#I should probably post more things than Nevermore

[your-decadent-madam]

There's the hyperfixiation(s) I adore, but there's also the horrors

#Dedicated to every fandom i'm in #Because my hyperfixiation is astonishingly varied and from multiple and different themes #especially literature #I should probably post more things than Nevermore #Maybe

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PROJECT PASSION — xavier thorpe

WARNINGS: 18+, aged up characters, soft bodied reader, slight hand kink, frottage, biting, coming in pants, this got kinda long... sorry?

A/N: what's that, I'm posting another fic in the same month?? well, that's because my new fixation is here!!

The hallways are silent as you make your way out of your room and towards the boys wing. Most people were outside in the out of season warm weather, and while you normally would be doing the same, you've been tortuously given a project for every single class you're in. Which wouldn't really be a problem, except the first one due is a partnered assignment. One that you don't get to pick who you got to do it with.

And it's not like you hate Xavier or anything! Quite the opposite, really. Which is the root of your problem. The not so small crush you've let develop into something bigger after he broke up with Bianca. He's kind and smart and amazing at art, how could you not like him based off of that alone? It helps that he's also very good looking, able to draw your attention at the worst of times when you should otherwise be paying attention to your teacher.

Thankfully you two are friendly enough, having spoken to each other a few times before to know the other as more than just an acquaintance. And after talking to him those times you could comfortably add thoughtful and witty to the list of things you liked about him. That's probably why your crush has taken off as hard as it has.

But now, as you near the room he now gets to himself, you can't help but wonder if it would be easier if you didn't really know him at all. If the awkward air would be easier then you having to fight down how flustered you are by his mere presence. How just the smallest of smiles from him will have you weak in the knees.

Standing in front of his door you smooth your clammy hands over the skirt of your sundress. You wonder if you should have dressed more casual, like you had planned. It's the weekend, so everyone takes the opportunity to wear whatever they want, and you had taken the chance to doll yourself up a little. But now, staring his door down, you wish you didn't listen to Enid and gone with something I little less revealing.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, looking around to make sure none of the teachers or another student sees you in the boys wing. There have been many horror stories of the lockdowns people get for getting caught sneaking into the opposite sex's wing of the school, and you don't want to deal with the rumours that would come from being caught here, either. Not when your doing something as innocent as working on a project.

Xavier quickly opens the door, and you're immediately assaulted with the smell of whatever "boyish" body wash he uses and his wet hair, shoulders of his white t shirt damp from the water dripping from it. You can't pull your eyes away, mesmerized by how good he looks with it down and framing his face. He doesn't have it down all that often, and you forgot about how hot it makes him look when he does.

And his smell, my god. You just wanna stuff your face in his chest and breathe deep, chase the smell and have it linger on your clothes when you leave. Your face heats with your less than platonic thoughts, and you really hope he can't see how flustered you're becoming as you stand in front of him, having to look up to see those beautiful green eyes.

"Hey, come in. Sorry it's a bit of a mess, kinda knocked some paint over and had to clean in a rush," as you step past him and into his room, you're met with all of the wonderful drawings pinned up on the wall on his side of the room, starting from above his bed and ending over his desk. He still hasn't gotten a new roommate, no one new joining Nevermore since Wednesday Adams.

"You can sit on the bed if you want, just wanna clean the last of my brushes before the paint dries," he darts into the still open bathroom, hunched over the sink as he continues his cleaning. You toe off your shoes, putting them next to his by the door so that you don't get his surprisingly clean room dirty.

While he's distracted, you take the time to look him over, his slim but fit body and the slightly baggy clothes that hang off of him. The sweats he's got on are a deep burgundy, the legs of them a bit too short for his long legs. It leaves his ankles exposed, and you find yourself watching his feet tap out a rhythm before you remind yourself that all this staring is surely becoming creepy.

Instead of gawking at him like some sort of stalker, you take the time to snoop a bit, setting your bag at the foot of the bed while you take in all of the art he's done.

Most of it is pinned to the walls, quick sketches and intricate pieces filling the space. There's even an easel set up by Rowan's old side of the room, with a canvas set up on it. The easel is turned away and placed as close to the garage wall ass possible, obviously dragged there so no one could easily look at it. While you really want to take a look, you don't want to betray his trust by looking at something he clearly wants to keep to himself.

Instead you focus on the ones you can clearly see, a mixture of random still life from around campus to random people and animals and little doodles that fill in the spaces. You're honestly a bit in awe at his skill, pushing your bag over so you can sit at the end of his bed, back resting against the metal frame to comfortably admire the drawings.

You don't notice when Xavier leaves the bathroom, too enamoured with his art. You do notice as drawing of a moth comes to life, twitching before fluttering off of the page. It flies around before heading towards you, and you hold your hand out for it to land on. It feels strange on your skin, not like how bugs feet normally feel, but also kinda similar. You go to run your finger over a wing to see how it feels, gasping when you notice you smudged the intricate pattern made from what you think are pastels.

"I'm so sorry!" You say in a rush, turning to look up at Xavier. He doesn't look upset though, a smile on his face as he watches you. You gently hold the moth out to him for him to fix, and instead of taking it from you, he reaches the hand not animating the moth to gently smudge the other side.

"There, now it matches again," he says before guiding the moth off of your hand and back to the paper it was on. It's still got the twin smudges on it as it settles back into place, and you find comfort in knowing that he isn't mad about it at all, "Alright, what part did you wanna start on first?"

"Should probably do the boring written part first. We can figure out the creative part later." You say, already knowing that if you start with the more fun part first, you won't have the energy to even think about the written part today.

Xavier nods, walking around the bed to grab his own notes and his laptop off of his desk. He sits across from you, back to the headboard, one foot on the ground while his other leg is stretched out on the bed. The bed seems to be just long enough for Xavier to lay down in comfortably, but with you in it as well, you realize that the bed can barely accommodate the two of you sitting as you are, your bent legs close to touching his bare foot.

With both of your sheets laid out, you get to work organizing all the notes, grouping them together in a way that makes the most sense. Then, you both get to work merging your notes together, you reading them out while Xavier types it out on his laptop.

His speedy typing combined with your ability to levitate the notes all around you makes the written portion of the assignment go much faster than you could do on your own. You're only able to keep two sheets up at a time if you were the one typing it out, attention too split to keep more sheets levitated without causing yourself any unnecessary strain.

Now you can rotate five or more sheets at a time, floating them around the both of you as you speed through the work. Sometimes he has you holding a sheet up for a while, wanting to pull a direct quote from a passage or to try and figure out how to blend both of your words together. It's during those moments you take the time to really admire his face. The shape of his nose, fullness of his lips, shape of his jaw.

There are a few times he almost catches you in the act, but the curtain of drying hair obscured most of his vision before he could fully look up from his hunched over position, giving you enough time to look away and pretend you were reading over the notes hovering in front of you. The notes that have slowly started to drift down during your distracted staring shooting back up into their original spots.

While actually looking over the notes, there are a few times where you think you can feel his gaze on you, but when you look up, you can never catch him in the act. So you just brush it off as your wishful thinking. Why would he be looking at you, anyways?

You get through a huge chunk of the written work faster than you though you would, getting through nearly half you your notes before Xavier had pushed his laptop away with a tired sigh. It was more than you had ever thought you would get done, and that's including the creative part that hasn't even been started yet. So the both of you agree that you can finish the rest another day, when your heads aren't swimming with jumbled up historical dates and places.

"What were you thinking of doing for our creative piece of the project?" Xavier asks, closing his laptop and setting it onto his bedside table. You find yourself staring at his hands

"It's probably more work, but I thought we could do like, a board game or something? I think it'll still have enough education to it while still being artsy and creative," you say, guiding all the papers back to you. You sort through the papers, setting Xavier's aside while you put yours back in your bag, loose with all your other random notes you were working on before coming up to his room.

"That sounds like it would be fun," Xavier says, pushing up from his bed to head over to his desk. There's a few big canvases leaning against the wall, some unused while others had beautiful portraits of people, all of which you didn't recognize, or captivating scenery. When he pulls some of them back there's some big pieces of poster paper tucked in behind them. He pulls a white one out, holding it up so that you can see it better, "This size work?"

You nod, quickly moving his papers off of the bed and onto of the laptop. He grabs up a stray pencil case too, carrying them all over to the bed. The pencil case he's got is worn, stained with finger shaped smudges of all different colours. He opens it to reveal an array of coloured pencils in a brand you don't recognize, probably the expensive kind that's higher quality than the crayola ones you have in your room.

While you sketch out the path of the game board in light pencil strokes, Xavier takes to filling the empty spaces with relevant historical sketches. They're beautifully done, and when you tell him that he's waves your compliment off with a blush high on his cheeks, a wide smile on his face while he tells you that it was nothing.

Soon the entire paper is full of a pencilled out outline of what you know will be a masterpiece. It already looks good as it is, but Xavier assures you that some colour and line work will really bring the whole thing together. You don't even bother questioning him, nodding eagerly while you levitate it up in the air, wanting to get a better look at it.

Your proud of your work, even though all you contributed was the path the player would take and some small decorative doodles drawn on the important spaces. But Xavier had told you you did a great job, causing your face to heat under his compliment and warm smile.

When you spin it around for Xavier to see, you catch sight of him staring at you. He's got the same smile on as he did when you were holding his animated moth, a soft one that makes your insides swirl and face feel hot. The look has you so distracted that the board game falls out of the air at a weird angle, fluttering to the floor. It lands face up, with thankfully no bends or smudges on it that would ruin all your hard work.

As your reaching over to grab the dropped assignment at the same time Xavier does, you misjudge where you put your hand down to brace yourself. It's too close to the edge of the bed, sheets sliding under your weight and causing your hand, and subsequently the rest of you, to go with it. As you suck in a breath, about to slow your fall to hopefully catch yourself with you levitation, you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist.

You can't help the full body shiver that goes through you as he pulls you back into his chest, unconsciously leaning back into it to chase the warmth of his body. His legs are bracketing you as he sits down behind you, body long and lean as he plants his feet firmly on the ground.

"You okay?" He asks, voice low as he dips his head down to speak right by your ear, "I know you probably would have caught yourself, but I kinda moved without thinking."

"No, uh, it's fine. I was caught by surprise. Probably would have smashed my face off the ground or something." You say, unconsciously lowering yours as well. You don't know why you do it, but you don't want to speak louder than him and break the probably one sided tension you could feel between the two of you. This is the closest you've been to him, and you want to memorize the feel of him against you for later.

Turning your head to thank him, you don't expect his face to be so close to yours. Or for his half lidded eyes to be staring at your lips. Your tongue quickly swipes over them, tasting like vanilla gloss, a nervous habit that you've yet to kick, and his eyes somehow grow heavier as he sucks in a quick breath through his nose, "Xavier?"

His arm tightens around your waist, the other that was used to prop him up moving to rest on his thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing the bare skin of your own. You can feel the muscles of his thigh through his sweats, firm from all the runs he goes on, such a stark contrast to the plushness of yours.

"Can I kiss you?" He leans foreword just slightly, hair falling from behind his ear and tickling the side of your face. Your hand reaches up to tuck it back behind his ear, letting your hand fall to cup his cheek in the same motion. He leans into it slightly, eyes trained on yours as he waits for your response.

"Please," Xavier wastes no time once the words are out of your mouth, closing the small distance to press his plush lips against yours. His lips are soft, smoothed by chapstick but made sticky by your lipgloss as they move against yours. The angle is awkward though, with your back still pressed up against his chest. You have to turn your head over your shoulder to keep kissing him, and while you're enjoying it immensely, your neck is starting to protest.

You gently pull away, a small smile on your face when Xavier immediately tries to follow your lips, eyes still closed. You huff out a laugh, running your thumb over his pink cheek before you let him go, moving to stand up. His grip tightens on your hips as his eyes flutter open, strong fingers digging into soft flesh, trying to pull you back to him. His eyes are heavy as he stares up at you and his lips are tinged a light pink from your lipgloss, but you're able to use the small space between you to turn around and climb into his lap.

"Shit," Xavier mutters, hands dropping down to your ass, long fingers reaching past the bottom of it and brushing against the back of you leg. He tugs you into him as he immediately reconnects your lips, fingers digging into your skin. You roll your hips foreword to get as close as possible to him, landing right on Xavier's growing erection as you press your chests together.

You both moan at the contact, Xavier quickly closing the distance to press your lips together again, much more desperate than the first one. His lips are insistent against yours, arms moving to wrap around your waist to keep you as close as possible. You loop your arms over his shoulders in turn, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck as you tentatively lick a stripe across the minty chapstick that coats his lips, tinged with vanilla from your lipgloss.

Xavier instantly opens his mouth, tongue pressing past your lips and rubbing up against your own, and you're in heaven. You don't mind the sloppy desperation that seems to take over the both of you, spit coating your lips as you both try to pull the other one impossibly closer.

The desperate little moans coming from your mouth would have normally embarrassed you, becoming this pathetically horny for him from kissing alone. But you can't bring yourself to care as Xavier effortlessly pulls them from you with his skilled lips and rhythmic rolling of his hips up into yours. The answering groans coming from him as you roll your unsteady hips with him sounds somehow more wrecked than you do, fanning the flame of heat settling between your legs.

Pulling back, you try to take in a deep, steadying breath, hands smoothing down the back of his neck and dipping beneath his shirt, nails grazing along his spine. Xavier shivers, a moan low in his throat your only warning before he's pulling you back in, sealing your lips together.

He bites at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to smooth over the sting left behind before he's desperately licking into your mouth. You match his pace happily, hands coming back up to grab a fistful of his long hair and pulling. Xavier pulls away from your lips with a loud moan, eyes closed in bliss and mouth parted. He shudders under you, head falling forward and landing on your shoulder.

"Fuck," Xavier whispers, word drawn out and coated in arousal, "do that again."

And you do, pulling on it a little harder than before. It has him rolling his hips up into yours with a deep, guttural groan, his prominent erection pressing against your damp panties. His hands guide the roll of your stuttering hips against him, moans filling the room, as you follow his slower but firmer rhythm, keeping his hair tangled in your fingers.

You feel his head move against your shoulder, the barest brush of his spit slicked lips brushing against your skin. It has you holding your breath, fingers twitching in his hair. The first press of his lips against your neck is soft and barely there, but it still makes your breathing shaky, one hand dropping from Xaviers hair and gripping onto the back of his shirt.

The small pecks slowly start to get open mouthed, lingering as he lightly sucks and nibbles at your skin. His tongue smooths over any particularly hard bites, when you're hips would meet perfectly with his and he couldn't control the way his teeth would clamp down on your flesh. You don't mind though, the sparks of pain forming into pleasurable tingles that have your toes curling in your socks.

"Ahh, feels good. Please," you mumble, bearing down harder onto Xavier's clothes erection as you desperately chase the high you feel lingering just at the edges. You don't even know what your asking for, just that you want more.

Xavier moans against your throat, a question and a sound of pleasure rolled into one. He's sucking on the skin with more intent now, surely leaving bruises that you can't wait to feel when they fully settle in.

"Wanna feel you," you say, tugging on his shirt for emphasis, "mark you up so we match."

He pulls away from your neck with a loud smack of his lips, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before he's pulling back from you just enough to rip his shirt off over his head and toss to the side. The second he's free from the shirt he's ducking back into your neck on the other side, sucking what you assume are impressive hickies into your skin.

His hands settle on your thighs as yours loop around his neck, his fingers pressing into your flesh as they run up, up under the hem of your dress. His fingers catch onto your underwear, tugging your panties up and between soaked lips in his haste to get at your skin. It has you nearly wailing in pleasure as the soaked fabric is pressed right up into your clit, walls clenching around nothing as your head falls back.

Xavier kisses up your exposed jaw, giving you a teasing bite as he mumbles a quick apology against your skin. He detangles his fingers from your panties, hands moving to settle against the swell of your hips. His skin against yours feels euphoric, warm and slightly calloused from archery.

"It's okay," you say around a moan, slightly disappointed that the added pressure against your clit is gone. Your eyes feel heavy as you blink, slowly letting your head fall back down. As you do Xavier pulls back from your neck, eyes trained on your marked up neck. His hands come out from under your dress to tug at the bottom as he stares at you.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, giving your dress another little tug as if you didn't know what he was talking about. You nod, arms going above your head and hips stilling against his. He's quick when taking your dress off, throwing it in the same direction as his shirt before he's leaning back to get a better look at you.

You're left in just your bra and panties, miss matched but thankfully on the nicer side of your collection. The first thought that comes to your head is that you really hope he likes what he sees. But the admiring way he trails his hands up over your hips to sit on your waist has any worries melting away. That, and the awe filled look in his eyes as he traces over all the newly revealed skin.

"Fucking beautiful," Xavier breathes, fingers digging into your flesh. You can't help but watch the way your skin dimples around his long, strong fingers, admiring the contrast of your bodies. One of his hands skim up over your a bra covered breast and along your neck to cup the side of your face, pulling your attention away from his hand still on your waist and to his face.

"C'mere," he whispers, and you waste no time connecting your lips. This kiss is similar to the first, slow and sweet as you both let your hands roam free.

One of his hands come to rest on a covered breast, giving it an experimental squeeze. It has you rolling your hips again, swallowing Xavier's moan as you lick into his mouth. The hand not palming at your breasts comes down to rest on your hip, leaving them there as he lets you control the pace of your grinding hips.

"Think you can cum like this?" Xavier says as he pulls away from your lips, dropping his hand from your chest to join the other on your waist. He starts guiding your movements that have become sloppy in your gaze of pleasure. You nod, biting your bottom lip as your pussy clench's around nothing, "Yeah? You gonna cum for me pretty girl?"

You nod again, hips moving at a desperate pace, the slide of you bodies made easier by you arousal that has soaked through your panties and all over the front of Xavier's pants. You can't keep in the stream of moans that pass your lips, chasing your orgasm. Tucking your head into his shoulder, your nails claw at his back move above him.

You're on the precipice of the end, can feel it taking over every finer of your body. Xavier helps you through it all, whispering praises in your ear, broken up by kisses to the side of your head.

"C'mon, already got my pants soaked. Wanna see how much of a mess you can make me," Xavier urges, matching you thrust for thrust. You lean back, trusting that he hand hold you up with the arms wrapped around your waist.

The newfound space between your bodies let's you see just how wet you've made the two of you. The dark maroon of his pants have become nearly black from where your cunt has been rubbing up on him, a mixture of your arousal and his pre. His pants are so wet that you can see the outline of his cock almost perfectly, looking long and perfect and like it would fill you up 'till you could feel him in your throat.

"You see how good you look rubbing up against me?" Xavier taunts, fingers turning bruising as you both start to speed up, "gonna cum in those cute pink panties without me even touching you."

Nodding along to his words, you drag your nails up his back to pull at the hairs at the nape of his neck. His reaction is immediate, eyes squeezing shut while he moans long and low in his throat. Xavier's hips stutter underneath you before going still, the grip on his waist turning painful. You barely notice that he's stoped moving, continuing to grind on him until your cuming hard, moan caught high in your throat and thighs clamping around Xavier's legs.

Face hot and panting for breath, you force open your eyes that you didn't even notice you had closed. Xavier has his eyes screwed shut, but in a way that seems like it's done out of pain than pleasure. You quickly let go of his hair, thinking you had pulled it to hard and hurt him. You smooth you hands over the back of his head, hoping to soothe any pain.

Xavier shakily inhales, pulling you back into him. You stop him with a hand to his chest before he can press the two of you together, your other hand coming down to pull at the band of his underwear.

"What're you doing?" Xavier says, voice rough, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. It's loose enough for you to pull free of, but firm enough to keep you from pulling at his waistband anymore.

"Want you to cum too," you say, dipping foreword to mouth at his neck. You can feel his answering moan against you lips, sucking a mark that won't even do justice to the amount you know litter yours.

"I, uh," Xavier swears under his breath, letting go of your hand to anxiously push his hair back, "shit, don't laugh, okay?"

"Why would I laugh?"

At first you don't think he's going to tell you what's going on. He just stares at you dejectedly, eyes darting away from your face to stare down at his destroyed pants, "I already came."

"That's okay. Don't know if you noticed, but I came pretty hard and I've still got my panties on," you say, a smile on your face. It pulls a tiny smile from Xavier, and his hunched shoulders start to loosen, "Really, I don't care. Honestly, it's really fucking hot that you came in your pants for me."

All tension seems to leave his body, the small smile on his face blooming into a beautifully large one, "Yeah? Think it was good enough to go on a date with me next weekend?"

You feel giddy with excitement, smiling wide as you cup his cheeks. You can feel as his smile somehow grows wider, and you can't help the excited giggle that escapes you.

"Hell yeah."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

#xavier #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier smut #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe imagine #Ꮺ. my work #Ꮺ. smut warning

[daydream-cement]

Back Again

Larissa Weems x Reader (Light NSFW)

Synopsis: Reader returns back to Nevermore to talk to the student body about their profession. What you didn’t expect was Principal Weems interest in how you have changed since you went to school together.

Authors Note: This is based off a request from anon. The request was a little long so for formatting purposes I made this into a separate post.

You stood before Principal Weems' desk as she commended your performance speaking before the student body about your profession, "If we are speaking freely, I never quite expected architecture as a career path for you... It looks good on you."

Her words make you cock your head. Did you sense some flirtation here? Back in school, Larissa and you always enjoyed teasing and flirting with one another, but you weren't expecting it from her now.

"It was different seeing you so full of confidence. I remember when we would do group projects, you would just get so nervous." Larissa was leaning against her desk in front of you. She chuckled as she continued reminiscing about your past together.

You had to chime in your own memory of your days being so timid at Nevermore, "That presentation for World Literature almost killed me."

"I thought you were about to pass out!" Larissa let out a loud laugh, her hand reaching out to lightly smack your arm. Her touch lingered for a moment, "I'm glad to see you so confident now..."

"Thank you. It's really nice to see you again, Larissa." You couldn't hide your smile as you look in her eyes. There was a bit of silence that fell between the two of you as you both wondered who should speak next.

"I remember how we always used to compliment one another in the most ridiculous way in the mornings before class..." Her eyes looked to the floor as the memories ran through her mind, "Oh, Morticia was convinced that I had such a crush on you."

