#4209

[every-tome]

[shefancdotcom]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Accurail N.Y.C O.B Box Steel Ends Model Train - 40' Collectible Assembled.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #4209:

What is it gonna take for social media to realize that a lot of the blame for shows being written w/ criticisms fair or otherwise about "rushed plots" or "little to no buildup" on characters getting together (that goes triple for LGBT ships) shouldn't be directed at the writers?

It should be placed on the Executives who head the Networks as well as their Standards and Practices boards scrutinizing every aspect of a show so it "fits the brand" which I find gut-busting levels of hilarious in terms of how vague that term really is (like w/ Disney over The Owl House).

[jgsuperiorpainters]

Gold Coast Epoxy Floor Coating

For premium Gold Coast Epoxy Floor Coating, JG Superior Painters provides top-notch solutions to enhance your floors. Their Epoxy Floor Coating in Gold Coast service transforms residential and commercial spaces, giving floors a high-gloss, durable finish that’s easy to maintain. Known for durability and style, epoxy coatings protect against scratches, stains, and spills, ensuring your floors look…

[michaelgabrill]

Sols 4209-4211: Just Out of Reach

Earth planning date: Friday, June 7, 2024 Curiosity is going to have a busy 3-sol weekend. We have one more sol of intense contact science activities at this really beautiful and fascinating location before moving on. What makes this place so special? We are seeing a lot of variety in the rocks in terms of […] from NASA https://ift.tt/RxnNUKv

[pesterloglog]

Jane Crocker, Jake English

Act 6, page 4208-4217

gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] at 11:40

GG: J, how goes the bunnyquest?

GT: Ive barely even begun!

GG: Tell me about it.

GT: Youre off to a sluggish start then too i gather?

GG: Dad has the whole house in full fatherly lockdown mode. Talk about blowing a few measly "assassination attempts" way out of proportion!

GG: So I'm currently mulling over my next move.

GG: What is it that has you hamstrung? Did you ever track down the slippery Mr. Strider?

GT: Not exactly.

GT: His stupid doppelglasses have set me on a wild goose chase to go pry his dumb robots chest open and swipe its uranium.

GG: Sounds dangerous!

GT: No shit.

GT: I think id rather deal with the monsters.

GG: Why is it that our two best friends in the world always seem to place themselves at the source of all our problems, while simultaneously presenting their only solutions?

GT: I know right???

GG: I'm debating whether or not to enlist his help in the matter of my current imprisonment. But I'd rather keep it as a plan of last resort.

GT: Dont do it jane its a trap!!!

GG: We'll see.

GG: So I take it you're out and about now?

GT: Hell no. I spent so much time haggling with those confounded shades im only leaving my room just now.

GG: Right. Well, not to keep you too long, since we both still have our missions ahead of us, but I wanted to tell you about that dream I had.

GT: Oh yeah!

GT: I was curious about that. Tell me everything and make it snappy!

GT: *Whips up bucket of freshly popped corn.*

GG: Hoo. :B

GG: Ok, but, I should say that the nature of the dream was a bit worrisome.

GG: And I'm concerned it may have implications for the game we're about to play.

GG: So it's probably best that I tell you about it before you leave.

GT: Well shoot.

GT: Ok then lay it on me jane.

GG: I woke up on the planet which we have been told about by our mutual acquaintance.

GG: The one covered in golden cities. Prospit, remember?

GT: Oh. Wouldnt it be prospits moon?

GG: Yes, you're right. It was the moon, actually. I could see the planet on the dark horizon.

GG: I was dressed in a golden dress, like a sort of nightgown, and I could fly. I left my bedroom, which was at the top of a tall tower. Surrounding me were the gold cities, just as described.

GG: Behind the skyline was darkness. But just above was a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds.

GT: That was skaia!

GG: Yes, probably.

GG: Are you sure you haven't woken up there before?

GT: Haha i WISH.

GT: I have received reports from jade about this as well. She liked to talk about her dreams on prospits moon a lot.

GG: I see. The impression I have developed is that this is supposed to be a real place, and all who dream there have shared experiences.

GG: Did Jade ever mention seeing us there?

GT: No but why would she? This was long before we were born! She was dreaming there like a hundred years ago or something.

GG: Hrmm. Anyway...

GG: I explored the moon, and began to notice people gathering in the streets.

GG: But they weren't human. They were funny looking, perfectly white creatures.

GT: Yeah those are prospitians.

GT: They have these hard carapace shells and also have something to do with chess i think?

GG: Well, I don't know if they had much to do with chess here.

GG: The more closely I observed, the more they appeared somewhat despondent.

GT: Like...

GT: Sad?

GG: Yes.

GG: I determined they were in mourning, actually.

GT: Hey.

GT: Jane you said i was in this dream. Where do i come in?

GG: Shoosh! I'm getting there.

GG: More and more Prospitians were filing out of the buildings every moment.

GG: They all began to form a single, major procession.

GG: When I got closer, I could see that some were in tears.

GG: I realized this was a funeral.

GG: I heard whispers, but couldn't make out what they were saying, so I got closer.

GG: They were all saying the same thing, over and over.

GG: "The Page is dead."

GG: "Our hope is lost."

GT: The page?

GT: Whos that?

GG: Jake.

GG: The Page was you.

GT: Oh.

GT: Drat.

GT: Are you sure?

GG: Yes, I saw your body lying in a sort of coffin, on a bed of flowers. You were dead as a doornail.

GG: Everyone was so distraught!

GG: Including me. :(

GG: But before I could get too horribly upset, let alone make sense of any of it, I woke up.

GG: I of course immediately wanted to tell you all about, but it was still well before sunrise for you, and you were surely still asleep.

GG: Then as the day went on I guess I became distracted by other things. You know how it is.

GG: I hope I'm not too late to "warn" you, though to be frank I don't have the foggiest clue what it is I'm warning you about.

GG: "Dear Jake, oh please do try not to... have already... died in my dream? Likely while you were sleeping, perhaps peacefully?"

GT: Haha yeah. I see your point.

GG: Still, I think you'll agree that it's to be viewed as a troubling omen.

GG: I care very much for you, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you both in my dreams, and here in this world.

GG: So for whatever good it does, just please be extra careful out there today!

GT: Roger that janey!

GT: And um same goes for you about being careful what with these various rogues accosting you with foul play lately and whatnot...

GT: Because well i sure do care a lot about you too you know that.

GG: Hooray! Will do. ;B

GG: Now let's get this silly old adventure off to the races before the coat of dust it's growing gets any thicker.

GT: Booyeah!

GT: Ok good luck jane and keep me posted! C ya.

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

[oddlysatisfyingbot]

Flamingo body paint via r/oddlysatisfying

[rainandandy]

Bigger than the whole sky

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Contains graphic depictions of violence, including public beatings and injuries that lead to death, themes of loss and grief, and the depiction of a harsh, dystopian environment with elements of oppression and cruelty. It also includes scenes of emotional distress, as characters witness the death of a loved one. Please read with caution.

Word Count:4209

Note: Kinda just went on with this one..... it hurt to write this and I based it off of the Gale beating scene in Hunger Games Catching Fire. Hope you enjoy (cry your heart out) with this

Life on Jackson's Star was steeped in bleakness, each day unfolding under the shadow of Weyland-Yutani's relentless control. The air was thick with dust and despair, the sky a perpetual overcast of smog that blurred the line between day and night. You, along with Rain and her brother Andy, had adapted to this harsh reality with a resilience born of necessity. Navigating through the oppressive regime required a careful balance of caution and subtle rebellion, as the omnipresent surveillance drones buzzed overhead like carrion birds waiting for a misstep.

The colony itself was a sprawling network of industrial complexes and cramped living quarters, all constructed with the cold functionality of corporate efficiency. The metallic clang of machinery and the hiss of steam were the constant backdrop to your lives, reminding you that the colony's primary function was to serve the company's interests, not the welfare of its inhabitants.

Despite the ever-present danger of being singled out by the guards for any perceived infraction, you three maintained a semblance of hope. In whispered conversations as you worked the barren fields or scavenged for parts among the debris, you shared dreams of a life beyond the company's grasp. These dreams were defiant sparks in the oppressive gloom of Jackson's Star, small but bright enough to keep the darkness at bay.

