#[i wish it was a more exciting post to warrant the wait but no its just these losers that i love again]

[cringeworms]

I finally got over myself and posted my first fanfic, I put it off for ages because iT's NoT pErFeCt or whatever. Anyway, if you're interested you can read it on AO3 here or in the rest of this post :]

W for Will

Will finished brushing his teeth and watched as Hannibal stepped out of the shower. His hair slicked back as he patted his face dry. Will loved to see him wet, he looked more human that way. 

As Hannibal turned around to take his robe off its hook, a sharp stab of hatred hit Will. He loved Hannibal’s scars, and he loved his own, they were reminders of where they had been together. But not that scar. In an instant he saw Mason’s face, he saw Cordell towering over him, he felt cold steel on his cheek, he saw Margot and felt regret for her. His gut twisted into knots, his face felt hot. He wanted to turn around before Hannibal did as to not betray the emotion on his face, but he couldn’t. He kept looking at that awful family crest and the way it moved and shifted as Hannibal moved. It was a part of him now. It was a part of him now. And Will couldn’t stand that thought. He wished he could just cut it out. Cut it off of him

Hannibal donned his robe and turned around. He saw Will’s emotions and wondered if he would speak about them without prompting. He waited a beat. Will said nothing. 

Hannibal started “Will…” and Will cut him off, not looking him in the eye. 

“I just can’t stand to see that fucking thing okay? I see him, I feel like I’m back there,” he paused and rubbed his forehead “and, and I hate that they branded you like they own you. Like a fucking pig.”

Hannibal said nothing. Will realized he snapped, his expression softened as he looked at Hannibal. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize,” Hannibal interrupted. “Your strong emotions are warranted.”

Will smiled apologetically. 

A little calmer now after Hannibal’s reassurance, he spoke “It’s a bad reminder. And I don’t like the thought of you being property. Being… owned.”

“You don’t like the thought of me being owned?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly.

Will laughed, more of a scoff. “I don’t like the thought of you being owned by Mason Verger.”

“Whose name would you rather see me branded with?”

Will thought for a moment. 

“I’m not sure I want you branded at all.”

“Well what’s to be done about that?” Hannibal asked as he moved to the counter and started to shave. 

Will paused to think. “Well, skin graft surgery is very effective but you couldn’t go to any surgeon with that scar.” 

Hannibal watched Will think, the answer to his own question on the tip of his tongue. 

“No, Will. What can you do about it?”

Will’s brow furrowed. He knew what Hannibal was asking but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it. 

Hannibal saw his hesitation. 

“You said you saw Mason’s face. Tell me, Will, was it before or after the dogs? Is it more grotesque now in your mind than it ever was in reality?” 

He was egging him on, and Will knew it. Still, he felt the hatred in his gut, he felt his chest tighten. 

“Do you see the farm in your mind? Do you find yourself in that barn again, looking at that ornamental mirror and the pigs restless in its reflection?”

The answer was yes and Hannibal knew it. He knew he couldn’t simply ask Will politely to carve into him, but he knew it was what they both wanted. 

Will’s face was red, he looked away from Hannibal. Before he knew what he was doing he had taken the straight razor from Hannibal, he gave it up eagerly. He ran it under the sink but didn’t think to dry the ivory handle for a better grip. There was no time for thinking, this was fight or flight. 

Will stepped out of the bathroom and gestured to their bed with his head. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered. On his face the kind of stern look only acquired from repeated trauma. 

Hannibal took his robe off and laid it over the bed. 

“How do you want me?” he asked, tilting his head. It was as much excitement as he knew how to show. 

“Lay down. On your front. Don’t move,” Will demanded. Hannibal complied. 

Will climbed onto the bed after him, he pressed his knee onto the small of his back as if he were arresting him. Hannibal lay with his head turned to the side, he showed no nervousness or anticipation of pain.

Right in front of him was the one remaining contestant to Will’s possession of Hannibal. A trauma, a regretful and unpleasant trauma, permanent on Hannibal’s skin. 

Will knew if he thought for too long about it he wouldn’t do it. And he needed to do it. 

The first cut was quick, perhaps too shallow. Hannibal did not flinch, although some of the muscles in his back instinctively tensed. The second cut followed quickly after, a little deeper this time. 

Will stopped for a moment and admired the red pooling beneath the razor. It had not yet spilled from the wound, precariously balanced between two lines of severed skin. 

He cut again, slower, to watch the baubles of blood spring up as the blade moved. Each droplet blossomed and grew, followed by a trail of smaller, but growing, beads. 

Hannibal still had not made a sound. This was not good enough for Will. He needed to hear something, anything, but he didn’t know why. He certainly liked to hear Hannibal whine, growl, whimper, moan… but it was more than that. He needed to know that he was powerful enough to break through Hannibal’s self-control, to push past his incredible pain tolerance. 

The last cut was much more methodical. He drove the razor in farther than it needed to go and dragged it slowly. This earned him a small grunt and grimace from Hannibal, which was more than enough. 

He leaned back and looked at his work. In four bloody slashes, a great ‘W’ obscured the Verger family crest. He wanted to lick the blood out of the wound, but he did not. 

This blood, this wound, this flesh belonged to Will. At his hands, Hannibal’s body was changed. This wound was entirely Will’s, and not born of violence. 

He took a breath and came back to reality, realizing what had just happened. He climbed off the bed. 

“Um, I guess I’ll get the first aid kit. Stay there so it doesn’t drip much.”

Leaving the room he was lightheaded, he worried he had made a mistake. He just permanently injured Hannibal, and this wound was no small matter. It wasn’t very tidy, he worried Hannibal would be displeased.

Hannibal did not stay where he was. He felt hot blood drip out of his new stinging and throbbing wound, and it was refreshing. He went to the mirror, turning to see his back. Looking in his reflection he was reminded of Vladis Grutas, covered in bloody ‘M’s. M for Mischa he thought. W for Will. 

He smiled. He did not like to think of Grutas, or any of his other cases of boyhood revenge, often. But he did now. There was, indeed, something left in him to love. He felt satisfaction in his new reflection. 

Will returned to find Hannibal looking in the mirror, his eyes watery. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.”

For once, Hannibal was lost for words. He turned to Will and shook his head. 

“I should get this cleaned up and covered,” Will said as he turned to set down and open the first aid kit. When he turned around, gauze in hand, he saw an expression he wasn’t sure he had ever seen on Hannibal’s face. He didn’t have time to figure it out before Hannibal had his hands on his face and pulled him in to kiss him. 

They stayed with their lips pressed together, Hannibal’s hands on the sides of Will’s face, Will’s hands around Hannibal’s neck and shoulders. They stayed there until Will felt a tear against his face, he wasn’t sure whose it was until he pulled away and saw it was Hannibal’s. There was a single tear running down his cheek, and he was smiling softly. 

Will didn’t know what to say, and Hannibal couldn’t speak for him like he usually could.

Hannibal held the side of Will’s face, running his thumb along his cheek. Quietly, he said the only thing he could manage “W for Will.”

Will's eyes flashed wide as he remembered the story of Vladis Grutas, he pulled Hannibal into a hug, careful not to touch his wound. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t even think about that I didn’t mean to…”

Hannibal hugged him tighter and brought his head closer to Will’s. “No,” he said, his voice soft but not entirely steady “It’s perfect.”

(Note: I'd like to mention that thisismybecuming on Tumblr has a very similar story published on her page ("My scars, your scars"), while I thought of the idea for my short story before I read hers I'd like to acknowledge their similarity and clarify I'm not intentionally copying her idea. Please go read "My scars, your scars" if you haven't!)

[bleachtelevised]

--- Disaster Duo

[tenthgrove]

Sorry I've not been answering so many asks lately. Finding a place to live for uni is proving to be a very big stress, and I do not write well when anxious.

Rather than produce absolutely no headcanon content for the day I decided to come up with my own scenario that really spoke to me, so I hope you enjoy the following.

-------

Yandere La Squadra Reacting To You Having A Breakdown Post Abduction

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Yandere, SFW

Formaggio- He may be a clingy and needy guy, but he knows when to stop beating a dead horse. It's clear your total breakdown warrants a change of strategy, so it's time he backed off. His bedroom becomes entirely your space, Formaggio only entering to check on you every couple hours. He even sleeps on the couch, to let you rest easier at night. If you're really shutting down he decides to opt for the stray cat method to lure you out of your room for a change of scenery. He leaves a trail of snacks from your door.

Illuso- He anticipated a few of your possible reactions but this was not one of them. Now he doesn't know what to do. As you cry and hyperventilate, Illuso sets you in his lap, frantically uttering apologies and promises that he won't hurt you. Even still, he knows things have to change after this. He immediately gives you permission to roam the house as you please, promising not to put you in the mirror world again unless it's an emergency. He makes your time together more about you, pursuing your hobbies and social needs over his. Once you're well enough, he'd like to take you out as well.

Prosciutto- Given this is a man who kidnaps you due to concern you can't cope with gang life, it's no surprise that Prosciutto is fully prepared for such an extreme reaction after abducting you. To some extent, he continues on as he did before (his treatment of you was already very sensitive to your despair over the situation) but he does keep an extra eye out for early signs of above-normal distress so he can try and prevent another panic episode before it happens. He doesn't back away as he wants you to get used to his presence, but he tries to make that presence as likeable as possible.

Pesci- Your pain is his own, and seeing you so down is immensely upsetting to Pesci. He'll purchase anything he can think of that may remotely cheer you up, probably wasting most of his savings in the process. In his drastic attempts to stop your crying, he'll make some pretty out-there suggestions that weren't part of his original plan, like letting you talk to your family or move back into your old house (with him). He'll still hold onto you whatever the cost, but all in all you stand to benefit quite considerably from this.

Melone- He had planned to avoid this, providing a calm, homely environment to live in free from external stressors, and moulding his own behaviour around yours. Even still, Melone knows trauma is a highly individual matter and there's little he could do to guarantee you won't suffer its full force, even with his best efforts. Melone treats your breakdown with comfort for your immediate distress, and watchful waiting in the long term. He seizes on anything that seems to bring you relief, giving you more of it to try and elicit a change for the better. All your progress is met with praise.

Ghiaccio- Your the most precious thing in the world to Ghiaccio, and for you to suffer this badly at his hands crushes him. He wishes, wishes he could make it all go away but he genuinely believes letting you go will put you in mortal peril. His solution is rapid management. Ghiaccio arranges for the rest of the team to take all his hits for the next few weeks, and buys whatever he may need for the current period in advance. For the next few weeks, Ghiaccio will not leave the house so long as he can help it, staying by your side to help your recovery. He made you like this, so he's going to fix it.

Risotto- Knowing how to read a person like a book, Risotto sees your breakdown approaching from a mile off. He tries where he can to prevent it, with extra promises you're in good hands and everything will be okay in the end, but he knows this might not work and he has to prepare for the worst. Risotto lets you cry against his chest, wanting to respect your boundaries but also uneasy about leaving you alone in such a state. He encourages you to ask questions if it reassures you, or otherwise just yell at him how much you hate him if it makes you feel better. A better life is waiting for you, you just have to get through this together.

Sorbet and Gelato- Given the uneasy relationship between you and the couple early on, it's likely you won't tell the couple until your breakdown is in full swing, meaning it hits them like a ton of bricks. Well, hits Gelato, who was so caught up in the excitement of having you he forgot to actually be realistic about how you were going to feel about all this. They are both very sorry to see you in such a state, but agree to try and keep a happy face for your sake. They hope by showing you how well they can look after you when you're so low, you might be able to trust them once you come out of this on the other side. You must admit, lying in Gelato's arms while he soothes you, as Sorbet brushes your hair and adjusts your nightclothes ready for bed, is calming, very much so.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 3

Idk if y’all will like this one as much. It’s kind of a filler but it took forever to write so I’m posting it anyways. I’ll tag people who have asked below.

Gwyn thought she might puke and it had nothing to do with Lucien's winnowing abilities. She never thought she would feel so nauseas especially after the blood rite. She supposes that the imminent fear of death had her more distracted from her typical anxieties. Now that she could focus on the fact that she was actually leaving Velaris, she felt sick. She grabbed onto Lucien harder and closed her eyes tightly. What felt like hours later, although it was truly only a minute or two, Lucien spoke.

"Welcome to the band of exiles." She opened her eyes to a surprisingly large castle. She was not sure what she expected, perhaps an abandoned cabin, but the building was spectacular and beautiful.

"Jurian and Vassa are excited to meet you." Lucien added as they continued to stand out front. It appeared that he would allow her to stand here for as long as she needed. She knew that if she demanded he take her right back he would. His words finally caught up with her brain that seemed to be running a mile a minute. Why would his closest friends be excited to meet her she thought. It made her anxious for the first time. Perhaps she mistook his friendly countenance for something less than it actually was. She would address it later. She began walking towards the door, mumbling under her breath.

"Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Lucien inserted much more enthusiasm than necessary into his tone. He grabbed her arm and laced it through his which had her feeling very grateful. Her knees were shaking as she walked and she knew he could tell. Gwyn felt the need to remind herself that he had a mate. She wondered if he would be desperate enough to make a move on her. A large, beautifully decorated foyer greeted them. Two very beautiful people stood in the middle of the white marble floor. Gwyn tightened her hold on Lucien when she saw the new male, stopping them mid-walk. She started her mind-stilling technique as the anxiety clawed at her chest and throat. She would eventually have to face men if she ever wanted to get her revenge. She could not allow a few measly physical reactions hold her back. She took one last deep breathe and then continued walking towards the couple. She spent less time analyzing the female, but from what she saw Gwyn knew she was beautiful. She also had red hair, however, Gwyn's hair was more of a copper/bronze red while Vassa had a deep maroon red. Gwyn kept her eye on Jurian though.

"You are making her nervous, standing there like two parents ready to scold their children." Lucien reprimanded his friends with a roll of his eyes. The female waved his comment off, completely ignoring him. Gwyn did not miss the look they shared, however.

"I am Vassa and this is Jurian." She gestured to the male next to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you." It unnerved Gwyn that the few interactions that she had with Lucien warranted Vassa knowing much about her. She did not think much on it as she continued to watch the beautiful male. He had hair cropped short to his head and a deep skin tone. His looks were not what had her distracted though. It was the weapons. Gwyn found it unnecessary for him to require weapons while meeting with her. Instead of exchanging pleasantries like socially integrated Fae would, she began her questioning.

"Why so many daggers?" She gave him a scathing look while cocking her head to the side. He would not manipulate her into believing anything but the truth and she wanted that to be conveyed in her facial expression. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as if he were surprised.

"I could ask you the same question." He threw back at her with a smirk. It only infuriated her more. He could not tell she had daggers on her. She was wearing a cloak over her priestess robes with silver majesty strapped to her thigh. There was no possible way he could see the outline through her clothes. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to respond. The staring contest was only broken when Lucien cleared his throat and Vassa nudged him.

"Fine." Jurian conceded with a smile. "Vassa is woefully bad at handling anything sharp, so I have taken on the role of her protecter while soon-to-be high lord is out and about." Both Vassa and Lucien seemed annoyed by his explanation. The anxiety began to loosen in her chest though. He was not completely trusted, but in this moment he would not attack.

"Gwyn." Is all she managed for an introduction. It seemed good enough for Lucien because he began leading her off to the side of the room towards a grand staircase.

"I will be showing Gwyneth her room and then we can talk." He threw over his shoulder. She held onto his arm all the way up the long staircase and through an even longer hallway. She laughed internally at the size of the mansion considering only three people resided here. A thought occurred to her when they finally came to a stop at a door.

"How many people live here?" She finally let go of Lucien and took a step back.

"Just us three. And now you. Occasionally we have a guest or two, but I will give you ample warning before that time. This will be your bedroom here. Mine is right across the hall if you need anything. There is a lock on the inside, but if you would like I can show you how to set up some furniture to keep the door from opening at all." Lucien gave her a small smile. It made her soften towards him even more.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I appreciate all that you have done for me. Truly. I cannot say thank you enough." She gave him a short hug to convey her gratefulness. He returned it, hesitantly. His touch was feather light. As though he did not want to touch her and make her uncomfortable. She stepped back towards the door once more and began to walk inside.

"I will come get you before dinner. You have a full wardrobe to pick from in there if you would like to change. If there is anything you require, just ask." Gwyn nodded and then he was gone.

The first thing Gwyn noticed was that the satchel she packed earlier before leaving was sitting on the bed. She had been so nervous about everything else that she had not even realized it was missing. Gwyn continued to survey the room. It was beautiful. The decorations reminded her of the night court. Lucien really did pay attention to the smallest details. Gwyn truly believed Elain was an idiot for not giving Lucien a chance. The bedding was all black and the drapes twinkled with specks of a shiny material. It almost made them look like stars. The bed was unnecessarily large and so was the desk that was off to the side of the room. It had been such a mentally exhausting day that Gwyn decided a nap was needed. She locked her door and stripped off her cloak. She knew the lock would do nothing against winnowing, but as far as she knew only Lucien could do that. She placed her desk chair under the doorknob anyways. She fell onto the bed without even removing her priestess robes. She did remove her dagger and place it under her pillow for protection. A small smile graced her face as she thought of a certain spymaster who also slept with a dagger under his pillow.

Soft footsteps woke Gwyn from her sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept, but knew that dinner must be approaching if it had not already passed. A light knock on the door made her jump.

"Gwyn? Dinner is almost ready if you would like to join us downstairs." Lucien yelled through the door. Gwyn's racing heart began to slow as she realized where she was and who was speaking to her.

"One moment." She decided this dinner was not worth changing her clothes so she grabbed her dagger, putting it back in its sheath, and flattened her hair down with her hands. She did not want to keep Lucien waiting after all. The second she stepped out of the room, a sly smile crossed the male's face.

"What?" Gwyn demanded a tad self-consciously. She flattened her hair once more.

"Enjoyed a nap I see?" He was teasing, but that did nothing to stop her from shoving him.

"Oh shut up and show me the dining room." A real smile graced his face as he put his arm out for her to grab. She was half tempted to shove his arm away for his teasing. Instead, she rolled her eyes and held onto his arm anyways.

"Your wish is my command."

