#went on to hang out somewhere else and probably finish a side quest or two instead

[hzdtrees]

What’s left, pt. 3

#horizon forbidden west #hfw #hfw photomode #my gf asked me if you could leave the quest area without retrieving poseidon #so i did that #went on to hang out somewhere else and probably finish a side quest or two instead #then came back #i've never seen the sea holograms in the drained area? #at least not to that degree #and i think the fish disappear once you drain the water? #at least i have some pics from my first time there #and there were no fish #...you could say something fishy is going on here

[justgenshinstuf]

Darknight Hero

This one is about Traveler(reader) becoming a witness to an aftermath of Diluc’s reckless Batman games ;3c 

TW: blood mention

Traveler(Reader) x Diluc implied 

You’ve been staying in his mansion for a few days now.

Diluc offered it right after you’d finished your first quest together.

“Ordo Favonious Quarters is not the best place to stay at, trust me on this one”.

It was quite peaceful here, at the Dawn Winery. Only the sound of the leaves trembling in the wind behind your window.

But that night you just could not sleep. Different thoughts were clouding your mind as you stayed awake for several hours. And you thought the last mission tired you enough.

Too many servants and all kinds of workers circulating around the house have usually made you a bit uncomfortable, as well as this strong wine odour constantly filling the air. 

You could rarely meet Diluc here, he was mostly too occupied with his work and stayed at his office behind closed doors, or was gone, attending some other matters outside of the Dawn Winery.

The only person who could get in contact with Diluc most of the time was Elzer, the man left in charge of things, when the Master was absent. Diluc trusted him the most among his servants, you even learned he was the only one to know the true story behind the ‘Darknight Hero’.

This day at the Winery was a bit different than usual. Elzer and a few others left to deal with something important at Master’s request. The Mansion felt empty for the first time, especially at night, when all of the maids stayed in the opposite wing of the house. 

Dilluc himself was away for the whole day. You were used to the fact he could randomly disappear without notice and then come back in the same manner, greeting you the morning after, like nothing was wrong. Maybe the following morning will be just like that...

You finally gave up on sleeping and just sat on your bed. You felt uneasy for some reason, like something bad was about to happen. Stupid anxiety.

You stood up and went to the window. Floor boards creaked under your feet, disturbing the atmosphere even more. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon, dark clouds covered the whole sky, swallowing all the light. Maybe the storm was coming? 

You turned your back to the window, settling dow, the back of your head resting beside the cold glass. Your eyes slightly adjusted to the dark, and contours of the furniture in your room slowly became more visible.

It was a big guest room, with a bed bigger than you probably needed, a wardrobe and a writing table. A picture was hanging on the wall, but at that moment you couldn’t quite make it out. Ugh, I’m so tired...

THUD

A loud noise pierced the silence, making you jump up from the window. You froze, only the sound of your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. What was that?!

Your room was not so far from Diluc’s bedroom, one long hallway away. Maybe someone broke in? Without much thinking you took off to where the sound supposedly came from, but stopped at the door in case you hear something else.

Someone was definitely in there and, by the sound of it, the window was wide open too. The maids would be no use in fighting an intruder, it was up to you to take the situation into your own hands. You worked up the courage and threw the door open.

There, in the dim light of gas lamp, a dark figure hunched up, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He threw his head of tumbled bright-red hair back, getting a better look at you.

There could be no mistake. It was Diluc! You rushed to his side, trying to examine him more closely. 

“What happened?! Are you injured?” You could now see some blood dripping from his head, some droplets of it on the floor. Instinctively, you grabbed his hand, pulling away instantly, as he growled from pain. 

“We need to take you to the hospital ASAP! You..”

“Hush!” He cut you off abruptly. “It’s fine. I can handle this”.

“You have blood on your face, this is serious!” You switched to angry whispering to match him.

“First drawer, brown box. There are some bandages inside. Could you, please, give it to me?” A short nod in the direction of the dresser. It seemed like your words had no affect on him what so ever.

You fulfilled his request, still irritated by his intentional neglect, but you were not going to let him do everything himself. 

The box was bigger than you’d expected, filled with all kinds of medical supply. You even caught a glimpse of a surgical needle and a thread. How long has he been doing that? Did his previous Darknight Hero justice-raids end like this? Why did’t you hear? 

You treated his injured head, stopping the blood, gently washing it off his face. You assisted him taking off his muddy coat and tight west, looking for more bleedings. Thankfully, there weren’t much more open wounds, mostly bruises. You also noted Diluc couldn’t move his right hand normally.

“Cryogunners working with hydrogunners. Those damned Fatui”.  

He was speaking through clenched teeth, slowly pulling off his glove. His hand looked almost white in color, nails turning blue-ish. You’d never seen a limb nearly frozen like that before. It was probably not the only part of his body injured like that.

He tried wiggling his fingers, but it seemed like it caused him much pain. He reached for the box with his working hand, taking a little flask from under all the bandages.

Before you could ask anything, Diluc swiftly uncapped it with his thumb and drank light shiny substance in one gulp.

“This should do”. He proclaimed, cringing slightly from the taste.

“This is a potion made with the use of alchemy. It can decrease damage caused by Cryo”. He blankly stared at the bottle he was fiddling in his hand for a moment, before looking straight at you. “It shouldn’t be used like that, per se, but I’ll probably be fine in a few hours”.

You sighed deeply, seating yourself more comfortably in front of Diluc. It wasn’t like you were planning on going somewhere before you could see him recover with your own two eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

A few more hours passed. Diluc had told you how Fatui Skirmishers tracked and ambushed him. They probably planned to take him on by numbers, but he still managed to defeat every single one of them. What you witnessed was just ‘an unpleasant result of poor planning’ as he’d put it. You were sure he left some things out of this story.

 The sun was slowly rising, first rays lighting up the bedroom. In this light it was visible how tired and worn out you both were. Things Diluc accidentally knocked over while entering throgh the window were still scattered on the floor. You eyelids felt heavy, but you still took some time to tidy up.

“Alright, I think I’m fine”. Diluc suddenly interrupted sleep-inducing silence that was going on for some time and carefully got up on his feet. “You should probably go back to your room and get some rest”.

For some reason, he was now avoiding your gaze. On a brighter side, he really did look better.

“Thank you for your help, y/n. I owe you one from now on.”. 

It seemed like he was being impatient. Was he worried someone would realise you spent the night together? You didn’t feel like you were done here.

“I know I can’t dictate you what to do, but I think you are taking on too much”. You tried not to make it sound rude, but it came out pretty straight-forward. He scared you, now you couldn’t help it but worry when he is gone for too long. Oh, who were you kidding, you’ve already been stressing while he was out playing vigilante. 

“You’re certainly right, y/n” You never noticed his fiery eyes looked so cold. “You can’t tell me what to do”. 

Why is he so dense?!

There was a moment of awkward silence. You gave him a simple nod and turned around to retreat back to your room. Something made you stop right in the doorway. You clenched your fists and sharply turned around.

A sudden determination overflown you, and you marched straight back to face Diluc. Without further hesitation you wrapped your arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace.

“Just promise me you will be more careful”. You demanded quietly but firmly.

Diluc was certainly not the one to openly show affection. These distant types of people rarely engage in touchy-feely things, so it turned out to be quite a surprise when he put his arm around you in return, gently pressing your head against his chest with the other one. You couldn’t see that, but his face turned slightly red.

“I can try”.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin diluc #diluc x traveler #diluc x reader #diluc x lumine #my hcs #my fic #writing

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.4

What You Need (Is What I’m About)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, one more ;)  Word count: 3400

Summary: In which fate has a strange sense of humour, the Maximoffs appear and... well. 

Warnings: brief violence, mention of death, messing around in one’s brain, language, cutesy and fluff (yep, it’s all there)

Part 3

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You watched the kettle quiver as the temperature of the water climbed towards the boiling point. You’d like to say your blood was reaching it too, but despite the warm hoodie (Steve’s, naturally), you were feeling coldness seeping into your very core.

You hated waiting for him. You had never been a fan of it, sitting on your ass and stressing until he returned from a mission, bruised and usually bloody, but this time it was something else. This time, you had more than just a vague idea of what he was fighting; you had witnessed it first-hand. An army of fucking robots.

The team had left 43 hours ago, but who the hell was counting, right? Certainly not you. And you had certainly not been feeling the urge to ask Jarvis (R.I.P., my beloved A.I.) like every half an hour for any updates. You weren’t that desperate. You weren’t that scared-

Yeah, not even you were having your bullshit anymore.

You were shivering in cold from losing sleep, terrified and over all out of your mind. Nothing helped to ease your worries. Definitely not the fact they hadn’t made any contact ever since they had left.

They consisted of the usual Avengers team; Nat, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Thor, plus Bucky. All of them under Steve’s attentive command.

Surprisingly, Matt Murdock – also known as a freaking vigilante (a blind lawyer!!) – did not join the quest. He had said that robots were way outside his territory. You would beg to differ, because he punched the robot like a champ, yet you didn’t quite blame him for refusing. Bottomline, you still thought he was pretty swell (not to mention easy on the eyes, but that was beside the point). He had saved your life though, so you might be a bit biased. A lot biased.

Sam Wilson might have fought once too, but he would sit this one out as well. It was not helping your anxiety.

The soft click of the kettle brought you back to reality and you grabbed the handle to pour water into your mug, only to see you failed to actually put a teabag in it.

To be fair, you would have sworn you had done it, but that was just another prove of you losing your mind. At this rate you were about to burn the kitchen down – not that you felt like cooking… or eating for that matter. Steve was out there, in his own sci-fi movie that had somehow become reality and-

You sighed and set the kettle down, reaching for the box with chamomile tea. Taking one bag, you felt a strange gust of wind and curled into the hoodie as a shiver ran down your spine. Was the air-conditioning misbehaving…? Perhaps it was an aftermath of what they called the Ultron mess-

You shook your head, scolding yourself for getting paranoid and went to finally finish the simplest task of making yourself tea.

Only for your blood turning to ice when you noticed the teabag was missing. You had just put it there half a minute ago, you were sure of it. Your heart started hammering in your chest as you spun on your heels, your eyes scanning the room.

The cupboard behind your head clacked and your head swiftly snapped back to it. Feeling your own pulse pounding in your temples, you forced your brain to come up with a rational explanation.

You were losing your mind, you were imagining things, you hadn’t slept in almost two days, your mind was playing tricks on you-

Another gust of wind and the kettle disappeared from your hands, a shriek escaping your lips. On instinct, you opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. You were probably useless with it, basically offering it the potential attacker as a weapon, because they would be able to disarm you and use it to their advantage, but you didn’t give a shit. You felt better being armed.

What the fuck was happening?!

A man suddenly appeared by your left hip, like a hurricane inside of the room, and your body acted on its own, driving the knife in his side.

Or you attempted to; the knife met something solid that could not have been a body and the blond – he was a blond man, younger, hell, looking younger than you, dressed in a jumpsuit – stared at you with his mouth hanging open.

It was only then when you registered a strange red matter--- no, something unsubstantial, like an energy, swirling and changing, hovering around the blade that had stopped an inch from the man’s torso.

“Taka se ubivate, kolibri,” a female voice sounded from the other side of the room, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest.

Yet, you couldn’t tear you gaze away from the strange man, whose face was now twisted in annoyed grimace as the woman seemed to be scolding him.

What kind of a language was that anyway?

Really not relevant.

There were two strangers in the Tower, in the very same room as you, they could be talking about how to kill you the most painful way and you wouldn’t even know, and for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you catch a break-

“Ne ti e zabavno, foĭerverk,” he hummed back, his lips spreading in a smile, baffling you to no end. “Zdraveĭ, krasavitse.”

Your hand still on the handle of the knife that was no longer under your control, of which you refused to let go though because you were not a complete idiot, you had no idea what to do.

The man sounded almost friendly, but then again, villains often did. Sleazy. You would know.

A tremble ran through your body and out of nowhere, you made a lightning-fast decision of kicking the man in the crotch.

Your knee only brushed his manhood when your leg was no longer yours. With horror filling every cell in your body, you realized it was caught in the freaky red spiderweb of energy and you couldn’t move it no matter how much you tried.

Tears filled your eyes and suddenly you were free, the man several feet from you. A gorgeous young woman, dressed even more strangely than him – crimson leather jacket, black and half-torn leather leggings with high boots with way too many straps, her outfit completed by sleeves peeking from under her jacket –, stood next to him, cuffing him in the back of his head.

“Idiot!” she hissed and in the back of your mind, the one tiny corner that was not occupied with the fact you might die in the next second, you thanked god for some words being international.

Then, the girl with long wild red hair smiled at you apologetically, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hello. Sorry for startling you,” she spoke with thick accent which you identified as Eastern-European and shot her companion a murderous look. “My brother is an ass and doesn’t know the difference between being funny and scaring people.”

She didn’t sound menacing at all; in fact, you saw every responsible older sibling annoyed at their younger family member in her. You blinked away the sting in your eyes and attempted to focus despite the ringing in your ears.

“Huh?” slipped from your lips intelligently, utter confusion gradually replacing your despair.

The blond rolled his eyes, which only earned him another clip round his ear.

“See what you’ve done? This is all your fault!”

“I was just messing around!”

“Do you have any idea what she’s been through? You scared her to death!” the woman hissed, effectively sending you back to the spiral of dismay, your slowly calming heartbeat skyrocketing again.

What did she know about what you had been through?!

With your knees wobbly and not to be trusted to keep you upright on their own anymore, you gripped the counter behind you with such force your muscles cramped.

“Who- who are you?” you breathed out shakily, catching the attention of the supposed sibling duo once more.

The woman smiled warmly, patronizingly almost.

“My name is Wanda and this is my brother, Pietro. We are of Sokovia. Your Captain and the other Avengers found us, showing us that we were fighting on the wrong side of things. Would you like to see?”

Her words echoed in your suddenly dull skull, the meaning escaping you.

And because her last sentence was what made sense the most and yet the least, you nodded.

Later, you would realize just how stupid and trusting you had been when agreeing, mostly because Steve gave you his look of disappointment and horror, but at the moment, it seemed right.

Somehow, on a level you couldn’t quite comprehend, you already understood they weren’t a threat to you.

“See how?”

Wanda smiled.

*Like this,* a ghost of her voice sounded somewhere deep in your mind, making you dizzy. What the hell-? *Please, don’t judge me. I thought I was doing the right thing.*

Before you could question such statement or the fact her lips were not moving while you heard her voice crystal clear, you were thrown into a vortex.

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Ultron had been sure they were coming; he left a bait for them, an easy track to follow. The track they could follow towards their end.

Wanda wasn’t one to enjoy killing or hurting people in general, no. She hadn’t even considered herself a strong person once, but that had all changed with their parent’s deaths. She had had to rely on herself – on herself and on her brother. Where an opportunity had risen, to step up their game and possibly to get revenge on the name still haunting them in their worst nightmares, they hadn’t even hesitated.

Wanda had once been a weakling. It had been the tempering in fire, in a burning pain of experimentation with the sceptre that had made her the woman who she was now.

And she had a mission; she and Pietro had a mission, their chance at revenge finally gaining a shape.

She had already played with Stark’s mind, with the scum only interested in money and destruction; now she could do the same to all of them.

Bursting in with a crash, they clearly hadn’t expected such livid counterattack. A response so… nightmare-like.

Just a flick of wrist and a little concentration on Wanda’s part and they were dropping like dead, trapped in their own minds.

Black Widow, locked in a scary base, ballet dancers, martial art training and merciless killing, her fresh fears creating a horror picture of aiming her gun at her current lover’s head, at her soulmate.

“I should have known you’d never change. You’re nothing but human reduced to a murder machine…”

Thor, oh so mighty God, travelling back to his home planet to a feast, legends messing with his headspace, confusion and helplessness, thunder and lightning all around and out of his control.

“You’ll kill us all! See, son of Odin, close your eyes and see!”

The righteous captain, trapped in his own mind, folded like a house of cards under his soulmate’s dead eyes, anger and accusation blossoming into hate and finally indifference.

“You cared about your 40’s sweetheart more, anyway, didn’t you? If it was her in my place, you would have chosen her before the thousands. You wouldn’t let her blow up… but if I’m nothing to you, then you are nothing to me…”

Satisfied with her work, with only a nudge to their consciousness and their own brains doing the work for her, Wanda smirked as she noticed the busy archer. Now what tricks his could mind come up with? What hardship would he get caught in?

As she slowly sneaked behind his back, a voice snarled behind her, causing her heart to stop from more than a simple fright.

“Kak mozhe neshto tolkova malko da prichini tolkova nepriyatnosti?”

Her first reaction to her blood crystallizing in her veins with horror and rage towards the whole fucking universe, was a snarky reply.

How dared he to call her small? Implying she was weak? Underestimating her and saying that she couldn’t cause any real trouble? Oh, she would show him… that arrogant bastard! She would show him trouble-

“Laĭna…ti mi narichash nepriyatnosti?” she hissed back, carelessly losing the sight of the archer, not interested in him in the slightest all of sudden. “Vie ste strana s greshni khora!”

This stranger, this—this man-machine radiating pain as her powers barely brushed the surface of his mind on instinct… he was the real trouble as she didn’t hesitate to tell him. He was on the wrong side of things! Fraternizing with a mass murderer, with her parent’s killer-

“Pone te sa kho—” he wanted to argue, but they his mind stopped before it started screaming, punching her telepathic powers she seemed suddenly unable to turn off.

Memories, a dozen of his own memories, the way he looked at his soulmark in a mirror, the pain, the sorrow, the torture… his encounter with the Avengers, living with them; with the band of heroes she just put down, one by one, teasing and laughter, compassion and acceptance, even from the man who was supposed to be nothing but a cocky heartless bastard-

“What the hell did you just say?” Bucky rasped, astonished and horrified.

He realized it too then. Everyone always did, didn’t they? Because every person with a soulmark awaited a moment like this; the moment someone would finally say the words matching the ones on their skin, met their expectations or not…

But Bucky Burnes was the farthest from Wanda’s dream when it came to a life-long partner.

Strength is tempered in fire, she remembered reading once. She had once found a special irony in the fact that the treatment by the sceptre felt exactly like that. Wanda’s soul turned to steel with the games the fate had played with her.

So why did her hands fell from their defensive position to her side, limp and drained of all strength and determination they had known, tears stinging her eyes.

Her life was shit and she thought she had made her peace with that. But judging by the deep ache in her chest, she had been holding out for her soulmate more than she had thought. Because why else would it hurt so bad when she found out he was an enemy?

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet was just a lot of crap,” she chuckled bitterly, switching to English when he did.

His thoughts scream at her, disbelief, caution, pain, confusion, regret and hope— ambivalence. He had no idea what to do and he hated her for what she had done to his friends, but the knowledge of her being his, supposedly, it torn him in half, reaching out with willingness to forgive her if she fixed it, because if anyone understood fighting at the wrong side it was him--

Unable to resist, she dug deeper into his mind, baring his very soul, fascinated.

Pietro was still fighting with the archer and Stark, dodging the lame attempts at attack of the Avengers lost in their minds, but for two people, the time stopped.

They stood against each other, staring and motionless, and Wanda was confident she saw more than him. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions and desperate desire to get a hold of them and think rationally, bundle of memories and hopes colliding with reality and rock-solid facts and Wanda felt a pang at her heart, a crushing sensation in her chest when she finally embraced everything his headspace had to offer, getting lost in it.

Lost in him.

James Buchannan Barnes had a beautiful soul. Torn and glued together with little kind gestures from his friends, sweet memories of his sister and everlasting friendship with Steve, his no-longer-little-but-equally-stubborn Steve, Steve’s soulmate, his teammates that accepted Bucky with surprising ease and less judgement anyone would deserve… and the careful way he was giving away the pieces of the very same heart that was barely together, in gentle smiles and good-natured teasing, silent self-declaration of giving his whole life for every single one member of his new-found family.

And Wanda understood. In a fraction of second she looked under the illusions she had helped to build in the Avengers’ minds and saw the truth.

*Pietro, spri!* she cried out straight into his mind, begging him to stop fighting. With another flick of her wrist, her enemies were free of her handiwork, shell-shocked from the experience, too lost to find their footing. “Brat, spri! Pietro… greshim. They are right.”

The battle froze as if the time did and for a second, Wanda felt like she was in her brother’s skin, moving so fast that the world around her stopped turning. The stunned silence was only broken by a soft gush of wind when Pietro appeared by her side.

The Avengers seemed so baffled at her admission they didn’t try to attack them.

She exchanged a look with her twin, hoping her face spoke volumes as tears gathered in her eyes. She was far from convinced that Anthony Stark was a good man; but she knew he was better than the creature they had sworn to assist. And her mother always used to say that a man should be judged by the company he kept. From what she had seen in Bucky Barnes’ head, Stark had one bunch of fine people around; and their imperfections seemed to be balanced by the good they all wished to do.

