#a tower of howling illogic

[llilychen]

#uhh has this been done before idk #is that how cc sees us #a tower of howling illogic #this is the only time zara makes sense #zara dearborn #emma carstairs #tsc #tda #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #qoaad

[shinobi-illuminator]

The hour grew late as a record breaking storm hit the towering city of Piltover.

Rain pounded at the stained glass windows of the academy like a widow's tears. The roaring winds groaned and thrashed against the tall structures in an icy rage. Anyone caught outside could easily be swept off the streets.

But deep in laboratory was none other than Viktor. The storm outside didn't seem to bother him while he kept working. He liked it when it rained, it gave much needed white noise in the background to keep him focused on his welding.

By now most of the night staff had left by now, but Viktor was more than used to pulling all-nighters in the lab.

Blue sparks were a major light source in the dimly lit room. The office itself was cold from the dampness outside. But Viktor was used to unsavory conditions, a little cold meant nothing to him compared to the polluted atmosphere of the Undercity. Even now his golden eyes glinted in the light behind his goggles. Every now and then he'd pause to study the runes he had lifted from his research. Progress day was just around the bend now, yet it seemed like only yesterday when he and Jayce first invented Hextech. Nowadays he seemed to see Jayce less and less. It worried him but brushed it off figuring funding and publicity would only forward their work. Though it frustrated him knowing he was becoming more of a glorified secretary than an actual partner.

“Ugh! Stupid child. Who brings their kids here this late?"

Viktor paused when he realized how illogical that sounded. He took off his goggles and turned off his welding gear to peer down at his pocket watch.

The clock pointed to 3:13 A.M.

"That... can't be."

No one should have been here but him this late-- and certainly not a crying child.

The scientist grabbed his crutch and shuffled his way to the sliding door. He could hear the sound clear as crystal, but there was no one outside his chamber door.

"Is someone there?" He called.

The crying seemed to get ever so louder. As the pitch increased there was a sudden crash of thunder that seemed to shake the foundations of the academy.

"WOAH!"

It was so loud Viktor flinched, he could feel the floor rumble under his feet.

The lights surged before plunging the rooms and hallways into total darkness. The only minor light source was now came from the blue runes on the core he was working on. Viktor retreated inside, not even the sliding doors wanted to close now.

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

Viktor hated blackouts, that was the one thing that seemed to truly disrupt his work. Luckily he remembered where Jayce kept the flashlights. He carefully limped his way to the drawers blindly, bumping his bad hip on his stool in the process.

"GAH- Shit!"

Sure, he could technically take this as a sign to simply turn in and go home. Let some poor janitor fool around with the back up generators and be done with it till morning.

But Viktor found his light and shined his light on his work. The core he was crafting seemed to pulse like a heart in it's soft glow. It just needed a few more runes to complete it.

"I can do it myself."

He was a smart lad, how hard could it be?

He strolled back to the door and began making the long haul to the basement level. His pace slowed down when he heard the crying get slightly louder now. It was low key beginning to creep him out.

Viktor shook himself to his senses, "Oh come now, Viktor! You're a man of science and magic. You are NOT scared of ghosts!" he hyped himself up and carried on down the dark winding staircase.

Besides, if it really was a child he was probably the only one who could help right now.

As he descended further and further down it somehow seemed to get darker, even with his flashlight. Worst yet the cries seemed to distort against the metallic pipes almost like a warped voice recording. Even now the storm kept howling outside. Viktor came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase and caught his breath. His bad leg was killing him at the strain.

He shined his light and found the breaker holding the backup switch. But still no missing child as far as he could see despite the endless wailing.

He pulled it, but nothing happened.

The young scientist then pried open the hardware door only to be greeted by a cloud of smoke and electrical charge that covered the tangled wires.

"GAh-- fucking hell!" Viktor slammed it shut before he could get spat upon and broke into a small coughing fit. "Okay... -cough- Bad idea. The damn system is fried to a crisp." He frowned.

So much for being useful, this was beyond his skill set. He'd have to find someone to take over tomorrow. He turned around with a heavy sigh and pointed the light back up the winding stairwell. His leg seemed to be nagging at him at the thought of making the exhausting journey back up.

But the continuous crying was still present. Viktor slowly pointed his light until he found a tucked away room behind some old pipping.

He didn't remember there being a door there before, especially not one in made with this kind of old metal.

Viktor dared to take a step forward only to step back. Something just didn't feel right. What kind of kid would want to go inside that room? He knew damn well what he told himself earlier, but Viktor couldn't help but feel a freezing chill go up his rigged spine. His brain was screaming at him now to turn back. Maybe get Jayce while he was at it?

He bit his lip in thought. Viktor had come this far and certainly couldn't go back empty handed now. Curiosity seemed to egg him on like a childish dare. He had to at least take one look inside this mystery room and see who was making this noise.

The young scientist swallowed his fear that kept gnawing at the back of his throat and approached the door.

However when he peered inside with his light there was nothing but rusty and outdated tubes and furnaces that made up an old boiler room. It seemed to not have been touched in fifty or perhaps even a hundred years upon glancing at the old cobwebs and layers of dust on the old rigs. But still no child could be found, yet the sound seemed to be coming out of thin air and was nearly deafening.

Were they hiding??

Viktor gulped and stepped inside, straining his eyes in the pitch blackness to gauge where they were. He even covered one of his ears with his free hand to blot out some of the sound. Viktor was breaking into a cold sweat and was having a difficult time keeping his flashlight still.

His mouth became dry as his words became tangled in his throat in an attempt to sound brave or remotely intimidating.

But all he could muster was a pathetic, chocked out

"...H-hello?”

Suddenly the scream was raw and ragged. Still child-like but full of malice as it seemed to charge right through him. The light he was holding in his shaking hand flared bright before exploding.

"GAHHHHHH!!!!!"

Viktor screamed in agony and clutched his now mangled hand. He couldn't see the damage in the darkness, but boy could he feel it. The battery had somehow ruptured and gave his hand chemical burns from the acid. Bits of glass and metal stabbed his hand with a large piece embedded all the way through his palm. The searing pain made Viktor stumble.

His eyes went wide in horror as he heard the heavy door slam behind him and lock him inside. The same voice trapped with him didn't stop as it bounced off the walls in a hellish echo.

Viktor desperately threw himself at the door. But it didn't budge.

"Oh God--- OH GOD!!! GAHHHHH!! LET ME OUT!! PLEASE!!! LET ME OUT!!!!!!" He screamed from the top of his lungs.

He pounded and slammed at the ancient door. Even striking it with his cane a few times until it too slipped from his hands and became swallowed in the blinding darkness. The embedded glass and shrapnel in his left hand wasn't doing him any favors and only seemed to smear and spatter his blood on the door, the walls, and on himself. The pain in his hand became too much and he crumpled down into a ball. His hand felt like it was on fire and this THING he was trapped inside with kept screaming at him. He clasped his ears shut as best as he could and broke down sobbing.

This was all his fault, he thought. If he hadn't been so foolish to come down here alone maybe he wouldn't be here. Now he was hurt, scared, alone, and trapped in a place no one knew where to find him.

He was going to die here.

"G-GAHHHHH!!! JAYCE!!! J-JAYCE!!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed.

---

Jayce sat up in bed, his window had been blown open from the storm inside and was getting his room all wet. He fumbled for the light only to find it dead.

"God damn it..."

Giving a frustrated groan he shoved himself from his bed and struggled to push his window closed. He loved rain as much as the next guy, but storms like this set him on edge.

He threw on his robe and went about collecting the discarded pages on the floor and put them back on his desk.

He fished out his flashlight and looked at his watch and the time struck 4:49 A.M.

Too early to get up but too late to go back to bed he thought. He wondered if Viktor was okay, he mentioned he was working on something big at the lab. Hopefully he brought his light too. Still a part of him wondered if his partner was caught up in the blackout like him. He figured it couldn't hurt to check up on him, maybe then the poor man would get some sleep. Jayce tried to insist at times, but there seemed to be no stopping Viktor when he was 'in the zone'. He got dressed and made the quick run to the Academy. He was soaking wet and carried on up to the lab only to find the sliding doors open. Jayce at least felt a little assured his partner wasn't trapped in here, but that thought went out the window when he shined his light about to find Viktor missing.

"Vik?"

He glanced at the glimmering cube on his work desk but didn't look any further.

"Hmm... Now if I were Viktor where would I be?" Jayce thought out loud to himself.

It didn't take long for him to guess his partner went down to check the backup generator.

"Not even a storm seems to stop you, aye Vik?" He sighed and made his way down the staircase.

----

Viktor was curled up on the ground exhausted in a sobbing mess on the floor. He had been trapped inside the boiler room for what seemed like hours. Everything seemed to hurt and he couldn't see anything. There wasn't even a doorknob inside to try and pick the lock with--- not like there was anything to try and pick the lock with.

He dreaded to think all his hard work was going to end via misadventure. He tried to fall asleep a few times but the voice in the room kept him awake. It seemed to enjoy driving him crazy.

But then he sensed something coming down the stairs. He feared it was his rattled brain playing sick tricks with him but he pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen closely. His suspicions were confirmed, someone was down here.

Viktor's voice was damn near lost from hours of screaming for help. He didn't know how much he had left in him, he felt so weak. But he had to try or he was never going to be found alive.

"H-hEY!-- HEY HELP ME!!! PLEASE I'M TRAPPED INSIDE!!!!" He screeched, pounding at the now scratched and blooded door.

The inhuman drone like scream never seemed to abate. It only drilled further into his mind to try and drown him out.

Jayce had been wandering in darkness himself looking high and low for his missing friend when he suddenly heard banging.

"Vik?" He broke into a sprint.

Jayce followed the bangs till he heard muffled screams coming from behind a massive iron door.

"Viktor!? Oh my god! Viktor, hold on! Let me get you out, buddy!" He tried the handle, but even he had a hard time getting the rusty thing to let go.

Viktor felt his heart skip a beat.

"Jayce!? Is it really you?" He cried, pawing at the door.

His voice sounded so shot Jayce didn't even recognize it at first.

"Yeah, I'm here, Bud! GAHHH-- What the hell is that with you?" He grunted, trying to pull the rusted lock back. "God! I don't know how you got in here Viktor, but this lock hasn't touched in ages!" He strained.

Viktor finally found his cane in the dark and tried to help push from his side.

"GGAHHHH! I said move!" Jayce growled.

Out of frustration he stomped at the lock and a huge chunk of corroded grime broke in half and the door came flying open with a gust of wind carrying the scream.

Jayce let out a gasp and was flung back, he held his ears tight from the deafening buzz in his head.

"Gah-- What the fuck was that!?"

Whatever it was seemed to be gone and all was finally quiet save for the sound of the rain outside.

Jayce pointed his flash light at his friend who stood battered, bruised, and bloodied. His hand was mangled with grass and acid and his ears seemed to trickle blood.

"I... I knew you'd find me..." Viktor smiled through his shot voice.

His eyes rolled back as he fell into Jayce's arms. His cane fell with a dull clang close by.

"Viktor-- VIKTOR!!? Wake up! Oh god! What happened to you!?" Jayce cried out, hugging his fallen friend close.

He quaked upon seeing the bloody spatters and scratch marks Viktor left on the other side of the door. Jayce teared up and held Viktor close. He pulled him onto his back and grabbed his fallen cane, he needed to get him to the infirmary.

"Don't worry, Vik. I've got you... And I'm not going anywhere until you're better." Jayce spoke, brushing his tears from his eyes.

As he made the tedious journey back up the winding staircase he swore he could fell Viktor hug him back tighter than he had ever felt him do.

#arcane viktor #viktor #jayce arcane #horror

[bemtevis]

hey, same anon from before. I thought I'd paste the extract here: “My father told me about you and your parabatai—you’re disgusting—I guess you want to be like Clary and Jace, huh? Wanting what’s forbidden? And nasty?” Emma rolled her eyes. “Zara, Clary and Jace weren’t related.” “Yeah, well, they thought they were, and that’s the same!” Zara screamed, a tower of howling illogic. (nope. this isn't sitting right with me :l)

SKSJDJHR

Did CC think she was being subtle? It's so obvious, and I hate to agree with Zara, but she's right lol

‘hOwLiNg iLLoGiC’ KSKSJS MA'AM

#that is‚‚ unintentionally hilarious #but yeah it's so gross :/ #anti cc #anti clace #anon #answered #ask to tag

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 2/10

link: AO3

Chapter Two - The Man Who Makes All the Decisions

Chapter content warning: brief encounter of sexual harassment

You awoke gasping in the night, heart pumping, heaving in lungfuls of stale air. The darkness of the Saints Hotel room pressed close. You’d dreamt about Emma and Henry again. 

Frightened as you were, you whispered to yourself that you were safe, that the dampness upon your brow was perspiration, and not the spatter of blood from Henry’s gunshot wound. That the screams seeping from the peeling walls were not Emma’s, but recalled from the etchings of your memory. You collapsed back onto the sheets and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, shuddering hard against the nausea prickling in your stomach and praying for sleep to find you once more.

