering what Thomas’s grandfather had always told theyoung boy before he passed:

“Look to the stars,Dear Boy. When all seems lost, look to the stars and find your way.” 

***

The next day he descended the stairs, more than a littleworried, but reminding himself that he was meant to be here, that he wouldbelong here. That he would not have been given physical form if that were nottrue. So he bolstered his own spirits and walked onward, pausing at the bottomof the stairs to take in his surroundings. The commons were a simple andspacious area, giving off a feeling of home. It had been his intention tosurvey his entire surroundings, but his focus was broken as his eyes rested onone of the couches, at its center sat another man. His attention was completelytaken by studying the other, their surroundings forgotten. The man was clad indark blue with a tie cinched around his neck, thick framed glasses framing deepbrown eyes. He seemed calm, if his measured movements as he turned the pages ofhis book and the general stillness were any indication.

 After a few momentsthose eyes flicked up to him, a page pausing halfway through a turn, a clinicalgaze sweeping over him once, analyzing. He put the book down, quiet and calm.“Ah, I see you’ve come down. We did notice your door last night, but I can’tsay we were expecting you so soon. No matter.” He stood, stepping a bit closerbut not within arm’s reach, a shift of attention, nothing more. “I am Logic,though you may call me Logan.”

The new trait opened his mouth to speak, but another voicecut him off. “Lo! Did he come down?!” A bouncy man with a happy grin on hisface bounded out of the kitchen, grey cardigan swinging on his shoulders, thebright blue of his shirt nearly as peppy as he himself was, glasses identicalto Logan’s framing sparkling eyes. The fatherly trait bounded over to him likean excited puppy, stopping just short of hugging him. “Heya Kiddo! Welcomedown, ‘m so glad you came out!” A deliberate clearing of a throat drew thehappy man’s attention to the Logical trait who raised a brow. The energetic mangiggled, rocking back on his heels. “Oh! How silly of me! I’m Morality, thoughmy name’s Patton! Everyone just calls me Dad though!

”A mumbled comment of ‘no we don’t’ from Logan was drownedout by a booming voice sounding from the man who just walked in the door. “Ofcourse we do Padre!” His eyes tracked to the newcomer, taking note of shouldersslightly broader than the other two, the clothing of white with a red sash, andthe self-assured smile on a tan face. The dramatic man shifted his gaze to thenew comer and grinned wider, bowing and taking his hand to press a kiss to itwith a flourish. “Ah! How lovely of you to join us! I am Prince Roman, theembodiment of Creativity!” The newest side blushed a little, finding himselfflustered. Of all the things he’d learned how to do in the last day, respondingto dramatics wasn’t one of them.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, enough with your theatricsRoman. Now then,” His eyes settled back on the darkly clothed side, “would youtell us your name and what your role is?”

The youngest side met his gaze and spoke clearly, a smallsmile on his lips. “I am Reassurance, and my name is Veritas.” The stoic onenodded thoughtfully. “Latin for ‘truth’. Fitting, for your role. Welcome.”

Patton grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to sit down onthe couch, the other two following suit, and Veritas allowed himself a smallsmile as the emotional man rambled to him about their home and their selves,asking him random questions about himself, the other two interjecting sometimes.He grinned to himself and answered the questions as honestly as he could. ‘Yeah’ he thought, ‘I could get used to this, to having a family.’

***

Weeks passed, and Veritas got along well with the othersides, debating different points of interest with Logan and baking with Patton,listening to the man’s silly stories and horrible puns. Heck, he’d even gone ona quest with Roman, though those weren’t really his forte he’d come to findout. He did his job happily, telling Roman that his art was beautiful and hisideas would be amazing, telling Patton that his cooking was delicious and thatit was going to be a good day, relating to Logan that he was intelligent andwould go on to do great things with what he learned. He was happy, and itseemed he made the others happy too. He was content. He should have known itwouldn’t last.In a short time his reassurances became hollow. It wasn’t his doing, but it wasinevitable that the words he was saying would become lies to those who heardthem. He didn’t mean to lie, but how could he truthfully tell Morality it wouldbe alright when the moral trait didn’t believe it? How could he tell Creativitythat his creations were wonderful when all he sees were the flaws? How could hetell Logic he was cared for when the calculating man couldn’t fathom beingworth care? Soon all he could tell to his fellow sides was lies. Thomas was not much better. The boy had begun to doubthimself, things going wrong in his life, and all Reassurance could do was tellhim it would be alright. That everything would work out. That he would be happyagain, he would be cared for, he would heal. But Thomas didn’t believe hiswords, so these too became lies.

He hated it. He hated how acrid the words felt in his mouth,the bitter taste they left behind. But it was his job to reassure the others,and most importantly Thomas, so he did, swallowing past the sick feeling itgave him and saying the words with as much calm and compassion as he could.

He continued his job for weeks, months even, feeling sickerand sicker in the pit of his stomach with each passing day. He kept reassuringthem, all of them and Thomas, day in and day out, lie after lie after lie, andthe sick feeling grew. Grew until it threatened to crawl out his throat andspew out like venom. He fought against it, reassuring himself that he was doinghis job, that he was helping the others. That they were more important than hiscomfort. He told himself it was fine, that everything would be well…. until theday it wasn’t.

Thomas was hurting, Patton on the verge of crying whileLogic laid out the facts to him. A child Thomas had hoped to be friends withhad started hurting him, and as much as it hurt Morality to turn away from afriend, Logic made it clear this wouldn’t be good for Thomas if they stayed.The confusion their disagreement caused was making Thomas upset, so Veritasopened his mouth to reassure him.

He had meant to say, ‘If you tell them you don’t want to befriends, you will still find other friends.’, but what had come out of hismouth had been “Tell them you hate them.”

His own eyes had widened in horror as Morality gasped andLogic gaped at him, and Thomas…. did as he was told. Thomas had gotten introuble, badly, and the others had blamed him. Roman had lashed out at him,yelling that this was “Your fault! If you can’t do your job, you shouldn’t beReassurance!”

It had stung, badly, even if the creative trait was right.He had sunk out to his room, a pain flaring to life on the side of his neck. Ithurt so damn bad! As soon as he was safe in his own room he tore his shirt off,rubbing at the spot and craning his neck so he could see it in the mirror. 

A green circle the size of his thumb print rested at thebase of his neck, where the top of his shoulder became his back, itchy andforeign. ‘A scale.’ He didn’tunderstand it, he didn’t know why it was there, but he ignored it. There wouldbe time to figure that out later. Except later didn’t come, there was no time to figure out the little green markhe made sure to cover with a little cloak he’d found in his wardrobe, becauseThomas was having a rough patch. Everything that could go wrong was goingwrong, and the sides were suffering for it. And Veritas tried to soothe it all.

