#i am caught between elation and terror because

[muddyorbsblr]

a heart like yours part 8: the confessions

Masterlist

Summary: You tell Loki you know he's the one that woke you

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mild angst; implied smut (which means minors & pearl clutchers dni) [let me know if i missed anything!]

"Are you going to actually knock, Y/N, or am I going to have to do it for you and run away like we're teenagers dealing with our first crush?" Wanda teased as you stood in front of the door to Loki's apartment. She and Natasha practically dragged you to the Russian spy's closet from the spa insisting that if you were going to finally have a conversation with the raven-haired god about how you felt for one another, you were going to look your version of "devastating infuriating panty-dropping levels of attractive".

That was how you ended up standing there in a black wrap dress with gold detailing and five-inch heels that would still have him towering over you, what with how short you were, and how impossibly tall he was. As for the emerald green satin and lace lingerie underneath? In Wanda's words, "in case you get to the really happy ending". 

"Give me a second, dammit. If I get any more nervous my palms are gonna sweat," you hissed at your friend. 

You took a steadying breath and whispered to yourself, "Three seconds of bravery, that's all you need." And then you have to face what ever follows, no matter how chicken shit you are. So that was exactly what you gave yourself. Three seconds of mustered up courage to knock on the door.

The second your fingers touched the door, Wanda disappeared in a puff of red smoke, leaving you to face whatever followed all on your own.

As the door opened to reveal the sight of Loki in a black henley and green sweatpants, you resisted the urge to turn around and run away as fast as these cursed heels could take you and abort mission. 

"Hi," you managed to breathe out. A tender smile graced his face as he looked into your eyes, making you catch your breath, still in overwhelming disbelief of what was revealed to you just hours ago. 

"Y/N," he crooned your name. Dammit when he says my name like that I just wanna kiss him. Wait, can I just do that? Forget the talk and skip to the good part?  You mentally slapped yourself. Focus.

You held up his cape in your arms, neatly but loosely folded so that you wouldn't risk creasing it anywhere. "Came to return your cape. Thank you. It was--comforting, waking up to something kinda…familiar." He took the garment from you, his hands grazing yours as he did so, and you could almost taste the tension between you two. Three more seconds, Y/N, you can do this. "Can we talk?" 

"Of course, darling." He stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Come in." 

You situated yourself at the edge of a chaise lounge in the middle of the room, watching as he hung the cape back in his closet before turning to face you, and you could almost see the beginning of tears in his eyes as he looked at you. "I apologize, dear Y/N. Earlier today I'd been trying to cope with the idea of a world where you no longer walked upon it, and seeing you here before me now…elates me so." 

Your words failed you, unable to think of anything coherent to reply with except: "I know you woke me." 

It was like you were sucker punched with the look of shock and terror that colored his face. And then your heart caught in your throat once again as he said his next words. "I'm sorry." Before you could respond, he strode over to you and crouched until you were eye level. A moment passed before undeniable despair entered his eyes and he sank even further, to his knees, looking up at you. 

"Why are you apologizing?" you croaked. "You did nothing wrong." You placed your hands on his shoulders, your heart aching as you saw the visible relief in him the moment you did so, as if he was so comforted by  your touch. "But Loki…why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me you didn't know who--?"

"Because it was me," he answered in a rush. "Because it could not be the man you were with. Rogers was a fool to have you and not love you. And I heard you. Outside the cottage. You told the Sin Healer that your heart belonged to someone who was also a fool if he dares think that you are unworthy of his attentions. His affections. I apologize for I am neither one of them and yet I woke you. Of all the people fortunate enough to be loved by you, and yet they were so foolish to not return it. 

"But Y/N how could I not love you? You are brilliant, beautiful, and kind. And whenever I gaze upon you, you greet me with a smile that I would gladly move the realms for if only to see it again. I understand if these affections of mine are unreturned and if you wish to cease our semblance of a friendship--"

You couldn't take it anymore. You cut off his words and pressed your lips to his, stifling a chuckle at the sound of his startled gasp. And then he began to move his lips against yours, taking control of your kiss, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you down onto his lap. 

"You're an idiot," you murmured against his lips. "It's you. I'm in love with you." You pressed another kiss to his lips. "My heart…it's yours. It always has been." 

He weaved his hand through your hair and pulled away from you, making you look at him, not even bothering to hide the bewilderment in his eyes. "You believed yourself unworthy of my love?" You  nodded your answer, making his eyes darken ever so slightly at you, before he pulled you even closer to him, pressing your bodies together as he kissed you once more, and standing up from his current kneeling position.

The sudden motion made you reactively wrap your legs around him, causing you both to moan into each other's mouths. When you pulled away for air, his lips latched on to your neck, pressing kisses wherever he could as he lowered you both on to the bed, with you straddling his hips. 

"Oh my darling Y/N, how I've longed for this," he groaned against your skin. You could feel his hand moving to undo the tie on your dress with slow, deliberate movements, taking his time. "I'd dreamt of the day I could finally have you in my arms, in my bed. The day I could call you mine, our bodies pressed together as we chase each other's pleasure. You laid out before me as I made love to you." You shuddered, both at his words and at his kisses moving to your ear.

"I look forward to doing exactly that tomorrow night, my love." 

Wait. What? You pulled away slightly to look at him with the confusion swimming in your eyes. You decided to voice your confusion as well. "What's wrong with tonight?" 

Your breathing hitched as a seductive smirk graced his exquisite features. "Tonight I believe I have another task. I must prove you wrong. Dispel your beliefs that you do not deserve my attention." He undid the ties of your dress and shrugged it off your shoulders, licking his lips as he caught sight of your garments underneath. "My affection." He pressed a kiss at the base of your throat. "My devotion." Then he pressed another kiss above your heart. "My love." 

A series of broken whimpers escaped your lips as you felt his kisses moving up to your mouth again. "Tonight I am for your pleasure, my precious mortal." And then he flipped you over, your back landing on the bed with a soft thud. "Tonight you will learn what it's like to be worshipped." He pressed a kiss to your now bare stomach, before crawling his way up to your lips once more. "By the god that loves you." 

"What the fuck was that?" Natasha hissed in shock as she heard a muffled cry from the hall, her confusion growing as Wanda started simply chuckling in response. "Something you wanna share with the class, Wanda?" 

"Loki forgot to close his door all the way again." She led the way to the door in question and pointed out the slight crack left open. She slowly took hold of the knob and quietly shut it all the way, but not before another muffled scream of his name came out of the door, making your friends' eyes widen.

"That's--?"

"That's our girl," Wanda finished with a playful smile. "Getting her really happy ending. I'll fortify his enchantment. They need all the privacy they can get." As she cast a spell around his room, another muffled moan came through. "Goddamn, the lungs on this woman." 

As she finished the spell and began to walk away, the two women caught sight of little Morgan skipping over to them. "Hi Auntie Nat. Auntie Wanda. Have you seen Auntie Y/N? I wanna watch Tangled with her." 

Wanda picked up the little girl, steering her away from the door of the apartment you were currently moaning and screaming your lungs out in, and answered, "I'm afraid Auntie Y/N's spending some time with Loki." She let out a chuckle before adding, "Being his princess." 

That led Natasha to slightly tap her upside the head. 

"Does that mean Auntie Y/N got her happily ever after?" Morgan asked the two with a little yawn.

Natasha glared at the sorceress, silently telling her to behave, but the chuckles she was stifling already told her that that wasn't happening, so she answered instead. "Yeah, baby. She finally did." 

A/N: And here we reach the end of the story. But…there are 2 outtakes coming: one with the Stark party that Strange mentioned in part 4, and another one with the breakfast in part 7. And if I ever get an idea for an epilogue…that might happen

And here's a bonus gif for the ones who read until the end

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus

a heart like yours: @huntress-artemiss @hotleaf-juice @clockblobber @sititran @taro-gabi @wolfsmom1 @rmoonstoner @ladymischief11 @anonymousewrites @unlucky-number-13 @moonlightreader649 @ahoytherebean @javagirl328

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic #muddyorbs writes

[kanirou-crosshack]

"From HBO Max, DC, Berlanti Productions and Warner Bros. Television comes a bold adaptation of the iconic comic book franchise, a saga spanning decades and galaxies. Green Lantern will depict the adventures of a multitude of Lanterns, including Guy Gardner, Jessica Cruz, Simon Baz and Alan Scott — Earth’s first Green Lantern, who, true to the comics, is a gay man — and many more. The series will also include fan favorites such as Sinestro and Kilowog, and will also introduce new heroes to the ranks of the Green Lantern Corps."

#green lantern #hbo max #guy gardner #jessica cruz #simon baz #alan scott #I AM SCREAMING #I WOULD NEVER #I WOULD NEVER HAVE HOPED #GUY?????? #????????? #PARDON ME WHILE I LOSE MY EVER LIVING SHIT #is Guy gonna be in Training Officer mode? is he shepherding around rookies Jessica and Simon???? #while Alan presides as the Venerable Gay???? #i am caught between elation and terror because #well written Guy blesses whole kingdoms of crops while badly written Guy curses whole bloodlines #DO I DARE LET MYSELF HOPE #THERE IS SUDDENLY SO MUCH MORE AT STAKE THAN I WAS PREPARED FOR #i am actually hyperventilating a bit #hbo gl #dc

[kickingitwithkirk]

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter​​​​ #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~ 

I chant this mantra over and over to myself. 

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible. 

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well. 

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love. 

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over. 

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat. 

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do. 

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking. 

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok. 

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep. 

“Balls!” 

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water. 

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch. 

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night. 

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me. 

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me. 

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in. 

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching. 

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light. 

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear. 

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby. 

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound. 

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us. 

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx​​​​

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid​​​​

#jensmakemecrychallange #alpha!sam Winchester x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #Sam Winchester #SPN Supernatural #SUPERNATURAL AU #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #angst

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S5 E13 (Coyote Ugly)- 5 Things I loved/ 3 Things to consider

I loved a LOT of things about this episode, so I might have to cheat on my loved-it count. Indulge me, please. 

Things I loved

1. I loved that Tabitha totally belongs and fits in with these crazy OG Riverdale people.  Tabitha asks Betty, the crazy girl, to not “do anything crazy,” while doing crazy things with Betty, herself.   Why Tabitha does this, we don’t know yet, but she absolutely belongs with these people.  For fancy-school-educated beautiful Tabitha, with her neat puff sleeves and delicate frame, to go all in with Betty Cooper, fake FBI agent, trying to hunt down a serial killer is insanity.  To agree to open up her business premises and offer up her own body as bait for this known serial killer is insanity. To be aware that Betty has caught someone who was acting violent, but to go alone, and also unarmed and apparently without having told anyone, is insanity.  Tabitha is very, very interesting.  Oh and she drives the most amazing car.

2. “Reggie, You’re A Genius!!” and Veronica is not being even a little bit sarcastic.  Reggie Mantle’s air punches every time either he or Veronica close a sale really just cheered me up no end. He’s just so exuberant and physical.  He’s already stated that he is good with numbers and he has a lot of ideas and he’s finally, at Pearls & Posh, getting a chance to let those parts of himself bloom. I loved the beautiful jewel tones that Reggie and Veronica wear throughout the episode, and the way they become ever more color coordinated.  I just love the two of them teaming up and dismantling Hiram’s scam one brick at a time.

3. All the Cheryl things, basically, I loved them. 

-“Compulsion Thy Name is Kevin of Finland” is a line that had me hooting.    And the fact that Kevin, in the right clothes, totally has the body and jawline to be a Tom of Finland illustration is just icing on the cake. Cheryl has been keeping a very close eye on Kevin his whole life, honestly, like a dangerous sort of fairy godmother. Cheryl in a checked version of her little red riding hood outfit walking out of the misty blue forest!  What a beautiful shot. 

- I did not love Tabitha having to say,  “Hot Ladies, dancing on the bar, fully clothed, of course,” but I *did* love Fang’s groaning in response, just so put upon. I did this simultaneously with the character, so I appreciated that.  I did love the glorious amount of cleavage that Cheryl the minister and cheerleading coach insists on putting on display while IN a high school.  Her sartorial choices felt like a vengeful commentary on the mores of American television.  I would much prefer to see tits on my TV than blood & violence, so the fact that an entire severed leg, a ghost of Christmas past with bullet wounds, and a man getting his face smashed in by a furious fit young man armed with brass knuckles can be shown in full but hot ladies dancing on a bar must be fully clothed irritated me. 

So yes - I said a whole bunch of words to fancy up the statement that I loved seeing Cheryl’s cleavage.

Sidebar: Also why does it gotta be only ladies?  I think Fangs was fishing for an invitation.

- “I caught them (Moose & Fangs) having wine & cheese” - “Ew that is diabolical.” OK so when you’re in that mindset where you want to ‘win’ the break up but you’ve lost, this sort of hyperbolic reaction is exactly what you want from your female friends, and Cheryl doubles down with, “You did nothing wrong.”   Why has Kevin never declared best friendship with Cheryl? 

4. I loved that  the show gives me permission to do what I’ve been doing already, which is that I absolutely despise Uncle Fucking Frank.  That asshole, who claims to understand battle trauma and love dogs, brings home a traumatized dog which deserves to have stable people look after it and be aware of its issues, and doesn’t tell his housemates who aren’t even getting basic mental healthcare, one of which is a nephew he is mooching from for room & board, about the dog’s potential problems.  Absolute failure garbage human, and I am elated to have this affirmed.  Everything Frank does makes Archie so much worse, and Archie does not trust Frank fully either.  Loved this too.  Archie lies to Uncle Fucking Frank about ‘Bingo.’ He was a dog, he says, and then says that Eric does not like to talk about the dog so Frank won’t go mentioning him to Eric.

5. I loved the musical numbers, each for a different reason.

- Coyote Ugly Bar Top Dance:  These terrifying, formerly terrorized children of Riverdale thrill me and break my heart.  Everyone just tosses themselves at danger.   Cheryl, Veronica, and Betty are all women who’ve had the experience of being hunted, terrorized, gaslit, stalked, sexually assaulted, having to fight for their lives while under attack from a much bigger assailant, etc  - just *all* the bad things, really - but with the promise of a good time (lyrics actually say: How Can I Resist?) they will make themselves live bait for a serial killer. 

- Everything Is All Right from Jesus Christ Superstar. I love Kevin’s singing, always.  I also adored Penelope Blossom hating the musical interlude, she’s great.  This song is also meant to be ironic, in the show, from my memory, because in context things are NOT all right. Mary Magdalene was wrong.  They’re showing Kevin and Fangs making up, they’re showing Veronica and Reggie making a sale, Jughead was not in this episode at all, so this was quite arresting from a show perspective.  The song is disquieting, with minor key elements, and so it’s a little uneasy, you know?  Things are not all right, at all. 

3 Things to Consider

a) “This award is a painful reminder of all that I haven’t accomplished.”  Kevin breaks my heart but not in a campy tingly way.  The feeling that I’m supposed to be somewhere better than this, doing something more than this - it’s so painful and real. I’m you, Kevin.  “This can’t be my life, it just can’t be.”  This seems to be the theme of the post time-jump Riverdale, but it feels more visceral because of what’s happening in the real world on the date of airing (Fall of 2021).

b) Bingo being a person, not a dog, puts an entirely different and devastating cast over the dream-dialogue between Eric and Archie.  According to Archie’s subconscious, Eric is basically saying, “Leave the other man for dead, and save me and only me.”  In the football field dream,  Eric was transformed into Jughead, who just needed a little help, and had to be fireman-carried to touchdown.  Eric insisting that he be prioritized over the unfortunate Bingo goes some ways to explaining the bond between Eric and Archie as well. 

c) Archie Andrews is terrifying, and this adult Archie is fascinating and arresting to me. “I don’t want this scumbag arrested! I want him hurt” is the most honest thing Archie has ever said on the show.  And when he says, “I’m trying to save this town, but it’s so corrupt,  broken, full of awful, despicable people.  I think there’s nothing worth saving here,”  Archie is very reminiscent of the Dark Hood/ Hal Cooper, actually.  Archie scares the worthless Uncle Fucking Frank so much that U.F. Frank can’t even say, “Nobody asked you to save the world, Archie, just save yourself.”

#riverdale s5 opinion #riverdale positivity #It's interesting to experience Riverdale's actual episodes a month later than the states-side viewers #all the stuff that comes up on tumblr is so entertaining but disjointed like reading telegrams sent via bottle all out of order #because I'm in a lighthouse in the middle of the sea #reggie Mantle #cheryl Blossom #Tabitha Tate

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Collapse- Prompt Fill

Jon is a Dune fan. How can picking up one book change things? Idea from a tumblr prompt and a post by @roseunspindle (permission was granted for writing this)

cw all the typical episode 160 stuff and references to nausea and of course manipulation and fainting. Some dialogue from 160, and a quote from Dune, of course!

I am still accepting bingo prompts (card by @celosiaa​) Pick a prompt from the card and a character and let me know if you want art of fic! (I am much faster at art). I have several outlined that I need to write, and I will get to those... Soonish?  Have an excellent day and I hope 2021 treats you well!

Jon isn’t sure why he grabbed the book.  He’s read it before so it doesn’t hold the same interest it once did.   He had to work on that reading habit of his in school, and now he’s managed a few rereads, but he still prefers the unknown and interesting.

But he did love this book when he read it.  He was too young for it, of course.  But that hadn’t mattered.  He sucked the whole world into his young and greedy mind.  

And now that glossy, second hand cover.... makes him pause over it.  He doesn’t know how it survived evictions and his absences.  He must have subconsciously stored it out of the way.  But he grabs it, with a few statements, and his small collection of clothes into a very battered backpack that he’s sure once belonged to Melanie.  

He wishes he had more books.  Maybe once he and Martin reach the train station, he can pick up something else to read.  Or maybe he can borrow some books from Martin….

He stuffs Dune into his backpack.  It’s on the top, distending the fabric slightly, straining the zipper as his grandmother had always reprimanded him for when he shoved too many pleasure books into his school bag, (always to read under the desk and he was always inevitably caught and reprimanded again, but what could you do with an inattentive student who still pulled good marks?).  

He boards the train with Martin.  Battered and aging backpacks filled with worn clothes and statements and books and granola bars.  The station had been loud and busy enough to send Jon reeling with the information spilling off a crowd of people as well as the less eldritch sensory overload.  His head aching dully as they settle into their seats.  

Medicine for motion sickness sends him drowsy as soon as it is effective.  He spends the time before it works staring queasily out the window, clammy hands holding tightly to Martin as much to sooth his uneasy stomach as to hold Martin in this plain of reality.  He nods off, hands still clasped with Martin’s.  Wrapped up in the elation of having Martin with him, around him, talking to him…. almost safe.  

He wakes up in a storm of hurried breaths and crashing thoughts…. precarious as the crashing waves that haunted the lonely, but far closer and more oppressive.  Statements tumbling with his own crashing thoughts.  Fear on his breath.  His fear making him Hungry in the nauseous way of autocannibleism.  

He presses his face into Martin, only just then realizing that he’s been using Martin as a pillow.   Martin, who is dozing.  Martin, who is still a little foggy.  The last of the haze burning off with the contact.  Jon can see the steam rising between them, mainly and gentle.  The sun burning the fog off a meadow in the early morning.  

Jon sits himself up, but stays pressed against Martin.  The imprint of Jon slowly thawing Martin as the train gently sways them both.  

Jon doesn’t want to sleep more.  He would much prefer to read, but it is still more than a bit of a gamble for him to even medicated.  But…. he’s bored.  

Dune.  

Right on the top of his bag.  Leaning over starting to make him queasy (which doesn’t bode well for reading attempts), he pulls it out and straightens up.  

He turns it over in his hands a few times, until his stomach settles.  He’s fine.  Just a few more minutes before the medicine works… probably anyhow.  

He flips through the pages, still waiting for his breathing to calm as well.  

Oh.  