Pietro understood. Of course he would. More than he could read her expression, he must have felt the change in Wanda’s aura, the transformation touching their bond as well.

He graced her with a reluctant nod of agreement. Via their mental connection, he whispered he trusted her. Her lips curled up in a tender smile.

“Are we just gonna stand here? Are we fighting together or against each other or what?!”

No, Tony Stark was by no means a man she would call good. In fact, she already found out he was an ass. But now, he had become her ally.

From all the eyes on their duo, she chose to meet her soulmate’s.

“Together, Anthony. Because there’s bigger malice in this world than you are.”

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Wanda nearly cut you off right then. The rest of what she showed was a blur of images, fear, pain and determination, destruction and cooperation, all of that leading to this very moment. It all resembled waking up from a very intense confusing dream, being pulled away into consciousness by the first sunrays of the dawn.

You blinked heavily as the world swayed off its place, the counter seemingly in a peculiar angle from your point of view.

Why was the lamp not up, but on the side? Why was it spinning?

“Oops. Sorry. Never made the connection for such a long period of time-“ a voice reached you, breaking through the hush of blood and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get a fucking grip on both your body and thoughts.

Bucky had a soulmate?

No, not relevant, the images were too unclear for you to be sure everyone made it out alright, you needed to see Steve first, you had to-

By the time Steve’s figure appeared in your field of vision, you were certain you were steady on your feet and finally managed to control your mouth.

“Steve!” you cried out excitedly as you sprang his direction, relief mixing with delight, because he was alive, he was not bleeding visibly, he-

-was suddenly graced with an identical twin, two loving tired smiles blending into one and splitting into two the next moment, swimming in your vision and you felt something solid grabbing your body and positioning it right into his strong arms.

You gazed at him in haze, melting into his warm and firm embrace, spotting a swirl of red energy flow around you.

Oh. Wanda’s work, no doubt. Sweet.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you sick? What happened?”

Wanda’s guilt was nearly solid in your reach, but you only let your head lull onto Steve’s shoulder, plunging into the fluff of love that his presence provided.

“Nah. I’m fine… just drunk on you…” you mumbled.

The girl’s bubbly relieved laughter rang in the room, bringing a satisfied smile on your face.

Steve’s kiss landed on your forehead, corners of his own lips upright despite the concern in his voice.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to bed…”

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Part 5

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Thank you for reading!

I chose Bulgarian, just to avoid traditional Russian this once. Bucky is a Winter Soldier after all and he should know how to speak 30 languages or so :D just thought this would work. Google translator used; apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you had an okay start to 2021 :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogres x you #soulmate au #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america soulmate #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #mcu #marvel #winsod #anika ann

[midnight-inthe-kitchen]

“Hotel Potter” (Part 3)

Paring: Remus x Reader (Marauders Era)

Warnings: Fluff, James is bad at fixing things, More awkwardness haha, and mentions of eating issues?

Word Count: 1775

A/n: I didn’t proof read this, so enjoy/I’m sorry... (Also, we’re getting close to the part I had in my DrEaM✨)

You watched as Sirius dropped his bag on the floor before immediately breaking into a sprint to fling himself onto the bed. The bed...

You didn’t know exactly why you were expecting there to be two... I mean that would be a bit excessive for a regular house... but not until this very moment did you realize the consequences of your poor decisions.

“Hey, Y/N,” Marlene called out from the hallway after hearing Sirius’ loud running start. “Good luck!” Her laugh echoed throughout the hall.

Lily came from around the corner to let you know you were always welcome in her room if Sirius turned out to be an actual dog. You simply accepted and just smiled while shedding a singular, figurative tear. “Nah, I’ll be fine... Probably ;)”

It didn’t take you very long to choose a side of the room and stick to it. You were just going to leave most of your stuff in your suitcase to avoid any huge messes. This obviously left you with some time to kill so you wandered back into the hallway.

When you got there, however, all you saw was Remus sitting on the floor in front of the first door James had tried so hard to open. When he saw you step into the hallway, he stood up.

“Where’s James?” you asked confused since they were supposed to be ‘bunking’ together.

Remus shifted his weight, “Oh um, he went to get a hammer, I think.” He shoved his hands in his pockets in hopes of looking less awkward.

“Oh,” you laugh. “Wh- why on Earth does James need a hammer?” You laugh at he thought of James actually fixing anything successfully.

He turned and jabbed his finger behind him to the door. “It, uh... locked us out.” He laughed under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You laughed as well. “...Did you try Alohamora?” you offered to your ‘genius’ friend.

He straightened up a little, almost offended. “We did, actually,” he smiled, “...Except James kept saying ‘Hola-ha-mora’, so it shouldn’t have worked the first three times anyways.”

You, having the heart of a Hufflepuff but intuition of a Ravenclaw, made your way over to him to see the doorknob yourself. Remus shuffled out of the way after first being stunned by your unexpected approach.

“So what’s actually wrong with it, then?” you question, getting on one knee to peer though the keyhole.

Remus awkwardly leaned over your head to look down on the situation but quickly realized how weird it looked from everyone else’s perspective and simply took a step back. “Um... You know I was actually thinking there might be internal rusting somewhere?”

You tutted your tongue on the top of your mouth, still very concentrated. “I mean sure, but that seems very unlikely due to the appearance of the rest of the house. You would think if someone could take the time to polish the toilet-paper holders, the inside of the room locks should be in perfect condition...” Remus nodded in agreement. “... And James doesn’t have the key?” you asked, confused by the concept of poor safety measures.

Remus just shrugged, “He said the house is so old that with unlocking charms, you know, because they are so common in wizarding communities, his parents figured ‘what would be the point’ of keeping any of the keys I suppose? I don’t know... Anyways, I told him that was dumb and then he went to go get a hammer.”

You stood up, having to steady yourself first from the fast rush of blood to your head. “What does he exspect to do?” you wonder out loud, “It’s not like he can just smash the handle off— though that would solve the problem,” you mutter that last part. “...But come on... I mean Mr and Mrs Potter would kill him and let Sirius bury his bones...”

“What?”

“...Nothing,” you continued. “But by the looks of it, all the handles look like an original artist’s craftsmanship which means not only are they more valuable and rare as a completed set, but they’re also way more expensive.”

Remus marveled silently at your quirky fountain of knowledge. For such a quiet and peaceful-minded soul, he often forgot that in the moments you weren’t tarnished by the boisterous personality of everyone else, you were more than bright enough to light up his world for a moment.

Just then, you and Remus turned to where you could both hear quickened footsteps making they’re way up the staircase. “Not to fear, Moony!... You’ll be reunited with your precious books in no ti-” James stopped mid-sentence before he nearly ran into the two of you.

“Back from your quest, oh key-less one?” You watch as James furrowed his brow before glancing at Remus then back to you.

”Ah, yes, I almost—”

“Is that a screwdriver?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing right in his face. James lifted up the “hammer” he got from heaven knows where with pride.

“No. It’s a hammer, Y/n, jeeze, I would have though you’d know, coming from a nice muggle community.... Now will you please move out of the way so I can fix this thing?” He readjusted his glasses sassily.

By this point in the conversation, Remus and you were nearly having a seizure trying not to burst out in laughter at your friend who really was trying his hardest. You eventually caved and shrunk up against the wall in a ball. “You ca- You can’t fix a door know with-”

“James,” Remus chuckled as he tried to pry the screwdriver from his hands. “That’s not going to-”

You both burst into another fit of laughter as James broke free and started whacking the lock with the butt-end of the device.

When the knob finally came loose, the three of you let out a little cheer. It was you, of course, who realized that the door needed to be lifted up a little while opening or closing becuse the real probably was with the hinges, not the lock.

About fifteen minutes later, when everyone had finally “set up camp”... James gave everyone a grand tour of the house. Your favorite bits were probably the drawing room because of the gorgeous window view and the library/study for obvious reasons. The part that you couldn’t quite get over, though, was the fact that there was a fireplace in practically every room. YAAAS WARMTH✨

When dinner finally hit though, you were definitely hungry. (You weren’t exactly starving because, well, eating had always seemed like a chore to you... Just thanks to the many perks of living in a 26% functioning body... But of course, you would push it aside unless you were on mental overload and therefore stress-ate an entire box of Cheerios plus a whole bag of goldfish and chocolate all night during that one OWLS season). But right now, in the midst of friends and good food, you were excited to spend the first evening of the weekend with them :)

The table (the smaller one meant for family not business guests in the main dining hall, was seated with James and Mary on both ends. Lily had somehow slithered her way to James’ left putting her, Marlene, and Sirius between the two. Peter sat on the left of James, smushing you between Remus on your left and Mary on your right.

You watched as the conversation switched from quidditch fowls, to hot quidditch team players, to James, Sirius, Mary and Marlene competing on who had gone out with the hottest Gryffindor member.

You obviously stayed out of this one as the three of you, Remus, and Peter all watched... Lily would throw in some deviously timed mention about her short flings with Slytherin team boys just to throw James off his lead.

“Sorry about not answering earlier...” Remus stated out of nowhere.

“What?” you muffled, trying not to choke on the soup you were currently obsessing over.

Remus was hoping he would t have to repeat himself, but just when he was about to, your brain registered his words.

“Oh! Oh, no no, that’s totally fine. I actually had just told Sirius that I didn’t care where I was- Wha- I’m sorry,” you laugh nervously, stuttering on every new sentence. WhY wAs iT sO HaRd To TaLk RiGhT NoW? “I just didn’t want to put you in that position, you know having to choose who to sleep with- I MEAN not sleep-sleep with just you know...” You could practically feel your face cooking.

“...Sirius(?).” You both finish as you gesture to the boy across the table from you, trying to stick his spoon to his nose using only his breath.

You both sat there, distracted and watching him until he actually succeeded. “Mary, look!” Right as he turned to show her however, it slid off and splashed soup up in his face.

You propped your head off your hand after a long moment of thought.... “Bet I could do it longer...” you start, turning back to Remus.

A confused smile stretched across his face. “...What?” he questioned again as if he hadn’t hear you properly the first time.

Without answering, you picked up the second spoon placed at your table spot (for whatever reason) and you watched as your reflection became more and more cloudy.

“Are you—”

You turned calmly to meet his face with a spoon now hanging from atop your nose.

After a good couple seconds of Remus staring at you, it finally clicked in his head what you were doing. A rare grin stretched up his face as he grabbed his own spoon and tried it himself.

It took a couple of tries for the spoon to really stick, but as soon as it did, Sirius saw from across the room and automatically turned it into a table-wide competition.

By the time pudding came around, you were holding the record of four minutes and twelve seconds versus Peter somehow who was thirteen seconds shy.

When the competition had ended though, Lily finally asked what the heck the plan was for the rest of the weekend...

In the morning, James said, everyone could go up to an abandoned village area where a muggle summer camp once stood and they could spend the night there. He promised the plumbing still worked for whatever reason, so it could be totally doable.

Every fiber of your being was telling you that was a dumb idea, especially a bunch of teenagers in the woods alone, but whatever right? Majority votes are always won by the delinquents.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #books and libraries #marauders era fanfiction #fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #hogwarts #harry potter #wizarding society #winter break #godrics hollow #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. IX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4

Word-count: 3.4k+

With everything that was going on, the last thing you felt like doing was going to cross country practice, but if you were going to be on the team then you couldn't miss the training. Plus, you figured that since all your friends were on the team that it would be the closest to normal you’d get this school year. 

You were standing with Isaac,  rambling on about your bio class while he tied his shoelaces. He started tensing up somewhere between extra credit and the report due in a few weeks, and you nudged him gently with your foot. “Isaac? Are you even listening, bud?”

He didn’t even look at you as he answered - rather vaguely - “They’re here.” 

“Who’s here?” you asked gently, bending down to touch his back gently. He still wasn’t snapping out of it. 

“It’s them.” He nodded in the direction of the twins and stood up. “The alphas.” 

You were still trying to figure out what he was on about when he took off after them. Scott ran past you and you mumbled some choice words under your breath before following them. They were long gone in just a few minutes. You gave up chasing them and made your way back to the group. 

By the time you found everyone, they were standing around some tree in a clearing. You looked for Stiles and wandered over to him, but you stopped just short of him when you saw the dead body they were surrounding. “Oh, god.” 

“Y/N?” Stiles turned to look at you, seemingly surprised to find you. “Oh, jeez, you’re still not good with dead bodies, huh?” You shook your head and he put his hands on your shoulders. “Okay, look at me. I’m going to take you to sit down, alright?”

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. I just … do we know who it is? The- the guy that Scott said was missing? Kyle?”

“I don’t know. Scott was the one that saw him that night.” Stiles sighed and looked over your shoulder. “Scott’s heading back this way with a very pissed looking Isaac. Just hang in a few more minutes, okay? Then I’ll get you out of here.” 

You nodded and shifted once they made their way over. You leaned into Stiles as he caught Scott and Isaac up, and Scott confirmed that the dead body was Kyle. When Noah and the rest of the cops came, Stiles let go of you to go talk to his dad and you held onto Scott. “So what happened back there?” You asked quietly. 

“The twins are part of the alpha pack.” He kept his voice low so no one else heard. “They were gonna hurt Isaac.”

“Yeah, or worse.” You looked over at Isaac and he seemed okay, but you could tell he was still jittery. You snapped out of your daze when you heard Coach’s booming voice.

“You heard the man: Nothing to see here!” Coach yelled when asked to help clear the area. “Probably just some homeless kid.” 

“Coach,” Scott said. “He was a senior.” 

Regret immediately flooded Coach’s face and you actually felt kind of bad for him. “Oh … Well, he wasn’t on the team, was he?” 

Your sympathy dried up and you were going to snap at him when a blonde girl came running up to the tree, screaming Kyle’s name. One of the deputies had to restrain her. You looked away and Scott tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. The four of you were heading back to the school.

“Did you see the way the twins looked at him?” Isaac asked, still glaring over his shoulder at them. 

“Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?” Stiles asked. 

“No, no. They knew.” You bumped Isaac’s arm lightly to bring his attention forward again. 

“The kid was strangled with a garrote, okay? Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders?” Stiles asked, motioning with his hands to make his point. 

“No, but you’re the only one recognizing it so loudly,” you mumbled. 

“So you guys think it’s a coincidence they turn up-” Isaac looked back again “- and then people start dying?”

“No, but I still don’t think it’s them.” 

“Scott,” you interrupted their argument. “What do you think?” 

The four of you came to stop and both Isaac and Stiles were waiting for him to take their side. The conflict made you a little uncomfortable but you ignored it. 

“I don’t know yet,” Scott said eventually, not doing much to dissipate the tension. 

“You don’t know yet?” Stiles echoed, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Well, Isaac’s got a point,” Scott started, and upon seeing Stiles’ betrayed reaction he continued, “Seriously, dude, human sacrifices?”

“Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal,” Stiles said. “But you’re telling me that you’re having trouble grasping human sacrifices?” 

Scott sighed and turned to Isaac. “That’s a good point, too.”

“I don’t care,” Isaac said. “They killed that kid. They killed the girl that saved me. And I’m gonna kill them too.” 

You shared a look with Stiles before Isaac started walking away, and with a huff you followed after him. “Jesus, Isaac. A few months with the Hales and suddenly you’ve got a flair for the dramatics?” 

---

“So what do you think of all this?” you asked Stiles. You were leaning on one of the lockers while he scoured Kyle’s for clues. “Come on, you really think I don't see those gears turning in there?”

Stiles laughed under his breath and looked at you. “I don’t know. I spoke to his girlfriend and he's not a virgin like the others. He's still one of them, though. One of the sacrifices.”

“Well, it’s the threefold death, right? What if this is a new set of three?”

“Yeah, but what’s the set? High school seniors? Guys who wear leather jackets?” He was going to keep going - no doubt with something more inappropriate - but he stopped when he saw Boyd coming up to put something on Kyle’s locker. 

“Boyd, you’re back!” You pulled him into a hug. “Isaac didn’t mention you were starting school again.”

“Yeah, I would’ve told you but, uh…” Boyd looked behind you and to Stiles, not finishing his sentence. He looked like he was going to say something but then thought better of it. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

“Hey, wait, so did you, uh- did you know Kyle?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, we were in Junior ROTC together,” Boyd answered.

“So you were friends?” you asked with a small smile. Losing Erica was hard enough, but losing another friend within the span of two months sounded awful. 

“I only had one friend.” Boyd looked down to where your hand was on his arm. “She’s dead, too.” You let your hand fall away then watched him leave.

Turning back to Stiles, you sucked in a breath. “That was …” 

“Intense.”

“And not very informative.” You ran a hand through your hair and bumped Stiles’ arm with your elbow, giving him a smile. “I’ve got to go check on Isaac. He’s got detention with Allison and someone needs to make sure they don't kill each other.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Stiles laughed. “I need to talk to Lydia anyway … We still on for free period later?”

“Since you so rudely stole my lunch period to snoop, I think it’s only fair you take me out for something to eat.” You gave him another smile before turning to find wherever they holed up Isaac. 

You saw Scott running to one of the supply closets and followed after him. He dragged a vending machine out of the way, pulled open the door, and the next thing you saw Isaac had been thrown into the wall opposite the closet. He was turning. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” you whispered, pulling him closer. “Calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

You rubbed his arms gently to get him to calm down, and you could see that he was trying desperately to change back. Scott yelled his name to try and force him to change, but all it really did was annoy you. When you looked up to snap at him, you saw that Allison had been cut. 

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” Allison insisted. Scott was holding her arm, and though the cuts didn’t look that deep, you knew they hurt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to do that,” Isaac stammered. You were still holding him close and could feel his heart beating about a mile a minute in his chest.

“I’m okay,” Allison promised. 

“I’m so sorry.” Isaac was cycling through stages of guilt and trying to push you away but also hold you closer at the same time. It was definitely a little weird but he used to do something similar when he was younger.

“It’s not his fault,” Allsion said when Scott didn’t look like he was calming down. 

“I know,” he said. “I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt.” 

“So are we going to do something?” Isaac asked. His heart rate had come down and he stopped pushing you away. 

“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “We’re gonna get them angry. Really angry.”

You and Isaac got up, huddling closer to Scott and Allison. While they came up with a plan, you cleaned up Allison’s wound with the first aid kit you had in your bag. 

“Well, uh, as much as I’d like to be a part of this,” you said, waving your finger between the four of you, “I’ve got geometry in like five minutes and I really don’t need any more disciplinary hearings on my record.” 

Allison smiled at you. “Don’t worry about it, trouble maker. We can handle it from here.”

---

“You’re out of school early,” Deaton said when you and Stiles entered the animal clinic. You weren’t sure when lunch had turned into a side-quest, but you went along with it anyway. 

“We’ve got a free period,” you smiled. 

“Yeah, we were, uh, gonna grab lunch and go see my dad,” Stiles said. “He’s uh- you know, I guess you probably heard people are getting kind of murdered again. It’s his job to figure it out.” 

“I gathered as much from the sheriff title.” 

“Yeah, but, uh, Stiles has been kind of worried about him lately. He got fired for a little bit not too long ago because it’s, uh- it’s kind of hard for him to figure stuff out when he doesn’t know everything,” you said, brushing some hair behind your ear. 

“So I started thinking, and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information,” Stiles continued. “Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here. You.” 

Deaton nodded like he was expecting this to happen at some point. He motioned for you guys to follow him to the back. Stiles kept talking as you did. 

“All these symbols and things - the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash - all of it is from the Celtic druids,” he went on. “And anyone who’s ever looked up human sacrifices before knows that the druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods.” You stopped in front of the examination table. “You ever hear of the Lindow Man?” He described how the body was found with the threefold death injuries, and you placed a hand gently on his shoulders. 

“Stiles, uh, maybe we should let Deaton talk for a bit,” you suggested. 

“They also found grains of pollen in his stomach,” Deaton said to Stiles. “Grains of mistletoe.” 

“So I’m just telling you stuff you already know?” Stiles asked and Deaton nodded. “Then why aren’t you telling us?”

“Maybe because when you’ve spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away.” Deaton looked like he was choosing his words very carefully before saying them. “Denying it. Lying about it. It becomes a pretty powerful habit.” 

The three of you were quiet for a minute, and you were watching Stiles bite back any insults or sarcastic comments. You stepped in before he had the chance to find his favorite. “So the person doing this, they’re a druid, right?” 

“No,” Deaton said, much to your confusion. “It’s someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word ‘druid’ means in gaelic?” 

“No,” Stiles said. 

“In proto-celtic, it roughly translates to ‘tree-knower,’” you said. “I’ve, uh, been doing some reading since this all started.” 