You studied her face. You wanted to tell her that you always had a crush on her, "You were easy to compliment. It's hard not to find things that are wonderful about you."

You felt the tension in the room rising, almost like there were many words that were going unsaid. Silence fell between you once again. You glance up into her face, seeing that she was already staring at you.

You began speaking once again, feeling like now was as good a time than ever to share how you always felt, "I used to sketch you. That's how I became good with a pencil and paper. You are the perfect muse."

Larissa noticed the tense of your words. You still thought she was absolutely beautiful.

"You think too much of me." Larissa tried brushing off the compliment.

"I don't think that's possible." You felt emboldened, taking a step closer. Larissa raised a brow at you, probably shocked at your change in confidence compared to when you were in your youth, "You should give yourself more credit."

Larissa stood up straight, moving away from her desk and closing the gap between the two of you. You stare up into her eyes. She is smirking as she towers over you. You decide to take the power back from her, pulling her hand to your face to kiss her palm and her smile quickly fades.

You hear her suck in a breath and you finally speak, "You certainly are beautiful."

Her lips crash down upon yours. You place a hand on the back of her neck, holding the kiss as you back her up to her desk. Larissa pushes herself up so she is sitting on the desk as she kisses you. Your hands come to now rest on her hips, gripping them tight which elicits a growl from Larissa's throat.

You pull away, your voice a harsh whisper, "Perhaps I can show you just how much I have changed since we were in school."

Larissa only hummed in delight at your words, her lips attaching themselves to yours once again. The kiss deepens with the opening of your mouth. Larissa slides her tongue against yours and you couldn't help but moan in response. Your hands grip at the fabric of her dress, pulling gently. She shifts back and forth helping you pull it up so it bunches around her hips.

"Want me to fuck you?" You mumble against her lips and you hear her whine in response. When you pull your lips away from hers, Larissa's teeth bite your bottom lip causing you to groan in pain.

She releases you and whines, "Please fuck me..."

#larissa weems #wednesday netflix #fanfic #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot #light smut #smut #larissa weems smut

[kitkat-val]

✩ pairing → Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader

✩ summary → Many took advantage of the snowday at Nevermore by goofing in the snow. Wednesday decided to take advantage by shooting her shot

✩ warnings → not proof read, slightly ooc wednesday

✩ val’s note:- Havent written fanfic in a while but wednesday is just too fine

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Cocooned in your blankets, you felt a warmth of happiness spreading to all your limbs, even though the cold temperatures outside should imply otherwise.

Principal Weems’ voice had blared through the PA system, effectively waking you from your slumber, but she had said today would be a snowday. It was slightly incredulous to have a snow day when you lived at the school, but you were not one to complain.

You felt yourself drifting off to a peacful slumber before a sharp round of knocking was heard on your door. You jumped out of bed, irritation seeping in your body again. When you opened the door, your eyes met a familiar ravenette. You felt your irritation turn into something of embarrassment, knowing you probably looked a bit sluggish.

Wednesday seemed more relaxed than normal, not doing her usual impersonation of the kubrick stare. Somewhere in your mind, you were hoping you were the person for the seemingly easiness she was carrying.

“We were wondering if you’d join us while we did trivial activities outside, befit for only children” Wednesday questioned, and her relaxed state became tensed again, seemingly annoyed.

“Did someone force you to go?” You asked, quite confused. For an invitation, it really seemed like she was gonna leave the snow at a moment’s notice.

“Enid did, and my patience is running low with her at the moment” She answered, and you finally understood. Enid was probably trying to set you up. You had never told her about your crush on wednesday, but her intuition was always strong.

“I cant lie, I think I’ll just stay in bed. Maybe next time Wens” You told her, slightly apologetically. You did feel bad for her, coming all the way down here just to be told no.

“I know you would find it joyful to spend the day with me. Almost as joyful as kissing me would be” She acknowledged, with an eyebrow quirked up, and a smirk drawn huge on her face. Was the Wednesday Addams flirting with you? Unfortunately Wednesday had hit her mark, because you stood there with you eyes slightly widened and the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Did you just flirt with me?”

“I’d be able to do more of this flirting if you would accompany us today.”

You felt slightly reluctant to just agree, not wanting her to think you were in the palm of her hands. You started quickly brainstorming on how to make her flustered also, but with wednesday addams it would be difficult.

It was like god struck with the idea.

“Say please, and i’ll do it” You told her, feeling a smile grow on your lips. You would have went either way at this point, but bothering Wednesday was just entertainment. One of the best kinds of entertainment.

Her haughty face with a big smirk, turned into one of a sour one. Her usual look.

Much to your surprise, she said it immediately, and offered more than you had even asked.

“Y/n, would you please accompany me and some other friends to fool around in the snow” She said easily, as if she wasn't against the word “please” and against requesting things of others.

She always found a way to surprise people, making them feel squeamish in the skin. Usually by hauling a long talk of gorey subjects. Never had she surprised someone by making them flustered, and that's what astounded you even more.

“I take your response as a yes. Please be ready within the next ten minutes, because we did waste quite a bit of time right now. Meet at us at the Quad” She ordered, but even then you were still shocked because she had added another please.

“I thought saying please was below you”

“Nothing is below me when it comes to winning your heart” She wittly replied, and left her post in front of your door with a sharp turn of her heels. Unbeknownst to you, the her face was more colored then the rest of her.

—

You had prepared yourself to look a but better than usual, which was slightly silly because you were going to get drenched either way. You just didnt have it in you to look terrible after your little interaction with Wednesday.

You found your group of friends at the quad, and Enid had immediately met your eyes with a knowing look, and you felt your face heat up slowly realizing what kind of day this would be.

When everyone had collected together, Ajax loudly went, “Heads up” and threw a snowball at the back of Kent’s head, which quickly ensued chaos.

You were having a little 1v1 with Yoko, when you felt a blow to the back of your head. Quickly turning around, you saw Wednesday slightly smirking. Since you have turned your back on Yoko, she took her chance and plowed you with snow. You ended up running from the two ravenheads, a wide smile spread on your face.

When everyone had calmed down, and started doing more mundane things like building snowmen, and doing snow angels, you noticed Wednesday had distanced herself from you, choosing to stand in Enid’s shadow a bit. You ended up building a snow man with Xavier and Yoko, while conversing. Your eyes kept wandering towards Wednesday, even though you tried to will them not to. Fortunately for you, You usually ended up seeing Wednesday shamelessly staring at you.

At one point, your whole body began to feel extremely cold, and you mentally cursed yourself for trying to look a bit cute instead of properly layering up. Another snowball fight ensued and you stood in the corner, not trying to get hypothermia.

“Can you say that Nickname you called me this morning”, a voice suddenly requested behind you. You jumped and saw Wednesday.

You held a hand over your heart as you said, “Don’t just scare me like that, especially not from behind”. You breathing slowly went back to normal, and you glanced at the ravenette’s face, which held a humorous expression.

“Just call me it again” She requested again, completely ignoring your near heart attack.

“Magic word”

“Please, Mi Amor” and with that you felt your heart nearly drop to your stomach. Your body was freezing, but your heart was blazing.

“I dont even remember what nickname I said this morning” You told her earnestly, and she glared at you.

“I will have your body effectively chopped up and fed to the Hyde if you dont figure it out” She threatened, a huff of breath following it.

“Was it Day” You questioned, to which she simply shook her head.

“Addam?”

“That wouldn’t even be considered a nickname”

“Addy?”

“Absolutely not. It was my first name, not my last”

It hit you immediately, and you quickly turned around and held her face as you quietly said, “Wens?”

She pulled your hands off her face, and slightly turned around, but you didnt miss the pink dusting her face.

“Thank you. I came because you seem to have no concern for your safety, and since I dont wanna see you die on hypothermia, Im taking the task of leading you to warmth.” She haughtily said, even tho her cheeks still have a twinge of pink. You didnt point it out, because you knew she’s say it’s because of the cold.

You held your hand out and simply told her to lead the way, and she took your hand and pulled you through the halls of Nevermore untill you reached Ophelia Hall.

You had been lost, but brought back when you ended up in the Addam girl’s room.

“I thought we were going to my room?” You questioned, and Wednesday simply looked at you and didnt say anything.

She slowly walked up to you and let her cold finger slide under your shirt, and she leaned to your ear to whisper, “Take this off so we can get you nice and warm, yeah?”

When she pulled her face away, with her hands still on your waist, she saw your flustered expression and a smirk had found its way on her face once again.

Tired of Wednesday teasing you all day, you pulled her to you, and placed a kiss on her nose.

“Are you gonna watch me get changed?” You questioned, as you decided to slowly pull your shirt off, in a joking manner.

Wednesday pulled your shirt back down before it reached past your stomach, and vigorously shook her had no, her whole face turning red.

“I actually believe that I have some clothes in your size somewhere in the bathroom, give me a moment to locate them. Pull that type of stuff on my again, and I’ll pull your shirt off to choke you with it” She said as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Kinky” you replied, to which she ignored.

You peeled your clothes off as she sorted everything out for you, and when you lay naked standing in her room, you realized you should’ve waited till she gave you your clothes before you started changing.

You heard her approaching, and quickly got under her covers, to hide your body. When she walked in, she gave you and incredulous look before the situation made sense to her.

“I didnt know you were so excited to get naked around me” She noted with a quirk of her eyebrow, which didnt help you at all.

“Im not tryna”

“You attempted to pull your shirt off about ten minutes ago” She noted again, her entertainment in this situation quickly embarrassing you.

“I was joking” you whined, and quickly added, “give me my clothes”.

“Come up and retrieve them yourself” she told you as she held the clothes tight to her chest. You wrapped the clothes around your body as you walked up to her and tried to grab it without the blanket loosening. She caught a hold of your waist, and layed kiss on your shoulder.

“Here you go your clothes mi amor” She finally said after taunting you for so long. She left the room to give you privacy.

When she returned and you were dressed, you finally asked her, “Why have you been flirting with me all day?”

“I would answer your question, but you deserve a proper confession. Give me time” Wednesday simply said, as if she wasnt rocking your world.

You giggled out of happiness at her answer, both you and Wednesday oblivious to the gossiping of your friends when they noticed your absence. To wish Enid and Yoko claimed they gave Wednesday pointers.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams fluff #enid sinclair #nevermore #wlw ship #wlw #saphic

[starlesswritings]

Give Me A Riddle. Pt. 1

A/N’s : mentions of many unnamed (and a few named) npc’s. This is a Riddle/Yuu sort of story, but Yuu only appears in part 2. Behold! Riddle Rosehearts, but he’s on Earth!

Riddle Rosehearts was not exactly well liked and favored by the people around him. He knew that. Everyone knew that Riddle was disliked for his stickler nature, his unwillingness to bend the rules — and he did not care. When asked if his unpopularity bothered him, he would reply with a stiff upturn of his head that he didn’t have enough time to be bothered by such trivial things. If people were wasting their time complaining about him, perhaps they should have been using that time to study instead.

And then the Overblot incident had happened, Riddle met Yuu, and life was forever changed for him. Nevermore would he ever be the same — and it was all Yuu’s fault. How dare they enter his life like that and change his tender heart and soften him so? After all that, only to... only to...

Then again, hadn’t it been a long time coming? Perhaps Riddle was... wrong, to place the blame of Yuu entering Twisted Wonderland. After all, it wasn’t their fault. They just wanted to go home.

Riddle hadn’t expected to miss them so much. The Prefect had become something like a friend to them — no, better than a friend. More? More than a friend? He didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t care. He just wanted to see Yuu again.

Wasn’t that why they had come to a world that was not their own? How many years had it been? Riddle didn’t want to think about how much time had possibly passed.

Yuu was just one person. They should not have mattered to him this much, but in the span of just a little while, they had managed to make a lasting impression on his mind, to the point that he had crossed worlds to come and find them.

This was ridiculous. What was he doing? Why had he come to... Earth? All for someone who had chosen to leave —

Riddle buried his head into another book, at his stationary post in the library. He came here so often, everyone knew him by name, and so did he. Earth was... strange. Different. Was it really so much better than Twisted Wonderland, that Yuu had chosen to come back and stay here? That was just one of the things he was trying to figure out.

“Riddle, you’ve got such straight posture. You’ve been reading for hours,” one of the librarians commented in a hushed whisper.

“I was taught in such manner,” Riddle replied, focusing on the text he was reading, grey eyes flashing with interest as he jotted down a few notes. “Trey would probably like to try some of these.”

“You know, you keep talking about your friends. You should invite them sometime!” one of the other more rowdy librarians added, a little too loudly — the head librarian smacked them with a dictionary. “Ow! How could you?!”

“Keep your voice down, can’t you see he’s concentrating?”

Riddle stiffly tilted his head upward. “It is of no matter. I can study in any given condition, though silence is appreciated.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “My friends would have to make an extensive trip if they were to come and see me now.”

Really, what was he doing here? To find Yuu... what a terrible idea this had all been.

He sadly looked back at the book he held in his hands. “Maybe I should go back to them.”

The librarians were all quite fond of Riddle. He wasn’t exactly sure why they doted on him as if he were a little child and not a fully grown adult (he had gotten several raised eyebrows when he had explained he was not a kid), but they treated him well and let him come whenever he pleased. It was a decent arrangement and broke absolutely no rules, according to them, anyway.

“Do you really have to leave so soon? You haven’t even met up and found the person you’re trying to find!” the louder librarian whined.

Something about his mannerisms reminded Riddle of a certain eel, and he flinched. “Maybe it is a sign that they do not wish to be found.”

The head librarian threw a dictionary — probably the same one — at the whining man’s head. It landed, meeting its mark, creating even more noise for a moment until the other librarian slapped their hand over his mouth and silenced him. “Thank you,” the head nodded appreciatively. “Riddle, do you really think you came all this way for nothing?”

True. That was unlike him. He was not one to walk away without results of some kind. However, it had been... a very long time, and he was starting to feel discouraged.

“Anything I really try to do for myself never seems to work out.”

And, just like that, he was surrounded at his table by the entire cast of librarians who crowded around him while giving enough space for him to breathe.

“Oh, Riddle. That’s not true!” one said.

Another softly exclaimed, “You got this far! Surely that most count for something!”

“Now now, don’t crowd him.”

“We all get into moods sometimes. What you need is a pick-me-up.”

Riddle blinked. “How so?”

The head librarian’s aged eyes twinkled with delight. “Quite simple, I think. We should host an Unbirthday Party.”

Riddle’s eyes widened to the size of teacup saucers. “You remembered me talking about that?”

“How could we not? The concept is amazing! Though, we probably will need your guidance for most, if not all of it.”

“Yeah! An Unbirthday Party! None of us have birthdays now for the next week — unless your birthday...”

It wasn’t August. Riddle shook his head. “It’s not.”

“Perfect!” their loudest member yelled, only to get a whole palm shoved into their face (gently, we don’t support violence at our local libraries). “Ouch!”

“Behave yourself.”

“Yeah, Ike! You’re so loud, you’ll give Mr. Rosehearts a migraine.”

“Quit yapping, Varda!”

“Guys, I think you’re all being too loud...”

“Maybe I can make some tea as an apology? With sugar cubes, of course!”

“Are you sure we have sugar cubes?”

“We have sugar.”

“... It isn’t cubed.”

“By golly! What’s the point of that, then?!”

The head librarian sighed, turning to talk to Riddle a little closer. “If you are to leave our presence, allow us to spoil you, a little. They’d be too sad if you left without even a proper send off.”

“We should invite everyone to attend! Granted, as long as its not their birthday!”

Riddle smiled. “Well, of course. An Unbirthday Party is utterly ruined if its actually someone’s birthday.”

He rose from his seat, smiling in a way that was most intimidating, despite the fact that he was the smallest person present. “Come. We’ve got work to do.”

It was a completely different aura from before. The librarians looked around at each other in mild trepidation.

“I mean, it can’t be that hard —” the one called Ike started to say until Riddle cut him off, walking towards the door.

“If it’s to be a true Unbirthday Party, no expense can be spared.” He smiled deviously, looking back at them all with a fire in his eyes. “Don’t worry. As a former Head of Heartslabyul, I shall help you all in this momentous process. Now! Rosebushes, but they must be white — and buckets of red paint! We have no choice but to do this the old fashioned way what with no magic pens here, and are you really quite sure we can’t get flamingos —”

“Was this really a good idea?”

“He was looking very sad. And, if he suggests anything far out of our budget...”

Riddle was almost a new man, as if he were in a different place and time, shouting orders as if he had been giving them out all his life. Perhaps he had been a ruling figure since the dawn of time. “Straighten that posture! Where are the different tea bags? Do you have fresh tarts? White sheets for the tables? Proper cutlery?! Please tell me someone here has silver utensils! What’s the weather going to be like this week? Rule 352 states —”

“We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

#&. ❪ starlesswritings. ❫ #&. ❪ riddle rosehearts. ❫ #&. — ike's fics. #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle x yuu #twst yuu #ike's npc ! #i should have made that tag plural but i'm too lazy to change it dagnamit #twst imagines #pt. 2 to come when i find my will to live again

[fairywithgremlintendencies]

hiya!! nice of you to stop by!!

call me leaf or jasper/jas :D (most nicknames are also fine by me! esp if we're mutuals!)

it is i, the one who follows too many accounts (over 2.8k to be a little more specific)

aunt to the lovely @yourlocalsewerdragon

twin to the one the only @wormtiddies

older discord sibling to the amazing @channeling-inner-potato

my other lovely discord sibling is @spixi

my beloved adopted sibling is @scalesthedragon

queerplatonically married to my loves @anarchy-n-arson @autistic-ace-bee !! you can also find us on our sideblog @leaphair :))

my carrd!

beloveds heritage post

my pronouns page!

all religions, ethnicities, members of the lgbtqia+ community, etc are welcome! just please be respectful! i generally try to avoid discourse <3

i love receiving asks/dms!! if you ever want to interact please do if you're comfy!

some things about me!

fairycore enthusiast

i'm an infp and 5w6 or something

autistic. anxiety too

because of this, tone indicators are appreciated when necessary!!

i'm a librarian! (well technically i'm a lower rank than that but librarian sounds way cooler i think)

i really like characters. Both in media and my own.

nsfw blogs kindly stay back

I’m pretty sure I have maladaptive daydreaming/at least a very vivid imagination and for me that entails having a very complex world in my imagination with way too much fantasy characters and fantasy lore (I’m down to talk about stuff like this if anyone has a similar interest!)

i'm from Aotearoa New Zealand :D

lesbian/homoplatonic

i'm also polyam and aroacespec. Or something.

i identify mostly with the term genderqueer in regards to gender,, but non-binary/nb also works!

i really like plushies if you couldn't tell

i really like iced coffee and chocolate milk

DNI:

- transphobes, TERFS, tradfems, homophobes, acephobes, LGBTQ+ exclusionists, etc, proshippers, comshippers, dsmp fans, lgbtqia+ exclusionists, sexist people, nazi supporters, trump supporters, anti-semitics, right-wingers, racist people, people who harass others, nsfw blogs, just don't be an ass.

here's how i tag! so that anyone can block the ones they feel they should!

#caps - i use this for posts containing caps!

#bnha manga spoilers - general spoilers tag for the bnha manga!

#leaf says things - mostly just me using my blog as a diary, no triggering content as far as i'm aware!

#leaf rants - my stressy rants, usually involve mental health related stuff, probably best to block if you don't want heavy/mildly heavy topics on your dash, or if you only want positive posts!

#bnha - spoiler free bnha content unless otherwise tagged with the second tag on this list!

#leaf ocs - my personal oc tag! here i mainly post text posts and any oc art i want to share!

#leaf art - general personal art tag! will contain oc content but also just any old art, sometimes fanart!

#leaf reads yet another webtoon - webtoon liveblogging!

#leaf asks - any asks i receive will be put here

#_____:) - how i tag mutuals! usually it'll be their preferred name or a nickname in the blank spot!

#mutuals beloved <33 - general mutual chaos

Some fandoms i'm in!

ramble to me about these if you want!! or anything really!

encanto

komi can't communicate

bnha (i'm a manga reader and an anime watcher so talking about either is okay!!)

sk8 the infinity

idolish7 (i've only seen seasons 1 and 2 so far so no spoilers if possible!)

castle swimmer (webtoon)

not so silent (webtoon)

stare down (webtoon)

the four of them (webtoon)

nevermore (webtoon)

your wings and mine (webtoon)

given (mostly caught up in the manga but i forgor most of what happened)

yuri on ice

bakuten!!

re-main

haikyuu (anime only as of rn)

saiki k

blue period (pretty much just anime only)

monthly girl's nozaki kun (anime only as of rn)

assassination classroom

anonymous noise (not fully caught up on manga)

shera

the owl house

the legend of korra

voltron (kinda,,i havent finished it yet)

death note

the promised neverland (anime only, i've only seen a little of the second season)

please enjoy your stay!! <3

#about me #leaf says things

[teentitwns]

soooo, as you know i wrote some bbrae fanfictions and, this one, especifically, called “all you had to do was stay” (yes, taylor swift’s song) was published in 2017 but i deleted after sometime because im little lazy and the history always seems easily in my mind.

anyway! i decided to rewrite this fanfiction and the first chapter is already posted on the brazilian website that i use (spirit fanfics), so why not put in here too?

please, remember that im brazilian and my english is a little broken - sorry for the mistakes you’ll find on the text.

well, thats it. im really nervous right now and insecure. i hope you like it and, maybe, i can post the fanfiction on ao3 or another website.

_______________

The protective dome around Raven was totally useless and, like her friends, she knew it.

She was there, standing in the middle of the contraption built by Cyborg, with all her vital signs being recorded on the computers that occupied a large part of the room, beeping together with the devices that showed her brain waves.

Everything had been perfectly assembled and positioned so that she had the best protection that anyone could have in the face of what was about to happen, but all those technological tools made her feel like a laboratory rat, studied in vain to discover that in the end the experience had gone wrong again.

She sighed loudly and propped her elbows on her knees, resting her face in one hand; she no longer cared about floating.

She felt physically and mentally drained to use her powers in something as unnecessary as floating, and she didn't need to be inches from the ground at that moment.

In fact, it was better to have contact with the earth, with the concrete floor. At least she would be sure that she was still alive, that the world was fine and whole.

