#❛ ✧ ┊ arc ┊ let our hearts be bright; fill this world with light and love.

[vintersang]

' the snow queen ?! ' daisuke can't help but gasp at first, with a face full of recognition and maybe even a little terror. and yet it dissolves into a squint in an instant --- no, they looked similar, and the sense about them was even more so, but... ' ah, i was wrong... i'm sorry! you just really reminded me of someone, ' or rather, something that he had stolen, a beautiful crown that was no less its own live, animated person, as well as one that he had tried to lift the curse off of. ' she was really pretty, just like you... or maybe it was just because of how cold it is and all the snow around. ' a shy and measly laugh leaves him at the end.

unprompted ask / always accepting / @dnangelic

"Yes?" She automatically responds to him, quietly taking in his rigid stance. The Snow Queen tilts her head as she gazes upon the startled boy, calm in the midst of his fear. Once, she would be worried over his fear. She abandoned her own people because of their fear, but also because of her own fear. It wasn't a pretty time those three years ago, but her people have forgiven her past deeds. She does not recognize this poor boy's face, though his bright red hair does remind her of someone else...

Someone from the Southern Isles.

Could it be one of the brothers? A curious thought pops into her mind, pondering to herself. No, they look nothing alike from each other. I would be informed of a visit from someone from the royal family. She quietly shuts down the idea, dismissing it from her mind. How silly of her to consider such a foolish idea.

They truly look nothing alike. He is, she observes, far too young-looking to be one of the exiled prince's many older brothers. Hans is the youngest of his siblings, after all. Elsa has never met all of those brothers, but she doubts none of them would be in Arendelle without being properly invited.

"You know of another Snow Queen?" Surprise dances upon her pale face as she leans closer, though her movement is much more slow. Did she hear him correctly?

He is calming down, what a relief, but she still treats him with a careful gentleness. He is as startled as a little rabbit, so she does not want him to run away from her. She understood his fear, though he draws out her curiosity. "Pray tell... Where do you hail from?" Elsa asks the question, unable to resist the urge. She has only known one person with such a "title" as hers... That is, of course, herself.

Blue eyes blink when she receives the compliment, not expecting it so abruptly. A smile spreads across her face, gentle. "Oh? Thank you. Though I do not know who you are speaking about, I'm still grateful for such kind words!" Elsa responds back, though she is a bit more hesitant. She doesn't know who this other "Snow Queen" was like, so she reminds herself to be more careful.

[grubus]

i've been following syonr for quite some time now (read: caught up and religiously check updates on mondays) and i actually don't remember if i ever left a comment or just repeated the words in my head enough times i forgot to say them. which is a shame, because you deserve many many warm words for the world you created.

the way you pace the story is SOO good. every arc has delicious hurt/comfort, just enough tension to make you sit on the edge of your seat and the characters???? can we just talk about how your characterization is THE characterization in this fandom? every single character is fleshed out and has a role, they! are! written! with! LOVE! and i love them with all my heart.

i think you were the one who made mu qingfang my comfort character. i really liked him, but you just planted him straight into my soul. he's my pookie now. the best man. should be in every fic for real. you can guess how much i loved when sy lived with him and i adore every scene with him. just thinking about it fill me with warmth. also i generally headcanon mqf as aroace, but here??? yes, he and wqw are a perfect match. no one does it like them ❣️

i have this weird thing where i can't fully imagine what i'm reading and it's like i don't see stuff in my head but more like i sense it? feel it? sometimes i read a fic and it's beautifully written, but i feel uncomfortable just because it feels tight and grimy even if the story itself is light.

but syonr feels spacious, like i can breath fully and what i imagine matches with what is actually happening in the scene. i might be anxious out of my mind but i still enjoy every bit of it. the places you describe fit perfectly into the story. that is to say, my favourite/comfort scenes are bright and sunny :D

i'm not gonna lie i enjoy sy whump. this guy can be in so many Situations and i'm here for it.

and i ADORE bingyuan. they are so sweet and cute and SAFE for each other. it's really interesting how their opinion on sqq changed bc they have each other. sy needing security and validation and binghe's cold disdain.

there actually should be like 10 hours video essay on every syonr character ii i- cant they are wonderful.

nyy my beloved treasured girl. you asked "who's going to make her shine?" and didn't wait for an answer. and shine she does!!!!!!! 🌟

wqw is a charming man, if he was an anime character i imagine him having a huuuuuge fanbase. he's just silly and hot like that.

off the top of my head lady jia's arc was the first one that made me go OH MY FUCKINGGGG GODDDD I'M SCARED AND IT'S ALSO SO COOL AND EXPLAINS SO MUCH AND AND AUGGGHJJHGGHJHJH!!! i just remember this anxiety so well it was great

the demon invasion is one of the arcs i've reread a few times. it's just... perfect. one might even say... you COOKED! i love it.

anyway. thank you for sharing with us your amazing story. it doesn't matter how much time you take to write an update or if you decide you don't wan't to write it anymore, because it already exists in our hearts. ...sometimes i want fics to never ever end at all, even if they are simply left unfinished.

and thank you for brightening my days : ) every new chapter make me squeak and do a happy little dance.

i wish you well 🌼💓

anon. I am crying a lil bit, thank you.

I almost didn't reply to this simply because I wanted to keep it safe in my inbox. I've since taken a screenshot onto my phone and also onto my pc. I've. Saved this comment in a few different places.

I just

;A;

ok ok imma. imma pull myself together and give every word the attention it deserves. *sniffles* I'm not the best at replying to comments in general, because I don't know how to accurately relay how much they mean to me. but. let's do this.

I'm so, so happy to hear all this.

syonr is definitely a love project at this point, for myself and aimed at svsss and also just storytelling in general. As someone who used to only write oneshots or shortfics, it's so fun to really, truly linger and dwell in this story as I explore it. It's freeing in a way that writing hasn't been for me in many years. And I'm so, so happy you think so too. Describing it as "spacious" is a compliment I didn't know I needed, and I love it.

MQF has been fun to explore, because he's a soft but firm character. The one in charge of keeping his sect siblings in some kind of good health- which is of course very difficult because cultivators are insane and they become more nuts the more powerful they are- and then I have had a fun time having him just. Being around SY as SY struggled with basically everything. I've also been delighted to figure out how to write WQW, as he barely says anything in canon, and I'm so happy you also agree he's a hottie. RIP to SY, but I will highfive MQF for getting the hottest man in his generation as his boyfriend. It is very funny to me that they're probably the healthiest relationship in syonr of all time, even as they keep giving SY jumpscares of the gay kind.

I also enjoy SY whump. This, uh, this might be obvious, considering what he has gone through so far. *looks at him* I planned the demon invasion for so long. Fucking up his hands was The Plan all along. Fucking up his self-esteem and confidence was also it. WHUMP!!!

But of course, angst and whump can only truly hit if you line it with fluff. BingYuan is fun to explore in this setting. I like having them be same age and all that comes with it. So much can change in a story if you just swap some things around! They're soft and gooey and idiots <3

When I first decided to let NYY play a bigger part in the story, I was nervous. Canon barely gives her anything, fanon goes in two very different directions with her and neither felt right. She's spoiled and sheltered, but always well-meaning, and I wanted very much to explore writing her in all her oblivious glory while also letting her be Pure Distilled Teenage Girl trying to figure herself out. I'm always, always so happy when people tell me they love her in syonr. It's very rewarding. Not letting her be part of the story was just not possible, either! I'm just glad people appreciate her so much.

Lady Jia... hehehehe :D she always seems to strike a nerve, as intended. And it was so much fun reading the comments for that arc, everyone trying to figure out wtf was happening! Very proud of it to this day.

Part of the thing I love writing in syonr is, indeed, relationships. I mean the entire fic is kind of a love letter to it, both bad and good. It's part of why there's different povs. SQQ's pov and SY's pov are both extremely unreliable when it comes to others, as are anyone else's. I don't think there's a single character in svsss that I dislike, which is also why it's so fun to figure out how other characters think about each other. YQY and SQQ has completely different views of SY, and we all know Binghe's pov is 99% Loving On SY.

I just. You truly made my day today, thank you so much. syonr is one of those stories I'm having fun exploring, a story I look forward to finishing but I'm in no hurry to do so. And also, I suspect, a story I will struggle to not write oneshots for once it's over. (or even before that. I do have plans for a MQF/WQW fic set in it...)

Thank you again, anon. I adore you <3

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Mimic Chapter 41

The first time heroes lost and time to recuperate was not going to be given. The world had lost faith in heroes.

Words- 1570

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Warnings: Angst, slight violence, blood, hospitals, (TW: PTSD), MHA WAR ARC SPOILERS

“Is it safe to wake her up…? I mean she is his sister we don’t know..” A voice muffles as you floated in darkness coolness covers you like a sheet.

“That’s not our decision if the patient is in a stable condition you can’t force her to stay comatose.” Another voice speaks up and light touches grace over parts of your body and you continue to let the darkness consume you.

“Now begin pushing .02 mg of Zolpidem.” The voice returns again and trembling hands grace over your wrist before a liquid flood your body. It trails up your wrist through your heart spreading throughout your body before reaching your brain.

TENKO

Your eyes shoot open ripping a scream from the one nurse as they jump back and the other one comes closer to you.

“Ms. Shimura…can you hear us you’re safe.” A feminine voice speaks above you shining a light in your eyes and you groan swiping your hand out and she jumps back. Forcing yourself up your body screams in pain as you look around, seeing the male nurse pressed against a corner and the other holding her hands out to you.

“Just calm down Ms. Shimura…you’re in no condition to be up and moving.”

A ringing fills your head and you slam your hand against your head to stop the ringing. Flashes past through your vision of the battle. Hands grab your wrist to stop yourself and you swing your other hand out pushing her back.

“don’t….touch me!” Your voice is raw and you stumble out of the bed hitting the floor and shaking slightly your wrist bleeding from the IV being removed. Pushing yourself to your feet you stagger hitting the wall your ears ringing the lights too bright.

Shimura~

You swing your arm out in the direction of the voice letting out a screech. Like a rabid animal, you act savagely to the area around you and the two people in the room cower back. Falling through the door in the hall you hit the wall on the other side trying to catch your footing,

SHIMURA

His voice rings in your head shadows reaching out from the corners grabbing at your clothes and ripping through and carving up your skin. Stumbling forward dodging an attack to get caught in another, pool trails behind you. The thundering booms follow behind you.

SHIMURA!

Hitting another door you fall forward hitting the floor with a smack your hands barely catching you as your body cries out in pain. Snapping your head up your gaze meets multiple people in the room, nurses and doctors stand frozen in the middle of their duties. People dressed in regular clothes, men and women, and children all look at you as you stare back at them.

“SHE’S HERE!!”

Chaos rushes as screams fill the hall people shoving and trampling one another trying to escape somewhere. Your hands slam against your ears trying to dull the ringing. Scrambling to your feet a body crashes into you and you slam into someone grabbing them to stop yourself from falling. You make eye contact with a woman and she screams shoving you away from her and you crash into a desk your back seizes. A hand grasps your throat and you let out a shriek as you’re thrown against a wall. Their fingers tighten around your neck as you claw at their face looking up and seeing him standing in front of you. His skin was covered in injuries and scuffs from the battle his white hair was a shade of grey from the rubble. Your father’s hand covers his face but behind it, his scarred face hides behind it.

Shimura~

“SHIMURA!”

You gasp for air pulling your hands back and pressing yourself further against the wall a different man stands in front of you. He stares at you in surprise his face has a few scratches on it but it is currently hardened. Kirishima….

“Get everyone out of here!” He says his voice firm but his eyes are still focused on you, you look over seeing who were still left standing behind people you knew…Iida...Uraraka…Kaminari...Mina. They all look at you surprised almost scared to be near you. Fighting within his grasp he holds onto your shirt tight.

“L-et me go!” Your voice cracks shaking within his grasp and your hands shove against him and he stumbles back and you hit the ground your head on your knees clutching your hair by the roots.

“Y/n…” Kirishima’s voice is light as he crouches down in front of you his hand reaching out but you flinch back your fingers digging tighter into your head flashes of the fight fill your vision the screams and the smell clear in your senses.

“Hand over One For All, Izuku Midoriya.”

“YOU WILL BE MINE….LITTLE BROTHER.”

Shigaraki slams Gran Torino into the ground a crater forming and blood flies into the air.

“SENSEIII!” A scream rips through your throat as the bullet hits Eraser’s crimpled leg just as fast as it hits him his leg is a stump of the limb on the floor.

Looking at yourself you look in horror as your arm barely hangs onto your shoulder and the gash running across your chest is similar to Shigaraki.

“A connection runs deeper than you think Y/n! You will feel the pain I feel!” 

“KACCHAN!”

“Never let that hatred die. Tomura.”

“LET HER GO…ALL FOR ONE!!”

“Very well…I will be taking something for me though.” He says and his hand slams against your face red smoke flooding from your face into the hole in his palm.

“Y/NN!”

Your scream fills the air as you thrash in his grasp feeling every ounce of your body be stripped from you.

Rivets dig straight into your chest and stomach as you stare at him in horror.

“Y/N!” A voice has your head snapping up to look to see Kirishima looking at you, tears streaming down your face, your fingers bloody from clawing at Kirishima shakes taking over your body erratically, blood slides down your forehead mixing with your tears. Those red eyes look at the boy in fear.

“Shimura.” A new voice speaks out and you flinch shoving yourself further against the wall and seeing the new people joining you. Hawks and Best Jeanist stand further away looking at the scene before them. A sharp pain rushes through your arm looking down you see a needle being pulled from your arm. Looking up at Kirishima as he tosses the needle aside as a wave of dizziness floods you. Sluggishly shoving him aside you try moving away from him but your legs give out and you are grabbed by the boy as he catches you.

“why…why would…” Your words slur as more doctors crowd around you and you fail at getting them away from you dark spots filling your vision.

“I’m sorry…”

Then everything stops.

“Ms. Shimura…” A voice calls out and you shuffle trying to ignore the voice…the light through your closed eyes irritates you, “Ms. Shimura…” Slowly your eyes open your vision blurry before it clears and there is a woman sitting in a chair across from your bed her voice echoing in your head. You let out a groan trying to move your hand to cover your face but nothing happens, letting out a noise of confusion you look down at your hand that lies limp on the bed.

“It’s just a sedative to keep your calm Ms. Shimura…we need to make sure you’re stable mentally before we can lighten the dose.” She explains and you frown after a second of staring at her, “I know this might be a bit confusing but you were involved in an incident and you’re in the hospital. You’re safe…” A knock fills the room and the door opens a man walks in dressed in a suit his hair yellow like straw two long strands falling in front of his face.

“All Might..” She says and a slight grin forms on your face hearing that name. He was that hero..he was super strong. A silent giggle causes the two adults to look over at you as your eyes almost glazed over giggling at his presence, “The sedative usually relaxes the patient sometimes in a loopy sense but it’s good that she isn’t acting agitated.” She says and a dopey smile crosses your face as the two adults look at you almost in pity.

“Young Shimura…I’m…so sorry. I wasn’t there for you.” He steps forward kneeling down in front of you his hand heavily pushes your hair back stroking your skin and your smile at the feeling.

“why….you didn’t..do anything,” You mumble blinking slowly, “you’re number one.” He frowns looking away and a stray tear slides down his face he quickly wipes it away turning back to you.

“I’m going to be there for you…I promise you.” He says leaning down and pressing a kiss onto your forehead and a drop of water hits your face.

“izuku…i..i want izuku.” You mumble and he stiffens above you pulling away and you frown in confusion. His face held many words he wanted to say but knew they would destroy you, especially in such a fragile state you are right now.

You may have lost everything nothing hurt more than finding out from him…

Izuku Midoriya was gone.

A/N: AHHH THIS CONCLUDES THE 1ST ARC/HALF OF MIMIC!! I'm so grateful for everyone who enjoyed this story and has either been here since the beginning or has just joined! I want to take a short break from this story to try to give the anime some time to release more episodes so I wouldn't be giving out manga spoilers but after a bit, I will return to this story. DO NOT WORRY! I have literally 10 chapters already written! I'm not leaving though! I will be posting chapters of Fallen Angel and a new story I hope you all like called the Hellish Todoroki Family! Thank you for all the love and support and I can't wait to continue this amazing story!

TAG LIST-

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[trouble-kitten]

Chapter 1 -- Ghirahim has a very bad day.

Posting this before I convince myself it's cringe again...

Just a little thing I've been working on, don't mind me :)

Ghirahim pushed himself up, panting. His hands shook as he gripped the hilts of his twin blades. The prince had never faced an adversary of this power. Before him, his opponent boasted a hulking form and a mane of blazing hair. His eyes smoldered with power. Ghirahim had heard of him before, had heard of his growing conquest, but he never expected that his home would fall to the self-proclaimed demon-king’s latest subjugation. 

He lunged towards his opponent, arms arcing outwards in a viscous slash designed to knock the enemy backwards. Demise barely faltered. Ghirahim withdrew, studying his opponent, but in a blur of motion the demon king struck back. Ghirahim teleported out of the way, breath quickening. How could someone be so big and so fast at the same time?

He darted in closer in the aftermath of the blow, striking as Demise unveiled a weak point for a fraction of a second. But he wasn’t quite fast enough. Ghirahim’s sword bounced uselessly off of thick plated scales, sending him reeling back. He stumbled for a moment, off balance, then crashed into the wall behind him as Demise struck across his chest. He gasped in pain, head spinning. 

Stars danced in his vision. The room spun. Was it over? NO. No, it couldn't be. Not yet.

He tried to push himself to his feet, but black was creeping into his vision. He could feel his heart beating sluggishly in his throat. He gasped, chest aching as he tried, desperate, to rise. To move. 

The next thing he knew he was being dragged into the throne room. He registered his parents, kneeling some ways away, and blood everywhere, staining the tapestries, the floor. His head spun relentlessly.

“It’s over,” Demise growled, from what Ghirahim could tell, in the direction of the King and Queen, “Your Prince has been defeated, your Princess has fled. Surrender the crown and accept your fate.”

So his sister wasn’t dead. Good. If Kalis was still out there, the kingdom stood a fighting chance. Ghirahim bit back a groan of pain as he shifted on the floor. 

His mother spoke next. “We would rather die than surrender our people to the likes of you.” Her words held the fury of generations -- quite literally, since during this battle she had called on every royal ancestor for strength. 

Demise narrowed his eyes. “Then you will,” he snarled. In a single movement, both royals were decapitated. 

Ghirahim sucked in a gasp, tears filling his eyes. A strangled choking noise erupted from his throat. 

The world started to blur again. He felt himself dragged off, vaguely aware that Demise was speaking. Then they were on the terrace, the one his mother used to make official proclamations. He could smell smoke. He wondered why he hadn’t joined his parents in the afterlife. 

Ghirahim woke with a start in an unfamiliar place. The room was small and circular, from what he could tell, with one window letting in entirely too much light, and a four poster bed with red drapings. Where was he? 

Not at home, that much was obvious. The last thing he remembered was seeing something out the window of a carriage -- though he had no idea how he had gotten there or what happened next. 

