#said fox is so desperate for anyone to be with him that he just... endure the pain of their relationship for a brief moment of bliss

[nerdycolorcupcake]

I can make it creepier :)

@delicehm

#bunbunart #dream smp #digital sketch #fundyxd #c!dreamxd #c!fundy #something something obsessive god constantly feeds from lonely fox nightmares and claim that is out of love #said fox is so desperate for anyone to be with him that he just... endure the pain of their relationship for a brief moment of bliss #even if it's scary #even if leave him lacking sleep for days on end #at least someone is focusing on him for once #even if its killing him... #fundywastaken #fwt

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic Cyber Revolution, Entry 11: Believe In Myself

''I've gotta keep going! Everything is a brand new challenge for me! And I will believe, believe in myself! This is the only way for me!''

– Believe In Myself by Sonic Adventure 2 (Theme of Tails)

xXxXxXx

-The Memories of The Past: Tails & Warren-

The little amber-furred fox was standing on top of an old box, his twin tails flicking as he stared through the window, observing the teenager inside the workshop as he worked on some kind of device. He was curious about what the teenager was trying to create, but he never had the courage to just go inside and ask him; despite the fact that he had spent days hanging around this place. He had feared the teenager's reaction to his appearance, especially after the treatment he had to endure around those he grew up with.

Miles Prower, nicknamed Tails, sighed and jumped off the box, slowly walking away. Just like the teenager he observed, he too was an inventor at heart, but he couldn't even think of showing off his own inventions to the former. He was afraid that he would be laughed at as usual. He shuddered as a particularly uncomfortable memory resurfaced. He had been surrounded by kitsune ARNavs, all of them sneering at him.

''What is this even supposed to be?'' a blue-furred kitsune had grabbed Tails' newest invention, a remote-like device.

''It's an holo-projector. Since you guys can create illusions, I had tried to find a way to make my own. Great, isn't it?'' Tails replied, hopeful that the kitsune ARNavs would finally accept him. He had been living for them since he was created, but was always mocked for his two tails, in comparison to the kitsune's nine tails, and lack of illusion powers. He had hoped that this would finally turn their opinion of him around.

''Oh, really?'' Tails watched in horror as the kitsune gave him a mocking smile, then threw it on the ground and stepped on it, smashing the device into tiny pieces.

''No! Why did you do that?!'' Desperate, Tails fell on his knees and tried to salvage the scraps, only for the kitsune to step on his hand, causing him to cry in pain.

''I did it because your device is trash. You don't belong here, you freak!'' the kitsune replied, laughing at Tails. Tails felt the corners of his eyes watering as he felt like someone had punched him the gut. He got up, staring at the kitsune group in despair.

''B-But, you said…''

''…that we would accept you if you showed us that you were a true kitsune? Yeah, we were lying, kiddo,'' a red-furred kitsune replied.

''The only reason we kept you around was because we knew we could order you to do anything we wanted, and you'd do it,'' a light pink-furred kitsune added, letting out a high-pitched giggle that sounded more like a screech, hurting Tails' ears.

''You were too trusting,'' a dark-furred kitsune added, scoffing at Tails. At this point, Tails was barely holding back his tears.

''You guys are just big, mean bullies!'' Tails yelled, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his cheeks, damping his amber fur.

''So, what? We don't want to have a two-tailed freak around. No one wants you!'' a grey-furred kitsune told him, taking a step towards Tails, his nine tails flicking. ''You should better leave, or else we will make you leave.''

Tails just took several steps back, grabbing his orange backpack, and ran away. He felt like a complete fool for believing that these ARNavs would be his friends.

Afterwards, I couldn't even gather the courage to approach anyone. Tails shook his head, his ears twitching as he heard the workshop's door open and quickly hid behind the workshop. The inventor teenager, whose name Tails knew was Warren Taylor, exited the workshop, only to sit down in front of it, his head lowered, looking quite dejected.

''Why bother?'' he grumbled, feeling exhausted. ''I should just quit.''

Tails observed Warren, feeling sorry for the latter. He knew that Warren had trouble with his own inventions and he wanted to help him, but his own lack of confidence prevented him from just doing that. Warren eventually got up and walked back into the house, with Tails walking out from his hiding spot. He glanced at the workshop, then back at Warren's house, his eyes narrowing as he made a snap decision.

Sure, maybe he didn't have the courage to talk to Warren directly, but he would still help him in his own way. Determined, he ran into the workshop, grabbing Warren's latest invention and starting to work on it.

xXx

Warren rubbed his temple, wondering what he was supposed to do with his newest invention. It was a device that was supposed to cause hoverboards to accelerate faster, but no matter what he did, nothing worked. He felt like a complete failure, unable to live up to the standards as Max Taylor's grandson. His deceased grandfather had been a renown inventor, and Warren loved spending time with him as he worked on his newest gadgets, even inheriting the workshop. However, at this point, he lost all of his faith in his own skills since he couldn't make anything worth of use.

''What should I do?'' Warren muttered as he opened the door to the workshop, only to be startled to see a two-tailed amber fox holding the hoverboard accelerator in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. The fox was just as startled to see Warren as the teenager was. ''Uh, hello?''

''I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to break in!'' The fox turned to Warren, apologizing profusely, looking quite embarrassed. He quickly ran up to Warren, giving him the hoverboard accelerator. ''Please, don't get mad at me!''

''Why are you in my workshop?'' Warren asked, needing a moment to comprehend that this fox wasn't just an ARNav, but an ARNav based on a video game character he was familiar with. Tails' twin-tails flicked as he gave Warren an anxious look.

''I had been watching you work on this device for a while, and I wanted to help you, but I was too afraid to ask you,'' he admitted. Warren scratched his head in confusion.

''Why would you be so afraid of me?'' he asked.

''I thought…'' Tails' voice was barely louder than a whisper as he remembered all the horrible stuff the other kitsune ARNavs had told him. ''I thought that you'd think of me as a freak.''

''Why would I think that?'' Warren was genuinely confused. Tails had his arms behind his back, his tails flicking as he scraped the floor with his shoe, staring at the ground.

''Because, that's what everyone had called me – a freak,'' he admitted, his eyes watering. He was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up when he realized that Warren had crouched down to be at his eye-level, giving him a sympathetic look.

''Do you want to talk about it?'' he asked. Tails was hesitant for a moment, but he couldn't keep his emotions and thoughts bottled up anymore.

''I-I used to tag alongside a group of kitsune ARNavs, who would t-tease me for only having two tails instead of n-nine, as well as my lack of ability to create any illusions,'' Tails said, letting the tears flow. Little by little, the weight tied around his neck came loose. He then pointed at his orange backpack. ''I tried to fit in by making gadgets that could help me become just like them, but they would destroy them and continue to tease me.'' He turned back to Warren. ''S-So, I left. I wanted to find someone who wouldn't be so mean to me, but whenever I tried to approach people, I got really anxious and I was afraid they would be treating me just like the other kitsune.''

Warren stared at the little fox, his heart breaking for Tails. He too had experiencing bullying, so he understood how the fox felt, but unlike Tails, he had learned to tune out the teasing and had support in the form of Lucas. However, Tails had no one.

''Well, I don't think that you are a freak. As a matter of fact, I'm really glad that you had helped me fix that device,'' Warren said.

''Really?'' Tails looked up at him, wiping his tears away. He was startled when Warren placed a hand on his head, only to realize that he was just petting him.

''Yeah, and if you want, you can stay here and use the workshop whenever you want, buddy.''

Tails' eyes grew wide and he smiled, nodding in agreement. ''Thank you so much! I promise I will keep the workshop functional and in good condition. I know this place means a lot to you.''

''Really?'' Warren rose an eyebrow. Tails gave him a sheepish smile.

''I overheard you and your parents talking about your grandfather,'' he admitted. Warren had to wonder just how long Tails had been around his place, but he just shrugged it off.

''I see,'' he muttered, offering Tails his hand. ''It's okay, though. I'm Warren Taylor, by the way.''

''Miles Prower, but call me Tails,'' Tails said, shaking Warren's hand. ''Nice to meet you, Warren, and thank you again.''

''Likewise,'' Warren replied, getting up and holding the accelerator. ''So, how about helping me with this? I was close to quitting, but I think I just need a second opinion on how to fix it.''

''Of course!'' Tails nodded excitedly, joining Warren.

xXx

''So, what do you think your friend's reaction to me is going to be?'' Sonic asked, running beside Lucas, who was on his hoverboard, both heading towards the Taylor workshop. Lucas had told Sonic about his childhood friend, Warren Taylor, and how he was something of an inventor, following in his grandfather's footsteps.

''I think that he might be a bit freaked out, but once we explain everything to him, things should be okay,'' Lucas replied.

''Cool! Now, are we there yet?'' Sonic asked, giving Lucas a mischievous grin. The teenager figured that the hedgehog was itching to ask this question.

''We'll be there in about… now,'' Lucas said, pointing at a house with a workshop next to it. He got off his hoverboard, walking up to the workshop and knocking on the door. Both Lucas and Sonic were surprised when they heard someone from the inside crying out in surprise and something falling on the floor. ''Uh, Warren? Are you okay?''

''Yeah, yeah!'' Warren called out from the inside and opened the door. ''I didn't expect you to come over Lu-'' Warren cut himself off, stunned to see a blue hedgehog standing next to Lucas. ''Uhhh, Lucas?''

''Hi, there! You must be Warren Taylor, right? Lucas told me everything about you. I'm Sonic the Hegdehog, Lucas' partner. Nice to meet ya!'' Sonic quickly introduced himself, extending his hand, with Warren shaking it.

''Uh, right, nice to meet you too, Sonic,'' he said, still a little confused. He gave Lucas a questioning look, who just shrugged.

''I promise that I'll explain everything,'' Lucas told his friend. ''Could we come in?''

''Sure,'' Warren said, turning his head back to the inside of the workshop. Sonic and Lucas peered inside, both surprised he to see a small two-tailed fox giving them an anxious look, waving at them. ''Oh, I guess I should introduce you…''

Before Warren could even complete his sentence, he and Lucas were startled by Sonic, who ran straight past them and stopped in front of the fox, looking quite excited.

''Hi, name's Sonic! Who are you?'' Sonic asked the two-tailed fox. The fox appeared to be a little stunned by Sonic's eagerness, but just rolled with it.

''My name is Miles Prower, but everyone calls me Tails,'' Tails introduced himself.

''I guess it is because of the tails,'' Sonic said, pointing at Tails' twin-tails, with the fox nodding.

''Nice observation.'' Tails was glad that Sonic was genuinely happy to meet him. ''I can even use them to fly.''

''Really? That's so cool! Could you show me?'' Sonic asked, with Tails nodding and the two running outside where there was more space. Warren and Lucas observed the two ARNavs, with Warren then turning to his friend.

''I believe that there is something you need to tell me,'' he said.

''I'm not the only one who has to explain stuff, but I'll start,'' Lucas replied, his arms folded across his chest. ''I met Sonic yesterday. Turns out, he had been chased by Irregular Hunters.''

''W-Wait a sec, Irregular Hunters?'' Warren was stunned, looking at Sonic at Tails, where Sonic had managed to convince Tails to give him a lift and they were currently flying around the yard, enjoying themselves.

''Yeah, it turns out that Sonic is an Irregular, but surprisingly, he isn't as aggressive as the ones we saw or heard about,'' Lucas added. ''I had told him that he could stay with me, and I had figured that I should ask you whether you can help us to find a way to make sure he won't be targeted by Irregular Hunters.''

''Honestly, I don't know whether I can help…'' Warren muttered, giving Lucas a troubled look. ''I mean, I would like to help you, but I'm not completely sure how to help you with that.''

Lucas just nodded in acknowledgement, then tilted his head. ''Okay. So, what about Tails?''

''I met him yesterday too. He didn't really have anywhere to go and he was treated awfully by those he knew, so I agreed to let him stay,'' Warren explained.

''I see,'' Lucas replied, the two turning their heads towards Tails and Sonic as they landed in front of them.

''Sonic has told me about why you're here and about him being an Irregular,'' Tails said, his twin-tails flicking as he looked at Warren. ''I should've told you this earlier, but I'm also an Irregular. I just had escaped several Hunters a day before I came across your place.''

Warren was stunned, but then lightly shook his head, adding in an assuring tone, ''Don't worry, that doesn't change anything.''

''Maybe, but that doesn't mean that the two still aren't in any danger in case they encounter an Irregular Hunter.''

Warren, Tails, Lucas and Sonic suddenly turned around, seeing a teenage girl leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded across her chest, and hoverboard lying next to her. Unlike Warren and Tails, Lucas and Sonic recognized her.

''You again!'' Lucas exclaimed in surprise. ''Why are you stalking us?''

''I'm not stalking you,'' Touka responded in a cold tone, looking offended. ''I had just figured I should keep an eye on you.''

''Lucas, who's that?'' Warren asked.

''Her name is Touka Kageura. Sonic and I met her the previous day and it looks like she's following us around,'' Lucas explained. ''She also somehow knew about Sonic being an Irregular.''

''That was just a conclusion I came to after observing you,'' Touka replied, lifting her hoverboard. ''Frankly, I wouldn't want either Sonic nor Tails to be annihilated by the Hunters.''

''Why? Why do you care so much?'' Lucas asked. Touka fell silent, averting her gaze and then left on the hoverboard.

''She's a little weird,'' Tails commented. Sonic grinned, placing his hands on his hips, then playfully elbowing Tails.

''I wonder if she intentionally decided to wait to reveal her presence as she first needed to figure out a good pose,'' he said, causing Tails to chuckle.

''Admittedly, Touka is right,'' Lucas said, turning to Sonic and Tails. ''I think that it would be great if you two could stay without having to worry about Irregular Hunters. However, as long as they have those scanners, they will eventually figure out that you're both Irregulars and go after you.''

''Maybe there is a way…'' Tails muttered, drawing everyone's attention. ''I could create a program that would hide our identities as Irregulars. However, I would also need a device where I can install that program and we would have to keep it on our person.''

''If you can do that, then maybe you could use this.'' Warren tapped the AR Visor hanging around his neck. ''You are ARNavs, so you wouldn't need an AR Visor, but still, we could just say that it is an accessory.''

''That sounds like a good idea. Now, all we need is to get a pair of AR Visors and I can start work on the program,'' Tails said.

''Leave getting the AR Visors to us,'' Lucas said, with Warren nodding.

xXx

Lucas and Warren went to a store where the AR Visors were sold, buying one for Sonic and Tails, and then returned back to the workshop, where Sonic was watching Tails working on the program, bouncing on the balls of his feet and very interested in his new friend's work.

''We're back!'' Warren announced as he and Lucas entered the workshop, both carrying a small box with the AR Visor inside them.

''Great! I will be done soon with the program,'' Tails said, reaching for an orange device in his backpack and connecting it to the computer.

''What is that?'' Sonic asked Tails, pointing at the device.

''Oh, it's something I call the Miles Electric. I built it from scrapped devices people had just tossed into the trash,'' Tails explained, giving Sonic a look of disbelief. ''Can you believe it? That stuff was perfectly functional. All it needed is to be repaired.''

Sonic just leaned with his elbow against the swivel chair, crossing his legs and leaning on one foot. ''I guess some people just couldn't be bothered to repair them if they can just buy new stuff.''

''Right,'' Tails nodded, looking down at the Miles Electric and observing the coding. ''I think that this should be it. All I need is to install the program in the AR Visor.''

''Here you go,'' Warren said, pulling out a pair of grey goggles. Tails put them on the top of his head, opening a holographic screen and transferring the data from the Miles Electric into the AR Visor. It took a few moments to be installed, with Tails then turning towards Sonic.

''Now, it's your turn,'' he said, with Sonic nodding and placing the green sunglasses Lucas gave him on the top of his head and opening a screen. It took a few moments for the data to transfer, with Tails then switching the Miles Electric to the scanner function he had added after his encounter with the Irregular Hunters. He gave it to Warren. ''Just press the button here and it should work similarly to the scanners the Irregular Hunters use.''

''Okay,'' Warren nodded, using the scanner on the two Irregulars. A few seconds later, a message popped up. ''It says 'Negative'. Your program works, Tails!''

''Alright!'' Sonic and Tails high-fived. Lucas sighed in relief.

''I guess this is one less thing to worry about,'' he said.

xXx

-Present Day-

''Finally, I got it to work again,'' Tails said, holding his Miles Electric device up triumphantly.

Even though it was late in the evening, he and Warren were still at the workshop, making sure nothing had been affected by the explosion back at Codex. They both had heard from the news broadcast about what had happened in Neos City and wanted to make sure everything in their workshop was still working. The AR Visor fortunately returned to normal on its own after they turned it on and off a few times.

''Man, what a day…'' Warren sighed as he sat back in the swivel chair, stretching his arms. ''I guess nothing makes you tired like escaping near death.''

''I think we got really lucky,'' Tails noted, taking his gadgets out of the backpack and checking on them. ''If it hadn't been for Touka and Shadow, who knows what would've happened. Even if Shadow was the one who caused all of this trouble in the first place.'' He then hummed as he inspected the boomerang. ''I wish we could've stayed at Codex a little longer. I'm sure there is a lot of fascinating tech there.''

''We could go there tomorrow,'' Warren suggested. Tails' ears perked up and his tails flicked in excitement.

''Really?'' he asked, looking at Warren. The teenager nodded, only for a frown to appear on his expression.

''Although, I'm not sure whether Touka and Shadow will be happy if we start snooping around,'' he added. Tails' smile faded as a troubled expression replaced it.

''Maybe we could ask them for permission? I mean, not only is the place abandoned, but it is also government property, but if they don't like the idea of bringing up their past…'' Tails mused, while Warren shrugged.

''Rig- huh?'' Warren was surprised when he got a call on his AR Visor. Tails stepped next to him, looking curious when Warren opened the holographic screen, with Lucas and Sonic appearing on it. ''Hi!''

''Hey, guys!'' Lucas greeted the two, giving them a sheepish look. ''We're sorry for calling so late, but we have a question for you two.''

''It's no problem,'' Warren replied.

''What do you want to ask us?'' Tails added.

''Lucas suggested that we should have a meeting tomorrow regarding what happened at the Codex Research Facility,'' Sonic explained. ''We wanted to know whether it would want to attend it and whether you'd be okay with the meeting being held at your workshop.''

Warren and Tails were a bit surprised by the questions, exchanging brief glances with each other and then nodded. Warren then added, ''Sure, why not? Tails and I had been talking about Codex anyways.''

''Great! So, can we also invite everyone else who was at Codex?'' Sonic quickly asked. ''We wanted to involve everyone in this meeting.''

''Even Shadow, Touka, Metal Sonic and Ferra?'' Tails asked.

''I'm not sure about Ferra and Metal Sonic, but we had figured that we should call Touka and Shadow,'' Lucas explained. ''After all, these two know more about that place than any of us. However, the only issue is that we don't know how to contact them.''

''Weeeeell…'' Tails trailed off, his tails flicking anxiously as he saw Sonic, Warren and Lucas giving him a questioning look. ''When I checked my AR Visor to make sure it worked, I realized that I forgot to turn off the tracking app in Shadow's AR Visor. I usually keep it on in case I lose the AR Visor.''

''Cool! Could you connect us to the tracking app?'' Sonic asked.

''Sure!'' Tails nodded, grinning.

''I don't think Touka and Shadow will be happy when they learn about this,'' Warren noted.

''Leave these two to us,'' Lucas replied.

''Yeah, we can handle them,'' Sonic added confidently.

xXx

''Shadow?!''

Kisaki Kageura stared in pure shock at Touka and Shadow, trying to process the latter's sudden appearance. She knew that she could've acted as if she had no idea who the dark hedgehog was, but it was clear from Touka's expression that she wouldn't have believed Kisaki regardless of what she said or how convincing she had sounded. Leaving the dinner on the kitchen table, she just walked over into the living room and sat down on the couch, with Touka and Shadow stepping in front of her, arms folded across their chests, still silent as they waited for her response.

''I… I really don't know what to say…'' Kisaki muttered, her gaze directed mostly towards Shadow. ''I was told you had been contained and sealed away.''

''They obviously did a poor job,'' Shadow responded, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Kisaki. While he and Kisaki had been on friendly terms when they were still at the Codex Research Facility, he was now cautious of her, especially since she never bothered to tell anything to Touka, let alone remind her of his existence. Touka, on the other hand, was furious.

''Why haven't you told me anything?! About Shadow?! About the Codex Research Facility?!'' Touka confronted her. ''I had told you several times that I had memories about that place, but you told me that I shouldn't bother thinking too much about them!''

Kisaki stared at her with a look of regret, lowering her head, her tone mournful, ''I'm so, so sorry for not telling you anything, Touka.'' She looked up, the corners of her eyes watering. ''I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn't.''

''Why?!'' Touka demanded an answer, fuming. Shadow glanced briefly at Touka, noting just how upset she was. While he too had questions for Kisaki, he decided to remain silent, not interfering until Touka managed to process her thoughts on the matter.

Kisaki opened her mouth slightly, looking at Touka, then averted her gaze, contemplating how to explain the situation. She bit her lip, finally asking, ''How much do you remember?''

''Almost everything,'' Touka responded sharply.

Kisaki just nodded along, adding, ''What exactly do you want me to explain?''

''I want you to tell us both what happened in the time after Shadow and I had been attacked by the Irregular up until when I woke up six months ago. You had been there, haven't you?'' Touka said. Kisaki sighed, leaning back against the couch as she looked at the two.

''I will tell you what I know, but I don't believe either of you are going to be satisfied with my answer,'' she said.

''This is just the start,'' Shadow told her glumly. Kisaki just nodded.

''From what I remember, I was in my office when the Irregular escaped its containment, only to be called by Prof. Sakamoto later on to go to the medbay and take care of you. I was told that your BioEnergy had been affected severely, but that was that. My priority was to keep you stable, so if you want to know about whatever happened outside the medbay, I couldn't tell you because I have no idea. I just assumed that you had an encounter with the Irregular and that it was responsible for what happened to you,'' Kisaki explained. She tilted her head slightly in confusion when she saw Touka and Shadow exchanging glances, and Shadow looking away guiltily. ''D-Do you know…?''

''I was the one who did that to her,'' Shadow admitted. Kisaki was stunned, her gaze shifting towards Touka, who shook her head.

''We talked about it and, rest assured, we found a way to prevent this from happening again,'' she said, smiling at Shadow. The latter, while still looking troubled, nodded back in response.

''I see,'' Kisaki muttered, continuing. ''All I can say is that you remained unconscious for the reminder of your time at the facility. I had actually told Prof. Sakamoto to get you out of that place and bring you to a hospital, but he refused.''

''I'm not surprised,'' Shadow said grimly. Kisaki stared at him, with Shadow realizing that there was a faint gleam of fear in her eyes.

She then took a deep breath, continuing in a steady tone, ''As for what happened next… I don't know the details, but what I do know was that there was a stream of personnel, mostly researchers and security, being brought into the medbay. They all had horrible injuries, ranging from scorch marks to open wounds to internal bleeding.'' Kisaki then gazed at Shadow, keeping her voice from trembling. ''I was told that you were the one responsible for this.''

''I was…'' Shadow said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He clenched his fist. ''I know what I had done was wrong, but after what the Professor had told me, I was blinded by pure rage.''

''What were you told?'' Kisaki asked carefully, not wanting to enrage Shadow. She understood that this was a sore topic for him to talk about. Shadow, on the other hand, looked like he didn't want to reveal anything, opting to just observe Kisaki; who realized a moment later that the dark hedgehog was trying to figure out whether her question was genuine.

''The Professor lied to me. He told me that Touka was dead and that I was responsible for her death,'' Shadow responded, feeling the familiar sense of rage building up inside him once again. He observed the look of pure shock on Kisaki's expression. Apparently, she hadn't been told the whole truth.

''I… I had no idea,'' Kisaki stuttered. ''I-I'm so sorry…''

''It doesn't matter anymore,'' Shadow replied coldly. ''What happened after my containment?''

''From what I remember, about a day or two later, several government officials came in, combing through the entire facility and telling us that all projects would be shut down and that we were supposed to leave the place immediately,'' Kisaki said. ''We were all interviewed before that and told to never tell a living soul about what happened there or that we would be arrested for leaking confidential information and put into prison.'' She looked at Touka. ''That was the last time I saw you until about six months ago. You were just taken away by an official.''

''So, that's why you never told me anything. You were afraid that the government would be after you, right?'' Touka asked. Kisaki nodded.

''In hindsight, it sounds really stupid,'' she responded.

''What happened afterwards?'' Shadow asked, now quite curious. Kisaki looked at the two, now surprisingly serious.

''Before I continue, I need to make it clear that after the Codex Research Facility had been closed down, a long time has passed,'' Kisaki said, with Touka and Shadow giving her a curious look. ''You two have been gone for 10 years.''

''What?!'' Touka's jaw dropped. Shadow was also stunned, but his reaction was more subdued. He did notice that Kisaki was much older than she had been when they met last time. ''But… how? I mean, look at me, I'm still a teenager, not an adult.''