That day, as you toiled in the fields of Jackson's Star, the atmosphere was unusually tense, the air heavy with more than just the usual burdens. The rich, damp scent of freshly turned earth mingled oddly with the sharp, acrid tang of industrial exertion—a stark reminder of the unnatural union of nature and machine that characterized your existence. Clouds hung low, a somber gray canopy that seemed to press down on the landscape, intensifying the oppressive feel of the day.

The guards patrolled with heightened vigilance, their movements sharp and deliberate. Their fingers rested uneasily on the handles of their batons, twitching occasionally with a nervous energy that mirrored the electric charge of the air. Every step they took sent small shivers of apprehension through the ranks of laborers, their boots leaving deep, menacing imprints in the muddy ground.

Rain, ever the embodiment of resilience and quiet rebellion, had momentarily paused her labor. Leaning heavily on her shovel, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her mud-streaked hand. Her chest heaved from the exertion, breaths coming in short, labored gasps that she tried to quiet, knowing all too well the dangers of displaying fatigue.

It was this moment of vulnerability, however fleeting, that drew the attention of a particularly ruthless officer. Known among the workers for his harsh discipline and cold demeanor, his eyes locked onto Rain with predatory precision. The badge on his chest seemed to gleam more fiercely under the overcast sky, a symbol of the unchecked authority he wielded. His approach was deliberate, each step measured to instill fear, his shadow falling ominously across the rows of bent backs and bowed heads.

As he drew closer, the underlying threat in his posture was unmistakable, his baton now an extension of his arm, raised not just as a tool but as a weapon of control. His presence loomed over Rain, a dark cloud in a field already devoid of sunlight, ready to burst at the slightest provocation.

The overseer's voice sliced through the humid air, a harsh interruption to the muffled cacophony of clanking tools and muted conversations of the weary workers. "Hey! No resting!" His tone was sharp, the authority in his command unwavering as his eyes fixed on Rain. With a menacing flourish, he raised his baton, the metal gleaming ominously under the harsh artificial lights of the work fields.

Rain looked up slowly, her expression unflinching, molded into a mask of steely resolve that seemed to stiffen her spine. Her hands, calloused and stained from the day's labor, clenched into fists at her sides. She met the overseer's gaze with a defiant fire burning in her eyes, her jaw set, bracing for the confrontation she knew was coming.

From just a few feet away, you witnessed the standoff, and a fierce, protective rage surged within you. The overseer’s blatant aggression, the threat looming so palpably in the air, sparked a primal defiance in your chest. Your muscles tensed, coiled springs ready to release. Without a moment’s hesitation, your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you forward.

"Leave her alone!" Your voice, loud and clear, cut through the tension like a knife. Every eye in the vicinity snapped towards you, including Rain's, which flickered briefly with something akin to worry and gratitude. The overseer turned his glare towards you, baton still raised, his expression twisting into one of surprise and then anger at your challenge.

"This doesn’t concern you," he spat, his words dripping with venom. But standing there, facing down the threat to someone you cared deeply about, you felt a steadfast resolve take root. This was your battle too, and you wouldn't back down. "She’s just catching her breath, sir," you said, your voice a calm contrast to the growing tension, trying to diffuse the situation. "We’ll get back to work right now."

The officer halted, mere inches from you, his shadow looming over you like a dark cloud. His face twisted into a sneer of outrage at your audacity to challenge him. "Double shift for you, then," he hissed venomously, his baton now lifted to emphasize his authority. The electronic hum of the baton was a clear threat as it activated, crackling with energy. "Think you can undermine me? You'll regret it."

Your heart raced as you maintained eye contact, refusing to show the fear that skittered down your spine. As the officer turned away, his message clear, you felt Rain’s hand reached out, touching your arm lightly, her expression tormented. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, stifled by the oppressive atmosphere.

Seeing her distress, you turned to her, your eyes locking. It was a silent communication, filled with years of shared hardships and understanding. You shook your head slightly, a clear signal. "You’re finished for the day. Go home, I’ll manage," you murmured quietly, pushing her gently toward Andy, who stood a few steps behind, his synthetic eyes wide with a programmed concern that mirrored human fear.

"But I can help—" Rain started to argue, her voice low and urgent.

You cut her off, your tone soft but firm, "No, Rain. It’s better if you're not involved. Please, for me, just go back with Andy. Stay safe." The plea in your voice was evident, each word laced with your concern not just for your own welfare but profoundly for hers.

Rain's eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions passing through them—fear, frustration, helplessness. Finally, with a weighty exhale, Rain gave a reluctant nod. Her fingers tightened around yours, conveying a silent vow to return. "Be careful," she murmured, her words nearly whisked away by the brisk wind. She hesitated, her gaze lingering on you with a mixture of fear and resolve, before Andy gently guided her away. Even as they retreated, her eyes kept darting back to you, etching every detail into her memory, laden with palpable concern.

Rain and Andy hurried back to the sanctuary of your shared quarters, the familiarity of the space a stark contrast to the chaos of the fields. The safety of these walls, peppered with personal touches and memories of quieter times, stood as a silent testament to the life you had built together amid the harsh realities of Jackson’s Star. As the hours ticked by, Rains worry only grew.

The fleeting sense of relief vanished as the harsh chirp of the communicator shattered the tense silence. Rain's heart skipped as Tyler's voice, laden with unmistakable dread, crackled through the speaker. "Get to the square—now! They have her." The urgency in his tone sent a chill down her spine, each word heavy with a grim portent that sent them rushing into the cold, unforgiving night of Jackson's Star.

Rain and Andy raced through the oppressively dim corridors of Jackson’s Star, their boots pounding against the cold metal floor, the sound reverberating off the narrow walls, amplifying their urgency and dread. The dim lighting flickered overhead, casting ghostly shadows that danced along the walls, mimicking their frantic pace. As they emerged into the open expanse of the square, their breaths were ragged, steam rising in the chilled air, mingling with the low murmur of the gathered crowd.

The scene that unfolded before them was one of stark terror and injustice, staged in the heart of the colony under the harsh glare of floodlights. The square, usually a place of communal gathering, had transformed into a chilling tableau of authoritarian display. At its center, raised above the muttering crowd on a grim platform, stood you—your figure stark and diminished, bound tightly with rough cords that cut into your skin. The fabric of your work clothes was stained dark with blood, stark against the pale severity of your skin, lending a macabre tone to the scene.

Rain’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs, a stark contrast to the numbing coldness spreading through her veins as she caught sight of you. The captain of the patrol was there, his voice booming unnaturally loud through the speakers, reciting a list of crimes so absurd and fabricated that they would have been laughable under any other circumstance. His words sliced through the murmurs of the crowd, each one landing like a physical blow against Rain's consciousness.

"They’re going to kill her," Rain murmured, the realization slicing through her like a cold blade. Her words were barely audible, lost beneath the cacophony of the square, yet they carried the weight of an unbearable foreboding. Andy, standing steadfast by her side, reached out a hand to steady her, his own expression one of muted horror, unable to fully simulate human emotion but clearly programmed to respond with empathy.

Rain's face was ashen, the color drained as if she herself had been bled of life. Her eyes, wide and filled with a palpable terror, were fixed unblinkingly on you, witnessing the grim spectacle of the guards preparing their instruments of torture. The sight of the metallic electronic batons, glinting ominously under the artificial lights, sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

In that moment, the square felt colder than ever, the usual hum of colony life drowned out by the grave proceedings of this cruel justice. The crowd around them seemed to fade into a blur, their faces either grim or impassively curious, none daring to intervene. Rain felt a surge of helpless rage mixed with her fear, a tumultuous storm that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

The scene at the square was charged with tension and dread. The crowd that had gathered murmured and shifted on their feet, their discomfort palpable in the heavy air as the officers prepared for the beating. You stood defiantly, your back straight, jaw clenched, bracing yourself against the rough wood of the beam to which you were tied. The first blow came down hard, the sound of the baton striking you echoed through the square, a harsh clack that seemed to resonate in the chests of all who heard it.

You didn't give them the satisfaction of hearing you scream. Your teeth were gritted, each breath through them a hiss of pain and defiance. The guards, emboldened by your silence, continued with increased ferocity, each strike aimed to break your resolve.

At the edge of the crowd, Rain's face was a mask of agony. "Stop it! Just stop, please!" Her voice broke through the murmurs, shrill with fear and desperation. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms, drawing blood that dripped unnoticed to the ground. She made a move to break through the crowd, to run to you, but Tyler and Bjorn caught her by the arms, pulling her back.