Roman couldn’t create anything decent and was falling apartat the seams because of it.

               “It’s horrible!” - “No, it’s not, it’sbeautiful.”  

             “My ideas are wretched!” – “Theyare wonderful.” 

              “I can’t do anything right!” –“You are brilliant, Roman.”  

             “I’ll never be a great artist!” –“You already are.” 

              “I’m a failure to Thomas!” – “Youcould never be a failure to him.”

Morality began toquestion if he was good enough, if life would be ok.   

            “We don’t have friends wholisten.” – “We have two who love us very much, they simply can’t help.” 

              “I can’t make a good dinner.” –“Your food is delicious Patton.” 

              “Everything is gloomy and it’snot getting better.” – “You make it better already Patt.” 

              “Thomas will never be happyagain.” – “Yes, he will Patt, one day, soon.” 

              “I’m a burden to Thomas and theothers.” – “You’re important to him and to us.”

Logan couldn’t learn,couldn’t absorb any more information, and he panicked, reasoning skillssuffering.

              “We’ll never amount to anythingif I can’t learn!” – “You have plenty of time to learn, this is temporary.”

              “I’m an idiot!” – “You are intelligentand diligent, Logan.” 

              “What if he never learns again?”– “He will.”               “He’ll never learn all he needsto!” – “Of course he will.” 

              “Should he go into math orscience? Arts? It’s hopeless!” – “He will follow his own path, and he will behappy, Logan.”

This continued, the odd pain the child was in not ceasingfor a long time, and with everything he said, every truth the others believedto be a lie Veritas grew sicker, until he found one day he could tell nothingbut a lie, that nothing but a twisted version of his words would come out ofhis mouth. 

Logan was having a break down, actually crying for once, hisvoice shaky with harsh breaths and clogged with tears. “He-He’s failingschool!” Thomas had gotten into trouble for having a D in math. “He won’t pass…I’m an idiot! A damn failure!”‘

No, you’re not, andhe won’t fail. You are not to blame.’ Those were the words he had tried tosay, but the sickness in his stomach reared its head, forcing its way up histhroat. “Yes, you are. He will fail, and it will be your fault.”

Logan had stopped crying, freezing in shock at the words,staring at him wide eyed as they sunk in, then he began to sob. Veritas triedto open his mouth, a fever like cold settling over his body, horror andsickness twisting in his gut. He tried to take it back, to explain, but the harshvoice of Morality cut him off before he could begin. “Veritas! How could you?!” The father figure had turned to Logan,rubbing his back and trying to console him, eyes locked on Veritas’s. “Itdoesn’t matter if it’s true or not -which it’s not!- You don’t get tosay such cruel things!”

Veritas had flinched back, a searing pain on the base of hisneck. He’d meant to open his mouth and apologize, he wanted to say he wassorry, desperately wanted to make it right. “I’m not sorry.” Was what came out. 

His eyes widened and tears started to brim in his eyes asLogan cried harder. He sunk out and fled to his room, the burning on his neckintensifying. He scrabbled to get his shirt off, checking his neck in themirror, dreading what he would see. Sure enough, settled right next to thefirst, was a second scale. It was larger than the other, nearly double the sizeand at least doubly as painful, a slightly darker shade of green. He stared atit, numbness spreading through his chest, and he cried.

***

It didn’t stop. Every time he went to reassure Thomas or theothers, a lie spilled from his lips, the very opposite of what he wanted to saytumbling out into the air between them. He watched his once calming words thathad brought such happiness and peace turn to acid, burning and scaring those hewished to help. And he couldn’t stop it. He had tried once to lie on purpose,hoping against hope that his words would twist into the opposite again, statingthe truth. Instead they had come out cruel, dripping more venom than he couldhave ever thought possible. That scale had been the size of a ping pong ball onthe side of his neck. He continued to do his job, trying to, pleading with themto understand that he wasn’t saying what he meant, eyes wide and tonedesperate… but they never understood, and every time he lied they lashed out,words nearly as venomous flying back in his face.

Every barb and every jab at him, every time they blamed himfor something going wrong, every time they spit venomous words at him, anotherscale grew on his skin…eventually it corrupted his eye, turning it yellow witha slit pupil. He covered his mirror, not wanting to see it anymore.

***

It was Roman whofinally snapped one day, they all did, but he was the worst. Children are almostnever reasonable, and it only takes one imagined slight for rivalries and crueltyto break out in their midst. This was a lesson Thomas was learning as he waswrongfully blamed for something by another child, this child having now decidedthat Thomas was their mortal enemy. Meaning the child had decided to makeThomas’s life a living hell every chance they got.

Morality had whisperedto the child that it would be alright, that he could smooth things over, thatthey could be friends even! Logic, while he had not taken such an optimisticapproach, had informed Thomas that this child who was bullying him had no legitimatereason to be angry with him, that explaining this should resolve the issue. Creativityhad decided the best way to go about this was a gift, bright and colorful andfilled with an apology and a wish to be friends. Veritas had whispered that hewould be forgiven, and all would be well.

The three had pouredthemselves into the plan, executing it nearly flawlessly��. almost. The one flawthey hadn’t counted on was it not working. The gift had been thrown to theground, crushed under a child’s heel, and Thomas had not only been laughed at,but also hit. The others reeled, having not planned for this, and in the chaos,Veritas opened his mouth. ‘You’re alright. Just get up and walk away, don’t sayanything. You’ll be ok.’ These words were all he wanted to say, hisgreatest wish at that moment, but fate hated him and his words, once again,twisted out of his control. “He hurt you. Yell at him.”

And Thomas, in his pain and heightened emotional state, haddone that and more. He had attacked the other child, pushing him down andhitting him. He had gotten in trouble, suspended, both children having receivedbruises and cuts. Veritas watched it all unfold with horror. He decided thenthat he wouldn’t speak again, that he would be a comforting presence, a silentone. But he decided this too late. When it was all done, and Thomas was homethat night, punishment over, in bed, Veritas was summoned to the commons where theother three waited for him. Patton sat on the couch, staring solemnly at theground, Logic stood at his side with a clenched jaw, and Roman stood by thewindow, arms folded behind his back, teeth gritted.