''From what I was told, you were put in a stasis pod, which kept you from aging naturally,'' Kisaki explained. ''Six months ago, all of the former employees had been once again brought in for questioning about Professor Sakamoto's whereabouts. After the questioning, I decided to ask where you were, and one of the officials working there told me that they had awakened you as well, and since I took care of you, as your doctor, they agreed to let me see you and maybe help them. I remember that you were still in a daze, clearly not remembering anything that happened.'' Kisaki bit her lip anxiously. ''They… They had no clue what to do with you anymore, so I asked them whether it would be okay if you stayed with me.'' She shook her head, shivering. ''I couldn't bear seeing you in that state, and I felt that, if you had lost your memories, there was no reason for them to keep you there any longer. So, they agreed. It was still a struggle to convince them, but they eventually gave me the go ahead to adopt you and never speak again of what happened.''

''I see…'' Touka muttered, her gaze lowering. There was something else that was eating her inside out. ''D-Do you know anything about whether I had a family before Codex? I mean, I was told that my parents died in a freak incident by Professor Sakamoto and that he was my guardian, and I was told the same when you adopted me… But, now I want to know if that was also a lie.''

''I'm so sorry, but I have no idea,'' Kisaki replied, shaking her head. ''You were living at the Codex Research Facility before I had been hired, before Shadow was created.'' She briefly glanced at Shadow, who just nodded in response. ''I was given your medical history, but when I asked Prof. Sakamoto about any relatives in case of any possible genetic diseases, he told me not to research your past and that he would cover it. He had been the lead geneticist at the facility, so I trusted him.'' She clasped her hands. ''At that point, all I wanted was to give you a better life. You would always tell me how much you wanted to go outside the facility, to have a normal life, and I had hoped that you'd be happy with this new start.'' She closed her eyes, lowering her head. ''But, when I brought you home, you were so withdrawn, full with questions about why you lost your memories. You barely spoke with me in the first few days, and even weeks later, it took you a while to get used to your new life.''

''I just wanted to know who I was,'' Touka replied, her tone sharper than she intended it to be. She went quiet for a moment. ''Still, thank you for finally telling me everything.''

''What about the Professor?'' Shadow asked, drawing their attention. ''Why were you questioned about his whereabouts?''

''I'm not completely sure, but from what I gathered, it appears that Prof. Sakamoto had been monitored by the government, only to completely disappear over a year ago. After all, he was the head of the Codex Research Facility,'' Kisaki explained. ''I believe that he is the only person who can answer your questions about your past.''

''That doesn't help us much,'' Shadow grumbled, glancing at Touka, who shook her head.

''I'm not hungry, I'm tired, I'm going to sleep,'' Touka muttered, walking out of the living room and going upstairs. Kisaki looked at her as she left, then gazed at Shadow, who just gave her a silent glare before following Touka. Kisaki just sighed, feeling emotionally drained.

Shadow, meanwhile, caught up with Touka just as she had pulled down the ladders upstairs and climbed up, opening the hatch. Admittedly, he was a caught off guard a little by the fact that she was sleeping in the attic. He climbed inside, lowering the hatch and looking around the room before sitting next to Touka on the bed.

''What do you plan to do now?'' he asked.

''Honestly, I don't know,'' Touka admitted, hugging her legs and placing her chin on her knees, then looked up at Shadow. ''What about you? What do you want to do?''

''I don't know either,'' Shadow admitted, giving her a slight smirk. ''I believed that you were gone and I didn't care about what my future would be. I only wanted revenge.''

''You know, I am just glad that we're together, and that we are not stuck at Codex anymore,'' Touka told, smiling. Her smile then faded as she contemplated the situation. ''Although, that doesn't mean that I still have questions.''

''If you want to know more, the Codex Research Facility is abandoned, meaning that we can just go inside and comb through any remaining data without any interruption,'' Shadow suggested. Touka paused for a moment, thinking about his suggestion, then nodded.

''Okay. We'll do that.''

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#Sonic Cyber Revolution #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #silver the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #metal sonic #mephiles the dark

[yandere-sins]

omg i’m such a dumbass i can’t believe i missed your prompts😭 if it’s not too late can we get some window with suna? he’s just so perfect for it. hope you’re doing well!💓

Awa, you didn’t miss them at all! Thanks for requesting, I hope you’re doing well too ♥ I decided to make a continuation of the Kitsune!AU I did with Suna before here so I could work on his character more.

Window - “…How fucking dense are you?” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

You started buying groceries for two.

It was utterly idiotic that you tolerated that... person’s demands. Especially when you could barely afford to feed another person. More than once, you found yourself holding your phone, dialing the police. But when you looked up, seeing him merely laying on your couch watching TV, you completely forgot what you wanted to say. He didn’t look menacing. He didn’t even try to scare you like a robber would. And how would you even start to explain the fox ears and tail to anyone?

A hunter might have been a better option. But were they and their guns effective against mythical creatures as well? You tried to research it, google for every information you could find, but aside from stories and myths, there were no hints on the internet that this man should actually exist. If you believed the old tellings, they weren’t as uncommon to see back then, but their population seemed to have decreased with the humans taking over most parts of the world.

Thinking logically, that was still no reason for you specifically to endure him. Especially if it were the humans having the upper hand, he should be afraid of you, rather than the other way around! So what if you were nice enough to feed him?

You still couldn’t understand why he was sticking around you.

His ears folding back, Suna finally turned to you, glaring at you in annoyance. “Why are you staring?” he asked, and you flinched, noticing how you had peeked around the corner for too long. It was hard to avoid him, considering he took up a lot of your living space, but you were still reluctant to interact with him. “Just come over here if you want to watch the show.”

Truth be told, he never looked as if he was enjoying what he was watching, but you had seen him put on the same kind of program again and again over time, so surely, he must have taken a liking to it either way. “Is that... your favorite show?” you asked timidly, approaching the couch with a reasonable distance. Even if he was annoyed from your staring, he did invite you over, and it was as good of a time to ask him to leave as any.

“It’s alright,” he replied, and his tail gave a slow wag, making you think he did like it. “Cool, cool...” you mumbled, shooting the TV a short glance, the flashing of bright colors and the loud voices of the moderation appalling you. Suna’s attention returned to you, his eyes giving you a slow, appraising look up and down before he patted the free space next to him on the couch. “Sit,” he kept inviting you as if your presence standing next to the amenity was dissatisfactory for him.

Making this step was harder for you than you thought at first. Hesitantly, you slid on the cushion furthest away from Suna, pressing up to the armrest on your side while he was leaning on the other one, watching you from the corners of his eyes.

Why you even followed his instructions was puzzling, but you hoped he’d take what you were about to say better when you made him comfortable. Clearing your throat, you announced, “So, when do you plan on leaving...?” avoiding to look at him even after you finished speaking.

“Leave what?” A yawn escaped him before his attention shifted back to the program on TV. “My home... this house. Here?” was your lousy explanation, and fiddling with your fingers, you noticed that you were growing nervous with every silent second between you two.

“I don’t know--”

“I’m not going to feed you anymore.”

These words left you the second you heard his dismissive tone of voice and without much consideration. Simply, you were too scared to listen to his rejection. You wanted him out and rather yesterday than tomorrow at that. “I... I can’t keep feeding you. It’s too expensive; I’ll run out of money,” you tried to explain, hoping this was enough to persuade you.

“Huh...” he grumbled, his fingers tapping against the leather on the couch. “I don’t want to leave,” he eventually mustered to say, taking a deep breath before sitting up straight. “But you can’t stay...” you disappointingly replied.

“Can’t I?”

“No,” you said firmly, standing your ground.

Inching closer to you, his presence was suddenly unnerving. You wondered what the point was in closing in the distance, not sure what he would do. “I can’t feed you anymore a-and, uh, you are over... over-staying your welcome!”

It sure didn’t help that he was leaning towards you, slender features and pure skin soon covering all you could see. Black hair as you looked towards the ceiling, an unpredictable expression when your gaze graced his face.

“... How fucking dense are you?” he asked you suddenly, using harsher words than you had ever heard him do before.

Next thing you knew, he had your hands restraint, pushing your upper body back to bend over the armrest. The burning you felt of the strain in your back was your smallest concern at that moment; instead, you immediately focus on thin lips brushing down your neck and to your collarbones. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”

“B-But I-” you stuttered, trying to convince him and find a peaceful solution. Twisting and turning your wrists only revealed Suna’s strength, something he hadn’t used on you before, so you never had a chance to find out about it until now. “You won’t get rid of me just because you don’t feed me, you know.”

“What?” you squeaked, so sure of yourself that all your research had shown that animals who lost a source of food would move on. You had bet your entire confidence on this fact. “I don’t even need food,” he explained, seemingly reading your mind.

“Then why... Why did you stay?”

What followed was a long pause. So much so, you noticed your back pain again, twisting your torso to appease it and also moved your head around to free yourself of hair blocking your view. There was a vase on the coffee table. If only you could reach it, you’d have a chance of breaking free. But being able to see again, you noticed something moving rather excitedly behind Suna’s body, his tail wagging putting every dog to shame.

No second later, you felt the sharp pain of fangs in the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, and you flinched hard at it, only worsen the feeling. “Ah-!” you wanted to cry out, but the sound got stuck in your throat as he loosened his jaw, moving slightly more to the right to bite down again.

This time, you felt the tears shoot into your eyes, shock, pain, and fear covering your senses. “Who knows~” he chuckled, seemingly amused about your reaction. Pulling away from you, you could see the bloodstains around his mouth, almost making you faint as you could ultimately realize that he did, in fact, bit you twice just now.

“Maybe I stayed for you? I couldn’t wait to get a bite for sure. Want me to eat you up?”

He leaned down again, and this time, as weak as you felt, you could see your life flashing before your eyes, especially when you felt his tongue drag over the wounds he had just induced. In what must have been a survival instinct, you managed to shove your hands into his shoulders, his grip having weakened as he didn’t expect you to resist. The next moment you were free, falling off the couch and to your feet, gone in the blink of an eye. You only stopped when the door to your bedroom closed behind you, and you locked it, sinking to the ground.

You had nothing on you; no phone or cell, nothing to make yourself known to the outside world. If you climbed out the window or exit through the door, you were almost sure you were a feast for the fox. There was barely anything you could do to calm your racing heart or stop hyperventilating as your mind desperately thought of alternatives. If this was just one of his jokes, you were taking it way too seriously, but how could you know?

How could you know what was true and false about the grinning fox spirit standing in front of your bedroom door, licking his lips in delight?

#Suna #Suna Rintarou #Rintarou Suna #Suna hq #yandere suna #yandere!suna #Haikyuu!! #Haikyuu #HQ!! #yandere haikyuu #yandere!haikyuu #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #lovelove prompts #Anonymous

[petrichormeraki]

If you don't mind then 10 kiss prompt with fwt? 👉👈 Pls

10. “Happy you’re alive” kisses

*SCREAMS* G O D I LOVE THIS SHIT HELL YES 

-

This was supposed to be the best day of Dream’s life, the day he would marry his true love, despite the war and conflict that their respective sides had endured. It was the SMP vs L’manburg, and yet even with both sides so vehemently refusing to back down, Dream found love in the son of his enemy. 

Today was supposed to be their wedding. Even if it wouldn’t change the war back home, even if Fundy and Dream would find themselves on the opposite sides of the battlefield, today was supposed to be perfect. There even was a truce, upheld under threat of permanent death; there would be no fighting here. Only love. 

Dream exited the spawn portal, immediately greeted by his future husband, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit and grinning so wide his face looked about to split in half. He rocked on the balls of his feet as Dream gawked at the world, completely outfitted to represent Treasure Planet, the movie they watched on the night Fundy proposed. 

“Before we do anything, I want you to put this on.” Fundy said shyly, producing folds of shimmering white fabric from his inventory. Dream uttered a surprised laugh as he unfolded the cloth to reveal a beautiful wedding dress, studded with white diamonds and rhinestones. 

“WHAT? You got me a dress? Oh, and a flower--” Dream stuttered as Fundy held out a bouquet of yellow daffodils to his fiance. “This--this is amazing!” Dream carefully pulled the dress over his head, doing a little spin to dazzle Fundy as the gemstones glittered in the setting sun. “Did you--Did you get this just for me?” 

“I bought the dress! It was so expensive!” Fundy affirmed, beaming as Dream turned away from him so he could help him with the veil. “I don’t want to say I’m in debt, but, uh--” 

Dream snorted as Fundy pulled away, nodding in satisfaction as the veil seemed to hold steady. Fundy then formally held out his elbow to his fiance, who looped his arm in with his without prompt. “Alright, follow me, Dream, I’ve got a LOT to show you.” 

-

Fundy gave Dream a tour of everything he had prepared, most of which were as stunning as the portal Dream came through. (The one exception was the cobblestone crafting tables. Dream playfully punched his fiance in the arm as soon as he saw them, prompting Fundy to burst out in laughter and mischievous snickers.) 

The tour ended with Fundy revealing a button in the middle of a bridge looking out at the flying ship, which Fundy explained would shoot cannonballs at the island as it was pressed. Dream’s eyes lit up as soon as Fundy finished talking, and with that the guests were allowed to spawn in. 

Dream immediately pressed the button as soon as their communicators buzzed with the notification that people had begun to spawn, jumping back in shock as the cannons fired explosions worth several stacks of TNT at the island. “That’s not what I was expecting!!” Dream shouted breathlessly over the deafening sound as Fundy cracked up beside him, watching the guests jump out of their skin at the noise and carnage. “That is NOT what I was expecting!!” 

“...I’m gonna do it again, though.” Dream said after a second’s hesitation, slamming his fist on the button again. Fundy flinched as more explosions rocked the bridge, wheezing with laughter as he saw the guests scramble for safety. “Stop, stop!” Fundy laughed desperately, wiping a tear from his eye. “Stop, stop, stop--” 

Dream figured Fundy was joking, as his laughter prohibited him from speaking, so with an ecstatic grin on his face he punched the button again. 

The final explosions directly hit the bridge supports, and with a startled shout Dream and Fundy were thrown off the breaking structure straight into the void. 

Dream caught himself in midair, floating in place. He tried to refrain from using his godly abilities in front of his friends, but in moments like these they came out in a reflex. 

Dream’s relief was torn from him as he realized his fiance did not have the fail-safe he possessed, and was plummeting into the endless void with a choked scream of terror exploding from his lungs. 

Dream moved without thinking. He dropped into the void after Fundy, wind tearing against his body and making his eyes water. Still, he plummeted, reaching out his arms for his husband as the sky became darker and darker the longer they fell. 

The air got thinner and thinner, and right as Dream saw Fundy’s eyes flutter shut, his hand brushed his suit jacket sleeve. Dream gripped it as tight as he could, yanking upwards and praying that his clothes wouldn’t rip him away.

Dream pulled Fundy close and abruptly halted their decent, his balance thrown off by the sudden midair stop. Dream wasted no time in shooting back up to the floating islands, the air’s sudden shift from freezing to a comfortable warmth making his muscles ache. 

Dream landed on the bouncy castle, springing into the air a few times before his momentum slowed and allowed him to dismount. Ever so gently, he laid Fundy on the ground, his heart thudding so hard he was sure the entire server could hear it. 

Fundy’s eyes were closed, his head limply succumbing to gravity when Dream hesitantly tried to shake him. “Fundy-? F--Fundy, wake up--” 

Footsteps rapidly approached him, and Dream felt Sapnap’s calloused hands nervously flit about his shoulders as he stared at Fundy. His chest hadn’t moved since Dream laid him down.  

“Fundy?” Dream said, less as a question and more as a statement. He didn’t know who he was even directing it to. “Dream, h-” Sapnap said gently, breaking off to swallow thickly. “He’s....He fell in the void, man.” 

“I saved him,” Dream weakly argued, unable to tear his eyes away from Fundy’s still form. He heard Sapnap take a shaking breath, his friend’s hand squeezing his shoulder in a failed attempt to be reassuring. 

“He...He’s gone, Dream. He went too deep.” 

A strangled cry spilled out of Dream’s throat, his body going rigid at Sapnap’s words. “NO! NO! HE’S-” 

Dream struggled against Sapnap’s arms that had suddenly wrapped around him tight and attempted to drag him away. “NO!! LET ME GO!! SAPNAP!!” Dream sobbed, reeling his head back and slamming it into Sapnap’s face. His friend cried out and released him at once, clutching at his bleeding nose with watering eyes. 

Dream raced to Fundy’s body and hugged him close, reaching out his omnipotent senses for the life force that he begged the universe was still within reach. 

His mind entered the in between, between life and death and everything in the middle. It was a place where Dream had only been once before, in an attempt to test how far his abilities could reach. He had no motive then, other than curiosity, and that alone was not enough for even a god like him to push back against the forces of nature. 

But now, he had a cause. He would not accept death, not this time. 

Dream pooled all the love in his heart that he felt for Fundy, remembered the fox’s caring and compassionate nature and his unabashed love for Dream despite them being on the opposite sides of the wars. The god held on to his love for Fundy like a lifeline and cast it to the void of spirits, praying to anyone who could hear him that his hand would not return empty. 

He would not let Fundy die. He refused to believe this was the end. 

Dream’s consciousness brushed against the color of love, of familiarity, the pure feeling of his Fundy. He snatched at it with all of the force his mind could conjure, and then visualized snapping it away from the light in the far distance. 

Fundy’s body jerked violently in Dream’s arms, ripping his mind back to waking world. He opened his eyes to Fundy taking a heaving breath, shaking in his fiance’s arms. 

Fundy’s pupils were blown way out of proportion, fear and confusion and subtly growing recognition in his expression. “Wh--what--” Fundy whispered, the words cutting off with a breathy cough as he gasped for breath. “What--what happened? Dream?” 

A mix of a laugh and a sob bubbled in Dream’s throat as he made eye contact with Fundy, warm and breathing and alive in his arms. He faintly recalled moving, but then his lips were on Fundy’s and everything else faded away. 

It felt like a million years when they broke apart, breathless and in tears. Dream held Fundy’s face and bit down another sob of relief as he traced every detail of his fiance like he would never see him again. 

“You’re alive,” He said, tears spilling down his face. Fundy’s cheeks had flushed a deep pink at Dream’s sudden display of affection, seeming to steadily become aware of the crowd of guests that had gathered while he and Dream were in limbo. 

“I shouldn’t have seen you.” Fundy said hazily, blinking rapidly. A flash of confusion crossed Dream’s mind. “What?”

“It--it’s bad luck, huh.” Fundy explained with the slightest hint of a playful grin on his face. “T--to see the bride before the wedding.” 

A shocked laugh burst from Dream’s chest and he kissed Fundy once more to wipe that dumb look off his face. 

“Stupid.” Dream said, his voice welling with love when they parted. “You’re so stupid.” 

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #midnightmagi #meraki answers #fundywastaken #dream smp #kinda #writing prompts #fic response

[ratabrasileira]

The Fox of The Night

Chapter Four

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | ....

A decade and some years ago, Rhysand was lying on the couch of his house in Cesere. He wasn’t exactly understanding what his inner circle was saying; he couldn’t understand when his head was full of alcohol and his tongue heavy with the taste of it. But he knew, at least, that they were in a post inner-party of a beneficent event to help homeless faes. A useless thing if you want Rhys’ opinion; why to raise an event when he could just invest in the founds? But Mor wanted that way so he would do that way.

“Did you hear about the youngest Vanserra?” The question made by Azriel caught Rhys’ attention. Even with a foggy mind, he could still remember the youngest of the Vanserras; his fiery hair, his delicate features and that nose somehow so familiar to him.

“You’re the spymaster here, why would we hear about him?” Cassian mocked. “By the way, why were you spy–“.

“What happened?” Rhys sat straight and asked before Cassian could finish, he was curious about Lucien.

Azriel leant back in the armchair and looked slightly to Mor, apprehension in his face “His father killed his lover. He flee for another court.”

The room went silent. Cassian carefully observed Mor’s face, who seemed to had gotten paled. The absurd of Beron’s cruelty spread in everyone’s gut, the nausea of it… Everyone in the room knew that it could had been Mor, not exactly to be killed by the High Lord of the Autumn Court, but to suffer from his savagery.

“You know how to cut a clime, hm Az?” Cassian tried to relief the ambient, but Rhysand didn’t let him to “Where did he go? The boy.” Rhys asked.

Azriel only shrugged, still sending careful glances to Mor. But latter was looking at Rhys attentively; even if she was palled, her brows were frowned to her cousin. “Why, Rhys?” she asked.

“Just curiosity”

But both knew it was something more, even if Rhys couldn’t say what it was. Some months later, though, Rhysand was in his office at the House of Wind, in Velaris. It was a fancy room, full of beautiful decorations and a small space dedicated to a weird object full of orbs which was spinning around a bigger globe. Rhys was looking at it when Azriel knocked the door.

“Az. Give me the pleasure.” He greeted, smirking to his brother.

Azriel halted in the middle of the room and looked to the weird object too, understanding his friend’s joke. Rhysand have a strange habit to flirt with him and Cassian, seriously or for fun, sometimes Azriel couldn’t tell. But he said quietly to his brother. “The Vanserra is in the Spring”

Rhys frowned his brows and leaned back into the chair. Lucien Vanserra in the Spring Court, what a waste…

“With Tamlin.” He whispered, more to himself than to Azriel.

Azriel nodded and sat by the extensive desk. Rhysand knew he was wanting to talk to him even if both was in silence. That was his brother, he wouldn’t tell his opinion at first, he would wait until everything was safe to say what he wanted to say. Rhys tries not to think that maybe this behavior of him may be connected to Azriel’s past. His terrible and ruthless past.

“You paid attention to him” And that’s was his spymaster, always observing things around him. Although sometimes Rhys askes himself if Az was really that good; he couldn’t discover the most important thing for him. Maybe he was just blinding himself to don’t see the truth. But Az was indeed right. He had paid attention to Lucien and he was afraid that he would always do it.

“I do”

“Why?” A unique raised eyebrow was the only indication that Azriel didn’t like it.

Rhys got to his feet and let out a breath, before heading to the set of spinning orbs. He passed his finger around the bigger one and said. “He’s interesting. Since young he has interacted with others courts, knows how things work, how to be sneaky, how to be… a good courtier.

“You want him here” It wasn’t a question but Rhys answered it anyway.

“Yes. He would fit here–“

“He is Eris’ brother” Azriel cut him and Rhys knew he was angry. The reason, though, unknown, because Rhys doubted that Azriel’s rage would be that bad.

“So?”

Azriel only looked flatly at Rhysand. Maybe Azriel’s rage is that bad. But Rhys cocked his head and looked with frowned eyebrows to the shadowsinger “I doubt his loyalty is with his brother now, Az”

Now, in time present, Rhysand was trying not-desperately to catch Lucien’s eye in the Summer Ball. His inner circle was talking about something he didn’t want to know, since he was too busy thinking about Lucien. It’s not that he had come specially to see him, but Lucien had sucked his dick with such hungry and yet he wasn’t even looking at Rhys.

But it didn’t stop Rhysand from looking at the redhead boy as fiercely as he could. He just needed to be careful to not enter Lucien’s mind nor to not catch Tamlin’s eyes instead, who seems to be the whole time on Lucien. What had happened between them? Did Tamlin discovered the blowjob and now was pissed and putted Lucien in time out? Actually, would Lucien be that stupidly naïve to tell something about them to Tamlin?

Because Rhys knew the thing that has between them started a long time ago. Exchange of glances that could mean everything or nothing. But Rhys just wanted Lucien to look at him now so he could read what was in his eyes, at least a fucking explanation, because he was starting to feel lost.

He sighed and headed for the table full of summer food. He filled up a glass of white wine and sipped a little, looking to the crowd. Rhysand always thought those balls to be boring; where was the loud music, the chaos of agitated bodies and the low light of the parties? Thanks the Mother he has his friends to bring some joy.

But a par of russet eyes drew Rhysand out from his thoughts. It glanced at the High Lord with apprehension visible, but it quickly moved away. Yet, Rhys wasn’t stopped from going to the owner of the eyes, especially because Tamlin was nowhere in sight. Yes, perhaps now it was time.

So Rhysand putted himself among the crowd, his glass of wine already empty on the table. He slipped between bodies and more bodies, trying to catch Lucien. But Lucien, it seems, didn’t want to be caught. He was coursing on the opposite direction than Rhysand’s. It didn’t sit well to him, although he didn’t show it. Fine, if Lucien didn’t want to know more about him, than he would respect that.

At least try to.

Rhysand isn’t used to people discarding him that easy. Normally, the males and females who he had laid with would search him looking for more, unless it was a one-night thing. But with Lucien…

“Probably not only there”

What the hell did he want with that? Just to tease? Did Rhys read it all wrong? He was starting to feel stupid now. And he doesn’t like to feel stupid, at least not for someone who just sucked his dick and nevermore looked at him.

He was feeling stupid. Why was he caring about the Vanserra after all? He just has a good mouth and a sharp tongue, so what?

So what?

“Who the fuck he thinks he is?” Rhysand though while he went back to the table to get more wine. He would need that.

***

It wasn’t Lucien’s goal to make the most powerful High Lord of all history run after him, but since Rhys wanted to seek him… well, Lucien wouldn’t deny that deep down it was a good thing. He thought that it wasn’t anyone who could put such power over such arrogant High Lord. Still, the image of Jesminda’s body and Rhysand’s wickedly smile couldn’t leave his head.

It’d passed almost a year since Lucien first dreamed about Rhys killing her. He really tried to don’t keep running into that scene every night. Actually, some nights he hadn’t dreamed at all; thankfully to the tonic for sleep that he’d provided for himself. But in others… He couldn’t even sleep.