—

Arthur stood at the bar in Smithfield’s Saloon, casual in the way he leaned over it. How at ease he appeared, unapologetic in his taking space. You choked on your envy, allowing yourself to wonder what it’s like to do whatever you wanted, wherever you pleased, unescorted. This feeling climbed as the man seated closest to the entrance pulled his chair out fully in your direction, reclining with his thighs spread. You tightened your grip on the handle of your travel bag and kept your revulsion from showing too much. Folk like that chased any sort of reaction, like they chased down drink after drink.

Ernest waved you over, having noticed how quiet the room fell when you’d walked in through the swinging doors. Arthur remained fixated on his glass despite the change in atmosphere, spinning it idly atop the nicked wood, taking more stock in it than in his surroundings. His voice cut across the idle chatter from the tables. “You even wash these?”

“Funny you ask,” Ernest said, wiping down the bar with a rag. “We’re in the market for a dishwasher. You look right fit for the job.” He abandoned his task at your approach to reach towards one of the dozens of bottles lining the shelves behind him, but you held up a hand to stop him. You needed your full wits to do something as illogical as you were about to, potentially letting a stranger lead you to God-Knows-Where to meet God-Knows-Who, with the pistol shoved in your right boot acting as your sole reassurance.

“So you’re a comedian now, mister? Didn’t realize I was getting dinner and a goddamn show.” Arthur knocked back his shot of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. You set your bag at your feet and settled yourself in the space beside him. Through the aroma of decades of liquor soaked into the timber of the saloon, you caught a whiff of soap and freshly scrubbed skin. 

“Cursin’ in front of women,” Ernest said, acknowledging you. “Ain't your daddy ever taught you manners?”

“Say that again,” Arthur growled and smacked both palms on the counter, moments away from hopping over it. You cleared your throat before he could hitch a leg up. He turned and froze, as if it surprised him that anyone else was in the saloon at all, let alone you in your best (and only) dress.

The disturbance had caused a bit of rubbernecking your way. While Ernest rattling the clients was always an entertaining diversion, (and privately, you would have seized the opportunity to see Arthur try to throttle him, the mountain of a man Ernest was) an all-out saloon-brawl was counterproductive to anything you’d arrived there to do. The situation had to be defused, and fast.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I won’t wilt from a little profanity,” you said. “It didn’t offend me to hear him swear the first time we’d met, and it doesn’t offend me now.”

Arthur looked at you. His expression turned from confused to even more confused. Clearly he hadn’t recognized you from your previous encounter. Taking pity on him, you helpfully concealed your nose and mouth with your sleeve, resembling the scarf you’d worn when he met you. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. You dug four bits from your skirt pockets, sliding them onto the counter to Ernest. “For this man’s next drink.”

“Couldn’t tell it was you without the get-up you was wearing the last time,” Arthur grumbled, and accepted the second shot of whiskey, placated for now, “or without the rifle.”

The rifle wasn’t concealable, and it hadn’t fit in the bag with your other travel necessities, so you left it with Ernest. You’d come back to Valentine to retrieve it later, at the right moment, along with half of the train score you had hidden away in a lockbox. “Had to try to look somewhat respectable for a negotiation. If there will be a negotiation, that is. Didn’t want to show up in my dusty travel clothes.”

“You look naïve, and an easy target to swindle,” he said, sparing a glance toward Ernest, who only cocked an eyebrow in response. Arthur cleared his throat. “Not that I’d do something like that. You see, I’m an itinerant worker, laid off from a factory—”

“Save it, please,” you said. “I’m not interested in divining who you really are or where you’ve come from. What I am interested in is whether you can help me with that offer we discussed. From your countenance, I assume your friend decided to take me up on it, against your better judgment.”

“What’s wrong with my countenance?”

“You’re scowling.”

“I ain’t,” he said, scowling. You put your hands up, conceding.

“He said he’d meet with you,” Arthur said. He brought the glass up to his lips. “Still decidin’ if I want to spin him a tale that I came to Valentine, but you never showed. Or, I could just rob you. I don’t think he’d mind that as much.”

“You just said you wouldn’t swindle me,” you accused.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but didn’t wish to act on it for fear of appearing too amicable. “You said we’d get half the money upfront?”

“Yes. You’ll get half if we can come to an agreement, and the other half once Emma is home safe.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Arthur said. “We already went through an ordeal with that train, risking our skin to come up empty-handed. Now you want to pay us to risk it again with the score which should’ve been ours in the first place. This might end up being more trouble than it’s worth even with the seventy dollars you promised on top of it.”

“Hey lady, how much for your company?” A grunting voice emerged from behind you. You ignored it, too immersed in assessing the value of all your worldly possessions, your rifle among the other trinkets you had stashed away in different locations. You didn’t own land or assets to sell or put up for a loan. The single thing of monetary value in your possession was Henry’s wedding ring, and you’d hang before pawning that off. It’d been his dying request to return it to Emma. They’d only been married for five months when he was killed.

“I said, how much?”

Ernest jabbed his finger at him. “You best shut your mouth and sit back down ‘fore I drag you out of here, you drunken fool.”

 “Weren’t talkin’ to you.” A hand clapped on your right shoulder, jerking you backwards. “I was talkin’ to this uppity bitch—”

You only had a brief moment to recognize the man as the one from earlier who’d leered at you. In the next second, he was flat on the ground, clutching his newly crooked nose. Arthur was towering over him, shaking out the soreness of the impact from his hand. He bent down and, without so much as a word, wiped his bloodstained knuckles on the howling degenerate’s shirt. Apart from his slightly mussed hair and the wild promise of barely restrained ire lurking in his eyes, an eerie calmness rolled off of him.

So much for preventing a brawl. 

“You broke it! You fuckin’ broke it!”

“Hey,” someone piped up from the cards table. “Ain’t that the feller who damn near beat Tommy to death the other day when Hubert was workin’?”

“That was you Hubert was talkin’ about?” Ernest said to Arthur. “You owe us money for the window you smashed through, my friend.”

“How much was it to replace?” you said. “I can pay—”

More wailing. “I’m gonna skin you alive!”

“You know, Tommy ain’t been right since,” another person called out. “He may be an imbecile, but he’s our imbecile! You think it’s fun beatin’ on all of us?”

People were getting out of their seats. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go,” Arthur barked at you amid the jeering.

“My bag—” you said, surveying around your feet for your belongings. In the chaos, Arthur had grabbed it for you and was heading to the door. You struggled not to trip over your skirts in pursuit, casting one last apologetic look to Ernest, who seemed like he wanted to go after you. 

Arthur stood outside, unhitching his horse from the post. The temptation arose to make a jest, to smooth the terse silence with something guaranteed to irritate him further. You swallowed it and instead listened to the bustle of wagons and barking of stray dogs. 

“Grab your horse,” he said. “You can follow me. We got a bit of a ride south from here. Can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants me to lead you to camp, but I’m tired of arguin’ with him.”

You wondered who exactly Arthur was referring to. At the Trading Post, he’d hinted at a leader of sorts, the one who had yet to be named. You thought to ask for it, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I don’t have a horse. Not since my last one ran off.”

“She doesn’t own a horse,” he said to no one in particular, a moment of exasperation to the universe perhaps, if you had to guess. “How the hell you been getting around? Hot-air balloon?”

“Much less exciting than that, I’m afraid. Trains and stagecoaches. Sometimes I borrow a horse from Ernest. Sometimes I ‘borrow’ from strangers and return their horses before they’re missed.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend all that trouble you put yourself up to makes any sense,” Arthur grunted in response, strapping your bag to his saddle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

You didn’t move. In your hesitation, you considered beginning your rescue plan anew, using the train money to pay for hired guns, which you had wanted to avoid. If the first meeting between the two of you had gone well, the incident in the saloon had gone every bit as astray. But Arthur had intervened on your behalf, which you appreciated, regardless of the issue it had caused. You thought if there was any chance of a man caring whether or not Emma made it back alive, he was it. And there was the small detail of the score you lifted off his hands. You imagined it wouldn’t go over well if you offered it to another group.

Arthur placed the tip of his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and over the saddle. He lowered his hand. This, you accepted with thanks and up you went onto the back of the horse. At this proximity, the scent of soap you’d noticed in the saloon was stronger. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a man who bathed with any regularity, let alone bathed at all.

“Might want to hold on to somethin’,” Arthur murmured. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cantle as the horse fell into a trot. 

And off you both went, past the gun shop and the train station, the muddy roads shifting into dusty trails the further Valentine receded from view. You were glad to quit the miserable little town if only for a moment, and though you hadn’t any high expectations for your destination, you hoped it smelled better.

“You mentioned you’re taking me to a camp. How big is it?” you asked.

“Suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” came the curt reply. 

“Then, how many people are with you? Besides you and your friend.”

“Ain't you full of questions,” Arthur said. The pistol hidden in your boot felt heavier. It might be enough to fend off several people if they decided to take back by force what they believed to be theirs, but an entire camp? You reprimanded yourself for not thinking this whole thing through.

The horse veered left. Though you sat quietly, your mind was rife with uneasy thoughts. The sun blazed high in the sky, but it would soon begin its descent. You wish you’d asked to meet earlier, having not considered where you would lay your head down tonight, especially if your offer was declined. In all likelihood you’d end up sleeping propped up against a tree in the good company of hungry mosquitoes. Or hitching a twilight ride back to the Saints Hotel with some shifty wagoner. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done either.

Arthur said something, which you were too deeply absorbed in your misgivings to have caught. You asked him to repeat himself. “I said, it’s not too much further now.” 

The horse picked up its pace. Suddenly you were aware of the soreness in your biceps from straining to grip the back of the saddle. Squeezing your thighs harder to maintain balance, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s torso. If the unexpected contact startled him, he did not show it.

“I never thanked you earlier,” you said.

“For what?”

“Quieting that fellow back in the saloon.”

“I reckon you could’ve done it yourself. One minute you’re firin’ a rifle in my direction. Next, you’ve gone all feeble and quiet.”

“If I rose hell whenever someone pestered me, sir, I wouldn’t be here to pester you.”

This earned you a laugh. You felt sorry you weren’t able to see it. “It’s Arthur Morgan,” he corrected. 

Arthur Morgan. You’d known to call him Arthur from that friend Marston of his, but now that you knew both names, you thought it sounded familiar. You racked your recent memory for it, coming up empty. It was a common enough name, anyway. 

“You ain’t told me your name,” he added.

“That’s right, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t,” you said. And that was that.

—

“Coming through,” Arthur shouts as the horse slows. You crane your head to see who he’s speaking to when you spotted a man stepping into the clearing, adjusting the bowler hat atop his head with his left hand and swinging a rifle with his right. Your arms slipped away from around Arthur’s waist, back to gripping the cantle for support.

“My my, what’s this? Returning with a girl before the sun goes down,” he says with a wide grin. “You’re getting romantic in your old age.”

Arthur groaned. “Do you ever shut up? You fill every waking moment with your nonsense.”

The grin grew impossibly wider. Tilting his head up towards you and Arthur, you were just close enough to make out this man’s freckles beneath the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “I’ve plenty of time for peace and quiet when I’m six feet under.”

“Just another reason to hasten you there,” Arthur said, then, softly to his horse, “Come on, girl.”

“He doesn’t really mean that, you know. He loves me,” the man called as you passed by, “Isn’t that right, Arthur? Like an older brother, I’d say!”

The horse stopped at a hitching station just beyond the camp entrance. Off you went from the rear of it, lowering yourself until your boots hit the grass. “Quite the lively introduction,” you said to Arthur.

“That boy is too busy cracking jokes and chasing skirts to do much of anything useful,” he said, dismounting. 

“He’s amusing,” you said. “It’s a breath of fresh air from all the prickly folks around these parts. Look at them wrong and they’ll be twitching for their gun.”

“About as amusing as an insect buzzing in your ear.” Arthur led you to a table, gesturing to the folding stools. “You can sit here a moment. And don’t talk to no one.”

You peered down at the tabletop, noticing copper stains that had long seeped into the wood. “Is that blood?”

Arthur shrugged. “Or you can stand, if that’s your preference.”

You tracked him as he made his way straight to the center of camp, to the largest of the surrounding fixtures, a cream-colored tent that stood proudly over all the rest, watchful. He stopped at the entrance, waiting for the dark figure inside to turn towards Arthur as they stooped slightly, perhaps to grab something. 

The figure emerged finally, joining Arthur outside of the tent’s shade. Sunlight beamed against glittering rings on fingers wrapped around a smoking cigar. You squinted.

Oh God, you thought. That’s Dutch van der Linde. You read about him in the New Hanover Gazette. Your mind ran miles per second as you put bits of information together. You had passed his face on wanted posters during your travels, passed Arthur’s too, lingering above a five-thousand dollar reward for one of the largest heists in Blackwater history. A heist that had seen a dozen or more people dead. And now you were in their camp, a camp that bounty hunters across several states would pay a pretty penny to find.

Those wanted faces turned to you. Arthur waved you over. Your legs grew heavy, rooting themselves to the ground. You had a decision to make.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan/yn #rdr2 ao3 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #reader insert #tlab

[hopestrope]

That's how people who say Clace is disgusting because of the "incest" plot sound. Like Zara Dearborn, like "a tower of howling illogic".

#clary fairchild #jace herondale #clace #zara dearborn #emma carstairs #the mortal instruments #the dark artifices #queen of air and darkness #the shadowhunter chronciles #cassandra clare

[thebigoblin]

Reincarnation AU, go! <3

Hiii <3

Reincarnation AUs is one of my fav tropes tbh. So thanks for the ask!

