#But then I thought “wait if the gods can’t go to Alaska then can they go to other countries?”

[artemx746]

Honestly the fact that the gods can’t go to Alaska raises some interesting questions about where they can and can’t go. Because Paolo is clearly from Brazil and Portuguese is the only language he knows fully so there’s a lot of contradicting info

Theory 1: The gods can only go as far north as Alaska and couldn’t go to other countries as far north (ie parts of Northern Greenland)

Theory 2 (the funnier one): The gods can go anywhere in the world EXCEPT Alaska because fuck ‘em

Theory 3: Rick forgot his own lore and none of this matters

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Okay, we all know being a demigod is a shit position. Its scary and gets you killed in really nasty ways. But I feel like being a Big Three Kid has to be the shitiest position in all the shit positions.

Like, imagine being Thalia Grace. Your dad is king of the gods, lord of the skies. Led a war to get rid of a tyrant. And the only thing you get is his scorned wife AND brother, who both try to kill you (with one technically succeeding), a drunk of a mother, and brother who you thought was dead. Oh, wait, he’s not dead! No instead he was used as an offering to appease your dad’s wife and help fight in a war and prevent mass destruction.

Or maybe you can imagine being Percy. Son of the sea god, the stormbringer, the earthshaker. You get to live with a disgusting, abusive man for around 6 years. Who smells like literal shit. All because your scent as a demigod is too strong, BECAUSE of who your father is. You see things that you aren’t supposed to see and do things that people can’t do and go years thinking something is wrong with you. That your the problem. Then you get to the one place where you’re supposed to be save. But! Here is the kicker! You’re not! Your uncles hate you and you’ve been accused of stealing a symbol of power. A series of events that will kick off a war, and guess what. You’re a center point for it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.

Mhm, but then there’s Hazel. Daughter Pluto, god of the underworld and riches. But that doesn’t really change anything does it? She’s still living in 1930s America, in a red state. One where confederate flags still hang if you go deep enough into the city. She go to a school where the kids are supposed to be just like her! They still don’t like her tho. She’s got no idea who your father is, only that he left her with a parting gift. Only it’s not really a gift. Sure, she can pull rubies and diamonds from the earth, all worth millions. But anyone who’s ever gonna touch it will die. She lives with her mother, a woman gone so mad with greed it kills her. And Hazel, by the way. Laying dead Alaska, inhaling oil. But it doesn’t end there! She can’t have her mother suffering for eternity, can she? The answer is no. Hazel gets to spend the next 70 years in the Fields of Asphodel. It still doesn’t end! Because when she’s brought back to life, she gets to fight in a war against giants, her sad story seemingly never ending.

Nico’s a son of one of the Big Three, one of the most ancient and most powerful. But most people look at him as something bad, something not worth taking a second glance at. Something too look away from, mostly. He’s from the 30s, spent years in a magical time casino with only his sister at his side. She doesn’t stay for long though, she dies soon after they discover their heritage. And he doesn’t remember his mother much, a name without a face. A face without a name. He survived an attempted assassination at 2, though it wouldn’t be the only time his was life was threatened. He clings to his sister, even though she’s dead. He’s the son of the god of the underworld, is he not? There had to be a way, and there is. Only she won’t talk to him, she seems more concerned with communicating with the guy who got her killed instead. She chooses rebirth, and he decides to lay it to rest. She’s not coming back, and he has a war to fight in. (He gets stuck in a jar and forcibly outed a few years later, but that’s a lot to get into for now.)

Jason Grace is a pillar of New Rome, their golden boy, their American boy. He’s a son of Jupiter, a natural born leader. He’s been at camp for as long as he can remember, he wants to be praetor soon. He’s had a rocky start, but maybe he’ll be one of the lucky ones. Retire a veteran and live a long life with Reyna in New Rome. Only that never happened. He has no idea where he is, there’s a girl holding his hand, and she’s cute but it feels wrong. They get attacked and people come in and call him a Greek demigod, familiar, yes, but still wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t put things into perspective the way it does for Piper and Leo. He’s goes to a quest to rescue Hera, the name sounds wrong. He nearly dies but at least he remembers who he is. He spends the next 6 months trying to get back home, even though he isn’t too sure on where or what home is. He gets there, eventually, but it doesn’t stop there. He’s dragged on quests and battles and fights in the war but at least he survives it, he’s still there. Apollo needs help, he and Piper give him aid. He gets dumped. He doesn’t get to he a veteran in New Rome. Not with Reyna, not with Piper, not with anybody. He doesn’t get kids or grandkids. No, he gets shot down, another demigod buried.

You could be any one of them, really. Pick your poison, but I guarantee you won’t like any of them. Spending years trying to find a place where you belong, where you feel safe. Only for it to never come.

Percy, who, if you really look at the books, isn’t really all that well liked until he’s at least 2 years into camp. Only to then be sidelined because the courages, brave, fearless daughter of Zeus is back from the dead. Nico, the son of one of the most feared and hated gods. Who has death written all over him, who excludes it so much animals can smell it and humans can sense it, who’s been ostracized and pushed off to the side since he was 10. Hazel, who was treated like disease as soon as she stepped foot on camp soil. Who’s gone her whole life looked as something that’s cursed, that will only bring misfortune, a bad omen.

Shit positions, all of them.

[darkmatilda]

Finally finished the bolter, so here are my comments (yes, I'm always going to do this as a numbered list now it's the only way to categorise my thoughts)

1. I love the bolter (the song) very, very much, and I think the way you tied the lyrics into the plot was really clever. Your description of the feeling she gets when leaving was perfect, and I loved how you tied in the story with the ice

2. Glasses spencer is in my top 3 reid eras (controversially, it ranks higher than boyband reid), and he's just perfect for this fic it makes so much sense

3. I'm an early season criminal minds girl and having elle and Gideon in a fic makes me very happy. I love elle so much she was perfect

4. I'm beginning to think you just like ending fics in a way that leaves people desperate for a part 2? If your planning a part 2 please do and here are my tiny little requests:

○"Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless, Excellent fun 'til you get to know her" are possibly some of the best taylor swift lines ever and they're from the bolter which is something to take into consideration...

○if you're looking to make a sad part two where they decide to be friends again and he has to watch her go be with other people from a distance 'not strong enough' and 'waiting room' are songs that could be taken into consideration (or phoebe bridgers whole discography)

In summary I loved it, make more song inspired fics and glasses spencer is elite

finally replying to this message bc i had to think through how to answer MAINLY BC YOU GAVE ME SUCH A GENIUS IDEA

i’ll start making annotations to your comments so i don’t miss any of those precious thoughts of yours ❣️

1. while writing this i’ve listened to "the bolter" so many times that if someone woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to sing it, i’d do it effortlessly. I JUST LOVE TAYLOR'S SONGWRITING IN TTPD (i’m a huge fan of taylor’s painful and sad songs bc our mother just knows how to capture those feelings so perfectly, i bow down to loml, the black dog, the prophecy, how did it end...maybe i should write something inspired by those...)

2. glasses spencer and post-prison are my fav tbh 😵‍💫 not a big fan of the boyband era, don’t hate me now pls

3. first season forever in my heart, though i remember wanting to skip ahead bc the later ones seemed more interesting and the fandom was only talking about them...seasons 1&2 don’t get enough credit!

4. i generally have a problem with endings bc I HATE SWEET AND SUGARY ONES, there needs to be at least a hint of pain for the fanfic to stay in your heart longer :> i also love interpreting open endings. even though with the light off was supposed to have an open ending, i caved and wrote (to soothe my and your broken hearts), but this time i don’t plan on doing that, i mean continuing the story from the same point where i ended it (in hotch’s office).

the continuation will be after a time skip where it’s explained that spencer and reader agreed it’d be better to stay friends like they were before AND THIS IS WHERE MY PROBLEM COMES IN

bc i had an idea for the continuation and even started writing (which i’ll explain soon without spoilers ofc) BUT THEN YOU CAME ALONG WITH MUCH BETTER IDEAS

spencer watching her meet others in the same way she met him and realizing he’s not special to her...though ofc it’s not true but he doesn’t know that....god not strong enough would fit SO WELL there

but i don’t really want to end the story on a sad note...i don’t want to end it at all actually bc i had more of an idea for a fanfic series with the same reader that would be connected but in a way where you wouldn’t need to read the previous ones in order

i started writing a fanfic called "alaska nights" where the story takes place some time later (up to a few months, maybe a year) and bau goes to alaska to solve a case and then something starts pulling them together again, eventually they can’t resist and agree that as long as they’re in alaska, they can sleep together, but after that, their relationship will go back to where it was, and bc of that agreement they decide they have to make the most of this pact and visit each other every night 🤗 keeping it a secret from the rest of the team to avoid awkward questions (but queen elle figures it out anyway)

and not to toot my own horn but i really like this idea, but on the other hand, your idea moved me just as much, so here’s my proposal: at the start of december, "alaska nights" will drop (a very light and funny story to let the readers breathe from all the angst...) and then something from spencer’s perspective??? set directly after, showing his pain over their relationship resetting AGAIN, probabably inspired by "not strong enough" but i’m super open to suggestions, i personally love phoebe bridgers too <33

i know i’m repeating myself girl but your engagement seriously moves me, like when i post something, i wait impatiently for a notification from you 😭

[sl-newsie]

Take A Break (Robert Fischer x OC) Falling For You 💕 Valentine's Day Special 💕

Main Story: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/752219255149330432/falling-for-you-robert-fischer-x-oc?source=share

Christmas Special: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/771175123756728320/magic-kisses-robert-fischer-x-oc-falling-for-you?source=share

I'm not partial to the holiday myself but I knew Robert and Margaret have to have something! :)

The date is officially set! By this June I will officially be Mrs. Margaret Fischer! Now if only planning the wedding would be as fun as it sounds. We’re still waiting to announce it to the press. When we finally told my parents, my mother nearly collapsed and immediately started asking questions about the ceremony. That was before December.

Our much-needed holiday after Christmas was, in a word, extraordinary! We spent an entire week at a resort in Alaska! Since both of us aren’t used to being so far from busy civilization Robert thought it was a good idea to go somewhere rural. He was right! And boy, can he get antsy. When we weren’t out of breath from hiking, skiing, or snowmobiling, we got out of breath doing… other recreational things. It felt like a preview of our honeymoon!

Unfortunately our gained rest has since been depleted in these past months and Robert is already experiencing burnout. I guess one week off for him is worth an entire decade of vacation time. Not only will he not take a break but this upcoming stock pitch is a real doozy. If all goes well tomorrow then the media will be getting a triumphant announcement from Fischer Morrow. Mr. Browning and I agree that now we just need to keep Robert in-tact long enough to sit through the meeting.

This sounds simple enough. But it would be so much easier if I wasn’t tugging him away from his desk each night. We finished our late dinner three hours ago and he’s still hunched over the paperwork, dressed in his pajamas. I adjust my robe and carefully step closer.

“Darling, you’re exhausted,” I murmur and rub his shoulder. “Come to bed.”

Robert, still staring down, shakes his head. “Can’t. I have to finish writing the draft for the pitch tomorrow. You go back to sleep.”

I gather up the files and he lets out a sleepy, halfhearted whine. “No. I’m doing this not only as your fiancée but as your employee.” I help him stand and we both start walking to the bedroom. “Robert, you will be no good at tomorrow’s meeting if you can’t sit up straight. It’s time to sleep.”

He slumps onto the mattress and I can’t even tell if he’s listening until I hear a muffled “Fine.” Robert falls asleep so fast I don’t get a chance to say goodnight. I take my own place next to him and snuggle next to his limp form. The only response I get are his gentle snores as I too drift off…

“No! No I’m not!” Robert shrieks.

Jesus! I jolt awake and jump up, expecting an intruder. But there is no one hiding in the darkness. There is only Robert’s shouting. He hasn’t had one in a while… It must be one. It’s another nightmare. 

“Robert? Robert!” I crawl back into bed and shake him. “Wake up! Wake- Ow!”

He swings over and I feel his fist collide with my cheek. Huh. I’ve never personally seen Robert hit anyone yet but he does tell me of people he’s dealt with to “defend my honor.” I just assumed they were testosterone-filled outbursts. Right now is only a consequence of his reflexes. Thankfully the punch seems to have woken him up.

“It’s okay!” I whisper and run my hands over his tense back as he pants for air. "It’s okay. It was a dream.”

“A dream,” he repeats, blurry eyes staring into space and slowly shifting his gaze to me. “Another damn dream. I- Oh my God. Did I hit you?”

I take a breath. “It’s fine, I-”

“I hit you!” He gasps and buries his face in his hands.

“Robert. It was an accident. Calm down.” I reach for him again and he engulfs me in a tight hug, pressing his head into my chest as he lets out more tears. “That’s it. Let it out. I’m here. Do you want to talk about it?”

He takes a few shaky breaths and stutters: “I’m afraid. I can’t stop thinking about- About…”

About the pitch, I imagine. The business, his legacy, his family.

“Is it your father?”

He nods and shrinks in closer. “Yes. But not just him. I dream about you too. That I’ll become like my father and you won’t be happy. Sometimes I think that my life is too cold for you.”

So he still has doubts about us. I’d hoped our last holiday would have destroyed them.

“Robert. Look at me.” He keeps his face buried against me. “Please look at me.” His wide blue eyes fly up to find mine. “However your father might have behaved, you are not coldhearted. And you are not a disappointment. Do you think being with me makes you happy?”

Through his teary eyes he smiles. “Yes.”

“Does the thought of having kids make you happy?”

His smile widens. “Yes.”

