#he hunted down a twelve year old boy because he was manipulated into doing so by an abusive father which he didn't let justify his actions

[catoscloves]

adlfjaldjslkdfjsk tell me TELL ME that no one called zuko and katara a "colonizer/colonized" relationship i'm in so much fucking disbelief

#okay but like honestly zuko and katara weren't set up as a couple by the writers which was super clear and like they could have had more #development but i'm- how the hell is he a colonizer his parents were the one doing all the conquering and imperialism #he hunted down a twelve year old boy because he was manipulated into doing so by an abusive father which he didn't let justify his actions #but like he was literally a teenager himself as aang pointed out in what the second ep of the show?! #and he never had any kind of power imbalance over katara long term or otherwise that implies anything NEAR colonizer for him lafnfbskdkdkdk #he was destructive yes but he clearly had the respect for other nations that his father obviously didn't like #the one time he did something fucked up to a village was when he burned suki's home in his hunt for aang which there is no justification fo #for* #that was nothing compared to what his great grandfather did like i just. fuck whoever said this bullshit #context is important here but like he clearly had great respect for other people despite the toxicity of his upbringing and his father's #messaging/teachings #siiiigh #atla for ts

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save - F I F T E E N

James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

A/N: We are nearing the end!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: F O U R T E E N

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Christian Grey has always appreciated the finer things in life.  Luxurious home, top of the range car, Cristal, 25-year-old scotch, the works. A man of his status and wealth should have a standard.  Including the right woman.  

Alexandra Richards was that woman.  

He stared at the woman next to him as Nate drove, Walker beside him.  He watched as she wiped an errant tear that fell to her cheek.  She kept her face to the window, studying the country side as they drove.  She didn’t bother asking where they were going, they would never tell her.  

“Pet, would you like some water?”  

“No, thank you.”  

“Alexandra, you need to eat or drink something.”  

“Not if I want to die, Mr. Grey.”  Her tone remained even, never looking away from the window.  

Grey grounded his teeth, wanting to force her to drink.  But he waited, allowing her emotions.  She was different than his pet from before.  She was strong, independent before.  Now she was despondent, fragile.  A mother.  She was in mourning for the loss of her son.  He would try and change that soon but for now, he needed to break her and change her back to the woman she was.  

His Alexandra.  

James watched from the doorway of his sleeping son’s room, observing his little body as it curled around his teddy bear.  He knew the sleep was from exhaustion, having to have explained to his son that his mother wasn’t going to be here for a while. He was a momma’s boy through and through.  He closed the door softly and back into the empty apartment.   

Steve was still tracking Alex.  He almost laughed to himself again.  He went to their bedroom and to his side table.  He lifted the necklace from its place.  The duplicate he had switched in Alex’s jewelry box was damn near perfect.  Either she had noticed and didn’t say anything or she was losing her touch.  Either way, the switch had allowed a tiny tracker to be embedded with her.  That’s why Steve was on the hunt.  

After searching for Zemo at his home and secondary office, it was painfully clear that he had been the mole for some time now.  It was too coincidental that Walker had found Alex so quickly. The APB was out for everyone. All he could do now was wait.  His phone went off.  

Stark: He’s still tracking.  They’ve almost made it to Tahoe  Barnes: ok   Stark: We’ll find her  Barnes: I know.  Just bring my son’s mother home to him.   Barnes: Bring her back to me 

James laid down and clutched her pillow.  It still smelled like her.  Of strawberries and roses, of her. Finally, twelve hours after she disappeared, he cried.  

Alex jolted awake as the car slowed to a stop.  She looked around in the darkness, unsure of where she was. She could make out the outline of trees in the moonlight but after that, she had no clue.  Until she turned to see a house. It was out of a movie.  Stark white, wrap around porch with large windows.  Nate and Walker were already out of the car and walking up while Grey was studying her as she took in the home.  “What do you think?” 

“It’s a beautiful home.”  She wouldn’t lie.  

“Good.” Grey gave her a smile.  “I built it for you.”  

“For me?” 

“You had a house, similar to this, in that notebook you used to have.  Your journal.  I found it after you left and wanted to have something ready for you when you came back.”  

“I didn’t come back.  You kidnapped me.”  

“You left voluntarily.”  

“To save my husband and son.”  

“Your husband?” Grey sneered.  “Your husband is nothing compared to me.”  

“My husband is a thousand times the man you will ever be.”  

Grey reached and grabbed her by the hair, and she squealed in pain.  “Listen to me Alexandra.  You are mine now. You made your choice.” He pulled a little harder and she whimpered.  “I do miss that sound pet.”  

“Please, stop.”  

“No.”  He opened the car door and dragged her out.  She screamed and thrashed but Grey gripped her arm.  “This is your home now Alex. Let’s get you acquainted.” He pulled her up the steps.  She had no time to take in the interior as Grey marched her up to the master bedroom.  “I have clothes and toiletries in the bathroom.  There is nothing sharp or poisonous in here so don’t try.  I’ll be back.”  

Grey slammed the door closed and she heard a click as she was now locked in the room.  She sank to the floor and cried.  

Being a MIT graduate should have been something that Grey had factored into his grand scheme.  There is always something sharp or poisonous in everything. After crying, Alex got to work, taking the plastic toothbrush and using the counter to sharpen it. She just had to get past the door, and she could fight her way out. She hoped Nate would help her at some point, but she couldn’t count on that.  

Keeping her crude tool close, Alex decided to inspect the rest of the room. The windows were locked, meaning the only way was to break them, attracting unwanted attention.  Clothing in her size were in the drawers, no strings on any of them. Slip on shoes negated laces. Bastard really did think of almost everything. She heard footsteps coming and she hid the toothbrush under the pillow.  She sat against the headboard, as far away as possible.  The door opened revealing Nate.  Alex let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  “Hey Nate.”  

“Hey Allie Cat.”  

“That’s a new one.”  

“Had time to think about it.”  He went to sit on the edge of the bed, but still blocking the door.  “I told you to run.”  

“And I told you that I couldn’t abandon my family again.”  

“Were you always this stubborn?” 

She shrugged.  “Probably.  But we were usually on the same team.”  She studied Nate.  He looked tired, worn.  “What is the plan for me Nate?” 

“The plan?  The plan.  Shit Alex, you should know the Boss by now.  He’s gonna want his pet back by his side.”  

“That’s not going to happen.”  

“He’s gonna try and break you Alex if you don’t do it willingly. This is why I told you to run.  But no, the great Cat Burglar had to do things her own way.”  Nate started to pace.  “Fuck Alex, I tried to protect you.  I found you three times before he sent Walker.  And he only sent Walker when that fucker Zemo ratted you out.”  

“Zemo?  Zemo is yours?”  

“Not mine Alex.  His.” He cupped her face.  “I’m sorry.  I’m only up here because Grey asked me to try to convince you. Just give in.  Save yourself.  If only so that you save your son, your husband from any more pain. Please Alex.”  

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I love my husband and my family. I need my family Nate.  I need them just as much as I need you. Please help me.”  

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I wish I could.” He stepped back. “I’ll do what I can for you.  But unless by some miracle you are found, you are his.”  He turned and left the room, locking it as he went.  

It was deathly quiet now. And a sob was ripped from room as Alex began to wail.  

Nate walked back downstairs, trying to ignore the sobs that were now being ripped from her chest.  His best friend.  Well former best friend after his act of betrayal.  He made it to the living room and walked past Walker and Grey.  He reached the bar cart and poured himself a drink.  He needed to feel numb now.  

“What did she say?” Grey asked, looking up from the papers he was studying.  

“That she wants to go home to her family.”  

Walker let out a sadistic laugh.  “Kitty lost her claws. What a little pussy.”  

Grey glared at Walker until the man’s face fell.  He snorted. “That’s a shame.” He looked up at the stairs.  “Let her cry it out tonight.  We start tomorrow.”  

“Start with what?” Nate looked at his boss.  

“Breaking her.”  

Steve could hear snippets of the conversation happening in the home.  He peaked in to see the three men sitting and talking before the one with the drink threw it back and slammed it down, exiting the room. Steve picked up his phone.  

Rogers: found her  Stark: thank god. She ok?  Rogers: no idea. Security tight no clean entry or exit  Stark: fuck. Ok. I’ll reach out to local  Rogers: roger that.  

He looked around and saw the guy who left angrily now standing on the porch, hand on the railing, head bowed.  The man shuddered like he was trying to keep his emotions in. “Fucking Alex, why doesn’t she listen?” 

“She does that.”  Nate swiveled to look at Steve.  He went to reach for his weapon, but Steve drew first.  “Whoa there, sunshine.” Nate slowly raised his hands. “I think you and I are after the same thing.  To help Alex.”  

Nate cocked his head. “You’re Steve.”  

“You must be Nate. If I lower my weapon, we cool?” 

“Yeah.”  

Steve holstered his weapon. “Can they hear us in there?” 

“No, but better safe than sorry.  Garage in the back. Meet you there in five.”  Nate went back inside.  

Steve made is way around through the woods.  He waited behind until Nate called for him. “How is she?” 

“She’s scared and probably planning to do something stupid.  She’s Alex.”   

Steve huffed.  “Yeah, typical.  Look I have reinforcements coming but it will take until morning to get them here.  I need to know how I can get in there and rescue her.”  

Nate sighed.  “You’ll help with my case?” 

“For Alex, yeah I will.”  

James was awakened by his phone a few hours later.  He reached over, the bright screen hitting his eyes causing him to squint.  

Stark: He found her  Barnes: She ok?  Stark: status undeterminable but I’ve sent locals to help  Barnes: give me the coordinates.   Stark: sent. I’m coming with.  Be there in 10 

James called Natasha.  “We found her.”  

Oh thank god.  

“I need you to come stay with Drew.”  

I’m on my way.  

James got his gear together as well as some stuff for Alex.  He crept into Drew’s room, his boy still sleeping peacefully.  “I love you Chief,” he whispered.  He slipped Alex’s necklace over his head.  “You take care of this for me and Mommy, ok?”  He kissed his head and walked out.  Nat showed.  “The documents you might need are in the safe in our closet.  Combo is 03-10-19-17.  We left some stuff for Drew when he’s older.”  

“Bucky…” 

“I’m gonna do everything I can to bring us home but just in case.  Please take care of our boy.”  

Nate hugged James hard.  “Be safe.”  

Stark knocked on the open door frame.  “Ready?” 

“Ready.”  

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Alex was awakened by the door opening.  She held still. “Pet?” Alex reached slowly under the pillow for her toothbrush and gripped it tight. When she sensed him close, she swung, the sharp point she created cutting the skin on his arm.  “Fuck!” 

Alex rose and swung her leg around, dropping him as he gripped his forearm to stop the bleeding.  She ran to the door and down the stairs.  She could see the front door but was grabbed around the middle.  “Let me go!” 

“I see Kitty did have her claws,” Walker said in her ear as he adjusted his grip.  “And now I get to play with the Kitty.”  

Alex paled as she was held in place by Walker as Christian walked down the stairs, a towel on his arm.  “Let’s get her to the garage.  I don’t want to make a mess in the house.” Walker pulled her out and marched her to the back of the property.  

Steve and Nate were there in the shadows, waiting for the backup promised to Steve.  It was getting close to dawn when Steve heard the cries of his best friend.  He watched as Alex was dragged into the garage. “Shit. We have to get in there.” Steve and Nate both moved to pull their weapons.  

A gun cocking behind them caused them to freeze.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve didn’t have time to turn before the butt of the gun hit his head and he was knocked out.  

NEXT

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@peaceinourtime82

@lokislady82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #the type you save #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x ofc #Steve rogers #detective AU #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut

[griffintail]

The Sister’s Return

Summary: (Y/N) has reunited with her family with Dream’s looming threat...

Pairings: SBI x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Minor Fight scene, mentions of blood, mentions of past manipulation and present manipulation

A/N: This is a part two to The Sister’s Happiness

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        (Y/N) hesitated outside the tundra home as Techno went up to the house first.

        “You promise he’s not mad?” (Y/N) whispered to Tommy.

        “He…was mad for a while,” Tommy admitted. “We all were. It took us all a little while after…what he did to me to forgive you.”

        A crow swooped into the window as Techno looked at the younger pair as Ghostbur hummed floating into the house.

        “Phil! We found little note!” Ghostbur announced, making (Y/N) wince hearing her brother’s old nickname for her.

        “Play the song again please Wilbur?” The twelve-year-old girl begged as Wilbur looked down at his guitar.

        “Mmh, only if you sing it with me. My throat’s getting tired.”

        It was a lie. He just liked singing with his less annoying youngest sibling.

        “Ok.”

        “Here we go little note.” He smiled, giving a small strum to his guitar.

        “Even if he was mad, you can’t hide now.” Tommy huffed, following after.

        (Y/N) looked down at Fran, who had followed them all the way, before walking up to the house with shaky legs. Before she even got to the door, Phil came out, a soft smile on his face.

        “You’re ok.” Phil laughed quietly before coming over and taking her shoulders gently as she froze. “I’m so sorry angel. I-I should have been there and I’m sorry.”

        “Daddy’s girl.” Tommy mocked from the top of the stairs.

        He really hadn’t changed after everything.

        “It’s ok Phil, I should be saying sorry, I—”

        “No, it’s alright. Let’s get you inside.” Phil told her, looking around the area before putting a hand on her shoulder.

        He led her in now, Fran trotting in behind them. Once the door closed, (Y/N) had a feeling she hadn’t felt since she had been with…Dream. She…felt at home…

        Ghostbur floated as he hummed, taking some potions off a brewing stand as Techno rested his axe on the wall next to the door as he went to stop Tommy, who was already digging through his chests. Phil went to help with potion brewing as (Y/N) stood there.

        She felt like a stranger though.

        “Just because I’m letting you back in my house, does not mean you can dig through my things.” Techno scolded Tommy as he pulled him away.

        “Come on blade. If I’m going to help, I need some gear.”

        “You have your own gear and Dream’s gear!”

        “Technically Tubbo has half his gear!” Tommy pointed at him.

        “Come on Techno, don’t you want to help your favorite siblings?” (Y/N) grinned motioning to a sixteen-year-old Tommy, who put an arm around her.

        “Yeah, big man! Just a few things for the poor?” Tommy motioned to a fifteen-year-old (Y/N).

        Techno rolled his eyes at his siblings' shared mischievous grins. He knew he should have hung out with (Y/N) more, Tommy had been too much of an influence on her.

        “You think there will be a fight?” (Y/N) asked, everyone, looking at her.

        “Yes.” Phil nodded. “I got a message that…he wasn’t very happy you were moving on without him around.”

        “You can say his name. It doesn’t affect me as much anymore.” (Y/N) told him quietly.

        “Good because Dream is a bastard and we’re going to beat him again.” Tommy cheered. “The Sleepy Bois and their little sister are back!”

        (Y/N) smiled lightly and Tommy froze slightly, surprised by the smile. “Yeah, we are back.”

        Tommy stood there before grinning as he came over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

        “Yeah! Look out bitches!”

        “Fucking pricks.” (Y/N) followed suit.

        “We’ll show them who’s the best!”

        “And have whatever we want!”

        (Y/N) actually gave a laugh after they recited the bit they always use to do. Tommy was grinning widely. He had missed his sister.

        “Fuck yeah!” He punched the air.

        “Alright you little bastards, get your gear somewhere you can get to it quickly,” Techno told them.

        “I got an ender chest in my old room, come on.” Tommy let go of (Y/N) before sliding down the ladder.

        She followed after him, Fran making home next to the fireplace.

        “We’re not going to actually make (Y/N) fight with us, are we?” Phil asked, not wanting his youngest to be around the masked man again.

        “No. Ghostbur,” Techno said, the ghost zoning back into the conversation.

        “Yes, Technoblade?” Ghostbur smiled.

        “Why don’t you tell (Y/N) what you remember? She hasn’t seen you in a while.”

        “Oh yes! That’s a very good idea Technoblade!” He nodded before following after the younger pair.

        “You got crows scouting?” Techno asked.

        “I’m not idiot Techno.” Phil gave a joking scoff. “I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

        “Good. Then let’s get ready.”

        (Y/N) raised an eyebrow around the odd room as Tommy went to the ender chest, pulling out a few pieces of gear.

        “So, this is where you went when you went missing.” (Y/N) muttered.

        Tommy paused, gripping the edge of the chest lightly. “Please don’t talk about that.”

        “Oh shit.” She put her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry Tommy. I—Shit.”

        “It’s fine, you didn’t do anything during that time it was all Dream,” Tommy said, putting his armor and weapons on his bed. “We just need to be able to read each other again too I suppose.”

        “Well…after everything you still seem like you so I don’t think that will be too hard.” (Y/N) tried to lighten the tone.

        “I’ve changed a lot! I’m a bigger man.” Tommy crossed his arms at his sister.

        “Sure.” She teased.

        “Alright, listen here you prick.” Tommy started until Ghostbur floated down.

        “(Y/N)! We haven’t talked in so long, we should talk.” Ghostbur said to her excitedly.

        “I uh. Sure. If you want to Ghostbur, I just…” She looked at Tommy’s gear. “We got a thing to possibly do.”

        “Well, if it’s only possible we have some time.” Ghostbur grinned as he took her hand, making her shiver at the cold contact.

        “Oi. Ghostbur, let her get her things first.” Tommy told off the ghost.

        “Oh, ok. Get your things.”

        (Y/N) went into the ender chest, taking out her armor, bow, and sword.

        “Is that your old bow?” Tommy looked at it surprised.

        “Yeah…I put a mending enchant on it before we got your discs back.” (Y/N) grinned. “So, it’s still in action.”

        “…I think it will be perfect for fighting Dream with again.”

        She paused before nodding; the grin still wide on her face. “I think so too. We’ll fuck up his shit again.”

        Tommy nodded, deep in thought for a minute.

        “Hey, Ghostbur, wait up there for her, she’ll be there in a minute,” Tommy told the ghost.

        “Ok!”

        He floated up the ladder again and Tommy shifted awkwardly for a moment.

        “Did you…did you like doing all that stuff with him?”

        (Y/N) gripped onto the bow, taking a shaky breath.

        “I thought I did. I told myself I did…but every time I saw your face…I hated it. But he told me…he told me it was for the better and I believed him.”

        “We’re what’s best for you because you’re our family, and don’t forget it, alright prick?” Tommy crossed his arms, looking away.

        “Thanks, Tommy.” She smiled lightly. “I won’t.”

        She went to leave but he stopped her again.

        “Hey, if you…want to talk about it too, I get it,” Tommy said quietly.

        “I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded.

        Then she finally went up the ladder, Tommy passing through the room quickly to go to the main room, and Ghostbur held out a piece of blue to her the second she got up.

        “Oh, uh, thank you.” She took it.

        “There’s so much to talk about! Techno said we should talk about what I remember. I remember a few things about you!” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “You use to sing music for me and I wouldn’t make fun of you for being a child because you could be really mature.”

        “Oh…you don’t remember a lot of things?” She asked, sitting.

        “No, but that’s ok. I remember a lot of happy things!”

        “So…you don’t remember Dream and me?”

        “Mmh, I remember thinking about how nice it was to see you next to Dream when we were making L’Manberg, even though I thought about how unhappy you looked.”

        (Y/N) stared at the wall as she stood to the back of the group. Wilbur was at the top, looking down at her in shock and she looked away.

        “I would like to know though Dream, how you managed to get my little sister on your side.”

        “She saw past your stupidity.” Dream answered simply.

        He’ll just use you for power.

        Dream’s voice echoed in her head, making her jaw clench.

        “Alivebur didn’t think you and Dream were very good friends. He often scolded Tommy if he brought it up.” Ghostbur hummed, before whispering to her. “Dream is a bit of a bad guy.”

        “Yeah…yeah, he is Ghostbur. That’s why me and him aren’t friends.”

        “Oh, that’s a shame, but now you can hang out with us again!”

        (Y/N) thought about the times she had caught Wilbur’s glare across a battlefield or simply across the open area. She had thought he hated him but had he suspected something was wrong?

        …

        “She’s a bitch now! Fuck her!” Tommy shouted at Wilbur.

        “Don’t say that about her Tommy.” Wilbur snapped. “She…looks so unhappy. Dream holds too much power, we can’t get to her easy, we need to figure something out to get to her.”

        …

        “What the hell did you guys let happen to (Y/N)?” Techno motioned to above the ravine where Pogtopia was stationed.

        They had just run and his own little sister had just tried to hunt them down with the rest of the mob of Manberg citizens. Her downfall though was Techno had taught her himself. Yet, there was just such a cold look in her eyes…

        “She did it to herself.” Tommy scoffed.

        “I don’t know, I haven’t been able to talk to her in a few years. I can’t get her alone no matter what I tried, that’s not the problem right now.” Wilbur paced.

        Techno thought it was a huge fucking problem though and decided he needed to figure out what was going on, on his own.

        …

        Techno heard the crow before it flew through the window. It gave a flap of its wings to Phil and Phil nodded, looking outside.

        “He’s close by.”

        The pair had managed to get (Y/N) alone and they had seen through the façade when they talked to her and tried to subtly get it out of her. They thought they could get another chance when she left but then Butcher Gang came and Dream visited Techno’s home.

        Sure, they had been mad about her betraying their trust by telling people where Techno’s home was but when Tommy came to them, they weren’t mad for long. They were the first to understand what must have happened to her as well.

        Phil put on his last bit of armor as Tommy came up to them, paling slightly.

        “He’s here already?”

        “He’s close.” Techno nodded. “Get ready, we’re not taking (Y/N).”

        Tommy hesitated but nodded. He didn’t want Dream near his sister again. As the young boy put all his gear on, Techno picked up his axe with his crossbow on his back and Phil grabbed his own bow. He managed his gear on when Techno saw Dream walking through the snow.

        “Let’s go.” Techno nodded.

        The three went out, weapons at the ready and Dream grinned behind his mask.

        “Sorry Dream. I don’t do charity cases for the homeless, gonna need you to leave.” Techno told him, shouldering his axe.

        “Are we really going to go through this again Techno? Are you going to talk to your voices again too?” Dream laughed. “I know you have what I want. So, either, send her out now, or I’ll kill all of you.”

        “You can try, you green bastard, but I finished you once! I’ll do it again!” Tommy shouted.

        “But here I am Tommy! You can’t stop me. I got out of prison and now here I am. Back again!” Dream took a step forward and Phil aimed his bow. “You won’t, no, you can’t kill me, Tommy. Come on, we were friends, weren’t we?”

        Techno put the axe in front of his brother as Phil shot the arrow in front of Dream when Tommy’s breathing picked up slightly.

        “You’re not getting anyone today,” Phil told him. “So, we’re going to give you one chance to say you failed and leave.”

        Dream merely smirked behind his mask before going straight for Techno. With ease, Techno blocked the sword with his arm, the sword sparking on his armor before Techno swung his axe right for Dream’s side and the masked man jumped back.

        “A fight it is then.” Techno grinned, the voices going into a chant.

        Tommy pulled his sword and Phil switched for his sword as well. The fight was on.

        …

        “What else do you remember?” (Y/N) asked the ghost. “About…me.”

        “You were an awful lot like Tommy but you could calm down and be little note with me.” Ghostbur smiled. “It was always nice seeing you and Tommy play together though. And when you two become friends with Tubbo, it was meant to be really. It always made Alivebur smile and it makes me smile too!”

        “It seems a lot of things make you smile though Ghostbur.” She laughed quietly.

        “But there’s so many wonderful things we get to do and see!”

        (Y/N) smiled lightly. Ghostbur seemed to be all the good things about Wilbur…but she missed the bad stuff of her brother…

        Both the ghost and she jumped though when they heard the sound of fireworks.

        “That doesn’t sound good,” Ghostbur muttered, taking out a piece of blue.

        (Y/N) leapt up, as she now could hear the cawing of the crows and metal on metal. Dream was here!

        “Shit, shit, shit.” She panicked, throwing her armor on.

        “(Y/N),” Ghostbur mumbled.

        She looked at the ghost of her brother as she put her helmet on. A panic was in her eyes but there was the spark of a fire that brought good memories to Ghostbur. Memories of when she’d practice sword fighting and archery with Technoblade or when she’d scream at Tommy’s bullies or when she was taking lessons with Alivebur to learn guitar. He smiled lightly as he saw the real (Y/N) that had been missing.

        “I love you.”

        “…I love you too Ghostbur.” She gave a light smile before grabbing her one arrow, sword strapped to her side.

        She got outside to see Techno loading his crossbow with another firework as Tommy was dodging a sword swing from Dream who had a cracked mask with slightly singed clothing while Phil was dashing to go in for a low blow. Everyone had minor wounds as armors had dents and scratches. (Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat as she gripped onto her bow before raising it.

        “I never throw away my shot.” She muttered before letting the arrow fly.

        It caught Dream’s mask and it flew off his mask. (Y/N)’s arrow reappeared on the bow as she pulled back, her infinity enchantment doing its work to bring her arrow back as though it was never gone even though it pinned Dream’s mask to the ground.

        “STOP!” She commanded.

        “(Y/N)!” Dream grinned ducking from Tommy’s sword swing before knocking the boy down, winding him as he parried Phil’s attack, pushing the older man back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been my friend?”

        “Drop your sword!” She demanded.

        “(Y/N), come on. It’s me, Dream.” He smiled.

        She clenched her jaw as Techno looked between the pair as the other two of her family stayed where they were. Then she changed the direction of her bow and it snagged his pant leg, pinning the fabric to the ground as another arrow appeared in her bow.

        “Leave my family alone.” She told him.

        “Your family?” Dream laughed. “They haven’t tried to talk to you in almost three years! Now, they thought they had power over the two of us because I was locked away; they tried to use you! I broke out to save you.”

        His voice was creeping back into the back of her mind as she gripped onto her bow.

        “YOU BASTARD!” Tommy’s voice broke through the voice of Dream.

        Dream hissed as Tommy snagged a weak point in his armor, drawing blood.

        “How dare you say I’d use my sister!” He shouted, pushing the man back, jumping back as Techno quickly aimed his crossbow.

        Dream dove out of the way as the firework went off where he had been.

        “I won’t let you use my sister like a puppet.” Techno put his crossbow away to replace it with his axe.

        An arrow landed in front of Dream’s face and (Y/N) pointed her bow to the ground.

        “I never miss, so take the friendly warning. Leave and never speak to me again. Leave this land.”

        “You…you can’t…” Dream gave a laugh.

        “She can do whatever she wants mate,” Phil said, all three of them standing in front of (Y/N). “And you’ll have to go through us to even think about her. I suggest you leave.”

        “You’ll regret this.” Dream spat at them before getting up and ender pearling away.

        A weight was gone as (Y/N) teared up when the three looked over at her.

        “Oh dear, you need some blue.” Ghostbur came out now and gave the girl a piece of blue.

        “Thank you.” She sniffled wiping away her tears.

        Tommy came over putting an arm around one side of her shoulders as Techno went on the other side as Phil put a hand on her head.

        “We won!” Tommy cheered.

        She had missed her family…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #sbi x reader #tommyinnit x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #ghostbur x reader

[burnedbyshoto]

deception

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

— Or in which, Hawks manipulates how you view your boyfriend, Shouto. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, manipulation, 18+, smut, first time sex, body worship, oral (receiving and giving), and praise

word count: 10,223

a/n: this was a commission! it was very fun to write this once I got around to it... life has just been... well you guys know because youre living it too. but I hope you enjoy this!!!!

edit: OMG AND SUPER BIG THANK YOU TO @marilla-eldriana​ FOR HELPING ME

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Being a student at Yuuei was a privilege.

Every year only two hundred and twenty students were admitted from a drawing pool reaching into the thousands. From there, only forty were admitted into the Hero Department, and finally, only three per year were granted the title of the Big Three.

“Watch out!”

You watched as Hawks crashed through the window to your left, and you looked down at him with a wide grin, what an idiot.

“I thought speed was better than power,” you mock watching as the villain the two of you had been hunting for some time now easily flicked the number two hero to the side.

“And that’s why I got you, isn’t it?” he chirped before rolling onto his feet. 

You shrug, the smile on your face telling a different story while you both stared down the villain you had corned. There was no way you were going to let him go, no, this hunt was going to end now.

“I’ll assist you,” Hawks whispered, and your stomach fluttered in anticipation.

There weren’t many times in your internship where Hawks would say that. Working with one of the fastest and swiftest Pro Heroes ever meant that you were always fighting for a spot on the table. The days of Hawks swooping over the city faster than the eye could follow were still there; in fact, most of his sidekicks were probably cleaning up the mess the two of you had left five cities behind you. 

But you were different than them, you guessed.

You were only fifteen years old when Hawks scouted you for an internship, and while you had heard the rumors of what working with the — at the time — number three hero was like, it wasn’t like that. Speed was something you had always lacked. Sure, you were faster than any past Olympian, and any ordinary citizen, but in comparison to your hero peers, you were slow. After a humiliating loss of your first Sports Festival on account of being too slow, it was an almost sweet irony that the fastest Hero took an interest in you.

But it was good. Three years you had worked with him, three years of learning how to keep up with the fastest hero by breaking your body down on multiple occasions. At first, it had been just trying to keep up with his sidekicks who cleaned up after his mess, who were extremely quick as it is. Then after figuring out how to use your power quirk to make yourself faster, something that had been helped with a fight or flight response on your own end, you were able to become faster than most Pros.

But that wasn’t anything in comparison to Hawks still, but when a sixteen-year-old girl saves your life because you overshot your ability to fight, it’s easy to incorporate said sixteen-year-old girl into your regular routine. 

The initial introduction of you into his regular routine was less than ideal, he had simply stated to follow after him and would be gone. But with time, he took to holding onto you while he flew, which meant that you needed to include glasses and ear protectors into your costume. 

With the glass crushing under the weight of your shoes, you crotched the slightest bit, looking over at Hawks with a smirk. Three years of teamwork had lead to moments like these, no need to communicate, and with a raise of an eyebrow, he nodded.

The feeling of his feathers skimming your back shot the anxiety coursing through you, and you ran out of the shattered window, Hawks hot on your heel and the villain coming straight at you.

In the long run, it didn’t mean much that you were physically stronger than Hawks could ever be, but it sure made you smile knowing that you were.

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“And that’s another point for me!” you grin watching as the police took the villain into their car, Hawks stood next to you with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What will I do? I have eighty-seven points, and that makes what? Twelve?”

“It’s not my fault you go for slow as shit villains,” you accuse, turning your nose up at him.

“Oh yeah? Should we hunt for the fa—”

“Hawks!”

The two of you froze in your quarrel, turning to a man who was towering over the two of you.

Endeavor.

“Endeavor, hi!” Hawks erupted into a wide grin, his eyes brightening while he looked up at the man he admired. 

Trying to hide your snicker, you tilted your head, and your eyes widened seeing three boys behind him.

“Hey guys!” you wave at your classmates behind Endeavor.

“Y/h/n!” Deku greeted you with a large grin and a bow.

You smiled, even more, seeing the way that Bakugou and Shouto both addressed you in their own ways. 

“How are you guys doing?”

The rather one-sided conversation between you and Deku made you laugh on many instances. It seemed that being the only work-study students had meant that they were always getting their asses beat. Not that you didn’t already know this, it was just humorous hearing it coming from Deku’s mouth.  

“Is Tokoyami-kun not with you guys?” Deku asked, looking around at last for the raven headed student who did, in fact, work with Hawks.

“Not today! A neighboring agency requested his help, so it’s just Hawks and me today!” you nodded your head at the three boys who were quite famous within Japan. 

“Are you okay? We heard about the villain; that’s why we’re here,” Shouto spoke, his eyes curious, and his head tilts.

Your face warms when you smile, nodding gratefully.

“I am,” you clasp your hands together, “Hawks got sent through a building, though.”

“Some fucking number two hero,” Bakugou scoffed, and you snickered not wanting to agree with your stupidly observant boss behind you.

“You guys look less than put together; what happened to you?” you asked, noticing the scruffs and dirt on all of their faces.