He remembers this words… in a half remembered haze of childhood and tracing those words on his limbs and his walls.  With his eyes, and markers, and pencils.  On the inside of his eyelids.  Carved into the air about his bed as he repeated them to himself.  

‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’

Reading those words again makes his hands shake like they had when he first read them… with Mr. Spider fresh in his nightmares.  Still missing the life he could never have with his parents.  

Jon fumbles for a pen.  

He traces them again on his forearm.  

Poorly written, of course.  Hands far from steady with the rocking of the train and the rocking of his stomach and the rolling of his world after the day he’s had.  But he is once more too tired to focus on anything much, so he tucks his book away again, and shoves the pen in his pocket.  

He tucks himself up against Martin again, using an old jumper as a blanket.  He knows he is taking a bit of a liberty, but he buries his face in Martin’s neck and breathes deeply.  He’s asleep again in moments.  

The trip isn’t eventful.  Lots of track clicking past.  Lots of drowsy hours.  A disappointing sandwich and a tasteless cup of tea.  Jostled shoulders.  Cramped restrooms.  Cramped necks.  Jon’s bad leg protesting the seating arrangements.  Then the slightly uncomfortable walk to the safe house.  Weighed down with hasty shopping and their lumpy bags.  Jon limping more heavily by the time they drag themselves over the threshold.  

In the domestic bliss, time stretches.  Lazy afternoons on the couch Jon and Martin entwined stretch into years in the golden light of afternoon.  Two weeks of cups of tea.  Of trips to the store.  Of statements that Jon goes through way too fast, try as he does to ration them.  Frantic phone calls to Basira as Jon can’t make the trip to town anymore.  More cuddling on the couch.  Bickering over who does the dishes, over who makes the best eggs.  Over what to have for dinner.  Discussions of what counts as a sandwich and whether cereal is a soup.  Jon being appalled that Martin eats cereal from the box directly with a spoon.  Martin being horrified that Jon eats dry cereal from a bowl with a glass of milk.  Playing footsie through dinner.  “Yes Martin, another soup.  Means less cooking.”  Sloppy kisses over glasses of wine.  Jon being too dizzy to go on walks.  Jon retracing Frank Herbert’s words on to his arm.  Over.  And over.  And over again.  

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

“I must not fear…”

Until a package arrives.  

It’s unassuming and labeled in Basira’s careful penmanship.  If Jon expects to see tear-staines over a lost partner, he doesn’t see them.  

Martin kisses him soundly, and leaves to take pictures of good cows.  

Jon has been tucked up on the couch.  Under a thick blanket.  Finally in better spirits now that he has statements again, ready …so ready for his limbs to feel like his again.  

He tastes copper as he started to read.  The words don’t sit right in his mouth.  Before he can even properly start… before his mind is lost to him, he can feel the wrongness building.  And when the betrayal occurs, he can’t find it in him to be surprised or hurt.  All he can feel is a hollow fear…. a hungry fear.  Gaping and endless.  Tearing into his skin as he tears at his clothes, his skin, the statement that does not belong to Hazel Rutter and has nothing to do with a fire.  Aside from the fire in his throat and in his hand, and leaping from mark to mark as Jon learns what they actually are.  A map of manipulation.  A tool to make the actual tool.  The wood and hammer and nails that make him the door.  The door that he… that he.  “ Come to us in your perfection.                         

                                                                                               Bring all that is fear and all that                    

                    is terror and all that is the awful                    

                    dread that crawls and chokes and                       

                    blinds and falls and twists and                        

                    leaves and hides and weaves and                        

                    burns and hunts and rips and bleeds                    

                    and dies!                                              

                                                                                               Come to us.                                            

                                                                                               I-“

“I…”  Jon chokes.  His eyes sliding helplessly over the room.  Over many tokens of a happy life that he is never going to have.  Because of this…. this… he can’t even call it a betrayal.  His entire life has lead to this.  Every unhappy moment.  Every instinct he has ever had.  Every poor choice.  Every step another step towards the inevitable.  His eye catches on a familiar cover.  Somehow still glossy.  Despite Jon having carried it around like a safety blanket for the last few weeks.  And he catches those smudged and traced over words on his arm and he tears at himself, trying to stop.  

“I…”

He chokes again.  Around those last few words.  The words that will wrench the thunder from the sky and rend it asunder.  

“I…”

He breathes.  Possibly for the first time since his hands ghosted over the unassuming manilla folder.  

“‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’”

His vision cuts out.  He must have stood at some point, because he is falling.  Stings cut.  Nothing to manipulate.  The puppet is broken.  

He wakes with a head full of cotton, but a heart devoid of fear.  There is a clarity in his limbs.  But exhaustion sits heavily on his chest.  He feels… clear.  And real.  And… like utter shit.  

But the arms around him are solid and warm and smell like tea and toast and all the good things Jon can think of in the world.  And even if Jon could bring himself to move… he wouldn’t have dreamt of doing so.  

There is burnt ink in the air.  

“Wha’?”  Marble-mouthed.  Heavy with the exhaustion of years of poor sleep, of running and fearing and the adrenaline crash of something horrifying being…over.  

“It’s alright, Jon.  Everything’s fine.  I…. I don’t know how you did it, but you stopped reading… and I burned it.  It’s gone.  We’re okay.”  

And Jon isn’t sure he understands…. but he doesn’t care.  Because he is not afraid, and Martin told him that everything is okay.  And he thinks… just Maybe.  Just… maybe… that it might be.  

He lets himself be tucked in.  He lets himself sleep.  

Jon takes up calligraphy.  He hates it.  Utterly despises it… but he becomes decent enough to write one thing for their mantel.  In the safe house.  Miles away from fear and Jonah Magnus… if the bastard is even still alive…  

Framed in gold, traced out in neat and flowing calligraphy:

‘I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’ - Frank Herbert, Dune.  

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fic #tma fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #dune #cw fainting #cw nausea #cw manipulation #my words #my fic #my writing #my art

[artificialqueens]

Two Minutes (Diamond Chaney) - Juno

Summary: Ellie misses Lawrence, but when they call to her in a dream, she knows where to find them.

A/N: This is kind of angsty, and featuring Time Lord Lawrence and companion Ellie. Hope you enjoy.

It had been ages since Ellie had slept properly.

She could still drift off into a vague doze, but sooner or later Lawrence's terrified face would appear in her mind, the last backward glance she'd had of them before Tia had dragged her through the last gap between the universes.

She'd always wondered if she and Lawrence would be separated. Lawrence had said that they probably would have to split eventually. After all, a human and the last of the Time Lords could only co-exist for so long.

What she'd never expected was for it to be permanent.

Eternal.

Binding on pain of blowing up both Earths if they tried to cross back over.

Since they’d all escaped to the parallel Earth, moved into this flat, every time Ellie heard a song on the radio singing about lovers being so far apart, she turned it off. Or lately, just wrenched the cord from the socket and stormed out of the room.

Try being whole fucking universes apart.

Tia always told her that she needed sleep, but Ellie would put her hands over her ears, shutting out the pity Tia couldn't keep out of her voice.

Ellie didn't want pity.

She wanted Lawrence.

——

It replayed in her head, like some torturous episode of some crap drama series that Veronica watched on daytime telly, box of Quality Street in one hand and tissues in the other, dabbing her eyes while insisting she wasn't crying.

Ellie had cried enough.

She couldn't picture much of it vividly, but she remembered the pull of the void, hundreds - thousands - of Daleks being pulled into it, while she and Lawrence were hanging on for dear life to the clips on the walls.

Until the lever had jammed and Ellie was the only one who could reach it -

Until she'd slammed it forwards and felt the irresistible suction of the void lift her off her feet with a cry of surprise, this time ever closer to going in, screwing her eyes shut and gripping the handle of the lever -

Until Lawrence called her name and her concentration slipped along with her fingers, and for one horrifying moment, the whole world moved in slow motion, the icy fear paralysed her; she was being dragged into the void and there was nothing she could do -

She was caught, seized tightly, and she thought that some silent prayer she hadn't said had been answered, but her angel was Tia, of course. Tia, who had worked out the device to get to her, and zapped them both away through the break in the universes to the parallel Earth, escaping the suction of the void the Daleks had gone to.

That was the last time she’d seen Lawrence.

She wished she could have remembered all the best times they’d had. The fun, the laughter - the saving the universe - the warm days and the cosy nights. Instead all she could think of was that expression of terror that Lawrence wore the moment it dawned on them that Ellie was slipping away.

——

“Ellie. Ellie! Els!”

Lawrence’s voice woke her up from the dream, twisted in the sheets, as she realised that this time she must have gone to sleep. Coaxed into a dream by the star light that Bimini had bought, mesmerised by the patterns they traced along the ceiling, she remembered her eyes suddenly growing heavier and her thoughts fading away, from a buzz busier than a hive to a blank canvas.

But the light had turned itself off. And she knew it was Lawrence’s voice; she’d know that accent anywhere.

“Ellie …?”

The dream was still with her, she realised, so vivid she could almost see it before her waking eyes - and the pin on her google maps, she knew exactly where on the map of England it was - and the image of the dull ochre of the beach and the brilliant, shining grey-blue of the sea -

She didn’t hesitate.

It took just twenty minutes for all four of them all to pile into the car. Veronica adjusting her glasses in the drivers’ seat. Bimini in the passenger seat, pressing all the buttons, trying to find the radio station. Tia in the back seat, clutching her rucksack to her chest with one hand, and Ellie’s hand in her other, rubbing it tenderly.

But Ellie barely felt it. All she could see was the dream, and the exact pinpoint of the beach on her google maps on her phone, and the picture of the beach on the app that looked exactly like the one she’d just dreamt about.

Where Lawrence was waiting.

The drive to Plymouth was far too long, and somehow they drove past the car park and onto the sand itself, but Ellie stumbled out of the car, running to the spot she’d seen. It was raining - typical - drizzle that clung to the air and hung in tiny particles to the skin, and the sky overhead was covered in clouds.

And in the fading afternoon light, they appeared in a shimmer, fading out and then in again.

“Lawrence!”

Ellie’s shriek was elated, rushing to the spot Lawrence was trying to emerge into. They were speaking, becoming real instead of haze, and Ellie caught a few words as their image settled into a solid form.

“… broke it.”

Ellie perked an eyebrow. “You broke what?”

“The star, the one I found. I broke it.”

“What star?”

Lawrence rolled their eyes. “Didn’t Tia explain to you what had happened?”

“I mean,” Ellie twitched her shoulders, licking the salt from her lips. Tia had explained everything, soon after she’d turned up to save Ellie from certain Dalek doomsday, but Ellie admittedly hadn’t really listened, partly uninterested, partly desperate to get back through the break in the universes, back to Lawrence.

“Yeah, yeah she did.” Ellie nodded.

Lawrence grinned. “Don’t tell me. In one ear, out the other, right?”

“Shut it, hen.”

But Ellie’s voice broke at the last word. The lump in her throat grew, prickly and swollen with everything she hadn’t been able to say these few weeks, everything she’d swallowed down had lodged itself there.

“In simplest terms, I’m at a supernova. In the TARDIS. Projecting this image of me through the gap between the universes. It’s - it’s the last bit left to close, and it’s taking all this energy from this star burning up to keep it open.”

Lawrence took a shaky breath. “I’m - burning a star in a parallel universe to see you, Lanky Legs.”

Ellie could feel her heart swell, could feel her feet leave the ground.

“Can you come back?”

But Lawrence just smiled sadly.

And Ellie had known it was hopeless. She knew it with her head, but her heart still hoped it could burn brighter than the supernova, sear a hole through the universe that separated them.

“How - how long have we got?”

“About two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” Ellie choked on the lump at her throat, her feet hitting the ground again and sinking into the sand. “What - how am I meant to - how can we get through everything - what do you mean, two minutes?”

“Probably more like one-and-a-half now,” Lawrence murmured.

“What - how am I meant to - there’s so much I want to tell you -“

“So tell me.”

Ellie opened her mouth -

And her mind went blank again.

She laughed, a nervous sound through the tears that started to fall.

“I don’t know what to say!”

That was a lie and they both knew it.

“I see you’re not alone,” Lawrence waved at the others, standing next to Tia’s third-hand Fiesta, who waved back, knowing not to interrupt but wanting to say their own hellos. And goodbyes.

“No. We all drove down here -“

“I was gonna ask, where the fuck is this?”

The laugh escaped Ellie before she was prepared for it, and she spluttered. “It’s Plymouth.”

“Plymouth?” Lawrence blinked. “Did we ever come here when I was -“

“No, no we didn’t!”

Small talk, Ellie. Fucking small talk. Get to the point!

"Lawrence -"

But there was no time. No time at all.

She reached for Lawrence, but her hand went straight through her arm.

"I'm just a projection, that's all."

Lawrence's own voice was gravelly, as if they were recovering from a cold. Pained, sombre, aggrieved.

"What will you do?" Ellie heard herself say, an octave above her normal voice, her throat almost unbearably painful with words and tears.

"I've got the TARDIS, haven't I? Gonna do more fucking timey-wimey stuff. Maybe."

Ellie just nodded, gazed at Lawrence.

"On your own?"

But Lawrence just continued that sad smile, even as their chin quivered.

"Aye. On my own this time."

A whisper was all they could manage. A quiet sound that deafened Ellie with its sorrow.

Ellie wanted to hold them tightly, to squeeze that pain from their voice the way she used to, to kiss their forehead and to hear their hum of contentment. She wanted to pummel her fists into the sand below her at the frustration and shout at the horizon that the sea drew back to … she wanted the universe - no, the universes - to know that time and space had torn them from each other and that the fact they had no time, no time left to do this was an abhorrent injustice …

"Lawrence …"

And she realised that what she wanted to say, what she had to say to Lawrence, was so enormous that her mind had assumed, stupidly, that it would take a lot of time, so much time that it would be too much for this small window of opportunity …

"Els?"

… when in reality it was the sheer size of her heart was taking up room, but it could be condensed, summed up in three meagre little words that held such limited significance -

“I - I love you!”

And Ellie crumbled to the sand, weightless as she saw Lawrence's green eyes flicker, their lip tremble as they took it between their teeth, their face grow flushed with pink as they crumbled too, shaking with love and sadness and grief and anger and everything else that Ellie could see in them, because they mirrored her too.

… and everything about Lawrence before doomsday came flooding back to Ellie.

The way their eyes used to crinkle up with laughter. The way they had made the world around her sparkle with fun. The softness of their skin, their hair - their smile, their smile that burned brighter than the supernova that threatened to turn to embers at any moment now.

She knew this was why Lawrence was calling her in her dream.

This was it.

The chance to experience happier times again.

The chance to ease the grief with a balm of comfort, and love.

"Ellie."

Her own name was the most beautiful sound in the world in their mouth.

"... I love you."

A tear, just one, glistened in the fading afternoon light like a diamond on Lawrence's cheek.

Then they were gone.

——

The drive back to Nottingham was a blur.

Tia took the first leg, then Veronica. Bimini did the M25, the only one brave enough to tackle it.

No one asked Ellie to drive.

Her mind was blank, neither happy nor sad for a while, numbed by the salve that was having her peace with Lawrence one last time. By the time they all got back, Ellie was starting to feel calmer. They weren't in any imminent danger in this universe, at least - they were safe and sound.

After a while, she had enough energy to drive to Skegness - good ol' Skeggy as Tia called it fondly - to sit on the wall above the beach, dull, grey sand rising to meet the steel skyline of the sea as the sun set behind her, her back tingling with its rays.

Before long, it became a regular haunt. This spot on this wall became Ellie's Spot. She brought food, books, music, alcohol. But time continued, the tides always simply rose and fell, to make a mockery of Ellie's emotions by ignoring them and letting her lose herself in the memories the sea sparked.

She found she no longer needed the star light to sleep, but she still had it on now and again.

All while replaying in her mind every incredible thing about the glorious Time Lord who once burned up a fucking star to see her one more time.

#rpdr fanfiction #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #ellie x lawrence #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi #veronica green #lesbian au #angst #sci fi au #uk2 #rpdr uk #juno

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Three

(AO3 counterpart here.)

TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Redpaw gazed at her mother.

It wasn’t fair, really, how peaceful they had managed to make her appear in death. Her eyes were closed serenely, her fur neatly groomed, mouth closed and cleaned of froth. She looked as though she was just asleep and having a nice dream. As if this whole ceremony was a joke. As if she would wake up any minute.

It was stupid. She wasn’t coming back. Why taunt everyone like this?

“Roany?”

Redpaw managed to tear her eyes away to meet her stepmother’s. The cream molly, Palefeather, was looking down at her with love and concern.

“How are you doing, honey?” she asked softly.

It was a stupid question, but Redpaw knew she meant well. She took a breath and looked down again.

“You wouldn’t think the white fury was in her blood,” she said. She was grateful that her voice was at the right volume, quiet but audible, because she had no say where it was herself. “She’s… she looks content.”

“She does.” Palefeather stepped in beside Redpaw, and the two stood in silence together.

Cats walked by them, pausing to crouch and whisper their respects to Thornfang – not touching her, as was custom of handling a white fury body – and offering a sympathetic nod to Redpaw and Palefeather before moving on. The Clast were shifting around in groups to swap stories about one of the most well-loved warriors in the community; how she had been unmatched in her battle strategies and hunting skill, how she had been a wonderful friend and a hilarious storyteller, how brave she had been in leading away the rabid dog that had gotten through the Hillock border, sacrificing her own safety to trap it in a currently dry gash in the earth that the dog had broken its neck falling into after it had bitten her. It was a shame she never became deputy, they said. She would have been a legendary leader in time.

Redpaw didn’t want to hear any of it. She pinned her ears against her head and shut her eyes tight, trying to mute out everything, but the conversations dug into her mind and latched on with terrible little claws, forcing her ears to stay open. Her own claws scraped against the stone floor.

Palefeather must have noticed, because she started grooming Redpaw’s head, purring quietly. Redpaw latched onto the sensation and focused as hard as she could on the feeling of a rough tongue and a soothing purr. Gradually, she relaxed.

“It’s not fair,” she murmured eventually. “She shouldn’t be here right now, on the ground.”

Palefeather paused her ministrations to reply. “She isn’t, Roany. She’s in StarClan now. She’s safe and happy. We’ll see her again one day.”

Redpaw opened her eyes halfway, returning her focus to her mother’s body. She wasn’t satisfied with that, but she couldn’t bring herself to argue against her stepmother. She knew that Palefeather needed that comfort as much as she did. She just sighed, shut her eyes again, and leaned into her only living family.

 Over the next week, Redpaw hunted alone. The rest of the Clast knew to leave her be – though perhaps Palefeather had a paw in that. Redpaw said nothing to anyone and ate very little of what she brought back. More often than not, she was out in the night while everyone was asleep, just to ensure that promise of solitude.

One evening, as she stalked, sniffing the air, she caught something new. A cold scent, that smelled of the dark and the mist. She frowned and stood straight, opening her mouth to taste it.

Very odd.

Very interesting.

Redpaw looked around in the moonlit hollow, thick with grass and cut through by a stream. She could swear that, under that chill, she had caught the scent of another cat.

“Is someone here?” she asked, calling just loud enough to be heard across the way.

You could say that.

Redpaw flinched. The voice was there, seemingly in her ear, close as a thought, but she couldn’t distinguish who it was or if they were near her. She looked around again, but even with her feline eyes, no one popped up out of the shadows.

Then, there – something thin, dim, a silhouette under a lone tree.

She relaxed and approached a few steps. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

I’m always awake, the silhouette said. Sleep begets nightmares.

Redpaw frowned. Why couldn’t she define how this voice sounded?

“You’re not from the Clast,” she said.

The sensation of eyes regarding her, half-narrowed. I wouldn’t know anymore.

Redpaw didn’t know how to respond to that. She stopped walking and squinted, trying to make out whoever this was. They seemed little more than a shadow.

Who…?

I know about your mother, they said suddenly. I’m sorry.

Redpaw’s head went back a little and she blinked. “No one’s left the Clast this week. Why would you know about-?”