Perhaps he had finally made it to the afterlife. And perhaps the afterlife was one small-ish stone room with absolutely no other occupants. That was a bit unexpected, and certainly not at all like the stories from his childhood. Less garden, more industrial. 

He tried to sit up, but an agonizing stabbing sensation in his chest discouraged him. Probably not dead if he still felt pain, he supposed. He twisted his head as much as he could manage to inspect his new surroundings. 

In addition to the too-bright window he could now see a vanity and a small chair, as well as the hints of a rug at the edge of the bed. The floor itself was stone and there was a wooden door opposite to the window. 

It was through that door that he could hear murmuring, growing closer, and soft footsteps. 

Ghirahim’s pulse quickened, and, ignoring his pain, he pushed off the blankets weighing down his legs and rolled over, only to tumble gracelessly down from the bed. The pristine white bandages wrapping around his torso quickly soaked through as his wound reopened, but the prince barely had time to gasp in pain before the voices reached his door. 

There was a click of the lock and the squeak of the knob -- then a crash as whoever had entered the room dropped something very heavy and very ceramic. A host of voices -- becoming rapidly more panicked by the second -- in a language Ghirahim was fairly sure he had heard before clamored at the entryway.

Before the hysterical chattering could devolve into full blown yelling, Ghirahim caught the attention of the mysterious interlopers. He intended to say something along the lines of, “Hello, my name is Prince Ghirahim, who are you and where am I? And also, is anyone alive after the battle and how can I get back to my kingdom?” but all that came out was a feeble “hrrrhhhggggn.” 

Three faces appeared above him, peering down with red and yellow eyes. They all had dusty, blue-gray skin and red hair, and vivid turquoise markings peeked out of what must have been livery. Servants then. Ghirahim tried to sit up and greet them, and perhaps restore some of his dignity while he was at it, but the throbbing in his chest intensified tenfold. 

“Oh, no, don’t move!” cried the one on the right, “Here, we can help you. Idma, Tika, give me a hand.” 

The three of them bustled Ghirahim back into bed and cleaned up the blood that had started to pool on the floor. 

“You really aren’t supposed to be awake,” said the one who had spoken before, “but I guess the medication works differently on you than it does on us Twili.” 

So that’s why Ghirahim thought they looked familiar. He’d attended numerous functions with the King and Queen of Twilight, but no one had heard from them in over ten years. Had they, too, fallen to Demise’s conquest? Ghirahim bit his lip. No one had mentioned their strange disappearance outside of idle gossip, assuming it was just an odd custom or ritual. The Twili were known to be odd. Had they reached out for help? Or did they just quietly fall into foreign hands, never to be heard from again?

Ghirhahim was jolted from his reverie when someone poked the wound on his chest. 

“He popped a few stitches.” It was the woman on his left speaking now. “We’ll have to redo them before we change the dressing.”

Ghirahim hissed under her gruff ministrations. She stared at him in reply. 

“Well, that’s ok!” The third voice was much younger than Ghirahim expected, something from the girl who was carrying a stone basin. “We can manage that, right Idma? Or should we call someone…”

“If it were anyone else,” Tika growled, “I would say we could handle it, but for him? We should probably call the doctor. I don’t feel like dying today.” She glared at Ghirahim as though he had personally offended her by nearly dying and being taken hostage. He glared back. 

“O-okay,” chimed the man Ghirahim still didn’t know the name of, “I can go back down. Why don’t you two try to get the loose thread out and put some of the ointment on, and I’ll be back with Dr. Ograhn in a bit.” He grimaced a bit, though whether at the thought of the stairs or in displeasure with the doctor, Ghirahim wasn’t sure.  

“Ok, Anz, good luck!” chirped the girl -- Tika, he supposed. Idma rolled her eyes and turned to the basin, which Tika had placed on the bedside table. 

“Allright,” she began, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Ghirahim did not like how grim that simple sentence sounded.

[shadowtechteller]

The Art of Forgiveness: Beyond Betrayal Lies Redemption

In the intricate worlds of my novels, betrayal is a common thread that weaves its way through the lives of key characters. Each story explores the depths of human emotions, where trust is shattered, hearts are broken, and yet, against all odds, forgiveness paves the way to something greater and unexpected. Today, I want to delve into the themes of betrayal, trust, and forgiveness—not just within my stories but as a reflection of our own lives.

The Stinging Pain of Betrayal

Betrayal can strike in myriad ways. It could be a friend who reveals our deepest secrets, a partner who strays, or a colleague who undermines us. In my novels, these betrayals are often rooted in complex, heartfelt reasons. Characters are driven by love, fear, ambition, or desperation. Their actions, while painful, are deeply human.

In one story, a character betrays their best friend to protect a family secret. The betrayal feels like a knife to the heart, leaving scars that seem impossible to heal. Another narrative follows a lover who makes a heart-wrenching choice, prioritizing duty over their relationship. The immediate aftermath is devastating, shattering the trust that was painstakingly built.

The Fragile Thread of Trust

Trust is fragile. It takes time to build, yet can be destroyed in an instant. Rebuilding it requires more than just time—it demands understanding, empathy, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. In my novels, characters often find themselves grappling with the remnants of broken trust. They question their judgment, their relationships, and sometimes, their own worth.

Yet, it is in these moments of doubt that the seeds of forgiveness are sown. When characters confront the reasons behind the betrayals, they begin to see the humanity in their betrayers. They realize that the actions, while hurtful, were often borne out of vulnerability and imperfection.

The Transformative Power of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is not easy. It requires incredible will and strength. It means letting go of anger and resentment, not for the sake of the betrayer, but for our own peace. In my stories, forgiveness becomes a journey—a path that leads characters from darkness to light.

One of my favorite arcs involves two characters who, after a series of betrayals, find themselves on opposite sides of a conflict. Through a series of events, they are forced to confront their shared past and the reasons behind their actions. The process of forgiving each other is tumultuous, filled with setbacks and emotional upheaval. But as they gradually let go of their pain, they uncover a renewed bond, stronger and more resilient than before. This act of forgiveness transforms them, allowing them to unite and achieve something greater than they could have imagined.

Beyond the Darkness Lies Healing

In our own lives, we are often hurt in ways that leave us feeling betrayed and broken. The consequences of these betrayals can be profound, affecting our relationships, our self-esteem, and our outlook on life. However, forgiveness offers a path to healing. It is an act of self-love and empowerment.

When we forgive, we release ourselves from the shackles of anger and bitterness. We open ourselves to the possibility of healing and growth. Beyond the darkness of betrayal lies something bright—a future where we are stronger, wiser, and more compassionate.

In the end, forgiveness is not just about the other person; it is about us. It is about finding the strength to move forward, to rebuild trust, and to embrace the unexpected opportunities that life offers. Through forgiveness, we can transform our pain into something beautiful, just as my characters do in their journeys.

So, let us all strive to forgive, to heal, and to find the light beyond our betrayals. For in doing so, we not only mend our broken hearts but also discover the boundless potential for love and redemption that lies within us all.

---

I hope this blog resonates with you and offers a glimpse into the powerful themes that drive my novels. If you have ever faced betrayal, may you find the strength to forgive and the courage to embrace the brighter days ahead

[wishesofeternity]

honestly, from all the changes they’ve made in the show, Aemond accidentally rather than purposefully killing Lucerys is the one that makes the most narrative and thematic sense.

The book is actually quite vague about what happens, which I didn’t realize until I went back and checked. Here:

"The tragedy that befell Lucerys Velaryon at Storm’s End was never planned, on this all of our sources agree."

“But Prince Aemond drew his sword and said, “Hold, Strong. First pay the debt you owe me.” Then he tore off his eye patch and flung it to the floor, to show the sapphire beneath. “You have a knife, just as you did then. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave. One will serve. I would not blind you."

“Outside the storm was raging. Thunder rolled across the castle, the rain fell in blinding sheets, and from time-to-time great bolts of blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day. It was bad weather for flying, even for a dragon, and Arrax was struggling to stay aloft when Prince Aemond mounted Vhagar and went after him. Had the sky been calm, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter…but the day was “as black as Prince Aemond’s heart,” says Mushroom, and so it came to pass that the dragons met above Shipbreaker Bay. Watchers on the castle walls saw distant blasts of flame, and heard a shriek cut the thunder. Then the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them. Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long.”

Basically, we know the words exchanged between the two at Storm’s End, but what actually happened in the storm of the sky is murky and unreliable. Considering this was the historic event that kick-started the war, and considering Aemond’s general temperament and future actions (lots and lots of war crimes) … it makes sense that this is the conclusion history would arrive at, that it would be warped to its most murderous extreme. But the fact is, we don’t know what actually happened. This isn’t a change which spits on established facts of the book, this is a change that fills the blanks of a murky, history-altering moment. So, whether or not you agree with it, there was room for them to experiment.

Further, despite Aemond not actually wanting to kill Lucerys in the show, he is not portrayed in a good light by any means. He wanted an eye for an eye, and he wanted to give it to his mother as a gift. He mounted Vhagar and chased him through a storm, cackling like a 90s disney villain. He was not a victim, he had agency and fully intended on harming Luke. His viciousness is emphasized, as is his rage and pain … but there is a difference between loathing someone, between wanting to hurt them as much as they’ve hurt you, and actually wanting them dead. It’s a subtle line, but it’s one which can be explored, particularly considering how young both of them still are (despite what their actors may make you think, they’re in the same age range). Aemond doesn't know true war! Of course he'd be horrified by its reality, by the complete loss of control.

And the aftermath can be so compelling. Let this be the act that finally pushes Aemond over the edge! Let him realize that he’s crossed a line … and he can keep crossing it, more and more and more, because this is war and who the hell can stop him? Does the line even matter from the sky, on the back of the mightiest creature in the world? It can be a spectacular arc, and it can fit in very well with the events of the book, humanizing a caricatural character and showing his descent into fire and blood … if it’s done right.

Basically, I could come to love this change! I think it's actually very interesting, in isolation. If it was the only the only major "accident" of the show, it would be fantastic. The problem is that, combined with all the other changes they've made, particularly with regards to Rhaenyra and Alicent, it just ends up feeling like yet another cog in the same old pattern where they refuse to let characters be legitimately terrible and unhinged and ferocious and instead woobify and victimize (and in Alicent's case, simultaneously demonize) them instead. THIS particular scenario was different, yes, but when taken together with all the other nonsensical, "oopsie" changes they've made...I'm tired

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part VII

Summary: Spencer’s unresolved trauma catches up with him. Reader gets her heart broken.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, I’m so sorry guys

Warnings/Includes: brief mention of violence and details of a case; brief mention of prison, past trauma; a lil self-loathing and self-sabotaging

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: I knew that this was where this story was going from the very beginning. The dialogue is one of the first parts I had written. It still hurts. Relevant to the story: I operate with the understanding that the Jeid arc does not exist, which also means that Spencer never went to therapy in season 15. Also, huge thanks to @reidscanehand​ for beta-ing and just generally being my hype person!!!!

Song Recs: Shrike by Hozier; Better As a Memory by Kenny Chesney (don’t come for me if Spencer made playlists this would ABSOLUTELY be on there)

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer made his way to Emily’s office, ignoring the team’s eyes on him— varying degrees of understanding, concern, and uncertainty plain on their faces. As he reached the threshold, he paused for a second before moving into her line of sight. When he moved into the doorway, she looked up and waved him in. He closed the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer hesitated for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to notice. He lowered himself into the chair and met her eyes.

She folded her hands on top of the desk. “How are you feeling?”

He drummed his fingers across his kneecaps. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. She bit back a sigh and flipped open the folder in front of her. “I’m finished with the official report. I wanted to go over it with you before I submit it to the director.” She looked at him briefly before reading out the report. “On January 9th, our team pursued a lead at the residence of suspect Andrew Hurley. We divided into teams to cover the two entrances to the home, as well as the barn behind the house.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his chair and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. Emily continued, “During the raid, Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid became separated from the team and was ambushed and disarmed by the suspect in the barn.” She paused but didn’t look at him. “The team was unaware of the altercation for some time, during which Dr. Reid employed various approved restraint methods and was ultimately forced to utilize self-defense measures to preserve his own life. Consequently, Mr. Hurley sustained serious injuries.”

She did look at him then, a steady and unrelenting gaze that had him shrinking inside himself. “However, I have determined that Dr. Reid’s actions were justified in order to maintain his own safety.” She returned her eyes to the report. “Mr. Hurley was detained and treated for his injuries at Sebastian River Medical Center, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Based on the cognitive interviews and physical evidence, a grand jury hearing is scheduled for January 25th.” She brought her hands to rest on top of the report.

“I’ll sign off on it and deliver it to the director by the end of business today.” She let out the sigh she’d been holding back. “Reid.”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, torn between shame and vindication. “Emily.”

“What happened in that barn was unacceptable. And I need you to recognize that.” Her eyes were back on him, a leader’s gaze boring into a weak link. “You went against a direct order. You put your life in danger unnecessarily, and in the process you endangered this entire team. Furthermore, you could have cost us the ability to close this case, to put Hurley away and bring justice to his victims.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

“No, it won’t.” Her tone told him that if it did, he’d have bigger problems than a meeting in her office. “My recommendation to the director is that you transition to your next mandatory leave cycle early.”

“I can handle—”

“It’s not a request. You’re on sabbatical starting tomorrow. That’s an order, and one you’d do well to follow.” She closed the file in front of her. “We’ll see you back in the bullpen on March 7th.”

“I don’t need more time off, Emily,” Spencer snapped.

He could see her grind her teeth together at his tone, but he couldn’t seem to care enough to feel contrite. She took a deep breath in through her nose, leveling him with a pointed look. “If Simmons hadn’t broken it up, you’d have killed Hurley on the floor of that barn.”

His mind snapped back to the lifeless eyes of Hurley’s victims— eight year old boys in shallow graves. Boys who died afraid, and in pain, and crying out for their mothers. His thoughts raced to the feel of Hurley’s throat under his arm, the crack of the zygomatic under his fist. Emily was right of course. If Matt hadn’t found them in the barn and dragged him up and off of Hurley’s nearly lifeless body, Spencer would have killed him without compunction.

“Reid.” The stern edge was gone from her voice. Spencer refocused his eyes on her face, now showcasing an underlying concern that made his stomach turn. “I’m not recommending another cycle of mandatory counseling at this time, although I reserve the right to require it moving forward. But… I’m asking you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot in the last two years. More than a lot.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, but there was less fire behind it this time.

“And I’m not saying you aren’t,” she countered. “But I am saying that the person in that barn… that wasn’t you. That was not the Reid that I know.” Emily tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “The Reid I know uses his intellect and empathy to see angles that the rest of us miss. He depends on the strength of his mind and his unwavering compassion to diffuse conflicts without violence. He invites his friends to foreign film showings and puppet theater.”

When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “I want you to take the next fifty days to find that Reid and bring him back to us.”

...

Y/N dropped into her desk chair with a huff. They’d been back from winter break for two weeks, and she already needed another vacation. But tomorrow was Friday, and then they had a long weekend. She could make it through one more day.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, tired in the way that only kindergarten teachers fresh off a long break can be. She heard the click of Anita’s shoes coming before she even entered the room, and Y/N couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips.

“Dude. How is it only Thursday?” Anita flopped down into the plush Calm Corner chair.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” Y/N agreed. “My kids were off the chain.”

“There is so much drama in middle school right now,” Anita groaned. “I can’t keep up with all the tea, and you know how I love to stay up to date on the freshest brews.” She shot Y/N a look. “Speaking of, where’s the good doctor?”

“I think they’ve had a lot going on at work,” Y/N surmised. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Jareau in over a month.”

“Well, I’m getting antsy,” Anita complained. “Thought for sure you’d be going steady by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little impatient herself. If she’d known it would be this long before she’d see him again, she might have made a move when he’d volunteered. Then again, probably not. She sighed.

Her phone chimed with an email message, and she automatically swiped the screen open to read it.

Spencer Reid Re:

Are you free today? If you are, I’ll be at Soho.

...

Spencer sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop. He sipped absentmindedly at his tea, almost gone cold. He hadn’t waited for a reply before leaving Quantico. He drove straight to the city, figuring he’d wait at Soho until he felt some semblance of calm returning to his body.

He didn’t know why he’d emailed Y/N, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to show up. Usually he’d talk to Penelope or maybe JJ. But he’d wanted to get as far from the BAU as possible, and he didn’t want to drag Penelope away from the colorful, safe corner of the world she’d created for herself. He didn’t want to fill it with all the tragedy she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

If Y/N did show, he was certain he could keep the conversation vague, focus on her and the classroom, ask her about her holidays. She wasn’t a profiler, didn’t know his tells well enough. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d have her warmth and presence to focus his energy on, if only for a few hours.

Every time the bell chimed, his eyes flew to the door, searching for her. He knew it was ridiculous. He’d only known her for one hundred and eleven days. Pragmatically, he knew she shouldn’t be the one he wanted to talk to. Realistically, he wasn’t planning to burden her with all of the mess of the past week, the past year, his entire life.

But in the six hundred and forty seven minutes he’d spent with her since September, he’d felt more like himself than he ever had. He was never afraid to be himself with her— the silly story voices, the ridiculous costume, the magic trick, the vulnerability about his mom. All of these pieces of himself were things he usually waited years to show people. It had taken her a matter of weeks to draw them out.

He couldn’t help but believe that if he wanted to, he could tell her everything. She’d know exactly what to say. She’d listen for as long as he could keep talking. She’d cover his shaking hands and wrap him up in the warmth of her spirit. She’d give of herself to guide him back to the person he used to be. She’d be more than willing to use her radiance to illuminate the dark so that he might have a little light again.

The bell sounded, and his eyes focused, and there she was. She was wrapped up in a puffed jacket, a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Her nose was adorably red from the cold, and she rubbed her hands together as the door closed behind her. Her eyes found him immediately. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave. And he knew that he was right about all of it.

She approached the table, unwinding her scarf. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, and then settled on his mostly empty mug. “I’ll get you a refill, and then we’ll catch up?”

He nodded, and she headed to the counter. There had been a part of him that thought she wouldn’t come, but of course she did. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, she liked talking to him. Even among his closest friends, he was often made to feel self-conscious about his tendency to ramble, but Y/N had literally asked him to. She sought him out, asked him questions, listened intently, and remembered things he’d told her. She was kind and thoughtful and genuine. Of course she came when he called.

She returned with two mugs, carefully setting them down on the tiny table. She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair and revealing a crew neck sweater covered in tiny astronauts and rocket ships. When she sat across from him, her hands wrapped around the mug and her eyes met his.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, despite the events of the day. “You said that already.”

She laughed, and he felt the weight begin to lift. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in forever, so— I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Sixty one days.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been sixty one days, eighty eight minutes, and approximately,” he looked at his watch, “fourteen seconds since we saw each other last.”

She laughed again, and his mouth completed its curve. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like that you’ve been counting.” She let her chin come to rest in her hand, eyes studying his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to lie, but she was looking at him so earnestly that he mumbled out, “I’m managing.”

She mirrored the way he’d looked at her across this same table nearly three months ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” That was a lie, too. But asking her to meet him was enough of a burden.

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Until then, I can just regale you with all the kindergarten stories you’ve missed while you were out saving lives.”