Logic had informed him that he was “More hindrance thanhelp and your presence at the current time is detrimental to Thomas’sdevelopment.” In a clipped and formal tone. “Though it is unlikely deceptionwill ever be a trait of any benefit to him.” 

Morality had said he was disappointed in a sad tone. “I’mnot proud of you Kiddo, this isn’t how we should behave.” He had frowned,perhaps the most serious tone anyone had ever heard from him coming out of hismouth. “I think it’d be best if you backed off for a while, until Thomasmatures enough to handle you.” The, ‘and that’ll be never’ was left unsaid.

Veritas had flushed, tears welling up in his eyes as hetried to bite them back. ‘I didn’t meanto hurt you, I was only trying to help! You’re all wonderful and capable, and Thomaswill live a happy life with you.’ He should have known better by now, buthis mouth opened of its own accord. “I’m not sorry, I intended to hurt you. Youare all foolish invalids and Thomas’s life will be wretched with you.”

It was Creativity who lost his composure, face flushed redfrom anger and voice booming in fury. “HOWDARE YOU?! You come here, into ourhome and we welcome you, call you family, and you BETRAY US?!” He’d scoffed then, eventhat sounded angry. “’Reassurance’,that was just a lie! You come hereunder false name to injure us and defileour home!” The angry man had stepped closer then, the other two remainingquiet, one pair of eyes fixed coldly on them, the other sadly on the floor.“Even your name is a lie! ‘Veritas’,‘truth’,HA! Your name is Deceit, you foul creature, and your nature is known!” A step closer, fists balled angrily at hissides. “LEAVE HERE AND DO NOT REUTRN, YOU WRETCHED SERPENT!”

Veritas had pressed his eyes closed in an effort to hold inhis tears, sinking out and fleeing the only home he had ever known, for howeverbrief a time. Over his shoulder he called a single phrase. “I’m notsorry.” Even now he couldn’t tell the truth.

They had poisoned him with their lies and self-doubt.Scarred him with their cruel words. Mangled his speech with their disbelief.And now…. now they were throwing him away.

***

Years later, after having come out of hiding, Deceitwatched, expression closed off, as the others spoke their minds, turning Thomasagainst him. It seemed the Prince would be the one to deliver the final blow,“Come on Thomas! Surely you see it?! He is evil!” he gestures sharply towardDeceit’s face, toward his scar. “It’s as plain as the scales on his face!”

Deceit couldn’t bear to watch and pretend he didn’t careanymore. His eyes slid from Roman’s, moving down as he turned his head, hidinghis shame and his scar from view. He grit his teeth, lips pulling back insilent agony, and squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks as hefled. He sank out, popping up in the commons, doubting very much that any ofthe others had noticed his tears or would have bothered to care if they had. Heran up the stairs, barely avoiding tripping with his tear blurred vision, andflung himself into his own room. He stopped in the center of it, not botheringto turn the light on. ‘I had only triedto help. That’s all I had ever wanted!’ he collapsed onto the floor, cryingand sobbing for hours. When he had no more tears left to cry he looked up, helooked up and counted the stars. And if he reassured himself that one day, oneday, he would be part of their family…well, that was just another lie.Fin~Whoooo Boy! That was a ride!

Big thank you to @fangirltothefullest for this phenomenal gif/drawing/animation that inspired not only the ending of this fic, but also the name! Seriously! Go look at it!

Thank you to @neonwaffleninja for the prompt! 

Thank you @anxiousangelvirgil for helping me puzzle out a tricky scene!

[runephoenix6769]

Willow Schnee theory

Ok, this is something that I havent seen discussed much, if at all and I really think it needs to be addressed. 

Willow Schnee. 

We now know, due to the very cute Freezerburn heart to heart..  that she is a heart broken shell of a woman, who has, like her children, suffered at the hands of Jacques.  Alcohol became her refuge and her daughters have suffered for it. 

But lets dial that all back for a sec. 

In ‘Lessons Learned’ , Winter tells Weiss, 

“We Schnee’s are unique. Unlike many, our Semblance is hereditary.”

( It has been suggested by some members of the FNDM that due to Whitley’s slightly jealous over tones towards Weiss and hatred of Winter... Plus his view’s of Huntsman as barbarians. that maybe he doesn't have this ability. Leading some people to suggest that maybe the semblance only passes down the female line...... The jury is out on this.. Guess we’ll have to wait for RT to confirm.. Any way, I digress)

So if the Semblance is hereditary that means that Willow has this ability too, making her story all the more upsetting. 

No doubt she learned how to use it, and no doubt she was rather skilled, Im thinking she taught her eldest daughter before the confirmation of Jacques motivations crushed her... 

This revelation knocked the fight right out of her.

Why didn't she rage? Why didn't she fight? Why didn't she get angry? 

We’ve met the Schnee women and jesus fxxing christ when they set their mind to something they are formidable. The Schnee women have an unbridled temper  under a very frosty veneer.  

Why didn't she stand for her children and tell Jacques to knock it the fuck off?

She’s had training, shes got a kick ass semblance. She could just swat him to one side, ‘swish, flick. splat!. 

But think about it. 

A care free young woman, Beautiful, educated, From one of the wealthiest families in the whole of Remnant, she’s royalty.  Im seeing her wild and happy, her Father’s pride and joy/ She has many suitors, but one in-particular is slightly older, dashing , charming. speaks to her in a way that no one else ever has. He shows her things she never seen. He is intelligent, understands her Father’s business. The pressure of being the heir to the Schnee Dust Company is a heavy burden, a company she shall one day run, she’s slightly insecure that she wont be able to live up to her father’s legacy. but this man assures her, she shall. besides, if they get married, he will be there to help her. 

Her Father likes him, her mother does not, her grandmother says Willow could trust a Vacuoan Faunus vagabond more than she can trust him. Willow brushes it off as snobbery. 

He suggests marriage. Her Mother disapproves.. Her Father is wary..She assures him, this is the man she loves, she wants no other... 

How can a Father deny his only child? 

He reluctantly agrees....  Assurances are made, he agrees to give up his name. 

The first few years are blissful, they are learning the ropes at her Fathers side. Her husband is eager to start a family... Willow falls pregnant... Her husband is so tender, caring. Suggests she takes it easy, theres no need for her to come to the office, he’ll deal with everything..

 Dont worry or stress out the baby. 

She gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, keeping the W tradition, she names her Winter..  Her husband lavishes gifts on his daughter but the affection isnt quite there. He explains its the office and hes tired. Her grandparents dote on her.. Catering to Winters every whim..