I move a stray hunk of hair from his face so I can see him better. “Those things make me happy too. You deserve to be happy, Robert.” I reach around and put a hand on his heart. “This is why I love you. You are the kindest man I have ever met. You could never hurt me.”

“But-”

“This is an accident.” I point to my cheek. “I’ll fix it before tomorrow’s photoshoot-”

“I don’t care about the pictures,” Robert insists and rubs his thumb against the growing bruise. “I am so, so sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt, honest. I’ve had much worse.” 

I say it in a soothing tone but we both know the wounds from my waitress past are no joking matter. That’s probably why Robert is so anxious.

Before he can doubt himself further I distract him by ruffling his hair. “Just think. In a few more months we’ll be married.”

“Yeah…” Robert sighs dreamily and snakes an arm around my waste. Good. He’s calming down.

“The elite businessman and the causal city girl,” I chuckle. “Should make quite the headline once we tell everybody.”

“Now who’s sounding insecure?” Robert teases lightly and squeezes me. “Sweetheart, you know I don’t care about that. I want a future with you.” 

It feels so good to hear him say that. Far more good than words can describe. All my life I wanted someone to love me and of all chances I struck the lottery.

“I do too,” I murmur and stroke his hair. “And right now I also want you to get a good night’s sleep, so let’s try to go back to bed.”

He lies back down and pulls me against his warm torso. If only there was a way I could grant him peace of mind. But it’s impossible to wrap that in a bow.

“I love you,” Robert half moans as he drifts off again.

“Love you too, Robbie.”

I’ve got to do something to fix this.

As one would expect, the pitch goes flawlessly. But that's not the only positive outcome. One week later I have the solution. Everything’s planned. Now I just need to corner Robert before he goes off to look at our stock statistics for the tenth time today! It’s already evening so he should be coming down for dinner soon. Should be, unless I have to drag him down here again. For tonight I set the table extra-fancy with some flowers and placed a single envelope on his plate. An envelope containing the details of my plan. For dinner I made crock pot pork loin and green beans.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of approaching footsteps from the stairs signal that Robert is coming. I smooth out my black dress and peek my head out to see him walking towards the dining room.

“Hi, Margaret.”

He tries to sound fine but there’s no hiding the dark circles under his eyes. He's still wearing his office suit. I stay quiet until he walks past me and sees the table.

“Surprise!” I cheer softly, leading him in closer.

Robert can’t help but smile and stare at the envelope with excited confusion. “What’s this?”

I pick up the envelope and hand it to him. “This means that we get an entire weekend. Alone. Without work.”

His jaw drops and it clicks. He sinks into his chair, staring between me and the envelope, trying to decide on an answer. I can already tell he’s hesitant about it.

“Margaret, this looks wonderful but-”

“There are no exceptions. Your Godfather already agreed and had the office book us to have time off. It’s at a tucked away resort in Sweden with plenty of hot tubs for us to use.”

He nods slowly but something still isn’t adding up. “But why this weekend?”

My eyes widen. “It’s-! Oh.” He probably doesn’t celebrate it. “You probably won’t know.”

This edges him further and he keeps guessing. “Know what? What is it?”

I bite my lip. “This weekend is February fourteenth.”

The holiday you love to hate to love. Valentine’s Day. The day that peer-pressures everyone to buy people things to prove they care. The holiday celebrating the beheading of a saint by buying useless chocolates and flowers. I know it can be a very uncomfortable holiday and normally I’d wave it off. But this year I wanted to do something special with Robert, who now understands the significance of this weekend’s date.

“Oh God.” He slowly buries his face in his hands. “Now I know.”

My mind kicks into overthinking. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s nothing you did. It’s just that I don’t really do… this.” He gestures to the envelope and flowers.

I cock an eyebrow and try to keep from smiling too much. “You don’t do lovey dovey stuff? Um, sweetheart, you were practically a romcom clone during our last holiday! Don’t tell me you don’t do romance after you-”

“Alright, alright!” He laughs and grabs my hand. “I suppose I’m more affectionate now than I used to be. But my point is that I’ve never seen a reason to set time aside for Valentine’s Day. First off, I never had anyone like you to spend it with.”

“Likewise,” I reply.

“Second, I feel that the entire holiday is a marketing scheme. Even our company sees a small profit during this time! I mean, why do we need a certain day to elevate our love when we celebrate it every day?”

A warm feeling spreads over me and I kneel down to be closer to him. “Robert… That is so sweet.”

He frowns, confused. “It is?”

“Yes,” I laugh and squeeze his hand. “Normally I hear stories of people who use Valentine’s Day to patch things up or compensate for the rest of the year. But you make a very good point. We don’t need a holiday for an excuse to celebrate.”

“Yes…” He repeats and traces his thumb along my silver engagement ring. “Because we will have an official day to celebrate in a few months.”

“Exactly.”

Robert pulls me into his lap and we lean in for a soft kiss. The envelope slips onto the table as Robert’s hands snake up my neck to cradle my face, leaving me to look up into his tired but loving eyes.

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

He runs his fingers along my cheek. “I know we agree that no holiday is required. But, um, could we still…?”

“Yes, Robbie. We are still taking the weekend off. Not just for Valentine’s Day but because you, my dear fiancé, need a break! You are a complete workaholic.”

“Right,” he groans half-heartedly and uses his other hand to squeeze my shoulder. “And you are the drug that cures it.”

Bashfulness returns to drench my thoughts and I pull my eyes away. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He mocks, turning my head back to him. “Loving my fiancée? Never.”

He runs his hands down the back of my dress and I already know what he’s thinking when he starts playing with the zipper.

I try to scoot away. “At least let me shower-”

“Great idea. Let’s go,” Robert declares and picks me up. “And then we can eat your wonderful meal.”

I let out a pathetic giggle and wrap my arms around his neck. “Can you go for one day without touching me?”

“You already know the answer.” He gives me a naughty smirk and starts walking us towards the staircase. “I’m beginning to look forward to this weekend.”

[brightbeautifulthings]

Our Last Echoes by Kate Alice Marshall

"Even the echo of a god is a dangerous thing."

Year Read: 2022

Rating: 5/5

About: Sophia Novak has been told all her life that her mother died in a hospital on the mainland. But Sophie's first memories are of drowning, and the only clue she has about her mom's life is a carved wooden sculpture of a bird that only nests on Bitter Rock, Alaska, an island all but abandoned except for the Landon Avian Research Center. Her mother worked at the center before she died, and Sophia has lied and pestered her way into a summer internship there, where she meets Liam, whose mother runs the research center, and Abby, who's chasing down a mystery of her own. People have been disappearing from Bitter Rock for decades, and the island has good reasons for covering it up. Trigger warnings: character death (on-page, graphic), parent/child/animal death, drowning, body horror, some blood/gore, severe injury, guns, grief.

Thoughts: If you didn't like Rules for Vanishing, this book probably isn't for you. If you liked Rules for Vanishing mostly for its queerness, then this book probably isn't for you. If you liked Rules for Vanishing for its uncanny, found footage horror and the way you can never quite guess where it's going, then you should pick up a copy of this book immediately. I loved everything about Rules for Vanishing and Our Last Echoes both, and as long as Marshall keeps writing horror, I'm going to keep picking up her books. Technically, you can read one without the other, but despite Goodreads' refusal to list them as a series even though they exist in the same universe, I recommend reading them together. It's less about plot or character and more about vibe and overall world-building, but if you were on a ghost road and accidentally stepped sideways into a neighboring dimension, you might find yourself in the middle of Our Last Echoes.

I'm afraid this review is just going to be a lot of gushing about both these books, but it feels like these are exactly the horror novels I've been waiting my whole life to read. Marshall expertly executes the found footage format in the way it's meant to be used, as a way of building tension and layering her mysteries rather than forcing us to look the other way while everything important or exciting happens off camera. Nothing stays buried forever, and this is the genre done very, very well. Like in RfV, there's at least one moment in this book that sent a chill right down my spine. While I didn't find it as scary overall, I love the way nothing ever feels derivative and she's constantly taking the spookiness in new, unexpected directions.

I like Sophia, but I was more invested in her mystery than her character. So much of her personality is based around what happened to her when she was a child, some of which she can't remember, that it's hard to separate the two. My feelings for Abby were a lot stronger, and I loved seeing her take more of a role in the story. I enjoy her attitude, and it's fascinating to have a character who's familiar with the paranormal. If she can't explain it, she's willing to get to the bottom of it. Zero feelings on the romance, which takes a little more attention than the ones in RfV, but that's usually the case for me. I love the way all the layers of the story come together at the end, and given that there are supposedly seven "doorways" like this, I'm crossing my fingers for five more books in this universe. (And, while I'm wishing for things, I'd love a novel about whatever happened to Abby and Miranda, which still seems intentionally vague.)

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S REDEMPTION - CHAPTER 2

*Warning: Adult Content*

As soon as Sam saw the guy at the bar staring at his untouched food like it was some kind of tragedy, he knew he was the one. 

The one who will get him out of this shithole for good. 

He can tell at a glance that this guy has the kind of pain that he needs. 

Some sort of hurt that goes deep and wants to come out in bad ways. 

He can work with that.

‘It was a stroke of luck, finding him but I guess I’m due some luck, after all.’

When Sam had overheard Karin drawing up yet another contract for him, only days after he had finished the last, he knew he had to get away, or at least try. 

He’d left with nothing... just walked away... curious to see how far he would get before Karin set the dogs, Pax and Roman on his trail. 

Not far, as it turns out. But maybe just far enough. 

‘If only I can get this guy to take me the rest of the way.’

For now Pax and Roman have pissed off, though he knows they are waiting somewhere near by, ready to take him back as soon as he finishes what they think he came to do. 

‘As long as they believe my man here paid the price already, they know better than to interfere.’

At the moment the man in question is perched on the edge of the bed in his crappy motel room, looking tense as a cat in a rising flood. 

It makes Sam want to laugh.

“Do you want to call someone?” Ian asks Sam, looking at his phone. 

“One of those national hotline things. Or... your parents, maybe?”

That does make Sam laugh and Ian looks up in surprise, ice-blue eyes startled and wide.

He’s got a nice face, now that I look at him... a bit like a ginger Chris Hemsworth. Kind of hot actually. 

Maybe he can use that, too.

“No,” Sam says, sitting next to Ian on the bed and shifting closer, putting a bit of a purr in his voice. 

“I don’t want to call anyone. There’s nobody to call for someone like me. I just want to get away from here. Won’t you take me with you? I promise I can make it worth your while.”

Ian stands abruptly and moves away from Sam, running his fingers through his hair and making it stand up in auburn spikes.

“Look I want to help,” the handsome red-haired man says. 

“But I’ve got to understand what’s going on here. You’re in trouble, right?”

Sam nods, making his eyes as big as he can... the little lost kitten look. He smirks to himself as he sees it gets Ian good.

“So who are those guys? Human trafficking? Some sort of prostitution ring?”

Sam shakes his head. He can’t lie but Ian is so far off the mark, he doesn’t have to.

“They work for Karin. He owns me.”

“Owns you?” Ian repeats, looking horrified.

“Well he thinks he does. He payed my mother good money, after all.”

“Oh my God.” Sam says, covering his mouth with his hand and sits back down on the bed.

Sam is kind of gratified by Ian’s reactions. 

Maybe he’s not just a damaged tool after all.

“Don’t let them take me back there,” Sam begs, reaching out and grabbing Ian’s muscular fore-arm, not having to pretend the desperation at all. 

“Please, I’ll do anything you want.”

Ian stands, almost leaping away from Sam’s touch.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Ian says. 

“Because it seems like you can tell I’m not. I don’t want anything from you and I’m sure as hell not into kids.” 

“Gross. I hope not,” Sam replies, making a face. 

“I’m older than I look,” he adds. 

“I’m almost twenty one.”

In human years anyway.

Ian Foley looks at the pretty young boy in front of him, skeptically.

“Yeah? Well I’m thirty-four. That makes you a kid to me.”

Sam frowns at Ian but doesn’t ague.

It seems like he might actually be a nice guy. 

This means this might be harder than he thought. 

He’ll have to switch tactics.

“Where are you heading?” Sam asks.

“Alaska,” Ian says, sounding tired. 

“I’m going to Alaska.”

“That’s perfect,” Sam exclaims. 

“I have relatives in Alaska.”

Again, not a lie, but defiantly not true in the way Ian thinks it is.

“Really?

Sam nods, hoping to look as innocent and eager as he’s going for. 

It seems to work. Ian drops to the bed once more and flops onto his back, pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

“Shit,” Ian groans, broad chest rising and falling with a sigh. 

“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?”

A short time later, they are in Ian’s big red truck driving away. 

Sam feels like cackling with joy but that wouldn’t fit the image of the helpless innocent, he’s trying to maintain, so he keeps quiet and observes the man behind the wheel. 

He can already feel the strain as the bond Karin forced on him stretches tight as the distance between them grows. 

Sam needs to break it fast. 

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to make Ian stake his claim. 

He had told Pax and Roman he was Ian’s and that was a start but he needs a little more to make it stick. 

Getting the handsome red-head to say his name a few times might help.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he volunteers, as they drive along a stretch of straight road boarded by thick trees.

“Ian,” he says, mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile. 

“Nice to meet you.”

A few more moments of silence pass and then to Sam’s alarm, Ian pulls off the road onto the shoulder and stops his truck.

“Wait. What are you doing? Why are we stopping?” Sam demands, again not haven’t to fake the panic in his voice.

Ian looks at Sam, blue eyes rimmed in red.

“I’ve got to sleep, kid,” he says. 

“I’ve been driving all night. I brought a meal I didn’t eat and paid for a bed I didn’t sleep in. I’m beat.’

