#I wasn't sure if it was an actual death on air - I was hoping ''implied'' would leave it suitably up in the air

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[anonymooseforever007]

Ring Around the Roses

(Alfie Solomons x female reader)

Summary: Attempting to get away from the Shelby party chaos, Alfie and his wife sneak off into Tommy's garden for a little fun. It isn't until the next morning they discover the consequences of their actions and Alfie has to remind his wife what their marriage is really about.

A/N-Hi Y'all! Possible TW's for only the end of this include Mentions of death, Unhealthy coping habits and self blame! Also this is for K's (@runnning-outof-time) 3K celebration! Congratulations you're amazing and I love seeing you on here❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like this! I haven't done a celebration before really but I saw your theme and the idea spring into my head. Despite the warnings it's mostly fluffy until the time skip! Also there's one part that implies smut but none actually written! Enjoy ❤️

WC- 6.6k

Main Masterlist

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"Are you sure we can do this out here?"

"Do what dovey? I'm just taking a nice little stroll with my darling wife aren't I? Letting her get a quiet break from all those heathens inside."

You scoffed, knocking into your husband's side gently as the pair of you walked through the garden. For a man who seemed particularly fond of dark colours, Thomas Shelby's garden was particularly vibrant. 

"Oh hush, you only call them heathens because you're too scared to use the word friend."

"FRIEND!" Alfie scoffed while kicking at a particularly beautifully tulip that just happened to be nearby, just to prove his point. "No no no Dovey, THEY are not my friends, yeah. If I were to pick anyone to be my friend it certainly would not be ANY of them." 

You only rolled your eyes and shot a knowing smirk in his direction. For all your husband's spite and trickery, you knew he really did have a soft spot for the Shelby family.

"Alright love, I believe ya. That's absolutely why you immediately declined the invitation to come here tonight isn't it. Burned it in the fireplace correct? Told me not to put it in the calendar? Because you don't have plans at being anything other than vicious enemies is that right? The pie I brought tonight was a death threat wasn't it? Did you slip in some arsenic into the powdered sugar?"

Rolling his eyes at your teasing, Alfie couldn't help but smile as he watched you laugh at your own joke. Continuing your path through the garden you mindlessly reached back a hand for your husband a few steps behind. A clear indication of what you wanted. What you always wanted. Slipping his hand between yours, he let you drag him through the bushes, further from the party. With each step he could see you relax a bit more, as you enjoyed the scene around you.

"Is it quieter out here Dovey?"

Smiling softly, you only nodded your head before reaching out gently to touch the leaves of a nearby bush. Though the party was fun, it had gotten a bit loud and in the growing chaos you needed some air. So while Tommy and Polly were distracted trying to convince Arthur and Finn not to throw Michael in the lake, you and your husband had slipped outside. 

"Alfie, we should plant a garden of our own I think."

"Is that right Dovey? Does my lady want some bushes of her own to trim doesn't she?"

"I think we could get some nice rose bushes. I've always loved those."

"Roses, is that it? You got a feeling about those prickly little parasites don't ya Dovey? I never got why you liked them."

Chuckling you sat on the edge of a nearby wall as your husband dug his feet in the ground. You knew exactly why Alfred hated roses, and it still amused you to this day. 

It happened years ago, around the time you'd first gotten together. This was before Alfie was even able to grow a beard, and all his kisses resulted in a scratchy scruff that prickled your face. Way back when boxing was still his main pastime instead of "baking", both kinds actually and these days your husband finally knew how to make a decent muffin. In an effort to be romantic, he'd shown up at your work one day with a nice bouquet of roses. They were lovely flowers and you were immensely elated by the gesture, and especially amused since he'd bought the flowers from that very shop only the day before too.... However it was a shame you never got the chance to put them in water. See, somewhere between the ten steps it took to get from the door to your table, he had tripped and fallen flat on the ground. Don't worry, his face hadn't hit the hard ground, it was cushioned....by the thorny roses. Maybe it was a good thing the thorns had left so many bloody scratches. It meant you weren't able to tell his face had turned as red as the roses petals now surrounding him. Instead of the romantic date he wanted to take you on, the evening was spent with you dapping the cuts on his face with a damp cloth while he started at the wall, contemplating every life choice he'd ever made. That was the night Alfred Solomons decided he'd never trust a rose ever again. Not even the ones his darling wife sought to plant in her gardens.

