#knowing that she's since lost her dog makes this line so sad :(

[profound-imagination]

Before You Go - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: I’m so freaking proud of this fic I hope you love it! Also I’ve tried my hand at a lil smut so please feel free to give constructive criticism!

T/W: Maeve, Smut, Vision of Maeve & Fenrys, Angst, Death - I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!

W/C: 5K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

100 Years Ago:

“You did what?!” You seethed at the White Wolf who was looking anywhere but at you. “I swore a blood oath…to Maeve.” The words hit you like a physical blow and tears lined your eyes. “Why…why would you do that?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. He looked at you then, his face shuttering as he took in your unshed tears. “For Connall, the things she makes him do, Y/N, I can’t, I can’t allow it.” You sighed, heart breaking as you looked at the Male in front of you, your mate. Not that he knew, if he did he hadn’t told you, just like how you hadn’t told him. “He’ll resent you for taking his place, Fen, he came to visit, while you were gone with your elite force, he seemed happy.”

You’d grown up with the twins, your parents serving under theirs but there was always something about Fenrys, something that pulled you in. They were five years older than you and you’d put it down to a school girl crush. Connall hated it. He didn’t speak to you for 2 years after he confessed his feelings for you on your 18th birthday. You had just looked helplessly at his twin and he had known then, had understood there was something unspoken between you and his brother. It infuriated him. Connall had always felt lesser than his twin, who was favoured by their father and now by you, it seemed. “I can’t let her have him like that, Connall deserves a true and pure love, not this.” You scoffed, “What, so it’s better for you to be her whore instead?” You spat, his eyes hardening at your words, “Tell me, will you be allowed to leave her chambers? To be the warrior you always wanted to be or will you be leashed to her bed like the dog that you are?”

Anger rolled off of him in waves as he took a step back from you, “That’s enough.” He said quietly but you were so past trying to understand his reasoning. “Maybe he loves her, Fen? Did you think of that?” He scoffed this time, “Even if he does, she doesn’t and won’t ever love him back, she’s incapable of it.” You put your hands on your hips, “So what now? You’ve come to say goodbye? Tell me I’ll never see you again?” His face softened as your voice cracked. “You’ll see me again, but yes, I came to say goodbye.” Anger was still coursing through your veins as you said, “You better go then, your shackles on her bed are waiting. Goodbye, Fenrys.” You turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.

85 Years Ago:

The first ten years without the twins, without Fenrys, had been hard. You’d lost your parents to one of Maeve’s many wars, the twins' parents only just making it back themselves. They had taken you in, despite the fact you were an adult and your own parents had left you more than enough. It was like their mother knew this would be the final blow for you and she refused to let you fall into your despair. She’d moved you into Fenrys’ room, “So you’re here when he comes back,” she had said, “A mate's presence heals most things, even if they're not physically here.” You didn’t know how she knew nor did you ask at the time as you crawled into his bed and slept for days.

Fenrys sent everything he was feeling down the mating bond unknowingly. You could stop him from feeling your feelings which you’d been actively doing since it snapped for you but you couldn’t block his. The hatred, the anger, the sadness, the submission, the pleasure. It made you physically sick. Sometimes, when his emotions were particularly high, you saw it all as well, through his eyes. You’d never forget that first time.

Maeve on top of him, her naked form grinding in his lap. “What’s the matter little pup?” She taunted from above him, “Performance nerves?” He was panicking, you could feel the panic coursing through him, the dread that if he didn’t perform she’d bring Connall in here instead. She scraped her nails down his chest, “You really are pretty for a dog, Fenrys.” She crooned, rolling her hips again, “I can help you enjoy it and perhaps eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it on your own.” She leant forward and kissed up his neck, her canines scraping as she went, disgust shot through him as one hand wrapped around his throat and the other slid towards his cock. “Enjoy it.” She whispered seductively in his ear, “You want me, Fenrys, you want this.” She sucked on his earlobe and the disgust started to dissipate, replaced by lust. “You want to fuck me, to satisfy me.” She continued as his cock stiffened in her hand. She dragged herself up his body, until she had a leg on either side of his head. “Go ahead pup,” she crooned, “eat.”

You witnessed the whole thing. She had ridden him until she was satisfied and when he was spent she sent him away like he was nothing. The last thing you saw when Fenrys opened her chamber door was Connall on the other side, betrayal like nothing you’d ever seen written across his face. You’d thrown up until your body had given out and you moved out of his room and his parents house the next day.

This went on for ten years until you’d had enough, you couldn’t take it anymore, feeling what he was feeling, witnessing it. You had amassed the funds your parents had left you and ventured to Doranelle, for an audience with the Queen. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress as you waited to be called into her throne room. Fenrys was here and nearby, you could feel the bond coming to life and singing that its counterpart was close. A guard approached and nodded for you to follow him, so you took a deep breath and did just that. It’s for the twins, you told yourself over and over again as you rounded the corner and took in Maeve sitting upon her stone throne, two wolves sat either side, one white, one black, both of their ears shot up and their eyes widened as they took you in. A white tailed hawk sat above her right shoulder, a massive Osprey sat above her left. In one of the alcoves close to the throne stood the biggest male you had ever seen and another male with golden hair and tattoos.

“You asked for an audience?” Maeve asked, her voice sounded bored and uninterested. You bowed as low as you could before speaking, “Yes your majesty, thank you for granting my wish.” You said, your voice sounding stronger than you felt, she waved a hand for you to continue. “I have come to ask if you will allow me to buy the wolves out of their servitude? They are needed at home but of course majesty I understand they are of great importance to you so I offer all that I have, including myself, in their stead.” Maeve tilted her head in consideration. Connall was staring at his queen, but Fenrys, Fenrys was staring at you, a sadness in his eyes, a desperation telling you to take back your offer and run.

Maeve tipped her head back and laughed, she laughed like you had told the best joke she had ever heard and as quickly as she laughed, it ended. The Fae Queen leveled you with a look, “No.” You stepped forward, Connall bared his teeth and let out a warning growl that shocked you to your very core. “But, I-“ the Queen cut you off, “I said no, like you pointed out, girl, they are of great importance to me and this one,” she said, placing a hand on Fenrys’ head, “He pleases me ever so well, so no, girl, I’ll keep them both, leave.” Your mouth dropped open and Maeve sighed, “Lorcan, see our guest out.” The giant of a male stepped towards you and Fenrys whined his protest, “Hush, pup, get upstairs.” Maeve commanded and you were escorted out with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’d made everything worse for him.

A knock woke you from a fitful sleep. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, you had passed out drunk on the sofa and you winced as the wine bottle rolled off of you and smashed on the floor. You’d deal with that in the morning you decided as you stumbled to the door and flung it open. A fae male with long silver hair and face tattoos stood on the other side, along with the golden haired male from earlier. “So she’s sent you to kill me then?” You asked as you turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open for them to follow. “Drink?” You asked, pouring yourself a whisky and sliding the bottle and two glasses over to the other side of the table where they now stood. “I won’t fight you for my life,” you told them, “There’s nothing left of it anyway.” You said gesturing around the house.

The silver haired one snorted as he took in your home, “Wow, you really aren’t doing well without him are you?” The golden haired one hissed as he elbowed his friend, “Rowan!” He scolded. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m Gavriel and this is Rowan, we aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to help, sort of.” You raised an eyebrow, “Help? With what?” You questioned, “You feel him don’t you?” Rowan asked, “We can teach you to block him out, so you don’t feel him if you’re too much of a coward to tell him he’s your mate.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re an asshole.” You told Rowan, Gavriel nodded his agreement, “An asshole I might be, but I’m trying to help you, do you know what she would’ve done if she realised what you were to him, to both of them?” You shrugged, “It isn’t fair that they are chained to her like that, it’s not fair to any of you, loyalty should be earned, not taken.” Gavriel sighed, “Let us help you.”

So you learned from them, well, from Rowan mostly, over an exhausting couple of days. Gavriel kept himself busy fixing whatever needed fixing in the house and tidying up so you had somewhere presentable to live. “Oh and one more thing,” Rowan said as they turned to leave that evening. He turned, producing a letter out of his satchel and you instantly recognised the scrawl on the envelope. “Keep those shields up, Y/N.” He said before walking out the door. Gavriel smiled kindly at you, “For what it’s worth, I think he regrets it, leaving you, everyday.” You sighed, “I was so mean the last time I spoke to him, I was angry and I didn’t mean any of it.” You said quietly, “I think he knows that too,” Gavriel said, “but I’ll make sure to tell him.”

You smiled at him softly, “Why did you both come to help me?” You questioned, Gavriel glanced outside and then back to you, “Rowan’s pregnant mate was murdered & I walked away from my mate and child because of the fear of Maeve, we don’t want the same for Fenrys, we’re quite keen on the pups and somethings Y/N, somethings are worth fighting for.” With that, he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and left.

You slid down the front door, pulled your knees to your chest and ripped open the letter Rowan had given you. There was such anger in Connall’s words, at you, at his brother. But there was also sorrow and a plea for you to never step foot in Doranelle again.

You spent the following weeks wondering if you’d be betrayed, but no one ever came for you.

50 Years Ago:

Gasping quietly you dropped the dishes you were washing in the sink with a splash, the bubbles splattering up your apron. You threw open the door to Rowan and the tall male you hadn’t met yet. “What happened?!” You snapped as you took in Fenrys hanging between them. “Move!” The tall male hissed as they shoved past you, “Clear the table!” Rowan commanded, panic seized you as you swept the table with your arm. “What happened?!” You snapped again and Fenrys groaned as they placed him more gently than you’d expected on the table. “He’s been testing the leash, stupid boy.” Your eyes snapped to the tall male, “Sorry, who the hell are you?” He didn’t even look at you as he grunted, “Lorcan.” You looked back down at Fenrys, “She did this to him?” Rowan looked at Lorcan who shook his head but Rowan answered you anyway, “Connall did.” Anger flooded through you, “Connall?!” Fenrys let out a wet, labored cough, “No,” he croaked. “She commanded it,” Lorcan drawled, “But he didn’t seem to hesitate or fight it.”

You watched quietly as the two warriors worked on Fenrys. Your entire body was tense. Fenrys had passed out 30 minutes ago, a blessing you supposed, that he couldn’t feel what they were doing as they were putting him back together. A shadow outside the window caught your eye and you stalked out the door. “You’ve got some nerve.” You spat at the Black Wolf who was sitting at the tree line of your property. “How dare you turn up here?!” With a flash the Black Wolf was a Male prowling towards you. “He’s my brother, I need to know if he’s okay.” You scoffed, “You did this to him!” You exclaimed, stepping up to him. “I didn’t have a choice!” You rolled your eyes, “They said you didn’t even hesitate or try to fight the order!” You watched Connall’s eyes shoot over your shoulder and then back to you. You felt Rowan at your back. “Are you here for you or for her?” He asked, his voice tight. “For him.” Connall snapped. Rowan nodded and beckoned him to follow. You huffed and followed the two males into your home, the tang of blood in the air.

They’d moved him to your bed when they’d patched him up. You had sat next to the bed, back rigid. Your eyes watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Around 3am his eyes cracked open, finding you instantly in the darkness, “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He rasped. You rolled your eyes, “No, you aren’t dead, they brought you here.” He nodded weakly. “Where are they?” He croaked, you handed him a glass of water, “Lorcan and Connall went back, Rowan’s flapping about outside.” You told him and he huffed a laugh then winced. “Stop it.” You scolded him.

You’d brought him some food and stuck your head out the door to let Rowan know he was awake before returning to Fenrys. “How are you feeling?” You asked, “Why are you doing this? Helping?” He asked at the same time. “Because it’s you and I’m an idiot.” You muttered quietly. “It was stupid of you to come to Doranelle.” He said, “I’m not sorry.” You snapped. “Your brother nearly killed you today, he didn’t think twice about it, he just obeyed.” Your voice cracked and tears welled up in your eyes. Fenrys sighed, “It’s the blood oath, he didn’t have a choice.” You gave him a scathing look, “Get some rest.” You said, voice sharp and you turned to leave. “Hey?” You turned to face him, he held his hand out towards you, “Come here?” He asked, patting the space next to him. The bond was screaming at you to do so, to join him, to not leave him injured and alone in your room so you caved and crawled in next to him. “You know I love you right?” He asked into the darkness of the room. “Yeah, I know.” You answer, heart cracking because you knew he didn’t mean it how your entire soul craved him to mean it.

Now:

“What are you doing here?!” You span at the sound of his voice. “Fighting? We got the call.” You gestured at the battlefield that surrounded you. “You can’t be here!” He snarled, “Well I am! You snarled back. “Pup! We’ve got to go, you can fight with your girlfriend later!” Rowan shouted as he landed next to you, “Hi, Y/N.” You smiled at him, “Aedion is injured, get up to the battlements and see where you can help.” Rowan told you, you nodded at him and took off, Fenrys shouting after you.

You clung onto Aedion, tears in your eyes as Gavriel stepped through the gate. You’d grown to love Gavriel, he’d visited you every time he traveled past your home over the years, always stopping in for a cup of tea, you had your suspicions that he was reporting back to Fenrys but he’d become your friend either way. “Let him go, Aedion.” He fought against you, “He’s doing this for you, the only thing he feels he can do for you.” So the two of you watched as the Lion of Doranelle stood his ground as the gate shut him out.

It was over. It was won. You’d watched from the battlements as Fenrys delivered the killing blow to the tyrant Queen. Had watched them morn Gavriel from the outside while you quietly mourned the Wolf that was no longer with you. Aelin had approached you in the garden one evening, as you sat amongst the flowers, watching the sun disappear, talking to Connall as if he could hear you. “You’re staying.” A fact, a demand from your Queen, not a question. You looked up at her and she smiled, “Rowan’s not so good with the secrets.” You laughed as he huffed behind his wife. “He’ll need you.” You gave her a kind smile, “I doubt that, but if it’s what you wish for, your majesty, I will stay.” She gave you a look that said she knew she was right and turned to leave, “Actually, with your permission, there’s something I’d like to do.” Tears welled in Aelin’s eyes as you told her what you wanted, Rowan approached and smiled and put a hand on your shoulder, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He said, Aelin nodded her agreement.

Fenrys found you a week later. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, approaching you in the Royal Graveyard of Terrasen. You were knelt in the dirt, hands covered in it. Flowers surround you, Zinnias for remembrance and goodness, Yellow Carnations for friendship and gratitude, Violets for faithfulness and devotion, Anemones for protection and sacrifice and Daffodils for rebirth and hope. “He mentioned you had become friends over the years…” he trailed off, realising that it wasn’t Gavriel’s grave you were kneeling in front of. You looked at him over your shoulder, and then moved aside to reveal a gravestone, that simply read:

Connall Moonbeam

Brother

Friend

Beloved

Black Wolf of Doranelle

A raw, broken sound left Fenrys as he crashed to his knees at the sight of his brother's grave and you were there, next to him, holding him. “I thought it would be nice if we had somewhere we could talk to him.” You told him quietly as he sobbed into his hands. “He visits me in my dreams, the first time was the night he died. He came to me and told me what had happened. That you needed me. I set off the next day to find Aelin, to help however I could.” Fenrys fell into you, sobbing into your neck. “He kept me safe, when I slept rough, he’d tell me to wake up, to move.” You kept talking as Fenrys calmed slowly, “He had things left to say to me, we both cried as he told me he’d loved me once but he knew, had always known I’d belonged to his brother, that I had to find you, that you’d need me, that after everything, he’d get me to you safely, the last thing he could do for you.” You ran a calming hand down his back, “He had a message for you, he said he loves you, more than anything, he forgives you for everything and he’s sorry for his part, he said that it was meant for you, the dagger, but it was too far and he couldn’t allow it.” Tears were running down your face by the time you finished speaking. “If I could change it, if I could take his place so he could be here with you, I would, in a heartbeat, Fen.”

Fenrys remained quiet for a long time after you had told him everything. He clutched your hand like it was his tether to the earth. Finally he looked up at you, his onyx eyes meeting yours and you saw the exact moment he felt it too, the bond. You watched it wash over him, watched him figure out what it was he was feeling. “You…you’re…” you nodded at him, “Yes, I am.” He blinked, “How long have you known?” He croaked and you let out a humorless laugh, “A long time, Fen.” “How long?” He repeated, “Since before you swore the blood oath.” You admitted, “You’ve known for over 100 years that we’re mates and you never said anything?!” You opened your mouth to reply just as Rowan and Aelin approached, “We’ve all known Boyo, it was fairly obvious.” Aelin elbowed her husband. “You’ve done a wonderful job on Connall’s grave, Y/N.” She said, “I’m sorry I never got to know him.” She said to Fenrys, wrapping him in her arms. “He’d have loved you.” Fenrys mumbled and you and Rowan laughed your agreement.