“Bakugou and Midoriya got into a fight mid-air, and I happened to be in the fire zone,” Shouto rolled his eyes. At the same time, your friends exploded into offensive and defensive arguments, respectively. “We fell into the middle of some villain fight weirdly enough.”

While you grinned at Shouto, your eyes locked completely, you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Alright, y/h/n, Endeavor says there’s a villain seven blocks ahead, and I think we can beat them there!” Hawks laughs, and you can’t say your goodbyes because his hands lift you into the air. “See you guys there!”

And you were off.

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Your limbs ached slightly when you reentered campus grounds. With your case in your right hand, there was nothing to do except trudge ahead, hoping to get to your dorm quickly. 

“You’re back.”

You blinked and saw Shouto approaching you. He was in a casual outfit, most likely having been here for some time, seeing that it was eight at night. 

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, pushing down your skirt in hopes to look presentable even with the bandage on your chin.

“I was waiting for you,” Shouto smiles gently, his hand brushing your cheek, observing the injury on your face. “You okay?”

“It was just a scratch, nothing too crazy,” you promise, and you smile under his warm touch.

There isn’t much surprise when his lips come and press against yours, and you hum contently feeling his warm skin moving gently against yours. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shouto whispered, finally pulling away from you. You groaned, having not been satisfied with the simple liplock, but opened your eyes to see that he was studying your face again.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, your nose scrunching with your words.

“I have so many already.”

“I know,” you smile, dragging him away, “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long for you to get a proper dinner. With you being out for your only day off, you were pleased to see that there was a plate of food waiting for you that was left behind by your classmates. So you sat in the dining area of the dorm, eating the food while talking with Shouto.

You told him about the rest of your day, of how the two of you were close to cracking this case of serial cases of disappearing Pro Heroes who would reemerge days later without memory. The two of you had been working on it for a week now and had multiple promising leads. With the end of your career at UA coming in only five days, you were excited about the possibility of cracking this case after your graduation to help give you a good running start as a sidekick on the Hero Charts.

But before you knew it, it was already past eleven, and with classes tomorrow, it was time for you to go your separate ways.

“You don’t want me to spend the night?” he asks while you walk unconvincingly to the door of your floor, your hands grasping his. 

“You know that I do, but I can’t let that happen yet,” you pout, watching as Shouto nods in understanding. “Soon, I swear.”

“I just can’t believe my girlfriend has no self-control that I can’t even sleep in her bed without her wanting to fuck me,” Shouto sighs and while you splutter, telling him how he’s wrong, he places a goodnight kiss onto your forehead and leaves with a kind smile and a small wave.

Stupid son of a bitch.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had morals and ethics that you had told to Shouto well before things turned serious for the two of you. Sex was something you were always nervous about, not in the sense that it was a bad thing — god forbid you’d ever slut-shame anyone — but more that you wanted it to be special.

It had to be with the right person at the right time.

Shouto was someone you knew was the right person, but as your hormonal feelings for Shouto grew and you realized one late night that you were grinding against his bucking hips, your face hot, his lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive flesh of your neck did you realize that this was so not okay. You had pushed Shouto onto the ground, his eyes dazed and confused while you began to say that you were so not ready for this step of the relationship. But it wasn’t like it was the only time you’ve blue balled your boyfriend… no, you had done it time and time again.

So much so that Shouto practically refused to be in a room alone with you now because it always ended with one of you pinned to the bed and Shouto being launched onto the floor.

With a sigh, you watched Shouto turn around, walking backward with a small wave and a grin when you blew him a kiss and flipped him off. He called you the moment he was back in his room, and although you weren’t letting him stay in your bed with you, you did fall asleep on the line with him, his steady breathing lulling your heavy eyes to sleep.

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Hawks watched while you trudged into his office, your face pulled into a pout, a bandage sitting on your cheek. 

“Morning,” you call out, exhaustion evident on your face.

“What’s up with you?” he smirks, watching you walk to his desk and slumping onto a chair, your eyes closing.

“So tired,” you murmur, your head nestling into your arms, ready to fall asleep. “I didn’t sleep much last night?”

“Why’s that?”

“Stupid boyfriend,” you mumbled.

It had been three days since you had last been in the office, with graduation preparations, Hawks couldn’t call you out as often. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about, no. Hawks froze, replaying your words in his head like a broken record. He didn’t know you had a—

“Boyfriend?”

Those words passing his lips only made you groan louder, your head nodding, “Yeah… I’m dating Endeavor's son Shouto… for about… a year now!”

Hawks' brain went into overdrive.

A year of dating, and this was the first he’s ever heard of it! He had been your mentor, your boss, for three years and never before had you even mentioned a boyfriend before. Hawks lips pressed together, a looming pit of jealousy forming in his stomach. His feathers fluttered, his arms crossing.

Hawks was used to knowing everything, to being able to get what he wanted most, and he was planning on asking you out when you graduated. He had sworn his feelings had been returned; after all, who couldn’t find themselves falling for the young and hot number two hero?

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I can have him steal you a pair of Endeavors underwear if you want, I know you’d like that!”

Hawks looks down at your teasing face, his nose scrunching in mock disgust, “Please, I don’t need a baby stealing Endeavors underwear for me. I can get them myself!”

Your smile is warm, and Hawks watches while you pull out your phone, quickly texting something.

“What? Telling your boyfriend you made it safe and sound?”

“Actually… yeah…” you mumble while finishing up your text.

Now Hawks wasn’t evil, he knew that; he also wasn’t used to losing, because that wasn’t him. But there was something odd about the way his stomach twisted and his feathers raised at that confirmation, and the words poured from his mouth without him ever having the chance to stop them.

“Does he make you text him?”

You nod, a grateful smile on your face when you drop your phone. “Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s… why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Hawks fluttered his eyes, mock innocence for the first time not sitting correctly on his face.

“That one, Hawks!” you laughed, throwing your case at him. “The one that looks like when I stole your chicken leftovers.”

Hawks snorted, and he shook his head, deciding to walk out of his office to begin his daily routine; after all, these morning conversations were apart of said routine.

“I don’t know... He knows you’re strong and that you’re here with me, and yet he doesn’t trust that you’ll get here? Or is it in a controlling sense?”

“W-What?”

Hawks turned around and looked at you, your eyebrows scrunched, eyes looking down at your phone.

But when your eyes rose to meet his, Hawks simply smiled, his head shaking.

“Never mind!”

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It didn’t stop there. No Hawks had officially lost his brains with how he was approaching this. Everything out of his mouth concerning your boyfriend was bitter, foul, and implementing lies in your mind. A desperate attempt to get you to feel like Shouto wasn’t good enough that he was manipulating you and Hawks watched while you carefully danced to his tune, your frown deepening with every sweet lie that rolled off his lips.

“I’m hanging out with him and his siblings tonight!” you announced after the day at work was done.

Your smile was bright once more, a day on the field improving your mood. Hawks nodded his head, remembering how the Todoroki siblings were good people, and how you also had siblings.

“His siblings too?”

“Yup!” you nod. “I’ve gotten to know his siblings really well! They’re really great! We go over so often, and I like to believe that I’m close with his family now!”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Hawks smiles, his head tilting to the side. Faux innocence. “How about your family? Is Todoroki close with your family?”

Your jaw opens, and your head drops, your head guilty shaking no. “It’s a bit harder for that to happen, and he met them once and well… it didn’t go too well.”

Hawks eyes widen, his hand rubbing the back of his head with a heavy sigh, “Ah, I see… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Um… no, not really?”

“Well, as an outsider, and your friend, Imma have to tell you that it’s weird. It sounds like he doesn't like your family? He’s not trying to control you, is he? Not trying to isolate you from them, right?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, and Hawks watches with over bubbling joy at the doubt and realization growing on your face. He was hitting the right nerves.

“I-It’s okay!” you chirp, your feet dragging against the floor while you move to leave. “It's probably not that!”

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“Another movie outing with his friends?”

“We’re watching the newest All Might documentary, it’s not like it's a banger!”

“Todoroki just never seems to care to include your friends or do things with your friends. It seems like he’s trying to keep you confide in his friend group.”

“My friends haven’t… they haven’t said anything?”

“Who would? You’re dating the most powerful son of the number one hero, no one would dare to speak up against him, especially if he told them to stay away from you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Shouto…”

“I mean, Todoroki is jealous of the way that your family loves you, and that’s why you’re always with his family. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t keep you from your friends too?”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to believe me, of course! I’m sure he’s a great kid, after all, he did choose you to be his girlfriend.”

You scoff, shoving Hawks with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Nah, you’re amazing, y/n, and you should know it.”

“Mkay, pigeon, egg off.”

“Oof, I’m so scared!”

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Your world spun, and you crashed onto your back with a low groan, jolts of nervous energy coursing through your nerves while you remained pinned to the floor. Hawks stared at you from above, his jacket long since discarded, and his hands grasping your wrists while he straddled you.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve been able to pin you since you were sixteen!” Hawks laughed, but he immediately took notice in the way you were grimacing.

You didn’t do that often, but you weren’t done yet. Shifting your weight up and over, quickly, you managed to pin Hawks to the ground, his head bouncing against the matted floor with a groan of dismay on his skin. Your nose was brushing against his, his warm breath expelling gently against your face. No! You pulled away suddenly, your heart in your throat at the nearly intimate contact. But it was too much movement on your own end because your body screamed at you.

Your breathing was shallow, a feeble attempt to calm the pulsating pain that traveled through your nerves.

“What is it?”

“I was sparring Shouto last night,” you mutter, feeling Hawks’ fingers immediately searching your skin for injuries. “You know how he sucks at close range combat, but he must’ve been practicing with Bakugou and Deku because he’s never been able to land hits like that…”

With your jacket pooling from your shoulder, Hawks fingers traced over the bruises that colored your skin. Ugly purple, green, and yellow all over. You hissed when he applied pressure to one, and you flinched, getting off of him.

“Are you sure this was sparring and him not beating you?!”

“I would know the difference between sparring and an ass beating,” you groaned, your eyebrow scrunching while he took you in more. “Besides, you should see how he is. I still won!”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?! He’s hurt you way more than what’s acceptable in a sparring march! You’re bruised and hurting, and he sure as hell doesn’t seem to care that this is the state he’s left you in.”

You were silent Hawks words ringing heavy in your ears.

Did Shouto… was this a sign that he wasn’t who you thought he was?

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“Shouto?” you whispered, your knuckles rapping at the door, hopeful he was in his room. “Are you in?”

You heard the sound of footsteps against the floor and watched the door open. There Shouto stood, wearing black sweatpants and a white tank he leaned against the door. Your eyes caught sight of the black bruises against his skin courteous of your sparring last night.

“Y/n?” he expresses with a pleasant surprise. Shouto’s hand reaches for yours, but you flinch away, stopping him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your head nodding, “Sorry, long day, and um, I’m still sore from yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Ohh~ what happened yesterday?” You watched with the smallest amount of amusement when Sero revealed himself, his arm thrown around Shouto’s shoulder with a stack of manga in his hands. 

“We spared, why?” Shouto asked with that perfect density that Sero stammered, unable to recover from Shouto’s lack of an appropriate response.

“Boring, anyways, I’ll bring these back soon, I promise!”

You and Shouto bid Sero goodnight, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Shouto looked back down at you.

“Care to come in?”

“I would.”

You sat on Shouto tatami, your knees bent with your arms wrapped around them while he rummaged around.

“Here, I made some healing ointment for the bruises,” Shouto said, placing the white container on your knees while he sat in front of you. “I know that even though you won, my kicks probably hurt like a bitch.”

“The biggest bitch,” you agreed, watching while he unscrewed the ointment and began to delicately place the salve on your skin. It immediately cooled down the warm skin, and you studied his face while he did so. His touch was gentle, almost too soft for someone as battle-ready as himself. But he was on a mission to make you feel better, and for every bruise he covered, he apologized.

Soon enough, every bruise was covered, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until Shouto’s eyes widened when he noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, the days worth of anxiety that Hawks had been instilling into you, finally pouring from your lips.

“What?!”

“It’s just… with the texting you where I am, and who I’m with even when you know before I leave! A-And how about my family? I always go with your family, but the one time you met mine, it was disastrous! And then you never w-want to hang out with my friends! And you were so hard on me during sparring last night… Did you want to hurt me?! Why are you trying to isolate me?! Are you trying to control me?! You’re a powerful person Shouto a-and with your dad being the most powerful person I just… are you forcing people away from me?!” Tears poured from your eyes, your sleeves rubbing away the tears on your face, the ointment gathering on the fabric,

Shouto instantly reached out to you, but you shifted away from him, your face burning with embarrassment from your outburst. You wanted Hawks to be wrong, Shouto was good. He was an idiot, but he was a good boyfriend. Please prove him wrong, you thought. Please.

“Is that how you feel?” Shouto asked, his voice quiet but steady. His hand was pressed against the duvet, centimeters from your side. Not touching you, but giving you the ability to reach him when you were ready. “I just… I’ve never done this before, you know that. Y/l/n y/n, you are someone that I am way too lucky to have in my life. I asked what are boyfriend appropriate things to do from my classmates, and I guess I might have been overdoing it myself. I ask for a text because I want to make sure you get places okay. I know you’re powerful and can take on anyone, but it’s because you’re powerful; it makes you a target to villains. I honestly thought you liked my siblings a lot, so I wanted to keep you with them because if they’re your friends, you deserve to see them. I am sorry about your family, but they are assholes, and you know that. 

“But if you want to go visit and hang out with them more — with or without me — I would never stop you! I know I can’t keep blaming myself for being new to all of this a year into our relationship, but I didn’t know it was appropriate to invite your friends to hang out with us when we were with my friends. I thought they wouldn’t want to hang out with us guys. I also know you enjoy your alone time, and you tend to spend alone time with your friends, and I never want to intrude. I am so sorry for making you feel this way.”

“No,” you sniffle, your tears turning from one of sadness to those of guilt. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against yours ever so gently. “It’s my fault you felt like I was isolating you, controlling you. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove myself that I can change, I’d like that.”

There wasn’t stopping the way that you threw yourself into his arms, your tears soaking his neck, and he pressed gentle after gentle kiss against your temple until you were no longer crying.

For the first time in your relationship, you spent the night, and against what you had previously thought, the two of you did nothing more than embrace in a wet lip-lock.

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Graduation finally came around, and to say the least, you were excited.

Finally, you were now a Pro Hero — well, really a sidekick, but that didn’t matter! The entire day you spent it on campus, watching the graduation ceremony take place with your classmates at your side. Tears were shed, photos were taken, and the end of your high school career came to a close. 

Due to your accomplishment, something that wasn’t at all doubted in the first place, Hawks had thrown Tokoyami and you a large party in celebration. You were, after all, the first students to have gone through his agency for all three years of high school, and he deemed that celebratory worthy. 

With such an occasion and countless years ahead of you to be on your top tier game, it was to no surprise that you were letting loose at this party. And yes, by letting loose, you meant being drunk.

Me: shoutoooo baby i loe you oh so much

Shouto: I love you too, make sure you get water to drink and don’t have an empty stomach.

Me: i had dinnerr with you remeber !!!! no empty stomach here!!!!!

Me: im sorry for crying that night that was so dumb of me to being insecure about

Shouto: you should still be eating more if you’re planning on drinking more. And it’s okay, it’s equally my fault as it is yours.

You stared at the text, your vision slightly blurry while you imagined just what you would do with Shouto soon. You bit your lip with a grin, but with a sudden loss of balance, you stumbled back into someone.

“Oops, sorry!” you yelled louder than you expected, turning around to greet whoever you had run into. You saw a familiar face with a bird head standing there with his arms outreached to balance your stumbling form. “Tokoyami-kun! I didn’t know you were still here!!! I would’ve taken a shot with you! Oh my god, I LOVE your jacket! Where did you get it!”

Tokoyami smiled, his head nodding, “I happened to have it lying around, although I can’t remember where I cross paths with it, to begin with. And I couldn’t forsake you by leaving before you were ready. It’ll be pleasant to have you around all the time with Hawks starting in a few days.”

You nodded your head, your hands stretching out in an attempt to respond animatedly, but yelped when you slapped someone instead.

“OH, NO! Did I hurt you?! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, turning to the second person you had hit in a matter of minutes.

It was Hawks.

“It seems she is quite inebriated,” Tokoyami pointed out, and you nodded in agreement. 

“I am!”

Hawks chuckled, his head shaking, “Imma take her back to my place then, she’s a disaster in the making if we let her stay here.”

There wasn’t room for debate because you were suddenly in his arms and waving goodbye to Tokoyami, your sense of judgment gone.

“Take me hoooomeeee,” you sang into Hawks's ear when he soared into the night sky, and much to your amusement, Hawks continued your song.

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Shouto sat in the common room, his eyes shifting to check his phone every so often. He knew you were drunk, that had been very clear the moment you called him only twenty times pretending to not be you while slurring your sentences. Nothing was stopping the uneasy feeling in his chest after you had explained yourself and your feelings that one night, he had put together that Hawks liked you. But without definite proof, he didn’t want to claim such things.

And while he had no doubts about your ability to protect and defend yourself, there was no saying if that was true if you weren’t sober. Hell, he’s fought you sleepy once, and there was a significant difference between you being alert and you being exhausted. 

Regardless, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard something back from you, and with his classmates currently celebrating the end of the year by playing video games, he was there alongside them.

“I’ve returned,” Tokoyami called from the entrance, and Shouto turned around to see the bird head man walking to approach the gathering of the few remaining classmates in front of the common room's TV. He said his greetings before coming to rest by Shouto’s side. “The party was a bit too loud, but I think you would have enjoyed entertaining it.”

“It’s your guys night,” Shouto shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t need to be there when it was her work friends. How is she doing?”

“Ah, well you see,” Tokoyami nodded his head, his fingers raking through his black hair, “She was quite drunk, so Hawks-san took her back to his place to sober up, most likely spend the night at his place — Todoroki?!”

Shouto had no idea why bitter fire raged in his chest; all he knew is that for the first time ever while he slipped on his shoes and his jacket, he pulled up a contact he didn’t expect he would be using so casually.

“Shouto?!”

“Do you know where Hawks lives, Endeavor?”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Are you feeling better?” Hawks asks you, taking the bottle of water from your hands.

The low sparks of the alcohol that had once been coursing through your body had simmered into slow pulses. You knew you weren’t one hundred percent sober, but you were sober enough to realize that you should have asked Hawks to take you to the dorms instead. 

“If you’re asking if I’m no longer sloppy… you’re in luck,” you sigh, a tired grin spreading on your face while you reach for your phone. You frown, seeing that it was dead, but it didn’t matter much; you would get home without it being alive anyways. “Thanks for sobering me up; I think you could have done it back at the party, though.”

Hawks snorted, his head tilting up, his head in thought. “I definitely could have done that, but I didn’t want you taking shots in secret while trying to sober you up.”

“I’m sure you could handle me just fine.”

“The last thing I can remember is that you are physically stronger than me and if you’re drunk… well, I was scared you’d kill me by accident.”

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically, your eyes rolling in your amusement. 

Silence overtook you both, and your gaze fell to your hands. You wanted to ask him why he was so insistent on Shouto being toxic, and how he did a 180 the second you told him about how the two of you talked things through.

“Did you want me and Shouto to break up?” you ask quietly, unsure of what you wanted him to answer. “I keep thinking of everything, and that’s the only thing that makes sense to me and all the controlling business…”

Hawks stared at you, his eyes void of all emotion, and yet you felt like he was more open to you than he had even been before. His mouth moved to answer, but there was a knock at his door.

With a heavy sigh, Hawks rose to his feet, “I don’t think I should answer your question.”

So there you sat, his once comfortable couch feeling stiff and hard.

“Y/l/n?” Shouto’s voice rang through the apartment, and your eyes widened. You got up off the couch, your head pounding just slightly while you clamored to the front door. There you saw Shouto staring down at Hawks, how funny it was that your eighteen-year-old boyfriend was taller than a twenty-seven years old Pro Hero.

“Tokoyami told me you were here, and I wouldn’t want to bother a busy hero with taking care of my girlfriend when I can do that myself,” Shouto spoke, his eyes narrowing down onto Hawks as the words my girlfriend let his tongue. But it also sent a shiver down your spine, a coursing ember that had been ignored this night, reigniting it once more. 

You were ready, you realized when his blue and grey eyes found yours. 

“Thanks for tonight, Hawks,” you wheeze, grabbing your shoes at the door and quickly pulling them on. “I’ll see you in the office in two days!”

With nothing more to say, you grabbed Shouto by his wrist and pulled him away.

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The campus was quiet when you arrived, the day of excitement having long since simmered down as the clocks read two in the morning. This would be your last night in your dorm, most of your classmates had chosen to move out today as well, but with no one to help you out while you were at the party, you decided to stay one more night. But with the way your blood was pumping, and how you could feel the jealousy coursing through Shouto’s veins, you wanted to get back to your room as quickly as possible.

Entering the dorm building that was made for your class, you felt Shouto pulling his hand from yours, obviously ready to begin his goodnight routine.

Shouto’s hands grasped your cheeks, fingers hot against your cold skin, and his eyes staring down at you. Millions of emotions coursed through his gaze, but you were focused on the one that spoke of his love for you. His lips pressed down against yours, and you met him in full earnest. His lips pulling against yours, sending fire through your body, sensations that sparked only the familiar excitement you had always denied in the past. You could practically taste his unspoken anger and jealousy on his tongue, and it only made you crave more from him.

You were ready.

“Goodnight,” Shouto whispers against your lips softly, and you laugh. Your hands move up to cup his cheeks, and he pulls you in closer, his hands firmly placed onto your lower back. “I’ll come to your room in the morning to help you pack up.”

“Stay the night,” you say softly, your teeth tugging at your lower lip that was warm from his efforts. “I’m ready.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, his eyebrow lifting slightly, “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you groan, pinching his cheeks in your embarrassment. But his eyes were bright, and the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the air, and your legs found their place around his waist. “You sap!”

“Prude.”

“Say that one again, I’m finally going to let you smash, whor—”

He shut you up with a kiss.

It’s a slow kiss, one that warmed you up effortlessly, intimate contact pressing between the two of you, but nervous energy chipping through you fully. Your head tilts to the side, the kiss deepening, and your arms pulling him in closer. The two of you pull away slowly, both of your eyes slowly opening to look at each other in a whole new light and a fire under your skin, and something is silent between the two of you. Growing silently, steadily, and coming crashing down all at once.

“I love you…” Shouto murmurs, and that’s all it takes. The movements are desperate now, his steps quick and steady while your mouth clashes against his. Deep, ardent, fulfilling. You can’t help the nervously aggressive make out, tongues pushing against each out, drawing out noises you weren’t quite used to hearing. Low groans and pants you had known, but never in this context, and you were addicted. But Shouto must be thinking the same thing, for when you finally make it to your dorm room’s door, his mouth trails from your mouth. Sloppy and burning hot kisses trail down your cheek, to your jaw, before pressing searingly against your neck, and you mewl at the feel of his warm lips on your neck. Your eyes fluttering closed when his lips left hot and wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your lips met again, and this time you wrapped your arms slowly around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer. His hands are moving vehemently up and down your back, making you shiver and arch against his traveling fingers. But when his nails glide delicately against an exposed piece of skin on you back, you gasped into his mouth, and the door opened loudly against his need to get to your bed.

A soft giggle leaves your lips when darkness falls against your closed eyes, and your hips shift in your state of need. Only that you weren’t expecting to feel him tremble under your actions or the pleasurable hiss that passed to your lips. your eyes opening to see Shouto’s eyes still closed despite the fact he was walking with you. 

“I love you so much,” you whisper into his ear when you pull away from the kiss. Your fingers raking through his hair, your teeth nibbling onto his earlobe, his throaty groan a sign of victory. “Thank you for being wonderful.”

Shouto’s lips are back on yours, greedily seeking more contact, and you don’t hold back as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You feel the mattress of your bed hit your back as you continue to kiss him, sitting up so you could crawl back to let Shouto onto the bed with you. You smile once again as Shouto’s hand rests on the bed frame behind you, while the other one rests on the small of your back, keeping your torsos pressed together.

Your hands are fisted into Shouto’s hair, the small tugs from your hand blazing his own blood, making him press his growing length against your thighs, and his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You moan softly, your head tilting up, and you open up your mouth so that your tongues meet halfway. You start moving to unbutton your graduation outfit, and Shouto hastily pulls away, and your eyes open, his mouth is stained with your the leftovers of your makeup, and he looks concerned. 

“Are you sure, y/n?” Shouto asks, his hands stroking your side. His gaze is intense, unmoving, and challenging. “If you’re not ready for this, I won’t be hurt.”

You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your lips as you sit up, making Shouto sit on his haunches while you move to your knees, “I always knew I wanted my first time to be with you, I just wanted the moment to be perfect… and this is perfect to me,” you confess to Shouto, and you watch his eyes soften when you press a soft kiss to his lips.

Pulling away, you stripped of your clothes and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, your breath hitching as Shouto stares at your now only lingerie-clad body, and you blush. 

“Shit, you’re beautiful,” Shouto murmurs like a man who had seen something divine for the first time ever.

Your heart roars in your chest, your blood pulsating through your sensitive body while he leans in close. His mouth presses against the swell of your breasts, trailing down to the valley between your mounds. Your body quivers in your overwhelming emotions and sensations. Shouto presses you back onto the mattress, his calloused hands pressing right below your breasts, heating emitting in large waves from both hands, making your mind spin in needy desperation.

“Are you okay?” Shouto murmurs, his lips feeling the gentle movements of your body.

“I am,” you breathe, your eyes shut tightly. You wanted to feel his lips and forget everything else in the world. This was a night of passion, and you’d be damned if your anticipation was going to stop you. “Don’t stop.”

A low chuckle vibrated against his throat, sending gentle waves through you, and you moaned the second his fingers pressed against your breasts. Shouto’s hands worked your breasts tentatively, his eyes studying your flushed face while he kneaded the tender flesh.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned when his finger brushed against your erect and clothed nipple, your hips quivering underneath him.

“Did that feel good?” Shouto hums, and when you confirm his thoughts, coldness hits your chest. Your eyes open to see that he’s discarded your bra and that his lips are millimeters from your breasts. “Do you want me to do more to you?”

The words are curious, but you don’t miss the glint in his eye, but he’s long since knocked the air from your lungs.

“I need to hear your words, princess,” Shouto smiles softly, his warm breath fanning against your erect nipples that cried for attention. “What do you say?”

“P-Please…” you breathe, your body squirming in your denied attention.

“Perfect.”

The feeling of his hot and wet mouth encasing your nipple sent you impossibly over the moon, your body arching off the bed, a lament cry heavy on your mouth while his tongue circled and flicked your nipple. His eyes were on you, you could feel his stare burning into your body, but you couldn’t even see, your eyes closed in your throbbing pleasure.

More, you wanted more.

His finger pinched your free nipple, pulling and rolling the pert skin between his fingers, your wanton cries only fueling him further. Liquid heat coursed through your veins, your pleasurable sensations overwhelming you, and your hips began to hump against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your barely clothed cunt sending you well beyond the confinements of pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “I love you,” he confesses. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats.

Tender and sweet words fill your ears while he switches where his mouth and hands are. The kneading of your breasts, the manipulation of your nipples, and the way his thigh pressed against your throbbing cunt was sending you over.

Your breathing was unsteady, puffs escaping your lips in an overwhelming and failed attempt to calm yourself down. Shouto was on a mission, however, and his mouth removed from your cool breast with a soft pop, your breasts shining with the coats of saliva, and you shivered.

Shout hummed while he lips pressed the sensitive underside of your breasts, and continued downward, gentle after gentle kiss down your torso, until he made contact with your trembling inner thigh. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties. You can barely hear him over the roar of your heart, but you know what he says, and you nod. He smiles kindly, placing one final kiss to your thigh before pulling off your panties. 

Instinctively, your legs try to close, nerves firing away, but Shouto keeps your legs wide open, and his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt. His tongue takes a languid and slow lick. His tongue slipping between your slit and you arch off the mattress. Your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open, the addicting sensation of his hot tongue against your equally hot core burning you.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your clenching wet walls, swirling in circles and pushing further in. His fingers thrust into you at an amble speed, aiding to your pleasure sent descent on the mattress. On one lick, one godly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your thighs come crashing against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling legs. His tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge by speaking a language you knew nothing of.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips rolling desperately against his mouth. Your hips were stammering against his compelling tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore, your orgasm is right on edge, but you stop him.

“Wait!” you push him off of you, your chest heaving, and the wet arousal pouring from your cunt was slick against his mouth, and confusion evident on his face. “I don’t want to… I want to cum on your cock.”

“Okay,” Shouto pants with amusement, and you watched when his fingers — which were coated in your essence — slipped into his mouth, sucking it clean. The image of that sent electrifying pleasure through you, and your mouth watered at the thought of sucking him off. “What is it?”

“Get up,” you command, your hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and he was quick to stand on your bed, and you were on your knees. Your knees buck under your weight, and you help Shouto remove his pants. You watch in an almost lusting virgin horror when his cock springs out from under his underwear. The hard cock slaps against his lower stomach, and you take in the way that his cock is thick, with bulging veins, and precum leaking from his head.

There was no going back, it seemed.

Steeling yourself over, you wait for his feet to be free, and the moment he’s out of his jeans, your hands immediately encompass his length. His girth wide enough you struggled to hold it with one hand. You marveled at the way the skin was unearthly warm and impossibly hard in your grip. This is what was going to be buried in your cunt in moments time?

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in initial unknowing movement. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you sigh as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “You can’t make fun of me if I’m bad, okay?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking. “I don’t think that’s possible from you, princess.”

You smile softly, but there’s a strong sense of hope when you notice the tremble in his legs, “We’ll see!”

Licking your lips, your mouth opens, and you let the head of his cock press pass your lips. The dark pink head is hot in your mouth, and your tongue presses against the flat of his head, swirling your tongue around, testing his reaction. By the fluttering of his eyes, and the way that his hands seem to fight whether they should latch onto your hair, you reckon it’s okay. 

So, you push on ahead, moving further down his impressive cock. His girth so full you had to open wider than you were used to. You gasp as you push him further down your throat. Your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes on you. 

Good god, you pray you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not choking yourself. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a smooth rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto praise your name.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your neck, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out. Creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Oh shit!” Shouto snaps. His hands tangling within your locks as he struggles to not overwhelm you. “You’re amazing, of course, you would be good at this,” he gasps as his cock only goes further down your throat.

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting. His snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s distracted while he fucks your throat, but you’re even more desperate to keep up. Uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and speed. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock. Trailing against his veins as his hips stutter, and your teeth dragging against the sensitive skin.

You moan against his length. The action allowing you to gain more air and sending a loud moan from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth. Your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

“N-Not yet,” Shouto staggers, and you nod in agreement, watching him sink back to the bed.

“Take it off,” you mutter tugging at the hem of Shouto’s t-shirt, and he moves to take it off.

With your teeth tearing into your lower lip, you watch him remove the dark shirt. Shouto’s body had to be a sin while you stared at the rippling muscles on his body, something you had never truly appreciated before. They moved with his body, the faint scars littering his body for you to kiss and count later. 

Tone and lithe. He was beautiful.

Shouto’s lips are back on yours as you kiss deeply, your head tilted to the side as his fingers gently grasp your chin. A shaky moan leaves your mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue, and Shouto moves his body so that you’re now on your back. The tips of your aroused nipples brush up against Shouto’s naked chest, and both of your release a throaty gasp as you pull him closer to you.

Your bodies were overshot with denied pleasure, and the mountaining need for more was finally being addressed.

Your leg hooks lazily around Shouto’s waist, and a sigh leaves your lips as Shouto gently grasps the back of your leg, running steady, consistent strokes from the end of your thigh to your ass.

A fire is building up in your gut as your hands work their way down to the buttons and zipper of his pants. His hands gripping your waist, and you could feel Shouto’s arousal pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing with need. You pulled away from Shouto and giggled as he attempted to follow you with closed eyes as you had to brush your hair out of your face, suddenly feeling hot.