Putting this under the cut because this got long... this might be a not!fic at this point lol.

[send me an au and i'll write headcanons!]

Okay, so I'm setting this in the canon 'verse, sort of. CA: TFA happened, but Bucky didn't survive. (So Civil War never happened because the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky).

(Also, in this AU the Smithsonian does not have Bucky's pictures. The pictures and drawings that were available, Steve had kept them somewhere private, and after the ocean-deep-dive Peggy and the other Howling Commandos made sure that Steve's and Bucky's privacy was respected. So, Bucky's face is unknown to the world, but not his history. Aka what canon MCU has told the world: Steve's best friend and blah blah blah. Bucky was more than that though).

Bucky is a SHIELD Agent. He doesn't really know why he became one, but something in his gut settles whenever he's out there saving the world. It's like he's honoring someone (even though he has no idea who; he grew up an Orphan, he has no living relative to make proud and all his friends are his co-workers).

Bucky and Sharon are good friends. They were assigned a mission together once, and they haven't parted their ways since.

Agents don't generally mingle with each other in their personal lives, but Sharon and Bucky are built different: Sharon takes Bucky to her Aunt Peggy one day, maybe it's because she needs that emotional support. (As socially awkward as Bucky is, he's also a good friend, so it's not an illogical decision). When Peggy sees him, she can't believe her eyes. (This is before 2011). She starts babbling stuff, like she knows who he is, even before Sharon introduces them. She calls him Bucky, Steve's Bucky. Bucky is astonished to hear her say his name, and he is confused. Who the hell is Steve? Sharon thinks she might have told Peggy about Bucky; they dismiss her words as incoherent babbling.

2011 happens. Captain America—Steve Rogers, someone Peggy knew personally—is pulled out of the ice, and it's all over the news. Sharon is assigned the task of keeping an eye on Steve, and she has strict orders to not let Bucky and Steve interact. A direct order from Director Fury.

Bucky is curious. He wants to meet this Steve. He's seen him on the news, he's seen him fighting the aliens in New York, and there's just... something that makes his skin itch, like it's begging for a touch long-forgotten, and nothing Bucky does can erase that itch. Staring at Steve's gorgeous, gorgeous face works though, even if a little.

After Steve knows who Sharon is, Sharon is unassigned from the task of watching over him. Bucky sees his chance.

This is the 2012 Avengers: Everyone is okay with everyone, they're a family, and it's all good. They live in the Tower.

Bucky manages to somehow come inside the tower 5 times; none of those times are when he meets Steve in person. But sixth time is the charm.

Steve gets his personal belongings from Fury, after Peggy dies. She'd left it to Fury, and Fury gave it to Steve.

Steve is grieving. It's clear in the hunched set of his shoulders, as if a weight has been added to them, as if someone used to share that but doesn’t anymore. Can't.

Everyone leaves Steve alone when he's in a mood. (He's always been an angry guy. A little too loud, a little too harsh. The only good, calm thing in his life was Bucky, but he's... he's not here anymore. And Steve tries, he tries to be better, but it's too hard).

But when they meet. It's such a relief, to both of them. To see each other, right there, not just as a part of a regularly thought, cherished memory, or in the glare of the television, but as a real, tangible thing, person.

Bucky doesn't remember his past life. He doesn't remember Steve stuffing his shoes with newspapers, or the weekends spent curling in their little apartment together, in their small bed that could barely fit Bucky; but he remembers, too. Just not in the normal way. It's not crystal clear, but he feels. He remembers feeling an exasperated fondness for someone, remembers the affection of time long, long gone, of love that matured as two boys did: Steve says having Bucky back is enough, more than enough. Bucky feels like he's failed Steve.

Steve tells Bucky stories of their time together. Sometimes, Bucky will say things that he'd said the first time; Steve would still, unsure; were his memories mingling with the present, making him see, hear things, or was this just... genuinely Bucky? His Bucky? And Bucky, he'd still too, caught up in the inner storm of I did something wrong- should I have not said that- Steve hates me now- and that's when Steve would relax, laugh, and tell Bucky he'd said the same thing back then.

Tony and Bruce are a mess. They keep trying to prove that Bucky can't be that Bucky (Bucky's uncanny ability to read Steve, his "feelings" and several other things beg to differ), that no way do the two Bucky's look exactly alike (Steve shuts them up with his collection of pictures and drawings), and that this isn't just scientifically possible.

Thor is simply delighted. He keeps talking about soulmates, and about stories of true lovers finding their way back to each other no matter what; stories of defiance of time, death, universes and whatnot come up, and Bucky and Steve always somehow manage to look delighted, unbelieving, shy, and in love, all at the same time.

Okay, that's it 😂 I can't think of more stuff lol. Hope you liked it?? Also please someone write me this au right now i beg of you

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #sharon carter #stucky #stucky fic ideas #answered ask #ask games

[immortal-enemies]

i just dont think cc's a good writer i'm sorry. the storylines and stuff are mildly engaging but her writing is nowhere near as amazing as people make it out to be. for one thing, she's EXTREMELY biased in the narration, always painting out her favs as the "good guys" and everybody else as "bad". one hilarious example of this is when zara points out how disgusting clace is, and she's "a tower of howling illogic"(lmao?) and emma is the one who points out that iTs nOt tEchNicAlLY iNcEsT. idk it just pisses me off.

I think that you're right, honestly.

Every author has flaws in their writing, and they also have things they excel at. But CC has been praised and praised for her "fantastic writing" when all the things you pointed out exists.

She well loved for writing her character relationships, even though almost all of them are the same? Like, they're so similar it's one of the most popular jokes in the fandom. A reason I love Jordelia so much is because they don't feel like every other relationship CC- and tbh YA as a whole- that exist, but that's a different thought.

OHMIGOSH THAT QUOTE PISSES ME OFF BECAUSE CC ALSO ISN'T SUBTLE AND THAT WAS AN OBVIOUS JAB AT HER FANDOM. SHE LITERALLY MADE THE CRITICAL PART OF HER FANDOM INTO THE ONE CHARACTER THAT ALMOST EVERYONE HATES??? yes I have seen Zara Dearbitch stans and yes I am scarred 💖

And then she made the ones who defend her into the one we're supposed to like. The hero. Pls I hate it here.

#thank you for the ask :3 #asks #anon #tw all caps #anti cc

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (6)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 6: The Hermit | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 | Previous: Chapter 5 | Next: Chapter 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

So many questions rang in Cere’s mind, though she took her time in listing them up neatly in her mind. She started with the question why Imperials have arrived to the planet and started obliterating the biggest settlement.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask Cal,”

“Cal?” Greez was taken aback by the mention of his name. “Cal was there?”

“Yeah,” your pursed your lips and clicked your tongue. “I suppose he’s an Inquisitor now.”

“What? An Inquisitor?!” the Lateron captain exclaimed in disbelief.

“Well, given the last time we saw him, we all thought it was highly likely, innit?”

Cere ticked off that question and went on with the next.

“[y/n],” she cautiously spoke this time, gulping the lump stuck in her throat. “Did Cal do all that? The town?”

You swiveled your chair to face Cere—and Merrin who’s standing by the woman’s chair—and sighed.

“Yes. He told me that it was his directive to attack the town. How he found us here is something I don’t know, but I have a theory: they might have had spies in the town, though I shouldn’t be surprised since there were troopers there in the first place. My gravest assumption would be anyone in the Yewa Docking Bay.”

Loud sighs and nervous murmurs spoke for everybody in the cockpit. Everyone couldn’t utter a word. You swiveled the chair back and started inputting coordinates on the computer.

“What are you doing now?” the captain scolded.

“He’s still after the Holocron we retrieved from Magyon. I know someone who can be a better keeper, he’ll be the very least the Inquisitors—or Cal for that matter—will expect. At the same time, we’ll make our trail cold.”

The captain confirmed the coordinates that you’ve encoded into the navigation computer and got the ship ready for a jump to lightspeed. He cranked the lever and the ship enters hyperspace. When the situation has calmed down, you spun your chair again to face Cere.

“Cere, a word?”

“Of course,”

The woman promptly stood up from her seat and settled yourselves on the couch at the holotable.

“Something on your mind?”

“When I fought Cal, he was so different—he’s gotten more aggressive and heavier with his attacks. It’s like I barely knew him, even though he was such a familiar face. Frankly, he was scary,”

“It apparently has something to do with the training he received as an Inquisitor,”

“There’s another,” you adjusted yourself in your seat. “You know about my Force-Halt, right? The day we left Bogano.”

She nodded, urging you to continue.

“Well, it turns out, Cal knows how to use it too,”

The uneasiness became more evident in Cere: her eyebrows furrowed, her head turned to the floor, staring blankly at it while she registers that information.

“But,” that word cut off Cere from further zoning out. “He bragged to me that he’s mastered it, though, it also lasted for a short time. That’s why I was able to break free.”

Comparing the durations between your Force-Halt and his, you recalled the last moments that unfurled in Koboth—that day, you were able to keep him under the ability’s influence even from a long distance; though you couldn’t pinpoint whether the distance or voluntarily letting go factored to him breaking free. Both possibilities were logical, but there only has to be one.

“Then it could only mean he’s learned it later than you did. Perhaps, he’s still learning the ropes of it. Either way, you have to be careful whenever he does use it on you,”

Without a doubt, Cal will use it on you the next time he does. For now, the thing on your mind right now is getting to the planet where that person may be, and then hop to the next planet.

The trip was long so you retreat to your room, changed into a tank top and fresh pants to let your drenched outfit dry up. You donned a poncho to keep yourself warm from the Mantis’s air-conditioning.

You fished out the Holocron that you have been keeping in one of your bags. You sat in the lounge, joining Cere who was strumming away with her hallikset, she noticed the cyan cube pulsating its light in your hand.

“[y/n]?”

“You know, we’ve kept it all this time and not a day goes by without me thinking what could be inside,”

You look to Cere for some sort of affirmation or reassurance. The cube weighed on the flat of your palm and you channeled the Force from yourself to the Holocron. A rhythmic clicking noise emitted from the golden frame of the artifact, the once-whole pieces reduced into floating shards until a projection hatched out.

It was Plo Koon’s list of the Force-sensitive children he’s discovered throughout his journey.

“It’s exactly like the first one,” Merrin commented.

All eyes wandered across the luminous, indigo hologram riddled with the names written in Aurebesh. The projection is visualized like a sort of map, hence its circular image, with the dots signifying the planets where they could be found. The projection continued to hover and illuminate the room.

“There’s something on my mind that I want to say to you, [y/n],”

“Shoot,”

“This planet we’re heading to, how did you come to know it? What makes you think there’s someone who can keep it safer than we could?”

It was a good question. You search for the Cere’s holocron, you reached for it using the Force when you spotted it sitting on the corner of the dining table. Cere understood your plan, and you haven’t even activated it yet.

“You actually think that he’s there—in the planet that we’re heading to right now?”

“Look, Cere, I know it’s funny and you probably think I’m crazy or stupid or both. I don’t blame you if you think it’s illogical but…” you scoffed out a weak laugh, trying to gather the best words to be coherent. “I can’t explain it. Even when meditating, I feel it, the Force—as if speaking to me, telling me to trust my feelings. At first I didn’t listen to it because I thought the Force is toying with me just because I’ve become vulnerable all this time. But this time, I don’t think I have an excuse to not trust in my own instincts.”

There was a silence in the lounge. The microphone’s feedback crackled and a muffled rendition of Greez’s voice rang through the speakers.

“We’ve entered the planet’s orbit.”

All the women marched to the cockpit and got a view of the beige, sandy planet. Even from that a great distance, you felt a strong pull of the Force leading you on. That feeling was enough of a reassurance.

You assisted Greez in steering the ship, pinpointing safe areas that you could find in your navigation computer and then transmitting them to his own screen for him to follow. The Mantis landed behind a ridge where they’re safe from prying eyes. You suited up a poncho over your jacket so you blend with the sand and then pull up the hood; your bag containing the holocron and a few necessary items slung across your back. BD-1 crawled up your arm and then perched on your shoulder.

“How long do we have before the next jump is charged and ready?”

“Give it a few hours,” Greez replied.

“I won’t be long,” you tell Cere.

“Be careful out there,”

“Don’t I always?”

“Not really,”

It was the truth, though it warranted a laugh out of you.

You left the ship and began your trek through the flat, sandy wasteland. The low-lying haze of dust swept through your calves as you stamp your feet across the terrain. It felt like you’ve brought yourself to a purgatory of nothingness—save the extreme combined heat of two suns and the winds constantly changing direction to whisk up towers of dust clouds.

The golden brown sediments pricked the pores on your cheeks, you’ve already pulled up the flaps of your poncho to cover your nose and mouth but it didn’t do much. When the winds have picked up again, you found yourself passing through a low trench, shielding yourself from the inconvenience out in the open.

“Spooky, isn’t it, BD?”

“Boooo…”

“Don’t worry, I’m here, buddy.”

You unclipped your saber but didn’t ignite it, readying yourself for any attack that comes in the way.

An animalistic howl echoed between the crevices of the rocks and then you were jumped by a Tusken Raider! The end of its staff struck you across the cheek before you could even attack, causing you to drop your saber. Its weapon jabbed hard on your shin—and the pain was stomach-churning. You scuttled away from it and towards your lightsaber lying in a cushion of sand.