Over the following weeks Fenrys started coming around more and more. Getting to know you again he’d said. You’d cried as Aedion swore his oath, took his birthright and Fenrys had laughed at you, wiped your tears and held your hand for the rest of the ceremony. “Dance with me?” He asked as the Coronation Ball went on and on. You smiled up at him and took his had, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor and into the first dance. Your body fit against his in the best of ways and from what you felt, he knew it too. It was on your third dance that he seemed to throw caution to the wind and his hand left your waist to cup your face as he brought his lips down to yours. It was like the world had gone silent. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as his kisses descended down your neck. “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke against your neck, “Please?” You begged him. He smirked at you as he pulled you towards the doors.

The two of you only made it a few corridors at a time before you were swept up in kisses and touches again. By the time you were halfway to his room, you realised, he was carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress up around your hips, his hands on your ass, groaning at the feel of it, of the feel of your teeth against his neck. “Fuck it.” He growled three corridors away from his room as he pinned you against the wall with his hips and pulling the top of your dress down. He groaned as he took in the sight before him and ground his hips into yours causing you to moan. He lowered his head, kisses starting at your neck, trailing down to your chest where he worshiped each breast and nipple, the sensations causing you to writhe against him.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pulling away from your chest. You nodded eagerly as he sank to his knees, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his head disappearing under the skirts of your dress. Kisses began traveling up your legs, “No underwear?” He mumbled more to himself than to you as his mouth neared to where you wanted it the most. His tongue licked a broad stripe and you jerked at the sensation, letting out a loud moan. “What did I say about being quiet?” He teased as he head appeared from under your skirts before going right back to where it was before. Your fingers scrambled for something to grab onto and settled for the of your dress that was covering his head as he sucked on your clit, waves of pleasure zinging up and down your spine.

“Please, please, please” you were begging as that familiar coil started to tighten in your stomach. “Please what?” He asked against your clit, the words vibrating beautifully. “Tell me what you want love?” He asked, nipping at your thigh. “Make me cum, Fen, please I’m so close.” You whimpered as he started his minstrations again. Two calloused fingers pushed into you and you threw your head back into the wall, his lips still sucking at you. “Plea-“ your begging was cut off as his fingers curled and hit that perfect spot and the coil in your stomach snapped and you and the world fell apart as your orgasam ripped through you. He kept going, drawing it out as long as he could.

His smirk was feline when he emerged from your dress and set your shaking legs back on the ground. You threw yourself at him so hard he stumbled back into the opposite wall as he caught you. You began attacking his neck with kisses, teeth scraping along his throat as you pulled his shirt out of his trousers and tried to undo the buttons. “Take me to bed. Now.” You breathed against his ear and he froze. Completely froze. His arms dropped away from you and his whole body was ridgid. You pulled away from him, realising quickly what had happened and your heart threatened to disintegrate at that haunted look in his eyes.

“Fenrys?” It was like he couldn’t hear you. Whatever memory of Maeve he was reliving had trapped him and you weren’t sure how to get to him. You had just began to panic when Chaol and Yerene walked down the hallway, “Get Aelin, now!” You snapped at Chaol as Yerene stepped towards him. “Don’t!” She stopped dead and looked at you. “I don’t know what he’s reliving and how he’ll be when he comes out of it, you’re with child.” You said more gently and she nodded in understanding, “Go with Chaol, bring Rowan too!” She nodded as she ran to catch up with her husband. “Fen, please, come back to me.”

Footsteps rushed down the hallway and then Aelin was there, Rowan next to her. Lorcan behind him. Chaol and Yerene behind him. You knew you didn’t fit this picture, this group. So you watched, back against the wall Fenrys had just had you against as the Queen of Terrasen pulled your mate back after you had failed to do so. His eyes cleared and darted around the hallway, he smiled down at Aelin and Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. Lorcan, Chaol and Yerene departed back to the ball as the Queen and King spoke with their Emissary, their friend & you turned and fled. You had done that to him, you were no better than Maeve.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You sobbed, “I don’t know how to be what he needs.” The gravestone didn’t answer. “I wish you were here, Con.” You told him, “It’s not right without you and I keep messing everything up.” You let out some more sobs as Fenrys’ haunted face flashed through your memories again. Twigs breaking behind Connall’s grave had your head shooting up & there he was, your White Wolf. “I’m sorry, Fen, so unbelievably sorry.” You told him as he prowled over to you.

He approached, studying you and your tears, then licked a great stripe right up the side of your face, which caused you to snort in disgust and then laugh. Fenrys huffed out a sound that you assumed was as close to a laugh as he could do as a wolf and then he curled himself around your back, and a contented rumble left his chest as you leant back on him. “I’m sorry I put you back there, I’ll be more careful with my words next time.” You said quietly. He huffed again, nuzzling his face into your side, a feeling of warmth, thanks and understanding filled your chest and you knew it was him. “Can we stay out here with Connall tonight?” You asked, he nodded and put his head down on a massive paw, leaving the other for you as you curled up into his fur. “I love you, Fen.” You mumbled sleepily, “I have for most of my life.” You felt the moment he shifted, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, “I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

Connall Moonbeam smiled down at the sight of his twin brother and his best friend, curled up together by a grave that he was not in. It didn’t matter, they had honored him with it anyway. They continued to honor and remember him for the rest of their lives, especially on the day their son was born and they gave him the name Connall Gavriel Moonbeam. Gavriel clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away from him, into the arms of the mate he’d been missing for so long. Connall smiled down at his brother and his family one last time and followed Gavriel and his mate into the light, there would be no more dream visits, he had nothing more to offer his friend, besides, he’d see them both again some day.

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #assassins blade #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey! Its literally been like forever but I've had some time to myself and actually written something. This was not requested or anything but I just got inspired with all the new content recently. Anyways, pls enjoy. It's a series so there will be more parts to the story.

Warnings: Sadness, negative thoughts, flirting if you squint (In the future -- smut 😏)

Part 1

(y/n) hadn’t planned on ever coming back.

“I’ll put your tea here then mum. Alright?” (y/n) spoke fairly loudly so the elderly woman could hear. She was nearing eighty and she had lost most of her sight and hearing. She was a ghost nearing on a corpse. But there was no one else to look after her. As these kinds of responsibilities usually fall on the women, the daughters, they fell on (y/n) just the same.  

“I’m heading to work. Mrs. Iona will check in on you from time to time, alright?” The bedroom door was almost closed when she heard the slight mumble coming from the shriveled woman.

“Not supposed to be here. Don’t want her here. Take her away.”

She paused only for a moment suddenly hit with a wave of the past. The tide so strong it almost pulled her into its murky depths. But with the door closed and the sight of her mother taken away (y/n) turned her back and softly made her way out of her mother’s house.

She waved to Mrs. Iona as she shut the front gate and walked back down the street towards the main road. Her shoes already collecting the terrible coal dust.

She hated it here. The heavy air that the sunlight could never quite penetrate which resulted in the town being in a constant gloom. It made her skin crawl. The unhappiness was crippling. The drunkards already stumbling around the street at eleven o’clock in the morning, the starving children running back and forth, the haggard mothers one step closer to the grave and the dark alleys that were haunted with glistening knives, illegal pistols, and razor-sharp caps.

Get me out of here. Get me out of here. (y/n) screamed internally but she only pushed open the heavy wooden door of the newspaper agency and kindly greeted Mrs. Kelley the receptionist before making her way to the back of the building and sitting down at her desk. Another day. More editing. That was her lot in life: never to be the one writing and creating but only a ghost in the machine, a minion behind the scenes.

By the end of every long day at the newspaper house the words would blur into one huge muddle. She’d pack up her small bag, wish a good night to her boss Mr. Beavers, and head home. Her eyes would be sore and her brain throbbing with a headache. But that was just Small Heath, barely living.

(y/n) felt that she had something missing. She knew she had it when she was younger because of all her memories. The vibrancy of the trees she climbed, the scent of baking in the kitchen, the damp fur of their pet dogs after a rain storm. Everything was so vivid back then and full. Her eyes open and wanting, now she was shuttered, fragile, and tired. Her knees often ached and her neck sore from hunching over papers all day. She was decaying, slowly.

“(y/n)!” Her head popped up from her desk at the sound of her name. Polly Gray was making her way towards her. She was as formidable as (y/n) remembered. She rose up to return Polly’s hug.

“Mrs. Gray, It’s so nice to see you!” Polly squeezed a bit tighter. The warmth of her body rubbing off onto (y/n). She welcomed it. It had been so long since she had received any kind of touch.

“When the hell did you get back?”

“About a year now.”

“A year!? A whole year and you didn’t bother to drop me a line?” Her outrage wore the mask of humor but (y/n) could tell there was genuine worry, genuine hurt lurking behind it.

(y/n) shook her head in apology, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to come back here and then a lot happened and I’ve just been so busy Mrs. Gray. I’m really sorry.”

“No, I know (y/n). I heard what happened. Awful stuff. I had no idea you were here dealing with it all. You should have asked for help.”

(y/n) began to shake her head and ward off Polly’s offer when her boss’s door opened up behind her.

“Ah, Mrs. Gray and Mr. Shelby do come in.” He gestured warmly into his office.

Polly rubbed her arm before stepping inside.

A tall man had been standing behind Polly. (y/n) hadn’t noticed him in the frenzy of the greeting but she didn’t need an introduction. Nobody in Small Heath did. He was just as the ladies described him at the grocers she went to weekly: cold, inscrutable, foreboding, and dangerous.  

(y/n) had lived in Small Heath only until she had turned thirteen and then her family had moved away. Her father had been close to Polly and consequently (y/n), over the years, had played with the young Shelby brothers. (y/n)’s older brother had gotten along well with Arthur and if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember playing hide and seek with Thomas and John Shelby. But it was all so long ago, and she realized she hadn’t seen any of them in over fifteen years. And yet she knew it was Thomas. She knew.

She wondered mildly if he remembered her, “(y/n) (l/n).” That was all he said with a quick nod he passed her by not glancing back and nor did she.

Polly left first and, on her way, reminded (y/n) to drop by. An hour or so later Thomas came out, as well. (y/n) was neck deep in the upcoming Sunday issue so she barely registered the figure standing next to her desk.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby! Did Mr. Beavers ask me to get you any forms?” She pushed away her paper hurriedly and stood up.

He shook his head slowly and continued to stare at her, hands deep in his pockets.

She tilted her head as a question, and he only shrugged slightly.

“I was trying to remember why you left, all those years ago.”

(y/n) sat back down. A flicker of fear coursed through her at the reminder of their family’s departure. A broken window, her father’s bruised face, and her mother’s hands constantly trembling.

“It wasn’t my decision; it was my parents.” She didn’t look up at him and instead pulled her papers back towards her. She didn’t want to sift through all those years. She could barely make it through the present.

He must have sensed the finality because he bid her good day and left but his stare stayed with her all day and even into the night. The frostiness of the blue. The condemnation they held for humanity.

Mr. Beavers explained the next morning that they were starting a partnership with Shelby Limited. They would be expanding their sports column to include more articles on the races. Mr. Beavers excitedly described the hope for a few informative articles on the intricacies of horse racing, training, and breeding. But it wasn’t just about horses Mr. Beavers went on, being attached to Shelby Limited allowed them an easy avenue for new stories and information. It was a ready-made news source.

“All this in exchange for what?” (y/n) asked.

“We give Mr. Shelby’s races publicity and well…occasionally we would publish or not publish certain articles for the company.”

(y/n) crossed her arms, “So they can censor us? What stops them from completely taking over the paper? What if next week they decide they don’t want the Theatre column? Evan and Nate would be out of the job.”

Mr. Beavers frantically shook his head, “It’s not like that, not like that at all. I know Mrs. Gray and I trust her. The company is not interested in that kind of control. I mean we’re only a small agency, (y/n).”

And thus, the partnership began and now not just (y/n) felt the steely stare of Mr. Shelby, but the entirety of the agency did.

It started slowly but Thomas began to come by once or twice a week. It was usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (y/n) learned from Mr. Beavers that they were working on a contract. She would here the tell-tale sound of expensive shoes on the marble floor and know even without looking up who it was. Thomas Shelby walked with such authority in his three piece suits all the young ladies at the agency were already gossiping about him during their lunch breaks. But (y/n) kept her distance.

She had always been an outsider in Small Heath. The community never welcomed her family, something to do with their Jewish ties. And now, after returning, people were even more wary. (y/n) could tell there were whispers behind her back. She ignored the fake apologies about the missing invitation when she caught her colleagues out for a bite to eat all together. It didn’t bother her, not really.

“Mr. Shelby, Mr. Beavers will be right out. His previous meeting’s running a bit late. Please sit down if you’d like.” She gestured to the few arm chairs by the window. He only nodded and sat. He lit his cigarette and did what he always seemed to do around her, stare. And she ignored him in favor of the monumental stack of paperwork in front of her.

“How much do they pay you here?” He asked out of the blue. His deep voice easily cutting through her concentration.

She looked over, “Minimum wage.”

“For all that?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

(y/n) shrugged.

“You edit, organize, design, and manage each issue and only get minimum wage?”

“I’m not in a position to be picky, Mr. Shelby.” She bristled a bit.

He took another drag and let the smoke column upwards. He did look beautiful with the sunlight streaming in behind him. It caught the contours of his angular face and she thought yeah, I think I get it now.

He cleared his throat and sat back satisfied her attention was now on him, “Don’t you remember me?”

“Yes. I mean we were just kids.” She shrugged lightly.

“We met on the platform.” He took another inhale of his smoke, “After the war.”

(y/n) blinked.

“Yes, we did.” Her throat had gone dry.

He opened his mouth to continue but “(y/n)! I need the consumer reports.” It was Evelyn from the market section. Her plump red lips perking up at the sight of Thomas. (y/n) had the feeling Evelyn already knew he would be here; the reports weren’t needed until the end of the day.

“Yes. Here they are.” (y/n) sifted through her desk and handed over the packet.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Evelyn asked. She played with a few loose strands of her hair.

“Oh. Uh-Mr. Shelby this is Ms. Lowe. Ms. Lowe, Mr. Shelby from Shelby Limited.”

“Ever so pleased to meet you, sir.” She placed a sneaky hand on her hip and shifted her weight a tad to conform her body into an elegant pose.

And she was attractive (y/n) had to admit. She was young and full of vigor. Her hair always done to perfection and makeup never smudged. She looked like a movie star. She looked like a woman all men would fall head over heels for. (y/n) inwardly cringed. She could only imagine what she must look like next to this creature of beauty.

But when (y/n) looked over to see Thomas’ reaction, he seemingly hadn’t stopped looking at her. Only when their eyes met did Thomas glance over at Evelyn and give a slight nod.

“Mr. Shelby! Please come in, come in! I do apologize about the delay!” Mr. Beavers rushed out and hurriedly greeted the businessman.

After the door closed Evelyn let out a huff. She handed back the packet to (y/n).

“I don’t even need these. I just wanted him to get a look if you know what I mean.”

(y/n) gave a small smile hoping to be rid of the superficial woman but she had one last request.

“Put in a few good words for me, will you? He always comes by your desk. Just drop in a few hints?”

(y/n) sighed and re-organized a few papers, “I’ll try my best Evelyn, but I can’t promise anything.”

A few hours later, Evelyn really did come and collect the consumer reports but lucky for her the office door opened and the two men appeared.

“And wonderful (y/n) here will get the correct form for you to sign Mr. Shelby. Let’s organize a convenient day for her to drop the upcoming issue down at your office weekly.”

Evelyn who was too quick easily swooped in without any hesitation, “I can help, Mr. Beavers. You know that I have a much more open schedule than (y/n). I’d be happy to deliver the issue.” She smiled blindingly.

(y/n) just sat there watching the whole thing unfold. In fact, she was actually grateful Evelyn was sticking her nose into it because she didn’t want to see more of Thomas than she already had these past few weeks.

“That is true, Mr. Beavers. Evelyn has a bit more time on her hands these days.”

The boss was beginning to make the face of agreement before, “I’d like Ms. (l/n) to be the one making the deliveries.”

And there was no room for argument with Mr. Shelby.

“Of course, whatever works best for Mr. Shelby. Let’s say every Thursday?” Mr. Beavers heartily clasped the man’s hand and then beckoned Evelyn into his office for a round up on the recent reports. (y/n) didn’t miss the venomous look the other woman shot her.

(y/n) opened her desk drawer and took out the mentioned form that needed the signature.

“Just here, Mr. Shelby.” She held out a pen for him without bothering to look up. This turned out to be a bad idea because she jumped in surprise as he partially leaned over her to sign the paper. He smelled of oak and whisky. He carried the scent of the past.

She remembered seeing his eyes in the sea of green uniforms on the platform. And she knew. She just knew. After all those years. She had walked towards him. He stood there waiting for her. His beautiful blue eyes. That beautiful face.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He had said her name then with such certainty like it was law. Like it had some kind of divine meaning and not just a jumble of letters.

“Is that all?” He asked setting the pen down.

She cleared her throat, “Yes.”