And regale him she did. For almost an hour, he listened to her tales of love (budding crushes were taking over recess time), loss (the class pet— a stuffed zebra— had accidentally taken a swim in the Atlantic on a vacation to Florida), and lessons learned…

“So, in case there was ever any doubt, we are now painfully aware that we shouldn’t attempt to flush our underwear.” Y/N let out an exasperated laugh.

She’d been talking to him for fifty three minutes, and his heart already felt one thousand times lighter. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for that one.”

“I really wish that was the only poop story I had.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of things they don’t tell you in grad school. I think there’d be a global teacher shortage if they warned you about the amount of bodily fluid management involved in teaching kindergarten.”

She toyed with the edge of her empty mug. He watched the movement of her fingers.

“Do you—”

“Do you—”

She laughed and gestured for him to speak first.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

…

They ended up in Mitchell Park. The trees were bare and the grass was brown, but he was with her, and so it was beautiful.

They’d been walking in comfortable silence, when she asked, “Did you change your mind? About talking about it.”

Spencer put his hands into his pockets. “It’s, um— it’s kind of a lot.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“I don’t mean— I mean, it would take some time to get through it all. But it’s also— it’s a lot.”

“We don’t have to.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Do you talk to— someone about it?”

“I talked with my unit chief today,” he answered.

“Okay. But— I mean, have you ever— talked to someone. Like, a professional.”

Spencer bristled slightly. Although he knew she wasn’t passing judgement, her question exposed the reality that she thought he could use it. “I’ve had some mandated counseling over the years.”

“Obviously it’s your choice whether you talk to someone or not,” she mused. “I just— I know that I’ve benefited a lot from seeing my therapist.”

Spencer was unsure of what to do with that information. Here she was, confessing that she went to therapy— sweet, lovely Y/N. In comparison, he wasn’t sure if even daily meetings with a counselor would be enough to tame the darkness that had grown and festered inside him over the years. That sometimes threatened to swallow him whole.

For a long while, there was only the crunch of the frozen ground beneath their feet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an uncertainty about them that felt uncharacteristically heavy. He was hyper aware of her presence, and so he felt her pace slowing down before she came to a complete stop. He walked a few more paces before it became clear that she wasn’t planning to catch up.

He turned and saw that she’d taken a seat on one of the park benches. He carefully made his way to the bench, sitting beside her quietly. She didn’t look at him, but instead studied her fingernails intently. She cracked her knuckles once, twice, and then turned her body slightly toward him on the bench.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she hedged carefully. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do, or like, imply that there’s anything wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured her. The way she looked at him then— like he was something fragile, delicate— made his eyes burn. He kept his voice even. “I know what you meant.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling and filled with something that felt familiar and far away all at once. “Good. I can’t have you out here thinking you’re anything less than wonderful.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, attempting to solve the impossible cypher behind her irises. As he failed to decode it, his inability to read her blinded him to what came next. He missed the dilation of her pupils, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the increase of the beats in her carotid. So when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he was momentarily paralyzed.

Her lips were so soft against his slightly chapped ones, pressing with a perfectly gentle pressure. She brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting the curls falling around his ear. She sighed into his mouth and pressed a little closer. He took one peaceful moment to bask in the realization of a desire he’d had for almost four months.

And then she swiped the very tentative tip of her tongue against the seam of his mouth, and his hands involuntarily wound into her hair, dragging her closer. He opened his mouth against hers to swallow her sweet little gasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and she let out the tiniest mewl, and like a switch had flipped— suddenly his mind was full of the darkness she’d spent the evening chasing away.

Y/N beneath him in the dark. Maeve in a pool of blood. His hands around Cat’s neck. His mother’s slap against his cheek. Max walking away from him. His fingers pressing the plunger on a dirty syringe. The slam of the door behind his father. Y/N calling out his name. A knife at his throat under a canopy of bones. Innumerable sets of lifeless eyes staring up at him. His life being snuffed out on the dirt floor of a shed. The clanging of metal bars and fingers ghosting over old bruises. Y/N looking at him with warm, loving eyes. The violent crack of bone underneath his fists. Y/N’s face, lovely and perfect— and then twisted in pain.

He broke away from her, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her back into the bench. He took a second to gather himself before he dared to look at her. Her hair was tousled from his rough grip; her eyes were half-lidded and focused on him; her lips were red and kiss-bruised and turned up in a small, sweet smile.

And all at once he knew he had to hurt her, and it had to be now. Because what Cat had said about him was true. He might have escaped his mother’s illness, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the violence— and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of being sick. He had hurt people, and he had enjoyed it. He would have killed Hurley, and he would have slept soundly. He was no better than the men his team hunted.

Every time he thought he’d moved past it, that wickedness lurking just under the surface would grab him by the throat, choking everything else out. Emily’s directive rang in his ears. Find that Reid and bring him back to us. He knew who she was talking about. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that person still existed.

He was going to hurt Y/N eventually. Better to do it now, before things got too far.

“You’re Michael’s teacher,” he said, as evenly as possible.

Her smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. He could still feel the phantom press of them against his own, and he was sure he’d never forget it. She cleared her throat. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I, um— I won’t be in a few months, and maybe then—”

“You don’t even know me,” he interrupted.

Now there was confusion in her eyes. That much he could read. She huffed out a small laugh. “I— I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

He looked directly at her. “Why? Because you read my bio on a university website? Because we got tea a couple times?” His voice sounded harsh, patronizing, and he hated it.

Her confusion shifted into shock, and he ignored the tug on his heart. “Are you serious?” she questioned, genuinely searching for a sign that he was joking.

“Dead serious.” He shrugged, and it felt like his bones were breaking. “You don’t really know anything about me, Y/N. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Where— where is this coming from?” Her voice was small, close to breaking. He lined up the last nail on the lid of the coffin.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve appreciated talking to you. Volunteering in your classroom was entertaining. But I don’t— I don’t see you that way.” It was a lie, and if he didn’t have such a practiced poker face, she might have seen through it. As it was, his poker face had helped get him banned from every casino in Vegas, so he watched her as he hammered the final nail. “You’re just Michael’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh.” The hurt flashed across her features— the furrow of her brow, the tightening of her mouth, the storm clouds in her eyes. “Well, I— I really read this wrong, huh?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah.” He put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her, the desire to comfort her a strange juxtaposition to the pain he was intentionally inflicting on her. “I guess so.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice before taking a deep breath and nearly whispering, “Okay. Well. I’m— I’m gonna go.”

She brushed some imaginary dust from her pants and then stood. She turned to him, and he waited for her to explode— to scream and curse at him. But it didn’t come. She didn’t look at him at all. “Um— yeah. I’m gonna go.”

He didn’t say anything, and he knew she’d take his silence as indifference. But he had to keep his mouth shut, because if he didn’t, he’d beg her to stay. He’d tell her every single random piece of information he had stored in his brain. He’d tell her that he loved her from the moment he watched her help a child pick a solution from a pencil box. He’d tell her that he only ever dreamt of two things these days— her or the lives he didn’t save. He’d tell her every single one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell her that sometimes he was so afraid of himself that he could barely breathe. And if he told her all of that, she’d walk away anyway.

So instead, he watched her turn and start back up the path, hugging her arms around herself and swiping her cheek against her scarf.

When she disappeared over the slope of the path, he scrubbed his hands over his own damp face and let himself break.

———

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Broken tags: @saspencereid @this-is-gublerween

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion. 

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. 

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then… 

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn’t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.” 

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone. 

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains. 

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly,  “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves. 

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake. 

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s. 

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow. 

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek. 

A Katakan. 

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe. 

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once. 

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster. 

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then... 

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side. 

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart. 

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.  

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back. 

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned. 

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover. 

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

[puckrph]

‘NOT YOUR KIND OF PEOPLE’ SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from garbage’s 2012 album. feel free to change pronouns, etc.

AUTOMATIC SYSTEMATIC HABIT

‘ you love those lies. ’ ‘ you love those lies, you tell them straight to my face. ’ ‘ they feel so right. ’ ‘ they keep you safe. ’ ‘ you’re so good at it, it comes automatic: lies. ’ ‘ i can see right through, you have see-through eyes. ’ ‘ i won’t be your dirty little secret. ’ ‘ not for you, not for me, not your other lover. ’ ‘ men like you keep me up at night. ’ ‘ you want your woman at home and your bit on the side. ’ ‘ you’re so good at it, a systematic habit. ’ ‘ i’ll tell your mother, tell your brother, tell your friends, tell your teacher. i won’t be your dirty little secret. ’ ‘ i won’t be knocked down. ’

BIG BRIGHT WORLD

‘ we are difficult to understand. ’ ‘ it was hard to make the simple plan work. ’ ‘ that’s what made it burn. ’ ‘ you’re a satellite around my heart. ’ ‘ it’s indescribable, and that’s what makes it you. ’ ‘ inside this big, bright world, we rage against the dying light. ’ ‘ you’re mysterious, you make no sense. ’ ‘ i love you because you’re innocent. ’ ‘ magnify the best inside me, fill the parts that you can’t find, the parts that won’t give out when things get hard. ’ ‘ i’m with you. ’

BLOOD FOR POPPIES

‘ i’ve been sitting here all night long. ’ ‘ duty calls, but it’s way too late, i’m too far gone. ’ ‘ i miss my dog. i miss my freedom. ’ ‘ i don’t know why they’re calling on the radio. ’ ‘ i know i’m right. ’ ‘ i hate the things i think about you when i’m all alone. ’ ‘ i know you’re tough, but i’ve been gone for so long. ’ ‘ i play the memories of you inside my head so all those pictures of us burn and radiate. ’ ‘ i’m falling through the cracks. ’ ‘ i’ve got to take a chance and keep on moving. ’ ‘ i see your light from miles away. ’

CONTROL

‘ the world might end, the night might fall, rain on down and cover us all, and drown us with the burdens of our sins. ’ ‘ i’ll look you in the eye, tell you “you don’t wanna die.” ‘ ‘ maybe i’ll hold my breath and jump right in. ’ ‘ your autograph would really buy me time. ’ ‘ if you think you are the reason, give me something to believe in. ’ ‘ it’s always darkest right before the dawn. ’ ‘ i confess: i’ve lost control. ’ ‘ i let my guard down. ’ ‘ i let the truth out. ’ ‘ flip a coin and see which way i fall. ’ ‘ the charlatan is singing. we love to watch him killing. ’ ‘ i can feel i’ve lost control. ’ ‘ i was trapped like a prisoner in my skin. ’ ‘ i was bound, and i was caged, and i was tricked. ’ ‘ i was suffocating. ’

NOT YOUR KIND OF PEOPLE

‘ we are not your kind of people. ’ ‘ you seem kind of phony. ’ ‘ we don’t see eye to eye. ’ ‘ i don’t want to be like you ever in my life. ’ ‘ when you start talking there’s nothing but white noise. ’ ‘ running around, trying to fit in and wanting to be loved. it doesn’t take much for someone to shut you down. ’ ‘ you can’t sit still, and you don’t like hanging around the crowd. ’ ‘ they don’t understand. ’ ‘ you dropped by here as i was sleeping. ’ ‘ you came to see the whole commotion. ’ ‘ the joke’s on me for not believing. ’ ‘ we see through your lies. ’ ‘ we won’t be cast as demons, creatures you despise. ’ ‘ we are extraordinary people. ’

FELT

‘ i felt sure you felt something. felt sure, but it really was nothing. ’ ‘ you’re only guessing. ’ ‘ they’re only feelings, baby. ’ ‘ i felt i’d left you hanging. felt sure i’d stopped myself caring. ’ ‘ you felt that i’d stopped believing. ’ ‘ what is real? is real reason? ’ ‘ i still get you. do you still get me? ’ ‘ i felt my skin on your skin. it felt sure, sensations like raining. ’ ‘ you felt. no logical thinking. ’

I HATE LOVE

‘ your words are pretty but i already know who you are. ’ ‘ i knew you before you met me, long before we would part. ’ ‘ you tricked me and laid on my bones. ’ ‘ you kissed me and buried my hope. ’ ‘ you stole my spirit. ’ ‘ they lay all their dreams on you. ’ ‘ they let you in, and you start to believe you’re soft as a miracle. ’ ‘ i was new and unfurled: innocent and open as any lamb, and hoping for paradise. ’ ‘ i hate love. ’ ‘ love leaves you desperate and feeling a fool. ’ ‘ love makes you ruthless and love makes you cruel. ’ ‘ love makes you crazy with nothing but lies. ’ ‘ love promises nothing, and then your love dies. ’ ‘ it’s 2 am, where are you? ’

SUGAR

‘ give me sugar, give me something sweet. ’ ‘ i’ve spent a lifetime feeling incomplete. ’ ‘ if i sound bitter, or if i’ve come too late, please reconsider. ’ ‘ i don’t need much on my plate. ’ ‘ don’t come close. please keep at a distance. ’ ‘ look, but don’t touch till the light goes on. ’ ‘ don’t touch the glass till the curtain calls. ’ ‘ don’t make me wait. ’ ‘ give me something deep. ’ ‘ i don’t make a habit of crawling on my knees, but this is different. ’ ‘ can’t you see i’m in control? ’ ‘ this is the moment where all your dreams have flown. ’ ‘ oh, won’t someone love me? ’ ‘ won’t someone love me? like you? ’

BATTLE IN ME

‘ look at you: an accident of drinking. ’ ‘ what a mess, a train wreck of lipstick. ’ ‘ what a joke, but do you hear me laughing? ’ ‘ get out of my face before i lose my patience. ’ ‘ let’s cut this party. ’ ‘ it takes a lot to shake me. ’ ‘ it’s a bloody war of attrition, let’s see which one of us is going to last the night. ’ ‘ “white rabbit” plays right when the room starts spinning. ’ ‘ i want something to happen, so make it happen. ’ ‘ let’s take a torch to the past and the future. ’ ‘ let’s make out. i won’t tell your girlfriend. ’ ‘ see how it feels with a passion burning; we’ll be damned when we’re done. ’

MAN ON A WIRE

‘ i looked into the mirror, what did i see? there was a big black beast looking back at me. ’ ‘ you looked into my eyes. what did you see? ’ ‘ like a man on a wire, i set myself on fire. ’ ‘ i’m the destroyer of a dream, trying to find a spark, desperate for love. ’ ‘ i was like a volcano just waiting to explode. ’ ‘ i have been resurrected, reborn, and i have been transformed. ’ ‘ i was a green eyed monster. ’ ‘ could you tell i was afraid? ’ ‘ i sat myself down and shot my fear in the face. ’ ‘ i see you sitting around with your wristwatch and your white collared shirt. ’ ‘ i see you hoping to watch me fail. ’

BELOVED FREAK

‘ you’re not certain when you feel hurt. ’ ‘ get violent when you deal with how the world drags you along. ’ ‘ you’re not alone. ’ ‘ nothing good was ever free. ’ ‘ no one gets it. no one sees. ’ ‘ here you stand: beloved freak. ’ ‘ sometimes we get so tired and weak, we lose the sky beneath our feet. ’ ‘ every comet throws an arc and scars our vision ‘cross the dark. ’ ‘ when we’re gone, we will remain. ’ ‘ people lie and people steal. they misinterpret how you feel. ’ ‘ we doubt and we conceal. ’ ‘ don’t worry for me. just think of yourself. ’ ‘ the world is at your feet. ’

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Border (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (边境) which has not been released in English servers!🍒

This S2 R&S features S1 Gavin, but it follows directly after Ch 37 - Gavin’s Farewell. If you don’t wish to spoil yourself on how S1 ends, please don’t read this!

Follow along with the audio here!

[ Chapter One ]

The dismissal bell has rung for a very long time.

With an almost inaudible sigh, Gavin takes a final glance in the direction of the rooftop, then turns around to leave.

The pale yellow light divides the light and darkness, akin to the black and white keys of a piano which are no longer played by anyone.

The companionship and breaths belonging to the girl have become too warm and natural. Having gotten used to them, the temperature seems to have dropped when walking alone in the school grounds.

Gavin walks over to the school wall. Gently exerting force on his ankles and wrists, he leaps over the wall.

“This time, it counts as a proper goodbye, doesn’t it?”

He smiles a little bitterly.

The enclosing wall, trees and plants are silent, leaving the answer to the evening breeze passing through the leaves.

-

The city is silent.

The Special Task Force has already issued instructions to every team member to be dismissed. Even the team members who wanted to leave last have returned to their families. 

The cluster of comets in the sky brush the atmosphere, burning long trails of unclear rays of light in their wake.

In the distance, some dark smoke can be seen rising faintly, probably the embers of a disaster-stricken building.

Gavin looks at the night sky as many meteors streak past. Getting onto the motorcycle, he drives far away.

Since an unknown point in time, he’s been running in the direction of the girl.

Despite not knowing where such inexplicable confidence came from, Gavin has always felt that whether it’s in the form of protecting her, standing by her side or waiting, the end-goal of the path they walk on will always coincide.

When he told the girl to "walk forward", he was already convinced that the girl would follow her own path, no matter how difficult it is. She would definitely reach the goal she’s searching for. As for himself, he would definitely stand there, welcoming their reunion once again.

Walking forward without turning back, they will eventually meet again in the future.

Gavin secretly vows that when the time comes, no matter what happens, he will definitely not let go of her hand again. 

The wind howls. The high-speed motorcycle carries its partner, galloping through the devastated city.

Moving a little closer to that place in Gavin’s heart.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

Although no new natural disasters have occurred for the time being, the wounds inflicted on the city are still dripping with fresh blood.

The pavement that was originally clean and wide have occasional piles of rubble and rocks. The asphalt is cracked, and the iron railings are in tatters, curled at the side.

The originally lively and bustling Loveland City is now struggling whilst at death’s door, providing its citizens a final refuge.

"Ahh--”

A harsh sound of scraping metal suddenly arises from the roadside, followed by exclamations from the crowd.

A large advertising billboard that was originally on the roof of the building is swinging downwards, and the steel bars fixing it in place are gradually cracking, and it’s clear that it’s about to fall.

Gavin pulls in the direction violently, and the motorcycle sweeps half an arc on the road. Amid the billowing dust, the tyres almost create sparks on the ground.

Changing directions, the motorcycle gallops toward the tall building, leaving behind only the sound of rustling wind.

Citizens who sense the danger in the streets rush for cover. But the falling billboard is too humongous, and the shadow from the top hangs over the heads of all who are fleeing.

Finally, the steel bars are no longer able to hold the billboard. Along with the cracking sound of the final steel bar, the billboard quickly plummets towards the ground--

On the ground, some people have already closed her eyes, waiting for the unexpected calamity to arrive.

What arrives before the pain is a gale rising from the ground, rushing into the air with a mighty force.

"Don't panic. Evacuate to an open area."

Gavin raises his voice, giving instructions to the citizens who are still in a state of panic.

The howling wind turns into a sharp blade, slicing the huge billboard into countless small pieces immediately. Amid the sparks, the sliced metal emits a pungent smell.

Another gust of wind rises, wrapping the debris, and landing on an unoccupied area.

In an instant, the shadow hanging over everyone's head disappears. Even the stinging gas in the air has been dispersed by the wind.