"Rain, no! You can't—you’ll only get yourself killed!" Tyler hissed, trying to anchor her back with his strength.

Bjorn added in a low, urgent tone, "Look at me, Rain! We can't help her by getting ourselves killed. We have to think this through."

Rain struggled against their grip, her eyes never leaving you, witnessing each brutal blow. "They're killing her!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with terror. "We can’t just stand here and watch this happen!"

As the beating continued, each impact sending shockwaves of pain through your frame, the reality of your situation sank in deeply for everyone present. This wasn’t merely a punishment; it was a spectacle designed to quell any thoughts of defiance among the workers. Your suffering was meant to remind them of their place under the oppressive heel of Weyland-Yutani.

Bjorn's grip on Rain’s arm was iron-tight, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear, cutting through the chaos with desperate urgency. "It’s a setup," he growled, his words laced with a bitter edge of realism. "They’re pinning all types of lies on her.”

Rain's face crumpled, tears carving clean paths down her dirt-streaked cheeks. She tried to move forward, to reach you, to scream out against the monstrous injustice, but her friends held her back, knowing any further action would only lead to more tragedy. "Please," she choked out, her voice strained to breaking. "They can't do this. Not to her."

The crowd around you swelled, a collective beast of spectators who watched as the guards, satisfied with their grim work, finally stepped back. Your body, so full of fight and spirit, now hung limp and defeated. The sight was a brutal blow to Rain, her knees buckling under the weight of despair. "No, no, no," she sobbed, her hands reaching out futilely as if she could somehow bridge the distance and bring you back to her.

As the guards finally ceased their brutal assault, wiping the dark smears from their metallic batons with nonchalance, one of them looked over to Tyler and the rest of your friends with a nod that bore the weight of finality. “They’re done,” Tyler muttered, his voice ringing hollow in the charged atmosphere, betraying the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "We need to get her out of here." Kay, with her medical kit clutched tightly in her hands, was already bulldozing her way through the stunned onlookers. Her voice cut sharply through the tension, "Move!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. The guards, taken aback by her audacity, stepped aside, allowing her access to the platform.

Reaching you, Kay dropped to her knees, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she checked for any sign of life. Her face was set in a mask of concentration, the lines around her mouth taut with concern. She pressed two fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse. After a tense moment, she looked up, her expression grim but relieved, "She’s alive. Just barely. Help me get her back."

Rain, who had been frozen by fear and grief, sprang into action at Kay's words. Her eyes, red-rimmed and haunted, met Kay's as she helped lift your limp body. "Be careful with her," Rain whispered, her voice trembling as she and Kay maneuvered you down from the platform.

As they carried you through the crowd, which parted silently to let them pass, Rain’s mind raced with panic and fear, each step towards their compound

Back at the small, dimly lit compound that you, Rain, and Andy called home, the air was thick with tension and the lingering scent of blood. The cramped quarters, usually filled with quiet conversation and the occasional joke, now felt suffocating under the weight of the night’s events.

As you were laid gently on the makeshift table, Rain hovered over you, her hands trembling as they brushed the hair from your bloodied face. "Please, stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking, barely more than a desperate plea.

Navarro, who had always been calm in a crisis, took charge immediately. "Clear the table," she ordered, her voice steady. She moved quickly, removing the few items that cluttered the surface. "We need space to work."

Kay, who had been training as a medic before Weyland-Yutani’s brutal regime took hold, was already digging through her kit. "We need clean water, towels—anything we can use to stop the bleeding," she instructed, her hands shaking as she unpacked bandages and antiseptic.

Andy shuffled awkwardly by the door, his eyes flickering with distress. "I-I’ll get the w-water," he stuttered, his synthetic voice faltering as he rushed to the small sink in the corner, fumbling with the handle before managing to fill a bowl.

The first thing Kay did was assess your wounds, her expression growing more grim by the second. "This is bad," she muttered under her breath, though Rain caught the words and felt her heart clench in response.

"Just tell me what to do," Rain said, her voice thick with fear but laced with determination. "Tell me how I can help."

"Keep pressure here," Kay instructed, guiding Rain’s hands to a deep gash on your side. The wound bled sluggishly, staining Rain’s fingers a dark crimson. "Navarro, I need more gauze, and a needle and thread. We have to stop the bleeding before anything else."

As Rain pressed down, she leaned close to you, her breath warm against your ear. "You’re going to be okay," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "I’m right here, baby. We’re going to get you through this."

You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open just enough to focus on her. "Rain..." your voice was weak, barely more than a rasp. "I’m... sorry."

"Don’t," Rain choked out, tears welling in her eyes. "Don’t apologize. Just hold on, okay? Just hold on."

The room was silent save for the occasional clink of metal instruments and the sound of your labored breathing. The bowls of water that Andy brought over quickly turned pink, then a deep red as Kay and Navarro worked to clean your wounds. The table beneath you was soon stained with blood, the scent of iron heavy in the air.

Kay’s hands moved quickly, stitching up the worst of the gashes, her face set in concentration. "We need to get her stable," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "She’s lost too much blood."

Andy hovered nearby, clutching a clean towel he had found, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and helplessness. "W-will she be okay?" he asked, his voice small and hesitant.

"We’re doing everything we can," Navarro replied, her tone a blend of reassurance and reality. She exchanged a look with Kay, who only shook her head slightly.

Rain noticed the exchange, her heart sinking further. "She has to be okay," Rain whispered, her voice cracking. "She has to."

Hours passed, and the night deepened, the oppressive silence of the compound only broken by the sound of your shallow breaths and Rain’s quiet murmurs. She held your hand tightly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rhythm meant to comfort both you and herself.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the words she was afraid she’d never get to say again. "Please don’t leave me. Not like this."

You managed a weak smile, though it took all the strength you had left. "Love you... too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "Always."

Rain leaned down, pressing her lips to your forehead, her tears mingling with the blood and sweat that covered your skin. "Always," she echoed, her heart breaking with every passing second.

As dawn approached, your breath became more labored, the fight slipping from your body. Rain felt the shift, her entire world narrowing down to the weakening pulse beneath her fingertips. "No, no, no," she whispered frantically, her grip tightening as if she could somehow keep you anchored to life. "Please, don’t go."

You looked up at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and peace. "It’s okay," you whispered, though it cost you everything to say it. "I’ll... always... be with you."

Rain’s sobs filled the room as your eyes slowly closed, your hand slipping from hers as your body went still. The silence that followed was deafening, a hollow void where your heartbeat had once been.

"She’s gone," Kay said quietly, her voice steady but carrying the unmistakable edge of sorrow. Her words cut through the room like a blade, the finality of it crashing down on Rain like a tidal wave. The compound, already dim and cold, seemed to grow even darker.

Rain didn’t respond immediately. Her body began to tremble, first just a slight shiver in her shoulders, then growing into a full, uncontrollable shaking as the reality of your loss settled in. She leaned over your still form, her tears falling in relentless streams, splashing against your skin. "No... please, no," she sobbed, her voice breaking, clutching at you as if holding you tighter could somehow pull you back from the abyss.

Andy, who had been standing nearby, approached hesitantly. His synthetic form seemed to sag under the weight of the moment, his usually bright eyes dimmed with a sorrow that was unnatural for a machine. "R-Rain," he stuttered, his voice halting and filled with a strange echo of human grief. "She... she loved you so much."

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with despair. Tyler stood off to the side, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He stared at the floor, unable to look at you, unable to reconcile the brutal end you had met with the strong, vibrant person he had known. His chest heaved with the effort to keep his own emotions in check, but the tear that slid down his cheek betrayed his inner turmoil.

Bjorn, always the stoic, had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were fixed on Rain and your body, the usual hardness in his gaze softened by a quiet, painful understanding. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. For all his gruff exterior, the sight of Rain breaking down over your body pierced through his defenses.

Navarro, who had been helping Kay moments earlier, stepped back, her hands shaking. The blood that had stained her fingers felt like it was burning into her skin, a reminder of how close they had all come to saving you—and how far they had failed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob that threatened to break free, her eyes brimming with tears.

As Rain's sobs grew louder, more desperate, the room's silence was broken only by the sound of her heartbreak. "Please, don’t leave me," she whispered through her tears, her voice small, broken. She pressed her forehead against yours, her fingers tangled in your hair as she pleaded with you, as if willing you to open your eyes, to take just one more breath.