She expected him to be on his way, but she looked up when she never heard the retreating footsteps. He still stood next to her one hand on the back of her chair. Looking down at her.

“Did you not expect me to remember you?”

She clenched her jaw, “Why would I expect you to remember me?”

He furrowed his brow and walked away.

Part 2

#cillian murphy thomas shelby #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #film #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #oppenheimer #cillian x fem!reader #thomasshelbyedit #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

[sirfrogsworth]

Actually, I might have too many reasons.

I'm afraid it has been a really difficult few years for me and my family.

Our beloved corgi, Otis, developed a terrible condition (degenerative myelopathy) that made him lose the function of his back legs. Once his quality of life diminished passed the point where he could no longer experience joy as a dog and only had hardship and suffering to look forward to, we had to put him to sleep.

In February, despite taking painstaking measures to stay safe, my entire family contracted COVID and I also developed a kidney stone at the same time. Unfortunately, my mother was on medication that made her immune system pretty much useless. She died a horribly lonely death in the ICU. The last time I got to speak to her was over the telephone, with a nurse holding the phone up to her face. She was confused and scared and could not breathe despite being on two different breathing aids. All she could do was ask if my dad and I were okay. She was more worried about us than herself. Then they had to put her mask back on and she kept trying to talk even though I couldn't understand her. All I could hear was the fear in her voice. I tried to tell her how much I loved her one last time, but I have no idea if she could hear me.

She lost consciousness soon after and never woke up. Eventually her heart gave up and she passed. I only got to see her once briefly through a glass door. Her body was still alive, but she was already gone at that point. Just an unconscious vessel attached to machines.

My father has kidney failure and heart failure. He is being kept alive by dialysis 3 times per week. He hates going and it wipes him out every time. We hope he has a year or two left, but it's impossible to know for sure.

I am his caretaker even though I am also disabled with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Narcolepsy. I do my best to make sure his needs are met. My brother has been almost no help at all. A few friends and my aunt come by every once in a while to help with chores, but it's pretty much just me alone taking care of the both of us.

I have no idea where I am going to live if my dad passes away. I have no plan. I have no energy to make a plan. And that fear makes it hard to sleep many nights.

Then I was having these horrible stomach issues and lost nearly 30 pounds (in a bad way). The discomfort got so bad at one point I became suicidal. My dad feared for my life and so he called the police and EMTs. They admitted me into the hospital. After 2 days in the ER, being stuck in a small room because they had no other place to put me during COVID, I was finally admitted to a psychiatric ward for observation. Weirdly my stomach issues started improving and my suicidal thoughts passed.

I'm honestly not sure if I would have taken my own life if I had not been admitted. But I will say those two days in a tiny ER room did not do much to improve my mental health. It is sad that in this country with all its resources, there is no such thing as urgent mental healthcare. They just stick you in a room and make sure you can't hurt yourself as you wait in line to get the actual help you need.

Thankfully I was able to adjust some medication I was taking and resolve my stomach issues. That seemed to relieve me of my dangerous thoughts and I have been okay in that regard ever since.

My dad had a serious infection in July that placed him in the hospital. He lost the ability to walk, his heart stopped briefly, and he started having horrible hallucinations. At one point I wasn't sure if he would ever return to reality. Nothing he said made any sense. Thankfully once they treated the infection and he got decent sleep he returned to lucidity. But he had to go through brutal rehab in order to walk again (with a walker and only short distances).

He was in hospital and rehab for over a month. After what happened to my mom, I promised myself that my dad would not be alone in the hospital. So, no matter how bad I physically felt, I pushed myself to visit him and be at his bedside every day and all day until they kicked me out. It was grueling for both of us, but I don't know if he would have recovered if I hadn't been there. Partly because I kept his spirits up, but also because I was able to get him better care as an advocate. I had to push to make sure he got the tests and medication he needed and saw the doctors that could help him. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

The only bright side of his hospital stay is that we rediscovered our love for St. Louis Cardinals baseball. We bonded over it and ended up watching every game. We were very sad when they were quickly eliminated in the first round of the playoffs. But it was a magical season as two fan-favorite players were playing their final season and they had amazing and emotional sendoffs. (Albert Pujols and Yadier Molina) It is my hope that my dad has at least one more baseball season left in him.

My health took a serious downturn earlier this year. It happened on the very same day that my best friend Katrina came to visit from Florida. I got so sick I could barely appreciate her presence when she was here. I had been looking forward to seeing her for a very long time and my stupid chronic illness ruined it. I was counting on that visit to give me a mental health boost.

I recovered a few weeks later, but my health has never been the same. I had to adjust to a new normal and adapt and find ways to take care of my father despite being further impaired.

I also lost my last creative outlet--writing. I enjoy researching and writing long and humorous political essays, but since my health declined further, I have not been able to write like that ever since. I'm really hoping I can regain that ability, but I'm unsure if that will happen.

One of my best friends is trans and I have many trans friends and followers and I am just really scared for them right now. The laws that are being proposed and passed are unjust and cruel. I have never witnessed such an effective campaign of hatred in my lifetime. I mean, I know there has always been hatred of the marginalized in every era of modern human existence, but this seems to go beyond just the conservative hate-mongers. It is not couched in subtext and dog whistles. It is overt and very "out loud." And I'm seeing people who claim to be progressive join in this hatred.

They are suddenly super worried about sports they never used to pay attention to. They think bathrooms are suddenly dens of danger despite trans people existing long before this concentrated hate became popular and bathrooms being perfectly safe beforehand. And now people believe that helping trans kids with proper healthcare is akin to child abuse. They think accepting trans kids is "grooming."

I see Twitter and Reddit threads filled with transphobia and it often brings me to tears to see people openly and comfortably hate the people I love so much. They hate people who have no tangible effect on their lives. People who just want to exist and be respected.

I just don't know how people can hate my friends so much without even knowing them.

Also, I'm just... really really lonely. All the time. It feels like a constant punch in the gut. I miss seeing and hugging my friends. I miss romantic companionship. And I've got a 20+ year streak of being sexually frustrated and am completely unsure how in the world to address that.

And finally, I decided to watch The Handmaid's Tale which is just full of rape and sadness. I figured I'm already horribly depressed, so a show probably isn't going to do much more damage. But it is still a tough watch.

That's the major headlines of my depression.

I'm just trying to survive and find little ways to cope. Mostly I am leaning on my support system and amazing best friends to keep me propped up and functioning.

Best I can do right now.

#trigger warning #depression #sad things #transphobia #rape mention

[critter-coded]

I'm honestly questioning myself from scratch for a while. I want to feel entirely confident in what I'm calling myself, but that doesn't make me less of a therian either.

I'm going to be entirely transparent for a moment as an adult, and explain sort of my feelings and why I've felt so wishy washy with my labels lately. I don't feel that I "owe" anyone an explanation, but I do feel that others may relate.

I've been trained for 22 years be a human.

In elementary school, I answered "dog" for what I wanted to be when I grew up, while everyone else wrote doctor or lawyer. I didn't fit in. You can't strive to become a 'dog'. I was bullied and excluded relentlessly, but it didn't stop me until teachers started calling my family about it. I began to feel shame for the first time, and suddenly found that my recess time was spent sitting in time out. Playing with ants wasn't okay. Digging in the playground wasn't okay. Eating without utensils wasn't okay. I think about her all of the time, and how sad she must have felt to be punished for unharmful behaviors and told to "fix" it. I didn't know how.

Middle school is when I started to experience dysphoria. It wasn't gender dysphoria like I thought for a long time. It was species dysphoria. The experience of developing breasts didn't feel correct. Animals, even mammals, don't have them like I do. Bras made me feel feral and I always tried not to wear them. It got me sent to the office more than once all because my chest wasn't as small as some other girls'. My clothes were no longer acceptable either, and I didn't want to wear what everyone else was. More exclusion if I didn't choose to follow the rest.

High school was the worst. I was fitting in finally, but my mental health struggled horrifically. I had no safe avenues anymore to deal with my stress. I couldn't voice that I didn't like something without aggression because I couldn't use animal behaviors anymore. My clothes scratched, my bra itched, my grades struggled. I was in the counselors office more than I would like to admit. My family was in disarray and I felt caught in the middle of it all, with no way to be anything but human. My girlfriend at the time knew I was a therian since I finally found the word to describe how I felt, but she relentlessly held it against me and shamed me anytime she wasn't happy which was often. At some point, I ended up in the ER with mental health concerns and in therapy accordingly. Nothing seemed to help me though.

College was fine. I kept my head down and just tried to get through my work. Socializing felt damn near impossible, but I was managing. I don't know what I would have done if the pandemic didn't happen, moving me online for 2 years. I finally had a last ticket out of my parents' house, and I had found a boyfriend who loved every bit of my crittery behaviors. It was a good time for me to finally try and rediscover myself, but that fell apart when I graduated.

My home state drove me out by cost alone. I moved the same month I walked the stage with my degree, and I had a job already lined up. I was excited for the money, freedom, and new experiences. Soon though, that turned into a complete loss of my nonhumanity. I am now working 8 hours a day where I have to behave perfectly around everyone. I drive 1 hour to work and 1 hour home. I have to cook and clean and run errands. I need to shower and lay out my clothing for the next day, then try to get 8 hours of sleep. Where do I find the time to be an animal anymore? On the hiking trails, everyone is watching me. In my dreams, I'm a human worried about my finances and my social interactions. I feel lost a lot of the time as my animalistic behaviors are sometimes limited to a single hiss in traffic, wearing a tail while I cook or clean, or a very short nap in a hammock outside where my neighbors can still see me.

I'm trying to reconnect with myself, but there is little time and space. It is entirely possible to be an adult nonhuman, but I am finding that it can require dedicated time set aside in the day. If you're feeling disconnected from yourself, I think it's worth asking: when did the disconnect begin? Was it really a month ago? Or has it began decades ago when people told you you're not normal, that you won't fit in, and that you'll fail. How does a dog know what makes it a dog anymore if it has been trained to speak human, work like a human, spend time outside like a human, drive as a human, and so on.

Be gracious with yourself and give yourself dedicated time to be an animal. You are not broken or wrong or stupid. You need animal time as a therian to be healthy, happy, and focused. You need animal time to give yourself a break from a world not willing to adjust to your behaviors. You need animal time to feel like yourself, and to connect with your roots. You're nonhuman even if sometimes you wonder if you still are, if you struggle to stick with a label because you can't remember what you actually feel like, and if you can't find the time some days to be nonhuman.

You are still authentic. You are still real. You are deserving of joy and comfort. Be the little critter you are.

I'll probably make some self care idea posts more geared for adults and older teens sometime soon to directly address this issue. Even without a label, I still plan on being active online as much as I am active offline. ♡ When a label feels like it best suits what I'm experiencing or want to focus myself around, I'll announce it.

#therian #otherkin #therianthropy #therianthrope #adult therian #writing #alterhuman #nonhuman

[rukkiya]

want you to stay

(scaramouche x reader)

_________________

The crows feet that crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she smiled up at you despite the knife pressed against her throat made your hands tremble. For the first time since he took you in you wavered and didn’t complete your job that he sent you out to do. She just reminded you so much of your grandma, you couldn’t even bring yourself to complete your task. You only apologized feeling utterly upset at yourself for even trying to do something so inhumane. The child that was screaming at you to let her live ran up to the old lady you had pinned down after you climbed off of her and you had only started apologizing even more, even going as far as bowing to them, having never done so to anyone other than Scaramouche.

It was all too much, the old lady didn’t even scream at you, she only walked up to your bowed form and gently laid her hand upon your back, telling you it’s ok, that she has done deeds far worse and she knows why your here as she knows she’s done wrong in her past as well. Her gentle touch was just like your grandmothers, warm and welcoming. You could’ve sworn it was the same touch your grandmother had before she passed. You couldn’t let yourself bask in such a thing no, not after all the things you’ve done. You only apologize once again, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the old woman in the eyes as you were afraid more memories would flood back in, you didn’t need such thoughts plaguing your mind, more so you weren’t sure if you could handle them. You weren’t sure what to feel as you felt too much at once.

You had just lost your grandma so it all stung too much, despite your background and who you're affiliated with you have a huge soft spot for old people. Lots of people find that weird but it derives from your separation anxiety from your grandmother, she was the one who raised you, taught you so many things and never left your side, so having just recently lost her was making you waver, and as someone who “gets rid” of people, that wasn’t something good at all.

The guards Scaramouche had sent to accompany you were scared upon hearing you say you couldn’t do it, they begged you to go back and end the person he assigned you to kill as you wouldn’t want to have him snap at you or them but you couldn’t care less, it’s not like he’s never screamed at you before it’s nothing you couldn’t handle. Besides the sadness you felt you were overwhelmed with anger. Scaramouche knew this was too soon, hell he even accompanied you to your grandmother's funeral yet he still assigned you to do such a thing. Your hands shook as you looked down at them, disgusted. The very hands that had almost taken the poor woman’s life away, the woman who resembled your grandmother and you couldn’t forgive yourself, this was too far.

The people you get rid of are usually people who dare snoop with the fatui, or other lowly criminals who you have run-ins with you're used to “getting rid of” people but this was overstepping it. It was like a slap to the face, getting snapped out of a trance as it made you dwell in your past actions making you feel more disgusted with what you’ve done.

You were pissed off, hurt, angry at the man who sent you here in the first place, at the man who saved you but also ruined you. But you can’t disobey your owner no, no one wants a misbehaved dog especially one that bites back. So as you made your way back to the base after taking a two hour detour to clear your mind only to hear that Scaramouche was going crazy because you haven’t come back, you had to swallow the anger you felt and go tell him what you’ve done.

Scaramouche sat at his desk, his hat hung on the chair behind him as his head rested on top of his hands as he re-read the same line on the document he’s been staring at for the past two hours, sighing for the hundredth time in the span of five minutes as his leg bounced up and down. He was growing more impatient as time ticked by, he felt nervous and hated it but he couldn’t shake the feeling away. You’ve never taken this long on a mission and he was growing worried which made him even more annoyed.

Scaramouche isn’t used to your lack of presence for so long. For the past five years you’ve been his loyal subordinate and you’ve been faithful to him ever since he saved your grandmother and you during one of his past missions. You’ve been stuck by his side ever since and as payment for taking you in you knew you owed him your life. When Scaramouche decided to send you on this mission he didn’t consider his actions, yes he did grow somewhat fond of the old woman that he saved the day he saved you but he felt that sending you might help “heal” you faster in some sick twisted way. He doesn’t know how much this hurt you inside though, how it tore you apart and made you really reconsider what you’ve been doing.

You dragged your legs to his office, body and mind drained. Everyone you passed only gave you a look of pity as they explained the snappy mood Scaramouche has had all day and that he wanted you to report to his office upon arrival. So you forced your legs to move in the direction of his office despite the anger you felt for him at the moment. You knew if you didn’t comply with his demands things would only get worse.

Upon seeing you enter his office he stood up immediately and clicked his tongue making us way up to you. The sound of the chair scraping on the floor started you but not as much as the feeling of his hands on your shoulders. He looked at you with a look in his eyes that was between relieved and pissed off.

“Where were you?” He asked through gritted teeth, having gone crazy for the past three hours trying to figure out why his dumb, helpless little subordinateis so late.

You only blink at him. Already feeling the anger and pain from earlier rise back up. You opened your mouth and felt it go dry. You wanted to scream at him, cry, hit him, ask him why he would send you to do such a thing, but all you did was shut your mouth and clear your throat.

“Sorry, Im late I ha-“

“No,” He cut you off, shaking his head taking in an annoyed breath. “You listen to what I say first,” he breathed out, looking around the room. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting? What took you so long? You always stir up trouble don’t you?” Scaramouche asked, not really knowing why he was this upset either, not really understanding why he cared so much about your late arrival and why he felt slightly relieved to see that you were alright. He felt too much at once which just confused him even further.

“I’m sorry.” You only apologize. Knowing this would only anger him further but you really had nothing else to say, certainly anything you say anyways will anger him.

“What? Are you a broken record? You say that so often that should be your motto. Do you really have no explanation for why you took so long when you're never this late?” Scaramouche only grows more annoyed at your response. Why did he care so much about a pesky subordinate like you, you who just can’t seem to let him rest as your always on his mind, you who won’t stop flooding his thoughts even with non work related topics but why? It’s annoying him like no other. He just can’t figure out why he even cares so much himself.

His questions only made your anger towards him worse, he hasn’t even stopped to consider the mission he’s sent you on after knowing what recently happened. But you couldn’t talk back to him, he was the 6th harbinger for goodness sakes, no one but Childe would dare want to anger him. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk back. Though he had a sharp tongue and was easy to anger you had the utmost respect for him as he took you in and saved you from the hands of death himself. He took your grandmother and you in when he found you both on the brink of death, you caught his attention by the way you fought despite your weak state, he’s not a fighting freak like Childe but it him spurred something in him and made him impressed that you, a small fragile weak human was able to even knock his hat off his head and pin him down as you held a shard of glass up to his neck. At the time of course you had no idea who the guy was, you only pinned him down afraid he’d try to hurt your grandma or you. It was just your way of survival. After your attempt to kill him he only laughed so hard tears spilled out of his eyes, he only sat up and told you, not asked, told you that you were going to be working under his command from now on, promising your grandmother and you a house and living necessities if you comply without uttering a word and that you did, for your grandmother's sake.