Saw it. Their long, narrow head tilted to the side. Wanted to stop her, but that never works. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer molly.

Redpaw stared. “You saw her and you didn’t come to the vigil?”

I wouldn’t be welcome in most of our society. They gazed at her silently for a moment. I can’t tell you how much I regret her fate.

Redpaw was confused by this riddle-talking… whoever they were. She still couldn’t make out their features, and it was starting to unnerve her.

Still, she could remain polite.

She recited Palefeather’s current mantra. “At least she’s happy in StarClan now.”

The silhouette rippled suddenly, violently. Don’t follow that hollow sentiment, Redpaw. It’s not true.

Redpaw flinched and took a step back, somewhere between offended and alarmed.

StarClan is the last place you want her to go, they said – and their voice did not get louder in her head, but it became more intense, more powerful.

Redpaw didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she managed a, “Why not?”

The rippling ceased and there was a long, low breath… or perhaps it was the breeze. When you go to sleep, call for her. Dream tonight. You’ll see.

Then they were gone.

It took Redpaw a moment to realize that she was alone. She blinked, looking for that silhouette, and then turning this way and that, a little afraid. No one was with her. The scent of cold and dark and damp had vanished.

Redpaw told no one about her encounter – something in her advised against it, and she followed her instincts. She was lucky that most of the cats had retired to their nests by the time she got home. Hardly anyone lifted their head to even greet her. She took her nest that she had pushed to be a little further away from the usual cluster in each house, curled up, and shut her eyes, trying to will herself to become sleepy.

“Mother,” she whispered under her breath, to avoid catching any attention. “If you can hear me…”

Something creaked.

She opened her eyes and startled. All around her was a grassy, beautiful clearing. Flowers in a scattered rainbow of colors caught the sunlight that warmed Redpaw’s pelt. Redpaw recovered from her shock and shook it out of her fur. She inhaled deeply, blessed with the scent of prey and ground just drying from the rain.

She seemed to be alone, but hesitantly, she called, “Mother?” and, after a pause, quieter, “Is this StarClan?”

There was an odd sensation, like Redpaw’s sight shuddered, and something sun-bright was in front of her. She squinted, eyes relaxing slowly as it dimmed, until she recognized her aged spitting-image in front of her.

“Mother,” she breathed. Elation straightened her posture and her fur flared with excitement. She stumbled a step forward.

Then she stopped.

Thornfang’s eyes were wide, darker than they were in life, sunken in. They bulged with terror. Her claws sunk into the grass, her tail bristled like a coyote’s. Why did she look so gaunt?

Redpaw looked at her mother. Thornfang looked at her.

“Run,” she said.

The ground burst open behind her, rocks splitting and jutting out skyward. Redpaw fell to her stomach as the earth shook. All around was a deafening, grinding groan, slow and strained.

Thornfang started forward. Something eye-searingly bright shot up out of the opening in the ground. It wrapped itself around Thornfang’s sides and jerked her up off her feet.

“Run!” Thornfang shouted, voice cracking in animal terror.

Then she was pulled into the hole, and the earth shook again, violent. It crumbled away, closing in on Redpaw until she had nothing under her paws. She half-fell, half-floated in the

 in the

  She saw it.

  She screamed.

   Hush.

Redpaw shot up out of her nest, hyperventilating. She pedaled backwards until she hit a stone wall, too terrified to think straight. She was on the verge of passing out, and she knew it, and it scared her, as if she might return to that thing once she lost consciousness.

In front of her was the dark figure, free of the shadows. They stood tall, thin, long, and unnaturally calm.

And shush, they said. Now Redpaw knew their words were in her head – no one so much as flicked an ear in their sleep. For it may be listening.

The very last string of sensibility grabbed at Redpaw’s heart and held on, ordering her to slow her breathing. She was barely able to obey, taking deeper, more elongated breaths, until she was merely trembling and not frozen in place.

The silhouette nodded once. Come.

They turned and walked out of the house. Their tail was like a snake, but it seemed to be fading at the tip.

Redheart looked around to ensure that no one had awoken – they hadn’t – before shakily following the figure out of the silent, night-stained settlement and towards the area they had first met.

You saw it, then, they said at last. You know now.

“I don’t know what I saw!” Redpaw cried. “My mother- something- it got her-“

Yes. They turned to her, an oddly comforting look on their face. It was StarClan. Or the thing pretending to be StarClan.

Redpaw listened in horrified silence as they explained a truth that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

I’ve been trying all my afterlife to warn everyone, they concluded, but it’s done a good job of ensuring everyone flees or tries to kill me or alerts it to my location. I am merely a devil now to most.

Redpaw wanted to weep. She maintained her composure and lowered her head. “Then you’re…”

The Runagate, they said quietly. Yes. You are one of the only ones that know about me. About my truth. About the truth.

Redpaw’s head jerked up immediately. “There are more?”

What little Redpaw could deduce of their face twitched, like it was wryly amused. One, at least. The veil doesn’t touch him. It may do good to find him.

Sudden and slight, there was a spark of anger in Redpaw’s heart. She latched onto it, warmed it, let it begin to turn into a small flame of righteous determination. “I’ll try. I'll find him as soon as I can. I can’t… I can’t shoulder this alone. I don’t know how you did.”

The Runagate’s entire posture relaxed, and the voice in her head had a smile in it. I don’t anymore.

 ---

 “Then that’s how you two met,” Darkpelt said, almost in awe. “All this time, the connection was there, and no one knew.”

“Greyleaf didn’t know her.” Mistface shook his head. “I would’ve heard about it.”

“No,” Greyleaf replied with a sigh. “You wouldn’t have. I never told you.”

Mistface stared at him, eyes wide.

“I never told you about any of this.” Greyleaf had settled down as Redheart’s tale went on, but now his tail tapped the ground in stress. “Nor Mama, nor my mentor. I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know about the whole truth, at first.”

Flyfang cleared her throat, her voice still ragged. “I guess you have your side to tell, then.”

Greyleaf closed his eyes. “I guess I do.”

#warrior cats #steorra #arc three #chapter #chapter three #that is a reference to coraline before you ask yes #greyleaf #redheart #darkpelt #flyfang #mistface #the runagate

[naptoons]

Cravin - Lunay

Warnings: sexual content and mild language

Theme: smut duh

A/N: this was requested by the beautiful @cncogirl18 hope it’s great and I hope you enjoy it!! I did not proofread and its google translated Spanish sorry.

Lunay and i were just chilling at his studio, he was recording some songs he had an idea for and wanted me to tag along. For his excuse he said “mami, you’re a great manager you know? So help me pick out some songs” but my hunch is lunay has something else in stores. Laying on the couch my back against his chest as we’re devouring on pizza. At least I was I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. And the scarlet bold font read “6:45” grabbing my cup of Pepsi I try to drink and watch the movie. Lunay said I had too watch insidious. At first I wasn’t into but now I am and I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen.

Placing the cup down I lay my back on his chest as he wraps one arm around my chest laying his hand on my shoulder. Fifteen minutes have past and I feel his hands traveling down from my shoulder to the center of my breast caressing it through the fabric. I didn’t think anything if it because Lunay is very handsy. Specially in public. He begins to slide his fingertips on my exposed skin sliding the shirt up as he goes, exposing my chest to the air, stealing all the heat from me. I decided not to question it because like I stated he is very handsy. And he wouldn’t do anything while we’re watching a movie.

Let alone in his damn studio.

Lunay slips his hand into my bra, playing with my nipples pinching them in his cold fingers. His teeth nibbling on the outer corners of my earlobe. “Bebe...” I let out quite desperately. “Qué pasa mami?” His smirk spreads upon my flesh, feeling the bubbles of ecstasy in my throat I stay quiet hoping he gets the message. I feel him sliding his hands up my chest to my neck wrapping the cold jewelry around my neck, him in jewelry is what turned me own even more. The fact that it is on my neck now sends pools between my legs. His other hand slipping between the fabric feeling the heat of despair between my thighs. Teasing he rubs circles on the out frame of my thighs close to the spot that needs to be touched.

“Bebe...” I let out again bucking my hips up to his fingers. With one hand in my pants he pushes me down sticking my body to the bed. “Tell me what you want I can’t hear you mami” his voice stings with dominance. “Tell me and I’ll do it” he continues

“I want your fingers inside me” I plead, without any hesitation his fingers are coated in my essences, my lip being pulled in between my teeth. It was just a simple touch but I’m thrown into euphoria. His fingers drawing circles on my bud in a painful but slow motion. My fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, while his hand is busy wrapped around my neck. “Carajo you’re so beautiful, let me hear those sweet precious moans” adding a third finger he presses against my bud my moans escaping through my pierced lips as my body begins to heat up and squirm. My legs begin to tremble the faster his tempo goes. By now my eyes have rolled to back of my head and my sounds are muffled by the feeling.

“Oh Babygirl you’re coming?” He asks with his lips on my earlobe “yeah come for me princess” he rasps in my ear, my legs start twitching , attempting to close my legs but Lunay holds them open by taking his hand off my throat “give me another one beautiful let me see you come again” Lunay asks quiet teasingly the knot begins to filling up in my stomach again along with strangled moans, my body lifts up off his shoulders digging my nails into the sheets as my knuckles turn white.

“I’m coming I’m coming” the adrenaline in me speaks, just as I’m about to come Lunay pulls his fingers away squeezing my clit in between two of his fingers, i gasp in elate just melting into his arms. Slowly sliding his hands away from my heated area I squirm slowly, Lunay lifts his fingers up to his mouth, raising my head up I watch him taste my juices smiling sheepishly at his face of delight. “ taste good babygirl, I see you’ve been eating right huh?” Lunay pushes me forward a little to get up from the couch. Thinking we were done I lay down on the couch to watch what was left of the movie, Lunay grabs my ankles pulling me towards him I giggle softly as my fingernails caress his hair.

Lunay pulls my pants down staring at the mess he created. “Fuck baby” he groans, his tongue lapping my folds slowly, Lunay throws one of my legs over his shoulder diving in between my legs again. Sucking on my swollen clit I flinch biting my lip again. My hands fumbling through his hair. Trying to focus on the movie I feel a finger insert into my slowly. Causing my back to levitate of the couch. Whimpering in pleasure, Lunay looks up at me as his other hand caresses my boob. Lapping up my juices as the filled the air drowning out the terror screams from the movie to me screaming of pleasure. Replacing his fingers with his tongue he locates my weak spot.

My hands tugging at the roots of his hair, almost squishing him in between my legs. I scream his name and stutter some curse words the faster he goes. Gasping at the sudden touch of his fingers back on my clit acquiring the same tempo as his tongue. “I’m coming baby I’m coming” I choke up him, Lunay looks up at me as he’s devouring me. My legs spasm out of control from the flick of his tongue. Lunay removes himself from my legs his face glistening in my fluids. My eyes look at the print on his pants he slowly pulls his shirt off exposing his tanned body to me. Following the outlines of his carved body with my eyes I didn’t notice he was taking his pants off and ripping a condom.

Lunay pulls me closer, his hands on my waist as he thrusts himself into me slowly, my eyes filling to brim with water. The agony of pain scratching on his forearm. “Hey hey babygirl what’s the matter?” His face furrows up I push him off me “stop stop” I shake in pain. Lunay caresses my back grabbing the covers to wrap my body in, sliding his boxers back on he holds me in his arms. Sighing softly I wrap my arms around myself. “Que pasa princess?” His thumb caresses my arm “did I hurt you? Or did I trigger a bad memory? Who hurt you?”

Getting my composure together I wipe my face, but Lunay cleans it for me with a napkin “my beautiful babygirl, who hurt you, I’ll beat their ass if I got too”

“No nobody hurt me, I hurt myself” I mumble

“Tell me princess, I’m here for you”

Sniffing I find his eyes are already on me “I didn’t tell you, but I’m a virgin baby, so I kinda hurt you know just then” Lunay pulls me in for a passionate kiss his hands caressing my back. The mixture of salt and peaches. I slowly pull away to catch my breath out foreheads connecting like glue. “It’s not your fault you didn’t mean too” I sensed his emotions from his kiss.

“No baby, I am sorry if I would’ve known I wouldn’t have so aggressive, I hurt you” his voice sounding so crisp, like the New York winds in the wintertime

“I wanted it” I answer truthfully and honestly. My hands cupping his face as the covers drop from my bare body. My legs straddling him. Now he was the one with the air caught in his throat. “There is no one else in this world I’d rather have be my first other than you” I mumble

“I don’t know about that you was giving Becky g them flirty eyes mami” Lunay jokes

“She would be my first for girls” I smile, but he doesn’t find he funny smacking my ass hard, making me gasp and moan at the same time. I grab onto his shoulder blades. “You’re so nasty babygirl” he threats me.

“Of course when a man like you is my boyfriend, so why don’t we pick up where we left off” I bite my lip grinding on his clothed member, feeling his muscles twitch with every stroke. “You are walking a thin line babygirl” Lunay’s eyes glow in lust. “I’m glad I am” I smile. Flipping me over he hovers over my fingernails caressing his shoulder blades.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want” he advises me

“And what if I want too?”

“You might wanna recall how easy I made you come, I may not be able to hold back” Lunay smirks

“I want this, so give it to me” I whimper, Lunay tears off a new condom sliding it on himself “you sure you’re ready?”

“Couldn’t be more sure about this” I smile proudly, Lunay dips into my soaked folds, my back raising off the couch, he stops to check on my facial expressions. My eyes knitting in the pain I felt before. But not as bad, because this time it wasn’t forced. “More” I whimper feeling the pain disappear into thin air. My walls engulfing him, the weak groans falling from his lips. “You okay?” He whispers, nodding my head he grabs my hands intertwining then together. As his hips bucks against my pelvis bone, the pain converting to pleasure instantly. Through my hooded eyelashes I gaze upon the man whom I’ve fallen in love with.

You were once a celebrity crush, and now here you are on top of me, my eyelashes hitting my eyelids, gasping at every thrust. Lunay’s hips slam into me picking up his paxe the sound of our bodies sticking together fills the room while his member explores me. Lunay takes his hands and places it around my neck,repeatedly hitting my g-spot as I let out sporadic moans. My walls clench around him as I’m coming to another climax. “Fuck look at you taking this dick” Lunay grunts. My hands wrapping around his wrist. Twitching my legs I scream his name sinking my head further into the pillow.

“Come for me baby that’s right” Lunay groans and growls; “you’re so beautiful baby” Lunay groans in my ear. Letting go on him my body sticks to his chest shaking from his slow steady strokes. “Mmh you’re so beautiful” Lunay nibbles on my neck leaving soft kisses traveling down to my chest. The sound of his lips smacking against my soused skin. My fingertips fiddling with the chains around his neck. Lunay lifts me up flipping then roles .

“You look beautiful as a top and bottom” Lunay whispers painting a thin layer of pink on my face, staring at his jewelry on his neck I fiddle with it, he starts to take them off and place them upon my neck “shit you’re fucking hot”

“Did I discover a new kink?” I smile; Lunay doesn’t say anything but slowly inserts his way inside of me; “ride me babygirl” his voice coming out so soft and smooth; I take on his request as I bounce upon him with my hands flat on his chest; the sound of my ass sticking to his legs, while my legs struggling to be still; Lunay knew he was big, but that didn’t stop him from making me climax four times in one day. Gripping onto his shoulder blades; hearing the groans escape his mouth makes me change the tempo as I rock back and forth on him; his hands firmly on my waist digging into my silky flesh; my toes curling up as they lift off the floor. Lunay’s Gand collides with my ass; his lips sticking to the hollow depth between my collar bones.

The burning sensation making me wrap my arms around his neck while my moans ring in his ears; one of his hands fiddling with my clit matching our speeds in unison. “Fuck baby I’m coming” I cry out; Lunay is a over-stimulator. My fingernails making cat prints on his back with the rasped growls leaving his lips onto my chest. My legs shake in milliseconds as my cream drips down on him. Slowly I slide up and down on him letting him feel how tight my walls are. Lunay thrusts into me as I gasp for air; he takes one thrust at a time smirking at the tremors my body is doing. Lunay raises his hips at me bouncing my whole body against him. Scattered moans try to be known while his hand is on my neck choking me ever so slightly; my eyelashes touching the roof of my eyelids, his thumb pressed on my bud again in a circular motion.

I was so clouded in euphoria I didn’t notice the door opening; frowning I ask quite out of breath “why’d you stop?” A blanket covers the both of us mainly me, my back is towards the door.

“ ¡¿qué te pasa?! “ (what is wrong with you) Lunay yells; my head whips over at the site of his managers; blushing I sink my head into Lunay’s shoulder, softly whining in embarrassment.

“Lunay, se supone que debes grabar hoy, ¿recuerdas?” (lunay, you are supposed to record today remember?) His manager speaks;Lunay rubs my back up and down.

“si bien, así que vete !!!” Lunay leaves; they all hurriedly scatter out of the room; leaving this awkward tension between us. How could I ever see them the same again? Lunay kisses my neck softly making me smile again. “Babygirl you’re so beautiful” Lunay nibbles my earlobe squeezing my boobs with both hands. He drops the blanket off my shoulders onto the ground with out clothes.

“After that and you still want more?” I ask curiously,

“Who said I was done with you?” Lunay smirks. Lunay flips me over on my stomach holding my wrists with one hand behind my back “we’re going to finish what we started” he groans before slamming himself inside of me, repeatedly hitting my gspot. Stunned by his dominance. Pushing himself deep into my walls and pausing there my juices drip down to my knees and painting the couch, repeatedly he does this making my toes curl, I’m completely soaked. Lunay rocks his hips against my ass smacking it occasionally; Lunay was so electrifying. Groggy moans leave my mouth and sinking into the pillow with every thrust. Letting go of my hands he grabs my neck placing my head on his shoulder still pounding me. His lips connect with my ears whispering sweet nothings to me.

“Look how pretty you are taking my dick, yeah take it all” Lunay growls in my ear; the speed of his hips making it harder and harder to be audible. His groans become louder and louder by every thrust. His one to my millions. “Come with me princess come” thrusting one last time inside of me pausing we both come at the same time; finally the bubble in my throat pops letting out a loud whimper gasping for air. Slowly my head falls in the pillow. Lunay kisses down my neck to my back. Feeling drained out I let him. I can barely move my body. His tongue cleaning my up while I flinch at the sudden Ecstasy.

“If that’s your first time, you got me cravin babygirl” Lunay whispers; finally regaining my strength I sit up and kiss him softly. “So what were they bagging you about?” I ask grabbing my discarded clothes trying to stand with my jello legs.

“I was supposed to record a song today; but I couldn’t resist you” his voice making me feel even weaker; god he is literally sweet poison. Putting my shirt on Lunay’s smile blades bigger at me. “What?” I ask confused.

“You just have this glow now, it’s beautiful, feels like the snow poking through after it snows” I smile at his compliment. Lunay grabs me by the waist crashing our lips together; getting a little carried away I bite his lip softly as the groan resonates softly in our mouths. Pulling away I give his swollen lips one last peck. “Keep it up, I’ll give you round two and it won’t be nice”

Lunay went to his mangers to hear whatever they had to say “ I’m here now what’s the song I gotta do?” Lunay asks quiet pissed off they interrupted him, “so we thought you should record a sex song” his manger tells him,

“Okay yeah let’s do it” his cheeky smile. After recording the song it took approximately three hours, because believe it or not Lunay is a perfectionist. Lunay places the headphones down, grabbing his keys. “So how was sex with bre?” One of his managers asks. Debating if he should pop off or play it cool.

“I loved fucking her brains out, did I forget the mention that part I was her first? Sorry seems like you can’t have her now, if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend is waiting for me”

I went back home to get changed and take a shower Lunay said to meet him at his house, and wear something nice. This boy is full of tricks, never know what he has up his sleeves. I decided to wear a nude long sleeve bodycon dress with a pair of wet heels. My hair was silk back showing off the necklace and earrings Lunay bought me. I don’t like to dress up often but when I do. It’s great. My uber stops in front of my house. Getting in it and driving to Lunay’s house, I knock on the door. Waiting for Lunay to open the door, the weather was quite chilly today.