Raven let out a loud snort and huffed impatiently, her eyes roaming the room until they found the door, waiting, miraculously, for one of the other Titans to enter. She had been inside that dome for hours and she couldn't take it anymore - loneliness was good when chosen willingly, not out of obligation.

To her despair, in addition to the blatant private prison that was happening there, the kidnapping, or anything else of that level, the situation made terrible flashbacks go through her head, making her remember Slade, the brand of Scath , the end of the world and, consequently, Trigon.

Why did everything have to be so similar? It seemed that karma was acting exactly the same as it had on her sixteenth birthday, creating a tedious and scary looping. She never considered herself a fan of automatic repetitions anyway.

Unconsciously, she took her left hand into the pocket of her midnight blue cloak in hopes of finding a specific object inside it, but this time, she had no lucky coin to cling to and consider as an amulet. She was alone, forgotten, practically left to die, just as she should have been two years ago, on the fateful day when Trigon’s Prophecy almost came true.

The empath, a “witch” as many called her, allowed herself to laugh with mockery. She hated feeling sorry for her own tragic life, but she couldn't escape the pitiful thoughts she was having. She probably didn't think differently from what her friends had in mind - she was just a poor girl, victim of circumstances, who was not to blame for being the fruit of the forbidden, unhealthy relationship between a human and an interdimensional demon. She was not to blame for being “Daddy's darling”, the one chosen to bring him to Earth for the second time, since she was a poorly raised daughter and prevented him the first time.

Now, at eighteen, she wouldn't be as lucky as she was at sixteen.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos… Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”, she closed her eyes and started to meditate, with nothing else to do. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos…”

“Raven!"

She opened her eyes with a start, facing Beast Boy. Awkwardly, he spread his hands on the thick glass of the dome, breathing heavily.

“Great.", She thought. “Of all the people that Robin could send, he chose the most restless."

" What are you doing here?", she asked.

“Dude, isn't it obvious? We’re doing it wrong! ”, Beast Boy waved his hands compulsively. “I mean, it's your father! There is no one better to stop him than you!”

“If I leave here it will be easier to get to Earth."

“I really don't want to be pessimistic, but he's already here, mama."

“Beast Boy..."

“It worked last time, didn't it? What good will it do you to be stuck in that dome? The world will end anyway!”

“Weren't you the one who was upbeat until two seconds ago?"

“I still am!"

“Does Robin know you're here?"

“…yes."

“I don’t believe that."

“Of course I told him,", the shapeshifter scratched the back of his head, causing his newly acquired muscles to start filling his uniform to appear. “I just don't know if he paid attention.”, He gave a nervous smile.

“It doesn't count as a warning."

“Have you never been told that what counts is the intention?"

Raven rolled her eyes and uncrossed her legs, standing up. She walked over to where Beast Boy was, touching the dome with her fingertips. He smiled broadly, running to the nearest computer and typing in the code that would free her.

When the dome barriers disappeared, Raven adjusted the hood on her head, thinking about the possibilities that surrounded her. Beast Boy was right, after all. Trigon was already on Earth, like the first time, and she would not be of much help if she were trapped, safe and sound, while her friends killed themselves to save the world.

“I knew you'd be up for it!" He celebrated, approaching her.

“It wasn't your worst idea."

“I'm smart, you underestimate me too much."

“I must have my reasons for that, right?

“Taking into account my discussions about tofu being the best food in the world can’t be considered as a reason.”

“No?”

“We all have our childish moments.”

“And you have your adult moments.”, she said.

“Nothing for having released you, I’m at your service.

“Where are they?”

“Downtown.”

“Excellent.”

“Raven”, Beast Boy called her when she started to leave. “Are you ready to go?”

“You don’t?”

“It's just… You have nothing to bring you luck.”

“I don't believe in luck.”, she lied, ignoring the thought that she had been wishing for a lucky charm a few minutes ago.

“Why not?”

“I make my own luck.”

“But it's always good to have help, isn't it?”

“Come on, Beast Boy.”

He shook his head negatively and approached her, holding her arm firmly and preventing her from getting away. The difference in height between them remained almost nil, with Raven looking a little taller from a distance because of the hood.

She frowned and looked at him without understanding, trying to pull her arm out of his grip, uncomfortable with the position they were in.

“It's just…”, Beast Boy started to speak. “I shouldn't be here and I know it. You are always so focused and correct that you even embarrass me for acting that way, but, last time, you had the coin I gave you and we won.

“I don’t know where it is.”, Raven lied, lowering her head to hide the blush on her cheeks. Some of her emotions were manifested in Nevermore, reminding her of the small passion she held for him. Passion, that, that she was sure that she would never be reciprocated. He was not a philanderer, he had never dated anyone after Terra, but he was not unaware of love affairs like her. She had a little more experience, even though she was also small. “We can't keep others waiting.”

“I can't let you go without an amulet.”

“There is no such thing as luck, Beast Boy! How many times have I told you that we need to run after what we want?”

“Many.”

“And none of them fixed on your brain?”

“Apparently no.”

“I should have imagined.”

“Why can't you give me a credit?”

“You are acting like a child who believes in Santa Claus.”

“And you're being cruel to me.”, he complained. “I thought you stopped that a while ago.”

“I stopped. Are we going to battle or not?”, Raven asked impatiently. “The world is about to end!”

“I know!”

“Then let me go!”

“I can't let you leave here without an amulet!”

“So give me this shit!”

Raven's words echoed around the room, and Beast Boy smirked, as if he had been waiting for this ever since they started arguing.

Such nonsense fights and quick discussions were not new to them, who were used to being awkward a few times a day, always for stupid reasons. However, that time, the shapeshifter had a purpose and, knowing that Raven would play the game, he put his idea into practice, which ended up working very well, thank you.

Raven shook her head and shrugged, silently asking if he wouldn't give her anything. She was waiting for a frog charm or other coin, but all she received was a warm kiss on the mouth, which made her blow up the nearest computer monitor.

The touch of Beast Boy's lips on his made her close her eyes instantly, her body and mind embracing the fact that she wanted that kiss - she had even been waiting for him for a long time, having fantasized the moment several times in the stillness of his. room.

On the other hand, Beast Boy didn't explode at all, but he felt his whole body vibrating. Her cheeks were as flushed as Raven’s, and it had taken him a long time to have the courage to kiss her.

The kiss could not be considered "worthy of a movie" because the two were too tense to give themselves up completely. They did not know where to put their hands and neither should they do it; A light in their heads blinked incessantly, reminding them that the world was ending while they were kissing, and billions of people were at risk.

It could be considered an ordinary kiss, but for Raven and Beast Boy, it meant much more than that.

They separate after a few seconds, unable to exchange a direct look. Beast Boy cleared his throat and Raven clung more tightly to her cloak, almost disappearing inside it.

“Raven”, Beast Boy smiled, making her look him in the eye quickly. Without breaking eye contact, he simply stuck a five-cent coin in her hand. Like old times. “Good luck.”

—————————————-

ok, i had no idea that the text would lose the diagramming!!! i wrote this on my iphone notes, sorryyyy

#teentitwns #bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #raven #beast boy #fanfiction

[bmblboop]

Struck Like Lightning

    (Contains spoilers for RWBY Volume 4)

Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

The following is the introductory chapter to a Semblance-Soulmate AU in which a name or description of someone’s semblance will appear on their soulmate’s skin. The concept of a ‘soulmate’ is discussed in-universe and is treated as less of a one-and-done deal (nothing is 100% predetermined in RWBY). I plan to elaborate more on the Semblance mechanics if I end up finishing more chapters.

I am posting this in commemoration of Renora Week 2021 because this chapter features Ren and Nora! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

The days and weeks after the fall of Kuroyuri allowed Nora and Ren time to readjust and explore new parts of themselves. Ren’s sudden companionship had brought out a new side of Nora; she had someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone who didn’t judge her or pretend she didn’t exist. Nora often took the lead when following the trails and roads, in hopes of finding them someplace else to stay. That town had never felt like a home to her, but to Ren, it was everything he’d ever known. He was quiet, but observant, and getting better at his newfound abilities, which gave them both a sense of comfort. They didn’t have to fear the dark so long as they had each other.

One restless morning, the two were walking east, caught up in conversation.

“…so that’s why I think I like my hair short. Not that long hair is bad – it just gets tangled up in everything. You’re smart Ren, keeping it tied up like that.”

“-huh?” The sudden praise had caught him off guard.

“You pull hair up to keep it out of your face! I have no patience for that, so that’s why mine is short!”

“Oh, yeah. Do you think we could take a break soon?”

“Sure!” She scanned the treeline for a spot. “Ummm, let’s sit there.”

They made their way to a small boulder under the shade of the trees. Nora climbed up and sprawled on top of it to stare at the sky. Ren sat at the rock’s base and scratched his sleeve. His arm wasn’t itchy, but there was something-

It must have been the light of the fire playing tricks on my eyes he thought. He gripped his wrist tighter.

But something was nagging at him, something deep in his soul. To look again, to make sure it was just nothing. In broad daylight, surely if there was anything there-

Pulling his right sleeve back, Ren balked. On the inside of his arm were two words.

Absorb Electricity

“What-“

“What? What is it?” Nora pondered, sitting up and leaning over.

“Absorb-? What do those words mean?”

“What words?”

Ren turned around. Nora was looking at his arm too, with a quizzical expression on her face.

“Those words!” he pointed to inky writing on his arm.

“I don’t see anything?”

Ren did a double take; looking at Nora, then back to his arm.

“If you’re making a joke, I don’t get it.” Nora deadpanned, head propped up in her hands.

You don’t-? But it-? I’m not-? Ren dropped his arm and pushed the sleeve down. “It’s fine, I must be seeing things.”

Nora shrugged and turned back over, watching the clouds gather above.

--

They found a rocky overhang to camp under for the night. Nora passed out pretty fast; she had gotten a lot more comfortable sleeping through the demon-filled nights with someone by her side. Ren just stared at the embers of the fire and let his thoughts wander.

I know they weren’t there before I met her. Before… that night. So where did it come from?

A distant shriek echoed over the valley, and Ren could feel his heart beating in his ears. Immediately, he was awash with the calming greytones of his semblance. The scream turned to baying. A Beowulf then, probably alone and several miles away.

Exhaling slowly, he returned to color, the gears in his head returning to the question of the mysterious words. He looked at Nora, her deep sleep undisturbed by the distant Grimm calls.

I also never had this power, this courage, before that night. I feel like there is something…

He gripped his arm. Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

And what does electricity have to do with anything?

--

Climbing over a mountain in a thunderstorm was never their intended route, even less so when a stray bolt pierced the heavens and struck true.

Nora collapsed, and so could have Ren from the shock. Without thinking, he ran toward her - her body lying still and crackling with electricity. To both of their surprise, Nora was alive. She sat up, singed but supercharged, and no worse for wear other than some temporary hearing loss. (Which she demonstrated when she inadvertently screamed in his face: “Wow Ren, I lived!”)

Together, they settled into a rocky alcove further down the mountain to wait for the storm to pass. Once out of the rain, the pair took the time to laugh away the adrenaline. Safely out of the storm, Nora shouted to the sky, taunting the Gods that had tried to kill her and failed. The thunder only grumbled in response. She traced the thunderbolt-shaped markings the impact left on her with her fingers, and watched them fade away over the next few days.

It felt dream-like, the week following the storm. Perhaps it was just the stress of surviving something so scary, but Ren felt stronger and closer to her than before. One night, curling next to the fire, he began to lay his head on his arm to go to sleep. Out of curiosity, he pushed back his sleeve and stared at his arm.

By the light of the campfire, his skin was blank - the words were gone.

Perhaps, he pondered, that was just a warning. It told him that lightning was going to strike, but she would be okay. Perhaps the words disappeared because they were fulfilled, like a destiny that had come to pass? He was too tired for this, his eyelids were growing heavy. He pushed the thoughts away and drifted to sleep.

-

Years later, when the two survivors worked their way into Beacon Academy, did all the stars align. It was at lunch, with their team and their friends of team RWBY.  Pyrrha had brought up the importance of balanced meals when Yang interjected that Jaune had taken all the chicken nuggets.

“I did NOT!”

“Then why is it the only thing on your plate?”

“BECAUSE, um…”

Ren looked back at the textbook, tuning out the argument and glancing over the chapter’s topic for next class. His preemptive studying was interrupted with an elbow jab to his ribcage.

“What?” he said.

“We should be social, you know.” Nora scolded under her breath before turning to the group and gesturing with a boisterous “HEY!”

A sinking feeling in his gut began to form. If there was one thing Ren could never figure out about Nora, it was her immunity to social anxiety.

“Not that taking down a monstrous Nevermore and giant Deathstalker isn’t bonding enough, but I think we should get to know each other better!” she exclaimed. “Anyone know a good ice-breaker?”

Their leader Jaune perked up, “Ooh, how about everyone’s favorite movie or franchise?”

“Too broad.” Weiss replied.

“How about our weapons? I bet everyone has a cool story about theirs!” Ruby added with a glint in her eyes.

“We could talk about our favorite books.” Blake offered.

“Ha, everyone knows the best ice-breaker is sharing semblances,” Yang smirked, “and your semblance-soulmate.”

Pyrrha choked on her salad. Ruby groaned and leaned back in her seat. Blake visibly stiffened.

Breaking the silence, Jaune scoffed. “C’mon, not everyone knows that.” He then rushed to clarify - “It’s not like it tells you their name. You could walk right past them and never know!”

“Yeah,” Ruby pouted, “and maybe some of us don’t want to deal with that extra layer of existential dread.”

“Aw, but that’s what makes it exciting!” Yang teased.

“That’s what makes it agonizing!” Ruby retorted, “Knowing you have a compatible life-partner somewhere in the world and your only hint will disappear when you meet them?!”

“Hang on a second.” Ren interjected, “I thought we were talking about semblances?”

“We are, but y’know…” Weiss was tapping the inside of her arm. “…the Semblance mark.  It can only be read by the person whose skin it appears on, so sharing that knowledge would be another way of bearing your soul to the world.”

“It’s highly personal.” Pyrrha nodded in agreement.

Yang put her hands up in defense. “We don’t have to share them. I just suggested it because it’s so personal. It’s like the fastest ice-breaker in the world.”

Yang’s awkward laughing aside, Ren was still lost. Luckily, Blake picked up on his uncertainty and continued the conversation fluidly.

“It describes the semblance of a person you are destined to come across. According to popular belief, that person is your equal – your other half so to speak.” Blake’s voice then dropped into a hushed monotone, gripping her wrist. “Of course, some people believe strongly in it, while others prefer to forge their own path.”

“Right,” Jaune jumped in, “there’s no rule about marrying them or anything.”

“So it’s more of a suggestion, then?” Nora asked in confusion.

“I find it all very poetic.” Pyrrha said. “I’ve heard that your soulmate mark will disappear after you meet them. After that, it is up to you to forge that bond in person. Nothing is set in stone; it’s a path you can choose to take.”

“Whoaaa.” Nora mused. “Wait, how come I never got one!?” Nora was on her feet in surprise. “Is it possible I didn’t notice?”

Ren was only half listening to the conversation now as the puzzle pieces aligned and clicked together. Words. Semblances. Partners. Those letters he nearly blocked from memory, blocked with the rest of Kuroyuri... didn’t they mention something about electricity?

Two semblances tied together. Two souls cross paths and find each other’s company.

It is pretty poetic, isn’t it?

--

#rwby aus #rwby fic #renora #flowerpowerweek2021 #Semblance Soulmate AU #lie ren #nora valkyrie #My posts #my fic #finding the right voices for rwby and the rest of team jnpr was fun #I have 3 other ship stories planned for my personal fave ships but they aren't finished yet #If I get good feedback maybe i'll continue!

[jinxedpanda4life]

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone. 

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list. 

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment. 

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not. 

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for! 

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult. 

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology. 

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them). 

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned. 

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18. 

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne 

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language. 

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate) 

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.” 

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector 

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

          “You shouldn’t do that you know.”

           “Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson                    keeps the liquor.”

           “Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

           “Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to                stop.”

           “She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop,              but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more                        agitated.”

          “You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat.             Seems to me that you like her.”

           “Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

           “No, you like like her.”

           “That presumption is juvenile.”

           “But you don’t deny it.”

           “Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety. 

    “Damian what is going on?”

    “Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

    “Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

    “God has no dealings in this matter.”

    “You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

    “I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

    “So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

    “You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

     “We?”

     “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

    “Thought of everything huh?”

     “I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

    “Hello?”

     “You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

     “I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

     “We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

     “I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

    “...”

    “Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work. 

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation. 

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

   “Raven, you have this weekend off correct?��

   “Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

    “Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

    “Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

     “Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

     “Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

      “Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

       “Yup that is totally fine with me.”

       “Great.”

       “Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

       “See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

        “You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

#damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #Rachel Roth #damian x raven #Teen Titans #Headcanon #How do tags work #dc #demonbirds

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Defending Jon Snow’s Honor

Re: "Jon Snow is Trash": Because if you accept the season eight depiction of Jon Snow as credible, then you might as well admit that Daenerys was mad all along.

Disclaimer: This is not a defense of Jon Snow's actions in season eight, but a refutation of his portrayal.

To begin, we must confront the elephant in the room: In season eight, the character of Daenerys Targaryen was butchered both literally and figuratively. It was such a brutal and heinous maiming of her character that by the end of the series, it was impossible to suspend disbelief and accept the inane and illogical choices of the writers.

But when you then turn around and insist that Jon Snow has always been "trash"—it's no different than the people who insist Daenerys has always been mad. The hit job on Jon Snow was, admittedly, a bit more subtle. But it was a hit job nonetheless. Do not let two talentless writers convince you that Jon Snow, at any point in season eight, acted within the bounds of his established character or even within in-universe show logic.

Because he didn't.

And no, I won't put any of this under a cut. Let the sheer length of this post serve as proof, itself, of just how dirty David Benioff and D.B. Weiss did Jon Snow.

The Real Jon Snow

While the writing on Game of Thrones suffered the further the story strayed from the books and from its original creator, George R.R. Martin, season seven—for all its faults and imperfections—still seemed to follow the natural progression of the story. Everyone still felt more or less in-character, particularly Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen.

So, that's where we'll start. To me, season seven Jon Snow is the rough culmination of exactly where I believe his story arc will lead—and it's a great season to help showcase his qualities.

Regardless of any personal preference for characters, in season seven, Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen are equals. She is a queen and he is a king.

When they meet, she appeals to her power and her claim by inheritance in order to convince Jon to bend the knee. Of course, it was never going to be that easy. Jon's a stubborn man and he has no reason to put his blind faith into well, anyone.

It is only upon revealing her true nature—her selflessness and willingness to use her power to help others—that Daenerys earns not only his respect, but his heart.

To say that "Jon Snow was always trash" is an insult to Daenerys and her judgment.

Dany's love for Khal Drogo was born of adaptation, to make the best of a situation she never asked for. Unlike Jorah Mormont, Jon's devotion to Daenerys had nothing to do with her looks. Unlike Daario Naharis, Jon's devotion to Daenerys had nothing to do with her power or status... and everything to do with who she is fundamentally. Jon Snow pledged to fight for Daenerys based on the content of her character rather than her beauty.

Further, Daario Naharis really stood face to face with Daenerys Targaryen, the Mhysa, and said "fuck the people". Meanwhile, it is Jon Snow's mysterious scars that prove he and Daenerys harbor similar ideologies—demonstrating that Jon is willing to stop at nothing for his people—even if it requires giving his own life.

Many have called Jon Snow "stupid" for exactly this, completely missing the point that there are qualities that deserve to be held in higher esteem than self-preservation or cleverness.

Compassion.

Self-sacrifice.

Humility.

Dignity.

Honesty.

When Jon Snow declares his loyalty to Daenerys in the Dragonpit in front of everyone—this is yet another moment people like to point to as "stupid", yet...

"I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold. When enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies."

Jon Snow's integrity is more important to him than lying just to save his own hide. After all, he tried that once before, and the only thing it resulted in was heartache and regret. Jon Snow more or less asserts that a life wherein he must pretend to be something he isn't—isn't a life worth living.

This is as profound a revelation as it is bold.

Whether or not you agree with his convictions... Jon Snow's moral foundation is as unyielding as Valyrian steel. It is no wonder that this was the man who ultimately won the heart of Daenerys Targaryen. A man whose favor cannot be bought or exploited.

One fundamental change in Jon Snow's character from page to screen, however, is his ambition. This emphasis on his reluctance in ruling becomes an unfortunate cornerstone of season eight. But if Jon Snow's book counterpart—the one who dreamt of becoming Lord of Winterfell, of conquering and leading men into glory—lacks this hesitation, and instead, takes leadership so seriously that he only celebrates becoming Lord Commander with one gulp of alcohol... then what impact could his ambition have on the story?

Upon learning that Jon is Rhaegar's son, it's easy to jump to the conclusion that he'll suddenly start vying for the Iron Throne. But if Jon Snow pledges himself to Queen Daenerys in the books, then we have every reason to believe his word is as good as gold. Jon is not a man who takes his oaths lightly. Nor is he a man who is easily manipulated.

Jon Snow deciding to swear fealty to anyone is momentous.

Take, for instance, Stannis Baratheon. Jon's 'father', Ned, pretty much died in support of Stannis' claim to the throne, so he approaches the boy and appeals to Jon's deepest desire—the first thing he can remember wanting—to become a Stark.

All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do ... was forswear his vows again. And this time it would not be a ruse. To claim his father's castle, he must turn against his father's gods.

This is not an easy decision for Jon Snow. He spends a great deal of time considering the offer from just about every angle one can. Admittedly, it's hard to showcase deep internal reflection on a television show, so we didn't really get to see that process for Jon on screen. But it's always been apparent that two men of privilege—David Benioff and D.B. Weiss—struggle in writing from the perspective of a bastard. Fundamentally, they cannot fully inhabit Jon as a result, because they've never experienced a lifetime of unprovoked contempt, resulting in an unfortunate lack of depth in Jon's translation from page to screen.

Even so, we do get some insight into the depth of Jon's character in season seven when Theon Greyjoy says to Jon:

"You've always known what was right. Even when we were all young and stupid, you always knew. Every step you take, it's always the right step."

In turn, Jon replies:

"It's not. It may seem that way from the outside, but I promise you, it's not true. I've done plenty of things that I regret."