“You dare make me worry, over such nonsense. It never takes you this long to execute a mission, never. Now explain yourself properly. I want a clear answer not your sorry excuses.” Scaramouche spits out, slightly shoving you back causing you to bite your tongue, making your eyes burn.

His words hit you where it hurt ten fold. He has no consideration, hearing his tone he doesn’t even see a problem with what he assigned you to do, even after knowing how fresh your grandmother's death was in your heart he truly saw nothing messed up about the whole situation.

You feel your hands start to tremble as you look away from him, the glare he was wearing was making you feel weak. You respected him and obeyed his commands but even this was too much, you weren’t sure if you could keep your composure any longer. You wanted to leave and not see his angry face anymore, you wanted to be set free from the life you’ve been living as the one you’ve been living it for was now gone it now hit you you had no reason to be here.

“Come on now, speak up. Are you just going to stand there and not say a word? What took you so lon-“

“I didn’t kill the target. I didn’t kill her. I couldn't bring myself to do it so I decided to let her go. Don’t blame the guards that went with me this was all my decision not their’s so don’t take your anger out on them. I was late because I got caught up in my own personal matters so I took a detour. That is why I’m back so late, nothing more nothing less.” You cut him off, telling him the truth and only the truth seeing his eyebrows scrunch up even more in confusion at your confession.

“You what?” His voice came out low, he hadn’t expected this from you. A loyal subordinate, one who always does the job they’re told, didn’t do it? He was confused as to why? You weren’t one to disobey let alone not complete a task, it only angered him more that you were late for no reason, you didn’t complete your mission and you made him worry now he was just pissed off.

“Personal matters? Didn’t kill her? I’m sorry do you not understand your job? I don’t keep you around because I enjoy your company, I keep you because you owe me, and you do that by completing the missions I send you on, not feeling pity for your targets and letting them run free.” Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose, the annoyance he felt earlier resurfacing making his temples throb.

“Why’d you send me then?” You whispered more to yourself but you caught his attention alright.

“Are you seriously asking me that? I sent you because it’s what you do, you work for me and that’s final so you do what I send you to, you don’t let whatever pathetic human feelings you have get in the way. Not in this business no.” His head snapped up, voice raising a bit higher as he spoke.

“You know, I thought you’d be more understanding considering you knew my grandmother and all, yet you still sent me to do something like that too soon.” You look at him, the expression you wore made his creased brows ease as he felt his breath get caught in his throat, you looked so hurt the expression you wore made his chest ache which made him furious because why? Why’re you looking at him with such sad eyes? Why does it hurt him?

“I’ll do any other job but that, you know what happened to my grandmother and you sent me to kill someone else’s?” A bitter laugh escaped you, you probably looked crazy in his eyes at the moment, your eyes were burning as you refused to cry in front of him as the anger in you took over.

“You know, I served you and stayed by your side because slowly but surely you became understanding, day but day you were becoming more bearable and my grandmother saw you as one of her own though she didn’t get to know all of you, I respect you for treating her nice and saving her and I back then, but this, today's mission you sent me on it’s another thing. Yes, I let my personal feelings get involved but I really couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t not when the child was screaming at me to stop.” You felt your bottom lip start to wobble as you explained, Scaramouches expression was one you couldn’t quite read, he was taking in everything you said.

“She wasn’t your grandmother, you have no right to decide to just “not kill” her because of such a reason. Spare no feelings for those who have done wrong. Yes your grandmother did recently pass but that’s just how fragile humans are, don’t get attached.” Scaramouche stated flatly making the tears finally come out the corners of your eyes.

“T-That’s too cruel,” Your voice cracks. “You’re too cruel.” You say, wiping the tears away as you glare at him.

“That's the price we have to pay with this job, no one said it wasn’t going to be. You’ve killed before so don’t act all innocent either. Now, I’m sending you back to kill her again, this time execute the mission properly.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, shoving past you making his way to his desk.

You felt your body freeze, he was sending you back after you let her go? Is he insane? What does he think he’s doing?

“I’m not going.” You speak up from behind him, staring at his back as he slowly turns to face you, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, repeat that.” Scaramouche asks, his tone taunting you. He heard you the first time he was just shocked that you actually said it.

“I’m not going, send someone else because I’m not going to do it, no I’m not going to kill her.” You say again, holding your head up high. This is the first time you’ve ever talked back, yet alone said no to something he’s told you to do.

“Who do you think you are?” Scaramouche chuckled, taking a step close to you. “You see, you serve me, I saved your pathetic little life and you owe me back, besides you have nowhere to go, besides this place your a wanted criminal no one will take you in. No one wants you. Refuse me one more time and see what happens, yeah?” He glared at you as a fake pout played on his lips as he took another step closer.

“So be it I refuse,” You state not a second later. “I already said I won’t do it. You have no idea how cruel it is of you to ask me again. Tell me to go one more time and I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again.” You challenge him. Your respect for him was plummeting, though you were a mere subordinate you grew quite fond of the snappy harbinger and knew he was kind deep down but hearing him say such things made you believe how others told you how much of a ruthless careless person he truly was.

Scaramouche was taken aback by your words, leave him? After all he’s done? Just for a mere measly mission? What a joke, he knows you're bluffing, he’s all you have left and you’re just as depended on him as he is with you, you wouldn’t dare.

“Oh? You're threatening to leave?” Scaramouche bursted out into a fit of laughter as he took slow threatening steps towards you. “You wouldn’t dare, you have no one else. You no longer have your grandma you only have me.” He stopped in front of you, smiling at you as he challenged you to say something else. “That’s right, you're all bark no bite aren’t you.” Scaramouche chuckles once again at your lack of response.

“Now run along, bring me your report back when your done-“

“No. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll take my leave.” You pushed past him. That was the last straw, you gave him one more chance to redeem himself in your eyes hoping he’d see how messed up what he asked of you was but he only saw it as a joke.

Scaramouche immediately turned around, grabbing your forearm making you turn back to face him. “You dare defy me? Who do you think you are? You’re nothing without me, no one. Yet you still chose to talk back.” He chuckles again, venom lacing his tone.

“Like you said, I’m no one but I’d rather be no one than continue to stay here and commit any more sins because you tell me to. If my grandmother knew what I really did here she’d be disappointed and want me to leave, now that she’s gone I can finally do so because the one person I was staying here for is no longer here.” You yank your arm back, pulling it close to your chest as you glare back at him.

“Just because of a mission, humans truly are pathetic aren’t they? Leave and you’ll just come back after you find out your not wanted anywhere else. I dare you to walk out that door.” Scaramouche threatens, knowing you wouldn’t dare, Hoping you wouldn’t. He doesn’t really know how to stop you from doing so and he knows taunting you might make it worse but he’s scared too, he didn’t think you’d threaten to leave because of what he did.

“Goodbye Scaramouche.” Your voice cracks ever so slightly as you give him one last glance, turning on your heels and walking straight for the door. You couldn’t stay another second in here with him, he finally showed you just how careless he can be and it took this long for you to see the truth. He truly doesn’t care.

He watched as you turned away, time slowed down as he saw your form nearing the door and his mind went haywire, before he could think his legs began to move.

You reach out for the handle and pull back, opening the door enough to peek out getting ready to leave this hellhole, just to see another pair of hands slam the door shut from behind you making your body freeze. He stood behind you frozen in place too as his mind just registered what he did. Something in him told him to stop you, told him he’d lose you for good if you stepped out the door, the one person who doesn’t see him as someone evil or cruel, the one person who put their trust into him for the first time upon meeting him. The one person who didn’t judge him for his antics. Who understood who he was and was patient with him until the very end.. “You’re not going anywhere.” Scaramouche breathed out, his chest heaving up and down as he blocked your way of leaving. He couldn’t let you. Not after you’ve been by his side for so long, not after you’ve made him worry, not after you made him feel what he thought he never could, he felt so many emotions at once as he saw you walking away. He knew he couldn’t let you go, he needs you to stay, he wants you to stay. “I’ll send someone else on the mission, but you’re not leaving, not not until I say you can.” He closed his eyes, he wasn’t asking you to stay, he was telling you. He’s unsure why he did, his nervousness from earlier shot up and once again his mind was filled with thoughts of you, he truly couldn’t bare to see you walk away from him, not after you’ve been by his side for so long, not after he’s come to depend on you and seek out your presence. Scaramouche is stubborn to a fault but he knows he needs to keep something good when he finds it because it might never come again, and to him you’re someone special though he’s terrified to admit it. He won’t let you leave his side, not now, not ever.

_________________

authors note: hello hello bagel here hehe ^~^ I hope you are all doing well and staying safe! this is my first time writing for scaramouche ahhh this mean boi was kinda difficult to write for lol but I’m very excited for him to come out in game soon and I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while now. I do hope I did him justice and I hope you enjoy it hehe <33

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact angst

[alessiathepirate]

The Dark Pictures Anthology: The Devil in Me

LAKE: Charlie Lonnit x fem!reader

Summary: After a long day in the Murder Castle, everyone needs a hug.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: swearing, violence

•••

"Fuck!" was the first word what left her mouth after she finally felt soil under her feet. The heavy waves caused by the wind were trying to push her back to the depths of the lake, but she forcefully pushed herself forward. She soon found herself laying in the dirt on her elbows as she tried to control her breathing. "Holy Hell!"

After a while she turned around and pushed herself to a sitting position - which was quite painful to do. Her mind seemed to accept the fact that this road trip to Hell was finally over, and as the adrenaline slowly left her body the pain became more and more sensible.

However she completely ignored it as she looked around in the dark, trying to find her lost crewmates.

"Guys!" her voice was hoarse. "Fuck! Where are you?"

The fear of loosing them right in the finish line seemed to make the pain go away again.

"Mark! Charlie!" she didn't have time to call out for the rest of the team, because she saw them not so far away. Some of them were resting breathlessly on the ground, while the others were still swimming towards the land.

She quickly got up, not caring about her injuries or the fact that she was about to do something what was supposed to stay a secret - at least for a bit longer. In the next moment she was kneeling right next to Charlie - who was still trying to catch his breath, because they had to swim for a while - and hugged him so tightly, he might've choked from it. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Even though this act showed many emotions, she still hid her face as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She tried not to cry.

"I thought I lost you..." she whispered so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her.

He hugged her back in return.

"It's okay now." Charlie whispered back. "Everything's okay now."

His grip on her tightened. He stroked her back for a while, trying to calm both of them down - but later he pulled away; he had to look her in the eye. But as he grabbed her arm, she hissed - and that sound made him stop.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." she answered as Charlie tried to brush the hair out of her face. "I'm okay. He just got my arm with the axe."

And there it was. The cut. It wasn't very long, but it was for sure thick and blood was dripping from it uncontrollably.

"I'm pretty sure it's infected by now." she let out a small laugh as she wiped the tears away. She was crying even if she tried to stay strong for a little longer. "But it was worth it."

She got cut by Du'Met when he was trying to attack Charlie on the boat - but she couldn't let that happen. So she jumped in to push Charlie out of the way, when the son of a bitch got her.

"Let me see." he gently took her hand and brushed along her arm. She hissed again. "We must stop the bleeding... at least."

He took of his tie - what truly made her sad, because it was her favourite on him - and as gently as he could, he bandaged the bruised limb with it.

"I love you, you know..."

"Yeah, I know. I love you too."

"So... That means we can keep the dog, right?"

The sudden question made both of them laugh. It was the first laugh they had since everything went wrong - the very gory, dreadful kind of wrong.

"Okay, but honestly- are you okay? I mean you survived a Saw trap and almost got grinded and-"

"I'm fine, thanks to you."

They shared a quick, but meaningful kiss, what was full of emotions. This also seemed to be the moment, where their crewmates had to step in - at least Kate had to step in with a surprised what the fuck question.

"How the-" Jamie didn't seem to have the power to finish her question, so Mark had to continue.

"How long? How did we not know?"

"Since Topeka." she answered with a smile. "For true crime investigators you were really blind. I mean come on Kate, I'm actually disappointed in you. I was wearing Charlie's shirt last week in Chicago and I had his hat on this afternoon."

"Why the hell didn't you tell us?" asked Jamie who found her voice.

"What happens in Topeka, stays in Topeka." she answered with a smirk. "Now let's get out of here!"

They were all ready to go, but as she got up she felt something in her jacket's pocket. It was cutting into her skin and because of curiousity she wanted to know what it is.

When she was holding the thing in her hand she let out a honest, happy laugh.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just forgot that I bought some Prairie for Charlie this morning." she answered as she held up a wet box full of cigarettes. "You want some?" she asked teasingly.

"Actually, I'm trying to quit."

And soon they were off to try and find a road, where they can finally get the help they need...

#the dark pictures anthology #the devil in me #the dark pictures the devil in me #charlie lonnit #charlie lonnit x reader #fluff #charlie lonnit x fem!reader #fem!reader

[the-wize-1]

Thawing the Widow: Chapter 2 - Street Life

Chapter Summary: Cat has no idea what to do. She's not that great at planning ahead. She meets an annoying boy and a dog tries to steal her tacos. Not cool. She stumbles upon a hidden door.

Chapter Warnings: Hints of child abuse, homelessness.

Notes: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Natasha will make her appearance very soon! Thank you for your patience. If you’re liking it so far, please heart and reblog this story! Happy reading! Next chapter will be posted tomorrow 5PM PST.

Thawing the Widow Masterlist

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

November - Trevor’s Apartment

Cat was lucky Trevor was a foolish idiot who kept the most of his cash in the drawer beside his bed, or else she would’ve never made the decision to bail.

If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that she wasn’t stepping foot into a foster home again. The second that social services worker, Kimberly Kingston, had turned to make that phone call, Cat hadn’t given it a moment’s thought before leaping into action.

As quietly as she could, she grabbed her school backpack. Unfortunately, it was pink and covered in sparkles and smiling butterflies, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was far from the most dignified way to travel, but the thing was huge and could fit about a million things. The first place she went to was Trevor’s stash.

It was half full, rows of crisp twenties lining the inside. Cat didn’t know how he was able to get so much cash, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She hesitated before reaching in. Her wrist throbbed in memory of the last time Trevor had caught her stealing from his stash. He’d been drunk, of course, and so angry…

Cat pushed the thought away fiercely. A hot, sudden surge of anger rose in her. With a renewed determination, she started stuffing her backpack full of money. She took immense pleasure in swiping every last twenty dollar bill, picturing Trevor’s ugly face when he opened the drawer to get more booze and found a drawer full of nothingness staring back at him.

Working quickly, she grabbed everything she could think of: a few pairs of clothing, toothbrush and toothpaste, along with everything else she owned. Then, she crawled underneath her bed, where she’d stashed Rufus for protection in case Trevor decided to throw him out in a blind drunken rage.

When Cat was six, her parents had given Rufus to her. He’d been a fluffy snow-white stuffed bunny that had been relatively well taken care of. He now sat limp and sad-looking, his fur was more gray than white. It had been a long time since she’d held him in her hands.

For a moment, Cat only stared at the bunny’s glazed eyes, lost in memories. After the death of her family, Cat had done her best to remove any memories of them from her life. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw Rufus away. Suddenly, she felt the familiar sensation of hot tears rising from her throat. She willed them back down. She hadn’t cried since the funeral.

Stop it.

Snapping back into reality, Cat felt a stab of annoyance at herself for losing focus. Why was she even thinking about that? It happened an eternity ago. She could hear noises from the doorway. The social services worker was still on the phone, thank god.

Cat zipped up her backpack. She stood, looking back at the mess of the apartment, taking it all in one last time. She wouldn’t miss it, that was for sure. Trevor’s late poker nights, eating greasy takeout, the entire place smelling like smoke and stale pizza… It was probably the last time she’d ever see it. Her heart soared with glee at this thought.

Cat pushed the window to the fire escape open. Once she had one foot out the window, a thought occurred to her: What if she was threatened by crazy muggers on the street? She’d need a few knives to fend herself off. Without thinking, she rushed back into the kitchen and hastily grabbed two or three sharp ones, stuffing them into her bag.

In an exhilarated daze, Cat took a moment to think about what she was doing.

Was this crazy? Stupid? Impulsive?

All of the above.

Was she going to regret this?

Probably.

Cat scanned the kitchen frantically for anything else she’d need. Surely she was forgetting something. Paper towels? Spoons? Neosporin, for emergencies? God, why were there so many things that people needed?

“Okay, great!” Kingston’s voice echoed from the hallway. “I’ll get back to you on that…”

Panic raced through her. There was no time. Impulsively, she grabbed the box of “Fruity Crisps” and launched herself out the window.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

November - Park

“Why do you have a backpack? There’s no school today.”