It was weird to desire someone and still don’t be able to look at the someone face just to appreciate the beauty of it. But every time that Lucien looked at Rhysand in the Summer Ball, he couldn’t stop to remember the High Lord cutting Jesminda’s throat.

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? He wished that he could stop desiring Rhys and it had happened, so why to bother?

Why to bother about his lover being beheaded every night by the male he lusted after?

Lucien ignored the answer that formed in his mind. He knew that he still desires Rhysand. The High Lord always had something upon him and, as the same time that Lucien hates it, he loves how Rhys makes him feel. And if he was going to be honest with himself, he missed the feeling of the lust running through his veins. It was such a glory moment to have everything vanished from his mind in the moment that Rhysand’s cock was in his mouth.

Such a glory moment that he craved for more. But he was scared of more.

Andreas, one of Tamlin’s sentinels who Lucien befriended with, uses to say that what we dream means something important about our life. But what did his dream was supposed to mean? Not that Andreas’ speech makes sense; when younger Lucien used to have lots of weird dreams: houses that flies, statues that used to talk to him about flowers made of candy. What did that was supposed to mean?

Lucien sighed, lent his head on the pillar and let the sun’s rays warm his skin. He’d found an empty place to breathe at the Palace of Adriata. The city was beautiful; full of happy colors and lots of sun’s ray. And Lucien always liked the sun; it would comfort him every time of the day. It would wash out his inner dark that would remain forever in his soul.

But that sun’s ray wasn’t illuminating his dark soul.

Maybe he could ask Rhys to embrace him with his darkness and become fully a soulless person. Maybe the pain would go away as the same way that Jesminda left this world.

He couldn’t endurance it. It was so sad, so lonely without her. Lucien just wanted someone to be with him, to hold him and say that everything will be fine and he’ll be happy again. At least someone to pull his hair strong enough so he could stop thinking about it.

And someone who Lucien knows that could do that was Rhysand.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court who was seeking him.

Lucien run to the ball room. Maybe he could find him and just… Don’t feel. But when he got there, he didn’t find the dark-haired male among the crowd. When he swept the room for the second time, he realized that maybe it was too late.

#acotar fic #acotar fanfic #rhycien #rhysand #lucien #rhysand x lucien #lucien x rhysand #lucien vanserra #tfotn #the fox of the night

[kazimakuwabara]

27

Thanks for your patience! Now That I’m feeling better I’ll get right to these requests!

****

27. Provoke

Hiei didn’t think he was the type to get easily angered.

He endured a lot, quietly and calmly--by his accounts.

He spared the Koorime, even after they had chucked him from a cliff, and killed his mother. He had worked alongside the bandits that aided him as a babe; stealing for them and tolerating their inept abilities and constant chatter. When Kurama entered his life, and wasn’t that a headache, Hiei would say he was rather proud of himself for being able to take his quips with a quiet, tolerant grace.

Really, if anyone could put up with the fox and his sass, they should be commended.

For heaven’s sake, Hiei had even managed to keep his cool around Yusuke Urameshi, and for as annoying as Kurama was for his sharp, quick-witted tongue, Yusuke was ten times worse for his idiotic, punch first, ask questions later attitude. And dammit, did Yusuke have to be so strong? It was embarrassing to be bested by such a fool.

But Hiei was doubting his patience; his temperament-no, his very sanity because of one foolish human.

Kazuma Kuwabara.

Truly, there was no better person out there when it came to provoking patience. If the world needed saving, and the requirement was being the dumbest, and the most annoying person on earth, Kuwabara would undoubtedly save the day.

How had the human managed to get under his skin? No one seemed to be more skilled at making him lose his temper, and to make things worse... for some reason, Kuwabara thought they were, “good friends, and teammates!”

And as much as Hiei denied such a thing, no one believed him.

"You're fond of Kazuma," Kurama teased Hiei one afternoon when Hiei had ventured to complain about it.

"I am not!" Hiei had immediately snapped.

Kurama laughed, his eyes flashing as coyly as his gold one used to, "Oh, yes you are. You wouldn't have bothered to train him back before the dark tournament if you didn't tolerate him to some extent. You were surprisingly kind about it too."

Hiei had stared at Kurama in open mouthed outrage.

Kurama had turned back to a vase of flowers he had been arranging, and simpered, "It's amazing how gentle you are with him now. Even when you bicker and make fun of him. I've never seen you to spare conversation to those you didn't like. But your relationship with Kazuma is something else... really. Even I wonder why you're so soft with him."

Kurama had sent Hiei a look that let Hiei know Kurama had some idea as to why. Hiei wasn't going to tolerate whatever Kurama was accusing him of. He'd left immediately. But now that he was alone with his thoughts... God. Was the fox right? Hiei was not kind to those he did not like, nor did he bother speaking or listening to those he couldn't tolerate. Heaven and hell forbid... was he Kuwabara's friend like Kuwabara claimed? Like Kurama so happily implied?

How had Hiei sunk so low?

“Hiei!” Kuwabara’s voice grated, interrupting Hiei’s train of thought.

“No,” Hiei grumbled.

Kuwabara ignored him, and jogged to catch up to him. When he got to Hiei’s side, he plopped down next to Hiei, his hip bumping into Hiei’s. Hiei thought of shifting over... but he’d been sitting here first. Kuwabara should move.

He didn't.

“Hiei, glad you’re back! You’ve got perfect timing,” Kuwabara said with a huge grin.

Hiei looked around. He had been enjoying his moment of peace at Genaki’s shrine, so seeing Kuwabara wasn’t too out of the question. But why was Kuwabara bothering him? Surely, Yusuke was somewhere. He still visited the shrine to maintain its upkeep...

Kuwabara carried on talking, not seeming to notice Hiei’s desperate search to distract Kuwabara with someone else.

“... so it’s been a real hassle! But now that you’re here maybe you can help me with Yukina and Shizuru,” Kuwabara’s words finally registered with Hiei. His sister's name catching Hiei's ear.

Blinking to attention, Hiei turned to look at Kuwabara, his brows furrowed, “What?”

Kuwabara, unperturbed by Hiei’s question, smiled, and explained, “I’m hoping you could make up an excuse to get me out of my apartment tomorrow. Make up a fake mission, or something. Or say Mukuro wants to see me. That way, when Yukina visits, she and Shizuru can be alone together.”

“Why do they need to be alone together?” Hiei found himself asking.

Shit. He wasn't trying to have a conversation with Kuwabara.

Kuwabara was good at that too. Getting you involved in conversations you didn’t need, or want to have.

“Because Yukina is in love with Shizuru,” Kuwabara explained with half a shrug.

Huh?

Kuwabara continued speaking, despite Hiei’s shocked expression, “She told me so... and I’ve got it on good authority that Shizuru might be interested too. So if they get some time alone-”

“Why?” Hiei interrupted.

Kuwabara had the gall to just blink at Hiei, looking confused.

Hiei felt his temper, and impatience flare up, “Why in the world would you give them alone time? Don’t you proclaim to love Yukina?”

There was a beat, and then Kuwabara relaxed his shoulders and laughed. Laughed.

“Oh, that!” Kuwabara chuckled.

“That?” Hiei echoed.

Really, Kuwabara was trying his patience on purpose here!

“Yukina doesn’t like me. I confessed to her, but she doesn’t... well... she’s not interested in men,” Kuwabara answered with a shrug.

Hiei’s not too surprised by that if he’s being honest. But he is surprised to see Kuwabara taking it so well.

“You’re handling this well,” Hiei tells him, lifting a brow at Kuwabara.

Kuwabara nods, adverting his gaze, “Well... this happened sometime last year. I spent enough time moping. Nothing I can do if that's how she feels. If you were around more, you’d know all this...” Kuwabara sighs, a sour expression on his face.

An unfamiliar emotion stabs at Hiei. Kuwabara is good at this too. Provoking all sorts of strange feelings inside Hiei. He hates it.  It's bad enough Kuwabara gets his ire up so quickly, but does he also have to make Hiei experience things he's never felt before? It's really damn annoying.

“Just because you have handled her rejection well, doesn’t mean you have to help her with romantic exploits,” Hiei informs Kuwabara, surprising even himself with this advice. “Why help her?”

Kuwabara looks confused, as if the question makes no sense. He answers slowly, and with one shoulder rising slightly in a half-hearted shrug, “Because Yukina is my friend. I love her.  I’m going to help her, because I love her. There’s more than just romantic love out there, Hiei.”

Hiei doesn’t know what to say.

Kuwabara gets up, and awkwardly swings his arms at his side, “I also love my sister. And I think they’d be happy together. So of course I’m going to do something.”

He walks away, and Hiei shakes himself from his shock to bark out a question, “Why should I help you? Why not ask Kurama or Yusuke to assist this little ploy of yours?”

Kuwabara stops walking but doesn’t turn around.

Surprisingly, color crawls up the back of his neck, and into his ears.

As always, Kuwabara’s answer is sincere, “Well... I... I want you to help me.”

And then Kuwabara is gone, and Hiei feels... confused and flustered.

Why in the hell is Kazuma Kuwabara so good at proving him?

Hiei is sure, he’ll never know.

#yyh #kazi fanfic #hiei x Kuwabara #hiei #kuwabara #implied Yukina x Shizuru #1000+ words #Anonymous

[philliamwrites]

the fault in our stars

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Claude & OC

Tags: #multiple dimensions, #dimension travelling, #platonic love, #mentions of major character’s death

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Claude receives a letter that states someone is out there able to help him fulfill his goal of unifying Fodlan and Almyra. Signed, “The Witch.” Of course he doesn’t trust this, but curiosity killed the cat, and so he sets out to find her and see what kind of help she can offer. It turns out, this witch carries more secrets than anyone Claude knows can carry and he, gentleman that he is, gladly lands her a hand.

Notes: A commission for @iam-miscellaneous

the fault in our stars

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Claude whirled, an arrow nocked and ready, but it was just a little squirrel staring at him with big, round eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and it scurried off into the forest and disappeared.

Claude relaxed. The forest was quiet again since most of its residents had fallen into a deep slumber from which they shouldn’t wake up until Lone Moon. But Claude had read about dangerous creatures that didn’t fear the harsh Syopyr Taiga of the Galatea region, and stalked through the snow to hunt their prey. He’d much prefer not ending up inside the stomach of a moonbear or red wolf, thank you very much.

He should have brought Ákos with him. His wyvern was big and he would surely draw attention—literally the wyvern in a porcelain shop, but Claude would be save from any beast trying to have him as a snack. Also, Ákos was warm. Warm and with his white skin perfectly blending in between the snow covered pine trees that stood vigil like the statues of the four Saints in the monastery. But it would be hard for Ákos to move freely, so Claude relished in the comfort to know he was but a whistle away and would barrel down and crash through the woods to save him.

Were it not for the letter, Claude wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the letter before him, its existence ever-present inside the pocket of his trousers as if it emitted heat, burning against his thigh.

I can aid you in your goal, wrote the mysterious person calling herself The Witch.

What goal specifically? Overthrowing Edgard? Unifying Fódlan and his mother land? Striking down the borders of discrimination and bigotry so people would finally stop slaughtering each other over the colour of their skin or what god they choose to worship? So many questions, and Claude hated any of them remaining unanswered. But for that, he had to find the witch’s cottage first and he’d been wandering through these woods for hours.

The Everglow stone certainly did keep his fingers from freezing in this relentless cold, but he knew he’d reach his limit soon and would have to return to base. He knew this time, Lorenz and Hilda would not allow him to leave so easily.

They’d been wary of it the moment the unknown owl had landed on Ákos’ head, carrying a letter addressed to “the Prince of a far away land.” Claude’s blood had run cold.

“Prince of a far away land?” Hilda had squinted at the paper spread out in front of them on the war table they kept outside under an open tent. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“And the things she offers, this ‘Witch,’” Lorenz had agreed sceptically, and thus luckily not noticed the quick glance Hilda stole Claude’s way. He’d always known Hilda knew more than she let people on, and Claude had given her one of his rare, tired smiles. She’d made a very serious, very un-Hilda like face, and turned back to the letter.

“I think I should check it out,” Claude had said, and their reaction was understandable, if a little too dramatic for his taste.

“If you die chasing this witch, could you die knowing you leave the Alliance in someone else’s hands?" Lorenz had said. That was very unusual for him. It had taken them five years to get there, and Claude wouldn’t just throw away that trust.

“What if she turns you into a frog?” Hilda had asked. That was very usual for her, and Claude was thankful for her effort to ease the mood after all the losses they’d suffered in the Battle at Gronder Field.

“Then you guys better start looking for a princess right about now,” he’d replied, his tone breezy when inside he’d been a storm. The only princess he knew had charged into the role of Emperor and would surely make frog leg soup out of him, and the only prince he’d known laid skewered without even a proper burial on a vast field that drank itself sick from all the blood spilt on it.

Things did not look good for the Alliance. As Claude had filed every advantage and disadvantage seeking out this mysterious person in alphabetical order, he looked at the owl that had delivered the message. Its black eyes were fixed on him expectantly, as though he should be well aware of what it sought as reward, but Claude didn’t know of course, and a second later, its sharp beak split open the skin at the back of his hand, drawing blood. It ruffled its feathers and took off to the sky, hooting in offence.

“Let’s hope you’ll start off better with this witch than her familiar,” Lorenz had commented, leaving Claude to tend to his wound. He’d hissed a curse, pressed his mouth against the wound and levelled a disbelieving look at his animal companion. Usually Àkos was no friend of man or animal. He barely tolerated Claude’s closest companions to saddle or care for him, but he’d allowed an unfamiliar owl to use his head as a seat, and peck at his friend and master.

Claude still pondered about that even after a week’s worth of travelling through the Alliance territory to reach the north of Faerghus. He didn’t like being short of options, but with the hand dealt to him by Fate, he could really use an ace up his sleeve.

The witch could have been more specific about her location though.

Come to the Okhotsk Forest and you will find me.

Well, that was a lie. He’d been out here for hours now, and still there is no sign of her, or her hut, or anyone living out here for that matter.

Claude would be mad furious if this turned out to be one of Hilda’s jokes. Though he doubted even she would go this far, especially during a time like this. War changed people. She wasn’t the giddy girl anymore, batting her eyelashes to let other people do her work. And yet he remembered this one time when his grandfather Oswald had celebrated the Leicester Alliance Founding Day and Hilda had written him a secret note to meet him, pretending to be his first crush. He’d been waiting in the cold until servants found him with a fever the next morning. But instead of getting angry, Claude was really impressed by Hilda’s lie and persuasion, and decided to have her as a friend rather than an enemy.

Claude shivered. Pegasus Moon was drawing its end. He could smell it in the crisp air—the time of new beginnings dawned. An opportunity for new plans, new schemes, and he wouldn’t be Claude von Riegan if he would pass up on them. That was, if he found his hopefully new ally. And just in that moment, he turned his head and caught sight of something dark in the corner of his eyes.

A hut.

Out of nowhere, a little hut stood in the middle of the clearing, looking as if it had been there since the beginning of dawn. It blinked into existence where seconds ago the forest ground stood empty. Claude blinked, thinking out of desperation he’d imagined it. But no matter which way he turned his head, what angle he leaned into, the hut didn’t magically disappear like the Fata Morgana he’d encountered during their trip around the Sreng Desert, where instead of finding one of the lost Saint’s weapons, they had stumbled upon an ancient, sentient beast.

Claude shook at the memory, feeling his mouth go dry just thinking about the scorching heat. Even days after their return to Derdriu, he’d found sand in places it wasn’t supposed to be.

Luckily, the forest was the complete opposite. It was eerily quiet. No birds heralded the spring, no foxes scurried through the underbrush in search for smaller prey. Among the blinding white of the freshly fallen snow that clung to everything, the black stoned hut with its small, red chimney looked like a picture out of a fairy book. Claude grimly remembered stories Dimitri had told him in front of the fireplace in one of the monastery’s big common rooms about a witch living in the deepest forests of Faerghus called baba yaga. Her house stood on chicken feet and she snatched away little children who went astray or lost their way through the forest.

But this was real. Claude had finally found her.

Approaching the hut carefully, his fingers danced across the hilt of the short sword attached to the belt around his hip. He wasn’t a fan, but since early days, Nader had taught him the way of the sword.

“You won’t always have the luck to find a bow,” he’d said after knocking little Claude to the ground for the fifth time in a single sparring session. Claude had endured without complaining, but he’d also made up his mind that day that the sharpest weapon on him would always be his mind.

Claude braced himself. Having finally reached what he’d been venturing to for the last weeks was wind in his sails, propelling him forward and lifting his hope. He knocked against the wood with his knuckles, once, twice. A third time.

Nothing.

Off to a good start.

“Hello?” he called through the door. His fingers itched to the letter as he wondered if he was supposed to say a secret code word. But he’d read the letter over a dozen times, analysed everything from the way she dotted her i's and crossed her t’s to how she constructed every sentence.

No secret password. No secret behavioural code. Nothing.

Claude decided to go for the doorknob. But when his hand hovered inches away from it, it turned by itself and the door creaked open. Claude shuddered. Inside, everything was dark. Heavy vermilion curtains didn’t allow any sunlight to stray inside. A minty scent lied in the air, not unpleasant, as if someone had recently taken a hot bath and thus steam still lingered in the air. He cautiously entered the hut, eyes straining to see any kind of movement. Everything was still.

Fabric rustled—no, not fabric. In one corner stood a perch, and on it sat the owl, regarding Claude with its black eyes. They stared each other down for a moment, in which Claude wondered if it had been the witch all along, playing with him. But the owl just regarded him sleepily, then turned around and chose to ignore his presence.

Claude allowed himself to relax a little. From outside, the hut looked small, barely the size of his bedroom at the monastery. But inside was enough space to hold multiple work stations and contain additional rooms to the east and west. One wall was completely lined with bookcases tall enough to reach the roof, neatly stacked with leather-bound books. When he looked closely, he could see gold letters shining off their spines. In front of if stood a large table that was buried under dozen maps, showing star constellations he’d never seen before. To his other side crinkled the fire place. A black kettle hung above it, and he could hear water boiling.

Claude approached the shelves standing beside the fireplace, filled with all kinds of different objects in containers and glass bottles. Glowing flowers, insects with rainbow coloured wings, sharp claws and large teeth swimming in murky liquid. He realised only then that he’d been expecting dead animals lying around with their abdomens wide open and jars filled with organs. But this place looked cosy. Like someone actually lived here instead of using it as a crazy laboratory.

“I see this place is to your liking?” sounded a voice from his right. Claude jerked back from the jar he was observing. He hadn’t even heard a door opening behind him.

She’d just appeared like a dream. Claude’s first thought was, She is very small, and for a moment he feared to meet with a child because he’d turned down the wrong path and missed his designated location completely. But then she opened the curtains with a flick of her wrist. Claude, blinded by the sudden light, flinched. He’d seen sorcerers and the like at the academy, had seen Marianne and Lysithea work their spells and yet he knew this girl in front of him was unlike any spellcaster he’d ever met.

Not girl, he realised as she stepped into the light, and he found her gaze linger on him. Those were no eyes of a young girl. For a brief second, Byleth’s face flashed in front of his eyes. Claude missed her. He did not look forward to face her once they’d reach the Imperial capital. If she didn’t come to him first.

“It is certainly … unique,” Claude said, moving back to the centre of the room with his back to the door. He didn’t like to be cornered, and though he guessed his chances weren’t bad facing an opponent a whole head smaller than him, he didn’t want to challenge Lady Luck. She didn’t appear to be very fond of him lately anyway.

“Shall we talk business then?” he quickly followed on, watching her move to the fire place. Taking the kettle, she poured steaming water in two prepared cups. He immediately recognised the smell, Almyran Pine Needles, his favourite tea. If there really was a spy among them, he’d have to find them quickly. Or she really was a witch and had insight in many things which meant he needed her on his side before Edelgard found her.

The Witch gestured to two heavy armchairs sitting in front of the fire and after a moment of hesitation, Claude crossed the room and sank in the cushions. Only then did he realise how exhausted he was from wading through knee-high snow. He took the cup from the witch’s small hands, but didn’t drink yet even though his body couldn’t wait to warm up quickly after the freezing temperatures outside. Besides, sometimes it was more about the company of a warm beverage. And he wanted to make sure she drank first to see if it was poisoned.

The witch took her first sip without hesitation, then looked at him daringly as if she knew exactly what he was waiting for. Claude didn’t trust her. But if she really would aid him, then he wouldn’t pass on that offer.

Bottoms up then. Tasting the nostalgic flavour, Claude immediately relaxed. There was the right amount of sweetness too, meaning she’d put in the right amount of sugar.

“Who are you?” Claude asked finally, the question burning on the tip of his month since he left Derdriu. The Witch took another sip. Her gaze roamed over his features, calculating yet at the same time somewhat caressing.

“A friend,” she answered, “who only wishes to see you win the war.”

Claude took that in for a second, allowing the tea to warm him from the inside. “I think I’d remember if I had someone peculiar like a witch as friend. And what exactly makes you think I need help?” he asked. “As far as I know, the Alliance is holding up pretty well.”

He had to test how much she knew. If there really was a spy, they had to find and eliminate them quickly.

The Witch placed her porcelain cup aside, and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, she looked like a mother about to scold her child.

“The Alliance is a powder keg about to explode,” she said calmly, yet with a voice that didn’t appreciate Claude trying to deceive her. “You can’t find a way to convince Lord Gloucester to join your forces and usually a nation divided does not win wars. Especially not against an opponent like the Emperor.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair, dragging his tongue over his lower lip, his mouth suddenly dry. Straight to the point, just how he liked it. “It doesn’t stop with getting old Gloucester to unite with House Riegan,” he said. “We need food, weapons. A new base of operation somewhere more central to send out our forces. Unfortunately, I doubt The Enlightened One will let us stay anywhere close to the Garreg Mach monastery.”

Something flashed in the Witch’s eyes when he mentioned Byleth. She pursed her lips, reminding him of Judith whenever she received a particularly unpleasant information.

“I see,” she said after a moment. “Your old teacher leads the Black Eagle Strike Force. That does make things more difficult.”

Claude leaned back in his armchair and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Interesting how she knew about the Alliance’s status but not that his old professor was on the enemies’ side. “Difficult how?”

“Let me deal with that once the time comes,” the Witch said. Claude wasn’t happy. He knew trust was a little too much, too quick given they knew each other for about five minutes. But she could give him a little more to work with here.

“Pardon me, but so far you haven’t really convinced me to accept your help, little witch.” He had to test the waters, see how far he could go in before the current dragged him under. The witch didn’t even blink at this nickname.

She mirrored his movement and locked her fingers in her lap. “Let’s just say my knowledge about certain things would aid you greatly in winning this war.”

“What things, pray tell.”

“Your plan to fend off the Imperial forces stationed in Daphnel. You won’t be able to occupy it for a long time before the Imperial army takes it back. You wonder if those knights and soldiers are better off stationed in Goneril to guard your supply shipments coming from Almyra, but you can’t say if your people would prefer to see an assertive ruler adamant on fighting the Empire or a generous ruler who cares more about protecting and nourishing his people.”

Once she finished, only the crackling fire made conversation with the burning wood. Claude didn’t avert his eyes from her piercing gaze, and she didn’t shy away when he cocked his head to the side, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

“So you do know a few things about me,” he said, and now he was the one mirroring her movement, leaning in closely. “But if you know about what keeps me awake at night, what do you know about my enemies?”

“Enough to end this war,” the Witch said, her eyes blazing with resolve, “if you listen to me.”

Claude raised his hand and pressed his palm to his heart. “I promise, should there be method in this madness, I will lend you my ear and listen what you have to say, little witch.”

She exhaled softly. Relieved, and Claude wondered how much of that conviction she’d shown was act. But he couldn’t begin to doubt this early, for the doubt would eat away at him and just this time, he wanted to believe whoever was their benevolent maker, he’d finally nudged Claude on the right path. He’d been without hope for so long, he’d forgotten how it tasted.

Claude stood, antsy to get back to his city and scheme away and finally, finally turn this war around. “How long do you need before you can join me in Derdriu?” he asked, moving towards the door when he noticed a strange apparatus next to it, showing a circle painted in different colours and a little arrow pointing at the part that was coloured a dark purple. When he turned, the Witch had followed right behind him, and Claude took a step back in surprise, his back gently pressing against the door.

She was smaller than him, yes, but her presence filled the whole room.

“I will finish a few things here, and then I will meet you there,” she said. She stretched her hand and rested in on the doorknob. Claude stepped away, allowing her to open the door, and was surprised when he saw Àkos waiting for him at the door step, liking snowflakes off his snout. When Claude raised his hand to pat him, he sneezed in his face.

Claude pulled a grimace. “Good to see you too, my friend.”

The witch followed him outside, and for the first time since their meeting, a smile had strayed on her face. She offered Àkos her hand, and before Claude could tell her to be careful of Àkos’ sharp teeth, he sniffed her fingers and gave a little confused huff before leaning in and allowing the witch to caress his smooth, leathery skin.