The man of my dreams finally appears at the door, smiling I peck his lips, “what are you up too?” I ask smiling sheepishly “oh nothing” he replies sarcastically, everyone pops up telling “happy birthday!” Throwing confetti on us both along with strings. My hand covering my mouth at the amount of people in his house.

“For me?” I smile

“All for you babygirl, you thought I’d forget your birthday?” Lunay wraps a arm around my shoulder kissing my forehead, I grab his face pressing a soft kiss upon his lips. “Thank you”

The night consistent drinking and dancing along with opening presents every now and then Lunay stealing me away from boys he deemed to be too touchy with me, I honestly never cared for my birthday that much. I forgot what today’s date was. But Lunay showed me he cares and will continue to care about me and what makes me happy.

After five whole hours it was midnight and Lunay and I were in bed cuddling, both tipsy while watching a tv show. “Hey baby” his voices echos tilting my head up to him I smile. “How about you move in with me?” He asks nonchalantly “you really would like that?” I ask

“Why wouldn’t I? Baby I love you and I can’t stand to be far away from you, I would love to see you in my hoodies around the house, or coming back from a show and you’re wrapped up in my sheets, making breakfast together” Lunay’s êtes glow with admiration. “I want all the husband and wife shit, but I don’t have the ring yet” Lunay laughs off

“So what you say?” Lunay smiles

“Hm, that doesn’t sound to bad” I say seductively, straddling his lap my hands rub his forearm “I’ll say yes if you show me; how you act when you aren’t nice” Lunay wastes no time flipping me over with hunger in his eyes.

We were craving each other; and I don’t think I could ever get tired of you yet.

#lunay #lunay imagines #lunay smuts #lunay concepts

[smp-live]

Man in the (Shattered) Mirror Ch. 2

AO3   Prev   Next

Chapter TWs: Suicidal ideation/attempted suicide and descriptions of blood and injury (nothing too graphic, but someone was just stabbed, y'all)

When Ghostbur came running up to Tommy amongst the still-smoldering ruins of their nation, begging to be resurrected, he wasn’t quite sure what to think.

His immediate reaction was of elation at the thought of seeing his brother again. At the thought of hair ruffles and gentle singing and the way his face would light up when he spouted off some random fact or another. At the way he’d stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed the morning after a late night, asking for a coffee, and Fundy would hop up and beg him for a piggyback ride.

He missed Wilbur, missed him so much it ached.

But then, that meant Ghostbur would be gone. And while Ghostbur wasn’t his brother, could never be Wilbur - who was so full of life and passion it bled into the world around him - he was nice in his own way. Trying so, so hard to right wrongs, to make everyone happy. Tommy’s only beacon of light in the hellhole that was exile.

And there was no telling if the man came back would be Wilbur. His Wilbur, not the man who’d smiled too wide and laughed too loud, smelling so strongly of gunpowder and cigarette smoke it sent Tommy into coughing fits until his brother finally left to work on whatever dastardly plan he’d concocted. Not the one who’s voice had cracked at all the wrong places as he sung.

But Ghostbur had sounded so desperate as he explained all the reasons why he should be resurrected, and so Tommy had agreed. Ghostbur deserved so much better than this world, and Tommy hoped he’d find peace in death. Maybe in a little field, full of blue flowers, with Friend at his side. Tommy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yeah, that’d be nice.

“You alright?” Ranboo murmured, nudging his side, and Tommy opened his eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed out, watching Ghostbur and Phil stumble their way onto the shrine. Fundy stalked to their side, ears pressed flat, tail lashing, whiskers twitching. He worried at his hat in his hands. They were stained in blue.

“Think it’ll work?” he asked quietly. Nobody answered.

The small group huddled together as they watched the scuffed reenactment play out, a tragic parody of what had transpired. It was worse than Tommy could have ever thought, watching the weak pantomimes of ghost and father.

It was worse, because he could clearly picture Wilbur doing all this. Wilbur, muttering into his hand, gaze transfixed on the button. Wilbur, screaming his emotions out, voice cracking and tears pouring down his face. Wilbur, mimicking Eret’s word in a terrible, terrible callback he would’ve called poetic.

He met the traitor’s eyes across the shrine - just for a moment - and saw his own horror reflected in them.

But then Ghostbur was screeching for Phil to kill him, raw terror in his voice, and it was all Tommy could do to stop himself from rushing forward and putting an end to this terrible idea.

Phil ran him through with a sword, and it was too late.

The ghost fell to his knees with a terrible, anguished sob, totem clutched in his shaking hands, and Phil knelt next to him. Blue blood drip, drip, dripped from the sword onto the flooring, melding into the lapis until one was indistinguishable from the other. Glinting the same way in the midday sunlight.

Ranboo made a choked sound next to Tommy, a hand clasped over his mouth, horrified tears in his eyes. Fundy stood stock still, steely-gazed as he watched the ghost of his father die.

And then, Ghostbur took his last breath.

In the same instant, or perhaps an eternity later, an explosion of pure energy - pure life - burst out from the figurine he held in his hands with an ear-splitting shattering. (Were totems supposed to sound like that?) Lime green and white and yellow swirled around in a maelstrom of magic, blocking Tommy’s vision until the final residual wisps found their way into the body on the floor and it cleared.

Tommy might have caught a glimpse of the same tangle of colours from the corner of his eye, but before he processed it the man on the ground coughed.

"Did it work?" Tommy asked antsily, hope blooming in his chest despite the way the figure was too de-saturated and too transparent. "Wil?"

He groaned and wiped his face on his sleeve with a cough. "No," he said, "'m Ghostbur."

"Oh." A pit of disappointment opened in Tommy’s stomach as chilling relief coursed through his bones. It had failed, then. Ghostbur was here to stay. He wouldn’t be getting his brother back.

From Ghostbur’s side, a hand resting on the shade’s shoulder to stabilize him, Phil made to say something. Before he could speak, however, his eyes focused on something behind Tommy and his mouth gaped in shock.

"What the fuck?" a familiar voice, one Tommy hadn’t heard in months beyond a weak, pale imitation, said. One that sent his heart racing with twin feelings of both family and danger, and he whipped around.

There, in all his trenchcoat-clad, bloody-shirted glory, was Wilbur. Alive Wilbur, looking exactly the same he had the day he died, down to the messy, unkempt hair and the anger livid on his face.

“Why am I not dead?” he asked, accusing in that wrong, un-Wilbur-like way that had taken over his speech the last few months of his life. He looked directly at Phil. “I should be dead. You killed me.”

“Wil,” his father said softly as he got to his feet, drinking the sight in like a parched man in the desert. Ghostbur shied away, still seated. “We brought you back.”

Wilbur’s breath hitched in his throat. “No, no no no! You can’t have brought me back! You have to,” he looked around frantically, eyes landing on the sword discarded to the side. The sword that had killed him the first time, still dripping with sapphire blood. He all-but-pounced on it, coat billowing out behind him. “You have to kill me again,” Wilbur begged, meeting his father’s eyes steadily.

“What? Wil, we’re not doing that.” Phil flared his wings.

“You have to.” His voice cracked, offering the sword with trembling hands. “Please, Phil.”

“No.”

Wilbur whirled around, looking desperately around the clearing. “Tommy, you- no, no, can’t- Fundy? Eret,” he finally seemed to settle, thrusting the sword hilt-first at the traitor. “C’mon, you’ve done it once before. Just do it again, it’ll be easy, look, I’ll make it even easier on you!” He spread his arms wide with an even wider smile on his face, exposing the tear in his shirt to Eret. A perfect target. “Just stab me.”

Eret looked at the sword. Looked up to Wilbur, back to the sword. Then, she threw it to the side. “Sorry, Wilbur,” she said, real pain in her voice, “I’m trying to be better, and part of that includes not killing people who don’t deserve it.”

Wilbur recoiled, making a wounded noise. He looked so... broken. Desperate, like a trapped animal, breathing heavily as he fell apart before their eyes. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he changed.

Shoulders taut as a bowstring straightened, hands balled into fists at his sides. Heavy breaths no longer panicked, but a threat. Lips pulled back into a snarl. Complete and utter devastation morphed into a mask of anger, slotted perfectly over his face, like an actor finding their character.

Only his eyes remained the same, snapping around at every sound or shift of movement. Fingers twitching and feet shifting to subtly distance himself from whatever had created the disturbance.

“Fine then,” Wilbur snapped, and Tommy could have sworn he could still smell a mix of stale mustiness and gunpowder, “if you don’t kill me now, I’ll show you all why I deserve it.” He glanced around, wild eyes flitting from one person to another.

“I’ll destroy it all,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll destroy it all, I’ll kill everyone who stands in my path, I’ll hurt so many people! So fucking kill me!”

Everybody stood stock still, frozen at the threats. “Alright!” he laughed. “You brought this upon yourselves!” And Tommy finally found his words.

“Wait, Wil, you don’t have to-” he tried, reaching out towards his brother.

“Oh, I do, Tommy Innit,” Wilbur snarled, looking him straight in the eyes, and Tommy froze again. “I do.”

He couldn’t breathe, pinned under the weight of Wilbur’s gaze that brought him back to hours spent underground listening to him pace and mutter angrily to himself and scream when it got too much. Listening to him rant and rave about traitors and trust and how they were truly alone, just them two, and how Tommy was all he had-

Tommy’s spiral was cut off by a strong pressure on his wrist, and he looked over to find Ranboo holding on tightly. The Enderman nodded at him, looking somewhere above his head, and Tommy swallowed. Right.

Wilbur had turned to his ghost, who looked upon the scene with pure horror on his face. “And you,” he said, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I- I’m Ghostbur.”

“Ghostbur, huh?” He scoffed. “Stupid fuckin’ name. Let me give you some advice, fake-me.” He dropped his voice, but didn’t move any closer. “All this? Friends, a home, life? You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of this. Neither of us do.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tommy snarled, wrenching his wrist out of Ranboo’s grip and ignoring his startled little vrwoop as he charged towards his brother. “Leave Ghostbur the fuck alone.” He positioned himself between Wilbur and Ghostbur, acting as a barrier between them. At least he knew Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him - not physically, at least.

Wilbur took a step backwards, something akin to fear flashing across his face as he raised an arm defensively, keeping the same distance between them despite Tommy not having come near. He narrowed his eyes and they darted around, looking for an escape.

“Alright, Tommy,” he finally relented with a sigh, visibly forcing the tension out of his shoulders, though his feet stayed positioned to run. “Alright. I’ll leave. But don’t expect me to not hold my promises.”

And with that, he whirled around, trenchcoat billowing out as he exited stage left (dramatic bastard.) Stalked off over the hill, away from L’manberg and into the woods.

The group stood in tense silence for a few moments, watching him go, until Fundy cackled; a twisted, hysterical thing. “We fucked up.”

Tommy burst into sputtering laughter at that, the others looking grimly at him. “Fuck,” he said, wiping a tear away with a shaky hand, “fuck, we really did.”

Ranboo vrwooped, fiddling with a grass block in the hand that wasn’t gripping Tommy’s wrist. “What do we do now?” he asked.

Everybody turned to Phil; the man who always seemed to know what to do, who always had a plan. But he didn’t react, staring blankly at the redwoods where his son had vanished.

Eret stepped up when he didn’t, saying, “I suppose we simply deal with whatever problem presents itself. We can’t take back what we’ve done.” They sighed. “As much as we want to.”

Ghostbur finally moved, then, stumbling as he pushed himself to his feet. Eret steadied him beside themselves. The ghost looked terrible, swaying as if he would collapse at the slightest breeze, face gently steaming with tears. He clutched at the still-sluggishly bleeding wound on his chest, hands stained in blue blood.

“Ghostbur?” Tommy asked, reaching out, “you g-”

A shift of movement in Tommy’s peripheral caught his eye. A pebble clattered away from the shadows of the cliffside. And, from a small alcove in the stone, a tiny figure detached itself, calling out shakily,

“Dad?”

#dream smp #dream smp fanfic #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dsmp tommyinnit #lemme know if there are any other TWs I should tag! I'm still new to it

[absolutelynoct]

Hello! My friend and I are very big fans of yours! We love your works, we've been following since early on! We saw your list of prompts and would love to request one! "This isn't what it looks like" and for Promptis. SFW. And, we were thinking Noct or Prom or both doing crazy things to hide their engagement ring from one another and crazy happens. Sorry for any bad English or poor explaining. Thank you so much! Love your work that makes us smile!

[Ahhh! Thank you anon and anon’s friend! I am so happy that you both had read my works since early on! I hope that you have enjoyed them as the stories changed- and hopefully the writing has improved haha. Please enjoy this story- it was so much fun to write and I am so happy to have written it for you today. Sorry it took so long to write it! I wanted to make sure I really put the love and effort into it that it deserved!

Prompto and Noctis had the idea at the same time. Prompto went to Gladio, asking for his help, while Ignis was enlisted to help Noctis. Gladio and Ignis promised to keep it a secret, so neither team knew that they were both exclusively shopping for engagement rings for one another. It also meant that both Prompto and Noctis were left baffled when suddenly they had no free time to spend with one another.

Gladio took Prompto shopping for an engagement ring on the limited budget that Prompto had from taking up odd photography jobs here and there. He was nervous and anxious about finding something suitable for the future king of Lucis, but ultimately he decided on a ring that was black with small studded diamonds set into the band. It was small, beautiful, and unassuming, something that Noctis would definitely like. Gladio didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was out of his price range, so he secretly paid for the difference when Prompto wasn’t looking.

They had left the shopping district with an elated Prompto clutching the box in his hands and a smiling Gladio with his arm around his shoulders as he always did. As they were leaving, they encountered Ignis and Noctis heading towards the very same store, Noctis’s arm linked with Ignis. By all accounts, it looked as if Noctis and Ignis were dating and Prompto and Gladio were a well-established couple. Both Noctis and Prompto were shocked they ran into each other, both of them blushing as they got caught on their shopping excursions.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Prompto and Noctis both said at the same time, only heightening each other’s suspicions. They awkwardly joked about how they were just out for a stroll, neither of them willing to admit that they were shopping for an engagement ring for each other. After a stammering conversation from the two of them, Ignis pulled Noctis onward to pick out a ring for Prompto. Prompto was a bit worried that Noctis was hiding something from him since he had lied about hanging out with Ignis, but he kept his worries to himself as he made his way back to his apartment.

Noctis spent the time in the shop absorbed in trying to find a ring for Prompto. He had royal funds at his disposal and had his pick of the shop. But Prompto wasn’t flashy like that, and he ended up choosing something small, beautiful, and unassuming. It was the same ring that Prompto had picked for him. Noctis left the shop excited, knowing that Prompto was going to love the ring beyond any doubt. He was a bit worried about Gladio and Prompto looking so chummy, especially since Prompto had obviously lied about where he was going to be, but he chalked it up to Gladio pulling him into one of his shenanigans.

Prompto and Noctis spent the better part of the next few weeks putting together the perfect engagement plan. Several times Noctis almost caught Prompto going over different schematics for how to rig an engagement ring on a fishing hook without losing it to the water. Likewise, Noctis was almost caught holding the brochures for the chocobo-themed trip that he was planning to take Prompto on to propose, hastily stuffing the documents away. Each time they were nearly caught, they both shouted the same excuse, both blushing bright red in their embarrassment and fear of getting caught.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

The final straw for Noctis was when he saw Prompto and Gladio heading to Gladio’s room in the palace. Prompto was living in his own apartment, not technically part of Noctis’s retinue, and had made excuse after excuse as to why Noctis couldn’t come over. Noctis was doing the same thing to him, of course, because he was trying to keep his engagement plans to himself. But the way that Gladio looked at Prompto, the smile that they both had on their faces, made it look as if they were almost dating behind Noctis’s back. He told himself that it wasn’t what it looked like, but it was hard not to at least be more than a little jealous.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as what happened when Prompto walked in on him and Ignis. Prompto heard from Gladio that Noctis was upset, so he went to the palace to try and reconcile things. He was trying to propose to him, after all, not upset him. Without thinking, Prompto opened the door to Noctis’s room, stopping when he saw Noctis on one knee in front of Ignis, holding a ring in a box up to him. Of course Noctis was practicing his speech, but Prompto didn’t know that. 

“Oh,” Prompto said as he looked between them. His eyes were wide in shock, his heart breaking, tears coming to his eyes, his voice caught in his throat. “I didn’t know… I thought… Silly me. I’ll see myself out. Congrats you two.”

Prompto left in a hurry, faster than Noctis since he ran regularly from middle school onward, ignoring Noctis’s calls that it wasn’t what it looked like. He ended up in his apartment, alone, crying into his pillow, the engagement ring sitting next to the fishing trip that he had meticulously planned and scrupulously saved for. His heart broke as he thought about how deluded he had been to think that Noctis wouldn’t have another lover. Of course he would be with someone as great as Ignis. Prompto convinced himself that he was easily the side piece, that he was the mistress to be forgotten while Ignis was the one who deserved the world. He didn’t even live in the palace. Of course he would lose to someone like Ignis.

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis all called Prompto several times, but he eventually turned his phone off. When there was a knock on his apartment door, he knew he couldn’t ignore it. Noctis was desperately trying to get in touch with him, and Cor eventually caught wind that his adopted son was struggling, although he didn’t quite know why. While Noctis continued to try and reach Prompto, to no avail, Cor went to Prompto’s apartment to check in on him.

The blond spent the majority of the night wordlessly crying into Cor’s arms, only muttering intelligible words like how he was a fool and stupid for even thinking of something. Cor assumed that he had proposed to Noctis and Noctis had turned him down, ensuring that the next day Noctis would receive a swift ass-kicking. Prompto was tender-hearted, fragile even, and Cor wasn’t going to stand for anyone, prince or otherwise, breaking his heart. 

Cor told Prompto to take it easy the next day, to take off work and stay home from his college courses. Prompto nodded in agreement, offering Cor the fishing trip that he had planned to propose to Noctis on. It had cost him so much money that he didn’t want it to go to waste. Cor told him to hold off on that, that they would go on the trip together and get wasted after he helped him take the engagement ring back to the store. Prompto only nodded and went back to crying, his heart hurting at the thought of Noctis and Ignis marrying.

Noctis was not prepared for Cor coming at him. He had been trying to get in touch with Prompto desperately, begging Gladio and Ignis for any hint that Prompto was in touch with them. Ignis felt guilty, of course, and Gladio was baffled that Noctis didn’t immediately go over to Prompto’s apartment. How could he when Prompto wouldn’t even answer his calls or texts? When he saw Cor, he had been hopeful at first that he would help him sort things out. Then he let out a yelp and screamed in terror when he realized Cor was coming to kill him.

Ignis stood in front of Noctis while Gladio braced himself against Cor to prevent the marshal from trying to kill the prince and end up in prison for murder and treason. Noctis was cowering behind Ignis, trying to tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like, that there had been a huge misunderstanding. It was Ignis who had the commanding presence to get Cor to pay attention to them both, to listen to reason.

“There has been a terrible misunderstanding,” Ignis explained as Noctis hid behind his best friend who was more like a brother to him. “Noctis was practicing, sir. He was practicing so he could propose to Prompto this weekend.”

“What?” Cor asked in surprise. Noctis sheepishly pulled out the box he had been carrying in his pocket, his heart aching as he thought about how it had all gone so wrong. He showed Cor the ring, and Gladio and Cor both looked surprised by it.

“How did you get the ring Prompto got for you?” Gladio blurted out in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Noctis asked in confusion. “I got this for Prompto.”

“I was there when he bought it,” Ignis explained. “I assure you, this is the ring he bought for Prompto.”

“You… You need to go and see Prompto,” Cor said, his anger quickly receding. “Forget whatever you were planning. Go and see him now. I’m pretty sure he’s ready to become a hermit or a goat farmer or something if you don’t go and see him.”