“Because,” Cat said, “none of your beeswax.”

“There’s no need to be so rude! My mommy says you should be nice to strangers.”

The first place she’d gone to was the park a good distance away from Trevor’s apartment. At that time of day on a Sunday, it was bustling with children along with their parents playing on the playgrounds. She’d gone straight to the best playground, making a beeline for the swings. It had been fun for the first seven minutes, until the boy came along.

Said boy was currently standing in front of the swings, and had recently started annoying the hell out of her. He was maybe a couple years younger than her. His gelled-back hair, bright polo shirt, and khaki shorts screamed country club brat. He had an unsightly mass of freckles across his face, covering his nose and his cheeks. Cat had taken an automatic disliking of him based on looks alone, but his whiney voice and ugly personality made her hate him more.

“Well, my mommy’s dead, and she didn’t tell me anything about talking to strangers. So I win.”

“Well, mine’s alive, so I win.”

“Whatever.”

The boy sighed. “Will you get off already? It’s my turn now.”

Cat glared at him, gripping the chains of the swing tightly. She kicked her feet in the air for momentum, nearly kicking him in the face. “Actually, since I’m the one on the swing, I’d argue that it’s my turn.”

“No, it isn’t! You’ve been on too long. Get off so I can go.”

Cat kicked up harder, aiming closer to his face this time. “No.”

The boy’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why?”

“Because, no.”

His face was screwing up, mouth twitching. With a prickle of disdain, Cat noticed he was on the verge of tears. “You’re not sharing!”

At his childish rebuke, Cat laughed.

With a determined cry, he charged at her and caught her feet mid-swing. He tugged down, hard. The swing’s chains rocked on the structure. Surprised and caught off guard, Cat lost her grip and nearly tumbled to the ground. She regained her balance, kicking until the boy’s vice like grip came off her foot. Cat was overwhelmed by a wave of anger. Being a brat was one thing, but trying to harm her was another.

He started screaming. “Stop it! Stop it!” The boy burst into angry tears. “MOOOOM!”

A short blond haired woman gossiping with the other moms at the edge of the playground looked up warily. Cat’s internal Karen alarm went wild. What she hated more than spoiled little kids was spoiled little kids with Karen moms.

The woman marched over. “What is it, Tanner?”

Freaking Tanner. Of course his name was Tanner.

“This weird girl won’t get off the swings, even when I asked her nicely! She’s been on forever and won’t share!”

Cat’s eyebrows raised incredulously. At what point did he ask her nicely?

The mom looked at her disapprovingly, and said, in a very condescending tone, “Excuse me, girl, will you get off the swings so my son can swing? This playground is meant for everyone to enjoy.”

The argument had drawn the attention of a couple other moms and a handful of onlookers. Cat’s sneakers skidded on the ground as she slowed to a stop.

“Right now, I’m enjoying it. Your son can enjoy it later, when I’m done. That’s the whole point of taking turns.”

“See? She won’t share!”

“Oh, shut up, Tanner.”

The mom gasped in horror. “Young lady! We do not use words like that! That is extremely inappropriate!”

“Yeah!” the boy echoed, smirking.

“If you think it’s so inappropriate, why’d you name him that?” Cat snapped back.

The mom’s brow furrowed as the insult took a few seconds to register. Her face morphed from shock to anger. “Why, you little…”

Cat’s attention was suddenly diverted. At the edge of her gaze, she spotted a dark blue blazer with matching pants. Kimberly Kingston had spotted her as well. How the fridge had that woman found her so quickly? Was she an FBI agent in disguise?

No, it had to be Cat’s luck. What were the chances, in a city as big as New York, that Kingston could have found her in less than two hours?

She swore, drawing another horrified gasp from the mom, who slapped her hands over her son’s ears.

“Young la—”

“Suck it, Karen!” she yelled, making a run for it.

“Cat, wait!” Kingston shouted. “Just listen—”

Cat didn’t pause to hear her out. She quickly glanced back, seeing the chaos that had ensued. The other moms had varying expressions, a mixture of entertained and perplexed. The mom was still covering her son’s ears, shouting very unladylike obscenities at her. Kimberly Kingston had started running as well, which was— frankly— a more amusing sight than not. Cat was faster, even with the heavy backpack weighing her down; she’d had more practice running away from things. Kimberly Kingston, on the other hand, looked like she’d had one too many donuts recently.

Cat sprinted at a pace she was pretty sure was equal to the speed of light. Kingston had no chance of catching her. Daring another glance back, Cat saw that the woman had slowed to a jog, but was barking orders in her phone and simultaneously shouting at onlookers to “Get that girl!”

Good luck with that, Cat thought.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

December - One week later - Outside a Taco Bell

“Hey, kid!”

The voice seemed like it was coming from far away. The smell of tacos was what made Cat’s eyes flutter open.

It was dark. A cold gust of night air whooshed by, prickling her skin. Cat realized she was shivering.

It had been roughly a week since her escape from Kingston at the park. Cat didn’t worry about them finding her too much. There was no one who cared about her that much who would initiate a rescue mission to find her. Trevor had only taken her in for the money, after all.

Despite the homeless thing, she felt like she was handling the whole situation pretty well. She spent most of her time exploring all the places she’d never been to, stopping to eat and clean herself up, and generally heading as far away from Trevor’s place as possible, all while trying to avoid Kingston finding her a second time.

However, Cat was worried about one thing. Her stack of money had been slowly diminishing. She’d never realized how expensive certain things were, like healthy food or coffee. Four dollars for a frappuccino at Starbucks? No, thank you. She didn’t dwell on it, preferring to burn that bridge when she came to it.

Libraries, Cat had decided, were her favorite place. They were a safe haven. They were warm, had coffee, and didn’t care if you looked suspicious as long as you were quiet and undisruptive. Cat had spent a whole day going through stacks of books. She’d always had a talent for memorizing. Once she’d read something once, it was rooted in her memory forever. She could skim through a novel and instantly recall all the words in the right order.

Finding places to sleep had been tricky. They were, most of the time, cold and inconvenient and rarely comfortable. The beds at the homeless shelter was all right, but she only stayed for a couple of days so as to not draw suspicion. That day, she’d finally stopped at a Taco Bell, deeming the back wall an acceptable place to sleep for the night. She’d dozed off with her back to the wall, hugging her backpack between her chest and her knees.

“Hey,” the voice said again.

Cat squinted upwards. There was a guy standing before her, holding two tacos and a drink. He looked young. He had a Taco Bell apron on, and a Taco Bell hat. Cat guessed it was safe to assume he was a Taco Bell employee.

“Hi,” she said.

Crap. Was he going to tell her she wasn’t allowed to sleep here? She started to get up, trying to explain.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll sleep somewhere else…”

“No, no, it’s not that! You’re fine,” he reassured her.

Thank god, because she didn’t know if she had the strength to walk another ten steps. She sank back down against the wall, blinking her eyes groggily.

“Here.” He held out a taco to her.

It took Cat a moment to register his words. Her head felt like it was full of cotton. They smelled heavenly. She’d been so preoccupied finding a spot to sleep that she’d forgotten to eat. Her stomach grumbled. She reached out to take it, and scarfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in days. Flavors burst in her mouth. It was delicious.

“Whoa! Slow down, there. You don’t want to choke.”

Cat chewed a fraction slower and swallowed. She must’ve looked like a savage. “Thank you,” she said, wishing she had something to wash it down with.

He held out the other taco and the drink. “These are for you, too. You look like you need it.”

Cat reached out to take it, overcome by gratitude. “Wow. Thank you.” Cat downed the soda eagerly, not caring that she looked like a starving wild animal. She looked up at the Taco Bell employee, who looked slightly horrified.

She looked up at him. “Why are you helping me?”

He shrugged. “You looked like you needed it.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Look—” He crouched down next to her. “What’s your name?”

Cat blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Maxine.”

“Maxine, do you have any parents?”

“No.”

“Are you in the foster system?”

Cat was eternally grateful to him and all, but she didn’t like where this conversation was going. She stood up abruptly.

“Thanks for helping me. I really am grateful. But I have to go now.” She grabbed her backpack, the taco and the drink, and shoved past him.

“Wait!” he called after her. “I’m sorry!”

Once she ran far away enough, she slowed down to a walk, scouring the streets for places to sleep. She couldn’t deny that she felt a little scared, walking in the darkness. Taxi cabs zoomed by around her, making her shiver harder. Her thin coat was doing her no favors.

Cat found an empty alley and crouched down to eat the rest of her taco. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea.

A small, dark blur sprang out from the darkness, lunging towards the taco. Cat yelped in shock, springing back, and lost her grip on it. The blur, which Cat identified as a small dog, grabbed it out of the air and sat on the ground, lowering the taco to the ground to eat it.

“Hey!” Cat yelled. “That’s not yours!”

The dog’s head whipped up in surprise, flinching back.

Cat made a grab for the taco, barely caring that it was covered in dog slobber. She had no plans to eat it, but there was no way in hell some small, annoying dog was getting away with stealing her food. The dog, lightning fast, snatched the taco back from the ground and growled.

“Give it back, you bastard!”

The dog darted between her legs, taco between its teeth. Cat spun back around. He wasn’t running. He had come to a stop by the corner of the alley, watching her. She swore it seemed to be mocking her, which only infuriated her more. The two watched each other intently, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Cat did. She sprinted towards the alley, and the dog ran off again. She turned the corner and saw the dog’s head bobbing up and down as it bounded further and further away. The chase was unfair and pathetic. It continued for a block and a half before Cat realized how dumb it was.

She was chasing after a dog— a dog, for god’s sake— to obtain a taco that she didn’t even buy, that she wasn’t even going to eat.

Dogs have to eat, too, she reasoned. Even homeless ones.

What kind of heartless human being would let a dog starve? Better the dog have the meal, rather than both of them end up with nothing.

Sighing in frustration and mourning the loss of her taco, Cat sank on the steps of a brownstone and bundled her coat tightly around her. Her eyes slid shut, the pull of sleep more longing than ever. She laid her head on her knees and hugged herself, listening to the slowing beat of her heart.

She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, just as a pitiful whine dragged her out of it. She shifted her head slightly to make out the dog sitting in front of the steps, teeth clamped around the taco.

“Jesus,” she muttered, turning back into her elbow. “Go away, evil spawn.”

The dog made another noise.

Cat lifted her head. “What do you want now?”

The dog laid the taco gently at her feet with the gentleness of a mother holding her child for the first time. The taco was soggy, covered in bite marks and dirt, and clearly past the point of inedibility. Despite this, Cat was slightly moved by the action.

“That’s nice. Disgusting, but nice. You may have redeemed yourself.”

She noticed the dog was a beagle. She’d read about beagles in a book about dogs before. Her photographic memory recalled the exact wording: Beagles come in such pleasing colors as lemon, red and white, and tricolor. The Beagle’s fortune is in his adorable face…

The dog nudged the taco towards her with his nose. Gazing at her expectantly, he had the most wide, innocent eyes.

“Fine, so you’re adorable. Get over it.”

… with its big brown or hazel eyes set off by long, houndy ears set low on a broad head. Beagles are loving and lovable, happy, and companionable—all qualities that make them excellent family dogs. No wonder that for years the Beagle has been the most popular hound dog among American pet owners. These are curious, clever, and energetic hounds who require plenty of playtime…

The beagle seemed to be waiting for her to pick the taco up.

Cat wrinkled her nose. “You can’t expect me to eat that. You’ve already gone and covered it in slobber.”

The beagle whined again.

“Okay, whatever. I’m going back to sleep,” she told the dog, feeling a bit silly. “So you can go now.”

She dropped her head, expecting to hear the dog’s footsteps padding away. There was none. She opened one eye warily, to see the dog still sitting next to the taco, having no plans to move away.

Stupid dog.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

December - the next day

When Cat woke up, the beagle hadn’t left, to her surprise and relief. He followed her when she stood up, and Cat made no move to stop him. She felt herself growing increasingly fond of him. Once it became clear that the dog had no plans of ditching her, she decided to name him. After two blocks of walking, she picked the name Taco, in memory of the taco that began their friendship.

That night, as Cat was scouring the streets for a place to sleep, she decided upon a long alleyway. It was windy and cold, and the walls would protect her from it. She’d been planning on sleeping against one of the walls when Taco started barking wildly.

That was the problem with dogs. Sometimes, they were adorable angels obediently listening to orders, and sometimes they were demons straight from hell who wouldn’t stop barking.

Taco was facing the empty side of a wall, jumping and barking like crazy.

“Shut up, shut up, please shut up,” Cat muttered to him, trying to calm him by rubbing his head. “Look, there’s nothing there—”

Cat paused. The lighting was so terrible she could hardly make out her hand in front of her face, and the side of the wall had been painted black, so she hadn’t noticed it at first. But now that her attention was fully focused on it, she noticed it— a barely perceptible outline along the side of the wall, almost like a door. She trailed her fingers along the outline, and sure enough, there was a handle.

She tried it. It was locked, of course. Curious now, she jammed her fingers into the thin crevice in the wall and attempted to pull, but it didn’t work. Taco had stopped barking. She ran and thrust her shoulder into the wall with all her might, like people did in the movies. She immediately regretted it, retreating with a series of curses and “ow ow ow ow ow ow,” cradling her bruised shoulder.

Cat took out the knife she’d stolen from Trevor’s kitchen and recalled a book she’d read on lock picking, just the other day in the library. The knife was slim and short, the perfect size. She jammed the knife into the lock the way the book had told her to, wiggled it until she heard it click in the right places, twisted—

Click.

Amazed and in disbelief that the stupid trick had actually worked , Cat twisted the handle and yanked. The door sprang open. Taco raced inside, abandoning all caution.

Cat stepped inside cautiously. It was dark, cold, and there didn’t seem to be anyone inside. She fumbled around for a light, found it, and flicked it up. She was greeted with a shocking surprise. The inside was well-lit, extremely tidy, and whoever had decorated it had excellent taste. There was a couch along with a modern-looking TV, a kitchen, and a hallway that led to a bedroom.

Cat knew now what Taco had found so bark-worthy. The delicious aroma of a pile of peanut butter cookies, lying on the counter of the kitchen. Taco was reaching with his paws toward the counter, trying to reach it. Cat felt the same way. She was starving. (Now, she always felt like she was starving.)

She didn’t need any prompting. She threw her backpack on the couch as if she’d lived there all her life, raced to the counter, and stuffed a cookie in her mouth. It was a bit hard and cold, but amazing. The proportions of salty peanut butter to sweet chocolate was perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Cat told Taco, through a mouthful of peanut butter cookie, feeling like the cruelest dog owner in the world as she swallowed. “You can’t have these. They have chocolate in them.”

That same day, she’d made Taco wait outside the library as she memorized as many books on beagles as she possibly could. There were a lot of things dogs couldn’t eat. No raisins, coconut oil, alcohol, and most of all, no chocolate.

Suddenly having an idea, Cat rummaged through the fridge and found a jar of peanut butter. She let Taco lick a good amount out of the jar before she closed it.

A horrifying thought smashed into her. If there were peanut butter cookies plated on the counter, surely someone must’ve baked them. Which meant that someone had lived there, recently. Judging by the temperature, the person hadn’t baked them in the last hour, which probably meant they were coming back soon. And based off the fact that the room was hidden behind a secret door of a filthy alleyway, whoever lived there probably hadn’t intended anyone to find it. All signs pointed to Get out of here, fast, before something horrible happens and you die!

Cat bit her lip as she thought about this, looking around the room. She hadn’t been in a place this clean since… well, since she’d lived at her old house in California. There was electricity, food, a place to sleep, and probably a good amount of other things she could scrounge up. This place like this probably had clean water, band-aids, and a bunch of stuff she could really use.

She made a plan. She wouldn’t stay there long, because it was obviously a horrible idea. But she’d get food for her and Taco, grab any other useful things she found, and then get the hell out of there. She debated the ethics of stealing, but reasoned that it was too good of an opportunity to let slip by.

Cat rifled through the fridge first, relieved to find a great deal of pre-cooked meals and some chicken for Taco. She found a few and heated them, trying to follow the instructions on the box the best she could. While that was happening, she grabbed the plate of cookies and stuffed them in her mouth— because seriously, they were so good— while searching through the place for any other items they might need.

Surprisingly she found quite a few medical supplies— bandages, Neosporin, and a bunch of anti-whatevers she couldn’t pronounce. Along with that, some nail clippers(hers were getting long), wipes, more toothpaste, and band-aids. In the kitchen, she found a variety of energy bars, snacks, and was especially delighted to find three boxes of Lucky Charms. She took one of them.

By then she’d finished the plateful of cookies, only feeling slightly guilty because, once again, they were seriously so delicious . She was still hungry enough to finish one of the reheated meals. Afterwards, having satisfied her hunger and filled her backpack to brim with supplies, she was ready to go.