“But we’re still too close,” Sam insists.

He can still feel Karin’s disgusting hold on him and if he doesn’t break it or at least weaken it with distance, Pax and Roman will be able to trace his trail.

“Look here, kid. You want to drive? Knock yourself out.”

“I don’t know how to drive,” Sam protests. 

“And stop calling me kid. My name is Sam and like I said I’m older than I look.”

“But you can’t drive?” Ian states and then yawns so wide his jaw cracks. 

“Besides, I don’t care how old you are. You look like a kid.”

“Yeah? Well you look like a guy that would take a date to a cheep motel. So let’s not judge people based on appearances, okay?” Sam huffs, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ian pops his door open and climbs out.

“Uh, huh. But I’m a guy that would take a date to a cheep motel. Sometimes things are what they appear.”

As Ian raises his arms above his head and Sam gets a glimpse of tight abs and a fiery treasure trail disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans. 

His clothes seem a little big for him, like he’s recently lost weight and yet not bothered to update his wardrobe to reflect the change. 

Given the cloud of pain hanging over him, Sam guesses Ian’s had other things on his mind and despite what he said it’s obvious he’s not what he seems. 

Ian wanders off to take a piss and comes back, adjusting the front of his pants and yawns again. 

Climbing back into the cab, the handsome red-head leans his head against the back of the seat and closes his eyes. 

Sam feels the pulse of rage reaching for him along the weakened bond and suppresses a curse. 

Karin knows Sam is gone.

He looks at Ian, who's face is already relaxing into sleep and he swears under his breath. 

He hadn’t wanted to do this so soon, or at all. 

But he had no choice.

“Ian,” Sam calls softly.

One blue eye opens half-way.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ian mumbles.

“For this.”

Sam moves quickly, grabs hold and pulls Ian to him, then presses his lips to his.

[hotchseyebrows]

that's my heart right there

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: hi beloveds :) today i present this happy and soft morcia fic that i wrote in practically one go last night. who needs wips when you can just ignore them all blatantly for new works? thank you as always to @blkantigone for providing another set of eyes, love you lots! love you all too, thank you for reading!

rating/warnings: teens and up, allusions to sex but none on screen, mostly just gooey marshmallowly fluff!

read it on ao3 here!

The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

-

A post Exit Wounds fic where Kevin doesn't exist and Clooney the dog is much more important to the narrative. They're in love and finally doing something about it.

word count: 2311

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia.”

He thinks about it the whole plane ride back from Alaska. When they board, she gently tugs him to the big couch before sitting directly next to him. He drops his arm around her shoulders instinctually, smiling as she hums and pulls out her knitting. She smells like honey and rain (the respective scents of her shampoo and conditioner and her body wash) and has picked a warm color gradient for her outfit and makeup today. She babbles about her knitting group’s latest gossip for a while as he relaxes into her side.

She seems like her normal relaxed and bubbly self, but he can feel the tension in her shoulders. Their early conversation was comforting, but her worries are still weighing on her. But he doesn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone, so he just kisses her temple and tugs her closer. “So wait baby girl, is Jared going to ask out Francisco or not?”

“I don’t know! I asked him about it before we left and he dodged giving me a straight answer. I think he’s worried about their friendship, but it’s SO obvious that Francisco is wild about him. They’re already best friends, so- he’s just being silly. I told him that.”

The conversation moves on, but Penelope’s friends join the merry-go-round of thoughts in his head for the rest of the flight. They stay close for the remaining 8 hours, usually with some form of physical contact even as they adjust positions over the long trip home. Derek focuses on making her laugh as much as possible and trying to make her blush all at once.

When they land at home after almost 9 hours on the jet, the sun is setting. The team is obviously tired, but in relatively good spirits as they exit the plane. Derek is last, just behind Penelope. The sky is full of the same colors on Penelope’s clothes today, he realizes as they walk across the airfield. “It’s good to be back,” she says, pulling her shawl tight. “I miss you when you go but it’s… easier on me in some ways not to be there.”

It makes him pause, slowing to a stop. Penelope walks further ahead but notices he’s not there and stops herself. She looks over her shoulder at him, waiting. The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

-

They don’t dance. This part is unusual. Instead it’s 4 drinks in each at a quiet bar close to Derek’s apartment, and they are glued to each other’s side on the same side of a table in a corner booth. This place doesn’t even have a dance floor. 

She leans against his side, nosing at his neck. “You smell good,” she mumbles. He wraps an arm around her, feeling shaky like a ship in a storm.

“Baby girl, is this-” He pauses, not sure what the question should be. Not sure of the answer she’ll give. Penelope picks her head up to look at him, cheeks flushed. Derek swallows. “Am I imagining things, or…” 

“You’re not imagining things.” She leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I feel it too.” He grins and pulls her in for a proper kiss. They fall into it easily, as if it isn’t the first time. The first time it really means what it’s meant to. It feels like they’ve been together for years- and in some ways, that’s not untrue.

-

He brings her home. It’s late, and they’ve had a long case and now a long night, so he knows she’s tired. Still, she stops to drop to her knees to hug Clooney when he comes barreling out of Derek’s bedroom at the sound of them entering the apartment.

“Oh, hello sweetie, hi there, yes, I know, it’s so exciting when Daddy comes home, but it’s even more exciting when he brings me to visit, I know-” Clooney agrees with a quiet woof- “see, Derek, Clooney said I’m his favorite.”

Derek smiles at the way his best girl gets along with his big goof of a dog. “He’s got good taste.” He doesn’t mean the words to come out so weighted, but she looks up at him with such a reverent look on her face that he doesn’t care.

She stands up and drags him through his apartment, Clooney hot on their heels. They get ready for bed at the same time as if they’ve done this domestic routine every night for ages. She won’t stop looking at him like she loves him. Like she cherishes him. He believes her.

She pulls him into his bed, arranging their bodies close together. They don’t do anything more than kiss with their arms wrapped around each other. She falls asleep first with her head on his chest. It makes him feel warm. They shared a bed in Alaska too, and now he’s thinking about not wanting the streak to end. He pulls her closer for the moment, the places where her soft skin is touching his own shooting little bolts of lightning through him as he falls asleep too.

-

Penelope makes breakfast. He takes Clooney on a run, slipping out of bed when she’s still asleep and kissing her forehead before he goes. When he comes back, she’s in his robe, standing over the stove. He’s sweaty and hot, but she yanks him into a kiss anyway. After the eggs burn a little, he pulls away and takes a quick shower. She’s waiting at the table, coffee made and Clooney napping at her feet. The food is delicious, but sitting here with her like this is better. She tastes like coffee when he kisses her over the table.

Someone surely would have noticed Penelope in the same outfit again today, but over the years so much of her clothing has ended up hanging in Derek’s closet next to his own that she’s able to pick out a full outfit for the day. Today her dress is frilly and bright green. He picks out a darker green shirt to match- just because he can.

-

They drop into this new routine easily. Their flirtatious phone calls now have this added layer of promise and intent, even if they haven’t made good on it yet. She’s always been the primary person to stop in and take care of Clooney while Derek’s on cases, but now he comes home and she’s still there. His two best loves, sitting on his couch. He gets home after a case with hidden cameras and is feeling particularly exposed over it all. But there she is, smiling up at him, because she missed him. Because she wanted to see him.

“Hi there,” she says. He crosses the room and lifts her off the couch, holding her against him. She follows his lead with ease, trusting him implicitly. His arms wrap around her waist. He can literally feel her breathing like this, and he’s never been so grateful that she’s alive. “Hi,” she whispers again.

“Hi baby.” He nuzzles the side of her head, breathing in the soft honey scent of her hair. 

She doesn’t ask what’s got him all worked up. She just wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. After a minute or two of just swaying in place, he leans in and presses their lips together. A gentle kiss at first, but quickly his desire for closeness, to feel her, bleeds into that too. He lifts her legs off the ground and puts them around his waist. Penelope makes a noise close to a whine in the back of her throat, pushing closer. He carries her to his room, kissing her fiercely all the while.

-

Afterwards, she’s lying on top of him with her head on his chest. Derek runs his fingers through her hair, gently untangling anything he comes across. “I’m glad you’re home,” she says, slightly muffled by her mouth’s position against his skin.

It sounds like she means that this is their home. Or that she is his home. 

“Me too.” He pulls her up for another slow kiss. She climbs up on top of him, straddling his hips. Her hands cup his cheeks before running down his chest. He keeps the kiss slow, and she kisses back with ease. Like they’re in love.

-

Derek is in the break room, making another cup of coffee. Emily slides next to him, a coffee stirrer in her teeth. “You seem happy.”

Derek looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a nice day, Prentiss.” Emily deliberately looks at where the rain outside is hitting the window. Derek doesn’t back down.

“Whoever you’ve been dating must be a hell of someone. That’s good.”

Derek can’t help but smile. She really is.

“But I want more information sooner than later, Morgan.”

He hums, and picks up Penelope’s coffee cup from the rack. He takes his time filling it before looking at Emily pointedly. 

She pauses and then grins. “I fucking knew it. I knew it!” Derek smiles back. “You better take care of her, I swear to God-”

“I will. I am.”

She softens. “She better take care of you too.”

He picks up both mugs. “She does.”

-

He’s never felt like this in a relationship before. Being with Penelope is easy. It’s just the same as it was, but better and more. She stops by his office a little more, and he swings by the batcave more often than he needs to, but no one notices. It’s just part of the normal Morgan-Garcia antics everyone expects. 

She does take full advantage of this and is definitely getting kissed more often than anyone else at Quantico during the day, but Derek doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

-

They’re sitting on a park bench at the edge of the dog park and watching Clooney run himself ragged through the grass. She puts her head on his shoulder. “Francisco asked Jared out a few days ago.”

“I thought you said Jared was the one who was thinking about asking out Francisco.”

“Francisco got tired of waiting.”

He nods. “I know the feeling,” he says before kissing the top of her head.

-

After they find Ellie’s mom, Derek can’t shake this weird mixture of happy and sad in the middle of his chest. Penelope comes over unprompted with a plate of cookies and a stack of dvds. They lay on the couch, her holding him and Clooney with his head on Derek’s thigh. They don’t talk about it then, but they will later. For now she traces a pattern on his side as Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter kidnap a baby. Clooney starts snoring. Penelope kisses Derek’s shoulder, arms holding him tight.

-

They show up together to a little party at Rossi’s. Emily sees them holding hands and grins. No one else notices that, but they do notice when Penelope pulls Derek down into a kiss after he gets her another drink.

“Thank you, mon amour. You’re my hero.”

He laughs. “Anything for you baby girl.” He taps the tip of her nose in punctuation. She pulls him in for another short kiss in response.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” says Rossi.

Emily is grinning widely. Spencer and JJ have matching excited and pleased looks. Hotch has this knowing look on his face. Derek raises an eyebrow at him specifically. Hotch just looks back with the softest smile on his face. He should have known Hotch would have noticed.

“Hold on, does that mean what I think it does or is this something you two are just doing now?” Spencer asks.

Derek looks down at Penelope. “Yes.”

The team laughs. “Yes to which part?”

“Yes,” Penelope says.

Spencer scrunches his nose at her. She giggles. “Yes, as in, it means what you think it does, pretty boy.”

Spencer claps his hands together, swinging them back and forth a little. “Good! Finally. I’m glad we don’t have to wait anymore.” 

“Me too,” Penelope says to the group, but she’s only looking at Derek. He leans in and kisses her again in agreement. 

-

Derek takes Clooney out when they get home to let him do his business before bed. When he comes back inside, Penelope is already in bed wearing one of his shirts and flipping through a knitting magazine. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed next to her, laying on his back and putting his face on her thigh.

“I think they took that well,” she says.

Derek rubs his face into her skin. He hums, nodding a little. 

“When did Emily find out?”

“Find out that it’s you I’m seeing? Or that it was you I was too afraid to do anything about?”

She chuckles. “How about both, then.”

“She cornered me in the break room a few weeks after Alaska. And I never officially told her that I was nuts about you, so I think a safe bet would be her first day on the team.” Penelope drops the magazine and climbs into his lap.

“That long?” He knows what she means specifically.

“Even longer.” She runs a thumb along his jawline and looks down at him with such adoration in her eyes he thinks he might burst.

“Me too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. He pulls her down into a kiss.

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan,” she says back without hesitation. He kisses her again, 'cause that’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

[reidgraygubler]

hot cocoa and cuddles part two (spencer reid/reader)

Title:  hot cocoa & cuddles (part 2) Request: no Couple: Spencer Reid/Gender Neutral!Reader  Category: fluff Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of a case/s, mentions of illnesses, tbh idk what else to tag Word Count: 2,348 Summary: the team returns back to maryland/dc after the case in alaska. reader discovers they still can’t warm up, even after everything they do. spencer tries to help out, again A/N: the long awaited part 2 of hot cocoa and cuddles. this is for the people who want to read part two and those who were looking forward to it… o.o thanks for all the love and support! Check out my masterlist! 

part one

{***}{***}{***}

I pulled my sweater cardigan tighter around my body and shivered slightly. I pulled my hands away from my sweater and wrapped them around my hot mug, which was just hot tea. My eyes de-focused on the desktop in front of me. Anything Penelope and Aaron were saying went in one ear and out the other.

“You okay there, Honeybee?” Derek asked, looking over at me. I shivered and looked over at him. All eyes were on me as I tried to make myself not shake from my freezing-ness. “We’ve said your name like 6 times.”

“We’ve been home for 2 weeks and I am still freezing,” I spoke through clenched teeth. I wrapped my hands around my mug, which was slowly getting colder. “I have done literally everything to keep warm, and I’m still freezing.” I shook my head. 