The castle was truly beautiful. Gwyn knew she could spend hours looking at the art pieces- some of them looked familiar. She would guess those were done by Feyre. The marble flooring and intricate ceilings were only part of the beauty. It has clearly been decorated. Perhaps Vassa and Lucien bonded over similar tastes in rugs. The thought made Gwyn giggle internally. The castle was so large that it took them about five minutes before they reached the dining hall. Gwyn took her place next to Lucien across from Jurian and Vassa who were already pleasantly discussing Vassa’s doomed fate. They quickly stopped talking once she sat down and turned the conversation to her.

"So I have been dying to know," Jurian begins "is Rhysand as much of a prick as he pretends to be?" Lucien sent him a glare which only had Jurian shrugging with an innocent expression upon his face. Gwyn sighed.

"Depends on who you are. He is kind to me, but only out of pity from what he witnessed at Sangravah. I have seen him be cruel to those he purposefully does not want to understand. I am not here as your spy though. That is as much from me as you will get about Rhysand." Gwyn truly felt a level of gratefulness to the high lord, however, he often squandered any other positive feelings she had of him by constantly looking at her as if he was seeing that day in Sangravah all over again. It did nothing to help her forget. Jurian gave a contemplative look before turning his attention to his plate. Vassa decided to try her hand at conversation.

"How are the Archeron sisters? I know the death of their father was hard on all of them." Vassa took a sip of wine. Gwyn did not want to discuss this either though. Speaking of Nesta made her miss her sisters.

"They are as well as could be expected." It was generic and had the fiery red head pursing her lips in displeasure. Gwyn did not quite care.

“Gwyn is a beautiful singer.” Lucien finally changed the subject to something that she did not mind engaging in. “We will need you to sing for us sometime.” Gwyn nodded in agreement. The conversation continued on with Lucien boasting about Gwyn, talking about her training as a Valkyrie and winning the blood rite. She started feeling uncomfortable with all the compliments he was sending her way. It reminded her of a conversation she needed to have with him. Right now was as good of a time as any she supposed.

"It was extremely generous of you to offer your help, but I feel I should inform you that I am not interested in anything other than your friendship." Gwyn interrupted Lucien mid-speech to clarify. He looked startled by her statement. Jurian choked on his wine and Vassa cackled like there would be no tomorrow. It made Gwyn feel as though she was on the outside of some joke they all knew.

"Excuse me?" Lucien, for once, looked genuinely surprised. It was as if he could not quite believe she would say that and needed her to repeat it just in case he heard her wrong. Maybe Gwyn misinterpreted some of his advances.

"I know our coupling seems inevitable," Gwyn explained further a bit shyly, not quite sure of herself anymore. "But I am not interested in any one that is not Azriel." Vassa's cackles slowed down to more of a chuckle and Jurian kept sending amused looks to Lucien.

"Gwyn, I am your grandfather." Lucien approached the topic slowly. "I assumed your mother talked about me, but, and I really hope this is the case, you did not know this?" His tone lifted up at the end in questioning.

Oh, Gwyn thought. She was not easily surprised, but this topped the cake. She tried to think back to anytime her mother mentioned her grandparents, but the instances were few and far between. Gwyn realized she did not even know their names. Suddenly, every compliment and favor from Lucien no longer appeared odd. He was complimenting and bragging about his only living granddaughter. This took much longer to process than Gwyn would like to admit. Unexpectedly, she felt an unwarranted amount of anger towards Lucien.

"And you waited until this very moment to tell me? What the hell Lucien? Or should I say grandpa?" Her tone was more hostile than it had been with anyone else. The sarcastic comment at the end had the red-haired male cringing. Jurian and Vassa started laughing once more.

"I know this is not great timing to interrupt, but I, for one, will be referring to you as grandpa from here on out." Jurian inserted. Vassa gave an amused smirk, but said nothing. It earned him a glare from Gwyn and Lucien though.

"I apologize, Gwyneth, for the delayed reveal. I thought you knew that's why I offered to help you, though. I assumed your mother had spoken of Jesminda and I. She was rather young when we had to surrender her, I suppose." Lucien looked so genuine that Gwyn's anger diminished as fast as it had appeared. Gwyn's family history had always been a mystery to her. She might finally get some answers.

"Jesminda is my grandmother?" Gwyn inquired. Her own mother had never given details. This adventure was beginning to answer many questions she had always had.

"Yes." Lucien said. Gwyn was trying to understand his expression and tone. She spent another minute watching him. Their other table mates had gone quiet as well. It did not take a genius to understand the moment. Jesminda had never been mentioned before to her from anyone and she was not here right now. She was dead that much was clear. Lucien cleared his throat and for a brief second Gwyn could see the emotion he was so desperately trying to hide, guilt.

"Why did you give my mother to Sangravah?" Gwyn realized it probably had something to do with Jesminda's death. She truly wanted more details. Lucien sighed heavily, probably understanding that there were many questions in store for him.

"Beron just ordered for Jesminda to be tortured and executed in front of me. I am certain if he had known of your mother, he would have had the same future in store for her. I had kept the child a secret from everyone except a brother, who helped me hide her after Jesminda's death." It did not escape Gwyn's attention that Lucien neither referred to Beron as his high lord nor as his father. Lucien ran a hand through his hair roughly. Her hair was clearly from him, but it was his one russet eye that had her pausing. An eye that suddenly reminded her so much of Catrin.

"Why did he kill her?" She asked softly. Gwyn realized she would never be able to deny Lucien anything. One look from his russet eye and Gwyn would give in simply because of its similarity to her dead twin.

"Because he's a spiteful old man." Vassa spit out. Clearly, she was just as enraged by the situation. It made Gwyn wonder if Vassa and Lucien had ever been together. Lucien rolled his eyes at the fiery female. He seemed to roll his eyes constantly while he was here.

"Because he could," Lucien added. "Your mother, who was about six at the time, was extremely unsafe even under my brother and I's protection. Beron would put your mate to shame with all the torture tactics he uses. I dropped her off on the doorstep of that church in the middle of the night. I always planned to go back and visit, but I was nervous and I knew she was safe there. I felt it was selfish to visit her since it only put her in more danger." Gwyn felt sad for everyone involved. Sad for Lucien who watched his love be tortured and executed in front of him only for him to have to turn around and surrender his daughter to a church. Sad for Jesminda who died that day. Sad for her mother who must have lived every day wondering where her parents went and why they abandoned her. Sad for Catrin who never got to meet her grandfather.

"I had a sister." Gwyn felt the need to mention. She was unaware of how much Lucien knew, but it suddenly felt important to her that he knew of Catrin.

"I know." He responded with a sad smile. "This family is well versed in tragedy." Gwyn had so many more questions. She had time to ask though. Her questions were making Lucien relive memories that were better left untouched. Perhaps he had endured enough for one night. She looked down at her full plate. She had been so distracted that she had not touched a thing. She began to devour her food as the rest of the table engaged in a debate about seasonings and which was the best.

"Have you and Vassa..." Gwyn trailed off, leaving the innuendo open when Lucien walked her back to her room after dinner.

"She wishes." He chuckled.

"Would you be with Elain if you could?"

"I would not jump into a mating ceremony but I would like the chance to get to know her. She has not given me the opportunity." He answered practically with his arms folded behind his back. Gwyn felt the need to assure him that knowing Elain would not make any of this easier.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She did not want to leave the conversation on such a sore point. As they approached her door, Gwyn jokingly shoved him. "So this would make Elain my step-grandmother?" Lucien was quiet before speaking. It was not the reaction she hoped for.

"Elain does not know. No one knows. And no one can know, even Azriel. At least until Beron is dead. Make no mistakes if Beron were to discover you, he would torture you simply to spite my mother." His lips pursued together in displeasure.

"Azriel is very good with secrets." She felt the need to remind Lucien. He is a Shadowsinger after all.

"Not with his high lord. If Rhysand knew, he would tell Beron if he had too. If Nyx or Feyre's life were on the line, he would do anything to save them. That includes selling you out. This is very important, Gwyneth. You cannot tell anyone- promise me." His stare was so intense that she could not look away. He grabbed her hands in a tight grip to make sure she understood how serious he was. Gwyneth had never purposely kept a secret from Azriel before. Hopefully, Beron would die sooner rather than later.

"I promise."

+++

Two weeks later

"What do you mean she’s gone?" Azriel was shocked to discover that Gwyn had left two weeks ago. He thought she had been avoiding training because of the kiss they shared- not because she was gone. He had been eating dinner with Nesta and Cassian when he finally had the courage to mention the priestess and where she had gone. Now he was mad that he had not asked sooner.

“She left with Lucien on some adventure. I am not really sure. Her note was unclear.” Nesta responded solemnly. The House dropped a piece of chocolate cake in front of her which made a small smile curve at the brash female’s lips. Azriel’s stomach dropped at the mention of Lucien. Gwyn did not know him well enough to go on an adventure with him. Gwyn would not leave her sisters here and she would definitely not choose Lucien to be the first person she left Velaris with. He was certain of that. He also knew Lucien to be a spiteful person. Perhaps he was tired of watching Azriel and Elain parade their relationship around him, making a fool of the one-eyed male. He could have taken Gwyn as retribution.

“He must have kidnapped her. Gwyn would never willingly leave the House of Wind with anyone- let alone Lucien.” Azriel knew this had to be true. Gwyn would never just up and leave. Guilt started gnawing at his chest as he realize he could have prevented her from being taken. If only his shadows would work properly around her, he could have prevented Lucien’s nefarious plans from being completed. His siphons started glowing the longer he though about it. He had to clench his hands around his silverware to keep from winnowing straight to the Band of Exiles and demanding his mate be given back. Nesta gave Azriel an odd look before speaking.

“She left a note that said she was willingly leaving with him and as much as he annoys the shit out of me, I don’t think he would hurt Gwyn.” A frown marred her face now, though. As if she had not considered that her sister could be in trouble. It only annoyed Az further.

“He could have made her write the note.” He reminded in a quiet, harsh voice. Gwyn and Lucien were not friends. She would have no reason to leave with him. Cassian was cautiously glancing between his mate and Azriel. He did not know what to say that would not piss off Az, so he was choosing to let Nesta handle the situation instead.

“She is not in danger.” Nesta declared after peeking at her wrist. There was no possible way for her to know whether Gwyn was safe or not. Even Azriel could not find out given how stubborn his shadows were being. He could always take a trip to the Band of Exiles, but he had to assume Lucien would not be stupid enough to take Gwyn there.

“You do not know that.” His wings flexed in anger. The siphons atop his hands were glowing dangerously bright now. He needed to get his emotions under control.

“Yes I do.” Nesta insisted with a roll of her eyes that annoyed Azriel to no ends. “My bracelet is not glowing. They glow when any of us is in trouble. It’s how I found her in the blood rite. It has not glowed since then either.”

“Hers could have fell off.” Gwyn would not have left after the kiss they shared. It was too important of a moment between them for her to have left immediately after.

“Gwyn and Lucien are friends, Az. You know if you want someone to blame for her leaving, maybe you should look inward.” It was a sharp jab that hurt more than the Shadowsinger would ever admit.

Suddenly though, he could see the hurt on Nesta’s face. It was there for only a second, but he saw it. Nesta was just as hurt by Gwyn’s departure as he was. He finally unclenched his hands from around his silverware- his fight giving out. Nesta was right. Lucien would never kidnap Gwyn especially if he thought it might upset Elain. Azriel chose this time to leave, however. He would not stoop to Nesta’s level and trade jab after jab. He headed to the training arena. It was hours later when slight footsteps could be heard making their way over to him. He was sitting at the edge, his exhaustion forcing him to take a break. Nesta took a seat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I miss her too, Shadowsinger." He said nothing in return because there was nothing else he could say. "You are worse than I was with the mating bond." Nesta tried again with a joke this time to try and get Azriel talking. She knew he was not normally one to discuss his feelings though. He gave her a withering look at that comment. It was an ongoing joke within the inner circle that Nesta handled the mate situation particularly horrible.

“Shut up.” Was all he responded with and he only said it halfheartedly.

"I am just saying, if you ask me for advice I could save you some time and heartache." They both continued to look out at the Velaris skyline.

"And what precious advice would you bestow upon me?" The comment was dripping in sarcasm, but he decided to humor her.

"Anyone other than your mate will be a disappointment, especially to you. Just accept it and her and everything else will become background noise." She looked up at him for a second before setting her head back down. He was not one to seek out comfort through touch, but sitting here with Nesta made him feel a bit better. Maybe it was because they could both ruminate in their sadness at Gwyn’s departure.

"Ah so wise. I had not considered that." Again the sarcasm was heavy.

"Well if you have thought about it and have not done it then I would consider you an idiot. You do not strike me as an idiot, Az." She was frustrated now- throwing her arms up and crossing them over her chest. He chuckled lightly.

"I think I might be." He admitted. Everything was so confusing with Mor and Elain that he lost focus of what was truly important.

"Gwyn is the most compassionate and understanding person I know. If she can love me, she can love you too. Just be honest with her." Her voice was soft now in a way that it never was. She always seemed to push him even when it seemed the rest of his family refused. It was the thing he liked most about Nesta- she was never scared of him or his feelings.

"Thanks Nes." He settled his head on top of hers and they stayed like that for hours- reminiscing in all things Gwyn.

[jammatown919]

Ginger Locks

For @amozon28, who requested a Nuts n Dolts hair brushing fic. Requests are still open!

Penny had never been the type of girl that took forever to get ready for a date. In fact, she was always the one waiting for ten minutes while Ruby tried to get her eyeliner just right. This considered, Ruby didn't mind waiting a couple hours while Penny took care of a last minute mission she'd been assigned, nor did she mind waiting an extra five minutes for Penny to brush her hair once she'd returned.

When five minutes turned into twenty, she began to mind just a little. When twenty became thirty five, she felt the need to say something.

"Hey, Penny?" Ruby called in the direction of the bathroom door. "Are you still brushing your hair?" Penny's hair had admittedly looked a little rough, but it certainly hadn't been bad enough to warrant half an hour of brushing.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong." Penny called back miserably.

"What?" Ruby sat up in her bunk, discarding the comic she'd been reading to pass the time. "Are you okay?"

"I made it worse." Penny replied, sounding dangerously close to tears.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." Ruby slid down from her bunk and crossed the dorm to stand outside the bathroom door. "Why don't you come out and let me see?"

"Do you promise that you will not laugh at me?" Penny asked meekly.

"Of course." Ruby promised. "Why would I laugh at you?"

Instead of answering, Penny slowly opened the door, and Ruby damn near broke her promise right then and there. Somehow, what had once been a ruffled and slightly tangled mane had turned into a frizzy, puffed out mess, into which Penny's massive curls had completely disappeared.

"Oh, Penny..." She said sympathetically, wondering how in the world her girlfriend had even managed to do that to herself. "Do you want me to comb through that for you?"

Penny hesitated, not unlike a small child determined to do something independently, before slowly nodding. Ruby took her hands and gently led her over to Weiss's bunk so they could sit without having to climb.

"I'm sorry to make you do this." Penny murmured as Ruby turned to her team's shared dresser and began searching for Weiss's dry conditioner. "Usually my father helps me to do my hair, and I suppose I just never learned how to do it on my own."

"Hey, it's okay." Ruby replied gently. She spotted the bottle and snatched it up, along with Weiss's comb. "I know long hair can be a pain to manage, and those curls are definitely not a one person job. Seriously, how do you even get them to stay like that?"

"Bobby pins." Penny offered. "And hairspray."

"Well, I'm not sure how much help I'll be with that," Ruby said as she took a seat beside Penny. "But I can at least deal with the tangles and frizz. Turn around for me?"

Penny quietly obliged, turning her back toward Ruby and pulling her legs up onto the bed. Ruby pulled the cap off the bottle of conditioner and pumped some of its contents into her hand so she could begin gently massaging it into Penny's hair.

"This stuff will make your hair really silky." Ruby promised, smiling slightly as Penny leaned into her touch. "It even works on Yang, and she almost never brushes her hair."

Once she was finished massaging in the conditioner, Ruby got to work on the tangles. Most of them weren't ridiculous, but there was one monster right in the middle of Penny's mane that Ruby had to start on with her fingers just to avoid hurting her girlfriend.

"Let me know if this hurts at all." Ruby instructed, gently pulling the knot into two smaller, more manageable knots.

"I have turned off the pain receptors in my scalp to make this process easier." Penny replied nonchalantly.

"You can do that?!" Ruby paused what she was doing to stare incredulously at Penny.

"Pain only exists to let someone know when they've been damaged. Once the message is received, pain becomes a hinderance. I have to be able to turn it off to continue functioning efficiently." Penny explained as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

"I wish I could do that." Ruby murmured. Out of pure curiosity, she gave some of Penny's hair an experimental tug. "So, you can't feel this?"

"I can feel the tugging, but it's completely painless." Penny replied.

"My girlfriend is so cool." Ruby cooed, moving some of Penny's hair aside so she could press a quick kiss to her neck. Penny let out a tiny squeak of delight, and Ruby grinned in response.

"I think that my girlfriend is cooler." Penny said with a soft laugh.

"You're only saying that because I'm doing your hair." Ruby teased as she picked up the comb and began pulling it through Penny's mane.

"I am not!" Penny's voice rose indignantly, and she turned her head to give Ruby an incredulous look. "I really do think that you're cool!"

"I know, baby. It was just a joke." Ruby chuckled, trying to keep a grip on the comb as Penny moved. "Hold still."

Penny settled down and returned to her original position, allowing Ruby to continue tugging the comb through her hair. With a grunt of effort, she managed to pull it all the way through.

"We might be here for a while." Ruby remarked, focusing her efforts on one of the larger tangles near Penny's tips. With a quick glance at the clock above the desk that no one ever used, she realized that the movie theatre they'd been planning to go to would probably be closed by the time they were done. "I think we might be better off staying in tonight."

"But you were so excited to go out!" Penny objected, turning slightly toward the clock. "The last showing of our movie is in twenty minutes. If we leave now, we could still make it."

"If we go out, you're just going to be uncomfortable about your hair the whole time," Ruby pointed out gently. "And if one of us isn't having fun, there's no point in going."

"I'm sorry, Ruby." Penny hung her head remorsefully. "I didn't mean to ruin our date."