As the years pass, she loses her mother.. Her father is over come with grief, he isnt as strong as he used to be... Her  husband graciously offers to step up to the plate, carry the load... In her stead, of course...  Just whilst her Father gets back on his feet... 

He never does.. 

The only light in his life is Winter, who he begins to train , mock wooden swords... Chasing her through the cavernous halls.. Her delighted squeals of joy echoing through the house...  Willow trains her a bit more seriously, encouraging ballet, gymnastics, and horse riding to help with her foot work and balance.. at her husbands request 

Her Father gently chides her, “Allow her to be a child”

Willow takes to caring for him and he is over joyed when he hears shes expecting a second child. 

Whilst her movement is limited, she begins to teach Winter the fundamentals of glyph usage and explains the Schnee semblance

She is so grateful to her husband, for being such a good man, understanding that her Father needs her, for taking care of the business. 

Everyone is over joyed at the arrival of Weiss, a middle name belonging to your mother. She is small and frail but alert. This time, he is much more receptive, he is much more affectionate with the new arrival

And business is booming. She hears silly rumours on the social circuit but dismisses them as idle gossip among elitist assholes. The upper echelons of society had never quite accepted him as one of their own. Jealousy at his success when other company's were slipping. 

Her Father’s mind begins to deteriorate until he is the shadow of a man. 

When he passes, Willow is at a loss..... 

She notices small differences. Her husbands long hours at the office, hes cold, distant.. distracted. He rarely sees his daughters, he loses his temper easily.. 

The first time winter messes up a recital, he snaps, Winter cries.. He apologies n claims its stress.. 

He continues to favour little Weiss over her sister, instead he begins, pushing Winter in all her training, her academics.. Willow confronts him... 

He says he wants what is best for her... that maybe its her Mother who isnt good enough to train her.. He hires Winter the best sword master in the land n demands progress reports. 

What has happened to the man she loved, what has she done wrong, maybe another baby might bring them closer... 

When Whitley is born, her husband is ecstatic.... A son! A son he spoils and lavishes with praise.. 

He almost immediately forgets Weiss..

 Willow can see the seething sibling rivalry brewing, vying for his attention,  the jealousy. The competitiveness between the girls. Which her husband encourages, claiming it is healthy for them. 

They are Schnee’s after all with an image an image to up hold. 

They should be the best at everything they do. 

The rumours about the company become too dark to ignore, the collapsed mines, the trapped faunus.. The threat of the White Fang.. 

Suddenly your home is your prison.. Security ramped up... She always had security but not like this, Board Members go missing.. Family and friends murdered. 

Her husband treats you with barely concealed contempt , She asks if the marriage is over.. He sneers

She decides something needs to be done.. She sweeps into the head quarters.. She goes through the files... She is disgusted.. 

Who is this man and what has he done to her husband

She brings it up at the dinner table, she wants the company to reverse its policies.

He laughs at her.

Willow, “I am the head of the SDC.”

He informs her that she is only a figure head... The company is his.. Sure she can leave with her money n the schnee family homes, jet property n what ever, but the company is his.. He threatens to write the children out of company.. 

She asks him... “ Did you ever love me?”

He looks at her with a stare as cold as an Atleasian winter..

“No. I only married you for the company”

In that moment she realises that she has been played.. the longest con.. Her mother and grand mother were right... 

It all begins to dawn on her..

Willow no longer has anyone to turn to... Any board member she was close to has conveniently disappeared or died. 

she meant nothing.... It was all an elaborate charade.

She was a means to an end.

He is a repulsive monster!!

And now her children’s futures are at stake.. 

Her children... HIS children.. 

Winter looks stricken. Weiss bottom lip is trembling.. 

The candles on her birthday cake flicker and die

Willow has never noticed how much of him is in them... The set to Winter’s shoulders. The way Weiss scowls at a particularly difficult problem.... 

And Whitley....... So much like his Father.. 

Feel free to comment, or add to.. or share.. Or if you think I’m way off base, let me know... 

Im genuinely intrigued by Willow Schnee and her kids.. The dynamic.. 

Im up for listening to anyone else’s theories or if anyone else has any ideas. 

#weiss schnee #winter schnee #willow schnee #jaques schee #schnee dust company #rwby #team rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #ruby rose #wschnee theory #freezerburn #schneeory #rune theory

[wetlaprasfanfiction]

Ghosts & Echos.

 This one’s set after the war. It seems even in death, Negan isn’t finished with Daryl.

Chapter One.

Carol/Daryl

Supernatural/Suspense/Hurt/Comfort etc.

His footsteps echoed along the empty corridor inside the sanctuary, and even though it was a warm, sunny spring day outside, it felt awfully cold where Daryl stood. He moved slowly, his back to the wall and his crossbow poised to fire at any unseen enemy that may cross his path.

 They were looking for supplies, anything that had survived the war was fair game for being put to good use now, everyday items like towels, toothpaste and the odd luxury were in such great demand.

 Daryl shuddered from the cold as he made his way down the corridor that had once lead to the cell he was held in, the memories of what happened in there came flooding back into Daryl’s mind, causing a stray tear to fall from his right eye as he remembered being huddled in that tiny dark cell and forcibly shown the Polaroid photos of Glenn and Abraham’s smashed skulls.

 He had only just really recovered physically from what happened, the brutal murders, being held against his will and tortured by Negan. The scars left on his body, the dull ache that still radiated from the bullet wound in his shoulder inflicted by Dwight, all stark reminders.

 Emotionally he had a long way to go, nightmares still plagued him, he often had awful flashbacks too, sometimes it got too much and he’d be forced to take sleeping tablets just to get some much needed rest.

 It was Carol that had helped him the most. Carol had come straight to the Hilltop when she heard about Jesus’ mission to rescue Daryl from the Sanctuary after Negan held him captive. She’d helped Jesus and Rick get him to Harlan, who’d tended his injuries and sedated him so he could get some much needed, undisturbed rest in order to shake of the fever from his infected gunshot wound. He was delirious, confused and disoriented when he was found. Carol had held onto him all the way back, reassuring him he was safe and that he would be ok.

 She was there next to his bed when he woke up from his drugged sleep, stroking her fingers through his messy long hair.

In the several days it had taken Daryl to begin to recover from his ordeal, Carol was by his side every step of the way. She helped him up every morning, helped him shower and get dressed, fed him well,  helped him get his strength back.

 After the war was over they’d both moved into the Hilltop, and shared a large bedroom there that Maggie had allocated specially for them both. Daryl thought it was Maggie’s and the other’s way of repaying them for their service during the war, the least they could do.