“Maybe you should get a cat,” Emily spoke up. I looked over at her and furrowed my eyebrows. “Sergio keeps me pretty warm at night.” She smiled at me. I laughed lightly and shook my head.

“My apartment doesn’t allow pets,” I mumbled and stared at the table. I shrugged and shook my head. “I guess I just live in this constant state of forever being cold.” I frowned.

“Maybe you should get your blood check. You could have low iron,” Spencer spoke up, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. I looked over at him and shook my head. “Being cold can be a symptom of low iron… You could be anemic... hypothyroidism is always a possibility,” he continued on his ramble/.

“Hey, Spence?" I asked as I looked at him, my hands wrapping tighter around my mug, which at this point was starting to get lukewarm. 

“Yeah." He looked over at me with a smile. 

“I don’t think I need you to tell me of my impending doom because I’m cold. I went to Alaska, not a hospital filled with a bunch of sickly people,” I whispered. Spencer lifted his finger to retort but failed when I shot him a glare. 

“Get a boyfriend.” JJ smiled at me. I looked at her, trying to hide my smile but clearly failing. “Like your own personal space heater in bed. Body heat is a wonderful thing,” she mused as she flipped her file open. I shook my head as I glanced at Spencer. 

“Yeah, I’ll look into getting a boyfriend or my own personal space heater. Although, I’m not entirely sure if my apartment will allow those,” I pouted. JJ laughed and shook her head.

“Hey, Honeybee, I’m always free if you need a personal space heater.” Derek smirked at me. I laughed harder than I should have and looked at him.

“You seriously expect me to sleep in the same bed as you, Derek Morgan?” I cackled and shook my head. Spencer shifted in his seat and kept his eyes down on the file in front of him. 

“You shared a bed with Pretty Boy over there.” Derek nodded to my friend beside me. I tensed up slightly and glared at him.

“Better him than you, to be honest.” I flashed him a teasing smile. 

“Guys, let’s get back on the task at hand. Garcia,” Aaron spoke up as he looked back at Penelope. I stifled my laughter as I looked back at Derek. He grumbled something under his breath as he looked back at his file. 

{***}{***}{***}

I swear my heater was up so high (or as high as my bill would allow), I had my fluffiest and coziest pair of socks on, and at least 3 different sized hoodies on… The Alaska case was several weeks ago, I’ve been home ever since then… So why am I as cold as I am? And why can’t I warm up? Maybe I should take Derek up on his offer. Though, I think that’d be a whole new line I’d cross. Hard pass, thank you very much.

I should be asleep right now. 1:30 in the morning and I was sitting in bed with a hot water bottle pressed to my body. Something is wrong and I don’t know what. Crap, what if Spencer was right? What if I do have low iron or anemia? Or that hydro… Hypothyroidism, whatever that could be… I should ask him what that means. I wonder if he would be willing to be my personal space heater again. I mean, I know I kept him warm every bit as he kept me warm when we were in Alaska. And, he knows I’ve been cold. Listen, I’m just trying to rationalize wanting to cuddle Spencer Reid. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t stopped thinking about that. And, I wouldn’t be upset if it happened again.

“Screw this,” I muttered as I climbed out of bed with a blanket around my body. I shook my head as I muttered profanities under my breath. My body shook as I walked towards the front door of my apartment. I slipped my shoes on and left the house, freezing as I left my warm home. 

And then I found myself standing just outside of Spencer’s apartment. Better him over Derek, I kept repeating to myself. I have a better relationship with him than Derek. Derek is more of an older brother to me. Spencer... I don’t know what he is to me. But he definitely isn't an older brother...

“Just… knock,” I whispered as I brought my fist to the door. It’s nearly two in the morning. I hope he wasn’t asleep. Although, knowing Spencer he was probably awake, reading over some old files. 

“What… What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked before staring at him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and red and black checkered pj pants. Though his hair was messy and disheveled, he was definitely not asleep.  

“Just… Just coming to see how you’re doing,” I lied and shrugged. Spencer looked at me, raising an eyebrow. It was clear he wasn’t so sure of my answer. But to be fair, I wasn’t sure about my answer either.

“What’s really going on?” he asked, stepping to the side, silently inviting me in. I looked around his apartment and took a deep breath. His home always smelled like cinnamon and spice. I probably enjoyed it too much. Although, it made me feel warm… Which I was okay with. Answering Spencer’s question didn’t even cross my mind until I turned back and looked at him. “Is everything okay?” he asked again once I was facing him. I took a deep breath as I tugged on the ends of my sleeves.

“Uh, I was just… I was just thinking about the Alaska trip.” I wrinkled my nose as I looked anywhere but Spencer’s face. I was only mildly embarrassed that I was here… asking Spencer if he would want to cuddle with me… because I’m so cold. Man, I’m happy Spencer isn’t the teasing type. Not that he’d tease me about this. I know that anyone else would though… 

“What about the Alaska trip?” Spencer looked at me, his tone telling me he was very wary about my statement. I looked at the ground and shrugged.

“Just something you said, I guess,” I started as I looked at him, “Well, something you said earlier today,” I shrugged as I looked back down at the ground. I really wanted my blanket and hot water bottle. Even though I was warmer in his apartment, I was still cold. “Could I really be sick? Is that why I’m so cold?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest as I looked back at him. A shiver worked its way down my body and all the way to the tips of my toes and fingers. 

“Come on, I’m gonna make you hot chocolate, and then we’re gonna go lay in my bed, under the covers.” He held a hand out for me to take. I stared at it for a moment before carefully resting my hand in his. He clasped his fingers around mine before leading me to his kitchen.

“You didn’t answer my questions, Spencer. You know more than anyone that avoiding a question means your keeping something from someone.” I watched as he made two large mugs of hot cocoa.  

He still didn’t answer my questions as we walked towards his bedroom. And, in fact, he was silent up until I was sitting beside him on the bed, holding my mug of hot chocolate close to my body. Even though I was now in a warmer home, with a hot drink, several blankets, and the warmest person I know (despite his sometimes icy hands), I was still very cold. So, I looked over at him, watching as he flipped through the pages of his book.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” I asked, reaching over and placing my mug on the side table. Spencer looked over at me with a raised brow, slightly closing his book. “Am I actually dying?” I asked, feeling a certain fear grow in my tone. 

“You’re not dying,” he said as he folded the corner of the page in his book before closing it. I watched as he set it on his side table. 

“You don’t sound very convincing.” I shrugged, pulling one of my several blankets tighter around me. Spencer looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. He carefully gestured for me to move closer to him, and when I hesitated, he pulled me closer to him.

“You’re not dying. You’re not sick. You’re just cold. Everyone knows you’re probably the one who gets cold the most. Even when we were in Florida, you were cold,” Spencer said as he kept his arms around my body, holding me close to his. His body temperature was definitely warming me up, just like it had a few weeks prior.

“Hey! That’s because the stupid officers had the A/C on 65! It was freezing!” I moved away from him and looked at his face. I could feel a giggly smile grow on my face as I kept my eyes on him. “You giving me your sweater was like a gift from God.” I looked down at him. 

“I think that’s the fourth sweater that’s gone missing?” He copied my smile before laughing. I looked away from him, trying to play innocent. “And the only common denominator is you.” Spencer poked my nose before he pulled me back closer to him. I rolled my eyes before curling back into his side. The goosebumps that were once on my arms and exposed skin, were now fading away the longer I stayed beside Spencer.

“If it makes you feel any better, they were quite warm.” I smiled. I left out the part that I enjoyed that they smelled like him. “And, I’ll return them washed,” I added, again leaving out that I’ll be sad that they won’t hold his scent. 

“If they weren’t my favorite sweaters, I would say keep them. But I’m rather fond of two of those.” Spencer looked down at me with a warm smile. I laughed.

“Thanks for letting me in. I know it’s late. I promise I won’t make this a habit,” I laughed as I looked out onto the blankets in front of me. Part of me wondered what temperature Spencer had his furnace on, and how it was so warm. Mostly because my furnace was on pretty high and it was still like an icebox in my apartment. 

“It’s okay, really. You should work on getting a portable heater for your house and desk just so they warm up faster,” Spencer suggested.

I almost, very nearly, said “But then that’d mean I can’t come over anymore,” But I didn’t. So, I just stayed silent.

“Like Garcia said, your own personal space heater,” Spencer laughed. Though, I cringed, remembering what Derek had said.

“Yeah? Or I could just get a Derek Morgan.”

“Who would want him as a boyfriend,” he scoffed, sounding mildly hurt with my joke. I looked up at him with furrowed brows before sitting upright. 

“I never said I wanted him as my boyfriend. I was joking that he said he could be my space heater or a boyfriend. I was saying… What I meant was I could get a boyfriend instead. Because, you know…. Cuddling is a good way to-” 

“What if it was me,” he asked, cutting me off so swiftly. I had to look at him to make sure he actually said what he said, because he was so quiet and he said it so fast, I almost wasn’t sure.

“You want…” I furrowed my eyebrows, again, as I stared at him. Spencer was looking down at the blankets, probably wondering to himself if he actually said what he said. “Spencer, if you wanted to ask me out all you had to do was ask.” Okay, I was definitely warming up a lot faster now, feeling my blood rush from a sudden secondhand embarrassment that I didn’t really want to feel.

“It’s a lot more than that,” he muttered as he looked at me. I furrowed my eyebrows before reaching a hand up to his face. I carefully guided him so he was looking right at me. 

“It really isn’t… Like, ask me a question, any question.” I smiled, feeling my fingertips warm up under the warmth of his skin.

“Can I kiss you,” he asked, his voice very soft. I smiled before nodding, feeling a newfound excitement flood my body. Spencer lifted his hands and cupped my face, warming my cheeks instantly, before leaning closer to me. 

As his lips connected with mine, I finally felt warm for the first time in weeks. His arms holding me close to his body, like he became my own personal space heater, again. I could sense that he knew I was warming up because when he pulled away from me and looked down at me, he was smiling.

“I’d be okay if I made a habit of this.” Spencer nodded as he carefully ran a hand through my hair. I couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Good.” I smiled before pressing my lips to his for a moment, “Because I could too.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[rphelperblog]

Crave Quote Rp Meme

“He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.”

“I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.”

“Everyone answers to me…eventually.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game.”

“Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.”

“It tugs at something deep inside me, makes me wonder, when I never wonder. Makes me want, when I never want.”

“There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.”

“If You Can’t  Live Without Me,  Why Aren’t You  Dead Yet?”

“I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.”

“It’s written all over his face—he would disintegrate anyone—everyone—if it means saving me. He would literally set fire to the world.”

“Actions have consequences. Mistakes get made. Hearts get broken.”

“If You’re Not Living on the Edge, You’re Taking Up Too Much Space”

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“We needed each other. We were both in pain, and we filled an emptiness we didn’t know how to fill on our own.”

“Have you ever wanted something so much that you were afraid to take it?Like it’s right there, waiting for you to just reach out and grab it, but you’re so terrified of what will happen when you lose it that you never make the reach?”

“Landing Is Just Throwing  Yourself at the Ground and  Hoping You Don’t Miss

“Indescribable. Unfathomable. Delicious.”

“This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she’s up way past her bedtime, but she just can’t put the story down.”

“Not when the last time he was happy, he was plotting a hostile takeover of half the paranormal world.”

“You wound me. It was at least three-quarters.”

“… falling over the edge of the world together.”

“Always, baby. Whatever you need.”

“But now, as I stand here, surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I finally understand what it means to rule with compassion. With dignity. With love.”

“Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn’t have any kind of vested interest…sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Some Days Life’s a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It’s Just the Pits.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters”

“I’ve read everything on my Kindle,”

“It is time to go home, my love.”

“You wear reckless like French women wear lipstick. Subtle some days, red hot on other, but always, always, always essential.”

“And the villain fades away into obscurity, never to be seen or heard from again…”

“A Tempest rising, without fail.”

“The vampire hat is a really nice touch.”

“I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.”

“We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.”

“He’s got the manners of a rabid polar bear”

“Words absolutely no normal person has ever wanted to hear,”

“I thought a stake through the heart is what killed vampires, not—”

“I Like Standing on  My Own Two Feet, but  Getting Swept Off Them Feels  Surprisingly Good, Too”

“You’re more than you think you are,”

“But being able to fool people into thinking you have character isn’t the same as actually having character.”

“When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school? Gross. And so not happening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t imagine what world he’s talking about, considering I’m currently living in the middle of a fantasy novel.”

“Biggest fear: Ending up alone because I’ll always love the wrong person. Is that too deep? How about “the ocean.” We have no idea what’s down there. I don’t trust that shit.”

“When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do. “

“Books are fascinating and fun.”

“it would, which, in my mind, proves the theory that you hold on until the other person pulls away because you never know what they’re going through and if they need the comfort.”

“Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.”

[chipper-smol]

Vanilla 2 Chain

Prompt: Hollow experiences phantom limb syndrome 

is more angst time

( https://twitter.com/Perfidy19  )

Nothing lasts forever.

That was the last lesson the Hollow Knight received from their father upon being sealed away in the Black Egg Temple.

Nothing lasts. Not Hallownest. Not the Radiance. Not Father.

Not even the Void, as they had discovered during the time they were sealed away, watching as the Infection searing within their arm at last tore away the final, stretched strands. A silent snap, and the detached limb fell to the floor, sinking into the ground in a pool of writhing ink.

It was then that they had realised, finally, the irony of their predicament, the stump left behind burning with the searing rage of the Old Light.

If even the all encompassing Void did not last, then Hallownest’s perpetuation was truly an impossible wish.