"Hey, you didn't ruin anything." Ruby carefully tilted Penny's head upward so she could continue combing. "We can go another night. Besides, there are still plenty of things we can do. If the lounge is free, we could have a movie night in there. You can even pick the movie."

Penny didn't respond, and even though Ruby couldn't see her face, she could tell her girlfriend was pulling that downhearted expression she always had when she felt as though she'd disappointed someone.

"C'mon, Penny, don't be like that." Ruby set the comb down and wrapped her arms around Penny from behind, gently resting her chin on her girlfriend's shoulder. "I promise it's okay."

"You are not upset with me?" Penny asked quietly.

"Of course not." Ruby assured her. "You being comfortable is way more important than going to see some movie. Cheer up, okay? Or am I gonna have to do the thing?"

Penny stifled a chuckle at the thought of the aforementioned 'thing', and Ruby smirked mischievously. She turned her head and pressed her lips to Penny's neck, blowing a raspberry against her skin. Penny squealed at the sudden tickling sensation and broke into a fit of giggles.

"Feeling better?" Ruby inquired softly as Penny fell against her, still laughing.

"Yes." Penny replied once she'd managed to calm herself a bit.

"Good," Ruby gave her girlfriend one more peck before picking the comb back up so she could resume working on Penny's hair. "Now let's finish this up so we can have our movie night."

"Thank you, Ruby." Penny said as she straightened up. "You're very kind to me."

"I'm your girlfriend, Firefly." Ruby pointed out warmly. "It's my job to make sure you feel as loved as possible."

"You're very good at it." Penny remarked. Gently, Ruby wound an arm around Penny's waist, smiling softly as the other girl brought a hand up and laid it over hers.

This, in Ruby's humble opinion, was the best job on Remnant.

(If you enjoyed this piece, please consider reblogging to share it with others! Likes unfortunately don’t do much to help a post gain traction, so reblogs are the only way content creators on this site can get any recognition for their hard work. If you do decide to reblog, know that I really appreciate you and think that you’re the coolest!)

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

[azraqnar]

Thoughts on Young blood Old souls. (SPOILER WARNING (Duh))

Ok I would say its a decently satisfying ending to season 1

To start off

- there’s gonna be more theories on who wrote the Unauthorized history books of the boiling isles. The authors name is scratched out so looks like we’re gonna have a gravity falls style mystery about the author. (I think it’s Azura/Camilia before she escaped to the human realm)

- I loved the cape Eda made for Luz and that little note she left behind was so adorable. She really did care about Luz like any proud parent would.

- So we know Wild witches get a “witch trial” style execution called “petrification” where they turn into a statue. Burning at the stake would be more fitting but after Hunchback of Norte dame Disney can’t let that style of execution take place so I guess they had to go with something less traumatizing.

- While I do enjoy the sisterly moments between Eda & Lilith, when they stuck their tongue out, it felt odd. I know sisters always make fun of each other & I’m like that with my sisters but the seriousness in the episode just didn’t match with the silly tone.

- As usual, we all saw this coming, Belos lied. Of course he did. I guess he knew he couldn’t control Eda even if he healed her so killing her was the best choice but I don’t think lying to her guilt tripped sister was the best call. Like my dude you just lost a loyal follower. If you want to keep your army strong then don’t lie to them. Honesty is key as we always say.

- Speaking of keys, Belos needs the portal to the human realm. But what would he want with that world? He said he isn’t looking to invade it. So it’s not that he wants something there, he might be looking for someone. Like idk someone important who escaped to the human realm. Cough cough Azura!

- Now I’m curious to how Eda got the key. It’s safe to say it was a gift from someone (cough cough Azura!)

- I like how we’re seeing an angrier side to Luz. Her boiling hatred of Lilith shown throughout of episodes brings out more layers to Luz. We always see the happy and pure side of her so it’s breath of fresh air to see a sad side like last episode & in this case an angry side.

- I admit I laughed when Luz and king stepped on grass when the sign said “do not step on the grass”. Like it was warranted to get sent to the conformatorian (idk how to spell it). Jaywalking must be a federal offense then.

- Nice to see the Warden again even tho he didn’t have much of a role.

- The moments between Luz and Eda were sweet. I love how they consider each other family & Eda wanted to send Luz back to the human world to protect her. It was sweet, she knew it was the end & she didn’t want Luz to suffer. Eda also giving Luz the key could be a parallel to whoever gave Eda the key (COUGH COUGH Azura/Camilia)

- The fight between Luz and Lilith was fine. Lilith clearly wasn’t interested in it but it was nice to see Luz take out her anger. I held my breath when they crossed into the human realm. Idk why but I thought they would be trapped there or something would happen to witches who crossed.

- Ok, now for what people were curious about. Lilith. I get they tried to make us sympathize with her and she sounded guilty when explaining what happened. So apparently Lilith and Eda both wanted to join the emperors coven but there was one spot left so they had to duel. Lilith became a sore loser and didn’t want to lose to her younger sister so she decided to get a curse that would take away her magic for the day. Or so she thought. (Like cmon Lilith didn’t the scroll tell you exactly what it would do, like where did you miss “turn witches into monsters forever”?) the day comes and Eda forfeits cuz she doesn’t want to fight her sister and then turns into a monster. They tried to justify it but it just doesn’t sit well with me. You still cursed your sister. That’s wrong even if it was gonna take her magic away for a day. Poor Eda tho.

- One thing I did see was I think we got a glimpse at Amity’s mom. In the background you see a green haired witch with the SAME HAIRSTYLE as Amity’s mom. Literally looks like Amity, I think we also saw a brown haired boy next to her (which could be Mr. Blight) watching the duel. The witch had a “mean girl” look to her so I can say I do think that was Amity’s mom in the background. I’m excited to see her next season.

- So Luz goes back with Lilith and King to save Eda. Belos discovers Lilith betrayal and send her to get executed with Eda. I really liked the fight with Luz & Belos. Luz was throwing all she got at him and he was just amused by the whole thing until she got a hit on him and chipped his mask. He only wants the portal and we still don’t know why (tho I will post a theory later). Luz eventually gives up and hands him the door in exchange of letting her save Eda. I’m intrigued he didn’t double cross her or try to kill her when she blew up the door. He seemed annoyed by it but stayed calmed. That was interesting. He seems to be playing along and staying composed. I really want to know more about him.

- So while the petrification is going on. Willow and Gus take control of the news and demands they let Eda go. The crowd cheers on & demands it with her. You’d figure for sheep it would take more convincing than that to turn against your emperors wishes. But whatever.

- So Eda. Luz, Lilith and King escape and fly away.

- Belos tells the crowd that he spared Eda cuz the Titan told him to (& totally not cause he lost) & of course the crowd believes him, so they’re back to being sheep.

- One thing that I’m so glad they did was Lilith got her Karma. She shared her curse with Eda. She’s sharing in the pain she caused and she’s facing the consequences for her actions. Get that? CONSEQUENCES! She gets a taste of her own medicine and now she is cursed. It doesn’t make up for the years of pain she caused Eda but at least she’s sharing in the pain & getting punished for what she did. She owned up to it! She did more than just say sorry so I’m happy for that. I personally don’t think she deserves a redemption but if they continue to show Lilith trying to make up for what she caused Eda then it would make it more believable but time will tell

-To think an episode ago she was so remorseless and took advantage of her sisters weakness. Tried to kill Luz & was just being so horrible. Now it’s a 180. I hope they don’t make it seem like she’s redeemed. I hope they do at least acknowledge her trying to kill Luz (who is a child). I hope they can do that next season cuz now the stakes are high.

- It looks like Eda & Lilith lost some of their magic & Luz will teach them her style. I can see this exploring many things so I’m excited. The one silver eye thing was nice too, physical scars are always cool.

- Is Luz going back to Hexside? She’s a wanted criminal too so shouldn’t they be on the run? I guess Belos has more to worry about than a human. She can’t even go back to the human world cuz it’s gone. Ooo this is opening the door ( pun indeeded) to many possibilities.

Now she has the portal to worry about. Belos is trying to repair It so there’s something really important on the other side. OR SOMEONE (COUGH COUGH AZURA/CAMILIA)

- I’m gonna post a theory on it later

- Overall it was a satisfying conclusion for season 1, I did expect more but it’s a season finale not a series finale. Can’t wait for season 2!

- 8/10

[jameslovships]

if you're still looking for kathony prompts, kathony post engagement but pre-wedding anthony being needy+horny for kate because violet,daphne,mary,and edwina hog up all her time with wedding prep and meanwhile kate doesn't get it because he keeps insisting he wont fall in love with her so why is he being so grumpy about her being busy?

Anon, hey! thank you so much for this prompt, i really enjoyed writing this. hope i’ve somehow done my fave ship justice. 

The candid chatter of the Bridgerton clan was blasted at full pelt with Kate inundated with wedding prep and Violet leading the charge. Kate towered over her 'subjects' like a spectacle as the drawing room was brimming with excited female gossip overlapping with each other.

Violet refused to work within the ambit of subtle, for fear, that her dear eldest, might change his mind.

He was often guilty of not keeping his word.

Violet would be damned if she'd let Anthony cause a ruckus and call the entire thing off. She was dead set on not allowing the spirit of cold feet to linger and rip apart this dream, namely hers, to see her eldest wed. After all, she had seen off the splendid wedding that was the Duke and Duchess.

It was only natural that Anthony would now follow suit, despite his objections. Violet wasn't too sure how long Anthony would be amenable to the prospect of marriage so there was a need to pre-empt things before the whole thing would snowball.

After all, it was surely something Edward would have wanted, had he been alive to bear witness.  

It was common knowledge to the Ton and Violet herself that Anthony was of marriageable age, not the marriageable type.

His trysts, who were relatively low in class and their identities obscured, were subject to the impalement of his appendage but in Anthony's mind, commitment would not marry well with desire. Desire dies and all that one is left with the stale taste of committing to a woman that one doesn't absolutely and desperately yearn for.

Commitment was not this budding desire he felt for his betrothed as described by his sister, the Duchess, but he wrangled with this impassioned but unknown feeling of burning in between his legs. It clawed its way up his wide chest and flushed out his face.

His appendage would balloon in rapid spurts and tighten the gaps in his tailored trousers leaving little time and room to release.

The release of this invisible grip was not the catharsis that his hands or his passion needed. 

He needed something warmer. 

But it grew impossible to curb such unexplained feelings as each time his ears caught wind of her soft laughter or the innocent dagger of her brown eyes, his appendage would grow more inflamed and more needy.

He'd become even more riled up, even more irritant.

Still, Violet buzzed - unrelenting, in her pursuit of drowning Kate's melanated body in an ivory-lace bodice. It was ill practice for a husband to be a witness to the wedding grown his bride was to wear, but Anthony did not submit to authority or rules. He broke most, if not, all of them.

His union with Kate was a mere example of the dissenter that he was, breaking the unspoken rule because that same desire starved them both until they caved.

Anthony sat slouched in his desk chair, bourbon stained on his lips and his glass tattooed to his hand. He swirled its contents, before bringing the rim closer to his lips.

Her voice, though soft, hit him like a pelt as it travelled.

He heard her.

She had been pulled in every direction but his.

She had been inundated with immaterial wedding details but had been sheltered away from the man she was to be promised to.

Anthony despised this madness and sought to put an end the matter.

The door hung ajar but the aghast faces of Violet, Mary, Daphne, Edwina and Eloise swung at the unwelcomed intruder. Kate had been drowned out, she hadn't yet noticed the unannounced arrival of her betrothed but Anthony's appendage did.

It writhed and wrangled as he shook his right leg to fend off any curious eyes that might have noticed its growth.

It was obvious to the naked eye. 

Violet's voice sounded firm coupled with a tapered smile as the Bridgerton clan cornered Kate to prevent Anthony's insatiable eyes from bearing witness to the dress Kate had chosen, "Anthony! How may we help you, dear?"

Anthony took a deep step into the drawing room, his shoulders pinned back as he rolled his lip, "Am I not permitted to pay my bride a visit, Mother?"

Violet shot back the accusation with a pin laugh, "You may do as you wish but we're still inundated with wedding prep"

Anthony's ears grew hot as his chest felt vexed, "Whatever is left to do, Mother? Kate has been in your company since noontide"

"Wedding gowns require a thorough vetting process, my dear" Violet said, trying to placate him.

"Is there such a need Mother when the damn thing shall be ripped come Sunday?" Anthony's lips were tight and his tone was curt.

Soft female chatter then descended into a collective gasp as Anthony had become emboldened and departed from speaking with the grace he was known for.

"Permit me, Lady Bridgerton, if I may speak with my betrothed for a moment?"

Violet assented, and it was then, only then - that the growl of lust punctured Anthony's chest as Kate met his eyes for the first time. His eyes, wolfish in colour and scent, lingered at every facet of her body and skin, unable to focus.

He had a yearning to rip it all and suck wherever he could. 

His appendage writhed loudly, damn the bondage of lust.  

"Anthony?" Kate's voice came out like a hushed whisper, "Your insistence isn't gentlemanly, my lord"

Anthony's eyes grew dark and dirty, "I have never professed to be a gentleman"

"So you say but on the contrary, you've shown yourself to be one, at times" Kate rebutted.

"Kate, I assure you that I am anything but a gentleman especially in the marital bed"

Kate's mouth hung open, his words were so bold and inviting. 

But Anthony wouldn't ever want or love her so this insistence for her didn't seem logical.

He made that very much clear, even if she wanted to forget, she couldn't.

"Am I permitted to steal you?"

Kate opted for formal, "Mr. Bridgerton - "

Anthony winced at the address, "Anthony, I'm sure you mean but do carry on"

Kate continued, "I'm inundated with wedding prep - "

Anthony scoffed, as a stern smile crept in, "I'm sure such affairs can wait, Kate. More to point, a gown and a bodice should suffice? What else does a bride need to prepare that warrants time away from her betrothed?" 

Kate had noticed the growl in Anthony's words, even if the rest of his face didn't paint the picture that he felt indignant.

Kate didn't mince her words, as she said acustatorially, "The basis of our impending marriage is not love or devotion therefore if I may my lord, neither of us are obliged by God or by law to spend more time together before we wed. We shall have plenty opportunities to do such come Sunday"

Anthony grew hot and almost untameable as Kate shuffled back into the female chatter.

He yearned for her in a way that wasn't healthy.

He dreamt of her brown locks and the heights and planes of her skin.

His insatiable need to conquer every part of her lithe form ravaged him.

Kate didn't understand, how could she?

Anthony found himself, shooting back glass of bourbon, still stuck on autopilot.

Sunday seemed way too far to demonstrate patience. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 15

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1950

Summary: Evidence. A little stab in the heart. Two idiots missing the point.

by @adventuresintooblivion

Thomas huffed into the cold night air. The family meeting that Aunt Pol had called ran late. As time ticked on his mind had begun to wander, it wasn’t until Arthur had smacked him with a newspaper that he’d realized he was shaking the table by bouncing his leg.

“So anxious to get out of here are ya?” Aunt Pol raised her eyebrow.

Arthur playfully elbowed him, “He’s just excited to get to that nice warm bed at the Garrison with what’s her face.”

Aunt Pol let her gaze bore through the younger Shelby brother, “Would that be Grace or Y/N?”

“While it’s not any of your business, I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Thomas growled as he shoved Arthur aside. “Why do you have that sour look on your face, Pol?”

She folded her arms, the matter at hand forgotten, “That Grace girl, I don’t trust her.”

John peeked up from a ledger, “You don’t like any girl that comes and tries to take your boys away.”

“That’s not true,” Aunt Pol sniffed. 

Thomas rolled his eyes, “So if I asked Y/N to marry me tomorrow you’d be fine with it?”

“As a matter of fact, I won’t be opposed to it.”

Silence fell over the room. It hung heavy in the air as future possibilities began to unfold in the minds of various Shelbys. But Thomas didn’t let himself dream, he wouldn’t. 

“Speaking of Y/N, I hope she doesn’t mind if we steal you for a night.” Arthur stood to slap Thomas on the shoulder.

He raised his eyebrow, “What on earth for?” 

“Well, John over there has been planning a heist for a long while, and he’s too nervous to bring it up himself.”

“Hey!”

“And we figured you should give it a quick looking over.”

Thomas glanced over at John curiously, “Alright, I’m all ears.”

〜

Grace and Y/N lay against the cold stone for hours. The clock ticked by in that warped way brought along by discomfort. Hours passed in moments, but, more often than not, it slowed to a crawl. Each shift brought a new source of cold waiting eagerly to seep into their bones. Each breath conjured small puffs of steam before their lips.

It wasn’t until morning that boots crunched through the gravel drive outside. Henry shivered against the cold of the morning. While snow refused to fall, ice still formed in the mud outside the Garrison. Fog hung low in the air as it rolled off the Cut, and, quite frankly, Henry found himself wishing for summer.

Distracted, he hurriedly shoved his key into the lock. It gave too easily. At first he didn’t register anything amiss, but soon his tired mind caught up. Something was wrong. The door swung open revealing a gaping hole of darkness that seemed to yawn open in the stark morning light. 

He took a deep breath fidgeting with the lock. “Grace? Are you in here?” His voice cracked.

The creak of the grimy wood floor was the only answer. He glanced around quickly, starting when his boot squished in a small muddy footprint. He licked his lips.

“This isn’t funny Grace! You know I like a clean floor.”

All he heard was the soft hiss of the radiator. Finally, he looked around. The scent of stale beer and sweat assaulted his nose, quickly leading him to the source. Several buckets of excess stout still waited to be taken out. A thin film coated the bar, pretty typical for the end of a night. But now?

“This place is too bloody dark,” he said to himself in a singsong voice. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel better, but it helped fill the heavy darkness. He wracked his brain for where he’d put matches. The backroom. 

Henry rushed forward, tripping over a chair in his eagerness for light. He felt out wildly for the rough wood. His hand collided with the dense slab with a loud THUD. Shaking the handle, it refused to budge.

“Shit. Again?” He fumbled for his keys

“Henry?”

“Y/N? Is Grace in there with you? She was supposed to lock up and the place is a bloody disaster.”

“Yeah…”

Henry grumbled to himself, “Of course. You girls been in there all night?”

He cycled through several keys, cursing all the while. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open. Immediately, Henry was assaulted by cold air.