So, by the time that Jon must decide whether or not to accept Stannis Baratheon's offer, he does so with the consideration of future regret. It is in a reflective moment that Jon decides that his greatest desires are not worth the moral expense.

And so, Jon refuses to betray his father's gods, and remains a Snow.

The Kinslaying Problem

Speaking of gods... Way back in his wildling heyday, Ygritte recounts the tale of Bael the Bard to Jon Snow, in which she reveals a curious detail:

"The gods hate kinslayers, even when they kill unknowing."

While you could make the case that this foreshadows Jon as a kinslayer regarding Daenerys... considering it was their kinship that drove a wedge right through their relationship in show canon, it's safe to say season eight Jon knew full well he was kin to Daenerys when he killed her. So what else could this quote mean?

The "kinslayer who kills unknowing" probably won't refer to Daenerys at all—but the mysterious figure known in the books as the Night's King, of whom all records have been destroyed, his very name forbidden.

But... Old Nan insists we do know his name. At least one of them:

"He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down."

Keep in mind that it's Bran she tells, not Jon. And her words even echo the kinslaying element between these mysterious and legendary figures in and around the North.

Interestingly, one of the most prominent kinslayers in the story is the one who, in season eight, ultimately convinces Jon Snow to murder his queen. And somehow, it takes virtually no effort on Tyrion's part to persuade Jon Snow to commit not only regicide, but kinslaying (whatever happened to "The man that passes the sentence should swing the sword"?)

This may mean nothing in the show, but in the books it's reiterated over and over again we're told how accursed such an act is. And we have a pretty good example that it might be true. Rickard Karstark warned Robb Stark prior to his execution by the Young Wolf's hand:

"We are kin, Stark and Karstark. Old gods or new, it makes no matter. No man is so accursed as the kinslayer."

And we all know the fate that befell Robb Stark.

The Incest Problem

Speaking of kin... let's talk incest! While there's no question that on earth, discovering you've been copulating with your aunt might be a cause for surprise... In Westeros? It's not even considered incest. No, not even in the North, where we're given two examples of uncle-to-niece pairings:

"In Westeros incest is only applied if father lays with daughter, mother lays with son, or brother to sister, and the children of such unions are considered abominations. The views regarding marriages between an uncle and a niece (or an aunt to a nephew) might differ between the Faith and the old gods. In the north, Serena Stark had been wed to her half-uncle, Edric, while her sister Sansa Stark had been wed to her half-uncle Jonnel Stark."

In the original draft of the story, Jon was supposed to have a romantic relationship with Arya Stark—his cousin by blood, but who, for all he knows, is his sister. Seeds of this are still scattered in early chapters of ASOIAF, as illustrated by the sheer tenderness of their relationship in A Game of Thrones.

For years, Arya Stark was the only woman who treated Jon with respect. It's no wonder that his feelings for her have always bordered on romantic (and let me make a clear distinction here—I said romantic, not sexual). Considering that it was George's original plan, it's pretty safe to guess that being a willing participant in an incestuous relationship is not necessarily out of character for Jon Snow, as was predetermined by the man who created him.

Jon Snow is a polarizing character for people who love Targaryens and hate Starks—and vice versa. Whether or not you like it, Jon Snow is a Targaryen. And thus, the Doctrine of Exceptionalism applies to him, which states:

"The Targaryens wed brother to sister as the Valyrians had always done, and as the gods had made them this way, it was not for men to judge." 

While the show canon did next to nothing with Jon Snow's true Targaryen lineage—never forget that the entire reason David Benioff and D.B. Weiss were given the rights to Game of Thrones was that they could correctly answer the question "Who is Jon Snow's mother?"

An incestuous scandal was the best that the lackluster show writers could come up with. And to then accept that the only reason George R.R. Martin penned this central plot twist in his medieval fantasy story exclusively to create some modern-era incest drama is, frankly, insulting.

David Benioff and D.B. Weiss are creatively barren. As barren as... um, Daenerys apparently?

To further exploit the show's lack of logical reasoning—it turns out that, yes, according to show canon, Daenerys was barren the whole time. While Jon doubted the validity of Mirri Maz Duur's claims... he was wrong. And Daenerys was straightforward with him that their union would produce no offspring. And apparently, despite all the wasted dialogue used to foreshadow, she was right.

This means that even within the boundaries of the show's broken logic, the anti-incest angle never held water.

So... if season eight Jon Snow's rejection of Daenerys is what ultimately causes her to "snap", yet it's unlikely that book Jon Snow will feel the same strong aversion about their relation... will she "snap" at all?

The Execution Problem

When it comes to the 'old way', Ned Stark has taught his sons well, Jon Snow among them:

"We hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

When Jon encounters Ygritte, he can't bring himself to kill her despite the command to. She reminds him of his sister, Arya—the girl he loves the most in all the world. And so, he asks Ygritte to yield. Jon Snow, simply reminded of a girl he loves, cannot bring himself to kill Ygritte.

Later, we directly witness Jon applying Ned's logic to his execution of Janos Slynt. After advising Janos on how best to achieve a quick death, he says:

"If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them."

"Please, my lord. Mercy. I'll … I'll go, I will, I …"

No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended.

Like his father before him, Jon advised Janos to speak his last words. And upon hearing them, deemed him fit to die.

This is Jon Snow's execution style.

We see it repeated even in season six when he executes his murderers:

"If you have any last words, now is the time."

Patiently, he waits for each of his four murderers to speak before letting them hang.

This is Jon Snow's execution style.

Alternatively, we see another style of execution when it comes to Jon Snow's own murder, as carried out by Alliser Thorne. Let's just go ahead and refer to this style as dishonorable and cowardly (two qualities that we've now established that Jon Snow does not possess).

Jon Snow was led, unarmed, into a false sense of security—where he was then cornered and stabbed in the heart by his enemies, left lying in a pool of his own blood.

The change in Jon Snow's execution style to suddenly emulate the way in which he was murdered is a cold-blooded betrayal of Jon's character.

But back to Janos.

On the surface, Jon Snow made a snap decision to execute Janos Slynt for disobeying a command—though if we're being honest, it was more-so because Janos was an entitled and sniveling Lannister loyalist that couldn't be trusted, or, a clever political move to ensure Jon’s future safety as Lord Commander.

Jon then severed the man's head as he cried and begged for his life.

You expect us to believe that this man...

...would be bothered by the execution of attempted murderer and traitor, Varys? A man who openly suggested they collude and commit treason?

While the above gif looks a little more like the Jon Snow we know, it’s not. Especially considering the writers tried their hardest to make us believe Jon Snow is incapable of dishonesty and lying, even by omission, he neglects to tell Daenerys of Varys’ treasonous ways. He cannot lie to his siblings or to Daenerys about his Targaryen identity, yet he can omit a very troubling piece of information regarding one of the allies of the woman he loves and is pledged to. What?

Further, compare the execution below with the above gifs of Jon Snow's two executions. He even shows more satisfaction in the deaths of the lives he’s taken than Daenerys did. Varys surviving means Dany’s life will forever be at risk. Not only is Varys an oathbreaker, but he attempted regicide by poison. Having Jon Snow judge Daenerys for this action is a blatant double standard that makes zero logical sense.

And speaking of attempted murderers... Let's discuss Randyll Tarly.

Randyll Tarly is no stranger to Jon Snow. Sam told him all about his father way back in episode four of season one:

"You're almost a man now, but you're not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black, forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not, then we'll have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more."

So, you're going to tell me that Jon Snow is suddenly perturbed by the execution of a man who both threatened to murder his own son and who betrayed his liege lord?

To fight alongside the Lannisters, no less?

According to the books, this is what Jon Snow thinks of the Lannisters:

"It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn."

And in case you missed it, this is how Jon Snow punishes those who betray their liege lords:

Maybe you’re itching to argue that it’s Dany’s execution style that is the problem. That perhaps, 'death by fire is heinous and cruel! Beheading and hanging and punching someone to death are all "merciful" deaths!' Because, stupefyingly, that's a popular argument for those that (also stupefyingly) defend Randyll Tarly.

That argument might work if not for the fact that Jon instructed his men to launch flaming arrows at the Battle of Castle Black, thus using fire as a means to kill.

The Arya Stark Problem

We've already discussed Arya Stark a little bit in terms of her deep bond with Jon Snow... but in order to truly show how out-of-character their reunion was, we need to backtrack a little bit.

Upon gifting her Needle, Jon and Arya have this exchange in the books:

"And whatever you do..."

Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.

"...don't ... tell ... Sansa!"

Not only do the pair have an understanding which excludes their sister or trusting her with sensitive information... when Arya is caught with Needle later on, this happens:

Arya chewed her lip and said nothing. She would not betray Jon, not even to their father.

And when Arya attempts to shed her identity at the House of Black and White, she can't bring herself to part with Needle, because:

Needle was Jon Snow's smile. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can't have this.

Arya Stark refuses to part with the physical representation of Jon Snow's smile.

For the most anticipated reunion in the entire show, it fell flat. Don't get me wrong, it was exhilarating to see Jon Snow and Arya Stark embracing after being apart for a decade—and Kit Harington and Maisie Williams did their absolute best with the poor dialogue they were given.

But this was not the reunion of two characters who survived some of their toughest challenges by merely recalling the memory of the other. Jon and Arya shared a bond that nothing could tarnish—not even time. A bond that no one—not even their fellow family members—could penetrate.

The nerve of the writers making Arya Stark, one of the cleverest characters in the books despite her age, say that Sansa Stark is the smartest person she's ever met? No. For one, Arya Stark did not need to live as a bastard in order to empathize with them—which means that even as a little girl, she possessed wisdom that is years ahead of her elder sister's.

Much like Jon Snow, Arya Stark is not a character who is easily persuaded by the opinions of others. Which is why she and Jon are close at all—she never once believes the stigma attached to his bastardy, because it's so blatantly obvious to her that his character simply doesn't fit the rhetoric.

I'd be willing to bet that Jon's incredibly loyal sister would trust his judgment in pledging himself to Daenerys. And I won't for a minute believe that the girl who said to Gendry...

"I can be your family."

...would suddenly regress into intolerance, particularly not at someone else's behest.

I won't believe for a minute that the girl who said...

"The woman is important too!"

...would turn around and suggest that the woman who provided her armies, dragons, and resources to save the North should then be discarded afterward.

I won't believe for a minute that the girl who makes allies and friends everywhere she goes would turn around and argue that allies aren't important.

I won't believe for a minute that the girl who named her direwolf after the warrior queen Nymeria, the girl who said...

"He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!"

...wouldn't at least give the person she loves the most in all the world, Jon Snow, a few minutes to explain why he supports and believes in Daenerys.

Lastly, there is absolutely no reason to believe that Arya Stark would ever betray Jon Snow. It is an insult to one of the purest and tenderest relationships in the entire series to suggest otherwise.

The Winterfell Problem

Even on Jon Snow's AWOIAF Wiki page, he is described as "quick to sense a slight", as well as observant, "a trait he developed on account of being a bastard".

Yet, during the feast following the Night King's death... Jon Snow is suddenly portrayed as oblivious all in service to the plot to alienate Daenerys. Jon Snow's sudden disinterest in the woman he spent season seven so intently studying was both frustrating and compromising to his character traits.

After all, the most impressive leader Jon Snow has ever witnessed followed him into his homeland to save his men for nothing to gain (and in fact, to sacrifice her own men and resources), not just for the man she loves—but because it's the right thing to do.

The writers really expect us to believe that this man, who turned Janos Slynt's insubordination into an example of what happens to men who openly disrespect him and his orders...

...is going to suddenly sit idly by while his own people make a fool of him by disrespecting his chosen queen, and by extension, him.

Don't let the writers believe for an instant that he would stand for it.

Taking a step further back, what in seven hells was going on during that battle?

The betrayal to Jon Snow's character is the most glaring during episode three of season eight, in which the writers really decided to sideline the most talented and quick-thinking swordsman in their cast (next to Furdik—who, by the way, was also sidelined).

Jon Snow conveniently forgets virtually everything he learned from defending the Wall in season four and reclaiming Winterfell in season six. The King in the North who travels all the way to Dragonstone for not only dragonglass, but in hopes of gaining the help of the queen and her armies is really going to let one of those armies gallop head-first into the army of the undead with metal weapons? Jon Snow is the first character in the show to learn that regular weapons don't work against wights!

And while it may not be Jon Snow's fault that the trebuchets managed to make it to the front line of all places, he certainly would've pointed out the flaw in that decision. As well as the placement of the trenches—which physically severed the troops from the safety of the castle upon retreat. Retreat, if necessary, would be a priority for Jon Snow especially, as he, above everyone else, knows that every fallen man means one more undead soldier they must deal with.

And speaking of the trenches...

To add insult to injury, the writers really decided to add a shot of Jon Snow sitting idly next to the trenches on top of Rhaegal, a dragon that he was just using to light the dead on fire, as Melisandre struggled to light them with magic:

What? You mean this Jon Snow?

The Jon Snow that once used his quick-thinking to discover that fire kills wights... doesn't think to use dragonfire to light a trench on fire? Come on.

And since when has Jon Snow ever balked during battle? Of all the characters, he's one of the few who actually understands what the Night King is, how big his army is, what the odds are, and what it's like to be in the midst of not only battles—but ones that are going really poorly.

Yet at Winterfell—the place he fought so hard to reclaim and that he reluctantly went south to rally support for in order to protect it—he suddenly has no idea what to do? He's historically one of the most quick-witted and innovative fighters in the entire show, if not the most.

And speaking of battles...

"We find our true friends on the battlefield"

Whether or not you agree with the writers' choice to have Sam attempt to persuade Jon to commit treason against his queen... I just cannot accept that Jon Snow willingly turns away from his oldest friend in a moment like this:

Even in the most hopeless of situations, Jon Snow won't hesitate to save someone he loves. Like when he tried, against all odds, to save Rickon.

Even with complete strangers, Jon Snow has shown his gallantry.

As well as his aptitude for forgiveness.

Whether or not Samwell Tarly offended Jon, he would never leave him to die. Their principals may no longer converge the way they once did... but never forget that when, in the books, Chett suggests Thorne should kill Sam for being weak, Jon speaks up on Sam's behalf:

"Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can't make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean tin is useless."

The Night King Problem

Speaking of the battle for Winterfell... By denying Jon Snow the climax to his story arc—squaring off with the Night King—and instead, granting that honor to Arya Stark (who has no relation to anything happening north of the Wall in either book or show...) it disrupts the natural conclusions for both characters.

Jon Snow and the Night King had unfinished business—at least, that's what all those long and intense stare-downs seemed to indicate. Even in the books, the only POV chapters that mention the Night's King are Jon, Bran, and Sam.

Kit Harington was very gracious when trying to explain why he would've liked to get the killing blow:

"I was a bit pissed off, only because I wanted to kill the Night King! I think I felt like everyone else did, in that it had been set up for a long time, and then I didn't get to do it."

But even in all his graciousness, Kit points out that it's been set up for a long time. And you know what George R.R. Martin has to say about changing your plan mid-stream:

"If you planned your book that the butler did it and then you read on the internet that someone has figured out that the butler did it and then you suddenly change in mid-stream and it was the chambermaid who did it? Then you screw up the whole book because you've got this foreshadowing early on and you've got these little clues you've planted and now they're dead ends... and you have to introduce other clues and you're retconning. It's a mess."

Yet... The fact that Jon Snow vs. the Night King made sense was exactly why the writers chose not to do it!

"We hope to kind of avoid the expected and Jon Snow has always been the hero, the one who's been the savior. But it just didn't seem right to us for this moment." 

Sure, Arya Stark killing the Night King "subverted expectations" (I'm so sick of typing those two words together at this point, but it's impossible not to do when trying to discuss season eight)... but at what cost? The cost of any emotional impact.

Just like virtually everything else in the last season. 

(As an aside, if the writers really felt Arya Stark was the right person to land the killing blow, they should've had Jon lose the swordfight and before the Night King is able to finish him, his ride-or-die sister comes flying out of the darkness to save his life. The audience gets what they were promised and Arya still gets to be the hero in a way that not only makes sense, but fits her character…)

Of course, the showdown with the Night King was not the first major plot point that was teased over the course of the series to be ultimately robbed from Jon Snow.

Nor would it be the last...

The Prophecy Problem

To claim that Jon piercing Dany's heart with a quick sneak attack has any resemblance to the legend of Azor Ahai is a gross oversimplification. Let's take a look at what the legend actually says:

"He summoned his wife. 'Nissa Nissa,' he said to her, for that was her name, 'bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.' She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel."

Yes. Daenerys was stabbed in the heart. That is the only similarity her season eight murder bears to the above legend.

Where was the declaration of love? Where was the permission asked? Where was the consent given? There was no cry of anguish and ecstasy—there was a gasp and a gurgle. Dany's life was not given in exchange for anything, it was simply taken. There was no transference of courage or strength—just a quick and (troublingly) unimpactful "shock" death.

Of course, it's important to point out that Azor Ahai is never even mentioned in the show. And while The Prince that was Promised was mentioned (as late as season seven)... So far as show canon goes, this prophecy meant absolutely nothing in the end.

That makes two of us, Kit.

Jon Snow (and Kit Harington) Also Deserved Better

Aside from George R.R. Martin, the man who knows Jon Snow best, Kit Harington, was overcome with heartache, disbelief...

...and frustration upon reading the treacherous turn his character took in the season eight script.

David Benioff and D.B. Weiss completely neutered Jon Snow's character.

Figuratively and well, maybe literally? Year after year, they have shown themselves to be petty and spiteful with various cast and crew—from Kit Harington to Ian McElhinney to Alexander Siddig to George R.R. Martin, himself.

Remember that stupid dig at Jon Snow's penis size upon his resurrection? Just a dumb joke, right?

Or was it?

It was sure important enough for them to go on record with major publications and clarify that, no, it wasn't just a joke, but canon! Pay very close attention to how it's worded:

"He just had the look. The brooding intensity; the physical grace; the chip-on-the-shoulder quality that we always associate with extraordinarily short people.

There has to be some downside to being Kit Harington, right? It's impossible not to like him. Maddening. The one thing we can do is saddle his character with a tiny pecker."

This isn't about Jon Snow's penis. It's about taking Kit Harington down a peg. Not only did they give Jon Snow a canonically "small penis", they had to give Daenerys lines about how he's "too little for her", to poke fun at Kit's height. You know, because he's apparently "extraordinarily short".

Utterly juvenile.

Much like with Tyrion Lannister, Jon Snow's cleverness far exceeded that of the men who were in charge of writing him—and they failed to replicate it. And so, the further Jon Snow strayed from his creator, George R.R. Martin, the further his IQ dropped until, by season eight, he was reduced to a bumbling idiot shouting at dragons and saying little more than "muh queen". Why? Because if you're actually an idiot, you cannot write a clever person.

As for the books, Jon Snow's true fate remains to be seen. And for as much as I don't want to get my hopes up for a better ending, I cannot ignore that Jon Snow's foreshadowing just doesn't point to futility, and that if it does—George R.R. Martin sure put in a lot of work to convince us otherwise.

As the man, himself, recently said:

"People know an ending—but not the ending."

It is as much an insult to Jon Snow to have Daenerys descend into spontaneous madness as it was for the fans who loved her. Over the years, Jon has proven himself to be a great judge of character—and this was the man who assured Daenerys, in her most vulnerable moment, that she does deserve to be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

After all, there’s just no denying their similarities as characters:

"From the very beginning, Jon and Daenerys' stories have paralleled and contrasted each other, with both starting from a position of weakness and insubordination before ascending into leadership roles. Both had to maneuver their way through the difficulties of power while maintaining their sense of justice, and in doing so, had to face many hard decisions along the way. Both were mocked, attacked, and betrayed for doing the right thing. Both reached their low points and were figuratively reborn at the same time, both coming out stronger as a result." -Brandon Jacobs

If you loved Jon Snow prior to season eight, you were never wrong or misled, nor was your judgment unsound. I hope that, somewhere in this post, there was at least one example that reminded you of why Jon Snow was able to win your heart in the first place. Writers who don't understand the most fundamental qualities of a character should not be given the power to rob you of your love for them.

I am willing to bet that like me, and like all of Jon Snow's fans... you know him better than the two men who were granted the honor of writing his television canon. An honor they proved in season eight that they never deserved.

Please do not grant these two incompetent writers and poor storytellers the power to turn you against one character while praising the other, especially when both were ruined beyond repair or recognition.

Forgiving Jon Snow as a character ≠ condoning what he did in season eight, just as forgiving Daenerys Targaryen ≠ condoning mass genocide.

Like Daenerys, Jon Snow deserved better.

#jon snow #game of thrones #meta #jon snow defense squad

[yjwhatif]

What is going on with Bart?! (Part 1)

Ok I am definitely the only one who thinks this - but there is something weird going on with Bart in the last episode - or more specifically post X-pit... let me explain.

Bart is a pretty underused character throughout S3 and doesn’t play any major part in the final episode, yet there’s one moment that grabs my attention every time I see it - and that’s the moment when Bart elbows Garfield in the middle of Jeffs really important speech.

Jeff: Like the Outsiders, we must live in each other’s spotlight

Ok yes that is kinda a very Bart thing to do - his way of complimenting Gar for his achievements leading the outsiders - but it’s the fact that he doesn’t react in a regretful/apologetic way when Gar calls out in pain - he just stands there grinning at his clear injured friend and doesn’t bat an eyelid. (Also, does anyone else think Bart has a really evil/sadistic look to him in this shot - because I do and I can’t help but find it odd.)

Another thing about this scene is that not only is Bart front and centre in the panning shot of heroes (which I’ll come back to in part 2) - but he is completely separated from the two people he is usually paired with onscreen - and that’s Ed and Jaime who are both placed together at the very back of the shot. Now when I say ‘usually paired with’ I mean ALWAYS - excluding ’Homefires’ (though that is the first ep to show Ed’s in S3 - so I say it still counts) Bart is either next to Ed or Jaime or both - l know because I checked.

That is until they all come out of the pit - then something seems to change with the trio, for Bart appears to constantly isolate himself from the other two...

Now you probably think I sound mad, that I’m just reading too much into it the layout (as usual) but it’s there - it’s subtle - but it’s definitely there. Like I’ve highlighted with the season as a whole Bart is usually stood with E/J - it highlights his connection to them and establishes their specific friendship in comparison to the rest of the characters. Composition is important - especially in seating arrangements.