Now that was unusual, and maybe just a tiny bit, Claude felt betrayed. He swung on Árkos’ saddle, immediately relaxing at the familiar feeling of his wyvern’s steady, warm body. Before he took off to the skies, Claude turned to the witch and said, “You have to tell me who spies for you inside the Alliance. I might hire them as my new spy-master.” But she didn't give him a name, she didn't even smile thinking it was a joke. Her gaze was fixed to the woods stretching before them, her jaw set, and Claude knew that look. It would stare back at him in a mirror whenever he tried really hard not to cry.

“Your name,” he demanded. “I still don’t know your name.”

The Witch straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I will tell you once we win the war. Once we win, I will tell you everything.”

* * *

Claude tried to wipe the exhaustion away with his sleeve, but closing his eyes for even a second ran the risk of him dozing off. There was still so much to prepare for their defence of Derdriu. He had to block off the city, occupy the naval port and lead the reinforcements to each city gate leading to the heart of the capital. There was no moment to rest.

Fresh air. He needed cold, fresh air to clear his mind and wake him up.

Outside, knights and soldiers on night duty greeted him. They had nothing unusual to report, everything was calm. No movement from the enemy so far. Somehow, that didn’t reassure Claude at all, though he couldn’t say if he’d rather want the opposite.

His feet carried him to the outskirts of their camp, and there it was—standing out from all the other tents was The Witch's tent, its leather roof mirroring the constellations of the starry sky. Judging from the light inside, she was still awake, probably pondering about the upcoming battle just as he was. Claude crossed the clearing and opened the front flaps only enough for his voice to come through.

“It’s Claude. May I enter?” he asked. Something rustled. As if paper was quickly wiped away. A moment later, her voice called back to him, “Please come in.”

He ducked and entered her tent. Again, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, yet just like her cottage, it was still simple. Instead of expensive, luxurious furniture, she decided to fill every nook and cranny with her magical apparatus’ and ingredients.

The Witch stood in front of a cherry wood table, wearing a simple, dark gown. From the way she tried to appear taller and held her hands behind her back, Claude knew immediately she was hiding something. He thought back to the sound of paper being quickly gathered and tried his shot.

“Writing to your lover?” he teased, settling in an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

The Witch blew back a black lock that stubbornly clung to her forehead. She crossed the room, and within a blink, the papers in her hands vanished. Claude gave an impressed whistle.

“He is more than that,” she said without any hesitation. “But are we lovers? No.”

“And how does one become become friends with a witch?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. She sat in the empty seat beside him, not bothering in the slightest about her posture. Claude liked seeing her relax around him. For the past few days, she’d been all over the camp, tending to the wounded or helping magic battalions with their spells.

He was surprised how easy it was to work with her. She effortlessly followed his train of thought and anticipated questions or knew exactly were to probe whenever he wasn’t certain about something and hoped no one else would notice. But she always noticed, as if she inherently knew his faults and weaknesses and therefore watched his back. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume this wasn’t their first time working together.

“I call everyone friend who offers me toffees,” the Witch said now, taking off her boots. Even though she’d been outside the whole day, there was no speck of mud on them, whereas Claude’s boots wore a mud crust he wasn’t proud of.

“Toffee.” Claude playfully stroked his chin. “I think I can supply some.”

“I would be so ever grateful.” She gave one of her rare smiles, growing slowly like the moon slipping slowly beneath the waves of a lake. Whenever Claude was capable of making her smile, pride bloomed in his chest.

He didn't know what it was about the Witch that made all the tight and careful knots inside his chest uncurl. Maybe that was what people meant when they said someone made them feel undone.

“How do you feel about our stand here?” he asked. “Do you think we’re prepared for Edelgard arrival?”

Immediately, she tensed, and Claude regretted bringing it up. They talked about tactics so much every day, they should be spared of it inside their tents, the only place of comfort and peace, but it seemed Claude had forgotten how to do small talk.

But the Witch just shifted her weight a little. “I don’t like lying to you, but the truth isn’t pretty.”

“I still want to hear it.” He needed to know their chances of winning. The truth might not be pretty, but more than that, he didn’t want to be lied to. He couldn’t say why, but especially from her, he didn’t want to hear a lie.

They held each other’s gazes, and Claude was impressed again by how black her eyes were. Darker than a starless night, he couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. Yet there was kindness in her eyes. Kindness and experience that told stories older than she appeared to be. But with no time to dwell on his theory, he tucked it away in a safe corner where he’d access it later. When this was all over and he’d have enough time to listen to her story.

After a moment, the Witch spoke, “I wish your success wasn’t depending on anybody else. I have prepared you to all my capabilities, but...”

“But we can’t say for sure what Edgard will do.” Of course they couldn’t. No one of them could read thoughts or look into the future. Claude was usually all for unpredictable variables to keep his mind reeling and working, but even facing Edelgard gave him more headaches then he asked for.

“No matter the outcome, I can promise that your city and its people will be save,” the Witch said. They’d been working together for a couple weeks now, but Claude had learnt early on that she kept her promises and it was nice to lean on someone for a change.

“That’s all that matters to me,” he confessed. “I don’t care what happens to me. But I cannot let down my people. The Alliance. Its future. It’s all that matters.” Because how else would he begin his peace-mongering without his Leicester Alliance unifying with his Kingdom of Almyra.

A dark shadow settled on the Witch’s face. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in his features as if she wanted to commemorate them. Claude had to fight the urge to fidget, to flee from her keen gaze.

“The nation will learn how to move on when you are no more,” she said quietly. “But what about those you leave behind. Do you not care about your friends and comrades?”

“I care about what becomes of them after the Emperor captures my city and they are no more masters of their own fate.” Claude didn’t want to think about such a future. It would make him turn mad if he did.

“I know you think everyone has the might to forge their own paths. That fate is not absolute. But there are some fates you cannot change. You can only bow to them. Believe me. I’ve seen it many times. Too many times.” The Witch immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away as if that would undo the words she just spoke. Claude hesitated. He wasn’t equipped to handle her surprising honesty. Honesty meant being vulnerable, and he’d never seen her like this. Sometimes it was easier to handle battalions and war generals than raw emotions, and Claude was thankful for the distraction fluttering it.

The Witch’s owl, that had been sitting on its trusty perch, flew through the tent and settled on the Witch’s shoulder, nuzzling it’s soft head against her cheek. The Witch smiled and scratched its chin. In return, the owl hooted and then proceeded to give Claude an accusatory glare as if he’d been the very reason for its mistress’ distress.

“Your little friend doesn’t like me at all,” Claude observed a second time since making acquaintance with with her feathery companion. “It’s like I offended him in some way.”

“She,” the Witch said mildly, “is fond of you. In her own way.”

Claude doubted that. “An unusual way to show her fondness of people. Pecking at them. Must your secret friend also endure this bullying or is he spared of it?”

“She treats everyone equally,” the Witch answered, and now he could see amusement crinkle in her eyes like the flying sparks of a fire. “My friend is no exception.”

“And is he a wizard like you? Or like us common folk?”

“He is,” the Witch began tentatively, “a just, young boy who heard the sound of flowing water in a world of sand and thus began to believe in hope. And this belief is a strong weapon, but the strongest weapon on him is his sharp wit and gilded mind.”

“Sounds like you hold him in high esteem.”

“I would burn cities and dethrone kings just to see his greatest wish fulfilled,” the Witch said, her gaze burning holes in Claude’s eyes. Something hot whipped through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jealousy. Hot-white jealousy burnt inside him to have a friend this dedicated to him. Maybe that was what books spoke of when they told stories about soulmates, and right now, his soul longed for a relationship like that. To be understood and accepted without having to give anything in return.

He took a deep breath, and banished those thoughts where they didn’t hurt. “Your friend sounds like someone I could become friends with.”

“Yes,” she said, turning her eyes away from his. “You two are quite similar.”

Claude wanted to know what it would take to meet him. To sit alone with him and have a chance at hearing all the Witch’s secrets, unravel them one by one and learn more about her. But she did tell him she’d explain everything after he won the war, and Claude held onto that promise like a drowning man.

After he wished her good night and left her tent, Claude remembered Nader had told him a story once. Claude, barely seven years old, had strayed into the desert bordering a small port city in Almyra where his mother loved to take him on vacation. After hours upon hours in the scorching heat, when he’d already made peace with the thought that the wide sea of sand would be his burial, he’d stumbled upon a small oasis. To this day, he remembered the sound of rushing water from the small waterfall and diving into the cool depths until he finally was found by Almyran soldiers looking for him. He’d never told this story anyone. Now he stopped, turned around and nearly ran back to the Witch’s tent only to be stopped when horns blared through the night’s quiet, waking up the whole city.

The Emperor had arrived.

* * *

Smoke rose to the grey sky that looked as if at any moment, the clouds would open to lament and cry. When she descend the cobblestone streets, her head a melody of pain and anguish, no one stopped her. No one could stop her because no one could see her as she hurried through tight alleys and corners, her spell making her invisible to the untrained eye.

The port stood abandoned. Now that it was occupied, there was no reason to guard it, and the Imperial troops had moved on to the centre of Derdriu where the important buildings stood. The embassy with its golden roofs, the Leicester mansion with its hundreds rooms and the famous Round Table.

But she didn’t care about silent stone monuments that would live to see another thousand years. She only cared for the one person who could have held it all together.

The Witch found Claude von Riegan lying on his stomach, his face drained in his own blood. The gaping wound in his chest still bled, a horrible hole left by none other than the nasty bone shards of Aymr. His eyes were still open but unfocused, staring ahead at the darkening sky.

Her stomach churned. No matter how often she saw him like this, it never got easier. The Witch sunk to her knees, and gently cradling Claude’s body into her arms, she whispered, “Forgive me, old friend. I was unable to save you yet again.”

There was no answer. As always, silence was her only companion, and grief her only caretaker. She teleported herself and Claude’s body outside the capital city where she looked for a secluded space outside the city, and using her own hands, she dug a grave deep into the earth. He deserved to be buried in his home land, the place he loved more than anything, but there was no time. There was never enough time.

She finished when the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and pink. One moment, she stood in front of the mound, and one single blink later, she walked through the front door of her cottage. Exhaustion bled her dry when the door closed behind her, and with a slow twist of her wrist, she turned the doorknob. A click sounded next to her, and for a second, everything turned black.

When light returned, everything was the same, and yet everything had changed.

On her way to the bathroom, she put water to boil in a black kettle hanging above the fireplace, and laid out a nice porcelain set of cups and Almyran Pine Needle tea for her guest.

The bath was already ready for her. She shed her dirty, ragged robes, and lowered herself in the hot water, feeling it immediately sooth her hurting limbs. As always, it took some time to clean the blood and dirt under her fingernails from digging Claude’s grave. She scrubbed herself raw until nothing was left of the previous world, and stepped outside the bath like a new born child. When she dried herself, she heard three sharp knocks at the door, and a voice calling out. Willing her new, clean robes to come and dress unto her with a flick of her wrist, the Witch took a last, long look at herself in the mirror.

Thirty tries. None of them had succeeded, and she was becoming so very tired of it all. With every try to save her friend, she’s learnt new things about the worlds and dimensions, and yet none had been enough in the end. She knew that chances to succeed were higher whenever Byeth was leading the Alliance. In some rare cases, in little pocket dimensions that would immediately dissipate when she tried to set foot in, the remaining Kingdom forces had joined the Alliance and victory would lay at the tip of her fingers. So close, and still unreachable.

But she would never cease her fight against the world that wanted to see her dear friend suffer and fail. Even if that meant bending rules, and changing to something that wasn’t human. She would make death bow to her, and once he was her servant, she would put her dear friend free of his curse of never-accomplishing happiness.

The witch squared her shoulders, and swallowed these thoughts and her still-fresh grief deep down where they didn’t hurt anymore. When the door quietly swung open, and she saw Claude von Riegan inspecting her shelf of ingredients, she said, “I see this place is to your liking?”

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #claude von riegan #fe3h claude #fe3h claude von riegan #fire emblem three houses claude #fire emblem three houses claude von riegan #fe3h original character #platonic friendship #dimension travelling #sort of au

[hopelikethemoon]

Proof (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Proof  Rating: PG-13 Length: 1600 Warnings: Fluff. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set May 4th 1998. Summary: The final article comes out. 

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​ @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​​ @lukesrighthand​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy​ @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps

IRREFUTABLE PROOF — DEA BRIBED COLLEGE STUDENT TO RUIN FORMER AGENT’S CREDIBILITY 

The DEA has maintained that Annette Morley’s termination was related to her perfidious actions, concerning her relationship with Javier Peña. The couple sat down with The Post to clarify why they chose to conceal their relationship.

“It wasn’t an ideal situation,” said Peña when questioned about why he and Morley kept their relationship quiet while working for the DEA. “We were working to take down dangerous organizations, we couldn’t risk something happening to our daughter. We suffered to keep it a secret. Annie gave birth alone, while I filed paperwork at the office. We couldn’t risk anyone knowing that two DEA agents had a child together — our daughter would’ve become a target.”

Could they not trust the DEA with that secret? Morley was quick to clarify why she chose to lie about her daughter’s paternity, “It was hard enough to be a woman working for the government. I was subjected to sexist comments regularly and I feared how I would be treated if they knew that Javier and I were together.”

It should be noted that both Peña and Morley denied that Peña was the father of Morley’s daughter, yet only Morley was disciplined. Documents collected via the Freedom of Information Act suggest that this was an intentional decision meant to minimize Morley’s participation within the agency. Correspondence between high-level authorities, conclude a pattern of suppression targeting women throughout the agency.  

The DEA ardently denies claims of sexual harassment, citing that their agents undergo a seminar about harassment in the workplace during their on boarding. Sources within the DEA have confirmed numerous reports of sexual harassment claims made against all levels of management. 

Evidence provided to The Post by a source close to Peña and Morley, and verified by the University of Miami, concluded that the DEA had orchestrated a scheme to pressure one of Javier Peña’s students to falsely claim that they had been having an affair. The source showed receipts of a sizeable money transfer in return for making the claims to the University. 

Following The Post’s reporting that DEA agent Chris Fiestle had numerous disciplinary claims against him, the DEA has placed him on paid leave. An anonymous source has provided The Post with information and confidently identified Fiestle as the individual who facilitated the DEA’s bribery scheme. A second source, within the agency, provided documentation of the bribery which had been signed off on by two high-level figures. 

Due to the investigative journalism of The Post we are pleased to report that The Office of the Inspector General released a report that a full audit of the DEA’s inter-agency procedures, practices, and correspondences. The Post is working with the OIG to corroborate the reports made in the paper. The Federal Bureau of Investigation has opened a secondary review of misconduct. 

 ———

 It was done. Finally. With today’s issue of The Post, you no longer had to dread the next front page story you’d read. Vickers had exceeded your expectations — not just by addressing what you had endured, but uncovering a whole culture of misconduct. 

“I don’t want to speak to the press,” You told Javier as you sat across from him at the kitchen table. The phone was ringing for the fifth time since you had gotten out of bed and you were certain it was the same type of call you’d already put up with. 

MSNBC, Fox News, and CNN had been hounding you since the first article — but now it seemed to have ramped up. They were all desperate for a sit down interview.

“Not even Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer?” Javier teased, trying to play off the obvious distress you were in. You were appreciative. 

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I’m not sitting down for 20/20. I’m humbled, but no. I’ve done what I intended to do.”

Monica sighed heavily as she folded the newspaper in half and sat it on the table beside her coffee. “I’m so glad he respected my request.”

“I told him all along that the article wouldn’t run with your name in it.” You assured her. Monica had spent the night — too anxious about the forthcoming article to spend the night at her own place. “I can’t help if the DEA brings you into it, however.”

She smiled grimly, “I know. I just don’t want my parents…” Monica shook her head, “And what about work? How am I going to work for the government if my name gets black balled?”

Javier cleared his throat, “I won’t let that happen. No daughter of mine is going to be harassed by those fuc—“

You shot him a look.

“Freaks.”

“Mommy, did daddy say a bad word?” Josie questioned as she licked the butter off her toast. 

“Freaks isn’t a bad word.” You shook your head, “Josie, eat your toast right. Please?”

Josie scrunched up her nose as she folded her bread in half and ate the center out of the toast. “But fuck is bad?”

“Josie!” Javier snapped his fingers, “What have we talked about?”

She tried to look as sheepish and adorable as possible, “I sassy daddy.”

Monica stifled a laugh.

“That’s an interesting way to say you’re sorry, Josie.” His brows rose upwards as he stared at Josie. “Josefína Selina Peña—“

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Josie stuck out her bottom lip as she slid herself off her chair and walked around the table to grab at you, pressing her face against your stomach and pretending to cry. 

“Are you hiding with me?” You laughed. “Do I get to play good cop?”

Monica leaned down to Josie’s height, poking her in the side, “What have we talked about bad words?”

“That they’re bad.” Josie offered quietly, before she squirmed out of your hold and dropped onto the floor as she crawled under the table.

Javier rubbed at the back of his neck, giving you a look. “We’ve created a monster.”

“We’ve created a little girl who isn’t acting like she just turned five.” 

Stevie barked, padding through the kitchen and ducking under the table to join Josie. 

“I a baby again!” Josie announced, remaining beneath the table.

Sofía leaned over the side of her high chair, trying to look for Josie. “Sissss!” She made grabby hands, wiggling as she tried to get out.

“Josefína.” Javier said warningly, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

She popped her head out from under the table, “Daddy are you mad?”

“No.”

“You sound mad.”

“He’s not mad, Josie.” Monica told her with a gentle smile. “But you can’t be saying grown up words.”

“But daddy says them.” Josie said as she crawled out, “I wanna be like daddy.”

“Good lord,” Javier chuckled, grinning at you. “Be like your mother, she’s a far better example.”

“Only because I mind my p’s and q’s.” You teased, nudging Javier’s foot under the table. “Good cop says to go easy.”

“Bad cop is going to eat Miss Josie’s pancakes if she doesn’t get back in her seat and eat them.” He warned and that prompted her to scramble back into her seat. 

Monica started laughing again, “Is this what I miss out on every morning?”

“Every. Morning.” You shook your head. “Josie’s always getting into mischief.”

Javier fixed Monica with a droll expression. “Yesterday she ate Stevie’s kibble.”

Josie clambered back into her seat, picking up her fork and shoveling a mouthful of pancake into her mouth. 

“Josie, please don’t choke.” 

Javier nudged her in the ribs, “Small bites.”

“I’m stress eating.” Josie announced, making dramatic gobbling noises as she mimed eating another bite as she chewed her first. 

“What are you stressed about?” Monica questioned.

“Life.”

The three of you started laughing. Josie had a hell of a sense of humor. You weren’t sure which one of you she got it from, but she could not kill with her dramatics. 

“You know,” You started, looking from Monica to Javier. “That was exactly what I needed.” You rolled your eyes. “From the mouths of babes.”

“Who, me?” Josie questioned, giggling like a mad woman. 

“Yes, you, goober.” You laughed. 

Javier leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “No more bad words, JoJo.”

She tilted her head up towards him, grinning broadly. “But it made mommy laugh.”

He pursed his lips, “Then it’s fine. Just this once.” Javier stood up then, moving around the table to you. He rested his hands on your shoulders, squeezing both of them tightly. “Want more coffee?”

You nodded your head, “I think I may just work for a half a day today.” 

“Do you still want me to stick around?” Monica questioned. 

“If I get home early, you’re welcome to leave.” You assured her as you watched Javier take your cup and head for the coffee pot. “Get a jump start on your weekend.”

“Honestly, I think we may just stay in.” She shrugged, “You guys still on for dinner tomorrow?”

You nodded, moving your pancakes around your plate, dabbing up more syrup. “Javier’s cooking.”

“I hope he’s not grilling.”

“What am I cooking?”

“I don’t know,” You hummed. “What are you cooking for dinner tomorrow?”

Javier sat your coffee cup in front of you, “Wanna help make enchiladas?”

You shrugged, “Sounds good to me.”

“My favorite.” Monica smiled. “I can’t believe the semester’s almost over.”

“I can.” Javier sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s still awkward.”

“We’re not bringing that up.” She offered with a shake of her head. 

“You mean I shouldn’t invite Elena for dinner?”

Monica and Javier both glared at you and offered in unison a firm, “No.” 

“Neither of you are any fun.” You laughed, grinning at them. 

The situation with DEA was finally put behind you and now you could just savor this little family of five you’d created despite everything.   

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Febuwhump ‘21 #9

#9 Buried Alive

Let there be ANGST and WHUMP and DRAMA. I’ll put a keep reading because it’s very... deathy? I really liked this one and the concept of it not gonna lie. Contains almost dying (needing revived). This one will be a main segment of the story because there are some... developments. I’ll make a master list in chronological order soon to make things a bit easier to understand.

For the record, the poem that is in this piece is mine. I made it up and kinda fell in love with it.

The memories returned slowly for Avizon. He remembered fighting a gang of bandits, with Erix at the helm. He remembered buying his cloudwalker’s time to flee while he was beaten senseless in the sudden attack, stabbed and defeated. They’d been prepared, they’d used laced darts to stop his magic and it had been so easy to beat them, but what he currently felt was so wrong. Breathing felt like an impossibility, something heavy was on his chest. He couldn’t see anything. He felt pinned, cold, and unbearably stuffy. It took him too long to realise what was wrong.

He was buried.

The thought unhinged him. He screamed for help, but he didn’t know what use it would be. Unless his cloudwalkers were still free, he didn’t stand a chance. His heart raced and he had to battle with it to keep himself calm. He only had a small pocket of air, provided by the shelter of tree roots, or at least it felt like that. He had to ration his air. Upon every exhale, he yelled for help, hoping someone could save him, anyone! If he didn’t suffocate, he was going to bleed out.

He’d never been afraid of dying, as far as he was concerned, it meant he could see Ro again, but to die like this… No, he. He just couldn’t. He wanted to die fighting, or with someone who cared about him, he wanted to die happy, fulfilled, having done what he’d always wanted to do and change the world. He wanted to die knowing is cloudwalkers were safe, that Ihuka could live free and happy, that Dyan never had to go back to that sick bastard! 

He blinked heavily as dirt got in his eye and he whimpered, forcing himself to keep calling for help. Tears slipped down his cheeks. Not like this… it couldn’t be like this. He closed his eyes and waited for death to take him. It had always been so keen to wrap its fingers around him and take him away. He’d lost count of how many times he’d almost died.

If these were to be his last moments, he wanted to have at least tried to survive. He tried to focus on his magic, to feel that buzz inside him again, the power radiating around his body but it just wasn’t there. He swallowed back a whimper. No, there had to be a way. Maybe light magic? He was terrible at using it these days, he hadn’t practised for so long, but he desperately tried. If he could make an orb of light above the earth, if he could just do something.

“Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die..”

Perhaps he deserved this, for all the hurt he had inflicted on others, for all the people he had killed, be it for revenge or not. He wasn’t a good man, he didn’t deserve a peaceful death.

He choked on a sob and tried again to make some sort of magic signal but he couldn’t feel it, and he didn’t have enough anyway.

He gave up, panting. He was going to die, that was something he reluctantly had to accept. He closed his eyes, feeling how the air was getting thinner. His bubble was running out, he was suffocating. He sought comfort in the only thing he could think of, and oh fitting it would be.

“May the giving earth that made me take me away,” he whispered, reciting one of his favourite poems that he so often read. “And from the earth, may I become an apple tree, to dance with the wind and sway u.under the smiling dreamer’s moon… for all the heavens to see.” He gulped, feeling his hands shaking even if they were pinned down by so much soil. “May my fruits feed the hungry, my branches protect the nests that depend on me... May my trunk b.be strong, yet the softest bed for the weary traveller to rest their head… S.stay a while...and think of me.” A sob escaped him, it was getting harder and harder to speak, to breathe, but he wanted to finish. “May I drink from the clearest stream… o.of tears… of grief, to nourish my roots and each and every leaf.” He doubted anyone would grieve for him...

This poem was all about his death meaning something, for him to have a legacy to leave behind. He’d always swore to live by this poem, and it hurt to know how far away from that he was. He whispered, “May I bow my head to the almighty sun that raised me, and greet the stars as friends, the h.heavens for which… I h.have… always reached...” He was finding it harder and harder to breathe, his consciousness was fading. “May they reach f.for me… May I be… free… To laugh with the dreamer’s moon… and sing...”

Then there was nothing.

____________

Ihuka dug furiously at the ground, his claws helping to drag away the upturned earth. His master was here, he had to be, and he was still alive. The magic he had seen made him certain, the beautiful tree that had formed, made of precious light magic. Dyan was helping, panting heavily as they both dug, one at each end, doing everything they could to get this dirt away while they had time. Erix was close, and they had to be fast.

Ihuka kept digging, even when he felt his hand hit against a sharp rock. He was sure he’d cut it bu the just kept digging. He hoped he wasn’t too late. He clenched his jaw and dug faster, like a fox. The dirt came away quickly until he finally hit something soft. He dug with more care, until he realised he’d found his master’s chin. He dug with care, lifting big chunks away that had been held up with a net of roots.

Avizon didn’t gasp for air, and Ihuka frowned, he had to breathe! Dyan crawled over to his master’s head and sobbed. “N.no… master, no, please, don’t leave us,” he whimpered. He shook his master’s chest while Ihuka kept digging, slowly freeing more of his chest. But Avizon did not stir.

Dyan put his hands on his master’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Please wake,” he whimpered, tears spilt. “M.master?” his bottom lip trembled and Ihuka’s stomach filled with dread. He’d been too slow. He’d failed.