Deaton nodded. “Very good, but a direct translation is ‘wise oak.’ The celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars, but they weren’t serial killers.”

“Yeah, well, this one is,” Stiles said. His phone started ringing and he sighed. The caller ID told you it was Lydia and you told him to get it. You walked over to Deaton’s side of the table in the meantime to talk to him some more, but neither of you got the chance because when Stiles said the word ‘missing’ both of you turned to look at him. 

After a little convincing, you got Deaton to come back to school with you and you met Lydia in the music room. She still looked pretty freaked out about it, but she showed you the recording she’d found anyway.

“Can we get a copy of this?” Deaton asked when the recording finished playing. Lydia nodded and sent it to him. 

“Hey, Doc, any help would be, you know, helpful,” Stiles said while he rummaged through the teacher’s desk drawers. You rolled your eyes.

“Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power. Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors-” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Stiles stood up to look at him. “Warrior, could that also be like a soldier?” He looked over at you.

“Kyle was in Junior ROTC,” you explained and Stiles showed everyone a photo of the teacher on his wedding day in his uniform. 

“That’s got to be it. That’s the pattern.” Deaton looked at the photograph. “Where’s Boyd?” 

“He’s probably home by now but I’m gonna try and get him on the phone.” Stiles rushed out and you looked over at Lydia. 

“Lyd, you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said gently. 

“Yeah, it was- I mean … I just thought of someone else with a military connection,” she told you. Deaton asked who she thought of. “Harris.”

The four of you shared anxious looks before deciding to rush over to Harris’ classroom. No one was there. You couldn’t tell if that made you feel relieved or not. 

“Maybe he just went home for the day,” you said, but even you could tell that your words were hollow. 

“Yeah, well…” Stiles went over to the desk and pulled out his briefcase. You’d never seen Harris without it. “Not without this.” You watched him open the case and remove its content. You leaned over the desk to see what he was frowning at. 

“What?” Deaton asked. 

“This test is graded ‘R,’” you told him. 

“This one’s an ‘H.’” Lydia held up another test. 

You and Stiles started splaying out all the tests to look for grades that didn’t make sense, but Deaton came over and rearranged the order. 

“Do you remember I told you ‘druid’ was the Gaelic word for ‘wise oak?’” he asked. You and Stiles nodded. “If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak. There’s a Gaelic word for that as well: Darach.” 

--- 

Stiles ended up taking you home after ransacking Harris’ classroom. He stopped at a fast food place on the way because your stomach was making the loudest noises in the car. The two of you were quiet as you poked at your food and watched Stiles dunk a fry into his milkshake. 

“You’re quiet,” he said between chews. 

“I just can’t believe he’s dead. I mean, I didn’t like Harris. And I barely knew him but it still … still hurts. Still feels like I lost something.” You took a sip of your drink. 

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s also because Erica’s gone now. All this death is just-” 

“Smothering.” He looked at you with this shocked expression on his face so you gave him a small smile. “I’ll get through it, but I- we shouldn’t have to, Stiles.” You didn’t realize your hand was reaching across the table until it met Stiles’ half way. “We’re just kids.” 

“If we don’t, who will? You think Peter gives half a rat’s ass about anyone who isn’t him?” he asked. You knew he meant it to be encouraging but it just stung. 

“I don’t know,” you said eventually. 

The restaurant was quiet - just after the lunch rush had died down - and for a moment it felt like it was only you and Stiles in the whole building, holding hands and grieving. 

“I can still hear her, you know?” Your voice was barely even a whisper. “People laughing in the hallways, when my feet hit the pavement as I run, when Isaac says something dumb I can practically feel her reaching over and slapping the back of his head.” Your voice cracked. “And every time I see Boyd it just-” 

“It reminds you of her,” Stiles finished for you. “And it hurts like a bitch. I wanna tell you that it’s gonna go away, but it doesn’t. It gets less but it- it’s still there. It’s a reminder that you’re alive. And you’re here. And I’m here too. And Erica … she’d want you to be happy.” 

You honestly didn’t know how to respond, so all you did was nod. 

You watched Stiles sink back into his seat, taking his hand with him. “You wanna take these to go and get out of here? This booth is kind of depressing now.” 

---

You and Melissa were cuddled up together on the couch. It had been a long day for both of you. She was playing absent-mindedly with your hair when you heard Scott’s voice, and then you both twisted around to get a better look at him. “Hey, Mom?” Isaac was with him. “Is it okay if Isaac stays with us for a little while?” 

“What happened?” You and Melissa asked at the same time. You got up to get closer to them. You knew Isaac was physically fine - superhuman healing and all that - but you still felt yourself checking him like when you were younger. 

Isaac caught your hands when they started drifting down his arms and stopped you. “Derek kicked me out.”

“He did what?” Melissa asked at the same time that you threatened Derek with bodily arm. 

Isaac smiled gently at you and looked back at your mom. “It’s just a little crowded now that Cora’s there.” 

“Right.” Melissa took a breath, thinking it over, and then smiled at you. “Get him settled while I talk to Scott?”

You nodded and took Isaac to the kitchen. You made some tea while Isaac started opening up about what happened. You guys had a routine for this by now. 

“He threw a glass at you?” You pushed the mug into his hand. He focused on the drink instead of looking at you. 

“I wasn’t listening to him. I- I was arguing with him.” 

“Isaac, you know that’s not a reason for someone to throw a glass at you.” You tried your best to be gentle but your blood was boiling. You couldn’t do anything about his dad but you were perfectly willing to beat up Derek if you could. 

“Y/N, it’s not that simple. He-”

“You guys look cozy,” Melissa said with a smile as she came into the kitchen with Scott. “So, Scott told me what happened and it’s perfectly okay if you wanna stay here.” Isaac started thanking her but she kept going. “We don’t have a spare room so you’d have to stay with Scott but other than that … it's okay with me.” 

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McCall.”

“Melissa, please. Mrs. McCall was … well, my mother-in-law. And I don’t wanna be my mother-in-law.” You laughed and Melissa shook her head. “So, did you guys make some for all of us?”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #so close #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

[valiantgentle]

HOUSE OF HALLOWEEN. an ashley adams one-shot. slightly au-ish, but technically post-season-one.

─ on halloween, ashley’s seventeenth birthday, she and the rest of the anubis students are dragged into a grave scavenger hunt, and alfie’s life may be at stake.

           Halloween is the best day of the year for three reasons. 1) You get to dress up as anyone you want to be. You want to be a princess? Wear that tiara, spin around in a frilly dress. You want to be a superhero? Remember that with great power comes great responsibility. You want to be a god from any mythology on the planet? …Good luck. 2) You get free sweets. Chocolate, lollipops, and M&Ms, oh my! 3) It’s my birthday. That’s right, 31st October is my birthday, and today, I am seventeen years old.

           Sixteen was an insane year by any standards. Joy went missing, kidnapped by a secret society and her father, and Nina showed up out of nowhere and became one of my closest friends. Then we had that whole Cup of Ankh thing, I saw actual ghosts, and also I started to call Jerome by his first name. Still getting used to that one.

           Anyway. It’s Halloween, it’s my birthday, and it’s the best frickin’ day of the year.

           “Hey, Ash, happy birthday,” Fabian says to me as Nina, Amber, and I sit down for breakfast.

           My roomies had already wished me the same when I woke up—actually, one of them replaced the alarm on my phone to play the birthday song instead of the normal annoying tone. It seeped into my dream and presented in the form of the pharaoh from those museum movies singing it. That was weird.

           Alfie looks up from his orange juice as I thank him, remarking, “It’s your birthday?” I raise my eyebrows, as does everyone else at the table. Even Mara in the kitchen stops and stares at him. Huh. I thought Alfie, of all people, would’ve remembered, what with it being Halloween and all. He said once that we should switch birthdays so he gets the fun one. “That works.”

           “What?” I ask lamely.

           “You forgot her birthday?” Jerome questions.

           Alfie counters, the confused expression replaced with a curious one, “You remembered?”  

           “It’s kind of hard to forget. It’s Halloween.”

           Patricia inquires nonchalantly, “You sure that’s why you remember?”

           Jerome glares as I roll my eyes. They’re really still on this Jashley thing, aren’t they? Just because he and I have decided to be more civil with each other doesn’t mean we’re suddenly into each other. Then again, they’ve been on this pretty much since he and I met, so I’m sure us being actual friends has probably just egged them on even more.

           Alfie downs the rest of his orange juice in a single gulp. “I’m off to school,” he says as he grabs a muffin. “Happy birthday, Ash—but more importantly, happy Halloween.”

           He laughs maniacally as he backs out of the room. The entirety of Anubis House (excluding Victor, who’s locked up in his office like always) follows him with our eyes until we hear the door to the house close. I turn around and question, “Is he acting weird?”

           From the kitchen, Trudy nods. “He was up before me,” she remarks. “And not for a snack.”

           “You know,” Jerome states thoughtfully, “I haven’t seen him with a zombie mask on today. He might be feeling sick.”

           Amber sighs deeply. “I know Alfie.” She’s kind of dating him. Kind of. “He’ll be back to normal after school.”

           Patricia quips, “Is he ever normal?”

           --

           The halls of the school are entirely decked out for Halloween. There’s a plastic mummy poking out of a paper sarcophagus on every corner, spider webs along the walls, and orange and black streamers hanging from every doorway. My own locker is covered with orange and black balloons and a ripped piece of paper that reads in a classic spooky font HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

           I smile as I push the balloons away to open the locker, but something falls out and onto the floor. I bend to pick it up, frowning. It’s a plain white envelope with the number 1 on it. Opening the envelope, I find inside a Halloween greeting card, but the printed message on the inside is covered up with tape. In its place are two messages—one written in English using newspaper clippings, like a ransom note, and the other in French, written in cursive.

           A Halloween Quest for Miss Ashley Adams! To find the rest of your message, locate Nina Martin, Mara Jaffray, and Mick Campbell. Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll get a fright.

           ils disent que les chauves-souris sortent la nuit

           “What the…” I mumble. I close my locker, reading over the messages again. Nina passes by me, smiling as she puts in the combination to her locker. “Hey, do you know what this is?”

           Nina looks at the envelope and shakes her head, just as an identical one with the number 2 instead falls out of her locker. She looks at it, then at me. “I know it’s not a birthday card.” She opens it up, looking over it before turning it around to show me. The French message on hers is different, but the English one is identical, just with mine and Nina’s name swapped around. “Okay, this is weird.”

           “Mick and Mara probably got the same thing,” I say. “We should find them.”

           But we don’t have to go far, because before Nina and I can even get going, the couple comes up to us with matching envelopes. “It’s so strange,” Mara says. “We found these envelopes in our bags during first class.”

           “We found them in our lockers,” Nina responds. “It’s probably Trudy doing some fun Halloween game for us. We’ve all got study hall next, right? Might as well see what it says.”

           “We just passed by the lounge,” Mick says, pointing his thumb that direction. “Hardly anyone’s in there.”

           So the four of us go to the lounge, setting our respective cards and envelopes on the table in the middle of the room. Mara’s the one that notices that each envelope is labeled with a number and organizes them in numerical order.

           “It stands to reason,” she says, switching around Nina and Mick’s envelopes, “that the message goes in order of the numbers. So the one Ashley got is first, Nina’s second, mine third, and Mick’s fourth. It’s a four part message.”

           “So we should each take our own part,” Mick suggests, already reaching for the fourth envelope and card. At the same time, he takes his phone out of his blazer pocket.

           “What are you doing?” Mara asks.

           “I’m looking the translations up online.”

           “But I have a French-to-English dictionary right beside me.”

           “But this is faster.”

           “You two are so weird,” I interrupt. “I vote for Google. I wanna know what it says. Nina?”

           Nina’s eyes are glued on the four cards, and it takes me saying her name twice for her to pay attention. “What? Oh, I—I have to choose the internet. Something’s bothering me about this.”

           My eyebrows furrow. “You mean the unsigned ransom note stuffed into our lockers that warn us not to tell anyone aside from the people we were told to find or we’ll get a fright, which I’m assuming means an extended hospital and/or morgue stay?” Nina blinks at me. Mick and Mara share a concerned glance. “Anyway, we all want to know what the message says. Off to Google Translate.”

           I reach forward and grab my card, already pulling up the search engine on my phone. “You know,” I continue as they hesitantly reach for theirs, “if we’re a team, we need a team name. Team Jackal.”

           “Team Jackal?” Mick questions.

           “The head of Anubis is a jackal,” Mara explains for me, “in Egyptian mythology.”

           “Oh. I get it. We live in Anubis House.”

           “And we need nicknames,” I remark. “I will be The Artist. Nina, you’re The Sleuth. Mick, The Jock. Mara, the Nerd.”

           As I look from my phone to the card, Nina says, “Isn’t it weird that it’s the four of us? I mean, separately, in pairs of two, it makes sense. Me and Ashley, you two,” she gestures across to Mick and Mara. “But the four of us together? It doesn’t make any sense.”

           Mick chuckles lightly. “Makes you wonder what the rest of the house is doing. I’ve got mine done, by the way.”

           “Mine, too,” us girls chorus in unison. Mick looks a little freaked out, while the three of us just laugh. Mara adds, “All right, Ashley, you got the envelope numbered 1. Yours must be first.”

           I nod, reading from my phone as Mara readies her pencil to write it on her notepad. “‘They say bats come out at night.’”

           “Nina?”

           “Uh,” she says, “‘But don’t be overcome with fright.’ Fright, like in the other message.”

           Mara nods. “Mine is, ‘A bat hangs learning somewhere.’ And Mick?”

           Mick finishes, “‘And your next clue is hidden there.’”

           They say bats come out at night, but don’t be overcome with fright. A bat hangs learning somewhere, and your next clue is hidden there.

           “It’s a scavenger hunt,” Mara realizes. I look around the lounge, noticing something odd on the stage. It’s Jerome, Patricia, Fabian, and Amber talking in hushed tones in a circle. That’s weird. I didn’t think any of them willingly spoke to Jerome. “Someone’s sending us on a scavenger hunt.”

           “Not just a scavenger hunt,” I say. “A Halloween-themed scavenger hunt.”

           “Should we…” Mick pauses. “…you know, scavenge?”

           “I think we should,” says Nina, The Sleuth. “I know I’m not going to rest until I get to the bottom of it. The clue says there’s a bat learning somewhere—obviously in the school. We should split up and search, text when we find a bat hanging from the ceiling. Hopefully fake.”

           “Let’s go, then,” I say, standing. I head toward the door first, my card in my hand, and nearly run into Alfie. “Oh, hey, Alfie. How’s it going?”

           Alfie shrugs. “It’s Halloween. Things couldn’t be better! What’s that?” He gestures to the card. “Looks fun and spooky. What’s it say?”

           I glance at the card. “Oh, it’s, uh, a card from my sis. It’s my Hallobirth.”

           “Hallobirth?”

           “It sounded better than Birthoween.”

           “Oh, my God.” Alfie laughs, shaking his head, and holds his glance on the group at the stage. Well, mostly on Amber, I assume. “I’ll see you later, Ash.”

           --

           I take the east side of the school to search; Nina’s north, Mara’s west, and Mick’s south. As I duck into classrooms in search of a hanging plastic bat on the ceiling, I ponder whatever’s happening. Honestly, I’m a little worried this has something to do with our Sibuna stuff. Like… I don’t know, maybe Rufus is back from the dead to taunt us on Halloween. He knew both me and my great-grandmother Lily Henry. Heck, they were technically siblings through adoption! He had to know we share the same birthday, amongst other things.

           But, you know… Rufus is dead. There’s no way he survived those sandflies. But also, what if he had a partner?

           Nope. Ashley, stop it. It’s not Rufus. Rufus Zeno is dead and he’s gonna stay dead.

           As I’m leaving the tenth classroom on the east side of the school, my phone pings with a text message. Mick. He says he found the bat in Mrs. Burton’s art classroom. I stuff my phone back into my pocket, pushing through the crowd in the direction of the art classroom.

           “Hey,” I say, the last one of Team Jackal to arrive, “where is it?”

           “Up there,” Mick says, pointing to the corner. Sure enough, there’s an obviously fake bat hanging from the ceiling, right above a painting I recognize as my own. “Found this paper in its beak. Have no idea what it says.”

           “Another language again?”

           Mick hands it to Mara, who frowns as she looks over it. “They’re hieroglyphs. I don’t have a dictionary for this.”

           “Can we see?” Nina asks, holding her hand out. Mara hands over the paper. There’s quite a few hieroglyphs printed onto it. “We could bring it to Fabian. He could translate it for us.”

           I shake my head. “No. The first message said not to tell anyone. I can translate it.”

           The three of them chorus at the same time, “You can?”

           I frown. I’m not a fan of the doubt in their voices. “Yeah. I can do this. I’ve been taking an online class.”

           Mara raises her eyebrows. “Why?”

           ‘Cause I was forced by my ancestry to participate in Ancient Egyptian mysteries in the place where we live isn’t an acceptable answer, I assume. So I respond, “‘Cause I wanna learn a new language.”

           “You might want to try one that’s being used in the twenty-first century.”

           “What, should I learn Latin, Mara?” I retort, my words coming out sharper and more condescending than I intended. Nina elbows me, and I sigh. “Sorry, Mara. What I mean is, give me a few hours, and I’ll have this translated. Every glyph. Trust me.”

           --

           I spend most of the school day subtly using my phone and the internet to translate the hieroglyphs from the second clue. It was really hard to do that without any of the teachers noticing, but somehow I succeeded in getting away with it. And in translating it. That’s right, Miss Amateur Hieroglyph Translator got thirty-two menacing, creepy as heck words out of those hieroglyphs. The Artist does better with pictures and numbers.

           Also, I’ve seen some of these before with our prior mystery. That helped a lot.

           “You’re sure that’s what it says?” Nina questions warily as Team Jackal crowds around me in Mr. Sweet’s empty classroom just after last bell. “Like, absolutely sure?”

           “One hundred percent,” I answer. “I know. It’s freaking me out a little, too.”

           You found the bat, now find the raven. Corbierre is not who we speak about. There is, in the school, another raven, and if you find it, you might just save him.

           “Save him,” Mara repeats, her voice slightly trembling. “We should tell someone now. Someone’s life may be at stake.”

           “Maybe it’s just one of those Halloween things,” Mick suggests weakly.

           “We’ll never know unless we find the raven it’s talking about,” I state. “We should find it first before we make any decisions to tell authorities. You with me?” Nina nods. So does Mick. Mara does so reluctantly. “All right. So it says the raven’s not Corbierre. That’s good, that means Victor won’t come tear apart the school to find his precious bird.”

           “If there was a real raven in the school,” Mick remarks, “we would’ve heard about it by now.”

           “It’d be all over social media,” Mara adds.

           Nina has her thinking face on. “What if it’s not a real bird? What if it never was? Corbierre’s taxidermy. What if we’re looking for one that was always made of plastic?”

           “What do you mean?” I question, not quite following.

           “The Mysteries of Anubis,” Nina states. Mick and Mara turn pink at the mention of the play (must be thinking about their prolonged-kiss when the curtains fell when the first act ended). But in that play, Fabian played a character inspired by Victor—complete with a prop raven. “The raven.”

           “It’s still backstage with the rest of the props,” I recall. “That has to be it. Great job, Sleuth!”

           “Let’s go!”

           The curtains are drawn when we arrive. There are boxes of props spread across the stage, but none of them have our prop raven on top. Nina orders us to start digging for the raven in such an authoritative, leading tone that not one of us pauses to verbally question why on earth all of these boxes are laid out so nicely for us. These weren’t on the stage when we were in here this morning.

           I throw a feathery scarf around my neck to get it out of the way, digging my hands into the box. “Monocle, flowers—does anyone know why there’s a lion mask in here?”

           Mara pipes up, “The school play the year before you came was The Wizard of Oz.”

           “Cool. Who was the scarecrow without a brain?”

           I’m about to answer my own question with Jerome’s name when Mick calls, a frown very evident in his voice, “Uh… over here.”

           Mara, Nina, and I drop the props in our hands as we crowd around the box Mick’s rifling through. He’s holding the prop raven, the one we used for the play, in his hands, but there’s something taped to it. A photograph of a smiling familiar face.

           “That’s Alfie,” I say slowly, reaching over to take the raven from him. Alfie’s photograph is taped to the raven we were told to find. What does this mean? Does it mean…. “Is Alfie the ‘him’ in ‘you might just save him?’”

           “Okay, we need to tell Mr. Sweet now,” Mara says certainly, sounding freaked out now. More than before. “Whoever sent us on this scavenger hunt has Alfie!”

           “We need to calm down,” Nina instructs. “Take a breath. It looks like there’s something written on the back. Maybe another clue that will lead us to Alfie or whoever’s leaving these.”