Taco was gently snoring, head resting on his paws, after eating all the chicken. He looked so serene that Cat felt like it would be a crime to wake him up.

She realized that she felt really tired, too. All that food had made her sleepy. And she hadn’t slept in… she’d lost count of the hours. If she and Taco ventured back outside, they’d have to sleep in the cold, wet alleyway, she reasoned, slowly convincing herself. And the couch in front of the TV looked so soft and inviting…

What harm could it do if she just took a little nap? Who cared if someone found her? She was a kid, there was no way they’d hurt a little kid… With those thoughts in mind, she all but collapsed on the couch and passed out.

When she woke up, someone was holding a gun to her head.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Notes: I think we can all guess who’s holding that gun! Natasha makes her appearance in the next chapter! Sorry for not being consistent… I’ll stick to my schedule from now on. Next chapter posted tomorrow! Please like and reblog if you’re enjoying it! See you soon! Thanks!

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #civilian!reader x natasha romanoff #natasha Romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #black widow fic #black widow x reader

[frindoka]

my art timeline :-)

hi! i’m making this because i was inspired by maxpawb’s post i saw on toyhouse , which then led me to look at all my own art that is still somehow intact in my storage. this only details stuff from when i started posting online, not from when i started drawing traditionally as a wee lad. partially because my sketchbooks are lost and partially because i never really wrote down dates on my art to begin with.

a lot of dates are lost, due to the aforementioned problem of me not writing things down.. and also i have awful dissociative memory problems so there’s way too many gaps in my life. but i really did want to do this to see how much i could find & how much i could recollect.

content warning for VERY brief mentions of grooming, as well as minor mentions of real shitty friends

everything is under the cut! there might be another rb if or when i hit the image limit. curse you, tumblr.

date: ??? , i had to be around like. 11 at the time

this was when i joined warriors amino and i deleted my account because i got in trouble for having social media, LMAO. i eventually came back with a new one though. this is probably one of the only surviving art pieces from when i was THIS YOUNG, everything’s on an ipad that’s so broken it won’t even charge

i learned how to use the smudge tool on ibispaint at this time and thought i was the coolest bitch on the block for my blending

may 2019, i was like 12

my return to amino (and brief period on deviantart, which i never used again lmao) i was specifically on wings of fire amino + warriors amino. i was obsessed with airbrush shading.

this is one of my first fursonas which was a wings of fire fanflight called kitsunewings or smth. and also my first species character (he predated the dragon), a bayfox, which was drawn in krita. i never used krita again after this. coincidentally, i was also never active in bayfoxes after submitting him.

i crawled back to ibispaint no matter how many new free programs i tried.. (also tried firealpaca once. i couldn’t even figure out how to draw a line…)

may 2019, 12

the rise of my longest lasting fursona. she got stolen on a shitty app called anime maker once. i can’t remember if she’s older than the dragon, andromeda, but her older iterations definitelt are. this character was just the FIRST first fursona that i actually called that, since i didn’t even really know what a furry was at first

june 2019, 12

my first commission that i sold for like 30 deviantart points (i only used the site for commission purposes, as mentioned before i never really used it lmao)

also i tried to make a closed species on wings of fire amino. second image. it was terribly stressful ; this was around the time i met my longest lasting group of friends (hi freak bin! 5 years <3) and.. some of the worst people i’ve ever met in my life at the same time, LMAOOO

also here’s this kokichi ouma dog i made before i even knew what danganronpa was. i would find out much later, unfortunately

march 2020, still 12 (cause of my august birthday 😒)

there’s a really big gap in my files here. sad! my art kicks into gear at this point tbh, i like how i did the lines. wish i had the energy for such clean lineart still :-(

i think around this time i lost contact with the people who were my groomers (which i would realize later) and i’m thankful that i don’t even remember what their names are.

april 2020 - july 2020, 12

okay these aren’t awful actually. HOW WAS MY ART SO DETAILED. i admire baby frets power, jesus christ

i also did a design raffle when i hit 500 amino followers which is still the most i’ve ever gotten as a following. pretty crazy, i wonder who owns this dude now, i still think they’re cute

august 2020, 13

wow i’m 13 now look at that. i had to go digging for this one, only one i could find that was remotely close to my birthday (it’s the 25th!) this was a drawing for my friend bea lol

was still friends with some pretty shitty people from wings of fire amino, and it was really taking a toll on me. i don’t remember drawing as often as i used to during that time because of all of that.

december 2020, 13

i wish i could still draw backgrounds.. i need more practice

january 2021, 13

okay honestly these are really cute. i don’t know wtf kind of motivation i had for this much detail. the shading is pretty damn good

april 2021, 13

still going strong with the shading and backgrounds. not much to say around this time either lol. the first one is an older design of mine, but they’re pretty damn cute.. i wonder what happens to the desgins i lose track of? but ik this guy has a toyhouse profile i just refuse to look through my like. 200 pages of character designs on there…

july 2021, 13

PUDDLE! PUDDLE OH HOW I MISS YOU. my original favorite oc, i got so much art of him & drew him so much he reached 100 pieces in less than a month. i also met my best friend through this dude.

my art got.. blocky? here? idk what i was doing with all of that but it lasts for a while. lol

october 2021, 14

one year older and i got neo twewy for my birthday and it changed my life permanently. in several ways. anyhow, here’s frindoka furries.. they live in my files forever and will never b drawn again because they got redesigned several more times LOLLLLL

this is the month after i broke off permanently from my shitty old friends, with support of some other friends of mine. thank you guys… i did proceed to get harassed and made paranoid over my text messages by the shitty friends cause they were mad i got one of them banned from a furry adopts server for being literally dangerous. i do know it was them bc it was admitted to & they were some of the only people i gave my phone number to. i was kind of dumb for that

i was happy after my birthday because 13 was one of the worst years of my life. literal constant spirals and breakdowns because this is when i realize i was, in fact, groomed. i’m well and handling it better now.

january 2022, 14

my first d&d character, the mark of my eventual spiral into heath insanity… shadow how i miss you. i ended up redesigning them later on

march 2022, 14

i got into a pokemon arpg around this time and it took over my life for MONTHSSSS. kind of a shitty community in it though, but i appreciate how it improved my artwork. i’m back at the backgrounds! it’s shut down indefinitely now. rip eeveemporium

april 2022, 14

I FOT BACK INTO WAKFUUUU😭😭😭 also got pretty comfortable in my identity as a transgender nonbinary person, but i would get MORE comfortable about my identity later on :-)

this is going to be continued in a reblog because i did, in fact, hit the image limit. oopsie daisies

#my art #art timeline

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 15)

“Are you ready to meet your daughter?” Aang asks cheerfully. 

The dragons seemed neither pleased nor displeased at the prospect. Zuko decides that they are still at least a little skeptical. Maybe from this distance they think that she is dead. And he can’t blame them, his on stomach lurches when he sees her still form laying curled up several feet away from toppled fortification. A scatter of alarmed palace staff doesn’t ease his mind any. What if she had lost control…lost herself and started terrorizing the palace? 

What if they had killed her for it?

And it hits him; she is a dragon now. A full dragon.

He had known that it was coming. 

He had seen her transformation in its beginning stages. 

But somehow it is still a shock to see her like this.

Appa lands first flower by Ran--at least he thinks that the red one is Ran--and then lands Shaw. But Zuko is still the first to reach Azula. Sokka and Katara are already lingering by her. "What happened?"

"She tried to climb over the wall and broke it. She's been sulking since." Sokka explains.

"She's okay though?"

Katara nods. "The transformation was…rough. But she’s been walking around."

"More like pacing." Sokka shrugs. 

Zuko wanders closer to the dragon. To his sister. Hesitantly, he touches his hand to the side of her snout. If this bothers her she doesn't indicate her discontent. She lets him stroke her snout but she only lifts her head when Shaw takes a groundbreaking step towards her. At least some of the sadness in her eyes seems to retreat.

.oOo.

It is quite a sight.

Ran coils himself protectively around Azula. His tail circles around the entirety of her body. She seems to burrow into the coils of his body. And now a dragon that had once looked so big seems so small.

Ringed around Ran is Shaw.

Azula coos and purrs softly as she licks at her head. A gentle little gesture that causes Sokka to shudder at the memory of being slathered in bison slobber. But Azula doesn't seem to mind the linking. Perhaps it is something like being kicked by a dog or maybe dragon instincts spark a sense of comfort. 

Shaw's wing come to brush over Azula’s head. And with the gesture comes more purring. 

"At least she doesn't seem as stressed now." Katara observes. 

"It's probably comforting to know that she'll have someone to teach her how to be a dragon. You know how she gets when she doesn't know things." Zuko shrugs. 

"Speaking of not knowing things…" Sokka trails off and steals another glance at the dragon family. One of Shaw's claws traces the lines of Azula’s scars and that fresh gash on her neck. "Do they know who she is yet? Do they know how she got those scars?"

Zuko shakes his head. 

"Zuko!" Katara exclaims.

"You try telling two already disgruntled dragons that their stolen egg hatched into a princess." He grimace. "And what am I supposed to say about the scars? Sorry we let your child get sliced up by spirits? What do you think they'll do when they find out about Ozai."

"I've always wanted to see a dragon knock over a building and eat someone!" Toph chuckles. 

"Maybe we should let Aang do the talking." Sokka suggests.

"Or maybe we should let Azula tell her own story." Aang raises a brow.

Sokka steals another glance at the dragon princess. He can practically see Zuko squirm. He can certainly hear his apprehension. "Azula is really blunt. She's going to get all of us charred." He clenches his teeth, "whether she means to or not."

The truth, even without a padding of details, would be more than enough to condemn the Fire Nation to a fate befitting its name. The very fate that they've been trying to avoid.

.oOo.

Azula closes her eyes. She hasn't rested peacefully in some time. Especially without the use of her bed. She much prefers the plush mattress to these jagged rocks. Although she still yearns for her pillows and blankets, Ran and Shaw are plenty warm and decently cozy.

They stroke her wings and clean her scales.

They make her sleepy. 

She nuzzles herself into father. Her real father and he rests his head atop hers. He is striking to behold; powerful and glorious. His scales are ruby shot with cracks of searing lava. His whole body shimmers and sparkles. His talons glint like solid gold when he cups them over hers. And mother, she hasn't seen herself yet, but she thinks that she looks a lot like mother. At the very least she has the same shiny blue scales with. The same sapphire talons.  

Mother's tail flicks and swishes lazily as she regards the present company. One sapphire claw continues tracing over her scars. Discontent is written all over her face. 

But when she looks down at Azula there is nothing but warmth and care.

One of Shaw's whiskers drifts out and touches Azula’s forehead, taps against a spot directly between her eyes and with it comes a golden burst, a sensation like heated syrup. Floating amid the physical sensations are flakes of emotion. A rainbow glimmer of affection floods her mind. There is an emotion that tastes like succulent strawberries and smells like cinnamon. It feels like a bath is a touch hotter than comfortably warm. 

It takes her a moment to name the emotion. She had certainly never felt it with Ursa. And the version of it that Ozai had given her was more akin to molding strawberries and dry flour. It was cold. 

And in her mind her mother speaks. Her voice is low and gravely. “We’ve missed you.”

But they had never known her at all, they had never gotten the chance, she thinks to herself. Apparently that is all that it takes because she gets a response. “We can make them pay.”

Azula shakes her head, although there is a pinch in her mind–a little tickle that tells her that she does want that. That it would be nice to see the Fire Nation burn for what its ideals have done to her, what those expectations had shaped her into. 

How they’d tried to reject her after tainting her soul. How disappointed they looked, how pitying they were when they’d seen how it had broken her. 

She shivers, a ripple effect caused by mother’s simmering resentment. A resentment that runs so hot that it is frigid. And she knows that mother knows that she is in pain…was in pain? Is, was? She isn’t sure anymore. She doesn’t think that it hurts anymore, not nearly as badly. 

She has love now. 

She has support. 

She swallows. Though father won’t let them near her right now, Sokka and Katara have been keeping her company. They’ve been taking care of that nasty gash. She supposes that they have been trying their best with her for sometime now in spite of her knack for trying to keep them at a distance. 

And since the spirit incident, Zuzu has been fine. Minus some light bickering here and there, they are fine. 

That icy hatred seems to warm, if only a little. 

Azula doesn’t want the Fire Nation to burn, it is her home. It has been her home even if it wasn’t supposed to be. Those are her people even if she weren’t meant to be human at all. Perhaps if she had found her parents a year or so back, the Fire Nation would already be a blackened husk. 

That primitive part of her mind stirs, excited at the thought of smoldering ruins. 

It dances within her, this desire to let go. To lose control and ravage everything. To claw her pain and past resentments into the very bones of Caldera City. To unleash unrestrained, unrefined sides of herself. The parts of her that she was never allowed to express lest she mar her already stained reputation. The one that used to be so pristine. 

Mother strokes her head. 

Mother tells her that she understands her. Mother isn’t afraid. Because mother knows it is in her nature, doubly so. It is the nature of fire. It is the nature of dragons.

Ursa never understood. 

Ursa was afraid. 

And maybe Ozai was too. Afraid of the power he had stolen. Maybe that is why he had to instill fear. If she was afraid he wouldn’t have to be. 

It is white hot again, simmers of anger shiver over the metaphysical strings that bind them to one another. Mother’s loathing is just as potent as her love. It is scathing, it is a red ribbon squeezing around a nimble neck. It is claws slashing through flesh. 

She thinks of her own splitting skin and mangled human body and shudders. 

Mother apologizes for the grizzly images flashing through her mind, the ones that she doesn’t mean to show mother. 

The ones that turn mother’s fury into pure and loathing. 

Father wraps his body around her that much tighter and it occurs to her that mother and father must be linked. That father knows too. He nuzzles his head against hers. 

She hopes that she hasn’t gotten everyone killed. 

She doesn’t want to be a monster. 

She just wants to have her peace.

She wants to find her place.

She wants to learn to fly.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Zuko #Sokka #Katara

[ducknotinarow]

2k7 Casey Summer - #

| send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including

"I dunno if I 'ike the idea of 'his? But I guess i'll play along but the second ya laugh 'hats it!"

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone        

'Old Man' / '❤️Dad🏒'

"I switch it sometimes, mostly to annoy Dad, if 'm showin' 'im somethin' on my phone where his name will show I always switch it to old man. Cause he 'ikes to say he ain't old and 'hats he cool. Both are wrong, he is old and lame." She smiles a little "Okay okay he's kind of cool but I ain't tellin' 'im 'hat. I siad it once an' he won't let me live it down. I dunno I jus' 'ike teasin' Dad. I guess I got 'hat habit from Pops? he also teases Dad a lot. More 'han I do? But Dad dose it too, think it's just how we show love? Hazing each other 'ike Dad wanting to embrass me all the time be messing with my hair an' callin' all the names but my own at school and practice."

                     

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

[Image description] It's a photo of Casey, with their now family dog Cooper, Summer snapped it when Casey was clearly playing with the dog at the time. The pup happily Licking Casey's face as he pet their head.

"Ya it ain't hard to be a Daddy's girl when ya only got dad's but I sort always seen it 'ike i'm Dad's buddy. Since we talk 'bout hockey all the time. We lovingly yell at each other. Dad hypes me up before games and such. We like to annoy Pop's together by ganging up on him. 'ike in our group chats I dunno how many times we made pop's remove himself from them. Between Dad's need to text every one line of thought and my emoji's yeah the chats a mess." She smiles softly "and 'ight now? dad's havin' a tough time dealin' with Grandma's death. I can sort get it. Grandma was kind of all he really had afta all. Be 'ike if I lost my Dads. I'd be a mess too. I know he tryin' to act 'ike he ain't a mess but he's a mess. Been a mess Pops an' I see it we talk 'bout it. I 'hink Pop's is tryin' his best to let Dad be a mess because he needs to be allowed but I don' 'hink Dad was lettin' himself be one much either. I dunno what happened but Dad seem more willin' to be down but losin' Grandma. And yeah he still sad but he ain't 'ike acttin' 'ike he can't be. So it's nice seeing Dad able to just breath and feel. Especially since we got Cooper now even if Pop's gotta share Dad even more now."