Ihuka stopped digging and let his head drop. He felt his own tears spill onto the soil. Avizon had changed, he’d been good to him, he’d cared for him, let him stay wild.

Only a light caught his attention, and it wasn’t coming from his master. It was coming from Dyan. Dyan was using magic! Ihuka watched in stunned silence as the magic went into Avizon’s body and faded as quickly as it came. It felt like an eternity of silence, but finally Avizon’s chest started moving, as he heard him groan, then gasp, and finally scream.

Dyan threw himself back in surprise as Avizon sat up quickly, panting wildly, gasping and frantically digging his way out of what almost became his grave. He tried to get up, to stand and run, but his legs failed him immediately and he collapsed unconscious. Ihuka barely caught him.

“We have to get him back home,” Ihuka said quickly. Dyan nodded. “I can carry him.” ____________

The thought of carrying his master terrified Dyan, but he had to do it. His master needed help. He picked him up under the arms at first, to get him up and then he was able to scoop him up, letting Avizon’s dirty tear-stained face lean against his chest. Dyan hated the power shift he felt. He despised being responsible for him like this.

The flight was tense, silent since Erix was searching for them. They weren’t far from home, but Dyan’s arms quickly began to ache. His master was heavy, too heavy for him to carry. But he endured, he stayed quiet and bit his lips until he made it inside and up into the tower, where master kept all of his potions. Ihuka helped him to lie him down on the table. Ihuka went to fetch water. Dyan pursed his lips and went to collect his master’s mirror, which he used to talk to Orrien.

He couldn’t process what had happened, what he had done. All he knew was that he’d felt broken, seeing his master dead. Something inside him had snapped, no, stirred? He didn’t know how to explain it, like it had just woken up inside him perhaps? He was confused and scared and had no idea how his master would react to him having powers- being able to use them. He’d seemed excited to investigate the fact he could wield several months earlier... he just hoped he’d be happy, or at least, not hurt him. Dyan put the mirror down and shook his master’s shoulder. “Master, please, wake up! Please wake!” Avizon’s hand shot out and grabbed Dyan’s wrist, but his gaze was unseeing. Dyan froze. “M.master? Please… I. I brought your mirror. You need mister Orrien. You’re hurt.”

Avizon groaned, but let go of him. “Quickly,” he whispered, his lips barely parting. Dyan handed him the mirror, and Avizon barely managed to send some sort of signal to him before he passed out again. Dyan hoped it would be enough, and thankfully it was. Moments later, Orrien appeared.

____________

Orrien knew to expect something bad when Avizon had barely managed a whisper into the mirror. He didn’t wait to see what he could say. He rushed to grab a bag from his little hut and within a minute he was back at the castle. He never did like coming back here, too many memories, but for Avizon, he didn’t have a choice.

Avizon was on a table, covered in dirt, and his chest was barely moving. He could see a few wounds and knew this was serious. He reached to take his pulse, seeing Dyan kneeling on the floor.

“Help me undress him. What happened to him?” Dyan shuddered, but stood up and did as he was asked, “W.we got attacked, sir. He made us run away, but they did something to him and he couldn’t use his magic. But then when we came back to find him and found him under a tree made out of magic. He… he’d been buried- alive I think.”

Reincarnation magic?! And here Avizon had insisted he was terrible at light magic. He ought to retrain him, provided he could survive this. “We dug him out and… M.mister Orrien? I think I’m dangerous…” Dyan wrung his hands out and kept his head low. He reminded him so much of Avizon when he was younger.

“And why is that?” Orrien asked, grimacing as he saw the wounds on Avizon’s torso. “I… I got upset. I thought he was gone forever, but... I made magic. I. I don’t know how and I didn’t really mean to b.but I did and it brought him back…”

Orrien’s head shot up to look at him, stunned beyond words. “You brought him back?” This cloudwalker that had never cast a spell in his life had made a magic that even he struggled with. How?! It was amazing. Dyan nodded slowly. “M.master said I was able to ‘wield’, but I never have before… Is that bad?” Orrien forced his stunned focus back onto helping Avizon. “No, and I dare say I’m incredibly impressed and grateful. We can talk about it later, but first we need to look after your master.”

Dyan nodded with a nervous gulp. “Yes, sir.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #febuwhumpday9 #buried alive #whump #I love my beans so much #cloudwalker series #avizon #dyan #ihuka #Avizon whump

[unlockthelore]

Good Enough

Yuusuke is used to people trying to get under his skin but the world can only push so much til he pushes back.

Part of the Smile Bomb series. For more updates, follow the smile bomb tag on this blog.

For the umpteenth time, Yuusuke has to remind himself that he isn’t a junior high student anymore. He isn’t the punk kid who ran the streets of Sarayashiki, facing down any number of delinquents stupid enough to get tangled up with him. Hell, he wasn’t even human anymore. Not completely. A thought that hits too close to a place he doesn’t want to think about on a good day, and refuses to acknowledge on a bad one.

All of the reminders in the world are necessary to keep him from ripping into the owners of whispering voices and snide glances, uproarious opinions of things they hardly understand. Sometimes, the reminders come in the form of firm grasps on his shoulder or a hand at his back. Faces of people who know him — who understand the shadows that haunt his face or the brief flicker in his eyes — who take the shift in his mood seriously and separate him from those who don’t.

Seldom is it Kurama, guiding him from a room when his ki is strong enough to flicker the lights. Taking advantage of the momentary break in conversation to lead him somewhere quiet. Calm him down with a backward count from one hundred. Yuusuke’s anger never makes it past sixty-nine but it’s mostly out of his humor and the exasperation in the fond roll of Kurama’s eyes. They stay there, together and speaking quietly. Kurama reminding him that they’re there for him and he doesn’t have to deal with this alone — and Yuusuke doesn’t have the gall to tell him he’s wrong.

Or that he doesn’t understand.

If anyone understands, it’s them, and Yuusuke has to remind himself that he’s not alone.

Occasionally, it’s Hiei he seeks out when he wants a fight. But that also means running into Kurama but the fox knows when to leave the two of them be. Hiei doesn’t say anything when Yuusuke throws his coat aside and takes up a stance. He doesn’t question when they’re beating each other badly enough that the ground shakes and the world becomes red. Or when the marks appear on Yuusuke’s skin, reminding him of just how far removed from humanity it is. To Hiei, it doesn’t matter. Human, mazoku, he still strikes with the same intensity but when the dust clears and they’re both beaten bloody — he glances Yuusuke’s way and asks him if he’s gotten it out of his system.

Yuusuke thinks to question what he means but Hiei’s not an idiot.

He knows.

And hell if Hiei doesn’t understand. Yuusuke sees it in the way others look at him when he’s by Kurama’s side. Silently questioning what he did to earn his place there. Hiei doesn’t pay them any mind, not in public, he treats it like it’s nothing. But Yuusuke notices it at a glance when the crowds get too dense and tensions run high. Hiei separates himself and Kurama follows suit, comforting him because he’s right there by his side. It helps when Hiei returns and Kurama seems relieved but there’s still a ghost of it in Hiei’s eyes. And another strand of his patience is snapped.

Yuusuke asks Hiei if he’s gotten it out of his system.

Hiei says nothing but Yuusuke figures that means they’re both working on it because he said nothing about his issues either.

The world dealt them shitty hands but the people they’re with make it better.

And that’s why most of the time, it’s Kuwabara and Keiko who calm Yuusuke the most. They’re what he was fighting for. A life with both of them. Laughing and carrying on as if they’re all on the same playing field. As if death and circumstance hadn’t pushed them all off course. Kuwabara is doing well for himself, studying and staying out of trouble, but he still comes around to pal about. Keiko reminding the two of them that the floor of their ramen shop isn’t a wrestling ring. A tiny quirk at her lips telling that she’s not really mad. And when Kuwabara leaves, Yuusuke feels a tiny ache but Keiko’s there and she squeezes his hand and he feels a different kind of pain.

The whispers Kurama tells him to ignore, the ones Hiei endures, the ones Kuwabara disregards, the ones about Keiko and what he did to deserve her wears at him now and again.

And it’s only a matter of time before he snaps.

But he’s not that kid anymore…

He’s better now. He’s good enough. Right?

─── 幽☆遊☆白書

Keiko doesn’t say a word when they come back to their little upstairs apartment. With the shop closed and their evening freed up, Yuusuke collapses in front of the television and loads up a game. It’s one of the fighting tournament ones that Genkai continuously kicked his ass at and he’s determined to at least figure out how to beat the character she always uses. The game absorbs him and he tries to push away the muttering of Keiko’s colleagues, the ones who went to high school and college with her, who recognize him as the Urameshi Yuusuke. He snorts when the character on the screen lands a good blow, flattening his avatar on its back.

I heard he had over two hundred thousand people ready to move on command. You know he was kicked out of school and his mother got him back with her connections —

Comments about his mom aside, which in Yuusuke’s opinion was reason enough to drive his fist into someone’s gut, it wasn’t their business. And he doubted that it was a coincidence that his record was common knowledge. Iwamoto and Akashi coming to mind immediately, and Yuusuke hopes that they thank Takenaka for everything he did because revenge was looking sweet for many years.

And really? Did they think he could just summon two hundred thousand people to fight for him?

Bitterly, he thinks on the monks who followed beneath Raizen’s regime and now turn to him. They served his ancestral father and claim his tactics during the Makai Tournament was reason enough to follow him. Yuusuke sneers as his avatar gets back to his feet and the fight resumes. His thumbs flicking across the control, pressing down until he hears a click a bit too harsh to be normal.

Don’t look at him too long. He looks like he’ll slug you good.

Who wouldn’t want to slug someone when they were the topic on everyone’s tongue but the peanut gallery was too chickenshit to say anything out loud?

Glancing down at his hand, he scowls seeing a sliver of dark ink peeking from beneath the cuff of his dress shirt. Keiko insisted on him wearing the damned thing. Said it made him look handsome and was loathsome to disappoint her. Although, he wouldn’t agree to a tie or buttoning the damned thing up to choke him. Keiko didn’t seem to mind but even that came up.

Doesn’t he know where he is?

Yuusuke grinds his teeth together. He knew just where he was and who he was with. Keiko never had any issues with him, so everyone else should just butt out.

The weight on his shoulders shifts and Yuusuke instinctively tenses up, his nose twitching as he inhales mikan and vanilla, sighing softly.

Keiko.

She doesn’t say anything until he pauses the game, her hands sliding down his shoulders and linking in the middle of his chest. Her weight comfortable against his back as she leans into him, chestnut brown hair tickling his cheek.

“You didn’t listen to them then,” Keiko whispers, warm breath caressing the shell of Yuusuke’s ear and he suppresses a shudder, keeping his gaze firmly on the screen. “Why start now?”

A twisted sense of superiority and validation pools in his gut but he recognizes the bad habit for what it is and pushes it aside. The controller nearly gives beneath his grip. Soft lazy kisses trailing beneath his ear and along the curve of his jaw loosening the white-knuckled hold. Keiko’s voice is soft in his ear, beckoning for him to calm and his eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in another smatter of kisses along his cheek.

“Yuusuke…”

He grunts at the sound of his name. It’s concerned and imploring, seconds away from a trademark call of ‘I care’, and he knows she means every word. It’s just difficult to understand why. He’s grateful that whichever deity was looking out for him sent her his way but he wonders if he’s the right one for her.

Tucking his hand in the crook of her elbow, Yuusuke sighs and tips his head to the side, brushing his lips against her cheek and nestling his nose in the locks escaping the messy bun she tied her hair in.

“… Everyone who said I was no good for you and that I caused you trouble didn’t matter, Kei… but I saw it, hell I saw how hurt you were and I just… it’s different…”

For so long, Yuusuke was just running ahead and he hoped that Keiko would be right there beside him. If he had to give her up like a man, then so be it, but that was impossible. If there was one thing he hoped he’d always have, it was a place at Keiko’s side. He wanted to hold her hand and see her smile. All of the stuff he thought was impossible with a happy life and an enjoyable existence, people who cared about him — a family — he wanted to do it with her.

“You shouldn’t care what they think,” Keiko replies simply, but there’s a quiet urgency to her voice that draws his ear. “I waited for you because I wanted to.”

Yuusuke swallows the lump in his throat. He remembers that day on the beach bittersweetly. Running across the sand to get to her as quickly as possible, listening to her call out that she was done waiting and he prayed that his luck hadn’t run out. Then she looked at him and his world was righted. With her in his arms, her lips pressed to his own and time seemed to matter less. He decided at that moment he’d do everything and anything in his power to make up for it. So she’d never have to sound that desperate again — so they’d never have to be on separate paths again.

For as long as she lived.

Curling his open hand into a tight fist, Yuusuke puts on a brave face and his sternest voice. Ignoring the controller's dull thud as it clatters to the floor. Shifting enough to meet her eye, he grimaces. “I put you through hell, Keiko.”

After a beat of silence, Keiko shrugs lightly. “I can put you in your place when I need to.”

Yuusuke's mouth fell open. He was a mazoku, not fully, but still. Power-wise, he was pretty sure that he was above most average humans. The idea of getting his ass kicked now was more of a matter of how than when. Especially if what Hokushin told him about his kind was true. Keiko was no slouch when it came to fighting but he doubted --- well, no, even if her old age Genkai could put him on his ass. With the right training and enough anger…

Oh, that thought shouldn't have been as attractive as it was.

Realizing how quiet he was and the knowing look in Keiko's eyes, Yuusuke ignores the heat rising to his face and the pitch in his voice. “Wow, really? In my place? I come back from the dead as a demon, find out that I’m basically a king and you’re still gonna kick my ass?”

Keiko grins at him in response, a dull pain to his cheek as she pinches and pulls barely registers over her voice. “You better believe it.”

Her smiling face guides him from the trails of thought that this won't last. She deserves someone better. Someone who can give her a life she deserves. Who can grow old with her. But saying that might deprive Yuusuke of her entirely, and he swallows his fears for both their sakes.

His ki rounds out around them in a dull blue sheen. He's not sure how his energy still manifests as anything light. Far from anything sinister like the Elder Toguro or the gaudy blinding light of Sensui. Kurama mentioned the color of one's aura had more to do with the soul than what they were.

"At the soul," the fox's voice softened in his memory, a ghost of his hand resting on Yuusuke's shoulder with a comforting weight. "You're like the sky. There's more to you than meets the eye."

Yuusuke huffs and rests his head against Keiko's, watching with an amused smile as she curls her fingers in the light of his aura. Her own is a warm yellow. Reminding him of the sun. It's part of why he thought she was a goddess made flesh. There was only one Yukimura Keiko, and she wasn't perfect but she was perfect to him.

Easing her clasped hands from around him, Yuusuke shuffles about on the carpet enough to face her and pull her into a hug. Keiko doesn't go without a fight. A minor scuffle with both of them smiling eough that laughter bubbles up between them. Her arms draping over his shoulders and her face pressed to the hollow of his throat. She doesn't have as many scrapes and bruises as he does, but he knows that many of them are covered up. Her scars are more internal while his are the opposite.

Pressing his fingers to her lower back and trailing them up her spine, the cream-colored dress shirt she wore only felt like a hindrance. If he tore through it then she might be pissed and Yuusuke didn't want to sleep on the couch tonight of all nights.

“… Hey Keiko?”

“Yeah?”

Allowing them to bask in this silence for a few minutes longer, a wicked grin curled on Yuusuke's lips when Keiko's fidgeting started. His arms locking around her middle and body rocking backward, a dull pain --- barely there --- registering when his arm hits the floor.

“Gotcha.”

“Yuusuke!”

A sharp squeal of his name in his ear lost in breathy laughter as they rolled about, narrowly clipping the couch. Like they were kids again and had nothing better to do but mess with each other.

Yuusuke snickers, smiling down at her as she lays beside him. The bun her hair was in now ruined and the hair tie surely lost somewhere. Eyes bright with mischief and sparkling crinkle at the corners when he peppers noisy kisses along her cheeks, soaking in every giggling laugh and light push as if he was basking in the sunlight. Cradling the back of her head, Yuusuke's fingers tangle in dark brown locks and he practically beams as Keiko laughs and curls close to him.

Burying his face against her hair, the words muffle but are spoken with no small amount of affection.

“Thanks Keiko.”

Keiko sighs, her arm slipping beneath his own and anchoring them together in a tight hold. “You’re welcome.”

Uncomfortable though it may be, Yuusuke wouldn't mind laying here with her for as long as they could. He could even drag down a few pillows and the blanket off the back of the couch. Make it a little sleepover. Just so he wouldn't have to seperate from her so soon.

“Mind if we stay here… just for a little while?”

“Sure.”

“… Can we order takeout too?”

“From anywhere you want.”

Yuusuke snorts, leaning back to catch a glimpse of her face. “Woah, you’re really heavy on the being nice thing today, huh?”

In the dim, its harder to see her smile but the light from the television halos her just right and Yuusuke almost forgets how it is to breathe. “I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay,” Keiko says, palming his cheek with a touch so light it takes Yuusuke a second longer than his senses usually allow to register it even happened.

He feels his world narrowing down and the edges that are too sharp and jagged blunt immediately, everything curving in toward her. A million words rest on Yuusuke's lips but they're none too kind and all about himself, and he knows that Keiko wouldn't hear them. Not without giving him an earful. And he didn't want to argue with her. Not tonight.

They could have their playful spats another day when emotions weren't too high.

Tipping his chin up, he brushes his lips against her crown, whispering against her skin. “You’re too damn good.”

Keiko laughs and Yuusuke's heart stammers as she taps his chin, guiding him into a sweet kiss that ends far too quickly. “Remember that the next time you call me a nag,” she teases, tracing the line of his nose to the corner of his lips, her tongue poking between her own.

Yuusuke snorts, pretending to consider it. “Mmmmm, no promises…” He says, flashing a smile when she sticks her tongue out at him with renewed vigor. His tongue loosening more than he'd usually allow but for Keiko, it's difficult to put up his walls. “I like you even when you’re nagging.”

Her tongue retreats and she stares up at him with wide curious eyes. It dawns on him that he never told her that before. All the complaining he did as a kid returns to memory, but he did feel touched. Somewhere deep beneath all the irritation and dislike for authority.

“You do?”

Yuusuke sighs. He wasn't that kid anymore, but part of him still was. That kid would always be a part of him and he wouldn't toss him away. He had a reason to be angry with the world, and he got better over time. But they both had something in common. Yukimura Keiko would always be a blind spot, a strength and able to find a chink in the armor.

And they loved her.

“When you’re nagging, when you’re mad, when you’re happy, when you’re sad…” Yuusuke presses light kisses to her cheeks with each reason, trailing down from her cheekbone to her jaw then the corner of her lips. Each one is featherlight, enough to linger ut not enough to start anything. Kisses that he knew Keiko loved just as much as it riled her up. “I love you all the time. Even when you drive me crazy.”

He doesn't quite expect anything from that. Soft understanding warming Keiko's face and curving her smile, a gentle tug pulling him closer as their lips slot together. Only the thin fabric of their shirts keeping them apart but even that just takes a moment and a bit of patience to be nothing.

Distantly, it dawns on Yuusuke when he's unbuttoning Keiko's that they match. And the television flickers as a new wave of love and appreciation washes over him.

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #yusuke x keiko #kurahi #yusuke urameshi #yukimura keiko #kurama #hiei #kuwabara kazuma #fanfiction #my fanfiction #smile bomb

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (23/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to link previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!” found in my bio.

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 13 :) I hope you all enjoy!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 03x21 and 03x22

“Sweetie, can I talk to you?”

You pause at the sound of your mother’s voice, turning your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze. She’s stood at your doorway, almost as if hesitant to walk any further in as she looks back at you hopeful. 

You let out a sigh, frowning slightly as you continue to button up your flannel. You know you’ve been distant over the past few days, especially with your mother, and you figured eventually Melissa would question you on it. The two of you were normally extremely close, but with everything that’s been going on, Stiles missing and your father back and Isaac hurt, you’ve just been... distant. And you guessed, you figured Melissa wouldn’t say anything until this all blew over -- if it ever did.

“I’m about to head out to meet up with Allison,” you begin to explain, your voice muffled as you turn your back to your mother. “Said something abut needing my help. For Stiles.”

“Can it wait just a moment?”

Sighing, your shoulders fall. Once again, you turn, meeting your mother’s gaze and she looks desperate. Taking a step into your room, she shuts the door behind herself, and you sink back into your bed with the realization that you’re not going to get out of this conversation as easily as you hoped. You know what she wants to talk about and you’re not sure if you’re ready.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Melissa adds, taking a seat next to you on your bed. “I promise.”

You nod, feeling your shoulder bump hers lightly as you turn your head to face her beside you. “What did you want to talk about?”

Melissa inhales deeply, as if preparing herself for what’s to come. Then, she sets her hand on your own, squeezing it lightly. “I haven’t gotten the chance to ask how you were doing since your father returned.” And there it was; the one thing you didn’t want to talk about. Especially with your mother. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

‘I’m fine,” you answer shortly, turning your head away and staring at the wall adjacent to you. You do so in the hopes that Melissa will drop the conversation, but you know she won’t. And you’re only proven correct when she tugs gently on the grip she holds of your hand.

“I know you’re not,” your mother whispers, and you can imagine her smiling softly, despite the situation, because she’s always been able to read you like a book and why would that change now? “And that’s okay. Y/N, what you... went through, it doesn’t just pass. And with everything that’s been happening besides your father’s return, I understand if you’re not fine.”

You feel your eyes water, your jaw clench. “But I am fine,” you say again, hoping that your voice sounds more convincing as you finally turn to face your mother again. Meeting her eyes, you hope she doesn’t notice the tears that threaten to fall as you nod your head. “I have to be.”

Melissa shakes her head; “Y/N, what i’m saying is you don’t have to be fine around me. I’m here for you,” she whispers, her voice softening as she squeezes your hand tightly. “You don’t have to be strong around me.”

Something about her words seem to make your resolve fall. Staring into your mother’s eyes, her words echoing inside of her mind, causes the wall you’ve built over the past few days to finally fall. Everything seemed to have just fell apart so quickly, and you haven’t been able to properly let out your emotions as of yet. Your father returning brought about unwanted memories, Isaac getting hurt had scared you beyond belief and everything with Stiles had you constantly worried, unable to have just a moment to breathe.

The tears finally fall and then your mother is setting a hand against the back of your head, pulling you into an embrace. A sob leaves your lips as your head falls into the crook of her neck, and your arms raise to clutch onto your mother.

“It’s okay,” your mother soothes, running her hands through your hair. “It’s okay.”

Your mother probably thinks your tears are for your father and everything you endured. And a part of them are. Just like a part of them are for Isaac and how worried you are about them. But, as your eyes fall shut and the tears stream down your face, the image of Stiles appears in your mind.

“I love him, mom.”

The words slip past your lips before you are even able to stop yourself. Your mothers hand pauses on top of your head, and when you pull back, her eyes are narrowed and brows are furrowed in confusion. Then, when she sees your expression and the redness around your eyes, it all seems to click. Her shoulders fall and her face eases as she whispers out his name softly; “Stiles?”

You nod your head, swallowing thickly. “I love him,” you whisper once again, your voice pitching. “And now I might never get him back.”

Your mother smiles softly, sadly, and she moves her hands so they’re cupping your cheeks. Holding you close, she keeps her grip firm. “We’ll get him back,” she assures, “I promise you. Stiles is not gone.”

“But what if he is?”

“He isn’t,” your mother says, without a moment of hesitance. “And i’m going to tell you something, Y/N and I want you to listen carefully.” Nodding your head, you sniffle. “If you love Stiles, then use that as a driving force to save him. Use it as your determination because love is a special and powerful thing, and if anyone can save Stiles, I know you can.”

You feel your mind ease at your mother’s words, and a smile fall on your lips. “Thank you.”

Stroking her thumb across your cheek, Melissa lets her eyes wander across you; “I am so proud of the woman you’ve become, Y/N. I just want you to know that,” she whispers, meeting your eyes with a soft and endearing smile. “No matter what, I will always be proud of you.”

Leaning forward, you press a kiss against your mothers forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

As you pull back, a ringing sound echoes around the room. You jump slightly at the sudden noise, meeting your mother’s eyes briefly before reaching over and pulling your phone out of your bag. “It’s Allison,” you explain, your eyes scanning across the text. “She says she needs me. Her and her father, along with Derek and the Sheriff have a plan.”

You turn your head to Melissa, hesitating.

“Go,” she whispers.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Melissa nods, and you smile her way, pushing your self up to your feet as you grab your phone and slide it into your back pocket. You turn, making your way to your bedroom door, but before you can make it all the way out, Melissa calls for your attention one final time.

“Remember,” she smiles, “use your emotions.”

-

“This is everything non-lethal I could find.”

Letting out a sigh, you lean against the Argent’s desk, your eyes scanning across the supplies and weapons Allison’s laid out. There’s rope and handcuffs and... you’re not exactly sure how this is going to help you find and capture a evil spirit possessing your friend, but, you’re willing to try. Anything to try and save Stiles. 

“Take all of it,” Chris orders, to which Allison grabs the duffel bag to her right.

Noah falls next to you, her shoulders falling with anticipation. “What’s the plan here?”