You had your hands literally full—on one, you were pulling for your saber; on the other, you inflicted Force-Halt on the Tusken. With the enemy frozen, your scuttling doubled its haste in going for the lightsaber. Certain with your ability, you took your time in hobbling back to the Tusken Raider you’re your saber ignited while it was standing painfully still.

You struck it down and snapped for a stim. It wasn’t a total recovery, the stim only numbed the pain tolerable enough for you to run with a shattered shin. When the curb of the pass was in sight, you slowed down with the running, presuming there might be more waiting once you make the turn. You stalked the path carefully, apparently your would-be assailant lost its patience and sprung out of its hiding place; holding the staff above its head and bobbing it up and down to assert dominance while doing its primal call.

The broken shin messed up your balance, and subsequently your fighting form. A swing of your saber severed its war club and then you introduced the sole of your boot to its chin, disorienting it and preparing to strike it down—but you were denied that chance when another gripped you by the shoulders to drag you across the floor.

“GET OFF!” you growled, violently shaking its grip off of you.

You threw your sword arm upward and drove your saber into the Tusken’s jugular—which you assumed it to be—and then its lifeless body disturbed the sand. This angered the one whose staff you just severed. It charged angrily towards you, there wasn’t a shred of sentience or humanity in its stride; you felt something or someone land from behind—you were too afraid to look and it would kill you if you glance over your shoulder. The Tusken Raider, once so wild with its movements and flailing its arms with great assertion, shirked in fear and retreated to the pass where it came from.

You felt a pair of gentle, kind hands clutch your arms, hoisting you up from the ground.

“You caught yourself in quite a pickle there, my dear,”

Still stricken with the events that transpired just now, you slowly craned your head to the side. Your savior is dressed in a dust-caked cloak whose hemlines at the sleeves and body were tattered due to time, his beard has grown past the tip of his chin and covered most of his jaw, and locks of his hair as brown as the sand flopped and hung in front of his forehead.

You know this man.

“Master Kenobi?” you uttered the only thing that came to your mind after everything.

“Well, I don’t think the word ‘Master’ warrants any meaning here,” he dryly chuckled. “Come, you’ve only met a small scouting patrol. We’ll be in big trouble if we linger.”

You winced when you planted the balls of your feet on the ground. The former Jedi Master saw your limping leg and noticed the bruise forming up in your cheek.

“Oh dear, are you alright, child?”

“Yes, I’m fine,”

“I think not,” he insisted. He bent down on his knees and checked your leg. He placed one hand on the spot where the Tusken had jabbed its pommel and suddenly appeared to be focusing.

A calming sensation entered your body—it was cool like water in a stream and swirled about the length of your shin. Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and you bobbed your leg, feeling for the pain—there’s no more pain. You shot him a surprised look and a smile paints on your face, he repaid it with a kind smile but his serious and urgent tone returned in an instant.

“Come with me and we’ll talk somewhere safe.”

You followed him across the ridge, evading the areas where there would be more Tusken Raiders patrolling the plains. The rocks acted as your cover. Along the way, Obi-Wan engaged in banter with you to rid any awkward air between the two of you.

“I suppose I should start asking for your name,”

“[y/n], Master,”

“And how did you get here?”

“You mean the planet or that trench pass?”

“Humor me on both,”

“Well, I came to this planet with a ship and a crew. They’re staying with the ship,”

“While you head out here all alone?”

“Uh, I chose to be alone,” you mumbled. “Anyway, I trekked all this way to come looking for you.”

“I suppose you can tick that off in your to-do list,”

You chuckled, “Yeah, I guess.”

The two of you went uphill until a small cottage was in sight. He invited you into his house and offered you a glass of blue milk. You didn’t realize that the thirst was overwhelming that you chugged the whole glass.

“Sorry, the heat just took its toll on me,”

“It is a rather unforgiving place. Now then,” he settled himself on a seat across you. “What’s a young Jedi like you doing in this desolate planet in search of a tired, aging hermit like me?”

You unslung the strap of your backpack, producing the Holocron out of your bag and holding it in front of him.

“This Holocron was originally Plo Koon’s,”

Obi-Wan mouthed the name while running his thumb across his beard.

“This contains a list of all the Force-sensitive children in the galaxy. If fallen into the wrong hands, these kids will be tools of the Inquisitors or the Empire—not that there’s much of a difference between the two, anyway.”

“Inquisitors?”

“Basically, they’re the hounds of the Empire, snuffing out the Jedi to destroy them. Aside from the typical Stormtroopers of course,”

Discovering that he has missed out on much of the Empire’s workings, you became his window to the outside world. It has been years since he’s exiled himself here in Tatooine with barely any connection beyond the planet. You narrated everything that’s transpired—not just the events revolving around you and Cal, but for everyone else in the galaxy: the partisans in Kashyyyk and the violent occupation at Zeffo to name some.

“And how much destruction have they wrought?”

You shake your head, “Not sure, exactly. But all I can say is that the damage is irreparable.”

Eventually, you peppered in the story of Cal, how he turned into the Inquisitor, and that he’s after this particular Holocron. Without any more filler talk, you went right into your true reason why you sought Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Hermit or not, you’re still a Jedi—whether you were or are, it doesn’t matter. I still believe it’s safer with you than it is with me. You won’t even come across the Inquisitors’ minds. I doubt it.”

“Well, [y/n], that does sound reassuring,” you couldn’t decipher if he’s serious or sarcastic with that remark.

He stands up to take the Holocron from your hands. He activated it and the relic emitted the luminous projection from its shell, his eyes trailed left and right, reading the children’s names and planets. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t read—unsure if it’s a look of resignation, obligation, or hopelessness. Then his eyes lit up, a secretive curl in his lip hid behind the scruff of his beard.

“I believe that he can keep it safe, but I will reveal it to him once it is time,”

Your eyes furrowed, “Who’s he?”

He lifted the lid of a box with a silver hilt resting inside, the Holocron eventually joined the weapon in the container.

“Our only hope.”

For the whole conversation, that was the most enigmatic answer you’ve heard from Obi-Wan Kenobi. You don’t believe that it’s the heat that’s gotten into his head. You truly believe that there was some meaning to his words, even though you’re not sure what to comprehend from that.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #star wars #star wars fic #sw #sw fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #sw jfo #sw jfo fic #swjfo #swjfo fic #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fic #jfo #jfo fic #dark side! cal kestis #dark side! cal kestis fic #inquisitor! cal kestis #inquisitor! cal kestis fic #redemption arc! cal kestis #redemption arc! cal kestis fic #redemption #redemption arc #dark side #dark side of the force #inquisitor #inquisitorius

[herondales-world]

Clace anti = Zara Dearborn

Zara was panting, her face smeared with dirt. “You little pervert,” she hissed, all pretense at smirking gone.

“My father told me about you and your parabatai—you’re disgusting—I guess you want to be like Clary and Jace, huh? Wanting what’s forbidden? And nasty?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Zara, Clary and Jace weren’t related.”

“Yeah, well, they thought they were, and that’s the same!” Zara screamed, a tower of howling illogic.

- Queen of Air and Darkness

Hence proved 😂

#shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #the dark artifices #clary fairchild #jace herondale #saveshadowhunters #the infernal devices #herondales #alec lightwood #magnus bane #isabelle lightwood #simon lewis #simon lovelace #clace #clacedaily #anti clace #zara dearborn #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #mark blackthorn #cristina rosales #kieran kingson #kit herondale #william herondale #queen of air and darkness #ty blackthorn #livia blackthorn #shadowhunterslegacy #shadowhunters season 3b #shadowhunters aesthetic

[aleclikescupcakes]

I found Queen of Air And Darkness have so many lines that I could tell Cassandra put them there against the haters. Which I love so much. It is like turning the narrative around. For example

"" So this is what our world would be like without Clary,"said Emma, remembering a the times she'd heard people-mostly man- say that Clary wasn't a hero, that she hadn't done much that deserved to be praised, that she was selfish, even worthless, just a girl who'd been in the right places at the right times"

Emma in Thules

Or this scene

"“My father told me about you and your parabatai—you’re disgusting—I guess you want to be like Clary and Jace, huh? Wanting what’s forbidden? And nasty?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Zara, Clary and Jace weren’t related.”

“Yeah, well, they thought they were, and that’s the same!” Zara screamed, a tower of howling illogic.""

Like the second one reminds me of all the clace haters who constantly talk that the shop is incest.

I don't know I find it kind of clever haha

#shadowhunters #clary fairchild #clary's haters #queen of air and darkness #Qoaad #Cassandra clare

[very-virgil]

Sanders Sides and Serpents (part one)

Concept: The human Fighter Roman and his somewhat bothersome elven companion Logan find themselves venturing into a forest rumored to hold in it some of the most dangerous foes ever to have been faced. To these two adventurer’s dismays, they find that may be truer than they initially believed.

Pairings: Platonic Logince. Platonic LAMP

Word Count: 1607

1 / 2 /

The Weeping Hollows was not called as such without reason.

For some time, it was believed to be named after the trees. Huge, towering weeping willows with branches drooping miserably towards the grass, reminiscent of the stature one might hold after defeat. These particular trees made up the majority of the hollows, but it wasn’t that which gave this area it’s name. It was, instead, what these trees concealed.

Roman stepped closer towards the edge of the Hollows, eyeing the shadows set beneath where the branches hung. Death was a common expectancy in this area. It was said that those who dared venture deep into the forest never returned. The only reminder of them existed in the deep, anguished cries trapped in the tangle of the weeping willows. The ones whose lives were taken wept, for in these woods it was rumored that there was no escape to the afterlife. There was no escape. Once you stepped in, there was no return.

“Please, Roman, you’re being ridiculous.”

Roman rolled his eyes at his college, the tall, fair skinned elven man draped in deep blue robes. In his hands, as per usual, were a collection of books and journals which had overflown from the bag on his back the remainders laid in.

The last job had taken Roman to a village wherein he was hired to dispose of a group of slimes terrorizing the local population. His sword had proven to be ineffective against the creatures and Roman was prepared, perhaps for the first time, to give up on the excursion and apologize to the villagers. That was, until the elf had arrived. One simple spell, and the slimes were turned to stone. One simple spell, and the situation was dealt with.

At the time, the elf had seemed like a possible asset to his journeys.

Now, Roman had concluded that he was more of an ass.

“I am only telling you what the townsfolk told me, four eyes.”

The elf took a moment to adjust the gold framed glasses set upon his nose. “They are glasses of identification. I have told you repeatedly, I do not need them to see.”

“Plausible story, Logan.” The elf fumed, and at that Roman grinned, stepping forward. “Then, do use them to make sure you identify any rocks in our path. Because, my dear companion—” Roman hesitated just at the edge of the forest, waiting until Logan had fallen into step beside him. With a smirk, Roman unsheathed his sword and twirled it in the direction of the Weeping Hollows—“We are going into the haunted forest.”

Sunlight could not reach the floor of the Weeping Hollows. Stepping inside was like stepping from day to night. At once, the joys of day were lost in exchange for the chills that came with the sounds of night. Owls hooting. Bugs chirping. And a constant feeling of something resting just over your shoulder.

The grip Roman had on his sword tightened.

“You still think this place isn’t haunted?”

Logan only shrugged. “It is simply dark. There is often correlation between those two, but that doesn’t mean there are ghosts. That’s absurd.”

“You’re absurd…”

“Besides,” he tapped his frames, “I have darkvision.”

“Well, lucky you then.”

“What is it we are searching for again? Is it really a ghost?”

“Oh heavens, no.” Roman swatted the idea away, as if it were illogical, which only earned him an annoyed glare from Logan. “The townsfolk have been reporting some suspicious sounds coming from deeper in the forest. A dark figure they’ve been calling The Demon has been seen coming out at night and ransacking the village. On top of that, there have been rumors of some hearing eerie music playing out from the Hollows.”

“So they want to find the sources—”

“And vanquish them!”

“Or, maybe, reason with them?”

Roman lunged forward with his sword, swinging it out to his side so that a branch detached from its tree and fell to the ground. “Or vanquish. That would be preferable.”

A moment or two passed between the pair of adventurers. Every so often the sound of metal against wood would ring out, or Logan would mutter an incantation under his breath. But, overall, it was silence. Unwavering silence as they tracked through the Hollows.

At last, Logan cleared his throat. “How long do the tales of these woods date back?”

“Everyone says the Hollows have always wept. But, the disappearances,” Roman side stepped a root turned up in their path, “They’re relatively new. Most of them have turned up in the last few months.”

Logan hummed as he, too, stepped over the root. “Peculiar.”

“Yes, you are.”

“What—no. I mean, the woods are really meant to sound as if someone is crying? Because we have yet to hear anything resembling such.”

“Maybe the ghosts are on their lunch break?”

“Once again, you are being illogical. I swear to you on the very gods that watch over us, there is no such thing as ghosts.”

It was then, that the weeping began.

A wind blew over them both. Hard. Hard enough to sway the trees and nearly knock Logan into Roman. At the start of it, there came the cries. They were quiet at first, hardly noticeable over top the howling winds which had persisted, but they only grew in intensity, shaking the travelers until their bones seemed to vibrate from every direction at once. The weeping had begun.