“Y/n…” Shouto just about whined, and you smiled softly at him, finding it endearing and the slightest bit hot when he used that tone. 

His hands were on your breasts, slowly stimulating your aroused nipples as he slowly massaged them, making sure to brush your nipple with his thumb every so often, and your head tossed back as you bite down hard on your lower lip. He once again kissed you ever so lovingly, and you felt him pulling away to line his cock with your entrance. You watch with hooded eyes as Shouto presses the head into you, teasing the both of you to extreme lengths, and you wantonly sighed. 

You rest on your elbows, a smile on your face as Shouto moves his messy hair out of his eyes. As you stare at his slightly sweaty face covered by strands of different colored hair, your heart just about bursts.

“Make love to me, Shouto,” you say aloud as Shouto stares at you, his cock removing from your entrance and carted against your clit.

“I plan on it,” he smiles, and he grabs your ankle, pulling you closer to him, and you shriek with laughter until his lips engulf your sounds. “Are you ready?” Shouto asks once more, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick.

“Whenever you are,” you whisper into his neck, preparing for the initial pain.

You let out a cry of pleasure and pain as he slowly enters you, and you pant heavily, trying to contain your tears as he manages to push all the way in. Your eyes clench as you bit your lip, your head buried into his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry as he stretches you out. Shouto is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not entirely in you.

Your breathing is harsh, and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him entirely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Shouto within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Are you o-okay?” Shouto stutters very clearly still adjusting to having his cock in you.

“Yeah, just… trying not to die,” you manage to croak out, and eventually, you collapse onto the bed, looking up at Shouto, who seems to be concentrating hard.

“You’re just super t-tight,” Shouto gasps as you wrap a leg around his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Too fast,” you snap in regret you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall, and no orgasm had reached you yet.

“It’s okay… breathe...”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist, and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command, and Shouto falls onto his forearms as he nods.

Shouto moves his hips back, and slowly almost painfully slow, returns them to the original position, and even with the smallest movement, a lewd moan escapes your lips. Shouto continues going in and out, his hips slowly moving while you start to meet him with every thrust.

Whispers of encouragement escape both your lips as his slow thrusting continues.

Shouto picks up your legs so that they’re both wrapped around his waist, and he comes to lean over you. At the new angle, your head is thrown backward, and you let out a string of soft curses. “Shit, that feels so good,” you cry out in encouragement as you bit down on your lip harshly.

Your lips are soon sought after by Shouto’s as sheen layers of sweat cover both your bodies as the consistent moving of both your hips never falters.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit, you feel so good,” Shouto grunts, his hips picking up in speed as he drills into you faster, the sound of your meeting sweaty bodies echoing in your room.

Soon you can hear the sounds of your bed hitting the wall, and a cry escapes your lips as Shouto’s finger grazes your clit.

“Say my name…” Shouto grunts as he presses harder on your clit, and you can feel the coil within you getting tighter, but at the moment, all you can give is wordless cries. “Say it, y/n.”

“S-Shouto!” you scream out as you shake with an overwhelming need to climax, but Shouto’s finger leaves your clit and goes to keep your hands above your head.

“Are you enjoying this?” Shouto teases as he slams into you at full force again, your cunt tightening sinfully against his length, electricity coursing through your veins while you cry his name. “You’re so good, shit.”

“Oh my god, yes, Shouto!” your voice splutters, and his hands leave your wrist to gently pinch your nipple and clit. You go speechless, and your mind spins as he pulls one of your legs onto his shoulder, and all you can do is let your jaw drop as the new position lets you see stars.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved entirely within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh at the back of his neck. You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. He wasn’t going too fast, just fast enough to have wet smacks echoing through the room, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. He pulled out entirely so he would have the ability to drill back into your wet cunt. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“I needa cum,” you shriek, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the spastic vice-like clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his mouth connecting with your breast, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, baby,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Cum..”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

“That was…” you mumble, your mind unable to think straight.

“Something?”

You snort, your head nodding.

“Yeah… something…”

“I love you, y/n,” Shouto whispers against your temple, and you sigh, contentness and warmth flooding your aching body.

“I love you, too.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

[gremlin-writes-angst]

The Life of an Ackerman: Chapter 1

Jean Kristen X FTM!reader

3k words

My longest chapter so far ( I think)

Trigger warning: Transphobia( No slurs or deadnaming, just ignoring new name) mentions torture and death ( no death or torture but the words are used)

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged!!

I haven't said happy pride month so happy pride month and I thought it was fitting to say here because this is both gay and trans.

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Being born an Ackerman wasn’t easy, especially when your father was Kenny the ripper. Your father never had much restraint, for booze or women, when the two mixed Kenny had no problem, most of the time the booze amplified his pleaser. It was no different the night you were conceived, Kenny had his booze and women who worked at the bar. They didn’t love each other, they might not even like each other. You could describe their relationship as a drunk flirt and a waitress who was tired of it, and knowing the best way to get rid of the man was to do what he wanted. She was partially right, because, after one night together, Kenny left her alone, and which was exactly what she wanted. Then three months later she discovered she was pregnant, and Kenny was nowhere to be found. While she was pregnant she investigated Kenny and where he could have gone, and by the time you were born your mother knew where Kenny lived and she had no problem doing the same thing Kenny did to her, she disappeared.

Kenny wasn’t thrilled to find a baby at his door, with a note claiming it was his own. Though he wasn’t the best person, he wasn’t going to leave his own infant, so he raised you, more like trained you. You learned how to protect yourself and others, how to hurt and kill people at the age of 10, you never killed, you just knew how. You missed the innocence of only knowing how to kill because you couldn’t go about life as Kenny the Ripper’s child without killing someone.

At twelve you started to change, you had discovered why you felt so disconnected from your body. You slowly began to change your appearance to be more like the boy you were, even if your body was a constant reminder that you weren’t. You told your father about these feelings when he questioned the change in your appearance. You know he would catch your lies if you tried, so you told him the truth. Telling him that you wanted to go by Y/n instead of the name your mother gave you, you wanted to be called he/him like the rest of the men instead of she/her that you’d been for the past twelve years. He never called you by your old name again, but he also never called you y/n, he called you a nickname which is how he addresses most people. To him, you were now ‘kick’ short for sidekick cause that’s all you were to him.

Being his son and being trained since you were a child, you became a member of the Anti-personnel control squad. Even though you didn’t agree with his stance, you were still forced to work for him. He had told you almost everything about Reiss family and the Ackerman family, and what he hadn’t told you, drunk Kenny told you. So you knew more than most and you formed your own opinion. All for nothing though because you were still forced to work for him and against the scouts. Though being his son and learning the skills of Kenny the Ripper, and being forced to work with him, brought you to working with the scouts, so how angry can you be.

After Kenny died, you grieved and then healed rather quickly, it was important to be able to get over people, you learned that from your dad. After healing you came up with a plan, you hunted down Levi Ackerman, a man that your dad had mentioned more than once. He was an Ackerman along with the captain of the survey corps, you need to meet him. There was a lot your late father had taught you, like manipulation, or blackmail, and because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut you had enough information on Levi to do what you were taught. Though your plan underestimated Levi and fell to pieces when the man caught you.

You were sneaking around the survey corps base, when you felt someone pull you back along with the feeling of a knife against your neck, you knew it was him when he spoke.

“You have three seconds. Who are you and why are you here?”

“ I’m y/n Ackerman”

“Bullshit.”

He pressed the blade further into your neck, it reminded you of your father’s signature move.

“It’s not. I’m the son of Kenny Ackerman, your uncle. Making me your cousin.”

Even with the information which should be shocking to him, I can’t feel any changes in his heartbeat or the pressure his knife has on my throat.

“What proof do you have?”

“I know you are from the underground. I know your mother’s name, Kuchel. I know about your mother’s job.”

You could have continued but Levi didn’t seem to like what you already said and stopped you.

“How do you know that information?”

It was a stupid question, you expected a smarter man. But it must run in the family cause calling him stupid out loud is just as dumb as his question.

“That’s a stupid question, Kenny Ackerman, my dad told me.”

You now felt a change in pressure of the knife on your neck, shockingly it didn’t press deeper but released just a little.

“Did you just call me stupid?”

It was a rhetorical question, and the tone sent chills down your spine. If he hadn’t moved the knife away you would except he was going to murder you. After seconds of torturous silence and stillness, Levi fully removes the knife from your neck. You weren’t free though, he still had the knife ready, now aimed at your back instead of your neck. You weren’t so stupid to try and move, you would be dead in a second if you did such a thing.

“Smart cookie arent you.”

He was testing you, he wanted you to move so that he could strike. But since you didn’t he had no reason to believe you would later.

“Move forward, and don’t make any movement that I don’t instruct you to.”

You start to move down the corridor, trying to determine the right speed knowing that if you move too fast or too slow you’ll be in trouble.

“You are going to turn and enter the next door on your left. Then you’ll turn right and wait by the door.”

His voice was more demanding than before. You spotted the door he talked about, and when you reached it you turned left then right, stopped, and waited at the door as instructed. Levi was right behind you as you entered the room, but he now stood to your left, right in front of the doorway.

You were afraid to make too much movement cause his eyes and kife were still trained on you. Without moving anything but your eye you survived the room, noticing that multiple scouts were cleaning the room.

“Connie and Jean come here.”

Levi yelled into the room, two men approached him. The short one with almost no hair, stood in front of Levi ready for instructions. Then the taller one with brown hair and a long flattish face, stood slouched as if his sergeant wasn’t in front of him. The shorter one hit the taller one, who then straighten his posture. It was funny in an attractive way. Levi turned to the short one and began to give him instruction.

“Connie, go inform Hange that we have an intruder in custody who may be lying about their identity, they’ll know what to do.”

Connie left as soon as Levi was done talking and had now turned to the taller one, and by process of elimination you figured out that he was Jean.

“Jean I need you to find something to confined this intruder with, rope would probably work best.”

Jean moved to a cabinet right next to you and pulled at some rope.

“Good thing we just organized sir or else it would have taken me ages to find this.”

It wasn’t a super finny joke but it was funnier than what you had heard in the past month, and a laugh passed right through you. The was quick shuffling and you realized everyone’s eyes were on you. They all know how strict Levi was and that you laughing wasn’t something Levi instructed. When they realized Levi wasn’t going to do anything they got back to work.

“Jean tie this man’s arms behind his back.”

You had never been called a man and once again your emotions slipped through and a smile reached your lips.

Jean approached you and put his hand on your shoulder, turning your body so you were facing the cabinet the rope came from. He began to tie your arms, tight enough to restrict your movement but not the blood flow. While he works he talks, whispering so only you hear.

“Thanks for laughing at my joke, no one does, it also takes balls to laugh at one of my jokes when your under Levi’s knife.”

Ironic. His hands finish tying yours and he guided you back to Levi.

“Sir I’ve tied the intruder, where should I take him.”

“That won’t be necessary, I got him for now. Everyone finishes cleaning this room, it better be spotless when I return from the torture chamber.”

He takes me from Jean and pushes me out of the room, and toward what I can only assume will be my death or wish for death.

“See you soon, or maybe not.”

“Jean!!”

Jean calls out from behind followed by others yelling at him for the insensitive joke. I smile even if it is a joke at my possible death.

You know sat on the floor of what you assume is a torture chamber, it’s dirty, which isn’t a shock. Suddenly the door opens and Levi walks in and behind him comes a taller person with glasses and a determined face. They seemed to be at the end of a conversation.

“Oh another Ackerman, exiting!”

The taller one practically jumps closer to you.

“We don’t know if it’s true. That what you are here for.”

Levi closed the door behind the two of them still trying to take away your last name.

“Oh come on, what would a poor thing like this lie. Especially lie about being related to you.”

The person stood over you, staring at you intensely, but they talked as if you weren’t there.

“I don’t know, but I do know that Kenny isn’t the father type.”

“I can’t argue with that. I never claimed he was the father type.”

You laughed at the idea of your father acting like a father to you.

“Pipe down brat. Only talk when we ask you a question.”

Levi silenced you.

“Wow, no kick to the stomach. Have you gotten soft?

The person mocked Levi, they also started to investigate you, but never touched you.

“Non-sense.”

That’s all Levi said in defense of the person’s accusations of his emotional strength. You found it Ackerman-like, Ackermans don’t need to defend them selfs over stupid accusations.

“You’re pretty good at spotting lies. So I want you to tell me when the little twerp lies.”

“So no torture, why bring him here then? I think I was right, you’ve gone soft. But no complaints here.”

The person finally addresses you.

“Hello I’m Hange, and it might be your lucky day, As long as you don’t lie, we won’t touch or harm you.”

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to nod so you stay still, Hange continued.

“So you claim that your and Ackerman, to be specific y/n Ackerman. Are you sticking by your original statement?”

You were tired of the constant questioning of your true identity.

“Yes, I am y/n Ackerman!”

You snapped a little.

“Feisty, that’s the Ackerman attitude!”

They turn back to Levi.

“I don’t think they’re lying but I’ll continue.”

They turn back to me.

“Is your father Kenny the Ripper, also known a Kenny Ackerman?”

It was only the second question but you were already sick of the interrogation.

“Yes.”

Hange turned back and walked to Levi.

“Still no lie detected, I don’t have any more questions, because you won’t tell me the rest of the story.”

They nudged Levi with their whole body.

“So you believe he’s an Ackerman. Their little proof of what he says”

When Levi finished, Hange added to what he was saying.

“And less against it.”

They sounded smug.

The two of them left, you were left in the gross dark room. You were also left dark in the sense that you had no clue what they were discussing you knew that what they decide will be your future.

Eventually, the door opened and Hange came in, more excited than they should be.

“A new friend!”

They grabbed you and lifted you onto your feet and began pulling you out of the room.

“Oh sorry, I was supposed to ask before touching you.”

Even though they sounded sincere, they continued to pull you around.

“The cadets and others always tell me that I should respect others space”

They continue to pull you until you arrived at a room, they opened the door and pulled you in, then sat you on the bed.

“Welcome to your new room, it took some convincing but we agreed that at the very least we should keep you in our sight. So your kind of trapped here now, but I promise it won’t feel that way!”

They left and closed the door, but before you could relax they rushed back in.

“Whoops, guess I should undo those restraints.”

You had forgotten about the restraints, they had been on practically all day. You stood up from the bed and turned around so that Hange could undo the rope. You thought back to the person who did the restraints, you thought about his face and his hands and his voice, his laugh that was caused by his own joke. You tried to remember his name, it rhymed with bean, and started with J.

“Jean!”

When you remembered his name, it slipped out, not quietly.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,”

Luckily for you, Hange was talking about the very person you were thinking about. Either way, you became embarrassed. Soon enough Hange left, and you were alone with your thoughts.

You stayed cooped up in the room you were given. There was one door, zero windows, one bed one dresser, and a mirror. There wasn’t much for you to do, the only clothes you had were what you were wearing. You had no reason to leave, no birds to watch and you didn’t even consider looking in the mirror. The boredom had finally reached you, and you couldn’t think of a way to cure it. Luckily for you, someone came to the rescue.

The door open and as it opened Jean came into sight. He had a towel slung across his shoulder and a bucket in hand. He scanned the room and upon seeing you he froze, then coughed a little, while a blush crept up his cheeks.

“Sorry, I thought this room was empty.”

He didn’t make any movement to leave or enter, he stood there staring at you.

“Well, now you know. So are you going to leave or come in, or have you become a statute?”

He started to move inside your room, you had expected him to leave. He must have noticed the confused look on your face, deciding to explain himself.

“Levi’s strict about the cleanliness, so either you clean this room or let me.”

He has a stupid smile on his face as he offers the bucket and pulls the rag off his shoulder, also offering it to you.

“I’m not cleaning, so have fun.”

“That’s what I expected.”

He started to clean the room, but he eventually became tired of the awkwardness of being watched in silence.

“So you have no worries that I’ll snoop on you or steal from you?”

You changed your position on your bed, now sitting legs crossed.

“Yeah cause the man who makes terrible jokes is going to steal something from me. No, I just don’t have anything for you to steal or snoop.”

You responded sarcastically but also felt there was no reason to hide the truth so you told him, in the end, to clear up any confusion.

“Oh so you think that I wouldn’t be able to steal from you, you must be confident. You are you that you are so confident.”

He was joking with you, your glad a strict scout wasn’t the one who was cleaning your room.

“Someone who you restrained less than five hours ago.”

You thought it was weird that he was acting so normal around someone that was labeled as an intruder.

“You’re clearly not much of a threat if they let you in such a nice room.”

You laughed at his detective skills.

“Real though who are you, intruder.”

Without knowing your name, he only knew you as the intruder and decided to use it as a nickname.

“I’m y/n!”

He waited for you to continue but you never did. You didn’t think Levi would want you exposing yourself as an Ackerman.

“No last name?”

He questioned, but you’ve been here before and always answer with something that shuts most people down.

“Lots of people don’t.”

He took your answer, as most people did.

“Yeah, I guess you right.”

The room went quiet again as he continues to clean. Every once and a while one of you would strike up a conversation. You need to stretch your legs, got up, and walked to the door and back, which earned you an earful from Jean about making the floor dirty when he just cleaned it.

Eventually, he was done and had to leave. He opened the door about to leave but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Before you go, can I have my sock back?”

He turned around with a slight shock on his face.

“I guess you have a right to be confident. And you really did have nothing else for me to steal.”

He dropped the sock next to your shoes. He grabbed the door handle and began to close it while saying goodbye.

“See you around, Intruder.”

You assumed that this was going to be a countenance thing, and you don’t mind.

#connie snk #jean kirschtein x reader #ftm reader #levi akerman #ackerman family #hange zoe #tw queerphobia #tw mention of torture #tw mentions of death #attack on titan

[thejudgingtrash]

would you class percy as a morally grey character? i’m really interested to hear your input

Anon 2: Would u class percy as an Morally Gray character?

Hey there! Let me write that essay for you about morally gray Percy ^^

It’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s about he has to be otherwise the story doesn’t make any sense. At least for me it wouldn’t.

Ashley (@gr33kg0ds) said in the tags of my dark!Percy post something along the line of people diminishing Percy’s character because they need him to be pure and fluffy and I wholeheartedly agree with that!

Just because Percy’s twelve doesn’t mean he’s pure and didn’t do unproblematic things. I’ll mostly refer to The Lightning Thief because that book is the Magnus Opus for Riordan and perfectly stands for Percy as a morally gray character from the very beginning of the saga. (Also the only book I’ve recently re-read)

As much as I love fanon with all the amazing artworks, debates, memes and jokes, analysis, cool edits and wonderful fanfics, projecting your version of Percy doesn’t make the image in your head real. Percy in canon is not the fun and fluffy boy you imagine him to be or which social media sites (Reddit, Twitter, Instagram and yes, also Tumblr) tend to make him to be. He’s a scrawny little sarcastic twerp that was the unpopular kid. He isn’t that cringy dude Tony Lopez doing that fucking weird TikTok dance (side note: I don’t even know who this person is and I don't care, I saw the video and immediately wanted to delete every social media app on my phone, so thanks Tony?), kissing his Yeezys goodnight, vibing to our lord and gay icon Taylord “T. Swizzle” Swift song and flexing them iPhone 11 Max Pros. Percy literally said that going to Burger King with his mother once in a while would be considered a luxury. He’s a poor bastard in literal sense.

Part of the problem with the distinction of Percy’s character and his motives stem from the fact that Percy is a sneaky unreliable narrator and we as the audience (especially if you’re younger) don’t question most of his behavior if you even question some (pretty sure that most of us only picked up weird stuff as adults). Everything seems plausible to you. But does it mean that his behavior is necessarily good? Something that would paint his character as good?

Like I’ve said, let’s take a look at TLT. The very beginning of everything and the wonderful line that gets quoted everywhere: “Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood”. 

The very first line that quoted everywhere or used as in moodboard and edits but its meaning and significance get brushed off for the most part. It immediately sets the tone and the atmosphere for the book and for Percy as a character. A(n in my opinion) morally gray character. The very first thing we hear from Percy is that he doesn’t want to be in this world. He’s an involuntary participant who has been (upon further reading) blackmailed and forced into this world and is only cooperating to get his mother back and said in regards to his father (who also stands for the Greek pantheon) ”well yeah, would be nice to know about my dad but I’ve survived without him the past twelve years so I don’t know, he wouldn’t be missed necessarily I guess?“ That pretty much tells you, it foreshadows, that we will be dealing with someone with grit, someone that fights back, someone that went through shit, someone that isn’t a goody two-shoed character. Does it mean he’s a terrible (in the sense of evil or bad) character from the get go? Not really, but it tells you in nuances that he won’t be the white shining knight you might expect from a fairy tale.

There is so much that little Perseus Jackson has to offer you directly in the first book. So much that paints him as a morally gray character. From the illegal candy stash all the way to tricking Procrustes into his own trap. He knows right from wrong and isn’t innocent by any means. He wants you to think he’s innocent. Yes, he hunts monsters and the book also tells you that some adults (Gabe) can also be monsters, but Percy’s personality is so interesting and full of facets which I love! He’s misleading you on purpose. Deflects, plays events down. He lies in front of you to others but you don’t really doubt it. Instead of questioning it, you understand it.

What distinguishes Percy from other male protagonists in that notion that the author doesn’t try to paint him as particularly good (the reader connects the dots, in reality) is pretty much that. Percy is neither inherently good or bad. He’s in the middle. He does lots of questionable things and his personality adds to it. Something that immediately comes to my mind is his lack of fear of consequences. He thinks in the short term and not in the long term. Of course, he’s caring about those that are close and important to him (Grover, Annabeth and his mother of course. And well. The world not getting destroyed by his weird father and fucking crazy uncle would be a plus). But Percy isn’t really a strategist (yet). Look at the Medusa head thingy. Annabeth and Grover warn him, that he’s gonna get his ass beat and he doesn’t care. That these gods could squish him in the end didn’t matter to him.

The Olympian gods are painted as these unpenetrable huge mighty force and some fuzzy annoyed twelve year old dipshit sends them the severed head of a monster - but not any monster, the monster his father had a role in creating (well, Athena for the most part, but you know what I mean). (Also, I know this kinda reckless behavior gets sorta rewarded but at first, everyone was like ‘NO, NO, NO!’ before Percy was glorious with his attempt). Percy essentially tells these ancient forces that drive the way of his new cosmos how shit‘s gonna work from now on.

Percy isn’t fear riddled and doesn’t think about the possible outcome. He manipulates, he lies, he persuades and all of this as soon as he hits twelve. But probably earlier. Pretty sure he had to become a believable lier in order to trick (survive being around) Gabe. Perseus is angry, he’s agitated. Had Riordan written Percy as a soft spoken, frightened, goody two-shoed kid, almost nothing in TLT and the follow-ups would have made sense. He’s the outcast, but slowly blossoms into the strength and muscles of the group. Of the entire camp. Someone that outsmarts opponents and wins battles. But he didn’t do that by playing nice and being a bootlicker.

TLT would’ve been a perfect standalone book that would have emphasized that Percy is an involuntary person sive) if you skip Kronos, leave a little bit foreshadowing with the prophecy out, tweak the talks with the gods and Annabeth’s first meeting and skip Luke and the scorpion at the end. The ending would’ve been “and so Percy had a first awesome summer vacation and found a group of friends for life” or so (aka PJO movie 1 in less shitty and more cohesive).

The morally gray character shrinks a little bit in the SOM because there lie straighter dangers ahead which dive more into the bigger picture and Percy grows more into the character who takes care of friends and but he does come back with TTC, and definitely BOTL and the St. Helens explosion.

Consequences of Percy’s interactions had people partially dying. There is doubt, there is guilt. But the show must go on. There are battles that have to be won. There is no big giving up, no big overturn for the bad guys.

Also... isn’t it interesting that we start with Percy saying ”look, I don’t want to be in this world“ in TLT and it ends with TLO where he says ”for once I didn’t look back“? The full circle? The way that accepting his fate took five books? To change Percy from being an involuntary participant to becoming voluntary? He didn’t want to be a half-blood, he didn’t want to be the kid in the prophecy, but he actively chose to be in the end. He went from a darker shade of gray to a mayhaps lighter, if you want to say so.

To conclude, I repeat myself again: it’s not about whether Percy is a morally gray character or not, it’s that he has to be.

Thanks for asking me about some meta stuff I really do like diving into these things here and there. Tumblr’s sorta glitchy, I do get notifications but I really don’t see asks, so I’m sorry if my response is mad late ^^

#mel answers #pjo #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #the lightning thief #rick riordan #the last olympian

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Untamed TAZ Balance AU? Don't have to write anything, just consider that (is Wen Ning Lucretia in this or is he too nice for that)

NHS IS LUCRETIA, NHS IS ABSOLUTELY LUCRETIA, I HAVE THOUGHTS, my girlfriend yelled at me for these thoughts.  Hell this got long, I’ve literally been saving it in my drafts until Tumblr fixed the Read More issue.

WWX is Taako, JC is Magnus, WQ is Merle, JYL is in the umbrella (became a lich to keep her brother from doing it), WN is the Red Robe (became a lich because he thought it seemed reasonable), NHS is Lucretia, XXC is Davenport, LWJ and LXC are mutually Kravitz (LXC sets his bro up with the death criminal wizard), Wen Zhuliu is John Vore, LSZ is Angus but also a baby Reaper

ONE

So Wei Wuxian isn’t really a wizard, is the thing.  Like, he does the wizard magic, and apparently he has strong Wizard Vibes because wherever he travels, people ask him if he can solve their magical bullshit problems, but he’s, like, barely a wizard.  He’s an inventor, technically, except that a few years back some stuff went explosively awry while he worked with this traveling show and–yeah.  So he’s working as a wizard because, hey, he can cast Magic Missile and he needs to eat and he’s an Evocation specialist, anyway, so it’s not like he’s out here making food from rocks.  He’s hired on with a couple other random jackasses, a fighter who took a dislike to Wei Wuxian right off the bat and a cleric with a bad temper and an itchy Sacred Flame finger, and they’re doing a job for some dwarf, or whatever.  The dwarf has a guy hired on as muscle, but he doesn’t look like much, all wide eyes and baby face.  He calls himself Qionglin, no last name, and stares at Wen Qing like he’s never seen a cleric before, and Jiang Cheng spends the entire trip to Phandolin messing with his whip, which is the stupidest weapon Wei Wuxian has ever seen.

Well, then everything immediately goes horribly wrong, though, and turns out that Jiang Cheng is pretty okay with that whip.  Qionglin (Wei Wuxian spoke to the man all of one time, but he was sweet, if a little awkward) gets himself kidnapped by a bunch of goblins, and their employer is gods-know-where with whatever a Black Spider is, and suddenly this very boring escort mission is a very not boring rescue mission.

There’s a skeleton in the cave.  Wei Wuxian takes an umbrella from it, and it crumbles into dust beneath its red robe.  There’s a very annoyed man with a sword who calls himself Song Lan and speaks in static, and he’s somehow not the weirdest part of this whole day.

Phandolin doesn’t survive its brush with the Zidian Gauntlet, and neither does Qionglin.  Wen Qing screams when he dies, and Wei Wuxian grabs her under the arms with Jiang Cheng and books it for the empty well in Song Lan’s wake, and they just hide.  

And then they go to the goddamn moon, apparently.

TWO

The goddamn moon is run by an older man with hair still a glossy black, toying with a beautifully painted white fan in his hand.  He calls himself the Director and–after some testing–hires them more or less on the spot.  Something flickers over his face when Wen Qing, bemused by her own upset, makes an offhand mention of a man named Qionglin who died when the Gauntlet brought down so much lightning that it turned Phandolin into black glass.  But it’s not Wei Wuxian’s problem, so he doesn’t worry himself over it too much.  He takes the payment offered to him by the Director’s aide, a blindfolded, stunningly handsome man in Bureau blue and white who rests his hand on his own chest and says “Xiao Xingchen” and not another word.

The Bureau is–weird.  They’ve got a giant jellyfish and a store run by–something Wei Wuxian Does Not Trust and a dorm.  Wei Wuxian laughs and kicks Jiang Cheng cheerfully in the ankle and says “Just like college, huh?” and Jiang Cheng gives him a dark look and snaps “I never went to college.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, blinking.  “Me neither.”

Whatever.  They go on a train adventure and there’s a kid, a kid who blinks and stares at Wei Wuxian like he’s seen a goddamn ghost and immediately walks up to introduce himself as Lan Sizhui, boy detective.

Wei Wuxian fucking loves this kid.  He’s not sure why this wide-eyed fifteen-year-old latched onto him so hard, but he’s smart, funny, loyal, and extremely easy to pick on.  13/10 child rating, in Wei Wuxian’s book.

(Sizhui, for his part, more or less kicks down the door to his father’s offices in the Astral Plane the second the Reclaimers are gone and shouts “I HAVE A LEAD ON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD.”)

(His father, Lan Wangji, the Grim Reaper, is very interested to hear all about it–especially when his son casually name-drops three of the biggest bounties that the Raven King, his adoptive elder brother, has ever sent him after, with the exception of that absolutely insufferably sweet-tempered lich Wen Ning.)

THREE

So…the Crystal Kingdom.

Is it Wei Wuxian’s finest hour, shouting obscure tentacle-related threats at the second crystal construct they’ve seen in the past twenty minutes?  No, probably not.  But it’s been a stressful day, they’re already down one Regulator and Song Lan is fuck-knows-where with Mianmian and, again, this is the second menacing crystal construct they’ve seen in twenty minutes.  Or maybe it’s the same one? 

Whatever, doesn’t matter.  They’re here to hunt down Meng Yao, a scientist who’s been dicking around with some seriously ill-advised necromancy and also the Philosopher’s Stone, and a crystal construct or two isn’t going to stop them.

Wei Wuxian actually physically cannot help himself, though, when the Reapers appear in the mirror, a matched set of beautiful men, and he grins broadly at the one glaring at him most viciously.  They get let go on a technicality, along with a conduit still containing Meng Shi’s memory of a vision beyond the cosmos, and Meng Yao leaves with his life and not much more.

Later, Lan Wangji is absolutely betrayed by the realization that his brother willfully set him up to be the primary go-between for the completely breathtaking deeply irritating wizard-by-way-of-death-criminal.  And that’s before the whole lich revelation.  (He does get a kiss, though, after he watches his brother pulled under by the Hunger.  That’s nice.  He hopes Wei Wuxian will mitigate the death crimes now that they’re dating.)

FOUR

The seven Relics are as follows:

The Zidian Gauntlet, which can generate a lightning blast so powerful that it can obliterate an entire city.  (Jiang Cheng–he watched the others try to lay in protections, try to make their Relics harmless, and he knew it wouldn’t work.  All the Gauntlet does is damage.  It can melt a city down to black glass, but it can’t be twisted, it can’t be made into any more of a nightmare than it already is.  He’s a fighter.  He knows all about damage, knew all about what he was making.  That doesn’t mean it didn’t kill him by inches to watch it leave a path of destruction–so much that his beloved jiejie tried to seal it away.)

The Oculus, which can make any construct real.  (Xiao Xingchen–Nie Huaisang didn’t take everything.  He doesn’t remember the mission, or his own past.  Something strange got confused in the process, and he lost most of his speech.  But he remembers how to fight, handles his sword as cleanly and effectively as ever, and he remembers that he doesn’t think much of Nie Huaisang’s combat skills.  Or maybe it’s just really obvious that Nie Huaisang isn’t much of a fighter.  Regardless, Xiao Xingchen insisted on accompanying him, before–before.  Then they went into the Felicity Wilds, and…Xue Yang is honestly delighted.  He’s never managed to ruin someone so badly on the way into Wonderland before.  It’s just a shame that Nie Huaisang sent Xiao Xingchen away before they reached the doors.)