“Our best shot right now is for Derek to try to pick up Stiles’ scent at Eichen House,” Chris explains, “especially if he went through something stressful there.”

“Should all four of us be going to the same place?”

“Where else has Stiles been showing up?”

“School,” you answer with a nod of your head. “The hospital.”

“Okay, hold on,” Derek calls, “we did this already. He disappeared. We started looking for him. Then walked right into a trap at the hospital.”

Pausing, you bite your lip. Derek’s right.

“He’s getting us to repeat the same movements,” Chris concludes.

“So, what do we do?” Allison questions with a shake of her head, “wait for him to come to us?”

“We can’t,” you remind with a shake of your own head. “Not if the Oni find him when the sun goes down.”

“Scott’s working on that right now,” Noah explains, with a nod of his head. “With Kira,” he adds.

“That’s the problem,” Chris speaks up, shifting slightly on his feet as you turn your head to look at him. “We’re all trying to outfox the fox.”

At his words, there is a collective round of anticipation that floods around the room. Anticipation that this will go wrong and nothing will change from the last time the nogitsune set up this trap. Noah seems to notice everyone’s hesitance, and with a sigh, he calls out; “listen. I’ll understand if anyone wants to back out.”

Meeting Noah’s eyes, you cross your arms over your chest with a shake of your head; “not when Stiles’ is involved.”

“And i’m not gonna be the first wolf to run from a fox,” Derek teases lightly, leaning forward to grab one of the weapons of the desk. 

“Apparently i’m carrying the lightsaber,” Chris jokes.

“Derek and Y/N,” Allison calls, bringing your eyes on her. “Dad, you three are gonna hit Eichen House.” You nod at her words, “Sheriff, it’s you and me at the hospital. We all meet in the school.”

You follow Allison and Noah out of the room, until Derek’s voice catches your attention; “making sure you have a few lethal options just in case?”

You halt, your body freezing as you turn your head over your shoulder. Your eyes land on the gun in Chris’ hand and your chest tightens, a sick feeling washing over your body. Chris glances back at Derek, before meeting your narrowed gaze.

“I like to prepare for the worst.”

-

“What is all this? What are these sticky notes for?”

“This is what Stiles used to try and explain to me about all of you.”

“I remember that,” you nod, meeting Noah’s eyes. “The chessboard. I was there.”

“Well, maybe it’s a message from Stiles,” Allison offers, staring down at the chessboard in thought. “The real Stiles.”

“You think there’s any reason my name’s on the king?” Derek questions, causing your eyes to fall on that chess piece. Swallowing thickly, you furrow your brows in thought.

“Well,” you speak up, “you’re heavily guarded.”

“But the alarming detail,” Noah adds, his gaze flickering upwards to meet Derek’s. “You’re one move from being in checkmate.”

Your brows furrow when your eyes land on the chess piece with your name on it. The Queen. If you remember correct, The Queen is the King’s general, the person on the battlefield that commands the King’s army. She is usually the strongest piece on the chess board, but her strength can also burden her and be overused... Why would Stiles put your name on The Queen?

“It’s not a message from Stiles,” Chris says, shaking his head as his eyes narrow. “It’s a threat from the nogitsune.”

“He’s at the loft. That’s what he’s trying to tell us.”

“And,” Chris adds, “he wants us to come there.”

“Night’s falling,” Derek reminds.

“This couldn’t sound anymore like a trap,” Chris warns. And you sigh, he’s right. But with night falling and the threat of the Oni...

“I don’t think it is,” Noah argues, shaking his head.

“I think your opinion might be slightly biased, Sheriff.”

“Hear me out,” Noah pleads, shifting on his feet slightly. “What we’re dealing with here is basically someone who lacks motive. No rhyme, no reason, right?”

“Meaning what?”

“Our enemy is not a killer. It’s a trickster. The killing is just a by-product.”

“If you’re trying to say it won’t kill us,” Derek grumbled, pulling your eyes on him as he raises a brow of disbelief in the direction of the Sheriff. “I’m not feeling too confident about that.”

“It won’t,” Noah assures without a moment of hesitation. “It wants irony. It wants to play a trick. It wants a joke. All we need to do is come up with a new punch line.”

“The sun is setting, Sheriff,” Chris reminds, “what do you have in mind?”

-

“You’re sure you want me to come?”

“I saw my son with you, Y/N,” Noah admitted, nodding his head your way. “Besides Scott, there’s no one more he trusts.”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, squaring your shoulders in preparation. You turn your gaze onto the loft door, still shut before you, before nodding your head; “ready?”

Noah nods, reaching across you to pull open the door. Like you’d all suspected, Stiles is stood in the middle of the loft, his back turned to you, but upon the sound of the door opening, he turns, slowly, and that feeling wells within you once again. 

“Hi dad,” then, his gaze flickers over to you. “Y/N.”

-

“You want to handcuff me?”

“If my son is still here,” Noah begins, making his way down the stairs over to Stiles. You’re reluctant to follow, your gaze narrowed upon that of Stiles in apprehension. Trust your instincts; and your instincts were telling you that that wasn’t Stiles. “If there’s still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he’ll put these on willingly and he’ll come with me, because he knows i’m here to protect him from himself and from others.”

You slowly make your way so you’re stood slightly behind Noah, your eyes narrowing as Stiles shifts slightly, raising his hands before him and holding them out for Noah to place the handcuffs around.

You are not going ignore your instincts this time.

“Sheriff,” you call, “that’s not your son.”

Noah’s gaze flickers to your own, but you keep yours trained on Stiles. It amazes you, even as you accuse him of not being Stiles, the nogitsune continues to pretend with impeccable acting.

“How can you know?”

Narrowing your eyes, you shake your head; “I just do.”

Noah sighs, turning back to his son who still holds his hands out willingly. He surprises you when, despite your warning, Noah steps forward, moving to put the handcuffs on his wrist.

“Sheriff--”

“He’s not fighting me,” Noah explains, locking one handcuff around Stiles’ left wrist and moving to do the same with the right. “Look.”

“But--”

You’re interrupted by the sound of the second handcuff locking. There’s a moment of stilled silence, Stiles’ head slightly bowed, before you see his lips quirk ever so slightly into a smirk and his gaze snaps upwards, meeting his father’s. That feeling inside of you doubles in strength, and your body tenses.

“You’re not my son.”

Void shakes his head and then tugs hard, breaking the hand cuffs without even a struggle. You take a step back in response, turning your head to look at Chris, Derek and Allison as they all huddle around you and Noah. Void smirks at the sight of them all, his gaze eventually lands on Allison who, without a moment of hesitance, raises the taser gun in her hand, pressing the trigger.

Your eyes widen when Void somehow... catches the electricity, molding it to his bidding before yanking it out of Allison’s hands. Derek is quick to jump in, letting out a growl, but Void catches him without a struggle, slamming him against the table to their left before tossing him back, slamming him against the wall. Derek falls to the ground with a thud, a cough leaving his lips.

It’s then you hear the cocking of a gun.

You don’t have to look to know who it is, but you do, your eyes widening when you see Chris aiming his gun directly at Stiles’ head.

Void turns in response, his eyes conveying that he obviously didn’t expect anything lethal to be pointed at him. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach as Noah raises his hand shakily, holding it out towards Chris. “Argent,” he calls, his voice pitching in fear. “Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Chris questions, “i’ve done it before. Werewolves, berserkers, I can easily add a nogitsune to the list.”

“Because this is Stiles too,” you argue, taking a step towards Chris. 

You blink when Noah raises his own gun, pointing it at Chris. “You’re not going to shoot my son.”

“You said it yourself, Sheriff,” Chris reminds with a slight tilt of his head. “That’s not your son.”

“Put it down,” Noah orders, his voice raising with more urgency. “Put it down.”

“Dad,” your eyes snap over to Stiles, or Void, who’s eyes water, taking the situation into his hands and using Noah’s weakness against him. “He’s going to shoot me,” he cries, the nogitsune inside of him pretending to be afraid. “He’s going to kill me, Dad.”

“Don’t listen.”

“Put it down,” Noah demands, turning back to Chris, “put it down. Now! Do it! Put it down!”

Your eyes narrow as Void shifts his attention to Chris; “pull the trigger. Come on,” he taunts.

“Listen to me, you put the gun down now!”

“Shoot me,” Void continues.

“Put the gun down now!”

“Dad,” Allison calls.

“Shoot me!”

“Put the gun down!”

No, you think. No. This is exactly what he wants.

“Shoot me!”

“Argent, you put it down!”

“Strife, chaos, pain,” you whisper,  “this is exactly what he wants.”

“Put it down! Put it down!”

Trust your instinct.

Your eyes widen as the light from the sun fades and a shadow falls over the room. 

“Put it down!”

“Stop!” You bellow, shaking your head. “Stop! Just stop! This is what he wants! Exactly what he wants!”

“Not exactly,” Void corrects, his eyes falling on you with a tilt of his head. “I was kind of hoping Scott would be here. But i’m glad you all have your guns out. Because you’re not here to kill me,” Void corrects, turning so his back is facing you. Your eyes widen when you see the Oni that appear through the window, arriving in the loft. “You’re here to protect me.”

Void backs up, sliding past you so he’s stood behind everyone as the Oni’s unsheathed their swords. Your eyes widen, your body tensing as Chris moves to shoot his gun, but no bullets ring out. Brows furrowing, you watch him toss the gun aside in confusion, pulling another gun out of his jacket as him and Noah begin to shoot at the Oni before you.

The two Oni on either side of the ones Chris and Noah are shooting, disappear, arriving behind you. Allison and Derek are quick to move behind Stiles, the two of them tensing in preparation.

You move to help Derek and Allison, but a hand latches onto your wrist, holding you in place. Your head snaps towards Stiles, or in better words, Void, your eyes narrowing when he smirks down at you. The chaos around you seems to fade to the back of your mind as Void’s grip turns bruising and suddenly, the world fades to black.

The last thing you see is Void smirking down at you.

-

“What happened?”

“They disappeared,” Allison pants, “they literally just vanished.”

Making his way down the steps and over to his friends, Scott’s eyes narrow. As he lets his gaze wander across those before him, his brows furrow when he doesn’t find you amongst the crowd.

“And so did Stiles,” Noah breathes with a shake of his head.

“And Y/N?” Scott questions, feeling his voice pitch in panic. “Where is she? Where’s my sister?”

Shaking his head, Derek grips the wound on his shoulder tightly, his gaze lowering to the floor. “Stiles took her.”

-

You watch him pace before you, your eyes following his every movement carefully and slowly. You have no idea why Void took you or what he wants with you, but you’re apprehensive, keeping as much distance from him as possible, your back pressed against the wall behind you.

You have no idea where you are, either. It hadn’t been that long since Void took you from the loft and your friends, and given that it’s still dark out, you can barely see anything around yourself. You can just make out the figure of him before you and the wall behind you, but other than that you’re in the darkness, completely vulnerable. 

And you grasp at the wall, keeping your palms pressed against the concrete in hopes not to be separated from what has become you’re only security. You hate that you’re so afraid, even when you know that if you had to, you could use your powers. But Void had said it himself; you won’t because he’s Stiles. And you won’t hurt Stiles. 

You gasp in surprise and fright when Void suddenly appears before you. You cringe into the wall behind you, trying to keep yourself as far away from him as possible. You know he’s the nogitsune, but when you look back at him, all you see is Stiles. It makes you weak, because you can’t do anything to defend yourself in fear of hurting him. It makes it hard to relent against him, but deep down, you trust Stiles more than anyone.

Void leans close, pressing his mouth directly next to your ear and you let out a shake breath in response. You clench your fists, your nails digging into the palm of your hand, your jaw clenching as you inhale sharply.

His voice is quiet, husky. And you know that all he’s doing is playing with your emotions, using your weaknesses against you to mold you and scared you. Because that’s what Void wants; chaos, pain, strife. And that’s exactly what he’s getting.

“Do you know why I took you?”

You don’t. You have no idea why, and even when you think hard, the wheels in your head spinning to try and figure out why -- you end up blank.

You don’t say anything, moving your head slightly to glare up at Void as your heart races madly against your chest. You can practically hear it pounding against your chest, and you’re sure Void can as well.

Your body turns rigid when Void raises his hand, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, exposing your neck to him. His touch is gentle, feathery -- it almost feels as if it is not there and you are merely imagining it. It causes your cheeks to warm and your heart flutter as you curse yourself mentally. You hate the control Void has over you by simply using Stiles as his host.

“I can hear Stiles’ thoughts loud and clear,” Void begins to explain himself. “It rattles around in my head, and when you arrive, all Stiles seems to think about is you.” Your breathe hitches at his words, licking your lips slowly. “He cares about you, a lot. You seem to drive him crazy.”

Void leans in closer, barely any space between the two of you.

“I took you,” Void continues, his breath fawning over your exposed skin. “Because it’s killing him inside knowing that I control his movements. That I control what he does to you.” Then, Void leans back, letting his hand fall on your cheek as his eyes meet your own. The smirk still hasn’t faded. “And you won’t refuse because i’m him.”

You feel sick to your stomach as Void continues to speak -- mainly because he’s right. You won’t refuse because when you look up and meet his eyes, you see Stiles and not the nogitsune.

Then, Void’s hand lowers, falling across your neck before landing right above your breast, where your collarbone lies. Your stomach flutters in response to his touch, feeling your breath get caught in your throat as Void does as he pleases, touches where pleases and looks where he pleases.

“He’s screaming at me to stop,” Void whispers, and your heart feels as if it’S shattering. Guilt floods you, that you have been responding to Void’s touch positively when it’s just Stiles’ body but the nogitsune’s mind and Stiles is suffering somewhere in there. “I love it.”

For a while, it’s just feathery touches. Ghost touches. And then, Void shifts  His hand suddenly falls on your neck, his grip tightening around it. You gasp slightly, feeling your face warm as his grip turns bruising and your airway is blocked by his tight grip. Void says nothing but simply stares down at you, smirking as he revels in the panic in your eyes as you gasp and claw at his hand, terror flooding inside of you.

You feel your face go hot, Your hands practically clawing at his own for air. 

Then, he lets go, steps back without a word. You gasp the minute his hand falls away, your hands falling to your neck as you inhale deeply, trying to catch your breath. Your knees give out from beneath, curling against the wall.

When you finally have gathered your composure, you remain crouched slightly, eyes flickering upwards to stare at Void’s back. You know what he’s doing -- he’s leaving.

You can’t help yourself from asking; “where are you going?”

Void turns his head over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. He doesn’t say anything but simply waves and then he’s gone. Disappeared in thin air.

Eyes falling shut, you set your head in your hands -- what the hell was that?

-

“Y/N?”

You meet your brother’s eyes, offering a bleak and forced smile as he lets out a breath of relief at the sight of you. He practically lunges off of his motorcycle, rushing over to you and taking you into his arms all in one quick movement. He clutches onto you tightly, as if afraid that you will disappear once again.

It only takes you a moment, still unsure and shaken by everything that had just happened, before returning Scott’s embrace.

After Void had left, you found, surprisingly, that he hadn’t taken you too far away from the loft. You still had your cellphone on you, and called the first person that came to mind -- Scott.

You hadn’t thought he’d be as worried as he seemingly was. And while you felt guilt flood you, guilt that hadn’t left you since your encounter with Void, you were relieved to know Scott cared for you so deeply. 

Pulling back, Scott’s eyes scan across you for a moment, in worry, before landing on your neck. Your eyes fall shut as he raises one hand, touching the bruise that Void had left on your neck, his brows furrowing. “Y/N,” Scott calls softly, and then you open your eyes, meeting his own. “What did he do?”

You want to answer. You do. But you find the words stuck in your throat when you go to explain yourself. And if you’re being honest, you’re not even sure if you understand what the hell had just happened between you and Void. So, you don’t answer, you just let yourself fall back into Scott’s embrace, clinging onto your brother for support.

You sniffle slightly, clutching onto the back of Scott’s shirt tightly. You feel him falter slightly in return, obviously surprised by the way you are holding onto him like he was your life-line. But Scott doesn’t say anything, and merely holds you closer, gripping the back of your head tightly as he let his eyes fall shut in relief that you were safe.

He wanted to ask you what had happened. Where Stiles had taken you. But he says nothing. It’s clear by your stature that whatever had happened had a heavy effect on you, and Scott can tell you’re not quite ready to talk about it. He’ll be here when you are, like he always is. But for now, he’ll simply hold you until you feel better.

“It’s okay,” he soothes at the sound of your heavy breathing. “You’re okay.”

-

“The couch, put him on the couch.”

Shuffling behind your brother, you help him and Aiden set Stiles down on the couch, your eyes unable to stray to far away from the wound on his stomach. It’s bad -- more than bad. It’s just one large slice across the entirety of his stomach, and by Stiles’ pale skin and the bags under his eyes, you can tell it’s getting worse.

“Guys, this is crazy,” Melissa sighs once Stiles is situation on the couch. “He needs to be in the hospital.”

“Mom,” you call, turning your head over your shoulder to meet her eyes. “Remember what happened last time he went to the hospital?”

“It doesn’t look like he’s bleeding,” Deaton mumbles, pulling your attention on him as he pulls the ripped edges of Stiles’ shirt away to get a closer look at the wound on his stomach. “I think he might even be healing,” Deaton says after a moment, his voice not failing to display the disbelief in his tone.

“You mean healing like we heal?” Aiden questions, eyes widening.

“That’s good, right?” Scott asks apprehensively. You hope it’s good, but something tells you, while it may be helping the wound heal itself, it’s not as good as you’d hope for Stiles himself. And possibly even you and your friends.

“For him, yes,” Deaton nods, “us? I’m not so sure.”

-

“Well, if we’re not going to kill him, why aren’t we at least tying him down with really big chains?”

“I might have something more effective,” Deaton began, raising the briefcase in his hands and pulling back the flap. You watch his movements carefully, your brows furrowing when he pulls out a vile filled with clear brown substance. He turns to both Scott and Aiden, who without question step forward, grabbing Stiles’ head and opening is mouth for Deaton to drop the substance inside.

You stand back, watching carefully with your arms crossed over your chest in anticipation.

Just as Deaton finishes dropping the liquid in Stiles’ mouth, you jump when Stiles’ eyes suddenly snap open. He instantly grabs Aiden’s arm with one hand and his neck with the other, his grip tightening dangerously around the boy’s neck. Instinctively and without thought, your hand goes to your own throat, swallowing thickly as your eyes widen as Scott moves to help Aiden, and Stiles, or Void Stiles, grins in obvious enjoyment.

“Get him off me! Get him off me!”

Eventually, Scott gets Stiles to let go of Aiden who stumbles back, Lydia rushing forward to help him. You fall next to Scott, the both of you turning to Void as he suddenly turns rigid, his face contorting in discomfort and a bit of panic as he stares at his hand shaking before him. “Kanima venom,” he eventually deciphers, raising a brow at Deaton. “Nice touch.”

Aiden growls at Stiles, taking a threatening step towards him.

“You know how they say that twins get a feeling,” Void begins, causing Aiden to halt to a stop. “When the other one’s in pain?” Your eyes flicker towards Scott, who meets your own in return, at Void’s words. “You didn’t lose that talent, too, did you? Oh, I hope not. You’re going to need it.”

As Scott and Aiden turn to look at each other, you narrow your eyes down at Void; “what the hell are you talking about?”

Void’s eyes land on your own and instantly, a smirk falls on his lips. “Okay,” he relents, “i’ll give a little hint. Ethan’s at the school.”

“Go,” Scott urges Aiden, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the front door. Aiden lets out a growl of frustration, but nonetheless listens, rushing over to the front door and hastily making his way out.

You hiss as Void lets out a joyous laugh; “oh, I hope he gets there in time. I like the twins.” As Void turns his head, he smirks over at Scott. “Short tempers. Homicidal compulsions. They’re a lot more fun than you bakemono trying to save the world every day.”

“Doc,” Melissa calls, her voice short displaying her annoyance. “You brought something to paralyze his body. You got anything for his mouth?”

“Yes, I do.”

-

“How much longer do you think we have?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Deaton sighs; “I wish I knew. But if we don’t figure out something soon, we’re going to need to find a better place to keep him. I think we’re grossly underestimating the danger here.” Your hand reaches up to touch your neck in response to Deaton’s words, rubbing at the bruise Void left as your gaze flickers over to him still in the living room. Void meets your gaze, and even though tape covers his mouth, you can tell he’s smirking.

“He might be paralyzed,” Deaton continues, pulling your eyes back on him, “but it still feels like he’s got us right in the palm of his hand.”

-

“But the scroll said to change his body.”

“That’s if I translated correctly,” Deaton reminds with a shake of his head. “We’re looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or a metaphor.”

“And what if he doesn’t want it?” You remind, turning to Lydia with wide eyes. Despite everything, you still find yourself thinking about Stiles’ well being and what he wants, rather than what he needs. Because this should be a choice he’s allowed to have a say in. “He’s never asked to be a werewolf.”

“What if it saves his life?” Lydia counters.

“What if it kills him?” Deaton asks.

“I’ve never done this before,” Scott sighs, letting out a heavy exhale. “I mean, what if I bite him and accidentally hit an artery or something?”

“That venom is not going to last long,” Deaton interjected, pulling Scott’s eyes on him. “Something needs to be done sooner than later.”

“I can try calling Derek again,” you offer, reaching into your pocket for your phone. As you move to press on his contact name, Lydia speaks up; “maybe we should call someone else.”

-

“He doesn’t look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf.”

You roll your eyes at Peter’s jab, shaking your head. This is so not the time for pointless insults and jokes.

Peter comes to a stop before Stiles, crouching down in front of him and staring Void directly in the eyes. You watch the interaction carefully, licking your lips in anticipation.

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott asks.

“This more a war of the mind than the body,” Peter informs, and despite your better judgement, he is right. “There are better methods to winning this battle.”

“What kind of methods?”

Peter grabs Scott’s wrist in response to Deaton’s question, flipping Scott’s hand so his palm is facing upwards and his claws are out directly before Stiles’ face. Void merely stares back at the claw, brows raised -- just like Deaton had said, it still seems like he has the upper hand. Like he is un-phased by everything you all are trying and one step ahead.

“We’re going to get inside his head.”

-

“So, do we have a plan?”

“Scott is going to try and dig through pale and sickly Evil Stiles’ mind to unearth pale and sickly Real Stiles. Then guide him back from the depths of his own subconscious. But he’s not going to do it alone.”

You sigh once again at Peter’s use of rather unprofessional words to explain his plan, but say nothing more. Instead, you find your back straightening ever so slight, waiting to hear who Peter refers to. It makes sense that Scott would be the one to enter Stiles’ mind. The two have been best friends for years and if anyone has a deep connection with him besides Stiles’ father, it’s Scott.

“What do you mean?”

Peter slowly turns his head to the right, eyes falling on Lydia. “Somebody needs to go in with you.”

-

“So what do we do if we find him?”

Biting your lip, you watch as Peter places Scott’s clawed hand at the back of Stiles’ and Lydia’s neck. Your heart is racing with fear and panic towards what your brothers about to do. Given that this is something Peter’s planned and Scott has never done it before, you think you have every right to feel iffy about the entire situation.

“You’re going to have to guide him out somehow,” Peter explains. “Try to give him back control of his mind, his body.”

“Could you elaborate on the ‘somehow’?” Lydia snaps, her nerves getting the best of her. “It’s not feeling very specific at the moment.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Peter steps back; “improvise.”

“What if this is just another trick?”

Peter’s eyes widen; “when are you people going to start trusting me?”

“I meant him,” Scott explains, gesturing toward Stiles.

“Oh.”

“Scott,” Deaton calls, “we’re running out of time.”

Nodding his head, Scott inhales deeply, preparing himself before his eyes flicker open and his eyes are glowing red. You meet his gaze for a moment before nodding your head, and then suddenly, he’s pushing his nails into that of Stiles’ and Lydia’s neck, the two of them tensing and shifting in response to the sudden intrusion.

-

You jump back when Scott’s eyes suddenly fly open, Lydia and Stiles’ mimicking his motions soon after. They all gasp in response, Lydia pushing herself up to her feet as Scott shuffles around the couch, moving to crouch in front of Stiles. “Did it work? Did it work?”

“What happened?” Lydia gasps, “why didn’t it work?”

You fall in front of Stiles, next to your brother, your hand falling on his shoulder as you wait, practically begging, something to happen.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia,” you hear Peter mumble, “it’s supernatural. I did my part. Now give me the name.” You turn your head over your shoulder at his words, your brows furrowing when you see him grab Lydia by the arm. There’s something going on that you don’t understand, and by the look on Scott’s face, it’s clear neither does he.

“What name?” Scott asks, slowly raising to his feet as he turns to Peter and Lydia.

You stay rooted at your spot, by Stiles, but watch them carefully.

“What are you talking about?”

Scott is only ignored as Peter leads Lydia away, back into the kitchen where no one can hear them. You turn your head away as he does, turning back to Stiles with a shake of your head. That feeling... it’s gone. It’s faded and it isn’t there anymore.

Shifting forward, you set your hand on Stiles’ cheek. “Stiles?” You call, your voice lowering to a whisper so only he can hear. “I know it’s you.... Stiles? It’s... It’s Y/N.”