 Daryl and Carol’s mission to scavenge from the remains of the Sanctuary was spurred on by the fact winter was well on the way and supplies, such as blankets and tough shoes were desperately needed.

 Daryl approached the door to the small cell he had been held in, his hands began to visibly shake as they gripped the crossbow that had saved and taken so many lives.

 Carol had gone upstairs to take the upper floors while Daryl took the lower ones, they figured they could sweep the place quicker if they split up. They stayed in contact via two way radios, both checking they were in working order before embarking on their scavenging mission. Daryl usually loved spending time away from Hilltop scavenging, it gave him time to process his thoughts, take out his frustration on walkers and if she came along, spend time alone with Carol.

 Daryl felt very exposed and vulnerable as he approached the cell door, a feeling he loathed so much. He wanted Carol by his side, hell, he needed her there, but they had a job to do, there was no time for emotions right now. Tears stung behind his eyes like salt in a fresh wound but Daryl pushed his feelings away and focussed on the mission.

 As the memories of the time he was held by Negan came flooding back to him, he knew he’d probably have a good cry later on, when he could lay in their big bed, Carol’s arms around him, her soft voice telling him he was allowed to feel things, he was human.

 Daryl could shelve his emotions and deal with them at a later time, a skill he had acquired during the many beatings his father gave him when he was a child and one single tear could mean a beating lasting that extra minute or more.

 For a second, Daryl thought he heard footsteps echo along the long corridor, coming towards him. He trained his ears toward the sound, a low, steady thud, thud, thud. It must be Carol he thought, but he dare not call out for risk of alerting walkers to their presence and location. The air began to feel cooler, and even though it was a cool-ish October day outside, it felt quite unnatural.

 Daryl managed to shift his transfixed gaze from the cell door, brushed off the sound he had just heard as either the wind, or a feral animal prowling the place, nothing a crossbow bolt wouldn’t stop. He managed to mentally dodge another flashback bought on by the sight of the dark, dank cell.

 He raised his crossbow again and began to walk further into the dull, barely lit corridor ahead of him. This was the way to Negan’s bedroom, a place that would surely contain a lot of the items they needed.

 He radioed Carol to ask her how she was doing. ‘I’m ok sweetie, just found a job lot of tampons!’ she giggled. ‘That’s not much use to ME you silly woman’ Daryl teased back. ‘Going into the next room, I think it’s the med room, god, let it be the med room’ Carol whined playfully. ‘So long as you’re ok hon’ Daryl said, if Carol was ok, then so was he.

  They’d agreed to pile all the items they gathered by the door that they’d come in through, then use a trolley they’d found outside to ferry all of it to their truck.

 He heard it again, this time it sounded a lot closer, thud, thud, thud, it was coming towards him. Daryl felt cold again, that same sense that something wasn’t right came over him. His body was picking up on something his mind wasn’t, he visibly trembled again.

 Then another sound joined in, a sort of ‘scree, screeee’ sound, like something being dragged along the wall. Daryl had heard this sound before, but he could not put a finger on where. He raised his crossbow and pointed it into the shadows that loomed ahead of him, aware that it could well be Carol, so he continued carefully.

 He whispered into his radio ‘Carol? Is that you, are you making that noise?’ ‘No babes, I heard something, I thought that was you’. ‘Naw, be careful darling, please’ Daryl insisted over the radio. ‘Sure thing’ Carol quipped back.

 Suddenly, the air temperature dropped, it was so cold, Daryl began to shiver and was able to see the steam of his breath drifting out of his mouth and nose.

 ‘What the fuck’ he mumbled to himself, unable to fathom this unnatural feeling that now enveloped him.

 Then, in what is now probably the most terrifying moment in the redneck’s life, he heard another sound.

 It was that unmistakable whistle, the one Negan would use when he was approaching someone or some other people, his trademark whistle if you like.

 Daryl froze to the spot, in full fight or flight mode. This had to be one of two things, a really immature person playing a really stupid, dangerous prank, or someone left over from the war, a shambling Saviour on their last legs maybe?.

 His mind began to piece it all together, the ‘scree’ sound he had heard just a few minutes before, that was Lucille! Lucille being dragged along the wall.

 ‘What the fuck is going on’ Daryl mumbled to himself, it was so cold too, so cold in fact that ice began to form on one of the windows he was in front of .

 He was unable to move, he wanted to run, he wanted to radio Carol, but fear stopped him doing any of those things.

 His only thought at this point was for Carol, she had to be ok. She was his world now.

 The sounds grew even louder, the air colder still.

 Daryl could hear the thumping of his heart in his head. Fear flooded his body. Deep down, something told Daryl that he was not dealing with a human, a walker or even a Chupacabra right now, his belief in the supernatural told him he was very likely dealing with the vengeful ghost of Negan.

  Daryl had never been so afraid in his entire life, this was outside of what he was able to contend with, even Daryl Dixon has a breaking point.

 The thuds stopped, Daryl felt what felt to him like a slight breeze moving past him, slowly. Did he just see a shadow in his peripheral vision?, a flicker of something not of this world?.

 Suddenly the silence was broken by a booming, unmistakable voice, ‘little pig! LITTLE PIG!!’ echoed around him.

 Long gone was the moment that Daryl blamed the wind. He was a very outdoors person and knew what the wind was capable of, and this was far beyond it’s remit.

  There was no question, this was the voice of NEGAN, but Negan was dead! He was dead, Daryl shook violently, unable to hold himself together anymore, he froze dead to the spot where he was stood.

 This had to be a sick joke, it couldn’t be anything else, could it? His skeptic side trying it’s best to rationalize this.

 Just as Daryl managed to get his shaking hand to move towards his radio so he could check on Carol, an unseen force hit him like a freight train, knocking him to the floor and knocking his crossbow from his grip, causing it to clatter to the ground.

(Disclaimer, sadly I do not own The Walking Dead or any of those awesome characters, I just write these for entertainment and fun purposes only)

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #ghost #ghost story #supernatural #negan #carol peletier #caryl fanfiction

[mythicalsecretsanta]

Part Of That World (T)

This gift is for: @mythosethan A lonely lighthouse keeper’s son finds love in a strange place. I Hope you like this. From your Secret Santa, @cypriusgray

Read below:

I don’t understand this. How can you feel so much for one person. This is getting harder to control But it feels so right. I think I will tell him, soon.                   Link Neal age 16

Being the son of the lighthouse keeper was lonely. Link was being raised by his single father. The only time he has any interaction with people is during school. The rest of his time was spent by the ocean.