There he found Grace and Y/N huddled together between kegs. Grace’s blonde hair hung limply, her clothes wrinkled, but what stood out the most were her blue lips and pale skin.

Henry stumbled forward, “Christ, is she ok?”

Y/N shrugged in an attempt to hide a shiver. “Dunno, but we need to get out of here.” She stood on wobbly knees. Henry waved her away when she tried to help and soon both women were upstairs beneath blankets.

“Well, I guess I”ll just have to do without my barmaid today. You two stay up here and warm up. Keep an eye on her, alright?”

Y/N nodded as she absently put a kettle on the stove. 

“Do you want me to call Mr. Shelby?” he asked, setting Grace’s bag by the bed, having found it behind the bar.

“No, I’m gonna hop into bed with her, heat her up. Besides, there’s not much he could do. But you might want to get the window downstairs fixed.”

“Window?”

Y/N settled onto the bed, “The one in the backroom. It’d popped off its hinges. We tried to close it, but it wouldn’t budge.”

Henry shook his head. “Damn, alright. If you need anything I’ll be downstairs. And make sure Grace is up and about soon. I… Don’t feel like hiring another girl in this mess.” 

“Aww, you like her,” Y/N grinned.

“She works hard and is easy on the eyes,” he waved her off. “You can’t beat that on this side of town.”

“Mhmm. Go, get. If Tommy asks, try not to freak him out.”

The informality earned her a raised eyebrow but only silence answered. After last night she definitely wasn’t going to complain. She readjusted Grace’s blanket, the top of her bag coming into view. 

There was a pull, a gravity towards that bag, that little primal part of her brain that needed to uncover secrets. It wasn’t proper. But since when have I been proper? Y/N glanced towards Grace before reaching for the leather handles. 

Inside, she found several things that were pretty typical; however, a metal glint caught her attention. She’d already committed to the act of snooping, so she reached in to see. Her heart grew cold as her hand closed around a familiar sensation. She pulled out a small gun. 

Y/N’s hand began to shake. She had proposed the idea of Grace working with Inspector Campbell months ago. Gently, she set the gun down before continuing to rifle through the small bag. While the Garrison was in a rough part of town, it didn’t warrant a gun, did it?

It wasn’t long before her hand closed around a small metal object. She already knew what it was before she laid eyes on it, but that didn’t stop her. A badge. Fuck.

Grace shifted beneath the covers. Y/N quickly shoved the badge and gun where she found them. Her heart tried to beat out of her chest as she swung the purse to the foot of the bed, barely preventing it from colliding with the foot post.

Moments after her hand released the straps, the sound of feet pounding up the steps echoed through the hallway. Every instinct inside her told her to recoil, to hide what she’d done. She forced herself to turn toward Grace and not fidget as Thomas stormed into the room. Grace jumped, sleepily rolling towards the door.

“Hey Tommy,” Y/N said as calmly as she could. There’s a gun less than a foot from me.

“Are you two alright?” he asked. “Henry told me what happened.”

She rolled her eyes, “I told him not to freak you out.”

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head, “Is there a nice way to tell someone two people almost froze to death?”

“Eh, you’re just frazzled cause it’s us.” The color drained from his face as he stared down at them. Y/N grimaced. “I’ll try not to hit the nail so much on the head next time.”

Grace slowly sat up, seemingly unaware of what the others were saying. “We got out?”

“Yeah, Henry found us this morning. How’re you feeling?” Y/N reached out to brush her fingers over Grace’s skin. It was still cooler than she’d have liked, but miles better compared to only a few minutes ago.

She instinctively leaned into Y/N’s warm touch, “I can’t believe we survived the night.” 

Y/N froze, trying to figure out a way to tell Grace to shut the hell up. She didn’t get the chance to before Thomas closed the distance between them. He leaned forward to investigate Grace’s condition, falling back into that leadership role he found himself in way too often.

In his haste, his elbow pushed into Y/N’s hip, forcing her to scramble onto her feet before she was shoved off the bed. She cast a glare at him before her eyes landed on Grace’s purse.

She’s working for Campbell. The words almost pried themselves from her lips as she watched Thomas fuss over Grace. Then he brushed his thumb over Grace’s lower lip.

“Are you alright, Love?” His voice was soft, tender and sweet. The same voice he’d use under the cover of night when he and Y/N were alone. Except now, it wasn't for her.

She’d known this was happening, and, yet, it didn’t stop the dagger from ripping through her heart. It didn’t save her stomach from dropping through the floor. She whirled around, looking for something, anything, to distract her from what was happening. The teapot had started to scream.

She busied herself with making tea, even though stupidly, most of it consisted of waiting. Y/N found her fingers tapping on the counter, reciting her mother’s words about never stirring steeping tea. Someone cleared their throat, causing her to jump.

“Did you hear me?” Thomas asked.

“No, Shelby I didn’t hear you.” 

Thomas frowned. “I’m ‘Shelby’ now?”

Y/N shook her head, finally facing him, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was asking if you were alright.”

She glanced at Grace who was looking about the room, “As good as I can be, I guess.”

“Y/N, if this bothers you, all you have to do is say something.” He gestured towards the bed. 

“Oh, so I need to ask for your attention now?” Y/N couldn’t keep the venom from her voice. 

“You never indicated that-.”

“I never said I didn’t want to. I only said that I wouldn’t be… You know what? Now is not the time for this conversation.” Y/N rubbed her eyes. “We have to talk anyway.”

She paused. Y/N had told Aunt Pol about Grace but she had intentionally kept the information from Thomas. If she told him now it was as good as lying to him. He wouldn’t care that she didn’t have proof before, or that it could’ve gotten an innocent woman killed. His only concern would be her divided loyalties between him and her conscience.  

“How about the races? Later this week?” She glanced up at him, hoping his love of horses would win over his curiosity. 

He seemed to consider before finally nodding, “Wednesday?”

“Wednesday.”

[frostsinth]

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 4

Part 1|2|3  - MasterList -

I’m going to get secondhand embarrassment from these two. And its a killer. Seriously though, I almost can’t stand it myself. AND I’M WRITING IT.

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on the last post. The comments had me smiling all day. This one’s a little shorter, I think, but hopefully just as good a read. Enjoy! Keep telling me how much you’re suffering! It makes me feel some strange, devilish glee...

After a horribly restless night, the next day had me up at dawn. I couldn’t seem to sit still, and so began carrying the stones out of the pit in the center of the yard. I stacked them alongside the ramshackle stable, careful to keep my injured palm well under wraps. Unfortunately, that only occupied my hands, leaving my mind free to wander. Nerves wrapped cool coils around my gut, and I jumped at every little sound. My thoughts were filled with visions of a huge, dark green-grey orc, as big as a barn and with wild black hair like a lion’s mane around broad shoulders.

Blessedly, a little later in the morning had customers streaming in; the previous day’s roast had piqued the interest of the village it seemed. Many were returning customers, officially placing orders including deposits. The rest of my day was filled with making arrangements and setting scheduled pick ups. One customer even brought chickens they wished cooked; two for dinner that night, the last to be salted for later. I was more than pleased to receive a huge basket of eggs in exchange for the job. It reminded me of old times, back when I was a child before my father became sickly. We had never made much money, but we had never wanted for anything. People had always been willing to trade with the local butcher.

This included, it seemed, the blacksmith down the road. He and his teenaged son stopped by just after noon. Some haggling had a price set for a large amount of meat in exchange for a new set of knives. I was so excited I nearly dislocated his shoulder shaking his hand so hard. But he was genial about it, and promised the work to be completed within a day or two.

I spent the early evening out at the farms, bartering for the animals I would need to fill the orders. The farmers were hardy people, and stubborn as rocks. It was difficult going to procure sales that left me with enough profit to warrant the work. But I enjoyed every second, and had a smile on my face throughout the day, despite how far I had to walk in the heat.

By the time night had fallen, I was eager to collapse into bed. Though I had hoped my exhaustion would bring sleep easily, I still spent half the night staring up at the ceiling in the dark. My mind racing and my heart pounding. When I did finally fall asleep, it was to dreams filled by a pair of broad shoulders and fading footsteps

The next day dawned wet; I knew instantly when the rain started, as it began dripping through the roof onto my nose. I spent the first part of the morning placing buckets under holes in the house to catch the leaks in the thatch. Four in all, at least that I had found. It was the first summer storm in a while, and I stretched myself in the doorway, breathing in the damp air. My yard was already mostly mud, and there was a large puddle forming in the cooking pit. I looked at it regretfully, wishing I had been able to fill it before the rain had hit. But I was relieved to feel the refreshing chill the storm brought to the air, knowing tomorrow the scorching heat would be back.

I skittered across the yard with my apron over my head to avoid the worst of the rain, ducking into the protective cover of the shop front. I kept myself busy prepping some of the work I had pending, and packaging out jerky and salted meats for orders due to be picked up later. I kept my notes meticulous, and scratched the quill neatly over the parchment to mark each package. Then I gathered up my skins in a bundle, tying those with twine, and was able to fill an old flour sack with the feathers from the plucked chickens. I had a barrel full of hollowed and cleaned horns, as well as one with hooves. I placed the feathers and skins on top of those, thinking perhaps I might be able to sell or trade those as well.

The soft scrape of the wood door against the floor surprised me; I had assumed the day would be quiet until the heavy rain let up. I came up from behind the counter, curious who had bothered to venture out in such weather.

My heart leapt into my throat as the big orc hunched his shoulders and ducked into the shop. I didn’t have time to suppress my grin as he dropped the hood of his cloak and closed the door behind him. Muffling the sounds of the rainstorm once more.

“Hans!” I exclaimed, quickly wiping my hands on my apron and coming around the front of the counter.

I stopped short, suddenly fearing my overeagerness would put him off. I smiled, but shuffled my feet and rubbed the back of my neck as he slowly moved deeper into the shop. I looked for something to say, or wondered if perhaps I should go embrace him, or tell him how much I had been thinking of him. But I did none of these things, instead just standing there like a buffoon as he shook the rain off his cloak.

When his slate eyes found mine, I felt my breath catch in my throat. I hoped that maybe he would be braver in that moment, or give me some sort of lead to follow. He stood there silently for a moment, then cleared his throat and took one hesitant step forward. I smiled again, wringing my hands and glancing at the ground. Uncertain exactly where we stood now, or what he expected of me. I tried to remember what had preceded our previous encounter. Wondering if I could recreate it enough to bring us back to that moment.

“...A-are you hungry?” I finally managed to stammer, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, “I probably have some salted pork around…” I turned, rushing back over to the crates and barrels behind the counter, “I’d invite you back to the house for some gin, but there are so many leaks in the roof, we’d be better off standing outside.” He turned, scowling, his attention perked at my words. “Luckily I have almost everything we need here-”

The big orc gave a hearty growl, cutting me off, then turned, stomping across the shop. He ducked out the back door into the driving rain. I managed to dart over to the doorway just in time to see him reaching the house. He hadn’t bothered to pull up his hood again. I quickly yanked my apron back over my head and followed after him.

“I-is something wrong?” I called in confusion as I reached the door, dropping my apron. 

At first, my heart raced, thinking he had decided to take matters into his own hands. To be more forward, rather than doing our usual dance. But the orc in question was studying the leaks, rubbing one big hand over his chin. I saw him assess them with a critical eye, including the buckets and jars half full of water beneath them. I barely had time to move out of the way as he bustled past me again, back out into the rain. I started to call after him, even stepping one foot back into the yard. But Hans ignored me, striding over to the pile of wood he had brought with him the last time. Selecting several pieces, as well as a hammer and some nails, he strode back over to the house. After leaning the long slats against the wall, he dragged over one of my larger barrels, testing it before clambering on top. I groaned internally; at this point, I should know better than to wonder at his strange desire to fix all my problems as soon as he learned of them. In fact, I blamed myself for mentioning it at all.

“Hans, come inside!” I had to practically shout to be heard over the din of the heavy rain, “It's too wet right now, you’ll get hurt! The leaks aren’t that bad, really!”

From the barrel, he was easily able to reach up and grab hold of the edge of the roof. I gasped nervously as he hoisted himself up. Unsure if the old roof was ready to hold the weight of such a huge orc.

“Hans!” I shouted again, coming around to the front of the house to look up at him. I cupped one hand at my forehead to keep the rain from running into my eyes. “Please! Be careful!”

I watched him shuffle the thatch around, finding the first hole. Before he could come back to the edge, I rushed over and lifted one wooden slat, passing it up to him. He growled, giving me a dark disapproving look. I knew he would probably rather I wait inside. But I wasn’t about to do that when he was up there getting himself drenched in the rain. And perhaps the less he moved up and down off the roof, the less likely it was to come crashing down around his ears.

He worked quickly, hammering the slat into place and rearranging the thatch on top. I watched anxiously as he carefully navigated the frame of the roof. I passed him the next slat, and the next. I heard the old wood groaning in protest, and at one point there was an audible crack that had me jumping out of my skin. But it held, and soon the big orc clambered back down, dangling his legs over the side before dropping the last few feet.

I practically shoved him with both hands into the house, unconcerned about his soaked boots or the water dripping off of every inch of his body. Between the two of us, the dirt floor inside was soon slick mud.

“Are you crazy?” I demanded, closing the door behind us and spinning on him. “You could’ve been hurt! How did you know that old roof would even hold you?”

Hans merely snorted, wiping the streaming water from his forehead with the back of one hand. He seemed to be avoiding my gaze, and shuffled his feet awkwardly in the center of my tiny house. I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth. I moved over to the table, dragging of of the benches closer to the oven and propping open the door to let the warmth of the small fire out.

“Strip your wet clothes and sit!” I ordered, hands on my hips. Brow furrowed.

I saw him raise one large brow at this, and seemed to consider me for a moment. I wondered if my frustration was seeping smoke out my ears, for it certainly felt like it might. But when I thought about how reckless he had been? All for my sake? I nearly collapsed from the shock of it.

Apparently I looked serious enough, for he reached up and began unstrapping his armor. While he did, I grabbed a few more small logs from by the door and stoked up the fire as well as clearing the table. As he removed his armor, I spread it out there to dry, then grabbed a spare line of twine to string between the rafters over the stove. I barely glanced at his bare chest as he passed me his shirt and obediently sat by the fire in just his trousers. I reached up, standing on my tip toes, and draped his tunic over the line.

Next I went to the bed, pulling off my large comforter and carrying it over. I dropped it around his burly shoulders as he bent down to remove his soaked boots and stockings. He glanced over at me as I did, and I saw his nose twitch as his big fingers curled into the blanket and pulled it around himself. I found I was still fuming, even after all that. Kicking his boots closer to the fire, I spun to him again, hands back on my hips.

“Of all the absolutely outrageous, dangerous, stupid…” I shook my head biting my tongue, “You would think you had never heard of the ills of working in the rain. I’ve heard of the stubbornness of orcs, but by the Gods! The leaks were hardly going to-” I stopped again, tossing up my hands and sighing in exasperation.

I turned, going over to the shelf and pulling down a bottle of gin and a drinking horn. Bringing it back over to him, I practically shoved the cup into his hand, still scowling as I worked the cork off and filled it to the halfway mark.

“Here. This will warm you faster than the fire.” I grumbled, “And hopefully if we’re lucky you won’t catch your death.”

Hans caught my hand as I went to recork the bottle, and I finally looked at him. His deep blue eyes were soft, studying my face as his hand gently stilled my motions. He ran his thumb over my knuckles, and glanced down at our hands briefly before looking back up at my face. I felt my frustration and will power waver at his touch, felt my breath catch as I saw his big eyes staring up at me. I struggled, holding on to whatever was left, resisting the urge to melt before him.

“...You are drenched too.” He pointed out, his deep voice quieter than usual.

That did give me pause. I looked down at my soaked dress, and felt my wet hair plastered to my neck. I realized I must look quite the sight. The warmth of the orc’s hand against mine sent my mind spinning, and the last of my anger fizzled out. Perhaps he saw my expression softening, because I felt him give my hand a light squeeze. Making it nearly impossible to stay mad at the fool.

I sighed again, nodding in agreement. So he released my hand, somewhat reluctantly, and I slipped over to the corner. I had no other dresses I could wear, I realized, and glanced at him over my shoulder. I found his eyes following me, and felt my ears grow a little hot. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and turned back to face the stove. But he was right. I could not stay in the wet clothes, and now that I was calmer I could already feel goosebumps tracing across my damp skin.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached up and undid the tie at my throat. Then the one at my waist. Swallowing nervously, I checked back over my shoulder. But the orc’s broad back was still to me, and I heard him slowly sipping at the gin. I let the dress fall away, revealing my thin slip underneath. Perfect for sleeping in hot weather. Not exactly the most appropriate thing to wear with company.

Digging through the old, worn chest at the foot of my bed, I pulled out my woolen shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders. Not a perfect fix, but better than nothing. At least the important parts were covered.

Gathering up my damp clothes, I walked back over and reached up on my tiptoes again to drape them beside Hans’ tunic on the line. I tried to ignore the heat rising into my cheeks as I went over and grabbed a horn for myself. I could almost feel his eyes on me, and my tongue felt dry in my mouth. I briefly wondered what he was thinking, but found if I lingered on that train of thought too long, my knees went weak.

I had left the bottle by Hans on the bench, and slowly walked over to it. He saw my intent and quickly picked it up, popping the cork. When I held out my horn, he carefully filled it, then replaced the bottle on the bench beside him. I took a shaky sip, feeling the burning liquid slip down my throat.

His hand found my wrist again, and I looked over at him as he gently wrapped his fingers around it. He placed his own cup down, then reached out with his other hand to catch my elbow. I took another nervous sip as the big orc gently pulled me towards him.

Spreading his knees slightly, he drew me to stand before himself, his fingers trailing along my arms. I let him take my horn and place it beside his, my breath quivering past my lips as it haltingly left my lungs.

From his sitting position, we were almost perfectly eye level, and he quickly dropped his gaze almost shyly. I was glad, for I was certain if I met his eyes with mine, I’d become permanently lost to the world. My lips started to tingle with the memory of his kiss from the day before, and I swallowed the anxiousness forming in my throat. Threatening to strangle me. For his part, he ran his fingertips lightly up and down my arms, then caught my hands in his to trace his thumbs over my knuckles and gently squeeze my fingers.