The Healer’s Sash, which can manipulate natural forces like the wind, the tides, and tectonic plates just as easily as it can manipulate a heartbeat or a pair of lungs.  (Wen Qing–she prays to Pelor, the Dawnfather, the healer and Lord of Light, but she’s long since lost her faith in him as anything but a contracted boss.  It’s a shock to everyone including her when she’s granted a right arm made of glass and magic after losing it.  She was so determined to make a Relic that could be used for good, but–well.  She supposes she should have known better.)

The Philosopher’s Stone, which can more or less transform anything into anything.  (Jiang Yanli–she’s a Transmutation wizard, she’s been feeding the crew of the Starblaster for a hundred years on whatever she can pull together.  If the right person found the Stone, it would have ended world hunger.  The wrong person found the stone.  Jiang Yanli tried her damnedest to hunt it down, but she found the Gauntlet first, and, well–she already became a lich to stop one younger brother from doing it.  It’s not a struggle to decide that she’s going to take responsibility for saving Jiang Cheng from his own guilt.  Then things go horribly wrong, and she spends the next twelve years in an umbrella.)

The Temporal Chalice, which offers complete control over time.  (Wen Ning–he was a strict scholar until his sister was contacted about the IPRE’s creation, but he always did want to travel, and his theories about bonds were too good for Xiao Xingchen to pass up having on his crew.  Everything he’s done since they lost their home system has been about trying not to leave his family, about trying for second chances, he became a lich for them, he’s done everything to stay with them, of course his Relic is a second chance generator.)

The Animus Flute, which offers control over the spirits of the dead and, in the hands of a sufficiently competent expert, the living.  (Wei Wuxian–he’s watched his brother, his sister, his friends, die so many times.  He’s terrified of immortality, but he’s most terrified of being alone.  He meant to make something that could keep the dead present, so that they would never have to fear being left behind again.  Watching it rip Jiang Cheng’s soul clean out of his body in Xue Yang’s hands is the worst thing Wei Wuxian can remember, even after everything is over.)

The Bulwark, which Nie Huaisang never did explain to anyone, but took the shape of a hand-painted fan.  (Nie Huaisang lost the only person who mattered to him when the Hunger ate their home, and then as he slowly, painstakingly, rebuilt something like a family, he had to watch them suffer and die for a hundred years.  And then he watched them win, and grieve like dying all over again for the winning.  He’s sorry they suffered for his actions.  He’s not sorry for what he did.)

FIVE

Wen Zhuliu didn’t mean to make his whole plane give up.  But he had spent his whole life being used, and it all just seemed so pointless.  It all just seemed so pointless.  There was always someone stronger, always something bigger, always a rule he couldn’t break, always something, and he started talking, started telling people as much, and--

Wen Qing is about the farthest thing in the fucking world from a peacemaker by nature, if you ask her, but she’s a healer first, last, and most of all.  And, she thinks as she watches the sun sink with a very tired man crumbling away at her side, she might be the only person in the worlds who ever noticed that Wen Zhuliu needed a healer.

(They aren’t from the same plane, but--some of the others have found distant family, on their new home.  It’s an unanswerable question, if they might have been family, a few dimensions removed.  Wen Ning still thinks about it.)

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #taz balance #taz au #starlight writes stuff #*sprints into the room with this au multiple months late and completely out of breath* H E R E #this has been languishing in my drafts for. mm. ever. #i don't even remotely remember enough of my original thoughts about it to provide a lot of tags #but i do have a case for why wzl is john vore (and it's NOT just that i think he's interesting) #i could've made jgy the hunger BUT the plot of taz requires some...reconciliatory ending structure? #and honestly nhs still being something of a puppet master means that i couldn't justify that with jgy #i needed a villain less close to nhs' heart. so i thought about xue yang but i like him as the wonderland lich TOO MUCH. #so instead i thought about who i should make the parlay person--first instincts were jyl and wn because they're Nice #but then i decided that i didn't actually need Nice nearly so much as i needed Invested #and by god can wen qing Invest #so okay--if she was going to do the parlay then i didn't need someone who could be talked around i needed someone who needed a healer #so: wen zhuliu #i don't have to justify myself to you fools #also jgy is always everyone's biggest bad so he can let someone else have a turn #jyl develops a crush on a completely socially awkward rogue from inside an umbrella by the way! #pour one out for jzx because he is NOT equipped for an ethereal woman of violet fire to blush at him #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #thishazeleyeddemon #asked and answered

[onlyfireandphoenix]

The Golden Rules (from the Golden Boy Himself)

Summary: Dick tries to teach Tim how to be a good brother (as well as a semi-normal human) through love and affection

Dick had called an emergency meeting of Robins, which meant that it was just him and Tim sitting in the living room with a tray of Alfred’s cookies. 

“Tim, we need to talk,” Dick was surprisingly serious, which was not comforting coming from the person who never learned to be serious outside of his masked life. Tim knew that something bad must have happened. What had he done this time? Was he going to get kicked out of the Robin mantle?

Dick looked at him, and frowned, “Tim we have a problem.” Oh no, he knew it. He was getting kicked out of the mantle and he didn’t even know what he did. “You are way too serious.” Wait… what? Tim glanced at Dick trying to puzzle out what he heard. Surely he must have heard wrong.

“Tim, you are like what? Ten?”

“Twelve,” Tim said indignantly.

Dick plowed right through like he hadn’t heard. “No ten year old should be as serious or reserved as you. It’s not healthy.”

Sooo…. Tim wasn’t getting kicked out? This was only an intervention! He couldn’t believe that Dick would call an emergency meeting to tell him that he needed to be less serious. 

“So, I thought that I will teach you how to be less serious.” Because he was the perfect example of less serious of course. Still out of respect for Dick and not wanting to hurt his feelings, Tim stayed.

“Great! Now, lesson number is one everyone always needs a hug. You can never give too many hugs.”

Tim frowned at Dick. He knew that Boy Wonder was much more knowledgeable in the area of physical contact, but he clearly remembered Batman’s face last time Dick tried to hug him. “Are you sure about this? Bruce never seems to like it when you hug him.”

Dick pouted at Tim. “Tim… you don’t trust me?”

And there were those stupid puppy dog eyes. Why did Dick always pull those puppy dog eyes on him? Any why did they work every single time? Tim sighed, and Dick gave a gleeful squeal and hugged Tim as if to prove his point.

After few weeks of not so subtly drilling this lesson into Tim’s head, Dick watched from a distance as after a long patrol, a exhausted Tim Drake shuffled over to where Batman was sitting in the cave and gave him a hug that might have been more of a collapse than a hug, but still, it was progress.

The first time Tim had tried Dick’s advice, Dick remembered watching Bruce stiffen like a board under the tiny boy’s embrace. It took a week and much encouragement from Dick for Tim to try it again. Dick might or might not have given many lectures to an emotionally constipated bat behind the scenes, but Tim did try again, and this time Batman did not stiffen. From then on it was smoother sailing. And Tim had begun hugging people on a much regular basis. Now even the emotionally constipated bat was getting use to the idea that it was not only Dick that gave hugs and that maybe normal people hugged each other more than just on their birthdays. 

Now that stage one was completed, Dick decided that it was time to move on to step two.

Tim sighed as Dick called another emergency meeting. He wondered if this one was an actually emergency. Knowing Dick he doubted it, but he still went anyway, if only to humor Dick. 

“It is time for lesson two,” Dick said in all seriousness. So no, it was not an actual emergency. Figures. “You need to know how to cuddle.” Was he serious? But knowing Dick, yes, unfortunately he was completely serious. “Cuddling on the couch is important in everyone’s life, so you need to get acquainted with it.” Dick decided to work on cuddling while watching Lilo and Stitch, which if Tim was honest, he wasn’t opposed to. 

Dick felt a surge on glee as one night after he had convinced Tim to watch another movie with him, Tim plopped right down next to him and curled up like a kitten next to Dick. The child was finally learning! 

Soon even Batman started noticing that Tim was becoming more like Dick, but at first he saw nothing wrong with it. The problems started when he found Tim dangling from a light fixture eating a bowl of cereal. That is when he called in Dick to reign in these ‘lessons’.

“Oh come on B, don’t you like having a more friendly, slightly more normal child around instead on a miniature version of you?”

“I do not mind that you are teaching Tim to be more socially interactive, but I do not want to see you teaching him your unhealthy addiction to cereal or to risk his neck my dangling from places that are not meant to be dangled from.” Dick sensing that he was not going to get anywhere by arguing, agreed. However, Bruce never said anything about discontinuing the lessons…

That is how Bruce got stuck with another, smaller Dick Grayson. 

Tim had heard that Jason was back. He had heard that something was very wrong inside his head, but he still hoped that maybe now, he could finally meet his predecessor, and brother that he never had. Of course he had been warned to stay away, and he would never break Batman’s order, so he didn’t try to go hunting for Jason, but if he happened to patrol a little later than normal or stray closer to Crime Alley than he did before, who could stop him?

This strategy of ‘avoiding’ Jason finally paid off when three shots came whizzing past Robin on one of his slightly longer patrols.

“Greetings from the dead, Replacement!” IT WAS JASON! Tim would recognize that voice anywhere, even though it was slightly distorted through the red mask Jason was wearing.

“JASON!” Tim squealed before launching himself at the vigilante. Jason who was not expecting this, took a moment to shake off the child that was… hugging...him?

“Get off me, you rat!” Tim only clung on harder and climbed further onto him with Dick-like agility.

“Ican’tbelieveitisreallyyou!” The miniature Dick rambled. “I have wanted to meet you since forever, and now you are here, and alive, and RIGHT HERE! I can’t wait until you get to go back to being Robin! You will kick so much bad guy derriere!” Who was this kid, and what had Dick done to him? This kid should not be allowed next to any sugar. Jason would make sure to warn Alfred, but knowing Alfred, he already knew and had locked all of the sugar in a bat-proof safe.

“Look Replacement, I don’t do all of the hugging and touchy feely things, okay?” He peeled the kid off of him and pinned the boy’s cape to a nearby wall.”

“Nightwing says that everyone always needs a hug. It is rule number one.” Even behind his domino mask, Jason could tell the kid’s eyes were unnaturally bright. And of course it was Dick’s number one rule. Jason would make him pay for corrupting this child.

The child suddenly changed the subject. “Are you aware of the breakout at Arkham?” And before waiting for a reply, he plowed on. “There were no major ones that escaped but a few of the lower ones did and I am trying to track them. I was wondering if you could help me?” 

Jason knew exactly what the little vermin was doing. Nightwing had already tried this tactic on him MULTIPLE times. “Why isn’t the big old bat helping you?”

“I think that he is away in a JL mission and Nightwing is away at Bludhaven.” 

“So they left you here to deal with it alone?” Jason couldn’t tell if he was impressed by the kid’s guts or furious at the bats for abandoning one of their own? Maybe a little of both? But no, he was not going to be roped into helping any of the bats.

Then the rat delivered his final blow. “Okay that is fine. But could you get me another cup of coffee? I haven’t been able to get enough sleep since the breakout.”

He would strangle Dick if he ever got his hands on him again. No remorse. In fact he was thrilled about the fact. Him and his manipulative little clone. 

“Replacement,” Jason growled in warning. He was not going to be manipulated into helping this accursed family. “Go home.”

“I really shouldn’t. Who knows what these villains might do while they are loose?” He gave a tired smile and was about to leap away, when Jason grabbed his arm.

“Fine, Replacement, I will help! But don’t think I don’t know what you are doing!” The little rat would be the death of him.

Tim grinned as he watched his predecessor kick some bad guy derriere. It was nice to have Jason back home, and Tim would make sure that he comes home permanently. Maybe then Dick would have someone else besides him to teach his rules. 

Jason had finished with the bad guys now, and with a sidelong look at Tim, he silently agreed to just truss them up for the police to handle.

“Now Replacement, go get some sleep and leave me alone.” Tim grinned again and let himself sag to the floor. He really was tired and Jason had never brought him that coffee. “Aww, I didn’t mean here!” Jason said plucking Tim up from the ground, but Tim was already on his way to dreamland. The thought of maybe this is what Dick’s rules were really supposed to be used for, flitted through his head before the sleep took over. The last thing he heard was Jason grumbling about having to drop him off, and with one last smirk, he was asleep.

He woke up a few hours later back inside the mansion with a slightly puzzled Dick hovering over him. “What happened out there last night?”

Tim smiled up at his big brother and replied, “I used rule number one.” Then he scooted off the makeshift bed and walked out of the room, leaving a still very confused Dick behind.

It wasn’t like Jason came over any more than normal, but if the bats got into some trouble, there was always someone who would miraculously save their bacon right in the nick of time. Now who this guardian angel was, who could guess….

………. 

Then along came Damian, the demon spawn. He was the one that really challenged Dick’s rules. Maybe this was the one person that truly did not like being hugged. But that couldn’t be true because he let Dick hug him. What was up with that? Tim frowned at his little brother who was sitting across the cave. If the rules worked for Jason, surely they would work for this child, so with a deep breath, he walked towards the demon child. 

“What are you doing, Drake?”

“Just coming to say hi, you know like a good brother would do.”

“We are not brothers, Drake,” the little brat was sure not making it easy.

“Okay, but will you be willing to come watch a movie with Dick and I?” Tim felt sure he could rope Dick into watching a movie. He loved stuff like that.

“Tt, I assume Dick is going to force me to do it if I refuse.”

Knowing Dick, he probably would. “Yes…”

“Fine, Drake, I will meet you up there.” Tim looked at Damian warily. Well that just happened. Tim assumed that it had been a victory for him, but one could never tell with Damian. After all, the assassin child could be plotting his murder at that moment. After a moment’s hesitation, Tim retreated to find Dick. 

…

“Hey Dick,” Tim poked his head into Dick’s room. “Would you mind watching a movie with Damian and I?”

“Oh sorry Timmy, you know how much I would love to, but B has me working on this case, and I don’t think I can take any time off. You know how he is.” Dick did look apologetic, but all Tim could think of was how dead he was going to be once Damian found out. This time there would be no stopping it. He was going to die, and knowing Damian, it would not be pleasant. But maybe he could turn this situation in his favor. Yes, he had been meaning to get some sleep sometime, and dying in your sleep was always better than being tortured. And if he didn’t die, there was always the benefit of getting more than two hours of sleep at one time. Maybe Dick’s rules could come in handy after all...

...

When Damian showed up to watch the movie with Grayson and Drake, he found Drake sitting all alone on the couch. Of course Damian knew right away that this meant that Grayson could not have come to this ‘bonding’ session, but for some reason that completely escaped him, he walked over and sat down anyway.

After a long moment of silence, Damian broke the silence. Just out of curiosity of what Drake would say he asked, “When is Grayson arriving?”

Drake visibly gulped and replied without looking, “Soon, but let us go ahead and start the movie.” It was said way too quickly. Drake might be an expert at lying when he was under the mask, but in familial situations like this he was less than competent. Still, Grayson would prefer it if Damian participated in this ‘brotherly bonding’, so he pretended to be blind to Drake’s obvious lie.

“Do you want to watch Star Wars?” Tim asked as he held out the whole collection with a pride that was something to be ashamed of.

“What would Grayson want to watch?” Damian couldn’t help himself. It was quite amusing to watch Drake squirm as he tried to figure out a way to justify a decision that Grayson would clearly dislike. 

“Well…… he isn’t here right now, and I would prefer to have a movie marathon right now.”

Damian didn’t care one way or another what they watched, so he gave his consent. Though he did vaguely wonder why Drake would want to watch a marathon. Usually he did not want to hang out with Damian if he could help it.

However, it did not take him long to figure out why Drake was so keen on the marathon because not even five minutes into the film, he was sound asleep. Wrapped around a very stiff Damian.

That sly little manipulator, Damian could almost not help but be impressed with Drake’s skill at masterminding this entire scenario just so he could get some sleep. Drake must know that Grayson would never allow Father to take Drake away from a “bonding” experience with his brother. He also knew that Grayson would never forgive Damian for waking Drake once he was finally getting some sleep, so Damian was stuck with an unconscious brother for 9 hours. 

Drake would pay for this later, but Damian admitted that he needed the sleep, so he waited out the movie. 

When Dick finally managed to take a break from the case, he was surprised to still hear noise coming from the living room. He quietly peeked his head and and laid eyes of something that he had only dared wish for in dreams. Not only was Timmy finally asleep, but he was asleep on Damian. And Damian wasn’t trying to kill him! The worst thing about this scene was Damian’s scowl, but there was not blood or knives, so Dick didn’t worry too much. 

There was no way he was going to interrupt this progress, so he quietly stole some of Alfred’s cookies and headed back to the cave. 

Tim awoke to find that he wasn’t dead. That was good at least. Damian was no longer in the room, but Dick sat on edge of the couch.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he grinned. Catching Tim’s questioning look around, he said, “Damian had to go to school. You know, we have to keep up the appearance of a semi-normal family.” Tim gave a small, sleepy nod, and rolled out of bed.

“I am really glad you taught me those rules.” Dick didn’t bother to think about Tim’s sleepy ramblings, so he just grinned and caught Tim when he tripped over a stray blanket.

……….

This time Tim didn’t even mean to use the rules. It wasn’t even his fault. He was just tired and had a bit too much work to do. The rest of his family shouldn’t have even noticed, but somehow they managed to catch wind of his perpetual exhaustion decided to do something about it.

Dick suggested that they hold an intervention because those had worked in the past. Jason suggested they knocked him over the head and carry him to bed. Bruce wasn’t there as usual. No one would let Damian give his suggestion because no one wanted another dead Robin (except Jason at times, but those were becoming more rare).

This meant that the bat brothers spent the afternoon arguing about whose idea was better. 

Damian rolled his eyes at Grayson and Todd. Sometimes his predecessors were fools. If Damian wanted Drake dead, the whole world would know, and that mechanical fraud would already be dead by now. However, Drake was an asset to the team, as long as he didn’t kill himself through exhaustion. 

His brothers were obviously incompetent to handle the situation, he snuck out of the room to handle it himself. 

Now where would a sleep deprived Drake be? He wouldn’t be in the cave because Father had banned him after Drake had collapsed mid lecture from Batman for lack of personal care. Probably then Drake would be holed up in his room. Sure enough, Damian could hear low moans coming from said room that could possibly resemble some form of language. The locked door was only a small inconvenience, and within seconds, Damian had the door opened.

“Demon Spawn?” a slurred voice asked hidden under a canopy of covers. “What ‘re you doin’ ‘ere?”

Damian pulled the covers away to find a haggard Drake surrounded by piles of papers. “Tt Drake, I am here to make sure you survive the next few hours.”

“I’m survivin’ great,” the slurred, slightly delirious voice responded.

“Grayson says that we need to have some ‘brotherly bonding’ time. He says that we need to watch a movie called The Guardians, and he has sacrificed some of his favorite chocolate milk for this.”

“But… I need to finish this for Bruce…” Drake stared blankly at the papers surrounding him.

Curse Drake and his stupid lack of self preservation instincts. But Damian needed to convince Drake to go along with this, not force him because Drake would only dig his heels in if he thought this might be some kind of trick. “Do you want to disappoint Grayson, Drake?”

“Well...no…” 

“Then we need to have this ‘brotherly bonding’.”

Drake looked suspiciously at Damian. “Why ‘re you insistin’ on this? ‘Re you gonna kill me again?”

Damian replied as gently as a former assassin could. “No, I just want to assuage Grayson’s constant naggings.” Apparently that was enough to convince the sleep deprived Drake of his sincerity because Drake shoved some of his papers aside to make room for Damian on the bed. Damian quickly set up the movie and moved nest to Drake on the bed. “Here is Grayson’s chocolate milk.” He handed Drake a mug of the milk he had swiped for this occasion. Grayson would not mind his donation once he found out what it was for. 

Drake clung to the milk and gulped it all down in only a few seconds. Damian was almost impressed with how he didn’t choke. Once the movie had started, Tim curled up against Damian, and within five minutes he was sound asleep.

Damian quickly scooted off the bed and collected the stray papers. He then gathered the discarded mug and made his escape.

Damian then went down to where his predecessors were still arguing. “The matter has been dealt with.” He said matter of factly as he interrupted their heated discussion. The both turned towards him with identical looks of horification. “I did not kill him, if that is what you are thinking.” Again, both faces sagged with relief.

“Then, what did you do?” Grayson asked hesitantly.

“I tampered with his chocolate milk.”

“Chocolate milk!” Grayson exclaimed. “My chocolate milk?!?” Todd promptly hit him in the head for being an idiot. “Okay fine, I guess that is okay.” Grayson grumbled.

“Drake will be asleep for at least 24 hours,” Damian reported.

“Good work,” Todd said, almost sounding surprised and possibly a bit relieved. 

“Tt, of course, Todd. Unlike you two, I was able to get the job accomplished.” Damian took that opportunity to escape before things could get sentimental. 

#Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #Fix-it #Small Tim Drake #Jason Comes Home #damian needs a hug #Tim needs sleep #Protective Tim Drake #Protective Damian Wayne

[gunsmoke-snakeoil]

At the Rivers Edge- Pt 1

Arthur X Female!Reader 

 Part 2| Part 3

Arthur comes into camp with a familiar dark air about him that leaves you hurting in his stead. Being one of the few who know him well enough to read his body language, you do everything to keep his mind off of the one and only Mary Linton

This one ended up getting long, and I wanted to split it up. However I felt like it would take away from the story… So in the end I decided it will just be a really long, short story. I hope you will all forgive me for it’s length, and enjoy this fluffy and angsty little fic! Stay safe and healthy! 

A shit eating grin radiated off your glowing face as you slammed your hunting knife into the table in a wave of victory. Hoops and hollers echoed through the trees as you slouched back in your chair, eyeing your blonde headed opponent. Micah mumbled complaints and slides in your direction while forcing the tip of his knife from the wood grain of the table. He wiped the blade on his pants before spreading his fingers wide.

It was one of those days; too hot to go out but perfect for staying in and enjoying the fleeting cool mountain breeze that happened it’s way through Horseshoe Overlook.  Everyone in camp had that same feeling, so that late afternoon when chores were nearly completed, there was a challenge of five finger fillet  and Micah was the Challenger. People would pay to see you compete against him.

It was well known that a rivalry blossomed between you since the moment he graced the gang with his presence. He hated that you, a woman, stood on a higher pedestal then he did. Your word was held to more importance then his. And whenever you’d take a lead and begin your journey out with Arthur or John by your side; he’d spit venom at you for being one of the side arms of Dutch. Women are second to the man and when I get on top, you’ll be the first to fall. You hardly paid his snarls any mind, you just moved on passed as if the breeze had whistled just a touch.

Ever since his entry in, he worked his way to the top ready to drop who he could. And like an ear mite he began to work into Dutch’s ear. And Micah would challenge you all the way for dominance, whether it was big or small it didnt matter, he just needed to win.

So when Micah stabbed his knife into the table you sat at eating Pearson’s stew and presented the challenge; everyone was gathered to see how well the cocky gunslinger would manage.

You rubbed your smooth, unscathed fingers watching as Micah slipped, nicking the crease of his pinkie finger. He seethed before starting again, quicker this time to make up for the loss. Before he made it back to his oozing pinkie, Lenny slammed the table “Time!” He shouted making Micah curse and toss his knife.

“Well, that leaves (Y/N) with nine, and Micah with eight.” Javier grinned, sipping at a half drunk beer. Micah scowled, watching your sweet eyes move around the crowd.

“Good game Micah,” you smirked, “you talk the talk,” you stood pulling your knife from the table and sheathing it. “But you can’t walk the walk.”

“I think that was luck.” Micah’s voice came off in a airy tone, “I say we do it again. This time will be different.”

The sound of beating hooves caught your attention and you turned your head to see Arthur ride in with a swarm of bad air. “I’d love to Micah, but you ought to rest that bloody stump of a hand before trying again. I’d hate to see you lose a finger.” You narrowed your eyes with a quirky grin before going to greet Arthur.

It was another well known fact that you were very close with Arthur. And just like him and John, you were one of the first. You were young, about 14 when Hosea and Dutch introduced you to the boys. You had a wild look to you, drawn up from abandonment and abuse that lead you to act in a crazed way that intrigued the older gentlemen. You were shaking and covered in bruises and blood when you met the eyes of Arthur and John. It took you a while, but you came around and became close with both boys; especially Arthur. Over the years, you both went sweet on each other but couldn’t gain the courage to admit it. And the feeling always stuck even after he met Mary Gillis.

“How’s it goin’,” you grinned giving his stallion a soft pat as Arthur climbed down.

“Been better.” He sighed while whispering compliments in his horses’ ear.

You knew Arthur pretty well, and you could read some of his body language like a book. His jaw tightened and his blue eyes grew a little cold. Your heart grew heavy, sinking deep towards your stomach. He gave you a weak smile before turning to head into camp. You stood cemented in place, running gentle hands down the mane of his  Dutch Warmblood. 

“Tell me boy,” you whispered as Arthur stopped at Dutch’s tent, with his large hands resting on his gun belt. “Did he meet up with Mary?” The horse whinnied almost like a confirmation. You gave him a sugar cube as a thank you before nodding slowly, “thought so.”

You hated Mary, and Arthur knew that. You didn’t hate her because he loved her; you weren’t that shallow. You hated the way she talked to him, hated the way she treated him and the way she left him. You had watched the way she destroyed pieces of him you were lucky to see before they were damaged. He was a different man after she came through like a tsunami of manipulation and negativity. And even after the engagement was broken, her picture remained at his bedside. You had wished to go back before he met Mary and confess all of your feelings to spare him the heartbreak.

You plotted, while leaning against the post between your horse and his; on how to take his mind off of whatever transpired in the few days he had been gone. If your sole purpose was to bring him back from whatever sad trip he took, then you’d be damned if that job hadn’t been completed. Your wild bay mustang laid his head on your shoulder huffing his hot breath onto your cheek. He lipped your ear gently making you giggle and nudge him off. “I’m thinking Zeus.” Your horse snorted, dipping his head down to catch some grass in his teeth.

You kicked at a rock buried deep in the earth, masked beneath the saw grass that came up to your upper thigh. Digging the tip of your boot to wedge beneath the rock, you kicked it up and smacked it out of the way. Your gaze followed the bending blades of grass and didn’t stop until you found Arthur’s figure again. Now he was talking to a drunk Swanson, who seemed to have a permanent scent of beer staining his weathered skin. People would think nothing of  Arthur’s changed demeanor. Nor would they notice. But you knew by the way he stood, the way his blue green eyes hardly held the motivation to focus on anything in particular. You felt the twinge of restlessness settle in your bones. Just a mild distraction you thought as you pushed yourself off the hitching post. 

Arthur moseyed over to Strauss who sat near the edge of Horseshoe overlook writing feverishly in the ledger. “Ah, Mr. Morgan-” Strauss began, looking over his rounded glasses. Arthur tipped his hat, looking out at the valley below. Strauss wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it up to Arthur, who hesitantly took it and looked over it. You moved through camp quietly, not picking up to much attention as you moved towards Arthur. You hadn’t thought up any plan, but you were better on the spot anyway. Once you stood a few feet from Arthur with his back to you, head down and looking at the paper, you waited a moment for that idea to pop up. And it surely did as soon as he shifted his hat slightly on his head.

You smiled wickedly, glancing around at the less then aware camp behind you. Biting your lip, you rose to your tip toes and grabbed the brim of his hat. With one motion you whipped the hat off his head and rested it gently on your own. It was way to big, and covered your eyes slightly. The whiff of musky scent the hat held filled your body with a sudden nervousness. The confidence that forced your hand to take the hat was pilfered as soon as the hat hit your own head.

He whipped around, meeting your shaking wide grin. You forced the nervousness away for a moment to regain the ability to think straight.

Just a distraction

“What are you doing?”

You shrugged, shifting the hat to properly see the swarm of confusion in his eyes. “I think your hat looks fantastic on me, don’t you?” That nervousness turned quickly to mischievous as you backed up.

“(Y/N) I ain’t really in the mood for this.” He grumbled turning fully to face you. “Give me the hat back.”

With a cheeky grin you popped out your hip. “Now I stole it, you think I’m gonna give it back?” You challenged. “If I robbed a bank, you think imma give that money back cause they want it?” A sudden surge of excitement filled you when he sighed, the look from before dissipated and a spark of playfulness flashed back.

You had everyone’s attention as you backed up slowly towards the horses. “Now if we are playing by that logic,” Arthur reasoned stepping around Strauss “then I have the right to watch you swing.”

“You do, and rightfully so. But in order for that, you gotta catch me.”

“How old you think we are? Twelve?” Arthur grumbled a small smile growing from the corner of his lips.

“Ain’t too old for thievn’ and taking what I want.” You hummed while turning on your heels and walking to your horse. “I always wanted the hat of the great Arthur Morgan!” You called, holding the crown of his hat to your head. The breeze of your stride threatening to knock it off. Shaking his head he gave an airy chuckle while following after you. He had longer legs, so making the distance between you took hardly any time at all. Of course you were slowed by the wind gathering in his hat. You heard his steps before you saw him and held the hat tight to your crown when you felt it tug.

“Come on, you’re being a fool.” He breathed, grabbing you around your waist to keep you from leaving and again he tried to pry the hat off your head.

“Arthur!” You gasped “look!” You pointed to the trees with one hand.

“Don’t think you’re fooling me with that crap.” He huffed as you slammed your butt into his hips. He released you and a laugh bubbled from your throat and warmed your cheeks.

“I know, silly me,“  the rush of shock that fumbled against his face made your heart skip a beat. It didn’t take long for him to bounce back.

“Oh you are gonna get it woman.” He called, as you quickly made it to your horse. In a rushed frenzy you untied him from the post and took off with Arthur close behind you.

“What wild thing bit you on the ass?” He yelled after you, your hands holding tight to the weathered leather perched on your head. You laughed in response while encouraging Zeus towards the  Dakota River. It only took a small gust of wind to knock that hat off your head and send it flying to the river. You gasped before having Zeus turn sharply and dart towards the bank where the hat sat in the gravel. Zeus had hardly made it to the shore by the time Arthur scooped the hat off the ground.

“You are a terrible thief.” He smirked, watching as you climbed off of your mustang.

You huffed, shaking your head. “I know it. Bout as good as Jack,”

“Now that’s just mean towards Jack. He could do better then this half ass attempt.” Arthur chuckled “I’m sure a squirrel could do better.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Morgan…” You rolled your eyes before focusing them on his chest. “Ew now what’s that?” You asked walking towards him, pointing to his left pectoral. “Looks like you hit a June bug.”

He groaned in disgust, eyes flickering towards his chest; searching for the squashed beetle. You smiled ear to ear before running your finger up his chest, hitting his nose and grabbing his hat off his head. “Made ya look.” You giggled, taking off towards the river with his hat secured in your arms.

He couldn’t help but laugh himself. “You make me wonder if you ever grew up.” He smiled admiring you as you stood at the edge of the water, pointed boots dipped into the waters edge.

“Do any of us really grow up?” You asked putting his hat back on your head while looking out at the river.

“I suppose not all of us…” He came to stand beside you, his boots also dipped into the river. “some of us more then others.“ 

“Keeps us from getting boring.” You breathed, the sun growing warmer, the sky burning gold. In that moment, you wished you were kids again. It seemed so much easier, despite the many things stacked against you. Spontaneously, you kicked off your boots and rolled your pants up to your mid calf. The river water danced through the tips of your toes sending soft shivers through your limbs. You held onto his hat with one hand before taking one large step forward. The glacier water was freezing, but at the same time, you couldn’t careless. It felt good, the rushing rapids brushing against your bare legs.

The feeling of his eyes on you made your heart beat harder, stronger then before; sending waves of heat to your already red cheeks. You noticed the look on his face from the corner of your eye, a small smile graced against his rough features. The blue in his eyes shimmered against the oranges of the sun and that look you knew from before turned into something foreign. You looked away, grinning at the birds flying just in front of the sun, and the deer grazing 200 yards away.

It wasn’t long until Arthur joined you, wading beside you. No words were spoken, but that look remained. “I never seen you smile like that Arthur, you okay?”

The moment cut and he looked down at you. “I’m thinking.” He stated shortly.