           Before I get a chance to rip the photograph off the raven to read the next clue, there’s heavy footsteps from the door. Team Jackal spins around at the same time to see that it’s the group from earlier—Jerome, Patricia, Fabian, and Amber. They’re talking over each other but stop dead in their tracks when they see us staring at them.

           “What are you guys doing here?” Fabian asks.

           “We could ask you the same thing,” Nina responds.

           Patricia’s eyes widen as she points to the prop in my hand. “That’s the raven we’re looking for! What are you doing with it?”

           I counter quickly, “What do you want with it?”

           Jerome steps forward and says bluntly, “Everybody, shut up.” The room falls silent, but he waits a few seconds to continue. In those few seconds, he looks across us. Then he concludes, “You got envelopes, too, didn’t you? Numbered one through four?”

           “Yeah,” Mick confirms. “You’ve been running around school all day, too?”

           Amber nods. “Looking for a clue hidden in mummy gauze. I need a manicure,” she remarks, glancing briefly at her nails (which are as perfect as always). Then she abruptly looks back up, pointing to each of us. “Wait, there are nine people in Anubis House. Where’s Alfie?”

           Alfie Lewis. He’s the only Anubis student missing. He’s the only one who didn’t get an envelope.

           “I haven’t seen him since first class,” Jerome says.

           Patricia closes her eyes. “The last clue. It said something about saving ‘him.’ Alfie must be him!”

           “It told you to find a raven,” I infer, raising the raven with the photograph of our missing friend. “This raven. With Alfie’s picture taped to it.”

           “Nina just said there’s a message on the back of the photo,” Mara reminds us.

           The other four rush to jump onto the stage with us as I rip the photograph off the raven, throwing the prop to Jerome. I turn the photograph over, my blue eyes scanning across the unfamiliar words. “It’s in Latin. Four parts.”

           “We should work on this together,” Nina suggests. “Figure out where Alfie is.”

           There’s four parts to the Latin message, and there’s eight of us. With us splitting into pairs of two and being assigned a part for each pair, it shouldn’t take long at all for us to figure out this message. Especially with the internet and online translation services at our fingertips.

           In the end, the message reads: One clue is at the seat of learning. Another is at the amphitheater of activity. You must split up again, but you will find him.

           “Whoever wrote this knew we’d work on it together,” Fabian remarks. “They have to know us personally.” His comment earns doubtful looks from the rest of the house. “I mean—look, they didn’t even start calling each other by their first names until a few weeks ago.” He gestures between me and Jerome. “And Ashley can still hardly stand him. And Patricia can hardly stand the rest of us. Not to mention them,” now he gestures to Mick and Mara, an odd pairing by anyone’s standards. “Who else would think we would work together to translate this other than someone who knows us well?”

           “That narrows it down to pretty much just Victor and Trudy,” I say. “I don’t see Victor taking the time to draw all this up.”

           “Unless he wanted us out of the house.”

           “He’s out of the house, though,” Amber says. “We just saw him heading into Mr. Sweet’s office. And Trudy’s out handing sweets out to the freshmen.”

           “Stop speculating,” Jerome interrupts, snatching Mara’s notepad with the full translation of this clue. “What does this mean?”

           Mara shrugs. “Seat of learning could be any classroom. I don’t know what amphitheater of activity could be.”

           “Well, think about it,” Fabian states, grabbing the notepad from Jerome. He taps his finger against the paper. “Seat of learning. Where’s all the knowledge in the school?”

           “Definitely not in our brains,” I quip.

           It’s not the answer he’s looking for. I also get a lot of strange looks from them.

           Fabian rolls his eyes. “No, the library! It’s full of books. The seat of learning must be the library.”

           “Great,” Nina comments. She presses her lips together. “Now what’s the amphitheater of activity?”

           It’s silent in the room for a few seconds as we ponder it. The answer comes from the person we least expect. Mick says, “You know, amphitheater is another word for gym.” The looks he’s given could rival the ones just given to me. Then he raises his phone. “I googled it.”

           “There’s a lot of activity in the gym,” Jerome points out.

           Amber jumps up from the couch. “Team Ibis—we’re taking the library. Since our team figured it out.”

           “You’re Team Ibis?” I question, perking up. Two important animals in Egyptian mythology are jackals and ibises. “We’re Team Jackal! I came up with it.”

           “I came up with Team Ibis, too! I also gave us nicknames. Jerk,” she points to Jerome, identifying him as the one with the apropos name, “Nerd,” Fabian, “Goth,” Patricia, “and Jewel!” She points to herself, taking the hem of her skirt and curtsying.

           I laugh. “So did I! I’m the Artist, she’s the Sleuth, he’s the Jock, and she’s the Nerd. Two nerds! Nerd-squared. What are the odds?”

           Nina lightly clears her throat and reminds me, “Didn’t you translate the hieroglyphs singlehandedly? Wouldn’t that make you a nerd, too?”

           “Okay, but I can’t do math.”

           “But you can translate hieroglyphs.”

           “Oh, whatever!” I exclaim, hitting her arm lightly. Nina pulls her arm away and laughs loudly. “Team Jackal—to the gym. Jock, you live there. Lead the way.”

           Mick frowns as he stands. “I’m roommates with Fabian.”

           --

           The gymnasium doesn’t look out of place to me. On this Halloween, it’s being used as a sweets hub, with tables set up inside and adults handing out sweets to younger teenagers dressed in costumes. Trudy’s here, too, dressed as a classic witch.

           “Does anything look different to you, Mick?” Mara asks him. “You were in here yesterday.”

           Mick narrows his eyes as he looks around the gym. Nina and I share a glance as Mara watches him intently. I know Mick probably has the layout of this place memorized, but would he really spot something so minuscule as a random clue in a room full of costumed children and the smell of chocolate wafting through the ai—

           “The footballs,” Mick interrupts my inner doubts. I snap out of it and blink, following his finger point. There’s a stack of sports equipment with gauze-covered footballs. “They weren’t covered with gauze yesterday.”

           “Gauze like mummy gauze?” I question.

           “When you say football,” Nina says, “you mean a soccer ball, right? I mean, for me, the American.”

           “Yes, he means soccer in American. There’s not an American football in the room.”

           “I think an American football wrapped in gauze would be a cool Halloween decoration. Stick some googly eyes on it, make a body out of haystacks. We did that for decorations one year, me and Gran.”

           “Like a Halloween snowman?”

           “Yeah, but made of straw and googly eyes.”

           “Nina, Ashley!” Mara shouts from across the room. She and Mick are already over there by the stack of gauze-covered sports equipment. Nina and I exchange an alarmed glance before running across the floor. She’s holding one in particular. “There’s writing on this gauze.”

           Trudy calls, “Oh, hello!” We turn, waving meekly at her. “What a strange group, you four. Would you like any sweets?”

           “Oh, no, thanks, Trudy,” Nina declines for all of us. “We’re just, uh… walking. Getting in some exercise before partying tonight—double the celebration, you know, with Ash’s birthday and Halloween.”

           I completely forgot it was my birthday until she said that. Oops.

           Trudy gives us a thumbs-up and grins before returning to handing out candy to the lowerclassmen.

           Mara’s carefully unwrapping the gauze from the football. Mick’s holding the other end of the gauze and she hands the football itself off to me once it’s completely unwrapped. I can see the message through the thin gauze—and even with it backwards, I can tell it’s English. Thank God, no more translations.

           “‘This clue you have figured out,’” she reads aloud, “‘beyond a shadow of a doubt. The final is nothing to write home about. Anubis is what it’s all about.’”

           Nina gasps. “The final clue—it’s at Anubis House!”

           --

           Anubis House is decorated for the holiday, too. Well, as decorated as Victor would allow. As in, there’s fake spider webs on the sign outside, and he let us place some fake pumpkins around the place. That’s pretty much the extent he would let us decorate the public areas—our rooms were ours for the taking.

           Team Jackal stumbles into the house, which is exactly the same as we left it.

           “Mick, Mara, you take downstairs,” Nina says. “Look for anything out of the ordinary. Ash and I’ll take upstairs.”

           Before we even get a chance to split up, a commotion from upstairs drifts down to us. It causes us to freeze where we stand before we run toward the stairs, skipping steps and nearly falling more than once. Bursting through the doors to the girls’ rooms, we’re met with the sight of Team Ibis talking over one another again, stood in front of the attic.

           “What are you all doing up here?” I ask loudly, interrupting them. The four part long enough for me to spot a piece of paper taped to the attic door. “What does that say?”

           Find the key and you’ll set him free.

           “The spare key to the attic?” Mara inquires. I try pulling on the doorknob, but it’s locked. “That’s in Victor’s office.”

           “I can pick the office lock—” Nina begins.

           Fabian interrupts, “We already tried that. The spare key is missing.”

           “Well, what about the attic door?”

           “We were just arguing about that—”

           “What’s there to argue about? Mara, do you have a bobby pin?”

           My eyes jump around the door area, looking for anything strange about it. I can see Mara in my peripheral vision pulling a bobby pin out of her hair, but when I turn my head to see that fully, something glimmers from the top of the doorframe. I step forward, biting the inside of my cheek. There’s something on top of the frame.

           “Hey, Mick,” I say without taking my eyes off the spot, “give me a boost.” Mick bends and holds out his hands so I can step onto them. He lifts me up long enough for me to grab the key. It nearly stumbles out of my hands as he sets me back down. “Got the key! Move, Clarke!”

           “Don’t stab me with it,” Jerome says, jumping out of the way.

��          I push the key into the lock, turning it. The door unlocks and opens. “Team Jackal goes first,” I say lowly, looking at the dark stairs. “Well, me and Nina do. I have a weird feeling about this.”

           I can hear the rest of them following Nina and I upstairs. She and I are holding onto each other’s arms, the cold key against my skin. We slowly round the corner together before entering the attic fully. There’s someone standing there with their back to us, dressed in a long black cape.

           “Ah,” says the person in the attic, with a Transylvanian accent, “you have figured out my clues.”

           And they turn around. The face throws me and everyone else into a state of confusion and shock.

           “Alfie?!” Anubis House questions in unison.

           Alfie grins at us, showing us his plastic fangs. “Hello, Anubis. Happy Halloween! Welcome to our party.”

           “Alfie,” Jerome says slowly, “do you want to explain what’s going on here?”

           “And why we were led to believe that you were in danger,” I add, “when you look pretty not-in-danger to me?”

           “Oh, I was so tempted to put you two on the same team,” Alfie states happily, “but then I thought: no, putting my two best friends on separate teams was gonna work. Let me explain—I’ve been working on this elaborate scavenger hunt for months. Every detail, every clue, was drawn to perfection. I even tailored them to your interests.”

           Fabian stammers, “Different languages interest?”

           Alfie nods. “Yeah, that’s why I put you and Ashley on separate teams. I’m the one that put the idea of taking hieroglyph classes in her head.” I frown. Yeah, that’s technically correct. He more encouraged me to do it than outright told me to. “Mrs. Andrews helped me with the French clues, and Mr. Sweet with the Latin ones. I gave Team Tweedledee,” he gestures to my team, “the bat in the art room and I assumed you would take the amphitheater of activity because… well…”

           “Oh, because of me!” Mick exclaims.

           “Exactly! And I gave Team Tweedledum the mummies in the halls at school because of Fabian—and I’d hope you’d go to the seat of learning.”

           Amber raises her hand. “I found that one. The one that said to come here. It was in a pretty book on the table.”

           Alfie smiles warmly at her. “I knew you’d do that. And the hieroglyphs I found online. I put on a disguise and watched you all scramble to figure out the clues before coming back here when you figured out the Latin one. It was so much fun, you should’ve seen your faces.”

           “Wait a second,” Patricia says, and there’s a warning in her tone. “You tricked us into going on this scavenger hunt, made us believe you were in danger, and watched us run all about the school for fun?”

           Alfie nods. “Pretty much.”

           “If this is a party, where’s the punch?”

           His eyes widen as he steps back abruptly, bumping into the wall. “No need to pour punch on me or punch me, Trixie! This is a Halloween party. And,” he looks over at me, “it’s Ash’s birthday. I’m gonna be honest with you—I did forget today was your birthday until Fabian said something this morning. But hey, it all worked out!”

           I narrow my eyes, stepping toward him. “You…are so much smarter than I thought you were.”

           “Oh. I thought you were gonna say something about me being stupid.”

           “You are stupid, but this was also fun until we thought you were in danger.”

           “Hey, you guys would’ve pinned this on me the second you realized I was the only one who didn’t get an envelope and in a group. I had to take the suspicion off myself. So who’d you think it was? Victor, Trudy? Oh, was it Mr. Sweet?”

           Alfie doesn’t get an answer as we all stare at him.

           “Okay, so forget that I made you think I was in danger,” Alfie compromises, “and let’s get our party on! Go get costumed up and get back up here, because Trudy and Victor aren’t gonna be back for another two hours! Oh, and get whatever presents you bought Ash!”

           --

           Halloween-themed music and sound effects blast through some speakers set up in the attic as we dance around with each other. Amber’s dressed as (of course) a princess, Nina as Dorothy Gale, and myself as a pirate. Fabian’s recycled his costume from the play earlier this year (sharpie beard and all), Patricia’s a regular witch (no pun intended), Mick and Mara are doing a couples’ thing as Frankenstein’s Monster and the Bride of Frankenstein, and Jerome’s a skeleton. Alfie’s Dracula, the same costume we found him in.

           Honestly, him being behind this whole thing was a plot twist I never expected. In hindsight, I should’ve realized it. He was so focused on making this work that he wasn’t very enthusiastic about Halloween in general.

           But good for him. This was fun, figuring out the clues.

           The presents I received for my birthday were perfect. It was mostly art supplies, but Fabian gifted me a book on Egyptian mythology and Amber bought me a bracelet that goes perfectly with my Ankh charm. The only person who didn’t give me anything was Jerome, which, to be honest, I expected. Although, he could’ve at least, like, given me a chocolate bar.

           I sneak out of the attic with my empty cup, planning to go downstairs and fill it up with water from the kitchen. As I turn the sink on, I hear one of the doors in the hallway downstairs open and close. When I switch the sink off, my cup full, someone says, “Leaving the party so soon?”

           Spinning around, I find that it’s Jerome in all his skeleton-glory. “Just getting something to drink. What about you?”

           “Wanted to give you something,” he replies. He steps toward me, holding out a small, Halloween-themed gift bag. “It’s your present. I didn’t give it to you in front of everyone because I didn’t want anyone to make fun of me.”

           “Oh, you poor thing,” I say sarcastically, taking it from him. “I’m definitely gonna make fun of you.”

           “I’m sure.”

           I laugh lightly, reaching into the bag. My fingers wrap around a long box and I set the bag on the counter as I pull it out. It’s a pen box, not one of those writing pens, but one for drawing. I’ve been on the fence about buying this exact pen for months. I didn’t know if I actually needed it.

           “I went to that art shop in town you’re always talking about,” Jerome explains. “They know you by name there, you know that? All I said is I was looking for something for you and they told me about this pen you’ve been looking at forever. Said you never bought it.”

           “So… you bought it for me?” I question slowly. I didn’t expect this.

           “Yeah. I didn’t want to walk around that shop looking for something I have no idea about. This was the easy way out. Happy birthday, Ash.”

           “This is, uh… very sweet of you, Jerome,” I say, blinking several times. “Thank you. Seriously. I didn’t expect this.”

           “Don’t get used to it.”

           “Afraid I’m gonna tell everyone the Tinman has a heart?”

           “Hilarious, truly.”

           I smile, shaking my head. I take his arm and pull him out into the hallway. “Come on. If we’re both gone for too long, they’ll think we’re up to no good. Happy Halloween.”

           “Happy Halloween.”

#ch: ashley adams #ocappreciation #type: writing #q #happy halloween!!! #and happy 24th birthday to my fave ash!!! #god i missed writing her this felt good #the first clue (the one in french) was found on pinterest but the others are mine #(full disclosure: i do not speak french so i used google) #also i've had this written for two months it's been agony not being able to post it until now #also u can thank this one shot for getting me started on editing wlb

[juliussneezerfics]

His Past, His Present, His Future  - Chapter 9: Coffee

Germany and Italy continue their trip through Rome. 

Fanfiction.net

Ao3

****************

They left the colosseum, Italy leading the way as he chattered. “Are you feeling hungry, Germany? I’m feeling hungry. I wonder where we should go! There’s so many places we could go, too. And so much food to eat!”

Germany simply nodded, letting Italy continue.

“If you want somewhere nice, I know a great place to sit down. But we’re not really dressed for nice places, are we? Let’s try something new! Something unique! What do you say?” 

Germany grunted. “Sounds good.”

“Great! There’s a place we can go – we’ll have to drive, but still – It’s only a few minutes’ drive, and it’s a park! There’s lots of food vendors and stuff!”

“How much is a few minutes?”

Italy hummed. “Around twenty, I think...”

Germany pulled out his phone and opened his map app. “Nineteen minutes.” He clicked around for a moment later, looking up the various attractions they hoped to see.

“Excellent! That’s a short drive, and then we can look at everything else we wanted to see!”

Germany hummed. “Excellent unless you consider the fact that everything we want to see is within ten minutes’ walking distance.” He slid his phone back in his pocket, facing Italy. “We may have to have a late lunch.”

Italy perked up. “Oh, that’s okay! I know a great little shop with delicious pastries! We could have a snack!”

“There’s no need.” Germany said, sliding his backpack off his shoulders and unzipping it. “I brought snacks so we could save money.”

Italy slumped a little. “Really? But the food here is so good!”

“Oranges are good, too.” Germany protested, pulling one out. “I also have protein bars, trail mix, baby carr-”

“Ugh!” Italy interrupted, tilting his head back. “I can’t believe you packed protein bars!”

“They’re practical!” Said Germany.

“But so boring!” Italy took the orange out of Germany's hand and set it back in the bag. “Why eat oranges when we could have Pandoro! Canoli! There’s even a place that makes Ricciarelli year-round, Germany. Ricciarelli! I haven’t had it since last Christmas, and it’s right around the corner!”

“Christmas is next month. Can’t you have one then?” Germany pointed out. Despite this, however, he zipped up his bag and slung it on his shoulders. “But if you insist-” The things Italy could convince him to do…

“Oh, I do! Thank you, Germany!” Italy sprung forward and wrapped Germany in a hug.

Germany stiffened. “Sure. but after this we’re eating the food I brought.”

Italy released Germany, still smiling as he took his hand and pulled him along. “That’s fine, the Ricciarelli place is right up here!”

Germany resigned himself, jogging to keep up with Italy as they turned the corner.

Italy pointed at a brown and tan striped awning. “That one!” They stopped and entered the shop, the smell of delicious baked goods hitting them like a wall. Italy took a long, deep sniff. “Mm…” The shop was small and cozy, with a two glass cases on either side of a bored-looking employee sitting behind a cash register. The lighting was slightly dim, and the rays from a few windows bathed the round tables and chairs in a warm, golden light. All in all, a cute pastry shop.

Germany sniffed as well, relenting that Italy probably made the right decision in turning down his protein bars.

Italy flounced right up to the employee, Germany following. “Can I please have a Ricciarelli with a cappuccino?”  Italy asked in Italian.

The bored looking teenage boy nodded. “Yes.” He looked expectantly up at Germany.

Germany glanced at Italy, unsure of what to say.

“Just try.” Italy said. “I’ll translate for you if you need.”

“I know hardly any Italian.” Germany protested quietly.

Italy shrugged. “Still Italian!”

“Uhh…” Germany straightened, beginning to speak in his heavily accented Italian. " Please...  what were those called again?”

“Ricciarelli.”

“Ricciarelli.” Germany finished, cringeing slightly as he botched the ‘r’s.

The boy nodded again, punching the price into the cash register. “What else?”

“What did he say?” Germany muttered to Italy.

“He asked if there was anything else we wanted.” Italy answered.

“Ask him for a plain, black coffee, please. I don’t know how.” Germany requested.

Italy smiled at him. “Sure!” He turned to the employee. “Can I please have a canoli, a zeppole, two Baicoli, a caprese cake, and a black coffee?"

Germany frowned, thinking that it was taking Italy an awfully long time to order a coffee. His suspicions were confirmed, however, as the price was rung up. “You didn’t just order a coffee.”

“Of course not!” Italy agreed, pulling euro out of his fanny pack. “The food here is incredible!”

Germany looked at the bills in Italy’s hand. “Here, we can split the pay.”

Italy grabbed Germany’s hand as it started for his wallet. “No, no! You’re a guest!” Before Germany could protest, Italy handed over the bills to the cashier.

Germany resolved to sneak the money to Italy later. "Thank you."

Italy went and took a seat at the nearest table, sitting with his back to the sun. He hummed with satisfaction as it warmed his back.