"Sides..I jus' want Dad to not worry 'bout all us so much. An' learn to take care of himself too. Even if i give 'im things to worry 'bout"

                   

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone                            

"I'll Always be you Baby" by Natalie Grant

You taught me how me to walk and how to dream

God gave me your eyes

But it was you who showed me how to see

Now I can stand on my own

But I know you'll never let go

Im butting if a second here I had to do this bit cause Summer had Blue eyes like Casey and Casey always insists Summer was given to them by an angle ;3; sooo yes ;3; when summer gets married this is the song she has play when she dose her dance with Casey. She do a different one with raph cause fuck everyone shes getting two father daughter dances ;3;

"I look up to Dad a lot in truth. Dad's my Hero if I had to pick an' I got lotta school junk to prove it too. Dad looks out and helps everyone. Dad ain't got much but a hockey stick but never stopped him. His Dad wasn't a good guy either but...Dad learned to over come 'hat and Loves Pops wit' all he got. Be full mush with me too. An' well even though Dad don' always 'ike 'hat i'm growin' up? I'll all be his baby. I know I can always count on Dad. I may go to him later 'han he 'ikes but I dunno I just know I can no matter what. If so dick breaks my heart and I don' tell him for months. I can still cry over it later. If I make a mistake I can fess up to him no matter what. I don' 'hink Dad sees how much I do trust him...I wish I was betta 'bout openin' up sooner. If I were a betta Daughter maybe I would. Hell if I were betta I wouldn' get into the shit I do uh? I wouldn' make 'em worry so much afta' all."

 - my muse’s last text to your muse

[text] DAAAAAAD!

[text] Dad I forgot my 🏒 hockey gear! Please can you bring it to 🏫 school

-----

[Text] Dad imma go to the lair afta school I wanna show Ari something

[Text] Dad imma hang out with Uncle Mikey

[Text] Dad imma be with Uncle Leo

[Text] Dad im gonna be with auntie April

(I feel you can understand what this stream of texts mean. Feel loke she tells him all the time where she going)

-----

[Text] imagie of Raph past out on the couch with cooper. The pair actually snagged up together sharing the small space despite how much if it Raphs shell can take

[Text] I found ya 🐕 , and 🐢 ❤️

[Text] I think pops🥤 fine with the 🐕

-----

[Text] hey sooo uh I think I have a date? 😵

[Text] do not come out with the 🏒 stick u_u

#muse| summer jones #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ watch me shine watch me grow -aflockoffeathers] #phone contact meme #meme answers #ic reply #stay queued

[the-grim-squeaker-8]

Ya got an oc thoughts to share today?

Lots of thoughts. [wall of text incoming]

I made a(nother) Wanderhome character I have no one play to with. She's a crow, self-proclaimed Lady Thief, detests being called a cheat or a monster, and wears a black cloak and a mask and an ostentatious belt and carries around a deck of playing cards.

Her name is Sparkle.

She is a fugitive from the law, falsely accused of cheating at cards and high treason, and rightly accused of grand larceny and lying under oath. She has a secret about the king she's not supposed to know, and she used to have a shiny necklace she got from a noble but it's been stolen from her.

…You can guess which of these things she is upset about.

Magicalgirlverse is getting rotated fairly constantly but I'm reluctant to talk about the current storyline thats actually been rotating in my mind for the last few weeks because like. Do I want to put that in public where the internet can judge me. Even if that wasn't an issue, is it something all my friends would want to hear about. Do I even want this to be canon???

But I have no self control, so anyway. This one time I was trying to take a nap and ended up thinking about that Welsh myth where a guy makes a woman out of flowers to be a wife for his nephew and she cheats on him and plots with her boyfriend to murder him and the family turns her into an owl as punishment, and this urban fantasy series I read as a teenager where one of the protagonists finds out she's an artificial human who was created by the big bad (which I definitely remember being a it/its cloud of evil and not, like, a guy) to be its bride and the mother of its child, but her dead mom rescued her as a baby and fed her magic flowers so instead of being evil and into this she was a normal person who refused, also I think her foster mom turned out to be a previous failed attempt at creating a bride and was trying to kill her out of jealousy?

And I was like "these two stories do not address to my satisfaction the tensions inherent in creating a wholeass person to be a custom-order mate and handing them to the kind of person who is okay with that." And I was like "someone somewhere probably has covered it, but what if I did it myself."

And then I was like, "what if Dark Glory (who needed a tragic backstory anyway) was created as a gift for the semi-eldritch god-emperor of space?"

Is this the tone I wanted for my self-indulgent magicalgirlverse? I don't know. Is it in line with the direction I was originally going for with her character? Unclear. Does it feel kind of mean? Yes. But, is it dramatic and works really well with some of her established relationships (like Shadow refusing to address his feelings towards her) and has already spun-off into an entire storyline with fun narrative parallels and a whole other oc I'm not ready to let go of? Also yes.

Basically what if she voluntarily spent time in the god-emperor's custody and experiences the emotional equivalent of when working dogs finally get to experience the job they were born for and this is the happiest and most fulfilled anyone has ever seen her and she doesn't regret the friends she made when she ran away but also it's okay and you don't need to worry about her. :)

So then I have to figure out how to show her that this is still a bad thing actually. And the answer I came up with is "she finds her predecessor who has been metaphorically gathering dust in a closet this whole time since the emperor lost interest in them and Dark Glory decides living in a gilded cage sucks actually and takes them with her.

I should revisit the plotline where Scythe dies, that was some tasty melodrama. I know Shadow's heart gets stolen him so Scythe give him his, Shadow is like "I didn't ask you to do that and I'm still not obligated to forgive you", and then Scythe gets resurrected and turned evil, but his personality is intact so he's sad about it, dies again and Shadow saves him with his original heart (which he retrieved in the interim) because "maybe I just want you to experience the consequences of your actions did you ever think of that."

This is the problem when all the content exists exclusively in my head, whenever I want I can fast forward to the part where they are finally on speaking (if not hugging) terms.

Also, Shadow crochets. I have no idea how this informs his character or his background as an angsty supervillain I just think it would be cute if he made something out of living darkness for his not-girlfriend.

#oc tag #i definitely didnt spend like a month putting off like two sentences for this post what are you talking about

[envihellbender]

Ashen Wolf cubs !!

WOLF CUBS!! 💖

Fire Emblem: Three Houses - Next Generation

Yuri

Name: August

Class: Valkyrie

August had short black hair with a long fringe which fell into her eyes. Her skin was a light brown and her eyes a sharp green. She had a slight snaggletooth and a generous helping of freckles. She was short and a little chubby, which filled out her cheeks enough to make her look younger than she was. She was fiendishly clever but a little bit clumsy and forgetful. She took to horse riding and magic immediately, excitedly practising all hours of the day. She is extremely close with Hapi’s child Seraphim, they’d often steal sweets from the Abyss tavern together and play with the stray cats and dogs.

August was two years old when Yuri found her. She had been abandoned at the side of the abyss and was screaming for so long her throat was raw. Yuri had no idea how to raise a child at this point, but he still pulled her into his arms, dried her tears, got her some clean clothes and warm food. He didn’t realise at the time that two years later she’d be calling him Papa and he’d be referring to her as his daughter. Thankfully he wasn’t alone, the rest of the Ashen Wolves helped since they had children of their own by then and so did the elders of the Abyss. No one ever knew where August came from, and she doesn’t remember. Even her name was chosen by Yuri since she didn’t know her own or could even speak much. Yuri’s theory was that she was the abandoned illegitimate child of an Almyran noble - maybe with a sex worker from Fodlan.

She likes animals, reading, climbing, sweets, and staying up far too late. Being on her own makes her extremely anxious and she has a phobia of the dark. She hates it when Yuri sings because she can tell it makes him sad.

Hapi (using headcanon that Hapi is a trans fem who uses it/itself pronouns)

Name: Seraphim

Class: Dark Flier

Seraphim had short pink hair, similar to a messy pixie cut, and brown eyes. Their skin tone was a little darker than Hapi’s, and they were a good few inches taller. They were less muscular and much preferred more masculine clothing. They had a crooked nose from when they fell on their face as a child running away from the baker with August from who they had just stole a lot of sweets. They also had lost some of their hearing in the right ear due to an incident from some particularly brutal members of the Church.

No one was entirely sure who Seraphim’s other parent was. Hapi was fairly open about the fact it was impossible for it to get pregnant, and open about why. It referred to itself as Seraphim’s Life Giver, and Seraphim even referred to it as LG quite often. Of course sometimes people insisted on using mother or parent, the latter was significantly more preferable. When people asked about who Seraphim’s other parent was, they had a series of jokes lined up. For example: “well one day LG sighed and a particularly handsome monster showed up”. Seraphim and Hapi were both very close, they both dedicated themselves to looking after the Abyss, especially the more vulnerable folks and the stray cats and dogs.

Seraphim likes scary stories, ghosts, magic, sweets, animals, playing pranks, and taking care of their loved ones. They dislike being away from Hapi and/or August, tea, spicy food, being away from the Abyss, and the Church.

Balthus

Name: Layla

Class: Trickster

Layla is an optimistic, happy, young woman with a bright smile and a sharp tongue. She has tight black curls and brown eyes with light brown skin. She has a gap between her teeth and is blind in one eye due to an illness as a child. She’s small and thin, making the work she takes as a thief and assassin significantly easier. Yuri tries to take care of all the Wolf Packs kids, so looks after her and her mother and keeps Layla in work. She and her mother have a nice house on the edge of Faerghus, they have two dogs and a small farm.

Layla and her father have a difficult relationship, it’s strained and Balthus was far more absent than he would have liked. Having a daughter can be quite difficult when mercenaries are hunting you down. As a result Balthus tries to keep moving and not stay in the same place as her. He visits as often as he can and sends as much money as he can to her mother, he’s the first to admit he’s not the greatest dad but he tries his best.

She likes sparring, spicy food, playing sports, running, and dogs. She dislikes hunting, fishing, tea, and has a phobia of large pools of water.

Constance

Name: Armand

Class: War Monk

One look at Armand and you could tell he had nobility running in his veins. He was tall, broad shouldered, had a prominent nose, blonde curly hair, and a crooked smile. His eyes were bright blue and he had a birthmark on his Adam’s apple. The only thing that gave him away were the scars on his arms from his mother’s experiments. He fit in with the other nobles perfectly, he could speak and act like one. But he never really fit and he knew it. He felt as if everyone knew looking at him that his father wasn’t nobility, and that whilst his mother had been granted back their house by Emperor Edelgard, she still wasn’t regarded with the respect she should have been. Armand knew how to charm the right people, but he could never relax in their presence. He was most at home with his friend Layla and running around with one of the gangs Yuri controlled.

Constance tried to push him into the life she felt he deserved and he would be happiest in. She had him attend the right parties, gave him horse riding, dancing, and etiquette lessons. He was good at all of it, but he only did it to please his mother. He was happiest with his friends, sparring, gambling, playing games, and everything he felt normal people did. He never quite did well with the types of magic Constance preferred, and he found combat magic quite frightening given what she’d done to him through out his life. However, he did like using magic to heal… almost as much as he liked using his fists.

He likes gambling, board games, sports, sparring, history, and star gazing. He dislikes being watched, being touched by people he doesn’t know, and he has a phobia of thunder and lightening.

#fe3h #fe3h next generation #ashen wolves #envi writes #Hapi fire emblem #Yuri fire emblem #balthus fire emblem #Constance fire emblem

[louderrthanwords]

tw: suicidal ideation

1.2.23 || A List Of Observations, In No Particular Order

i. The year is fresh and new, and I am the loneliest I have ever been. 

ii. I listen to After Laughter by Paramore on repeat and scream along, trying to sing myself out of my cynicism.

iii. My friends are all scattered across states and countries and timezones, tied together by a connection to the internet and a tether to my heart.

iv. It is so stifling here that if I have to stay under my mom’s roof for another year, I think I might actually cross the line into insanity.

v. I haven’t read my Bible in months.

vi. I don’t know if I want to be an actress anymore, but I know the ever-present restless itch to create and perform still burns inside my sternum.

vii. Sometimes, the thought of suicide is a comfort. When things start to feel unbearable, the only way I can console myself is by remembering that if life is ever truly too much, there is a way out that I’ll never take, but contemplate for some sense of control.

viii. Sometimes, the only person I stay alive for is my best friend.

ix. Every song I write these days is sad.

x. I drink coffee now, in the early mornings when I work the opening shift. I’ve started looking forward to the sweet, bitter taste on my tongue.

xi. Lying is easier than it has ever been. Telling the truth is more difficult. 

xii. Now, with my short-cropped hair, not feeling the tips of my hair brushing past my shoulders is exhilarating. Now, in the mirror, I see someone beautiful: the kind of beautiful I’ve always wanted to be. I can’t regret cutting my hair, if it means the girl reflected back at me is more genuine than I’ve seen her in years, if it means I feel more at home in my body, if it means I get to feel the wind ghosting across the back of my neck. 

xiii. My mom lost her temper at me three times over three days. I cried each time, and each time it took all my willpower to remind myself that now is not the time to run away, not yet, to stay a little longer and wait out the pain.

xiv. I miss my dog more than anything.

xv. Everyone is lonely; everyone is running after things they desire but don’t yet have.

xvi. I mentioned offhand that I’ve never been kissed, and a girl I know offered to kiss me. Joking or not, I think I’d like to know what it feels like. I’d like to feel something good.

xvii. I finally had the courage to remove his contact from my pinned messages. Last night, when we talked for the first time in months, I realized I can’t continue to exist on crumbs of approval from the same person, he who once buttered me up with kindness and now rubs me raw with reality checks. Maybe this is my toxic pattern: say something vulnerable about myself to a man, trust him, and linger on even after I know he doesn’t love me. I held on a little longer than I needed to. But now I’m tired of not being valued by the people I try so hard to impress.

xviii. It has been two months since I last had an appointment with my therapist. I don’t know if there is something deeply wrong with me or if I am just deeply misunderstood.

xix. I keep the dream of moving away and finding my own home folded away under my pillow. I fall asleep with the promise that I am one day closer to finally making it real. 

xx. During all the moments when I wish for a kind embrace to fall into, she is miles and miles away.

#i could write a whole other poem about point 7 alone #and i probably will write it eventually #the interesting thing about writing in this vignette style is you end up kind of stringing a lot of little micropoems together to make one #one big poem #but a lot of the individual sections could probably count as a poem on their own #i guess if this poem was actually good all the sections would be somewhat connected #but for this one i literally just made a list and wrote down every single thought that passed through my head until i got to twenty #which is surprisingly therapeutic i highly recommend it #anyway i wrote this a week ago so i'm feeling much happier now dw #belle writes #poetblr #prose poetry #poets of tumblr #writeblr #warmup

[throwsomecheeseonit]

20 Years of Clean (part 11)

My ceiling. That's what I've been staring at for the past 2 weeks it feels like. Two weeks since Brandon and I parted ways, not knowing when I'd see him again.

When we left Tampa he hugged me, gave me a sweet kiss to remember him by and just like that, the distance between him and became greater and greater as we drove away. Haley tip toed around conversation on the drive home. She knew that I was a lost puppy dog. "How was your night?" she asked me. Being sure to ease into the more complicated questions when we were halfway home. I told her amazing it was, how it was so easy being with him. "We kissed." My face instantly turning into a Tomato. "Oooooh. Was he a good kisser? I bet he was. He looks like one." With anyone else I probably would've slapped them silly but it was Hales and she meant no harm. She was a serial flirt. "It was better than I had hoped," sighing into the window. "It'll be alright Michelle. It's not like you'll never see him again." "I know. We just never have any time together. Extended periods of time. I've spent more time watching him on tv then actually being in a room with him." "If the tv's in the room then you're in the room with him," Haley giggled as I rolled my eyes at her. "I'm sorry. It's not funny. I'm just trying to cheer you up. Think about it 4 more weeks, granted they don't make it into the playoffs or the world series and he's all yours. Forever. He is retiring, isn't he?" she pondered out loud. The truth is, I didn't know. I knew nothing at that moment. "Let's change the subject. Did you and Tommy have fun?" Haley instantly perked up, "I'm so glad you asked..." for the next hour and a half she boasted about how much she liked Tommy, what they were doing next weekend, everything that made me jealous (in my current situation). But she was my best friend and that's what best friend do, listen. That's what I did the rest of the ride.

It's two weeks later and besides talking to her about Tommy ad nauseum and working, my days and nights were pretty boring. I would read, clean, and do household duties. I'd very rarely want to sit in the living room or the kitchen because they were stained (in a good way) with Brandons residue. Every time I looked or sat on that couch, I could smell the ocean and remember how comfortable it was in his arms. The only exciting occasions was when Brandon would call or text. He kept up the same routine, calling me during days games, texting me after night games because he knew I was sleeping. He was thoughtful that way. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't sit up at night and wait for that night text. I never responded back until the next day though. Tonight was different though. It had been 3 nights in a row of night games and I missed his voice.

Brandon: We lost. Oh well. Miss you. Give me a call tomorrow, we need to talk. I'm off.

Me: I miss you. Sorry you lost. Want to talk now.

Brandon:..

The bubbles popped up then went away. Maybe he was tired. My phone started ringing. I bit my lip and went giddy at the thought of him calling me. "Hey," answering the phone. "Hey Babe. You're up late." When he calls me babe, it never gets old. "I told you I missed you. I haven't talked to you in days. I wanted to hear your voice." I could swear he was smiling over the phone. "Where you at," he asked me suspiciously. "I'm in bed, why?" Not knowing where this line of questioning. "Good. Just wanted a visual. I should be there with you," his voice all smooth and seductive. "A visual, you've never seen my room or my bed." "A man can dream can't he. Besides, I have an idea. Your bed is probably so comfy with a nice down duvet." He wasn't wrong. He had me pinned. "You're pretty close. That's pretty eerie." "What can I say. I'm good. How have you been," always interested in me, how I am, what I'm doing. "Lonely," feigning sadness. "Oh baby. You're breaking my heart. The things I would do to you if I was there, to make it all better." His chocolatey voice melting over my whole body, giving me goosebumps. "Like what," egging him on.