“Now I’ve seen your thinking face.” Stepping in front of him, you looked up at his face. “Your eyebrows are usually not so loose. They are more knotted.” Your own mimicked what his would look like. “You’re mouth, well usually that sits in a thin line like this.” You pulled your delicate smile into a line. “and your eyes don’t sparkle quite like that. They are more sharp,” you squinted your eyes just a bit forcing a small chuckle from Arthur.

“Do I look that ugly when I think?”

You couldn’t help but gasp, and hurl a handful of water towards him. “You are not ugly, and I like your thinking face!” He laughed at the offended look you gave him. He sent water back with his foot making you yelp, the water sending a cold shock through your body.

“Tell me what this face means then,” he gave you the dumbest look, jutted jaw, crossed eyes, tongue out.

“That’s the look of I’m bout to kick your ass Morgan!” You shouted grabbing his hat off your head and tossing it to the shore. You charged at him, sending barrels of water his way and he did the same back. You went to push him, but he was ready and hoisted you up on his shoulder.  He kicked back cold waves of water from his feet, soaking your upper body and face. You choked out laughter, pounding balled fists into his back in hopes he’d have enough. “Oh you are so dead! Dead like a door nail!” You gasped as he sat you down. Without a beat, you shoved him enough to send him back into the river. And you winced when he hit, water splashing up and hitting your already drenched face.

The shock from his face disappeared when you laughed, and a smile of his own took its place. You helped him up while wringing out your soaked top. Bending, you collected his hat from the ground and combed your wet hair with your fingers; pushing the locks from your face. He stood, groaning at the wet clothes. You climbed up on a boulder just on the edge of shore and sat down, letting the sun dry you off.

“I’m getting to old for your antics,” he groaned while he stepped to shore.  Smiling you tapped the spot next to you, inviting him into the sun.

“As am I.”

He shook his head and sat beside you, running cold hands down his face. You sat cross legged his hat in your lap. Your fingers traced the many scratches on the brim, fingertips dancing towards the crown where the hat dipped. “You went to visit Mary today didn’t you?” Your eyes never looked up from the hat.

“Why does it matter (Y/N)?”

“She ain’t nothing but trouble Arthur. I don’t like seeing you come home looking like that. She ain’t fair with you.” Your grip on his hat tightened. “what did she even want this time? Cause I can tell nothin good came from it.”

“It ain’t none of your business.”

“Yeah, sure, it is when it hurts you cause seeing you like that hurts me. Why do you keep going back Arthur? Don’t you think you deserve better then that?” Your face flushed with frustration.

Sighing, his face sunk into his cupped palms. “I dunno (Y/N), whenever she calls… I come. She has this way with me. I can’t explain.”

“Well what did she want?”

“Wanted me to help Jamie. He got caught with some Chelonians or some crap.” He propped his arms on his knees, looking out at the setting sun. “I dunno (Y/N), She plays me like a fiddle, and wants me to change to fit her daddy’s vision.”

“You thinking of leaving?” Your voice came off quiet, like a wounded animal.

“No. I can’t.” He met your eyes, the concern flooding them making his own glance away. “I’ve got to many people relying on me. You know that.”

“Good. Because I don’t think she deserves you.” You slid off the rock, pebbles stabbing into your feet. You winced a little, but proceeded towards your boots. You slid them on while Arthur climbed down as well.

“I think you got that confused.” He let out an airy chuckle.

“I know what I said.” The hat fumbled in your hands as you stepped closer to him. “She’s manipulative. She is degrading. Arthur if she can’t see the beauty in who you are, then I don’t see why you stick around. She uses you, because you love her and she knows that. I think you deserve better. Sure, we are doing bad things, robbing and killing. But her guilt tripping you into changing just ain’t right.” You now stood inches from him. “I don’t like how she is with you, because I think you are an amazing man Arthur Morgan, despite all of the bad things. Right now, standing here, you are an amazing man, selfless, loyal, and understanding. You deserve more then she gives you.” You gently sat his hat on his head. “If you love her, fine. But you need to stay true to who you are and what matters most. Don’t change because she wants you to.” Your hand slid down his chest before you pulled away and mounted Zeus.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He breathed as you took off back to camp leaving him at the river’s edge.

#Red Dead Redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan X Reader #Arthur X Reader #rdr2 #rdr #Spoilers #Mary Gillis #mary linton #At the River's Edge

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Nine (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, murder plot

wc; 11.2k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Today marks the eighth day of the Hunger Games, you think. If you’ve been keeping track of it correctly, it’s been a week, and today is the eighth day. You’d like to say that the time has flown, but the days feel like they drag on forever. Especially with how hot it’s been during the day. It feels like you’re living through lifetimes in the span of a couple of days.

You should probably clarify that today is the eighth day of the games for you guys. Time typically moves differently inside of the arena, and it’s because the gamemakers are always trying to make something happen. Whether that be fights, or just plain death, it’s all dependent on the circumstances.

All you know is that your brothers and family friends have watched you survive in here, and come close to death three times now. The first one being Horace, the second being the mutts, and the third being the boy from Twelve. Although, you don’t think he counts much, holding you underwater was his own death wish.

Reed and Mox are probably beginning to gain hope on the situation. If you’ve survived an entire week, and managed to form a schedule of sorts, then you should be on track to go home. All you have to do is not fuck up between now and then. Don’t pick too many fights, drink plenty of water and eat more than enough food.

Keep your allies close but your enemies closer.

This morning was eerie. Allio didn’t say a word, mostly made grunting noises when Lennox suggested that him and Allio go out to try and hunt. It’s been three days since the storm, so the animals should be appearing back in the woods, but there’s no promises. If they come back with nothing, you’re going to be sent out to the pond.

As soon as the boys left, you and Trink had a quick conversation about how weird it was. You suggested the fact that he’s probably still mad at you three for yesterday, and she agreed. As soon as it was over, you and her started going through boxes to find any stray food.

She ended up finding one full of food. The cornucopia is normally plentiful with all sorts of stuff, so you weren’t surprised that she found it so quickly. The next thing to do was gather all the garbage and make a trash can of sorts. Already, you’ve thrown out wrappers and old bones.

It isn’t until you’re throwing out a fish’s skeleton, when you realize that it might be possible to make a soup out of these. Like chicken and beef broth, but instead with bones. Then you seem to remember that you never watched your brothers when they made it. You were always either out of the house or doing something in your room.

And the others don’t mind the fish--you could care less about eating it every night--but if you continue to make them eat it, or anything that has to do with it, they’re going to riot. It wouldn’t hurt to at least propose it, so you make note and toss the skeleton into the box.

“Hey, you know what I just thought of?” Trink is sitting in the sand, passing over trash when she finds it.

“What?” you ask, grabbing another handful and throwing it into the box. It looks like that’s the last of it. 

You shut the lid on the box, and leave it unlocked, hoping that’ll be a good enough signal to you later that it’s the trash box. If not, the placement of where it is should be good enough for your memory.

“Snares.” she says, “We make snares and set them up in the woods, just so we don’t have to be out there hunting the entire time.”

You nod distantly, thinking it over. It’s not a bad idea. You could catch things overnight and go to grab the animals in the morning, and just reset it, you think. You’ve never had to do something like that before, so it’s more or less a toss up. 

“Do you know how to make one?” you ask.

She’s shaking her head, face turning a light shade of red, “No, I was hoping you’d know.”

And your eyebrows are drawing in, “Why?”

“You and Finnick were at the snare station during the training days, remember?”

For a moment, you’re about to deny it all, not being able to recall a single moment like that. It hits you, after that. Sitting at the snare section with the incredibly impressed expert, and how you taught Finnick knots when he asked. It really does feel like years ago, when it was literally two weeks ago.

And the more it comes back to you, the more you seem to realize that you never actually learned any snares. You were more focused on trying to figure out new ways to tie knots, hoping that whatever the expert tried to teach you, you already knew and it would come back to you in that moment.

You fucked up, majorly. You spent an hour or so at that station without spending a single second of actually learning how to tie a snare. A skill that would now help to keep you all from starving. You grit your teeth, because who’s the one person that spent more time at that station after his first alliance was gone? Finnick.

You look over at Trink, shaking your head before the words form on your tongue. She seems to understand, maybe thinking that you don’t remember. Or maybe the change of expression told her that you don’t know how to tie snares at all.

“It’s no big deal.” she says, “I’m looking forward to fish for dinner, anyway. Even if it’s not the greatest, we can rely on it, hopefully.”

“Yeah.” you agree.

It’s only a few minutes later when the boys come back, absolutely nothing in their hands. Lennox tries to offer an apology, but you figured that this would happen. The gamemakers are keeping the animals from supplying the woods, what’s new? After all the shit they’ve thrown your way recently, it’s only customary.

You pack up your things, collect the empty water bottles, and leave for the pond. On the way, you hum a fisherman’s tune and try to recall the actual words to it. There’s a ton of variations to them, and you remember bits and pieces from the original and all the remakes. By the time you reach the pond, you’ve made a frankenstein version of the song.

You grab the fishing pole and then unpack your things, laying it all out. First, you get the water and purify it. You line the canteens up to make sure that they aren’t taking up a huge amount of room inside of the backpack. After that, you dig through the dirt to find a worm, making the situation beneath your nails worse.

At this point, you’re sure that it’s just stained that dark brown color. There’s really no other way to explain it. There’s a baby blue on the top, and a dark brown beneath the bottom. Picking at it has done nothing but aggravate you. So, you sit in tired silence and wait for the fish to bite.

You can imagine that your brothers are picking out everything that you’re doing wrong. Cringing when you choose to do one thing over the other, they’ve probably already found out ways to make your fishing pole better, and are just waiting for you to realize it too. You’ve already considered crackers and stuff like that, but it’ll eventually break off in the water, and you’ll just waste the food.

You wish that you were able to hear them and what they have to say. Beg them for advice on what to do. Allio is just becoming a bigger problem, the more that time goes on. The food is becoming more scarce, it’s hot here during the day and last night the weather plunged terribly, enough to make you grab out a second jacket from a box.

All you want is to survive, and it keeps getting harder the more that the days go on. You wish that the gamemakers weren’t allowed to interfere, and just had to watch from the sidelines. Of course, the games wouldn’t be nearly as interesting but manipulating the weather is unfair.

You pull out the first fish, and go right back in for a second. This one seems to bite only minutes later, faster than the first. You go to place the second fish down, only to find that the first is missing, with no sight of it around you. Your eyes barely manage to catch a quick movement in the bushes, and the knife is in and out of your hand in a flash.

“Shit!” a voice hisses, you jump to your feet, fingers fumbling for the sword to catch the thief before they have a chance to run.

You have the sword raised, prepared for the other tribute to jump at you. And you just barely peer around the bushes, about to swing and end it. But you catch yourself mid-air once you see who it is. His dark, curly hair is so familiar and it catches you off guard almost immediately.

He’s got a knife clutched in his hands, eyes wide and staring up at you. There actually seems to be some wince on his face, like he was fully prepared to accept his fate with the sword. Leave it to him not to even think of defending himself. 

“Blaire?” you ask, eyebrows drawing together as you survey the area around him.

You’re looking for Finnick and Thyme, they have to be around here somewhere, right? They’re supposed to be grouped up together, so it would only make sense for them to be traveling together. Then again, you’re with the careers and you came down here by yourself. On the other hand, you wanted it that way. 

You find no one around him. Maybe Blaire volunteered to go alone, like you? But that doesn’t make sense, Finnick typically travels with other people, no matter the weather or what they wish. You remember all the times in the rain, and how he’d walk his friends, girls and guys, home after school. Especially the ones that were looking upset.

One more look at Blaire, and you can see that his cheeks have sunken in, no longer as chubby as they were during the week in the Capitol. He’s been starving, and traveling down to look at his hands, it makes sense why he was stealing the fish. He’s hungry.

“Where’s Finnick?” you ask, looking back at him. 

A fish in one hand, and a knife in the other. The longer you stare at the knife, the more you recognize it. Again, you’re looking at his face, and the guilty expression seems to set in. There’s only one knife that looks like it, and it’s the exact design of the one that had been stolen out of your backpack.

Good news, you found the thief that took the entirety of the feast from your backpack in the shack. It explains the disappearance of the food and the knife. Bad news, you accused Allio when it had nothing to do with him, which means that there is undoubtedly a bounty placed on your head, and he’s probably explaining it to them right now. It still doesn’t explain the grapes.

A part of you is angry, because Blaire has caused this riff in the alliance whether he knows it or not. And it’ll be nearly impossible to repair without explaining to them how you know that it wasn’t Allio. It would give up Blaire’s position, and how you didn’t kill him on sight. Even worse if he doesn’t shut up in the sky.

On the other hand, you’re fairly impressed. He managed to get passed four sleeping career tributes, steal the food and leave without making a single sound. The timing and execution is amazing, and you know for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to pull off something like that.

Unfortunately, his luck has run out.

Blaire’s shaking his head, the wince from his face fading as you lower your sword. For now, you have absolutely no intention of killing him. He’s too kind, and you know that the stealing was for his own survival. Even if you’re in the Hunger Games, you can appreciate it. 

“I don’t know.” he says, you offer your hand out to him, but since his hands are full, he can’t grab it. Your arm falls back to your side.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You haven’t seen him at all? You’re supposed to be with Finnick and Thyme. Don’t you have an idea of where they are?”

He gets to his feet, you can see the damage you did to his leg, now. It’s a nick, enough to surprise him and make him think that you did some serious damage. You find your little knife a few feet away. You pick it up, and await his answer.

“I haven’t seen them at all since the first day. We all split up, I didn’t even know that Verda was going to the cornucopia.” Blaire frowns, “She died in the bloodbath, right?”

You nod quietly, bringing him over to where you had been sitting before by the pond. You throw the hook back into the water, “Yeah, it was a quick death, though. I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t any of us that had done it. Definitely wasn’t me.”

“You’re still with the careers?”

“Yeah.” you look over to him, “What have you been doing this whole time? Other than stealing from us.” 

His face flushes, and he opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head, eyes closed and then he looks down to the dirt, “I was hungry.”

“You left nothing.”

“Can you blame me? You guys looked well off, I didn’t see a harm in it at all. And I didn’t leave nothing, I left the crackers and figured that would be good enough. That and the water.” Blaire’s still got a grip on the fish, you have a feeling that you won’t be getting it back.

You pull up another fish, place it on the plastic, and then go right back in again, “We’ve been sharing food. One measly rabbit for four people, it’s not exactly the best. Doesn’t sit right with them.”

He hums, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Take the fish, and a thing of water.” you reach into the bag, pulling out the water bottle you’d used, it’s full of water, “Should be clean.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Clean out the cut on your thigh to keep it from being infected.”

You can’t believe that Blaire doesn’t know where they are. So much for a second-hand alliance, none of them are together. Verda’s dead, Blaire is wandering the woods alone, starving. And who knows what’s happened to Finnick and Thyme? It could very well be Blaire’s situation but better or worse, depending on where they are.

You’re so guilty. This isn’t directly your fault, because Finnick had his own alliance so he should have been able to find all of them just fine. But had you… you’re the older tribute, you were supposed to be watching over him. Yet, he’s off somewhere, maybe alone, maybe starving and dehydrated.

Finnick might have broken the agreement on the alliance with the careers, but he’s your friend. Finnick and you have known each other for years. Had you just spent time changing his mind and reassuring him, he might be with you now. You were just so mad that he had turned his back on something so great.

There’s no way of knowing now, if you two could have survived out here. Knowing him, he would’ve wanted to stay away from the cornucopia entirely. Which just means going into the woods with absolutely nothing and banking on sponsors. You know how to do things like start fires, and hunt without all the good stuff, but it just helps.

Then again, you did warn Finnick. You told him that going about this alone or without the careers would be harder. There’s not as many people watching your back. And of course, at some point they’re going to be unreliable and dangerous. But you’ve survived this far, and you’ve only just come across problems.

As far as you know, the games are halfway over. There’s eleven dead, and it’s been a steady flow. In eight more days, the games could be over and you could be going home. 

Blaire dips his hand into the water, pulling out a handful of water as he dumps it onto his thigh. His face twists, a hiss coming from his lips. You feel sorry for him, it has to hurt and it’s going to hinder his walking. But it’s what he gets. It’s justice, in your mind.

Doesn’t mean you can’t help him out somewhat. You and Blaire might not have talked to each other for long, but you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. And he seems to be pretty relaxed, too. You wonder if he sees you as a friend directly, or a friend of a friend.

Sticking the fishing pole between your calf and your thigh, you dig through the backpack for the first-aid. You pull it out, and toss it to him, hoping that he knows what he’s doing, and won’t have to ask you for advice. For a moment, you can see him staring out of your peripheral, and then he takes it.

“I really am sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” you mutter.

Blaire doesn’t say anything else for a while. He washes out the blood, waits for his calf to dry, and then places a bandage on top of it. When he’s done, he carefully shuts the first aid and holds it out for you. You take it, tuck it back into its spot, and pull up the next fish that comes around.

Three should be good enough. You wrap it all up in the plastic once the newest one is done squirming, and then place the package into the backpack, right next to the water. 

Blaire’s watching you closely again. Once you’ve zipped up the bag, you look at him, “Good luck.”

“Won’t you be down here tomorrow?”

“Not if we get something from the woods.”

Blaire looks down to the fish in his hands, “It’s been quiet.”

“We know.” you get up, placing the knife back into its spot on your belt, and then the sword. You throw the fishing pole into the bushes and then turn to look at Blaire, “If I have time, I’ll leave something for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Find a place to stay, Blaire.” you tell him, starting your way back to the cornucopia.

The walk is quiet, Blaire doesn’t follow. You manage to get back before sundown, and your allies have already got a fire started. You all get rid of the scales on the fish, then Lennox gets to cooking.

Allio still says nothing, not even when he’s offered food or if you guys ask if he wants more. Eventually, he gets up without a word and goes to take a walk, leaving just the three of you in the cornucopia. A part of you wants to tell them that you saw Blaire down at the pond, but figure that won’t go over well.

You obviously didn’t kill him, and explaining what happened with the food won’t be the best, either. Even if they were to get on your side, you’re sure that suspicions would start to rise. Unless you lied and said that you tried to kill Blaire and he got away. It would explain why he didn’t die immediately but then it would be a waiting game, and wishing death on him.

And coming clean to Allio, he’ll probably find a way to spin it on you. The two of you have made your distaste for each other clear, and Trink is the same way. The only semi-neutral person in this group anymore is Lennox. And you’re sure that’ll only be a matter of time before he’s turned again Allio, especially with the attitude that he has.

Allio has just come back from the woods, a dead rabbit in his hands and a victorious look on his face, when a cannon blasts. The look almost disappears, changing to confusion. But then he hands off the rabbit to Lennox, and takes a seat in his regular spot.

“Nice catch.” Trink murmurs, but it’s clear you’re all still puzzled about the cannon.

It could be anyone except you guys. Blaire, Finnick, Thyme, you think Mac is still alive and both the tributes from Eight. There’s one more, you’re sure of it, but can’t seem to think of who it is. Six tributes, the possibilities are endless.

Allio opens his mouth, another cannon cuts him off. Two tributes. Two tributes are dead.

You press your lips together. Could be Blaire, could be Finnick and Thyme. Could be Mac and Blaire, or both of the Eight tributes if they were caught off guard. Endless, really. Until you get to see the sky and their faces tonight.

You hope you didn’t call their deaths, Blaire and Finnick. You have the worst type of luck with things like that, pointing out how they could happen and then it happening. It knocks two players out of the game, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t matter. 

“Two.” Allio says, as if you all don’t know.

Trink’s pulling her hair out of her face, “Probably a fight between three people.”

You nod along, and Lennox shrugs, “Mutual kill?”

“Isn’t that rare?” Trink asks, “Like I’ve never seen that ever.”

“Probably, I thought that there was one year when it happened, though.” Lennox begins to scoop up the scraps to throw into the trash box, but you’re flying across the small space to stop him, “What?”

“I can use this as bait.” your eyes scan the surrounding area, trying to find something to put it in. The spare canteen bottles come to mind.

After finding one, you pack as much as you can inside, and tuck the can somewhere cold. It’s not going to stay good for long, which means that you’ll have to use as much as possible, and then empty it out to start over. For now, it’ll have to work.

It’s agreed between you guys that it should be an early night. You wait for the death recap in the sky with them, finger crossed for whatever reason. You don’t want it to be anyone you know, but on the other hand, it would be easier. You wouldn’t have to kill them later on, if someone did all the work for you.

The music starts, the blue emblem of the Capitol appearing in the sky. You watch and wait patiently, heart beginning to beat in your chest. It isn’t that big of a deal, you take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

The first face in the sky is the girl from Eight, which immediately knocks out Blaire and Finnick. It leaves two tributes, though. The boy from Eight, and Thyme. Both tributes from Districts Nine and Ten are dead, both of them died during the bloodbath.

“It’s Thyme.” you say, and you really do call it. She’s next to appear in the sky, her district number below her face. 

You turn towards an empty space in the sand, writing out initials. T and L for Trink and Lennox, A for Allio, B for Blaire. One for yourself, F for Finnick, M for Mac, and a number eight for the boy from Eight. And then a question mark, because you still can’t recall where the last tribute is from.

Nine tributes left in the game, four of them being you guys, and five being everyone else. It could be two girls left in the game, and it could be three. Which leaves six or seven boys. 

You suddenly begin to worry about the alliance, one more death from one of the stray tributes, will mean an even score. You’ve seen this problem happen many times before, the career tributes all turning on each other. That or they split up, and you can’t see that happening without one of you dying.

One of you has to go to keep the alliance intact. You’ve been relying on it for this long, and you’re not about to get killed because of paranoia going on in the group. You quickly rub out the sand, and then look up to the others. There’s a sadistic smile on Allio’s face, and you know immediately. He has to go.

“We’re getting closer and closer.” Allio says, and then his eyes drag over to you.

You don’t like this. You’re the youngest, they’re all older than you by one or two years. To Allio, you’re small and weak, and possibly the most useless one still in the group. But as far as you know, he’s got no kills on his head, and you’ve got four. And you’re sure that Lennox and Trink still think that he’s the one that ate all of his food.

There’s evidence.

It’s obvious. You wonder if he knows this too.

You give them a lighthearted smile, because for now, they’re not going to kill you. They’re going to keep you around, because you’re their only supplier of food right now. You have until the animals begin to show themselves in the woods again. Which could be any day now.

The anthem finalizes loudly, and the outside is dark again. Inside the cornucopia, the fire is still going, still giving off plenty of light.

“I’d say we go out and try our luck with hunting again.” Allio says.

Bad idea, you’re already shaking your head, “Just so we can come right back here in a few days? The arena is huge, you have to know that at this point. We could walk for miles and still find nothing.”

There’s a glare in his eyes, “It’s better than sitting here.”

“I don’t think so. Everyone out there is going to die one way or another, let them kill themselves.”

“And what about us?” Trink asks.

You give her a look, and shrug, “We can’t stay together forever. But we might as well make the best of it.”

They already knew that, but you wonder if they realize that you’re banking on the hope that you all stay together. Allio is upset again, Trink looks like she’s taking what you said into consideration, and Lennox is indifferent. 

Lennox keeps the fire going. He says that tomorrow will be Trink’s turn to watch over, and then it’s left to you and Allio to fight it out. Then, you’re all laying down to sleep. Except, it doesn’t come easy tonight.

Nine tributes left in the games. Eight that need to die to make sure that you win. Three of them are allies, one of them a friend from back home, two of them you consider friendly, and two nobodies that you could care less about. You’re almost there. All you have to do is not give up.

You’ve kept your strength this far, what’s a little more?

In the morning, you’re up to relieve Lennox so he can go straight to bed. By the time the sun is higher up in the sky, Allio and Trink are up. You all agree that it would be a good idea for you to go out and fish, because one measly rabbit isn’t going to do much for you four.

You take the backpack with you, and leave without waiting for Lennox to wake up. The others will fill him in, and since they’re awake, they’ll be able to watch over the cornucopia. You just hope that Allio isn’t going to fill their heads with the same thoughts you had last night.

The pond is devoid of Blaire, and it’s quiet. You fish, your thoughts being your only company. And they aren’t very pleasant.

You think that if Allio were to die and the others were to find out that it were you, they wouldn’t be angry. Obviously killing either Trink or Lennox would make the other mad, because that’s their friend from back home. It would be interesting to try and pin it on Allio and see how either of them react, but that could easily backfire. All they’d have to do is think that you’re accusing people too often, and suddenly you’re the odd one out.

And getting rid of Allio would do good, because he’s a boy. And if there are only two to three girls left in the game, it would be nice to even out the playing field a little. Give you, Trink and whoever the other person may or may not be, a good fighting chance. 

You’ve done fine against boys so far, but it’s good to have that extra step, anyway.

There’s a crackle of a leaf, which makes you look over. Blaire’s coming through the trees, still looking malnourished, but a lot more energetic today, “Good morning,” he says, and then sits by you without a word.

It would be a lot easier if he knew how to fish for himself. He’s seen where you put the fishing pole, the real thing that he’s missing is the knowledge and a water bottle to reel in the fish. But then again, you don’t want to just hand out information without getting something in return.

“Good morning.”

“Saw the sky last night, right?” he asks, and you nod. The stench of fish coming from the canteen bottle is enough for you to rethink wanting to touch it and use it as bait, “I have a feeling Thyme and Finnick were working together.”

You look over at him, “Yesterday you said you all split.”

“Finnick and Thyme vaguely ran in the same direction. I couldn’t keep up.” he says, “And I haven’t been able to find them since. The arena is huge, (Y/n).”

You nod, “Yeah, we found that out a few days ago.”

Of course Finnick would work with Thyme, it just makes sense. From one companion to another. You wonder if he’s also hurt, or if it was just Thyme that took the damage. They probably brought in the Eight girl somehow, thinking that she’d be an easy kill, but wasn’t. Hurt Thyme pretty badly, Finnick finished Eight off, and then was left to Thyme. 

In that case, she could be a mercy kill. They could have been using that tactic this entire time, which means that a handful of deaths could very well belong to them. 

“Can I use your water-purify droplets?” he asks, you dig through one of the front pockets to bring it out for him. He thanks you, and then goes right to collecting water. As soon as he’s sat back, you’re pulling out a fish and telling him to take it, “Has there been any drama between you guys yet?”

You look at Blaire, again, and study his face. It looks like genuine curiosity, an innocent question.

He explains himself; “I’m just asking, since all the other times with the games and there being this amount of careers left, drama starts.”

Maybe Blaire has a problem with silence, “Minimal drama, I’m going to take care of it.”

Right after the words leave your mouth, you freeze, fingers still trying to unravel the coil of water. That statement could mean a number of things to him, and everyone back at the Capitol. But talk about giving away an undecided plan. Killing Allio won’t be easy, at all.

Everything has to be perfect. You have until the animals appear, you need a night when you’re taking the shift, and you need to somehow make him look guilty and make sure that he won’t be missed. You know that it’ll be easier, one less mouth to feed, and he won’t be offending you guys each time he opens his mouth.

You almost think his death will be premature, and you should wait until the ‘outsider’ tributes are down a little more. That’s when the thinking stops, because it comes into conflict with your original thought. You don’t want there to be an even playing field, and you don’t want a free-for-all at the cornucopia.

Allio has to go, but you don’t have the timing down just yet. 

“Oh,” Blaire says, he probably caught on to the wording, “Right, is it a group thing or…?”

“No.” you say, “I don’t think that the other two will like the idea.” you put some more fish scraps on the end of the hook, and dip it into the water, “But it needs to happen.”

He doesn’t say anything. You fish for another hour before you’re tired, nothing has bitten since Blaire’s fish. He tries to give it up, but you assure him that it’s no big deal, and bid him goodbye, the fishing pole going straight into the bushes. Instead of taking the regular path home, you take a wide arch, hoping that’ll give you more time to find something else to take home.

Lucky for you, a rabbit darts out of the bushes, and the knife lands in the back of its neck. You’re about to say that it’s good enough, until the back of your mind is telling you that you might as well explore. It’s not anywhere near sundown just yet, and if you go back to the cornucopia now, you’ll just sit there with the rest.

And it’s easier to explore alone, you think. There aren't a ton of people trampling over the leaves, breaking sticks and such and leaving an obvious path that you had been there. It looks less daunting, and the other tributes might even consider staying around. One path isn’t a lot. It’s worrying, they might relocate, and they might not.

You use some of the rope to tie the bunny up onto your backpack. It looks funny with how it hangs down, and you’d put it inside of the backpack, wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Except, it’s still bleeding, and it would mess up everything inside. You’d rather the blood get all over the back of your jeans and shoes instead.

If you were standing and facing the mouth of the cornucopia, you’d say that right now, you’re on the right side of it. Roughly where Allio had disappeared off to last night. If you were to go left of the cornucopia, it would just be the coast, nothing good over there. 

Out here, on the right side, should be relatively nothing. Especially with how the others have described it. You’ve never actually come over here, yourself. You always figured that there wouldn’t be anything interesting. They say they can’t hear flowing water, and it’s just trees.

So, you figure it’s going to be the same, and that the trip out here is useless, and you’re really just trying to burn time, not wanting to deal with Allio’s attitude. It’s devoid of animals, which makes you think that the gamemakers are slowly giving in to the supply of wild animals again, which is good news.

They were right about the dense forest part. You’ve seen worse in other arenas, but it’s still surprising. Having this many trees on what you think is an island. It smells green out here, too. Healthy trees and plants. Honestly, if there weren’t a coast, you’d just say that this is a regular forest arena.

Those tend to be the trickiest. Having to fight in them is hard. Hiding behind trees may seem comical, but they work better than you think. At some point, if you’re not careful, the trees begin to look the same and you can wander in circles for hours, thinking that you’re going the right way but you aren’t.

It’s even more embarrassing when you finally realize what you had done for the past hour, knowing that the people back home and the entire Capitol just watched you do it like an idiot. You always used to ask, “How hard can it be?” But being out here has opened your eyes. You always knew that the arena was hard, especially with how little the Capitol gives, but it’s just making you even more aware.

The more you wander this way, the more you’re able to see the tall cliff, which is beginning to look more like a mountain with how it peaks. It’s definitely climbable, you know that. Just by judging the incline, though, it’ll be a tiring walk. And for what? A good view? Right.

At some point, you get tired of walking straight, and go diagonal instead. If you get lost, you’ll just follow the beach around until you spot the cornucopia. Easy enough plan. Plus, getting lost won’t be too bad. Unless, of course, the Capitol decides to throw in their own twist with you.

After what you said at the pond, you have a feeling you’ve got them intrigued enough to not jump to do things with you. The Capitol has likely figured out that you meant Allio, and saying that you’ve got it handled means that you’re working alone. You even confirmed it by telling Blaire that the group wouldn’t approve.

He probably caught on too. He’s smart, older than you too. Just like most of the other tributes are, except for the Twelve tributes and Finnick. You don’t know the ages of everyone, just a basic idea of where they’re at. You know for sure that Allio, Trink and Lennox are older than you. There’s no question about that.

There’s a moment, while you’re walking through the trees, you hold your breath to make sure that you don’t hear anyone following you. And then you hear it, and it’s enough for you to look over with wide eyes, and not even hesitate about going over. It’s running water, loud and crashing.

As you move through the trees, you’re careful to make sure that there isn’t anyone over here. It’s uncharted territory for you. As far as you know, this is where all the tributes could be, all hiding out around the same area. It’s out of the distance of the cornucopia, and it’s away from the path you walk everyday to the pond.

It’s smart. If someone chose to stay out here, it’s smart.

Through the trees, you’re able to see the water, sneaking up onto the dirt enough to make it mud. You don’t dare move past the treeline, and even position yourself behind a tree, looking out to the scene in front of you.

It’s a paradise. Further out, there’s a waterfall, and it looks like there’s a running stream out here after all. Around the bank are flowers, there’s lilies and lily pads alike, floating on top of the crystal blue water. With how the sun hits the water, it looks absolutely clear. Clean, cleaner than the pond water.