Germany watched with a small smile, snapping out of it when the employee tapped him on the shoulder and offered him a small cup of black coffee. “Thank- Uh… Grazie.” He said, accepting it.

The employee nodded, turning to gather the assorted pastries as Germany joined Italy at the table.

After they’d eaten their way through far too many desserts, they were back on the streets. “What all did you want to see, Italy?” Germany asked.

“Hmm...” He stopped in the shade of a tree. “I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon... I think that’s it.”

Germany pulled out his phone and tapped around for a moment, on a quest to find how far away they were. “We may want to find the car and drive there. It’s quite a long walk.”

Italy hummed. “That’s okay, I would love to go on a drive!”

“As long as you don’t plan on singing...” Germany agreed.

“What are you talking about? I have a lovely singing voice!” Italy protested, the pair walking alongside each other back to the car.

“Not when you’re screaming along to the songs.”

Italy laughed. “Well I have to agree to that.” There was a slight pause as he appeared to be thinking. “You have a lovely singing voice too, Germany!”

“This again?” Germany frowned at him. “You’ve never even heard it!”

“Of course I have!” Italy argued, now swinging his arms as he walked. “Sometimes when you come over and you think I’m sleeping or too focused on my painting, you sing or hum quietly to yourself! Most of your songs are in German, so I can’t understand, but it’s still pretty...”

Germany felt an intense blush rise on his cheeks. He supposed that singing to yourself was something that everyone did occasionally, but he still didn't want people to hear. “If I had known you were listening...”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Italy said, grinning. “There’s nothing wrong with having a pretty singing voice! Like have you ever heard America’s? Or France’s?”

Germany raised an eyebrow. "They sing well?"

Italy nodded. "They're some of the best singers I know!"

"How do you know this?"

“Well if someone didn’t stay home from karaoke night every year, you would know it too! Even Prussia goes!”

Germany looked ahead, turning into the street where his car was parked. “What did he sing?”

“Well, last year was Fergalicious.” Italy answered, chuckling.

Germany rolled his eyes. “Mein Gott. How embarrassing. That must have been entertaining, though... when’s the next karaoke night?”

“Umm... next month, first weekend, I think.” Italy gasped, rounding the front of the car to his door. “Does that mean you’re going?!”

“I’m not committing to anything yet. Possibly.” Germany answered.

Italy buckled in. “You sound like Japan.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” Germany “Does he go?”

“No.” Italy shook his head. “I mostly hang out with Romano and Spain. Sometimes Ms. Hungary.”

Germany pulled out into the street, considering the proposition. “Hmm... is singing mandatory?”

“Of course not! It’s very relaxed.” Italy answered, plugging the AUX chord in his phone. “Any requests?”

Germany shook his head. “You can control the music.”

The two drove in relative silence, enjoying the music and warm weather. Germany was about five minutes’ driving time away from the pantheon when Italy gasped.

“Germany, stop!” He sounded harried. Panicked, even.

“What? Why?” Germany asked urgently, already pulling over to the side of the street.

“You have to pull over now! Quick! Please!”

Germany pulled into a clumsy parallel park, facing Italy. “What? What is it? Are you okay?”

Italy smiled and pointed across Germany. “Look!”

Germany followed his finger. “What?”

“That building! There’s something really cool in there!”

“What could possibly be so important as to panic me into parking here?”

“A mask!”

“A mask?”

“It’s a really cool mask!”

Germany blinked, processing what just happened. “You made me park suddenly in Rome's traffic. You scared me while I was driving. You impeded our progress and ruined our schedule. You panicked me into thinking you were hurt or in danger. All that for a mask?!”

“It’s a magic mask, though!” Italy protested.

Germany’s forehead fell to the steering wheel with a loud thunk. “Oh, a magic mask. Perfect. Well that fixes everything.” He looked over to Italy, still hunching his shoulders. “And I assume I need to see this mask right now?”

“You’re mad at me.” Italy realized, his excitement fading.

“Very astute observation.” Germany replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t do that to me while I’m driving. Okay?”

“Okay. Sorry, Germany.”

Germany sighed, straightening and pushing himself against his seat. “It’s okay... do you really want to see this mask?”

“Yes please!”

Germany unbuckled. “Fine. But only for a little.”

“Yay! Thank you, Germany!” Hardly a second had passed before he had risen out of his seat and waiting outside of the car.

Germany left the car, waiting for the traffic to clear before crossing the street. “What’s so special about this mask, anyway?”

“Well, it’s magic.”

“I remember.” Germany stepped onto the opposite sidewalk. “I mean what’s the magic?”

Italy hummed as they started toward the building. “There is an old legend.”

“There’s an old legend with everything in Italy.” Germany observed, looking around. “You couldn’t throw a rock around here without it landing on something with an intense history.”

“Not here in Rome.” Italy agreed, laughing. “But this one is interesting!” They turned into the building.

“Well while we’re walking to this mask, tell me this legend.”

“Ooh! Good idea!” Italy quipped. “Well, back a long, long time ago... no one knows exactly when... there was a woman who was unfaithful to her husband. When he found out, he called a crowd of people and took his wife over here to see a mask to resolve the issue.”

“A crowd of people?” Germany asked as they walked through the twisting hallways. “To witness their private business?”

Italy nodded.

“Sounds like a decent fellow.”

“Right? So anyway, they were sitting in front of this mask. It was gigantic! A river god with an open mouth. Everyone knew what made this mask so special. If a liar stuck their hand in its mouth, it would bite it clean off!”

“Oh, so the woman stuck her hand in the mask’s mouth, then it got bitten off, then she was shunned for her crimes.” Germany finished, fully confident that he had figured out the rest of the story.

Italy frowned, mouth agape. “What?! No, that’s so grim! What happened was that the woman had a plan. She knew this would happen! Her lover came and kissed her in front of everybody, she pretended to be shocked, and he ran right off. When she was finally asked the question if she cheated, she answered: “The only men I have ever kissed was my husband, and that bastard that kissed me now.”

Germany smirked. “And that’s a direct quote?”

“Not exactly.” Italy admitted sheepishly. “But anyway, then the lover was hunted down and brutally killed. And that’s the end of the story!”

“And  my version was grim?” Germany asked.

Italy stopped, and so did he. They were standing in a short line of about ten people, leading to a stone face slightly taller than Italy carved into the wall.

“That’s a mask?” Germany asked.

Italy shrugged. “I suppose so,”

They waited patiently in line, the two of them watching a group of teenagers as they took turns asking each other questions in Italian. Italy giggled at a couple of them, not bothering to translate them. Not that Germany minded.

When it was finally their turn, Italy pushed Germany forward, holding his phone up. “Okay, you go first!”

Germany looked back, noting that there was no line behind them. Good. He wasn’t sure he wanted them to hear whatever Italy had to say. “Okay....” He stuck his hand in the mask, not letting his hand touch the stone.

“Okay. Do you have a soft spot for America?” Italy asked, giggling.

“No.” Germany answered.

Italy paused, staring at the mask. “... huh. No hand-biting, I guess you’re right!”

“Of course I am.”

“Okay, okay, a couple more! Umm... Do you have a diary?”

“No.” Germany said. a slight blush dusted the tips of his ears.

Italy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a stone mask to tell that you’re lying, Germany.”

Germany sighed. “Okay, yes! It’s a habit I picked up from Prussia. There's nothing wrong with a diary. It is a good way to keep track of business affairs. Happy?”

Italy laughed. “Your reaction is funnier than the answer!”

“Are we done now?”

“No, no, one last question.” Italy lowered his camera as his smile fell. “Are you... mad that I didn’t tell you about Holy Rome before?”

Germany blinked. He had almost forgotten about it until Italy mentioned it. “Of course not.” Germany said, surprised at the softness of his own voice. “I never was.”

Italy gave him a small smile, which Germany returned. Italy lifted his phone again after the brief pause. “Okay, those are all my questions!”

Germany raised an eyebrow, recognizing that Italy was trying to act as if the moment hadn’t even happened. “Finally.” He replied jokingly. The two passed each other as Italy went over to the stone statue. Before he could think of what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around Italy in a hug. He didn’t know why. If anyone asked him, he would say he was rather uncomprehending of emotion and reading the atmosphere. He wasn’t the first person you would go to for reassurance of any kind. And yet... he knew that this was the best thing to do for Italy at that moment. It was stiff and awkward. It almost felt unnatural. But Germany felt that he was doing the right thing.

Italy appeared to be frozen for a moment, shocked by this sudden display of affection. He quickly recovered, however, his hands desperately gripping the back of Germany’s T-shirt as he buried his head in his collarbone.

They stood like that for a couple more seconds before Germany released his friend. “Okay, you can’t put it off any longer. Get your hand in that statue.”

Italy stepped back and looked up at Germany, his lips pulling into a close-mouthed smile of thanks.

Germany found himself returning it as Italy stepped forward and stuck his hand in the mask, an arm’s length away from Germany as he waited. At the last minute, he remembered to start his phone’s video and turned it to Germany.

“Okay!”

Germany smiled to himself as he was struck with a devious idea. “Do you really think that fanny pack isn’t ugly?”

Still looking at Germany, Italy smiled. “Nope!”

“No,” Germany shook his head. “You need to look the mask in the eyes and answer. Most evidence of dishonesty is in the eyes.”

Italy raised an eyebrow, lowering his camera. “Really?”

“Yes.” Germany had no idea. “Look at the statue.”

Italy shrugged. “If it’s that important to you.” He raised the phone again, this time directed at the statue.

“Do you think your fanny pack is ugly?” As Germany talked, he took a silent half-step forward and raised his arms to Italy’s height.

“No.” Italy answered somewhat solemnly.

In the moment of silence that proceeded afterword, Germany brought his arms down onto Italy’s shoulders. “Ah!”

Italy yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin, dropping his phone and fumbling around with it before barely catching it. “Germany!” he barked. “You scared me half to death!”

But Germany wasn’t listening. He was too busy laughing. Full-bellied, gut-wrenching laughter. God, that was excellent! Even better than he had hoped!

Italy soon joined in, laughing along with him.

Germany straightened as he laughed, putting his palm to his forehead. After a couple more chuckles, the laughter subsided. Then, just as he remembered the little scream Italy did and the fumble that followed, it came back. “Oh, that noise you made.” He said after he had relaxed a little.

“That was a cheap trick, Germany!” Italy said.

“Perhaps.” Germany conceded, still smiling. “But it was impossible to resist. You scare far too easily.”

“Okay, okay.” Italy relented. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Thank you for your approval.” Germany teased. “Come on. If we want to be home with food for Japan, we have to see the Pantheon.”

“The Pantheon!” Italy skipped ahead. “I love it there! Oh, Germany, it’s so pretty!”

Germany followed Italy out to the car, listening to Italy’s ramblings about the pantheon and how lovely it is, how the columns are all so large, how it’s so clean, how it looks so beautiful on a sunny day, and how lucky are we that it’s such a lovely day, Germany? By the time they finally made it out to the car, it was a little after two in the afternoon. Germany realized this as he turned on the car and looked at the car radio, cringeing. “We’re cutting it close for sure.”

Italy grimaced. “Ooh.”

As they pulled out, Germany hummed. “We may only have time for one thing: Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel?”

“Pantheon.” Italy answered. “No hesitation!”

They were driving to the pantheon, Italy humming along to the music as they drove the last ten minutes of the drive. As they passed the buildings, Germany hazarded quick glances out the window. It was so beautiful here, even in the city. Rome was a collision of all that was old, and all that was new. It was beautiful in a way that transcended history. Germany peered over at Italy, who was tapping his finger on the left armrest, his honey gold eyes half-closed and observing their surroundings.

As he faced frontward again, he realized that he was smiling to himself. He wondered what Italy was thinking. His mind flashed back to the giant mask. When his hand was inside and Italy asked if Germany was mad at him for not telling him about Holy Rome. He remembered Italy’s look of vulnerability and nervousness. Germany was brought back to the present, wondering how long Italy had been sitting on that question. If he still had doubts. Furrowing his brows, Germany resolved to be a little more open. To perhaps be nicer to Italy. Maybe let him know through his actions that all was forgiven. That he was never mad in the first place. The GPS shocked him out of his thoughts, announcing their arrival.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Italy cheered, sitting forward in his seat.

“Wait, we have to find parking first.” Germany said.

Italy groaned. “We always do!” he gasped. “Germany! Maybe we could take bikes next time!”

For just a moment, Germany’s heart accelerated. Did that count as an invitation to do this again? For them to take another vacation together? “You would enjoy perhaps the first ten minutes. Then you would complain that we should have brought a car.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Italy laughed. “You know me too well, Germany.”

Germany spotted an empty spot on the side of the road and effortlessly slid into it. “Ja. It’s almost like we’ve been friends for 100 years.” He unbuckled.

Italy’s eyes widened as he too unbuckled. “Only 100 years? That’s so short!”

Germany opened the door, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. He pulled the sunglasses off his face, noticing that the sun wasn’t as bright in the late afternoon. “I forget that a century is short to many nations...”

“Yeah, you’re so young!” Italy laughed, waiting on the sidewalk. “You’re practically a baby!"

Germany glared as he rounded the car. “And yet here I am, taking care of you.”

“And you do such a good job of it!” Italy laughed, latching onto Germany’s arm. “I’m glad you took those sunglasses off, you don’t look as scary now.”

The two started walking, enjoying the sights and weather. Germany observed that the buildings here were more crowded together. There were less shops and more apartments. The buildings were brightly colored, painted in oranges, tans, and the occasional pale pastel blue.

“Germany, Germany!” Italy said suddenly, sounding extremely excited.

Germany looked over, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You’ve been my friend for over half your life!”

Germany looked ahead, taken aback. He’d never though of it like that. “I... suppose so.”

“Yeah! You were in your 60’s when you found me!”

“Mein Gott. It’s hard to believe.”

“Right?! It feels like so long ago!”

They lapsed into quiet again, Germany frowning. “Italy, I can’t believe I’ve never asked this, but... how old are you, exactly?”

“Hmm...” Italy brought a hand to his chin. “Well... I don’t remember exactly which year I was born, but... I remember it was around 700 B.C.”

Germany stopped outright. “Wait, what?”

Italy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m a bit of an old geezer, aren’t I?”

“’Old Geezer’? You’re around 2,600 years old!” Germany exclaimed.

Italy pulled him along. “Yes, I suppose so. Time is really weird, huh?”

“You could be my grandfather!” Germany continued.

Italy frowned. “Okay, okay, that’s enough.” He smiled. “I’m old, but I’m not ancient!”

Germany shook his head, dumbfounded. “You made America look like a toddler.”

“And you look like a baby! You understand, now?”

“I wish I didn’t, but yes.”

They turned the corner, and there was the pantheon. It rested in the middle of what looked like a giant cul-de-sak of grey brick road, surrounded by modern apartment buildings in assorted pastel colors. There was a small crowd milling about the area, but it was relatively empty. Perched in front of the Pantheon, a statue fish squirted water out of its mouth into the fountain. The pantheon was a large, rectangular building with a triangular roof, the front supported by large stone columns. On the front was some Latin that Germany was unable to understand. Bathed in the golden sun, it was almost as if they had travelled back in time and was standing in front of a new pantheon. Given how well it had stayed together over the years, it was easy to slip into that frame of mind.

Leaping with excitement, Italy pulled Germany forward in a jog. “Come on!”

#hetalia #aph germany #Hetalia Germany #Germany Hetalia #aph Italy #Hetalia Italy #Italy Hetalia #aph Gerita #Hetalia Gerita #Gerita #Gerita Hetalia #Hetalia fanfic #Gerita fanfic #His past his present his future

[naokimizutani-blog]

My Experiences, Perspective, My Why, My Vision, Point Of View On the World, And What I Believe In...

Hey guys. This is my first blog, so some of you might need a little background story.

I’m currently living in Tokyo with my wife and cat. I teach Transcendental Meditation and living a comfortable life here. It wasn’t always this way, as I’ve had to find my purpose, persevere and overcome my lack of patience…which I’m still working on.

I was born and raised in downtown Los Angeles. Some people say they’re born in a “big city” when they’re actually born in the outskirts “nearby.” I was born in the middle of LA in Korea Town. Not the best of places, but it’s where my parents started when they immigrated from Japan with only a dream and drive to succeed, and eventually raised a family with three kids, a cat and a dog. 

I never thought of myself as a minority, since I didn’t understand that there was even a majority. People were always people to me.

At home, my parents would speak Japanese. My father was from Kagoshima, Kyushu and my mother was from Osaka near Tennnoji. Luckily, I was placed in an environment where I didn’t have a lot of Japanese friends, so outside of the house, I spoke “SoCal” English. I write “SoCal” because later on, when I moved states for college, I found out the rest of America, or even the world, doesn’t speak the same laid back, “nah-man-everything’s-coo” English I spoke back in my hometown.

It also took me 25 years to realize that the Japanese I spoke at home was NOT the Japanese spoken by most people in Japan either. When I first came to Tokyo and heard formal Japanese (“keigo”), I had no clue what was being said. The clerk at the cash register would always look at me funny because I looked Japanese but couldn’t speak it fluently, which is a thing I sometimes still struggle with today. I probably come off as a Korean student who studies Japanese. These days, it seems the less I speak and just do subtle gestures combined with perfectly timed words, the more I fit right in.

Dialects are a real strange thing. I mean, can you imagine? What if you were born in an area with a specific dialect, and you moved out of your hometown only to realize that your dialect made you sound unintelligent to most people. Luckily the dialects I landed with weren’t so bad, but just a food for thought for those of you raising your children.

My parents were natural entrepreneurs. My dad owned an electronic store in Osaka, which is where he met my mother. (A really cute and funny story there that I’ll save for another blog.) It was during the economic bubble in Japan, so it was a good time to open up shop. He then sold it, followed his dreams, and flew to Los Angeles. My mother followed him to America a year later, and they eventually opened up a Japanese restaurant in Cypress, Orange County.

For all of my childhood, from preschool to high school, my parents were running their restaurant business. During my elementary school years, I’d go there after school and hang out in the back room until my mom finished work. I remember there was always a lot of customers. It was probably the fact that no one else in the area offered teriyaki bowls, sushi, udon noodles, yakisoba or chicken karaage. All I’ll say is that the food at home was ALWAYS good. :)

I admired the culture they created with their customers. Everyone seemed to know my parents by name, and even the police and fire fighters would come in and high-five me.

The only time I got in trouble for being there was when I got bored waiting and stuck my hand in a mountain of rice grains. It felt pretty amazing, but I learned never to mess with quality assurance when a customer witnessed me and my mom brought her scolding thunder.

My mother hardly speaks English, even today, and she claims you only need two things to survive in another country. A smile and “thank you.” I guess that’s why I naturally always smile and say thank you.

My parents did a pretty good job in keeping all three kids out of trouble. They kept us busy. Besides regular school, I trained in a basketball league 3-5 days a week with a weekend game. It wasn’t the league for aspiring Michael Jordan’s and Kobe Bryant’s, but the Asian one. I seriously thought I was pretty good at basketball until I met guys twice my size in Jr. High and High School that easily swatted my threes and dunked over my low defensive stance.

You know that feeling when you train every day and night, even though the lights are out at the park, trying to perfect your moves and shots for 10 years, only to find out you were living in a small bubble and there were guys with better genetics and more talent than you? It’s basically what happened to me with karate, piano, and golf as well, even though I won a lot of competitions, received awards, and featured in local newspapers…in my small bubble.

Basketball and karate brings a lot of good memories, though. It wasn’t winning the competitions and being the best that I enjoyed. It was the process of improving myself and enjoying the community.

My Jr. High and High School years were colored with hip hop, breakdancing and DJing. The Fugees, Tribe Called Quest, Tupac, Ice Cube, Rakim, KRS One, EPMD, Wu Tang, Biggie, DJ Qbert, Mix Master Mike, come to mind. It was always for fun, and my homiez always knew how to have a good time. After school, I’d swim at my friend’s pool, go snowboarding, or have bonfires at the beach. Life was good in the SoCal way.

Since my parents were also successful in network marketing as a side business, I remember being taken to large mansions with 13 rooms overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was sitting in on meetings and events like these where I learned that business was all about building a community, and financial success was just an outcome. It seemed like the business part was only an excuse to get together because 80-90% of the conversation was about family and kids.

My dad took the family on a local trip every weekend, we had a family trip multiple times a year, and visited our relatives in Japan once a year up until I was in high school.

My parents wanted all three kids to at least be able to understand Japanese and speak to our grandparents, so on top of going to weekday school and all the extra curricular activity, we went to Japanese school on Saturdays.

Boy, did I hate it. It wasn’t that it was hard or difficult. I just really didn’t like the mentality and culture at the Japanese school. Being raised in an American culture, especially in the “sunshine” culture of LA where you’re free to express yourself, going to Japanese school felt like the cringe most people feel when they hear about what’s going on in North Korea. Rigid, so many rules, and very top-down hierarchy. Eek.