At the beginning of ‘Into the Breach’ Bart takes the front most central seat which draws attention to him - being the speedster he is he is always running headfirst into any situation with confidence - so he is at the very front of the ship and closest to the action. Then he has Ed sat in the seat next to him - this allows for them to share a two shot and again reinforce their connection - which they definitely have (see my post about Ed’s powers - there’s a few). This quick shot tells a lot - the angle even gives the impression that Bart is closer to Ed than Vic, which increases their divide - he doesn’t know Vic or maybe trust him yet, unlike he does with Ed. While Vic seems closer to Blue because we know they’ve previously made a connection offscreen - “Bluebeetle taught me that one”.

Yet fast forward to the scene at the premiere building post x-pit and thinking they’ve lost big time - when you look close there is a definite dynamic change between the trio. Though they are still grouped together, they are actually divided - the chairs divide them - whilst Ed and Jaime share the same sofa, Bart is on his own and thereby isolating himself from his friends. But not only that, look at the way he’s sat compared to everyone else - he is the only one with crossed legs. Whilst the others all mimic the same body language - hunched over, hands on knees, legs apart - they are all united in their defeat - but Bart is alone.

Noticeable again after Vic and the others return, Bart is on his own, the furthest away from the group - he is now the one hiding at the back - which is a big change from the shot on the bioship. Something has changed for him - he can’t connect with the two people we know he cares for.

It continues into ‘Nevermore’, this time on the bioship the trio are to the back - the dynamic they last had on the ship has altered massively. Ed now sits on his own side completely separated from Bart and Jaime - this may account for his own feelings of guilt (see my Outsiders in turmoil posts) - he feels he needs to distance himself because of his own failures. Yet he is still in line with Jaime - like in the all the previous shots post pit, he remains on equal ground with Jaime. But for Bart, he is disconnected and hiding at the very back - he has lost the confidence to be front and centre on missions and with his friends - but why?

They all experienced the pit, yet Bart seems the most affected (in a subtle sort of way) - from confident and eager, he’s now isolated and hidden away. And yes, these are very subtle moments that you don’t notice - but because this is animation that makes the subtlety more important - because these are conscious decision being made and agreed upon - they are not random acting choices like in live action.

Now my final notice for this part 1 post - because this has become very long - is the scene just after Vic disappears to follow Granny - I’ve only just noticed this whilst gathering pics for this post and it’s actually blown my mind.

So I’ve always found this moment strange because to me it feels like Bart is almost blaming Ed for everything - and when you look at the shot it does look like everyones giving him evils. I don’t think that is what’s happening but I can imagine that’s what Ed thinks is happening. However what I realised this time round is that that is the real Bart we hear - not the one we’ve followed in S2&3 - but the cynical one of the future. For 10 seconds Bart finally breaks character and drops the mask to reveal his true self - the realist of the apocalypse. Maybe this is why he’s distancing himself - he didn’t come to the past to have fun and joke around - he was a kid with a job to do - and just because he’s done it doesn’t mean he should lose focus. Maybe the pit reawakened the ghosts of his past - the lives lost because of the apocalypse - the lives that could still be lost if that future still happens because he was too distracted to notice the signs.

Barts psyche has always been what fascinates me about his character - because the happy goofball we see isn’t even the real Bart - thats Wally and Barry he’s imitating - Bart has spent 3 or so years living in the guise of what he wants people to see - what he thinks they expect to see in the grandson of Barry Allen - which is mad. This is why I want more Bart - I wanna see what isn’t being shown to us - and I think the x-pit might just have unlocked that possibility. 🤞

- To be continued in Part 2 -

Other Posts:

- Ed’s Powers - ‘Into the Pit’

- Outsiders in Turmoil 1-6 can be found under the tag outsidersinturmoil 

#bartwatch #young justice #yj outsiders #yj3 #young justice outsiders #yj #yj season 3 #bart allen #eduardo dorado jr #el dorado #kid flash #yj theory #reflection #jaime reyes #blue beetle #connections #isolation #analysis #beast boy #garfield logan #screenshot #shot analysis #impulse #yj season 2 #yj2 #young justice invasion #bartuardo #bluepulse #into the breach #nevermore

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter One

Notes: This story is for a Halloween challenge put on by @sdavid09​

The challenge was to create a story inspired by a horror movie, and a song and I chose the movie “Halloween” which, at its heart, is a story about a woman having a psycho stalker, and the song “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. The month got away from me so I’m still writing it. It’ll probably be about four or five chapters or thereabouts so not super long. You can follow along on here, or on AO3 where I’ll be posting! :D

Rating: T Warnings: Intense Horror Elements (honestly not sure how to explain it other than that. It’s nothing that I graphically detail or anything, but it does get pretty intense at times so I wanted to put a warning for that) If you have read my writing then you probably have a pretty good idea of how far I’ll go, and also that I always provide a guaranteed happy ending. SO, you can rest assured that, no matter how scary or intense it gets, it’s going to be all right in the end for the protagonist. Anyhoo, just be aware, this is for a Halloween Challenge, and is meant to be scary and IS scary. If you are not a person who can handle horror (and that’s perfectly fine, I’m actually not a person who can handle horror so I literally just scared myself writing a story :P) then this may not be the story for you. Fortunately, I have PLENTY of other stories you can read on my AO3 account with no horror elements at all so I will shamelessly plug them and invite you to check them out! :D

Summary: Bilba Baggins is on the run from a stalker who’s supposed to be dead. He hunts her from city to city in an exhausting cat and mouse chase whose ending can only ever be tragic.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought before she moved to Erebor.

PROLOGUE

“There, now was that so bad?”

Bilba gave Priscilla a look that suggested her best friend had taken leave of her senses, and gestured outside the car’s window. “You’re joking, right?”

As if summoned, a large group of children rushed across the street, breaking around the car like waves around a rock as they rushed from house to house in search of candy. 

Priscilla laughed and shut the car off. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it,” Bilba muttered. She’d only had her license a few months, and was still getting comfortable driving at night. She’d driven them both to the movies, when the sun was still nice and up, but had refused to drive anywhere in the midst of thousands of children running about. 

Priscilla frowned. “Shoot, I just realized.” She gave Bilba an apologetic grin. “I drove to my house instead of yours.”

She didn’t look sorry, Bilba thought crossly. 

“I guess,” Priscilla said innocently, drawing out the word, “you’ll have to drive the rest of the way yourself.”

Bilba gave her a flat look and then, without breaking eye contact, grabbed her purse and coat and got out of the car. 

Immediately, she was assailed by the shrieks of children dressed in bright costumes as dozens of tiny bodies dashed from house to house in search of sugary treats to fill plastic buckets and pillowcases. A crisp autumn air wrapped around her and she set her purse on the car’s roof to pull her coat on. 

Priscilla scrambled out of the car, dodging a handful of ghosts and ghouls and their harried parents. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Bilba pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her friend. “What does it look like? Walking home.”

“You can’t walk home,” Priscilla said, rounding the car to where Bilba stood on the sidewalk. “It’s dark!”

Bilba turned in an exaggerated circle to take in the streetlights and the veritable hoard of trick-or-treaters and their parents. “It’s like two blocks. I think I’ll be fine.”

Priscilla scowled. “I’ll walk with you then.” She crossed her arms triumphantly, clearly convinced Bilba would now capitulate and agree to drive. 

Instead, Bilba merely smiled. “How will you get home?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “I’ll wal---” she trailed off, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. Bilba grinned. 

“Oh, so you don’t think it’s too dangerous to walk.” She waved at her friend and took a few steps away, quickly before Priscilla could come up with another argument. “I’ll come pick up my car tomorrow.”

Priscilla’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a way out of the box she’d neatly trapped herself into. Finally, she scowled and said, “call me when you get home, all right?”

“I will!” Bilba gave a final wave as she headed toward her home. She reached the corner and looked over her shoulder to see Priscilla standing near her front gate, watching to make sure she didn’t get kidnapped in public. Bilba waved and the other girl returned the gesture before raising her phone and pointing to the screen. Bilba gave an exaggerated nod to show she understood and then rounded the corner. Priscilla worried too much. The streets were overflowing with people trick-or-treating or driving to and from parties. It was probably the safest night of the entire year. 

As the thought passed through her mind, it occurred to her that the street she’d just confidently strode onto was decidedly darker than the one she’d just left. Unease settled over her and she hesitated. Maybe she should double back and take another route? There was a house a block or two away that threw a Halloween party every year and she knew it’d be teeming with people. 

She looked back, for just a second, and then shook her head. Going that route would double the amount of time it would take her to get home, and for what? Because a street she’d been on a thousand times was a little dark? She was letting Priscilla’s paranoia get to her. It wasn’t that dark, and it wasn’t entirely empty either. Several small group were running between houses, bags and pails in hand. 

 It was fine. 

She’d be fine. 

It was like a block. 

Nothing bad could happen in a block. 

Bilba squared her shoulders and started walking again, this time with what she hoped was a particularly confident air. Priscilla always insisted that no one messed with you if you acted like you knew what you were doing. The other girl was nineteen, three whole years older than Bilba, and that much closer to official adulthood. If she said something was so, then it was so. 

Unless it involved convincing Bilba to drive in the dark on Halloween night. Then she was simply being...overconfident. 

It was a fine line. 

An especially cold gust of wind hit her, freezing her nylon clad legs and whipping her skirt about her thighs. Priscialla had invited a couple of her college guy friends to come along, not as an official double date but just a “meet and greet” as she’d described it. Bilba had gone along with it, but almost decided almost immediately she was nowhere near ready for that sort of thing again.

She shivered, for reasons more than just the cold, and paused to zip her jacket all the way up to her chin. She adjusted the strap of her purse as it threatened to slide off her arm, and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile effort to add an extra modicum of warmth. 

Perhaps she should have accepted Priscilla’s offer of a ride after all. She could have just let the other girl keep the car until the morning, or asked one of her parents for help.  

“Way to think of practical solutions now,” she grumbled to herself. 

Something niggled in the back of her mind, a subtle but insistent feeling like some sixth sense tapping on the door of her consciousness. Bilba’s footsteps slowed until she’d come to a complete stop on the sidewalk. While she’d been lost in her thoughts the street had mostly emptied. Even as she watched, the last group vanished around the corner, laughter and shrieks of excitement fading as quickly as they did. 

Bilba swallowed down a dry throat as, around her, the now silent street seemed to grow darker, and shifted from a familiar, and comforting place to one utterly alien and unknown. 

Don’t be ridiculous, she tried to convince herself. It was still the same street, the one she’d walked down more times than she could count, on her way to school with Priscilla or the park or some other grand adventure. The only difference now was that it was dark whereas, before, she’d always walked it in the bright light of day. 

She’d never realized before just what a difference the dark could make. 

She started moving again, faster this time, short heels clicking on the sidewalk as if to alert the shadows to her passing. It was just a street, but the sooner she was off it the better. She wanted to be in her bedroom, light and warmth surrounding her and walls holding back the night. She’d change as soon as she got in, she decided. Put on her most comfortable pajamas and the thick robe she’d just gotten for her sweet sixteen. Maybe she’d make herself a mug of hot chocolate, and then go and curl up in her bed with a good book.  

The feeling returned. 

It was stronger this time, more aggressive as if something primal inside of her was trying to warn her. Screaming at her in a language she couldn’t speak, but still understood. 

Something was wrong, and it was more than her simply being out on a cold and lonely night. 

She focused, trying to understand what it was that was causing her heart to suddenly beat so fast in her chest. 

And then she heard it. As her feet hit the pavement there was the slightest echo, the barest hint of a footstep just out of sync with her own. 

As if someone were walking behind her, and taking care to almost match her steps. 

Her stomach clenched, and a sick feeling washed over her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she whispered under her breath. It was Halloween. Of course there was someone behind her. She tensed and then, before she could talk herself out of it, whirled around. 

The street was empty, nothing but moonlight and fallen leaves skittering across the street in the cold October breeze.  

“Hello?” Bilba called. Mentally, she kicked herself. The very last thing she wanted was for someone to answer, so why in the world was she inviting a response?

The street stayed silent. 

Slowly, Bilba’s heart rate began to slow and her breathing evened. This was all Priscilla’s fault. She’d acted all paranoid, and now Bilba was letting her imagination run away with her. Thinking she heard footsteps and whatnot when, in reality, it had just been her mind playing tricks on her. 

She let out a small laugh at her own foolishness, spun back around, and promptly screamed. 

There was a person standing behind her, less than a foot away. He wore a basic white sheet with black circles painted on for the eyes, and holes cut out for the sleeves. His arms and hands were covered in a black shirt and gloves, and she could see black pants and sneakers peeking out from the bottom of the sheet. 

He raised his arms, and Bilba sucked in a sharp breath, only to let it out in a rush as she saw that he was holding an orange, pumpkin shaped trick-or-treat bucket in his hands. He was short, she realized, his head probably only coming up to her shoulder and that was saying something as she was short. 

A kid, her mind supplied in near hysterical relief. He was just a kid. 

“Sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. Her heart thudded under her fingers, so hard she wondered that it didn’t burst out of her chest. “You scared me.” She frowned. “Are you lost?”

The ghost said nothing. Instead, he simply lifted the bucket higher. It was empty. 

“I’m sorry,” Bilba said again, wondering why he would ask a random stranger on the street for candy. Then again, wasn’t that what Halloween was all about? Getting candy from complete strangers? What was the difference, really, between asking for it from a person in a house or someone on the street? “I don’t have any candy.”

The ghost tilted his head to the side, as if studying her. There must have been small holes cut in the black holes painted on the sheet, but they weren’t large enough for Bilba to see his eyes. It was disconcerting, his strange silence combined with the inability to really see him. “Are you lost?” she tried again. “Do you need help?” She fumbled in her purse for her phone. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Still, there was no response. With the costume on, Bilba had no idea how old the child was. He was small, but it was hard to judge if he was too small to be out on his own. He didn’t seem scared or upset, so that was a good sign? Probably?

Her hand brushed against a bit of paper that crinkled under her fingers. She’d completely forgotten that Priscilla had presented her with a candy bar after the movie, calling it her Halloween present. 

“Here.” She pulled the candy bar out and held it out to the young boy. No child should have to go without a single piece of candy on Halloween. “I forgot I had this.”

The ghost held his bucket up a little higher, and Bilba dropped the candy in. It hit the bottom with a clunk, and the boy pulled it back to look in and study it. After a few seconds, he lowered the bucket, gave her a slight nod and started to walk away. 

“Happy Halloween!” Bilba called after him. She looked down at her purse, making sure she’d zipped it up securely. Maybe she’d follow him, she thought, just to make sure -- she raised her head, and froze. 

The child was gone. 

“What in the world?” She stepped into the street, trying to see if he’d gone up the walkway of a nearby house, or stepped behind a parked car. She saw no sign of him. Perhaps he actually lived in one of the homes, and had simply gone home? It would explain what he’d been doing out by himself in the first place. Hopefully his parents would have leftover candy to fill his bucket with so he wouldn’t get through Halloween with only a single candy bar. 

Even so, a shiver ran down her spine at the odd encounter, and she quickened her pace toward home, good mood gone. 

When she finally made it to her own street, and spotted her home in the distance it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The area was better lit here, and filled once more with children and parents running from house to house. Most of her neighbors loved Halloween and had loads of candy at hand to give out. 

Her parents were no different. They would decorate like it was Christmas, with jack-o-lanterns, spooky lighting and ghosts strung up in the limbs of the tree out front. As she drew near, Bilba expected to see her parents out on the porch, sitting back in their matching, rocking chairs with a giant bowl of candy on the table between them as they waited for each new group of excited children. 

It was oddly dark as she approached, and it took her a few seconds to realize all the lights were off. Even the Halloween lights strung along the eaves and up in the trees were off, casting the entire yard and front of the house in thick darkness. 

Her footsteps slowed as she neared the porch, confusion putting her nerves on edge. She’d talked to her parents before leaving for the movies and they’d told her to be ready to hand out candy when she got home. She’d expected to arrive to find a crowd of children on the porch, her parents front and center in the midst of them. 

Instead the porch was empty, and eerily quiet. The worn wood of the steps creaked beneath her feet, sounding far louder than they should in the quiet. 

Bilba hesitated. Behind her, she could hear the shouts and shrieks of excited children, but it felt like they were in another world, one far removed from where she had gone. 

She’d never realized just how dark the porch could be without the light on. 

She retrieved her phone, and pulled up the flashlight app. Immediately the porch jumped into stark relief, revealing her parents empty chairs, and a full bowl of candy sitting on the low table between them. 

The popcorn she’d had at the movie began to churn in Bilba’s gut. Her gaze shifted toward the front door, and caught on a large box sitting on the doormat. Someone had written on it in black Sharpie and she took a step forward to read it. 

Happy Halloween, Whore. 

Around the words were dark splotches, with several resembling finger marks or palm prints. The box itself had been taped shut but, on the sides, she could see more of the dark...whatever it was, that seemed to actually be leaking from whatever was inside the box, saturating the cardboard around it. 

Her eyes went to the writing again, traveling over the small, tight lettering, and jagged edges. The word whore had clearly originally been misspelled as “hor” before the W had been squeezed in after the fact. 

She knew that writing. 

Bilba felt lightheaded. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her throat burned as she struggled to pull in air. 

She couldn’t seem to move. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up in front of her, blocking her off from the front door, and what lay before it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move forward, she physically couldn’t. 

A child shrieked in excitement somewhere behind her, and Bilba jumped. Some deep and primal feeling that she couldn’t fully define began to spread through her. She could feel herself starting to sweat, but was ice cold at the same time. Her legs started to tremble and threatened to buckle under her.

She turned and stumbled back down the steps. Her eyes focused on the house across the street, bright lights shining from the window and porch. The Lundleys lived there. Mr. Lundley was a police officer, and his wife had just been promoted to detective. There’d been a huge celebration with balloons and cake and everything. Bilba had gone with her parents and could easily call to mind her father’s jovial voice and her mother’s bright smile as they’d celebrated Mrs. Lundley’s promotion. 

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and the bridge of her nose began to burn. She didn’t know why. What reason was there to cry? Everything was fine. It was just another horrid prank. Another way to get back at her for having the audacity to speak her own mind. 

The sense of dread pressing down on her didn’t lift, and the hollow pit in her stomach showed no signs of filling. 

A group of children were just leaving the Lundley’s front door, passing by her in a rush of bright colors, buckets and bags crashing into their legs and each other as they fled. 

To Bilba, it was as if she were watching them from the other side of a thick pane of glass. Their movements were almost unnaturally slow to her, voices strangely distorted and indiscernible. 

“Bilba? Are you okay, Honey?”

The world snapped back into focus in a rush of sound and light. Bilba was standing on the porch, Mrs. Lundley in front of her, framed in the warm light of her home. Warmth from the house escaped outside, along with the smell of gingerbread wafting from the direction of the kitchen. 

“My parents,” Bilba managed to blurt out. She pointed back toward her home. “They should be out, but all the lights are out, and there’s a box on the porch….” her voice cracked on the last and the tears began to squeeze out of her eyes against her will. Why was she crying? It was fine. Everything was fine. 

Please, let everything be fine. 

“Come on inside, Dear.” Mrs. Lundley put an arm around her shoulders, and then she was inside and sitting on the couch. A body sat next to her that she vaguely recognized as Angeline Lundley. She was fourteen, two years younger than Bilba, and was one of her closest friends. The other girl took her hand, and might have said something, but Bilba couldn’t hear it. 

Her eyes were fixed on the front door, through which Mr. and Mrs. Lundley had vanished. As if transfixed, she got to her feet and began to slowly walk to the door. She didn’t want to go out there, but it was as if she had no choice. As if some unseen force were dragging her. 

She reached the open door in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Lundley crossing the street back toward her and the look on their faces as they met her eyes…

No....

No, she didn’t want to hear it. 

NO.

And as the darkness rushed in, and her world shattered about her, Bilba’s last conscious thought was the inescapable fact that everything that had happened was entirely her fault.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

#fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #writing #horror #Halloween #scary #Bad Romance #romance #stalking #happy ending #Hobbit AU #Female Bilbo Baggins #fili #fembilbo/fili #fantasy #supernatural #writing challenge

[katcadecascade]

Road to Home (RWBY fic)

Summery: Rhodes reaches the Glass Unicorn at 11:40pm because someone asked him, “So who’s at home for you?”

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Volume 8 Chapter 6

aka my take on Cinder’s backstory AU

-

“So who’s back home for you?”

Rhodes kind of hates his name. It’s almost like cruel irony or a bland destiny to always be traveling, constantly on the move, and never staying too long in one place.

“No one. I don’t really have a place to return too.”

He believed that’s just how his life is as a hunter of Grimm. It feels like he’s always taking one mission after the next, a pattern that takes him across the kingdoms. All alone, it’s easier that way, efficient Rhodes believes.

It’s a cold truth he concluded on after his team parted. Talk about a crossroads.

“Hmm.”

Yet every once in a while there’s a hunt that demands many hunters. An abnormally large nest of Nevermores in Vale. If he had the option, Rhodes wouldn’t have joined. The path he wanted to take is the one that’ll take him back to Atlas, all the way back to Cinder.

She’s a tough kid in a not so good situation. That’s all Rhodes can really say on the matter, what with the loose child labor laws and the old reputation that keeps that hotel running. Look, Rhodes ain’t the man for critiquing ethics and socialism, especially Atlas and Mantle of all places.

Still though, he did what he thought was best for Cinder. Train her in secret, visit monthly if possible, and not take her with him. The life of an active huntsman who’s constantly traveling is not ideal for a kid to tag along. At least in the Glass Unicorn, Cinder is under a roof and away from the Grimm.

Or at least that’s what Rhodes keeps telling himself.

Each day he’s away from the girl, he tries to come up with another reason as to why he should not just up and take Cinder with him. For obvious reasons, it’s kidnapping. Then there’s the whole issue of his entire life is not child friendly.

No home for Cinder to be warm in. No extended family that can keep an eye on her when he’s away. No teammates…

And yet last month's visit, there was hesitation on his tongue, wanting to ask if she wanted to accompany him. It’s an outrageous idea, tactless and unreasonable. Training her for the academy entrance exams is the smarter play, a long one but way smarter than just thrusting Cinder onto the road with him of all people.