Roman winced against the sound, immediately abandoning his weapon in exchange for clamping both hands over his ears. “Nice going Wizard of Odd. Now you’ve made them mad!”

Logan didn’t bother with a response. He flipped clumsily through his book, searching desperately for a spell—any spell—that could bring peace to their ears. At last, he must have found it, because he slammed the book shut, and with a wave of his wand silence fell.

A gasp of relief slipped past Roman’s lips as he let his hands fall back to his sides, leaning against a tree as if the sounds’ attack had physically wounded him.

“Thank, pal,” he said to Logan. But, no sound come from his lips. While they moved, he heard nothing, and immediately Roman stood upright in alarm.

Logan only shook his head, and flipped his texts open to show the spell he had cast. Silence. The weeping had stopped, but at the cost of taking away their means of communicating as well.

Roman stuck his lip out. But, Logan didn’t see it. His face was buried in parchment, scribbling endlessly in what was surely some monologue meant to criticize Roman or inform him of the importance of spellcasting or something Roman had no interest in. He slipped his bags down and let himself fall against a tree. If they moved, they would only be subjecting themselves to further audio torment. Instead, he let himself relax.

A dark figure darted overhead.

At first, Roman hardly paid it any mind. It was surely a squirrel. Or perhaps a figment of his imagination. But then it passed over once more, and Roman had the shocking realization that it was bigger than him. Much bigger. He stood at once, sword in hand and silent warnings shouted towards Logan.

The creature fell from the trees without sound, hunkered over and breathing heavily. But it stood. And as soon as it did Roman tensed. It was far larger than him, a feat only improved by the two horns curling up from the top of his head. A curtain of hair fell forward into his purple-toned face but Roman could still make out the eyes. A dark black that seemed to bleed onto the skin around them.

Roman charged, but with a sweep of the newcomers tail he was pushed back. Then Logan was off his feet, too. Books scattered. The parchment he had been writing on fluttered to the ground. And, with a look of unadulterated fear, Logan at last caught sight of their foe.

A ranseur pointed at their faces, Roman and Logan looked up in horror as the tiefling mouthed to them a single word.

“Speak.”

+++

Back in the living room, Roman chortled, tossing a bag of die from hand to hand. “Speak? Really? What’re we, dogs?”

Virgil only shrugged, “I thought it was dramatic.”

“Oh, don’t let them tell you off.” Patton patted Virgil on the shoulder. “I thought it was suspenseful! Left me on the edge of my seat!”

“Thanks, Pops.”

“Oh, and nice going dungeons and doofus for that silence spell. It really let Virge get the drop on us there.”

“Yeah,” Virgil smirked at Logan, “Thanks.”

“I was trying to protect us from thunder damage! And, it did do its job if you’ll recall.”

“C’mon, guys,” Thomas looked desperately at the sides around him, a large Dungeons and Dragons handbook open in front of him. “Let’s not fight.”

Roman sighed. “I just want everyone to know I’m taking this seriously!

“Trust me,” Virgil said. “We know”

“Why don’t we call it a night? Keep going tomorrow?”

The others all muttered an agreement—some more reluctant than others—as Thomas pulled the handbook shut and slid it back into his bag.

“Aw, we didn’t even get to meet my character!”

“Trust me, we will,” Thomas assured Patton, “And that’s not the only thing you’ll get to meet.”

He grinned, quite devilishly, as he collected the rest of his papers, and with an over exaggerated, demonic laugh, Thomas turned to head back to his room.

They four sides all exchanged looks.

What had they gotten themselves into?

#please read this im attention starved #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #dungeons and dragons #dnd #fic #writing #sanders sides writing #sanders sides au #platonic logince #platonic lamp #logince #lamp

[shall-we-imagine]

Only decide for yourself. (Werewolf!Hiro Tachibana AU)

Requested: 36. "You've shown me what love can feel like" + 43. "You don't know how much I want you right now" + 100. "You're the only one I wanna wake up next to." From the prompt list.

Genre: slight angst/Fluff.

A/N: *cough* I haven't read Hiro's route yet so please spare me 🙇‍♀️

(Third Person Point of View)

He stood near the edge of the bed, towering over her sleeping figure. He had tried to do this multiple times before, yet he failed everytime. Just one look at her face was enough to drag him back to her. He just couldn't change the way he felt about her, no matter how much easier it would've been if he weren't in love with the human.

She was sprawled on the bed, taking up most of it and leaving him almost no space to sleep. Every night, he would have to be squished near the edge then complain about it the next morning, since he'd never have the heart to wake her up to make her move and make space for him, so he always just endures it. However, this time it didn't matter if she even took up the entire space, for he wasn't sleeping next to her tonight.

Half of her hair had escaped the not-so-tight grip of her hair tie, covering her face in the process. He moves the strands away to get one last clear look at the face of his one and only love.

He tried his best to hold in his laughter. Her usual habit of sleeping with her mouth open. He was pretty sure she was drooling a bit too. This was the last view he'd see of her before leaving.

"You're such an idiot." He smiles in awe, as he runs his fingers through her hair. Unintentionally, his smile began to turn bitter instead. "I'm going to miss you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "You've shown me what love can feel like. You've shown me that every creature is capable of love, even a monster like me. You truly are a beautiful person, and I'll never forget you." He knew she wasn't listening, but leaving silently was too difficult. He just had to say good bye.

"I know you won't like it when you wake up, but it's for the best." He takes one glance at the letter he left her on his pillow, ensuring he didn't forget to place it there, before heading out the door and disappearing into the night, never looking back. He knew if he were to take one more look, he'd back out of it. And that just wasn't an option. He was scared to hurt her. It was better to know she was safe away from him than close to him and in danger.

She'd told him multiple times she was perfectly fine being with a werewolf and that he shouldn't worry, but he couldn't trust her judgement when it came to this. He knew she was awfully blinded by love; she wasn't thinking logically. He had to take the decision on his own. And so he did.

"Hiro?" Her eyes still closed, she frantically moves her arm, trying to feel a familiar warmth next to her, but she was met with a cold, empty space. She slowly opens her eyes and lifts her head off the pillow, looking around the room. "Babe?" She calls, extending the word more than needed, jokingly making it sound more whiny. That's when she noticed the folded piece of paper on the pillow next to hers.

Confused, she sits up, paper in hand, ready for an explanation of why her boyfriend wasn't there. She was expecting a simple "I went to the supermarket to buy something go back to sleep :)" or a "I went to get us some coffee don't worry!" Since it wasn't so strange of him to do so. She knew he sometimes went for a night stroll and would feel embarrassed about it, so he always just used random excuses like buying some food or whatever.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case this time. Her heart dropped when she read what he had written down.

I'm sorry. This isn't the best way to say this, I know. But I don't have the courage to look you in the eyes and tell you this. I can't see you cry because of me. I would get weak and just hold you tight and back out of this. And I can't have that. I need to protect you, and that's why I have to go. Don't look for me. I love you. Please take care of yourself. Good bye.

She was so caught up in reading the letter that she didn't notice she had begun crying until the tears started dropping on the paper in her shaking hands.

"Don't look for me my ass." Tying her shoelaces, she mutters, "you don't get to make decisions for me, dumbass." She walks out the door, slamming it behind her.

Finding him wasn't as hard as she had expected. She figured he was gonna run off into the woods, thinking she won't find him there. And when she saw paw prints, a wolf's paw prints to be specific, at the the entrance, the bits of doubt she had were gone. She followed the trail inside, her pace quickening by the second. She wanted to find him as soon as possible- she needed to.

She reached a point where the paw prints were all over the place. She cursed at him for his dumb attempt at covering up his trail, as she stared, trying to find the correct one to follow. A sudden noise from behind a tree caught her attention. It wasn't loud, but it was there, and she knew exactly why.

"I know it's you, Hiro." She states, "Come out." Her voice was calm yet demanding. Perhaps that played a role in urging him to act as told, because a fairly big wolf with dark fur slowly walks out from behind a sea of trees and bushes, looking sad..or guilty? She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but, either way, she knew he wasn't happy about the situation.

"Why?" Her voice softer now, she asks the canine, "Why did you do this?"

The wolf whimpers, looking at the ground, his tail between his legs. A few seconds later, the creature looks back at the girl a few inches away from it.

She watched as it changed its figure. Now, Hiro stood in front of her in his human form. Seeing him transform in front of her this way took her back to the first time she saw him do it.

She'd expected him to be naked when he transforms back human, so she was immediately covering her face, looking like a total idiot to the male. "I can transform into a fucking wolf, for God's sake, and you think me being fully clothed when I turn back is illogical?!" He had stared at his girlfriend with such disbelief at that time. The memory made her unable to to hold back a smile.

"It's just..you'll be safer with someone else. Someone human. Like you." The seriousness of his tone reminded her of the current situation, causing her smile to disappear as quickly as it had formed, "I don't belong with the likes of you. I'll only hurt you."

She marches forward and grips his collar in her hands, "When I tell you I feel threatened or scared, you can leave all you want, but I never said so, which means you don't get to decide for me, got it?"

Wide-eyed, Hiro stares, "but.." he begins, but she cuts him off.

"No buts. Who told you I'd be happy with someone else?! You're the one I love! You're the only one I wanna wake up next to! I don't care if you're a werewolf; it doesn't change my feelings for you! If you wanna break up with me for a proper reason, go ahead, but don't give me that protecting you bullshit." She snaps at him, a frown clouding her beautiful features.

He opens his mouth to protest but closes it again and looks at the ground. She lets go of his collar and crosses her arms, waiting for any response.

He merely whispers a small alright. It made her think another problem was about to be brought up, but, instead, he looks at her with a smile. "I'm sorry; I won't do it again." He says.

"You better not!" She glares at him, earning a laugh in response.

"It's not everyday one gets to see a demanding, bossy (Y/N)." He teases, "and I gotta say I love it." A slight smirk forms on his lips.

A blush crept up her cheeks, "Shut up. And I'm not bossy or demanding! You-" before she could finish her complaints, he cuts her off by pushing his lips against hers. His hands snake around her waist, pressing her body against his. She gives into the kiss, her arms finding their place on his shoulders, hands clasping together behind him.

He pulls away, keeping his face close to hers. "You have no idea how much I want you right now." He sighs, smiling.

"What? Is it mating season already?" She jokes, rolling her eyes to tease him. Her boyfriend laughs before playfully howling, making her burst into a fit of laughter.

"Come on; let's go home." Shaking his head and chuckling, he pulls away from her and holds her hands.

"You owe me coffee before going back though; I sacrificed sleep for you!" She replies, as they begin walking out the woods.

It wasn't clear if they were laughing because it was funny or they were just happy to be back together, but, either way, they didn't care.

"Deal." He grins.

#shall we date #wizardess heart #shall we date wizardess heart #Hiro Tachibana #wizardess heart Hiro #wizardess heart scenario #wizardess heart one shot #wizardess heart imagine #shall we date scenario #shall we date imagine #shall we date one shot #Hiro Tachibana imagine #Hiro Tachibana one shot #lizhart #wizardess heart liz

[pen-masta]

Let’s Play Pretend Part 4

[Prologue]  1   2   3   4  5 

As they walk down the sidewalk to the festival with their hands intertwined swinging between them, his heart is racing as if he were running a marathon. His mind has been a whirlpool of worries, anxieties, and an infinite amount of horrendous imaginary scenarios which all have the probability of one in quadrillion chance of happening. 

Joy is smiling and swinging their arms as she skips and hums along to a clumsy version of…well he can’t really recognize what she’s humming. She is so excited and relaxed and calm, everything he’s not. She doesn’t see the risk in this game they are about to play, this ruse, this this facade they are about to put on. No, she just sees it as another one of her drama club plays. It was actually quite comical getting ready this morning. Listening to her plan out her “character”.

“Joy you’re just you,” he chuckled as he made them coffee.

“But what is my motivation?” She smirked putting her earrings in.

He smiled, “Um…you’re a pretend girlfriend…?”

“Where am I from? Am I foreign?”

“Joy come on now,” he shook his head filling two mugs with the hot brown lava. “You’re just you.”

“These are legitimate questions that an actor must ask before a performance,” she deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright well you are going to school in Georgia, you are an art student and your name is Joy.”

“Can I be foreign?” She beamed and bounced on her toes, “I’ve always wanted to have an accent!”

“You don’t do accents well Jo-jo,” he grinned and took out the coffee creamer from the fridge. “And plus Nathan already met you, don’t you think it’d raise some questions if you suddenly changed nationalities?”

“You’re looking too much into it Cassie,” she waved her hand dismissively before her eyes grew wide. “Ooooo! What if I had an French accent!”

“Why french?” 

“I’ve always loved the way your mom sounded with her french accent,” Joy sais thoughtfully. “And plus you speak french so we could say that’s what started the conversation!”

He gave her a puzzled look to which she huffed and rolled her eyes, “Common ground Cassie.”

“Joy no you are you,” he said firmly.

“But I can do it! I even know the slang!” She smiled, “Oui Oui mon mo-i-tee.” She said butchering the word in a horrendous french accent that made his skin crawl.

“Mon moitié,” he corrected.

“It es a beautiful mec out today.”

“You’re not using mec correctly,” he smirked. “And it’s est not es.”