Andy knelt beside her, his mechanical hand resting gently on her shoulder, though his touch was cold. "I’m s-sorry," he managed to say, his voice almost robotic but laden with the echoes of human grief. "She was b-brave."

Tyler finally moved, crossing the short distance between him and Rain. He placed a hand on her back, his own tears now falling freely. "She saved you, Rain," he said softly, his voice strained with the effort to keep it steady. "She saved us all."

Rain didn’t respond, her world having collapsed to just you and the unbearable loss that consumed her. She clung to you, pressing her face into your neck, her sobs muffled against your skin. "I can’t... I can’t do this without you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, wake up. Please."

But the silence that followed was deafening, the finality of your death sinking into the hearts of everyone present. Kay moved around the table, gently covering your body with a blanket, her movements slow and reverent, as if any sudden action might shatter the fragile hold they all had on their emotions.

As the hours passed, the reality of the situation set in. Rain never left your side, her fingers still entwined with yours, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Andy remained close, his presence a silent vigil, his circuits whirring quietly in the background.

Bjorn and Tyler took turns keeping watch at the door, their usual banter replaced by a heavy silence. Navarro sat in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest, staring at the floor as she tried to process the loss.

Rain’s heart ached with a pain so deep it felt like it would consume her whole. But through her grief, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: you had saved her, sacrificed everything for her, and that knowledge, though it brought her no comfort, would be the anchor that kept her from completely drowning in her sorrow.

She leaned over, pressing one last kiss to your forehead, her tears mixing with the blood still staining your skin. "I’ll never forget you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’ll never stop loving you."

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Ring Bearer Ages at the point of Fellowship's founding.

The One Ring:

Sauron: Not calculable due to existing before the planet. Assuming "Necromancer" entailed a physical form in Dol Guldur and wasn't slain when chased out, then physically 1918 years old.

Isildur: 234 years old. [dead; 3250 years since birth.]

Smeagol/Gollum: 578 years old.

Bilbo Baggins: 128 years old.

Frodo Baggins: 50 years old.

Samwise Gamgee: 38 years old.

Elven Rings:

Galadriel: 7049+???. Easily up to 22049 years old.

Cirdian: At least 10549 years old. If "Valarian Years" not "Solar Years" for the 3500 year Journey, then 288007049. (Didn't make the Great Journey to Valinor before the Sun was made.)

Elrond: 6517 years old.

Gandalf: Physical form existent for 2018 years. Otherwise not calculable due to existing before the planet.

Dwarven Rings:

All owners are dead. Not all are known.

Durin III is unclear in age.

Thror, 248 [dead; 476 years since birth.]

Thrain II, 206 [dead; 374 years since birth.]

Mannish Rings:

All owners are dead and previous selves not known. Unlife has lasted 4209 years.

For Reference:

Sun and Moon: 7049 years old.

Sun and Moon's Tree-parents: 15000 years old [dead; 22049 years since planting.]

Gondor: 3139 years old.

The Shire: 509 years old.

Rohan: 1417 years old.

[eddiemunsonw]

Your presence is a gift

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After announcing your engagement to your boyfriend at Steve's birthday party, Eddie quite literally vanishes from your life. Just yours, though. You miss him terribly and when you run into him again two years later yet again at Steve's birthday party, you ask him for clarity.

CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst with a happy ending I suppose?

Author's note: This fic came to life after seeing a silly text. I've put the image at the end. :)

Words: 4209

Time flies when you’re having fun, right? That’s what they say. Well, time also flies when you’re not having fun. Unless you’re in an excruciatingly painful disaster, then it’ll feel like you can feel every second painfully ticking by. For you, it felt like a combination of both. 

Every day, he was on your mind. Eddie Munson. Someone you used to consider one of your closest friends. Up until two years ago, you used to hang out several days a week, a little less once you got a boyfriend but you never thought it would change this drastically. To think you hadn’t seen his face in so long felt impossible to you. 

The last time you had seen him had been at Steve’s birthday party two years ago. Since you were sitting on the same stool you sat back then, you couldn’t help but think of him. Honestly, the whole environment reminded you of him. After all, you spent many nights with him, Steve and others here. Playing games, watching movies, talking until the sun came peeking through the trees again. You watched absentmindedly as Steve busied himself with entertaining his guests, occasionally glancing at you with mild concern. You told him you were fine, he just didn’t buy it. Oh well.

You knew it had been quick when you announced your engagement, you had only been dating Trent for about… four months? But he went down on one knee and you were always bad at saying no. Trent insisted on sharing it at Steve’s birthday party. You didn’t exactly want to take the attention away from Steve, but Trent… Well, sometimes it was just easier to agree than not to. Steve had been shocked, but happy for you. Eddie had been… Eddie. And yet he had been nothing like him at all. From being the life of the party he had gone instantly silent, gazing into his glass that he never ended up finishing. He congratulated you eventually, after asking you if you loved him, Trent. And you told him yes. Because who would marry someone who they didn’t love, right? Right.

The year after that, Eddie hadn’t attended Steve’s birthday. Supposedly he was sick but you knew he was simply avoiding you. Steve’s face never held many secrets from you and you could tell that the reason he gave you wasn’t a real one. Your husband had been sitting next to you, indifferent to it all. He frankly found it a little annoying that you were still so hung up over Eddie no longer being your… friend? Was that what it was? It felt like you had lost much more than a friend. 

And that was that. No sign of Eddie since. He canceled on your get togethers, even the group ones, always claimed he was busy with the band which, for some time, seemed like a valid reason considering they were doing pretty well nowadays. However, all of that belief went out the window when you discovered that he did in fact still meet up with his friends. With Steve. Just not with you. Steve didn’t want to meddle, told you that you two should probably talk but Eddie made it impossible. Even when Steve tried to create an ‘accidental run-in’ between you two, Eddie figured it out before you even could arrive and had already bolted. 

You forced yourself to accept that Eddie, for whatever reason, had decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. Maybe he needed time… or something. You couldn’t fathom why, not even when Trent exclaimed that ‘that weirdo’ had probably been waiting to get into your pants and when he realized he couldn’t, he had no more interest in being your ‘friend’. That remark had probably resulted in the biggest fight between you and Trent. Things had felt different after. Though looking back on it, things had never felt good in the first place. It had all just felt… expected and how it should be.

Despite everything, despite Trent’s obvious annoyance, you still sent Eddie a wedding invite. You missed him, you missed your friend more than you thought you could ever miss him. Sometimes, when you had a little too much to drink, you wondered whether there had been more. What if Eddie in fact did have… a desire to get into your pants. What if it wasn’t just a sexual desire. What if Eddie…

It never went much further than that. Eddie being in love with you was such a foreign concept to your brain that you couldn’t even entertain the thought. Not after dealing with your one-sided feelings for him for years. Not after seeing him kiss and take home whoever he felt like over and over and never once looking in your direction. Surely he would have considered you an option if it had been like that.

So, you had invited your friend. Asked Steve whether Eddie had brought it up with him or not. To which Steve responded that Eddie no longer wanted to talk about you. Yet you couldn’t help but hold on to hope. 

It drove Trent insane when you insisted on adding banana flavored ice cream to the dessert options. He told you no one liked banana ice cream because it was rank and that it didn’t even taste like banana. Of course, he figured out who in your social circle did like it. Trent had gotten angry about a lot of trivial things and somehow Eddie was often wedged into the subject. If you were honest, you hadn’t really known Trent all that well before you said yes to his proposal. It was as if the moment he knew he had you, he slowly started to change or rather, be more himself.

Eddie never came to the wedding. No one ordered banana ice cream for dessert.

“Y/N, refill?” Steve interrupted your thoughts. You blinked and quickly propped a smile on your face before meeting his gaze.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you handed your glass to him and moments later he handed it back to you containing an orange-red liquid. You gazed at it for a moment before addressing him. “Sex on the beach?”

Steve smirked. “That’s the one.” His hand squeezed your shoulder kindly before he joined the others again. He knew it was futile to ask if you wanted to join them, knew you sometimes preferred to just listen along from a distance far enough where you wouldn’t be expected to engage. 