"Alfie, come on! Roses aren't that bad, just because you had a little slip up years ago doesn't mean they all hate you."

Standing by up again, you held out your arms towards Alfie as music began to reach the garden. Shaking his head lightly, he set down his cane and took your arms, fully confident you'd be there to support him if his hip got too bad. You and Alfie had yet to dance tonight, caught up talking with others (which was really just your doing) and pointing out everyone who'd gotten too drunk and was trying piss in the plants. It wasn't something either of your minded to badly, the large crowds of people tended to make you feel a bit nervous and Alfie occasionally had a hard time keeping rhythm because of his hip. So most of your dancing was done in the back corners of the ballroom or privately in your kitchen, waiting for the midnight snacks to be done. 

However tonight, it seems you'd be dancing in Thomas Shelby's garden. Slowly but happily, you waltzed closely with your husband, stepping around the fountain and laughing as he stopped to twirl you ever few seconds. Other than the music from the house and the gentle crunches  of your shoes beneath the gravel path, the world was silent. When the song ended your husband gave you a gentle kiss and stepped back, though he was still holding you in his arms. Looking up above yourselves, you saw the constellations fitting the night sky.

"Ohh Alfie! Look at them! Aren't they beautiful?"

Beaming, you grinned up at the stars twinkling down on you before moving from your husband to a smaller empty plot of ground. You suspected that something was to be planted there soon, but paid no mind to the grime that would get on your skirt as you settled down to sit in the dirt. It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. 

"What are ya doing now Dovey? Is this the thing you said we shouldn't be doing?" Alfie teased you from where he was still standing.

"I just wanna sit and watch the stars for a bit. Come," remaining seated you patted the spot next to you, "Join me."

Alfie walked over to the spot but when he got there, he only raised an eyebrow at you and tapped his hip with the cane. You stared for a moment and then it clicked. Laughing slightly at your forgetfulness, you stood up, bowing dramatically, and held out your arm. 

"Right right, I forget you have the hip of an overworked, ninety seven year old parlor dancer. Shall I assist you to the ground my dear sir?"

Alfie only grumbled, but his eyes twinkled as you teased him. If anyone else had made the comment they'd have been dead before they blinked, but you were different. Alfred Solomons was capable of many things, but some nights when his hip got bad, he needed help moving around more, especially if it meant going from standing to sitting on the ground. You were happy to help of course, but being married for over a decade didn't mean the pair of you were above lightly poking fun of the other. Only two years ago, you had accidentally scratched part of your eye and needed to wear an eyepatch for five weeks. The first thing Alfie had done when you walked out of the examination room and asked if he could get food for dinner, was reply with "does patchy wanted a cracker" in reference to the one eyed parrot you'd seen in a film the month before. It was just something you'd always done together even before you started dating. A dark humor you both shared, as if joking about the hurt could make it better. 

Holding his other arm, you gently helped your husband lower himself to the ground, squeezing his hand comfortingly when he let out a small groan. After helping your husband take a seat, you settled into your own again, leaning your head on his shoulder as you looked to the heavens. 

"You aren't really gonna plant roses are ya Love? What if something happens to them?"

"Like what? You assault them with your face again?"

"....Maybe? But like why do you really enjoy them? I still don't see the charm."

Sighing, you shifted your gaze and looked your husband in the eyes.  One of your hands moved up to his face, as you gently caresses the one spot on his face that refused to grow hair like the rest of his beard. You knew it was another old war wound, but this was actually one he had yet to tell you the story of. Gazing into his eyes a few moments more, you then changed positions so you were seated across his lap, one leg in either side of his.

"Why do I love roses?....Their petals are as soft as their thorns are sharp and given the right hand, their climb up any wall in their path. Not only that but their petals can have many uses for food or paint or even my blush. That means they are able to change their usefulness based off their situation at hand. They are able to adapt, nor are the helpless. Some people say the point of the thorns is to choke out anything else threatening to take the roses' livelihood." you gently held your husbands face between your hands as you continued, "I like roses because they remind me of you Alfie. Because they are beautiful, and strong, and dangerous. You are a gorgeous and strong man, and I know how badly you try to protect me every day. You are so kind to me, but I know how far you'll go for me. I would go just as far for you. You are my rose Alfred Solomons and so I love them as all they remind me of you."