“Un patin es charmantee!” She said passionately

He snorted, “It’s esta, the word is charmant, and I’m positive you have no idea what un patin means.”

“Je pe-x par-lor fran-say,” she said and flipped her short hair with her hand.

“Ok I know you have absolutely no idea what you are saying, nor how to properly pronounce the words. You are murdering the language with a somewhat french accent so you can sound like you know french,” he smiled at her. “Give it up kid.”

She narrowed her eyes and pouted, “You’re crushing my creativity.”

He rolled his eyes, “Jo-jo I’m nervous enough for this as it is,” his smile faded. “I need to know you’ll take this seriously.”

Her mock irritation melted as she frowned, “Cassie I am taking this seriously.” She put her hand on his on the table, “I was just trying to lighten the mood was all.”

He smiled a little and squeezed her hand, which caused her lips to curl upward. She squeezed his hand back to reassure him that she was on his side.

“Just keep it simple, please?” He asked

She smiled, “I promise with KISS.” When he gave her a puzzled look she followed up with, “KISS, Keep It Simple Silly.

He laughed and relaxed into her reassurance that they’d make it through today as a bonafide couple.

But that reassurance is fading fast as they grow closer to the park.

His stomach is in knots, the rationale part of him is not wanting to do this at all. Rationale Castel is screaming all kinds of red alerts and warnings, seeing how this could conclude in life-ending flames. However, Irrational Castel has a much louder voice right now and is yelling over all of Rationale Castel’s thoughts about how he could finally put an end to the humiliating set ups. It’s funny how Irrational Castel has the voice of a mouse compared to Rationale Castel when he’s alone, but as soon as Joy appears it’s as though Irrational Castel has downed seven cups of espresso and ten pounds of sugar. Irrational Castel suddenly is like a ten-year-old with ADHD and the vocal chords of a megaphone that drowns out Rationale Castel’s hollow attempts to bring some common sense into the picture.

R.C, we really shouldn’t do this

I.C. but it’ll be fun!

R.C, but this could end very badly

I.C, but it’ll be fun!

R.C, this is a terrible plan!!

I.C, but hear me out though…it’ll be fun!

Gosh, she really brings out a wild side in him.

Although they disagree on just about everything there is one thing R.C and I.C can agree on. Joy’s ideas--no matter how outrageous, unattainable, illogical, crazy, and ill advised they may be--are what make up some of the best memories he has.

As they near the entrance to the local park his blood tingles under his skin as the pressure from his anxieties builds up. But all that he needs is to see the shocked speechless expression on Autumn’s face and suddenly his anxieties and worries are put on mute. Confidence and pride and maybe a little smugness floods his body ‘til it reaches the overflowing point. His posture changes as soon as he sees Autumn’s flabbergasted face, his shoulders square, his back straightens, and his chest puffs out as he walks with a sense of status.

He’s so confident that he even breaks their hand holding and opts to wrap his arm around Joy’s waist pulling her flush to his side. Is he smiling? Well he has to admit Joy does have this confident effect on him. Perhaps that’s because he knows he doesn’t have to impress her, he’s got nothing to prove when he’s with her. She knows him and she loves who he is, he’s at ease around her cause he can be himself totally and completely.

Joy glances at him as her smile grows and she follows his lead by wrapping her arm around him and slipping her hand into his back pocket. If he had one word to describe the odd look in Autumn’s eyes it’d be: combustion.

“Little hi little low,” Joy greets cheerfully.

“Little hey little ho,” Nathan chuckles.

Autumn gives him a queer look, but Joy is elated that he not only got the Stuart Little reference but he completed the greeting.

Catsel fist bumps his roommate and smiles at Autumn–not really because he’s happy to see her, but because he is loving the look on her face. Her mouth hangs open slightly, her one brow is quirked, and her expression looks crossed between confusion, disbelief, and a burning flame of…well he’s not sure what. But right now he doesn’t care, time to get back at her for all those ghastly dates without his consent.

“Good to see ya Autumn,” he says without a single sense of nerves in his voice.

Autumn shakes her head and smiles, “You too Cas.” Her eyes shift to Joy, “This must be Joy. Nathan’s told me about you.”

“And you’re Fall!” Joy says with glee and rapidly shakes Autumn’s hand, “Cassie’s told me lots about you!”

Autumn blinks, “It’s Autumn.”

“To some people,” Joy shrugs, “but other’s use Fall it’s faster. But pretty either way.”

It takes Castel every ounce of self-control he can muster to not laugh. He can’t tell if Joy is just being herself or she’s trying to aggravate Autumn with the subtle offhanded comment…probably a mix of the two he concludes.

Autumn blinks again before shaking her head, “Alrighty then…uh…shall we?” She asks turning to Nathan.

“I’m all set,” Nathan smiles taking her hand.

“Onward to adventure!” Joy howls and thrusts her fist into the air

“Adventure!” Castel echos and throws his fist in the air as well.

They both giggle and race each other through the park’s gate with Nathan and Autumn in tow. Perhaps today will be easier than he thought.

============

The festival is more of a mini-carnival or at least that’s how Castel would describe it. Food carts, game booths, marketing tents, street performers, even some rides fill the park. At the center of it all is a big stage sits between two oak trees, with as enormous white sheet cascading down from the branches of the trees. That must be where the movie will be shown later this evening.

Castel smiles as Joy pulls him along as they jog down the green grass.

“This is so cool!” She squeaks and beams at him, “What should we do first?”

“We could play a game,” Nathan suggests from behind them.

“A game sounds fun!” Joy nods and points to a booth, “Let’s go to that one!”

Soon the four are standing in front of the milk-bottle booth. Nathan pays for three baseballs and takes a chance throwing the three balls knocking down the bottle tower. Autumn grins as she picks a big stuffed dolphin from the rack. Joy bounces eagerly beside Castel.

“Which one do you want Jo-jo?” He asks and digs a dollar out of his wallet

Joy taps her chin humming thoughtfully as she scans the rack of stuffed animals. Her eyes light up as she points to a giant stuffed panda bear.

“That one!”

Castel smirks, “Alrighty. Hey you know Zack taught me the trick to these games.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah you aim for the carni’s head and take the prize while he’s unconscious.”

Joy and Nathan snort, Autumn rolls her eyes and the carni eyes Castel with a cautious expression. It looks like he’s trying to decide if he really wants to take Castel’s dollar or tell the kid to take a hike.

Castel smiles and holds his hands up in defense, “Only kidding Sir, only kidding.”

The guy gives a gruff huff and opts to take the dollar in exchange for three balls, but he does stand far enough off to the side so he’s not in the line of fire.

Joy giggles and Castel smiles as he aims for the bottle tower. He misses…terribly!

Joy doesn’t hold back the bark of laughter as Castel blushes. He was not an athlete but he’s was sure he’d be able to at least knock one of the bottles over.

“Alright alright,” he rolls his eyes and pokes Joy’s side. “Enough now, that was just a warm up.”

“Uhuh,” Joy snickers and bites her lip trying to stop the laughter.

Castel takes the second ball into his hand, “Ok this one’s for real.”

He throws the ball and this time it hits the table which the bottles are set on and ricochets back at them. Both Castel and Joy squeak and duck to avoid decapitation by the flying ball. Once they are sure they’re safe they stand again. Castel’s face holds a very bewildered expression as he looks at Joy who looks as though she’s going to explode with laughter.

He narrows his eyes at her, “Ok ok so I’m not a good shot, sue me.”

“It’s ok Cassie,” Autumn says from somewhere behind him.

“Yeah it’s ok Cassierole,” Joy nods in agreement. “I mean if the goal of the game was to miss in every way possible you’d be a champion!”

He blushes more and growls at her, “I still have one more shot.”

“Optimism!” Joy cheers

He takes the last ball into his hand and stares hard at the illusive bottle tower. He’s determined to win her that bear, he’s just gotta look at this from a mathematically stand point. He quickly calculates the angle he’ll need to throw from, how much force he’ll have to throw it at, the direction of the wind, he even estimates the mass of the ball and the distance at which he stands from the tower.

“Quit stalling!” Nathan yells.

“Alright! I’m throwing it I’m throwing it!” Castel snaps and takes a deep breath.

He rears his arm back and soon the ball has left his hand. It flies through the air with the speed of a rocket and his heart pounds as he watches the ball near it’s destination.

The carni.

The man yelps and jumps out of the way of the fast ball. Nathan and Joy burst into laughter when the carni glares at Castel.

“I’m so sorry Sir,” Castel shakes his head. He sighs and looks up at the bear, “I’m sorry J-bird.”

Joy smiles and shakes her head, “No worries Cassie.”

“I really wanted to win it for you though.”

“I know you did,” Joy smiles sweetly and takes his hand, “I know you’re a terrible shot.”

“Hey!” He starts to protest but she cuts him off.

“That’s why it means more to me that you still tried,” she says and kisses his cheek.

All the anger and humiliation instantly melts away as she smiles at him and he feels his own lips curling. His hand is attached to the back of his neck.

“Thanks Jo-jo…I’m still sad I couldn’t win it for you though.”

The carni clears his throat, “Listen kid,” the guy rubs the back of his neck, “that was really sad and painful to watch.”

Castel’s cheeks burn and he hears Nathan bite back a laugh.

“I feel really bad for you,” the carni says, “I don’t want you to walk away with nothing so…here.” He says and holds out a very small bubble container.

Castel takes it and opens the little container, out falls a silver plastic ring with a purple gem in the center. Well it’s not a bear but…

Castel smiles and thanks the carni before handing the little trinket to Joy.

“Here Joy,” he says and puts the plastic hoop onto her finger.

Joy holds her hand out in front of her studying the little ring. Nathan smiles at the carni’s kindness and Autumn rolls her eyes and smirks with a slightly smug look.

“What a useless piece of junk,” Autumn scoffs and Nathan shushes her.

Castel’s heart sinks, rude or not she’s right. Just as Castel is going to apologize again for his failure here eyes grow wide and her lips pull back into a toothy grin.

“This is so cool!” Joy squeals and bounces on her toes, “It looks so real!”

Castel grins as Joy coos over the obvious fake ring, she always sees the best in everything.

“Joy it’s clearly not–”

“Cassie this is awesome!” She pipes and gives him a broad smile. “Do you think you could miss like nine more times!?”

They walk down the hill as Joy marvels at the ten plastic rings that cover her fingers. Castel smiles and wraps his arm around her as she babbles on about how she feels like royalty with all the rings, and how from now on when ever he greets her he has to kiss every ring like they do with the queen. Castel tries to explain that, no one kisses all the rings of the queen or the Pope or the Godfather and Joy huffs and says she’ll have him thrown in the dungeon for crass talk about his queen.

He can’t help the way his heart pounds more in his chest when she calls herself his.

They pass some street performers playing the guitar, a box drum, and a trumpet, with a lead singer. It sounds like they’re singing I Got You by Train but their own version of it. Joy smiles and joins the small circle that surrounds the performers and starts to dance to the beat. Castel smiles and watches her dance around with such a loving gaze; the bedazzled gems of his name sparkling in the sunlight. He will never know how she’s learned to dance like there’s nobody watching her. He’s pulled from his love induced stupor when she appears in front of him and grabs his hand. She pulls him over to the circle with her. She smiles widely at him as she starts to dance. His eyes shift to all the people watching them and pulls his hand away shaking his head.

“No Joy,” he whispers and takes a step back prepared to watch her from the sidelines.

She captures his hand again and smiles sweetly at him, “Come dance with me Cassie.”

His face goes red and he looks around again at all the eyes watching them. Joy cups his cheek and turns his chin to look at her. She gives him a reassuring and genuine smile as the lyrics play through the air.

I got you I got you

You’re the sun through my window warming my skin oh you

Like Sonny and Cher expect I’ll be there for you!

“They aren’t here,” she says just above a whisper. “Dance with me just like we do at home. Just focus on me.”

Her words calm the storm in his stomach and she takes both his hands. She slowly starts to sway back and forth and he’s surprised to find his body following hers. He feels his lips pulling into a smile and he imagines they aren’t at a big festival with thousands of people, no he’s back in her parent’s cabin. They year they got snowed in and she took the opportunity to teach him how to dance. He can feel himself relaxing and soon he’s completely forgot all the people around them. He dances with her smiling and singing along to song with her. Although he has forgotten the people, he does however hear laughter, clapping, and cheering and when he looks around again everyone around them has joined in the dance as well.

They ride on the roller coaster, the Spinning Top, the Whip Lash, and the bummer cars. Castel smiles as he rams his car into Joy’s causing her to laugh and chase him around the track. He glances over in the direction of his friends just in time to see Nathan slam into Autumn’s car. She scowls and glares at him, but not in a playful way. She looks like she saying something to him and judging from his face it’s not something nice. Castel honestly feels kind of bad for his friend…

“That was so much fun!” Joy giggles as he helps her out of her little car, “I beat your butt!”

“I doubt that!” Castel laughs as they walk out off the track.

“You’re just a sorry loser,” Joy says and whips her hair back with her hand.

Castel chuckles, “Sure Jo-jo sure.” He smiles back at Nathan and Autumn, “You guys wanna go on one more ride before getting something to eat?”

“Yeah I’m down for another ride,” Nathan says with a weak smile.