For as long as he could remember, Link loved the ocean. He would draw the animals that he would find in the tide pools.

Link would spend hours just sitting and watching the ocean from the tops of the cliffs. Today he didn’t notice the clouds rolling in and got caught in a sudden storm.

Link started to run. The path became slippery. Link thought to himself that he might want to slow down. It was too late, he felt his feet slipping out from under him. Everything started to move in slow motion. Link’s body slammed into the water. If that wasn’t enough the waves forced him to hit his head on the rocks.     

Before passing out Link swore he could feel a pair of strong arms around him. As his lungs were about to burst he felt a pair of salty lips press against his and suddenly he could breath. The stangest thing was a feeling of being propelled through the water by a tail.

Link slowly opened his eyes. He found himself sitting on a ledge. There was a soft blue glow coming from a glass bowl. Link touched his head and felt something sticky.

“Don’t touch that!” A raspy voice boomed.

Link quickly removed his hand from his face. Link squinted and saw an outline of a face in the shadows. His heart started to beat a little faster.

“Who-who are you?” Link stammered.

Instead of speaking the young man pulled himself up onto the ledge next to Link. Link watched the boy and gasped at his tail. Link quickly slid until he hit the back wall.

“You’re-you’re a mermaid!”

“Do I look like a mermaid? I’m a merman. Please, don’t hit your head again.” The young merman said.

The young mer slid closer to Link. His soft fingertips glossed over the gash and down his cheek. Link sighed. The mer’s fingers were cool.

Link couldn’t keep his eyes open he was very tired. His head was starting to throb. He wanted to go home. “I think it might be time for me to go home.”

“You can’t.”

“Whata mean I can’t? Are you keeping me prisoner?”

“You hit your head and the tide is high. I really don’t think you would make it to the surface but you can go ahead and try, if you want.”

Links teeth started to chatter from the cold. The mer reached out and touched Link’s arm.

“Come, get into the water with me. You’ll be warmer.” The mer said as he reached out for Link’s hand.

As Link fell into the water the young mer wrapped his arms around Link. Link felt safe. No, what was he thinking? He bumped his head that is why he is thinking these thoughts. These thoughts can’t be how he feels.

Link push out of the mer’s arms and immediately started to sink. The mer grabbed Link tighter. “We can’t wait. Ok, listen to me. You’re going to take a deep breath on three and your going to hold on to my shoulders and don’t let go. Ok? ONE, TWO, THREE.”

“Wait, what is your name?” Link whispered.

“Rhettmus.” the mer said.

“ I think I’ll call you Rhett.”

Rhett counted down again and Link held on tight. The mer’s tail propelled them swjftly through the water. By the time Links lungs were empty they reached the surface.

“I can't  go any further. You have to make this part on your own.” Rhett said as he unwrapped Link’s arms from around his neck. Link floated to shore. It took him a moment to get his strength back. Link wobbled a little as he stood up. Rhett watched him go.

Link’s next memory was waking up in the hospital. Link’s dad was there when he woke up.

“How you feeling, son?” Links dad asked.

Link didn’t answer him. He gently touched his head.

“You were really lucky. You needed six stiches. Oh, here’s something you had in your hand.“Link’s dad said handing him a glass bottle. Inside was a letter.

Link had a hard time waiting for his dad to leave. As soon as he did, Link tore into the bottle.

The letter read…

If you want to talk just send me a letter in a bottle. Rhett

That’s how it went for five years. Messages in bottles and short meet ups. Rhett helped Link to become stronger and Link told Rhett about humans. Then one day Link didn’t show up. All Rhett found was a bottle with a message inside…

Dear Rhett, I'm  not going to see you for awhile. I’m going to college on the mainland. I promise that I will return. There are other things I must do. Yours, Link

From that day forward, Rhett spent most of his days watching the cliff and the tide pools. Everyday he would leave disappointed. Where did the boy go. Why did he feels so, empty?

Four years passed Without a sign of the boy. Rhett looked up at the cliff like he always did but today was diffrent. There stood his boy, no not his boy now but a man. Rhett watched as Link tossed something into the water. Rhett swam as fast as he could to find it. It was a bottle with a letter in it.

The letter simply said…

Meet me at the grotto.

           Link

Rhett swam so fast. It wasn’t hard to find the grotto. Rhett dived down deep and popped out of the water expecting Link to be wating but he wasn’t there.

Bubbles rose out of the water. For a moment, Rhett wanted it to be like the old days. With a quick look, Rhett knew that this would never be the same.

There before him was a person he didn’t know. It looked like the boy who left him but he was now a man.

Link’s blue eyes shone with unshed tears. Here was someone who waited four years without a response from him.

“Rhett I need to tell you why I left. I mean…I did go to school but there was other reasons, too.” Link said looking down.

Link pulled himself up onto the ledge and took a deep breath.

“I wanted to get away from you. No, that’s not right. I needed to get away from my feelings for you. I didn’t know what it was but now I do. It was love. I love you, Rhett.” Link said with a small sob.

“My poor human. How sad that you didn’t know that you were in love. I knew right from the first time I saw you that I loved you.” Rhett announced.

Rhett jumped up onto the shelf next to Link and pulled him closer. Link put his head on Rhett’s shoulder. His breathing started to slow down. They sat there for a few seconds in silence.

“I wish that I knew that you cared. I spent many nights awake thinking of you. You see, these feelings are not what humans grow up to believe. It’s one man and one woman.”

“That’s so silly. Merpeople are like the Clown Fish. We can be male or female. We can switch. Would you like me to be female?” Rhett asked.

“NO! I don’t think that would make me love you any more than I do now.” Link yelped. Link looked at his glow in the dark watch.

“I have to leave so I don’t get caught by the tide” Link said as he turns to go.

Rhett captures Link’s face in his hands. He places a soft kiss on Links forehead. Then places kisses down his  cheek. Rhett places a strong kiss on Link’s lips.

Link tasted the briney taste of Rhetts lips. Sloely the kiss became more passionate. Link had to push Rhett away.

“Sorry, gotta beat the tide.“Link said breathlessly.

Link bobbed up and down taking deep breaths. On the last one he began to swim. Link must have missread the tide because his lungs were starting to burn. There was a burst of bubbles and Rhett appeared. He gave Link a salty kiss. Link’s lungs filled with air. Rhett gave Link a sweet kiss on the cheek and waved good by.