Rhodes is not the most upstanding role model to look up to, no less having to travel with. Imagine his surprise when a kid looks at him with starry, wide eyes. He doesn’t deserve any of that, not sure if he ever will, yet he kept training her. He kept returning to Atlas for Cinder.

“What’s that humming supposed to mean?”

There’s not many people for Rhodes to return to, even less if anyone ever wanted him in the first place. Cinder is the exception though, his mind excuses. She doesn’t know the mistakes he made, the suffering or aftermath.

In due time, the academy would give her a better life, not him. Just gotta stay in this waiting game, for Cinder’s sake.

“It means that I think you’re lying.”

That’s a long road he’s forcing Cinder to walk. For the longest time, Rhodes believed that was the only course of action for Cinder when really it’s just the path of least resistance. All because he is a coward stuck in the crossroads.

“...Fine. There’s this kid I look out for, that’s all.”

All the excuses he accumulated began the moment he saw Cinder in that dusty storage room. Of course she’s miserable and of course he pities her. Rhodes wasn’t the strategist of his former team, nor was he the heart. He was just the tank, master of waiting for the perfect moment, and the one who ends up walking a long road all alone.

It’s stupid of him to think Cinder should endure it all alone. It’s collassily ignorant of him to give her attention and leave the next day and think that’s proper teaching. It’s akin to constantly relighting a candle wit. One day there will be nothing left to spark.

“That so? It sounds like you must care a lot about her. She must miss you too.”

It took too long for Rhodes to think that maybe his interference has made Cinder’s life worse. He gave her a direction, a goal to reach the academy, a dream of freedom on the open road. Hope can be a powerful and dangerous thing.

Rhodes knows first hand how devastating it can be when hope ends out. He can outlast a storm, a horde of Grimm, nearly anything but that’s no guarantee for the people around him. This always lingers in his head when he’s out on bigger missions with a group of hunters.

“She’s not mine.”

This particular Nevermore hunt had a few familiar faces for Rhodes, all of whom he’d avoided. Then by luck he was caught by some of the newer graduated hunters, probably with only three or five years of experience. Not the ideal team up but the less he complains the quicker they complete the objective.

If only that white hooded huntress wasn’t so talkative and observant. If only she didn’t dig into his vague words and made him think. If only he had learned all of this months early for Cinder’s sake.

“My boyfriend has a baby girl at home. I might not be her birth mother but I will always see her as my daughter.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

There’s a knowing glint in those silver eyes. “You look like you’re eager to return home.”

Rhodes couldn’t get that line out of his head. Eagerness is a burden on long trips, it’s the annoying sibling to waiting, and it’s the very thing on Cinder’s face whenever Rhodes enters the Glass Unicorn.

Eagerness is in his heart that first night after meeting Cinder. He wanted to return. He wanted to take less missions away. He wanted Cinder to finally leave that place.

Why did he insist on making her wait?

Each and every excuse he came up with nipped and lashed at his ankles on every step he took closer to Atlas. The Grimm hunt was dealt with at a near blinding speed and that huntress said she’ll cover for him on the post-hunt reports that he always hated.

For transportation to Atlas, Rhodes had to suck up his pride and call the only other teammate who’s not dead.

“You wouldn’t ask unless it’s an emergency, Rhodes. An airship will be at the airport in an hour.”

“Thank you Willow, I mean it.”

True to his former teammate’s words, the huntsman was later in a private Schnee jet enroute to Atlas. If he was more reckless he would’ve hand it land right at the Glass Unicorn but attention was the last thing he wanted.

Once on the streets, he was practically retracing his steps all the way back to the hotel. Through the late night streets, up the steps and through the fancy lobby. At the reception desk, perfectly orderly is the woman of the establishment.

Her wrinkle lines move along with her cordially smile, prepared for greeting clients no matter the late hour.

Rhodes never thought of this madame in good graces. Rumor has it that the Glass Unicorn didn’t always have child servants back when the lady’s late husband was in charge. Under new management as the saying goes and the regular clients here didn’t bat an eye when the staff dwindled to one young employee.

It’s hypocrisy that he was a part of the silent crowd and only now does he actually react.

On previous visits, he’d always just booked a room and waited for the lobby to empty to get to Cinder. Right now though, Rhodes doesn’t have the patience to wait any longer.

Once upon a time, he had to brainstorm a myriad of lies to get Cinder out of the hotel. Excuses that range from she’s a missing link in a case or outright threatening to her to hand over Cinder. Well he’s not entirely sure how any of those scenarios would play out but it doesn’t matter in the end.

The mood in the air changes when two blonde girls come running out of the staff door. They’re both frightened out of their perfect composure.  

“Mom, come quick, we found something.”

“It’s Cinder, she has a weapon!”

Their mother glares at her daughters and clicks her tongue once the sisters notice the client present.

“Leave,” she demands lowly, “now.”

The girls scamper off in another direction while the lady smooths down her skirt. One hand lingers inside the pocket.

“Pardon me, Huntsman Rhodes, I have to attend to the matter.”

She takes one step, one loud clack of her heels away from the reception desk and Rhodes knew that this was it. It had to be now or never.

“Wait,” Rhodes didn’t waste his movement, striding past the lady and blocking her path to the door. “It’ll be best if I go.”

Scowling as politely as possible, she argues, “Sir, I assure you that girl is absolutely under my control.”

“You’re awfully confident,” Rhodes snaps. This is taking too much time, who knows what’s Cinder doing right now.

“I am,” she raises her voice, not appreciating his attitude.

It looks like she’s about to lecture him about respect so he cuts her off. “I’m going in there, not you. Got it?”

He’s not sure what kind of expression he’s making. Yes he’s angry and impatient and just wants this whole hotel gone. Something about him must have conveyed his true rage because the madame stands frozen, confusion and fear in her slacken jaw and how she took a step back.

Then he sees how her eyes flicker to something behind him.

On some sort of instinct, she took her hand out of her pocket. Clasped there is a remote with a yellow button, her thumb pressed down.

There’s a scream in his ears, a chilling shock down his spine as he turns around and sees Cinder at the doorway. She dropped the sword he gifted her and has one hand on the frame to support her shaking body as electricity rumbles and bites at her neck.

Rhodes never thought to ask why she had a fancy necklace. He wonder how stupid he is for failing to recognise lightning dust. He’s even more of a failure to be surprised that this is happening.

To add more evidence that Cinder has spent far too long in this hotel, Cinder grits her teeth and lets go of the doorframe. She starts limping over, the shockwaves going up and down her skin. Rhodes watches in horror and perverse awe before he hears a button getting mashed.

He grabs the madame’s wrist, snatching the remote out of her hand in seconds, and crushing it in a steel hand. It’s pathetically small help, clearly everything Rhodes has trained Cinder for was not the help she really needed.

There’s a momentarily delay in the remote’s signal as the shock collar continues. Cinder reaches a shaky hand up and rips the collar off, glaring at the source of all her pain.

“Cinder,” Rhodes interferes with her path but the girl is still glaring at the madame. “Let’s leave right now. You don’t have to stay here any longer.” He knees down to her, desperately wishing that the fire in her eyes won’t burn her up. “I’m sorry it took me this long to get you out.”

She still hasn’t looked at him. Yet at his apology tears start welling up. Cinder marches past him, stalking up to the madame who’s backed up against the frontdesk.

“Without you, I am nothing,” Cinder tells her and her tone sounds odd to the huntsman, like the words are warped around her tongue and teeth.

She thrusts her hand up, still holding the shock collar, and harshly presses it to the madame’s throat. In mere seconds, the metal is superheated in Cinder’s grip and the madame cries out, jerking away and falling sideways on the desk and then falling to the floor.

The madame clasps a hand around her neck but Rhodes saw the burnt skin there, diamond shaped like the collar’s centerpiece.

“But because of you,” Cinder hisses and throws the collar at the madame’s face, “I am everything.”

The girl is a heaving mess, her hands curling up and steaming.

“Cinder,” he calls and the girl’s whole body flinches.

Swirling around, Cinder angrily demands at him, “She deserves so much worse!”

“And you deserve better and you will get it all if we leave right now.” Rhodes begs her, “Please, will you come with me?”

Cinder quietly gasps at his question. Some combination of awe and surprise on her young face as she starts crying more.

He honestly doesn’t know if he can talk her out of murder, revenge realisticly. But if he can just take her away from this place then maybe she’ll choose otherwise. Maybe she’ll always want to kill these people but for right now, he needs to physically get away from these people.

The heat of her semblance dims from her hands as Cinder wipes the tears off her cheeks. She stumbles over to Rhodes and once close he hugs her tight. The girl bawls into his chest and Rhodes wastes no time to securely carry her in one arm.

He remembers to pick up Cinder’s fallen sword as he gets up. The madame on the other hand is still on the floor, trembling and confused but not making any motion to stop them. There’s a frantic wheezing coming from her too.

When she glares at them, Rhodes frowns back. “No one is going to ask about tonight, got it?”

The madame bitterly coughs and manages to croak out, “Leave.”

He lets her have the final word and marches out. Cinder got her breath back and has wide, teary eyes as they approach the doors. She squirms for a bit and he lets her down.

Standing on shaky legs, Cinder pushes open the doors with all her might. The wide swing of the doors shakes the frame but the girl doesn’t care. On her first step out of the hotel, the grandfather clock in the lobby rings twelve.

-

One step outside of the Glass Unicorn and Cinder felt like sobbing, running, and collapsing at the same time. Her hand squeezed tight onto Rhodes’ as she trembled against the midnight air. Its chill is heavenly on her overheated skin, an after effect from the electricity.

It’s all over now. She’s finally free from the madame and her hotel. Cinder just wants to run despite her straining muscles so she leans on Rhodes. He mumbles something about hurrying to the airport, hoping that a plane is still there but Cinder barely comprehends.

She’s actually free and Rhodes had wanted her to leave with him. Each visit, Cinder truly thought that he didn't want her around. The plan was for the academy, where he won’t have to deal with her but instead he actually asked.

Granted Cinder had wished he’d asked like the first night they met. Or maybe years earlier, that would’ve been good too. But here they are. It took her obnoxious step sisters to get too nosey and for Rhodes to finally be there at the right time.

Yet it still feels like Rhodes is late. The madame had one last play with the collar and Cinder wanted to finally end her. She can still feel the buzz in her neck.

Even though they’ve only walked down the street so far, Cinder feels too close and so far away from the Glass Unicorn. She feels like sobbing again.

“Hey, hey,” Rhodes moves his arm to comfortably enwrap her with warmth, “it’s okay now Cinder.”

A sob hitches in her throat and it’s like her semblance is burning her from the inside. Cinder doesn’t think she’s okay right now, she doesn’t believe she’ll ever be okay, but finally walking out of those pristine doors felt so good.

Somewhere in her thoughts, there’s the question on how it would feel like if she actually gave what the madame and her daughters deserved. At the same time, Cinder never wants to enter the Glass Unicorn even if her life depends on it. Which it does not though, she doesn’t ever have to be there again.

She’s finally freed.

That hopeful feeling gets lodged into her throat when suddenly a nice looking car pulls up in front of them. Rhodes holds her close as her heart hammers. Cinder can’t phantom what is going on as the well dressed driver exits and approaches them.

“Mr. Kolossos,” the man nods politely and when he looks at Cinder she flinches but he continues with another nod, “Miss.” He opens the backseat door and waves over, “This way please.”

“I didn’t call for a car,” Rhodes said and walked on, guiding Cinder away from the car.

As they’re passing the open car door, someone from inside scoffs, “Just get in here, Rhodes.”

In the nightlight, it’s hard for Cinder to see inside the car but she sees a feminine figure that matches the voice. Cinder can’t help but shake.

Rhodes on the other hand freezes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up unless you want to walk all the way to the airbay. The jet’s not there by the way.”

The huntsman huffs quietly but up close Cinder can see his lips barely form a smile. He catches her gaze and he winces. Rhodes pinches the bridge of his nose before whispering to her, “Cinder, I know you’ve been through a lot right now but do you still trust me?”

She doesn’t like the unsureness in his eyes, like she’s the one who will hurt him. Cinder knows there has been nights where she outright hates it when he leaves or his plan to wait seven years in that hotel. But every time he comes back, Cinder can’t help but want to hope that this time, she’ll join him.

And now it’s happening she knows that Rhodes is the only person she can rely on. If she’s on her own, well, she’ll have to be everything she needs. Cinder doesn’t know where that will take her but right now, she wants to stay with Rhodes.

“Yes,” Cinder tells him, squeezing his hand back.

“Thank you,” Rhodes smiles and she doesn’t know how to feel about that. Being thanked and stuff, especially over feelings. He looks back over to the car and huffs, “Fine, we’ll get in.”

Rhodes goes in first, still holding Cinder’s hand and worryingly looks between Cinder and the door closed behind her. Cinder kind of appreciates not being in the middle seat. Feeling trapped in a fancy enclosed position is too soon for her anxiety.

Still though, Cinder peeks behind Rhodes’ bulk to see the lady. The car starts up and when they’re passing under streetlights, Cinder sees white long hair of a woman only seen on TV.

“I never imagined this is what your emergency was about.”

“Well, I didn’t need to tell you Willow,” Rhodes said plainly.

Willow Schnee rolls her eyes and accidentally makes eye contact with Cinder. She presses her lips in a thin line, neither mean or annoyed, simply processing. Eventually she sighs and looks away, “You two need a place for the night. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay Rhodes and…”

The empty silence has Willow awkwardly glance back to her. Cinder has never seen an elegant lady look awkward before, it’s kind of odd.

“Cinder,” she fills in.

“Cinder,” Willow repeats. “Alright, well,” she sighs again, faces the front, “we’ll be at home soon enough.”

At that word, home , Cinder tenses and relaxes. Any place is better than the hotel. She leans into Rhodes’ side and closes her eyes.

-

Thanks for reading!

#rwby fic #rwby spoilers #rwby #cinder fall #rwby au

[jasonrae117]

This is my first post on Tumblr. I have an ongoing story on fanfiction but I felt like trying something new. I was heavily inspired by @flyingkiki because timrae is too good of a pairing and there needs to be more stories. This is my contribution. I will be using songs throughout since its a band au but only this first chapter will have the whole song typed out. Furthermore all songs in this story exist in our world but for sake of my storytelling some will be "written" as originals by the character while others still belong to their respective artist which I will note.

For part one:

1.Dear Society- Madison Beer (As is)

2. Ribs - Lorde (As is)

3. Like That - Bea Miller and Aurora (Intended as band original)

4. COPYCAT - Billie Eilish (intended as band original)

Bad Idea, Good Intentions 

Part 1

Tim wondered why he found himself at a club on this Saturday night. Him and his friends had just graduated with their bachelor's degree in their respective fields and they convinced him to celebrate with them at this club.

By 'friends' he meant primarily his best friend Connor. The other two guys were more of Connor's friends than his but Tim knew them well enough to consider them his too. However, Connor had called him the day before and practically begged Tim to come. Apparently there was this new band that he knew the drummer and this was their highest profile gig yet and Connor wanted to support his friend by bringing whoever he could. Tim reluctantly agreed, feeling like he should get out more and spend time with his friends outside of college.

Tim already felt like this was a bad idea when he walked into a packed club with flashing lights, a fully stocked bar, and a large stage. 

"Tim! You made it!" Connor walked over to him and gave him a one armed hug as the other was occupied holding a half empty pint of beer. 

Tim smiled at his long time best friend. "Of course buddy, I keep my promises."

Connor dragged him over to the bar where their other friends Garfield and Garth were sitting. Both greeted him with cheers and hugs.

"Dude, this place is fucking great! So many hot girls!"

"Good God Gar, can you keep it in your pants for one freaking night?" Garth shoved the blond playfully and took a sip of his drink.

"What can I say, the ladies love me. I just wish your stupid band played something easier to dance to." Gar crossed his arms and glared at the stage where the four person band was performing.

"This is your friend's band?" Tim directed at Connor.

"Yeah, this is Nevermore! Wally West is the drummer. Jinx is on bass, Argent is keyboard, and Raven is the lead singer and guitarist." He pointed to each of the members.

"What the hell kind of names are those. That Raven girl already has a creepy vibe and she chooses a name like that? What's with the Edgar Allan Poe obsession?" Garfield looked bewildered and shook his head.

"I'm shocked you even know who that is. But dude, it's just their stage names."

Tim looked back to Connor wanting to know more about the band that made him come here. "What are their real names?"

"I don't know." Connor shrugged.

"Are they single?" Garth had asked grinning.

"I don't know about the other two, but don't even try with Jinx, that's Wally's girl." 

The guys entered a discussion about Connor's and Wally's friendship and what his stage name was. Tim heard it was something like Kid Flash but he wasn't paying too much attention. He was focused on the band onstage. 

The song sounded familiar but Tim wasn't big on music. Each member seemed to have their unique style and color but they all worked well together. Wally was wearing yellows, Jinx wore black and hot pink striped knee high socks with a short leather skirt and black mesh top. Her hair was dyed entirely bubble gum pink and wrapped up in two space buns. Argent had black hair with red highlights running through it and an all black outfit with a studded leather jacket. The lead singer, Raven, really caught his eye. She has a short purple bob that fell to just below her chin. 

Her outfit is what really had his mind stopping. She had on a black long sleeved ribbed shirt with a large keyhole neckline, showing off the tops of her full breasts, which was tucked into royal blue shorts that seemed to be barely long enough to even be classified as shorts with frayed edges. Her legs were encased in black fishnet stocking ending in a chunky heeled combat boot. Tim liked to think of himself as a gentleman that Alfred would be proud of but...the woman was hot. She had an hourglass figure but probably the best set of legs and ass he's ever seen. She was almost unreal how incredible she looked. 

The banter of his friends regained his attention as the band switched to another song. 

"Hey fellas, let's go hit the floor, this song is much better!" Garth and Connor finished their drinks and placed them on the bar agreeing to Garfield's request. They looked to Tim when he didn't move. 

"You guys go ahead, I'll be there in a second. I haven't even gotten a single drink in."

Connor threw an arm around him. "That's what happens when you arrive late." He ruffled his hair a bit. "Alright man, we'll try to find a spot close to the stage. See you there." 

With that his friends mingled within the crowd. Tim turned to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks, he wasn't great in heavily social settings like this so he needed to calm his mind a bit. As he waited, his focus returned to the band.

They were actually really good. While he was slightly confused since their music was slower than he expected, the songs themselves were great. The lead singer had a lower voice of an alto but in the next song they started, it was clear she had a wider range. It was smooth when it needed to be but raspy and gritty, adding to the unique sound. The other girls added to the dynamic with their higher notes and he found he really liked it. 

The slow beat of their next song reverberated around the bar, drawing everyone in, particularly Tim. He moved from his spot at the countertop to one of the metal standing tables that was currently unoccupied. It stood to the mid-right of the stage with a small gathering of dancing patrons between him and the stage. He gently placed his hand that held the almost empty glass of bourbon on the surface of the table as he leaned into it. 

The lead singer Raven, he recalled from Gar's description earlier, slowly grasped the microphone. One delicate hand curled around the mic while the other laid gently in the supporting pole. Her almost raspy voice fluttered through the speakers.

 

Don't be cautious, don't be kind

You committed, I'm your crime

The low octave sounded almost sensual and her hand slid down the pole in time with the held note.

Push my button anytime

You got your finger on the trigger, but your trigger finger's mine

Her left hand formed into the shape of a gun and as she 'pulled the trigger' she collapsed her hand save for her single index finger that she spun slowly in a circle. Tim grinned at the small gesture representing being wrapped around one's finger and he couldn't pull his eyes away from how delicate and smooth her hands were. Even from the distance he sat she looked flawless.

Silver dollar, golden flame

Dirty water, poison rain

Perfect murder, take your aim

I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name

Raven removed the microphone from the stand with her left hand and held onto the pole with the other as she slid down to a squat. On the beat she pulsed up and down to the next lyrics.

By the way, you've been uninvited

'Cause all you say are all the same things I did

Tim swallowed, eyes having never left her body he watched as the muscles in her legs contract and saw how her amazing ass peeked out slightly more from her bottoms. The routine had certainly taken a turn to a sexual nature and he couldn't help being turned on by the attractive lead singer. Her voice seemed to just purr in his ear. She rose to her feet again as she began the chorus.

Copycat trying to cop my manner

Watch your back when you can't watch mine

Copycat trying to cop my glamour

Why so sad, bunny, you can't have mine?

Did she just make eye contact with him? Holy shit, she definitely did. And was that a smirk? Was he drooling? Tim wiped at his mouth to confirm that he did not embarrass himself. He shook his head a bit to rid himself of the ridiculous idea that she could pick him out in the growing crowd. Many more patrons, especially the male ones, drew in closer and he found that he only had a small space around his table left. No way she looked directly at him. 

Call me calloused, call me cold

You're italic, I'm in bold

She sauntered to the right side of the stage before flipping around and doing a body roll on "italic" followed by a deeper and more exaggerated one on "bold" where she popped her ass out more. There was a cheer from almost all the guys in the building and a flurry of whistles. 

Call me cocky, watch your tone

You better love me, 'cause you're just a clone

Was Time seeing right? He could have sworn she winked at him as she strutted to his side of the stage. He knew he wasn't imagining things when she deliberately pointed at him accusingly while swaying her hips. Damn it was hot in here. He knocked the rest of his drink back hoping to steady his thrumming heart.

The chorus repeated with her returning to center stage and moving the stand off to the side. She dropped to the floor and threw her legs over the side where some of the guys tried to touch her before a bouncer pushed them back. As she finished the chorus she swung her legs back onstage but pivoted so she was parallel to the edge. One leg straightened while the upstage leg was bent.

I would hate to see you go

Hate to be the one that told you so

You just crossed the line

You've run out of time

Raven brought her upper body down flat with such ease and no doubt incredible core control. She gracefully placed an arm above her head as it turned to look out at the audience all keeping in time with the now soft melody of the song.

 so sorry, now you know

Sorry I'm the one that told you so

On the extended note she curled back up and hugged her knees briefly before sitting up and resting her ass on her heels. Tim was not only impressed with her fluidity and the hot choreography, but the range she held in her vocals. He was starting to think this wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, sorry

Raven bowed her head and sang softly into the mic looking like she was praying for their forgiveness. The music silenced for a beat before she snapped her head up with a devious glint in her eyes, a small curl to the side of her lips, and a quirked brow.