We stayed like that for a long moment, neither of us quite daring to meet the other’s eyes. Neither of us willing to pull away. He studied my hands as he gently ran his fingers over them, I watched the way his chest slowly rose and fell with each deep breath. I even dared trace my eyes over the large, defined muscles of his shoulders, down the length of his arms. I bounced my gaze back to his collarbone, then down the center of his chest. I felt heat prick the balls of my cheeks as I did, and shuffled my feet nervously.

“You know... I-I… I can’t seem to stop thinking about you…” I muttered softly, barely above a whisper, then felt my face catch fire.

He gave a soft sound, unlike any I had heard him make before. It rested deep in his throat, seeming to bubble up directly from his chest rather than from his mouth. At first, I could have mistaken it for a growl. But as his hand slipped to my waist, then around to my lower back, I decided it had been much more akin to a tender chuff. He pulled me a little closer, until he was forced to turn his head up, or otherwise have his face buried against my chest.

My breath stopped as our eyes met, and I gingerly slid my arms around his neck. Resting them lightly on his shoulders, my fingers buried in his hair. I saw his dark, slate blue eyes dart to my lips, then back up to my eyes. My heart skipped several beats, and I felt myself quivering beneath his gaze. His thumb slowly traced circles in the small of my back, and he slid his other hand up my arm and over my shawl to hesitate on my shoulder. The warmth of his skin against mine left me reeling, and I wanted nothing more than to completely melt into his arms. I could feel it through my thin slip on my back and even through the woolen shawl.

“....I would like to be bold again.” He said finally, and in his deep, rumbling voice the softness of his words seemed to blend them together in the air between us.

I felt my heart skip another beat before returning to its racing pace, putting a hummingbird to shame. I couldn’t keep my eyes from flickering down to his thick lips briefly before returning back to his slate blues. I realized after a few belated moments that he was asking my permission.

A tiny smile twitched the corners of my mouth. “Please do.” I replied, my voice barely above a breathy whisper.

At my answer, his big hand ran over my shoulder, then buried itself in the hair at the base of my skull. And he slowly, gently, pulled me down into a kiss.

A loud pounding at the door had us both jumping in surprise. I even squeaked, jerking backwards and nearly falling over myself. Hans’ arm steadied me until I had leveled my feet beneath myself again. Now it was a deep, angry growl that filled his throat.

The big orc stood, his eyes lingering on me momentarily as he stomped over to the door. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from quivering in the aftershock of his touch, pulling my shawl tighter around myself. It suddenly occurred to me that the big orc was going to answer my own door for me. I felt a slight panic rising, as I wondered exactly how the person on the other side would react when a huge orc greeted them instead of me. I could only imagine what the village would think, and visions of pitchforks and torches harassed me as I started to rush after Hans to intercept whatever horrible misinterpretation was about to take place.

But as he yanked open the door, I recognized the orc from a few days previous standing there, rain streaming down his face and every other available inch of him. I raked my brain, trying to remember what Hans had called him in between wondering what he was doing at my door in the middle of a rainstorm.

If looks could kill, the unfortunate smaller orc would have been dead before Hans could have even opened the door. He seemed to sense the larger man’s rage, and had hunched himself into as non-threatening a shape as possible. Even holding up his huge hands apologetically. Not that he could look particularly imposing at the moment, absolutely drenched in rain as he was. I decided instead he looked like a wet cat, guiltily seeking shelter in its master’s house after having run off with the breakfast sausage earlier that same day. I would have laughed, had I not been trying to make myself as small as possible to avoid his notice.

“I’m so sorry, Boss,” The smaller orc began, and the returning thunder from Hans had him shrinking back into the rain even further, “I apologize, you know I would normally never… ah...but we… uh,” His eyes darted over to me briefly before he looked back at his companion, “We have an, uh…. An emergency… That needs your immediate attention…”

Hans seemed to be considering strangling the man. I saw his brow set into a dark, heavy scowl, and he ground his teeth together audibly. I almost winced at the sound.

The door cracked loudly against the frame as the huge orc slammed it in the others’ face. I jumped, skittering backwards a few steps in surprise. Hans turned, grumbling angrily under his breath.

As soon as his eyes settled on me, though, his entire body seemed to soften. The furrow between his brow, the scowl on his lips, the tautness in his shoulders. Quietly, he walked over, reaching easily over my head to pull his tunic down off the line.

“... I have to go,” He mumbled, and I thought he sounded a little guilty.

I glanced back over at the door as he pulled the shirt over his head, then began collecting his armor. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked tentatively, rubbing my hand up and down my arm.

He gave a grunt in response, and I recognized it as one of his affirmative ones. I was surprised with how quickly he donned his armor, despite the fact that everything was still soaked. He shook out his cloak quickly before settling the damp fabric over his shoulders once more. I watched, even opening and closing my mouth a few times. My fingers shook when I reached up to push my hair back out of my face.

“... Can I help?”

Slate blue eyes flickered over to me again, and perhaps it was my imagination but I thought his features softened even more. He shook his big head, damp locks slapping about his shoulders as he did. Slowly, he came over, standing over me once more. I craned my neck back to look up at him. He hesitated, then lifted his hand and ran it along my jaw.

“... I’ll be back as quickly as I can…” He promised, then hesitated again, glancing down at his booted feet as he shuffled them, “... If you will have me.”

I nodded breathlessly. “O-of course, but-”

He didn’t let me finish my question, dropping his hand and taking the three short strides over to the door. I saw him shoot one final glance at me over his shoulder before he yanked the door back open and ducked out into the rain.

Leaving me standing more than a little bewildered in the middle of my muddy kitchen.

...

Bar’tok skittered quickly to keep up with his boss’ long stride, spitting rainwater out of his mouth.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt,” He stammered quickly, following Hanste’kosh out the gate to the street beyond, “And you know I absolutely wouldn’t if-”

The larger orc’s growl echoed like thunder over the pounding rhythm of the rain, and had the younger orc sputtering to a halt. He cleared his throat, nodding as he tried to adjust the cowl of his cloak to keep at least some of the rain at bay.

“Yes, right, sorry, ah… We caught Bhalt, at the border.” He explained, casting a quick glance around to make sure no one else was listening. “The boys have him tussed up nearby, but time is of the essence if we want to catch-”

Hans waved his hand, silencing his second with a grunt. He knew the costs without explanation. Still, he couldn’t ignore the itch in his neck to look over his shoulder. The burn to forget everything and simply go back to the tiny little house behind the butcher shop. He snorted, trying to shake the thoughts from his head as he made his way over to his mount tethered by the village gate under a particularly large old oak.

“I already sent word ahead,” Bar’tok called to him through the rain, ducking under the branches to follow him beneath the tree. His own hog was snuffling through the underbrush a few feet away. “I know you wanted to have first crack at him.”

The big orc paused, his hands already buried in this mount’s tough mane. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, thinking over everything for a moment. Then, with a snarl, he bounded onto the beast’s back. First he had to take care of this. Then he would be back.

...

UPDATE:  Part five HERE

[searchingwardrobes]

Self-Promo Sunday

Last Sunday, I posted an old fic of mine called This Thing We Started which you can read here. People asked for a sequel to it, and I wrote this. I’m not sure it’s what people were wanting, but let’s just say I have tons of experience being *ahem* interrupted by my kids, if you know what I mean. Of course it had to end up in a fic eventually. So here’s 1800 words of hilarious coitus interruptus with a dose of family fluff.

Ao3 says this fic and its prequel were published in 2014. How is that possible? Have I really been writing for this fandom THAT long? Crazy!

Summary: One year after their thwarted one-night stand, Emma and Killian (now married) are ready to celebrate Emma's birthday with "more enjoyable activities." If their children will let them, that is.

Rating: M (originally it was rated T, but on second reading, I think it warrants an M)

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says​ @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms​ @optomisticgirl​ @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256​ @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

A giggle bubbled up out of Emma’s throat as she and Killian stumbled into their bedroom, and she couldn’t help thinking back to her birthday last year. They had stumbled into her hotel room in New York City much the same way. But this year, in their home in Storybrooke, there would be sex. And lots of it, if Emma got her birthday wish.

Killian giggled too as he reached awkwardly behind him to turn the lock. Emma dug her fingers into his hair as he nibbled on her ear.

“Wait,” she panted.

“For what?” Killian chuckled as he worked the buttons on her blouse. “This year I’m your husband. No reason to turn me down.”

Emma’s smile was so big as she took in his tender smile and heated gaze that it literally hurt her cheeks. “I know, I’m not, you idiot. I just . . . I had an outfit.”

“An outfit?” Killian asked, wiggling his eyebrows, and Emma laughed. But then he surprised her by reaching around, grabbing her by the backside, and hoisting her up in his arms. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “You can use the outfit for the second go-around.”

“Second?” Emma’s voice was muffled as his lips closed over hers. “Someone’s optimistic.”

“Just trying to give you a happy birthday, Swan.” He still called her Swan even though they had been married for four months now. He said it suited her, and she loved the pet name.

Killian pinned her between his body and the wall. “Killian,” she started to pant, and then –

Small knocks sounded on the other side of the door. “Daddy! Henry’s bothering me!”

They both groaned as Killian set Emma’s feet back on the ground.

“Go to bed!” They both shouted at the closed door.

“I tried, but Henry’s playing with his Star Wars gun. It’s too loud!”

Killian grasped fistfuls of his hair in frustration, and Emma laughed. “Just go take care of them. I’ll go change.” She arched an eyebrow at him as she turned to the bathroom with a swing to her hips. Before she closed the door she was treated to the look in his lust-filled eyes.

Emma was already dressed in a red negligée and attempting to drape herself seductively across the bed when Killian returned. But before he could even get the door closed, six year old Haley’s voice came floating down the hall.

“Dad-dy, I’m thirsty!”

Killian raised both eyebrows at Emma, who laughed softly behind her hand. “Go get your cup from dinner,” he yelled back.

“It’s empty and I can’t reach the sink.”

Killian let out a dramatic sigh. “Hold that thought!” he told Emma before shutting the bedroom door behind him. Emma could hear him rushing Haley back to bed, including the fastest version of “Bye Bye Blackbird” ever sung. When he returned, he practically raced across the room.

Though Killian had literally jumped on top of her at first, he took his time with foreplay. He had just removed the negligee and tossed it to the floor when another knock sounded at the door.

“Mummy!”

Emma cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless, “Yes, sweetie?”

“I didn’t make it to the bathroom. I peed a little bit in my panties.”

“Just get another pair out of your drawer.”

“There aren’t any.”

Emma groaned. “They’re in the laundry room,” she whispered to Killian. “Can you take her? I’m in nothing but a thong!”

“Um, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m kind of, um . . . excited, if you know what I mean.”

Emma huffed in frustration as she rose from the bed and grabbed her bathrobe. Killian’s ears were pink, which would have been funny, if she wasn’t so sexually frustrated right now. Emma opened the door to where Haley stood, holding a pair of Disney princess panties out in front of her with her fingertips.

“Come on, sweetie,” Emma said with forced patience. Before shutting the door, she turned to Killian and winked, “Hold that thought.”

Fortunately, Haley was cooperative, and Emma was back in just a few brief moments. It wasn’t long until they’d worked themselves back up, and Emma’s thong joined her negligée on the bedroom floor. Things were really heating up when –

“Mommy?”

Emma yelped, shoving Killian off her as she simultaneously grabbed the covers and pulled them up to her chin. “Y-yes, Henry?” Emma inwardly cursed herself; she had forgotten to lock the door after helping Haley.

Henry looked curiously at Killian, “Whatcha doin’ Daddy?”

Emma’s eyes met Killian’s frantically.He had popped back up from the floor but was kneeling by the side of the bed to cover the fact that he was naked. “I’m . . . um. . . I’m,” Killian faltered. Then he folded his hands on the top of the covers and lowered his head to meet them. “I’m praying. Daddy’s praying.”

Emma had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. She turned back to the four year old standing in the doorway. “What do you need, sweetie?”

His little lip trembled. “I heard a scary noise. Daddy forgot to check the closet for monsters.”

Killian’s eyes had a look of panic until Emma edged his boxers out from under the covers with her toe. He grabbed them and slipped them on surreptitiously. “Coming, little lad.”

Once Killian had taken Henry’s hand and led him down the hall, Emma covered her face with the blankets and laughed until tears pooled in her eyes. Daddy is praying. She would never forget that one for as long as she lived.

When Killian returned, he made a big show of locking the door. When he got to the bed, he dove under the covers with a smirk on his face. Emma giggled and squirmed as his hands found her beneath the covers. They never had sex under the covers, but Emma was currently thinking that it might be a nice change because the things Killian was doing under the covers at this moment were bringing moans and panted exclamations from her lips.

“Shh,” Killian admonished as he surfaced from the covers at Emma’s chest. His tousled hair and flushed face made him look all the more appealing, “you’re being a little loud.”

Emma bit her lip, “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Killian said with a grin, sliding forward until his lips hovered over hers, “it’s incredibly sexy. I just don’t want the kids to –“

“Daddy?”

Emma gasped as she looked over Killian’s shoulder and saw Haley standing in the open doorway. Thank God they were under the covers!

“Bloody hell, Haley!” Killian yelped, “How’d you get in here? The door was locked!”

“I used my keys,” Haley explained, waving her pink plastic Barbie keys in her right hand.

“Seriously?” Emma groaned as she buried her flaming face in Killian’s shoulder.

“I just wanted to be sure you were okay. Mummy was making funny noises.” Haley narrowed her eyes at her father, “What are you doing to her, Daddy?”

“I’m . . . hugging her,” Killian bit out, barely restraining himself from snapping at his daughter, “Go. To. Bed. NOW!”

“Okay, okay,” Haley rolled her eyes as she pulled the door shut, “You guys are so weird.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Emma couldn’t hold it in any longer; she burst out laughing. Killian groaned as he rolled off Emma. He exhaled a frustrated breath as he flung his arm across his forehead, “Mood officially killed.”

Killian’s pouty face only made Emma laugh harder, but luckily it was infectious and he started laughing too. Soon, they were laughing so hard they were gasping for breath. Just when they thought their laughter was spent, they would glance at one another and lose it again. When their laughter finally petered out, they were lying on their sides facing each other.

“You know what makes this even funnier?” Killian asked as he reached out to push a strand of hair off Emma’s forehead, “Exactly one year ago, we were in this exact same position. Not having sex. Because of our kids.”

That set them off again, laughing hysterically as they snuggled into each other’s arms. Emma pushed Killian onto his back and straddled him, holding his arms down over his head. He looked incredibly attractive at this angle.

“After the night we’ve had, I’m second guessing giving you your gift.”

Killian arched an eyebrow, “My gift? It’s your birthday, Swan.”

“I know,” Emma replied, running her fingers through his chest hair, “and the necklace you got me is gorgeous. And the spa day from the kids was an awesome idea. The girls will be so psyched.”

“Well, I do owe your friends a huge thank you. If not for them, I wouldn’t have all of this.”

“Technically, you should thank Ruby, then. Although if I had taken her advice, we wouldn’t have this thing we’ve got. Just a meaningless one night stand.”

“And you like this thing we’ve got?” Killian’s voice rose a pitch at the end, as if he really wasn’t sure. How could he not know?

Emma smiled tenderly at him, “It’s pretty good.” She leaned over and pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand, withdrawing a sparkling silver box. It was long and thin, similar to the box that had held her necklace earlier. She handed it to Killian, “And hopefully getting better.”

Killian shifted so he was sitting up fully against the headboard and lifted the lid. When he saw the contents, he tilted his head back until it tapped the headboard. He let out a sound that was half chuckle-half groan. “Are you kidding me?”

Emma bit her lip, suddenly nervous. Maybe she should have waited for a more relaxing night to spring the news on him. But then Killian looked at her, his face crinkled with a huge smile and his eyes sparkling with joy. Emma smiled back tentatively and ran her fingers down his biceps.

“So, are you ready for 2 am feedings in addition to the antics of the other two?” she asked, gesturing towards the door when she mentioned Haley and Henry.

Killian leaned closer to her, setting aside the box that held the little white stick with the word "pregnant" across its tiny screen. He took Emma’s face in both hands, rubbing his thumbs gently across her cheeks, “Emma, love, I couldn’t be happier.”

Then he kissed her, holding back none of the passion he felt. Emma kissed him back with equal fervor, running her hands down his back. She tilted her head back as he kissed a path along her jaw and down her neck.

“Do you know what’s different from last year?” he mumbled against her skin as his tongue swiped across the pulse point behind her ear.

“Mmmm . . .” Emma muttered in response, the heat he was igniting inside her making all coherent thought flee.

“Last year,” Killian said as his hand slid down to cup her breast, “last year, I didn’t know what I was missing.”

Emma couldn’t agree more.

[skekheck]

30 Days of the Dark Crystal Challenge

Decided to do poultry-blocks Dark Crystal challenge because it looks like a lot of fun to do. However I’m cheating and I wrote all of this within a couple of days. Warning: fairly large post with pictures and fan ramblings. 

EDIT: I FORGOT TO INCLUDE DAY 16 WHOOP. It’s in there now. 

Day 1. Your favorite skeksis

Idiot, feral, wildman who stole my heart. How? Why? Who knows. *chef kisses* Beautiful stinky bastard.

Day 2: Your favorite gelfling

Bless her and her skeksis cosplay. What a queen.

Day 3: A character that you love that everyone seems to hate.

The tides are changing for her it seems. I think people are appreciating her more, but she still faces her fair share of controversies. Not that I don’t think it warrants discussion nor am I excusing her actions. But she’s way more complex than what a lot of people are making her out to be.

Day 4: A character that you hate that everyone seems to love. 

Hate is a strong word as I don’t hate him, but I don’t really care for Amri. He feels like a bootleg Deet mixed with a little bit of Kylan and Gurjin. Wasted potential and honestly shouldn’t have been the POV for Tides of the Dark Crystal. Seems I’m alone in this opinion, though. Maybe the book warrants rereading?

Day 5: Movie or TV Show? Why?

TV Show by miles! I think the series accomplishes way more than the movie does, like establishing lore,  better written characters, and a more engaging story. I actually cared about the gelfling and it really fleshed out the skeksis in an interesting way outside of “oh they do evil things because they’re evil!”. Doesn’t mean it does everything right, but I’ll get into that later.  