Alfie was quiet for a moment, observing what you'd said. His hands sat on your waist, thumbs rubbing gently in your sides. 

"You saying I'm like a fucking flower Dovey, is that it?"

"Yeah, you're my flower though."

"....Alright."

"....You know why else you're like a rose love?"

"Why poppet?"

"Because it can be a pain in the ass to keep you alive sometimes."

Alfie only put his hand to his chest in mock offense, while your grinned up at him mischievously.

"Oi, now you better watch your words there Dovey."

"Make me Rosie," you whispered, grinning as your leaned closer to your husbands face, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Gently Alfie leaned back, taking you with him until his back was on the ground. Hands, still on his face, you could feel the smile on his face. Slowly one of his hands moved to your head bringing you down so he could kiss you again. Sweet at first but it quickly increased in passion and vigor. Though eventually you had to pull back for breath, and it was then you realized his hands had already rearranged your skirts in a way overnight you both.

"Alfred? I know we can't do this out here?"

Your husband only laughed, reaching towards his belt as he pulled you close again.

"Slide down a bit farther and I think you'll see we definitely can Dovey. It's only a matter of being quiet enough to evade capture."

It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. And luckily, the music was loud enough to hide the sounds of rustling bushes...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until the next morning when you realized what went wrong...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After making it back to the house last night and finding half the dog food "mysteriously missing", the pair of you had decided to call it a night. And since business was going so well Alfie had elected to take a few days off, hoping to spend more time with you. It also meant he'd finally be able to sleep in.....or so he thought.

A sudden crash woke Alfie from his slumber the next morning. 

Shooting up, he automatically looked to his right, and his heart stopped for a moment realizing you weren't there. Another clatter from downstairs and a frustrated scream from you had him practically jumping out of bed and grabbing his gun. You usually like staying in bed for a few more hours, especially when he was there, so the fact he could hear your distress from upstairs made him worry. 

Carefully Alfie snuck down the hall, peaking in rooms to make sure no unsavory figures were lurking behind the door. Another annoyed groan accompanied by various curse words hurried him to his final destination. 

"Love, are you alright?"

It was a stupid thing to ask as you were very much not alright. The kitchen was a mess, looking like every cabinet had been opened and all the contents pulled out. Pots and bass were laud hurriedly across the counters as you rummaged through every nook and cranny. A quickly glance into the living room told Alfie it was scattered in a similar state. But you hadn't responded to your husband, not the first time or even the second. It wasn't until Alfie stepped right up behind you, putting his hand on your shoulder, and turning your around to face him when you responded.

"I can't find it."

Your voice wavered as you admitted the truth. Looking down like a small child about to be told off, you averted your face from your husband's. Alfie was still confused, but he could tell whatever you were rallying about was obviously important.

"Can't find what Dovey? Whatever it is it's probably isn't too bad. I can help ya find it righty?"

"No Alfie you don't undertstand."

"Then help me understand Love. Let's get through this together like we always have yeah? Come on, tell your husband what we're looking for." Carefully cupping your face in his hands, Alfie guided you to look at him again. He could see the tears welling in your eyes as you spoke.

"....I.....I lost my wedding ring Alfie."

"Oh."

It was the simple oh that broke the dam. Stepping back from your husband, tears began to stream down your face as you shoved your fingers in you hair as if trying to hold in the stress.

"SEE I told you it was terrible. I...I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom and noticed it missing when I went to clean my hands. I figured I'd just taken it off la... last night but it wasn't by the bed table like I usually put it. Then I went through the bathroom and it wasn't there. I've gone through every room in this hours and I can't fucking find it!!! I don't ....I don't know where it is Alfie. I just... oh god." 

Covering you mouth with your hand, you realized where you lost the ring. 

"Alfie the fucking garden."

"The garden? Love you haven't made the garden yet, how could it be there?"