Sike

She got up to her knees and swayed back nearly to the former sitting position before thrusting forward again on each beat.

By the way, you've been uninvited

'Cause all you say are all the same things I did...

...you can't have mine?

She had risen to her feet again through a combination of swaying hips and body rolls. She retrieved the mic stand again and returned the mic to its post before the last lyric and ended the song in the same pose she started with.

At the song's last note the crowd erupted in applause, whistling, and to Tim's displeasure, sexual comments from some of the more rowdy and drunk guys. The band bowed and waved before thanking the owner and the audience and retreated off stage. 

His earlier worry about the band playing songs inappropriate to the occasion was thrown out the window because all parts of him thoroughly enjoyed their last song. He wouldn't dare say that to anyone but damn him if it wasn't true. That lead singer was just so gorgeous and had such a unique and fantastic voice, this must be every guy's fantasy. It was his now but who was he kidding, she must have a boyfriend. Wait...but didn't she wink at him? No, it was all an act. God he needed another drink. 

Tim made his way back to the bar and ordered another bourbon on the rocks. He paid his tab and leaned on the bar, replaying the movements of Raven's body. He felt a little shameful for not watching the other bandmates as the whole song was performed well, but she was too captivating. Probably why she was the lead singer.

 A pat on the shoulder interrupted him from his non-stop overthinking and he turned to see the smiling faces of the friends he came here with. The friends he had completely forgotten about until now. 

"Dude where the hell did you go? We had a great spot just left of center stage! There were a ton of hot girls dancing with us!" Gar waved his arms around almost smacking Garth and Connor. The two just shaking their heads and laughing.

"Not to mention a great view of the performance." Connor nudged Tim and an almost wistful look came across his eyes. Tim swallowed hard again.

"And what a performance that was. Shit that lead singer has a great body." Garth swung his arm around Gar's shoulder.

"And voice." Tim coughed and immediately took another sip of his drink realizing that it didn't help.

Garfield chuckled. "Who was listening to the music when she worked that ass like that. She probably got ninety percent of the guys in here hard by the first chorus."

"And you said she was creepy." Connor poked Gar in his chest. 

He held his hands up defensively. "Hey, that was before I knew she could get down like that! I mean her name is the bird of death, a bad omen. The other girls' names are kinda hot."

"Raven is just her stage name." Tim interjected. He didn't know why he felt like defending her, he quite literally didn't know her at all and this was typical Garfield behavior.

"Woah chill Tim. Got the hots for the lead singer? Wouldn't be the only one. Do you think she's single?" Garth lightly pushed his shoulder and took a seat next to him at the bar, flagging the bartender down. The other two looked at Connor who seemed to have the most information on the girl.

He head flicked back and forth between the two men staring at him before he understood their eager silence. "Look, I don't actually know that much about her. I just know about the fake names and mostly about Jinx. Wally doesn't really talk about the other two and I don't ask." 

Garfield groaned. "Why the hell not? Your friend is the drummer for a hot girl band and you don't ask about their relationship status, or what their real names are?"

"No I don't because that's weird and I'm sure he's told me their names, I just don't remember right now. Not like you'd have a shot with them."  The three men laughed at Garfield's expense and he crossed his arms and pouted.

"I don't see a line of girls wanting to dance with you Kent." 

"It doesn't bother me all that much Logan. Plus, I came here to support my friend not hook up with some random chick."

"Ugh you guys are all lame. I'm heading back out there. This band is playing music more my speed." Gar grounded out and spun on his heel, disappearing into the sea of bodies. 

"Good job Con, you made him all grumpy. Now I gotta calm him down." Garth grabbed his beer and followed his friend.

Tim was now reminded of why he was hesitant to come tonight. He wasn't the best of friends with Garth and Garfield and he came solely because of the desperate plea of Connor. He looked over to the stage and saw the main band playing their hearts out, music blaring over the speakers in an uptempo beat. Although it was more along the lines of typical club music, he found he preferred the darker melodies of Nevermore. 

"Yo buddy! Where'd that big brain of yours disappear to?" Connor waved his hand in front of his face dizzying him for a second. Tim reached and snatched Connor's arm to stop him and dropped it once his motion stilled.

"Sorry, I was just trying to remember something. How are you doing? Enjoying yourself?" 

"Yeah it's great. Awesome way to celebrate getting our degrees. I wish I had someone a little more special with me though, better company than those two numbskulls. How'd they graduate anyhow?" Connor took the seat the Garth vacated and spun facing the bar.

"Well, shockingly, Garth is actually pretty smart and Gar just copies off him when he can. He certainly didn't graduate magna cum laude." The two shared a laugh, lightening the mood once more. "You'll get that someone soon. Why don't you go back out there and see if she's there?"

"I feel like my soulmate isn't dancing in a club right now. I wouldn't be if my good friend wasn't playing for a big audience tonight."

"Fair enough. His band was really good. Do they play often?"

"At smaller venues yeah. I'm sure they'll be playing more here though, if any of the guys have anything to say about it." Connor smiled as if replaying a fond memory. "What do you think about Raven and Argent?"

"They're cool, great voices and Argent is amazing on the keyboard. How she keeps track of all the sounds is beyond me."

Connor let out a lighthearted chuckle. "I meant as attractive women, not their talents. Dork."

"Oh, yeah they're attractive."

"Wow, you're just not into this dude talk are you?" Connor swiveled to face him.

"I'm sorry, what am I supposed to say? I'm not going to sit here and objectify them." Tim looked seriously into his glass. It wasn't his intention to ruin the fun but he wasn't a fan of talking about his romantic interests, it felt too personal even though Connor was his best friend. 

"Sorry Tim. I didn't mean to offend you, just dumb guy stuff. I guess I've been hanging out with Gar squared too much." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Damn Tim really had a way with being a downer.

"Nah, it's all good. I think I'm just constantly in my head too much. Gotta be professional all the time and all that jazz." 

"Yeah man, well I'm gonna check on those idiots. Try to relax and have fun." Connor stood up and began to move before Tim stopped him.

"For what it's worth, I think Raven is the hottest. Her voice is positively sinful." Tim smirked at him and Connor's eyes widened as if Tim had spilt some highly classified secret. 

"There you go man! Hey maybe I can see if Wally can hook us up with a meet and greet." He winked and came back toward Tim to clap him on the shoulder. He started walking backwards toward the mass of people dancing to the music while pointing at Tim and sending him a knowing wink again. Tim just shook his head and laughed. 

#tim drake #Raven #timrae #band au #robrae #bad idea good intention #first post #hopefully this isn't awful #thanks #teen titans

[crystalninjaphoenix]

New Places

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

Bit of a simple concept, really. With the truth revealed, Jack, Chase, and JJ have to regroup. And meanwhile, Schneep has to deal with his own magical crisis, and things get crazy fast. I don’t want to say too much because of spoilers, but I think it’s fun ^-^ Also google Rot13, Atbash, and Base64 for some fun easter eggs that might just be enjoyable to me but I’m including anyway because screw it it’s my writing. Anyway, even if there’s not too much happening and it looks longer than it actually is, hope you guys enjoy!

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One

Previous season two stories: No Strings on Me | Nightmare World | Normalcy | The Notion of The End | Nobody’s Home | Nevermore

Also I’m finally starting a taglist for this dfajklfh: @bupine​ @violet--majesty​

It was a lovely morning to be waiting on a doorstep so you could ask the house’s occupants if you and your friends could stay there because the place where you’d previously been staying had been found by the demon who’d been hunting you.

This thought passed through Chase’s head just before he rang the doorbell for a second time. He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost hysterical.

Are you okay, Chase? JJ asked. He was leaning heavily on Jack, his ankle still injured.

Chase shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I’m a little...frazzled.” And who wouldn’t be? He’d just found out the monster chasing them was actually their dead friends fused together, then one of his friends turned out to have magic and proceeded to disappear, and now they’d been run out of Jack’s apartment, where they’d been staying, and he’d turned to the last relatively-safe place he knew. Assuming that she’d let them stay, of course.

The door swung open. There was a woman standing in the doorway, blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was wearing the uniform of the diner she worked at, so she must’ve just gotten off a shift. For a moment, she just stared at the three men on her doorstep. And then she gasped out, “Chase?!”

Chase coughed awkwardly. “Hi, Stace. It...it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You’re damn right!” Stacy’s tone wasn’t angry, just bewildered. “Wh—what are you doing here?! What are they doing here?!”

“Long story,” Chase sighed. “Can...can we come inside first?”

Stacy silently stood aside, letting the group enter the house.

The suburban house was relatively small, but it was very neat and tidy. There was a couch pressed against the window, a television against the opposite wall, an armchair, a coffee table, and two tiny bean bags in the corner, one yellow, one pink. Jack guided JJ over to the couch, where they both immediately collapsed.

“What the hell is going on?!” Stacy asked. “I don’t see you in person for months, your friends say you’ve disappeared but won’t tell me what’s going on, then next thing I know you’re back, and whenever you call me you won’t tell me what’s going on or why you can’t see our kids!”

“I told you, it’s dangerous,” Chase said tiredly.

“What—okay, I-I understand that, but if that’s the case, why are you here now?” Stacy spluttered. “If you’re in danger, why’re you bringing it here? The place where there’s a five-year-old and an eight-year old?!”

“I know, it’s stupid, I’m sorry,” Chase mumbled.

Stacy paused. Chase normally would’ve been more defensive. There was something wrong here. She looked around at the group. “Where’s your doctor friend?” she asked.

Chase flinched. “You, um, noticed he wasn’t here?”

“Well, yeah, the other two are here, and you guys almost always travel in a group,” Stacy said. “Is...is something wrong? Where is he?”

“He’s...we don’t know where he is,” Jack piped up. “It’s a long story.”

“You keep saying that,” Stacy sighed.

“Well it is,” Jack said. “Look, I’m sorry, Stacy, but our last safe place has just been...found out. We don’t know where else to go.”

“...huh.” Stacy ran her hand through her hair, and loosened her ponytail.

“If you kick us out, we’ll find somewhere else,” Chase said.

“I’m not gonna kick you out,” Stacy scowled. “Not now that you’re here. I just—”

“Mom?”

Everyone in the room paused. Standing in the doorway connecting the living room to the rest of the house were two young girls. The taller, toffee blonde one was holding the hand of the shorter, sandy blonde one. Stacy smiled at them. “Hey sweeties.”

The shorter one was holding a plush doll in one hand. Her eyes widened. “Daddy? Is that you?”

Chase waved. “Hi, Lily. Yes, It’s me. Hello, Moira. It’s good to see you.”

“What’re you doing here?” Moira asked, squeezing her sister’s hand.

“It’s complicated, honey,” Chase said. “Me and my friends are gonna be staying here for a while.”

Lily gasped, suddenly looking delighted. “Yea!” She broke free from Moira’s hand, running over to Chase. She threw her arms around him. Chase froze, stiffening. His eyes darted around the room, landing on every adult. Lily was totally unaware of her father’s distress.

Moira, however, wasn’t. “Lils, come on, let’s let them talk for a bit.”

“Aw, okay.” Lily let go and retreated back to the hall, and she and Moira disappeared back into the house.

Chase went and sat down in the armchair, covering his mouth and shaking slightly. Jack stood up and took another seat closer to Chase, though he didn’t move to touch him.

Stacy stared at all of this in silence. “This...this is all so confusing,” she said. “Chase, what...?”

“I-I don’t want to talk about it,” Chase said, the sound muffled by his hand. “Just...can we have some time?”

Stacy nodded slowly. “Alright. You can explain to me later, if you want to. I’ll...I’ll be around.” And she turned and left.”

After a long moment of silence, Chase took a deep breath. He straightened. “Okay. I think we need to decide where to go from here. For starters...” He looked at Jack. “How’d you just instantly come to the conclusion that Anti was Jackie and Marvin? Just...h-how?”

“Um...well...” Jack shifted on his seat. “Me and JJ were talking about this yesterday. I, uh, apparently have magic vision now.”

“What?! Since when?!”

“Since JJ replaced my eye.” Jack tapped the skin under his right eye, the one that was brighter blue than the other. “We’re still not sure why, but it...it means I can sea people’s souls.”

“You can what?!” Chase could only gape at him.

“Yeah. They look like glowing balls of light in people’s chests.”

Chase folded his arms unconsciously, over his chest. “Can...you see mine?”

“Yeah, it’s yellow. And it has these...” Jack shook his head. “I-I don’t know, these groove things. I think it’s because of what An—anyway.” He coughed. “How I knew they were him, was that...I looked at Anti’s soul, and it was a bunch of red and blue...shard-like things. Held together by that green string. You remember that? I-I saw it, and I reached forward, and I pulled it out...and then Anti disappeared and we found Marvin and Jackie. Later, I-I looked at them with this soul vision, and they...didn’t have...normal soul lights. They both had red and blue shards.”

There was evidence that Marvin and Jackie preformed a transference spell before they died. JJ said. It’s black magic. Very black magic. It takes apart people’s souls and switches the pieces around, then enhances them. It will give the two participants special abilities, but at a cost. It must’ve gone wrong, and somehow Anti is the result.

Chase laughed. “Okay. Cool. That’s fine. What...what do we do about that? Ho-how do we get them back?”

Jameson froze. Chase...he signed slowly. I don’t think there’s a way to get—

“Shut up!” Chase shot to his feet. “Of course there’s a way! There has to be a way! They—they’re probably stuck in there! We have to get them back!”

Chase. Jameson leaned forward, trying to be gentle. If their souls were torn  apart—

“There has to be a way!” Chase repeated insistently. “I mean, if magic is real, then we can fix this! I-I know maybe you’ve never heard of one, fancy magic man, but you’ve never heard of something like Anti, either! So there’s got to be a way!” He looked at Jack. “Right?”

“Wh—I mean, yeah, of course,” Jack nodded. “That makes sense. Besides, we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

Jameson shank back, looking a little ashamed. I’m sorry. The signs were small. I suppose you two are right. I was just trying... He stopped. You’re right. We need to try.

“Yeah, but first, we need to find Schneep,” Jack said. “What...what happened to him?”

“I dunno, I guess it’s his magic. That he suddenly has. For some reason,” Chase mumbled. He sat back down, shrinking into the cushions of the arm chair.

“Yeah, what is that kind of magic anyway? Where did it come from?” Jack wondered.

Jameson shrugged. I’m unsure for that latter question, but for the former, it appears Henrik can teleport, somehow. Or maybe it’s that he somehow affects the world around him to make regular walking easier for him. Like wormholes.

A hint of a smile drifted across Chase’s face. “Yeah, explain it to him like it’s wormholes, he’d like that more.” The smile faded away. “So, he freaked out and teleported away. Where did he go? How would we find him? He didn’t have his phone on him, so we can’t even take the risk of Anti finding us to call him.”

“I guess we’ll have to find him the old-fashioned way,” Jack figured. “By looking around and walking for him.”

“That could take forever!” Chase gasped.

Yes, but it’s the best we can do, JJ said. He winced. Or rather, it’s the best you can do. I’m afraid that I’m still in no condition to walk around. I do appreciate that you two helped me here, but I would just slow down your search.

“It’s okay, JJ,” Jack reassured him. “It’s best if you just stay here and heal up.”

“Should we start looking for him now?” Chase wondered. “I mean, the sooner the better, right? But we did just get here. Would it be weird to leave right away?”

“I don’t think it would be,” Jack shrugged. “We can just tell Stacy where we’re going, and when we’re gonna be back.”

Yes, I think it would be better to start earlier, JJ added. Who knows where Henrik could be now? He could have gone a long way, and be getting even further.

“No time to waste, then,” Chase said, nodding. He stood up again. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

— — — — — — —

With no further ado, Chase and Jack went back out onto the streets of the city. The morning was clear, with a few wispy clouds high in the sky. It was an average morning, with people strolling out along the streets, going about their various business. Chase and Jack would occasionally stop one of them, asking if they’d seen a man who looked similar to the two of them. None of them had.

They stopped for a break around noon, the spring sun high in the sky. They sat down on the curb of the sidewalk. “Should we get something to eat?” Jack asked. “We’ve been out for a while. And we didn’t exactly have a good breakfast.”

Chase shrugged. “I dunno. Whatever you want.”

“Well, I don’t want to go somewhere just for me,” Jack said. “So are you hungry?”

Chase just shrugged again.

Jack stopped talking, looking at Chase and frowning. Something was up, he could tell. Chase was being pretty...passive.  “Are you okay, dude?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Chase balled his fists, scrunching up his pants.

“You don’t look fine,” Jack pointed out.

“Well, I am.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack insisted. “C’mon, you can tell me what’s up.”

“You wouldn’t care about what’s up!” Chase suddenly burst out. He gasped, hand flying to cover his mouth.

Jack was left speechless. “...what?””

Chase suddenly stood up, quickly walking away, down the sidewalk. Jack didn’t hesitate to follow, rushing to catch up.

“Chase?! Chase!” Jack called after him. Chase didn’t turn around, pushing past people on the sidewalk as he rushed away. “Chase! Slow down!” Jack picked up the pace until he was able to reach out and grab Chase by the shoulder. With a yelp, Chase spun around, pushing away Jack’s hand. “You can’t just say something like that! Of course I’d care!”

For a moment, Chase looked like he wanted to keep running. Then he slumped. “I know, I know you would, I-I don’t know why I said that. I just...you have all your shit going on, it feels stupid to bring you into mine, too.”

“No, it’s not. It’s exactly the opposite of stupid. Bring me into your shit. Tell me what’s going on!”

“No, it’s stupid, it really is.” Chase folded his arms, looking down at the ground.

“Well, I’m not gonna drop it until you tell me what’s going on,” Jack said. “So might as well get it over with.”

Chase looked around. There weren’t a lot of people around, and definitely none in earshot. He sighed. “It’s just...you have a cool power, dude. JJ has magic. Schneep has magic, apparently. And then I’m just...here.” He blinked furiously, eyes watering. “I don’t do anything. All that I’ve done is get kidnapped, possessed, get un-possessed, and now I can’t handle anything! I can’t even fucking let my own daughter give me a hug without freezing up! And you guys are doing great! You’ve all had to deal with shit, and you’re not like this! So why am I—just—worthles—” He choked up. And he realized tears were leaking from his eyes.

Jack took this all in, staying silent. His expression was hard to read. And then he stepped closer to Chase, taking care not to touch him. “Chase Brody, never say that you’re worthless.”

“Okay,” Chase said automatically.

“No, I mean it. You think we would’ve gotten this far without you? No! You remember when you shot Anti, despite him still having a hold on you? That was the most badass shit I’ve ever seen! And that was you! You’re amazing!”

“But you guys—”

“No no no, stop it,” Jack said firmly. “Stop comparing yourself to the rest of us, we’re not all the same. You’re right, we’ve all had to deal with shit, and it’s all been different shit. You notice how Henrik avoids going to sleep? Or how I couldn’t leave the apartment for two whole months and outside still kinda freaks me out? None of us are doing great.” Jack shook his head. “And even if it was the same shit, we still would’ve reacted differently. Because we’re different people, and comparing yourself to others only hurts. If there’s any comparison you should be doing, it’s to yourself. And Chase, you are doing so much better. Think of how you were doing a few months ago. You’ve been improving. And yeah, maybe you don’t have magic, but you’re still strong. And don’t you forget it.”

Chase’s tears were still flowing, but for a different reason. “Thanks, Jack.” His voice cracked. “I guess I needed that.”

Jack smiled. “If you ever need it again, just tell me.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind.” Chase wiped his face on his sleeve. He took a deep breath. “Alright. So, we keep going, then?”

“We keep going.” Jack nodded. “We’re bound to find Schneep eventually.”

Yet, the sun lowered in the sky, the blue faded to pink and then purple, the hours passed, and they still hadn’t found him. They returned back to Stacy’s house, agreeing to look again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

He didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t know how he got there.

He’d been back in the apartment. Anti had appeared. Anti had taunted them, telling them that he was the other two. And somehow, he knew this wasn’t a lie. Marvin and Jackie had been acting so odd once they’d returned, and he couldn’t...he couldn’t feel where they were, like he could with other people. Now, he wondered if that ability to feel people had anything to do with...what else he could do.

He didn’t know how to describe what happened next. He wanted a weapon, so he reached over and grabbed one. He wanted to attack, to be at the front of the action, and all of a sudden Anti was right in front of him. And so he fought. He fought for the two who’d gone and the three who remained. But it was too much. Things were spiraling out of control. He’d take one step, and suddenly the room reoriented around him, and he was somewhere else entirely. It was spinning around him, he was one place and then another. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t steady himself. His head was swimming. It hurt. He screamed, and then he was somewhere else.

It was a strange place, he knew that much. The texture of the walls were unfamiliar, the furniture in unexpected places, the sound of a construction crew nearby completely different. He couldn’t hear or feel anyone nearby. Maybe it was a living room. In a house he’d never been in.

His vision was different. Well, it was still effectively gone, but that static that he’d been seeing ever since coming out of the Nightmare had disappeared. It was instead replaced with plain blackness. Alright, that was a slight improvement, but why?

He tripped across a wrinkle in the rug, falling to the floor with a cry. He didn’t stand up again. There was probably other things to trip over.

After what felt like an hour, he heard the muffled sound of footsteps. Someone was coming, he could feel it. That got him to climb to his feet. He headed for the nearest wall, feeling along the perimeter of the room. There had to be somewhere to hide, or somewhere to get out, somewhere to get out—

And then the wall disappeared. The sound of construction was replace by tweeting birds and a cool breeze. He stumbled as the floor under his feet became uneven, turning into soft dirt.

“What the fuck...?” He muttered.

“Hey!” Someone shouted. He cried out, turning towards the sound. Someone was coming closer. “This is private property!”

“I-I am sorry, I-I do not know how—how I got—” he stammered.

“Speak proper English, please,” the someone said dismissively. “Stay here while I call the police.”

He yelped, backing up. He felt the prickly branches of a bush dig into his back. No no no, this place wasn’t good either, get out—

And as he was backing up, he tripped over something else, falling over what felt like a wooden chair and landing hard on a carpeted floor. Suddenly, there were a lot of voices. And he could feel a lot of people nearby. They felt different.