It made me appreciate the American culture even more. I excelled in American school, but never did my homework for my Japanese school. I made a ton of friends during the weekdays, but got in a fight every Saturday. It was two opposite worlds, and it was stressful. I think I took out all my aggression and frustration in sports and recreation.

Then, the next day of the week were the peaceful days at Sunday school. That’s where I gained exposure to profound questions to life. It naturally made me think deeply, and put the small things into perspective. It set the foundation, the “thesis” for the direction in my life.

College felt sudden to me. I wasn’t prepared AT ALL. My parents were immigrants, so they didn’t know what to do or how to prepare. With my so-so grades, I cruised right into San Diego State University and that’s when I found out college was about drinking and partying. There was literally a free shuttle bus that would take students from college campus to Tijuana to go party. It all felt lame to me, so my attention went inwards to search for truth and what’s real. It made me ask bigger questions and initiated my soul searching.

I ended up transferring to a private college that specialized in traditional oriental medicine. It was my first exposure to acupuncture, herbs and hippies! I was fascinated because it was a new world to me and off the beaten path. After getting certified as a therapist, I continued my soul searching while attending community college.

During that time, one book that grabbed my attention was the “Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramahansa Yogananda. I visited the Self-Realization Fellowship temples, participated in some classes, and learned some meditation techniques. The Eastern traditions were drawing me closer and closer, and I became fascinated with ancient Vedic knowledge.

One day, somewhere in Pasadena, I was walking home from a rock concert featuring Yellowcard, and saw a poster for the preview of “What The Bleep Do We Know” at a local bookstore. I was fascinated by the concept of quantum physics, mind over matter, and the law of attraction. To be honest, a lot of the speakers seemed too “out there” for my taste, but a Harvard professor caught my attention - Dr. John Hagelin.

I found he was a faculty member of a little known college in the middle of Iowa, called Maharishi University of Management (MUM). I searched for their website, and felt goosebumps. My gut feeling was telling me to go, so I convinced my dad to visit with me and I ended up becoming a student within a few months.

MUM was in a small town located in Fairfield, Iowa. The first reaction from my older sister, Jenny, was “Why are you going to Ohio?” It made me laugh, but I honestly didn’t have a rational, logical reasoning. I just had an intuition.

At MUM, I learned Transcendental Meditation, meditated twice a day with thousands of students, professors and people from many different countries. It was the world I started to glimpse at the oriental medicine school, but multiplied by a thousand.

Fairfield is a town of 10,000 people, where the majority of residents are health conscious artists, entrepreneurs and business owners. Those 5 years taught me what was possible on a community level if enough people agreed to a common lifestyle. My perspective of the world went from a dark, violent world, to a stress-free, peace-loving one.

I majored in Environmental Science, and minored in Vedic Science. Then, my last year was focused on mathematics and physics. I ended up being the assistant for Dr. John Hagelin’s first-year physics course, which was a crash course on fundamental physics and quantum physics.

I then found an opportunity to go to the Maharishi European Research University (MERU) in Vlodrop, Holland. Let me tell you, the feeling of the place made it seem like it was a different world. The closest thing I can relate it to is the Jedi counsel in Star Wars. Yoda was like the TM founder Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and the Jedi masters were like the many leaders from various countries. Some were from countries I probably wouldn’t be able to point out on a map even if my life depended on it. Kyrgyzstan, Brunei, or Malta anyone? MERU was like an extension of Fairfield, but more organized with a bit more of a corporate feeling to it. Kind of like a miniature United Nations, but without all the greed and corruption. After all, it was the headquarters for the global TM organization.

I was at MERU when Maharishi passed away, and suddenly flew over to India to attend the grand ceremony. Yes, India. Who would have ever thought I would end up in India? It was a major culture shock. My heart and mind were not prepared for the trip. I stayed close with a few friends I made at MERU who became some of my most cherished friends even today.

We backpacked it through rickshaws and cows, hopping on trains, and spending the night at one-star hotels. There’s a reason why people who have gone to India bond instantly. It’s because they’ve experienced something most people have never seen. A few places we visited: New Delhi, Allahabad, Varanasi, Rishikesh, Himalayan villages and a random city in Jabalpur, where we visited palm leaf astrologists, called Brighu Pandits.

After 90 days of travel, spiritual growth, and stomach problems, we said farewell and some of us flew to Phuket, Thailand. It seemed like paradise with coconuts, durian and white sand beaches.

Life took a 360 turn around after my trip, though, when I got back home to my parents place. I was 25, and received a phone call to be invited to help with educational conferences in Japan for the summer. The only reason I was invited was because I graduated from MUM, was Japanese, and made a connection at MERU. I helped set up conferences in Hiroshima, Osaka, Kyoto, and Tokyo, which had some really high profile people.

Remember how I didn’t enjoy my Japanese school? It was basically the same situation, but worse. Go figure! I was too independent minded. I spoke when I wasn’t supposed to. Everything was backwards for me, and I must have upset a lot of “seniors” because I disturbed their way of doing things.

During the storm of cultural clash, I somehow met my wife, Yoko. There were three times in my life when I had a gut feeling of assurance. The first time was finding MUM. The second time was becoming an instructor of TM. The third was finding my wife. I’ve heard when the emotion and intellect integrate, there is a knowingness. It’s called intuition. It’s what I’ve based my life decisions on, and it hasn’t seemed to fail me. (Knock on wood)

From that moment on, my life was spun around, and I ended up marrying Yoko in less than a year of knowing each other. I began living in Japan without any plans or preparation, and really struggled to make ends meet at first. While gaining practical experience in life, such as paying the bills, working, and building a comfortable home, I simultaneously began to meet a lot of clairvoyants and clairaudients. The “SoCal” part of me would say “get-outta-here” but it’s just a normal day for me now. I don’t know why or how I meet them, but it’s just a reoccurring pattern. Must be some kind of pattern in nature.

Being in Japan, for me, has been a process of integrating my heart and mind, the left and right brain. I’ve been to high-end business seminars and personal development seminars. I’ve taught English for GABA, and rated with 5-stars at their Shinagawa office. I worked for a moving company, organic market, a farm, and as an international salesperson for a prototype car manufacturer. I don’t know what happened to all the samurais in Japan, but I think many of their offsprings work in the auto industry now. There’s a reason why Japan makes some of the best cars and technology in the world. There is a culture of being very organized, systematic and detail oriented.

After overworking, nearly breaking my back and having internal breakdowns from losing the "American” part of me, my wife and I had an intuition to become certified TM instructors and we both took a leap of faith. It was five and a half months of intensive meditation, training and bliss.

When Yoko and I graduated, we were ready to take on the world. We felt refreshed, filled with optimism and enthusiasm. Out of the group of teachers who graduated with us, we were the first to open our TM center in Akasaka. From a national average of 3 to 5 clients per month, we had 30 to 50 people sign up starting the first month. We already had a network of friends and clients who trusted us, and we used all our previous experience and knowledge about business to really make it a success. We soon became the most successful instructors in Japan, and became one of the highest performing teachers in the world.

No one grows with easy growth. All successful entrepreneurs experience a “punch in the face” that made them evolve and improve. I’ve experienced a fair share of my own, which had to do with a cloud of jealousy that overshadowed the blue sky above us and someone decided to close our center and take us off the map. It was one of those Japanese ninja tactics. I never received a clear answer as to what happened, but I can guess why. It’s one of those things in life you couldn’t do anything about, and it wasn’t worth fighting about. I decided to suck it up and move on.

We eventually managed to establish an independent TM organization in Japan with the approval from the international organization, and opened up our new TM center in Shinjuku, Japan, which is our current location. In the first 3 years, thousands of people have come through our doors.

We focused on nurturing our community, and created a wealth of loyal friends who referred their friends and family. We even had the privilege to teach an entire company with a hundred fifty employees. We have regular weekend retreat courses in Izu, and regular advanced lectures and courses around Japan. It may not be a place that everyone would be attracted to, but it seems fit for those people who like a positive, young and successful atmosphere, which is the way I like it.

The most difficult thing for me was learning patience to manage a company. Everything was new to me, and I had to learn about administration, finances, marketing, and sales, which I had no idea how to do. I only knew in my gut the direction I needed to take the company, but the process was very slow. It was the grind.

The only way to keep myself from giving up was cultivating my gratitude. The top things you need in creating a successful business is purpose, perseverance and patience. Without it, you’ll end up wanting to take shortcuts that eventually bite you back somewhere down the road.

I’ve been lucky with moments that seemed to be too good to be true. Call it serendipity or synchronicity, but when we were in the deep with our company, something or someone always seemed to come around to bring us back to where we needed to be. It’s like an invisible hand. I believe when you genuinely want to do good for others, and you’re doing your best to make it happen, the opportunity for luck to come into your life increases. I’ve been lucky many times in my life.

At the end of the day, no matter how hard the grind is, it comes down to joy and laughter. My wife thinks I’m the comedian, but she cracks me up multiple times a day. Laughter helps to keep things in perspective and makes the process so much more enjoyable. There are 99 million things to be worried and frustrated about everyday, but there’s always at least 1 thing you can find to laugh about. When I find it hard to find that one thing, it’s usually because I’m in the deep end of being too serious. I like to take a moment to smile at how intensely focused I am. Taking one step back, seeing the big picture, and just appreciating and finding the humor in every situation always helped me get through the darkest hours.

When you cultivate joy and laughter, it radiates and it’s what people are naturally attracted to. Everyone knows life isn’t easy, and if you don’t know, you probably still live with your parents or got a lucky break. When you radiate this joy, people want to be a part of it, and want to share it with others. We’ve been lucky to have a flow of referrals from our dedicated community only through word of mouth.

I have learned that in business your pipeline is your lifeblood and it always needs to be full. You have to constantly create awareness in prospective clients, provide enough information so they can do their own research and become interested, make an offer, deliver a good quality product or service, and follow up. You always need to have the energy flowing in your business. Otherwise, you’re not flowing. You’re not moving. That causes the wheels to stop turning and your company comes to a hault. Keeping your eyes on the whole process while focusing on the details takes some practice.

If done right, you can eventually create 500 true fans. It’s all you really need to create a success business and a comfortable life. For example, if you have 500 people who trust you, and like you and your services, they’re ready to be a part of your events, courses, and activities. Let’s say those 500 people purchase your $30 product or service. That’s $15,000. For most people, that’s a comfortable monthly income. For most businesses, that’s not all that difficult to achieve.

You start to create a culture where people gain value through the community and being together. Just how an organism is made of many microorganism, or how the galaxy is made of many stars and solar systems, your company becomes sustainable with 500 true fans.

Currently, I feel I’m getting ready to move on to another level in life beyond teaching TM and managing a TM center. After teaching hundreds of people and seeing the change in their life, I’m now drawn to helping others build a business that is fueled by their passion and purpose.

I need to do me. I have to keep following my intuition and joy. So I’ve created the Cosmic Entrepreneur program to help people build a mind body startup with 500 true fans. This can be beneficial for people just getting started or business owners who want to learn a more “zen” way of doing things. There really is no need to become a millionaire to live a good life. I’ve done a million and a half, and I can tell you it doesn’t really change anything other than the fact that you can buy more things. You still have to work on you, and I’m sure your wife will happily remind you of that.

Becoming wealthy isn’t a bad thing. However, it’s the unsatisfied small ego that wants to continuously grab a hold of millions and millions of dollars that you can’t even manage. It causes an imbalance of what you desire and what you actually need. This causes strain. All you need is to create a sustainable ecosystem in your business, so that you can enjoy the process called life. A business is always to support your lifestyle, not the other way around.

With the ever-changing field of marketing, online platforms, and social media, etc., it’s effecting the global economy and the large corporations. The media agencies on Wall Street are definitely feeling it.

I believe more and more people will want to become independent. There will be a growing number of house wives who start a home business and create their own independent income. More 14 year olds will become YouTubers and eBay flippers, rather than becoming hamburger flippers. Experienced professionals will become freelancers or contract workers, rather than caging themselves in a corporate environment. There is already a growing number of entrepreneurs and business owners, which only creates more opportunity for investors, angels, and philanthropists.

My intuition also tells me more and more people will want more balance between their happiness, health, and wealth. More people will want less B.S., such as these self-help gurus who don’t have real solution, talent or life experiences. People will steer away from these “make money fast” gurus who have never owned a real business. Those who took shortcuts may do well in the short term, but in the next 5, 10 or 20 years, the market will separate the authentic from the phony.

People will need to stop chasing an unreachable dream and become comfortable with who they really are, not what the media tells them to become. People will naturally enjoy more down time, family time, and being a part of a community. Technology, artificial intelligence, virtual reality and e-sports will change the way we use time, socialize and make purchases.

To be happy and comfortable, you don’t need to be a millionaire, be famous, or live each day to extremes as if it was the last day of your life. We just need to be ourselves, and less influenced by what others think of us. The next 5 or 10 years are going to challenge every one of us to find our purpose, perseverance, and patience.

Do you.

I’ve been in this business for about a decade now. I’ve met a lot of gooneys and some of the most amazing individuals. I’ve had my highs, and I’ve had my lows. I’m fascinated by it. I’m growing fast. I’m learning fast. I’m still a student of this stuff, but I have a service to offer for those of you getting started or want to take things to the next level.

I’m starting a series of talks called “Mind Body Startup with 500 True Fans.” It’s an integration of my new venture Cosmic Entrepreneur and TM Japan.

There is a process I created called Be-Do-Thrive. Be, meaning going within and getting to know yourself. Do, meaning finding a suitable business model that suits your lifestyle. Thrive, meaning utilizing the latest platforms to reach and nuture your 500 fans as quickly as possible. Topics include mind-body health, self-branding, building 500 true fans, latest marketing strategies through social media, and how meditation can help you in the process.

I hold lectures in Tokyo, which include a brief overview, a networking session to meet other participants, some demos, Q&A, and a mini-private session for those interested.

I also offer private sessions, live events and webinars, regular blog posts, videos, and share information on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Snapchat, Line, and Instagram. If you are interested, feel free to connect with me or email [email protected]

I wish you happiness, health and wealth, and most of all, I hope you enjoy the process of becoming more you.

Stay tuned to get the latest updates and insider’s tips.

[what-even-is-thiss]

The Four Seasons

OMG you guys I finally have an excuse to smush together the Sanders Sides and Norse mythology. Don’t ask why I wanted to do that. I’m embarrassed enough that I actually wrote this. Like, really embarrassed. I couldn’t find a way to be satisfied with this. This is the version I wrote that I hate the least.

Anyways, @momfriendlogan had a cool idea for an au where the Sanders Sides are the four seasons and @ec-sanderssides added a cool thing to that post about how each of them would be affected by the other’s seasons, and I’ve been working on a story where I shoehorn some characters into mythology, and this idea went really well with it. And Sumarr and Vetr exist in traditional Norse mythology, but I cut the original seasons out. They don’t exist here. I’m bending the mythology A LOT, but if Marvel can butcher Norse mythology then so can I.

Tip Jar

Warnings: None I can think of. Let me know if it needs some. 2,181 words.

Abstract: The Sanders Sides as four brothers that represent the seasons. Kind of told as a myth or something like that I dunno.

Quick note before you read: I didn’t know what to call them at first, since we don’t have Anxiety’s name and their names aren’t Nordic, so I call them by the season they represent, so for reference;

Anxiety=Autumn/Fall

Logic=Winter

Prince=Summer

Morality=Spring

Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t feel comfortable calling them their normal names in this au. Ugh, I’m going to regret writing this tomorrow. Hope you enjoy.

              Nobody quite knows when the brothers came, or who they came from. For all anyone knew they were primordial beings carved from the first ice and fire. Or perhaps they came with the creation of Midgard. Odin often pressed them for information, but they never gave any, and they always saw through his disguise.

One year, shortly after the creation of Midgard, the allfather took notice of the changing weather. In Asgard and Vanaheim it was always summer, and in the early days of Midgard it had been that way as well. Being the god of knowledge that he was, he had to find out why.

He came across on his travels a man sitting on top of a mountain. He wore all black and had several leaves stuck in his hair that he seemed to not notice in the slightest. Altogether, he looked incredibly disheveled and tired. He sat there, drinking a hot drink and watching the world below with a strange form of calm.

“You there!” the god cried out, “Do you know the reasons for the changes in the weather?”

The man leaned back against the tree that was growing at this altitude despite the odds and caught a leaf as it fell.

“I know who you are, old man. Why don’t you stop poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong?” he said.

Soon after that, the gods learned of the seasons. They were hard to find and hard to talk to, and nearly impossible to get information out of.

Soon the realms of the gods were affected by the seasons as well. In time, the Vanir grew sick and tired off all of their precious crops and flowers being killed on a yearly basis and Freja, the goddess of beauty, sent her strongest fallen warrior from her halls to find them and demand that they stop.

The young warrior knew that the seasons began in Midgard, and so they would probably live there. She searched for years in the mortal world, fighting monsters and giants, but found no gods.

One day, she was wandering through a forest in the northern part of the world. The snow was deep and she was cold. She began to fear dying all over again, when she spotted a hall.

It was a long hall, made of wood, and surrounded by lines of trees. She knew this was her only way out of frostbite, so she swallowed her pride and pounded on the door.

A man standing tall in the armor and rich clothes of a nobleman answered the door. He seemed to be radiating a small amount of light and as he opened the door, the young warrior felt the snow melt around her and her core be filled with the warmth and radiance of the summer sun.

“And who are you? Someone looking for another favor?” The radiant man asked.

“Oh, a person? A person? Let them in! Let them in!” a tired but excited voice called from inside.

The woman was welcomed into a warm hall with a fire blazing in the center. It was not made for guests. There were dead vines hanging from the ceiling and there were two other men almost identical in appearance to the regal summery stranger.

The first one she noticed was dressed in simple peasant clothes and had worn hands like a farmer. He was kneeling next to the fire in the center of the room stirring the coals and had tired bags under his eyes. Despite this, he was nearly as bright and radiant as the one that had answered the door.

The other man was dressed all in black and sleeping on a pile of furs in the corner. He seemed to be the opposite of the other two, and seemed to have an aura of darkness and doom about him, and eerily reminded her of creatures she had met from the realm of hel.

The warrior knelt beside the fire and warmed herself cautiously.

“Are you the seasons my lords? The ones that bring the changes in the weather?” she asked respectfully.

“Yes we are, and stop being so formal,” the regal one said. “This place is stuffy enough without a warrior making grand speeches,”

“Are you pretending that you never do that?” came a voice from the corner.

“Autumn, I thought you were asleep,” the man stirring the coals said.

“When do I ever sleep? Especially with nosy residents of Folkvang coming in,” the dark figure said sitting up.

This one was even more tired looking than Spring, for she had guessed by now which one they were. Winter was probably out in the worlds now, cursing the winds of the great eagle with bitter cold and crafting snowflakes to cover the land and freeze the plants.

“I am going to sleep,” Spring said, yawning. “You all should sleep too,”

He walked over to where Autumn had been sleeping and fell down, falling asleep almost immediately. It wasn’t long before he was clinging to the other man like a scared child.

Autumn obviously didn’t like this, but let him stay.

“Ugh. He gets like this every winter. When Winter gets back tonight I’m passing him over,” He looked over at summer. “Are you going demand payment or not?”

Summer sat down in a chair in the corner. “Why don’t you ask her?” he said in a huff.

Autumn sighed in a way that was somewhere beyond tired. “You always have to hold a grudge over that. It can’t be summer forever. And I know that’s why you’re here, girl. Trust me, he would like the same thing, but it’s not happening,”

“What did you mean by payment?” the warrior asked carefully.

“Tell us stories, young maiden,” said Summer. “We grow bored in here waiting for him to return, and only the dark one over there likes leaving this time of year. I can’t stand it, so cure our boredom!”

The fallen warrior stood and told the tale of how she died. She told of a great battle between her tribe and the Saxons and how she had killed twenty men before bleeding out and dying standing up. She told of her quest to find them. Every giant that had crossed her path, and every wolf that had tried to send her to Hel. Before she could finish however, the door flew open.

There was Winter. He shocked her. This was his time of year, so power radiated off of him. Ice snaked through the open door and over the close wall as he entered. He was dressed in surprisingly very little for the weather. He was dressed properly like a scholor or poet would during the summer.

His walk was so proper it annoyed her beyond belief.

“Ah, I suspected Freja would send someone,” he said, closing the door and allowing the fire to heat the place again. “You can tell her what we told all the others. We will not stop and threats do not work,”

“Oi! Winter!” Autumn called out. “Take this one off of me, will you? He is like a clingy dog,”

Winter sat next down to Spring and tapped him on the shoulder. Spring immediately made the switch over and clung to his other brother instead.