They lamented the irony of it all once again, now as they sat hunched over in their current resting spot, in the corner of an abandoned village home. Ironic, how the very one who had wished the most fervently for an eternal kingdom, would also be the one to teach them the inevitability of the end.

The stump where the Infection had once burned now throbbed.

Yes. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the knowledge that they had once believed timeless meant much in the end. The court manners? Hallownest’s upper class was dead, rules hardly mattered anymore. The training their father, the Pale King, had bestowed upon them? Pointless. They barely even had the strength to stand up. The only, right way to deal with the Infection?

Clearly, that information had been wrong from the start, seeing as how their rejected sibling had found another way to do away with it entirely, while they had only managed to buy time.

“Do you want something to eat, Hollow?”

They raised their head at the sound. Hornet scuttled in through the door, her needle clenched in her fist, a bundle of… something wedged under her arm.

“I did not know what your preference was,” she tipped the contents of the bundle onto the floor. Two speared tiktiks and some baby gruzzers rolled onto a bed of dried nuts and grass. “So I brought a bit of everything. But the gruzzers need some treatment before they can be eaten, so-“

Hollow listened as she talked, her bustling, business-like manner reminding them strongly of the late Queen of Deepnest. Hornet had changed since they had last seen her. No longer the scampering grub that they remembered, she had grown up into a fine hunter, perfectly capable of defending herself.

To think that she had once been no taller than the hilt of their nail, wielding a toy needle made of shellwood. It had been amusing to watch her run around the White Palace, full of energy and free from the stiff formalities of the Royal Retainers around her.

Endearing. Inquisitive. A bit of a troublemaker, but her mischief never put anyone in harm's way. They fondly recalled the days when she would take their nail and attempt to swing it around in the same fashion as the Great Nailsage, her little legs teetering under its weight.

Father had never liked when she did that. While Mother merely watched in amusement, he would personally confiscate the nail, then proceed to sternly lecture her on the dangers of sharp, metal objects. Not that she listened.

Father had not liked it either when Hollow was about to learn the way of the nail. Clumsy, he had called them. Without a mind, he claimed, it would be difficult to teach them to properly balance and swing the weapon, let alone fight with it.

And he had been right too. A long time they had spent practicing alone in secret, repeatedly thrashing the heavy training nail up and down, up and down all through the night, trying to imitate the way the Great Knight Dryya had done it.

Up and down, up and down, the weight of the training nail dragging heavy on their arms, the pain of lifting it twisting at their spell hand, the strain tearing through their shell, through their Void, through the bright, bright orange light that-

“-can you even eat?”

Hollow twitched in surprise, shaking their head clear of the pained haze originating from the stump of their arm.

“No? Well…” Hornet stared down disappointed at the small pile of food she had collected for them. “I suppose I’d never seen the little ghost eat before.”

The look of hurriedly concealed distress on her face was familiar, and made them feel ashamed of worrying her. They raised their a- ... their other arm from where it had been resting on their nail, and picked up one of the nuts. Delicately, they pretended to nibble on it, then hid it away within the Void inside their shell.

Hornet visibly brightened up.

“Oh! So you can. I was worried for a moment there. I’ll go get some more supplies, make this place more comfortable. Then, once you’re well and rested, we shall find a way up the well for a more permanent residence.”

Hollow nodded, then slumped back into their thoughts as Hornet ran out the door.

Thoughts. It was frightening to think that they had been… well, thinking, this whole time despite trying their best to stay empty. The one expectation from their father had had towards them had been simple. Do not think. Yet the act of thinking had become so natural to them that the idea of not thinking had become a notion in itself.

Perhaps that was why their sibling had succeeded where they had failed. They had not been empty enough, not pure enough. Where the Radiance’s angry cries should have fallen on deaf ears, they had instead listened, endured, resisted.

And then when she noticed, oh, she had been so very angry.

And so very pleased.

They could almost see it now, the glaring orange dreamscape blazing with her ancient fury. The floating pavilions bathed in flames, the endless fall through the burning sky. Her booming voice screaming down at them from above, echoing through the infinitely stretching space. Cursing them for all the things their Father did, and Hallownest did, and the moth tribe did.

Through the burning hellscape, her cold, glaring eyes stared right into them, chilling like ice, bright like the lighthouse down in the Abyss. Her eyes shone such cold, piercing light into them, through them, exposing them and their falseness.

I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.

They lifted their arm to fight back, to chase her away. They conjured glowing daggers at their fingertips and thr- no, they didn’t throw the daggers. They tried again, but they couldn’t throw the daggers, the daggers were still there, at their fingertips, in their fingertips. They were right there, building up soul energy focused into their hand, but they couldn’t let go, and it was there, building up, that searing white bubbling to molten orange and burning and burning right up to their shoulder and the world was burning and they were burning a-

“Hollow?”

They were once again torn away from their thoughts and the pain in their stump by Hornet gently shaking their arm (Their sword arm. Their spell arm was still gone. Still gone yet it was still there hurting, but it was gone).

She was worried now, that was bad. How did she know, when they had never uttered a word, had never been able to utter a word? Their mask was still expressionless… perhaps their body language? They realised that they had been shaking this whole time. Simply distracted from that fact by the persistent, burning throb in their shoulder.

They dipped their head. How shameful. To think that they used to be able to wait through days of longing for Mother and Father’s company, without displaying signs of being anything but empty. To be able to continue through their training under a facade of normalcy, despite their mask being on the verge of cracking. They had been able to endure years of the Radiance’s torment, all her terrible dreams and her screaming voice.

Yet now? It was just a lost arm, an old wound nonetheless, but it was already tearing them apart to the point of showing such a weakened side of them.

“You seem upset,” Hornet’s voice was gentle, a tone that they had not heard in a long time. “Are you alright?”

They began to shake their head, then nodded. Then slumped over.

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Hornet sighed. Then, to their surprise, came to sit down next to them. “Are you lost?”

A sigh.

“I certainly feel lost, Hollow. Hallownest was gone. Now so is the Infection. And the little ghost, I… I can’t find them anywhere.”

Hesitantly, they patted her back.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Me neither.

A moment of silence. Then she glanced up.

“But you’re back.”

Hollow tilted their head.

“And that’s good, isn’t it?

Nothing lasts forever.

“You’re not the Pure Vessel, and I’m not the Princess of Deepnest.”

Not Hallownest.

“You don’t have to contain the Radiance anymore.”

Not the Radiance.

Her voice turned shaky.

“I don’t have to… put our siblings to rest anymore.”

Not… Father.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Nor the mindlessness of Void.

...

But none of that really mattered in the end, did it?

“That’s right. It’s alright. It hurts. All of it hurts, but...”

Hornet smiled, and put a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it did not hurt quite so much anymore.

“We’ll work this out together, won’t we?”

( @hawaiianbabidoll​ )

( @alaska-ren​ )

Falling. Flawed. Forsaken. Forgotten. And that sickening, sweet glow of orange.

They deserved this punishment. Every damn second of this madness. It is their sin, it is their lie that caused all this. If they had come to their father and confessed, they would die. But death was a much better fate than ​this.

The irony. Their end was much like their other siblings’. Falling, eternal, until the inevitable crash.

They only wanted to save their father’s kingdom. Only wanted to make them all proud. Only wanted to be who they were supposed to be.

A failure.

It’s a sea. A constant sea of faces and expectations, with two becoming larger and larger as the years passed.

One pale shining light crowned with horns. One small shell with betrayed, black eyes.

It’s their fault. Gods, it’s their fault. It’s their fault they deserve this it hurts father pleaseithurtsIdon’twantthishelphelpfaultmyfaultmYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTFATHERIT’SMINEF ATHERFATHER F A T H E R

End        Me

                Fathe-

The Hollow Knight shot forward and reached for their nail, only finding a warm hand holding their wrist. Flowing, gentle red filled their vision and the warm hand placed theirs back on their lap.

“Sibling,” Hornet called out again, softer this time. “You’ve been dreaming.”

Hollow lowered their head, the void inside them pulsing and making their shell cold and trembling. Hornet hesitated, and with Hollow’s nod, sat beside them. Hollow stayed still, and would have placed a calm air if they could ever do it again at all. They had no more need to hide, so why...

“Sibling!”

“Troubled mind?” Hollow huffed and looked away when Hornet chuckled. “Care to let me in?”

My mind is a dark place, sister. I do not want you to be here.

Hornet’s eyes softened before crossing her legs and hugging her knees close. “Silent as ever, sibling.” The wind crawling through the dark caverns served as her only response.

“Do you regret this? All of this?” Hollow twisted their head and their wide eyes met tired ones. Their chest squeezed in anguish, sorrow, and grief. They were not the only casualty in this war between gods. They copied Hornet’s pose, and placed their head on their only arm.

... There are many things I wish I had done, but if I were given the choice to sacrifice myself once more for our future, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it was their shared wyrm parentage, or their bond as siblings, or just pure intuition, but Hornet more than felt Hollow’s unspoken reply. “Oh, no,” she chuckled and shook her head, “No, no, no, I won’t let you do it again.” Hornet turned her body and fully faced the sibling she grew up with for so many years. “You will not sacrifice yourself again. Not to me. Not to any of us. Not to yourself.”

Hornet stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Hollow’s lowered head. Hollow didn’t have the energy to look at her anymore, to even lift their hand anymore. Both Hornet and they were born for a purpose. With that purpose stripped away, what are they?

“We were both children, sibling,” Hornet’s words carved through the silence, and struck right into Hollow’s soul. “Children are not meant to carry something as heavy as... this.”

“It is much easier to disappear, isn’t it?” Hollow’s eyes rose to look at Hornet’s cloak, too tired to look her in the eyes. They nodded, it is easier. If they disappeared, they wouldn’t think, wouldn’t feel. They’d be so much closer to being ‘pure’.

“You know, when you were sealed in the egg, when you disappeared... When... my mother disappeared,” Hollow swallowed a lump in their throat when a tiny crack shattered Hornet’s voice. She stopped her words and looked away. Hollow watched as she swiped at her eyes and took in deep breaths.

“I have watched this kingdom grow, fall, and die. I stayed when everyone left. I could have chosen to disappear as well, it would be so easy.”

“But that is not what it means to ​live.”​ Hornet moved and placed herself in front of Hollow, her red cloak billowing around her.

“Hollow, I want you to live.”

I do not know how.

Hollow’s silence was disturbed by the rustling of fabric. They watched as Hornet dusted herself off and in moments looked as the Princess Protector of Hallownest she always was.

“Then, do you think you can walk with me, sibling?”

The tilt of her head and bright determined eyes took hold of something in Hollow’s chest. Something warm.

I think... I can walk with you, sister.

Hornet stood and offered her hand, “Together?”

Together.

( @snakeyarts​ )

( @nonbinary-ghost​ )

Hornet let out an almost imperceptible sigh as they reached the hot springs, the damp air warm against her shell. The journey from the Black Egg Temple to the Crossroad’s Hot Springs was not a long one, but it had taken her more than a day to reach it given her… charge. 

Hornet glanced back at her sibling, something twisting in her shell at the sight of their battered form leaning heavily on their longnail by their one remaining arm. Their whole body shook as they panted for breath, bits of void leaking from the deep wounds in their side and the crack down their mask despite the bandages of webbing Hornet had applied. They way they slumped weakly, like an old rag doll with the stuffing worked out of its joints, made Hornet’s heart ache. They looked scant inches from death.

Hornet did her best to mask her worry, trying to exude an air of calm confidence as she stood upright, ever ready to dart forward to catch them if they stumbled. She urged them forward with a hand wave, hesitant to touch them for fear of causing them more harm. Sometimes, when hurt so gravely, it was best for one to move for oneself if possible, since one knew what ways would hurt.

The tension in Hornet’s shoulders eased only once she helped lower the once Hollow Knight into the warm waters of the hot spring, offering her hand for support as they unsteadily waded into the water. She watched in wonder as they visibly relaxed into the warmth, the flow of void leaking from their injuries slowing as white flickers of light began to float around them. Hornet was relieved to see that the graveness of their injuries did not render them completely immune to the regenerative properties of the hot springs and she finally allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe…maybe they would be alright. 

She glanced down at the hard, cloak-wrapped bundle clutched under her arm. Carefully, as if afraid she’d break it further, Hornet unwrapped the shattered mask from the tattered grey cloak she’d swaddled it in. That strange, twisting feeling again clawed at her chest at the mask cracked perfectly in half cradled in her hands.

Ghost…

When she had swooped into the Black Egg Temple to aid them against their sibling, Hornet had possessed little hope for any of them to survive. At best, she’d hoped to defeat the Radiance, to vanquish the infection once and for all. At worst, she knew a slow, painful fall to the void or infection would be their only end as the Radiance’s calamity continued to blaze through what little remained of Hollownest. To be perfectly honest, she had thought hardly anything at all. She only knew there was an opening for her aid, a way to give Ghost the chance they needed to enter the Hollow Knight’s dream as they had with her mother. Survival had been, frankly, the last thing on her mind. 

Yet, when she had awakened once more in that temple, soft white light seeping in through the shattered ceiling to replace the fading void and haze of infection, that traitorous emotion had crept into her shell. The veins of orange infection lacing the walls of the temple withered and died, fading to black before crumbling away. That almost painful stab of hope only grew sharper when she discovered her sibling, the Hollow Knight, sprawled across the cracked ground, void dripping from their missing arm and the deep pits in their shell, but somehow, miraculously, still alive. 

Ghost, however, had not been so fortunate, and the nail of remorse that had lanced through her at the sight of their shattered mask had nearly brought Hornet to her knees. It wasn’t fair. The three of them had done it. They had won. They had beat the Radiance and her infection. Together. So why, then, had she and the Hollow Knight survived, but Ghost had not?