Noctis didn’t hesitate. He slipped the ring in his pocket and ran out of the palace, heading towards the apartment complex where Prompto was currently living. He didn’t know why Prompto had insisted on living there, save for his need for independence. As long as he was able to work things out between the two of them, Prompto would be moving to the palace soon anyway. He had already spoken to his father about having two kings in Lucis instead of a king and a queen. The fact that it was Prompto only seemed to make the king shrug and say it couldn’t be helped.

Without hesitating, Noctis pounded on the apartment door, hoping that Prompto would answer it quickly. A moment later, the door unlocked, and a sniffling and crying Prompto looked at Noctis in surprise. Noctis felt his heart aching as Prompto looked at him, ready to slam the door shut and run away. Why was Noctis even there if he was going to marry Ignis? Shouldn’t he be celebrating with him?

“Prompto,” Noctis said before Prompto could slam the door shut on him. He wormed his way into the apartment, and Prompto didn’t really have the strength to hurt or fight him. “I need to talk to you.”

“It’s okay,” Prompto said shakily, his legs feeling like jelly as his hands were unsteady. He looked to his secondhand kitchen table, the fishing trip and engagement ring sitting there, useless now that Ignis and Noctis were engaged. Noctis followed his gaze, his eyes widening as he realized that Prompto had been so secretive lately for the exact same reason. “I hope you and Ignis have a happy life together.”

“It’s not like that,” Noctis insisted as he looked at Prompto. He took the ring out of his pocket, holding the box in front of him. Prompto eyed it, wondering why Noctis was holding onto something that he had given Ignis. “I was so nervous that I had to practice with Ignis. I had to ask him to help me prepare the speech for when I proposed… to you.”

Prompto stared at him in shock, not really absorbing what he was saying. Noctis knew he wouldn’t believe him, so he took out the chocobo excursion brochures he stuffed into his pocket and showed them to him. “I was planning to take you here and propose at the end of it,” Noctis said. He looked at the fishing brochures and knew Prompto had been planning something similar. “I had to ask Ignis for help because I was too nervous and excited.”

“What… But Ignis is…” Prompto was confused. He was so sure that if Noctis had the choice between him and Ignis, then Ignis would be the obvious answer.

“Ignis is a high maintenance bitch that Gladio can barely keep up with,” Noctis said with a grin that made Prompto laugh. They both had to admit that Ignis was fairly high maintenance, and Noctis was the only one who could call him such names without it being an insult. Prompto wondered why he didn’t see it before. Noctis and Ignis were like brothers. Of course he would have helped Noctis try and propose. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Gladio.”

“That does make a lot of sense,” Prompto thought, thinking back to all the times he was with Gladio. Gladio never really shut up about Ignis. “I think it’s mutual.”

“This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to do it,” Noctis said as he looked down at the box, bringing the conversation back to what they were originally here for. “But Prompto will you-”

“Wait!” Prompto shouted suddenly, making Noctis stop. Was he going to say no? Noctis was worried until he watched as Prompto excitedly grabbed the same box on the table and held it out in front of him the same way Noctis was. “At the same time?”

They both stared at each other, breathless and excited, the drama and worry of what had just happened forgotten in their excitement. Prompto and Noctis both nearly lost their composure when they opened the boxes and saw that they had gotten each other the same ring.

“Will you marry me?” Prompto and Noctis asked each other at the same time. They looked into each other’s eyes and both of them smiled, their excitement turning towards profound joy, tears long forgotten. “Yes!”

Trembling, they exchanged identical rings, both of them smiling through their nervous energy. Prompto and Noctis kissed each other, joyous, as they wrapped their arms around each other and held each other close. This time, it was exactly what it looked like.

#promptis #prompto #noctis #gladio #ignis #oneshot #misunderstandings #ffxv #Final Fantasy XV #amitiel writes #thank you this was a lot of fun to write #cor leonis #dad!cor #I feel like I could easily have written a whole AU out of this #fanfic #ffxv fanfiction

[emberbent]

Book 2: Air | Chapter 2: The Truth

Shinza’s airbending training began inauspiciously. For two months, she rose with Lo Sang at sunrise each morning, and they practiced yoga on a mountain peak. Where firebending had taught her decisiveness and power, yoga made her flexible, both mentally and physically. Her afternoons were spent in silent meditation, guided by her young teacher. In the evenings, she tended the greenhouse and the bakery with the others. She ate simple meals - rice, green tea, and fresh vegetables she’d helped grow and harvest herself. Before bed each night, she spent some time alone in her room, reflecting. Meditating more. Clearing her head. Airbending is an act of freedom, Lo Sang taught her. Freedom from earthly tethers. Freedom from your own mind. Clear your thoughts, cleanse your spirit, and make room for the air to flow through you.

Lo Sang admitted she was surprised by Shinza’s patience and diligence; Even for Lo Sang, being patient through the foundational steps had been challenging, despite the fact that she’d had the advantage of not having to fish years’ worth of detritus out of her mind before starting. But Shinza had longed for a chance for stillness; now that she had it, she wouldn’t waste a second. This, she realized one morning, planting her palms on the earth and balancing her knees on her elbows in crow pose, was the most peaceful she’d ever felt.

Lo Sang took notice. “Wonderful,” she said serenely to her student. Shinza unfolded herself and came to a cross-legged position, mirroring Lo Sang, who studied her with a little smile. “How do you feel?”

Shinza inhaled and gazed out over the rockface, watching Xia’s distant silhouette weave and ribbon through the clouds. “Calm.”

“Good,” said Lo Sang. “Normally, it takes at least a year to ready oneself for airbending - sometimes several years. But Jinora says we don’t have the luxury of time, and I think you’re ready. Do you feel ready?”

Shinza froze in place, remembering her first shot at firebending and how that first day had been a harbinger for the difficulty her training would bring. “I’ll try, if you think I’m ready, Sifu.”

Lo Sang regarded her. “You hesitated. What’s wrong?”

“Eh, it’s kind of a whole story,” Shinza replied, waving her hand through the air between them as if to dispel the issue altogether. “Firebending was really hard for me, and I guess I’m worried airbending will be more of the same.”

“That’s understandable,” Lo Sang replied sagely. “But look how easily the first steps came to you. Just remember to clear your mind of everything but the task at hand, and you’ll do fine.” 

Shinza believed her. Or at least, she wanted to. She recalled what Jinora had said to her when she’d first arrived at the temple: I believe you’ll excel at airbending.

“Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Lo Sang puffed herself to her feet, pausing for a moment. “Actually, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I never thought I’d get to train the Avatar,” Lo Sang confided. “Sometimes I think about how important the job is, and how important it is that I do well, and...”

Shinza stood, dusting off her tunic, and centered herself in front of her teacher, ready for instructions. “If you’re worried, don’t be. You’re an excellent teacher, and I promise to be a good student. Even though I’m old as dirt.”

“Thanks, grandma,” Lo Sang giggled. “Okay. We’re going to start with something very simple first.”

She drew her arms out wide, arced them gracefully, and pulled them inward, swirling them around some invisible sphere. A wind surrounded them, bringing with it a slurry of red and yellow leaves. Lo Sang caught one between her hands with a precise measure of air, keeping it steady and displaying it to Shinza.

“Hold the leaf like this,” she instructed. “Focus like you do during meditation. Breathe like you do during yoga. Summon your energy and bend the air around the leaf to hold it steady. Okay?”

Shinza held her palms open as she was shown. Lo Sang transferred the leaf to her waiting palms. Finding the focus she had honed during meditation, and summoning a current of energy, Shinza kept the leaf hovering between her hands.

“I’m doing it,” she whispered, not daring to break her concentration. “I’m holding the leaf.”

Lo Sang bit her lip to temper her elated grin. “Perfect! I’m impressed.”

Shinza’s eyes glittered. After a beat, she let the leaf go and beamed, “Really?”

“Yes,” Lo Sang replied. “In fact, I think we can try something a little more advanced.”

Shinza watched Lo Sang walk a tight circle on her nimble feet with her arms poised. She funneled a hard, precise puff of air through her hands and directed it at a passing flurry of leaves, sending them scattering. 

“Airbending is about being light on your feet, ready to change your stance at a moment’s notice,” Lo Sang explained. “If another second had passed, I would have had to adjust my stance to target the leaves. Understand?”

Shinza nodded, scrunching her brows together in concentration as she settled herself into a position that looked like Lo Sang’s. The young one came around to correct her stance before stepping back. “Go ahead when you’re ready. Remember to focus.”

Shinza mimicked the movements and paced in a circle, summoning the same energy as before. A wire crossed in her mind, and instead of keeping her arms limber, she locked her elbows like she’d been taught to do in firebending. Air arced like a blowtorch from her palms, the force of which sent Shinza flying backward into the cliffside. The back of her head met the rockface with a sickening crack.

She’s small and standing in the living room in the old apartment. The unlit lantern hangs from its hook, and Shinza wants to light it. Her mother is studying in the spare bedroom; she knows not to disturb her mother, so she tries to light it herself. With swift movements that nearly match her father’s, she summons a flame. Carefully, she tiptoes close to the lantern, but she isn’t quite tall enough to reach it. So she extinguishes the flame. Steps back. Punches the air. The resulting flame catches on the paper lantern.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Shinza squeaks, knowing instantly the kind of trouble she’s in. She has to put the fire out before her mother knows. But she can’t reach the lantern, and there’s nothing nearby to step on. A thought occurs to her out of desperation, but she tries it anyway. She concentrates hard and does a little twirl, emitting, to her shock, a gust of air. It knocks the lantern off its hook and onto the floor, and the carpet quickly catches fire.

Shinza gets onto her knees, panicking, crying, trying her best to tamp down the fire with her bare hands before it spreads too far. The flames sear her flesh; if she works faster, she thinks, and ignores the pain, she can put it out. But her little palms aren’t big enough. The flames grow until she’s surrounded. Her hands are alight. “MAMA!”

___

She wails on her mother’s lap. Her mother holds her tightly so she doesn’t squirm as a doctor summons a wobbling sphere of water over to Shinza and instructs her to place her hands inside. “It hurts,” she sobs, but the doctor urges her to move quickly. Her hands tremble inside the water. The doctor works. He tells them the third-degree burns over her hands and forearms will take months to heal, and that they’ll need to return for regular sessions. Her mother asks about scarring. The doctor says he’ll do his best, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent it.

___

She’s at another place - a different doctor, her father tells her. Shinza is weak from crying and from the pain medication. He asks her how the accident happened. “I tried to light the lantern, but it caught fire. I tried to airbend it out, but I made too much wind.”

He looks at her strangely. A woman comes in, places Shinza in an uncomfortable chair, and buckles a strap across her forehead. Her cheeks sting. The woman only speaks to her once to say, “Repeat what I say: ‘I am a good, quiet girl. I am not a bender.’” Shinza repeats after the doctor, over and over again. A light revolves around her head.

___

The woman drives her knuckles into Shinza’s spine.

A white, blinding light emanated from behind Shinza’s eyes and from her open mouth, flickering like a surging bulb. A powerful gale swirled violently around them, kicking up dust and rocks. Lo Sang shielded her eyes with one hand and her body with her own counter-gust as Shinza struggled against the light. Then, exhausted, Shinza finally overcame it; slowly, the fog of the memories lifted, and her vision cleared. She sat slumped like a ragdoll against the rockface, and Lo Sang watched from a safe distance away, eyes wide with concern and terror, white hair disheveled.

“Shinza?” she mewed. “Are you okay?”

Dry-mouthed, she brought her hands in front of her and studied them.  Traced the familiar purple scars. The implication of what she’d just uncovered wasn’t clear to her yet, but the weight of it was immense. She couldn’t bring herself to look elsewhere.

“You hit your head and went into the Avatar state. Are you okay?” Lo Sang pressed. “What happened?”

“Did anyone tell you why the Avatar you’d be training was twenty-eight and not sixteen?” Shinza asked. Her dizziness was dissipating, giving way to a cold, black bitterness.

“No… no, they didn’t.”

“Because they didn’t know why,” Shinza replied. Her voice was hollow. “My parents knew I was the Avatar, and they had my bending and my memories blocked. The Fire Sages searched for me for years; they just thought I was hard to locate, but I was right under their noses the whole time.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lo Sang murmured sadly, helplessly. She regarded Shinza like a startled horse who might rear up again at any moment.

“I’m twelve years late,” Shinza continued vehemently. “When I think of all that’s happened in the world in that time, all the trouble…”

She thought of Amrit standing on the shore, telling her about swallowing stones of grief. She thought of the propaganda flyers that littered the streets of Republic City. She thought of her little cousins, her teacher’s age, repeating horrific rumors spread by The Org. “I could have done so much.”

“Maybe your parents had a purpose,” Lo Sang reasoned. “Maybe they wanted to protect you from The Organization.”

“The Avatar belongs to the world, not to their parents,” Shinza argued. “As soon as they knew, they had a responsibility to send me off.” Wearily, she hoisted herself into a standing position. What little color there was drained from her freckled face, and she leaned with one hand against the rock to steady herself. “I’ve lost a lot of time. Let’s keep going.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Lo Sang protested. “Look at you. You’re weak and angry. Which is understandable. I think you should take some time off and work through this, Shinza. If you try to force it, you’ll undo all your progress and waste even more time.”

Shinza gazed down at her sifu, whose pale gray eyes flashed back and forth as they scanned her student’s face. She didn’t have the strength to put up a fight. “Fine.”

Lo Sang slipped her arm around Shinza’s waist to help keep her steady as they made their way along the side of the mountain. There was a silence between them as Shinza ruminated on the young one’s disheveled hair and the fear in her eyes. The thought that Shinza had so little control over the Avatar state that she’d put them both in danger made her nauseous.

“Hey,” Lo Sang sounded, as if reading her mind. “It’s okay. I’m not hurt. You’re not hurt, are you? You hit your head really hard.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied dryly. Her room seemed like it was miles away, but she trudged onward. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“What does the Avatar State feel like?”

Shinza snorted. “Well, I’ve never been electrocuted, but I imagine that’s what it feels like.”

Lo Sang took in that information quietly and squeezed Shinza’s waist affectionately. When they arrived at Shinza’s door, Lo Sang paused.

“I’m sorry you learned something really hurtful today,” she said sincerely. “But I’m glad it’s over now, and I hope you can move past it. I want to help you, if you need help.”

Shinza found herself sinking to her knees and wrapping her arms around Lo Sang, who, she realized, was the little sister she never knew she needed. “Thank you, Sifu. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Alone, Shinza fell into bed fully clothed, dust falling onto her sheets, and stared at the stone ceiling. Processing. Her parents’ faces had already started to fade from her mind before she’d left the Island of the Sun Warriors. But now, when she tried to picture them, all she saw was the sepia-tone family picture that sat in a frame on the mantle of the old apartment. Right next to the lantern.

___

@chromecutie @my-remedy-is-euphoria @hetapeep41 @jaymzbush

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic #avatar imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfic #atla #atla fanfiction #atla fanfic #lok #lok fanfiction #lok fanfic #fiction #fic #fire #air #water #earth #emberbent

[groggycascade]

Breaker Campus - Frosh Week, Pt. II

All credit to Sean D. 

Kelly, Sarah and Beth walked over to the next station. There was little doubt in their mind about what "Handball" would entail. They giggled. "Can I ask you girls something?" Said Sarah.