After doing all of this, Gavin breathes a sigh of relief. Just as he’s about to leave, the citizens he saved surround him, thanking their hero.

A little girl, with tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes, tugs at Gavin’s clothes, putting the candy in her pocket into his hand carefully.

"Thank you, Big Brother."

"You're welcome."

"Big Brother... are you the Commander Brother who was on TV the other day?"

The little girl blinks, her hands clenched till her knuckles have turned white, not allowing him to leave.

"…yes."

"Will Big Brother protect us afterwards? From the stars?”

She points to the top of her head, eyes filled with anticipation.

"Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can."

Gavin squats down and rubs the top of the little girl's head. His eyes become much more tender.

“Aside from me, there are also many other people who are doing everything they can.”

"There’s also a very incredible Sister. Even though she isn’t here now, she’s definitely working hard.”

"Is that Sister an even more incredible person than Big Brother?”

"Mm. She’s very incredible. She’s overcome many obstacles and has done many difficult things."

"Is Sister a fairy? After she finishes what she has to do, will she come back?" Ignoring the gentle tug of her mother, the little girl continues asking Gavin questions.

"She will. I believe her."

The little girl nods faintly, then takes out another candy.

"In that case, when you see Sister, remember to give this to her!"

"Okay. I definitely will."

He watches as the little girl finally smiles, pulling on her mother as she hops away. Then, he shakes his head at the apologetic lady, indicating that he wasn’t bothered.

Gavin scans his surroundings. After hesitating for a while, he begins to clear up other hidden dangers that still linger in the city.

The wind rolls up the rubble and bricks that have fallen to the ground, shifting them to the side of the road. Remnants of buildings hanging in the air are either cut or fixed in another manner.

He’s silent, quietly tidying up and protecting the city, no different from the other things he has been doing during this period of time.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

When Gavin returns to his senses, many people have already gathered on the street.

Everyone is like him, doing things quietly. Whether it’s helping others or cleaning up the city, they simply hope to make this city a little better than the second before, bit by bit.

"Commander!"

Gavin turns his head, looking at the man who called him. Dressed in military attire, the childish aura of his face hasn’t completely faded away despite his dirty face.

Around him, there are several people of around the same age: the same childishness, the same tiredness, and the same fire burning in their eyes.

"We’re part of the Special Task Force Medical Corps, but we’re still reserves. We responded to the call for support, and didn't expect to see you here."

They line up in front of Gavin, standing at attention and saluting, their voices trembling slightly with emotion.

Whether it’s because of fatigue or because they weren’t properly trained, their posture is not up to standard, and their greeting was overly casual.

But Gavin doesn’t care that much, and simply gives them a nod.

"Commander, what instructions do you have next?"

Gavin pats him on the shoulder, getting him to relax. "Don't be so nervous. You should have received the order to evacuate.”

"Yes. But there are minor damages nearby, and there are citizens in need of medical assistance, so we returned to the frontline on our own accord."

Gavin looks at these young people who have yearning and decisiveness in their eyes. Half-seriously and half-jokingly, he says, "So you’re all blatantly violating instructions?"

Another young man stands upright, replying in a bright voice. “The Commander hasn’t rested yet, so we’ll also continue to provide assistance."

Hearing this, Gavin smiles slightly. “You’re free to act anyway you want. Provide medical and follow-up support to the citizens."

"Yes!"

"Take care of your own safety.”

"Yes!"

"Also...”

Gavin's gaze softens, his lips curving upwards.

"Also, set aside some time to keep your family members company.”

The cluster of comets burning in the night illuminates the group of people who refuse to give up even at the last second.

Despite knowing what’s coming, the people gathered here are still igniting with the hope in their own hands. 

Hope that this world wouldn’t end.

Hope that there can be a tomorrow.

Light rips through the night, and the people who look up at the starry sky stand hand in hand.

Gavin leans against the motorcycle, suddenly feeling as though what he has always been holding onto, what the girl has always been protecting, and what everyone who’s unwilling to give up has been safeguarding - wasn’t the city or this world. At the same time, they were also the most ordinary, trivial matters in life.

Just a small place, a warm breakfast in the morning, a light left on when one returns late, and a “welcome home”.

Being able to hold the hand of the most important person on an ordinary day, waste time luxuriously, watch the sunrise and sunset every day.

The time on the display board is constantly approaching the number that has been engraved in everyone's mind recently.

It’s as though Gavin has never noticed the ever-changing numbers at all. He simply looks at the picture of the girl on the screen. In a quiet voice that only he can hear, he says things he wouldn’t typically say to a person he doesn’t know when he’d meet again.

“If only this could last a little longer.”

“A little longer than after the dismissal bell rings.”

“A little longer than tomorrow.”

On the screen, the girl smiles very sweetly. The moment her hair blows upwards slightly, it’s the most affectionate caress of the breeze.

"...stay by my side a little longer."

Gavin lowers his eyelids slightly,  the final soft whisper being shattered and taken away by the night breeze, following the wind's trajectory toward the horizon.

The sky gradually lights up, and the cluster of comets get closer to the surface, like thousands of unformed suns, emitting fiery light, scorching the planet.

Soon, fragments of the first star descend from the sky, and the flaming tail of the comet burns before it hits the ground.

Then comes the second, the third... Even more tiny fragments begin to penetrate into the atmosphere. They are reminiscent of an advancing army beginning to sound the horn, announcing that the collision of the comets is about to begin.

Before the comets officially land, a flash of light suddenly lights up in the direction of the northern suburbs, followed by a deafening sound.

Gavin looks towards the sound, brows furrowing.

After a while, another loud noise drifts from the northern suburbs. Without much thought, Gavin gets onto the motorcycle, driving towards the northern suburbs to check out the situation, and to prevent other disasters from occurring.

He understands very clearly that at this juncture, doing such things is perhaps meaningless. 

But even if it’s the last second, Gavin still hopes this world can look the way that girl likes it.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Gavin reaches the northern suburbs, then walks a few kilometres further north. To his shock, he discovers that the ground has split into a giant ravine. But it doesn’t appear to be a crater.

He looks at the ravine, which is so deep that he can’t see the bottom. Just as he’s about to leave, he realises that a strange light is shining faintly in the darkness.

After a moment of hesitation, Gavin decides to go down and have a look.

He dials the communicator out of habit, following procedure in giving a report to the Special Task Force.

"An unidentified ravine has been found in the northern suburbs, and I’m commencing an investigation immediately. No additional support is required."

While speaking, Gavin descends into the ravine. 

The ravine is deeper than expected. The sky above his head has shrunk into a thin slit, but he’s still unable to see the boundary of the pitch-dark emptiness beneath his feet. The ramparts around him gradually morph from sand and soil to something thicker and more solid, even with a foreign material with a touch of metal.

Since entering the ravine, the wind entwining round Gavin protects him all the way deep into the ground. The deeper he goes, the muddier the air becomes. Even Gavin is unable to judge how deep he has gone, only that the bottom of the ravine is still far out of reach.

Descending further, even the sky is no longer visible.

Light seems to be swallowed up by the hole, and doesn’t bring back any visual signals. The concept of direction becomes meaningless, leaving only darkness and silence.

Only the sensation of continuous descent and the occasional light passing by underneath his feet tell Gavin that he’s getting closer to the target.

After an unknown amount of time, light finally appears. 

At the end of the darkness, the light seems to have a solid body, surging and flowing in a form between a liquid and solid state. Occasionally, the light breaks free from the shackles of that area, escaping and rising, then dissipating. Come to think of it, this was the strange light that Gavin saw earlier.

Gavin makes a preliminary judgment that this is some kind of unstable, strange space. Hence, he presses the communication button again and tries to give a report on the situation. What returns to his ears is the noise of an electric current, affected by the unique magnetic field of this place. Gavin doesn’t know if the information was transmitted.

Speeding up his pace, he plunges into the wave of light that shouldn't exist in this world.

The light is distorted, and his field of vision becomes skewed and odd. The flowing sceneries and figures slip past Gavin. He sees the construction of ancient buildings, the sailing of inter-galactic spacecrafts, the melting of glaciers after the world was frozen, and the formation of the galaxy and then its fall... It’s as though all the hidden information about the universe are exhibited here.

The spatial nodes are dazzling. No matter which one it is, they’re all worth spending more time to study and mull over meticulously.

But at this moment, Gavin doesn’t have time to care about these things. In the darkness, he can only feel that the thing he’s searching for isn’t here.

This isn’t the direction he wants to go in.

He enters a certain node in the space, then comes out from another node. There is neither direction nor goal.

He shuttles through many places, passing by various sceneries, and finally halts in front of the only node that’s different from the others.

Akin to a painting that has never had its curtain drawn, the undulating light stops here. Gavin looks around, sensing that this might be the origin of all the distortions.

So he strides forward, stepping into it.

After a moment of dizziness, a black door appears in front of his eyes, fixed abruptly in the empty and boundless void.

Complicated symbols are engraved in spirals on the huge door, seeming to rustle and whisper the answer to the origin of all things and the mystery to the riddle.

The most eye-catching one is a horizontal, interlocked “8”. It’s surrounded by thorns and irregular geometric patterns. It has an unknown beginning, and he can’t see its ending.

Gavin reaches out to touch the door, only to find that he’s unable to open it.

No matter which method he employs, the door doesn’t budge.

"You shouldn't be here."

Suddenly, a voice appears out of nowhere. But in the youthfulness of the voice, there’s a calmness that does not match this age.

Gavin looks around his surroundings but sees nothing, and he’s unable to determine where the voice came from.

"Who are you?"

Gavin voices out the doubt in his heart.

"I am everything and nothing."

Gavin frowns, clearly not satisfied with the answer that doesn’t count as an answer. After pondering for a moment, he decides to ask another question.

"What’s this door?”

“It’s a question, and an answer.”

"What's behind the door?"

"It's not time to disclose it. Even if I told you, it would be of no help. Even though I don't know how you got here, you should return now.”

The voice once again gives an answer that doesn’t count as an answer, putting an end to the conversation.

"Wait...”

"You should go. There’s someone waiting for you in the future."

Before he finishes speaking, an irresistible force repels Gavin, throwing him out of that space firmly and easily.

Before Gavin has time to digest the information he had just engaged with, he vaguely senses that a strange change has arrived to this planet. 

In an instant, sunlight shines from the west, and withered grass turns green.

The universe moves forward in a reversed manner.

And the wind that was brushing past him before entering the crack is rushing in a retrograde motion.

💙 More S2 content: here

💙 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[vintersang]

*   TAG DROP: Verses (CANON)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ elsa was a special child from her first frozen tear.

(for innocent elsa before the accident. age: 0-8.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ be the good girl you always have to be.

(for the troubled elsa who now wears gloves and isolates herself. age: 8-18.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ queen anointed; let us bless this sacred heart.

(for the elsa who has lost her parents up until her coronation. age: 18-21.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ it looks like i'm the queen of a kingdom of isolation.

(for the queen elsa that flees to the north mountain. age: 21.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ is everyone in danger as long as i'm alive.

(for the elsa that strikes anna. later, hans takes her back to arendelle. age: 21.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ let our hearts be bright; fill this world with light and love.

(covers the ending of frozen, olaf's frozen adventure, and frozen fever. age: 21-24.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ you were always made for history; never for the living.

(beginning of frozen ii: elsa awakens the enchanted forest by mistake. age: 24.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ step into your power; you are found.

(post frozen ii. elsa, now the fifth spirit, abdicates her throne to anna. age: 24.)

❛   ✧  ┊ arc ┊ here on the edge of the abyss; into the unknown.

(for undecided / crossover threads. age will vary.)

[jenstar1992-2]

Heaven

Pairing: Echo X Reader

Warnings: Some language, insinuations of sexual activities (I don’t know if that’s the right wording necessarily, but there it is), mentions of nightmares, loss, and grieving.

Word Count: 3,836

A/N: So, I'm not sure what all devices in the Star Wars universe are called, and in order to not sound completely inept, I decided to just describe the devices' functions instead of naming them and seeing as I've never come across some of these types of devices in Star Wars, I figured this was the best way to go. I hope that makes sense. Also, I have added a lyric video below for reference. I was initially going to just link an already existing lyric video for the song, but then I just decided to make one instead, using some visuals that better fit the content. Which then meant I had to create a Youtube channel just to upload the thing and link it here, because it wouldn’t let me upload directly from my laptop. 🤷🏼‍♀️ So that's there if anyone wants it, and I now have a Youtube channel for my longer edits. 

It was one of those nice, quiet evenings, the kind you didn't get very often ever since you started working with The Bad Batch. They weren't necessarily the rowdiest bunch of clones you'd met, but they did seem to always find a way to interrupt you and your boyfriend's alone time.

It seemed like every time you and Echo found a quiet moment where it was just the two of you, one, if not the whole lot, of them would come barging in out of nowhere, needing something or another. Although, you were pretty sure Wrecker just did it because he thought it was funny to annoy you, and knowing that fact only annoyed you more, but you'd let it slide, always reassuring yourself that there would be a next time, one that wouldn't be intruded upon. It seemed that tonight was one of those times, seeing as the four commandos were off gathering supplies at the nearby village of the planet you were temporarily taking residence on, and you were planning on making the most of it while you could.

It didn't take you long to locate your boyfriend, despite your first impressions the Havoc Marauder was not that big of a craft, so there were only so many places he could be. You found him in the communal sleeping quarters, sitting on the bunk you two shared, datapad in hand reading something or another, as usual. You had been given your own bunk, but after your first week with the group, you realized that you preferred to just sleep together. You both had a little trouble sleeping and found that sleeping in one another's embrace seemed to keep the nightmares at bay and gave you both a much more restful sleep.

You walked over and sat beside him, sliding your arms around his middle and holding him as you rested your head on his shoulder. He chuckled and wrapped the nearest arm around you, keeping you close as he continued to read.

You smiled and let out a contented sigh. Moments like this were rare alright, which is what made you appreciate them more when they did occur. It was just nice to be able to have a sweet moment with your love without a joke being made, or the always popular, "Get a room" comment.

"Would love to", you'd say, "Only problem is, it just so happens to be everyone's room."

"Damn, doesn't that bite the big one", would come Crosshair's snide remark, as he shook his head, mocking you like the snarky ass he was.

It was a good thing that deep down you really did like these guys, or you would've kicked some asses long ago.

You reveled in this quiet moment for a while longer before peeking at the datapad in his hand and asking, "So, what are you reading this time, anything interesting, or just more boring rule books?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You know, I don't just read reg manuals", he responded, turning his head to give you a smirk.

You shrugged. "I know, but you definitely read them a lot more than anyone else I know. I'm not even sure if some of the boys have ever read them actually."

He laughed again and you smiled at the sound. "Well, I'd like to think I've been branching out more lately with my literary escapades. I'm at least trying to be more fun, wouldn't want your book worm of a boyfriend boring you to death", he said, leaning into you with a light shove before straightening up again.

You chuckled and held him a bit tighter. "Yeah, you're a book worm alright, but you’re my book worm, and you’re not boring love, far from it", you said as you pulled your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze.

His eyes softened as he looked into yours, silently thanking you for the praise. He leaned his face to yours and kissed you lovingly, and with so much softness it almost hurt when he pulled away.

You just gazed into each other's eyes for a minute before you remembered why you'd come to find him in the first place.

You unwrapped your arms from around him. "Speaking of trying to be more fun, I have something fun we could do", you said with a bright smile.

He eyed you curiously. "Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?"

You rose from the bunk to stand in front of him, grabbing the datapad from his flesh hand and tossing it on the pillow beside him, taking the now empty hand and his cybernetic one in yours and pulling him to his feet.

"You are going to indulge your girlfriend, who's been waiting all day for this mind you, with a dance", you replied, smile still taking over your features.

He cocked an eyebrow, as if your response surprised him. "Huh, definitely not what I thought you were going to say", he said.

"And what did you think I was going to say", you asked with a smirk as you went to your original bunk above your shared one and pulled out a small electronic device, typing away on it, searching for something.

"Well, I, um... I thought, uh...", Echo stammered, as he rubbed the back of his neck, still searching for the right words. He cleared his throat before saying, "Uh, nothing, nothing, so a dance, huh?"

You shook your head and chuckled at his nervous behavior, you knew exactly what he thought you'd meant, but you weren't going to embarrass him any further.

"Yes, a dance", you replied, finding the audio file you'd been searching for and pulling it up. You then connected the device to the small amplifying device on the table across the room.

"That sounds nice cyare, but I don't know how to dance", he confessed shyly.

You smiled and looked to him. "Then I'll teach you", you told him, pressing on the file to play it and setting the device back on the bed.

As the soft music filled the room, you walked to your now flustered looking boyfriend, taking him by the hand and then slowly guiding him to take your hips. He didn't hesitate to do so, and as he rested his hands on you, and you placed yours around his neck, a light blush rose on his cheeks. He always got like this when you two did anything even remotely intimate. It baffled you that after this long of being together, and after doing much more than this, that he'd be this worked up over, what you saw as, a simple act. But maybe it wasn't so simple to him, maybe the years of touch deprivation had him craving it more than you realized, and add the emotion behind the action, the love you felt transferring between the two of you in something as small as a glance, and you could understand his reaction. This realization had you thanking whatever powers at be for bringing you two together, allowing you to be that person for him, because it was truly a gift, one you wouldn't take for granted.

You began to slowly sway your body from side to side, coaxing him to follow your movements. As you both found the right pace and swayed in time to the song's slow rhythm, you listened to the words being sung and let your mind wander, the words bringing memories to the surface of your consciousness.

Oh, thinkin' about our younger years,

There was only you and me,

We were young and wild and free.

You remembered when you'd first met Echo, back when he was a new addition to the 501st. A young trooper, who's dream was to one day receive ARC statues. You had become fast friends, and after only a few months it was clear that your friendship had grown into something more. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other, the only people who were blind to this were you and Echo. A problem that was soon remedied by his brother, Fives, who had all but forced Echo to admit how he felt to you, which he did, albeit, with quite a bit of struggle on his part, the poor guy could barely get his words out. Luckily, you had caught on to what he was trying to say, and took pity on him, deciding to take this opportunity to tell him that you felt the same.

You still remember the look of surprise on his face at your confession, he hadn't believed it at first, but when you plucked up the courage to grab him by the chest plate and pull him into a tender kiss, he knew you weren't lying, and this had his heart soaring.

Now nothing can take you away from me.

We've been down that road before,

But that's over now.

You keep me comin' back for more.

After the battle to defend Kamino, Echo had finally gotten what he'd been working so hard to achieve, he had been promoted to ARC Trooper, and you couldn't have been happier for him. You remember him coming into your station of the hangar to tell you the good news.

You'd been working on fixing up some loose wiring on a transport ship when you were suddenly lifted from the ground and the world spun around you. After a moment of disorientation, you found your bearings and stared up at the culprit, only to find your boyfriend beaming down at you.

"Woah, where's the fire", you asked in jest.

"No fire, just have some good news", he responded, still smiling wide.

"Oh, ok then, spill."

"We did it", he said simply.

"Umm, ok, who did what exactly", you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"Fives and I, we're being made ARC Troopers", he said, his chest puffing out a bit with pride.

"What, that's great", you practically shouted, and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I knew you could do it; you've worked so hard, you deserve this. I'm so happy for you, you're finally getting your dream."