You never could have expected that about an hour later, you would be sharing the balcony space with no other than Eddie Munson. In silence. You went there for some fresh air, he went there to pollute it with his smoke filled exhales. Neither of you acknowledged the other. When you heard the door open you hadn’t even turned around. You had been there a while, so lost in thought that you barely registered it. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was at the party, that’s how long you had been there. You had never seen him arrive.

However, you didn’t even have to look as much in his direction to know it was him. It was the mix of Old Spice, cigarettes and mint and something entirely Eddie that gave it away. A combination of scents that had quickly become your favorite when you first started to hang out with him. You felt it when he rested his arms on the railing just like you were. You wondered if his heartbeat felt as deafening to him as yours did to you. He could have said something. After everything that you tried, it felt painful to be ignored like that even when you were right next to him. As you were working up the courage to say something, your brain decided to take a plunge into your memory and skip all the polite small talk, instead going for the one thing that had been bothering you for a long time now.

“Why didn’t you come to the wedding?”

Eddie took the slowest drag of his cigarette mankind had ever taken, sighed and lazily inspected the ashes while he flicked them off into the wind. You still weren’t looking at him when he shrugged indifferently.

“Your invitation wasn’t really an invitation.”

An overwhelming surge of emotions clutched and clawed at your chest, begging to be let in or let out, it was hard to tell. You had missed his voice so much. It took you a moment to realize that what he said made no sense at all.

“What do you mean?” Slowly, you dared to look in his direction from the corner of your eye. He was still focused on his cigarette, watching it burn.

“Well,” Eddie started to cite it perfectly, as if he had just held your invite two seconds ago and it was still at the forefront of his mind. “Your presence itself is a gift. We don’t want you to bring any gifts to the wedding.”

For a moment you could only stare at him. Surely he didn’t mean…

“You can’t be serious.”

Eddie’s eyes followed the railing until they landed on your hands and the sublest frown etched into his forehead when he couldn’t spot a wedding ring, or any ring for that matter, on your fingers. Perhaps you were scared of losing it or something. Where was Trent anyway?

“It said I am a gift and to not bring gifts. It’s simple math.”

The indifference in his voice ignites a burning frustration in you. How could he act so casually about this when you had in fact cried (of course not in the presence of Trent) over his absence? How could he act like your years of friendship meant nothing to him, from one day to the other? Eddie, who always fantasized out loud about how you’d still get drunk enough together to think dancing on rooftops was a good idea at the age of 85.

“Everyone got that invitation and they were there,” you gritted out.

Another shrug.

“I’m sorry about that. Maybe they didn’t get it.”

“No, you didn’t get it,” you retorted, your frustration becoming more difficult to contain and be limited to just your thoughts.

“No, Y/N, you didn’t get it. You still don’t,” he mumbled.

You didn’t get it?! Your body was fully turned to him now and Eddie still refused to look at you. It drove you insane.

“Then please, explain to me why you ditched one of your best friends at her wedding after refusing to meet up with her anymore out of the fucking blue?”

“Oh you really don’t think there was something specific that went down that could have possibly caused all of this?” Eddie bit back, his eyes finally meeting yours. You were a little taken aback by the blazing fire they held, though. The hurt within them. As if all of this had somehow been your fault.

“Am I supposed to believe that you were so opposed to the idea of me being happy that you decided you no longer wanted to be anywhere near me, ever again? Is that it? Was it the engagement?”

“Yes. I couldn’t bear watching you throw away the life you had to get with some selfish prick that couldn’t even be bothered to see if you were okay when you tripped because ‘you should watch where you walk’. Who was so fucking different from you he kept wanting to change you, push you into boxes you weren’t. So yes when I heard you were willingly getting into that boat with him forever, I stepped back. What of it?”

He stood facing you directly now, arms crossed tightly over his chest, stance wide. His nostrils flared as he breathed out heavily, eyes wide as saucers as he tried to contain what seemed to be anger, built up frustration.

“Which life?! The one where I just had to miserably watch how everyone around me got settled and slowly slipped into a domestic-white-pickett-fence-with-two-children kind of life?”

“You had us! You had me!” Eddie unknowingly raised his voice, his hands pushed tightly against his chest to stop them from shaking.

“I had friends, yes! Such a crime for me to want something more, huh? Don’t get me wrong, Eddie, but it was only a matter of time before one of those bimbos you hooked up with after gigs became a long-term partner. I’m sure you’ve…” You vaguely gestured at him, his hands, something, because surely he had a great girlfriend by now. Someone that fit him like you never would.

Eddie shook his head vigorously, his wild hair following the movement. He revealed his hands, pointing at his empty ring finger.

“See? Nothing. I’m not like you. I don’t just settle for whoever.” 

You scoffed and revealed your hands.

“No you’re not like me indeed. I got divorced. Guess you win again, congrats.”

For the first time, his hostility faded a little. It was almost as if he wanted to approach you but instead he crossed his arms again, not meeting your eyes.

“Sorry about that, I guess. I didn’t know. Steve never told me.”

“Steve told me you didn’t want to talk about me, so. Not surprised that he didn’t.”

Eddie groaned impatiently, his hands flying up to his hair to run through as he looked inside, where he spotted Steve quickly turning his head away. Fucker.

“He knows why I didn’t want to talk about you though. He should have, I could have— But now instead I’ve been— Fuck!”

“You’re… not making a lot of sense right now, bud,” you remarked dryly.

Another groan, though a bit more whiny.

“Don’t fucking— I’m not your bud alright?”

You rolled your eyes, fed up with him by now. It was as if he had taken four knives to stab you simultaneously with, twisting them occasionally.

“You’re right. You’re nothing to me, apparently. As you wish.”

Both of you were so lost in your own world that you didn’t even notice how Steve had closed off the view to the balcony doors by drawing the curtains to prevent anyone else from coming up. Neither had you noticed that he had in fact locked the doors as well.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” Eddie seethed through his teeth, taking a small step closer towards you with his eyes blazing. It was the last straw you needed after this agonizing build up of two years. You had had enough. 

“Oh I’m a bitch?! You literally gave me the cold fucking shoulder from one day to the next, ignored all my calls, all my messages, you literally pretended like I didn’t fucking exist, Eddie! Why would you do something like that, knowing how much it would hurt me? Call me a bitch all you want, but you’re heartless.”

“I’ve been fucking heartless since the goddamn day you stole it, Y/N.”

What? Stunned, you looked up at him to witness the panic that flared up in his eyes and he quickly made a beeline towards the balcony doors.

“Eddie, wait—” 

Eddie shook his head and tried to pry the door open with all his might. He was desperate to get away from you as far as possible.

“Why the fuck can’t I— Steve. Steve! Open the goddamn thing now!”

It didn’t take long for Steve to appear when Eddie started banging loudly on the window. He pulled the curtains around his head, making it look like it was floating amidst the black curtains and promptly shook his head.

“No. Fix it, Munson. Until then, enjoy your stay on the balcony,” Steve told him through the window, right before disappearing again.

“Fuck!”

He kicked against a heavy plant pot for good measure, causing him to swear some more before he meekly faced you again. You had quietly been following the whole ordeal and were still struggling to find the words to respond to any of it.

“So… What was that about me stealing your heart?” you asked softly and you had half the mind to be amused by the expression Eddie had on his face. There was no world where you wouldn’t find him and his panicky expressions at least slightly adorable.

“It sounds even more ridiculous when you say it,” Eddie sighed, slumping down against the door until he sat on the floor.

“Since when?”

“Since forever, man. How could I not?” He gestured at you as if he hated to admit it, arm dropping back down a little too harsh causing him to curse softly.

“How?”

“What do you mean how? It just happens, and I’m not gonna apologize for how I feel about y—”

“No, I mean,” you interrupted him, “you were always… You never gave me the idea that you even considered me that way.” 

Eddie frowned and rested his head against the door as he let go of a long sigh.

“I literally said you were like Arwen to me. And that Aragorn was my favorite.” His pout was a little childlike, as if it had been something that had bothered him for years on end. In fact, it had. You groaned in disbelief.

“I hadn’t read it by then! You wouldn’t tell me why you thought I was like Arwen and told me to just read the book. Which I never did because I was always hanging with you doing other stuff in my free time. And once I did have the time, you were always hooking up with random girls so I didn’t really feel like it anymore.”

“Why would you not want to read Lord of the Rings because I was making out with random chicks?” he asked, clear confusion on his face. He almost looked a little insulted.