“Alright what do we wanna–”

“They have a carousel!” Joy cheers and tugs on Castel’s sleeve.

“A carousel?” Autumn echos and rolls her eyes, “You cannot be serious.”

“Why not the carousel is fun!” Joy beams at her before looking at Castel, “Come on Cassie!”

Castel laughs as Joy drags him to the carousel leaving Nathan and Autumn behind to argue whether to join them or not. Apparently they chose not but Castel is one hundred percent positive Nathan wanted to go on the ride with them. As the bob up and down on their plastic horses Castel can’t help but laugh at how frustrated Autumn looks. Despite all the nerves he’s happy they’re playing this game, if only to make Autumn feel guilty for all the humiliation she’s put him through. Although he does wish Nathan would detach himself from her hip and come have fun with them–let her be the stick in the mud this is fun! Joy’s ideas are always fun.

================

“So how long have you two been together?” Autumn asks as they sit down at the picnic table.

“Three years,” Castel says using some of his napkins to clean up the mess Joy has made on the table from her chili cheese dog.

Autumn blinks in surprise, “So all this time you’ve been in college?”

“Yupper roonie,” Joy smiles as she licks the cheesy chili from her lips. “Started when we were just wee baby freshmen.”

“How come you’ve never visited?” Nathan asks and slurps his soda.

Joy shrugs, “Ticket was really out of my price range. Plus we’d see each other on breaks and between semesters, so I didn’t see a point.”

“Oh where do you go to school?” Nathan questions with a smile

“UG,” Joy says before bursting into a mini-giggle fit.

Nathan chuckles, “University of Georgia?”

“Ding ding ding, give the boy a prize Vanna!” She cheers and nudges Castel’s ribs with her elbow.

“Why am I Vanna?” He laughs

“You’ve got the arms for the part,” Joy grins and does a quick motion with her arms as if she were showing off a car.

The boys snicker and Autumn gives a forced smirk.

“So why now?” She asks with an underlying dubious tone

Joy clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, “Duuuh girl it’s called a surprise.” She smiles and pokes Castel’s side, “Thought it’d be fun to come see my dork before we left for break.

Castel smiles and bites into his hot dog, “And a nice surprise it is.” He says before giving her cheek a quick peck.

Autumn doesn’t look convinced, “How come Cassie has never talked about you? I mean as a couple.”

Joy’s eyes widen and she gasps, “Cassie you don’t tell people we’re together?”

Castel’s eyes widen slightly and his heart picks up in speed.

“Well um…I just…” he’s totally dropping the ball! What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he make up a reason? What even would be a good enough reason!? He can’t think, especially not with the way Autumn is smiling at him right now. Although it is a smile it’s not a nice smile, it’s more of the look a spider would have when a fly gets caught in its web. Castel hates how he knows which role he’s playing in that scenario right now.

“I’m just kidding Casper,” Joy says putting her hand on his arm. “I know why you don’t tell people we’re together.”

“Why?” Nathan asks

Yeah why? He thinks as he stares at her, trying hard to tell her with his eyes to watch her steps.

“Our families don’t want us together,” Joy says in a loud whisper.

Nathan and Autumn share a confused glance.

“Why not?” Autumn asks

Yeah why not Joy? He thinks in his head, his heart pounding a million miles a millisecond.

Joy sighs dramatically, “They’ve been feuding for years and refuse to let us be together. We’re what’s it called? Sud…stud…star? Yeah! Star-crossed lovers!”

He is internally screaming.

She smiles at Castel before putting her hand on her forehead as if she were going to faint, “A doomed forbidden love.” She sighs audible before smiling again, “You know like that one couple that, that dude Shakespeare wrote about. The whole Romeo Oh Romeo come we must kill ourselves do to poor communication.”

He’s still screaming.

“Romeo and Juliet,” Castel hears himself correct despite the howls of his internal self.

“Tomato tamahto,” Joy waves her hand dismissively. “My title is much better.”

What happened to KISS!? He yells in his head as his heart runs out the door with its bags packed leaving a sign on his ribcage that reads ‘gone finishing’. He swallows only to find his mouth has gone dry and he dares to look at Autumn. Maybe there’s a chance she’s buying it…nope. Not at all.

The girl still smiles but there’s an evil glint in her eyes as she laces her fingers and tucks them snugly under her chin.

“So why can’t you tell us you have a little birdie Cas? I mean after all we’re not family?”

Castel is proud of himself that he’s held his smile although his cheeks are starting to hurt. He takes a breath and clears his throat. Perhaps there’s a chance he can save this sinking relationship.

“Well you know how word travels like wildfire,” he says and seeing that he has no pen to start clicking, he opts to flatten out the napkin he’s been mangling. “Nathan has met my family before, and he’s pretty good friends with my brothers. Suppose one time on accident he let’s it slip out that Joy and I are together? My brothers would tell my parents and they’d tell Joy’s and it’d be a whole ‘nother turf war.” He shrugs, “I couldn’t live without Joy so we’d run off and elope in some other state.”

“Yeah it’d be a trickle up affect.” Joy pipes in

“Trickle down,” he corrects.

“Whateves somethings trickling to somewhere,” Joy rolls her eyes and finishes her chili cheese dog.

“Aren’t you going to have to elope anyway?” Autumn questions with a sneer

The malicious sparkle in her eyes angers him. He wants to put her in her place, so he swallows his nerves and finds his courage.

“Well we’re hoping one day we’ll be able to sit down with our families and work things out.” He says with a smirk, “I mean after all I want both of families to be there when we get hitched. Wouldn’t you?”

Autumn stares him down for a moment and he stands his ground. He doesn’t care if it is a lie he’s going to make he believe it. He’s so done with her arrogance and delusions of superiority, Joy’s lit this cannon and he’s gonna make sure it lands right on the target.

Autumn drops her hands and takes a deep breath, “Well I wish you would have at least told us you were taken.” Her eyes soften, “I wouldn’t have tried so hard to set you up.” She looks down almost embarrassed, “I’m so sorry I had no idea you two were together I mean it makes so much sense now. You were not interested in those girls cause you already had a girl.” Autumn looks back up at him, “You sure were loyal. I’m sorry for pushing so hard.”

Castel can feel his muscles relax, “It’s alright, no harm done.”

Autumn turns her gaze to Joy, “Please forgive me I had no idea.”

Joy smiles and shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it Fall everything’s A-Okay.” Joy shoots finger guns at Autumn who seems to almost sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” Autumn smiles.

Although Autumn has finally apologized for her nonstop revolving door of sloppy mean girls, he knows the day is not over. They’re not out of the woods just yet.

#love #fluff #pretend #play #house #ruse #pretendgirlfriend #cute

[kvotheunkvothe]

What the fuck am I reading: Elantris and Authority

I finished two books today.

First: Elantris, by Brandon Sanderson. A lot of this will be complaints, so I’ll start off by saying it was a pretty decent read. I’d tried to read this once before but had run out of patience within the first few pages. Because my sister gifted this to me, I wanted to finish it this time. It’s a high fantasy book with kings and castles and what felt like thinly-veiled references to our history’s holy wars. So. That’s original... There is a city (Elantris) of once-magic-users who now are afflicted with a kind of zombie-like disease and now unable to use magic. The ability to use the magic and become an Elantrian seemed to strike at random, so people would wake up as “gods” (or, now, as monsters) and get chucked into the city. Their concept of magic was very similar to the alchemy you might see in Fullmetal Alchemist, (cough cough), but it didn’t seem as well fleshed-out. I detest the party-split style of writing wherein three separate groups are being written about but rarely interact, and yet that’s what I had here. The most interesting of the main characters was the prince, Raoden, who becomes an Elantrian at the start of the book. I liked him, I was interested in his discoveries, and he was kind of at the center of the whole point of the book. But every 10 pages or so he’d disappear and I’d be stuck with a princess who seems to detest or belittle most of her sex (oh what a silly nattering queen, and oh these poor aristocratic doves who need the princess to guide them because who cares about the skill involved in embroidery when we could be learning much more important fencing), or with a priest who was just frustrated with the illogical or greedy assholes who surrounded him (I was too--I actually didn’t really have a problem with the priest, despite him being set up as the main antagonist, because he wasn’t bloodthirsty, stupid, or pointless, so imagine that!). The author seemed to have little concept of how to do much actual political intrigue. A lot of their motives were laughably transparent or stated outright. People patted themselves on the back for being clever or wise when they were neither. It was just... not great, those parts. Reading this book probably took me a lot longer because I kept rolling my eyes and setting the book aside, just to pick it back up days later and slog through the rest of those conversations. The princess herself got better as time went on, but I really don’t appreciate books that put down traditional womanly pastimes or else make other women look inferior just to bolster another. It feels cheap. Why the sexism was so rampant in this world also just felt completely unnecessary. Sure, it’s possible the sexism would be there, but god is it fucking boring. I had some major criticisms of the worldbuilding in general, some of which goes into spoiler territory, so I’ll mostly leave it at how fucking quickly they seemed to have implemented a serfdom system (despite a bloody revolution not TEN years prior), how ridiculous their feudal system was even among the nobles (who apparently can’t hear themselves being mocked, constantly, by others within the same damned room in most scenes)--but anyway. It wasn’t bad, I just felt rather nitpicky. Ultimately, it was an okay book, although a lot of it felt rather rushed and unfinished by the end. Like, people were just spouting backstories left and right. If felt like when a D&D campaign is drawing to an end and the players are like “oh yeah, and btw, my character had a cool storyline we never got to explore about a betrayed brother, but nevermind that!”  And Jesus fuck I wish they’d shut up about the food. There’s this absolutely horrid little girl who stuffs her face constantly. No wait, there’s two little girls like that. One literally just howls for food day and night (she has no other characteristics, I am not joking). The other is apparently an expert in architecture, fencing, cuisine, and languages. She probably fucking flies when no one is watching. Oh isn’t she so perfect. When she isn’t shoving food down her gullet after whining at her father to be served for five pages. Fucking Christ.

Next, Authority, by Jeff VanderMeer. I listened to this one on audiobook while I was doing other things. It’s a sequel to Annihilation, which I reviewed before. I definitely liked the first book better. It had a bit more plot to it, for one thing. For another, I liked the Biologist better than Control. I didn’t get the same sense of connection with him, despite also feeling quite real and having a pretty rich backstory. Although this book also gave a little more insight into Area X, it didn’t have many real earth-shattering revelations, and I think I preferred a lot of the information actually kept behind the curtain. There were some parts that were suitably horrifying and intriguing. But it was a bit of a step-down as compared to that thing in the Tower from the first book. If the Biologist had come upon just some of this information, instead, in one of those journals in the first book, maybe, I might have liked it more. This book was just a little too much about the banal bureaucracy of it all. Because I liked the Biologist more, I also just spent a lot of this book wishing Control could go spend more time with her, which rarely happened. I did like seeing her from the outside a bit, I suppose, but I missed her observations and thoughts and memories. I’ll go on to the last book, and if you read the first you might like this second. But to me it felt less like a  Lovecraft-Ellison-Kafka creation than just something more like Stephen King, Firestarter-era. Again, not bad, but know what you’re getting into.

#what the fuck am I reading #book reviews #elantris #authority #southern reach #brandon sanderson #jeff vandermeer

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

What I’ve Done

Characters: Y/N Winchester (sister!reader), Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Self doubt, self loathing, making wrong decisions. Canon typical.    

Word Count: 2200ish

A/N: This is 1 out of my 13 entries for @mamapeterson / @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Fanfiction Challenge where I chose the album “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. The song prompt for this fic is: Hopeless Opus

This is kinda a rewrite of the ep The Man That Would Be King. I changed and took out a few things to fit in my reader but it is very much based on the ep. I stole and rephrased some of Castiel’s monologue from that ep as well. I do not claim to own any of that writing.

Thanks so much to the amazingly sweet @bkwrm523 for betaing this for me. I love you Sara!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The expression on her face, when she realized he had been lying to them for almost a year was burned into his mind. It was all he saw, no matter where he went or what he did. The hurt, pained expression on her face. His betrayal had hurt them all. His betrayal had angered them all.

For such a long time it had been so clear to Castiel he was doing the right thing. Working with Crowley had been a necessary evil. It had been the only way and Castiel knew the Winchesters would never have understood that. Nor should they have too. They stopped one apocalypse and now the angels or a portion of them anyway, was trying to start another. Castiel had never been more ashamed in his life. Y/N and Dean had lost a brother to this war. A brother Castiel unsuccessfully had tried to bring back. Y/N had gone to school and Dean had found love. They moved on. They deserved to have lives. Castiel hadn’t wanted to disrupt them but he had watched. He had thought about asking for their help so many times. He knew it was his best option, but he couldn’t. Dean looked peaceful and Y/N looked happy. Castiel knew they missed Sam, but it was his choice to not contact them and to keep hunting on his own. Or so Castiel had thought back then. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t all of Sam he had pulled out of the cage. He hadn’t realized until it was too late. As soon as Dean learned about Sam’s missing piece, he had called his sister back in. Castiel had not shown himself but she has watched the anger and pain on her face as she faced her oldest brother. The same pain he had watched on Dean’s face when he had realized Bobby had known about Sam being back, had been written all over Y/N’s face as she confronted Dean.