“What the hell?!” “Jesus, that scared me.” “Um, Ms. Mae? I think—” “Unauthorized teleportation—” “—supposed to have a smoke effect?” “What’s up with his eyes?” “—don’t recognize him.” “Sir, are you alright?”

Too many people. He tried to stand up, and somehow rammed his head into something. He yelled, withdrawing.

“There’s a bookshelf there, sir,” said one of the voices. “Are you alright? Can you...wait, can you see us?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Not here, somewhere else, not here, somewhere—

And the world shifted again.

And again.

And again.

He wasn’t sure how much time was passing, but it had to be a significant amount. He’d stay in each place for as long as thirty minutes, or as few as thirty seconds. Never anywhere he recognized by touch. Sometimes he’d get his bearings enough to try and find the room’s exit, or walk down the sidewalk, or figure out exactly where the hell he was. But the world always shifted again, even if he didn’t want it to.

Sometimes there were people. He tried not to stay there too long. They’d think he was crazy. Sometimes it was a room, sometimes it was outside. Once there was water lapping around his ankles.

Where was he?

Where were the others? He had to find them. He had to find out if they’d gotten away from Anti, or if he needed to rescue them. Not that he was sure he could, with the world constantly changing. Sure, he’d managed to stab Anti once or twice, but that might’ve been beginner’s luck. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, though.

He was outside again, on a sidewalk. The air had cooled down significantly, and he could feel less people around. The sound of the cars passing by were less frequent. Time had passed.

No, he was in a noisy building, people shouting, dishes clattering.

No, he was in a wide-open space, instruments playing discordantly.

No, somewhere boiling hot—

No, somewhere with the ground kicking up sand—

No, somewhere quiet—

Somewhere loud—

Somewhere soft—

Sweet-smelling—

Grassy—

Cold—

His heart was about to pound out of his chest. His mind was swimming, a lightheaded feeling. There were swirls of colors swimming before his eyes. Patterns of phosphenes.

Ticking—

Crashing—

Dizzy—

Heavy—

Too much, too much, too much—

Something broke.

He saw a hospital room, a single bed surrounded by medical equipment. There was a man in a snap-back cap, sitting on the floor like he’d been knocked down, and another man in a ragged white coat, staring down at him. His expression was a combination of shock and anger. “I do not you would forget so easily,” the man in the white coat said. “But maybe I am mistaken. If what I have seen you doing is what I think it is, then maybe your mind is missing entirely.” “Wha—no, I—oh my god, you’re alive.” The man in the cap stood up, looking a bit dazed as he looked the other up and down. “We all thought the worst—I mean, we never gave up hope—well, ░▒░▒░▒ got close, I think, but maybe that’s just the pessimist in him. And there was that fucked up postcard back in March…but you’re back now. You’re back.” He smiled, a small expression filled with relief.

He was in the middle of a dark field, city lights in the distance. They were close enough to make out buildings but too far to walk to. A man in a black cape and purple and white mask was walking. His hand was held up high above him, blue crystallized lights dancing around his fingers, illuminating the area. He spun around, looking for something. He said something under his breath, and the blue light flared, shooting out. Something laughed. “You talk too much,” said a voice, seeming to come from everywhere. The man spun around, blue light twirling away. Shuffling movement in the darkness, and then there was something, something gray and smiling and with blackened sharp nails, tackling the man to the ground. Something red splashed.

he was standing behind someone, a young man in a button-up shirt, who was holding a ceramic mug in two hands. the man was in the doorway of a living room, watching two other men talk. They appeared to be arguing. “i don’t own a green t-shirt, ░▒░▒░!” this man had his hair pulled back, waves falling down his back. “you know i don’t like them! you can go look in my closet and hamper if you want,i don’t have anything like that.” “well, who was it, then?” this one had a snap-back cap and a dirty jacket. “what, are you saying that someone was pretending to be you—” the man in the doorway suddenly paled. he dropped the mug he was holding, and it shattered upon the floor with a loud crash. the other two turned to look at him. “░▒░▒░▒░? are you alright?”

Ur jnf yvfgravat gb na nynez evatvat guebhtu gur nve. Gur juvgr-jnyyrq unyyjnl jnf yvg hc bayl ol erq rzretrapl yvtugf naq n fgenatr terra tybj. Gurer jrer gjb svtherf va gur pragre bs gur unyy, bar ylvat ba uvf onpx, gur bgure xarryvat arkg gb uvz. Gur bar xarryvat jnf cerffvat qbja ba gur bgure’f fgbznpu, jurer n qnex fgnva jnf fcernqvat npebff gur oyhr fuveg. “Fuvg, unat ba, whfg unat ba,” gur bar xarryvat fnvq. “V xabj fbzrbar jub pna uryc, jr whfg arrq gb svaq uvz.” Gur bar ylvat qbja tebnarq, naq bcrarq uvf rlrf. Fbzrguvat jnf tybjvat juvgr. “Fghcvq nynez…” Ur ernpurq hc, unaq gerzoyvat. Fgenaqf bs juvgr yvtug pheyrq nebhaq uvf nez, gura fubg njnl, jenccvat nebhaq n obk ba gur prvyvat. Gur zrgny pheyrq nf vs vg jnf pynl orvat gjvfgrq. Gur nynez fgbccrq, naq fbzr bs gur erq rzretrapl ohyof ohefg, envavat qbja tynff naq yrnivat gur fgenatr terra tybj nf gur bayl fbhepr bs yvtug.

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

“Stop!”

He gasped, and suddenly everything was still. Very still, in fact. Almost unusually still. He couldn’t hear anything nearby. He couldn’t smell anything nearby. He couldn’t feel anything other than the ground beneath his feet. But he could feel something...someone? Were they the source of the voice that shouted “stop”?

“Gods, was not expecting that. What’re you doing? How’d you get here?” The voice sounded familiar...but also different.

“I—I—” He couldn’t answer either of those questions. “I do not know. I-I am sorry if I upset you.”

A short burst of laughter. “You didn’t upset me—well I mean, I am kind of busy right now, but I can take a break to figure out what the actual fuck you were doing.”

“Doing? What—where am I?” He realized he was shaking a bit. Nerves, maybe. Or exhaustion. From whatever that had been.

“Hmm. You can’t see, can you? Otherwise you’d be having a stronger reaction than that.” Footsteps approached him. “Here, let me just—”

He felt hands on his head, pressing fingers into his temples. And then he felt something else, some kind of tingly, static sensation. He yelped. And then suddenly, he saw himself. Not from the perspective you would expect, but like he was looking through someone else’s eyes at himself. He could see the scars under his eyes for the first time. Then the perspective changed, like someone was looking to the side. And he saw...lights. Tiny green orbs of light, extending off in all directions, for forever, against a black sky. They were reflected across the horizon, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the floor he was standing on was reflective, or if the floor was transparent, showing a void all around. He gasped, and the hands were withdrawn. “Where am I?” He repeated, in a hushed voice.

“...how do I explain this?” the voice muttered. “Alright. Do you play video games? You likely have a few friends who do.”

“Um...yes, I have friends. I play a few games, I suppose.”

“You know how a level of a game has a map? The map makes up the environment, and it’s made of all the various assets the game has.”

“Yes.”

“You know how, in some games, if you do just the right thing, you can glitch outside of a map and into the empty space beyond? Where you can see the whole map from a new perspective.”

“I...yes.”

“Well. Welcome to the empty space around the map, Henrik.”

Schneep gasped. “How do you know my name?!”

“I mean, I guessed you were one of them.” The voice sounded casual. “The accent gave it away.”

Schneep shook his head, backing away from the voice. “Is—is this real? Am I having a hallucination?”

“Why, do you have those?”

“Someti—that is none of your business!” Schneep snapped. “How do I get back to where I was?”

“Good question, normally you wouldn’t be able to.”

“What?!”

“But the fact that you were glitching outside and looking at other ones is a good sign that you’ll be able to. Though, judging by your reaction and recent memories, this is a new thing for you.”

“You looked inside my—?!” This was too much. Schneep fell to the ground, collapsing to his knees. He covered his mouth and tried not to hyperventilate.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have done that, should I?” The voice asked. “I just thought it would be helpful if I understood where you were coming from.”

“How is this happening?” Schneep whispered weakly. “Jameson, he told me I had magic, b-but I did not think—! It would be like—! Wh-why do I even have this? What happened to make it?”

“Another good question.” The voice lowered, like he was also sitting on the floor. “Well, it sounds like this isn’t something you had your whole life. Were you exposed to any kind of magic for an extended period of time? Say, a few months.”

Schneep immediately started nodding. “I-I got stuck. In this place called...the Ni-Nightmare.” He shuddered. “It was for months.”

“Well, shit. You have to get your soul ripped out to go there.” The voice fell silent for a while. “So, I’m no expert, but I can give you my best guess. Your soul probably got used to being outside your body, and while it was in the Nightmare, it began to adapt to the new environment. Once it was returned to your body, it settled back in, but the properties it picked up started to seep into your body as well. It would probably lay dormant for a while until you needed it to start acting weird, probably triggered by stress or something. And now, I’m guessing everything’s hit the fan for you.”

Schneep nodded. “It was like...everything around me was changing. I could not control it.”

“Of course you can control it.” He could practically hear the voice rolling his eyes. And moderation, of course, so you don’t end up glitching too far. I mean, eventually you would’ve drifted off, bouncing between other worlds. You’re lucky I stopped by.”

Schneep paused. “Who are you?”

Laughter. Chillingly familiar, yet somehow...more relaxed. “If I told you my name, you’d probably recognize it. But I probably shouldn’t, in case the me in your world isn’t as nice. Never mind that, though.” A shuffling sound, like the voice was standing up. Then the voice grabbed Schneep’s arm and pulled him up. “I think it’s best if you don’t stay here. Just in case there are more effects.”

Schneep shook his head. Everything was moving fast. “H...how would I get out of here?”

“Well, you got in, didn’t you? You can get out, if your powers brought you here. You just need to control them.”

“How?” Schneep asked in a small voice.

“You start by not controlling them.” Schneep’s expression must’ve shown, because the voice chuckled. “Abilities like this are part of you, if they’re anything like mind. As much as your arm is part of you. Do you make an effort to ‘control’ your arm? No, you just think about what it’s supposed to do, and it does it. Glitching to other places is just an easier way of walking. Think about where you want to go, and go there.”

“What? It cannot be that easy.”

“It is. You might need to practice, though. But for now, just relax. If you freak out, it’s likely that your powers are gonna freak out too.”

“I think I figured that out,” Schneep grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s probably how you ended up here, huh?” The voice sounded like he was smiling. “Just take a deep breath, and think about using your powers to get back where you came from.”

Schneep hesitated. “What if it goes wrong? Are...are you going to give more advice?”

“If you don’t go back to your world, yeah. But once you’re there, I can’t follow you. I can access the In-Between, and my own world, but nothing else without concentrated help. It’s one of the few rules I follow.” The voice shifted, now sounding a bit irritated. “Now can you hurry? I said I was busy, and unless I want some black magic kitty causing havoc, I gotta get back to that.”

“Okay, okay.” Schneep considered asking about that, then decided it was a better idea not to. He took a deep breath. Just think about it, huh? Alright. He wanted to go home. He imagined a doorway opening in front of him, and on the other side was where he wanted to go. He took a step forward—

And ran his shins into a coffee table.

He cried out, jumping backwards. Okay. Alright. This was better. He wasn’t in that weird...place anymore. He reached forward, bending down to feel the surface of the coffee table. It was wood, felt fairly big, and there was an indent right in the middle.

Schneep froze. That wasn’t just an indent. He recognized the feel of the knick in the wood. He ran his fingers over it a few more times, awakening a long ago memory. One time, Marvin had visited his apartment, but neglected to tell him he would be practicing throwing knives. He dropped one right on the living room coffee table. Schneep had ranted his ear off that night about how the blade had left a knick in his table.

How many times had he ran his hand over that dent in the wood? Especially after he’d thought his friend had died...he wasn’t about to forget the feeling of it, no matter how long it had been.

But he had to make sure. Schneep stood up, feeling around the edges of the room. Yes, there was the glass wall to the balcony. There were the houseplants in the corners, now dried up and dead from neglect. There was his second coat hanging off the hook near the door. He’d ended up home.

Schneep sat down hard on the sofa. So. Maybe that voice’s advice wasn’t too bad.

It had been...a long, long day. An absolutely insane day, in fact. He needed to process all this. He lay down across the cushions, staring into nothing. His vision was back to blackness. Which he didn’t mind, in comparison to the static. If that was part of his new abilities, he’d take them all.

Okay. Start with processing the simpler-to-understand stuff. Anti was back. Doing alright so far. Anti was actually Marvin and Jackie—nope, that one needed more attention.

Some part of Schneep knew they’d always been dead. He’d seen their bodies. He’d examined their bodies. You don’t come back from that. And even if they somehow magically recovered for a bit, he knew they weren’t the same. He’d figured out by now that he could feel people, which must’ve also been part of his powers. But he could never feel them. They weren’t people anymore. They were ghosts. Remnants.

Schneep wiped away at the tears suddenly trickling down his face.

And now, all that was left of them was Anti. Anti, the worst parts of each of them, now hell-bent on tormenting them. Maybe if they got rid of Anti, Marvin and Jackie could finally have some peace. In whatever came next.

He reached vaguely to the side. He needed a weapon, something suitable for defeating Anti. And surprisingly, his fingers wrapped around something. He pulled it back, feeling the item over with both hands. A pair of...scissors? Odd, but he supposed they were just a pair of knives attached together. He tried again, reaching to the side, this time thinking about a knife. And this time, he grabbed a kitchen knife. Huh. Apparently, he could summon things now, too. Though...was he actually just reaching through some kind of wormhole to grab something from somewhere else...?

Schneep shook his head. He’d figure it out later. For now...he was tired. And again, he needed to process this. He set the scissors and the knife down on the nearby table.

They needed a plan. They needed to be together. And Schneep needed more time to adjust to these new abilities. 

So that would be what he’d do next. He’d figure out how to use these powers to their best, find their strengths, weaknesses, and limitations. Then, when they came for Anti, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

With a sigh, Schneep closed his eyes. Yes, he’d be prepared for that day. It was coming soon.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #antisepticeye #stitchedstories #fixing stitching #brigid writes fanfiction

[sweetpea-sprite]

13 for the angst, love your writing btw ^u^

“haha hey guys taking prompts :) will probably be really short haha :)” [writes 1400 words]

you didn’t specify a character/ship (which i did not say was a thing you could do because i forgot but for anyone reading this you can do that if you want lmao) so i chose esther because i love her and she doesn’t have enough development

i’ll probably post this on ao3 too? so look out for that

(ALSO THANK YOU ILY2)

(ALSO also my playlist decided to play hug all ur friends by cavetown as i was writing this and i nearly started sobbing. for the full experience please listen to that while reading)

edit: lol i put it under a read more because it was annoying me having to scroll through it i’m sorry

13. “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

It’s been… a day.

Between Oliver still being comatose when the day began, to fighting Vileheart for the second time (without Oliver, mind you), to Oliver waking up and defeating Vileheart with a new spell and a vengeance, Esther thinks she can safely say she hasn’t had this much emotional tax since the day her father tried to fight Shadar, who had subsequently decided to pay her a visit. The hardships aren’t over yet, however. They still have to trek through the Miasma Marshes for a second time, then it’s to Nevermore to defeat the Dark Djinn himself.

Oliver, having just woken from a coma (in which he found out his mom is dead forever) had been anxious to get going, even suggesting they start the journey the very next day. Esther doesn’t understand it, and clearly neither do Swaine and Drippy, seeing as they immediately help her to shut that idea down. They’re having at least one rest day, preferably a few. Oliver pouts, but otherwise doesn’t complain.

The Cat’s Cradle gives them a free room with three beds, and though Oliver is confused, the others take it with a sighed “thank you”. News of Oliver’s condition had spread quickly considering how tiny Perdida is, and after a week of staying there you get to know the townspeople, including the innkeeper, just a little. Swaine takes the bed nearest the door, Oliver the one next to his, and Esther takes the one on the opposite side of the room. Drippy, who had stolen a cushion from the inn lobby, throws it onto Oliver’s bed as Oliver tosses his bag in a corner. All of them start to settle in, lying on top of their beds quietly.

Five minutes of awkward silence later, Oliver sits up from where he was leafing through his Wizard’s companion without actually reading it, slamming the book shut and making everyone jump. “I’m going for a walk,” he says shortly, moving to do just that. Drippy moves from his cushion to follow, but Oliver turns around and stops him. “Mr. Drippy, you look exhausted,” he says softly. “I’ll be fine.” The two of them have a slight stare off before Drippy grumbles to himself and lies back down.

Oliver is almost out the door when Esther sits up too. “I’ll come with you,” she says decidedly, and Oliver turns to tell her what he told Drippy, but wilts under her gaze.

“Okay,” he says defeatedly, and Esther shuffles off of her bed and follows him out. Swaine says nothing, but watches them leave out of one eye. Drippy seems more relaxed with Esther going as well, and turns over just as she leaves.

They leave the inn in silence, the sun beginning to set over Perdida, giving them a pink-orange backdrop. Not as many people are out as before, and the two walk in an awkward silence through town, not quite sure where they’re going. “So,” Oliver starts, quietly. “…How are you?”

Esther’s quiet for a moment, before bursting into giggles. “How am I?” she says, between laughter, “I’m not the one who just got out of a magical coma.”

Oliver glances up at her, and smiles. “I guess not,” he says, laughing slightly along with her. “But… I did miss a week. Did anything interesting happen?”

Esther hums. She has to think about it, seeing as most of the past week had been filled with sobbing, and she doubts that’ll lighten the mood. “I learned a new song,” she says. “Raises defense.” Refrain, it’s called. She doesn’t tell Oliver why she learned it, of course. If Swaine had been punching a few walls while he had been out, that wasn’t her business. Making Swaine’s hands hurt less with every punch had been something she had been able to do to help, and god, had she needed it then.

“That’s really great, Esther!” Oliver says, beaming up at her. “I… know we’re all pretty tired,” Understatement, Esther thinks, “but show it to me tomorrow?”

“Sure!” Esther says, grinning. It’s like Oliver was never gone. “Oh! I thought of another thing. The other day, there was a visitor from Hamelin.”

“Really?” Oliver’s eyes widen.

“Mhm! It wasn’t Marcassin, but he sent his regards. He’s never been to Perdida, so he couldn’t cast Travel, and he had duties to attend to… Oh, and-”

They continue chatting as they walk out of town, Oliver of course waving to the guard as they go by, mostly about nothing, Esther catching Oliver up on the things he’d missed (which wasn’t much, considering the past week was her, Drippy, and Swaine realising how much their life had begun to revolve around Oliver), and for a moment it almost seemed like he’d never left.

…For a moment.

They sit on the grass near the edge of the cliff, near where Esther had found Swaine just that morning. There’s an area of the grass near them that’s been scuffed up from their fight with Vileheart, which Esther decides to ignore. Unfortunately, she only manages to do so for so long.

Oliver laughs. Oliver laughs, and it’s so stupid, but Esther hasn’t heard him laugh in what feels like years. Hasn’t even heard his voice in what feels like years. She’s just watched him as he laid perfectly, deathly still, not shifting an inch.

“Esther?” Oliver says, causing her to look at him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and she wonders how he can say that when he’s… alive. She’s been staring at his still as a statue face for the past week, letting the hours tick by. She had almost forgotten what shade of blue his eyes were, and now that they’re open and awake and bright… it’s too much.

She attempts to swallow past the lump in her throat, and doesn’t succeed. “I’m fine,” she says, and winces at how pathetic her voice sounds.

Oliver shakes his head. “No you’re not. What’s wrong?”

Esther takes a moment to pull herself slightly more together, then says, “I just… you’re here.” She almost laughs at Oliver’s confused face. “You’re alive. You’re awake. I… we didn’t know if…” She sniffles, and sincerely hopes the implication was clear, because she doesn’t think she can keep talking.

The first tear falls from Esther’s eye and drops down onto her hands, bunched in her lap.

“Esther…” Oliver murmurs. “I… I’m sorry…” Esther lets out a choked laugh, inhaling as she tries to stop the tears from coming. He’s sorry? He isn’t the one having a breakdown because he’s back from the possible dead.

“Oliver,” Esther says, when she gets the slightest moment to breathe, “If you don’t hug me right now, I think I might fall apart.” As if she hasn’t already fallen apart, as if she isn’t currently falling apart.

Oliver immediately moves and wraps his arms around Esther, who hugs back with a vengeance as she starts actively sobbing, because Oliver is alive, and you’d think after repeating it so much it would become less remarkable, but somehow it hasn’t. Esther hugs Oliver tighter, and he returns it, shifting in order to hug her easier. They stay like that until Esther’s sobs turn into breathy sniffles.

“I…” Oliver sounds choked up as well as he speaks into Esther’s shoulder, sniffling slightly. “I’m not gonna die. I’m gonna… I’ll be here for as long as you need me,” he says, and Esther doesn’t like how he avoids saying forever, wondering what that means. She ignores it as she blubbers into Oliver’s shoulder.

“Promise?” she says shakily.

“…Promise,” Oliver murmurs, pulling away and facing Esther.

Esther realises Oliver’s crying too, though to a lesser extent than her. He smiles through his tears, eyebrows bunched together, and laughs quietly, sadly. He sniffs. “I swear to… to stay with you guys for as long as you need me.”

“…Yeah?” Esther says, ignoring the wording again. “You… you will?” She knows she already got a promise, but she really needs to hear it again.

“Yeah.”

“…Okay.”

Oliver moves back to sitting beside Esther, leaning his head on her shoulder. She leans back, and they watch as the sun moves below the horizon, and the sky gets darker. “We should probably go back to the inn soon,” Esther murmurs, and Oliver hums in agreement, but neither of them move to do so.

They eventually stumble back as the sky turns to twilight, and if Swaine and Drippy notice their tear tracks, they don’t say anything.

#ni no kuni #ni no kuni: wrath of the white witch #ni no kuni oliver #ni no kuni esther #ruby's art #writing prompts #hmm am i putting this in my estiver tag? #sure why not #estiver #oliver #esther