#mythical secret santa 2017 #type: fic #rating: t #submission #gift swap

[melchixr]

Apartment

Anon said: Ok so I read your bowling alley fix and I'm guessing that when Ernst was talking about his friend that Melchior would be perfect with he meant Moritz, so I started imagining the awkward melchritz introduction and I was DYING. Could you please please write a sequel about it? 

So this is in reference to my sorta mini series???? including Hanschen the Edgy Dropout Photographer and Ernst the Naive Bookstore Cashier & Neon Bowling Alley

Song: Apartment -Modern Baseball

Words: 14111

The first time I saw you was in your apartment I had followed my friends single-file through the darkness I looked your direction for excessive inspection And I could not muster the courage to say a single word

Melchior was unsure how many times he had wiped his sweaty palms off onto his jeans in the three minute walk from his car to the door. His stomach was tossing and turning, his hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over. But worst of all, the light bulb at the end of the hallway was burnt out. The last few feet was in shadow, with the front door to 214 at the very end of the narrow hall.

“You sure he’s not gonna be mad that I came along?” He asked in a nervous voice to the back of Hanschen’s head. His best friend turned to flash a smile.

“Oh yes, quite sure,” He stated to try and calm Melchior’s anxious mind. “I told Ernst to tell him and he said he’d love to tell you over.”

He had seen about a million pictures of this guy and practically knew everything about him, all thanks to Ernst. He was grateful that Ernst and Hanschen were dating. Only because whenever Ernst was around, he’d insist on setting up the newly single Melchior with someone.

And not just someone. Always ‘Moritz’. ‘Moritz’ who had never even been on a date. ‘Moritz’ who ‘isn’t all that shy when you get to know him’. ‘Moritz’ who, apparently, held game night at his house every Thursday.

Hanschen was knocking at the door before Melchior could think up an excuse to go home, eat supermarket sushi, and watch Seinfeld until the early hours of the morning.

But it was too late. The shadows of the hallway was broken by the door opening and yellow, incandescent light. It blinded Melchior momentarily before he saw a thin, bony frame of a boy. The first thing that came to him was the absolute rat’s nest of jet black hair, sticking out at all angles.

“Hey, Hansi. What’s up.” A shaky, almost whiny voice said from inside. “Oh, this must be Milk-ee-or.”

“Oh….Uh….No….But...Hi.”

For a while we were playing this game that your friends bought But everyone cheated and no one could spell You didn't say much of anything I must have come off annoying, cause you went to bed

“HAVE YOU NEVER PLAYED SCRABBLE IN YOUR LIFE, HANSCHEN WHATEVER-YOUR-LAST-NAME-IS!” Ilse yelled, slamming her hand down on the board for the third time that night.

“It’s Rilow, for fucks sake,” He said and took his misspelt ‘Hefty’ off the board. “It’s not like I’ve been coming here for the last four months.”

Martha sighed and went to work again setting up the now scattered letters.  “I swear to God, you are both so extra.”

The small circle around the coffee table laughed themselves silly, all except Moritz.

The host sat in the arm of the couch cross-legged. He had a cup of sparkling water between his legs, seeing as he didn’t drink. And he was being a great host, making sure all their glasses were full and there was good music on and he kicked the heather behind him every once in awhile to stop it from making weird noises. But not a single word. He smiled sometimes, which made the whole room seem to light up. Occasionally, he’d giggle quietly and made Melchior’s stomach seem to twist and burst.

But still, no words. He just observed the whole group with a content look.

Melchior sipped his beer slowly, sitting adjacent from the beautiful boy in question, admiring his ripped jeans and baggy gray hoodie. He then noticed, when he his green eyes finally met with Moritz’s hazel ones, that he had been staring for at least five minutes. And Hanschen had been trying to get his attention for some time.

“Melchi!” he boomed when his friend had snapped out of it and noticed everyone looking at him. “Jesus Christ, earth to Gabor!:

Melchior felt himself go bright red and cast his eyes back to the ground. Both the eye contact and everyone staring at him had been the most embarrassing thing he’d ever lived through. “Oh….yeah….Uh...sorry…..” He muttered, his cheeks practically bursting into flame.

The room was quiet as they all realized what they were witnessing, seeing the pink now on Moritz’s cheek as he stood.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed soon. You guess leave when you want. Or don’t. Food is in the fridge and make sure to close the windows.”

He shuffled off down the hall, hands in pockets, before opening his bedroom door and disappearing into into it, leaving Melchior in his shame and a room full of giggling young adults.

I walk home with my eyes low Dreaming up conversations we'll have tomorrow Your loose ends, my new friends All the classes in high school we fell asleep in But now I can hardly close my eyes

“Are you sure,Melchi?  It’s really late. We’ll drop you off at your place, it’s really no problem.”

Melchior looked into the old bug from the passenger side window, where Ernst now occupied the seat. They were heading to Hanschen’s apartment, which they had announced that night would now become he and Ernst’s apartment and they’d be moved in together by the end of the month. But Melchior really didn’t like the idea of sitting in the back of Hanschen’s car and replaying that night’s events over and over.

“Nah, man. I think I’ll just walk. I need to clear my mind.”

The blond leaned over to look Melchior over, his expression sincere. “You’re not mad about the whole thing with us laughing at you, right?”

Melchior shook his head, brown curls falling into his eyes. “No. Not at all. I just wanna go on my walk. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

“Okay. If you get mugged, don’t complain to me.”

“Never would. See you tomorrow.”

And so the pair took off down the empty street, the car making odd noises as they moved out of sight.

Melchior knew he was going to sit there and rethink the night over and over. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wouldn’t be able to look Moritz in the eye again after tonight. Hell, he’d probably show up to Ernst and Hanschen’s wedding in a few years (or a few months, who is he kidding) and would have to look away from the other side of the aisle the whole time.

Maybe he’d just live the rest of his life without ever speaking or leaving his room again.

He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight as he began the walk home at one am.

The next time I saw you was in your apartment Oh, why do I keep ending up here on starlit evenings? I should be home sleeping But this time you sat next to me on the couch

Although the entire ride there, Melchior had been fighting tooth and nail. He begged that they would just pull over and let him roll out onto the street before he dare face Moritz again.

But Hanschen had promised that Moritz wanted Melchior back over. And he had completely forgotten about the incident. Melchior was still embarrassed, but still, some part of him turned into fireworks when he heard that Moritz wanted him to come over.

The light was still out in the hallway when they arrived, but this time when Moritz opened the door, his smile could’ve lit up the whole apartment building.

“Hey, Hansi, Ernst…Melchior. Come on in.”