“Because I was jealous, you idiot! I wasn’t gonna read a thick book that I was going to read for you when you were busy exploring other people’s throats.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following, Y/N, what do you mean you were jealous? You always shot me those god awful finger guns with a huge grin whenever I went backstage with one of them.” 

“Oh, was I supposed to pull them back by their hair and say something like ‘He’s mine, you bimbo!’ and stick my tongue down your throat instead?” you asked him with a dead panned expression, causing him to chuckle unexpectedly.

“Uh, yeah?! That’s exactly how I imagined it would go, but instead you were all supportive and nice about it so I figured you didn’t give two shits. I even tried two on one night and… nothing! Not even a jealous eyebrow twitch that I know you can do, the way you do when someone gets the best part of a cake with the extra chocolates on it. I was desperate, Y/N.”

You debated sitting across from him but figured the door would be more comfortable against your back, so instead you hesitantly sat down next to him. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, to your relief.

“Ever thought of just… I don’t know, walking up to me and saying you liked me or something?” you asked with a quip of your brow and a soft smile.

“Uh, right back at you.” Eddie rolled his eyes, though he wore the hint of a smile on his face.

“No but, seriously. You kissed random girls during your shows. All you had to do was pick me instead, no?”

Eddie shook his head.

“With them it didn’t matter. With you… if you rejected me, you’d break my heart.”

The silence settled between you again. Heavy, yet not uncomfortable. Eddie exhaled slowly, his shoulder touching yours so light you could have imagined it.

“And then suddenly you introduced Trent to us. I thought, this prick isn’t gonna last a month. You and him? Nah, not in a million years. But then he did. And another, and another, and another. And then… you were engaged. I was convinced it was all just a horrible nightmare. An awful trick played on me. But I just had to accept that I was some random side character in your life and that I had wasted my chance to become anything more.”

He played with the frayed ends of one of the holes in his jeans and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“It’s why I asked if you loved him, you know? I thought… maybe. But you said yes, so I had to back away. I wasn’t going to act fair towards you if I didn’t. I— I was a mess, ask Steve. He got fed up with me so many times but he- he’s a good one, y’know. Of course you know. So yeah, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. The only reason I’m even here is because Steve promised that you weren’t gonna come. And then suddenly…”

“Here I was,” you finished for him. He nodded.

“There you were.” A sigh, a shy glance in your direction. “As beautiful as ever, if not more. I was so shocked to see you that I forgot to leave.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you told him softly. “I hope you never will.”

You reached for his trembling fingers and covered them with your own, slowly pushing them apart. Eddie swallowed audibly, his eyes flicking from your hands to your face.

“I’ve missed you,” he confessed in a whisper, his eyes wide and sincere. His thumb softly caressed your pinky.

“I’ve missed you too.” A beat of silence. “I put banana ice cream on the menu, you know.”

Eddie turned his head and smiled in disbelief. “You did?”

“Mhm,” you chuckled softly. “No one ordered.”

“What a waste. I would’ve eaten it all.”

You shared a smile and rested your heads against one another.

“Sorry I wasn’t there,” he said eventually. You shrugged. 

“It’s fine, you didn’t miss anything anyway. Apart from the ice cream, of course.”

“You looked beautiful. Steve has— I’m sure you know but, he had the photo of you and him framed. He wanted to put it up but wanted to wait until he had more things to put up so he could arrange it all at once. But I guess… it’s a bit weird now.”

Steve. Always such a sweetheart.

“I didn’t know, actually. But yeah, a little weird I guess.” 

You both listened to the music coming from inside, your fingers gently drumming along. Eddie’s head too, you noticed vaguely as he moved against your head. At least, that’s what you assumed until you felt his lips on your cheek. You could feel he was holding onto his breath, waiting for your reaction. Hesitantly, he kissed your cheek again, his trembling lips giving away how nervous he was. You turned your head slowly. His breath hitched a little when your lips brushed his, unsure whether to move away or not. Gently, you added the lightest pressure onto his lips with your own and pressed them together into a kiss. You didn’t care that his fingers squished yours a little painfully as he tightly grasped his knee in response. He leaned back shakily, just enough to break apart only so he could press your lips together again. Sweeter, more intentional, more mutual. He shifted slightly, his leg resting on your crossed legged ones a little as his other hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss he had desired to give you for years. Your lips danced together without a fight for dominance, instead it was all about unity, in the perfect alignment of your faces together. The softest giggle escaped his lips when his nose bumped into yours as you changed angles. He gasped when your fingers threaded into his hair.

The both of you were so lost in the kiss that you didn’t notice Steve peeking through the curtains, needing a moment to discover you were in fact making out against the door. You didn’t notice him closing them again either, however…

“YES!! FINALLY!”

Eddie bumped his head against the door in shock and you quickly broke apart, but only after gazing into each other’s eyes lazily with the dopiest smiles on your faces.

“Was that Steve?” you asked.

“Sure was. Steve!” Eddie knocked on the door before getting up and extending his hand to help you as well. Steve was quick to show up in front of the balcony doors again and removed the curtains before opening them.

“Shit, you saw me didn’t you?” Steve asked guiltily, bummed that he interrupted your moment. Eddie snorted and shook his head.

“No dude, it was your high pitched scream that gave us a near heart attack.” 

“Oh. Well. I’m glad you guys uh… made up. Sorry for locking you out, but I had to do something. You can come back in now.”

As Steve stepped aside, Eddie chuckled and reached for the black curtains to pull them back closed again.

“Thank you, but uhm, maybe later? We’ve got some catching up to do.” 

Eddie grinned down at you as he closed the balcony doors again and wasted no second to wrap his arms around your waist. You beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with delight.

“Where were we, sweetheart?”

Here's the image I mentioned earlier. Funny how a whole short fic can come out of it, right? :)

[liillyliilly]

The Princess, The Guard, And The Impossible Task

oikawa tooru x reader words; 4209 synopsis; oikawa's just a commoner, his only chance to become a knight rests on watching the king's alarmingly cold daughter.

There never was a chance for him was there?

Oikawa Tooru was doomed to never to be a Knight for the Royal Family.

He wants to, desperately. Being just a mere commoner under the King’s rule was never his intention, but it was the life he was born into. That didn’t stop him from going for what he desired. There was a type of shine and luxury to being a Knight, they fight and protect the Kingdom, and then in exchange they get treated the way they want. Royals had it easy and Oikawa hated the injustice of it all.

So, he worked for it. He trained every single day. Even when his hands were blistering and until his feet had callouses on the heels, he would train. The regime for being a Knight was easy to follow. Training and practicing, Oikawa advanced quickly through the ranks of workers under the King. No one could stand in the way of his raging war path to Knighthood.

His best friend Iwaizumi helped to continue his progress when the public trainings became too dull and repetitive for Oikawa. Always pushing him and challenging him with new maneuvers, new sword attacks, even hand to hand combat.

Nothing stood in Oikawa's plan except for the fact that Knighthood was only given to those of blue blood, only if they were connected somewhere through the Royal lineage, only then were they ever given the chance to be a Knight.

The desire he had to be a knight shone through, and he was given an opportunity. The personal guard of the King often scouted Royals to join the Knights, especially from the certain classes of trainees for normal sheriffs. As the lonesome guard observed the class, Oikawa stood out to him.

Already a knight, Iwaizumi joined Oikawa in classes occasionally, the only person who could actually match Oikawa's drive and intensity without losing a finger in the process.

The King's guard watched as the two elite participants practiced. Oikawa's form was perfect in the dueling portion of the class, and yet he didn’t bear the simple emblem of Royal lineage on his left breast pocket. This intrigued the guard, if a normal subject of the Kingdom could advance this quickly to a class of this level and beat most of the other students then Oikawa was surely special enough to be Knighted. When the guard talked to the King about it, the King denied his request for Oikawa to be put through Knight training.

If Oikawa wanted to be a Knight then he would have to prove it to the King by his standards. By protecting something, something the thing the King held valuable to him. His only child, his daughter. Oikawa had heard rumors of the difficulty to find proper protection over Princess L/N. At the time, all Oikawa could think of was that he wanted to be a Knight, so he took the King’s offer.

In a trade, the form of his opportunity took shape. He would be the personal guard to the Princess for a month, and then if after his time guarding her, if he still wanted to be a Knight, he would be given the Knighthood.