Then suddenly, Stiles moves, his hands raising towards the tape on his mouth as you shuffle back in surprise. You feel Scott grab a hold of you, pulling you back and out of dangers way as Stiles hastily rips the tape off of his mouth. Your eyes widen when he begins to pull something out of his mouth, a retched gagging noise leaving his lips as he continues to do so.

You narrow your eyes, trying to identify what Stiles is pulling out of his mouth, It almost looks like... a bandage? But it just keeps on going, Stiles eventually tumbling off of the couch and onto his knees as he pulls and pulls. Your hands fall to your lips in response, your eyes narrowing in disgust as eventually it just starts tumbling out of his mouth instead of Stiles having to pull at it. He braces himself on his hands and knees, retching loudly.

Then, it stops, Stiles gasping loudly as spit falls from his mouth, shaking violently.

The bandages begin to cloud with smoke, and you fall into Scott in fright when a hand pokes through. A bandaged hand pokes through the bandages Stiles had just thrown up.

The hand eventually turns into a full out man, crawling out of the bandages which should be virtually impossible. It’s face and hands are all covered in the same type of bandages that had just came pouring out of Stiles’ mouth and the lot of you shuffle back in response. 

Then, the figure takes a lunging step towards you, to which Peter and Scott instantly grab a hold of him, pulling him back. Deaton goes to pull you back with him, Lydia and Melissa but you push his hand away, your eyes narrowed and focused on that of the bandaged figure. Something isn’t right.

“Hold him.”

“I’m trying!”

“Wait,” you call, your voice pitching as you take a step forward. Scott’s wide eyes turn to you, shaking his head.

“Stay back--”

“Just, wait!” You bellow, pushing your way past Scott and Peter so you’re crouched before the bandaged figure. Raising your hand, you pull at the bandages, pulling them away from the face underneath until eventually you meet Stiles’ eyes 

Stiles’ flinches back in fear until he registers that it’s you before him, and then on Scott who’s stood behind you.

“Y/N?” He asks, his voice soft with disbelief.

You turn your head over you shoulder to meet Scott’s eyes, but Deaton calls for his attention, stepping back to reveal the front door opened. Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment, until you realize that the Stiles who you’d found before, who you now figured was the nogitsune, was gone.

And so was Lydia.

“Where are they?” Scott breathes, his voice breathless with pitched panic. “Where are they! Lydia!”

-

Part 24?

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[scarletxmoon]

Can You Trust A Fox? - Chapter 2

AO3

Chapters: 1

The moment his name left Kevin's lips Neil's eyes widened—he quickly attempted to back up as far away from them as he could.

"No don't take me back there! I won't go back!" He was fully panicking trying to get away; trying desperately to fight despite the pain that he was in. 'You have to get out of here. You have to run.' He could almost hear his mother screaming at him.

In his panic he didn't notice anyone moving until he felt a hand on the back of his neck. It might have been an attempt to calm him but it only caused his body to tense up.

"Calm down" the low voice from before returned. Neil jaw clenched as he looked around noticing the blond twin in all black had disappeared. He pulled his hands in to a fists and prepared to fight. "No one here is going to harm you." Andrew's finger tips dug slightly deeper into Neil's neck. Slowly Neil breathed out, he counted down from ten in his head to try to stop the anxiety.

Kevin looked him over—a look of pity on his face. Neil grimaced; pulling the sheets around his torso to cover his many scars from their prying eyes. Neil didn't want their pity he just wanted them to be gone.

"I'm not part of the Empire. I left the Moriyamas." Kevin chose his words carefully trying not spook Neil further. Neil still struggle against Andrew's grip before just going slack. He breathed in and out; trying to calm himself like he had done many times before. He felt the hand on his neck drop, Andrew moved away from to stand by the window—Neil turned to watch him. He returning his focus back to Kevin watching him carefully.

"Then who are you running with if it not the Moriyamas" Neil uttered lowly.

"The Foxes" The fox crest made sense now. Neil had heard of the Foxes in passing they were a guild of misfits and criminals who didn't fit in with society. They formed themselves into a group to defeat monster make money and make trouble for the higher class criminal organizations. Organizations much like the Moriyamas which his father was part of; a guard dog—a murderer.

"Why the Foxes?" He questioned sending him a distrusting look.

Kevin sighed, he knew the last time Neil had seen him was when he was still with Riko. He didn't know what Riko had done to him which made sense to why he was untrusting. Kevin offered him a smile.

"They offered me protection." He said it as if it was the obvious answer. "I'm sure Wymack would offer you the same Nathaniel."

"Neil" He snapped. "It's Neil now." he said in a slightly more calmer tone. "I refuse to keep my father's namesake." Kevin nodded but didn't push him to explain it any further. He was thankful for that; the name brought him fear and reminded him of endured pain. Neil had been the last name his mother had given him when they went on the run before she was murdered.

"As I was saying the Foxes need more recruits and after what we saw of you I think you'd be a good fit—"

"I don't need anyone I have people trying to kill me all my life and no one has managed it yet." Neil cut him off—someone snorted. His eyes narrowed at Aaron still standing at the foot of the bed.

"And yet you almost died from poison from a monster." It was snide remark; Neil scowled at him.

"I.." He trailed off; what could he say to that when he was right he did almost die.

"I know you think you don't need anyone but aren't you tired of running?" Kevin offered. "Being alone?" Those words hit him like a brick; he was tired--he was sick of just being alone. He conjured a cat so that he wouldn't be but the creature couldn't talk. It was only magic. Sir.

"How did you find me?"

"We followed you." Andrew said flatly from behind him; Neil turned his face slightly towards him narrowing his icy eyes. Andrew simply shrugged off the glare. "We were on the same job as you. You beat us to it so we followed you."

"Come with us Neil; give the Foxes a chance." Neil looked back at Kevin; staring at his out stretched hand suspiciously.

"Fine." He bit out; not accepting the hand.

He allowed Aaron to changed the bandages on him once the rest of them had left. After redressing quickly he went to join the others outside of the room. He crossed through the door; noticing the twin in all black leaning against the wall beside the window. Andrew's eyes swept over his form—inspecting him as he walked out. When he seem satisfied he pushed himself off the wall heading towards the door.

He stopped turning back towards Neil nodding to him to follow. Neil swallowed the lump in his throat as he followed him through the door. The sun was high in sky telling him it was somewhere around noon. He wondered how long he had been out for.

Once they were outside his eyes scanned the group placing names to faces. Aaron and Andrew were the same as much as they were different; Aaron scowled but looked relatively innocent; Andrew on the other hand kept a straight face but he had an air of danger to him that told Neil he should run. He was almost certain that Andrew would gut him in his sleep if given the chance.

Nicky was the odd one of the group, he seemed to be the cheerful one—constantly talking. Neil watched him as he played an inspirational tune on his flute breaking into a smile.

Kevin looked stronger then he remembered. He still saw the sad child who lost everyone but he could also see the new found strength he had gained. His fighter attire sporting the fox crest. He'd have to ask him later how he managed to escape from the Moriyamas.

The Foxes minus Andrew all wore orange in some form, it drew attention to them and this made Neil feel sick. If he too wore orange it be like painting a target on his back, everyone would know he was a fox and he wasn't sure he was ready to face what it could mean for him—whose attention he might gain.

He walked over to join Nicky who was holding his pack and his belt of satchels. He offered a quick thanks as he took them. Once they were ready to leave Neil looked around him looking for Sir. He sighed to himself; pulling out incense, he closed his eyes and chanted the summoning spell. Sir appear into existence landing gracefully on his shoulder; he rubbed up against Neil's face happy to see that he was alright.

The others stared at him shocked by the little creature that was mewing happily. Except Andrew who seemed disinterested in the cat. Neil looked at them and shrugged with a smile on his face.

They headed out towards the north west; from what Neil could remember he heard whispers that the Foxhole Court was somewhere in the north just out of reach of the empire. Neil stuck close to Kevin, Andrew took the lead while Nicky and Aaron took up the rear.

They walked for what felt like hours until the sun began to set, Neil shifted his glances between Kevin and the back of Andrew. No one talked as they continued on even as the night set in it looked like they were going to go all night.

"Here." Andrew monotonous voice rang out as he stopped ahead of them. The other went through the motions of setting up camp. Kevin gather branches for the fire; Neil help him set it up using a fire bolt to set it alight while the rest of them setup their bedrolls.

"I'll take first watch." Kevin commanded; Neil knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. So he headed over to where Kevin was and joined him.

"You should get some sleep." Neil shrugged.

"I'm not tired." Neil stared at the fire working up the courage to ask the questions that had been on his mind. "Can I ask you—"

"How I escaped from the Empire? How I remembered you" Kevin cut him off. Neil watched him warily then nodded. A sigh escaped Kevin's lips before he turned back to staring at the fire.

"Riko is a complicated man. He is the jealous type and becomes rather volatile. The Moriyamas had us trained as fighters and we were both very skilled; but they only offered one of us a position in the guard. Of course Riko wouldn't take that; he figure he was the better one so he took away the only thing I had ever wanted."

He lifted his left hand; Neil could see the scaring. His flesh had been torn into with a dull knife that had left jagged lines.

"He broke me after that; beat me and almost killed me. He would have if it had not be for Jean." He lowered his eyes; a sadden look crossed his face. "He got me to Andrew who in turn brought me to my father. Who happened to be the one leading the Foxes."

Neil stared at him; piecing together all he had said. Neil had thought that his father was dead. He remember Kevin telling him so when they were younger. After his mother had passed away; he had told him that both his parents were gone and that he was alone and now belong to the Moriyamas. To the Empire. Much like Neil would have if his mother hadn't gotten him out of there.

"Now as for you I don't think I could have forgotten your face. You look too much like him." 'Him' his father no one like saying the name of the Butcher. One could be certain if his name was spoken he would be summoned. Neil shiver at the thought.

"I'm sorry but it's true." As if he knew what Neil had been thinking.

"Yeah I know." Neil sighed. "It was why I kept myself disguised."

After what seemed like hours Kevin passed off watch to Andrew. Neil had been tempted to try to get some sleep, but he knew it was futile. He settled on just sitting in silence with Andrew; who kept giving him small side glances every so often. Neil huffed the constant staring made him feel uncomfortable.

"You know you don't have to stare at me, if there is something you want to know you can ask me." Neil kept his voice flat, shifting his eyes towards Andrew who had a flat look on his face. He stood up moving to close the distance between himself and Neil—standing in front of him. He flopped down beside him sparing him a quick glance.

"I am just trying to figure you out. You look like someone who would run on first danger like a rabbit." He tilted his head—curiously. Neil just stared at him. "I don't trust you and I don't know how Kevin knows you but I will find out." Neil stiffened his back eyes widening a fraction at the thin veiled threat in Andrew's voice.

"I'm not a puzzle for you to solve." Neil snapped back in response.

"Oh you are and I intend to solve you." A twisted manic smile crossed Andrew's face; Neil knew there was something off about him.

"I'm not afraid of you. People worse then you have threatened to kill me and I'm still here." Neil turned to face the fire; not wanting to look at Andrew any longer.

"Maybe you should be." He whispered turning to look out into the forest.

Author’s Note:

Neil is a Wood Elf Wizard Andrew is a Halfling Rogue Aaron is a Halfling Cleric Nicky is a Halfling Bard Kevin is a Human Fighter

#all for the game #the foxhole court #dnd au #tfc #au #my fic #inprogress #fanfiction #multi chapter #ship tags will be added in future chapters

[troubleintrump]

Open Letter:

To my Trump-supporting family,

On the morning of November 9, 2016, the America I knew and loved died.  Or rather, I woke that day to discover that it never really existed in the first place. 

Let me explain. 

I grew up in the Deep South.  I was a flag-waving, gun-shooting, red-blooded American boy.  I said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in school, got tingles when I heard the national anthem, and fervently accepted that no other country on the planet could ever come close to the grandeur, freedom, and inspiration that the United States of America offered.  We were that City Upon the Hill that was promised to the world – a shining beacon of participatory democracy that everyone else desperately wanted to emulate but could never achieve.  We were tough on our allies, but only because we needed to push them to excel and improve.  Of course, they’d never quite catch up to us economically, politically, or militarily, but hey, that’s the price of not being the USA.  The chants of “USA! USA! USA” weren’t taunts, but merely celebrations of our preeminence.  And anyone’s detractions were just signs of their jealousy.  Because everybody wanted to be American, right?

I was sold the American dream just like the hundreds of millions of my compatriots.  Work hard, pay your dues, and you’ll succeed.  No child left behind.  All in this together.  Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  I joined the Navy and proudly served my country because that’s just what a Southern boy did.  There simply was no higher honor than being part of the vanguard protecting democracy from those who would do us harm.

Even after traveling the world with the Navy and learning that, actually, America didn’t hold a monopoly on freedom, I still wasn’t swayed from my categorical resolution that no country was better. No people could be better.  America resulted from the failures and lessons learned from every other country’s trials and errors.  Mostly errors.  But we corrected them all.  Where other countries had endured the restrictions of authoritarianism or the unfettered chaos of direct democracy, America perfected the balance with our Constitution and its representative democracy.  Sure, we had our own fits-and-starts, which our schools taught – seizure of land and the treatment of Native Americans, the slave trade and oppression of black people, relegation of women to the home – but the America in which I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s had moved past those missteps.  Right?  Wasn’t America now that happy melting pot teeming with opportunity for all, if only you tried hard enough?

Of course not.  But that was how I viewed it.  And I’m sure that’s how you still think of America.  What we did to the Native Americans?  They just need to accept that we civilized them and they should be thankful.  Slavery, Jim Crow, systemic racism?  Nah, African Americans need to get over slavery, stop being ghetto thugs, and start accepting responsibility for their own communities.  And women certainly have come a long way – just don’t get too uppity or think you’re entitled to too much of a political view, otherwise you risk losing your innate genteelness.  (If reading this part makes you feel uncomfortable – and it probably does – stop for a second and think about why.  Your discomfort is what’s left of your conscience.)

After I left the Navy and joined the real world, I saw more and more of what this country truly was.  The mistreatment of people of color, the judgment and chastisement of the LGBT community, and the everyday sexism.  Unlike the America taught in schools, this place had a lot of scars, scratches, and quite a few gaping wounds.  But still I thought none of them were terminal.  Surely Bill Clinton (for all his flaws) had it right when he said there was nothing wrong with America that couldn’t be cured by what was right in America.  Surely.

Up until November 8, 2016, I genuinely believed that, despite its myriad shortcomings, America was still the country that stood up to bullies.  It valued intellect and scientific discovery.  Americans may have disagreed on specific policies, but still had faith that public servants genuinely had the country’s best interests at heart.  Immigration built this country.  And we should always, always protect the innocent and welcome those fleeing poverty, war, or famine with open arms.

But America didn’t elect a leader who represents any of those principles.  America didn’t elect a leader with any principles.  And you did that.  You can say you held your nose and voted for the “lesser of two evils,” or that you only voted for Trump because you knew he’d further the policies with which you agreed, even if you found him personally detestable.  But when you and all of the other Trump voters pulled that lever, you weren’t just selecting your preferred presidential candidate.  You were selecting what America was.  And it is nothing like the America I grew up believing in.  To say that your choice and the result it brought about triggered an existential crisis would be an understatement.  My whole life, I’d been an unquestioning, patriotic servant of America because of what I’d believed it stood for.  But in a single night, everything it stood for was revealed as a fraud.  Everything I stood for was a fraud.

So now, two and half years into the alternative reality, I’ve come to grips that this isn’t some insane nightmare.  This is reality.  And seeing how Trump supporters (yourselves included) have behaved since then, I really was a fool for ever believing America stood for anything else. 

I won’t bore you with my journey to “wokeness” or why the things you tolerate literally sicken me.  Sexual predator? “They’re not hot enough to sexually assault.” Racist bully?  “Fake news.”  Uncompassionate bigot?  “They should stay in their own damn countries.”  Even if I had the capacity and patience to expound on every deviation from the America I thought existed, you wouldn’t care.  Why?  Because you’ve stopped listening.  The rise of Fox News means you’ve stopped reading the papers.  And even if you did, you wouldn’t be intrigued or inquisitive about what they say because you’ve bought into the idea that the press is the enemy of the people (except for Fox News and the National Review, which get passes because, well, why?). 

You’ve stopped paying attention to anyone who doesn’t agree with your crystallized view of the world.  You’re the mosquito of the Reagan era, completely unaware the sap has long hardened around you into amber.  And frankly, it’s not even particularly pretty amber.  It’s dull, opaque, muffled.  You can’t see or hear through it and you don’t want to.

But to be honest with you, I’ve lost all interest in trying to break you free.  At first, I really wanted to.  I wanted you to understand how the promise of America was broken.  I wanted you to see so we could find some way to fix it.  But every time I tried, you trotted out some line you heard Trump spew (none of which make any sense whatsoever, by the way) or that some Fox News commentator has conned you into thinking reflects reality.  So I’m done.

The America I believed in doesn’t exist.  Instead, it’s a different country now, irretrievably.  I get a bit melancholy about it sometimes, because promise and hope and opportunity are like political endorphins, and I miss them.  And I miss you.  I miss having conversations about our lives as though you hadn’t abandoned everything we ever believed in.  I miss seeing your smiling faces without having to hold back a political tirade.  I miss spending time with you without constantly wondering how you sleep at night knowing what this country is doing to the defenseless.

Surely by now you’ve seen the AP’s recent photo of an El Salvadoran man and his two and a half year-old daughter who drowned as they fled the violence in their home country, hoping to seek asylum in America.  They drowned because Trump won’t let them claim asylum at the border entry points.  He’s denying them the safety and promise that America used to stand for.  Many observers who haven’t yet fully recognized their prior delusions are saying, “This isn’t what we stand for.”  But it is.  It’s exactly what America stands for.

And that is why I’m done with you and your ilk.  We’re still family; you raised me; we share the same blood.  But we come from and live in two different countries.

Sincerely,

Matthew

[bookishreviewsblog]

Nora Sakavic: The Raven King (The Foxhole Court #2) | Lara

The Foxes are a fractured mess, but their latest disaster might be the miracle they've always needed to come together as a team. The one person standing in their way is Andrew, and the only one who can break through his personal barriers is Neil.

Except Andrew doesn't give up anything for free and Neil is terrible at trusting anyone but himself. The two don't have much time to come to terms with their situation before outside forces start tearing them apart. Riko is intent on destroying Neil's fragile new life, and the Foxes have just become collateral damage.

Neil's days are numbered, but he's learning the hard way to go down fighting for what he believes in, and Neil believes in Andrew even if Andrew won't believe in himself.

“They were exhausted, sore, and more than a little disappointed by their loss, but the Foxes left the stadium feeling like champions.”

They are every fucking inch the champions. Excuse me, where can I sign the adoption papers for the entire Palmetto State University Team? I am a complete fucking mess over this book – like, the ultimate kind of mess I haven’t been since reading Six of Crows and I’m screaming internally and externally from the chilling ecstasy reading this book woke in me (I don’t get it how my family isn’t obsessed over the characters or at least doesn’t understand my constant screeching). And now I’m stuck between procrastinating the last book because I don’t want it to end and desperately wanting to see what happens next.

This book skyrocketed above all my expectations, taking my love for sports and love for damaged characters wronged by the world to a whole different level. I am breathless, I am at a loss for words, lost in the sea of emotion this book released in me for an infinite moment that I have been reading it. There is so much about this book that makes it amazing – writing most of all, for how can you have a good book without an amazing author who knows exactly what to give his readers. Sakavic illustrated life in sport – imperfect and fucked up life with a lot to work on, but the idea of that feeling of importance and belonging is still there and I cannot thank her enough for giving such a voice to a one-of-a-kind athlete.

“Look. Shit happened. Shit's going to keep happening. You don't need me to tell your life isn't fair. You're here because you know it isn't. Life doesn't care what we want out of it; it's up to us to fight for what we want with everything we've got. Seth wanted us to win. He wanted us to make it past the fourth match. I think we owe it to him to perform. Let's show the world what we've got. Let's make this our year.”

If there is a heaven for books, this one has a throne waiting for it there. The first one was a hell of a shocker, but The Raven King was ten times more so. The intensity of its plot was enough to fry every single one of my brain cells – from the intense and vivid games and mafia wars to immensely complex and intertwined character interactions – this book is everything I’ll be thinking about for the rest of my life. Foxes playing together, fighting for each other and trying to overcome their differences and help each other with the trauma is something I am not ready to let go of. They are such a messed-up bunch, but what’s there is the ferocity of their characters that is still there after everything, that drives them forward to fight for their team no matter what. I don’t want to sound dramatic, but fuck me, what did I do to deserve this book?

“He was their family. They were his. They were worth every cut and bruise and scream.”

It is so amazing how I literally can’t find one character that I don’t adore in this book – all of the Foxes completely occupied my heart and have no intention of leaving anytime soon. Neil Josten is the carrier of the plot and his problems keep growing. The situation with the Moriyamas is unraveling and he is in more danger than ever – only now he decided not to be afraid. The belonging that literally saved him and his love for Exy are the things that keep him fighting for his Foxes – the only thing he has left. I love every part about this sassy boy who took it upon himself to fix his team in order to take them where they all deserve to be – on the top.

“Your parents are dead, you are not fine, and nothing is going to be okay. This is not news to you. But from now until May you are still Neil Josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive.”

The entire story is told from Neil's perspective as the main character but I feel like this book was mostly oriented on a strong-willed amazing creature that is Andrew Minyard. Geez, if you thought the first one was dark and fucked up then you're up for a treat. I finally came to understand the damage he'd undertaken and the abuse he had endured. The darkness that comes from him can only find any consolation in the need to protect what's his like no one protected him and I really want him to be better and find some purpose in Exy.

I also have a new discovery and it's called my love for Kevin Day. I usually have a distaste for cowardly characters, but his will and determination, as well as despise for himself, give him a deep dimension of someone who needs to recover and get over his long-induced trauma. He pushes himself to be better when everything has been taken from him and I nominate him for the biggest cinnamon roll of the month.

But my love doesn’t stop there – no, no – there is also Nicky who is such an icon, fierce Dan and loyal Matt, sweet Renee, determined Allison, and even asshole Aaron, but they’re all part of something amazing.

“Neil thought about Renee's bruised knuckles, Dan's fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth's death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father's violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, "Some of the strongest people I've known are women.”

#book #book review #nora sakavic #the foxhole court #the raven king #fiction #young adult #contemporary #sports #sport games #lqbtqia

[reading-writing-revolution]

Open Letter: To my Trump-supporting family from a Navy Veteran:

To my Trump-supporting family,

On the morning of November 9, 2016, the America I knew and loved died. Or rather, I woke that day to discover that it never really existed in the first place.

Let me explain.

I grew up in the Deep South. I was a flag-waving, gun-shooting, red-blooded American boy. I said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning in school, got tingles when I heard the national anthem, and fervently accepted that no other country on the planet could ever come close to the grandeur, freedom, and inspiration that the United States of America offered. We were that City Upon the Hill that was promised to the world – a shining beacon of participatory democracy that everyone else desperately wanted to emulate but could never achieve. We were tough on our allies, but only because we needed to push them to excel and improve. Of course, they’d never quite catch up to us economically, politically, or militarily, but hey, that’s the price of not being the USA. The chants of “USA! USA! USA” weren’t taunts, but merely celebrations of our preeminence. And anyone’s detractions were just signs of their jealousy. Because everybody wanted to be American, right?

I was sold the American dream just like the hundreds of millions of my compatriots. Work hard, pay your dues, and you’ll succeed. No child left behind. All in this together. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. I joined the Navy and proudly served my country because that’s just what a Southern boy did. There simply was no higher honor than being part of the vanguard protecting democracy from those who would do us harm.

Even after traveling the world with the Navy and learning that, actually, America didn’t hold a monopoly on freedom, I still wasn’t swayed from my categorical resolution that no country was better. No people could be better. America resulted from the failures and lessons learned from every other country’s trials and errors. Mostly errors. But we corrected them all. Where other countries had endured the restrictions of authoritarianism or the unfettered chaos of direct democracy, America perfected the balance with our Constitution and its representative democracy. Sure, we had our own fits-and-starts, which our schools taught – seizure of land and the treatment of Native Americans, the slave trade and oppression of black people, relegation of women to the home – but the America in which I grew up in the 1980s and 1990s had moved past those missteps. Right? Wasn’t America now that happy melting pot teeming with opportunity for all, if only you tried hard enough?

Of course not. But that was how I viewed it. And I’m sure that’s how you still think of America. What we did to the Native Americans? They just need to accept that we civilized them and they should be thankful. Slavery, Jim Crow, systemic racism? Nah, African Americans need to get over slavery, stop being ghetto thugs, and start accepting responsibility for their own communities. And women certainly have come a long way – just don’t get too uppity or think you’re entitled to too much of a political view, otherwise you risk losing your innate genteelness. (If reading this part makes you feel uncomfortable – and it probably does – stop for a second and think about why. Your discomfort is what’s left of your conscience.)

After I left the Navy and joined the real world, I saw more and more of what this country truly was. The mistreatment of people of color, the judgment and chastisement of the LGBT community, and the everyday sexism. Unlike the America taught in schools, this place had a lot of scars, scratches, and quite a few gaping wounds. But still I thought none of them were terminal. Surely Bill Clinton (for all his flaws) had it right when he said there was nothing wrong with America that couldn’t be cured by what was right in America. Surely.