This week was Uno, which was even more violent than Scrabble. Martha was out for blood, Ernst had already won four games in a row, and for some reason, Moritz had decided to sit next to Melchior.

His legs were crossed and he still hadn’t said anything, but he was still sitting right next to Melchior on the gross, stained pull out couch and he was smiling. Pretty pale lips twisted up into a soft smile whenever anyone made a joke, and now, sometimes just when he was just staring into space. But it was a lot more than he was last week.

And it was so so so so pretty.  

He was so so so pretty.

But Melchior didn’t dare stare this time. He would glance over every once in a while to see him looking at his hand of cards, puffy and slightly greasy hair falling into his face. And fuck, he was so gorgeous it was hard to look away.

And he prayed that Moritz wouldn’t realize the heavy beating of his heart or the sound of his breath stopping short in his chest when he felt Moritz shift in his seat and rub his shoulder against Melchior’s.

I stare out the window Hands glued tight and sore Praying to God-knows-what That you would sever what's stuck With something shiny from the kitchen drawer

“Hey, you awake?”

Melchior opened his eyes to see a familiar face looking down at him. “Uh….no….” He muttered  in a sleepy voice. “Oh I mean...yeah…. I’m up….”

Moritz down at Melchior with big, doe-like eyes. He nodded and took a step back, letting Melchior now take in the full view of the room. He had fallen asleep on the couch with Ilse sitting across from him, passed out on the recliner. Coraline was still playing on the TV, seeing that they had been about halfway through it when everyone passed out and it kept replaying.

Moritz was still up though. Now in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and an old tee shirt. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes seemed like canyons in the dark room. The only like was the blueish tint coming from the screen of the old TV. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Hanschen and Ernst just woke up and left and they wanted me to be sure that you got a ride home.”

“Oh thanks….I guess I’ll head out then and-”

“I mean, you can stay if you want!”

Moritz cut him off abruptly, probably a bit too loud than he should have been. He shifted his weight from left to right, nervously tucking his hands into his pockets. “Well….You already...I mean…. Fell asleep and I don’t wanna stop you. I don’t mind at all.”

“Ugh, thanks Mo…..”

Melchior rolled over, slowly fading back to sleep in an odd fetal position as Moritz stared at him with big eyes. “Oh… Mo.... You just called me.... Mo…” he whispered under his breath as his cheeks turned a soft pink. He raised his voice a bit so Melchior could hear before he passed out  with his wire rim glasses falling off of one ear. “Did you just…call me ‘Mo’?”

“Mmmwhatmm?” He whimpered, rolling onto his back. In the pale moonlight coming from the window, he could practically see in bouncing off of his pale pink skin. Little freckles and moles dotted over his skin. Moritz couldn’t help but feel like stomach tighten at the sight of it.

“Nothing….Shout if you need me.”

I walk home with my eyes low Dreaming up conversations we'll have tomorrow Your loose ends, my new friends All the classes in high school we fell asleep in But now I can hardly close my eyes

“Only two blocks away, Jesus, how haven’t we seen each other before?” Moritz chuckled and fumbled to light a cigarette even as the cold air kept blowing out his flame.

“It’s a pretty big city,” Melchior shrugged, closing the door to Moritz’s building behind him and stepping out onto the sidewalk. The streets weren’t too busy seeing as it was eight am. But Moritz had to get to work at nine and Melchior woke up at seven and was unable to get back to sleep. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did run into each other before.”

“No, I would have remembered if I’d seen you before,” He scoffed and finally got the cigarette lit and took a drag as Melchior just stared at him, the tiniest smile on his lips.

The two began the walk down the street,side by side. Melchior in his jeans and jacket from yesterday, and Moritz’s hair still unshowered and pretty gross. But neither even seemed to notice. They were too busy doing a mixture of nervously glancing at each other and also nervously looking anywhere else but each other.

“I uh…..” Moritz cut himself short of offering to buy Melchior coffee. Too soon. “So...like….how do you know Hanschen?”

Melchior shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets to nervously fiddle with some string. “Oh we met back when he was still in school and hit it off. I stayed at his apartment for a while when my ex-girlfriend kicked me out and we’ve been really really tight since then.”

Moritz nearly tripped over a homeless man as Melchior spoke. He almost immediately felt his heart sink into his stomach. “Oh...I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” he chuckled weakly, attempting to play it all off. But as his brain told him to stop, his mouth kept going. “I was just thinking by what Ernst said that you...like….”

As Moritz felt himself cringing into the abyss, hoping his dumb mouth would stop talking for once, Melchior couldn’t help but light up. “Wait...So...Ernst told you about me?”

There was a pause when both of the young men stopped in their tracks. Turning to each other, Melchior’s grin was so pure and light and brimming with an unspoken joy. Moritz thought that ‘sparkling eyes’ was a thing only in shitty fan fic and romance novels. But here he was looking into the biggest, ‘sparkling’ eyes he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, he practically sold you to my like a used car salesman,” Moritz chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. “Gave me estimated penis size and everything.”

Melchior giggled like an idiot. He didn't remember ever being this happy in the middle of a street. Or with another greasy, pretty boy. “Oh wow. Didn’t know he had so much info on me. Don’t know how he got it but….”

Moritz grinned and sighed to himself before putting his cigarette out on the concrete. “So uh….Did we get set up on a date without knowing about it?”

“Oh I knew. I just didn’t know that you knew.”

“This is some Brady Bunch shit, I swear to God.”

I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to hang out tonight We could make dinner or something

“So when do you get off of work again?” Melchior asked for the fifth time, making sure he had the time ingrained into his mind.

“I get off at four,” He stated, “And I’ll be here to pick you up at five.” He looked up at the tall apartment complex Melchior lived in that he now realized he could see through his bedroom window. Probably something you don’t bring up before your first date.

“Rad. Really, really rad.”

There was a pause where the two men stood, unsure of how to say goodbye after a walk like theirs. A pat on the back and a ‘see you tonight’ felt too casual. But a kiss was far too much.

Maybe just a gentle smile as Melchior opened the door. “I’ll see you a five then….Mo.”

“Oh fuck you heard me last night, didn’t you?” Moritz’s eyes blew up like saucers.

Melchior didn’t reply, just closed the door behind him walked into the lobby with a giant grin.

#Melchritz #melchior gabor #moritz stiefel #Hanschen Rilow #Ernst Robel #hernst #ilse neumann #martha bessel #wendla bergmann #spring awakening #spring awakening fic #fic #dwsa #sa #Deaf West #deaf west spring awakening #deaf awakening #songfic #modern au #series #fanfic