"Sure" they replied. "Do you get wet when you rack a guy?" Beth replied without hesitation. "Oh absolutely." Kelly had been too caught up with all the different feelings coursing through her body to really think about it. But there was no doubt she felt a heavenly feeling of elation. "Yeah, I suppose it does turn me on," she said, as much to herself as to the others. The girls approached the next station, which was inside the campus clinic. This one was managed by Dr. Carla, a medical doctor who taught courses at the campus and ran its clinic. "Cool," said Beth, looking around at all the technology. For her part, Sarah noticed that all the boys were completely naked. And they were connected to monitors. The girls sized up all of their packages. Having been turned on from the last station, Sarah wanted to simultaneously ride them hard while also smashing their balls into smithereens. "That one's mine,"'said Kelly, who was thinking something else. She wanted the biggest pair of juicy nuts to torment. "Ladies," she said, ignoring the boys present as Professor Smith had done at the last station. "Welcome to my lab. You are going to assist me in furthering my research. I would not expect any of you to be familiar with my work because until recently taking my position at this college, my work was classified. Suffice to say that I helped our country get the information it needs to keep itself safe from the bad guys - and she stressed the word GUYS. I am a leading expert on the testicles, having conducted hundreds of... experiments. And last, and certainly not unrelated to the other two, I am an expert in the study of pain. She smiled and the girls all giggled along. "So cool," said Beth. "I want her job." Doctor Carla slipped on a white latex glove. Well it was sort of a latex glove but looked different. She explained. "You see that there are these ovals on the finger tips. These are a group of tiny sensors" - each oval was made up of many small dots that were each a small sensor. "When I press my fingers together like this" she pressed them, "this monitor here records the amount of pressure being exerted." She looked over to the boys, who were standing with their hands handcuffed behind their backs. They had straps around their chests holding them to the wall. They each had some cables connected to them and monitors beside each of them. "This is to monitor their pulse, blood pressure, and rate of breathing." She grabbed a camera sitting on a swivel arm and brought it down to the level of one of the boy's testicles. "Aah" he said as he flinched in fear. "Haha, calm down young man, I haven't even touched you - yet." There was now an additional image on the monitor. As plain as day, two orbs. The camera was working like an ultrasound or CT scanner. The girls were all mesmerized to actually be seeing his testicles inside the sac. Doctor Carla slapped on another glove and rubbed her hands together. "Now, a short demonstration." She put her thumb and forefinger from each hand on his dangling gonads. "Now, we start out with some light pressure." "Boy, tell me what you feel." "Uh, err," the boy stuttered. What should he say? She literally had him by the balls. "This is important for my research boy, you should tell me what it feels like." "Well, it is uncomfortable. There's this dull ache in my abdomen." "Do you feel any pain directly on your testicles?" "No." "Ladies, that dull ache is being caused by nerve strands running from his testicles into his abdomen. With a strong enough force applied to their testicles, this is why you may have seen some boys throw up." "Eeeeehhhh!!!!" A high pitched scream pierced the room. The pressure number on the monitor was now red. Doctor Carla was pressing down - HARD. "What about now?" She asked the boy. Her voice as calm and soothing as before. Her face betrayed no emotion. It's as if they were talking about the weather. The boy's eyes were shut tight. He banged his head forward and back. "Gaaahhh!!!" "WORDS boy. Put it into words. If you don't, well, I can always squeeze harder." "No,no,no," the boy managed to say hastily. "Gerrrr...aaaahhh...." he opened and then shut his eyes and was intensely trying to concentrate, desperately trying to prevent any more pain. "Lightning, electricity... gaaahh.... shooting from my balls." "Shooting where?" "My stomach... aaaahhh..." his voice raised an octave. "And my head... I, I can't see straight." "Ooofff" the boy shot out a burst of air as Dr. Carla released his balls from her death grip. He was silent and motionless. No one in the room moved. His face was frozen. His eyes wide with terror and pain as his body absorbed the pain. His face was turning redder the longer he went without air. Finally, there was a loud gasp as he loudly inhaled. "Now ladies, was anyone looking at the monitors?" Beth's hand shot up. She nodded to Beth. "Well, I noticed that his balls started to change shape. It was really cool!" The girls all laughed and Doctor Carla smiled. "Indeed, it is very cool. Well ladies, take your boy and we'll get started." Kelly went straight for the big-balled boy she had spotted earlier. "Hello," she said with an evil grin as she approached him. He looked down meekly. All ladies got into their positions. "Alright, you'll receive a range of instructions, and please follow along. The machines are recording everything and this live test will add to my database." "Instructions will be passed through to the monitor. I find it better when they cannot have any anticipation of what is coming." Kelly's monitor flashed - "Squeeze the left testicle hard for 10 seconds and then release. Commence in 5s...4s..." Kelly readied to move both hands to his left nut. The gloves were fairly thin and she could feel well through them. She could feel the warmth of his large ball, and could even feel his heart beat through his nut with the rhythm of the machine. "START" Kelly quickly switched her grip and brought both thumbs and forefingers to bear on his left nut. She squeezed hard. Her fingers and thumbs digging down into his hefty nutmeat. His hazel eyes seemed to turn a shade greener as his eyes opened wide. He made no sound. It was as if the breath had just been knocked out of him and he couldn't breath. His mouth opened as if to breath, but he couldn't. His face was getting redder by the second. For her part, Beth didn't even notice her boy, who was screaming at the top of his lungs as she brutally compressed his left nut between her thumbs and forefingers. Her concentration was on the monitor. She could see his nut becoming longer and thinner with each passing second. It was so fascinating. Dr. Carla was taking note of the heart rate of Sarah's boy, whose heart monitor was squeeling as his heart raced. She observed the boy and took some more notes. He was gritting his teeth and moaning loud. An alarm beeped signalling the girls to stop. Kelly reluctantly pulled her fingers from deep inside his nut. After she let go, Beth watched the monitor with fascination. His orb, which had become more elongated, slowly regained a more circular shape. Although she could see it becoming a darker shade on the monitor. Looking at his sac, she could also see it was becoming purple. "What's happening?" She asked. Dr. Carla approached. "The trauma just inflicted is causing minor blood pooling and you should start to see swelling..." Sure enough, his ball was growing in size on the monitor. "Cool!" Beth said again. "I love science experiments." Dr. Carla chuckled. The already big ball of Kelly's boy was also getting even bigger, to her satisfaction. "The intent of this first test was to go from a resting point to extreme pressure quickly. I will be fascinated to review their vital signs later and see how quickly their bodies reacted to the introduction of immediate and severe pain. "Now please look to your screens for some follow up questions." The first were for the girls to answer. The questions pertained to the boys' reactions, their facial expressions, noises, etc. They reviewed standard responses in a drop down list and could choose one that fit or they could add in their own response if they wanted. "Let's see, did your voice go up one octave or two?" Sarah asked her boy and giggled. "You have a beautiful singing voice when your nuts are in a vice. "What is it they used to do to get good male singers? Cut off their nuts? You should think about it, you could really go places." He looked at her with an expression of fear and horror, as if she were about to pull out a knife from behind her. "Ahaha ha," she laughed. "You're cute when your scared." She looked him up and down. He was tall, dark hair and brown eyes. And with a nicely sculpted body. Her heart began to beat a bit faster. She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, "Don't worry. WHEN I castrate you, it won't be with a knife. I am more partial to stilettos." She pulled her face back and they locked eyes. She winked. Next the girls asked questions to the boys to try to understand the level and type of pain they had experienced. Again, there were options to choose from on the drop down menu. They also had to rate the degree of pain. They all rated it a 10 on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the most painful. That made Kelly happy. "Well let's see what's next my boy. You never know, you may surprise yourself and feel even more pain next time." The next message popped up on their screens. The next test was a slow and steady increase of pressure. They should roll the balls around in their fingers as they do it. They should do green pressure for 30 seconds, then yellow for two minutes. The girls would ask them questions as they went and their answers would be recorded. They began. The green eyes of Kelly's boy were staring ahead with great concentration. He was trying to steel himself for the next round of torture. Kelly liked the grip that the gloves gave her. Like latex gloves, they stopped any slippage and allowed for a firmer grip. She painfully massaged his big balls, with his left one having swollen to now be even larger. Even at green pressure, he was wincing as she squeezed and rolled around his swollen ball. Beth watch the small dents that her rolling created in the balls' outer layer of her boy. "Do you feel anything?" She asked. "My balls are more sensitive now," he replied. "So it hurts a bit." Beth was a bit disappointed. Sarah loved rolling her boy's nuts around in her fingers. She eyed him seductively. What would she do next, he thought? Beyond hope, he wondered if maybe the next test would be a blow job. He imagined her mouth running up and down his cock. He started to get hard. "Naughty boy," Sarah laughed and stroked him a couple of times, encouraging him to get bigger. His body shuddered as she tightened her grip to yellow pressure. The pleasant massaging he felt before was now incredibly uncomfortable. He started breathing hard, trying to catch his breath between muscle spasms as his body tightened each time she would shift finger position and press down on a new area of his balls. His hard cock started to soften. "If you had to compare this pain to a throbbing headache, would this be worse or better?" Kelly asked her boy. "This is worse!" He shrieked. That made her feel all warm inside. "Does it feel like someone is sitting on your stomach?" She asked the next question. "It feels like someone is twisting my balls!" He shrieked again. She gave a good twist in response to his attitude. "It feels like someone has their hand IN my stomach and is playing paddy cake with my intestines!" He replied. Beth could see that with the pressure she was giving now, the outer layer of his balls were compressing in a significant amount. And they were getting darker as more blood pooled. She wondered if she were permanently damaging his balls. And that made her wet. For his part, he went from screaming and was now crying uncontrollably. Now came the final test. "You bitch," Kelly murmured under her breath in a light hearted way as she saw the next set of instructions. "What a tease." The instructions were that the girls should try to flatten the boys' balls to the breaking point - without breaking them. The school couldn't have all of their boys nutted in the first week. It would defeat the purpose behind the school. START Kelly nearly had to cover her ears as the screams erupted around her. She squeezed hard into his swollen nuts. His nutmeat shot outward as she pressed down on the centre of his big balls. Then she decided to switch grips, holding them around the sides, cupping them, and then squeezing her hands into fists. "Mmaaahhh!!!" He screamed so loud. "No, no - STOP!" He yelled. She loved the feeling of his nutmeat being compressed into an ever smaller space. She could see them getting smaller on the monitor. The pressure he must have felt was enormous. Beth had tried a different approach. She placed his nuts on her left palm and then placed her right palm on top and then pushed down hard. Her boy kept opening his mouth, as if to say something or maybe to catch his breath, she couldn't tell. He just kept trying but he couldn't breath or speak. She was so excited to see his nuts flatten out like pancakes on the monitor. They were nearly black on the monitor now. "Like juicy plums about to burst!" She said with excitement. Sarah squeezed her boy's balls between her thumbs and fingers. The gloves gave her such a firm grip. Balls that would normally slip one way or the other stayed perfectly in place under her latex grip. It was such a satisfying feeling to have his balls right where she wanted them. Her thumbs and fingers could nearly meet now. She pressed her body against his and could feel his writhing muscles, his pain racked body convulsing. "This makes me so hot," she whispered. She soaked in their close bodily connection. Her pleasure and his pain. She moved her mouth to his other ear. "I'm going to pop your balls now." Then she moved her face back and locked their eyes. Sheer terror was all over his face.    "Please, please, pleeeeaaassee! No!" Sarah felt so close. Any second and his balls would explode. A cold voice spoke from behind. "Don't you dare young lady. You rupture his balls and you won't be so much as tapping a nutsack for weeks." It was Dr. Carla. Sarah weighed her options for a moment and then slowly loosened her grip. But only a little. "Next time. I don't have my stilettos here." She winked at him. The timer sounded. The experiment was over. For the time being...

#ballbust

[gukknj]

rebirth (m)︱prologue

summary: as you enter a completely new world, you realize that do-overs aren’t always a good thing.

pairing(s): jeon jungkook x feminine reader, park jimin x feminine reader

genre: vampire au

warnings: mentions of death, blood

Rebirth.

The concept in itself was a deep-rooted disorienting irony that not many could put into comprehensive words unless they were philosophers or nature-worshipping stoners. However, in this case, it was quite literal. To spend a long period of time gaining essential things to live; sight, taste, smell, touch, sound, and everything in between before being thrust into the world. To have a mother hold you in her arms for the first time, overwhelmed that she has created such a life. There were a lot of similarities, of course. But nothing was comforting about your predicament, if only the arms wrapped tightly around your body, squeezing in reassurance and support.

You took your first breath and it took all of your energy to do so, to breathe. You didn't remember breathing to be so draining, at least not to the point where you had to focus extremely hard to get a steady flow of oxygen in and out of your mouth. The air choked you until you were a sputtering mess, coughing up whatever your stomach couldn't hold down. Your eyes shot open as the retched substance continued projecting from your mouth, and you would've found the dark red blood spilling into the ground below you more alarming had your eyes didn't cause such a burning sting. It seemed as if everything inside of you was broken. Even the sounds of nature that you vaguely remembered, birds chirping and squirrels running, it was so grating and painful to your sensitive ears. 

"Fuck," a melodic voice cursed in a whisper to the right of you. That's when you noticed the hands on your shoulder, trying desperately to rub your pain away. It took much of your strength to turn and open your eyes to see the person. The vibrancy of her red hair shocked your corneas, you had to blink rapidly to finally get a true focus on the girl. She had small worry lines on her forehead and her pink lips were pulled into a frown, but even so, she remained breathtaking. If you didn't feel like you were in hell, you would've first thought of her as a sweet, cherubic angel. 

"It's okay, honey. It's okay. You're going to be fine." She assured in rushed whispers, still rubbing your shoulders and back to help you calm down. "I'm going to take you home, okay? It's safe there. I'm going to carry you now, alright? Don't worry, I got you." The redhead's soothing voice calmed you like a lullaby as you surrendered your body weight into her strong arms. 

It was hard to recall things. Your location, friends, family, name - they all slipped from your memory as a dream would. You remembered feelings, mostly. Feeling elated as you spent your last day with someone you loved. Feeling depressed after losing someone you loved. Feeling frightened in the final moments of your life. As your brightly colored savior carried you with ease, you used the time to zero in on her features and hopefully trigger a memory of her. Her skin shone bright like honeydew, healthy and without a blemish that you could distinguish. Her cheeks reminded you of a chipmunk's, fleshy and round but still incredibly endearing, much like her naturally pouty lips. 

You're sure that her image was burned into your mind as your eyes fluttered shut once again. You weren't asleep but you wished that you were, if only so you couldn't hear everything making noises around you. 

Why didn't you just die? Why are you here again? 

You barely had time to properly rationalize the ever so annoying stream of questions running through your mind. The girl came to a halt. You forced your heavy eyelids up, blinking rapidly to get yourself to focus. In the blur of your worldview and through the shadows of the night, you could make out a cottage style home and a man standing on the steps to the front door. You wished for the mental capabilities to decipher what his expression looked like. Did the redhead bring you back to face your demise a second time? A pang of fear shot through your heart, and it triggered another bout of blood to come spewing out of your mouth.

The girl sniffled and held your failing body closer. She smelled of strawberries and fabric softener, a combination that had you burrowing yourself into her right back. You didn't really understand what was going on, but there were lots of silent looks exchanged between the man and woman, lots of muffled words you couldn't quite make out and didn't care to as the girl carried you into the lodge. Your body was placed carefully onto a creaky table and left alone. You strained your ears to hear the conversation that began once they entered a different room.

"I don't fucking know what's wrong with her, Jimin. I - I was just trying to, you know, fucking save her goddamn life and she wakes up like that." The girl's sweet voice turned gradually manic, wavering ever so slightly. "And...and her body kept rejecting the blood, like, the blood wasn't working and then she kept throwing up and fuck, fuck, fuck, I think I really did something wrong." She cried. The man soothed her with soft reassurances. His voice was just as delicate as hers, if not more.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Something isn't right with her, we just don't know what yet. Do you know her name?" Jimin asked. Silence. "Do you know anything about her?" He continued. A huge sigh. "I need you to go to Eden and get Jin. He'll know what to do." 

"I'm not leaving her here with you. She's going to lose her fucking mind. she doesn't even know you."

"You're the only one of us able to access Eden without burning fucking alive, Chae. Being alone with me for a few hours is the least of this poor girl's worries." 

Their voices lowered to angry whispers and you could tell that there was a lot more push and pull before, five minutes later, the girl ("Chae") had run out of the door. You swallowed back a thick clump of bloody vomit threatening to shoot out of you, then allowed yourself to let the water building in your eyes fall to your ears. Small footfalls on the creaky, old floor were your only indication that you weren't alone anymore. 

"I'm not here to hurt you." He began. It wasn't as reassuring as he hoped it'd be because you snorted immediately. "My name is Jimin." He grabbed a stool and slid it beside the table to sit. Seeing your drained, puffy face made him feel even worse about your situation. "I know this is all very confusing, but I'll try to explain. You died." He put simply. You nodded at him, fearing how rough you'd sound if you spoke in comparison to his angelic voice. "My younger sister, Chae, brought you back to life. Not necessarily the same life, though. A new life." 

You coughed, trying to clear your throat in preparation for speaking. "Dying." You croaked, pointing to yourself. Jimin shook his head and his shaggy blonde hair shook with him. Even in the dim lighting, he was a dreamboat, clearly resembling his sister in more ways than one. 

"You aren't dying. Your body is just struggling to get used to its new form."

"Form?" 

He answered with an unhelpful nod. Form. Were you still a human being? The new bit of information shook you to the core. Terror is what you felt, and it reminded you of your death. You only remembered the feeling of terror taking over your body until you couldn't breathe anymore. Hyperventilating. 

Jimin quickly pulled the top half of your body up and wrapped your arms around him. Your sharp breaths wouldn't slow. The air was trying to suffocate you once again. 

"Hey, slow down. It's okay." He murmured into your hair. "Nothing bad will happen to you. I'm here to help. You know, I used to be scared of all this too. I used to cry and shake and beg for someone to kill me again." He whispered. You managed to slow down your panicked pants to listen to his words. "But, above all else...you're alive. Your first life isn't always a gift, it's usually harsh and eye-opening and depressing. Second life is a gift. It means that you can start over with all the knowledge you've previously gained in the last life. You're wiser and more attuned to your instincts, more than any human could ever be." You'd pulled yourself from his embrace to see his face. 

"We aren't humans." You wanted it to be a question, but his story was enough confirmation. 

"I don't think we ever truly were." He said. Before you could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, a sharp stinging pain hit your lower stomach causing you to cry out in distress. Jimin tried to soothe you. "It's going to hurt for a little while until we find a better alternative. I have an old friend, Jin, who knows all about these things. He's on his way."

One question still lingered on your mind. A question that both frightened and excited you. 

"Jimin," you whispered. He looked down at you, clear worry etched onto his beautiful face. "You can make fun of me if this is wrong...or call me an idiot or whatever but I have to ask." You fiddled with your fingers, pouting. You didn't quite know how to describe it. "Am I, like," hesitantly, you use your index fingers as prosthetic fangs and mock a hiss. You didn't want to say it because it sounded ridiculous. Granted, the goofy demonstration wasn't a better alternative.

It was the first time you saw him smile and his face scrunched up so adorably, his eyes turning into little crescent moons, not unlike a cartoon character. However, it was unsettling given the subject matter. 

"Cute. You're going to be a lovely little bloodsucker." He cooed. Your breath caught in your throat. Bloodsucker. Jimin smiled and you knew that no matter how your life was before, no matter what you did or how you did it, it was all gone down the drain and you'd never get it back.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts fic #jeon jungkook fic #park jimin fic #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut

[neriad13]

The Dororo manga is something that has been very dear to me for a long time. The entire time I was watching the anime, I was mentally weighing it against the manga, trying to decide on which one I thought was better. For the most part, it was a pretty even competition...but then an inciting event happened which significantly tipped me in favor of one over the other. But first, a comparison!

Plot Arcs

 - Bandai: There’s a bit more intrigue in the manga, but on the whole, I think it’s about even here. Bandai’s monster form is freaking beautiful in both of them.

 - The Cursed Sword: The anime wins, by a nose. The mood, the tension, the symbolism, the much more obvious love of Tanosuke for his sister - I think this is one of the best put together episodes in the series. 

However, what it was missing from the manga was Dororo’s anger at the world in general and the reason that he wanted a sword so bad. Anime Dororo picks it up by accident, isn’t following Hyakki around to steal one of his swords to begin with and isn’t a person who gets terribly angry. It’s more of a matter of differently written characters.

Would I have liked to see Anime Dororo get angry though? ...maybe. But that wasn’t what the episode was about.

 - Mio: Point goes to the anime. I love how Mio’s story is expanded and how much more personality she’s given. Hyakki’s rampage is my favorite bit of animation in the entire show. 

It’s also interesting how the placement of Mio’s arc affects what Hyakki’s character is like too. In the manga, by the time he’s telling the story as a flashback, he’s world-weary and his heart has turned to ice. In the anime, his heartbreak is fresh.

 - Dororo’s Backstory: Point to the manga by a wide margin. Dororo’s parents are much less complex and interesting in the anime and the whole episode felt a bit rushed. Of course, that’s a lot of backstory to fit in one episode though.

 - Banmon: Hmmmmm. This arc serves a much different thematic purpose in the anime, though it (somewhat) follows the events of the manga. 

On one hand, the sequence in which Tahoumaru dies is one of my favorite in comics, period. It feels so dreamlike and disconnected from reality and in a manga which doesn’t shy away from showing fountains of blood, it’s shocking in that it doesn’t show a drop. 

On the other hand, OH MY GOD Nui’s near-suicide was heartbreaking, the fact that they gave a backstory for Tahoumaru’s eye was phenomenal and I was utterly shocked and elated that Sukeroku actually found his family.

It’s a draw.

 - Fair Fudo - The anime. The fact that I’m having a hard time remembering how it went down in the manga says it all. Also having Dororo be the one to rescue Hyakkimaru this time was an excellent decision.

 - Sabame: Oh my god, the manga. Bad. Bad anime.

 - Shiranui: Gonna go with the manga here. I am forever salty that the anime left out the “I’m a boy” line.

However, the anime also gets half a point for ACTUALLY PUTTING TREASURE IN THE TREASURE HOARD and not rendering that entire storyline pointless. -.-

 - Nue: There’s not really a point of comparison here. It’s the same monster transplanted in a totally different storyline. But, with that said...

Do I give a single shit about Manga Nue?

Nope.

Do I give a shit about Anime Nue?

Yes.

 - Midoro: Hmm. Another toss-up.

I found Midoro’s death in the manga much more affecting. The image of a dying horse, riddled with arrows, spending her last moments wandering among the fallen - that says something more about the grimness of war and the innocents caught in the middle of it than turning her into a horse bomb ever could.

However...I was so freaking THRILLED that Hyakkimaru got to ride her in the anime. My desktop’s background still contains a screenshot from the episode 22 preview of him doing that. Their stories are not so different and in this adaptation, it felt so eerily natural for them to end up together. Their partnership was utterly horrifying and glorious to watch.

Characters

 - Hyakkimaru: There’s a lot to unpack here. The differences between characterizations are like night and day. So, I’ll start by taking you on a journey.

I loved Manga Hyakki’s snark. I loved his aloofness, his sarcasm, his arsenal of ridiculous weapons, his terror at the thought of having a mother who abandoned him, his rage at the thought of other children being abandoned, the way he hated the fox for telling him who Tahoumaru was more than he hated himself for killing him. 

Watching the first few episodes of the anime was kind of difficult for me. It felt like the snark had been surgically removed and thus, was not there to lighten up the intense drama of the rest of the story. 

But, as time went on and I got to see more of who Anime Hyakki was, he grew on me like nothing else. The stark contrast between his gentleness and his seething hatred of all beings who would take advantage of another, human or demonic. His insistent desire to be heard, to be listened to, even if he has to scream to get the point across. His unshakable resolve in the face of an entire world against him. The fact that his disability is something that actually limits him - that he can’t read minds or use telepathy and that learning to speak is something that takes the entire runtime of the show to accomplish - that is compelling. And so amazingly refreshing.

This one’s a draw.

 - Dororo: The World’s Greatest Thief really doesn’t do a whole lot of thieving in this anime (once. literally once. offscreen. unless you count the attempted theft of Hyakki’s reforged swords). But then again, Dororo is also a way different character in this adaptation.