That had been when Castiel knew he had changed. He felt as if someone plunged a dagger through his vessels heart, when he saw her pain. He had wanted to take it away. Take her away from all the ugliness in the world. He had felt responsible for that pain, because had he done the job right in the first place, had he brought all of Sam back like he had tried too, she would not have been standing before Dean right then with tears streaming her face.

Castiel knew watching her then that he loved her. Angels weren’t supposed to fall in love, but he did. He loved her more than he loved anything, still he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to feel anything or let it cloud his judgement. He needed to save earth. Save her from having to revert another apocalypse along with her brothers. Her brothers that for a time had been like brothers to him as well. Brothers he had lied to every day for almost a year until he had slipped up and Dean had caught him in one.

Castiel remembered the pain on all their faces as they confronted him. He was so sure he’d been right as he spoke to them but now sitting here, his conviction was faltering. He had been trying so hard not to face all the things he had done. All the bad things. Unspeakable things. Castiel looked down at his hands as he began speaking to himself.

“You know, I’ve…I’ve been here for a very long time. And I remember many things. I remember being at a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach and an older brother saying, “don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.” I remember the Tower of Babel…All 37 feet of it, which I suppose was impressive at the time. And when it fell, they howled ‘divine wrath’. But come on - dried dung can only be stacked so high. I remember Cain and Abel…David and Goliath…Sodom and Gomorrah. And, of course, I remember the most remarkable event - remarkable because it never came to pass. It was averted by two boys, a girl, an old drunk and a fallen angel. The grand story. And we ripped up the ending and the rules…And destiny…leaving nothing but freedom and choice. Which is all well and good, except… Well, what if I’ve made the wrong choice? How am I supposed to know?”

Castiel thought back to his arrangement with Crowley as he kept speaking. Telling his story to anyone that was willing to listen, hoping that his father was one of those. Castiel thought about how he in spite of reason, in spite of what Crowley had told him, still weren’t willing to turn the backs on the Winchesters.

“Crowley had a point, of course. My interest was conflicted. I still considered myself the Winchesters’ guardian. After all…they taught me how to stand up…What to stand for…And what generally happens to you when you do. I was…done. It was over. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. I was put back. And we had won. We stopped Armageddon. But at a terrible cost. And so I knew what I had to do next. Once again, I went to Harrow Hell, to free Sam from Lucifer’s cage. It was nearly impossible, but I was so full of confidence, of mission. I see now that was arrogance…Hubris…Because, of course, I hadn’t truly raised Sam – not all of him. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to be given a warning.This should have been mine.”

Castiel thought about how he had asked him to kill the Winchesters and how he had refused. They were his family. The weren’t angels. They were vessels but it was illogical for him to feel like this and he knew it. Still Sam and Dean were his brothers and Y/N… Castiel bowed his head in shame, knowing angels weren’t supposed to feel like this for humans. He knew nothing good would ever come of feelings like that, but he also couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t hurt her, nor could he let anyone else do so. She was the most important thing so with Crowley’s threats against her and her brothers Castiel went on a murder spree, to keep them all safe. To keep her safe. Killing every demon he thought Castiel would send their way. He protected them even if he knew they had begun to suspect him and he knew even with every word spoken between them, even with everything that had since come to pass he would do so again.

“Hiding…Lying…Sweeping away evidence. And my motives used to be so pure and for a long time I was still sure I was doing the right thing. When I returned to heaven I wanted the same freedom the Winchesters had taught me to all the angels. I didn’t want there to be any leaders. I wanted there to be choice and free will to all. Had I understood then what I understand now I would have answered the other angels that freedom is a length of rope and God wants us to hang ourselves with it. The first weeks in Heaven were more difficult than I had imagined. Teaching freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish. And then there was Raphael.”

Castiel hung his head again as he remembered where all the choices that had now led to this had started. He remembered how Raphael wanted him to kneel to him and restart the apocalypse. No matter what Castiel said Raphael couldn’t or didn’t want to understand that the apocalypse didn’t have to be. Castiel hadn’t wanted to fight. He hadn’t wanted a civil war. He had never wanted to lead, but that was the role he had been given. A role that had lead to a string of choices he had felt were all right at the time, but now he was doubting every single one of them. Because of the pain on their faces. Because of the pain on her face. Y/N. The one human he had wanted to protect the most, had been the one human he had caused the most pain by his lying and hiding. She no longer trusted him and he couldn’t blame her. Still it hurt, more than anything he had ever felt in his very long, long life. Her pain caused him pain.

Castiel felt the tears that angels don’t cry press against his eyes as he recalled hiding in the shadows, watching how the oldest and youngest Winchester stood up for him. Still believing in him beyond reason when Bobby and Sam no longer were sure of the angels’ allegiance. He remembered the pain their argument had cost him, but he also didn’t doubt breaking into the light when Crowley’s demons attacked. He didn’t hesitate in killing every last one of them to save his brothers, the old man and Y/N. For a brief moment he had just allowed himself to react and he was himself again. There were no doubt in his mind what was right. There was no hesitance in his defense of his friends.  

Castiel knew that the moment that came after had been when he had made the choice that had sealed his faith and ended his friendship with the Winchesters and Bobby. It had been the decision that had put an end to whatever could have been between him and the youngest Winchester Y/N, who he cared for so deeply, before it even began. When they apologised for their doubt in him, he lied. He could have told them the truth and he was no longer sure that choice had been the right one. He mind was clouded by his emotions. Emotions no angel was supposed to feel. Or maybe his mind was clouded by his own hubris and mission. He was no longer sure so he was praying.

“Every decision I made was carved by good intentions. So is most long roads and this road brought me to a circle of holy fire.”

A tear fell down Castiel’s face, surprising himself as he thought about the look on her face as Bobby lit the circle around him. She was fighting herself, like she was still desperately holding onto hope that he hadn’t lied to them, or even if he had it wouldn’t be for the reason they all thought. Castiel remembered his best friend, the best friend he had ever had, pleading with him. Asking the angel to look him in the eye and tell him he weren’t working with Crowley. When he couldn’t lie to Dean any longer, her tears fell and Castiel’s heart broke into pieces. He had tried to explain himself, but his efforts had been too late. His lies had destroyed whatever trust the Winchesters and Bobby had once placed in him. He had tried regaining it by letting them know he had been the one breaking into the cage to pull Sam out, but the only response he had gotten was more anger and silence from her. She wouldn’t even look at him and still Castiel could feel her pain. Even know, a day later and miles from her he felt it. Tearing him to shreds.

He remembered look she had send him as Dean pulled her through the door with him. He remembered how he had wished he had stopped them. Pledge his allegiance to them once again and told them he would do whatever he could to fix everything he had broken between them, but he hadn’t. He had lied again. He had send them running moments before Crowley had broken in to save him. And now he was here sitting on a park bench with her pain mirrored in his own heart as Crowley’s words rang over and over in his head.

“You know the difference between you and me? I know what I am. What are you, Castiel? What exactly are you willing to do?”

Castiel wiped his tears from his eyes and looked straight into the winter air as he started speaking again.

“So that is everything I guess. My story. I believe it’s what you would call a…Tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is…Limited. I don’t know.” Castiel’s eyes turned to the sky as he pleaded. “That’s why I’m asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me…A sign. Give me a sign…”

Castiel pictured her smile. He remembered the feel of her embrace and the feelings she had stirred in him, before he for once and all pushed them aside. His voice almost broke as he made his decision.

“Because if you don’t…I’m gonna ju– I’m gonna do whatever I… Whatever I must…”

Castiel Tag Team

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @blacktithe7 @bkwrm523 @percywinchester27 @jpadjackles @supernaturalyobessed @purgatoan @revwinchester @starswirlblitz @skathan-omaha @feelmyroarrrr @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @winchesterprincessbride @curliesallovertheplace @docharleythegeekqueen @faith-in-dean @ellen-reincarnated1967 @enaishungry @adriellej @moonstar86 @alexafromthefandom @tia58 @nikolanna @lycangirl44 @brooke-supernatural16 @melonberri @thatonehaspanicchick @roxy-davenport @your-average-distracted-waffle @phoenixia67   @chaos-and-the-calm67 @jasminwild @mrswhozeewhatsis @smoothdogsgirl @angelkurenai @splendidcas @chelseypaigeake @gecko9596 @mouselovesmusic @lucifer-ismy-bae @tanithlowisabamf @jayankles @deansleather @ashleymalfoy @for-the-love-of-dean @mamapeterson @zeneko1987 @zeneko1987 @gemini75eeyore @just-a-touch-of-crowley @itsummertime22 @itsummertime22 @riversong-sam @dontbeamenacetotheforce @love-kittykat21 @love-kittykat21@iamflanneltrash @haleyhay96 @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @girl-next-door-writes @amarettokeks @heyitssilverwolf @castielsbecky @castielsbecky @fuckyeahfeysand @thisthelilith

#cas x reader #castiel x reader #castiel fanfiction #castiel imagine #cas imagine #cas fanfic #spn angst #castiel angst #cas angst #spn imagine #spn fanfiction #spn family

[teaandgames]

King’s Quest - Chapter 3: Once Upon A Climb Review

King’s Quest is starting to feel less like King’s Quest. I know that’s an odd statement to make but that’s what happens when you name your new series the same as the old one. The humour is still there, mainly in its love of puns, but the gameplay feels a little more restrained as the chapters go by. Perhaps I should appreciate that we don’t need to jump through illogical hoops anymore but I do kind of miss having to piece together the right thing to do from a jumble of unconnected inventory items. But this is a modern King’s Quest and its focus is on its characters.

Going by Once Upon A Climb, that’s no bad thing. The tone has certainly lifted from Rubble Without A Cause and it feels a stronger chapter overall. It’s got a better location, some good new characters and good puzzles, even if they do feel a little thin on the ground. Graham is feeling a lot more rounded as a human being and Once Upon A Climb keeps his old habits and introduces some grown up ones. Like trying to repress his excitable outbursts. Other than a feeling that we’re being slightly rushed through it, Once Upon A Climb is a solid slice of King’s Quest, even if it is going a little away from King’s Quest. See how confusing this gets?

Once Upon A Climb, which is a sketchy pun at best by the way, is about Graham feeling lonely. That’s literally how it starts, with him unhappy at the fact that no one is coming to his special dinner party. The fact that he’s actually put posters of all invitees on their assigned seats just makes it all the more sad. And creepy, seeing this is before the age of cameras and printers. When no one shows, he decides to build a woman out of a hatstand and a rug and is quietly sectioned. Actually, the magic mirror pipes up and shows him an incredibly wonky tower that’s housing his true love.

So he sets off to find his love, packing nothing but his huge muscles. They’re mentioned a lot. I do like how this chapter handles Graham’s feelings with more subtlety than the previous ones, including a decent section that shows Graham walking through the various stages of his life, always alone. And you get to save Cedric the Owlet. Thankfully, this is before he can talk. The writing feels solid throughout, with Graham’s awkward interactions with the two love interests Vee and Neese (which is more of a joke when you realise Graham’s wife is named ‘Valenice’) providing a lot of the humour. Both Vee and Neese manage to cultivate personalities of their own, while feeling more than just love objects for Graham.

Graham, regrettably, doesn’t really come out of it any different from before, which is unfortunate because the last chapter ended well on that note. Still, it sets up chapter four. But while the writing is decent (one quick highlight: a love poem featuring cheese), the actual gameplay is not much to bother with. Other than a couple of decent puzzles (one involving rotating gears, which I enjoyed a lot), it’s very light on the adventure game side of things. It even lampoons it at one point, with Graham constructing an elaborate (and useless) method of getting out of quicksand. It’s a funny joke, that would hit harder had the game shown us how to do it properly.

Ultimately, we’re left with obvious inventory pieces that serve to push the plot along. I understand that the episodic format holds us to a tight clock but sometimes I just want a good adventure game riddle to unravel, you know? Instead, the inventory puzzles are things like getting a wrench from Amaya and then being sealed back in the tower. Next screen, both girls tell you they need an item that repairs things. A touch frustrating, particularly given the bizarre setting. The tower is like a discount Howl’s Moving Castle. A wobbly great monstrosity with wooden chicken legs. There could’ve been a lot more to explore there, instead we’re just trapped in one room.

It livens up a bit when we’re teleported to other locations, and it gives a good way for us to greet some of the better returning characters, but again we’re whisked away quickly. The first chapter excelled because it allowed us to roam around and get lost and solving the inventory puzzles were more enjoyable because of it. I know King’s Quest has a story to tell, and I’m sitting down and ready to listen, but sometimes I wish it would throw a gameplay curveball in there, so I can sit up and take notice. Throw a roadblock in the way; give us a chance to wander. A bit more King’s Quest would suit you, King’s Quest. Sorry, I’ll stop now. Pros -Good writing continues -We actually get out and about a bit more -Some decent puzzles in there -Two love interests are well written and feel like proper characters -Good returning characters Cons -There’s less... adventure game in it -Feels a bit fast paced -Feels restrained King’s Quest Developer: The Odd Gentlemen Publisher: Sierra Release Date (Chapter 3): April 26 2016 Play it on: Windows, Xbox 360, Xbox One, PlayStation 3, PlayStation 4 Played on: Windows

#King's Quest #King's Quest Chapter 3 #King's Quest Once upon a climb #sierra #adventure games #Graham #gaming #video games #Tea And Video Games #Review