You think you even catch a glimpse of a fish tail, before it’s disappeared completely. How did the others miss this? You have a hard time believing that their curiosity didn’t get the better of them. Especially the mornings that the boys went to hunt. You know you’d try and take a big track around to try and get the best of what you can.

It’s beautiful over here. And as much as you want to fish, gather better water and just walk into it altogether, you know that there’s something else here. Whether it be a water mutt, or a person. In the arena, everything is too good to be true. If it’s not dirty and clearly falling apart, then it’s gamemaker engineered and there’s something wrong with it.

Even with this thought, your eyes catch a vague movement behind the waterfall. A dark color, maybe an animal? But then it happens again, and you know better. It’s not an animal, not with how upright the figure is. One more movement, and it’s registered in your mind. There’s only one person that you know that would bet on something so delicate and dangerous. And it’s not Blaire.

It has to be Finnick. There’s a cave behind the waterfall, and he found it. Smart.

You have the sudden urge to call his name and wander out, but catch yourself before you act on it. You don’t know that it’s him, it could be another tribute that figured out how to swim or don’t have an insane fear of the water. And second, you don’t know if you’re still on friendly terms with him. Not after what happened.

Yet another secret to keep to yourself. You’re careful to sneak off without making much noise, a little upset that you’ll be missing out on a perfect fishing opportunity. If you had your spear, you’d be able to take out half a dozen fish before you realize that it’s way too much.

At least you know where Finnick--or another tribute--are now. You could easily blame them for Allio’s death if something goes wrong. And then the thought of the fact that you knew that they were alive, but again didn’t kill them, pops in your head. You can’t blame any old tribute for Allio’s death without being incredibly guilty.

You make it back to the cornucopia just fine, finding that there’s already a fire going again, and Trink is taking her turn roasting it. They’re all startled at your approach, reaching for their weapons. They must be used to you approaching from the side and coming around, instead of just walking out in the open.

“No fish, got a rabbit, though.”

“None at all?” Lennox asks, “We had so many yesterday.”

“I tried for hours, found nothing so I wandered around until I spotted this guy.” You free him from your rope and hand him off to Lennox, “It’s better than nothing.”

Lennox gets to work at ripping the rabbit apart. You go ahead and hand out the water, and then take a seat near the fire to keep warm. You can already feel the temperature change, again, the gamemakers are tampering with the weather. To combat this, Trink slides in another couple of sticks, and it’s just a waiting game.

“Who’s watching tonight?” Lennox asks, and he’s looking between you and Allio, because the two of you haven’t taken an overnight shift in a while.

“I’ll take it tonight, Allio can have tomorrow.” You say.

“I’ll take the next two days, since I haven’t been doing much.” He says, and then begins playing with his sword over the fire.

It’s an hour or so before the first rabbit’s meat is thoroughly cooked. You tell Lennox and Trink to share the first one, and you and Allio will get the second. For a moment, Allio doesn’t look that thrilled that you made a decision for him like that. But then he must realize that means that he might eat more, and the expression falls.

After dinner, you all stay up for a little longer, playing stupid games and trying to burn more time. As always, the Capitol symbol appears in the sky, along with the sound of the anthem. But there were no deaths today, so it fades quickly. Only then do the others call it a night.

You position yourself up against a box, the hilt of the sword in your hand. If you haven’t had any trouble up to this point, then there shouldn’t be any tonight, either. Which means that you get to sit around in the cold, watch as the fire slowly dies out, and try to keep yourself awake.

It’s just silence during the night. The only time there’s actual noise is during the day, when the birds and insects are awake. You can faintly hear the sound of waves on the shore, and you don’t even bother trying to hear the waterfall, because it’s too far off.

If you thought staying in the cornucopia was cold, you can’t imagine what it’s like behind the water. The water is freezing, and if it’s a cave, then that means the stone will be cold too. Unless the tribute inside of there thought ahead and somehow built a blanket of leaves to keep them fairly warm.

And the mist from how hard the water is coming down? It’ll make some things wet if it’s too close. The only real solution to that, is if it’s deep in there. Honestly, you thought caves behind waterfalls was a thing for fairytales. Like those stupid books your mom used to read you before bed, back when you were in elementary school. 

You listen as the sand shifts, when you look over, it’s Trink rolling over. She’s got her back to you now. Within arm’s reach is her canteen and sword, in the case of an emergency. A few feet away lies Lennox, who sleeps on his back. His things are still by the fire, but with far back he is into the cornucopia, he could just use anything off the wall.

As for Allio, he sleeps on the other side of the fire. Compared to you and Trink, he’s by far the closest person to the mouth of the cornucopia. Easy access for anyone to come around and kill, and just run off into the woods. It’s not possible for you to do the same. It’ll be too suspicious over the fact that you were missing. Especially since you were supposed to be guarding everyone.

Tonight isn’t the night, and you’re not too sure that the next two nights are either. But time is running out, and you need to get to him before another random tribute dies. You need a plan, not something half-assed that could easily be seen through.

At this point in the games, you’re not even sure if that’s possible. Everyone has some sort of paranoia running through their heads. And it’s obvious that it’s gotten to you first. It’s for the right reason, you think. To keep an alliance intact. You could always go out and survive on your own, it’s clear that you can. Just take a backpack and don’t show up at the cornucopia again.

But you’re relying on the other's safety. And they’ll probably know where to go, down to the pond or to the shack to get to you and take you out for keeping them waiting like that. Of course, you could always go somewhere else to hide, but you’re not experienced in the woods.

Blaire might be. The only thing that he’s lacking is actual supply. If you were to team up with him, then you’d have a better chance than just going alone. But it poses the same problem that you’re working with at the moment. Eventually, tensions will rise between you and Blaire. And eventually, if you two somehow manage to be the last two alive, you’ll have to kill each other. 

You don’t want to kill Blaire. You’d much rather someone else do it, because you consider him friendly, just like how you consider Mac friendly. It’s obvious why you don’t want to kill Finnick too. So it’s automatically knocking out three of the eight tributes that need to go, to make sure you win.

At the rate you’re all going, you don’t think that Blaire, Finnick or Mac will die by chance. Blaire might not have the same will to live as the rest of you do, but he’s still fighting to stay alive. And a good example of that, is him stealing food, even though it’s dangerous.

Maybe he has a death wish, and he was partly hoping that he’d get caught and immediately killed for it. It would be one way to end his pain, but you’re not entirely sure if that’s the best way to go, leaving your life in someone else’s hands like that. Especially during the Hunger Games, where everything is supposed to be entertaining.

You could beg for a speedy death, but in the end, you’re all just puppets for the Capitol. None of you want to displease them enough to the point where they do something rash. Whether that be another event in the arena that gets you hurt, or something to your family back home.

You too, are a puppet. And it’s exactly why you’re going to make Allio’s death shocking enough to keep the Capitol on the edge of their seats, and better for you.

By the time that dawn breaks, Trink is up. She lets you sleep into the afternoon, and then wakes you up so that you can still make a trip down to the pond for water for all of them. You’re fairly groggy, and spend a good amount of time just making sure that you’re awake enough to do things.

The good news is, there isn’t an immediate need for fish. Lennox and Allio went out to the forest while you were sleeping, and managed to catch a whole pig. The bad news, the animals are reappearing. They’re still scarce, but all that really matters is the fact that they’re there.

You say that tomorrow is your limit.

Blaire is sitting in the shallow end of the pond when you get there. The bandage is gone, but the cut is still on his thigh. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, so you assume that it's feeling better today. Before he can even ask, you toss over the iodine droplets.

“Thanks. For a while I thought that you weren’t going to show up.” He says.

“Took the night shift, I got to sleep in.” You throw the hook in, and resist the urge to yawn. 

Unlike the boys, you’re pretty capable of staying up throughout the night. The only person that really gets a pass is Lennox, because he’s taking the most of them. He probably realized that the other day, and it’s why he’s pawned off the nights onto you guys. Although, to be fair, you’re pretty sure he was taking it until the difference between you and Trink and Allio was settled.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” Blaire starts, but doesn’t continue past that. 

Looking at him, you’re expecting him to pick up once he realizes that he’s got your full attention, you’re wrong, “About what exactly?”

He looks up from his water bottle, tossing the iodine back your way. You catch it easily, and he begins to shake the water, “Taking care of your problem--or the problem, I should say. Don’t you think that could get you killed?”

“Everything in the arena could get me killed.” you say, there’s a tug at the wire, you reel it in, “No matter what I do, I’m always putting myself into trouble. I come down here alone, I continue to feed you, I create plans and keep secrets and try to stay off my allies’ radar. It’s the same for you. Sooner or later, we’re going to get killed or be the ones that kill.”

“Not me.” Blaire says, taking the fish from you, and then watching you pack up your things, “Shouldn’t you keep going?”

“Friends caught a pig. I’m mostly down here to plot, but you’re here.” you look at him, motioning to the fish with one hand while you block the sun with the other, “Take it, it’s yours.”

“I could leave.”

“What you do, is your own free will.” you say.

Blaire sits down right next to you, pulls his shoes off and then places his feet in the water. He starts taking the scales off the fish, you want to warn him about the dangers of the water, how deep it is and you’re not entirely sure what lies in there. But decide you’ll let him figure that out for himself.

“Tell me your plan.”

You can’t stop the laugh that sputters out of you, loud and long. Blaire was expecting this, there’s a small smile on his face, and he waits patiently for you to stop. Even a couple minutes later, you’re still giggling at the idea. Telling Blaire your plan to kill Allio? And for what? You’ll give away everything about the situation.

“Fat chance.”

“You act like I’m going to work against you.” Blaire says, and you’ve still got a funny smile on your face, “(Y/n), I’m in your debt. Plenty of times now.”

“Why? Just because I fed you? As if that’s even a reason.” you roll your eyes, “It’s charity work.”

“You could have killed me by now. Or brought your alliance down and had them do the job.” Blaire says, “Or not shown up and let me starve.”

“You’re caught up in what-if’s, none of those are real reasons.” you say, and the second that the words leave, you want to take them back. Because they are real reasons, you’ve been smuggling this boy for days.

Back home, you know some other poor family would try and repay you. It’s just how it works. You could do something nice like give one of Naida’s boys an old pair of Reed or Mox’s shoes, and she’d be insisting on making dinner for you all for at least two nights. All of it would be on her.

And there was one day, something like that actually happened. It wasn’t for one of her boys, it was actually for the youngest girl, Windy. She’s older now, six or seven, you can’t remember exactly. But it was just after your dad had died, and your brothers and you were in a deep hole.

Reed was illegally fishing, Mox was desperate with his studies, and applying for jobs at the local stores around, but no one was falling through. Naida knew that the four of you were struggling, and scrambling to sell things to stay afloat. A lot of the things that you were selling were old dresses that Alyssum wouldn’t be needing for a long time.

Windy had some important event at preschool, and Naida didn’t want her to look dirty and poor. She was completely missing clothes for Windy, because she’d sold Calandra’s baby clothes a long ass time ago. And even worse, she was scraping by on rent that month, she wouldn’t be able to afford nice clothing.

You found some old dress in the plastic bin beneath your bed. Clearly expensive, and looking almost brand new. You knew that it would go for a lot at the Square. Even the richest families sometimes go down there to get a good deal on things. And if the Square wouldn’t have worked--you doubt it wouldn’t have--you were going to head down to the seamstress.

You didn’t even ask Reed or Mox if it was okay, didn’t even consider the fact that Alyssum would need something like that in a few years. You found an old shoe box in the boys’ closet, and then some ribbon off of a doll from your room. You tied the box up nicely, with some wonky ass bow on the top. And took your ass right over to Naida’s.

The dress was easily a month’s worth of rent, maybe more. But you knocked on the door, Naida answered, and you handed off the dress, saying, “I heard Windy needs something nice for her school thing. Hope you guys have fun.” and left Naida at the house.

Later that day, when your brother’s were coming back from what they did during the day, Naida stopped them on the porch. In no time, she was crying, and absolutely crazed because she thought you’d spent a ton of money on a dress that you couldn’t even afford. But Reed recognized the dress, reassuring her that it would be a hand-me-down. Even then, Naida didn’t want to accept it.

They didn’t give her a choice either. Said basically the same thing that you did. When they came into the house, they found you doing your math homework at the dining room table. You’ve seen Reed proud many, many times, but the look on his face is one you’ll remember forever. You did a good job.

Naida’s way of paying you all back, was the free babysitting for all of you. Taking Alyssum in during the day while you and Mox went to school, allowing Reed more hours for the illegal fishing. And even after he became a legal adult, she continued on with it. She definitely knows that she’s paid it over so many times by now, but chooses to do it still.

Anyway, Blaire might be thinking the same thing. But instead of a dress, it’s his life. Something that is so temporary in the Hunger Games, and even dangerous. You’re risking your life by saving his. You’re putting trust into him not killing you by continuing to do this.

And the one way he wants to pay you back is by listening and giving advice. You don’t know if Blaire has grown up in the poor part of District Three, or if you’re just overthinking all of this. But it’s what makes the most sense to you. You said it yourself yesterday too, that Blaire is not only older, but smarter. He’s got at least two to three years on you.

“There’s nine tributes left in the arena.” you begin, making him look over, “And I’m worried that as soon as it hits eight, my alliance will break up, and I want to keep it together for as long as possible. It’s nice having people watch over my back, knowing that they’ll protect me. And they’re not all that bad, either.

“Allio, the boy from Two, has been causing trouble between all of us, except for Lennox, the boy from One. Of course, last week you took our entire sponsor gift, and I honestly thought it was Allio, and so did Trink and Lennox.” you stare at Blaire, “They still think that it’s him, as far as I know.

“I would get rid of Lennox or Trink, except they’re friends, they’ve known each other for a while. If one goes, the other’s sure to go crazy, so I figured that Allio would be my best bet, anyway. The only problem I’m having is how to get it done. It has to be tonight or tomorrow, because I don’t want someone to die before we get there. And I don’t want the animals to reappear in the trees.”

Blaire nods, thinking this over. He’s quiet for a long time, staring down at his fish. You think he’s just as stumped as you are, and then he speaks, “You can’t ask the others to help you kill him?”

“They think I’ve only killed one person, and I’m not trying to come off as aggressive. I only blew some of it when I told Allio that I hated him, just like Trink seemed to. So, I bet I’ll already be suspected.”

“Could always say that it was some random tribute.”

“That’s what I was thinking, except there isn’t anyone around the cornucopia.” you say, ignoring the waterfall tribute. They’re not as important, they're too far away. Once again, if it’s Finnick, you don’t want to give him away to the others. You wouldn’t be killing him with your own hands, but you’d lead them right to him. It’s good enough.

“You guys explored around the area?”

“More or less.”

Blaire hums, “You said something about the night shift, who’s taking the next one?”

You look over, “Allio said he’d take the next two nights.”

“Oh, then that’s easy. If he falls asleep during the night, just get him then.” Blaire says, “And then find some outlet, like sleeping or whatever.”

You hold your breath, trying to picture it. In this case, doing it tonight would be suspicious, since you’d finally get him alone for once--or ‘alone’. The others will still be there, just unconscious. You could kill him while he’s asleep, and then quickly lay back down. As for the blood knife, there’s a box that you could probably slip it under.

There’s only one problem, the one that’s nearly impossible to get around.

“What about the cannon?”

Blaire huffs out a laugh, “Guess you’ll just have to move quickly and make sure you aren’t breathing heavily. Turn your back to them or something. You can’t over sell it either, so pretending to sleep through the cannon might be cheesy. Or, it might be realistic, I don’t know.”

Allio sleeps on the other side of the cornucopia, opposite to you, closest to the mouth. Unfortunately, another obstacle is going to be the lit fire, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t control the weather, the gamemakers can. And it’s going to be impossible to get them to just make it warm tomorrow night. Unless they come to the conclusion by themselves.

You stare into the water, almost losing yourself in your thoughts, when you see it. A dark motion, bigger than any fish, “Get out of the water, now.” 

You push yourself to your feet, throwing the backpack away. When Blaire doesn’t move fast enough, you grab the back of his hood with both hands, pulling him out of the water and a couple inches away. He’s got it now, coughing because of how hard you were on the hood.

The black mass is towards the top now, just beneath the surface. You watch the bubbles appear, and pop. One of them lands on Blaire’s bare foot, and he hisses, backing up some more. You watch as his skin turns a shade of pink first, and then deeper to red.

You wonder if the water was hot, or if it’s poison. 

Does it really matter?

You grab the water bottle that’s hanging out of Blaire’s back pocket, uncapping it, and then dumping it out, still staring at the water. No matter how much iodine you put into this, it’s not going to be clean. And it doesn’t matter that he grabbed it from the shallow end, either. Whatever is in the water can contaminated it.

“Here.” you say, placing it in his hand, and then moving on to your bag.

You pull each canteen out and dump them out, watching as the water runs downhill and back into the pond.

“Do you think that the fish is bad?” he asks.

You look over, he’s holding it out for you to see. You don’t spot anything abnormal with it, but you didn’t see anything wrong with the water initially, either, or the pond.

“Toss it in.” you shove everything back into the backpack, and attach the fishing pole to your backpack, “I know another place.”

Blaire follows what you said, tossing it into the water, and pulling on his socks and shoes after. You lead him around in a wide arch, exaggerating the path you took the other day. He doesn’t question you at all.

This walk is much faster than the first one, but the moment you hear the waterfall, you get a bit hesitant. You still lead Blaire through the trees, heading right towards the crystal blue water, but watching to make sure there’s no one there just yet. You’d like to give them a chance to leave.

There is no one, and there is no movement on the other side of the waterfall. Once Blaire sees what you’ve led him to, he gasps slightly, “Wow.”

“Yeah, I know. We shouldn’t be here for too long.” you glance behind you, there’s no one. If Blaire can sneak around you guys quietly, it’s no question that others might be able to do the same, “You watch out for anyone.”

“You don’t like it over here.” he says, it’s not a question.

“We’re invading someone’s space.” is all you say, “Fill up the canteens, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Blaire sits down, unfastens your fishing pole, and offers it to you. You shake your head, pulling off your shoes, and then your socks, and you roll up your jeans as far as they’ll go. After that, you pull your sword into your hand, and carefully wade into the water, watching for anything unnatural.

That was definitely a mutt in the pond, as always, gamemaker generated. It’s a wonder if it appeared because they made the creature come out, or because the fish that you caught made them appear. Either way, you couldn’t see it coming. You knew that the water was deep, but you didn’t know what else would be in it.

There’s a great chance that the gamemakers made the mutt appear to push you away and make you think of another place to go. Whether that be deeper in the forest, or over here. You need to work quickly, get Blaire his fish and tell him to go back to where his camp is, wherever that may be.

Your eyes travel back to the waterfall, still no movement. The tenant might be out, another reason why the gamemakers pushed you this way, to purposely cause conflict. If it’s Finnick, though, you think he won’t attack. And if he does, he’ll just leave Blaire out of it, since Blaire’s supposed to be his ally, anyway.

You feel something brush by your foot, and it’s enough for you to jump out of your skin. It’s a fish, curious and bold of what’s joined it in the water. You’re still, and stare at it, waiting for it to come back around. And when it does, you slam the sword into it, staining the blood a temporary pink.

“You should go back to your camp.” you tell Blaire, moving out of the water now, “Don’t stay over here. I’ll meet you back at the pond tomorrow, and we can take the walk around back over here.”

“Sure.” Blaire says, taking the fish off the end of your sword, “Thank you, again.”

Blaire must think that he’ll never stop being in your debt, and you’re afraid of that, too. The list keeps getting longer and longer. Eventually, he’s going to try and find something to pay you back with.

“I cleaned the water.” he says, “It’s all nice in there.”

“Thanks.” you dry your feet on your jacket, pulling on your socks and shoes before you unroll your pants. You sling the backpack over your shoulder, drying the blade on your jeans.

Blaire’s ready to go, too. He assures you that he’ll know the way back, and the two of you split. The entire walk to the cornucopia, you feel awful. Almost afraid that someone is following you back. You check several times, and of course, there’s no one there.

The second you’re out of the trees, the feeling subsides.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna

[send-me-your-hcs]

Forever Ch22

Collab fic with @ceratonia-siliqua (check their blog next week for the next chapter!)

Read on ao3

Warnings: Unhealthy/codependent relationship, possessive behavior, dark themes, check ao3 for additional warnings.

Bucky knew that, eventually, mouthing off to Pierce was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

He was still a little surprised by how long it took, though. Bucky left for his next mission two days after he and Peter went dancing, and only needed nine days this time around to cross another four names off HYDRA’s list. When he returned home, he resolutely decided a break was in order, and despite Pierce’s consternation spent the next three weeks holed up with Peter in their home.

It was too hard being away from him. Bucky couldn’t stand the aching pit howling inside his chest whenever he and Peter were separated. He only felt like a human being when his boy was at his side. After all his years of military service, being captured and tortured during the war, returning to a life of more death and violence and then spending a decade in a high-security prison…Bucky didn’t often feel like anything more than a machine designed to cause human suffering.

But with Peter – with Peter, Bucky was someone else. He was human. He was a vessel of pleasure and love, reborn by the blinding light of Peter’s smile whenever the boy looked at him. When those doe eyes fixed on him, honey-warm and glowing with affection, Bucky didn’t feel like a monster or a machine of death. For the first time that he could remember, he felt like who he truly was: Peter’s soulmate.

To walk away from all that and drive across the country, killing fearful men who had incurred HYDRA’s wrath…it was harder than Bucky ever thought it would be. The killing never used to bother him. They were criminals, they were scum, they were grown men who played the game and lost. It never weighed on his conscience until Peter came along. It wasn’t that Bucky pitied his targets – far from that – but he felt like the person he was becoming in Peter’s virtuous presence diminished and cracked a little more every time he left for one of Pierce’s missions.

Which was why he mouthed off at the end of those three weeks, when Pierce called him at the ass crack of dawn and demanded to know when he would be leaving next.

Bucky stumbled out of bed, trying not to wake Peter as he tiptoed down the stairs to his office. He shut the door quietly and growled, “It’s too early for this shit.”

“On the contrary, Soldier, this is well overdue. You have been slacking. I want you to deploy. Today.”

Bucky gritted his teeth and paced in front of his desk. Pierce’s tone had entirely lost all semblance of patience that it once held. “I’ve cut your list in half since I was released, Pierce. What more do you want from me?”

“I want you to do what you were paid to do. That list was only the first of many. There are several more names to be added to it, and you are behind schedule. I thought I made my expectations very clear to you when I released you, Soldier. I want it done.”

“I can’t exactly pack my car up and leave on a six week hunt to go chase all these rats down. I have to take care of it little by little, otherwise it’ll be too hard to explain.”

Pierce laughed without sounding amused in the slightest. “Why on earth are you bothering to explain anything? I’ve supplied you with everything you need. A man three times Peter’s size would need a stick of dynamite to get out of that basement. Throw the boy in and be done with it. I’ll send someone once a day to feed him while you’re gone.”

The phone creaked under the pressure of Bucky’s metal hand. “You expect me to leave him with one of your goons?”

“James,” Pierce said, like Bucky was the stupid one. “The door has a slot for food at the bottom, and you’d be the only one with the key to open it fully. For heaven’s sake, they’re not even going to see the boy. Stop making this very simple matter more complicated than it needs to be. Lock the boy up and finish your job.”

“I can’t lock him up,” Bucky said, realizing distantly that he’d never shown Pierce as much emotion as he was in this very moment. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t. He’d never forgive me.”

Pierce sighed, a long-suffering sound, like a parent who’d been saddled with an unruly toddler for too many hours. “Then you’d best get your story straight, Soldier, because the next time I call you, it won’t be to ask.” His voice dropped several octaves, the clearest threat Bucky had ever heard. “Do you understand.”

A short, emotionless, “Yes,” was all Bucky could muster up.

“Good.” The threat slipped from Pierce’s tone, just like that. Ever the two-faced politician able to flip on a dime. “Honestly, you give that boy even more freedom than we give you, it’s absurd. Especially after the little stunt he pulled when your old pal Steve came knocking.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart stopped in his chest. “You…”

“ – Know about that? Don’t be stupid. Of course I do. Do you think anyone gets within a mile of my enforcer’s front door without my knowledge?”

He supposed it made sense, but Bucky was still stunned by the revelation. He always suspected Pierce was spying on them, tapped into every line, spying through every lens, but until now, he hadn’t thought much about it beyond a haughty, enjoy the show, you sick fuck.

Hearing Pierce actually comment on what he’d seen during said spying drastically changed Bucky’s feelings on the matter. “You have no right – ”

“That’s an odd way of saying thank you. Who do you think has kept your little friend so busy these last several weeks, hmm? Not to mention Tony Stark himself, who, by the way, has gone from an arrogant little son of a bitch to a completely insufferable one ever since you ran off with his little princess.”

Bucky’s head felt like it was spinning on its axis. “What?”

“You let Steve Rogers walk out of your home after catching you with a billionaire’s missing son,” Pierce said, slowly, enunciating every word. “I consider that a bit of a liability, so I took it upon myself to monitor the situation in case Rogers gets any bright ideas. The city commissioned him to do some work – a ridiculously large job that will keep him preoccupied for months – while I’ve been personally feeding Stark false leads and information to keep him too busy to answer any phone calls from guilty-conscience-riddled loose-ends.”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know if he could, given how tightly his throat had closed up. “…Thanks.”

“You are given far more freedom than any other member of my staff, thanks to your track record,” Pierce said. “If you take advantage of that privilege, you will lose it. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Then we’re done,” Pierce said, and added before hanging up: “Today, Soldier.”

The phone clicked, the call disconnected, and left Bucky standing silently in his office. His head was reeling. What the fuck was he going to say to Peter? He supposed he could tell the half-truth – his boss called suddenly, it’s a disaster job, he’ll be gone for a long time, maybe even a month – but would Peter buy it? Would he be upset, or worse, unwilling to stay here by himself for that long?

What if he…

Bucky shook his head, dispelling the evil notion before it could take root in his brain. No. He would not let Pierce manipulate him like that. Not when it came to Peter.

Defeated, Bucky sunk into his desk chair, cradling his head in his hands, desperately trying to think of what to say.

—

Peter wasn’t thrilled, unsurprisingly, but he was understanding. He kept his head down, trying to hide how sad he was as he helped Bucky pack and load the car.

“You still haven’t fixed the trunk yet,” he said, not accusingly, merely commenting on it as he was forced to put one of Bucky’s bags in the backseat. “Do you want me to take a look at it? I’m pretty good with machines and stuff. I could probably figure out what’s jamming it.”

“Maybe when I get back, baby,” Bucky said, putting his overnight bag in the passenger seat and shutting the door, then rounding the car to the other side so he could pull the boy into his arms. “I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said, lying, but Bucky loved him for it. “It’s work, I understand. This just shows your boss how good of an employee you are. Maybe you’ll get a promotion or a raise or something.”

Bucky huffed a laugh against the boy’s curls. “Yeah. Maybe.” He pulled back to tilt the boy’s chin up, cupping his cheeks. “You sure you’re not gonna be too lonely without me?”

“I’m lonely just thinking about it,” Peter said, barely louder than a whisper. Bucky’s heart broke in his chest. “But you have to go. I know you wouldn’t be if you didn’t have to. It sucks, but we just have to live with it.”

“I love you,” Bucky said, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re my everything, Peter Stark. One day I won’t ever have to leave your side again, I promise you that.”

“Deal,” Peter said, smiling, and kissed him. “Maybe we could…I don’t know, maybe we could get a dog or something, so it doesn’t feel as bad when you have to leave for a long time.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at him. “Do you want a dog?”

Peter looked away, blushing. “I mean. We have all this space, this huge yard, even that big fenced-in dog run out back…we could have a dog.”

“We could, if you wanted one, baby.” He took Peter’s hands, lifted them to his mouth, kissed the backs of his palms. He held Peter’s hand in his own and guided him away from the car, around the side of the house, where the chain-link fence of the dog run started.

A thought struck him, insidious and hateful. The dog run was large – meant for big dogs, multiple big dogs. The fence was twelve feet high and forty feet long, wide enough to let something large run around in the fresh air, exercising in full containment.

It twisted his stomach in a knot. The basement was big, but didn’t have much room to run. This, on the other hand, would be plenty of room for someone to run around, stretch out their cramped, aching legs.

Especially someone as small as…

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat and choked him, silencing the thought before it could fully manifest. He clutched Peter’s hand tightly and asked, “Do you think you could climb out of that thing?”

“Um,” Peter said, giving him a weird look, before surveying the height of the fence. His face set adorably in a look of deep concentration for a moment, then he decided, “Yeah, probably. I mean, it’s chain-link, so it wouldn’t be that hard to climb, I don’t think?”

“Hmm.” Bucky looked from Peter to the dog run and back, smirking playfully. “Do you think you could climb out before I could catch you?”

Peter’s eyes widened. He laughed, “Babe, there’s no way a dog could climb out of that thing! Even if it jumped that high, how would it get over the top?”

“Indulge me,” he said, opening the door to the pen and ushering Peter in. “I bet I can catch you before you make it over the top.”

Giggling, Peter walked to the other end of the run, shaking his head. “You just want an excuse to chase me around.”

“Now that I’m guilty of.”

Peter’s eyes shone, even as he backed away until he was almost at the other side. “What happens if you catch me?”

Bucky thought it over, his face expressionless. Why was he doing this? Why did he want to know how fast Peter could climb out of here? It was never, ever going to be useful knowledge. It wasn’t practical. He already knew the boy was fast, probably even faster than him, if they were talking pure speed. He didn’t need to know just how fast. He didn’t need to.

But the thought nagged, incessant. He had to know. He didn’t know why, but he did. He had to know, if he was at one end of the dog run and Peter was at the other, could Peter climb out before Bucky caught him?

“Well, we’re in a dog run,” Bucky said, grinning to try and ease the tension in his own chest. “So if I catch you, I’m going to fuck you like a dog.”

Peter’s face went tomato-red, soothing the torrent coursing through him. Bucky smiled lecherously at the boy’s shocked, aroused face, looking like he’d had his delicate sensibilities trampled on. A turbulent exhale left his lips, not-so-subtly shifting his weight on his legs as Bucky’s words went straight to his dick.

“I don’t see how that’s a win for only you,” Peter said, almost too quiet for Bucky to hear at this distance. “That’s what I was going to ask for if I won, too.”

Bucky laughed. He gestured for Peter to turn around and said, “Then you’d better get climbing.”

Peter turned, backing up a few feet so he could take a running start. “You’d better not start running as soon as my back is turned!”

That was exactly what Bucky did.

The moment Peter was moving, so was Bucky. He sprinted across the dog run as fast as his legs could go, knowing that, horribly, if this was real, the adrenaline would have him going even faster.

But the same would be true for Peter, who, despite being a faster runner than Bucky, only made it eight feet up the fence before Bucky was slamming into it. Peter yelped and giggled as Bucky caught his ankle, gasping when Bucky leapt up the fence with him and wrenched him off with an arm around his waist.

Bucky bracketed Peter’s body as he slid them down the fence, but the moment his feet touched ground, he wrestled the laughing, flushed boy to the ground and flipped him onto his stomach. Peter shouted and kicked, yelled, “Okay, you win, you win!” but everything was fuzzy at the edges, his vision, his hearing, his sense of touch, like his system had been overloaded.

He didn’t realize he was growling until Peter moaned wetly into the mud as he tore the boy’s clothes off. Peter jerked as he was laid bare, whimpering when Bucky forcefully spread his legs and hiked his hips into the air.

“W-wait, Bucky, do you have lube?” Peter asked, breathless from the tight position and being manhandled.

Bucky blanketed the boy’s entire body and bit his shoulder, hard. Peter yelped again and thrashed underneath him, but his cock was hard as a rock when Bucky lazily thumbed over it with his flesh hand. “Do dogs get lubed when they get mounted and fucked?”

“Oh God.”

The whine Peter made was one of both pain and pleasure as Bucky humped into him. His cock was wet enough for the both of them – not to mention, Peter’s hole was still slightly loose and glistening from their lovemaking this morning. It took a little force to plunge the head in, but once it was, the rest of his shaft was sucked right in to his boy’s waiting, welcoming body.