At the end of the first day, there she sat writing notes in her notebook as her personal tutor droned on and on. Oikawa thought he would die of boredom just standing at the door keeping watch, but the Princess looked content with making her notes look fancy and adding all types of brightly colored ink on the crinkled tan pages.

Dipping her quill into bright blues, bloody reds, and earthy greens. The quill spiraled across the page in cursive print worthy of being framed and hung on the walls of the palace. Oikawa was simply admiring her abilities, nothing else, he mused. Not her hands, or the way the ink would stick to her skin when she accidentally brought the quill to her neck as she paused. Leaving dots of all colors across her collarbone.

After knowing her for a single day, Oikawa understood why all her other guards didn’t work out in the end. She was well behaved, almost too well behaved. She never spoke out of turn, she never blurted out her personal thoughts, she didn’t even try to make conversation with Oikawa and just gave him curt nods or shakes of her head.

It was almost as if she had been stripped away of any personality. But there were moments that her true character shone through, and Oikawa soon found himself searching for ways to bring it out. Even if he was just guarding her as a way to achieve his own personal gain, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t help her in the process, now could it?

Only a week after beginning his post as Y/n’s guard when she looked at him, Oikawa thought he was going to die. Her intense gaze shook him to his very core. She was putting away her latest reads back onto the grand bookshelves of the Royal Library, Oikawa carrying around twelve books in his arms.

She feigned disinterest at the way his arms would bunch and tighten, the muscles acting as a testament of his dedication. She finally agreed with her father's choice in guard clothing, sleeveless. Next time she would see if he could carry fifteen books instead. She knew he could handle it.

“You are thinking about me.” She took another book from his grasp and stood on her toes to return it onto the shelf.

“No, Princess, of course I am not-” Oikawa flushed. His mind ran with thoughts of her finding out that he wasn’t actually a Royal, or that she would ask him to stop guarding her and then he would lose his chance to become a Knight.

“Stop trying to get to know me. It’s easier that way.” She grabbed two more books and placed them away, before turning on her heel to the next row of shelves. The musty scent of paper and dust hung in the air, the smell clearly belonged in the library. The way the shuffling of her feet against the carpet floors, also belonged. The way Oikawa could see her weaving in and out of the rows of books, she so clearly belonged in the library.

Oikawa had tried to conversate between her lessons, when she was out in the palace gardens, when she was doing small chores that he had tried to do instead. He was trying to know her, to make the companionship less of a bore and more of an enriching engagement in learning about the future ruler over the kingdom.

“If there is one thing that I cannot stand, Oikawa, it’s people who shove their noses into others’ business.”

Oikawa was playing her game now. She had challenged him the moment she had started talking, and she was winning. If she was going to be bold, then he was as well.

“And Princess, if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it is Princesses who hardly have any semblance of a personality.” Oikawa could have sworn he saw her smirk when she tried to hide her face behind the arm she was using to put away the last book from his hands.

She held her head high as they exited the library, she nodded to her servants that went about their way, cleaning and making preparations for the next ball. When they went down an empty hallway, she moved to face Oikawa, closing space between them as she threatened him.

“You will never know me. At least not the version of me you so stubbornly want to see.” As she went to put distance between them, Oikawa found himself wishing he could still smell the cocoa and coconut oil scent that radiated off of her.

“What if I told you that I already know everything about you?” Oikawa wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t oblivious, and he was most definitely not unaware of the way she flinched whenever her father walked into the same room as her. “You are hiding, hiding behind your façade of the perfect little Princess.”

Although he was desperate to know more. He wanted to know what she looked like in the morning just waking up, how her smile looked if she was kissing someone, him even, how all her little sounds worked together to narrate her pleasure.

She scowled at him before dropping the anger and putting up another mask of simple contentment as they reached her bedroom.

“And you have a secret, I can tell. So, I propose a race, of sorts, Oikawa. If you can figure out the real me then I’ll let my father Knight you early. If I can figure out whatever your secret is then you have to leave my Kingdom and never return.”

“Sounds like an impossible task Princess. It isn’t fair if you are never going to give me an opportunity to know the real you, as you so bluntly stated it.”

“Fine, I will adjust the conditions of this figurative race then. I will do my best to give opportunities for you to see who I am. That way, our game is fair.” She smiles at him before entering her room and shutting the door.

She never slammed the door on him. When she held the door open for him once, after a garden walk, he knew she wasn't like any Princess he had heard of from all the other kingdoms. Harsh, prissy, cruel, Princesses were the only kind of Princess? Or so he had thought before he became familiar with his own Princess.

Oikawa nodded his head in the face of her closed door, before taking his post to the side. Leaning against the wall, he rested his foot against the brick and let out a deep sigh. He really was playing a dangerous game with her. But he couldn’t let his growing feelings be the reason for his demise. In a game with Y/n, he couldn’t lose, or else everything he had worked for would have been for nothing.

As much as Oikawa wanted his interactions with her to be nothing but formal, professional, he often found that he crossed the line often. He was following her as she walked about the market, looking at all the wares foreign traders had come to sell and buy. Fresh fruits and crisp vegetables made the entire market area smell like a kitchen. As Oikawa caught a glimpse of the jewelry stands, he saw the necklace that had caught his eye. It was a simple chain, with a simple diamond, but it was colored in a way that looked exactly like his Princess’s eyes.

As Y/n inspected some of the ceramic vases available, Oikawa bought the necklace and placed it around his neck, hiding the diamond underneath his shirt. The metal was cold against his warm skin. But he felt comforted by the idea of having something that resembled her close to him. When she walked up to his side again, Oikawa coughed into his elbow, making her pay attention to him.

“You should get this one.” Oikawa pointed to a large and gaudy emerald ring. Y/n chuckled before nodding her head.

“If you ask me, Oikawa, it fits you a lot better than it fits me.” She states seriously and with a blank look on her face. Oikawa gasps, and fakes hurt by putting a hand to his forehead.

“Princess, you wound me.” Y/n pats his head before cooing slightly. Oikawa wishes he could have kissed her cheek in that moment. But then he remembers, he is her guard. She is a princess. Their relationship is nothing but a business exchange. It is not a friendship and as much as he wishes, it is not a courtship.

On the days she is quieter, Oikawa still talks to her. Even if she hardly responds. If he did get a response it was a simple upwards turn of her mouth, or a movement of her head. He rambles to her about random things, or of his opinions, and she listens. Oikawa had gotten used to people hearing him, but he never had someone listen to him.

“And the Knights are so, they just get to be and do whatever they want. I want that kind of freedom.” He exhales as Y/n continues to braid the fabric of the doll she is making.

“Why are you making a doll? You don’t have any in your room, or keep any in your spot in the library.”

Y/n hums, before cutting off a thread and setting the doll down onto the table. She shifts her chair so her chair is directly across from where Oikawa stood against her bedroom wall.

“Do you know how many children in this kingdom don’t have parents?” Oikawa shakes his head. “They deserve something for all they go through. So, I make these dolls, and have them delivered to the orphanages, anonymously of course.”

“Of course?” Oikawa questions.

“If my father knew that it was me doing this he would get upset, telling me to spend my time in a way that could actually come to an eventual fruition. Or at least a ‘noble cause’ as he calls it.”

Oikawa clenches his teeth. Over the days, his opinion of his King has lowered and lowered. The King is nothing but horrible to the servants, while Y/n makes up for it by being kind and forgiving. The King is brash and rude to the poor and needy, where Y/n does everything she can to provide a way of suitable living for all. If it was up to Oikawa, he would kick out the King and have Y/n rule. She would rule with a strong will but open mind.

Oikawa still needed to train, keeping in peak condition. But one day, he pushed himself too far and pulled a muscle. He kept groaning as he walked around with Y/n, his leg pulsing with hot blood and sore ligaments. After he had accidentally cursed as he stepped forward, Y/n stopped walking around the ballroom, holding the delicate decorations in her hand.

“Is there something bothering you Oikawa?” Worry was dripping on her words.

“Everything is fine, Princess.” When he takes a step forward, he falls from the lack of strength in his leg.

“Tooru!” Y/n immediately moves so that she is cradling his head. She takes a deep breath. “Oikawa, can you move?”

“Yes, I can. My leg is just-”

“You are lying. Stop lying to me. You clearly hurt your leg. Let me go get some help.” She offers, but Oikawa grips her hand.

“Don’t. If anyone found out that I was incapable of protecting you then my Knighthood would be at risk.” Y/n opened her mouth to say something but held back.