Day 6: Something you wish that happened in the series but didn’t.

Just a few things. I miss the gelfling intermingling with the mystics, particularly urVa. I love everything that happens with urGoh and skekGra, but some of the bonding moments Naia had with urVa are precious and I wish we had more of that. I also wished the gelfling got the message out to the other clans like they did in the book where Kylan dreametched their message onto the Santuary Tree’s blossoms and scattered them all throughout Thra. I also wished Tavra and Onica were an established couple, but maybe it’s not too late for that.

Day 7: Favorite gelfling clan

The Sifa! It was the Dousan at first, but the more I learned about the Sifa the more I grew to love the clan. If I were a gelfling I would probably be a sifa myself LOL. 

Day 8: You opinion on Aughra

She’s a fun and fascinating character! Aughra puts a unique spin on the whole beautiful, wise earth goddess trope by making her ugly, old, and cranky. She’s also a character with her own flaws, even having a mini arc about neglecting to take care of her planet and doing whatever she can to make amends. Not to mention she’s wildly entertaining. Much love for Aughra!

Day 9: Skeksis or Gelfling?

Both!

Day 10: Your opinion on podlings?

They’re just funky little potato people who just want to have fun, dance, and drink all day and I respect them for that. They’re great. Also Hup exists and he’s just an amazing character so there’s that.

Day 11: Your The Dark Crystal unpopular opinion

I think it’s okay to sympathize with the skeksis as long as one is not excusing their actions. I see a lot of people say you shouldn’t because they’re evil and they commit atrocities. Which, yes, it’s true, but I think both can co-exist. I mean, skekTek’s whole cycle of abuse is written very sympathetically yet the show doesn’t coddle him. It shows the ugliness of his character and what happens when someone isn’t capable of cutting off from said cycle. Also the writers consider the skeksis as tragic characters due to their broken nature so I don’t think it’s wrong to be a little sympathetic. But once again with great emphasis, sympathy is fine as long as their actions are judged. They are awful bastards and no amount of sympathy will change that. 

Day 12: Something you dislike about the series

I think the stuff I don’t like about the show is a result of its pacing and cluttered cast. There are so many stories going on and while I liked how they handled it for the most part, you can also see how the show rushes to get through all of them. A lot of important moments where a character should reflect or something that should simmer more is pushed aside for the next thing. Maybe if the show was given more episodes and time to breath it would have been better off. 

Day 13: Most disappointing thing about the series

SkekMal and urVa didn’t have enough screen time and we were honestly ROBBED. 

Day 14: Your OTP

Speaking of which... . Its a crack ship, but I’m all about that allegory for self love (and I just want these two to be alive). Day 15: Favorite quote

Listed plenty of my favorite quotes before, but I’ll pick this one:

“ Life is my paint. Death is my canvas”

Day 16: Rate the skeksis from least favorite to favorite OR rate the gelfling from lest favorite to favorite [or both!]

And if you want my gelfling hot takes, here’s this list (just backwards in context to this post)

Day 17: Opinion on Raunip?

Raunip is a fantastic character. I loved him in Creation Myths and I can’t wait to see what role he’d play in the resistance. And I absolutely love the parallels between him and the urskeks it’s great. 

Day 18: A character that is most similar to you.

I too am a dark-dwelling gremlin who constantly forgets where I put things and crack a few dark jokes at my expense. 

Day 19: Which character do you strongly dislike, why?

This is entirely based on the books, but I find Mera to be awful.  I think it’s because she’s so fake and condescending? When Naia arrived in Sami Thicket, she was acting nice and polite but when the Drenchen asked her why the skeksis never visited Sog Mera responded  “It’s only worth counting what’s valuable”. She continuously disrespects her by calling her pet names even when Naia became maudra. It doesn’t come off as cute, it’s gross. I don’t recall Mera ever apologizing for any of the shit she did to Naia... or Kylan for that matter. She was a pretty neglectful step-mother to him. She doesn’t have an excuse being busy with Maudra stuff because Laesid was a kickass mom to her kids. So in conclusion, fuck this bitch.

Day 20: What do you like so much about the Dark Crystal?

The better question what’s not to love about the Dark Crystal? It has amazing creature design, an expansive world that feels real and alien from our own, having complex and interesting characters as well as villains, the fact that it relies heavily on practical effects a.k.a puppetry... . There’s nothing like it and that’s what makes it so wonderful and unique. It needs to be appreciated more. 

Day 21: Favorite music piece from the soundtrack?

Can’t beat that opening theme. 

Day 22: Your opinion on the sequel comics [Power/Beneath the Dark Crystal]

They have cool concepts and ideas, but they’re not written well. Power is just the movie if it was put into a blender and shredded and ignoring a large portion of established lore for the sake of plot. And Beneath is just a generic fantasy story with the Dark Crystal logo slapped on it. 

Day 23: Which character from the YA novels/comics do you wish we would see more of?

There are plenty of characters that are a given to appear in the series at some point (skekSa, skekLi, urSan, etc). And of course I want to see them, but I really hope Periss shows up (and his brother too). He is one of my favorite characters from the book series and we could use some more Dousan rep!

Day 24: Your opinion on the Age of Resistance comic?

I have yet to read the comics. I’m waiting on them to be part of a collection so I don’t have to buy all of the volumes at once (I prefer owning physical copies). I’ve heard good things about them, especially the story with Hup and the current Mayrin arc. I’m excited to get my hands on them. 

Day 25: The best moment/scene in the series?

There are a lot of great moments, but Rian and Ordon’s fight with skekMal is still my favorite in the entire series. The "Speak For the Dead” scene is a close second.

Day 26: The death of a character that hurt you the most?

He did not deserve this. Fuck you, skekMal. 

Day 27: Your favorite episode from the series?

It’s got to be 4. Not just because a number of my favorite characters debut in this episode, but it’s an important one for the plot. Stakes are being raised, we’re seeing set ups to major story elements and character arcs, and events that impact the rest of the series. It also has a handful of my favorite character moments and interactions. 

Day 28: Your favorite non-skeksis and non-gelfling character? Why?

I’ve come to realize the reasons why I love urVa are the same as why I love skekMal (incredibly appropriate I might say). There’s enough information about him that we get a good understanding on who he is as a character, but still mysterious enough that there’s interest in wanting to know more. Much like his skeksis, he’s unique from the other mystics and thus giving him unique experiences that are fun to speculate. However, the YA novels are responsible for my current fondness of him. 

Day 29: Do you like the urru and skeksis apart or like them as urSkeks together?

A main theme of the Dark Crystal is unity and balance. The main conflict of the franchise are the skeksis, the broken fragments of their urskek self who, according to the writers, “...[have] a dire need for the qualities they lack”. Their only salvation is to become urskeks again and unfortunately many of the pairs never achieve this.  They’re basically a giant allegory for the self and self-love. While we don’t really know what they were like when they were an urskek (aside from SilSol perhaps), we can get some understanding when we look at their pairs and see what traits they share. Speculation is also fun! So as much as I love the skeksis and mystics as individuals, I prefer them to be whole again.

Day 30: What are your wishes for a possible season 2?

A whole bunch of things. I want to see them explore more about the mystics and their lifestyle, having Raunip play a big part in the plot, seeing more of skekSa’s fall from grace from her perspective, the beginning of the Garthim Wars, and more. 

[theredconversegirl]

hi! i’m the anon that asked about blurbs and one shots!! i just thought of a blurb where sakura is bitten by a poisonous bug or something where the venom is slow moving (kinda like sasori’s where the victim dies within three days) but there are serious symptoms like major fatigue, graphic hallucinations and excruciating pain and while sakura is enduring those symptoms all sasuke can do is comfort her until they find a cure?? idk KSKSK im not talented enough to write this but ANGST

Hi there nonny! :) 

Thanks for sending me this prompt! I always liked the idea of Sakura or Sasuke taking care of each other in a situation like this. 

My first attempt to write this was terrible, so I took my time with the second. Also, I’m having computer issues and my writing time is limited because of that 😓

This is my first attempt of writing angst, so please forgive me if it’s not good enough 😬. I had to play a bit with what you suggested, since I think Sasuke wouldn’t wait three days to try to save her, he’d probably teleport to Tsunade asap! 😂

Hope you like it anyway! 💕

Title: “Bane” Rate: T Words: 3854 Warnings: Shinobi AU where Sasuke never left and has both arms.

📌 Read also here: Fanfiction | ao3

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bane | noun { 1. a cause of great distress or annoyance. 2. something, especially poison, which can cause death.

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This was supposed to be an easy mission.

A simple, easy, piece of cake mission – like any diplomatic mission is these days.

As the enemies surround them (not slightly concerned with stealth at all), Sasuke decides, with amusement glinting in his eyes, that nothing is really simple or easy when it comes to Team Seven – even though they are only two this time.

His hand unsheathes his kusanagi with a swift motion, and though it could help them, Sasuke doesn't bother to activate his Sharingan. He hears rather than sees the confidence his teammate has on them when Sakura turns her back to him and tugs at her combat gloves, the leather stretching around her fingers.

Despite the years apart, they both work surprisingly well together. The nearly impeccable teamwork flows like a river does towards the sea; merciless and inevitable.

There's only a moment of hesitancy where hundreds of sharp senbons rain towards him, and although he can probably move in time, Sakura uses her momentum after a kick to push him to the opposite direction.

After that, punches to the ground are synced with swipes of his sword. Right hooks with roundhouse kicks. And when it ends, hardly five minutes later, they are both panting, sharing complacent smiles.

Sasuke feels a warming feeling swirling inside him, a mix of post-battle excitement, the remnants of the adrenaline in his veins, and something else he can't really name. The light buzz accompanies him as he ties all the nukenins and sends a hawk to the Kazekage; they are still in Suna's territory after all.

The warmth dissipates, draining him instantly, when he sees Sakura swaying from foot to foot, a grimace twisting her dainty features.

"What's going on?"

She replies but whatever the answer is, it comes out as an intelligible slur. She tries again and the effort is futile. Her hands flicker green for a second, but the chakra flow cuts off, and that alarms Sasuke.

He might be wrong (and he hopes he is), but Sasuke thinks he knows what's happening to her. He has seen this reaction before – a few times in the Snake's lab, and once on the road – and every time, it was associated with the exposure of poisonous substances. It starts mostly with the inebriated state Sakura is in.

Quickly, Sasuke steps in her personal space and scans her face, neck, her bare arms, turning her around and moving her limbs like she's a ragdoll. He's looking for the point of contact, where most of the substance should still be. He doesn't find anything other than debris though, consequence of her powerful punches.

He exhales slowly, trying to concentrate on their next steps. If Sakura is indeed poisoned, he needs to act quickly. Konoha is about two days away by foot. He doesn't have enough chakra for a teleport. Naruto is Kami-knows-where. And they are still in the middle of the freaking desert.

As he runs the possibilities through his mind, Sasuke glances down, still holding her arm, and sees the moment where she struggles to move her red dress. Unconsciously, he extends his hand to help her, bunching up one side of the dress above her waist. He holds the fabric there, trying to avoid her eyes as she mumbles something close to a thank you.

There's an angry scratch above her hip, not larger than five inches, which is quickly swelling. Sakura tries to close the broken skin with her chakra, but it's useless; it flickers a few times feebly and then fades.

Whatever poison coated the weapon responsible for this wound, Sasuke thinks, it reacts slowly, with the intention to catch the opponent off guard, no doubt. It's eating her chakra cells, blocking its paths one by one.

He confirms that as he checks her with his Sharingan; her reserves are nearly empty, and he can distinctively see a few spots whirling inside of Sakura's chakra system. Sasuke tells her that, but the medic-nin is clearly struggling to process the information.

His time with Orochimaru taught him a lot about poisons – and he's even immune to a few thanks to that – but this one doesn't match the ones he personally knows. If it's anything like the one Sakura herself found the cure for all those years ago here in Suna, there's nothing much he can do; his limited knowledge in medical ninjutsu warrants that.

With the night approaching, and the risk of sandstorms, Sasuke decides to find shelter and wait in a safe place where he can replenish enough chakra to take them back home – by summon or whichever option he can use first.

He only has time to secure her arm around his neck when Sakura slumps against him. Cautiously, he guides them through the endless dunes until he sees the entrance of a small cave they spotted earlier that day.

Her smaller body is tucked in his arms by the time they get inside, her skin cold to the touch. Sasuke shrugs off his travel cloak and lays Sakura on top of it. He works quickly after that, making a fire to keep them warm, and returning to her side.

Disoriented, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Sakura mumbles words every now and then. She whines and pants, and Sasuke knows the poison is spreading. He reaches for her medical pouch and unclasps it from her belt. Inside there are herbs, and syringes, first aid items, and other things Sasuke has no clue how to use.

In the light the small fire provides, Sasuke notices the changes in her; the ashen color of her face, the perspiration coating her skin, and her usually rosy lips turning blue.

A strangled cry forces him to move again, and he curses under his breath as he continues rummaging her things. She's dying and the realization bothers him more than he cares to admit; Sasuke knows he's on borrowed time.

Stupid, foolish woman, the words echoes in his head as he unrolls their travel blankets over her shivering body.

Before she's covered, Sasuke checks her pulse, brows furrowing in deep concern when he finds only a faint hint of her heartbeat. It's thready at best, and he needs to do something.

Anything.

He hears his name, he thinks, her voice is strained and the word broken on her lips, but the "kun" gives it away. He knows she's calling him.

His hand moves on its own, touching her cheek first, then her forehead, checking her temperature. Her skin is clammy and feverish, and he shouldn't be surprised with the fast development of her symptoms, but he still is.

"I'm here," he rasps, hopeful that she'll open her bright green eyes for him.

Sakura hums, and curls to his side, seeking his warmth even though she's warm enough for the both of them. She's crying, he notices; tracks of fresh tears run from one cheek down her neck.

He goes back to the pile of things he gathered from their backpacks and finds a piece of clean fabric. He folds the cloth and damps it with some water. When the cool compress is placed on her temple, Sakura sighs in relief, but her pained expression doesn't ease his mind. Not one bit.

Sasuke kneels beside her, pressing the cloth against her burning skin. His fingers brush her pink locks away, and he huffs, almost amused, when she blindly follows his touch. The Uchiha knows it's no use, but he calls her anyway, firm and louder this time. She doesn't respond.

He can't help but glare at her, because how dare she? She should have known better; she's scolded so many people about the dangers of battle wounds and enemies' weapons, him included.

The intensity of his gaze loses its strength when he considers everything again. Sakura is the last person that deserves such a fate; a painful, restless death. A death without a goodbye. A death that's not really hers.

He wishes he could take her place, and a little voice in his mind tells him that's how it was supposed to be. The Uchiha frowns, but it only lasts for a short moment as realization hits him; he's almost certain that she earned that scratch in that one moment he hesitated. That one moment where she pushed him out of the way. It was supposed to be him laying on this cold floor, withering away little by little. Not her.

"Idiot," he mutters, "why did you do that?"

"Sasu—"

Sakura's breathing becomes rattled, pain twisting her features, and for a brief moment he feels hope. If she can feel pain, it means she can still fight, right?

He abandons the cold compress on her forehead to move the covers aside. In the haste of getting her warm, he completely forgot about her wound. In a deliberate way, Sasuke removes her red dress, exposing the infected area. Blisters form close to the scratch, the flesh angry and swollen around the wound.

Sasuke snatches the first aid kit he found earlier in her pouch and prepares the ointment to clean the cut. He applies a little pressure as he works, covering the entire area with herbs once it looks sanitary enough. Sakura thrashes during the entire process, and the only way to avoid more damage and ensure that he can finish his work without hurting her more, is to straddle her small body, pinning her legs underneath him.

With his Sharingan, he keeps track of her progress, careful to not waste too much chakra. Now that he's taking a better look at it, he notices a concentration of the dark substance still close to the opened gash.

He doesn't even stop to think it through. Sasuke grabs a kunai and deepens the cut, pressing just right to push the poison out. She screams in response, shouting profanities, and jerking wildly in pain the entire time. But he can't stop now, even if the last thing he wants is to see her suffering, he can't stop; it's for her own good.

He snatches her wrists with one hand and presses her stomach with the other, his tomoes spinning and watching attentively as he removes as much of the malicious substance as he can. The dark, putrid liquid starts to ooze out of the wound, and Sasuke uses his knee to pin her to her side in an angle that helps the extraction process.

The moment that the last drop is removed, Sakura's chakra flares and she goes limp under him. He watches, Sharingan still taking in every detail, as her body starts to slowly give out and her nearly lifeless weight sinks to the ground.

No, no, no. She's supposed to get better...

When his gaze settles on her face, Sasuke notices how her breathing is shallow, a stark difference from a minute ago. Her features are slowly relaxing as if the pain is dissipating with each breath she takes.

Is this how it ends?

He's surprised when the thought crosses his mind. Sasuke's not one that contemplates the future; he's always thought he'd die young, after killing his brother. He's never expected to turn twenty. And he has never thought about rekindling the bonds he broke all those years ago when he left.

But here he is, a reinstated and pardoned Konoha shinobi, a war hero, a teammate, a friend, a brother. All things he wasn't two years ago. And now, before he even had the chance to really stop and think about his future, he can't.

This is not how we're supposed to end, he thinks, a hand running through his dark locks as he looks down at her with a myriad of emotions he's never associated with his name when looking at Sakura; pain, regret, remorse, sorrow, and pure, unadulterated sadness.

He releases her tiny wrists, sagging against her, defeated. The tiny hope he had gained leaves him as he continues to sink in his own storm, feeling as if he's being submerged under water, deprived of his air.

That obscure corner of his mind, the one that's full of self-loathing and doubt, whispers, "but did you even begin?''

On a whim, or maybe it's the bubbling rage inside of him, Sasuke growls like a wounded animal, releasing a burst of his chakra around them. His chest heaves and his shoulders shake, but he still feels numb. Empty.

He hears a whimper, even though his ears ring with the echo of his own anger. A choked gasp escapes him when he looks down.

It seems that the pulse of chakra he released has been absorbed by Sakura's body – somehow. His sharp eyes can clearly see her jugular pulsing, her eyes moving frantically underneath her lids, lashes fluttering against her lightly rosy cheeks.

There's… there is still a fighting chance.