He squeezed you tighter. "Thank you, and thank you for always believing in me, even when I didn't", he said quietly.

You pulled back to look at him before speaking. "I'll always believe in you Echo. Always and forever."

That was your thing, the mantra of your relationship, if you will, "I'll love you always and forever". This was because you both believed it to be true. Neither one of you could see yourselves falling for anyone else or loving another the way you did each other.

“Always and forever cyare”, he said, smiling softly at you, “And now I can focus on my other dream.”

You gave him confused look. “Other dream, what’s your other dream”, you asked.

His smile grew as he leaned in to speak low in your ear. “You”, he said, making your stomach do a somersault.

You knew it would be difficult, but you two wanted to plan a future together, and spend whatever time you had left together making a family and living a quiet, happy life. Once this miserable war was over, that's exactly what you were going to do.

Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way we want them to, and your dreams of a peaceful life with your beloved were shattered when the day came that the 501st returned from their mission on Lola Sayu, minus an ARC Trooper.

Oh, once in your life you'll find someone,

Who will turn your world around,

Pick you up when you're feelin' down.

Now nothing can change what you mean to me.

There's a lot that I could say,

But just hold me now.

Fives had been the one to give you the dreadful news and had stayed to help you through the initial shock and pain of it all. He had been ready for the inevitable tears he knew would come and did they ever. You couldn't remember a time before that, where you had cried with as much vigor or to the extent that you had, when shedding tears for your lost love.

I've been waiting for so long,

For somethin' to arrive,

For love to come along.

Time seemed to pass by agonizingly slow, as you tried to regain some semblance of normalcy in your life. Having both lost the person you held dear, you and Fives had found a new understanding for one another, and subsequently formed a close bond. He was the friend you desperately needed, just as you were for him. So, when you eventually lost him as well, you were beside yourself with grief.

Instead of wallowing in your sorrow, like you wanted to, you decided to throw yourself into your work, trying desperately to keep yourself busy, so as to not give yourself time to think of what you had lost. This worked most of the time, but there were always those times when something would remind you of them, a laugh that was just too close to the one you remembered, or a smile from a kind trooper that hit too close to home. Then there were those nights where you would wake from a nightmare and reach out beside you for a comforting hand, only to find empty space, those times were the hardest. It took everything you had inside you to just keep on going, because you knew that they wouldn't have wanted you to give up, so you carried on, even when it hurt.

Now our dreams are comin' true,

Through the good times and the bad,

I'll be standin' there by you.

It had been a year since the mission on Lola Sayu, a year of you trying to get on with your life, and forget the past, because remembering only caused you more pain. But life has a funny, if not sadistic, way of turning on its head and changing your course when you least expect it, because soon after that year mark, you received the news you never thought you'd get.

"He's alive", Rex said, eyes boring into yours, trying to get you to believe what he was telling you, but you weren't about to give in that easily.

"What you're saying is impossible, both you and Fives told me you saw him die at the citadel, and now you're telling me he miraculously survived. I'm not buying it, and I don't appreciate you trying to get my hopes up, just so they can be ripped back down once you're proven wrong", you said, with more venom in your voice than you had intended.

"I know I'm right on this one, (Y/N). I heard him, it was Echo's voice on that transmission, I'm sure of it", he reiterated, desperate for you to listen, or to at least consider it to be true.

"I'm sorry Rex, but I just can't believe what you're saying. I can't take another blow, I just can't, because if I do, I fear I won't make it out the other side this time" you said as tears began to fill your eyes.

Rex placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I understand, but I promise you, I'm telling the truth, Echo is alive, and I'm going to bring him home, I'm going to bring him back to you", he said, with so much conviction that you almost believed him, almost.

"Don't make promises you can't keep", you told him despondently.

He looked you in the eye, a determined expression on his face. "I intend to keep this one", he said, and he did.

No more than two days later, the team sent on the rescue mission to Skako Minor returned, with Echo.

You couldn't believe your eyes when Rex took you to see him in the med bay. He was different, that was for sure, but he was still Echo, he was still the man you loved, and you were just glad he was home.

And Baby you're all that I want,

When you're lying here in my arms,

I'm finding it hard to believe,

We're in heaven.

During his first mission, after being back, he had proven to still be the loyal soldier he had always been and had unofficially been dubbed the "Hero of Anaxes" for his brave actions.

After this mission he had also been extended the invitation to join The Bad Batch by their sergeant, which he wanted to accept, but not if it meant leaving you behind. So, Echo convinced the commandos that having a mechanic around wouldn't be such a bad idea, and they agreed.

That's how you ended up here, the mechanic onboard the Havoc Marauder, who was currently being held in the arms of the person she loved most in this galaxy, swaying to the soft music filling the air around them, in total bliss.

Love is all that I need,

And I found it there in your heart.

It isn't too hard to see,

We're in heaven.

Your head had been resting against Echo's chest, as you listened to the steady heartbeat beneath it. You never wanted this moment to end, and by the way he was holding you, without any indication of ever letting go, you were pretty sure he felt the same.

You lifted your head to look up at him, while keeping yourself flush against him, needing the contact to silently remind yourself that he was still here, he was with you. Something you still had a hard time believing from time to time, but it was real, he was here, and you were never letting go.

It had been some time since Anaxes, not a tremendous amount, but enough time where you could see a noticeable change in your boyfriend's appearance. He had filled out more and looked a lot less gaunt than he had initially upon his return. His color had improved as well, not fully, but with enough time, you were sure, he'd regain his copper glow. His hair was the other noticeable change, it had started to grow out again, and while it hadn't gotten to the length it was, there was enough where you could easily run your fingers through it, as you often did, absentmindedly.

This thought caused your hand to move of its own accord and slot itself amongst the short curls adorning his head. He gave a contented sigh as you started mindlessly running your fingers over his scalp, scratching lightly, and he leaned into your touch as his eyes closed, this always relaxed him.

After a moment, he opened his eyes to look at you, a soft smile taking shape over his features, before lowering his head to rest it against yours, both of you shutting your eyes to revel in the moment.

We're in heaven.

The music faded and soon the room fell silent. You both ceased your swaying but continued to stay in the embrace.

After what felt like an eternity, but had only been a few seconds, you broke the silence and said, "I love you Echo."

He smiled and replied, "I love you (Y/N). Always and forever."

You gave a smile of your own, the words bringing you back to those early days of your relationship, when anything was possible, and your future was bright. It could be that way again, now that you were together again, nothing was impossible.

"Always and forever", you echoed back.

With that, he closed the small gap between you and brought you into a passionate kiss.

Everything that had gone unspoken was expressed in this kiss; all the love and adoration that had built between you two over the years, all the pain that you both endured during your separation, all the missed time, and the promise that you would never be parted again, and that you would continue to strive for the future you two had planned so long ago. You were happier than you'd ever been and nothing could ruin this moment.

Suddenly, as if the universe itself wanted to prove you wrong, the door slid open and in walked all four commandos, with Wrecker in the lead.

"See, I told ya we'd find them doin' some sappy stuff", Wrecker said in his booming voice, effectively breaking your quiet moment, and your kiss, which in turn, pissed you off.

You both gave an annoyed sigh before turning to face the men. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave your best scowl in their direction, which only caused Wrecker to laugh. He'd so be getting an ass kicking later.

"Let's just be glad we didn't walk in on something... more intimate", Crosshair said, eyeing the both of you while giving a sly grin.

You let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah, you wish", you retorted, which only earned you a chuckle from the sniper. Okay, add another one to the "people who need an ass kicking" list. "I think you're both just jealous", you said, trying to make it sound snarky.

"Of this guy", Wrecker asked as he walked over, clapping his hand down on Echo's shoulder. "Damn straight, I mean, he’s got a bombshell for a girlfriend, how could we not be, he's one lucky bastard", he said, although you couldn't quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Either way it ticked you off, but before you could throw the punch you had geared up for, Echo pulled you to him, holding you securely against him and effectively blocking your way to the giant commando.

"Easy cyare, no need for bloodshed, and besides, he has a point", he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, "I am a very lucky man."

You shook your head at him but couldn't help the grin that formed at his words.

"Okay, that's enough boys, let's give the happy couple some privacy shall we. Besides, Wrecker, it's your turn to make dinner", Hunter interrupted, giving his brother a stern look.

"Oh man, again, I thought I just did that", Wrecker grumbled.

"You did, when it was your turn last week", Tech told him matter-of-factly.

Wrecker made a noise of aggravation before leaving the room, mumbling incoherently in displeasure. The other two followed him out, as you gave Hunter a thankful smile before he nodded and made his exit, letting the door slide shut behind him.

You turned back to Echo, who still had you in his embrace.

"So, where were we", you inquired, a soft smile back on your face.

He feigned ponderment. "Hmm, I believe we were right about...", he began, and suddenly pulled you close enough that your noses were touching, "Here", he finished, his smile widening before bringing you in for another heated kiss. You melted into it and fell into another state of bliss.

You stayed like that for another long moment, as the world faded around you. Wrapped in a loving embrace, engaged in an impassioned kiss, and lost in your own personal heaven.

[tartagilicious]

[CN] Lucien’s Birthday Date 2020 (eng translation)

💌 this is coupled with a rumours and secrets that I’ll publish in the next day or so! they’re connected, but context is not extremely necessary to understand the date.

— 

Today is Lucien’s birthday. But what’s different from the days in the past is that today is a more special day. In the morning, he’ll report on the topics that he has studied for many years. On the projection screen, a series of large characters detailing, “Monthly Injured Patient’s Cognitive Change of Different Emotions and Intervention Measures for Emotion Recognition After Injury.” are displayed.

I sat quietly in the back of the lecture hall, watching Lucien walk into the lecture hall. After getting to know Lucien, I know that he’s always been studying many things himself. Although I don’t quite understand his subject, through the whispers of the audience, I know that this is one of the major issues that have been valued by the brain science community, and has yet to be resolved.

Lucien stood in a formal suit on the stage, and looked down around the seating area. He stopped for a few moments while looking in the direction I was, then walked to the podium.

Lucien: About twenty years ago, Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), the cognition of a traumatic lunatic injury, was a topic that was of not much concern to anyone. Usually people think that this is a treatment experience, or the baggage is caused by the patient’s own psychological changes.

Lucien: In a 2012 study, it is estimated that 54-60 million people worldwide suffer from TBI each year. 2.2-3.6 million people suffer from moderate to severe damage each year. In recent years, with the advancement of science and technology, we have been able to monitor the changes in various physical data of patients with brain injury by using high-end equipment.

Lucien: We found that emotional changes are cognitions in traditional psychology. It may be caused by physiological changes in the patient’s brain itself. Therefore, along this line of thinking, I conducted an in-depth research plan on the mechanism of emotional cognitive changes in TBI patients to determine the principle of change.

Lucien: Based on the guidance of the research results, intervention measures for post-injury emotion recognition for TBI patients was also formulated.

Lucien dropped each word calmly and carefully with his speech. The report on the screen is displayed neatly page by page. Most of the people below the venue’s stage were quiet, and except for the sound of rustling pages.

Lucien: People with TBI may also experience their anxiety increasing after living with TBI. After TBI, anxiety may aggravate other cognitive dysfunctions. For example, the ability to recognise emotions. Compared with positive emotions, it is more difficult for people with TBI to recognise negative emotions such as anger, fear, and sadness.

Lucien: Next, I will introduce the data based on a group of 25 participants.

In the lecture hall, scholars and researchers from all over the world are witnessing this together. How many years of research did it take to get to this moment?

I was in the last row of the lecture hall, so i secretly photographed Lucien and inserted it into our commemorative album,

It was noon when Lucien left the research venue. I left the building early and waited at the door, carrying a box of cake and a bouquet of flowers. When seeing him, I solemnly handed over the bouquet.

MC: Professor Xu, that’s hard work.

Lucien glanced at the cake box in my hand. His eyes fell on my calm face and his eyes squinted thoughtfully before taking the bouquet.

Lucien: Are you planning to “surprise” me with this year’s gift?

MC: This bouquet of flowers is for Professor Xu’s hard work, not a birthday gift.

I smiled and raised the box of cake in my hand, and sincerely looked directly at Lucien.

MC: But sometimes, the surprise isn’t so foreseeable, and is more unexpected and magical. Anyways, every time I make a small move, you’ll guess at the end. So, it’s better to go the other way to be more generous. I hope this year’s birthday, everything will start with you.

Lucien: So… I can do anything today?

The voice is a little low in the autumn breeze, like a fallen leaf kissing the water’s surface. Meeting his gaze, I nodded happily.

MC: Today is the third birthday I’ll be able to celebrate with you, and is the day when your years of research has temporarily come to an end. On such a special day, your mood is the most important!

MC: I want to accompany you to do all of the things you want to do, instead of letting you meet my expectations. In order to deal with various different situations, I made sure to make a special heat preservation and storage for the cake.

Lucien: If i want to do many things, will it be a big trouble?

MC: It’s your birthday today, it’s principle to accept the wants of others freely.

Lucien: So what if there are a lot of things and we can’t finish them today?

MC: Then we’ll do them tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after that tomorrow, and continue until we finish. Anyway, I have a lot of time. So you don’t have to think too much, you can just do whatever you want.

Lucien slowly blinked after hearing my answer. He lowered my eyes, not knowing what he was thinking.

A few days before the report, Lucien was more silent than usual. I didn’t have much work, so I just stayed quietly by his side.

The autumn leaves rustled. Lucien raised his hand to straighten my hair tossed by the wind and then touched his forehead to mine.

Lucien: That…. Are you capable of being unhappy?

A few words slipped quietly into my ears, making me a bit stunned. Lucien’s expression is still very pale. The corners of his raised mouth kept a fixed arc, and his eyes are brightened by the autumn light as they look straight at me.

I couldn’t help but take a breath. The cool greenery smells like flowers June, filling my whole heart and swelling my lungs.

MC: Of course I am.

Lucien breathed after hearing my answer, his mouth opening for a moment.

MC: Although I hope that on your birthday, you will be happy. But if you aren’t happy, I’ll be unhappy with you. I will be with you. I;ll spend all the unhappy times with you, so we can wait for the moment when happiness comes together.

“Happy Birthday” should be a blessing, not a shackle.

Lucien smiled. The bright autumn colours covered his eyes. It was just like the moment he explained on stage just minutes ago. I shook the cake box.

MC: So, where does Professor Xu want to spend this special day?

He raised his head and looked deeply into the distance.

Lucien: I thought of a place, but it’s a little far away. Would you like to go with me?

MC: Of course!

After a few hours’ drive, we came to an old street. Although it’s old, it seems like it’s constantly being repaired and refurbished. I visited this same place once when I was very young, and today’s scene is completely different from my vague memory.

People have soft memories of the old city always renovating every stone tile. Everything that had originally been put up is slowly being watered down. Until one day, quietly at the time, Lucien’s memory had always been good, but this time it seems to be slightly slow.

He would stop at a certain street corner and glance indifferently; he would also look around at the fork quietly, as if the choice was not in his memory.

I followed him quietly down the paved road. We climbed the ramp and went around for a long time. After a few confirmations, Lucien finally stopped. In front of us is a silent and empty space.

I secretly peeked at Lucien and found that his expression was still clear. It’s like looking into the distance without seeing anything in front of you. Across this open space, his eyes are vacant.

I retracted my eyes, also staring at the clearing in front of us. I feel faintly that I can guess where this place is.

Lucien: ___, let’s go sit there for a while.

Lucien pointed to a bench facing the clearing. I took his hand and sat there with him. The midday afternoon in late autumn was a bit cold, and the whole world was so quiet that the only sounds were our breathing, the exhaled white mist whirling in the air and disappearing silently.

I looked at the clearing, imagining what it once looked like. Maybe it used to hold a small bungalow in the old days, or it may have been a courtyard.

Lucien: There used to be a small bungalow here, do you know what it was like?

Lucien’s voice suddenly sounded. I was stunned, and momentarily even wondered if my imagination had a distinct sound to him.

MC: I saw that kind of house when I was a kid, but I can’t remember exactly.

Lucien: The bricks of the house were a little mottled white, and the roof was covered with red tiles. Because it’s on the hillside, they often blow away. On special occasions, a row of small blue and white flags would be hung on the leaves. When the leaves blew, it looked beautiful when sitting in the courtyard.

Following Lucien’s description, I closed my eyes while imagining the open space.

I felt Lucien holding my hand, and he wound our fingers together, holding them as close as possible. I was about to open my eyes when Lucien’s voice continued.

Lucien: Open the gate outside, you can walk into the yard.

MC: Will there be flowers in the yard? Lucien: Yes, there is a row of small flower beds on the left, but the owner is always busy, they often forget to water them. So, they don’t look too healthy. The door is in front of you. When you open it, there’ll be an occasional squeaking sound.

I nodded subconsciously, feeling as if I had really walked through the small yard and opened the door. Some stale air was opened along with it, welcoming the return of a long-lost gentle memory.

MC: What about after opening the door? There is an ordinary entryway. Where does ___ want to go?

MC: (you can choose between left, right, forward, and upstairs) I want to go right.

Lucien: On the right is the living room. Although it’s called the living room, there are actually bookshelves everywhere.

MC: Is there no study?

Lucien: In fact, it’s because the study can’t fit those books that the living room has filled up a bit. In the centre is a very soft sofa. In autumn, sunlight will shine through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the sofa.

Lucien: There is a set of very expensive speakers on the opposite side of the sofa. It was specially bought by the little boy’s father for the purpose of listening to classical music.

MC: It must be very comfortable to listen to music while reading a book on the sofa.

Lucien: Actually… the most comfortable place is the rocking chair by the french windows.

I felt a familiar temperature on my left side pushing slightly into me. Lucien seemed to have adjusted his posture to be leaning onto my shoulder.

Lucien: To the little boy in this house, the rocking chair at that time was just the right size for him. When he was tired from reading, he could turn over and sleep with a book. When the weather is good, the rocking chair will be gently moved by the wind.

I seem to be standing in the living room wrapped by bookshelves, and staring at the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a small child, hugging the book in his hand tightly, and curled up in a slightly swaying rocking chair, sleeping in the brilliant autumn light.  

Maybe it’s just an ordinary dream, like his peaceful daily life, gentle and precious.

We returned to the hallway again.

Lucien: There is an ordinary entrance, where does ___ want to go?

MC: (given the same options, left, right, forward, and upstairs) I want to see the upstairs.

Lucien: There will be a staircase through the living room. When you step on the board, it will creak. Immediately after going upstairs, you will see a small living room.

MC: Is it also full of bookshelves?

Lucien smiled, soft laughter in my ears.

Lucien: Unfortunately, you’ve guessed correctly. Maybe I’ve remembered it wrongly, but this seems like not a place to live in, and rather a bookstore. But the little boy’s parents should distinguish between functions -- after all, it is a little closer to the study.

Lucien: If you are tired of reading books in the study, you can just walk out and continue in this small living room.

MC: And when you’re tired of reading in this small living room?

Lucien: Go down to the large living room and have a look.

I was amused by his banter. The whole house seems to be full of books at every corner, accompanying the people in this house to explore the ends of the world.

MC: What’s on the second floor?