Peter made a long, shuddering sound as he was mounted. Bucky sat up on his knees, metal hand tight around the back of the boy’s neck, keeping his face pinned into the mud. Peter was trying to push away from the ground with both hands, but Bucky didn’t let him – Peter knew his safeword. Bucky trusted him to use it, if he really needed to.

And judging by how hard and loud the boy was moaning, he couldn’t be hating it that much. His little cock was bouncing and slapping against his belly with every thrust, and that was more than enough for Bucky. He gripped Peter tight by the hip with his free hand and bore down on him with his full weight, fucking him like he truly was trying to impale him on his cock.

The choked-out, pitiful noises Peter was making sent Bucky over the edge, blowing his load inside of Peter without stopping the brutal pace of his thrusts. He wrapped his right hand around Peter’s dick and jerked it hard and fast until Peter spilled all over the ground, shouting at the top of his lungs in a broken, slutty voice that sounded suspiciously like Bucky’s own name.

Panting, exhausted, Bucky sat back on his ass and brought Peter with him, cradling him in his lap. The boy was filthy – mud painted his entire front, his chest, his face, his hair. He was breathing hard, eyes closed, mouth panting, his skin still cherry-red and flushed beautifully.

Bucky kissed him, not caring one bit for the mud that stuck to his lips, and carried the boy inside for a hot bath.

—

Peter still had a towel draped over his head, utterly nude except for one of Bucky’s huge T-shirts hanging off him like a dress. He was sulky and pouty about Bucky leaving as they said their goodbyes in the mudroom, until he suddenly perked up and said, “Oh shit, wait a minute!”

He reached up and grabbed the letter he had pinned there – the one Bucky had purposefully forgotten, the last time he left for a mission, and held it out to Bucky. Tony Stark’s name and address stared up at him on the dusty white paper of the envelope. “Can’t forget this again. You’re still okay with mailing it for me, right?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bucky said, kissing the boy deeply as he took and pocketed the letter. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Smiling, Peter sighed into the kiss and happily accepted Bucky’s tongue when it prodded against his lips. Bucky pulled away before his cock could get any more interested in the activity, crushed Peter against him in a hug and said, “I’m going to miss you so fucking badly.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Peter said. He sounded so heartbroken, Bucky wanted to cry. “Please come back soon.”

“I will, baby,” he said, kissing him again. “I love you. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

He had every intention of keeping that promise. If luck was on his side, maybe, just maybe, this mission wouldn’t take a full month or more. Maybe he could wrap everything up in three weeks and make it home before the isolation became too much for Peter. He had to try. He’d never been a religious man, but God, was he praying for some luck now.

The only stop he made was ten minutes down the road, when he pulled over, took the letter from his pocket, and set it ablaze with his lighter. He watched the ashes scatter in the slight breeze and mentally begged Peter’s forgiveness, before crawling back inside his car, shutting the door, and driving away.

#winterspider #bucky x peter #bucky barnes x peter parker #winterspider prison fic #ceratonia-siliqua

[amirosebooks]

Dean’s Old Yeller Principle

“He made me so mad at first that I wanted to kill him. Then, later, when I had to kill him, it was like having to shoot some of my own folks. That’s how much I’d come to think of the big yeller dog.”

— Fred Gipson, Old Yeller, Chapter 1 (Published in 1942)

When I was twelve or thirteen my English teacher passed out copies of Old Yeller as assigned reading. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, the quote above from the opening chapter tells you most everything you need to know for the context of this meta post. And for those of us who are still emotionally scarred from the damned book, I’m sorry for dredging up those memories.

Now, before I go any further, a disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, this meta and interpretation of canon is my own. I’m not trying to “preach” to anyone about why Dean “is allowed” to be an asshole while he’s grieving or going through some shit. Or any other argument that consistently gets thrown back in the face of meta posts like this whenever Dean is being an emotional dick. You’re entitled to your interpretations, feelings and reactions, as am I. I’m merely offering this meta to 1) get it out of my mind 2) point and wave about the nods to this classic book that’s traumatized generations of American children 3) cheer Dean on for turning yet another teaching from the “older, wiser generation” John came from on its head.

Groovy? Okay, now we can move on.

I’m gonna throw the rest of this under the cut for length and to keep people who are sensitive to pets / animals dying in really sad ways from having their days ruined by talking more about the book unless they’re good with having that happen.

Now, as I said in my disclaimer bit, Old Yeller is largely considered classic literature here in the states. My memories of it are a weird mix of vague on the details and strong on the emotions it evoked. From what I remember, the main character was a young teenager when his family brought home Yeller. For whatever reason, our main character hated this dog. I don’t remember the details and they’re honestly not important to this meta. The hate he felt toward the dog is important. So is the fact that the hate slowly turned into love and devotion to the dog. Which made it even more gutting when, on a hunting trip (if I remember correctly) Yeller was bitten by a rabid animal and contracted rabies.

At the end of the novel, the Coates family are once again attacked by a wild animal, a wolf, and saved by Yeller’s bravery. Yeller is bit during the attack and becomes infected with rabies. Travis knows that despite his connection to Yeller and Yeller’s protection of his family, the dog must be killed before it becomes fully rabid and does any harm to him and his family. As the man of the house while his father is gone, Travis takes it upon himself to put Yeller out of his misery with his hunting rifle. Travis is heartbroken by what he has done, but knows that it was the right thing to do for his family. (From here.)

Sound familiar? Good. That’s what I thought too when we got the shot above in the graveyard in 14x20.

[Obviously, rabies, once there are symptoms like Yeller had, is incurrable, so putting him down was literally the only option. And we are talking here about Supernatural, which operates on soap opera rules so anything goes, but let’s just roll with the similarities for the sake of argument.]

I remember telling my husband while we were watching it “Dude, they’re really going to Old Yeller Jack, omg.” (I even made fanart of the moment.)

And then, something incredible happened.

Dean threw out the script yet again and set off season 15 with the dull thud of a gun being tossed into the grass.

Now, I hear you. “That’s great, Ami. Why should we care?”

Lemme tell you a thing, friend.

In order to tell you thing thing, I want to take a trip way back to season 4. Back when the brothers were still nose deep into John Winchester’s gospel of Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

(Screencaps are all from Home of the Nutty.)

4x21 - When the Levee Breaks

Sam: Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me.

Dean: No. You don’t know what you’re doing, Sam.

Sam: Yes, I do.

Dean: Then that’s worse.

Sam: Why? Look, I’m telling you-

Dean: Because it’s not something that you’re doing, it’s what you are! It means- Dean cuts himself off.

Sam: What? No. Say it. (Sam has tears in his eyes.)

Dean: It means you’re a monster. (Transcript from here.)

I remember the first time I watched the show and I got to this episode. That fucking line was such a gut punching moment. And it was such an effective and emotional moment that Ruby was able to extend it later to further manipulate Sam.

Now, the screencap I grabbed for this moment is of Dean in tears (well, that single man tear he’s known for) after labelling Sam a monster for a reason. I want to remind all of us of just how much it killed Dean to have to use that label for Sam. To have to try to rationalize that the boy he raised, his brother, the guy who has been there forever and has always been Dean’s charge to take care of is now the thing that Dean is going to have to put down because he falls under the label of monster.

You know what, let’s go back a little farther, to the first episode of season 2. To this moment:

Remember this look? The one we later learned was thanks to John telling Dean that Dean was going to need to put Sam down? That Sam was going to become a monster? Yeah, ouch.

I added the year Old Yeller was published (1942) to the quote at the top of this meta to help give some context about the time it was written and the world it was released into. I’d also like to make note that in 1957 (or about a year before Henry Winchester jumped forward in time to meet the brothers in season 8 and give them keys to the bunker and had to choose to abandon John when John was still a fairly young boy) Disney released a movie version of the book. It’s absolutely, if the movie exists in the SPN world, the kind of thing young John would have watched and taken some kind of black and white moral guidance from.

It’s the kind of book/movie that John would have probably (note, this is where we start diving into my own headcanons for a moment) made sure the boys were aware of when he started thinking about bringing them on hunts to keep them from freezing because the “person” on the other end of their shotgun is someone’s mom. I could see it being the kind of thing he’d use as a way to show them both that, yes, shit is hard but you have to do the right thing and sometimes that means killing the thing you love. At least, I could picture him thinking that way. (Also, this still makes me wonder about exactly how early John started suspecting there was something different about Sam, but that’s a whoooole other post.)

Moving on and forward to season 6.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King

Castiel: The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house – he got a few things wrong.

Dean: Well, it’s too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn’t it? Why are you here?

Castiel: I want you to understand.

Dean: Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?

Castiel: I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you.

Dean: Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me.

Castiel: You’re the one who taught me that freedom and free will –

Dean: You’re a freakin’ child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn’t mean that you get to do whatever you want!

Castiel: I know what I’m doing, Dean.

Dean: I’m not gonna logic you, okay? I’m saying don’t… Just ‘cause. I’m asking you not to. That’s it.

Castiel: I don’t understand.

Dean: Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family – that you are like a brother to me. So, if I’m asking you not to do something… You got to trust me, man.

Castiel: Or what?

Dean: Or I’ll have to do what I have to do to stop you.

Castiel: You can’t, Dean. You’re just a man. I’m an angel.

Dean: I don’t know. I’ve taken some pretty big fish. (Transcript from here.)

This was after two seasons of Cas fighting by their side. Two seasons of Cas giving heaven the middle finger on behalf of the Winchesters. It was enough time for Dean’s first reaction in a time of confusion on a hunt was to call Cas for help. And it was enough time for Dean to go from assuming Cas was a demon summoned with “bad mojo” to drag him out of hell on behalf of Sam to genuinely starting to care about Cas.

Dean did threaten to take Cas out here if he persisted down the path he was on, but you can tell by the rest of the conversation and just how hard it was to convince Dean that Cas was lying to them that Dean was hoping talking would work and he wouldn’t be forced to put Cas down.

Unfortunately…

6x22 - The Man Who Knew Too Much

Castiel: You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.

Dean: Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry. Now let’s just defuse you, okay?

Castiel: What do you mean?

Dean: You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.

Castiel: Oh no, they belong with me.

Dean: No, Cas, it’s it-it’s scrambling your brain.

Castiel: No, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely.

Dean: Listen to me. Listen, I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you… Please. I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too. You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.

Castiel: You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid. (Behind him, Sam picks up the angel killing sword.) You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family. (Sam stabs Castiel in the back with the angel killing sword. Sam groans. Nothing happens. Castiel pulls the sword out. There’s no blood on it. He puts it down.) I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you. (Transcript from here.)

Again, Dean tried to argue with the overpowered angel, he tried bargaining, pleading, and appealing to Cas’s fondness for them, but it didn’t work. Sam was the one who was forced to try stabbing Cas and it… also didn’t work.

7x01 - Meet the New Boss

Sam: Dean, look, I know you think that Cas is gone –

Dean: It’s 'cause he is.

Sam: He’s not! He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it.

Dean: No, you don’t.

Sam: No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and never gave up on me.

Dean: Yeah, and it turns out that you’re about the Same open book as you’ve always been. Hallucinations? Really? I got to find out from Death?

Sam: What was I supposed to do?

Dean: How about not lie? How about tell me that you’ve got crazy crap climbing those walls?

Sam: Why? You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and – and I thought –what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.

Dean: What? What, exactly, is under control?

Sam: I know what’s real and what’s not.

Dean: Sam –

Sam: Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.

Dean: Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon p**n and act like the world’s about to explode because it is. Hey. You got to be kidding me. “Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench-coated man.” There’s security footage. Well, I think reaching Cas is, uh… out of the cards. (Transcript from here. And hopefully my slight censoring the last paragraph keeps tumblr from blacklisting this post into the aether…)

Here’s a sad thought for you, how often do you think–while Cas was terrorizing the country as Godstiel and, later, after he walked into the lake and exploded into Leviathan goo–Dean thought about how he should have listened to Bobby and Sam and taken Cas out before he had the chance to swallow the Leviathans and become super powered? Probably a lot, I’d guess.

This moment, as much as I, personally, hate seasons 6 and 7, went pretty damn far to reinforce this Old Yeller principle in Dean’s moral code.

He had to sit back and watch, literally, while someone he cared about went out of their goddamn mind with power while killing and terrorizing people. He had to do that knowing that there was a moment when he could have done something to prevent it. He could have killed Cas when he had him locked up in the ring of holy fire and they were having one of their many breakup moments.

Dean felt like he could have stopped all of this, but he’d been weak and tried talking it out first instead. And you can’t convince me that he didn’t check the news and every drop of blood Godstiel brought about to the blood on his own hands because of that choice to give Cas a chance to see reason.

10x09 - The Things We Left Behind

CASTIEL: How are you, Dean?

DEAN: Fine. [Cas gives him a look.] I’m great!

CASTIEL: No, you’re not.

DEAN: Yeah, well, I lost the black eyes, so that’s a plus. But I still have this. [Dean reaches over and gently slaps the Mark on his arm.]

CASTIEL: Is the Mark of Cain still affecting you?

[Dean flashes back to his dream from earlier, of the blood covering him, the dead bodies lying around him.]

CASTIEL: Dean?

[Dean blinks hard, coming back to the present.]

DEAN: Cas, I need you to promise me something.

CASTIEL: Of course.

DEAN: If I do go dark side, you got to take me out.

CASTIEL: What do you mean?

DEAN: Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.

(Transcript from here.)

I may hate seasons 6 and 7, but holy damn do I love season 10. I know it’s not a favorite among many people in the fandom, but it’s one of mine.

This moment, this burger date of sadness and pain, is a big favorite for me. Dean sees the writing on the wall. He’s been a Knight of Hell now. He’s been as darkside as he can get. He’s, likely, being reminded daily of his time in Hell in the last ten years of his stay there where he was torturing souls. And he’s begging Cas to keep him from returning to that place. He’s begging Cas to adopt the Old Yeller principle because he sees it as the only option left if the mark consumed him again. And that kills me.

Let’s take another jump forward to season 13, where Dabb & Co really started putting Dean’s Old Yeller principle into text in a heavy, purposeful way.

13x02 - The Rising Son

SAM Dean, wait a second. (Sighs) The kid came through for us today. Jack saved us.

DEAN No. No, whatever that was, that was a reflex. It was a sneeze. Maybe next time he sneezes, he kills us. Good night.

[DEAN hears a clacking sound coming from a distance. He follows the noise to JACK’s room.] JACK Ah!

[DEAN finds JACK trying to stab himself with a blade. The wounds immediately heal.]

DEAN Okay. What the hell?  (he gets in the room) Give me that. You—Don’t be an idiot. Look, A, this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B, you… What the hell?

JACK Exactly. What the hell am I? I can’t control… whatever this is. I will hurt someone.

DEAN You know, my brother thinks you can be saved.

JACK You don’t believe that.

DEAN No, I don’t.

JACK So… if you’re right?

DEAN If I’m right… and it comes to killing you… I’ll be the one to do it.

[DEAN leaves.]

(Transcript from here.)

Can I just bask in the glory of the grieving widow!Dean arc from the beginning of 13 for a moment? I’d also like to take a moment to 🙌 Jack for being a wonderful Team Free Will mirror (and mimic) from the word go.

Ahhh…

Okay, moving on.

I loved this bit in 13x02 so much. Partially because it’s such a heavy handed foreshadow to 14x20, but also because it shows so clearly how good Jack is at reading the emotions in the room. He’s, like, three days old at that point, but he’s already having an existential crisis about whether or not he’s evil. He already understands (yes, thanks to jackass grieving widow!Dean…) the whole Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

He also shows that he understands the Old Yeller principle. And, for better or worse, he and Dean reach an unspoken agreement here about it. (Again, this is my reading. Your mileage may vary.)

13x04 - The Big Empty

JACK I’m afraid.

MIA/KELLY Why? Why are you afraid?

JACK Sam thinks you were right, that—that I’m good. He wants me to believe it, and I wanna believe it, too. It’s just, I… I’ve hurt people. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. And I know I should feel bad, and I say I feel bad, but most of the time, I mostly… I don’t feel anything. And that’s why I think maybe… Maybe I’m a monster.

MIA/KELLY Jack. It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what you do. And even monsters can do good in this world.

JACK You really believe that?

MIA/KELLY I have to. I have to.

[MIA hugs JACK again.]

(Trancript from here.)

Killing me would be kinder than subjecting me to these feelings so soon after being introduced to this fucking character. Omg. Poor Jack.

Now, yes, a huuuuge part of Jack’s opinion of monsters and the whole “What do we do with monsters children? That’s RIGHT, we kill them.” thing is because Dean is an asshole when he’s emotional and grieving and deep into survival mode.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that Jack is still worried about the fact that he doesn’t feel things the way that everyone else seems to. That he has powers no one, including him, can understand. And that he’s killed people without meaning to. He’s afraid of himself just like Dean was afraid of what he was capable of if the mark took him over again.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

(Sam continues down the hallway while Dean turns to another hallway and approaches his bedroom door. He stops as if to listen to something and then continues down the hall, away from his bedroom door. He enters Jack’s room, where Jack is sleeping and talking in his sleep)

JACK Stop! No!

DEAN Jack? (Dean touches Jack’s shoulder to wake him) Hey. (Jack jumps up, anxious and disoriented. Dean holds out his hand towards Jack to calm him) Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. You’re just having a bad dream.

JACK (breathing heavily) Sorry.

DEAN It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I have 'em, too. All the time.

JACK You do?

DEAN Sure.

JACK You, um… What do you see?

DEAN Well, depends. Mostly…mostly people I couldn’t save.

JACK Me, too. Over there in the other world, I said I’d protect those people. But…I saw so many of them die. And…I tried to save them. I…I tried, but… I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.

DEAN Jack… (Dean sits on the edge of Jack’s bed) it’s not about being strong. I mean… Look, I don’t know what you saw over there, and I don’t know what you went through. I know it was bad. But I also know that you came out the other side because you are strong. But even when we’re strong, man, things are gonna happen. We’re gonna make mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. Right? But we can get better. Every day, we can get better. So whatever you’re dealing with, you know, whatever…whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it, together. You’re family, kid, and we look after our own.

(Transcript from here.)

It’s not about being strong. IT’S NOT ABOUT BEING STRONG.

This is where we veer away from Old Yeller a tiny bit because, again, in the book Yeller had rabies which they could do nothing about.

The moments I’ve highlighted in this post all come back to one motivation. The overpowered person/angel/asshole in question was trying to gain enough strength through supernatural (lol) means in order to have the power to destroy a (perceived) bigger threat than whatever the cost was to get that power.

Sam’s demon blood drinking was supposed to give him the power to destroy Lucifer and get revenge for Mary and John and their lost childhood. It went badly and earned Sam the label of monster and falling, at least temporarily, into the territory of the Old Yeller principle.

Cas started lying to the brothers and working with Crowley so they could gain the power to stop heaven from starting yet another apaocalypse. Cas wanted to keep the Winchesters (Dean) safe from being destroyed in a holy war after being forced to fight his brother to the death. Again, this did not go well and lead to Cas succumbing to the Leviathans’s power and dying front of Dean after losing the Winchester’s trust.

Dean took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, the evil that made John grow up without a father. It left him torn between going on a, essentially, soulless killing spree or becoming a Knight of Hell… again.

Hell, even the way Jack came into the world was fraught with Sam lying to Dean about working with the BMoL to have the power and strength to defeat Lucifer/the nephilim. Not to mention the months of lying Cas did after he decided that Jack’s power and strength was the only way they could destroy Lucifer once and for all. Again, this ended with Cas dying in front of Dean and the BMoL trying to exterminate everyone including the American hunters.

That’s the lesson Dean is trying to instill (hypocritically, let’s be honest) to Jack here. Strength and power come at a terrible cost and if you can solve a problem without resorting to that level of fuckery that things will be better.

And, also, that if things do go bad, that Jack is family and “we look after our own.” To Dean, this is where the Old Yeller principle kicks in. It is, in a rather fucked up but well earned way, the best option he knows for making sure another one of his loved ones doesn’t fall under that monster label. That none of them end up with more blood on their hands or bringing about the end of the world, again, because of their soap opera problems.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK I’m sorry.

(Jack walks towards the exit and Castiel goes to follow him)

CASTIEL Jack!

(Dean grabs Castiel’s arm)

DEAN No, hey, just – just let him go.

(Jack is walking through the woods, banging a closed fist into his hand and punching his shoulder)

JACK You keep hurting people! You keep… (Jack flashes back to all the people he has hurt with his powers – Nate, Sam, Dean, the female police officer) hurting… (flash to the male sheriff) (yelling) Why do you keep hurting people?!

(Transcript from here.)

This lesson, the lesson of power and strength not being the best answer because of the cost it comes with is not an easy one to learn. Especially when you were born as a superpowered, emotional Winchester by adoption. Life is scary when that’s the hand you’ve been dealt and using the power you have is an appealing balm to combat that fear.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK (moving towards Lucifer, eyes glowing and hand outstretched)Tell me the truth!

(Lucifer’s eyes start to glow, his head tilts to the side and he starts speaking)

LUCIFER She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed, and then…so I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet, and I liked it.

(Lucifer’s eyes return to normal and he looks confused)

JACK You’re not my father. You’re a monster.

LUCIFER (yelling) Come on, man! (Lucifer bellows so forcibly that Sam and Dean cover their ears, his eyes glowing red) Okay. I tried with you. I really tried with you.

JACK Everything you told me was a lie.

LUCIFER Because I told you what you wanted to hear, man. So what?! I killed the girl! Big deal! She’s a – she’s a human! She doesn’t matter!

JACK So am I!

LUCIFER Yeah? And that’s your problem. (pointing at Jack) You’re too much like your mother.

(Transcript from here.)

To me, this moment reads as Jack embracing that black and white Winchester thinking. He has yet (even now that’s he’s currently dead in season 15) to grasp the concept of people being morally gray. He sees himself as either embracing the monster side of himself from his bio dad or rejecting that side of himself to embrace Kelly’s human side. The side that can’t hurt people on accident. The side that makes him more like the Winchesters. Because he doesn’t want to fall under than monster label. He doesn’t want to fall under that Old Yeller principle. He doesn’t want to hurt so many people that he will have to die because neither he or anyone else can control him.

Yes, this moment is FAR more complicated than just that, but it’s definitely part of it.

14x10 - Nihilism

DEAN Sam said that one of your reapers really came through with the assist. I’m thinking that was probably you.

BILLIE Don’t tell anyone.

DEAN You broke the rules.

BILLIE I took a calculated risk. I warned you about the dangers of jumping from world to world. But you ignored me, didn’t you?

DEAN Rescuing Mom and Jack, helping out those other folks – I’d say it was worth it.

BILLIE And just look at you now. Do you remember visiting my reading room? The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die?

DEAN Yeah. Upbeat classics.

BILLIE Well, it’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten. They all end the same way now – with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.

DEAN All of them?

BILLIE All of them. Except one.

(Billie hands Dean a book. He opens it and then looks at her, stunned)

DEAN What am I supposed to do with this?

BILLIE That’s up to you.

(Dean looks at the book again and when he looks up, Billie is gone. He looks back at the book and then looks around, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face)

(Transcript from here.)

Remember what I said about Dean being well aware of the price that has to be paid in exchange for the power and strength to defeat supposedly unbeatable enemies?

Yeah… Dean “knows” that the time has come for him to call his own bluff. The one from all the way back in 10x09 (not that he was bluffing then, but he didn’t have to take action on it then) when he asked Cas to take him out. “Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever.”

We didn’t know that was what this moment was until the next episode. But this is the moment when the Old Yeller principle went into effect again. And you can see how much it hurts Dean, how resigned and heartbroken he is over it.

14x11 - Damaged Goods

DEAN It’s a Ma’lak box. [DEAN closes the door to the box. He and SAM are standing over it.] Secured and warded. Once inside… nothing gets out, not even an archangel. Especially an archangel.

SAM Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve – I’ve read about these, but – but no one’s ever – they’re impossible to build.

DEAN Yeah, well, not so much.

SAM That’s your plan? You want to be buried alive?

DEAN Buried’s not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash.

SAM You and Michael, trapped together – for eternity?

DEAN Yeah.

SAM You do realize how insane this is, right?

DEAN It’s the only sane play I’ve got. Michael gets out, that’s it for this world. And he will get out.

SAM Well, how do you know that for sure?

DEAN Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving.

SAM But there has to be another way.

DEAN There’s not, okay? There – Sam you’ve tried. Cas has tried. Jack… And I love you for trying. But none of it’s gonna work.

SAM We don’t know that.

DEAN Yeah, we do.

SAM What?

DEAN Billie.

SAM Billie?

DEAN She paid me a little visit. She said that there’s only one way this ends right. And this is it. This, right here, this box. So, she gave up the special recipe, and all I had to do was the work. It’s fate.

SAM Since when do we believe in fate?

DEAN Now, Sam. Since now.

(Transcript from here.)

Here is the moment. The one where Dean was at his absolute lowest. When he hit that point where resignation about his fate met having to act on his principles. 

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

DEAN Well, I will call this a win. Kinda nice. Going out on a high. SAM “Going out” being the operative phrase. DEAN Sorry. SAM “Sorry.” How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, a-after I’ve looked up to you, after I’ve learned from you, I-I-I’ve copied you, I followed you to Hell and back… are you sorry that all of that it – it – it means nothing now? DEAN Who’s saying that? SAM You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you’re telling me that I have to just throw away everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We’re the guys who saved the world. We don’t just check out of it! [SAM pushes DEAN.] DEAN Sam, I have tried everything. Everything! I got one card left to play and I have to play it. SAM You have one card today! But we’ll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don’t know what else to do. I don’t either, Dean. Not yet. But what you’re doing now, i-it’s – it’s wrong! It’s quitting! I mean, l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. [SAM moves closer to DEAN.] I believe in us, Dean. [DEAN doesn’t say anything. SAM gets angry and punches DEAN in the face.] I believe in us. [SAM tries to punch DEAN again, but he stops him.] DEAN Hey, hey, hey, hey! [SAM hugs DEAN.] SAM Why don’t you believe in us, too? DEAN Okay, Sam. Let’s go home. SAM What? [SAM pulls away from the hug.] DEAN Let’s go home. Maybe Billie’s wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.

(Transcript from here.)

And just like Dean predicted in 10x09, Sam was able to talk him out of sacrificing himself. How was he able to do that? By reminding Dean that they were the fucking Winchesters. They fucked with the cosmic balance constantly and always, always found another way. A way to avoid the Old Yeller principle. A way to live and fight again.

Which, they totally did, but the price of not throwing Dean into the ocean for an eternity of alone time with alt!Michael banging away in his head was their adopted child.

14x20 - Moriah

JACK: You’re not gonna lock me up again, are you?

DEAN: No.

(Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack)

SAM: Dean? Dean!

JACK: (to Dean) I understand.

(Sam is still running, yelling for Dean. The music is getting more suspenseful as Dean holds his aim steady at Jack)

SAM: Dean, don’t! Dean? Dean!

JACK: I know what I’ve done.

SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Dean! Hey, hey, hey! Dean!

DEAN: Stay back, Sam!

SAM: (Panting)

JACK: And you were right all along. (Chuck comes up alongside Sam) I am a monster.

SAM: (to Chuck) Do something. … You’re enjoying this.

CHUCK: Shh.

(Dramatic music plays)

(Dean cocks the gun. He looks Jack in the eye for several seconds and then slowly lowers the gun. At this point, Castiel also comes running towards the area)

(Dean uncocks the gun and tosses it to the side)

(Transcript from here.)

I have yet to rewatch this episode, but from what I remember I don’t think it had completely sunk in to Dean in that moment of choice that Chuck was there revealing that he was invested in the outcome of this showdown between Dean and Jack. In that moment, that split second of choice between following through with what he’d believed for so long for following through with an extension of the order John gave him about Sam back in the hospital back in 2x01, Dean made a choice for himself. And that choice was to believe that they’d find another way. He decided that when it came right down to it, he couldn’t kill his child for making the same bargain for power and strength that he himself had made multiple times over the last 14 seasons.

He was also directly confronted with a similar situation to that from the end of season 6 and beginning of 7 with Cas and the Leviathans, in that when it really came down to it, he wasn’t capable of murdering someone he considered family.

And then Chuck had to go and erase any chance they had in following up on that. He killed Jack so that they didn’t have a chance to find a way to help Jack balance the power he’d absorbed from destroying Michael or living without his soul.

So yeah, from where we sit now with only one episode of season 15 under our belts waiting with baited breath to see where the rest of this end of the road season takes us, it makes sense that Dean, of all people, would be in the middle of an emotional fucking collapse. And that he would be a huge, whiny, pissbaby douchebag about it because that’s the Dean Winchester way.

Does that make his behavior okay? No, of course not. But does that turn any of the rest of them into saints? Nope, of course not. And I, personally, wouldn’t have it any other way. I like that they’re flawed and fucked up and keep getting back up and going back to each other and keep trying. That’s why we’ve had 15 goddamn seasons of this. Because it’s what they do.

#15x01 #spn spoilers #spn parallels #jack kline #dean winchester #spn meta #season 15 #jack the nougat nephilim #my spn meta #tumblr mobile ate this post the first time i tried posting it but it was in the cache on my laptop so it's back!

[pip-n-flinx]

What Lay Behind Us

I know my first chapter didn’t get much traction, but here is second chapter of the Witcher fic I’m working on!

“Legend has it they wilt unless nourished with blood, and also if it’s ever sold… But give it to someone you love, and it’ll live forever.”

“This one’s for you Triss. If there’s any truth to the legend it should never wilt, even if you pluck a petal or two.”

Triss found herself staring at the Rose of Remembrance that Geralt had given her more than six months ago. No one would ever accuse Triss Merigold of having a green thumb, and indeed she left the growing of herbs to the alchemists her whole life. But it still bloomed, beautiful as the day they had found in, growing on the elven statue in the garden.

    She’d carried it with her. Sentiment. Just couldn’t bring herself to leave it behind. Smiled every time she looked at it. Pulse elevated. Breathing ragged. And that bath afterwards. She missed him. So much. But he remembered Yen now. Heartbroken, she turned back. Too good to last. She’d known from the start. Even if she was beautiful, Yen was more. Much more. The Djinn had seen to that. Bound her crush to her friend. There were other men. Handsome men. Winsome pairings. Other witchers even. It didn’t matter. She looked into those gold eyes and her heart broke. Torn. Then she found him. He’d forgotten. Forgotten Yennefer. Forgotten the Djinn. And her emotions had swept her away. But she’d known, even then. Doomed, this tryst. Doomed from the very start.

    Tears slid down her face and quiet sobs racked her chest as she clutched the rose close. It was almost too much to bear, seeing him again. “It’ll be nice?” She asked herself as she sat on the stump that passed for a chair. “It’ll be nice?! What was I thinking?” More sobs, more tears. Embarrassing, Triss thought. As an advisor to the king, before the coup, before the assassins, before the war, before the witch hunt, before all this, she could have had most any aspiring noble. Most were fine enough, but no. Her heart had seen fit to fall for Geralt. This all would have been so much easier if she had fallen for any other man. Damn, even Emhyr var Emreis was a more likely husband then Geralt, bound as he was by his own wish. Damn him, and damn Yen too. Clenched teeth, silent sobs now. Crying over a rose that would never wilt, never die. A constant reminder both of her lover and her own indiscretion. But she couldn’t just leave it. Not here. Not anywhere. She’d carry around her badge of shame until she died...

    They’re writing songs of love, but not for me.

    A lucky stars above, but not for me.

    With love to lead the way,

    I’ve found more clouds of grey     Then any tragic play could guarantee.

    I was a fool to fall, and get that way.

    Oh woe! Alas! And oh so lack-a-day.

    So while I can’t dismiss

    The memory of their kiss

    I guess they’re not for me.

    Dandelion’s song had come back, unbidden. Damn that bard, his songwriting always hit too close to home. Prescient even. She’d even wondered if he had the gift of dreams, at one point. There were some things he had no way of knowing, but know them he did.