Knowing it was futile but still harboring that foolish flicker of hope, Hornet lowered Ghost’s broken mask into a shallow edge of the spring. Maybe, if their mask was whole, Ghost could come back, as the Hollow Knight had.

The white shards stayed sharp and jagged in the murky waters, as inert and still as stone.

Hornet’s shoulders slumped and that childish hope sputtered and died in her chest. 

The quiet slosh of moving water brought Hornet’s attention up to the Hollow Knight, surprised to find them moving about already as they carefully, hesitantly, shifted toward her. She blinked at the way the glowing light of the hot spring coiled around them, and for the briefest of heartbeats she imagined that light held a more yellow tinge, splaying out behind them in the Radiances starburst. She could almost imagine their eyes again alight… but no. No, the light was white and wispy, nothing more than steam, and the Hollow Knight’s one uncovered eye was a steady, empty black. The Radiance was gone. Hornet’s sibling was cured. 

For a moment, Hornet put aside her disappointment over Ghost’s mask and allowed herself to revel in the relief and joy that zinged through her at the sight of the sibling she had long assumed lost to her alive, if not completely well. She searched their void-black eye for any flicker of light, as the mental image of their glowing-orange eyes seeping tears of infection refused to fade. She cringed as she recalled the way they had turned their nail on themself in a desperate attempt to cut that infection away, to prevent their body from being puppeted into hurting Ghost. She reached out a hand, not quite touching their white mask still half covered in bandages. She was not sure if her touch would be welcome, or if it would only cause her injured sibling greater distress. 

“Hollow –“ she choked, surprised at the tightness in her throat. She swallowed. What was she going to say? ‘I’m glad you’re alive’? ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened’? Somehow, everything that came to mind felt inadequate and she fell back on the security of practicality. “Are you alright? Do you still hurt?” 

Her sibling stared a moment, as if processing her words. Slowly, they lifted their sodden cloak to glance down at the bandages wrapped around them. Their right arm was still missing, long since eaten away by the infection and well beyond the hot spring’s ability to heal, but the dark void no longer bled from under the bandages. Hornet reached forward, intending to unwrap the webbing to take a closer look, to be certain they were no longer hurt, but the way their sibling went absolutely motionless at the movement froze her in place. She abruptly recalled that they were completely unaccustomed to such care, even prior to becoming the Hollow Knight, and the only sensation they had experienced for all this time since they was pain. Did they fear her touch, worried it would bring harm?

“I promise, I will not hurt you,” she assured them gently. “I wish only to remove the bandages. May I?”

Stare.

Then, ever so slightly, the barest nod of their mask.

Hornet carefully, oh so carefully, removed the bandages to reveal the scarred shell underneath. No longer open, bleeding wounds, the Hollow Knight’s injuries were little more than slightly duller grey scars along the perfect black of their carapace. However, when she unwrapped the bandage over the Hollow Knight’s eye, Hornet had to stifle a flicker of sorrow to find their mask still cracked. She gently cupped their cheek, staring into their eyes as a confusing swirl of emotions eddied through her. The sharp ache of hope in her chest was only sharpened by the dark coil of fear twisting and untwisting in her belly – the fear of doing too little, too late; of potentially discovering that her sibling was actually hollow after a fashion; the fear of them not. There was an uncomfortable itch of confusion somewhere in there too, at their shared survival, and a warm flicker of gratitude tainted with sorrow that they had, even if at Ghost’s expense, though it pained her to admit as much. But most of all was shame, and a steady, burning anger that pulsed in the pit of her belly at what had been done to her sibling, at what trials they had endured.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. For what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say. How did one apologize for anything that had happened to her sibling? She knew none of what happened to them had been her fault – she had been far too young, too small, to prevent their binding. But she still felt the deepest shame at her continued inability – nay her refusal -  to brake those bindings herself, at the role she played in even preserving them. A cold, fracturing pain broke her heart as she fully comprehended just how much they had suffered in all the time that had passed. How could one ever adequately apologize for that?

She could feel the Hollow Knight begin to shake slightly under her touch, their shoulders trembling as their breathing became labored. For an instant, Hornet feared something was wrong, that she’d hurt them somehow, that they might vanish in a cloud of void just as Ghost had. 

But when dark tears of void began to spill from their eyes, and their quick breaths quickly dissolved into silent sobs, she realized they were probably only just beginning to process what had happened to them. She went to withdraw her hand, intending to give them space, but their own hand quickly covered hers and they leaned into her touch. Surprise pulsed through her at the motion, at the clear assertion of want without her prompting. An instinct Hornet had long thought dead had the spiderling wading into the water with her sibling and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. They were so much bigger than she that she had to stand to give them a hug, even as they remained seated. But the way they clung to her as shuddering sobs raked through them made them feel so small and fragile in her arms, and she blinked away tears of her own. She gently stroked their back as they cried, holding them tight as if her arms alone could keep them from falling apart. She found herself murmuring that it was okay, that they could cry now, they could let themself feel. The Radiance was destroyed, her infection gone. They had done it - they had kept their oath despite it all. She promised them they were safe. They were free.

For how long they remained like that, Hornet could only guess. Her back and arms had long since begun to ache at holding her much larger sibling aloft, but she steadfastly refused to be the first to draw away. Her sibling needed her, and this time wyrm damn it she was going to be here. 

After a time, the Hollow Knight’s breathing slowed, and their shaking lessened. She let them draw away at the slightest tug. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel trapped. Their white mask was stained with dark streaks and she retrieved one of the bandages to wipe it clean. Her sibling pressed their mask into her hand as she worked and she got the sense that they were trying to express a form of gratitude. Relief and joy had begun to overwhelm all the other emotions that still twisted in Hornet’s chest – not quite replacing them but at least quelling them. Her sibling was alive, and this time they were free. It felt a wonder that such a thing could be possible, and some small part of Hornet swelled with pride at the knowledge that she had helped make this happen, even if mostly unintentionally. She vowed that this time, she would make certain they got to live fully and freely. 

Her thumb brushed the jagged edge of the crack in their mask and Hornet’s mind began to search for ways to make things better for her sibling, needing to prove to them through actions that they truly were safe now. That she cared.

“I wonder if the Mask Maker could repair this,” she mused, her thoughts drifting to the strange recluse who lived above her home in Deepnest. She knew he had been the one too craft the Hollow Knight’s mask as they grew up, since the vessels were incapable of molting like an average bug. If he was still alive, maybe the Mask Maker could help heal her sibling.

A thought occurred to her with a cold prickling across her shell and Hornet turned to Ghost’s mask still sitting broken in the water.

Perhaps…

Hollow let Hornet pull her hand away and she carefully plucked those white shards from the water, re-wrapping them in Ghost’s old cloak. Her motions were quick with a new purpose and the Hollow Knight stared at her, their confusion clear in the tilt of their head. 

“I have an idea,” she admitted, tucking the bundle in a silk bag under her cloak. A fragile hope had begun to rekindle in her chest. “There might be a way to get Ghost back.”

She paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?” 

( https://twitter.com/RannHKnight )

( @enbeebo​ )

( @jenmodri​ )

( https://twitter.com/hakunoknight )

( @lickthejam​ )

[hikarimiyanaga]

I'll Always Be Yours Pt. 2

Pt. 1

Second Song: Eroplanong Papel (Paper Airplane)

You finally leave Russia to go to America and try to find the love of your life.

An update!?

I just need to write three more songs and I will finally finish this series. And while doing that I'm also writing a Wanda fanfic too.

.....

I'm suddenly writing fanfics again, considering that there's like a hundred plots waiting for me in my phone.

*shrugs*

Oh well. Inspiration hits when Inspiration hits.

Warning : More Angst

Wait, don't be filled with misery

The hope you dream of will also come

Isn't it enough that you have love

In your heart that is irreplaceable?

You smiled

-

You yawn as you go through the mall. You’ve finally decided to come to America to hopefully find Natalia. It’s been a week since you’ve got here.

“Y/N?” A hopeful voice calls out your name and you turn eagerly… only to be met by fangirls.

“Yes. It’s me.” They squeal and ask for photos, which you oblige to. When they leave, you sigh in relief.

“Rough girls?” You grin as you face Silvia. She’s your bodyguard who doesn’t really stop fangirls because she’s one of them. She’s been a fan of your paintings since you started.

“Not really. Just… America is intense.” Silvia scoffs at that.

“More intense than Russia?” You laugh at that and shake your head.

“Than Philippines.”

“Ah.” You hum and the two of you begin walking again. As you walk by a fountain, you could see that it’s base was occupied by couples. And you can’t help but remember her.

Her soft lips that you can’t get enough of. Her hands that seemed to mold with yours. Her sexy body that you can’t stop worshipping. Her voice that pants out your name. Her laugh that you could equivalate to heaven.

A single lone tear escapes your eye and Silvia eyes you worriedly. You quickly wipe the tear away and wave away her concern. And then you smile. Those memories… you hope to make them anew and add even more to them. God, you hope you’re not too late.

-

Blow the wind in your hand cold

Moaning voice, in my hearing

Your thoughts and feelings will fly away

Can it still get to her side?

You close your eyes

-

It’s winter now. You write in your journal. You decided to let Silvia on her own vacation after she spent the last five months with you just roaming around on this country. You blow into your gloved hands, hoping to ease the cold. You were in Alaska and it was cold as fuck. Damn.

Journal, it’s been months since I’ve been here… Can I ever find her? Is there hope? Even if there isn’t. I just want to see her one more time. To remember why I wake up every day. Why I still wait for her heart to come back to mine. I don’t care if she’s happy with another person or if she’s forgotten me. Just please. Let me see her. Let me see the love of my life.

You whine as you put your pen down. That’s it. Tomorrow, you’re leaving… Is this why your mom makes sure to leave Russia when winter comes around? Goddamn, you’re lucky she always takes you to the Philippines for Christmas. You read over your words and close the journal. You close your eyes and hope the words reach her.

‘Please, whoever the fuck I have to believe I will believe. Just. Let me see her again.’

-

If my prayers are not heard

Reach out at every moment

I have to shout, I'm yours

The prayer of the heart is you

-

You’re in Los Angeles now. You’ve been here for three days and you’ve been drunk every single night. It was a temporary high, you know, but it makes you forget about her even if it’s just for the night. You stumble upon your hotel room and reach the balcony. You’re not that drunk to think to jump off from the 15th floor but you’re that drunk to shout out your frustrations.

“GODDAMN IT!” You shout and no one replies, only various car noises and loud music. “JUST ONCE! FUCKING HELL! I JUST NEED TO SEE HER AGAIN!” You didn’t care if it was hurting your voice. You wanted to do something to ease the pain you’ve been feeling. You sob as you slide down on the floor. “I JUST WANT TO SEE NATALIA AGAIN!” You punch the floor and wince as your fist connected to the solid rock. “I’M STILL YOURS, NATALIA! PLEASE!” You breakdown and sob as you hug your knees to your chest.

Damn it. It was the only thing your heart wanted. Her. So why can’t you find her?

“Goddamn it.” You say and you sob again.

-

Wait, don't hold back your tears

Your feelings will rise to the ceased destiny

Your palm will reach the desire

Can it still get to her side?

You close your eyes

-

You were now in a random mall. You took a deep breath when you see her red hair. You were about to call out when she kisses the man behind her and all of your words. Your declarations of love get stuck in your throat. And all you can think about-

“Oh.” You say then you laugh. Many people look at you but not her. Never her. It seems that she has really forgot you. Your tears fall down before you can even stop and you cover your mouth to not let the sobs out. Then you realize… was it really her? You stop outside and you see them both get into the car. You meet her eyes for a second and all you could see was unfamiliar. She was not yours anymore. She’s not the Natalia you always knew. The Natalia that you’ve loved. But as the man pulls away from the parking lot, you hold a fist over your heart… Because damn it. She really does still have that effect on you. You close your eyes as you hear their car drive away. You let the pain wash over your whole body and you kneel.

You finally saw Natalia again… But she was not yours anymore. You sob louder this time as you make your way to your car. You lock it and sob your heart out.

-

And with every stiffness of my resentment

You will not be approached

I’ll Just beg

If my prayers are not heard

Reach out at every moment

I have to shout, I'm yours

The prayer of the heart is you

-

You stand outside the Avengers Compound and sigh. You researched on her. She goes by Natasha now. You resent her. You gave away your life for her. Every single time that people begged you to let her go and you still held on. You gave away every single year just to fucking wait for her. To make sure that she has someone to go home to. And she was here. Enjoying life with Steve Rogers. The wonder boyfriend. Captain America himself. You scoff as you let the pain take over your heart.

“Hello?” You turn and see Steve Fucking Rogers himself approach you. He’s holding bags of groceries and you smile sadly at him. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He asks politely and you almost punch him… but you knew that it wouldn’t do anything. He’s a super soldier for fuck’s sake… and you… you’re just you. Nothing but a past memory and a phantom from her previous life.

“Just.” You pause as you try to get the words out. “Please. Take care of her.” He tilts his head in confusion.

“Who?”

“Nat.” You grin.

“Oh. Do you know her?” You shake your head at him and begin walking away. Tears fall down as you walk away from the compound’s gates.

-

“Well, that was weird.” Steve says as he steps into the kitchen.

“What was?” Natasha asks as she eats the remaining sandwich that she got herself.

“There was someone outside. A woman.”

“And?”

“She was just staring at the compound when I arrived. Then she asked me to take care of you.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah. Nat can only be you, right?” She drops her sandwich and grabs Steve’s collars.

“What direction did she go?” Steve furrows his brows at her behavior.