Freja was not happy when she heard the news, but the seasons kept to their word and made no such change.

Many centuries passed and the gods were forgotten, but still very much alive and just as baffled by the seasons as ever. They were hard to catch, but when you found one and got to talking with them, or even saw them work, you would have a story to tell for ages.

It was around the time that men began to shoot fire and bullets that the god of poets Bragi claimed that he saw Summer transition into fall.

“It was so confusing,” he said to a group of fallen warriors. “I saw Summer running through a city, and it was as if the mortals never saw him at all, and his brother was chasing him until he caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. It was all incredibly confusing,”

“Well what’d ya reckon is happening now?” asked a fallen soldier with a musket on his knees.

“I’d suspect Autumn is out there right now, tearing down all of his brother’s work. Putting the leaves and animals to sleep and cooling the air. You can’t outrun him any more than you could outrun the end of the world,”

Spring always visited Vanaheim first, though why nobody knew. It was easy to spot him there shortly after he began melting the snow. Sometimes when he was really excited, the gods and fallen warriors of the world could swear they could hear laughter coming from the air.

The warrior that had been sent to find the seasons all those centuries ago often ran away from the battlefield during the spring, trying to follow the laughter whenever she heard it. She had spent several days with them. Longer than anyone else had, and she longed to see what Spring was like when he was not so tired.

Centuries after, she fell asleep by a tree on a cold spring morning, waiting for something. When she woke up, she heard a delighted squee.

“Oh, you’re awake! You look so cute!” said an excited voice.

The cold battle hardened warrior jumped with fright when she saw the radiant face in front of her. Now he was wearing spectacles and a sweater vest. Small flowers were growing around where he sat on the grass in front of her.

“I never asked your name! What is it?” Spring asked excitedly.

“Uh, Brenna. Spring, I have been looking for you for almost a thousand years. What in the worlds are you doing and... Did you put a blanket on me?”

“Uh huh. It’s still to early to be sleeping outside, you know,” He said happily. “Well, I’m gonna go now. Bye!”

“Wait! I have so many...”

But he was gone. She kept the floral print quilt.

Odin decided to give it another try. Despite his centuries of inability to get any information out of the brothers, he thought he had the perfect disguise.

However, when he knocked on the door of the log cabin where the seasons lived, he was once again proven wrong.

The heat around the cottage was intense. Odin hoped they would let him in, but when the door was opened by a frazzled Winter, he immediately regretted coming.

Winter was red in the face and sweating. His normally clean button-up shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and wrinkled. He had a bottle of water in one hand, and his glasses kept slipping off his nose from the intense summer heat.

“We have told you before Odin,” He said angrily. “We can see through your disguises. Oh, how are you surviving in that coat? Oh my. Go away,”

He slammed the door shut. Odin decided to try and find summer. He was always in a good mood during his time of year. Maybe if he bought him a beer or something he would give him some information.

After a couple months of searching he found Summer on a beach watching a group of young people sit around a roaring fire. They didn’t notice him sitting there, laughing heartily at each stupid joke they made.

He looked over at the god observing him.

“What? Didn’t trust your ravens with this one?” he said smiling.

He looked so young. Even his eyes sparkled with youth. He wore a light golden jacket and white t-shirt and jeans and sunglasses were perched on his head. He smiled at the confused god that didn’t know how the other had seen him.

“You never just want to sit and talk, do you old man?” He asked laughing with the huge laugh of a Shakespearean actor. “You should have learned by now we are not here to make your nerd quests more fun,”

Odin gave in and sat there and talked. Invisible to the mortals, they talked about the changing times. At the end of the conversation an unexpected visitor popped up.

A pair of hands placed themselves over Summer’s eyes.

“Boo. Found you,” said a darkly amused Fall, his upturned hood making him look just slightly menacing in the firelight.

“Oh, curse it all! Is it that time already!?” the warmer season exclaimed.

“’Fraid so, buddy. I’ll take it from here. Hey, old man. Trying to press him for information?”

“We were just talking this time,” Summer said, pulling his brother’s hands off of his eyes. “I suppose I’ll be going now. Goodbye,”

And both of them seemed to disappear in a gust of wind.

The gods still don’t know exactly who they are, and they are beginning to come to terms with the idea that perhaps they never will. They are as fleeting and predictable and unpredictable as the seasons they personify, but perhaps it’s better if it stays that way.

#I'm seriously tempted to erase this #aurgh #It did not turn out as well as I hoped #but I have no more ideas #roman wrote a thing #sanders sides #roman sanders #prince sanders #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #sanders sides seasons au #norse mythology crossover #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

[jestbee]

June 23: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Three)

#phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #fedij #fic every day in june #fic every day #phanfic au #prompt fic #dnp #dan and phil #phan #phandom #phanfic fluff #fic #fic a day #fic project #fic prompt

[muckkles]

furnacelayer replied to your post

“this is the week of me barfing up andromeda critiques at anyone who...”

please tell me why to not buy this game

here’s something wild: im not actually gonna tell u not to buy it? i think if u wanna play and make ur own opinion thats good. its also still a mass effect game so even if u just wanna play to see some of ur favorite aliens or get to know the new characters thats good. i also have friends who are enjoying the game more than i am so its rly a matter of personal preference/taste. 

that being said, heres a long long LONG list of my Andromeda Opinions, under a cut for major spoilers. some are big things and others might seem nitpicky to u. keep in mind that i havent finished the game yet! but i have completed a good bit of it and i think im close to finishing the main storyline. i may add more to this list as i play more or as i remember more so maybe check back in a couple days for edits?

im gonna start with a list of things i actually like about the game cuz thats shorter and less spoilery. its mostly aesthetic/minor things tbh:

its a pretty game even if some of the textures dont always load properly. nice landscapes and whatnot to look at

driving the nomad is an upgrade from the mako and very fun. ive never gotten stuck somewhere in my vehicle. jumping around is also fun and the height u jump makes sure its hard to get stuck as well

u can give the nomad a paint job!

i like learning about the angara’s history and culture (angara are the new aliens. jaal is an angara) and i like that half of them have australian accents

theres little things that help u get to kno ur crew better. they send u emails and theres a crew message board in the common room that they talk to each other on. theres also plenty of convos to overhear on ur ship and in ambient dialogue as ur out n about. also ur crew has a specified spot that u can find them at for cutscenes with them but other times youll find their hangout spot changes around the ship which is cool it makes them seem more like real ppl

drack is good and my grandpa

theres a good amount of female turians, salarians, and krogans hanging around. also a larger variety of skintones (cute purple salarians!!)

explicit confirmation in an overheard conversation that some asari use he/him and/or gender neutral pronouns. angara also apparently have a range of pronouns they use to identify themselves (although u dont hear them of course :/)

when u look out the windows of ur ship u actually see the planet ur orbiting which is a neat addition. also the layout of ur ship is one map so no more elevators!

if youve never played the first three mass effect games (And thus have no basis for comparison) i can see how it could be a decent and fun game on its own

ok now on to things i dislike. i guess i’ll divide it by category? less spoilery stuff first but youve been warned:

general glitches - im sure youve heard of some or probably most of these. im only going to list the ones ive personally experienced. some of them have been almost game breaking and not in a good/funny way. im mostly mad about them cuz im playing on ps4 and console games are supposed to be, in general, much less glitchy than pc versions. And Yet..

npcs will randomly appear out of nowhere or slide into place from off screen

often characters skin textures lag or dont fully load

suvi has been sitting in midair instead of standing in a couple cutscenes for me

twice when kallo has stood up theres just been a giant dent where his right ass cheek should be???

the classic bioware “ur character is drinking but the cup is missing or in a weird position” glitch. im actually sort of fond of this one

i dont think they developed animations specifically for the angaras’ skeletons cuz when they cross their arms it just.. doesnt work right. they cant reach. their hands just sort of phase through each other in the middle of their chest.

one time i entered the escape pod room on my ship and the door closed behind me and wouldnt reopen so i had to load a save

a couple times ive had to talk to ppl for quests but the person isnt there when i get there. its just a floating quest marker. so i have to reload the area/my save

theres a side mission i cant complete cuz im supposed to kill all the kett in this one area but one of them just disappeared out of existence before i killed it so. the quest is just still there unfinished and its driving me crazy. 

on a planet named havarl which is a jungle world theres a layer of darkness at the forest floor indicated by how when somewhere is rly dark ur flashlight will automatically go on. one time i emerged from an area and my frame rate fell dramatically and i started moving rly slowly. at the divide where the darkness starts there was just a textureless black sheet across the whole world that looked like solid ground but i could fall thru it to the real ground. i tried reloading the area and my save multiple times and it didnt fix. i thought my save was permanently broken but then i restarted my ps4 and that did the trick

i rly dont think these can be explained away as andromeda being an open world game cuz like dragon age inquisition was open world and made by the same company and has similar sized areas with very minimal glitching (on console). the only major one i can even think of that ive experienced with inq on console is the one where if u start dialogue with someone in the middle of a jump u start hovering in the falling animation after but that is resolved quickly by just jumping again (i believe. i do remember its not permanent) 

combat - its pretty typical of an open world over the shoulder shooter tbh. theres plenty of cover and enemies can flank you. theres more options for melee which is cool. nothing else of note on that front except ways they messed it up which include:

for some reasons bullets move rly slowly?? might be a glitch but i have a friend whos complained about this too and i rly noticed after she mentioned it to me

you can only “equip” three different powers at a time?? u can save ur fave combinations and switch between them but honestly it sucks

u cant order ur squadmates to perform certain powers or if u can i sure as fuck havent figured out how

ryder is always on the left side of the screen which means ur always facing right in cover and cant peer around corners on the left of boxes and things?? its rly annoying

this one is just personal preference. i happen to dislike it overall but i understand why other ppl ive talked to like it: you no longer are set in one class. you have the ability to change at will any time. you can also spec in every single biotic, tech, and combat power. pros: u can respec and experiment without starting a new game. if u care more about taking ur fave characters along than strategy, u dont have to worry as much. which brings me to cons: if u enjoy the aspect of picking ur squad to make up for ur characters weaknesses and use strategy in that sense, this kind of renders that unnecessary (unless u just choose to purposefully limit urself). this also means that every single ryder is technically a biotic which sucks storywise imo cuz some ppl will choose not to ever use their biotic powers and that? doesnt make sense to me from a story perspective. i like the idea of choosing whether or not ur character is born a biotic so that its integral to ur individual roleplay/story/etc 

dialogue/writing/general story stuff - hoo boy. suffice to say this game does not live up to the original trilogy and fails in some areas where they Tried to make it better. more details:

a lot of the dialogue just Does Not Flow in the way im used to from having convos as shepard. ryder is bad at transitioning topics 

speaking of the way ryder talks, how awkward they are is like painful. major secondhand embarrassment and not in an endearing way. like in a wincing at the dialogue way. 

you cant choose to not be an awkward buffoon?? there are very very rarely dialogue options that make u seem competent or confident which sucks if thats the kind of character u wanted to go for. ryder is also kind of a weenie. they dont have the complete respect of their crew (good example, the argument cutscene on the tempest after u recruit jaal)

90% of ur decisions are boiled down to two dialogue options the “logical” one and the “emotional” one altho sometimes they seem to be flip flopped?? even in the paragon/renegade system u often got a third more neutral/sarcastic dialogue option and in dragon age inquisition (i kno i kno different series but same company and dialogue wheel mechanic) there was always multiple ways to respond to things with different personalities/characteristics

ur decisions straight up dont seem to have any consequences. like worse than usual for a bioware game. theres one cutscene where two of ur crew are arguing and u have to pick a side. i expected to have to cajole the one i didnt pick into being my friend again after but nope they just went on talking to me like nothing had happened. 

theres a couple times where the game doesnt allow u to disapprove of something that seems like a rly bad idea/thing depending on how u want to roleplay?? spoiler example: peebee reanimates a remnant observer to fight for u and ur only two dialogue options are in support of it and ur not given the option to say ummm what the fuck were u thinking??

ur introduction to the angara ppl rly rly lacked the significance it should have had. like u discover a new species, land on their planet, are there for all of 5 mins, and then suddenly youve recruited one to ur crew and ur on ur way again. then if u go back the nexus literally no one says anything or makes any sort of big deal about the fact that u made first contact with a new species!! like wtf!! i think theres like one line of brief congrats from tann and thats it

speaking of that. theres a real lack of diversity among sentient/sapient life in this game. theres a handwavey reason for the quarians/volus/batarians/elcor/etc not being there (their ark was delayed) and then the game only gives u two new species and only one of them is peaceful. so overall its just humans, salarians, turians, asari, krogan, and angara. plus the violent enemy, the kett.

god the cutscenes leave so much to be desired. the other mass effect games were so cinematic and engaging in comparison. im sure youve seen ppl complain about the lack of facial expressions and body language in literally any character (most noticeable in humans tho) but like. i just started a new me3 playthrough a few days ago and the first 30 mins of that game are so much cooler than any cutscene ive seen in andromeda so far even with the worse graphics

the trans npc that just. deadnames herself out of nowhere. to u, a stranger

the fact that gil is the only fucking gay man in the game and a major part of his personal story involves his best friend who is a straight female fertility expert/doctor/whatever who apparently constantly guilt trips him about not having biological kids and i guess bioware didnt see how this could possibly be homophobic or just generally offensive

miscellaneous - just general pet peeves i guess:

why the fuck do all the asari in this game have the exact same face

the sexual dimorphism in the angara just. kills me. at least the women dont have boobs.

u can choose music for ur room on the tempest but it wont fucking keep ur music on so u have to turn it back on every time u enter

god the game just dumps so much shit at u at once at the beginning of the game. its very overwhelming and honestly i still barely kno what the fuck im doing

i liked the cc at first cuz i think my ryder is good looking but after listening to one of my friends i actually agree its very restricting for a roleplaying game in 2017. u can rly only adjust preexisting features rather than completely switch them out. this is somewhat fogiveable tho since theres the issue of ur twin and parents having to look like u

personally i feel like peebee is very annoying which is a major disappointment cuz im rly gay for her whole aesthetic

the game is supposed to be all about exploration but two of the main worlds u explore are just a desert world and an ice world so. not much to see tbh. i will say that i had a lot of fun exploring and traversing habitat 7 (as brief as that is), havarl, and kandara so far tho. theyre the ones that actually feel alien but habitat 7 and havarl have relatively small maps

bioware decided to only create like 6? maybe? i havent counted but around that many different alien animal species to populate the worlds and be predators and theyre the Same on every fuckign planet even tho theyre all in different solar systems. i would have preferred it if there were even just like 2-3 animals that were unique to each planet cuz at least that makes sense.

have i said ryder is a weenie and a buffoon already

why can i still not kiss any salarians or krogans. bioware im comin for u

#reply reply #meggie speaks #furnacelayer

[elchumpo]

4

Cesar, Tommy, and I have known each other for most of our lives and did basically everything together until he changed schools in 6th grade. Although we couldn’t drive yet Cesar remained a close friend and the separation somehow made our friendship even stronger, we called ourselves “the triforce”. Pretty ridiculous yeah but so were we, countless laughs were shared in this house along with Cesar’s brothers and their friends as well, the Palace was a hub for our crew of motley nerds. Tommy and I set up at our own computers and logged in to meet Cesar and Mark in-game.

Caleb was a few years older and would play with us but usually on a different server going about his own quests while Mark, being the youngest, was always quick to join in on whatever the three of us were doing. We played for hours, forgetting our worldly issues and swapping out songs to show each other. Besides Caleb who would have the occasional drink we were a sober bunch of kids just enjoying each others’ company grinding out levels in a digital world while hanging out in the real one. Once our eyes started to sting we logged out and Tommy motioned for Cesar and I to follow him as he headed out of the office, Mark trotted along after us. “Hey you mind giving us a minute?” Tommy asked a disappointed Mark who already knew this would happen. “Still not old enough huh?” Mark retorted as he headed back toward the office, he and Cesar shared a bedroom and would always be annoyed when we held “meetings” that he couldn’t be a part of. “Just for a little bit!” Tommy promised to an already closed door. Cesar couldn’t be bothered to make his little brother feel better, even though we all got along great the siblings seemed to always be inches away from an argument, probably due to all the testosterone in the house.

“So what’s going on?” Cesar asked as we entered his room. There was a bunk bed, a wooden chair, and a little red couch in the corner, we all sat down and took a breath. A bead of sweat went down my face as I watched Tommy look for the right words in his head. “Uh, Leonard and I went to our homecoming dance the other day and..” “Natasha?” Cesar interrupted as the embarrassment raced up my neck and unto my face. I hated the way people said her name to me. “Hey..” I started to speak up without knowing where my sentence was going. “I don’t really-” “I’m not asking you to talk about it.” said Tommy, saving me from myself. “I just-” He shot a look to Cesar. “WE just want you to know whatever happened between you guys we’re on your side and here for you.” Cesar nodded vigorously in agreement. “Although I would like to know what happened.” He added as Tommy shot him another look, less friendly this time. I couldn’t help but chuckle, these guys reminded me that everything was okay even though I sure didn’t feel like it was.

“Nah, I’d much rather hear about you guys’ girl issues!” I finally perked up and was ready to hear about someone else’s troubles. “Not much to report here.” Tommy started unenthusiastically “I have to work the camera for our project but as soon as I can I’m breaking up with Eliza, I thought things would get better once we started dating for real but we just don’t click.” He tried playing it off but I could tell Tommy was disappointed. He had been genuinely working on their relationship for a couple of months now and it looked like he thought it was all going to waste. Before I could respond Cesar spoke up to save Tommy the trouble of wallowing. “Well I’m doing great! My girlfriend and I text every day and she’s really cool, I can’t believe I found her!” Cesar had recently found a girl on facebook and they had been messaging nonstop, within a week they were going out. “You still haven’t met her right?” I asked trying my best not to be a downer. “Nope but she says we will meet up soon, she’s just a two hour drive away and none of us can drive so..” Tommy and I exchanged glances. We had seen her profile before and they have sent pictures to each other holding signs confirming the others’ existence, but there was something unsettling about the whole situation.

I only had one girlfriend which was back in eighth grade and I screwed it up massively when I ended up falling for you-know-who. Tommy had also only been in one relationship which was currently on the fritz. So neither of us really had the heart to tell Cesar that his relationship didn’t feel right, mostly because we weren’t too sure of it ourselves! Cesar had never had a girlfriend before this facebook one but he seemed to be on the lookout, potentially because Tommy and I already experienced it but usually it would just be us three. Now that we were getting older and the dynamics between us and other people were starting to change, who was really to say what was normal and what wasn’t, especially with social media just now starting to pick up steam. So Tommy and I ended up congratulating Cesar on his good fortune, genuinely wishing him the best when my phone beeped the power rangers theme, informing me I had received a text. I looked at my friends with an raised eyebrow and was given shrugs in return, the two people I almost exclusively text were right in front of me.

“Donny?” was on my screen, sent from an unknown number. “Who the fuck?” I thought out loud as Tommy snickered from his seat. “It’s Shelly right? You were just telling me about her at school.” He had a gleam in his eye that pissed me off for some reason. “Who’s Shelly?” Cesar piped up in curiosity as I messaged back confirming it was her. “We went to middle school with her, she was one of the announcement girls.” Tommy recounted. Our middle school had morning announcements that would play every day. It would start with a Linkin Park screaming us awake and end with Shelly recapping any fun activities going on that week with a “HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE!!!” 

“Ohh right, her?” Cesar was a little surprised and so was I, I had completely forgotten that was her. Shelly was a year under us and everything from that school had slipped my mind. “Damn I knew I recognized her from somewhere.” I said under my breath. “Don’t mean to be a bother but you didn’t show up to rehearsal today :(” another text flashed on my screen and I read it twice over, what was going on? “Dude lemme see!” Tommy said as he grabbed the phone from my stunned hands. “oooooooooo!” Cesar’s eyebrows seemed to go through his forehead. “Guys come on I barely know this chick. I didn’t even remember she was the announcement girl!” I made my case to a swift rebuttal. “But she sure remembered you weren’t at rehearsal todaaay~” Tommy was already cracking up and Cesar’s suggestive face was making him laugh even more. “Gimmie that!” I exclaimed while taking my phone back to respond that I would try not to miss rehearsal again. I received a speedy reply. “Don’t worry I just wanted to make sure you were alright” a beat later and there was another. “Are you?”