As fast as he can, Sasuke scans his surroundings, noting every single resource available to him. He eliminates anything he can't use and lists possible steps; everything happens in a span of thirty seconds.

He considers summoning Garuda to take them home, but the amount of chakra is not enough. He considers Aoda – but that would require even more chakra – or any other smaller snake that could assist. But the solution, the best-case scenario, comes from a stupid idea that only Naruto could come up with. And maybe it's worth the shot, because all Naruto's ideas work in some way.

As blood runs from Sakura's wound towards the floor, a red path painting her fair skin, Sasuke transfers most of his chakra to her, calculating exactly how much he'll need to succeed. Then, he grabs her hands with his, swipes her thumb over her own blood, and guides her through the signs of Kuchiyose no Jutsu.

He pushes the last of his chakra to her hands, forcing the jutsu to drain the previously infused amount when he says the words. The smoke takes him by surprise (deep down he didn't have much faith in this plan), and when he sees a slime creature not bigger than his hand, he sighs in relief.

The tiny slug is very polite and right to the point. It pleases him greatly when she quickly understands the situation and gets to work. Katsuyu guides him, asking him to confirm where the rest of the venom is located, and with his bloodline once more he scans Sakura's body, pointing out the chakra path that is blocked and tainted by the poison.

The summon tells him he did a great job considering the limited resources and chakra available to him. Although she's being very helpful and sharing more than necessary, narrating her every move and findings, the slug's little voice trembles when she says that if the substance had reached Sakura's heart, things would have been different.

And suddenly, the severity of this predicament downs on him (again), because he has seen with his own eyes how the dark swirl is stuck a few inches short of that destination. His own heart constricts painfully, galloping against his ribcage as a life without pink flashes in the front of his mind.

"Sasuke-san?" Katsuyu calls, "ready?"

The question breaks him out of his stupor, and he nods quickly, pushing aside the plummeting feeling in order to get to more important matters. Sakura.

Together, they isolate the venom and the slug coerces it out of Sakura's main chakra path, pushing it towards the opened wound. It doesn't take long, and as the last drops leave Sakura's body, he notices how the color starts to return to her pale face.

"It's done," the slug says as she slides away from Sakura, taking the poison with her. "Sakura-sama is still weak and will need to break through the fever on her own."

"What do you mean?"

"My time here is ending, and you both need your rest. Her body will need to recover on its own until her chakra reserves are full again."

"I see. Thank you"

"No, thank you, Uchiha-san. Please take care of her!"

"Aa."

The summon disappears not long after, and Sasuke knows he'll be eternally grateful for its help.

For the first time in two hours, he allows himself to relax. Sasuke slouches backwards, leaning on the cave wall, head tipped up. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs completely, and it's so invigorating that makes him think how a simple action that he does everyday – all the time – can feel so different, so good.

He reaches for the medical supplies and gets back to work. With a clinical eye, he carefully sterilizes her wound, cleans her skin, and then bandages it. He checks her temperature, tilts her head to give her some water, and repeats the routine like clockwork.

The silence, which usually is a comfort to the last Uchiha, is now a nuisance. It makes his mind overwork, inflicting painful thoughts, and aggravating his already guilty consciousness. The wind whispers angrily outside, though he hears it loud and clear.

She almost died.

In his place.

She's suffering.

Because of him.

Again.

A small whimper escapes her, and Sasuke thinks with mild exasperation, that's becoming one of his new favorite sounds. Maybe it comes second, losing only to her sickeningly sweet laughter.

She whispers and mumbles and Sasuke knows it's the remnants of the poison talking. And, between nonsense filled dreams, curses and random fits of rage, Sakura cries – a lot. It's not really a surprise when he stops to think about it, but it's not a pleasant sight, even though he knows it means she's getting better, naturally recovering.

She cries about the Dobe not realizing the Hyuuga girl is madly in love with him since Kami knows when, and how it pains her to see him being a fool every day, completely oblivious.

She cries about Tsunade going on a vacation and not inviting her.

She cries about her parents. Her mother's incessant inquiries about weddings and grand-babies, and her daddy's poor sense of humor that she secretly loves.

She cries about Ino. How the blonde keeps forgetting to return her things, and insists on pushing Sakura to date, because… she shouldn't wait forever.

He doesn't really know how to react to the last one. Sasuke is in a phase where emotions and feelings are still confusing, and there's also this new part of him that constantly fights between what's right versus what he wants. And as much as he wants her, he knows he's not right for her. It wouldn't be the right decision.

As the hallucinations go back and forth, there are more broken words than complete thoughts, but at a certain moment he knows he's there with her. The next words are proof enough and nobody can say otherwise.

"Please don't— don't go Sasu—hn."

Her voice is broken and exhausted, loaded with so much pain that he can almost touch it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here." He says resolutely, because he's done running away.

Sasuke takes her hand on his, comforting her like she did once. He's not sure Sakura can hear him, and he squeezes her hand – a little harder than necessary – waiting for her to squeeze back.

She doesn't.

He watches as she struggles through painful memories, and as the masochist he is, Sasuke relives them along with her. Some words are welcome, and even missed, but others are venom and sting more than expected. He doesn't miss the irony of all, wondering if fate is messing with him – if such a thing exists, that is.

The torture session, as he calls it, lasts no longer than a few hours. Sakura's fever breaks sometime between her memories of the war and the events after. Her natural color is returning fully and even the tip of her nose is pink.

As her senses start to work again, Sakura tries to raise herself into a sitting position, and she huffs, frustrated, when she can't. Sasuke soothes her confusion by drawing little circles on her back.

"Why?" He asks, his voice lower than a whisper.

Although Sasuke's tried to contain his anger, frustration – or whatever this is – he can feel it coming off in waves as he finally sees her eyes again; as glassy and green as they were that morning. There was a moment, not long ago, he thought he wouldn't see them again.

When she doesn't reply, he tells her how careless she was. How they were supposed to work together as a team and not jump to save each other's lives like when they were kids. He scolds her like she's a petulant child that disobeyed her parent's orders and because of that she'd hurt herself.

Sakura doesn't say a word or look at him. She moves away with great effort, leaning on the wall of the cave beside him. When she's settled, she looks up at him. And this time, her eyes are blazing with anger.

She tilts her chin up in defiance and says, tone flat, "because I'm a medic."

They both scowl, hearing the statement as the lie it is; it's not only because of that.

"You are an idiot, that's what you are."

His words, his voice grows heated and Sasuke is not sure if they are directed to her or himself. And as expected, Sakura gives back as much as she gets, matching his tone and glare.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to save my teammate's life," she tells him like what she did was a normal occurrence. "I didn't know it was an idiotic idea."

"Tch. You shouldn't have done that, Sakura." He reproaches, nearly losing his strength when he continues, "I could—" have lost you.

"You don't tell me what to do, Uchiha."

"Tell me why you did that," he probes, despite the way she crosses her arms and throws him a menace look.

"I don't know!" Sakura yells, "my body just moved, okay?!"

A deafening silence follows then. The tension crackles explosively as they lock their eyes in a familiar stare-down. The weight and meaning of her statement are not lost on him.

He thinks of his day, how it was supposed to be just an easy return home. He thinks of how scared he was from the moment she fell until she opened her eyes again. He thinks of how infuriating this woman is. How she drives him crazy, pushing him to situations where he cannot do a thing.

Her chest heavens, but Sasuke knows it has nothing to do with the poison, not anymore. When he moves closer, lips parting to answer her, it's not like either of them expected.

He crushes his lips to hers, moving them effortlessly, showing her the severity of her actions and what they— she means to him.

It's messy, and desperate, and belated, but still full of emotions and meaning. Their first kiss tells her he won't risk losing her again. Maybe it's not right, but he knows it is what they both want.

And this is how they finally begin.

[jazzhandsmcleg]

...here!

This is still a rough draft, technically, because I wanted to finish the whole thing before I put any of it online. However, a) I certainly don’t know when that will happen, and b) the prologue is old enough, and has already been read by enough people, that I figure it doesn’t much matter if I put it out there properly. I’ll save posting it on AO3 -- you know, formally -- for a later date, though.

The main character, unnamed here for what will become obvious reasons, is the brainchild of my excellent friend James, and so is the rough idea behind this "novelization." Journey, of course, belongs to thatgamecompany. If you’re not familiar with Journey, what are you doing! Go watch it! It’s gorgeous and touching and only an hour and a half long!

---------------

The inside of the tent was like a womb. The thick red cloth that formed its draping roof and walls simultaneously kept most of the sunlight out and transformed what little entered into a rich, deep glow. The fabric was densely woven enough to keep the wind, usually always welcome, out as well: the air was hot, so hot that it felt almost solid – or perhaps liquid. Shiningchild, seated with legs crossed in the center of the tent, leaned away from her work and took a deep breath, relishing the diminished ache in her back and the slight sensation of coolness triggered by her inhalation. Yes, more like a liquid.

Probably that had been done on purpose. This ritual was about beginnings, after all.

She hunched forward once more and adjusted the bundle of cloth that rested on her bare black legs, her ears stiff and alert with renewed focus. Only a few more stitches. And then –

She shook her head and concentrated. Push the gold thread in. Pull it back out. Make sure it aligned with the stitch before it, as it did with the stitch before that. Her robe had to be perfect; it would shame her family if it were anything but, and all of this was unconventional enough.

She chirped softly, no louder than breathing. She loved her family, and she wanted their pride, but there were more directions to travel than east and south.

And I want to visit them all.

Done.

She tied the thread in the birth knot, then wound the remaining thread into a bundle and tied it the same way. It hung just so on the side of her cloak, a little golden hint at future growth. Whether it came or not – and she hoped it would – the possibility was always there.

Now, for a few precious moments, Shiningchild had the opportunity to hurry, to burn some excited, nervous energy. She gathered her robe and hood in one arm and stood quickly, then pulled the fat rope that wound down from the roof of the birthing tent with her free hand. The long, slender white pennant on top of the tent would now be flapping stiffly in the breeze. The Named would be here soon.

Moving with barely contained eagerness, Shiningchild hurriedly juggled hood and robe as she shook the latter out and pulled it over her thin frame. Its familiar weight encircled her comfortingly – but was it just slightly heavier from the threads she had sewn onto the hem?

Anticipation rose within her like a tangible force, making her tremble. She took another deep breath, this one calming as well as cooling, and pulled on her hood with deliberately steady fingers. Then she folded her hands beneath her robe and sat facing the tent flaps, staring hard at the vertical line of light that shone between its closed halves.

Her attention was immediately rewarded. Not even a minute passed before three authoritative whistles sounded from just outside the tent. The calls were a challenge that demanded an immediate response; Shiningchild sat as straight as she could and gave it.

A pause. The line of light half-disappeared as someone stood directly before it, moving aside the rocks that weighed down the tent flaps. Then, finally, the fabric parted and three figures glided in: the Named of Shiningchild’s greater family.

Shiningchild chirped again, this time quietly, respectfully. The Named always warranted such regard: their scarves were long and full, each with the Fullest Circle trailing at the end. Between the three of them, they possessed several centuries of wisdom, knowledge, and experience, and they had led their greater family – and occasionally, with the help of other Named, even the whole Southern tribe – with strength and grace for much longer than Shiningchild had been alive.

Now, nodding wordlessly to acknowledge her greeting, they sat across from Shiningchild in a neat row, their scarves settling gently to the sands around them. The tent flaps jerked briefly as someone outside replaced the stones, but Shiningchild barely noticed. For a long, silent moment she and the Named gazed at each other, the air between them thick with potential. Then:

“Many, many thousands of years ago,” one of the Named began, his voice heavy with ritual. “There was the dark. And in the dark was the Mountain. And the light arose and shone from the Mountain, and as each beam spread across the earth it became a symbol. Before anyone was there to speak or read or be shaped by these symbols, they existed.”

“But they were not alone not for long,” continued another. “For as the light spread across the earth it left new things in its wake, things that came into being in the fertile spaces between dark and light: birds, and soft ground, and things to grow in it. And, finally, our Ancestors. Those before.”

“For a long time they thrived in what the Mountain had given them,” the third said. Her voice, as quiet and ritualistic as her fellows’ at first, slowly reached a crescendo as she spoke. “They learned to speak, and thus to create. They learned to use the gifts they had been granted. They grew, and grew wise. They let the Mountain guide them, name them, and raise them to new heights!”

A deep, ringing silence. Shiningchild held her breath, enraptured.

“Then – things changed,” the third of the Named finished, her voice soft once more.

The first speaker took up the story. “Much of the past is lost to us, but we know that the Ancestors are gone – destroyed. The earth was given over to sand and desert, and what remained of the Ancestors’ works began to wear away.”

Again, as one speaker finished, another began. “After many centuries, two new beams of light spread from the Mountain. Our people were born from one ray of light, and the people of the East from the other. Over the years we multiplied and spread through the desert. We learned symbols and speech, and to avoid the dangerous history of the Ancestors. Their mistakes, whatever they were, are not to be ours.”

“But some, with curiosity unquenched, soon began to find their way to the top of the Mountain,” finished the third. “Or to try, for only those who strayed from the paths of their journeys returned to pass their stories on to their people. To seek the Mountain, too, is death: because of our ancestry, its favor is denied to us. But we live on regardless.”

“And here is the now,” said the first.

“And here is the now,” agreed the second.

“And here is the now,” concluded the third.

Another pause. The third of the Named sighed, and shifted in her seat.

“Shiningchild,” she said, “I speak to you now not as First Glint of Water in the Heart of Midday Sands, not as one of the Named, but as a loving and concerned member of your family. Are you sure you wish to follow this custom? Even now, there is no shame on you, or on us, if you do not. There is no single path to wisdom, or to experience, or to the hallowed. And we cannot help you as much as we would wish: so many of the old ways have been forgotten through disuse, and I know you have been unable to find a companion, despite searching the entire southern tribe.”

Shiningchild bowed her head. “Elder cousin,” she said as humbly as she could, “I am sure.”

Another sigh. Then, the faint rustle of cloth as all three of the Named stood.

“Very well, then,” First Glint of Water in the Heart of Midday Sands said, formal once more. “Shiningchild, Shiningchild, Shiningchild. Kneel. Be born. Receive the beginning of your truename.”

Trembling, Shiningchild turned and shifted into a kneeling position, head bent to reveal the hem of her hood as the three Named gathered close behind her. She felt a series of light jerks as they sewed a blank piece of scarf to the bottom of her hood – for her coming of age – then another set of more distant tugs as they sewed another piece – for her decision to journey – to the bottom of the first.

“Rise.”

She rose, and had to laugh in wonder as a faint glow lit the tent: the appearance of the first symbols of her truename.

Strong hands turned her around, then reached up to cup her head, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Seeker,” said the Named in one voice.

“May you live long and grow rich in wisdom and understanding.”

“May you one day reach the Fullest Circle, as we have done.”

“May you always find what you seek,” finished First Glint of Water in the Heart of Midday Sands, and quickly, tenderly smoothed her thumb over Seeker’s forehead. “Now, come out! Begin your life! Begin your journey!”

One of the Named chimed a command, setting the embroidery on their robes and the symbols on their scarves to glowing. Outside the tent, other members of the clan hastened to pull back the flaps, letting in the fierce light of the sun. Seeker looked straight ahead and walked steadily through the threshold, out into the waiting crowd of her people. They parted before her just as the tent flaps had, leaving a broad path between them.

She looked up. Directly before her on the horizon stood the Mountain, shrouded in clouds at its base but with its summit bared to her sight. A line of light, visible despite the distance and the afternoon sun, shone from a cleft at its peak into the sky.

Behind her, she felt the Named emerge from the tent. “Seeker!” they cried in one voice, prompting a flurry of chirps and whistles from the rest of the greater family.

“Seeker!” they roared in reply, a rush of sound that filled her ears.

And: “Seeker!” she shouted back to them all with her joyful single voice, and shook her cloak in a motion she had practiced a thousand times before, and rose into the air to taste flight for the first time.

[wastrident]

Would you do anything differently if you were given the chance to re-do Legion’s final season?

A lot of things.

But let me start out by saying that I don’t actually hate the third season. I don’t hate everything that happened. It happened, and I’m not going to shove it away. I would honestly go with it all, if it had been handled better, fleshed out better, and if certain things were focused on that needed to be focused on instead of leaving it up to the show to just… tell us that this is how it’s going to go.

My main complaint with I think the entire season is that they dropped so many things that were so important to the first two seasons, that made the show what it was, that got us so interested in the show, that it didn’t feel like a necessarily satisfying ending. I’m speaking for myself on this, as well as a few friends who feel the same way. I know some people also really like the ending, and that’s valid! You can feel that way! I’m certainly partial to parts of the finale season that other people might not be partial to. But I personally think it could have been done better.

Not demonising mental illness, first of all. If you were here to see my embarrassing breakdown during the finale of the second season, you might know some of my feelings on this. In the first season, I think they handled relatively well the circumstances surrounding mental illness, the struggles the people (David) go through when they have a mental illness. It felt sort of abandoned during the latter half of the second season and the whole third season. Like the issue had turned itself on its head. Because now, we see David, the character who so many saw on screen relate to them in their struggles, turned into this awful person, hellbent on getting what he wants, without seeing the error in any of his ways.

Showing that literally every single one of his alters was in agreement with him when it came to wiping Syd’s consciousness and jumping their father didn’t do D.I.D. any better. Alters have their own opinions, they don’t all just think the same thing. Honestly, I just don’t think they showed enough of it in general, being that it’s such a huge part of his comics counterpart and didn’t even come up till 2x11 but that’s a conversation for another time.

And this mental illness talk goes hand-in-hand with the way the show seemed to highlight that David, who was abused by Farouk for 33 years, turned tail after people started blaming him, and became… just like Farouk. Just like his abuser. Using other people for his own personal gain, without a care as to what he was doing to them. See: Switch. See: all the people he killed to get her back so that he could use her again. See: the way he didn’t care that his best friend Lenny was drinking herself into a stupor because she lost her child and her wife in the span of a few minutes, and pushing her to the point where she commits suicide. 

Making Farouk’s change of heart actually believable. Like, what was up with that? I get that it was ~foreshadowed~. But did we see enough of it? No. 3x01, Farouk hears that Syd shoots David in the back and we see him try and stop Syd from going on the mission. There’s obviously something up.