“To the park? Do you know her?” Natasha nods and quickly gets her jacket and wait for the elevator to take her down.

“I think so!” She answers as the doors closes.

-

She runs to the park and tries to find you. She smiles as she spots your hooded figure. She runs to you but she slowly comes to a stop as she hears you sing. And oh was your voice beautiful to her ears. But your tone… You were crying as you sang.

You let the music drown out your pain and you begin singing along as you cry. It was as if these lyrics were made for you. You sang in Filipino as you learned it in all your trips there.

Natasha cries silently as she listens to your broken voice. Your quiet sobs and hiccups. What has she done? Why didn’t she come for you sooner? She’s always thought that you were better off without her. That being with her meant that you were also in danger. But as you sit there, singing while crying, she couldn’t help but want to punch herself. You’re crying. And goddamn it, if you were not beautiful. Natasha never forgot you.

She sits besides you and you don’t notice, still wanting to get all of your pain out before you go back. Before you paint again. You finally stop and pant.

“Nice song.” She says but you don’t answer. You were still trying to catch your breath. And she let you rest before talking again. “Y/N.” She calls out but you don’t answer again. Were you avoiding her? She then notices the earphones on your ears and how she can faintly hear music. God. How loud was the thing?

You close your eyes and sigh. She takes an earphone out and you flinch away as you stand. Who the fuc-? Your words die on your mouth, the moment you see her.

“Nat.” You say softly and she smiles at you.

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted-“

“It’s too late, Nat.” She flinches and you take a step back. You run a hand through your hair. “You should go back and I will too.” You put on your hoodie and power walk away from her.

Nat was about to go after you when her phone suddenly rings. She sighs and answers it when she sees that it’s Fury.

A/N:

I'm not crying, you are. Also, no one can stop me from killing myself with Angst.

I'm considering of posting for everyday if possible? Considering I'm going to be home, doing absolutely nothing since Professor are actually considerate for our health... Which is new.

So if I do finish some time this day or next week, then everyday it is.

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Vegas: epilogue

With the extremely unorthodox event over with, the family were to be rayshifted back to Novum Chaldea.

Da Vinci: ok.... with all that terrible stuff finally over with, it's time to bring you all back!

Mari: finally, I'm tired from all this.

Quetz: si, I'm ready to go back.

Da Vinci; right, just hold on tight I'm gonna get started right awa-

*static*

Rex: huh?!

Ed: what happened?!

*the visuals are restored, but instead of Da Vinci it's BB that's seen*

Mari: BB?!

BB: uh, no time to explain. Time for you all to go back to your proper time!

Quetz: eh? I thought you'd want to mess with us more?

BB: things have changed, it's better you all go back!

Rex: uh, ok then....

Then the Rayshifting sound was heard before a flash of light covered the family's sight. They then found themselves back at the Yucatan house.

Ed: wait?! What are we doing here?!

Mari: we were supposed to be in Alaska!

???: that's because I am the one who brought you all here.

The family turned to see the source of the voice. It was actually one of Quetz's brothers, Huitzilopochtli. He seemed to be standing in what looked to be a portal.

Quetz: hermano.... what are you doing here?

Huitz: I am here only to tell you what we have planned, unfortunately.

Quetz, looking annoyed: que es eso? What do you mean?

Huitz: after the growth that your children have shown and the seemingly inevitability of the prophecy being fulfilled. We've decided the best thing to do is to shut the gates of the heavens and underworld, stranding you and any allies to the earth.

Quetz: What?! Are you all out of your mind?! Do you not realize the constant of that?! What of the human souls?!

Huitz: for the time being, until we can find a way around this, they'll have to be stranded aswell.

Quetz: that's insane!!!!

Huitz: lo siento, hermana. But we cannot afford to allow you and your family to bring an end to the 5th world. And this seems to be the best choice for the time being. Goodbye sister.

Quetz: wait!

The portal Huitzilopochtli was standing in closed. And it seemed there wasn't much to be done.

Rex: what the.....

Mari: why would they.....?

Ed: well.... now what?!

Quetz: I do not know.....

Rex: well.... despite what he said, I doubt they can figure out a way to allow human souls back in without also allowing us in. So.... eventually it'll have to open up again.

Quetz: but what will we do until then?

Rex: well... maybe we can finally live that more normal life we wanted?

Quetz: normal?

Rex: well it seems they finally decided to stop sending monsters to attack the kids, so without that being a problem, we can finally stop worrying about that!

Mari: oh.... yeah, you're right!

Ed: huh... yeah, we can stop worrying.

Quetz: but even so... we'll still need to be ready for when the gates finally open up!

Rex: well, we'll still be preparing for that, but it won't be such a huge priority. Not until the time comes. The kids just need to learn to properly control their abilities.

Quetz: well how do you think we should do tha-

???: Hermana!

Before Quetz could finish that thought, someone else chimed in. It was Tlazolteotl and a few others.

Tlaz: Quetz, what happened? Why can't we leave the mortal realm?!

Quetz: The other gods... shut the gates to the heavens and the underworld so that we cannot enter anymore.

Tlaz: que?! They'd seriously go that far?!

Quetz: looks like it.

Then Coyolxauhqui, another of Quetz's sisters also had something to say.

Coyo: so we're stranded here?! How long will the gates be closed?!

Rex: we don't know, but it's likely not forever. They'll eventually have to open up.

Mari: or we'll have to bust in ourselves.

Tlaz: so what do we do then?

Rex: well.... we kind of wanted to see if we can just live a relatively normal life for the time being. Since no one will be hunting the kids anymore.

Tlaz: oh.... I guess that's a good point.... verga, how long has it been?

Quetz: five years....

Coyo: pinche madre....

Rex: but we'll still need to be prepared for when it all comes back again. We're just not sure how to.

Tlaz: sounds like they'll maybe need some help in learning.

Ed: wait..... are you guys going to help us understand these powers better?

Tlaz: well.... I cannot but.... I do happen to know someone who can help you hijo..... aye, never thought I'd have to talk to him again....

Ed: who?

Quetz: we can talk about him a bit later....

Mari: and what about me?!

Coyo: well I may also know.... someone... who'll be able to teach you...

Mari: well tell me then!

Coyo: *sigh* it's Itzpa....

Rex: really? Interesting.

Mari: ok, Coyo shared. Tlaz you gotta too!

Quetz: mija, don't force it on her.

Tlaz: no.... she's right. I already have to talk to the fucker, avoiding his name is nothing. It's... Chocl.... he can help Ed.

Quetz: QUE?! But you hated him!?

Tlaz: si pero..... he's the perfect teacher, and.... this is much bigger then that.

Rex: wow... swallowing your pride for the kids?

Tlaz: let's not... until we get there, por favor.

Mari: ok then. Sounds good.

A/N: so there's the epilogue more or less to the Vegas story. There's technically a few more loose-ends but with time that'll be resolved. So for the time being, the other divine realms are off limits unfortunately. And a good number of gods are now stranded too....

Tags

@havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong

[na-klar]

druck nora ep 2 translation

Friday, 17:03

Ava: Do you want to drink something?

Nora: Oh yeah, thanks.

Ava: Exhausting day?

Nora: Yeah... until 10th period, dude. You?

Ava: Mh, pretty chill.

Nora: Nice. We were in the same class in fifth grade, right? But I feel like I haven’t seen you for a long time in school.

Ava: Yeah, I was a year in Alaska.

Nora: Alaska?!

Ava: Mhm!

Nora: Whaaat? Okay, that’s wild.

Ava: Yes...

Nora: Oh wait, sorry.

Zoe: Hey Nori, we’re on our way to the parking lot. Are you coming? We’d be really happy ☀

Nora: Good, uhm... should we start?

Ava: Let’s wait for the others. I’m sure they’re coming soon.

Nora: Okay.

Ava: The owner of this Späti(*) is super nice, by the way.

Nora: Really?

Ava: Yes!

Nora: Cool.

Ava: Yeah. We’ll have to have all our Abi meetings here.

Nora: Yeah, definitely. Support your local Späti, right?

Ava: Yes, exactly! Do you think the others are really all drinking alcohol right now?

Nora: I think they are, unfortunately. Let’s see.

Zoe: Guyyyyssss! Tomorrow huge parking lot rave! We’re drinking away all the money!

Constantin: The abi is getting cancelled so we’ll drink away all the money.

Ismail: Fuck Corona, fuck Corona.

Nora: My god, that’s so embarrassing. What?

Ava: Sorry. Damn! I just had a thougt... when I was in Alaska - it was really rough with these guys in 9th grade. Maybe you noticed it, too.

Nora: I didn’t really know them back then-

Ava: It was extremely shitty. And I thought, yeah, I’ll go away for a year, forget about it, and become a new person! Then I come back and the great thing is they’re still the same assholes. I’ve learned to defend myself but... but they always find something to show how great they are. I don’t want to let these jerks win all the time anymore. What’s that?

Nora: Ah, I found that...

Ava: Show me. Okay? What is that?

Nora: Okay, this is going to sound weird but some dude ran into me, I let my phone fall, it’s cracked now, and then I found his fanny pack and now we’re writing stickers to each other.

Ava: Okay, that sounds cool. And how..?

Nora: Like I said, he smashed my phone to the ground and then I took his fanny pack--

Fatou: Hey, where is everyone?

Nora: Nobody else came.

Fatou: But Kieu My and the rest posted it in their stories, didn’t they?

Nora: We’re the others.

Fatou: Oh...

Ava: Yep. We’re not the party, we’re the abi committee. You swapped the addresses.

Fatou: Fuck.

Mailin: Hey guys, we have to go to that parking lot immediately.

Fatou: Yes!

Ava: No! We’re the abi committee and you are?

Mailin: I know, I’m Mailin. I saw what they posted in their stories. We can’t let them do that! They’re drinking away all the money from our year! We have to stop them somehow.

Ava: Okay. How?

Mailin: I have an idea. Constantin and Ismail and everyone, they can wrap it up. Are you coming?

Ava: Let’s go, hm?

Nora: Alright, let’s go.

Nora: Hey!

Ismail: Oh, look at that.

Zoe: Nora!

Ismail: You’re hanging out with her now?

Nora: With Ava? Yes.

Finn: Do you want a beer?

Ismail: Shut up.

Ava: Little bit of a 90′s village festival, here on the parking lot, don’t you think?

Constantin: What do you want?

Fatou: Your souls.

Mailin: It’s just really rude what you’re doing here. Anyone who saw the story can come over and steal the money.

Constantin: Don’t be annoying.

Ismail: If you want your 10 € back, go on. But let us have fun here.

Nora: Wow, you guys are so cool. I see 10 people showed up! 

Zoe: Nora... let it be.

Nora: Man, no! You’re not ruling over our whole fucking year. You’re in school acting like you’re the absolute greatest and are dragging other people down only because you have an inferiority complex. I’m not part of this anymore.

Mailin: Woo! Okay guys, I got the money!

(* Späti: convenience store in Berlin)

[modern-vellichor]

The Butcher

Summary: you wonder why he let's you -the butcher- touch him -the sun-

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: minor self harm, blood, self deprecation, doubtful thoughts, reader no happy, gentle!Bucky

That night she stumbled into the compound. She left bloody boot prints on hardwood floors. Blood was caked into her hair, dried onto her cheeks, stuck under her finger nails.

Bucky was a lot gentler than he seemed. So when she fell against the door frame, stained red and bruised, he held you up and carried you to his room. He sat you in the bath and scrubbed you clean.

Sometimes you wonder why he lets you touch him. You've always been cold and hardened, violent and angry and distant. You've never been afraid to hack someone to pieces, unemotional and professional like some sort of horrific butcher.

Hes like the sun, soft and warm, made of all things bright.

That night he scrubbed your hands twice, digging under your fingernails. And still you clawed at your palms, for you could still see blood. They were red raw by the time he came back, towel in hand. Your arms and shoulders were covered in claw marks of your doing, your thighs covered in little finger shaped bruises.

It was a sight to see, it ripped Bucky to shreds. He grabbed your wrists, prying them from your broken skin.

"honey, Y/N, doll!", he said, he was stern and commanding. You rocked back and forth gently, eyes glazed over, silence washing over the two of you.

"Hey!", he barked, snapping you back to reality. The tears welled then, seeing him so worried, you couldn't stand yourself.

He's so perfect, so soft and unbroken. You're a monster, a butcher, he shouldn't care for you. Not at all.

"hey, honey, look at me", he coos as you sob.

He picks you up out of the cold bathwater, wrapping you in the towel. He sits you on his bed, drying you off and pulling one of his sweatshirts over your head.

As you lie in his bed, he watches from an armchair in the corner. He's hiding in the dark, and he is scared. He is scared of the scars you might leave. He fears you.

Blood splatter paints your cheek, like gory freckles. You're still, staring straight ahead, far away.

'That's not her', Bucky says to himself, watching you stand there, back straight and stiff, 'that's the butcher'.

Blood gushed from your nose, tears welling in your eyes. They're orange and metallic as they reach your lips, salty tears mixing with your victims blood. It's a welcome taste in your mouth, it brings you closer to reality.

It's when you touch your hand to your side, and it comes back red and hot and sticky. You're shocked into reality, pain floods your body. Your nerve endings go haywire, Bucky is quick to your side, pulling you out of the concrete room, back to the jet.

He's rushed in all his actions, peeling away your blood soaked suit, applying as much pressure to the deep wound in your side. The sicko had plunged his knife into your hip, and as if that wasnt enough, twisted it for good measure. God only knows how much blood you had already lost.

The butcher takes you again, pain subsiding, you're still as nurses work on you, sewing you up.