Lucien: On the left side of the small living room, there is a long corridor. The first door is a large bedroom, and at the end, there is a room on each side. On the right is the study, which contains more materials, and the books placed highly are all professional books.

Lucien: At that time the little boy couldn’t even read the words on it. A large English-Chinese dictionary and English-English dictionary are placed next to each other.

MC: You must understand it now, right?

I said this with emotion, and Lucien on my side was a little silent. He seemed to be remembering something again, and slowly opened his mouth.

Lucien: I should have understood it when I was around sixteen or seventeen.

MC: ….

MC: Let’s leave this room that doesn’t belong to me.

The low laughter clung to me, making me almost want to open my eyes and tell him to respect the natural gap between people. But I thought about how there was one last room left, so I finally took a deep breath and decided to ignore the constant laughter.

MC: What about the room on the left?

Lucien: That’s the little boy’s room.

Following Lucien’s words, he steadily let me open the last door.

MC: Does this room also have a lot of books?

Lucien: No. There are no books in the little boy’s room. His parents don’t want him to read all the time, so they don’t let him bring books there.

MC: There was really no books?

Lucien: Actually, there are two books under the pillow.

When Lucien said this, I couldn’t help laughing.

Lucien: Here is a very small and ordinary bedroom, with a bed, wardrobe, and a little desk...

MC: Wait a minute, there is no book, what does the little boy do at the desk?

Lucien: He plays puzzle games.

MC: Huh?

Lucien: For example,  Kong Ming chess, chess, element matching card games…

MC: That doesn’t sound like a puzzle for children…

I couldn’t help but smile, and I got a deep laugh from Lucien.

MC: But.. it really seems to be an ordinary child’s bedroom.

Lucien: Because the special place lies elsewhere.

This time Lucien held my hand and stood up.

Lucien: Don’t open your eyes.

While Lucien said this, he pulled me forward into a walking pace.

Lucien: In the little boy’s house, there is a balcony.

The brilliant autumn light sides through my eyelids and hits my retina, shining slightly in the closed world. I felt as if I was really under Lucien’s lead. I closed my eyes and walked slowly across the bedroom, going to the balcony.

Lucien stopped and leaned into me from me.

Lucien: ___, open your eyes.

The gentle autumn breeze rolled up the golden osmanthus in the sky. At that moment, Lucien and I seemed to be standing on the balcony of the old house, fluttering colourful flags that fly happily in the wind. The mountains and flowers in front of me lay behind clouds shifting in the wind.

Lucien: The balcony of the boy’s room is the best place to see the scenery around here. There will be fireflies in the mountains on spring nights, like the secrets of the mountains. In the summer, the streets are always lively. The elderly will play chess on the side of the road, the children will play nearby, and they will also run to the observation deck on the mountain to see the fireworks.

Lucien: In autumn, when it rains, the sound of rain hitting the wood is very comfortable. The whale world is drenched by the splashing rain, and everything is in mist. It rarely snows in the winter, but there are very small snowflakes. He often imagined the whole mountain covered by heavy snow.

Lucien: The little boy’s father told him that the world is big, and there are many secrets in the world. You will meet them, and you will like them.

I open my eyes and stand in the middle of the open space, looking at the mountains. The mountains in front of us were nothing but empty silence. The golden osmanthus swayed slightly in the wind.

When we arrived at the viewing platform on the mountain, the sun had quietly descended.

Lucien: Sorry, I let you be with me all of today.

MC: If you can do more foolish things like today, I’ll be happier.

Lucien smiled lightly and took my hand, sitting in the long seat of the pavilion. The street lamps on the road up and down the mountain had begun to turn on, looking like small candles at first glance.

The same small handmade cake was finally put on the stone slab after a whole day of rushing. Looking at this cake, I thought of the old house in Lucien’s memory, and the little boy lying on the balcony looking into the distance.

MC: Lucien, how do you feel about yourself when you were a kid?

Lucien: Why did you ask so?

MC: Just suddenly curious.

Lucien was silent for a moment, but I didn’t look up at him, instead keeping my eyes on the decorated cake in his hand.

Lucien: So, what does ___ think about herself when she was a kid?

I raised my head and pursed my lips, looking at the blurry lights in the distant city.

MC: I miss her. She is clumsy. Also very reckless. She just did what seemed great at the time. Looking at the words she once said, I’m embarrassed and unable to look back on them without laughing at her.

MC: But, she was so sincere and brave. She made me the person I am now, and I am very grateful to her. I just don’t know if I’ve become the kind of person she imagined… if so, even enough.

Lucien: Yes. You must be the kind of person she wanted to be.

Lucien put his hand in his lap and looked at the dim lights with me.

Lucien: If I could see myself when I was child, I actually don’t know how I would feel. There were so many things that he didn’t understand at the time, so much he thought would have a specific answer. Including happiness, sadness, fear… and love.

Lucien’s voice is calm. It’s not so much talking about himself as a child, rather, he seemed to have pulled him away to simply evaluate an individual.

Lucien: He is very far away.

MC: No, you’re too harsh on him.

Lucien: What?

MC: “People are good at different things” Just like some people can’t understand science, his weaknesses are placed in a more special space. He may only understand those things more slowly, more deeply, and better in the future. And it is precisely that kind of person that gradually became the Lucien in front of me.

I light a candle. Against the light, Lucien’s face was extremely soft.

MC: Happy birthday, Lucien. Lucien has been working hard this year! If you were too far away when you were a child, just look at this year as your one-year-old self.

Lucien heard me say this, seemingly as if he hadn’t expected it. He looked at me with interest.

Lucien: Why do you say so?

MC: I think “birthdays” always cut life into different stages.

There is a new toy at 7 years old. I want to fall in love when I’m 15 years old, and want to take a good university entrance exam at the age of 18. Looking for a job at 22, and owning a house at 30…

“Birthday” seems to be an invisible reminder. You will look back on this day as a new person, and realise you’ve entered a new stage.

MC: Starting with a little Lucien, Lucien at every age is connected together to become the person he is now. This “year old” Lucien has used the academic report to mark the new year perfectly. He’s full of curiosity about the world and is still on the road to discovering the truth.

MC: He was a little nasty, always showing me questionable sides of things and teasing me… but such a Lucien is very good. I hope that future you can do what you want to do and become the person that you want to be.

MC: You don’t have to be happy all the time, but i hope that you can think of me first when you’re unhappy. Let me be with you always.

There are tiny petals of the golden osmanthus in the wind, like flowery waves reflected in the candlelight. Lucien’s eyes are shining brightly, filled with the night sky and autumn leaves.

Lucien: I will.

He did not say thank you as usual, but solemnly and sincerely left a promise, or even an oath.

Lucien: I’ve thought about my wish for this year.

Under the small candlelight, Lucien lowered his head, slowly raised his hand and wrapped his left fist in his right palm before looking straight at it. After a long time, he raised his head.

MC: Seems to me like you have a lot of wishes this year?

Lucien: I’m not only making a wish. There are also some words that I want to tell them.

Lucien looked at me. He didn’t explain who “they” were, just as he hadn’t explained the owner of the house. He knew I would know. Probably in this aspect, Lucien is actually very clumsy. And it’s this clumsiness that lets him become so real and complete.

MC: By the way, this is this year’s birthday present.

I took out the souvenir book from my bag that I had restored after a long time. It lies with a small wooden box with grids drawn over the lid, every part of it covered with stickers by me.

Lucien: It turns out that you’ve hidden a lot of things in your backpack.

MC: Maybe. This is our souvenir book this year. This year is also very thick.

Lucien slowly turned over the thick album. Summer camp in Yuelao Temple, Lucien’s home,the orphanage, in the classroom, the amusement park, the farm, the oil painting hall.

We have so many new memories.

MC: This is a previously out of print book. Although my craftsmanship isn’t very good, I did my best!

Lucien: you’ve worked hard, ___.

MC: This is the “Blind box project”!

I solemnly took out the small wooden box and started introducing it to Lucien.

MC: There’s a total of 60 grids. When you’re unhappy, just pick a grid to open. There may be gifts in it, a sentence, or a picture. The only requirement is that you must summon ___ to complete it with you.

Lucien: 365 days, and only 60 grids? (bahsdhj mood)

MC: Mr. Xu, 60 days of unhappiness is a lot. I hope you won’t open them all so quickly.

I went to stare at him a little furiously, but found his smiling eyes.

MC: You teased me again!

Lucien: ___, thank you.

The sky gradually darkened. The lights of the city slowly lit up under the mountain like a touch of gentle blessing. Maybe for anyone, the world was monochromatic at the beginning. With time and encounters, let it slowly be stained with colour, and give different people and things their own value.

Slowly, the whole world became colourful. It worked with memory, with smell and sound. After the most special existence appears, the colours of this world will be more distinctive. It’s like refreshing an entire picture, so that everything has a new meaning.

While we quietly shared the cake, I looked at Lucien’s face lit gently by the warm lights.

MC: Lucien, you’re now in colour.

Lucien froze for a moment, then smiled meaningfully. He ate the last bit of cake and finally sat next to me. It is rare that he carries such a sweet fragrance on his body, and even the breath that comes close is sweet.

Lucien: ___, to me, you are more than colour.

[owillofthewisps]

Do you only write Geralt? Because although I adore our dear Witcher, I am IN LOVE with Jaskier. If you are willing to write for Jaskier, could you do one where he’s a big puppy dog over the reader but she’s very insecure and doesn’t notice? I know it’s cliche, but I like it. If you aren’t comfortable writing for Jaskier, could you do the same request for Geralt?

notes: hi anon!  i’m sorry this took me seventy years - i am always and forever at the mercy of my brain and what catches its attention.  hopefully this is close enough to what you were looking for since i deviated a little bit!

(additionally! when doing even the vaguest hint of research for this i realized something i had always thought was a midsummer tradition for…everyone…is actually just something specific to russia/ukraine [which would be why my grandmother wanted me to know it] but also i’m often wrong so who knows.  either way it threw me lol.)

pairing: jaskier/female reader

rating: teen

word count: 3k

——–

Jaskier finds you by the riverbank just before midday.  You’re bedded down in the lush thickness of summer clover, sprawled indolently across the verdant carpet.  “Ah,” he says, settling down next to you.  “A four-leafed clover amidst the cloverbeds.  How lucky of me to find her.  Blessed for the rest of my days.”

You snort, shading your eyes so that you can peer up at him.

He grins down at you, his smile almost as bright as the sun that outlines him. “Too much?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him.  You consider reaching up to sweep his chestnut hair back from his blue, blue eyes.  Lapis eyes, Lidka calls them, because she is a merchant’s daughter through and through.  She’s wrong, you think, but you hardly intend to tell her that Jaskier has eyes like a lake, the type of clear blue of a mountain spring, something fresh and pure.  You know when something is out of your reach.  

“So you keep telling me,” he says.  “And yet it barely touches on the words you deserve.”

You roll your eyes.  “Shut up, Jask,” you say, shoving at his knee.  “Don’t tease.”

Something passes over Jaskier’s face.  It reminds you of a stormcloud on a summer afternoon, rolling through the sky to blot out the sun, swollen grey with rain.  It passes like a summer storm, too, and that starlight smile of his blooms again.  “I would never, dear heart.”

“Mhmm,” you say, letting your eyes drift closed again.  

“Gods, has Geralt infected you?  It’s bad enough trying to get him to use his words.”

“You use enough of them for both of you.”

“I use them much more prettily than he would!”

“S’true,” you murmur. “You use them more prettily than most everyone, though.”

The summer breeze stirs; it carries the scent of the season with it, soft grass and wildflowers, woven together into a fragrant bouquet.  Beneath it all, the earthy tang of the soil, freshly tilled for summer sowing.  The scent is not the only thing the breeze carries.  The wind brings you the muffled joy of children, frolicking through the fields, and the steady song of a choir of hammers.

You roll over onto your belly and squint up at Jaskier.  His cheeks are petal pink, the faintest hint of a flush coloring his skin, and you wonder if the heat is getting to him despite his open doublet. He reaches out and plucks a clover from your hair with his long fingers, the touch delicate.

“What, darling?” he asks, leaning close and teasing another clover from where it’s caught in your hair.  The sun catches on the curve of his cheekbone, kisses soft against his skin, and you are frozen, a deer caught unawares, tail flicked high with nerves.  

Darling, you think darkly.  How unfair he can be, all without even realizing it.  Women like you do not often hear anything but their name, and Jaskier seems to say everything but yours.  You wish he would realize that sometimes it feels like scraping your knee against a river rock, to hear his smooth voice say that to you, knowing he means nothing by it.      

Jaskier makes an inquiring noise, something soft and fluting, and you shake yourself out of the cobwebs of your thoughts.

You peer at him.  “Are you trying to get out of building the summer shrines?”

“No,” he gasps, one hand flying to his chest.  “How could you think such a thing?”

“Why else would you be out here with me?”

He blinks.  “Why would I be anywhere else?”

You scoff.  The clover crunches beneath you as you roll onto your back again.  “Nevermind.” Why, you think.  Why do you always ruin things, why do you open your mouth.  Sometimes you think it’d have been better if you’d taken a vow of silence, had kept yourself from inflicting any attempts at conversation on unsuspecting folks. It’d be better than having them lie to you.

A hush falls, broken only by the far-off sounds of the village and the river’s quiet hum.  You tear at the clovers beneath your hand, rip them up one by one as you squirm.  Jaskier shifts beside you.  You close your eyes again and tilt your face towards the sun.  It is easier than being blinded by Jaskier’s light.

The bard sighs.  He nudges closer, his thigh a warm streak of heat against your side, and you crack an eye open.  His focus is solely on his lute, his eyes - the blue of the midmorning sky, deep and rich - trained on the strings.  Better position to play, you think, nothing more, just another nip of unintended cruelty.  

“Did Geralt tell you about the harpy?” Jaskier asks softly.

“Geralt speaks?”

The laughter spills from Jaskier like fine wine: everflowing and delicious.  You gulp it down greedily, wishing your belly were a wineskin, so that you could carry some for later.

“You make an excellent point,” he tells you.  “And how perfect. I’ve been waiting for a captive audience to test the tale on.”

The smile on your lips crumbles into dust.  “Of course,” you tell him.  “Go ahead.”

Jaskier launches into the story, tells it with twists and turns and beautiful flourishes, his voice a calligrapher’s pen.  You listen intently, determined to be of use to him, knowing there is nothing else you can offer him.  He spins his tale like a magic thread, spins Geralt’s exploits from straw into lustrous gold, makes the Witcher’s effigy something that is much more difficult to burn.  

After he’s done, the two of you fade into idle chatter.  You know you are boring him, can feel it in the way he shifts against you and the way his voice catches here and there, but you cannot help yourself.  Finally, you fade into quiet and let Jaskier fill the hush with his lyrical voice.  Beneath the sun’s warm kiss, you ride the edge of sleep.

“What does your crown look like?” Jaskier asks, his deft fingers plucking at the strings of his lute.  Even his half-hearted chords meld together prettily to sweeten the air with their song.  

“What crown?” you ask sleepily.  You’re sundrunk, now, adrift in time, lost in a haze of heat and in the sweet perfume of the clovers.  Sometimes you think the sun’s kiss will be the only one you ever keep.  

“Do you have multiples?” he says, his voice laced through with laughter.  “Your Midsummer crown.”

That washes over you like river water, runs cold over you like snowmelt.

“I don’t have one,” you say tightly, pushing yourself upright.  You curl in on yourself like a nautilus shell, pull your chest snug to your knees, as if the arc of your spine can shield you.  You’ve never made a Midsummer flower crown, could never bear to have the river whisper to you what haunts you in the dark of the night, what you hold in your heart.  You’ll be alone, you know, plain little thing that you are.  The river will carry your crown all the way out to the sea, and all of your prospects with it.

“What?”

“I said I don’t have one,” you bite out.  “There’s no point.”

“Darling,” Jaskier says, his voice downy soft, “what in the godsdamned world are you talking about?”

“I don’t need the river to tell me my fortune,” you hiss.  “And I don’t need it to confirm what I already know, that no one will want to catch it, that I’ll be alone.”

Jaskier wraps a large hand around your arm.  He tugs you to face him, shows that hidden strength of his that had so surprised you all.  Geralt makes him look small, but he is hardly delicate.  “I would catch your crown, darling,” he tells you.  That flush is back, peonies blooming pink across his cheeks.  

The tears pool hot in your eyes before they spill over like rainfall, sweeping down your cheeks like a summer storm.  You pull free of Jaskier’s grip and push yourself to your knees.  “Don’t,” you say, chest heaving.  “Don’t say something like that out of pity, Jaskier, that’s not fair.”

He gapes at you.  You scramble to your feet, ignoring the grass stains bleeding across the front of your skirts, and wipe at your eyes.  

“Darling,” he starts, and he is pushing to his feet, and you cannot take it, cannot take platitudes from a silver-tongued bard.  Perhaps he’d thought it kind, to offer to catch your crown when no other would, that it would give you a chance to take part in a tradition that’s always scorned you.  Instead, it reminds you of what you have always known - he is kind because he knows that you are to be pitied.

You stride off towards town, wiping at your eyes with a rough sleeve, and when Jaskier calls your name, you start to run.

—

“You’re such a godsdamned fool,” Sabina says, but her harsh words are gentled by the soft stroke of her hand across your hair.  “The bard’s mad for you, everyone knows it.”

The two of you are tucked away in a patch of sunlight in a small copse near the river.  The festival is blooming to life like a wildflower, cheers and music starting to lift to the sky.  You’ll join them soon, you know, though you can barely stand the thought of it.

“That’s not true, Sabina,” you say.

She takes your cheeks between her work-rough hands.  “He wrote you a song,” she says, her mahogany eyes flickering over your face.

The tips of your ears burn hot.  “He didn’t,” you protest.  “He wrote a song about the village!”

“Godsdamned fool,” Sabina mutters to herself, releasing you to throw her hands up in the air.  She runs her fingers through her silvery curls.  “Does the village have ‘a sunrise of a smile, lips that guide you to the warmth of day, a beginning unfurling across the horizon like a kiss’?”  

“Those aren’t the words.”

“They very much are the words, I’ve just taken out the fluff in between.”

“Sabina, please,” you say, feeling the tears begin to prick.  “Jaskier could never see someone like me as anything like that.”

She cups your face again, leans in to press her forehead soft against yours.  “He can,” she murmurs. “And he does.  Have you ever seen him sit at the riverbank for hours with any other woman?  He asked you what your crown looked like because he wanted to dive for it, you ass.”

Sabina’s Midsummer crown is irises, you know, the deep purple of a fresh bruise to sit dark against her silver strands, and men will dive for it, will dive deep into the cold for the chance to place it dripping back on her head, to have the river bless their courtship.  

“He didn’t mean it like that,” you say through numb lips, because - because you’ve heard Markus ask Lidka what flowers made up her crown, heard Iwo beg Tosia to use something unique so he knows which crown to pluck from the river’s fingers.  Jaskier couldn’t have meant that.  Not for you.  You’ve never heard anyone ask about a crown for mere conversation, but - he couldn’t have meant that.