So, they just stay there. Oikawa resting his head on Y/n lap, trying to ignore the feeling of his leg aching, but focusing on the way she nervously runs a hand through his hair. He swears, as he looks up into her eyes, that he would protect her with his life.

If the game was supposed to be dangerous and scary, then why did Oikawa like playing it with her? He knew what the answer was, he likes her, that much is clear.

Later that evening, Oikawa rubbed his leg while sitting on his straw bed. The boarding for him was impromptu, but at least it was warm in the lowest level of the castle.

When a knock rapped at his door, he assumed Iwaizumi had finally come back from an assignment and wanted to share the stories of his adventures. His surcoat rested on his chair, leaving him in a loose linen top and brown fabric pants, the tie of his shirt undone and the expanse of his chest visible.

"Iwai, you lucky bastard-"

She coughed lightly into her arm, looking up to the casing as if it held the secrets of the world.

"Give me two moments." She nodded before stifling a laugh, shifting to a light giggle that he could hear from his side of the door.

Quickly tying his shirt up, and throwing his coat over his frame, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Princess, come in."

She was draped in a black cape, with a hood over her head. She looked around his room, grazing over his personal belongings that rested on his chest of drawers. She motioned for him to sit back down on his bed, he limped slightly. Pulling out a vial from her pocket, she patted his bad knee softly.

"Slide your pant leg up if you would please." How could she say something like that without any sort of hesitance? He obliged.

Slowly, she poured the vial into her hand little by little, rubbing the mixture over his calf, knee, and stopping midway up his thigh. It smelt of mint and lemon. She smiled at him wordlessly, leaving about a half full vial on his side table.

The feeling of her hands on his leg, caring and tender, made him lightheaded.

Days later, after what Oikawa now referred to as the pinnacle for his affections for his Princess, was the biggest hurt he had ever experienced. Sitting in the courtyard, she sat with her journal and a book, reading for minute before rushing to write her thoughts down onto her journal. Oikawa stole away her book, lifting it high above his head, leaving her jumping around him trying to get her book back.

“Why do you flinch whenever the King enters the room?” His question seemed like a simple one, maybe the shining gold of the King’s robes shined onto her eyes a little too much. Or perhaps his worst nightmare would be true. The nightmare that haunted him was that all Royals beat their kids into submission.

“My father is not a kind person, especially not when you are his only child and you have to deal with the highest expectations of perfection placed onto your shoulders.” She stops trying to jump, giving him the answer, the one he was looking for. Except now he didn’t want to know the answer. Oikawa holds onto her elbow keeping her close to him.

“That bastard. Who would even think to hit a child?” Oikawa sets the book down, looking at her as both of their eyes slowly sheen over with tears. He's supposed to be her guard, his only job is to protect her, and he feels horrible that he couldn’t protect her when she needed him most.

She swallows thickly before opening her mouth to croak out an answer, “A king would hit a child.”

She steals the book away from where it sat on the bench, grabbing her journal from Oikawa as well. Trying to exit the courtyard through the archway that is covered in flora. Oikawa lets her leave.

The next day when Oikawa has to take her into the ballroom to check the preparations, his impulse to block her from the King by rushing to put his arm in front of her can’t be stopped. Y/n lightly pushes his arm down and gives her father a side hug, as he goes on about her planning.

“The design really is beautiful, using the autumnal colors to decorate is pure genius.” The King rambles, and Oikawa has to stop himself from seething at his words. Oikawa clears his throat before speaking.

“Your majesty, may I talk to you about my Knighthood?” Y/n’s eyebrows shoot up and she gapes, her eyes wide.

“Don't you still have another week or so of guarding my child?”

“I would like to revoke my place of potential Knighthood.” Oikawa didn’t want to work for a corrupt leader, even if it gave him the opportunity for the easiest way out of leading a life as a simple cog in the machine of the Kingdom.

“Oh, really why is-”

“Father, mother called for you an hour ago. You must meet her, or else she might anger.” Y/n cuts in.

The king smiles at his daughter, cups her face in his hand before uttering a goodbye, “We will talk later Oikawa.” He nodded and made his escape, his long cape of expensive fabric trailing behind him.

Y/n turns to Oikawa, her bottom lip trembling slightly. “All you have ever wanted was Knighthood, why now do you choose to revoke your only chance of getting it? If it is because of what I told you the other day, please reconsider your reasoning. Oikawa, I will not let you throw away your opportunity.”

Oikawa would have begun arguing immediately, had it not been for her first sentence. “My only chance of getting Knighted?” Y/n covers her mouth with her hands, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“You know. You know I'm not of royal blood.” He whispers.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I found out. You have to know that.” Y/n blinks a couple times to try and get rid of any possible tears.

“You figured it out and yet you didn’t make me leave the kingdom. Why?” Oikawa is glad that the ballroom in empty, leaving him and Y/n to stand in the center of the huge room. This confrontation wouldn't feel less important if it was in any other place. This conversation would feel as entangled and deep even if it was on a dirt path, if it was in the stables, anywhere.

“Because I like having you around Oikawa, is that not clear to you?” She goes silent as she waits for Oikawa to respond. She holds onto her skirt tightly, wrinkling the baby blue silk fabric. Oikawa rushes to kiss her. And she lets him. Her hand lets go of her dress as Oikawa wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, protecting her. When he swipes his tongue along her bottom lip, she backs up slightly before shaking her head and chuckling lightly.

“I love you.” He presses his lips to her neck, before nuzzling his nose into the curve between her shoulder and neck.

Y/n ruffles his hair, before kissing the crown of his head. She can’t stop the nerves that build in her chest though. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll revoke my demand of Knighthood. And resolve to keep being your personal guard.” Oikawa said it like it was gospel.

“What about,” She pauses before grabbing his face to make him look at her, “What about us?”

Oikawa wants to curl up into a ball and die. The rules of society seem dead set on keeping them apart. Royals don’t court, never mind marry, commoners. Oikawa thinks, he thinks harder than he ever has before. Royals can marry Knights. Oikawa can become a Knight, and then he can be with Y/n. He wants to kiss her, and instead of holding back he doesn’t. She lets out a stunned gasp before kissing back.

He nips at her bottom lip, and pushes on her neck so she faces up to him for a better angle. She wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head to the side, moving her lips from his to his check, and then trailing light kisses along his jawline. Oikawa sighs.

She slips her hand to the front of his chest. Oikawa's ears turn cherry tinted. When she reaches in and pulls out his diamond necklace, he turns his face to the side to avoid eye contact.

"Really?" He nods. "I thought my mind had tricked me that time, you know, when I helped you out." For her it was like a mirror of her own eyes, seeing the same color shining right back at her.

When she reaches into the front of her own blouse, Oikawa's neck flares. She pulls out a similar necklace, with a slightly larger pendant, the same color as Oikawa's own eyes.

"Like milk chocolate," She holds the pendant up to his eyes, "It's not quite identical, I tried to get the jeweler to capture the right color but they just couldn't."

He kisses her open palm. He adjusts his surcoat, leaving his necklace visible over the fabric with royal insignia embroidered all over.

She furrowed her eyebrows then looked to the ground before meeting his eyes again. “You're going through with it. You are going to try to become a Knight, aren’t you?” Oikawa nods, his hair falling onto his forehead.

“But, what about-”

“I don’t want there to be any reasons for us not to be together. I can figure everything out, I promise.”

Oikawa was eventually Knighted, then he married Y/n. The commoner turned into a Knight, then into the future King. So, Oikawa supposes, there never was a chance of him being a Knight. Because now, he ruled the kingdom with the only person he could ever imagine to be right by his side, Y/n. He still called her ‘Princess’ though, purely from habit, and because he would always remember the kind of person he first knew her as.

[dozydawn]

Butterick 4209.

Model: Nathalie van Walsum.

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

Blurb:

‘Parker Luck strikes again,’ Hissed that voice in the back of Peter’s head that he’d been assured was supposedly his own consciousness, ‘kind of wish it’d miss for once.’ -- OR;

Peter get sent spiralling into the past to the year 1996 and has to figure out how (and if) he's going to get home; it's great luck that there's someone else around here who seems to have no idea what the fuck is going on then! And, this guy has a truck so Peter's not going to have to trudge through the woods on his own!

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Current Word Count: 4209

Current Chapters: 1/?