You're dead silent for days, stuck in the medbay as you heal. You make a quick and full discovery.

You stalk to Bucky's room, desperate to know you exist. He kisses you softly, the taste of blood in your mouth. He pulls you back from the very depths of your soul, and he whispers to you as you collapse in his arms.

"you exist", he says it over and over again. Repeating it until its engrained in the cracks and crevices of your mind. You exist.

He holds you for hours, pressing kisses to your soft skin. He traces cat scratch scars on your shoulders and back. His fingers ghost over freckles and creases, and that one tattoo you got in Vegas with Nat.

You close your eyes and slow your breathing, until he thinks you're asleep. He feels safe then, safe enough to close his eyes, safe enough to be asleep and vulnerable. You slip out of his grip, you sneak out of the compound.

Hes scared of you. He cannot live in fear. So you leave, you run. You go to Bulgaria, then paris, you spend a few weeks in italy. You finally settle in Tokyo.

You live with an older woman, you call her Mama and her granddaughter, Jianan. You learn the language, you make yourself at home in the culture. You walk the city alone at night, you walk Jianan to and from school, you shop with Mama at the market.

You reprogram yourself, you break yourself down and build yourself up again. The Butcher is buried in the depth of your being, ready to jump out when she's needed. You control her.

Bucky only worries when he discovers you gone. He searches every HYDRA facility, he hunts for you in Russia, Slovakia. He searches the tallest mountains in Europe, and even dates venture into the vast forests of Alaska, and the deep jungles of the Amazon.

He's not sure how he ended up in Tokyo, he doesnt speak a word of Japanese. He can't read street signs, he cant ask for directions.

He stand on the sidewalk, staring at a street sign. He searches for any sign of familiarity, anything he can grasp onto. Then he hears it, the rare chorus that is your laugh. His eyes flick across the road, and there you are. You have a small schoolbag slung over on shoulder, and a little girl is grasping your hand while you walk. He's in shock, that cant be you, she cant be yours.

He follows you, at a safe distance. You never notice him, he wishes he knew what you were saying.

He follows you to a cozy looking house, he hears you call out to someone inside before shutting the door.

He waits until dark, then he returns. He can see your silhouette in the window, you and the little girl and another figure. It takes him a few breaths before he approaches the door, he knocks gently.

You open the door, already speaking. When you see him, you stop. Your jaw drops, you call out to the woman behind you.

"Mama, I'm gonna be a while, dont wait up"

You shut the door quietly behind you, and then you're pushing him towards the street, eagle eyes searching the street for any sign of life, and when there is none, you relax.

"hi", you smile, sighing in relief. Its mere seconds before your smile falls and relief shatters and worry takes over. "what are you doing here?"

"looking for you. you left without saying goodbye, I was worried"

"they're going to come for you, if they find out you're here, they'll- they'll kill you", you whisper in such a rushed tone.

They. They plague your every thought, they dictate your every move. You're constantly running from them, you will forever be living in shadows, hiding from them.

"they wont find us", he whispers, forcing your gaze to meet his. "you're safe"

You push him away, your hands on his shoulders, he doesn't move. You step back, exasperated.

"come home, Y/N", he pleads.

You sigh, "I cant, I have a family here"

"they're not your family, I am"

"they might as well be, please Bucky. Go"

He does, but he comes back. Once a month, sometimes more, he comes back, he begs you. Eventually, you go with him. You return to your broken family at the compound.

Bucky begins to wash your hands of metallic crimson once again, rinsing stains of old blood from supple skin once more. This time, it doesn't haunt you, it doesn't keep you awake at night. Because you have Bucky by your side, and you know he'll keep you safe.

[spencers-renaissance]

I told the stars about you

Summary: Derek and Spencer have their first date. They dance to Frank Sinatra and cuddle in an ice cream parlour, before kissing the hell out of each other at Spencer's front door. That's pretty much it.

Tags: first date, first kiss, pure tooth-rotting fluff, dancing, flirting, protective derek

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Companion Piece/Prequel to my heart talks about nothing but you

The cafe is warm and vibrant when they walk in together a little after seven in the evening. Derek had taken Spencer’s hand as soon as they left his apartment, and the warmth of his palm had shot up his arm as soon as they’d made contact. Spencer knows it’s simply his physical attraction to the other man talking, but it felt like something magical, like fate telling him his fingers were always destined to be intertwined with Derek’s.

“Are you sure you’re okay with coming here instead of a restaurant?” Derek asks, not for the first time this evening, as they weave between the tables, choosing one reasonably close to the gig stage where a band is setting up.

“Of course,” Spencer assures him again, taking his seat. “The chairs are far more comfortable here than they would be in a restaurant, so that’s one bonus.”

Derek laughs fondly at that. They’re not quite comfortable with one another yet, the inherent awkwardness of first dates crackling in the air around them as they sneak heated glances over at one another, but Spencer’s just happy to have Derek in his company. He’s spent almost two years pining for the older man, he could hardly believe it when he’d finally been asked out on a date.

“What would you like, pretty boy? I’ll go up to the counter and order.” Derek smiles over at him and his focused attention feels like it’s branding itself on Spencer’s soul.

“Uh— a pesto panini and a mocha?”

“Not a black coffee with six sugars and caramel syrup?” Derek quirks a brow. “We’re branching out. I like it.”

Spencer can’t help the light blush that settles on his cheekbones. Derek’s had that effect on him since the first day they met, and he’s not about to start feeling embarrassed by his body’s response to him now, so he just looks down for a moment before resuming eye contact. “Shut up,” he murmurs teasingly. “Go and order the food.”

Ever since Derek had picked him up, his stomach has been swimming, head dizzy with the heady anticipation of a date with the man he’s been crushing on since he joined the bureau, and he takes the small reprieve of Derek’s absence to breathe deeply. He can do this, he promises himself. He deserves love, he deserves Derek, and he’s going to have a lovely evening, damn his anxieties.

When Derek returns a few moments later with his order, he doesn’t waste a minute tucking in. If they’re not going out for dinner, he’s at least going to enjoy all the snacks he can milk out of this date.

“What prompted the mocha adventure?” Derek asks curiously as he picks at his own panini, his filled with bacon and mozzarella.

“I like mochas,” he laughs, holding his hands up defensively. “I just usually go for a more caffeine heavy option on days when I have to solve time sensitive murder investigations, often on very little sleep.”

“That makes sense.”

“Anyway, what made you take me to this cafe?”

They chat idly and comfortably for over an hour to the backdrop of the happy hum of the other patrons and the cheerful music of the cover band, and it’s nice to have such uninhibited time with one another. Time outside of work is usually shared with others on the team, and one-on-one conversation is sort of a foreign concept in a group of seven people all familiar with one another, and all craving catch-ups and conversation with each and every member. Spencer can feel his insides slowly melting into a nice puddle of mush as Derek talks about his current renovation projects and his dream house he’ll build one day, before asking him about his latest documentaries and books, allowing him to ramble to his heart's content.

The feeling of validation that hums through his chest as Derek listens and asks questions and talks about all these intimate facts about himself Spencer was none the wiser too despite already being so familiar with him is euphoric. God, he’s going to fall in love with Derek so quickly. That’s if he’s not there already.

The band takes a quick pause after singing Elvis Presley’s Jailhouse Rock before starting the next song, playing the opening chords to a melody Spencer recognises as Frank Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight. It’s always been one of his favourite songs. He’s not really a musical person, but old classics had been a keen interest of his mother’s and they always bring back good memories. He used to play them at college to remind himself of her.

“Let’s dance,” Derek says suddenly, as though he’s read Spencer’s mind. A slow grin spreads across his lips, and it would have distracted him if he wasn’t so caught-off guard by his insistence: it’s a late night cafe, not a club, there’s not even a dance floor.

“What?”

“No, come on,” Derek continues enthusiastically. “I want to dance to Frank Sinatra with you, Dr Spencer Reid, right here, right now.”

“Derek, everyone will stare at us,” Spencer giggles, but he can already feel himself being persuaded.

“As they should.” Derek waggles his eyebrows as he stands up, pulling gently on Spencer’s hands to try and get him to stand up.

It works, and before the first verse is even over, Derek has him on his feet, dancing in a terribly embarrassing, uncoordinated fashion, but Spencer doesn’t care. The feeling of Derek’s big hands dwarfing Spencer’s small waist is addictive, and he moves his body in a way that feels right, no matter how ridiculous he might look. Derek twirls him around and moves them around the small space they have by their table with an adoring expression on his face, one that goes straight to Spencer’s heart, warming him from the inside out.

They sway together as they sing along quietly to one another, ignoring their horrible voices and inability to carry a melody, and it hits Spencer that this isn’t really first date behaviour. He feels like he’s been with Derek for years, like this one dance has transcended all the awkward adjustment of a new relationship, propelling them years into the future. The collapse into fits of laughter as the song comes to an end, the ridiculousness of the emotions swelling in their hearts and dancing in a coffee shop to a mediocre cover band, but they’re completely wrapped up in one another.

“Alright,” the lead singer of the band cheers as the last chord is played and held, “credits to our dance troupe over there. Y’all have something real special.”

They snap out of their trance and Spencer looks sheepishly at the clapping patrons of the cafe, most of them wearing fond smiles on their faces. Derek bows comically, sending Spencer back into a peal of laughter, but they calm down quickly and retake their seats as the band transitions into their final song.

“That’s the most fun I think I’ve ever had,” Spencer grins, feeling like he’s on a high as he takes in the man across from him, trying to wrap his head around what just happened and how Derek feels about him. His emotions are written across his expressive face and it winds Spencer to see someone look at him like that.

“Baby, just you wait for date number two.” Derek grins cheekily as he reaches across the table for Spencer’s hand. “Let’s get going. I want to buy you an ice cream, pretty boy.”

“I like strawberry best,” Spencer says, a little shy but feeling safe and protected under Derek’s warm gaze, his arm snaking around his waist.

“And I like you enough to forgive you for such a crime,” Derek chuckles, shaking his head as he guides him to the door of the cafe. “Having any other flavour than mint chocolate chip as your favourite is simply unacceptable.”

“Well, you accept it when it comes to me.” Spencer’s preening under the adoration from his date, and he can’t even be bothered to hide how pleased he feels. He’d wondered for so long how it must feel to be Derek Morgan’s partner, to be subject to his flirting, his intense gaze, his love, and it feels better than he ever could have imagined.

“That’s because you’re special, baby,” Derek whispers in his ear, and Spencer shivers. It has nothing to do with the cool November breeze.

Derek is true to his word and buys him a strawberry ice cream cone, not saying another word about it as he makes his way through his, a scoop of mint choc chip in a bowl. He’d insisted at the counter that cones are disgusting and nobody should be subjected to them, and Spencer had only laughed fondly and kissed him on the cheek. “Spencer, I’m so damn happy you went out with me this evening,” Derek says once they’ve finished their treats, voice earnest and eyes sincere. Spencer’s sat next to him in a booth in the parlour, tucked up against Derek’s side with his head on his shoulder.

He lifts it to look him in the eye, trying to convey the same amount of sincerity right back at him. “I’ve wanted this date for a long time. The first time I realised it was during the case in Alaska, do you remember? When we had to share rooms? You said ‘I’m not sleeping with Reid’ and my first thought was no, but I wish you were. My second thought was that that was kind of an asshole thing to say.” He nudges Derek in the ribs with his elbow to convey his jest, giggling quietly as Derek grins back.

“That was an asshole thing to say,” he concedes. “To be honest, the reason I didn’t want to share a room with you is that I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. In a small bedroom, possibly sharing a bed, cosied up for a night… I was going to break and confess my feelings, so I deflected.”

“You realised before me,” Spencer muses, he hadn’t expected that. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“We are indeed, pretty boy,” Derek sighs, tugging Spencer closer with the hand glued to his waist, “and I never want to leave.”

Of course, they have to eventually, leaving the ice cream parlour and heading back towards their apartments. There’s a little rain in the air, and the wind is crisp and cold, so they huddle close together as they walk the streets, silently agreeing not to get a cab despite the nasty weather just to spend a little more time together. But their walk comes to an end, and Derek drops Spencer off at his apartment first, insisting on walking him all the way to his front door.

“Spencer Reid, you have no idea how much I enjoyed this date,” he murmurs, standing close enough to raise Spencer’s heart rate noticeably, his breath hitching as he takes in the intense expression on Derek’s face.

“I bet I enjoyed it more,” he breathes, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying really, because all he’s focusing on is how close Derek’s lips are to his, and before he can talk himself out of it, he closes the distance and kisses him. His stomach flip flops immediately at the sensation, the feeling of one of Derek’s hands wrapping around his waist and spanning his lower back while the other comes to his jawline, holding him securely as he kisses back.

“That was,” Derek whispers as they pull apart just barely, “and I am not exaggerating, the best kiss of my life.”

Spencer believes him, his deep brown eyes promising him nothing but the truth, and his heart pounds in his chest, pulse beating loudly in his ears as he tries to catch his breath. “Me too.” It’s all he can think of to say, and it’s completely true, as well — not that there’s much competition. “Please tell me I don’t have to wait long for date number two.”

“Baby, I’ll go for breakfast in the morning with you if that’s what you want,” Derek says, and everything about him screams that he’d give Spencer the world.

“That’s what I want,” he replies quickly. He doesn’t want the world, he just wants Derek. And breakfast. He wants Derek eating breakfast with him in a downtown diner tomorrow morning, and he wants as many breathtaking kisses as he’s willing to give.

“Then I will pick you up at 8.30.” He leans in to press one last gentle kiss to Spencer’s lips, lingering a second too long before reluctantly pulling away. “See you in the morning, my prettiest boy.”

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