The sound that issues from Sabina would not be out of place in a filthy bar.  But she knows you, grew up running in the streets with you, wove Midsummer crowns with you when you were both still far too young to actually sail them down the river, and she can see the crack in your stone.  “He did,” she says.  “He does.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say helplessly.  “I didn’t make a crown.”

“I know.”  She presses a kiss to your cheek.  “Maybe next year.”

It’s for the best, maybe.  Next year, Jaskier will be long gone, traipsing through the Continent. And Sabina’s confidence is not yours.  She’s always been persuasive, always been able to convince others of her ideas.  

“Come,” Sabina says.  “It’s Midsummer.”

You follow her out onto the meadow that hugs the riverbank, into the flood of sunlight and cheer.  

You dance, and laugh, and chase the children through the tall grasses, through the rolling fields of clover.  The summer shrine sits regal in the distance.  You think Geralt might be there, his broad form barely visible.  

You stay with the children when the others flock to the river.  Sabina plucks one of her irises from her crown and tucks it into the laces of your bodice, her deep brown eyes kind, before Anatol scoops her up and carries her off.  The children dart about the meadow, barely minding you, which is fine.  It’s Midsummer, and a festival, and also - you’re not sure why anyone thought you could corral them.

One of the older boys finally takes the other children in hand and guides them to a safe spot nearby in the meadow to play games.  You sigh and flop back onto the soft bed of the clovers.  The sun feels like a blessing against your skin, soft and warm, a lover’s kiss.  You bask like a cat, stretch out in the sun, pillowing your head on your hands.

Eventually, you hear soft footsteps.  The children are still howling in the distance. The footsteps slow, and then there is darkness cutting through the warmth of your sun.  You open your eyes, pushing to yourself to sit upright, and go still.

“Hi,” Jaskier says.  He’s soaked, his clothing clinging to him.  Every inch of his wiry frame is outlined by it, and gods, he’s delicious, lean and hard with traveler’s muscles.  The water drips from his pink lips, trickles down to his chest, beads in the thick hair there.  You swallow.  

“You dove for someone,” you say.  The words creak out of you like an unoiled hinge.

There’s a flower crown hanging limp in his hand, dripping wet and sadly ruffled.  He kneels not far from you and meets your gaze.  Sometimes you think you have never known blue before you met him, before you saw his eyes. “I did.”  

“Who?”

“You didn’t have a crown,” he says softly, raising the crown and presenting it to you, “so I made you one.”

It’s a crown of peonies, fluffy balls of petals pearl pink like the dawn.  The petals are layered like ribbons over themselves, an unfurling promise of summer, and the soft color of them is all the softer against the hint of verdant green stems.  And tucked in between the peonies like secrets, buttercups bloom gold, shining in the sun.  

“Oh,” you say.  

Jaskier shifts.  “I didn’t realize you didn’t know.  That you thought - that you thought I pitied you when all I wanted to do was slow down every moment with you, so that it could last through the ages.”

You make a small, hiccuping noise.  It feels like there are words stuck in your spasming throat.

“It was never pity,” Jaskier says.  “It was always so that I knew which crown to dive for.”

You reach out to touch the edge of a peony, let your finger trace over the delicate petal.  It’s soft against your fingertip, even with the river’s chill still clinging to it.

“It’s yours,” Jaskier says.  “If you want it.”

You draw back.  Jaskier pulls in a tight breath.  His eyes are like tidepools, deeply blue and glinting in the sun.  

“I think I do,” you breathe.  “You mean it?  You aren’t -”

“Never,” he says.  “It’s yours.”

“Alright,” you say, your pulse thundering like hooves, beating deep in your veins.  You think you can hear your heartbeat.  Even through the cotton that sits heavy in your head, muffling the roar of the river and the others as they draw close once again.  “It - I - won’t be easy.”

“I don’t want easy,” Jaskier says, leaning forward, cupping your cheek gently, slowly, testing the waters,  “not if it means I can’t have you.  I’m not easy, either, or so Geralt tells me.  When he’s speaking to me.”

It startles a laugh out of you, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, and Jaskier’s lips curve into something sweetly pleased.  He rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.

You push into him, catch his lips with yours, and he makes a noise before cupping your face in his large hands, pulling you closer.  He kisses the breath right out of you, and for a moment - he kisses the fears from you too, teases them out of you with his tongue.  You pull back panting, one hand knotted in the damp strands of his chestnut hair, and he coaxes you back to him.  

He licks into your mouth with fervor, shifts so that he can pull you into his lap, and your chest is heaving as you press against him, as the cool river water starts to seep through your bodice.  Jaskier is warm against you, and hungry in a way you didn’t think someone could be for you, not like the other men that have tumbled you.  You kiss him until one of the children shrieks in the distance.

“Shit,” you say, pulling back, but Jaskier doesn’t let you go far.  He presses another soft kiss against your lips before he lets you go so that you can fix your hiked skirts.  He picks up the crown with his deft fingers, and sets it on your head.

The crown, you find, fits perfectly.

taglist (only including folks i know read jaskier/have requested all witcher fics): @witchernonsense @hina-chans-stuff @stretchkingblog97

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch56: Worthy

Intro: A few weeks post the Time Heist the team are finally ready to reverse the snap. The only problem is, when you mess with time it tends to mess back…

Warnings: “Language!” 

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Another huge thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her edits…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 55

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2023

Katie walked over to the dresser in Nat’s room and smiled at the photos that stood on the shiny, dark wood surface. There were a few shots that stood in frames, one of Nat with Clint, Laura and the Kids, one of her, Katie and Pepper at Tony’s wedding, but it was the biggest one that she reached out to pick up. It was a photo that Katie had taken in her and Steve’s back garden a few months before on Jamie’s third birthday. Nat had Jamie balanced on her hip and Emmy to her other side, arm round the teens shoulder. She was smiling, happily at the camera, almost like she had no care in the world.

“Hey.” A soft voice spoke behind her and she turned to look at Steve, already dressed in his Captain America suit. “I’m not even gonna ask how you got in here.” “I already had access.” Katie shrugged, replacing the photo back down. “She had access to ours as well, although she never used it much, especially not after that time she walked in on us on the couch and got an eyeful of your ass going ten to the-“ “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Steve snorted, leaning on the doorframe, the pink tinge spreading up his neck to his cheeks as he recalled the incident. They’d been going at it pretty furiously when Nat had walked in. There had been a lot of yelling, shrieks, giggles and one strategically placed throw cushion as he had stood up and reversed hastily to the bedroom out of view. “She told me she needed four bottles of bleach for her eyeballs.”

Katie sniggered before she sighed. “I miss her, Steve.”

“I know.” He said gently, walking into the room and she melted into his arms. “I wish I could tell you it goes away but it doesn’t. You just learn to live with it. I promise it will get easier though.” Katie smiled at his words. She knew full well what living with grief was like, they’d done it enough over the past five years but he wasn’t trying to be patronising, merely trying to lend her some comfort and she loved him for that.

“Given that Halloween isn’t for another two weeks I take it you’re dressed in your Spangles for a reason?” She pulled back and Steve nodded.

“We’re ready.” He gave her a significant look.

Katie let out a breath. They’d been working on the gauntlet now for the past few weeks. Thor, Rocket, Tony and Banner all spending hours at a time in the lab. Given that the Time and Soul stones were the only ones they had in their true gem form the first challenge get the others into the same state. For the most, all that meant was smashing open the various items they were contained within- namely the Tesseract, Sceptre and Orb. But even that had to be done in a controlled way so no stone was damaged or disturbed. Then, a slightly trickier task, they’d had to figure out how to solidify the Aether. Thor had been extremely nervous about this given his history with it and how it was able to “consume” people it decided to use as hosts. After days of brainstorming and various ideas they dismissed, Tony had come up with the idea of using the 3D printer to create a vessel, using a scan of one of the other stones.

“So, err…it’s time?” Steve nodded. “Everyone’s meeting in the lab.” He nodded to the photos on the side. “Time to make her sacrifice worthwhile.”

Katie followed his eye line and nodded. “Yeah,” she turned back to him, “I’ll go grab my suit.” He bent down to give her a soft peck on the lips and watched her go before he cast a cursory glance around the room. It was a little untidy, but that had been Nat all over. ‘Organised chaos’ she had described her nature as.

“You weren’t wrong, Widow.” Steve smiled gently, before he turned and shut the door behind him, striding back to the lab.

He arrived just in time to see Tony stood by the glass case housing the Gauntlet, his hand carefully manipulating the machines to cautiously place all six stones in their respective places within the glove.

“Boom!” Rocket let out a yell and both Tony and Bruce jumped a little. Tony turned to glare at the raccoon who was sniggering at his joke.

Steve rolled his eyes, he still wasn’t sure about the animal but he couldn’t deny he’d been useful, his knowledge filling in a lot of gaps they had.

“Asshole.” Tony grumbled as Steve crossed the room to pick up his helmet which was lying on a desk. Tony looked up at him. “You find Kiddo?” “Exactly where I thought she’d be.” Steve nodded. “She’s gone to suit up.” It wasn’t long before she returned with Clint and Scott. Scott was already in his Ant-Man suit, Clint in his Hawkeye get up and Katie in her leathers, the bangle that contained her Supernova suit gleaming on her wrist. Steve’s eyes travelled over everyone as they checked their various bits of equipment, and he took a deep breath, nervous excitement coursing through his veins.

Everything they had been through over the past five years and, more recently, the sacrifice their best friend had made all came down to this. A literal snap of the fingers.

Eventually, a silence fell over the room as everyone crowded round the gauntlet. A quick headcount told Steve they were one short, and he didn’t mean Natasha either. Nebula was absent but he assumed she was elsewhere at the request of Tony for some reason, maybe doing some checks in other areas. He was about to ask when Rocket spoke up.

“All right. The glove’s ready.” His arms folded across his chest. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

“I’ll do it.” Thor spoke immediately and they all turned to face him, Lang speaking the words at the forefront of Steve’s mind.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s okay.” Thor nodded, heading towards the gauntlet where he was immediately met with a barrage of protests from around the room.

“No, no, no, whoa.”

“Stop. Stop.”

“Wait a sec. Hey, hey!”

“Wait, wait, Thor, just wait.” Steve shook his head gently, his arm reaching out to stop the God before he put his arm in the glove. “We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.”

“I’m sorry. What, we’re just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” Thor snapped back.

“We should at least discuss it.” Katie nodded, trying to appease him.

“No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back.” Thor looked at her, shaking his head. “I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty.”

“It’s not about–“

“It’s not that– Stop it! Just let me!” Thor pleaded as he started to get teary eyed. Katie took a breath as she could almost feel the guilt that was radiating off him in waves. “Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right.”

“Look, it’s not just the fact that that glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I’m telling you, you’re in no condition.” Tony shook his head.

“He’s right, Thor.” Katie looked at him. “Let’s just think about it, please?”

“What do you-“ Thor shook his head as he looked at Katie, his blue eyes then flicking to Tony “What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?”

Katie took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Steve who mimicked her action subconsciously, shaking his head slightly.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey supplied from the side of the room. Thor pointed at him, shooting him a glare but all Rhodey did was shrug.

“Lightning.” He stated simply.

“Lightning won’t help you, pal.” Banner spoke softly, as everyone turned to look at him “It’s gotta be me.”

Katie glanced at Steve who was frowning a little, his attention completely on the large hulk of a man who gave a small shrug.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.” Banner’s eyes were focussed on the red gauntlet as he walked towards it.

“How do we know you will?” Steve questioned as Banner passed him by.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma,” he stated, in a matter of fact way, his eyes still on the gauntlet, as he clearly contemplated. With a smile he turned to look at Katie, then Tony as he spoke again. “It’s like….uh…I was made for this.”

Katie’s head whipped round to look at Tony, before they both glanced back at Banner who smiled at them again, the siblings instantly understanding what he was referring to.

“You know, I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.” Tony said, pointing at the Arc-Reactor in his chest as he walked towards Bruce “But this- this stops it. This little circle of light”

“Because that’s the same…” Katie said sarcastically rolling my eyes.

“The point is its part of me now, not just armor.” Tony ignored her as he stood opposite Banner, looking at him through you clear screen as lines of data swam across it. “It’s a… terrible privilege.

“But you can control it.” Bruce pointed out.

“Because I learned how”

“It’s different.” Bruce returned back to the computer screen but Tony slid the data aside with his fingers so the two could see face-to-face without interruption.

“Hey, I’ve read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“That’s true…” Katie said, watching the exchange.

“So you’re saying that the Hulk…” he paused, smiling sadly as he correcting himself whilst Tony raised his eyebrows “The other guy saved my life?”

Katie looked at Tony. His eyes were flashing bright as Bruce looked back at him. Tony gave him a significant look.

“That’s nice, it’s a nice sentiment.” Bruce said as Tony moved back to his computer. “Saved it for what?”

Tony hesitated and looked up, “I guess we’ll find out.

And it seemed they just had.

Unlike Steve, Katie did believe in fate and destiny, certainly to an extent anyway. After everything she had seen and experienced over the past twelve years or so she couldn’t help but consider there was an element of truth in the fact that they were all pawns in a bigger game.

She glanced at Steve who was studying Banner, but made no move to stop him. He couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. So, as no one else protested, Tony moved to remove the gauntlet from the casing before he handed it to the Doctor.

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony asked.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s do it,”

“You remember. Everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bring them back to now.” Tony reminded Bruce. “Don’t change anything from the last five years,”

Bruce nodded again. “Got it.”

“Good luck.” Katie encouraged before she twisted the star on her bangle causing her suit to flow over her body, Tony doing the same with his chest piece whilst Steve gripped his shield on his arm. Katie’s own shield beamed out of the suit and she held it in front of her, glancing to Steve where he stood to her left. He flashed her a small smile which she returned before her helmet slid round her head.

“FRIDAY do me a favour and activate Barn Door Protocol” Tony announced as he stepped in line with Clint, a shield springing from his suit. Thor stepped in front of Rocket whilst Rhodey and Scott also fully engaged their suits.

“Yes boss,” she replied and around them all the facility went into lock down as shutters closed over the doors, windows and roof.

Katie engaged her scanners, checking the heads up display which was monitoring the energy levels on the stones and she moved her feet slightly apart, adopting an almost identical stance to Steve, their defences raised in front of them.

 Bruce looked at the gauntlet in his hand for a second. “Everybody comes home,” and with that he slid his fingers into the glove which nanobotically expanded to fit his hand. There was a sudden whoosh, and as they watched, the stones lit up in different colours, tendrils of bright light spreading up Bruce’s arm as their power surged up towards his shoulder and neck. He cried out in pain, almost falling and Katie watched worriedly as the man continued to shout and groan, his teeth grit together.

“Bruce?” She asked as Steve shifted besides her, his legs apart ready to dive in if he had to. Bruce then crashed down to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor cried out, starting towards him.

“No, wait!” Steve urged, holding his hand up. They knew something like this was going to happen, they’d seen the mess left of Thanos’ arm. But they couldn’t quit, not now. “Bruce, are you okay?“ 

“Talk to me, Banner.” Tony demanded.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Bruce grit out through his teeth, giving a jerky nod as Thor gave him two thumbs.

After what felt like hours, Bruce slowly raised his arm. With a final grit of his teeth, he moved his fingers and everyone braced themselves. Steve moved himself in front of his wife with his shield raised, even though she was probably more protected than he was, such was his force of habit. With a loud yell, and a laboured effort, Bruce snapped his fingers. Steve’s shield raised automatically over his face in an attempt to shield himself and Katie form the blinding white light that pulsed out from the Gauntlet, filling the room.

But it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Steve had to admit he had expected more, but his concern at the moment was Bruce who collapsed backwards to the floor and the gauntlet slid off his hand dropping to the tiles with a clang.

“Bruce!” He called, kneeling down beside him as Clint booted the gauntlet across the room away from them all.

“Don’t move him.” Tony instructed as he dropped to his knees besides Bruce who was gripping onto Steve’s arm with his left hand, blinking in pain. Tony opened his palm, spraying Bruce’s right arm with foam to cool him off.

“Did it work?” Bruce breathed out, blinking slightly.

Katie glanced around, her helmet retracting as she did so. “I don’t know.” As she continued to look around for a clue, anything that would indicate if they’d been successful, she spotted Scott walking towards the windows of the facility, the blinds sliding back as the lock down reversed.

“Worth a shot.” Thor sighed, clearly having already decided it hadn’t. He knelt down besides Banner “It’s okay…”

As Steve, Tony and Thor tended to Bruce, Katie continued to watch Scott who stood by the window, his mouth forming a little O of surprise. She squinted, wondering what it was he had seen, and then she spotted a few birds in the tree on the patio area. She swallowed slightly, whilst birds hadn’t been uncommon in the five years, they had certainly been down in numbers, and it was unusual for four of them at once to be in a tree that small.

She was then distracted by Clint who had given a sharp intake of breath and she spun to watch him as he picked up his phone from one of the desks with a shaking hand.

“Honey?” He croaked, and Katie watched as his face contorted into raw emotion, his words failing to form out of the sheer emotion he was clearly feeling. “Honey?”

There was only one person that could be, and if it was her then…

“Guys, I think it worked,” Scott spoke from his spot and Katie took a deep breath as her own tears threatened to overwhelm her. She locked eyes with Steve, who glanced up at her, his own eyes shining as he smiled.

“We did it.” Katie breathed out, looking round as she gave a watery laugh, wiping away her tears. “Son of a bitch, we actually-“

But she didn’t get chance to finish her sentence as suddenly there was a huge explosion, and the ground fell open beneath her.

*****

Smoke. Fire. Ash. Gushing Water.

That was all Katie could see, hear and feel. She was vaguely aware that FRIDAY was yelling something in her ear. As she shook her head slightly, she groaned, waiting for her senses to catch up with the rest of her.

Then, she heard Tony, and as she moved to get up, she realised she couldn’t. There was something crushing her into the ground, something ridiculously heavy which was pressing on her back. She tried to push herself up, but the weight was too much. 

And then it was gone, and a strong arm was hoisting her to her feet.

“Little Stark?” Thor asked as Katie gave another groan, retracting her helmet. “Are you okay?”

“No serious injuries detected.” FRIDAY informed her, and she nodded to the God.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” She blinked, looking around as she tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened. “Where’s…”

“I take it that wasn’t the snap.” Tony mumbled, distracting her as she glanced down to her left as he blasted away a piece of concrete that had been pinning his legs down. He stood up, and the three of them took a moment to look around where they were stood in the ruins of the compound, before Thor gave a lowly growl and walked to the edge of the blown apart building, looking down into the huge crater.

“No, it was him.” He nodded. Katie and Tony both walked towards him, drawing up on either side, and Katie gave a sharp gasp as she saw Thanos in a distance, sat on a rock.

“Where’s Steve?” Katie’s brain suddenly remembered who it was she’d been looking for earlier, and she, glancing round furiously. She engaged her helmet again and FRIDAY scanned the piles of rubble but she needn’t have bothered, she spotted him almost immediately. She quickly moved towards him, kicking some more rubble and wreckage out of the way before she dropped gently to Steve’s side where he lay unconscious, FRIDAY informing her that his life signs were fine.