In the manga, he’s much more of a little snot. He’s furious with the world and constantly looking for ways to get back at it. He travels with Hyakki because he wants to steal from him. He’s not welcome in some villages because he’s such an awful kleptomaniac of a child. I do not have trouble believing that this Dororo has a demon in him that Hyakki has to kill if he wants his arm back.

Anime Dororo...is the complete opposite of that. He’s the kindest, most loving character in the entire show. He looks at a horrible world and doesn’t shake his fist at the sky - he tries his damnedest to make it better. 

Both characterizations have their high points and their low ones. Manga Dororo is an entertaining little monster. Anime Dororo is an angel and the prevailing voice of reason. I think it would have been pretty interesting to end up with a character somewhere in between those two extremes, but, alas.

Manga Dororo’s arc is about taking responsibility and figuring out how to be someone better.

Anime Dororo’s arc is about raising someone else up to be better.

Also calling this one a draw.

 - Tahoumaru: THE ANIME, by a mile. Or more. Way more! It’s not even a question. His depth and complexity, his compassion and anger, his deep love for his land, his people and his friends - HOT DAMN IS THIS A WELL WRITTEN CHARACTER. Manga Tahoumaru looks like a missed opportunity compared to him.

 - Jukai: I wasn’t terribly fond of Anime Jukai at first. My first thought upon seeing the Jukai-centered episode was “Jukai’s an asshole =(”

Like, Jesus Christ, please give him a leg. He limped so far looking for you.

But, over time, I came to understand him better. He is a character in stasis, one who has “given up all power”, responsibility and desire. If he does nothing, if he devotes his life to pointless pursuits for those who can no longer benefit from them, then he can hurt no one. 

Anime Jukai is one of my favorite characters now. The kind, fatherly figure of the manga who was delighted to know that Hyakki loves him has his place, but the point goes to the anime here.

 - Nui no Kata: ANIME. Another character whose role was fantastically expanded, to great affect. Her story feels like the chapter that was left out of the manga.

 - Saburota: Anime Saburota is Saburota in name only. Can’t really compare here.

 - Daigo: To be honest, I don’t find either version of Daigo to be particularly compelling. He’s more important as a plot device than as a person. It’s a draw...unless Daigo’s ending from the stage play makes it to the anime, at which point Anime Daigo would win. 

Stage Play Daigo gave me chills, man.

 - Biwamaru: Our resident cryptic shit and spirit guide might be the only character who made the transition unchanged. He’s exactly like his manga self personality-wise and is the only character whose design was not significantly changed.

 - Shiranui: I really like that anime Shiranui actually fed his arm to the sharks! It’s like he took Manga Shiranui’s desire to be eaten by them and actually acted on it. Anime wins.

 - Itachi: Manga all the way. His sole redeeming features were that he felt badly for stripping Dororo and how he subsequently chose to respect his gender identity. Lacking those features...he’s a much less sympathetic and interesting character. He also went down screaming battle cries at the samurai who were attacking him and defending Dororo. 

Overarching Themes

 - Manga: I believe that the overarching theme of the manga is that of otherness and how the world reacts to it. The hardest hitting scenes for me are the ones in which Hyakki and Dororo are thrown out of a village they saved by villagers unable to understand that they’re just as human as them. Hyakkimaru doesn’t struggle to regain his body because it’d be better than a prosthetic one (acid gun leg! c’mon! the heck would you need a flesh one for?? if it gets shot you can just build another) - he does it because he wants to be seen as human, however long he has to fight to do it. 

 - Anime: Individual vs. collective responsibility. Anime Hyakki actually suffered long term harm because of the demon deal. His prostheses and abilities have considerably more limits. He wants to regain his body because he wants to live and experience all the things he’s been missing. But...in this case there’s a cost. The fact that his actions directly cause calamities in Daigo - that’s a fantastic choice that makes the story bigger than just one person fighting to be human. As much as I love the manga and its themes, I think the anime’s central conflict is slightly more compelling.

The Tipping Point

It was this scene specifically.

The desperation, the futility, the love so strong it destroys - these aren’t things that happen in the manga. 

Manga Hyakki is constantly trying to get rid of Dororo, belittling him, forcibly reading his mind and fighting over something stupid more often than not. He cares about him, in his way, but would his heart crack in two if Dororo died and there was no way he could have prevented it? Probably. For a bit, anyway. Then it would harden again and he’d go back to doing what he was doing without Dororo. 

Their bond in the anime is something else. It is the beating heart of the entire story. It’s the reason why Hyakki is so desperate to get his final pieces back. He wants to be able to save Dororo with hands that can lift a rock. He wants to see the fall colors with him. 

Episode 20 was the one that pushed me over the edge into finding the anime superior to the manga...which is an amazing accomplishment, considering how dear the manga has been to me for so long. 

I cannot believe how excited I am for the final episode.

#dororo #dororo 2019 #hyakkimaru #jukai #tahoumaru #daigo #personal essay #a thought

[reddieandgoodnight]

Overhearing they have feelings for you with reddie?¿

Here you go, anon! Hope you like it! :)

Eddie Kaspbrak sat on his hotel bed in an old t-shirt and lounge pants, feet tucked up under him in a decidedly childish pose. But then, maybe that was fitting — returning to childhood and all that. Wasn’t that what this was? Coming back to Derry to face the terrors of his youth?

He supposed so.

But the fear…that terrible, terrible fear…it had seemed worth it when he slipped into the Jade of the Orient restaurant earlier that evening to see Mike Hanlon and Bill Denbrough waiting for him. They had stared at each other for a split second before shouting the same way young boys do, rushing into a hug that felt so familiar, Eddie could have cried. Maybe he did.

Mike had seemed so worn, weary, with far too many of lines of wisdom etched into his face, but his eyes had been bright, crinkling with that same welcoming kindness Eddie remembered.

And Bill, so effortless in his movements as he gazed at Eddie with the brightest blue eyes, had exuded that same sense of thoughtful calmness Eddie had seen standing in front of the Neibolt house all those years ago, when Bill hadn’t stuttered once.

Several minutes later, Ben Hanscom and Beverly Marsh had walked in, faces drawn and unsure but softening as their eyes came to rest on Eddie, Mike, and Bill. Bev had clutched tightly at her purse, hair like spun fire under the subdued lights, ready to fight as she always was. And Ben had apparently transformed into a model-esque man who could have been on the cover of GQ, hands in his pockets and nodding in shy sweetness.

Okay. This is okay, Eddie had thought. Things will be okay.

But then the last of them stepped inside, and Eddie had promptly forgotten how to breathe — but this time, no aspirator could have helped. Tall with broad shoulders, tousled dark hair, and soft brown eyes magnified by thick glasses resting against freckled cheeks, Richie Tozier was just like Eddie remembered — loud laugh, tights hugs, and all.

And from deep within the locked recesses of Eddie’s mind, more memories had come flooding back — summers down at the Barrens, jumping into the lake, flying down Main Street on their bikes, sitting under the stars on warm nights, whispering secrets in each other’s ears, giggling at stupid jokes.

But most of all, Eddie had remembered Richie Trashmouth Tozier, and all the strange feelings Richie had awoken inside him, up until he was sixteen and Eddie’s mother had moved them out of Derry and everything was forgotten.

The boy Eddie had loved was forgotten.

It hurt. It fucking hurt.

Richie had seemed nervous as he called “the official meeting of the Losers Club” to order, covering it up with crude jokes as he always did. But when his eyes had turned to Eddie, Richie had gone oddly quiet, though his eyes were soft.

Eddie had sat between Richie and Bill during dinner while the Losers Club reminisced and caught up with each other in turns. They had smiled, laughed, cried, and mourned over the loss of Stan, who had been one of the dearest of them all.

He’d joined in, of course, but Eddie found that for much of it, his eyes kept silently returning to Richie, of their own volition it seemed. And a few times, he’d caught Richie looking back, with a gaze that pulled at something deep and scorching inside him.

And now, perched on this lumpy hotel bed in a room that smelled of household cleaning products mixed with old dust, he wished he and Richie were meeting again under vastly different circumstances.

Eddie glanced at the phone sitting on the bedside table. He wondered for a moment if he should call Myra, but he swiftly brushed the thought aside.

He’d had thoughts of divorce for…a while now. Eddie didn’t need a shrink to tell him that he’d married his mother — Myra and Mrs. Kaspbrak may as well have been twins, in both personality and looks. Agreeing to marry Myra had just been easier, no matter how much he despised himself for it.

But no matter how he had tried to devote himself to her, to love her the way a wife should be loved…he couldn’t. He never had. And over their years of marriage, the truth hiding inside him had slowly wormed its way to the surface. It had been smothered once, shoved down when Eddie had lost the memories of his childhood, but it was not to be deterred, rising with a little more determination every time Myra kissed him, slept with him, or even just touched his hand, all of which he came to realize he hated.

Because the truth of the matter was, Eddie Kaspbrak was gay. And hiding behind Myra was never going to change that, no matter how many times he wished it would.

He could still hear the memory of her wailing as she had watched Eddie packing his suitcase, shoving all manner of pill bottles into his bag, as though a plague like Captain Tripps itself would be making an appearance, all without remembering his aspirator sitting on the table downstairs.

“I don’t understand!” Myra had cried, wringing her sausage-like fingers. “Where are you going? What’s this about?”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie had said, pulling his bag behind him as he made his way downstairs to call a cab. “I can’t tell you. But I made a promise, and I have to keep it.”

“A promise?” she’d repeated. “What kind of promise? What is this about, Eddie?”

He’d shaken his head. No matter how much he disliked his wife, he refused to expose her to what was pulling him back to Derry.

“When will you be back?” Myra had asked then, tears steadily dripping down her pasty white, meaty face — her strongest manipulation tactic, the same one his mother had been fond of whenever Eddie was getting a little too out of hand, slipping out from under the heavy press of Mrs. Kaspbrak’s thumb.

But it wasn’t working, not this time. Because this time, Eddie’s memories of his youth were beginning to return — only in bits and pieces and flashes of color, at first, but it was enough. As Eddie watched the twin trails of tears sliding down Myra’s face, he remembered standing up to his mother in the summer of 1989.

(They’re gazebos! They’re bullshit!)

Looking at Myra had shifted into seeing Sonia Kaspbrak, that same distraught look on her face at being unable to control him.

And in that moment, Eddie had realized he’d rather die than let Myra rule his life for any longer.

“Myra…I’m not coming back,” Eddie had said, and then braced himself. And it was a good thing because it had only taken Myra a few seconds of utterly bewildered shock before she’d started shrieking. He’d yelled back — he wasn’t proud of it, but he had. He didn’t know what else to do.

“No, Eddie!” Myra had sobbed. “You can’t leave me! You can’t! Who will take care of you?”

“I’ll take care of me,” Eddie had murmured, quieting. “I need to. I have to, or I’ll die. I don’t expect you to understand—”

“I don’t!”

“—but maybe someday, you will.” He’d taken a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Myra. I…I really am. But I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t do it.”

“But—!”

“…I’ll have our attorney draft up divorce papers when I can. After this is over.”

If it ever is.

And the screaming had started all over again. The cab came at that moment, and Eddie had never been so grateful.

Eddie sighed, standing up from the bed. He could use a drink, between leaving his wife and seeing Richie Tozier again in the space of twenty-four hours. But he supposed a bottle of Perrier would have to do. He just needed some ice.

He grabbed the ice bucket off the side table and headed into the hall after sliding into a pair of slippers. He knew the other Losers save for Mike were all holed up here as well, and he vaguely wondered where their rooms were as he headed toward the open room at the end of the hall that stored the ice machine. 

A couple feet away from the room, Eddie realized there were already two people in there getting ice. And based on the voices he’d heard only an hour ago, they were Ben Hanscom and Richie Tozier, speaking in hushed tones.

Eddie didn’t know quite what possessed him, but he paused, leaning against the wall. He knew eavesdropping was rude, but he just…wanted to hear Richie’s voice without having to think about any implications. Just for a few minutes.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Richie was saying. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I don’t think anyone was expecting this,” Ben murmured. “I mean, Jesus, I wouldn’t have even known you a couple of days ago.” A pause. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“What would I say? ‘Hey, I know we forgot about each other for thirty years, but I still think you’re hot. Wanna bang?’ Think he’d tell me to go beep fucking beep myself.” Richie’s voice was low, much sadder than his words.

“I don’t think he would, Richie. Did you see how he was looking at you at dinner?”

“…yeah. Made me want to kiss him. How pathetic do I sound right now? Be honest, Haystack.”

Ben chuckled, that warm sound Eddie remembered so well. “As pathetic as someone sounds when they’re in love and don’t know what to do about it.”

“Am I?” Richie asked. “In love? Does it still count as love when I didn’t even remember Eddie Kaspbrak existed for this long?”

Eddie felt his body stiffen, eyes widening in shock. He’d had an inkling of what this conversation was about,

(a conversation he was not supposed to be hearing)

but Richie…

Richie…loves me?

He felt like screaming in elation and crying all at once. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep any inadvertent sounds from escaping him, biting down on the warmth of overwhelming feeling rushing through him.

“It counts,” Ben said earnestly.

“…Bev? Still?”

“…yeah.”

“Hang tough, buddy.”

Realizing he was about to be caught, Eddie made to step back, but before he made it more than a few inches, Richie walked into the hallway.

And immediately froze, eyes wide as he gawked at Eddie.

Ben stepped out, took one look at what was happening, and went the other way, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Eds,” Richie said, voice strangled. “I…uh, you —”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurted, cutting Richie off. “I…” His voice faded.

They stared at each other.

“Do you want to…uh, come back to my room? With me?” Eddie asked in a rush, feeling more than a little insane. “To talk,” he added hurriedly, face flushing.

Richie blinked at him, then smiled. That same wide, easy grin Eddie had loved so much as a child.

He found he loved it just the same now. Maybe even more.

“Yeah, okay,” Richie said. “Lead the way.”

Eddie nodded, turning around and heading back the way he’d come from. Richie walked beside him, close enough that Eddie could feel the warmth of Richie’s arm hovering next to his. A strange giddiness rushed through him just from having Richie Tozier at his elbow.

“This is me,” Eddie said, gesturing to Room 609.

They stepped inside, and Eddie watched Richie glance over Eddie’s belongings, lingering on the bottle of Perrier on the nightstand.

Eddie gazed at Richie, at the way the room lights seemed to illuminate his freckles, the same shade of brown as Richie’s eyes. A small dusting of pink spread across Richie’s face when he looked back at Eddie, lips rising in a tentative smile.

And Eddie realized that, although it had been so long since he’d seen Richie, it didn’t matter. Because he still knew this man standing in front of him, simply an older version of the boy Eddie’s heart had sung for without him realizing every time a handsome man passed him on the street or Myra pressed against him or anything at all.

“Did you…did you mean it?” Eddie asked, hesitant.

Richie sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “Eds…Eddie —” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t remember you until yesterday, but when Mike called me…and then when I saw you at dinner —”

“I know,” Eddie whispered, sinking down beside Richie. “It’s…it’s the same for me.”

“It is?” Richie asked, voice hoarse as he looked up at Eddie.

“It always has been,” Eddie admitted. “I just…never knew how to tell you. Before.” He waved his hand, seemingly gesturing toward their hazy past.

Eddie remembered all the times he’d watched Richie when he thought Richie wouldn’t notice — the long column of Richie’s throat, sunlight in Richie’s hair. But then he’d shake his head at his own strange thoughts, pushing them away.

When he got a little older, he realized he didn’t want to stop the thoughts anymore. But by then it had been too late. The Kaspbraks had left Derry as little more than a cloud of dust in the rearview mirror — and Eddie had forgotten everything.

“Eddie?” Richie murmured.

“…yeah?”

“I’m so glad I remembered you.”

Eddie smiled, quivering as Richie leaned toward him. “Me, too.”

When their lips finally met, it was as though something fated had fallen into place, the hole cracked in Eddie’s heart finally beginning to fill, touching a piece of him Myra had never even gotten close to.

Eddie’s arms slowly wrapped around Richie’s neck as Richie’s arms encircled his waist, tugging him against Richie’s warm chest. Their lips moved, shyly at first, testing, and then more firmly. Eddie sighed, happiness bubbling up inside him in gentle waves, trembling at the feeling of Richie’s tongue sliding against his.

They broke apart, breathing heavily as they looked at one another, wonder shimmering in their eyes.

And then they kissed again. And again. And again.

And despite the horrors that awaited them, it seemed that the darkness of the night pulled back just enough for the love of two boys, now men, to glow.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #ash writes

[goofygomez]

In the dead of night - Clouis Oneshot

Description: A different take on the raid scene, as told from Louis’s PoV.

Wordcount: 4959

Another new story, I appear to be on a roll. Don’t worry, it won’t last. I made this as a double birthday gift for @randomfandom-bs and @bluebutterfly1 I hope you guys enjoy this angsty fanfic. 

As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

---

BANG

The gunshot rang through the silent courtyard like a cannon, followed by a grunt of pain. Louis swiveled to see Omar on the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. Before he could run to the boy, another gunshot sounded from somewhere outside the school and an explosion of dirt to his left rooted him to the spot.

“Hide, now!” he heard Clementine yell, and he obeyed. Turning to Tenn, he took his arm and led him through the courtyard toward the hallway outside the dorms. Together with Violet and AJ, the four of them knelt behind the brick wall.

Louis chanced a look over the ledge and saw Clementine dragging an injured Omar behind the tables they’d set up in front of the admin building. Genius, Clementine, he thought triumphantly.

His elation, however, was short-lived. A cold, calculating voice rang over the walls, seemingly magnified tenfold by the walls in the silence of the night. Louis recognized it as the voice of the woman who had pinned down Clementine in the forest with a rifle.

“Clementine! I know you’re in there!” the voice said, sending shivers down Louis’s spine. If he’d thought he was prepared for this raid, he had been sorely mistaken. Another shot whizzed through the air and landed just beside Omar before he was carried out of sight behind the tables.

His eyes darted to the trees beyond the walls, the only logical place a sniper could be. In spite of his best efforts, it was much too dark to spot whoever was behind the rifle, but their presence was surely noted. Another shot hit the side of the table in the middle, and Louis heard Tenn wince and shrink in on himself. AJ placed a small hand on the boy’s shoulder, and Louis’s respect for Clem’s young charge increased tenfold.

“Open up, kids!” another voice yelled, much raspier than the woman’s. It was the man who had been at the train station. Before he could relate this realization to Violet, a flash of light in the night sky caught his attention.

A flaming bottle had been flung over the wall and landed on the pile of rubble they had managed to set up against the gate as a barricade. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t counted on the raiders using fire, so their defenses were mostly made up of wood, which sparked almost instantly.

“This doesn’t have to get any uglier!” the raspy voice shouted again as a resounding crash came from the gate.

“They’re gonna get in!” whispered Violet alarmed, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her bow in the other.

“Don’t worry,” Louis said, with much more confidence in his voice than he could have dreamed of. “Clementine knows what she’s doing.”

He decided another peek at the courtyard wouldn’t hurt and managed to glimpse Clementine vaulting over a table with dexterity and grabbing Marlon’s compound bow. The sniper chanced another shot at the girl and missed by mere inches as she got behind the tables. With surprising strength, Clem lifted the table and tipped it so it would provide cover for her. That’s my girl, Louis cheered mentally.

A cold autumn breeze blew past them, its whizzing, eerie sound almost mocking them in their struggle to keep their breathing steady. Another crash came from the door, and Louis could see its hinges beginning to give. Much like sardines in a can, they would be trapped between the admin building and the raiders.

“It’s alright, we’ll be okay–,” Louis was about to say to Tenn, but the deafening slam of the gates crashing open silenced him immediately. From his underprivileged vantage point, he could barely catch a glimpse of the top of a carriage-like contraption being pulled by what could only be a horse.

The sound of boots and hooves hitting the hard-packed soil was the only thing they could hear, along with the crackling of the flames behind the raiders. He turned to Tenn, whose eyes were wide as plates, and pressed a finger to his lips, begging him to remain still whatever happened.