"No, TOMMY'S garden. It has to be there. It fell off last night when we were rolling in the dirt. I've been meaning by to get it resized. Oh fuck this is awful"

Alfie actually chuckled at your realization. Of course the ring would fall off in the most inconvenient place possible, but he wasn't about to tell you that.

"Thats alright Dovey we can just..."

Throwing your hands in the air you interrupted your husband, frustrated at yourself for a number of reasons. It stung Alfie's heart to see you like this. Carefully he dragged your hands from your face and pulled you into a hug. Soothingly his hands ran up and down your back as he tried to comfort you.

"We can just what Alfred? Waltz back over and demand he let us dig up the plants for it? He'd probably ask why and what are we suppose to say then huh Alfred? Oh you know, we lost it in the garden you see...Well what were you doing there Y/N? ...Nothing much just fertilizing the soil, pollinating the flower, playing like the rake and ho, rustling the bushes, sowing seed in the garden, FUCKING IN THE FLOWERBEDS!!!! No we can't do that Alfie we just can't! It's probably gone forever... I'm so sorry."

Alfie was the one to hide his face this time. He knew you were in distress but he was amused by one of your last sentences. You always were good with the innuendos. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get you to calm down. He knew at this point you weren't so mad about the ring, as just overwhelmed by the lack of success you'd had in finding it.

"Yes love, we can tell him all those things and if he'd got any sort of romantic bone in his tiny, banged up little body he'd offer us shovels to dig if we need them. And if not then I'd wager every deal I'd ever have with his lot is out the fucking window isn't it. We've been married since before the little one of them was teething haven't we? It's not like they don't think we're fucking. Besides it's a decent fucking garden, Tommy should have know what he was doing when he made that little hidey spot didn't he? It'll be fine. And if I find it then I'll get to propose to you all over again won't I? I think if I got one wish left in the word it would be to do that again. Ask if you'd be mine forever and let you know I'll always be there. Love I promise. It's alright Dovey, it's ok. No need to get worked up about it's not such a big deal."

Thought he was trying to help, his last sentence only made things worse. Stepping pack from Alfie you threw your hands up again.

"IT IS OUR MARRIAGE ALFIE! And I've practically lost it like it means nothing at all! How can you say that!"

There it was. The really reason you were so worked up. Not because you'd lost the little ring. It was because somewhere in your mind, over the years you'd been together, you'd gotten the idea that if you didn't have it on your were almost betraying everything you held dear. As if you thought without the ring, all the vows you'd mad together were nil. Alfie couldn't help but laugh at that. He laughed hard too, like you'd told the funniest joke in their world. 

"You think that ring is our marriage?"

Stepping closer again Alfie took your arms and pulled you closer.

"Our marriage is so much more than that fucking ring love," he said, cupping your face between his hands again. "Our marriage is me stealing Ollie's shirt before every lunch date because his is cleaner than mine and wanna look my best for the best, that's you by the way. It's you grinning at me through the glass window at fuck O'clock in then morning when I've taken the dog out for a piss since you thought it'd be funny to lock me out in the cold in my fucking skeevies again. It's me paying a fuck ton of money to the flower shop down the street so you could get a rose every week I was away fighting. It's you spending hours patching me up after I had a bad fight even though blood makes you gag yeah. When you refuse to give me dinner until I give you a kiss and when I won't give you a gift until I've gotten a hug? Sharing a bath after a hard day? That's our marriage. You interrupting my meeting because you're so excited to show me a new book? Me interrupting your book club because I've just gotten back from a business trip? You demanding I come to bed and cuddle up, only to shove me off of you later when you're too hot? Me tightening jars in the pantry so you have to get me to open them? Making fun of each other's injuries, patchy? Don't you see it? You. Me. You. Me. You. Me. WE."

"Alfie..." You couldn't help but smile at your husband's words realizing he was right.

"Dovey, It isn't defined by a thin piece of metal with a tiny fucking stone that I stole off a rich toff at a boxing match one day. Our marriage is YOU and ME and every little moment in between. And I promise it's always gonna be just that. And do you know why that is Treacle?"

Alfie had moved his hands again, now resting them on your hips. Gazing at you lovingly he waited for your answer.

"Why Ally?"