[pred1059]

Just A Chance Chapter Twenty Five

<- Previous Chapter | Current Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Journal: Day Seven

There was so much that happened today, I’m not sure where to start.

Well, Naminé has a keyblade now! She managed to call on it to keep me safe during our mission. Even if Marluxia and Larxene don’t care, I’m glad for her.

…

It’s strange. I shouldn’t have a heart to feel happy or sad, but ever since meeting Naminé it seems easier for me to understand what it’s like. And part of me just wants to say it. Wants to say how I am, what I feel.

I think I want to love.

But I was so close to slipping away in my fight with Kairi. To give it up to the darkness just to win. But then she managed to talk me out of it.

She seemed to care more about me than Marluxia and Larxene. Should we really be treating them as enemies?

“This has got to be one of the worst worlds I’ve seen.” Roxas groaned as he continued to trudge through the puddles of who-knows-what that lined Monstro’s guts.

Zexion shivered as he looked away from another spasm of the intestinal walls. “This is not exactly a world. Still, I agree his insides are far from pleasant.”

Axel ducked his head under some overhanging organs as they continued deeper into the depths of the creature and muttered, “Kinda makes you wonder why our target would wander around here in the first place.” 

Roxas definitely shared the sentiment. Marluxia’s intended training for today was intended to simulate Sora’s experience here. To retrieve a lost puppet that could move on its own and wandered around in this world. The catch being that he and Naminé would be doing the bulk of the fighting. A way to make sure she was getting up to speed. Despite that, Axel and Zexion managed to persuade Marluxia to let them come along in case something unexpected showed up, like an out of control heartless or even Ansem. Crossing his arms, Roxas looked over the area the four of them had come to. An overlook on one of the larger rooms, or rather what passed for rooms in the intestines of Monstro. A variety of openings leading onward and, hopefully one of them was toward their target. “Now, where is that puppet?”

“Pinocchio,” Naminé spoke aloud before she looked over to Roxas, who glanced back in confusion. “His name is Pinocchio.

Roxas furrowed his brow as he realized, “It’s a little weird they wouldn’t tell us his name.” Especially if they were looking for him. Come to think of it, Marluxia didn’t even have much of a description for what they were looking for beyond ‘moving puppet’.

Did he really care about this training?

Axel rolled his eyes as he moved over to Roxas and crossed his arms. ”Do we really care about a wooden puppet’s name?” To be fair, it was a comparatively small detail, but it would still have been nice.

Zexion cupped his chin as he surveyed the room they were in. “To be fair, it does possess magic of some kind that gives the appearance of sentience. So a unique name isn’t unwarranted.” 

Roxas couldn’t help but tilt his head at the words Zexion said. While they seemed to fit the sentence, he had no idea what they meant. Axel just shook his head and turned to Zexion with a smirk. “There you go again, showing off your thesaurus.” Roxas sighed, as he had no idea what that was either. Axel continued with a shrug, “Either way, it doesn’t have a heart, so it’s not much more of a person then us.”

It was a small fact. One that Roxas had known since the first day of his existence. But now hearing it stung. A reminder that his dreams and questions might not be anything of worth. That what little substance his being did have was insignificant. 

Judging from the wince from Naminé, the thought crossed her mind as well.

The darkness began to gather into heartless before them on the level below. More and more soldiers had arrived, but now they were accompanied by large heartless with dog faced shields. Naminé took a step back from the edge and glanced over to Roxas. “They seem a bit strong.”

Roxas nodded as he saw the monsters sizing them up. Even from here, he could tell these were a bit more than most Heartless. But even so, he wasn’t alone, and neither was Naminé.“We can do it, together,” Roxas encouraged as he called on his keyblade. 

Naminé slowly held out her hand and called out her weapon before glancing over to Roxas and nodding. The two jumped down, beginning to slash their way through the heartless soldiers. Roxas dashed toward the defenders, catching their attention and leaving Naminé free to stop them with a barrage of magic ice from her keyblade. As more of the group fell, Naminé began to smile. “It’s tough, but I think we can handle the heartless.” 

Roxas grinned as he twirled his keyblade and shouted, “And if we can handle them, we can handle this mission!”

It had become very clear that they were having a hard time handling this mission.

Not exactly due to combat, the two had managed to keep up with the heartless so far. Even to the point that Axel and Zexion were at a bit of a loss of what to do. Granted, Axel didn’t mind the chance to relax a bit more. No, the thing which had vexed them was one simple mundane fact.

“We’re lost.”

Axel sighed at Roxas’ observation before giving a half hearted reassurance. “We’re not lost, we just got turned around.”

“A distinction without a difference,” Zexion muttered as he continued to avoid having some stomach juice fall on his book’s pages. Only for his movement to ensure a bit of bile landed on his shoulder. Though Roxas had been lucky so far, he shared the misery. All this world had been was heartless and guts.

As Zexion grumbled and wiped the gunk away, Naminé hesitated before turning to the group and asking, “Maybe we should go find Geppetto to regain our bearings?”

Axel and Zexion paused and looked at each other, Axel gesturing for the latter to give some kind of explanation. But for once it seemed Zexion was stumped, as he shook his head in silence. So Roxas asked the question that had seemed to be mutual among the three of them. “Who’s Geppetto?

Naminé glanced at Axel and Zexion, raising an eyebrow and asking, “You don’t know about him?” As the three shook their heads, she took a breath and began to explain, “He originally carved the puppet before magic made Pinocchio come alive. He’s like Pinocchio’s father.” 

Even though he had never heard the word before, Roxas held a hand to his chest as something inside began to ache. ”A father?” From how Naminé described Geppetto, it sounded like a father was a creator, though perhaps something more. 

Naminé nodded and began to lead down one of the tunnels. “He was very worried for his son, so he might know—.”

“It’s just a puppet, Naminé.” Only for Axel to bring her to a halt verbally and literally as he put his hand firmly on her shoulder “Not even that, this a memory of a puppet. Once we wrap up here it’s gone.” 

Zexion began to chuckle as he moved over to Roxas. “Not to mention, It’s a bit silly calling the carpenter the puppet’s father.”

Roxas had no clue if it was actually silly, but from how Naminé had described Geppetto the connection he had with Pinocchio couldn’t be small. As Axel and Zexion began to move forward, Roxas couldn’t help but call out, “But he matters enough to him for Geppetto to worry, right?” His words caused the two other Organization members to stop and turn back to him. Glancing between themselves, they had no answer. Even as they were so sure Geppetto’s bond with Pinocchio was a joke, they had no idea what either of them were really like.

Again,  it was Naminé who began to explain, “He left the safety of Traverse Town just to find Pinocchio.”

Axel sighed and scratched the back of his head. “He’s a lonely old carpenter. He’d be attached to anything that’d give him companionship.”

Roxas furrowed his brow and stepped forward, asking firmly, “Does Pinocchio care about Geppetto too?” They had to know this, especially if they were going to so much trouble to find him in this mission.

Zexion held up a finger as he began to recall, “From what I recall of the reports, he has a habit of running off on his own. Not exactly an obedient son.” 

But Naminé wasn’t backing down, answering as she placed a hand to her chest, “But no matter what, he finds his way home. Even if he needs some help.”

“HEEEELP! GET ME OUTTA HERE!” 

The four of them whipped their heads toward the other end of the room, where they heard a boy shouting from one of the passageways. Roxas looked back to the three of them before calling the Kingdom Key to his hand. “Guess we’re going to be that help now.” 

The sound of yelling brought the four of them to the depths of Monstro’s stomach, right where the stomach acid had settled to digest whatever the whale ate. Roxas and Naminé had their keyblades ready for the heartless waiting for them. Though only Naminé knew what they faced.

But even though she had  seen Sora’s memories of it, the actual Parasite cage looming over them was still daunting. It was about twice Axel’s height, with winding arms the monster held in front of itself. And in the second mouth of its enormous stomach, they could see Pinocchio trapped behind the massive jaw.

Axel stood by the entrance to the stomach and clapped his hands together. ”Alright, you think the two of you can handle this?”

Naminé tightened her grip, as she was a step away from her first fight with a major heartless. Even though she had some practice with a keyblade, this was going to be big.

But there was one fact that she held on to.

That she wasn’t alone.

With a glance to Roxas and a mutual nod, she firmly answered, “Okay, we can do this.”

And the two charged forward. The parasite cage began to swing its limbs, having plenty of reach to hit both of them with one sweep. But as they dodged its attacks, Roxas then parried one of its arms, knocking it wide and staggering the heartless. Rushing in, he began to attack the creature from its belly, fruitless as it was. 

For a moment, fear tingled in Naminé’s mind. It would be distressingly easy for him to slip back into the dark to try and force the monster into submission. And while Zexion might be slightly interested in seeing if the heartless would break under a darkness powered beatdown, she was sure that was something no-one here wanted.

She took aim at the monster’s small, more vulnerable head and began to cast fire. If nothing else, to try and end the fight faster. The creature recoiled at the barrage, catching Roxas’ attention. Stepping back, he nodded in realization. ”Of course! That’s where it’s weak!” Naminé sighed in relief as it seemed the darkness was abating in the moment.

“Thanks Naminé!”

Only for that relief to vanish as two simple words left her stunned.

Shaking her head, she began to move to find an angle of attack while Roxas whaled away at the heartless’ front. Taking advantage of the distraction, she ducked under a flailing arm and began to strike the back of its head. The creature flailed its arms before jabbing the tendrils into the pools of acid. Realizing what was coming Naminé dropped back to the floor, as did Roxas. The strange appendages began to drink before the head began to spew a cloud of acid around its weak point. She held her keyblade, unsure of how to proceed. “We could wait for the cloud to clear.”

“Or we could show it that acid won’t work.” Roxas countered as he began to aim at the head with his keyblade. Nodding, Naminé followed suit, and the two began to pelt the heartless with all the magic they could muster. Fire and ice pelted the creature in both directions until their reserves ran dry. By then the creature was reeling, opening its jaw wide enough that Pinocchio could be seen. 

Roxas ran up and jumped up to the open maw, crying out, “Take my hand!” A second later, Pinocchio was pulled free from the parasite cage’s mouth in stomach. Quickly, Roxas carried the puppet to a safe alcove and hurriedly reassured, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” 

He rejoined the fight quickly, a Firestorm blazing around him as he leapt to attack the exposed core. Following his lead, Naminé joined in the assault to finish the massive heartless for good. With one final swing from the two of them, the core cracked, and the heartless began to dissipate into darkness once more. Jumping to the ground, Naminé was struggling between catching her breath and wanting to laugh. “We…we did it! We really did it!”

Roxas smiled and put a hand to her shoulder, “You were great Naminé.” For a moment, they both enjoyed their first victory together. But then Roxas ran over to where he had set down Pinocchio to help him up. “Now hold on! We’re going to get you to your father!”

“Roxas, he’s not real. We can go.”

Axel’s voice didn’t stop Roxas from getting the puppet to his feet. As Pinocchio looked to him and to the group, Roxas turned to Axel with a small frown and quietly asked, “Do we really have to?”

Zexion shook his head as he began to walk towards the exit that appeared. “To be frank, I’m not sure if Geppetto is even in this memory.”

Naminé knew that Axel and Zexion were right. Not only was this just a memory, but Pinocchio and Geppetto had long since been freed and found their way home. Furthermore, she was ordered to keep the worlds Roxas was in streamlined, focused on fights and training instead of people.

On the other hand, Sora’s journey wasn’t just about the fights, wasn’t it?

And Roxas cared about it too, judging by how he hesitated to just leave Pinocchio alone.

So with that in mind, she nudged the memory ever so slightly.

“Pinocchio? Pinocchio, where are you?”

Roxas, Axel, and Zexion stopped and looked back at the unfamiliar voice of an old man. Pinocchio, however, recognized it immediately and ran towards the entrance of the room where the voice came from. “Father!”

As Geppetto walked into the room, his worried face brightened as he saw his son running towards him. As the two hugged in reunion, he looked to the four of them with a smile, “I don’t know who you are, but thank you for finding my boy.”

Axel scratched the back of his head before waving a hand and resuming his walk to the exit. “Don’t mention it.”

Roxas was more appreciative, as he seemed to return Geppetto’s cheer. “Glad to help.” He stood and watched as the small unconventional family began their walk back before heading to the exit. Naminé couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Was that really necessary?” 

Zexion’s words caused that smile to falter as she turned towards him. He wasn’t angry, though with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow, it was clear he knew that the memory was shifted and wanted answers. “We had been doing fine with focused memories up to now.”

Naminé folded her hands behind her back as she explained, “It wasn’t a big change.”  Granted, Monstro itself was more complicated due to Riku’s presence. But having him here would be far more of a liability. So a Denouement for the story wasn’t too much trouble. Especially if it mattered to Roxas. 

Looking back, it was surprising how much Roxas had come to care. Not just about her, but about the people he’d met, memory or not. She didn’t want that part of him to just vanish.

For now, Zexion sighed in acceptance before making his way to the exit. “Well, I suppose he shouldn’t be distracted going into a fight with Sora.”

And with that reminder of Roxas’ other assignment today, Naminé was very grateful that she had intervened.

#my fanfiction #KH Fanfiction #Kingdom Hearts #fanfiction #fanfic #what if #Just A Chance #roxas #naminé #roxas x namine #roxas/namine #rokunami #axel #kh axel #zexion #kh zexion

[alexmcdonald1445]

As the rain poured down onto the windshield of Emma’s Prius on one dark November Monday, she thought about how much she hated her daily commute to work. “Vienna”, by Billy Joel, played on the radio; a sentimental song for Emma that reminded her of camping trips she used to take with her dad when she was a kid. Oh, how times had changed since then.

She bobbed her head to the music, excited to be almost home.  Since the moment she left for work this morning, all she could think about was being back in the comfort of her apartment. Moreso than that, she was thinking about 20 years down the road when she could retire; and she couldn’t wait. 

A 28-year-old accountant from Gibsons, BC, Emma came from humble beginnings. She graduated high school with honors, went to a good college, completed work experience throughout, and had a job lined up so that the second she graduated post-secondary, she could jump straight into her career in the big city - Vancouver. Since then, she’s spent 10 hours every day in a grey cubicle in a dark office surrounded by boring people doing meaningless work. But hey, at least her parents are proud. Or were proud. 10 years ago. When Emma still had anything remotely positive to say about her life. They’ve since stopped asking how her days went. Guess they got tired of hearing “awful, terrible, and extremely unpleasant” every time they asked how work was going. 

Emma didn’t know exactly when it changed, but sometime over the last 10 years, she had lost her spark. She used to light up a room when she walked in; her energy was infectious and her laugh contagious. Alas, this was no longer the case. Her mundane job had taken a massive toll on her mental and physical well-being. 

“It could be worse!” Emma would tell herself. “At least I get paid a good salary!” she would think. 

As she drove home from work that day, she wondered what had happened to her. Sure, she has money in her bank account, but at what cost? She had no partner, no hobbies, and no friends to go out with. She didn’t even feel like herself anymore. How sad that she wished so badly to fast forward the next 20 years of her life just to be finished working this job, rather than enjoy the ride along the way. 

Oasis’s “Don’t Look Back in Anger” started playing on the radio. A song so nostalgic to her that her heart skipped a beat. She thought about her old dog, Charlie. How she used to take her for runs in the forest, and how peaceful it was. She thought about her sisters still living in her hometown, how they get together for weekly Sunday dinners with their young kids and grandparents, and all the memories they must be making. She thought about reading a good book at the beach and listening to the waves crashing, and how she longed to feel the ocean breeze and sun against her skin. She thought about the long car rides she used to take with her friends; windows down, music blasting, and not a care in the world. How they used to laugh so hard until they cried about things that wouldn’t seem funny to anyone but them. She thought about star gazing with her sisters on warm summer nights, and how exciting it was when they all saw the same shooting star. Liam Gallagher’s words rang in her ears and hit deep in her heart; she thought about how she didn’t want to look back in anger at the life she lived. 

“It’s true what they say”, Emma thought, “the best things in life really are free”. 

Emma felt sick to her stomach. She realized she had built her life around a career she hated and, somewhere along the line, had stopped appreciating all the free stuff in life that truly brought her joy. 

Finally home, Emma pulled into her parking space and picked up her phone. She dialed the one person who she knew would forgive her for isolating herself and, and waited for them to pick up. 

“Hello?”, said the person on the other line. 

“Hi Mom”, said Emma with nervous excitement, “I’m coming home”.