Up until November 8, 2016, I genuinely believed that, despite its myriad shortcomings, America was still the country that stood up to bullies. It valued intellect and scientific discovery. Americans may have disagreed on specific policies, but still had faith that public servants genuinely had the country’s best interests at heart. Immigration built this country. And we should always, always protect the innocent and welcome those fleeing poverty, war, or famine with open arms.

But America didn’t elect a leader who represents any of those principles. America didn’t elect a leader with any principles. And you did that. You can say you held your nose and voted for the “lesser of two evils,” or that you only voted for Trump because you knew he’d further the policies with which you agreed, even if you found him personally detestable. But when you and all of the other Trump voters pulled that lever, you weren’t just selecting your preferred presidential candidate. You were selecting what America was. And it is nothing like the America I grew up believing in. To say that your choice and the result it brought about triggered an existential crisis would be an understatement. My whole life, I’d been an unquestioning, patriotic servant of America because of what I’d believed it stood for. But in a single night, everything it stood for was revealed as a fraud. Everything I stood for was a fraud.

So now, two and half years into the alternative reality, I’ve come to grips that this isn’t some insane nightmare. This is reality. And seeing how Trump supporters (yourselves included) have behaved since then, I really was a fool for ever believing America stood for anything else.

I won’t bore you with my journey to “wokeness” or why the things you tolerate literally sicken me. Sexual predator? “They’re not hot enough to sexually assault.” Racist bully? “Fake news.” Uncompassionate bigot? “They should stay in their own damn countries.” Even if I had the capacity and patience to expound on every deviation from the America I thought existed, you wouldn’t care. Why? Because you’ve stopped listening. The rise of Fox News means you’ve stopped reading the papers. And even if you did, you wouldn’t be intrigued or inquisitive about what they say because you’ve bought into the idea that the press is the enemy of the people (except for Fox News and the National Review, which get passes because, well, why?).

You’ve stopped paying attention to anyone who doesn’t agree with your crystallized view of the world. You’re the mosquito of the Reagan era, completely unaware the sap has long hardened around you into amber. And frankly, it’s not even particularly pretty amber. It’s dull, opaque, muffled. You can’t see or hear through it and you don’t want to.

But to be honest with you, I’ve lost all interest in trying to break you free. At first, I really wanted to. I wanted you to understand how the promise of America was broken. I wanted you to see so we could find some way to fix it. But every time I tried, you trotted out some line you heard Trump spew (none of which make any sense whatsoever, by the way) or that some Fox News commentator has conned you into thinking reflects reality. So I’m done.

The America I believed in doesn’t exist. Instead, it’s a different country now, irretrievably. I get a bit melancholy about it sometimes, because promise and hope and opportunity are like political endorphins, and I miss them. And I miss you. I miss having conversations about our lives as though you hadn’t abandoned everything we ever believed in. I miss seeing your smiling faces without having to hold back a political tirade. I miss spending time with you without constantly wondering how you sleep at night knowing what this country is doing to the defenseless.

Surely by now you’ve seen the AP’s recent photo of an El Salvadoran man and his two and a half year-old daughter who drowned as they fled the violence in their home country, hoping to seek asylum in America. They drowned because Trump won’t let them claim asylum at the border entry points. He’s denying them the safety and promise that America used to stand for. Many observers who haven’t yet fully recognized their prior delusions are saying, “This isn’t what we stand for.” But it is. It’s exactly what America stands for.

And that is why I’m done with you and your ilk. We’re still family; you raised me; we share the same blood. But we come from and live in two different countries.

Sincerely,

Matthew

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 44: Last Ambrose Standing

AKA ‘Fastlane and Burn’, Dean and the Reader’s conflict comes to a head. But when the final moments are in their hands, can they do what is necessary to win their Last Ambrose Standing match? The following Monday an old rival of the roster makes an appearance and a demand.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, angst

Word Count: 4665

Note: I swear, my matches are only two paragraphs. But then you gotta have dialogue and some plot advancement, and suddenly there’s so much! It reads quick, or it did for me. And it was fun/angsty to write. If you like how things are going, or if this chapter made you cry, comments (anon or not) and reblogs are always super appreciated. Enjoy! [P.S.: For the record, I’ve had my WM planned since January. Any similarities to what’s actually happening on Raw is just chance.]

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 43: It’s Official

Fastlane – March 10, 2019 – Green Bay, WI

Renee gave the online audience a bright smile. “And welcome to the road to WrestleMania! Fastlane is well underway, and it is almost time for the show to begin. But first, the Raw tag titles contenderships are on the line. Whoever wins this might be going to WrestleMania. It’s a bit of an odd mix going into this match.”

“Yes, it is,” Cole said. “The Revival and the B Team we’ve seen before in big events like this. But how do you think the new team of Dana Brook and Tyler Breeze are going to hold up?”

Corey whined back and forth. “I don’t know. They have both had established places in the WWE, but have been lost in the shuffle for the last several months. I’m curious to see how their plan will work to bring them back into the spotlight.”

“It’s time to see that plan in action,” Renee said as the aforementioned team entered. They received a loud pop from the crowd, though that was drowned out as the B Team, and then the Revival entered the arena.

They each took a corner, bouncing while waiting for the bell. But the stage lit up again. With the entrance of Kevin Owens.

“What!” Corey shouted. “Welcome back, but who is he going to tag with?”

Renee was almost bouncing in her seat. “I think I know who…”

The stage lit up in reds and black as Sami Zayn made his return to the WWE as well. He and Kevin shared a hug, soaking in their welcome from the crowd before going down to the ring. Inside, their opponents were complaining to the referee. But the match was being announced as a fatal four-way for the number one contender spot for the tag titles. Sami and Kevin took the last corner, with Kevin starting the match. He was instantly the target of everyone else in the ring. Sami helped him retreat through the ropes and they backed off, turning on each other.

Tagging in their other halves began. At Breeze’s tag, Dana went after Dawson before he could call in Wilder, and then engaged with Bo Dallas. Sami jumped in, working his way around the ring, knocking partners off the apron so they wouldn’t be available later. Curtis Axel fell the most dramatically. Kevin bided his time, crouching on the floor until Sami needed him. Then they traded while everyone else was exhausted and out. This continued to help them, all the way up to the pin. Sami jumped in, double pinning Bo under the referee’s count.

They celebrated their win, and their continued welcome back as the final preparations for Fastlane wrapped up.

***

Beginning Fastlane with a bang was the Raw Women’s Championship match between defending Ember Moon against Ruby Riott. Depending on who you asked, both women had lost before the bell had rung. Ember had reached her goal of title reign days, but she was still fighting to see how far she could go beyond that. Ruby had suffered losses for the last three weeks, but those losses had ignited enough of a fire that Ember was on the defense. Half-way through the match, both women sprawled out in the ring after a long combination of moves.

“I can’t leave this ring without that title,” Ruby muttered. Ember lifted her head up just enough to catch her eye. “If I can’t… if I can’t win titles, then why am I here?” Ruby wobbled to her hands and knees. “If I can’t… then how can I lead my friends?” She finally made it to her feet, though it looked like a puff of breath could knock her over.

Ember struggled to stand as well and held up her fists. “But what if you can? I’m not just going to give it to you, but you know what you’re fighting for. So fight. Because that’s what I’m here to do. Not for titles or for gold, but for my pride and to hear my name chanted by everyone in this arena. If I’m honest, I don’t think you will leave this ring with the title. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ruby launched forward with another attack, reinvigorating the match. She pushed and she fought until her lungs burned and Ember’s eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. With a scream, she threw everything else she had and fell on top of her opponent. One. Two. Three.

“And you’re new Raw Women’s Champion: Ruby Riott!”

Ruby fell to her knees with the title in her hands. She stayed there until Liv Morgan and Sarah Logan appeared by her sides and helped her to her feet where she could hold it high above her head.

***

Ruby stayed ringside for her teammates’ match against Mickie James and Alicia Fox for their tag titles. They moved like a team reborn. Liv’s bright hair caught Alicia in the face, inspiring her to laugh. Sarah mostly engaged with the veteran Mickie, fighting to endure the reserves of years of wrestling and maneuvers that hadn’t seen a ring in ages. Alicia fought back with her repertoire that soon had the Squad on the defense.

Then the mistakes came. Alicia, proud in how flat Sarah was laid in the ring, stepped to the ropes to haggle Ruby instead of going for the pin. Mickie frantically called for a pin or for a tag. But Liv sneaked up behind the teammate and swept her feet out from under her. Alicia heard the cry as she fell and twisted around in time for Sarah to catch her. The bell rang as the Squad retained their titles. As the champion trio, they stood in the ring as three of the most powerful women on the Raw roster.

***

For the number one Intercontinental contendership, Finn Balor and Dolph met in the ring. The palms of Finn’s hands were red, like the demon was desperate to get out but the man wouldn’t let him have full control. That made Dolph warry. One: why would he hold back with so much on the line? And two: how powerful was the man if he could hold back a demon king? He didn’t have much to think about it as Finn attacked. They were caught in a headlock until Dolph was forced back into the ropes. He glared at the ref from between them. Who cares who or what the man was? He was just a man.

The match danced from ring post to ring post along the ropes and round from the floor. Both men were showing how much they wanted even a chance at the title by how much damage they could take and dish out. Finn took it the best. Dolph struggled more and more to get to his feet after each assault. He remained flat on his back after barely kicking out of a pin. Climbing the turnbuckles, Finn went for a Coup de Grace. At the last possible second, Dolph moved, catching Finn in a roll-up. Out of sight of the ref, he used the ropes for a bit of extra leverage. It was enough. He made a hasty exit before Finn could figure out why he’d lost.

Backstage, Charly caught up with Dolph. “Having won your match, how soon do you want to face your former partner for a title match? Will we see it tomorrow, or on the grandest stage of them all at WrestleMania?”

Dolph continued to catch his breath while he thought. “I’m ready when Drew is. Tomorrow. Next week. WrestleMania. Whenever he thinks is his best chance to beat me, let’s go. I will be at my best because I am the best out of anyone on Raw.” He broke off as the champion himself walked up. He was dressed in a suit and had the title resting on his shoulder. Dolph did his best to get into his space and maybe get sweat onto the nice fabric.

“When will I be ready for you? I’d fight you right now, but I want ya after you’ve rested. After you’ve had a good night’s sleep. And then, when ya have ya strength and your full hubris back, I’m going to bury you in that ring. So, I’ll see you tomorrow Dolph. An’ the best man will win again, like I do every time.” He reached up and gave Dolph a heavy double pat on his cheek. “Sleep tight.” He smirked and walked away as Dolph growled after him.

***

Roman watched Dean finish taping up his hands. “You don’t have to go through with this, you know. She’s probably not doing this for the reasons you think.”

“And what would you know about it?” Dean spat. He grit his teeth and twisted his neck. “What you’ve seen from home is just the tip of the iceberg. And besides, she brought it up. I’m just finishing what she’s started.” Dean rolled his shoulders back. “If I had gotten in your way of taking the Universal, would you let Seth or the Usos talk me out of it?”

A long pause was his answer. Nodding, Dean walked away to enter the arena.

You followed shortly after, wearing the gear you’d made for Summer Slam. Really it was the only gear you had. At the same time, you hoped that Dean would see it and realize his cousin was still in it, and not some villain for him to slay.

There wasn’t much room for that hope. Before you’d even made it to the ring, you could see that Dean had his trusty kendo stick quiver wrapped over his shoulder. You entered the ring with only yourself. You had made the choices you did without weapons or premeditated woes. But once that bell rang, you would fight to defend your reasons.

The match happened in three stages. At first, it felt like any other sparring practice when learning with any of your friends-turned-trainers. You even forgot yourself and found a smile spreading across your face and a laugh escaping. Dean’s dimples made an appearance. Then the roar of the crowd brought you back to reality. The match turned real. You tried to win a pin as fast as possible. If you could do that before the very real devices under the ring came out, then maybe you wouldn’t regret this so much.

But the devices did come out. You grabbed a chair to use as a shield when Dean finally began to use his kendo stick. There was also a chain that you used like a whip to rip it out of his hands. Then he followed you into the ring. The chain became your means of keeping Dean away. Or keeping him close in a submission hold.

“Please, Dean,” you tried, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He struggled to detangle himself from the chain, effectively taking it from your hands in the process. “Is that an apology?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not done.”

It went on. Your hearts were no longer in it but you fought hard anyway. Dean’s practiced ingenuity was getting the best of you. Bringing in more things from under the ring wasn’t going to work. He’d been a hardcore wrestler; had the scars as proof. So you ended it like how they’d taught you to: find one weakness and target it. Somewhere in the scuffle Dean had developed a limp. You knew Seth would have some pointers, so you aimed for that injury. He couldn’t fight you if he couldn’t stand.

Dean was able to wobble onto his legs one last time. You climbed the turnbuckles, about to spin with your modified punch that Roman helped you with. Dean fell before you could finish setting up. The referee started the count.

“No!” You rushed down and tried to stop him. “I’m the general manager and I said stop!” He paused, looking past you to Dean. You didn’t look back. “Call off the match. It’s done. I lost.” While the shocked referee went to tell the bell box, you left the ring. It announced overhead, making you flinch.

With all of your might, you wanted to walk away without looking. But a tiny shard made you turn. He was staring at you. Not angry. Definitely not broken. Just… staring at you. Through you. It felt like no matter what you did from this moment on, you were damned. “I’m sorry, Dean,” you said, hopefully loud enough for him to believe you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

***

With the Universal Championship on the line, Seth Rollins and Mojo Rawley pulled out all the stops. Even since Monday, Mojo had found a new hold and a quick tackle that kept blindsiding Seth. The King Slayer would manage to kick out, then stand while shaking away the ringing in his ears. They re-met with a quick handshake. Seth dug deep too and borrowed one of Dean’s old submission holds that pinned Mojo’s arms far out of use with his knees. He rocked back and forth. This backfired as Mojo was able to use the moment to roll around and switch the tension. Seth had to release.

The submission holds gave way to the game of endurance. The universe had already seen Seth fight for over an hour multiple times. But Mojo held his own too. If the dream requires you to run from one side of the earth to the other, then you have to train to run around it twice to account for all the unforeseeable hurdles in between. Rawley kept Seth on his toes, knocking him out of the air and knocking out his ability to stand. He took a second to stare at the title resting in the lap of a techie in the bell box. Seth took it to use his remaining functioning limbs to cut Mojo down until he could end the match with a Curb Stomp. The Universal had been retained.

***

***

Monday Night Raw – March 11, 2019

You couldn’t start Raw without a little housekeeping first. Elias nodded as you continued speaking. “You see, you have to pick your WrestleMania opponent… tonight. I really should have had you pick before Fastlane but-“

“You were busy.”

The heat behind your cheeks simmered as you focused on breathing. “Yeah. Busy. But have you made a decision? That is… you have been thinking about it, right?”

Elias scoffed. “Of course. I’m going to challenge-“

He didn’t get to finish as a large hand grabbed the scruff of his scarf and shirt and tugged him away. Brock Lesnar stepped into his place. Paul Heyman hovered like a grinning shadow. “Good to see you, Ms. Ambrose. I hope you are having a lovely stress-free evening.” Paul somehow grinned wider.

“I was,” you mumbled. “Can I help you guys? Or are you just here to rough up my wrestlers?”

Brock chuckled and looked down to Paul. He took his cue to speak. “We won’t be here long as we’re not staying for the show. But my client, Brock Les-“

“We all know who your client is. Get to the point.”

“My client, Brock Lensar, is just here to ask for his title. And he’s going to ask nicely. This time.” Paul leaned closer to you. “You won’t be able to play him like you’ve been playing everyone here. He won’t be so nice then.” He leaned back with a smirk, posing with a hand crossed over his other wrist.

You switched your attention from Heyman to the Beast Incarnate. “I don’t know why you’re trying to be all dramatic and scary. You haven’t been here since… oh, Summer Slam? As far as I’m concerned, you don’t deserve a return.” The sass slipped from your voice. Your words scorched your throat. “But Vince McMahon called last week. Your match is already set. For WrestleMania. I was just about to inform your opponent.”

Brock smiled and nodded. He turned and walked out of your office with another word. For Elias’s sake, you hoped the drifter wouldn’t want into the Universal title picture.

***

In the ring, Drew McIntyre came to stand dead-center with his Intercontinental title over his shoulder. “We all know what’s planned for tanight. I am the champion. And I am goin’ to walk out of this ring… as champion. It wasn’t goin’ to matter who won at Fastlane, but ya know what? I’m glad it’s Dolph. He’s been impatiently waiting for his chance to get back at me for somethin’ that happened months ago.” Drew chuckled. “Honestly, I was willing to put it all behind me a while ago. But then he kept pushing. And kept gettin’ in the way. Fine. Now is the time of your destruction, Dolph. Now-“

Dolph entered early, saving the crowd from more of the monologue. For a second it looked like he was going to use the mic in his hands, but he dropped it instead. He marched down to the ring, fighting back a grimace as his pace tweaked a new sore spot. It did not go unnoticed.

They met at the bell. Eager to make it a quick match, Drew targeted the areas he knew that Finn had damaged. It didn’t go as quick as he hoped. And Dolph nearly caught him in a Zig Zag several times. But the targeting had done its job. Drew caught him with a Glasgow Kiss and barely had to work to pin him. Laughing he made his way up to the stage, picking up the mic Dolph dropped earlier.

“This is the best of Dolph Ziggler? This is the best of the Raw roster? Who could even think to step to me?” His smirk disappeared as Elias strummed onto the stage. Drew growled as the drifter stopped playing just long enough to poke at the title. Drew snatched it away and reared back for a punch. But Elias was quicker. And he had a longer reach with his guitar in hand. Wood fractured and splintered across the stage. Over Drew’s momentarily damaged body, Elias took up the title. He looked between it and his smashed guitar. Gingerly, he draped it over Drew, then walked away.

***

When the call came in that Dean had interrupted Seth’s entrance, you rushed to the ring. Dean was waiting for you sitting in a lone chair in the ring. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

“Please, can you not do this right now?”

You waved him away and tried to leave for backstage but he stood and leaned forward onto the ropes. “Why not? What’s so important that we can’t discuss what I got out of winning our match yesterday?”

With a huff, you rolled back your shoulders. “I just had to tell Seth before he came out here that his WrestleMania opponent is Brock Lesnar. And I… I really need a break.”

He waved you down to the ring, which you begrudgingly obliged. “One more headache and then you can find a hole to hide in. It seems to be an Ambrose thing. Since you’re handing out championship opportunities, why don’t you add one more person to that match? I think beating the general manager of Raw is pretty-“

“No.” With a grin, Dean stepped back from the ropes as you entered. “You didn’t pin me, and you didn’t make me tap. I surrendered. I surrendered so that I hopefully could put this all to rest. Please, Dean… I didn’t have a choice-“

“Yes, you did. All of us work our asses off to build this business, but the second that… the second that Lesnar wants something, he gets it. No questions asked.” Dean punched the side of his face as his blood began to boil. “But I’m asking questions. No, I’m done with questions. Now it’s time for demands. Put me in the match, Y/N!”

“No! You don’t know what you’re doing, Dean. There are levels of this that you can’t see.”

“What levels?” he spat. “Levels of you hurting my career to protect you from ‘favoritism’? Or of how much of your soul you’ve given to the remnants of the Authority.”

“Stop.” You walked away, but Dean’s voice followed you.

“No, I won’t. And if you don’t do what’s right, and put me in the spot that I deserve, then I am going to fight you. Not in the ring. We’ve already done that and seen what you’re willing to burn. No. I won’t stop usurping your precious plans and using my last breath to destroy the position you built over family.”

“Fine!” You spun around. Eyes flashing, your jaw ached from the tension. You focused on that tension, feeling it colliding with the pain that had settled into your bones over the past months. With a sigh, you accepted that it would probably never go away. It was all a split second, but the oceans of emotions drowned you eons ago. You laced your words with cold, unfeeling ice. “Dean Ambrose, as won by your match at Fastlane, you also have a spot in the Universal Championship match at WrestleMania. And may God forgive me… since you probably never will.”

Seth came rolling into the ring just as you finished. Dean bumped into him as you both turned towards your separate ways. “Why are you so hard on her, man?”

He barked a laugh. “Didn’t you hear her? We had all that destruction last night, and she didn’t change a bit. All of this is still for business. Nothing more. We’re just pawns. We could have been building momentum between us for weeks for another show stopper, but Brock comes in here and just walks into an opportunity.”

Struggling to get in a word, Seth said, “I don’t know. All of this feels weird. Something tells me there are outside forces here. I really think you should just listen to her and-“

“Don’t you have a match to get for?” Dean shot him down.

Seth bit back anything else he had to say. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Hissing out strained air, Seth let him leave and ran a hand through his hair.

***

As Dean stormed towards backstage, Apollo Crews came out for his match with Seth. He stayed on stage just long enough for your cousin to disappear, then smiled as Titus O’Neil joined him. They walked side-by-side to the ring with Apollo hoping onto the apron and Titus walking around to the back to do the same. Before they could enter the ring, Roman’s entrance took over the system. Battle lines drawn, the match was remade as a tag match.

Seth nodded towards the stage, asking about Dean. Roman shook his head. Backstage with a resolute deaf-to-reason Dean was not the best place to be. Not when he could help elsewhere.

It was like old times. Apollo and Titus seemed to forget their thundercloud-plan to take advantage of Seth. Or at least postponed it to another time when maybe he wouldn’t have backup on hand. Frazzled, the former team of Titus Worldwide struggled to stay afloat. Roman and Seth kept isolating each man, wearing him down so much that even after having a break, he couldn’t do much to relieve his partner. Seth ended up pinning Apollo, with Roman standing over Titus outside the ring where he’d been speared through a barricade.

***

“Now would you look at all this gold?” Ruby slapped the championship around her waist. To either side, Sarah and Liv snickered, adjusting their own titles on their shoulders. “We’ve said it several times, so you all should know by now, but the Riott Squad is the best there is on Monday Night Raw. And Fastlane just proved that once again.” She spun the mic around in her hands, watching the lights flicker over her title. “And this isn’t just for tonight. Or next week. Or just this month. Hell, the plan isn’t even to just ‘survive’ until WrestleMania. No. We are going to run this show, command that woman’s locker, and own these titles until somebody back there decides that they are good enough to even think about contending with us. Anyone back there is welcome to try. But we will run them into the ground, and we will do that every time someone steps to us! Whether it is for the Raw tag titles, or for the Raw women’s championship.” Ruby opened her arms for Liv and Sarah to perch under.

They were still laughing together when they were interrupted. Alexa Bliss walked out with Alicia Fox and Mickie James at her shoulders. Miss Bliss slow clapped until she was standing at the top of the ramp. “Congratulations, Ruby. No, really. That’s great. But your ladies have unfinished business with mine.”

Liv stepped up, accepting Ruby’s mic. “Um, that’s not the way we see it. Because… we beat them last night. Quickly, I might add.”

“No, no. Ruby, honey, you were a distraction to my team last night. And when Alicia was too busy making sure you wouldn’t interfere, your bubblegum haired pixie attacked Mickie James who wasn’t even tagged in at the time.” The ladies in question nodded along. “So I say, we’re not done.”

Ruby’s smile spread to a dangerous level, the kind that was inspired by a master plan. “Okay. Fine. But to ensure that none of us are a distraction to the other, why don’t we just put all the titles on the line. The Riott Squad versus… whatever you call your ragtag group.”

Despite the name-calling, Alexa matched her wicked smirk. “Deal.” She tossed the mic over her shoulder and joined Mickie and Alicia in the run down to the ring.

For the first good while, the sudden appearance of the trio had the Riott Squad scrambling to have a plan. It came back eventually like muscle memory. Having championship gold on the line, especially all of it, was a great motivator. Ruby’s mind worked quickly to move her team around so they could have more than just twenty-four hours as a triumphant team. Alexa misread one of her barked commands and tagged herself in. Sarah instead of Liv jumped into the ring, and Alexa was too deep into the ring to turn back. So she ran forward, half-reforming an attack that fell flat. Like she did onto her back a few seconds later. Ruby and Liv barreled forward to keep Mickie and Alicia from breaking the pin, which ensured the win.

Sarah shoved Alexa out of the ring so that they could all pose again with their retained championships.

***

Kevin and Sami had asked for the last few minutes of Raw to reintroduce themselves to the WWE Universe. You gave it to them easily. So they smiled and laughed, basking in the second welcome of the week. They were just lifting the mics to speak when AOP appeared from the audience and began to circle the ring. On the Titantron, Dr. M appeared from his deserted hospital.

“Did you really think that your shock return would guarantee a new life as a tag team? Kevin… Sami… your betrayal of each other runs deep. It will always be there, like a scar. And no tricks devised by you, or cleared by Y/N can cover them up. Tricks are superficial remedies to deep tissue secrets and doubts.”

Rezar and Akam finished circling the ring and came to stand at the base of the ramp.

“Secrets are the disease of the WWE. And Y/N has stepped into the role of Typhoid Mary. Not to worry… that will soon be cured. As well as the sudden arrival of the pestilence of Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens. The Authors of pain need no tricks, no snake oil to save the tag division.” The men turned their backs and walked back up the ramp as Dr. M finished. “So welcome back. But you will not enjoy your short stay.”

Part 45: Oncoming Storm 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

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