"Because I'm your flower remember? I'm your fucking rose.... and you're fucking my sunshine, Dovey. I have no chance of living without you."

Wrapping your arms around your husband, you buried your face into his neck. Losing the ring you'd worn almost every day for years didn't seem so criminal anymore. 

"Alfred Solomons when did you learn to say something so romantic."

Your husband only chuckled as he step away, grabbing some of the boxes you'd pulled out in your panic. 

"A master never reveals his secrets Dovey. Now come on. Let's clean this up and then we'll go get you a new ring eh? Wouldn't want any gangly miscreant thinking they've got a chance with you would we?"

Looking at the damage you'd done, you couldn't but sigh, maybe it would have been better to wake your husband immediately before diving head first into your expedition. Now you were kicking yourself since you'd just redone all the work you'd don't last week reorganizing every thing.

"I'm not sure the jewellery shop will still be open today by the time we finish Alfred. I'm not even sure we'll be able to finish this in a week with the mess I've made."

Your husband just bonked you lightly with the broom he handed you and nudged you in the direction of the living room.

"That's alright Dovey. Because unless you've got some nefarious little plans I haven't heard of to steal my dog and run off, I don't think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon aren't we?"

You could only smile and kiss him on the cheek.

"I suppose you're right. We've got all the time in the world...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years later...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shelby, I want my dog."

The Shelby in question turned around, eyeing the woman before him. He knew this day would come. Only he expected it to be sooner, a few days, maybe even a week later...but now it was four months. Four months since he....despite his feelings towards the man, Tommy couldn't help but feel slight regrets for what he'd done. Especially seeing the state of her now, standing in his garden.

"He's just gone on a walk with Charlie and Finn. They should be back in an hour or so."

"I'll wait... I see you filled in that empty plot of ground. They're lovely flowers, I don't remember them being there two winters ago."

Tommy averted his gaze to the bushes you were pointing at. Indeed the small alcove where you'd hidden with your husband had been filled. In its place grew a thick rose bush, blooming with life. You smiled, and to anyone else, they might have thought your look truthful. And some of it was, thinking of the happy memories connected there. But Tommy could see deeper than that. Behind the smile he could see the same pain he had when he looked in mirrors. The pain that came from losing the thing you loved most. For as different as you both were, he knew the tactic you played, though the mask you wore was much brighter than his. And for now he decided he could respect that. He could pretend just for a moment, if only to help you. It was the least he could do, seeing as he was the reason you wore it... He was the one to pull the trigger.

"You're right. The gardener put them in almost two years ago, right after the party where Arthur and Finn tossed Michael into the lake. Do you remember that one? I saw you talking to my sister but never saw you leave that night."

A genuine chuckle left your mouth hearing his words. You played with the ring on your left hand. Only two years old and very expensive, but in that moment, it felt like you were wearing another ring again. One that was much older and worn, that you hadn't seen in years. 

"I do. That was certainly a night I'll remember forever. It's a shame you got rid of that little alcove. It was a nice little spot away from the world wasn't it."

Tommy could only nod and take another drag of his cigarette.

"Did Alfie ever tell you about the first and last time he gave me roses in person. I mean, of course he probably didn't and I'll have to tell you sometime, but I think you might find it funny. There's a lot about him I'm sure he hasn't told you. But then again, knowing him there's probably a lot he did..." You trailed off, staring at the flowers a bit longer, remembering that day over a decade ago, not really meaning to tell Tommy that, doing so anyway. After all, no one had heard from you in months, so it made sense to him, that you'd be eager to talk to anyone. Even the man you should hate most in the world.

Silence descended on the pair standing tense in the garden. There was so much to be said, but neither knew where to start. Truthfully, you'd only talked to Tommy a handful of times, but he felt like he'd already known you like his sister. He couldn't help but scoff, thinking of all the times Alfie had gone off on a tangent about you during a meeting. Sometimes, your mention had nothing to do what was being discussed at all, Alfie just liked to brag about the good he had. In the end it was Tommy who spoke up first, the guilt of his past actions finally caving in on him.

"Y/N, I'm sor..."