My mind started racing. What was this girl doing texting me? Not only was she the announcement girl and pretty popular but she wasn’t even actually the president of drama club! Why would she care if I skipped out? “Yeah, I’m fine.” I typed out but before I could send it Tommy grabbed my arm. “Dude!! Ya can’t do that!” I looked at him even more puzzled than before. He took my phone once again and deleted the period at the end of my sentence. “Whew, alright any other suggestions?” Cesar thought for a second and then added “She used a frowny face right? Maybe send her a smiley.” I was at a loss for words. “Hold on, what are we doing here?”I asked as Tommy looked at me with disbelief. “We’re saving you from ruining whatever chance you might have with this girl!” Cesar nodded in agreement. “My girlfriend and I almost exclusively send messages, what you were doing was text suicide.” He tacked on while I snatched my phone out of Tommy’s hands. It was true I hadn’t really thought about Michelle as some kind of potential partner at all until right now, she was pretty cute after all. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to keep some bridges open, right?” I thought to myself as I finished typing up my reply. “Yeah I’m fine, thanks for checking up on me :)” I sat there with at my phone in silence as I studied the unsent message along with my best friends’ faces, they looked about as confident as I felt. I quickly erased the smiley, hit send, and then proceeded to throw my phone to the other side of the room. We sat there for a second before all of us busted out laughing and started up smash bros. “What am I even thinking?” I asked myself right before I came up with a refreshing answer. I wasn’t thinking about Natasha.

[writera]

Becoming a Dungeon Master

I feel like a fairly new DM. And most of my RPG experience is as a DM. However at this point I have years of experience, so I'm not sure how long I get to hang on to that moniker.

Getting started as a DM is pretty intimidating, foremost because there is just so much you don't know about — if your players know more about the setting or the canonical character/spell/narrative tropes than you, its easy to let them push you to make calls you wouldn't otherwise make. Trying to adjudicate for very smart, rules lawyering [fill-in-the-game] buffs sounds like an uphill battle.

Briefly, I got my start with 3.5e in college, subsequently played 40k, World of Darkness, a homebrew system, and DM'd two 5e D&D games. I've been a part of four different groups. I had some trouble running good 5e games, and this has directly resulted in a lot of research. 

In my 40k game, the primary GM was tired of GMing, but whenever his apprentice GM ran a game, he was "corrected" on a number of things that the apprentice had pretty clearly thought out in advance. Having less experience in the setting, the corrections made no sense — "wow that's a cool idea! It doesn't even matter to the campaign, why is the regular GM nixing this?".

I toyed with the idea of running a few sessions, and studied the one rulebook I was planning on drawing from. 40k has shitty encounter-balancing tools, and I never managed to put something together before that game dissolved.

In the meantime, I was playing board games with a volatile and cliqueish meetup group. After D&D 5e came out, I thought I'd see if anyone in the meetup was interested in trying out 5e. I got a game together to play Hoard of the Dragon Queen. My first time DM-ing!

I had never played with a grid, and didn't want to. I'd forgotten most everything about 3.5, so I wasn't bothered by some of the major changes between 3.5 and 5e. Anyway 5e said all the things I wanted to hear — grid? Don't trouble yourself. Rules dispute? Make a decision, figure it out later. I tried to commit as much of the mechanics and guidelines to heart as possible — even waded most of the way through the spell list, trying to figure out each one — although I seem to have failed to pay attention to class progressions beyond a cursory glance (carefully read the class progressions your players choose, after they choose them! build the game to their abilities!).

I didn't realize that half my group were hardcore min-maxers. That half was there for the full RPG experience and the other half for a glorified tactical combat game. I was so focused on trying to memorize all the narrative and mechanical details that I didn't work on tactical scenarios. Not that I knew how to make combat interesting — for all my RTS computer games, I knew how to build tactics to the terrain, not terrain to tactics. Anyway, the group itself had some interpersonal problems that ultimately was its undoing, but we played for a while before that happened.

I was enthusiastically reading advice on hooking your players and running a good game. I put together an introductory email with some setting material, key terms and character concept ideas, and a map of Faerun (with a note that it was just for context, a character wouldn't know what Faerun looks like). One thing I stressed was creating bonds and flaws that you wanted to see happening in game.

So first session, after my little speech about bonds and flaws, including a half-thought one-liner about "not picking something really far away or irrelevant", one player — hereafter known as Bob — asks me — "can my bond be the grandfather tree?" — and talks a little about the grandfather tree. I thought — great! I was worried they might not go along with this. So I make a point of praising the idea. Meanwhile the players are ignoring me and laughing at me, passing around my map of Faerun pointing at a little dot labeled "Grandfather Tree", as far away from our starting point as the map allows. So I say — That map is just for context! I can put the forest where-ever I want! It can be next door.

Half the table stares at me incredulously ... "are you sure you don't want to look at the map?"

For Bob and his friend Byron, the game was completely about optimal positioning. Eventually it became pretty clear that the power gamers were unhappy, and I agreed to use a whiteboard to draw battlemaps. This time, HotDQ prescribed an ambush. As usual, the game ground to a halt during combat while Bob ran around sniping enemies — with no idea that eight covered leveled bad guys might be above their power-level. I tried to drop helpful hints, and the rest of the party eventually got it together and regrouped, but Bob's character continued kiting to the long drawn-out end, and finally! by fair tactical combat got chased down, knocked unconscious, and dragged off "to the rape dungeon!" as Bob energetically interjected.

It wasn't all bad, but it was a constant fight. Worse, while the B-men were most excited about gaming the system, they had no interest in making believable choices. HotDQ has a lot of leading questions (it's a railroad as written) — and I was ready to try to round-about recyle the chapters under different conditions to make the game flow, and I even said so when Byron commented something along the lines of "gee, I wonder where we're supposed to go next?". I wish they had tried at least *somewhat* to assert their will in the storyline. But those two didn't really care. And the other two bought the story hooks.

Those other two players (Bianca and Eadward) probably didn't get the game they deserved, either; in part because I was focused on dealing with the first two. Bob took the floor, but also completely ignored the will of the other players. During a hostage crisis, for example, he got all the hostages killed when the rest of the party could taste victory. But I had recently moved to a small town and didn't know anyone else who might play.

Anyway, to me, that first campaign (which we didn't finish) felt flat and the combats tedious. I doubled down on my efforts to figure out why. Some time passed, my two favorite players moved away, and I found another group of players: a DM, a soon-to-be-DM, a Pathfinder guy, and a newbie nerd who wanted to play a powerful necromancer.

I hear a lot of advice repeated over and over again. The internet is kind of an echo-chamber — maybe nobody knows what they're doing. So here's my thoughts on the systems, and process of becoming a DM —

The process of becoming a DM sucks. Maybe you've got a supportive group of players, or maybe you are working with what you have, trying to accommodate them. I had ideas and creativity, but I didn't know how to efficiently turn them into encounters, social situations, and adventures. For my second campaign, I homebrewed the world, a metropolis, the society, an underlying plot, the traditional world-building minutiae, and monsters, dungeons, ... almost everything. I put in so much work — almost every day, and a lot of my weekends I went down to the coffee shop, researched, wrote backstory, adjusted power levels or made up new challenges. And I still feel like it was easier than trying to learn all the details of an established setting I've never played, like Faerun.

Because Faerun doesn't make sense to me. I make up part of it, only to find when I look for a detail somewhere else, it's tightly coupled to the part I replaced! Without a model of how Faerun works in my head, I'm not sure how to move my chess pieces. I need someone to break it down at every stage into the simplest pieces possible — treating a nation as an NPC, identifying important NPCs and their relationships, NPC roles, propensities/motives, and power. And then breaking down organizations into some kind of organization-space, treating them as NPCs, building a web, and mapping organization-space onto a geographical map. And then breaking down cities into NPCs and organizations, and then districts, and then guilds, and then society. Because, otherwise, it's too vast for me to understand out of context, and it's too easy to break immersion, to give too much political power to the PCs (so that there's no point to strive for anything anymore).

So of course, I was excited when the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide came out. I figured — this is the ticket for me to understand the broad strokes of Faerun! But it most definitely isn't. I'm not going to hate on the book, if you have time and money, and it seems interesting, by all means why not peruse it? I appreciate WotC's intent — but the book is more like an encyclopedia and less like a novel. A novel?

When I started out my second campaign, I handed out a detailed questionnaire. I listed scifi & fantasy books, and asked players to order them by favorite theme. I had questions testing interest in various settings, playstyles, character goals, greyscale morality vs black-and-white, miscellaneous ideas I had, and possible responsibilities players might want to take on (food, side-quest DMing, writing, etc). After the first campaign, I wanted to gauge player interests. I had been doodling setting ideas for a while, and wanted to know if the players would care. I decided my setting was an important demiplane or whatever man, and that there were secret portals typically accessible by ship (a plot point) which I could use to plug it into another setting whenever I wanted (I planned to plug it into Faerun). Interestingly, I had more than enough material in my own world, and my players never got to Faerun.

What did those questionnaires get me? Absolutely nothing. One player nixed "Game of Thrones style" on his questionnaire, for all the good it did him (it just made me fret about my grand plans, I should never have asked — how is he supposed to know my world-building secrets anyway? Also, what is Game of Thrones style?). The rest of it was just idiosyncratic preferences, although it was interesting to look at. So while it's good to feel your group out, I don't think you need to go overboard here. "Will you bring the drinks?" "Do you have to get up early the next morning?" and "Do you like hack and slash?" "Do you like political power?" "Do you like experience points?" "Do you like dungeons and treasure?" or something similar will suffice.

A novel? The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide (SCAG) isn't a novel? When I started out my second campaign, one player asked if the Elemental Evil supplement was allowed. I ended up with an elf, a half-elf, a drow (who I guided away from "drow, moon elf drow, because the elves can be subdivided up into sun and moon elves" — too bad I didn't think of half-drow half-moon-elf at the time), and a svirfneblin. Now, I had read the SCAG and PHB treatises on Drow. I was blissfully unaware of how crazily subjugated my Drow were, and how fanatically wrathful they must be feeling. Oh well, my world. But the EE supplement requester let something slip about the Legend of Drizzt books.

Obviously, I read the first 17 books in short order.

While these books helped fill out some understanding of Faerun, I only really feel like I understand the motivations of Icewind Dale. Possibly because it's a small setting, with easily identifiable factions, and a battle or two. It's also remote, and Drizzt didn't go adventuring to far off made-up dungeons while he was there every other day. And the underdark, which I now think is amazing! I'm going to keep reading these books, I am looking forward to learning about Neverwinter (the glosses I've read are so vague).

But I'm not sure reading those books are the right way to begin to understand Faerun.

One thing I've discovered recently is 1e and 2e settings books. The right settings books. Not even necessarily the Faerun settings books. Back when I was planning my homebrew campaign, I was researching mechanics for worlds which get very cold (and also seafaring). I did some research and bought some 2e and 3e pdfs from the DMsGuild which looked relevant. They were filled with irrelevant system-specific mechanics, outdated math, and segmented, wandering descriptions. It put me off reading anything published before 5e as labor-reducing material for my 5e campaign. And the adventures — I was building my own, I had no interest in those outdated railroads (HotDQ was the only published adventure I had tried to absorb).

But after continued research, I acquired 0e, 1e, Dark Sun, Planescape, and Spelljammer. These are amazing books, and I'm currently searching out the other best early books. It doesn't help that they're not compiled into a complete, chronological, and categorized list anywhere, and that it would cost a fortune to [legally] acquire the collected works (on pdf, no less). I'm going to come back to the fact that I bought 0e and 1e, but if I have to pick one of these books to recommend, it's the Planescape boxed set.

Planescape is the kind of thing I can pick up and read, and not fall asleep. It also is far superior to all of the DMG/PHB/wikipedia descriptions of the outer planes. I just had to remember to skip sections that didn't catch my interest. Basically, it's one man's account of the planes. He has a lot of colorful advice, much more narrative, to the point, and subjective than SCAG, which half-heartedly not-really adopted a subjective narrator. It's humorous, non-definitive!, and all-inclusive. It's also the source material which created the planes — everything else written is a revision. It's like a creative writing prompt.

Continuance

One source of DMing wisdom that has had a major impact on my thought patterns is The Angry GM. He might repeat himself and slowly elaborate on the same ideas he's been stewing on for years, but I only realized this after reading the majority of everything he has on his site. I could put together specific article recommendations if anyone cared. Also, support him on Patreon!

I like articles like Angry’s because he lays out his thought patterns while constructing the models you want to use. These are self-contained predictive (crassly, "generative") modules. How do you build a chase scene?

You deconstruct the idea of chase into its components parts, examine the theory of roleplaying, identify the important parts of roleplaying for various players, apply literature theory (I read a number of books on authoring fiction, I guess you could do that too), add tension, modularize, and reconstruct.

When you're done, you have either an encounter to play out with triggers and mechanics, or an encounter and encounter-mechanics building set of meta mechanics, or perhaps even meta-meta encounter-mechanics mechanics building mechanics, if you're applying yourself.

I really appreciate being able to read and understand an adventure or optional rule. By applying structure to some pile of text you hand me, I can start to compile your input into a useful program of sorts, that I can use to reason, and generate predictions for behaviors of various chess pieces.

After I read a lot of The Angry GM’s articles, I bought all the published 5e adventures, and set to analyzing them. There's a great variety. I wouldn't advise you to do this: maybe only one at a time.

I also watched youtube playthroughs of most of them (and some extras, on top of that).

In my opinion, Princes of the Apocalypse has the most interesting story structure, followed by Storm King's Thunder. Out of the Abyss turned into an amazing playthrough. And if I understood the Ravenloft better, Curse of Strahd might be my favorite of them all. But I don't understand it hardly at all yet. So I'd be more likely to run the other ones I mentioned.

The Angry GM mentions in passing a number of divides in the RPG gamer community, none of which should come as a shock to anyone who has used the internet to read about D&D or any other RPG ... storytellers vs tacticians, "improvisers vs railroaders" (a meaningless dichotomy, he explains), the choice of maintaining thematic integrity (think Dark Sun) vs allowing players any choice or capability they can articulate with their mouth-things (think Acquisitions Incorporated). I knew all the echo-chamber soundbytes about these divides before, but now they mean a lot more to me.

Most importantly. I watched a youtube video which talked about the evolution of D&D — and I was very surprised how 0e and 1e read. I had heard about the ebb and flow of mechanics vs DM intuition. But when I actually looked at the early D&D texts, they read like creative writing prompts, not rulesets or algebras. Eg, here is a system I made up. I wanted to do a thing, and so I hope you like it. Oh, and another thing might help you mitigate some problem — to the point.

I'm a scifi buff, and I thought it might be easier to run a science fiction RPG than a fantasy game like D&D. I tried to research the best scifi RPG, and the first time I searched, the jury cried out "Traveller"! I'm currently watching Babylon 5 for the second time (and honestly, I'm getting impatient writing this, I want to watch B5, but if I stop writing I likely won't continue later).

If you like Babylon5, you probably agree that Traveller has a pretty great premise. I unfortunately made a rookie mistake and bought Traveller5, which was supposed to be the ultimate be-all-and-end-all of Traveller RPGs. It's not, because it's an algebra book.

I can't stay awake reading Traveller5, no joke. It requires intense mental exertion to see and make sense of the unexplained patterns and arcane rules. It's very complete — with systems for social interaction (which I feel divided about), crafting, and detailed world-building. It doesn't provide a setting beyond a few pages (out of 700!), but instead tools to build a cohesive setting. It really is the distilled machinations of years of game design, but it's inaccessible to the layperson. And from some of the reviews I've read, that's not an uncommon opinion.

But the thing that really is the kicker — some people like Traveller5 style rules, and some people like 5e/1e style rules. And there's nothing you can do about it to change their minds. Some people like rules lawyering — this occurred to me while listening to Happy Jacks RPG — they like to sit down for their session, use their encylopediac knowledge of the rules to optimize and evolve their character and actions, sticking to every last convention — sitting down and debating the best course of action. Not quickly resolving actions and moving on with the action or story, not the excitement of battle, nor promise of immersion. Some people like tactically planning every move before execution, and won't hesitate to spend every moment of their time evaluating, debating. Because that is the fun part for them.

I've read flamewars on forums between these two camps — and anyone with a bone to pick will claim the buzzwords for themselves. My way is "immersive"! One bozo claimed that 5e was terrible because DMs weren't required to build NPCs using the same process PCs are built, so certain pregen NPC stat block abilities weren't accessible to his PC — because this inconsistency in *rules* breaks *immersion*. To me, this sounds like a bit of stretch — I think thematic (which heavily involves adjudication) inconsistencies break immersion, not rules inconsistencies. Or maybe he is immersed in something, and it's just not the story.

Anyway, this guy liked 3.5e better than 5e — not only, but he thought 5e was trash.

Is it? My final closing remarks here are going to be on 3.5e versus 5e, which is I think the question you have been waiting for — or maybe not, I don't know.

Most recently, I have been cross-referencing 3.5 with 5e. Some of it's coming back to me now, and some of the surprised questions my second group asked about rules are making more sense to me.

3.5e is better in some respects. It has more structure. It makes more sense, in a limited capacity. The rulebooks are much more poorly written. They are extremely repetitive. I appreciate the crafting system, because it unifies spells, magic items, and provides the ability to create new spells. In 5e, there's not really a difference between rods, wands, and staffs.

In my 5e games, I've been surprised at how useless the low level wizards have been. That statement is flamebait, and I've seen it in action

In 5e, magic users, and wizards in particular, have been nerfed hard. No matter how you phrase it (and I've seen people try), wizards are much much less powerful in 5e.  Yes ... they got ritual spells, disposed of Vancian magic, and got some silly cantrip pseudo archery attacks, sure;  but they have fewer slots, less spell selection, no ability to create magical items or bank spells, all the spells have been made less powerful, and no ability to create new spells.

As a DM, you can add all that back, but it will break 5e's balance. I've heard it said that in 5e, all classes are magic users. Well, I have to say, in 5e, all classes are fighters. Chew on that?

Full disclosure. I like 3.5e wizards.  I feel that unfair level of power is appropriate  —  when you read Order of the Stick or other D&D fantasy literature, the wizards are 3.5e style powerful. It feels wrong and disappointing to me for wizards not to hold Earth-shattering power. (But, my first character was a melee tank, who once dealt ~150 damage in one turn.)   Restricting a wizard to a supporting "role" instead of encouraging a supporting role seems like a loss to me. Who would want to play a wizard then? If you don't get earth shattering powers? Non-earth-shattering powers is mundane, and I'm playing a fantasy game.

Detractors will argue for the poor oppressed mundanes. As a DM, you have the power to make everybody cool. You can keep balance in check, allow wizards to be powerful in and of themselves, and keep fighters and the like out of their shadow. If a wizard is overshadowing a fighter, talk to the wizard, tell them to get off his toes.

And/or maybe beef up the fighter. In 3.5e you could add a prestige class. I'm sure you can figure something out in 5e.

Anyway, if you love balance and hate wizards and 3.5e, you're in good company with 5e. But if you love rules to the bone, you might like 3.5e better. Or if you somehow want to be involved in what I consider the DM's work, you might like 3.5e.

Regardless, 5e has easier to remember rules, is better balanced, easier to introduce new people to, is on the other side of the scales from the abstruse algebraic systems with idiosyncratic notations, and you can always modify it to make it imba. So I approve of 5e, but I have to say —

I had to do a lot of research to understand it. I feel like a 500 page, non-wandering, topical, focused essay on the art of DMing and RPG gaming would do wonders for a D&D 5e companion book. Because those missing rules — they are missing — it is good that they are not hard and fast, but it is bad that there are few well motivated optional functionality modules which you can pop into your game to improve it.

Long story short — make it up when you feel like something is missing, and find what inspires you — really inspires, not what you think inspires you or you think will improve your knowledge. Be fair, attentive, and pro-active.

PS On the topic of good combats — Angry wrote an article titled something "Running Combats like a M#@&*^## Dolphin". Having an efficient style, having a style at all, to running a combat, as he describes, speeds combats up and makes them seem more interesting. I mean, it only speeds it up a little bit, but come on.

Just as useful — building good combats — if they're dragging on, get them over with as soon as possible. If you're employing good tactics for your baddies, and/or providing useful tactical features, you might be prolonging the battle. You don't have to stop doing that, but do be aware of it. So, you can just throw falling lava into the battle, and KAPOW, both sides take damage faster! Fight end sooner! And adding interesting features is standard advice, but *active* features — if the PCs don't use them, let the NPCs use them. That way even "passive" features are active — and I prefer to deal side-neutral damage than provide cover or healthy unrelenting reinforcements. There's some other advice out there, read Angry's long diatribes.

Also, standard DMG advice — use objectives. So what you say? How will that speed combat? Make sure to change the situation enough to cause a re-evaluation of how best to achieve the objective, and BAM, a properly applied change might reduce battle time.

And, what? You are doing nothing now but just attacking over and over again? Just call it. Unless your players rebel. "They don't stand a chance." "You guys are heading for TPK ... "

I guess I have had trouble running combats in the past.

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