Farouk says, to Charles, that “I saw what he saw, I felt what he felt, I thought what he thought. And over time, what was once a prison became a person. It’s hard to hate someone you understand. I love the boy, Charles.” BUT DOES ANY OF HIS MAKE SENSE WITH WHAT HAPPENED IN THE PREVIOUS TWO SEASONS? NO.

This post by @katrinacass just floated onto my dashboard which gives some great examples of how Farouk’s redemption arc doesn’t work with what the first season showed us.

And don’t even get me started on the second season. Farouk killed Amy, the person who he knew David loved the most. He made everyone turn on David. If we’re truly supposed to believe that Farouk had come to care for David “like a son,” we didn’t see any of it actually happen.

And instead of believing that Farouk had a change of heart, I instead was sat there, listening to the talk between Charles and Farouk, tense, just waiting for him to go back on his word like he had every single other time. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to have believed him. I think it could have worked. In fact, I like that that happened, that Farouk realised he was in the wrong and he needed to help fix things and that he helped. But the problem was that they just told the audience that he changed, rather than showing that he changed. We went through the whole final season still thinking he was the bad guy, instead of seeing any actions that proved that he was capable of this sudden heel-turn in the finale of the final season. It was extremely important that it happened in the finale. But the way it came up just was not satisfying and didn’t make sense.

David actually repenting of what he did. See: raping Syd. He didn’t even apologise for any of it, except for a half-assed “sorry” in the very last scene over baby David’s cradle. We, as an audience, never saw him take proper responsibility for it. One could argue that he did take responsibility: that he did something about it by wiping out the timeline. But honestly? That’s a crappy way of handling the aftermath of rape. “Oh, I’m just going to rewind time so that this never happened, instead of actually feeling bad about it and trying to show the woman that I raped that I feel sorry and I truly understand that what I did was wrong.”

I don’t feel like that’s a very good way to handle that. At all. Sorry. If you want to include that in your show, when it wasn’t even needed in the first place (David could have very well just wiped Syd’s memories, and that would have been enough to warrant her feeling that betrayal), and you want us to still feel for the character who made the decision to do that, then you need to have it called out (check) and also show that the character who committed the action knows the gravity of his actions and actually feels remorseful about it (no check).

Not putting all the responsibility of David’s actions on the women. David needed love, right? That was the central breaking point. But it was shown to be on Syd first, who decided she didn’t love him after he raped her, and on Gabrielle, who ~wasn’t there for him~ because she gave him away. Sure, some of it rested on Charles’ shoulders too, but honestly…

And you know what? In that same vein, they totally forgot David’s adoptive family. Are we supposed to believe that he wasn’t loved in his life, when he had his adoptive mother, adoptive father, and Amy there?

I can’t help but think the show was trying to follow X-Men Legacy: V.2, in that David has been basically ignored by Charles his entire life, put into an induced coma for a decade. He had a severe lack of love in the comics, and he ended up wiping the timeline. But it doesn’t work in the show, where he had an adoptive family. Just saying.

….

Sigh. These are the main things that come to mind right now. I love the show, I really do. So, so much. I will never find a show I love more than this one. I just think there was a lot of potential to it, but it wasn’t executed correctly.

Shameless plug: good news is, I’ll be writing an entirely new life for David post-third season as a fic, which I’m already working on. I’m excited about that. Gonna be dealing with some things the way I wish they had been dealt with, even if they won’t be the same sort of scenarios and all that. :)

[subconwell]

Title: (Refusing to) Give Up the Ghost Characters: The Snatcher, the Conductor, Hat Kid Description: The Conductor wants a surefire way to beat his rival, and isn't above playing dirty to get what he wants. The Snatcher, however, has other plans. Word Count: 2,985

This is a piece I wrote for the Picture Perfect Zine since I got the greenlight to post it to social media! If you enjoy it, please feel free to leave a comment and kudos here on its AO3 page!

All of the chapters are available already, but if you’d prefer to read it on Tumblr, I’m posting the entirety of the fic under the cut.

“Hey, yer the one that writes up contracts, right? I’m interested in striking up a deal.”

Snatcher recalls, in one of Hat Kid’s various attempts at “quality time” with him, some mention of a small, angry bird that yelled a lot. What was his name again? Director? He can’t be bothered to remember more than that. All he knows is she was wrong about one thing: that is definitely not a bird. Maybe more like a piranha?

“I am,” he answers, “but I’m not interested. Get out of my forest.”

Normally, he’s all for taking people’s souls if they freely offer them up. How could he refuse something so easy? However, he can sense something is off about this one, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s not something he wants to put up with today, especially if it’s unsolicited.

“Eh?” He looks confused. “I was told ye wrote contracts!”

“By who?”

“The lass explained it all to me!” The bird puts his hands on his hips, huffing. “Ye took her soul and made her sign a contract! I’ll give up a soul if it means you can help me!”

Ah. As soon as he mentions his soul, what’s off about the other clicks. It’s difficult for the ghost to suppress a laugh upon breaking this news to him. “No can do, birdbrain! I can’t take your soul if you don’t have one!”

“What!?” His yell would’ve blown out his eardrums if he had any. “Who ye callin’ a birdbrain!?”

“That’s what you take issue with?” Snatcher asks. “Not the fact that you don’t have a soul? Really?”

“Of course I don’t! I work in the movie industry!”

“That’ll do it.” The ghost pauses for a moment. “Why were you offering a soul that you don’t have?”

“It’s not me own soul, it’s a soul I got from someone else!” Although Snatcher didn’t sense a soul inside of him, he can sense that he has a soul on his person. An owl’s, to be exact. Interesting. “Will ye listen to me now, or what!?”

Well, that’s new. He doesn’t want to say he’s intrigued by this information, but someone using another person’s soul because they lack one of their own? That’s just enough excitement to warrant his attention. Shutting his book, he leaves his chair and slinks himself over to the bird’s side. “That’s intriguing! Surprisingly, I haven’t heard that excuse yet, but it’s not often that movie directors come through here!”

“Wait, how’d you know that I’m a movie director?”

Looks like he remembered a bit too much from the kid’s stories. He doesn’t need to know that. “Lucky guess! What, is your name the Director too?”

“The Conductor.”

Scratch that, he doesn’t remember as much as he thought. “Can’t win them all! Anyway, enough of that.” Snatcher puts an arm around the Conductor, who tries to shove it off immediately. “I won’t ask where you got this soul from, and you’ll tell me why you came here. How does that sound?”

“Great! Get yer arm off of me!”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making any demands.”

“And I think I could just keep what I have and not give ye anything at all!”

The underhanded nature of this man shouldn’t surprise him considering he took the soul of another for his own gain. How does someone besides him do that, anyway? Then again, he’s witnessed weirder things, so this is something that isn’t worth questioning extensively. He moves his arm off of the other, deciding it would be more fitting to tower over the Conductor instead. “You’ve made your point, but like you, I’m not a patient man. What are you trying to get out of this?”

Snatcher is expecting something dramatic to warrant coming to his forest. Only someone desperate and possibly seeking revenge (or something just as nefarious) would seek his help. Maybe he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but everything about this encounter has heightened his expectations.

“I can’t allow that no good DJ Grooves to win Bird Movie Awards! He needs to see how much better my movies are!”

And, just like that, his high hopes were crushed. Amazing how that works. “What? That’s it?”

“What, can ye not do it?”

“It’s not that,” he answers, “it’s just not the request I was expecting. You sure you don’t want your rival dead? I’m pretty sure that would solve all of your problems.”

“What!? No! If he dies, it’ll be by me own two hands!”

“You can’t use those two hands to do it instead of rigging the competition?”

“I can’t murder and direct a great movie, now can I?”

“If you included it in your movie, you could, you know, kill two birds with one stone! ” Snatcher laughs at his own joke, but the other isn’t amused.

“I just don’t want him to win,” the Conductor says. “My usual tactics aren’t gonna cut it this year, so yer all I got!”

“You ever try actually competing?”

“Once. It’s why there’s only one award I haven’t won in all my years of doing this.”

“Have you considered the fact that you might not be cut out for the movie business after all?” The Conductor glares at him, and Snatcher can only grin back. “I’m only kidding! C’mon, you just need a little help from yours truly to focus on your movie! I can make that happen for you.”

As difficult as it is for him to keep his mouth shut, at least he managed to bounce back from potentially losing out on this deal. Maybe now would be a good time to mention how little control he has over competitions he’s never heard of, but hey! It’ll be his fault if he doesn’t read the fine print on the contract! It’s not like he asked to win, after all!

He’ll deal with the fallout later, but for now, he’ll be satisfied with the stolen soul he’s been offered.

In an attempt at expanding his library, Snatcher recently picked up How to Kill Birds (since To Murder a Catbird, while a good read, wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for). With all the work he’s had to do for his forest lately, he hasn’t gotten the chance to sit down and give it a proper read. Telling the minions to leave him alone for the rest of the day, Snatcher cracks the book open, finally relaxing for once.

That is, until a certain yellow bird came in, fire in his practically nonexistent eyes. How he wishes he actually read the book before this sucker’s untimely yet expected presence. Of course it didn’t work out, what was this guy expecting?

After much ranting and raving from him, he comes to the end of his tirade. “I thought ye promised I’d win!” The Conductor huffs, shaking his fist at the ghost before him. “Ye can’t even fulfill a simple promise after I’d given ye a soul ye lousy, pool noodle lookin’, jack-o-lantern faced, PECKNE —”

“Okay, cool it,” Snatcher says, shutting his book and putting a finger on the bird’s fist to lower it. He punches him in retaliation instead. “Wow, ow, that hurt so much, you really showed me. Look, tell me exactly what happened instead of coming in yelling at me. Did your rival win?”

The Conductor tries to take another swipe at Snatcher, but he’s too short to reach his target. “No! Neither of us won!”

“In that case, you got exactly what you wanted,” Snatcher says smugly. “DJ What's-his-face didn’t win. I specifically remember you requesting that.” Remembers so much that he can’t even recall the rival’s name, apparently. “What, were there other competitors that happened to make a good movie for once?”

“No! ” He doesn’t even stop to take a breath. The Conductor tries to make use of his pent-up anger by stomping on the ground. “One of me owls that wasn’t even entered won!”

That’s exactly when he realized there’s been an unfortunate mistake on his part, something that even Snatcher himself couldn’t see coming: the soul he made a contract with ended up getting what the Conductor wanted. A rare side effect that he didn’t see coming, but at the same time, nobody has dared to use the soul of another. Guess that’s another thing to add to the contract, he figures. But, here’s the tricky part: Does he tell the Conductor that’s what happened, or is it a good time to bluff?

“Oh, I guess you didn’t read the fine print after all! What a shame.” A few white lies won’t kill someone that’s already dead inside, Snatcher figures. 

The Conductor, on the other hand, is not reacting well to this news. “Fine PRINT!? YER TELLIN’ ME I SHOULD’VE READ THE PECKING THING!?”

“That’s how contracts work? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he says, shrugging and sitting back in his chair. “You signing it meant you read it, which you clearly didn’t.”

“YE DIDN’T TELL ME I HAD TO READ IT! ”

“Sorry! Not my problem.” Snatcher doesn’t sound sympathetic at all. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. I can’t change the result, nor can I give back the soul you gave me. It’s mine now! Maybe it’ll do you some good to be more specific next time.”

“Oh, that’s RICH comin’ from you! Not even gonna tell me what happened there either?”

“To be fair on myself, you didn’t ask.”

“And you didn’t tell me! I shouldn’t have to ask!”

Arguing about this is pointless, but it does add some excitement to his otherwise somewhat-dull afternoon. However, he’s already bored of this particular line of conversation. Letting out a dramatic groan, Snatcher replies, “ Fine, have it your way. Here, let me show you what you signed up for.”

With a snap of his fingers, the contract (with a new clause added before the Conductor could notice) materializes before the bird. Will it occur to him that Snatcher admitted to not knowing what could happen, and wouldn’t have something like this on the contract in the first place? Of course not. He’s too blinded by anger, after all. Snatcher watches as the Conductor holds the piece of parchment closer to his face, and lets out a small chuckle.

“Eh?” He looks up. “I heard that!”

“Oh, no, it’s just hilarious watching you try to read that with your lack of eyes.”

“I have eyes, peckneck! ”

“You definitely won’t have any if you continue to yell at me.”

The Conductor frowns, but looks back down at the contract, trying to find this fine print that the Snatcher spoke of. Already bored of him trying to make heads or tails of it, the ghost looks back to the book he was starting to read and focuses on it again. It’s not like the Conductor is smart enough to realize he’s been tricked.

“Huh.” The Conductor scratches the back of his head, not looking away from the parchment he’s holding. While he’s still frowning, it’s less out of anger—no, it seems he might feel regret, if Snatcher had to take a guess. Like he cares.

“You should be on your way now,” Snatcher says. What more is there to say about this entire situation? The Conductor did this to himself. Anyone who dares make a contract with him voluntarily is at fault for their own misery. It’s always been that way, and it always will be. “As much as I’d love to be able to, I can’t go back in time. You’re going to have to deal with what you’ve done.”

It only becomes a problem when the Conductor continues to stand there, not moving. “I ain’t leavin’, not until ye give me soul back.”

“Okay! Can’t wait to see you leave in about a day or so. Good luck!”

As it turns out, he didn’t end up leaving at all, and Snatcher’s patience has run thin.

If Snatcher thought having the kid around was annoying, this yellow bird is especially a thorn in his side. Refusing to leave Subcon Forest, the Conductor squawks out his demands, claiming he’ll leave as soon as he gets his soul back. He saw through Snatcher’s tricks, annoyingly enough, and refuses to take no (or any of his blatant lies) for an answer. It’s been well over a week. He’s sick of this.

This bird isn’t so stupid after all, and he hates to say it, but Snatcher underestimated him. Reading How to Kill Birds didn’t have a section called “how to get an annoying pest to leave your forest for good,” so he had to do the next best thing: consult someone just as annoying.

“Hey bestie!” Hat Kid waves, smiling to Snatcher, whose elbow is on the armrest and head in his hand. “Are we finally gonna play?”

“Absolutely not.” He regrets this already. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, kiddo, but we’re still not friends.”

“You know there’s a word for people like you?” The young girl puts a hand on her chin, deep in thought. “I think it’s called a soon-deh-ray? I heard it on TV once!”

“What!? No! I’m not whatever that is!” Snatcher has no idea what she’s talking about, but if the kid sees him as that, then he wants no part in it. “Look, I called you here for a specific reason.”

“Because you’re lonely?”

He sighs deeply, not even trying to be dramatic this time. “I need you to help get rid of someone for me.”

“The Conductor?” She gestures to the bird, whose arms are crossed and foot is impatiently tapping. “I said hi to him, but he said ‘ay I’m busy lass’ or something like that! Anyway, he doesn’t want to leave, I think.”

“That’s the exact reason why you’re here, kid.”

“I come here anyway?”

Snatcher rubs his temples. “And every single time I tell you to leave.”

“Yeah!” Hat Kid smiles brightly. “‘Cuz I know you actually wanna be friends!”

“No respect for me or my wishes. That’s great.” He leans over, picking her up by her cape. The girl’s unphased. “You want me to say we’re friends, right?”

Hat Kid nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

“And you help your friends, don’t you?”

“Yeah!”

Snatcher smiles, but there’s something sinister about it. If Hat Kid is picking up on it, he can’t tell from her joyful expression. “So, here’s the deal: you get rid of that bird, we can spend a day doing whatever friends do. How does that sound, kid?”

There are practically stars in her eyes. “ YEAH! ” Before Snatcher can put her down, she wiggles out of his grasp, bouncing happily toward the Conductor. While he wants to continue his book, he can’t help but glance over to the two of them. They go back and forth, the Conductor raising his tone of voice and insisting he won’t leave until he gets what he wants. After frowning at his response, she suddenly perks up, grabbing the complaining Conductor by the sleeve toward the Snatcher.

“What are you doing?”

“I got a great idea suddenly!” The Conductor tries to leave, but Hat Kid has a tight grip on him.

“Huh? You do, lass?” Looks like even he wasn’t informed of this change of plans. Considering how impulsive this child is, Snatcher isn’t surprised.

Hat Kid smiles, looking almost too excited to announce what she has in mind. “You both gotta apologize. You’re both too grumpy, so it’s time to be nice!”

“WHAT!?” Their voices cry out in unison, the only bit of teamwork they’ll ever have at this rate.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” the Conductor says. “I was tricked, lied to, misle —”

“Yeah, did you mention how you practically stole someone’s soul for that? It didn’t even work!”

“No thanks to YOU! I would’ve won without yer meddling!”

“Are you sure about th—”

“ENOUGH!” Hat Kid’s outburst causes the two of them to immediately stop and look to her. For such a small child, she has quite the presence (which Snatcher would never admit to her under any circumstance). “This is why you have to say sorry! You can’t do this forever.”

“I can!” Snatcher says, but Hat Kid glares at him. “What?”

“You’re both not that bad!” She tugs on the two of them. “Say sorry. Please?”

The Conductor and the Snatcher glance at each other for a time, trying to gauge which one will speak up first. They know the girl will keep insisting on this. After a seemingly long silence, the two grumble out half-hearted apologies to each other at the same time. This seems to satisfy the kid well enough, and they’re both too tired to continue this feud for the time being.

“I’ll be back for me soul later,” the Conductor says, turning his back on them and walking toward Subcon’s entrance. “I need to be with me train anyway.”

As much as Snatcher wants to get one final quip in, he knows it’ll just prolong this frustrating encounter. When he’s gone, Hat Kid smiles, looking up at her bestie. “So, when are we gonna play?”

“Never, kid,” Snatcher says, picking his book up again. “I had a part in making him leave, so the deal’s off.”

“Pleeease?”

“No. Get out of my forest.” He glances over, seeing Hat Kid already trying to climb the chair. “Hey! What did I just say?”

“Not that I couldn’t climb up here.” She drops down onto his shoulder.

“Okay! You can’t climb up. Go away.”

“Too late!”

In spite of his previous responses, Snatcher decides to not push the issue any further, turning back to his book as the kid leans on him happily. He’ll insist that he’s too tired to tell her off, but she knows that he might actually like to have some company after the Conductor left.