“Stevie?” She he said gently, shaking his shoulder. “Come on honey, wake up.” With a sharp intake of breath, Steve’s eyes flew open and Katie let out a sigh of relief, as she looked up to see Tony smiling, Steve’s shield on his arm.

“That’s my man.” Tony nodded, leaning down towards Steve who glanced up, his breathing evening out. “Lose this again,” Tony held out the shield, “I’m keeping it.”

Steve grimaced and turned to look at his wife. “You okay?” “Yeah.” She nodded, “turns out Tony’s suits are pretty good, who knew huh?” Tony scoffed as Steve blinked, getting his bearings, taking in the debris and rubble of the compound. “What happened?” 

“You mess with time it tends to mess back,” Tony spoke gently, glancing at Katie sniffed a little, wiping at her nose, fear flickering across her face. “You’ll see.”

“Thanos?” Steve swallowed, and Katie nodded. Steve exhaled again as Tony helped him to his feet and the three of them walked over to Thor, who was stood exactly where Katie and Tony had left him earlier.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked, standing to Thor’s left as Katie stood to the God’s right in between him and her husband as the four of them glanced down at the Titan.

“Absolutely nothing.” Thor’s voice was low.

Steve had no idea how the Titan was there, but he didn’t really give a shit either. There was one thing they had to do, and that was all that mattered.

“Where are the stones?” He asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Katie gestured to pile of ruins under their feet. “All we know is that he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way.” Steve spoke simply, steely determination lacing his voice, his eyes not moving from the Titan.

“You know this is a trap, right?” Thor asked, his gaze also locked on the large warrior.

“Yeah. I don’t much, care.” Tony replied with a shrug.

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement.” Thor nodded, and with that there was a large crack of thunder. Bright beams and shards of lightning surround the God as he stretched out both his hands to summon Stormbreaker and Mjolnir. His casual clothes transformed into his armour and cape, his beard flowing into a braid, giving him a distinctive Viking Warrior look as his eyes glowed bright white, every inch of his face lined with fury.

“Good to have you back, Thunder God.” Katie smiled at him as he took a deep breath, the lightning dying down as he looked over her shoulder at Steve, who nodded at him.

“Let’s kill him properly this time.” Thor’s voice was a low growl as he jumped off the edge of the ruins they were stood on, landing with a loud crash on the ground. Katie moved to one side of Steve, wrapping her arm around his as Tony did the same, the three of them flying forward and landing with a little more grace than Thor had done.

Once more the four of them exchanged looks before the started to walk cautiously towards Thanos, but Katie stopped as Steve pulled on her arm.

“You need to promise me.” He looked at her as her. “If this starts to go sideways…” “I think we’re a bit past that.” She breathed out and Steve shook his head, looking down.

“Baby, the kids. I need you to promise me that if it looks like, well, you need to go back for them.” “Steve.” Katie took a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s no point making me promise anything like that, because if we don’t get rid of him, then there might not be anything to go back for.”

Her words hit him harder than any punch could, and Steve felt his chest contract, painfully. He tore his eyes off her which were now full of tears as he looked up at Tony and Thor who continued to advance ahead of them, his hand running down his face.

She was right and whilst he wanted her as far away as possible, with their kids, safe, he knew it was futile because nothing was safe now. He could send her away, get her out of the fight, but if they failed then she was as good as dead anyway, they all were.

Because Steve didn’t believe for a second that Thanos would make the mistake of leaving who died this time round down to chance.  

“If we go, we go.” Katie’s voice ripped him from his thoughts as he turned back to her, the tears in her eyes dancing with the flames that reflected from the various fires dotted around. “We have to try or they don’t stand a chance. Whatever it takes.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to reply. Instead he gave her a curt nod and the two of them strode forward to confront the man who had haunted their dreams for the past five years.

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos spoke for the first time as they drew closer. “Where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible.”

The four of them split up, as they began to surround Thanos, circling him, whilst he spoke.

“As long as there are those that remembered what was, there are always those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yeah, we’re all kinds of stubborn.” Tony continued his pacing to stand behind the Titan.

“I’m thankful, because now I know what I must do,” Thanos stood up, “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He reached for his helmet which had been propped up on the edge of his double edged blade where it was stuck into the ground in front of him. “And then with the stones that you’ve collected for me,” he placed the helmet on top of his head, “I’ll create a new one, teeming with life,” he pulled his weapon from the ground, twirling it in his large hand, “that knows not what is lost, only what has been given,”

There was a rush and a flash as the lighting flew round Thor’s axe and hammer, his eyes flashing as he stood to Thanos’ left, Katie now to his right.

“A grateful universe.” Thanos concluded.

“Born out of blood,” Steve glared up at the man, anger lancing through every cell in his body.

“They’ll never know it,” Thanos cocked his head to the right, “because you won’t be alive to tell them.”

At that, having heard enough, Thor gave a loud cry as he surged forward, beginning the fight. Tony and Katie both launched into the air and Steve threw himself in, shield first, as the four of them began to work in tandem.

Lightning flashed, shots fired, metal clanged on metal as they all deployed their various weapons. It was brutal, hard, just as Steve had remembered from Wakanda, only this time they were engaged directly with the Titan, and it was fast becoming apparent that this Thanos was equally as vicious an opponent than his future self had been. 

“Okay, Thor. Hit me.” Tony’s voice rang over Steve’s comms as Katie flew up out of the way of the Titan’s sword as he swung it at her, deflecting the shot she’d taken at him from her repulsors.

As Steve launched his shield again, Thor banged his axe and hammer together, charging Tony’s suit with lightening. Tony then shot the extra energy out using his hands and body, Katie joining him as she hovered off to the left. Thanos twirled his blade in front of him, diverting the energy and Steve gave a yell as it rebounded back to Katie, her suit taking a full shot causing her to fly off to the side, colliding harshly with a huge piece of the compound structure, falling to the floor.

With a roar of rage, Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat his hammer to hit Thanos, who used Tony as a shield, casting the man aside where he too landed harshly, remaining motionless on the ground.

Steve launched forward but was flung away, landing and taking a heavy thump to the head. With a groan, he blinked away the spots of light that had formed in front of his eyes from the impact of the blow, and glanced around, giving a sigh of relieve as he saw Katie was pushing herself up on her hands, rising to all fours. With the ringing still in his ears, he then saw Thanos pounding down on Thor, Tony still motionless in the background.

With a loud grunt, Steve ground his teeth together in stubborn determination and reached out to push himself up, but he paused when a sudden shock of warmth vibrated up his arm. He instantly glanced down at his hand and realised he’d flattened his palm against Thor’s hammer, not the ground. He frowned for a moment, as the vibrations continued. It felt like the throb of his motorbike engine, a warm purr. The last time he had tried to move, sure, it had given a little, but he hadn’t felt anything like that…

Could he? Was it possible?

With an automatic movement, one that seemed completely out of his control, Steve rose to his feet and reached out, gripping the handle. He sucked in a breath and as he pulled up his arm, the hammer came with him.

**** With a groan, Katie blinked, shaking off the daze that had descended over her thanks to the heavy blow she’d taken from Tony’s deflected fire. She looked around, the ringing loud in her ears as she saw Thanos flip Thor to the floor, pressing him back up against a rock. Thor reached for his axe, and as the pair of them grappled, Thanos gained the upper hand and began to attempt to push Stombreaker through Thor’s chest. 

Immediately, Katie took off and began to fly towards Thor, raising her palms to shoot a beam at Thanos, but as she neared something whizzed straight across her path and she stopped dead in the air, her sight focussed on Mjolnir as it soared towards Thanos, where it whacked him harshly in the side of the head, sending him flying away. It carried on for a while before it stopped, and boomeranged back right round but it didn’t stop at Thor.

Instead it continued, and Katie felt her mouth drop open as she followed it with her eyes as it flew into Steve’s waiting hand, his fingers curling round the handle as he caught it.

“Holy shit…” She spluttered at the same time as Thor breathed a little smugly into the comms.

“I knew it!”  

Steve was wielding the hammer. Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight was worthy.

But then, as Katie watched him turn to look at Thanos, hammer in hand, that determined expression on his face as he sized up his opponent, she realised there was no one else more worthy than the man who had done nothing but continually put his life on the line for others.

Thanos kicked Thor harshly in the chest sending him straight through the rock he was up against and then Steve proceeded to charge at Thanos, swinging Mjolnir. He caught Thanos perfectly on the chin with an upper cut from the hammer, which sent him flying through the air, where he landed, and jumped up.

Katie took off towards the two, as Steve launched his shield, but Thanos deflected it easily. As it swung back towards him, Steve threw the hammer straight at it, creating a shockwave which knocked Thanos back off his feet.

Then, the Captain went completely on the offensive, shield and hammer flying through the air again and again before he lined his arm back up and summonsed the lighting. Shooting a shock at Thanos he blasted the Titan off his feet before Katie landed in front of him giving a yell. Just as Thor had done before to Tony, he charged up her suit and she powered everything she had into the Titan as he lay on the floor.

Steve drew to her side as she unloaded, but before she could say or do anything else Thanos’ sword flew back at her and she dodged out of the way, but wasn’t quite quick enough. It hit her hard in the chest and sent her skidding backwards against the floor where she collided with a metal pipe.

Thanos advanced on Steve, menacingly swinging his weapon and, one on one, Steve was no match for him. He lost the hammer and, after receiving a nasty stab to the leg and gash to his arm, he could do nothing but hold his shield up to deflect the blow that was coming his way.

Only it didn’t. Thanos’ double edged weapon sank straight into the Vibranium like it was butter.

Steve looked at it in shock and horror, never once had anything ever penetrated the metal, but he didn’t have chance to think about it as the blows continued. Pieces of his shield were shearing away left, right and centre and then Thanos picked him up by the front of his suit and tossed him aside like he was a rag doll.

He landed harshly a few feet away from Katie and rolled onto his back, his eyes closing and his chest heaving with exertion. He gave a little gulp, a low gasp that was almost a cry flew from his mouth as he felt sheer desperation flood his system, the faces of his kids and his wife flashing through his mind.

Steve Rogers might be worthy, but he was beat.

**** Chapter 57

 **Original Posting**

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Medal of Honor.”

Ok that second to last part was hard to write, damn. Anyway read to the end to get an idea of where the next arc is going :)

A gentle breeze cut over the open field outside UNSC headquarters. Blue UN flags whipped lightly in the wind, and the sun shone down, though its rays beat against a crowd of somber figures all dressed sharply for the morning, men and women alike.

Camera crews had set up just off to the side of the stage, where Admiral Kelly stood in her dress greys along with white gloves and cords at the shoulder, her hands resting against the lectern as if searching for support somewhere.

“And it is with great regret that I must report Commander Vir of the UNSC Missing in Action.” 

This was not news to the assembled crowd, so there was no gasping, no cries of alarm, only solemn silence.

“Commander Vir was…. a … a true representative of what it means to be human, and what it means to be a member of the UNSC. He was brave, loyal, diligent, and, from personal experience, I can vouch for his character as one of the best men I have ever known. He was a man who…. Wasn’t afraid to be himself, kind, trusting, and fun-loving. There were at times were members of the UNSC wondered if he was ready to command a ship. There were times when we questioned whether he was even capable of leading, but it is more than safe to say that Commander Adam Allen Vir has proved himself without a doubt. Two nights ago, the U.N.S.S Harbinger was set upon by  a burg surprise attack. Commander vir took charge of the fleet admirably, though sources and footage report a linking of 40 kree satellites that created some sort of…” She paused here, “We aren't entirely sure, a black hole, or wormhole, or warp, tunnel. Commander Vir’s ship was caught in the pull.”

Kelly straightened up, “And in an act of great honor and selflessness, commander Vir initiated the shatter protocol. Because of his efforts, the rest of the harbinger crew made it out alive with only three casualties, and one life pod still missing in action. The ship itself will undergo reassembly at the Europa station. “ More flags flapped, and behind her on the stage, five other Admirals, the secretary of intergalactic affairs, the GA representative, and the UN President sat heads bowed slightly.

“Commander Vir, remained in command until his signal was lost. Efforts are currently being made to determine what the device did, so we can definitely determine what happened to Earths favorite hero.” 

She turned stepping back a little as the UN president stood and walked forward clearing his throat two assistants walking behind him off to the side of the stage a man was brought up. He wore a well worn-but finely tailored suit, though is eyes were red. The UN president straightened his back and turned to look at the man as cameras flashed , “After deliberation with the UN council and members of the GA, we have determined that Commander Vir’s actions in battle are of the highest degree, and would thus award him the UNSC Medal of Honor.” The two assistants Flipped open the two identical cases as pictures snapped, and the boxes were eventually handed over to Jim Vir who took them in shaking hands.

“The UNSC and the GA thank your son for his service, and we will do everything in our power to get him home…. No matter what.”

The man’s face remained stoically flat, though in the bright light of the sun golden tears rolled down his cheeks, and dripped onto the velvet interior of the case. He was led from stage as admiral Kelly returned to her feet, “The burg have harassed and harried the GA and the UNSC almost since inception. Their actions over the Kree home world are reprehensible, and as of now the GA has declared open war on the Burg, a decision that the UNSC unanimously supports. We will not bow before tyrants, and it is now that we ask young men and women of earth, of Mars and of the colonies, tot take up arms like commander Vir in defense of earth, and in defense of the galaxy.  Let us not, allow his sacrifice to go meaningless.”

***

“No, he’s not dead!” “Mrs Vir.

“He's not dead! I would know if he's dead, and I know he’s not dead!”

Maverick stood in the center of the Vir family living room her hands clasped before her. This was her least favorite duty as ship chaplain, but she hadn’t wanted anyone else to do it.

Martha Vir walked in a tight circle ringing her hands.

“Ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me! We should be out there looking for him! He could be sick or hurt or or…

“Ma’am, the UNSC is doing everything in their power. As of now he is only considered Missing in action, not dead.” She reached out a hand to rest on the woman’s shoulder but took it back at the last moment, “Things are not without hope.”

Across the room Jim Vir stood staring out the window back hunched head bowed. His hard calloused hands were balled into fists at his sides.

Jeremy sat on the couch looking dumbstruck shaking his head, “no…. No i’m sure hes alright, that bastard could survive anything he…. Hes like that, our little brother.”

Across from him David stood with his partner Jordan. David’s cheek twitched hard eyes filling up with moisture that he tried to hold back as he looked up at the ceiling. David wrapped his arms around him, and as soon as that happened David broke dropping his head into one hand body shaking silently.

Maya sat shell shocked in her father’s favorite chair .

There was silence for a long moment and then, “This is bullshit!” Everyone turned to where Thomas had stood knocking over a chair in the process. His scruffy hair was in disarray, “This is some fucking bullshit!”

“Thomas!” 

“No! Don’t THOMAS me, this if bull- shit! You should be out there looking for him! Because he's fucking alive, so fuck you and, and all of your stupid….” His voice cut off, and he stood there mouth opening and closing for a moment before he turned and raced out the door slamming it behind him as he went.

Everyone was silent.

“I’m sorry about Th-” “It's ok…. I get it, and I feel the same way.”

Outside Thomas paced around the front yard before sitting on the front step head in his hands.

Sobbing quietly.

***

Cannon had to pry open the door from the outside. The frame had been warped and bent at some point, and that made it difficult to get inside. His heart was pounding as the other marines worked to help him. Jamming his spear into the crack, and with all four of them resting their body weight on it, they were just able to pop the seal.

There was a sharp hiss as the interior of the compartment pressurized to the air around it. Cannon rammed his shoulder into the door once twice, and then finally it popped inward the warped damage to the inside fixed enough for the door to slide open.

Deep blue light filtered in from the docking bay of captain Koslov’s ship and into the interior compartment falling on a figure kneeling at it’s center.

Cannon went to rush forward hands outstretched to the figure but paused in horror. The room was covered in blood, orange like the rising sun over Anin. A broken steel spear shaft lay on the ground snapped in half like a stick over a child’s knee. At the center of this carnage, She knelt blue carapace marred with blood hands twisted into claws torn and bleeding The metal about the room had been dented beyond repair, long scratches marred the metal.

“Sunny,” He whispered softly 

When no answer came, he stepped forward into the room and walked over, slowly kneeling down before her.

Both sets of her hands rested on her legs, and her head was bowed eyes closed.

He reached out resting a hand over hers, “Sunny?”

Slowly her eyes opened, and she tilted her head up to look at him. Little droplets of blood speckled her face though the expression was completely dead, dead mostly but for the burning rage behind her golden eyes. He sat back in shock.

He had only ever seen that look on one other person in his life.

On the face of General Cosma after the death of their father.

“I’m going to kill them all.” 

***

KIA

Olivia Wild - Engineering 

Chris Hallis - Marine 

Trevor Lane - Pilot

MIA

Adam Vir

Dr. Krill 

***

Waffles waited on the tarmac at Fort Harmony airbase, and waited, and waited. She stood, walked around for a bit, then sat down. 

She waited resting her head on her paws and staring up at the sky.

She waited as the sun grew high into noon and then sunk downwards towards the distant ocean. She could smell it on the air, a salty tang.

She waited as the sun dipped towards the horizon.

Waffles stood picking up the dusty white captain’s cap in her mouth and walking over to a patch of grass where she sat and continued to wait. The smell on the hat was still strong. Off in the distance engines roared, and she perked her ears up, standing on the tarmac and watching as an F-90 darkfire rolled down onto the field. Her tail began to wag and she broke into a trot towards the taxiing plane. Her body wiggled and her nose twitched with excited sniffling.

The canopy opened, and waffle’s tail dropped sagging towards the hot tarmac that burned her paws a little. She let the dusty cap drop from her mouth and onto the hot surface flopping down beside it, her nose resting where, with every breath, she could smell the familiar scent.

She whined quietly, looking up as a figure walked forward over the tarmac.

It was a distantly familiar smell but not the one she wanted. Chief Palmer stopped next to her and knelt down, running a gentle hand over her ears. His voice was soft, “Still waiting, huh girl?”

She beat her tail half-heartedly against the ground.

He stood, “Come on girl, lets go inside.” She didn’t move

He whistled, and her ears twitched, but she didn’t come. He sighed and walked over sitting next to her, “Well, maybe we can wait together for a little bit. It grew dark as they waited, and he stroked a gentle hand down her back.

After a bit, he reached over gently pulling the cap from under her snout. She lifted her head, “Promise I’ll give it back.” he said taking a moment to dust the dirt from the white top before handing it back.

‘“I have to go ok.” He said standing, “But I understand you have to wait.”

She whimpered softly. He bit his lip and turned away wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

The sun sunk lower, lights flicked on over the tarmac. Men in orange vests passed by patting her on the head and whispering soft things to her as they did. One man came by with a blanket, draped over her form the cold.

A figure in white billowed behind her its strange human voice inside her head waiting with her. 

The night got colder, and Waffles looked up at the sky whimpering softly at the stars, waiting, still waiting.

***

The inky blue sky was alight with fire as debris rained down from above. Animals raced over the sandy dunes across an inland sea in fear and shock as great pieces of metal crashed to the ground with fiery explosions. 

A small metal ball with the lines. LIFE POD 37 on the outside crashed towards the sea.

Overhead the night sky was dominated by the glowing rings formed about the planet, and the glowing orbit of Seven moons, some barely pinpricks against the night.