        She remembered clearly the day she had heard. About the Djinn, about the wishes… She hadn’t had time to weep, not in front of Yen. It was hard, hearing Yennefer rail against the man Triss had her heart set on. Harder still to hear Geralt had chosen this. She’d been bitter, she knew. Her friend had come back beautiful, and scorning the love of “that scheming, manipulative, golden eyed abomination!” if memory served. That had hurt more than anything.

    Later on, she’d taken the time to cry it out. Hell, she’d even taken Eskel to bed with her, trying to forget Geralt. It hadn’t worked, of course, and Eskel couldn’t have cared less. He just wanted the flame haired sorceress underneath him. So when she’d snuck into Kaer Mohren and to his bed, he hadn’t objected. Triss regretted the decision instantly. What was she trying to do after all? Make him jealous? All she’d gotten was a pale imitation of what Yennefer had. It was a mistake, and one she’d never owned up to. Not to Yen, nor Ciri. Not to the other witchers, and most certainly not to Geralt. She didn’t know if she could. No, she held that secret closer than she did even the Rose of Remembrance. That too, she would carry to her grave.

    Then Geralt had returned, remembering nothing. Not her name, barely her face, but perhaps more stunningly not Yennefer of Vengerberg either. It was too good to be true. It wouldn’t last. Whether it was a curse or just a bump on the head, eventually he’d be back to normal. He’d lived so many years, there was no way this would be the undoing of the Butcher of Blaviken. Nevertheless she’d taken advantage of it. It almost hurt more, realizing just how right she was. Eskel was a shadow of the man Geralt was. He’d fought through hordes of soldiers to save her, for no personal gain other than her favor. Risked his life countless times, even treated her like a lady on occasion. He wasn’t the most romantic man, true, but he didn’t lack for spirit or passion. It ached to remember him. The elven bath in the ruin, that mischievous glint in his eyes, the smirk. He flinched when he saw her naked, then tore off his clothes to jump in after her, nearly tripping along the way. It was… cute to see him so frazzled. After the stunning beauty that Yennefer had become, she had thought she would never make him swoon for her. True, she was fit. Some men even favored red heads. It had hurt to think she was a wilted flower beside her friend though. An additional strain on the relationship. But Geralt watcher her with eyes that flickered from near predatory desire to childlike wonder for a time. Gods she had missed him.

    And then back he strolled, right in on her meeting in Putrid Grove, bartering as if her life depended on it. Her life did depend on it, of course. It was hard to hide in a basement next to the fish market, the smell of fish and the stench of rotting meat never left her nose these days. A far cry from the oils, candles, perfumes and colognes of her past life. Into this, with Triss about as debased as she had felt since she was held tortured by Letho’s men, Geralt had walked. Memory restored.

    She had tried to duck out then. It had been too difficult meeting his eyes. It was always hard to read those vertical pupils, but his expression had softened when he looked at her. Bedlam had noticed too, damn him. Triss wondered why Geralt would hold anything but suspicion and hostility for her. She had, after all, used his amnesia to worm her way into his bed. Triss imagined she wouldn’t have been so kind had their roles been reversed. If someone had used amnesia to trick her into leaving Geralt, she certainly wouldn’t have any sympathy for them upon waking.

But when she tried to excuse herself he had followed. Offered to help. Swam in the filthy channel to retrieve her lost implements. Haggled on her behalf with Brandon. Defended her when Radovid’s goons were set on her. Again, he risked life and limb for her. She hadn’t even paid him first! She was sure that was against some ancient witcher code somewhere. She smiled through her tears.

She paused a moment, considering the rose in her hands. Come to think of it, shouldn’t it have wilted now? Surely now that Geralt remembered Yennefer he loved her and not… Perhaps the magic only cared if the rose were given in love? But then what sustained the spell? Surely a flower so fragile it required a blood sacrifice to grow couldn’t be sustained by a discreet act of love. Yet there it be, blooming as if he still loved her. Impossible. Another sob racked her chest.

“What was I thinking, inviting him here!”

“I come at a bad time?”

Whirling, she saw him. Damn. Crying so much I don’t even notice the Butcher of Blaviken walk in.

“No,” she managed to stammer while dashing tears from her cheeks “now’s fine.”

    She even managed to muster a small smile for him. Why now of all times. She hadn’t thought to see him until at least tomorrow. Never in her wildest thoughts would he come to her immediately. It had scant been an hour since he had set off, back fading into the dim sun and smog of the Novigrad evening. Candles flickered around them, on the meager desk and on the small bed frame that made up her abode. She was embarrassed, frankly. It was hardly the kind of dwelling she wanted to invite handsome men home to. Though she supposed, upon review, that this was preferable to him walking in on her chained to the wall, blood crusted on her lips and eyes swollen nearly shut. At least then she had felt relieved when he walked in the room. Now she was more nervous than ever.

“See you kept that Rose of Remembrance I gave you back in Flotsam”

“Seems so long ago. Probably because so much has changed.” 

    Setting the rose aside, not wanting to dwell on it with Geralt right here, she turned back. Now would be a good time to change the subject. Anything would be better than this. Well, maybe not stories of Geralt and Yen’s love-life. That might send her over the edge. Ciri. That was a safe topic. She opened her mouth to try and divert this before the conversation spiraled out of her control, but he beat her to the punch.

“How long you been in Novigrad?”

“Long enough to know how not to get caught, and to survive.” “And before you came here, where were you?”

“Oh, places… where I managed to get by without your help, too.”

    Too biting, she could tell. He even averted his eyes at that one. Damn him, why did he have to pry? She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ready for his questions to get personal again. A sigh, a grimace. She didn’t want to chase him away, but she needed some time to gather her thoughts.

“Which doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you...”

    Eyes averted, fidgeting with her hair, feet dragging side to side in the sand of the floor. Damn, he’s got me acting like I’m twelve years old again, nervous in front of a boy. It’d be too much to ask that he not notice. Witchers tended to notice everything. Even the dim light wouldn’t hide her blush from him, certainly not at this distant. She could tell he’d washed up a bit, he didn’t smell of river and sewage anymore.

“You know Triss, it's good to see you again”

    Good? To see me? She could barely keep up with today. It’d been bewildering enough to see him again, but this? This was too much. She wanted nothing so much as to run into his arms again. What would he do? Triss hadn’t the foggiest idea what Geralt intended by coming here.

“Your rose is still blooming I see. Almost as red as your hair too.”

    Compliments? She raised her head only to see the man blushing. Blushing! A nervous laugh escaped her lips. Was this a dream?

“Flatterer. Tis a far deeper shade of red than my hair. Your rose is far prettier too,” she said, gently caressing one petal with her left hand.

Taking a moment to revel in the feel, the texture. Soft as silk, nearly creamy on her skin, and redder than blood. A fitting memoriam of their time together. She’d always wished for more stable times, when great gouts of fire and magic were less necessary. She never wanted to live in such troubled times. Perhaps she’d been born at the wrong time, the wrong age. Maybe a hundred years from now…. 

She stifled the thought. She’d trade no amount of shame and suffering for her time with this witcher. Smiling broader this time, she looked back up at him. His eyes had followed her fingers, and she left a finger on the rose petal in what she hoped was a dainty gesture.

“Explain something to me, Witcher.”

#The Witcher #Wild Hunt #Triss x Geralt #Triss Merigold #Geralt of Rivia #my writing

[cozcat]

His Dark Materials at the National Theatre

There’s no publicly available video* of the National Theatre production of His Dark Materials, but the script is pretty easy to find, as Nick Hern Books released it.

They condensed the three books into one two-part play - the same style as Cursed Child. Two plays, so four acts, with regular intervals and a prolonged break between the second and third acts.

Under the cut, I’ve got some general information about the show, and a list of notes about changes, as well as anything I’ve found interesting as I’ve been reading. At some point, I may do a full summary of what actually happens in the script, rather than contrasting it with the books.

If you have any questions about the script, I’m happy to answer!

* Unless you go to the NT archive in London, and you can watch it there, but as it’s an archive copy, it’s apparently pretty mediocre quality, so more of a reference for the staging than an actual viewing experience. And you can’t watch it unless you’re in the actual building.

For general staging and information:

The National Theatre has a drum revolve, and most shows use it when staged there. As His Dark Materials was specifically written for that theatre, the revolve is used very liberally throughout, and an example of its use can be seen here

A handful of photos can be found here, and lower quality ones can be found from a bit of a hunt online.

Lists of both casts can be found here.

National Theatre Archive pages for part 1 and part 2

Act One

Opens with Lyra and Will as adults on the bench in Oxford - their conversations don’t line up, but work in tandem, and Mrs Lonsdale appears towards the end to indicate they’re going back in time as a flashback - Will disappears, and Lyra is twelve again

Roger and Lyra only meet for the first time before the Retiring Room, and Roger goes with her, though he’s just a tagalong - Lyra still does everything of importance

Jopari is alive, and brought up by Asriel in the meeting - there’s no head

Billy's dæmon is Ratter and he takes the Tony role of being the severed child

Mrs Coulter openly wants Lyra working for the General Oblation Board, and wants to tell her about it after the cocktail party

"Lyra the liar!” is said by both Pan and Roger at different points

Lyra is picked up by the Gyptians who are already en route north - they go straight to Trollesund, and Ma Costa doesn’t appear at all

Lyra: "Haven't you got any self respect?" Iorek: "None."

Farder Coram and Serafina Pekkala are "long lost friend[s] of my [his] youth-time days", and they communicate sometimes still

Lyra sees Billy post-intercision in a Tartar camp and is kidnapped from there - rather than seeking him out

Lyra is grabbed to be intercised when she frees the severed dæmons, and the intercision begins because they want to shock Lyra into submission before Mrs Coulter arrives - she arrives just before the intercision

They make the human-dæmon bond visible in the intercision machine - presumably so that the audience knows what happens when we see it severed later

Mrs Coulter gets the Parent Reveal, and she claims that it was distress because of everything that happened before and during the trial that meant she couldn't look after Lyra, and that's when Lyra was taken away to Jordan

Serafina's first appearance is at the end of act one, when she rescues Lyra and Roger to take them to Svalbard

Mrs Coulter and the monkey have a wound in the same place from the spy fly

Act one ends with Mrs Coulter reaching and yelling for "Lyra!"

Act Two

also opens on the bench in Oxford, with Will recounting how he wound up in Ci’gazze, but goes back to Lyra and co in the balloon

Jopari gave the amber spyglass to Serafina, and she shows it to Lee - and shows him Dust

there is a bear in the script called “Stupid Bear”, and he keeps calling the Chief Bear “Sarge”

another bear is Disgruntled Bear, and he complains that Mrs Coulter is “making us cook our food”, and they all miss raw walrus

there isn’t a delay on Iorek arriving at Svalbard - he turns up with Roger not long after Lyra

Asriel: “I refuse to be preached at by a sanctimonious ten-year-old.” Lyra: “I’m twelve! I’m twelve!” Asriel: “Well, you would know.”

the witch is interrogated at Bolvangar - where Mrs Coulter is also told that the General Oblation Board has been closed down, its records expunged, and her Geneva bank account has been terminated

Mrs Coulter also tells Lord Asriel that she wants to stay in their world to find and protect Lyra from the Church

we see Asriel holding Salcilia - as though daemons don’t vanish when their humans die (which may just be so that they don’t have to make a daemon vanish onstage)

Lyra and Pan take Asriel’s explanation of “heads in one world, tails in another” to mean that Roger might be alive in another world, and that’s why they leave

Lyra’s secret name (ie Eve) is a Big Deal - with Mrs Coulter, the Church, and the witches

Ruta Skadi is intent on war, but she’s also intent on killing Jopari, taking that particular role from Juta Kamainen - however, there are multiple witches named in the script, none of whom have a name from the books, and none of whom are named onstage

Lyra on her parents: “Wasn’t it awful when they kissed like that?”

Lyra lists off friends they’ve made (”Iorek... Serafina... Mr Scoresby...”) and Pan matches with their daemons (”...Kaisa... Hester...”)

“Boys can’t cook.” “Well, this boy’s had to.” “In my world, servants do the cooking.” “In my world, the Coke is brown.” Lyra and Will get right to snarking at each other, and Ci’gazze Coke is green.

Lyra and Will exchange the alethiometer and the green writing case as a show of trust

Lord Boreal shows up to Will in the library while he is looking for papers on his father, gives him a cutting about the window his father left through, and steals the alethiometer while Will is distracted

Boreal steals the alethiometer because he assumes it’s the case with the letters in it

Part 1 ends with Will getting the knife, then a montage - the witches see the angels, Asriel appears in his fortress, Mrs Coulter is looking for Lyra, Will calls for his father, and Brother Jasper gives the President a piece of paper with “Lyra Belacqua’s secret name”

Act Three

Opens with a montage - Lyra and Pan running; the gap between the worlds, Asriel trying to convince Marisa to go with him, then Lyra holding Roger as he dies; Serafina addressing the witches; Lyra meeting Will; Mrs Coulter talking to the President; Will talking about his father to Lyra; Jopari and Lee Scoresby; the knife fight; Serafina and Ruta; the President summoning the Council after finding out Lyra’s secret name

in the next scene, it’s various clerics talking about Lyra being Eve as well as Asriel’s plans

Boreal: “I’ve asked my manservant to make up the guest room for you.” Mrs Coulter: “The guest room? Well, we mustn’t upset him. I must remember to rumple the sheets in the morning. You really are the most delightfully old-fashioned host.” MARISA

Boreal cultivates orchids

Marzipan becomes blackberries, told with Serafina and Farder Coram - and their son is born nine months later, after the blackberry incident, and dies soon after

Chevalier Tialys and Lady Salmakia are married in this - they’re introduced with her as his spouse

Mrs Coulter brings Giacomo Paradisi to the Spectres and has them eat his soul - Boreal is terrified; the children pickpocket Giacomo and tell Mrs Coulter where Lyra and Will went

Ruta Skadi says “I’ve seen those eyes before” about Will and it carries an awkward weight when she was in love with Jopari and is intent on killing him

Mrs Coulter uses the Spectres to kill Boreal, rather than poisoning him

we actually see the Spectres attack the witches, rather than just hearing about it - and Mrs Coulter tries to be nice to Lyra shortly before the murdering

Ruta Skadi calls for Yambe-Akka to take her before she kills herself - which is odd, as the witch that Serafina kills calls specifically for Serafina to kill her

a mid-act flash of Oxford - Lyra afraid she’d never wake up from the world of the dead, and Will remembering finding out that taking this journey was his mantle

Lord Asriel: “Her mother? Stuck in a cave? I don’t believe it. This is a woman who has her hair done twice a week at six in the morning.” I’m just going to question how Asriel knows this, assuming it isn’t decade-old knowledge.

Stelmaria: “You’d have killed her yourself, at Svalbard.” Lord Asriel: “No, I would not! I thought I’d have to kill her, for the sake of my experiment. When the boy walked in, I was vastly relieved and I let her go.”

Asriel decides to care about Lyra because he realises that’s where his enemy is focusing

Asriel appears in the fight at the cave, and there’s a brief and angry family reunion

Will shatters the knife because Lord Asriel tells him to think of his father - but in the cover of the fighting, pulls Lyra away

Act three ends with Lord Asriel yelling “Lyra! Lyra!”

Act Four

Opens in Asriel’s fortress, with him getting information from Tialys and Salmakia

Marisa and Asriel have a (very angry) conversation about how they’ve both grown to care for Lyra - Marisa, because Lyra somehow changed her; Asriel, because he’s finally clocked that she’s important and in danger (and is trying to manipulate Marisa because he wants the knife)

Rather than talking, the monkey makes stabbing gestures in the air to indicate the knife

it turns out Asriel did actually take Lyra away because “You were raving mad! You’d have throttled her in her cradle!”

Mrs Coulter: “Then you ignored her, you neglected her, year after yearm she had no decent company, no education...” they’re really just sat here going, “no, you’re the shittier parent!” and arguing for five full pages

The actor playing Pantalaimon appears as Lyra’s Death. That’s an actual, heartbreaking stage direction.

Tialys and Salmakia don’t go to the world of the dead - they report back to Asriel that Lyra and Will escaped

Brother Jasper: “Father President, let me speak. I have sinned. I had evil thoughts.” President: “You are not the first young man to have been corrupted by Mrs Coulter. Make up for it on the battlefield.”

Lyra and Will help the Authority to die, and he smiles the whole time

Mrs Coulter and Lord Asriel see Brother Jasper about to kill Lyra, and throw themselves onto him to drag him into the Abyss - somehow, it takes two people to do that, rather than just kicking him, but anyway, this is what happens when we cut out Metatron

Pan and Kirjava both appear as cats, but they’ve both settled, and there’s nothing indicating he changes into a pine marten over the course of the conversation

“On Midsummer night at midnight... and talk til dawn, just like now, as though we were together again. Because we will be.”

The final line is Lyra saying “The republic of heaven”, after which two clocks are heard striking. Lyra picks up Pan, and she and Will pass each other, and walk out of sight.

So the changes are pretty inevitable when they’re trying to condense 1000 pages into five hours. As with reading any script, it feels ridiculously fast paced - but when a brawl between bears is reduced to a few lines of sparse stage directions, of course it feels fast.

One change that I actually quite like is the exchange of the letters and the alethiometer. It makes it a bit more believable - there’s no need for Lyra to not recognise Boreal, and the slimy bastard is obviously going to be able to distract Will with information about his father, given that’s what Will is in the library searching for. Parts of The Subtle Knife honestly make Lyra out to be a bit of an idiot - making it a case of Will being forcibly distracted makes it a lot more understandable than “Lyra gets in a car with a stranger”. And it makes his determination to get the alethiometer back while he’s still bleeding all over the place make a bit more sense. But the initial exchange of letters and alethiometer is honestly quite sweet, and it’s something I’d actually really like to see in the series, if I’m honest.

As much as I hate Mary and the Mulefa being cut, I get it. That’d be a fucker to put onstage - and there’s already a ridiculous amount going on, so they do need to streamline somewhere. I know that it’s missing, but it doesn’t feel like it’s missing, as so much is going on anyway.

The removal of Metatron has me livid. I know that they needed to streamline, but they could have pushed Brother Jasper into the abyss, it wasn’t a two person effort. Come on. Come on.

The characterisation of Marisa is interesting, too - they start hammering in her switch to being uncharacteristically maternal fairly early, and the fact that they change it so that Lyra was pretty much stolen from her makes it somewhat believable that she’d make that switch so easily. It’s obviously something that has been changed so that it seems like a natural character progression, but it’s really damn weird.

But to summarise - a few good changes, a few that I don’t like but which I understand, and a few that I neither like nor understand. And that’s always going to happen with adaptations. If I do a full summary, I’ll link it here... providing I remember. And again, if you’re curious about anything from the script, I’m happy to answer, and if it’s something else about the play, I’m happy to try to find out.

#his dark materials #hdm #national theatre #myhdm

[lamesiscanon]

To Fall in Love With A Killer

You’ve got to be kidding me. 

Twelve years. Twelve fucking years and Sirius Black was standing in front of him. Twelve years of endless thoughts of Sirius, wondering if he was dead, if he was alive, or if he was in danger, Remus never had any clue. But here the bastard was, standing across the busy street, long black coat moving just a little as the cars passed. The cars blocked Remus’ view for half a second but every time, he was still standing there. Smug little shit, staring at Remus with a smirk that reminded him how long it’s been since he has seen Sirius. The smirk that looked so different compared to the one twelve bloody years ago yet still just as alluring. And while Sirius stared at Remus, Remus just stared back, unsure of what to do in front of the man who he had a complicated past with. Car after car came and Sirius was still there after each one, and then he wasn’t.

Remus jumped when he felt the tap on his shoulder, his eyes swinging away from the spot Sirius had been standing to the spot Sirius was standing now, the stupid smirk still on his face. Remus quickly backed up about ten steps, hurrying to get far away from whatever danger Sirius Black had the possibility of having with him at that moment. 

Remus narrowed his eyes and scowled at the man, the manipulative, gorgeous man who broke his heart for games. The man who had no right to be here right now. 

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” his tone was the opposite of welcoming, yet Sirius’ smirk turned into a grin. 

“I was in the neighborhood Rem! Just thought I’d come and say hi, tell you how much I’ve missed you these past years. What has it been... eight?” Sirius slowly strode towards Remus, who just kept moving backwards. 

“Twelve.” Remus forced out. “Twelve years of you not giving a fuck so what stirs your fake interest now?” 

Remus was determined to get out of here without any incident, to not fall for the damn gray eyes and the boy he knows Sirius used to be, he had to get out of there before he forgot that Sirius was a new, bad person. So he tried to show it with his eyes, and his words, spitting them out and glaring at Sirius. 

You’ve got this Remus. You’re not swooning this time. Stay strong.  

Except, Remus’ intentions did not have the effect they desired. Instead of Sirius shrugging with his new “I don’t give a-” attitude and turning to walk down the road, whistling while thinking of who else to bother, his eyes lost a little light, and his grin faltered. He looked hurt. Remus almost wished Sirius looked angry rather than hurt. Being sad was his best manipulation tactic. 

“Remus... I know it’s been twelve years.” Sirius said quieter than his usual volume. 

“You’re a liar.” 

“Remus please, it’s been too long. I just wanted to say hi. That’s it.”

At this point the only way he’ll leave me alone is if he was strapped to somet-

Remus gave Sirius a thoughtful look, and tried his best to mask the evidence of an excellent idea forming in his head. He turned his thoughtful look back into a scowl, hoping it would distract Sirius’ eyes from his hand slowly moving behind his back. 

“Bullshit. Nothing has ever been that simple for you. Cut the crap, Sirius, and tell me why you’re really here.” Remus’ hand wrapped around a metal handle, cool against his palm and ready to be used if needed. He slowly pulled the knife from the tuck in his belt to his sleeve before moving his hand to his side again.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you again.” Sirius took a step forward, but at Remus’ killer glare, he didn’t take anymore. Sirius’ gray eyes looked sad, his most mastered trick. 

You’re not going to fall for it this time. You’re not going to fall for anything or anyone this time.  

“Good news then, Sirius. You’ve seen me. I’m leaving now.” Remus put his chin high, and made his eyes cold, staring right past Sirius and then started taking slow steps towards him. Neither said anything. Neither made any point to look at each other except right as Remus passed Sirius, he caught his eye. 

NOW. 

The knife in his sleeve fell and his palm once again found the cool metal. His arm swung towards Sirius’ lower back as soon as he knew the knife was in his grip, and then he would need to run, leave Sirius here for the people around them to take him to the hospital. 

Except he never got the knife in Sirius. He stared in shock at the hand that held his wrist firmly, keeping it pushed away from any dangerous range that could harm Sirius if Remus tried to stab him again. 

“How did you know I had the knife?” Remus asked him, adrenaline making his voice shaky. Sirius smiled at him, the real smile finally coming to surface. His cruel, wicked grin. It used to be Remus’ favorite smile. 

“I didn’t.” Sirius replied, and he slowly took the knife out of Remus’ grip before letting his wrist go. His face became softer before replying “I simply recognized that look in your eye you get right before you kill people.”

Remus jumped back from Sirius, shocked at the fact that he would remember such a detail as that and shocked at how it made him feel...

He lied to you! Come off it, Remus. You will not fall for it. YOU WILL NOT FALL FOR IT. 

“You were right. I often have ulterior motives.” Sirius continued. “And that’s why I’m here. I’m looking forward to seeing that look in your eyes many more times, like the good old days, because I need your help.” 

Sirius’ wicked grin was back on his face, and he extended a hand to Remus, who took it without thought. Before he knew it, he was wrapped back up into Sirius’ charm, his manipulative love games and the days of hunting the bad people. 

Well, at least you lasted longer than you did twelve years ago. 

#a short something #hogwarts #harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #marauders era #mwpp era #mwpp #marauders map #aesthetic #gay #its not very good #i only read it over once #sorry

[austenpoppy]

Slughorn needs to hear this one day

I don’t hate him. Nope. Generally I even like him, and look at him like an old uncle with an odd behaviour.

But there are moments all I want to do is slap him really hard. And yell at him like a mad woman.

I mean, of course I can be angry with other characters, even characters I absolutely love. Because they are human beings and so are flawed and make mistakes. Nothing more normal.

But him, he really gets on my nerves !

Yes, I speak of you, Horace Slughorn. Nobody really dislikes you, right ? They all look at you fondly, kindly. Nobody says how much you were wrong. Nobody says how much your little elitist club was despicable.

Some even don't realise it.

That is right, a good slap on your chubby cheek would be fine with me. Then I could eventually forgive you.

Because Dumbledore saying you have a natural talent at finding exceptionnal people, people with someting special, makes me want to tear something apart.

Because people finding you are a good judge on these matters makes me believe there is no justice down there.

Because your behaviour towards students like Marcus Belby, whom you invited to the first reunion of your club because his uncle was famous and extremely clever, but rejected once you realized he had no connections with this member of of his family, once you judged him as uninteresting because of his manners and his shyness, makes me want to scowl you forever.

He had probably great qualities, but you dismissed him, you judged him not good enough for your club, so you’ll never know them.

You even tried to forget him after your conversation with him, making pass a snack to all your guests except him.

You spoke to him with a tone of false politeness full of scorn and disdain.

You turned your head.

And you probably never looked at him again.

He would maybe have blossomed if you had encouraged him enough, if you had taken the time to make him grow and improve, if you had taken the time to really look at him.

Which means, if you had done your job seriously.

You are a Potions Master, but a teacher is sometimes more like a gardener. A gardener who plants a seed in the ground, waters it, takes care of it, looks at it grow and turn into a beautiful flower. However, this flower is fragile, and a tempest, winter, or even a simple gust of wind can reduce it to ashes.

The way you turned your head this day was like a gust of wind, the way you treated him with disdain and indifference and even ignored him was like winter’s arrival, the way you humiliated him a tempest.

You’re wrong, though, Horace, if you think that it’s more important, rewarding and relevant to look after the students you find interesting.

Because each student is interesting. You may have preferences, of course, it’s not something you can help, but showing them so blatantly and ignoring totally the other students, who can have something to bring, something to exchange, something to make shine, is an awful mistake.

Moreover, if you believed your judgement unerring, you were greatly mistaken.

You know what ?

One of your favorites, Cormac MacLaggen, whom you liked because his family spent week-ends hunting Nogtails with the Prime Minister, is, though brave, arrogant, presomptuous, so conceited it is sickening, and spent an entire evening talking about himself to Hermione Granger, and visibly harassed her so much, trying to make her kiss him, that she fled away from him. What a wonderful boy !

Of course he had qualities, but you overestimated him. He’s not the future Prime Minister, or else he really has to change.

You have such a great understanding of people, such a great judgement, Horace, that’s really impressive. I’m awed.

Hang on a second, what does this mean, “even the greatest spirits can be misled.” ? You really thought that your false opinion of Cormac was your only mistake this year ?

(Yes, we’re only speaking about this year, when you were Harry’s teacher, because we’re not going to talk about Tom Jedusor, I promise you; I don't hold a grudge against you because you let yourself being dazzled by his charm and wits; this boy was one of the biggest manipulators who ever existed, the spark of evil, the shadow of the hell, Satan’s laugh, and a lot of people felt into his golden but bloody traps.)

Let me laugh.

Your precious little Harry, whom I love by the way, your little prodigy, was not the creator of all those inventions you were praising. He was - almost - cheating (yeah, I know, that was not really cheating) with a manual with scribbled notes written by another pupil years ago on it.

You know who this pupil was ? Severus Snape. You were wrong, Harry was not better than Snape at potions. (Following a very true comment, to be fair with Slughorn, he did know Snape was very good, it is just I think he did not realise how much).

You know how Harry got your worst memory ? He drank the Felix Felicis you had given him. But you know who suggested the idea ? Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley. Ronald Bilius Weasley. Ron Weasley.

I repeat his name because apparently you had some problem with it.

Because yes, we arrive at the moment you deserve your slap on your face. So you did not think he was worth remembering his name ? You looked at him as if he was “nothing more than a shed of Doxies” ? You wondered why the genius Hermione Granger and the Boy-who-lived befriended a “mediocre pupil with average skills” -that’s not what you said but you thought it didn’t you ?- ? You didn’t indulge him ? You let him out of your stupid club because you thought he was not good enough ? You invited nearly all the people he was closed to -his two best friends, his sister- except him, letting him behind (oh, you left someone like Luna behind too by the way. What a mistake) ?

(By the way, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, why have you not refused clearly his invitations when your dearest friend and brother was so humiliated by this teacher ? Oh, that’s right, Harry, the memory. But Hermione ? Ginny ? Why have you not tried to tell Ron he did not deserve all this contempt ? I would have thought that you, of all people…)

Screw you, Horace Slughorn. Despite all your contempt, despite all the people believing he was average and even mediocre, despite his own very low self-esteem, he became one of the most wonderful persons you could have ever met. He became a wonderful Auror.

You were really deluding yourself. He has always, and will always, been a far greater man than you.

When you have met him, he had, at the age of twelve, led and won a fantastic chess match qualified by Dumbledore as “the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years”, in which he had sacrificed himself and got knocked out by a chess piece in order to reach his goal : allow his friends carrying on with the battle.

When you have met him, he had, at the age of thirteen, followed a troop of spiders in the dark Forbidden Forest, to find a clue about what was happening in Hogwarts and save petrified pupils, especially his dear Hermione, and met Acromentulas, although he is arachnophobic ! Spiders were his worst fear at that time, but he did not hesitate.

When you have met him, he had found where was the Chamber of Secrets and how to open it.

When you have met him, he had shoved Harry out of the way of a furious dog and got bitten in his place.

When you have met him, he had stood on a broken leg to tell firmly somebody everyone thought was a mass murderer, somebody he had seen months before with a knive above his bed, that if he wanted to kill his best friend, he would have to kill him too.

And, during a fight, had jumped with his broken leg on this person you knew (yes, Sirius Black) to get their wands he had taken.

And then, always with this broken leg, had wanted to be one of the people chained to the real mass murderer, who was his former rat, to get him to the castle.

When you have met him, he had been part of the battle of the Department of Mysteries, following Harry without questions. He had to fight three Death Eaters on his own, and got hit with a dangerous spell that led him to be scarred for life by a brain.

When you have met him, he was already this self-sacrificing, selfless, brave, kind-hearted, compassionate, clever, witty as hell, extremely funny and loyal to a fault guy you never saw but without whom Harry and Hermione were incapable to live or even function.

Their heart, Horace, you missed the heart of this little trio.

And after, Horace ? After that ?

I won't tell you everything, use your web of personalities to get a little information !

But you know what ?

This guy, Horace, disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange.

This guy, Horace, defied Voldemort and broke a spell you-know-who had done.

This guy, Horace, hit Death Eaters from a broom.

This guy, Horace, dropped everything to go on a horcruxe hunt.

Yes, Horcruxes. You heard me.

The very Horcruxes you were so afraid of.

And he wore around his neck a part of the soul of Voldemort after he nearly died, after a massive blood loss, for months, with Harry and Hermione.

And because he wears his heart on his sleeve, because his heart is so open, because he thinks he is nothing, he went through mental torture for months.

And even got possessed, got manipulated by Voldemort, but never broke. He got rid of it.

And you know what else he did?

He begged Bellatrix Lestrange to torture him instead of the girl he loves. Don’t tell me he was unaware of what she had done, he had seen it with his very eyes and had been utterly moved. Yet he was ready to go through that for Hermione, was ready to suffer beyond the believable, was ready to become insane.

He wanted to go kill Nagini, Voldemort’s snake if you did not know it, alone, despite the known presence of Voldemort.

He found how to get rid of one of the last Horcruxes, and opened the Chamber of Secrets without even speaking Parseltongue.

He had not planned to go through the war.

You know what is the worst ? What you thought was maybe exactly what the Horcruxe tortured him with.

I like you, Horace, but you really deserve some slaps.

#anti ron hate #anti ron bashing #horace slughorn #hp #ron weasley