“The fuck is this shit?” a deep-voiced man said as Louis heard them halting to a stop.

“Focus, they’re just scarecrows,” another female voice responded, sounding annoyed. So much for the element of fear, Louis thought with sorrow. The heads-on-spikes idea had been his, after all. He heard the raspy voice say something incoherent and then the commanding voice of their leader replied in kind.

“Spread out,” she said to the courtyard at large, a bored tone to her demeanor.

Silence. It was all Louis could hear at that moment. His heart was pounding so fast and hard he feared it would give him away any second. He peeked over the side of the wall, careful to remain as hidden as humanly possible, and saw Willy and Mitch hiding behind a bush barely ten feet away from them. The rustle of the bush’s leaves caught a plump raider’s attention, and Mitch’s face of terror was the last thing Louis had expected to see.

At that moment, however, another, more enticing target captured the raider’s interest. From the middle of the courtyard, Louis spotted Clementine standing tall, Marlon’s compound bow in her hands. The arrow between her fingers was trained on Lilly’s heart.

“Lilly!” she roared. All eyes and guns pointed in her direction at once, and Louis saw Lilly turn slowly to the girl, her eyebrows raised in bored interest. “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You won’t get the chance,” the man with the raspy voice said, standing beside a large, bearded man with a hunting rifle in his hands. Clementine, what the hell are you doing?

To his surprise, Lilly’s open hand shot in the air, probably signaling whoever was in the trees to stand down momentarily. From the sidelines, Louis had a perfect view of the standoff the two women were engaging in. Unarmed, Lilly stepped forward toward the admin building, determination in her demeanor. She held little fear in her eyes, despite the fact that an arrow was aimed right at her.

“Where’s our new recruits,” she asked derisively.

“They’re not yours!” Clem spat back, fire in her eyes. Her hand was steady as she pointed at Lilly, the D on her hat flapping softly in the breeze.

Lilly took a few tentative steps forward as if testing the water’s temperature. When no arrow was forthcoming, she turned to her lackeys. “Search the yard,” she commanded, gesturing to the multiple points of cover the kids had set up in advance.

The plump woman stepped closer to the bush Mitch and Willy were cowering behind, almost hungry in her stance. The balding man who’d threatened Clementine was approaching their wall and Louis had to pull Tenn closer to him to keep him from being seen. Their bodies pressed to the bricks, Louis hoped against hope that Clem had an actual plan.

He heard Lilly mutter something to one of her men, and the deafening silence made its appearance once again as three pairs of feet shuffled through the yard in search for Lilly’s “recruits”.

“We’ll find them, Clementine,” Lilly said. “And then we’ll take them, and you, and your little boy.”

“I don’t think you wanna kill me,” he heard Clementine shoot back, venom in her voice, “just like you didn’t want to in the woods!”

“Shut up!” Lilly shot back lamely.

The small distraction was all it took, Louis saw. Mitch and Willy managed to sneak around the bush and behind the cart the horse had been pulling.

“You can’t fucking do it, can you?”

Tenn pressed closely to his body, Louis shut his eyes tight and hoped Clementine knew what she was doing. He knew she was treading on thin ice, especially given that at least two guns were pointing directly at her. Please, be alright…

He heard Lilly sigh deeply and the shuffle of dirt as she shifted position. “You’ve changed,” she said to Clem, almost longingly.

“I grew up,” Clem replied, more calmly. “I had to in this fucking world, remember?���

“I can see that,” Lilly said carefully. “God, you are just like him.”

Like him? Louis thought. Who could they be talking about? His curiosity was stronger than his survival instinct, and his head peeked once again over the railing of the brick wall. Thankfully for him, all eyes were glued to the two women in the middle of the courtyard. He saw Clem’s face harden at the sound of the last words, her glare intensifying.

“Lee would have been heartbroken, knowing he taught you all the wrong things,” Lilly continued. Clem’s eyes burned like a fire in the night, her muscles tensing even under her clothing. “That the sweet little girl he protected turned out like this…”

“You’re right, Lilly, I am just like him,” Clem said defiantly, “and if he saw me now, he’d be proud of who I am!”

That’s it, get her, Clem. It was all he could do to keep himself from rushing to her side and stand beside her. His eyes traveled from the girl he liked to the woman he despised. Her hands were at her hips and her short hair was flapping in the wind as it picked up speed. Behind them, Mitch and Willy were setting up the bomb they’d devised, getting it ready for detonation. Let’s hope it works, Mitch.

“Why? Because you pick fights you can’t win?” Lilly sneered. “Right, I’m sure that made all his sacrifices worth it.”

Clementine stared at Lilly with a steely glare, as if looking at something disgusting stuck to the sole of her shoe. Louis looked back at Violet, who was also looking at the exchange, transfixed. He knew how she felt. It had never occurred to any of them how much more Clem had had to live through while they were holed up in this school for eight years.

“Get out!” Clem said coldly.

“If you won’t help me find the others, I’ll find someone who will,” Lilly said, turning to the courtyard at large. “We’ve recruited from this school before.”

Violet and Louis exchanged another meaningful look. It had been a year since the twins had mysteriously disappeared under Marlon and Brody’s watch, only for them to find out they’d been taken to the raiders’ camp as soldiers. It was clear what Lilly’s approach would be, yet it didn’t make it any easier for Louis to hear Lilly speak next.

“Minnie wanted to come along tonight!” she said to her hidden listeners. “To tell you how well she’s adjusted to her life, how happy she is.”

“That’s bullshit,” Violet spat under her breath, hurt flashing in her eyes for a second, yet enough for Louis to notice.

“She said she had a girlfriend back here,” Lilly moved on. Violet’s eyes went wide, and Louis gave her a look that he hoped conveyed sympathy and reassurance all at once. “Friends she missed, one guy who could always make her laugh, no matter what.”

Thoughts of their stolen nights at the music room, playing their favorite songs on the piano as Sophie sang to them, swam into his mind’s eye. He’d longed for those moments back for some time now, yet he knew he’d never get those back, no matter how hard he tried. The past is gone, what matters now is the present.

“And her little brother. She missed him the most.”

Tenn’s head perked up at the mention of him, and Louis felt dread rise up in his stomach. As resilient as he and Violet could be to such mental tricks, he knew Tenn wouldn’t be as brave. His eyes landed on the boy and he almost screamed for him to stop, yet it was too late.

Tenn had risen up out of cover, his hands together in the same way he usually interlocked his forefingers. Cursing under his breath, Louis perked up and chanced another look at the scene, watching with horror as Tenn approached the tall woman.

When he reached her, he stood straighter. “Where are they?” the boy asked timidly, looking up at her.

“Let me take you to them,” Lilly said in a convincingly pleasant tone, but Louis saw right through her. “You’ll be happier where they are. They miss you.”

“WAIT!” Clem’s voice rang through the courtyard, and everyone seemed to freeze in their tracks. Even Tenn inched backward towards Louis and Violet. “Take me instead.”

No, what are you doing, Clementine?

Lilly turned to Clem with a slight smirk. “It’s a little late for bargaining, Clementine.”

“That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” Clem said, clearly stalling. From behind the cart, Louis saw Mitch give him the thumbs-up and lead Willy back to the bush. “You came to find soldiers, and you can have me.”

Lilly seemed to hesitate for a second, raising an eyebrow at Clementine’s bravado. Louis’s heart was thumping hard as if calling out to her to do the right thing. He didn’t know what exactly the right thing was, but he knew he was afraid to find out either way.

“And what would you have me give you in return,” Lilly asked cautiously, crossing her arms. “I don’t doubt you have all sorts of demands.”

“I’ll go with you as long as you leave this school and the group alone,” Clem spat, her bow still poised. “I’ll fight your stupid war, so long as my friends and family are safe from your hands.”

“That’s a lot to ask, girly,” the raspy-voiced man said, stepping forward. “You would have us come back with just one scrawny little girl?”

“That scrawny little girl kicked your ass,” AJ said suddenly, standing up out of cover. His fists were clenched at his sides and his teeth were bared in a feral way Louis had never seen in him. Lilly turned to the sound and let out a throaty chuckle at the sight in front of her. The boy was inching forwards with his trusty revolver in his hands, aimed right at Lilly’s head.

“And who do we have here?” she said, scanning him up and down.

“That’s the kid that was with the girl, back in the woods,” the man beside her supplied, spitting on the ground. He then turned to the boy and bared his yellow teeth in a malicious grin. “How’s that buckshot doing, kid?”

AJ ignored him, his eyes glued to Lilly. “If you take Clem, you’ll have to take me too.”

“No, AJ!” Clem shouted, and Louis heard the fear in her voice. “Stay down and let me handle this!”

The boy looked from his mentor to the woman in the middle of the courtyard and his stance wavered. His moment of hesitation was all Lilly needed.

In a swift motion, Lilly took hold of Tenn’s arm and forced him to his knees. With her free hand, she drew her gun and held it to Tenn’s temple. Louis let out a scream of rage from his hiding spot, yet he could not move. He felt glued to the spot.

“Anyone moves and the boy here will meet the same fate your leader did,” Lilly shouted, pressing the barrel to Tenn’s head. His eyes were shut tight and a small trickle of tears was streaming down his cheeks.

Lilly turned to Clementine, tugging Tenn with her, and smirked. “You see, Clementine,” she said slowly. “You can’t fight this.”

Louis turned to Mitch and saw that he was inching closer toward the bomb. “Mitch, stop!” he whispered as loud as he could, yet it was too late. The fuse had been lit, and Mitch was already back behind cover.

A deafening roar of sound of flame rose up from behind the raiders, launching the burly man ten feet forwards, where he landed face-first into a small wall. He lay motionless there, and a trickle of dark blood oozed from what little of his forehead Louis could see.

“NO!” he heard the plump woman shout as she raised her gun and aimed at the spot where Tenn had revealed himself from. “You’ll pay for this!”

In the middle of the courtyard, Clementine chanced an arrow at Lilly, but it whizzed past the woman’s head by mere inches. At the sight, the plump woman trained her gun on Clementine and took a shot that nearly got her before the girl disappeared behind the tables once more.

Mustering all the courage he could, Louis rose from his hiding spot and aimed his rudimentary bow at the raiders. He shot an arrow in the general direction of the balding man, yet he was too quick for his atrocious aim and swerved out of sight. The man raised his shotgun and fired a shot at them, missing their hiding spot by about a yard.

“Tenn, come here!” Violet yelled to the boy, who raised his head and spotted Violet beckoning him forward. He lifted himself off the ground as Louis shot another arrow at the man, which also missed.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he heard Lilly say coldly, raising her gun.

It was over in a second.

Before Louis or Violet could call to him, the bullet has already penetrated Tenn’s back and exited just below his chest, a dark pool of blood staining his blue sweater. His eyes went wide for a moment before he collapsed to the ground and fell with a deafening thud.

It couldn’t be real, Louis thought numbly. Tenn wasn’t dead, he was just hurt. He couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. He heard a cry of pain as an arrow pierced the plump woman’s leg, and saw with triumph Clementine holding the compound bow in her hands.

This time, however, she was not ready for the shot. The bullet came from somewhere in the trees and lodged itself in Clem’s left shoulder, making her cry out in pain and duck, disappearing behind cover.

“Clementine!” Louis yelled, firing another useless arrow somewhere in Lilly’s vicinity. Lilly darted behind cover as the balding man and the other woman fired shot after shot toward Louis and Violet’s hiding spot.

From somewhere to his right, Louis heard Aasim yell for them to duck, and so Louis did. He saw Aasim stand tall over the brick wall and fire an arrow that somehow found its target as Louis heard the balding man yell with anger.

“Now, go!” Aasim said. Aasim, AJ, Willy, and Mitch managed to slip through the temporal ceasefire while Louis and Violet kept the shots at bay with their bows. When they were safely inside, Louis spotted the man with the shotgun and the plump woman follow them in. He was about to warn them but another shot made him duck under cover. Violet followed his lead and the two of them were once again pinned down with no way to escape.

“You think they’ll come for us?” Louis asked under his breath. “They know we’re here.”

“I don’t think so,” Violet said in an equally low voice, yet almost confidently. How she could be so sure, Louis would never know. “They know Clementine is their greatest threat so they will just want to keep us at bay.”

“When did you become a master strategist?” Louis asked incredulously. Even in the slight darkness of dusk, Louis saw his friend smirk.

“While you and Clem were making out in the music room,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You, uh, how do…” Louis stammered, averting his eyes, but his demeanor gave him away too easily.

“I knew she liked you,” Violet said truthfully. Louis had learned to discern between Violet teasing him and her being honest ages ago. It was one of the perks of being her best friend. “I’m happy for you.”

He looked down at his hands, forgetting for a moment that they were being gunned down by raiders and remembering the times when he and Violet would sit on his bed and just talk all night. They would usually talk about the rest of the kids, and who they liked the most. He had been the first person she’d talked to about her crush on Minnie, and it had been he who set them up three years ago.

A resounding crash brought him back to reality. Through the windows on the upper floor of the admin building, Louis could see the soft tendrils of flame eating away at the structure. On the balcony off of the principal’s office, Clementine and the tall man fought for control of his shotgun. He landed a blow at the side of her head and she almost collapsed, but AJ stood beside her and managed to poke the man in the ribs with the hearth poker.

His cry of pain was barely muffled by the creaking of the balcony. A second later, the entire structure had given way beneath them and Clem and the man were plummeting to the ground below. She landed over his body with a thud, and for a moment, Louis feared she was unconscious. To his great relief, she raised her head and looked over to where he and Violet were hiding.

Violet seemed about to say something when they spotted Lilly striding over to the two figures in the middle of the courtyard. She stood over Clementine, using the butt of her rifle to hit the side of her head. With a grunt of pain, Clementine lay on her back, leaning on her elbows for support. The barrel of Lilly’s gun was pressed against her forehead.

“Do it, then!” he heard her yell, fury irradiating from her. “I’ll see you in hell.”

“Oh, you’ll be there a long time before get there,” Lilly sneered, her finger caressing the trigger.

Leaning forward and pressing her forehead tighter against the metal, Clem said, “I don’t mind waiting.”

As Clementine closed her eyes and fear started seeping into Louis’s body, he noticed a movement to his left. To his surprise, Violet had risen to her feet and was sneaking toward Lilly, her trusty cleaver in her hand. “Violet!” he whispered, reaching for her yet unable to touch her.

He stood up as well, raising his bow toward the middle of the courtyard, where another woman Louis hadn’t seen before had just wrestled Mitch to submission and pinned him down. As her eyes scanned the rest of the scene, they fell on Violet and widened.

“Oh no,” Louis whispered, but it was too late.

“LILLY! Behind you!” the woman screamed, and it was all Lilly needed to know.

In a swirl of movement, Lilly had jumped up and rounded on Violet aiming the rifle at her and pulling the trigger, enveloping Louis’s ears in sound. He heard nothing as he watched the red stain on Violet’s lower back expand, nor did he hear Clementine’s cry of fury as Lilly rounded back on her and Violet’s knees gave way.

“VIOLET!” he managed to yell after he’d broken out of his daze. Throwing caution to the wind, he threw his bow on the ground and rushed to Violet, kneeling beside her. No other yell filled the void that had fallen upon the courtyard. His ears were ringing, yet he heard Violet’s voice as sharp as if she’d been screaming.

“Louis,” she said, gripping his left sleeve with one hand and clutching her stomach with the other.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said, shaking his head, willing his body not to collapse. “You’re not dying, you’re okay. I won’t let you.” Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto Violet’s face. This could not be happening, he thought.

“It’s okay,” she said, coughing. Her lips red with blood, Louis was surprised she managed a smile. “I’ll be with Minnie now.” No, stop it! Don’t say that!

Before he could disagree with her, however, she shut her eyes and breathed deeply. After a few seconds, she breathed her last and her body lay still under Louis’s arms. He knelt over her body, hunched over, unwilling to raise his head. This is all just a dream, he told himself. Just a messed up dream, and any moment now, Violet will come wake me up.

But Violet’s voice never came; never would again. He heard the heavy thuds of boots hitting hard-packed soil coming towards him. Strength had left him. What point was there in fighting back? A rumble of voices echoed from the admin building, rushing towards them at surprising speed.

He heard Aasim first, his voice strained from running, off in the distance. His yell of, “LOUIS!” was the last thing he heard before the butt of a gun hit him in the back of the head and darkness consumed him. He welcomed it, eager to join Violet.

-

Hours later – or it could have been seconds, he couldn’t be sure – he awoke in a dark, grimy room. The wallpaper was moldy and peeling off in places, and the floorboards creaked under his weight. Still dazed, he stumbled up and leaned on his elbow and looked around.

A small, circular window stood over him, moonlight seeping through it and bathing the small room in a silver hue. It was then that he noticed the place itself was rocking.

“We’re on a boat?” he muttered to himself. His voice was hoarse as if he hadn’t used it in days, and he tried to recall the events that led him to be there. The raiders had come into the school, set the admin building on fire, and…

“No,” he whispered, shaking all over. “Violet…”

He searched for a way out and found a barred door on the other side of the room, half of it covered by a dark metal sheet. A bolt locked it in place from the other side. He reached for it, but his fingers barely scraped the metal. The hallway beyond was lit by a small, yellowish lamp that hung from the ceiling, swaying gently with the rest of the boat.

“Hey!” he called out, knowing that no one would respond yet eager for something to do. Anything to keep his mind from the school and the rest of his friends.

He banged on the bars of the door but no one came. Giving up the effort, he kicked a small bucket, which clanked and banged until it halted to a stop near a moth-eaten mattress on the floor. There were three other doors outside: one in front of him and two to his left. Two of them seemed empty, and he could make out a silhouette in the third on the opposite side, yet the figure did not present itself to him.

“Hey, you,” he called to them, hoping they were friendly. Shadows shrouded the person from view, swallowing them whole as they rocked back and forth in a fetal position. “What the…?” he muttered, tilting his head.

A few minutes passed in silence, the only sound the splashing of water against the boat’s hull. He didn’t dare speak again, lest he frightened the figure further. A soft breeze was blowing past the open window from one of the empty cells. He shivered.

He slumped down and sat against the wall beside the door, tapping his finger on the floor, humming. He recalled a number of songs from his youth. Most of them wouldn’t fit his situation, however. Before he could settle on a gloomy enough song, he heard a noise come from outside his cell.

It wasn’t speech, he could tell, but it was definitely a person making that sound. He pressed his face to the door and strained his ears. It was crying. The figure in the cell was crying. A girl. Was it Ruby? Or maybe… Violet?

Questions flew through his mind and vanished as soon as they came, for the voice that came from the figure belonged to neither Ruby nor Violet.

“Fuck,” Clementine said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cries turned to sobs, and Louis was too speechless to even provide comfort. How could Clementine be taken? It must have been pretty bad back there…

Before a question could escape his lips, something else escaped Clem’s. It was singing. Not the most melodic of songs nor, perhaps, the most appropriate. Louis fell silent as he listened.

“Happy birthday to you,” Clementine sang in an undertone. It would have been hard to hear her if the rest of the hallway wasn’t so silent. Entranced, Louis let her continue.

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday, dear Clementine…”

It felt like a knife had been plunged through his heart and had ripped it from his chest. The whole night; the events that had transpired, from the moment her lips had touched his, seemed to belong to another life altogether; a world less cruel than the one he and Clem currently inhabited.

“Happy birthday… to me.”

As she finished the song, Clementine bowed her head low and begun sobbing again, the full weight of her actions and their consequences dropping on her shoulders at last. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, it is.

That was the only thing Clementine seemed capable of thinking, yet she didn’t argue. It was true, after all. No matter where she went, no matter how far she ran, death always loomed near, ready to tear her apart. She was sick of it, tired. What was the point? She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Louis, who was looking at her from the other cell. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. His judgmental eyes…

He probably hates me, was the last thing she thought before her eyes drooped and sleep finally consumed her, providing the relief she craved so badly. At least, now she couldn’t hurt anyone else…

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