"Don't. Thomas, I don't want you to say sorry," turning from the vibrant blooms, you faced the capped man. "I don't want you to say sorry, because you know what? I don't blame you. You're completely alright. I'm not mad at you.... It's my fault I suppose. I could have stopped it."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, curious to what you meant, and also concerned. There was something in your eyes that made his stomach turn slightly hearing those words. But he couldn't exactly place why.

"What's that suppose to mean Y/N?"

You only let out a bittersweet laugh and stared out into the garden again, sitting on the edge of a familiar fountain before you revealed the truth.

"It's my fault he's gone I think. I should have known. I should have never left that day and I could have stopped it."

Tommy's brows furrowed as he sat down next to you. 

"What's that mean? You couldn't have known what his plan was? It's not your fault."

Absentmindedly, you picked at the leaves of a nearby bush. Though your voice was even, Tommy could practically see the war inside your head.

"It's how he kissed me when I left that day. I was only going to be gone a few days to visit my friend who was suppose to have her baby soon. Nothing dangerous. But it's the way he kissed me that should have tipped me off. He kissed me the way he did when he got on the damed train, in that damned uniform. He kissed me like he didn't think he'd see me ever again, going to die in the war. And I guess he didn't."

Tommy didn't say anything. He just let you continue. Something in his head told him, he needed to let your speak, he needed to keep you here tonight. If he let you leave today, no one would ever see you again and something in Tommy told him not to let that happen.

"You know I still haven't admitted it to myself just yet... The truth," standing up you began to pace around the fountain, circling the water. "Since I first got the call I haven't picked up the phone anymore, I'm scared of what I'll hear. I haven't opened any letters, because I don't want to see what they'll say. I still haven't even gone home yet. I've been paying for a hotel room by my friend's house and only leaving by when I need more food. I know it not good for me, but it's all I can find I can do. I've been telling myself it's just that. He's gone to the war again and he'll be back in a few months." Though you spoke with a smile as if talking about the weather, it was easy to see the pain in your eyes. You thought denying the truth would make the hurt go away. But it wouldn't, Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before you broke. And like with Cyril, he felt like he was the one who needed to help. So he decided to play along for now, letting you keep your act up. Atleast until he could figure out the best way to fix the mess he still felt he'd made.

"You tell yourself it's the war eh? Do you write him letters."

"Yes, I write him one almost every day. But I haven't sent any. Did you know that I was rarely able to send them to him during the war. Something about his post being secretive, and no one should know where it really was. So I'd just... write a letter everyday and when I got a letter that his squad was resting at a safe camp every few months I'd just send the packet of them.... If I was lucky I'd get one back, but most of the time I just had to wait. I learned a lot about waiting then. I learned it was better to laugh too. Laughing helped me stay sane."

Standing up, Tommy began walking with you as you stepped deeper into the gardens.

"Laughing eh? Well I guess it's better than what I did. Almost drunk myself to the grave and then fucked off in a caravan with my son for a month. Seems you're handling it better than me."

You could only scoff at his response.

"Oh don't worry, there's been plenty of drinks for me too. I'm a happy drunk though, so I guess it helps my plan. After all, as long as I'm laughing, I don't have time to cry. I don't think I'll be able to stop crying the day I begin. So I'm just trying to hold off as long as I can."

"Aren't we all."

Silence fell in the garden again, and the two widowed souls walked back to the house. It was starting to get back and Tommy had noticed Finn's car pull up a few minutes ago. When you reached the back door you were met with a fluffy beast knocking you over as soon he'd caught sight of you. Cyril was happy to have at least one of his masters back. The man taking care of his now treated him well, but he still missed life with his old owners, even if he couldn't express it in words. 

While you reunited with Cyril and applauded Charlie on the tricks he taught the dog, Tommy went to gather some of Cyril's things and have Francis prepare a room for you. Tommy had no clue where you'd take the dog, but seeing as you seemed adamant about staying away from Margret, and apparently didn't despise Tommy (somehow), he thought it made sense to let you stay the night for a bit. And something still told him to convince you to stay even if just for one day.

On his was back down the stairs he noticed something sitting on the table and there was a click in his brain. He remembered the curiosity brought to him that morning during breakfast, and suddenly a lot of odd business meetings made sense. He finally realized who'd messed up the empty dirt patch that night two years ago. Grabbing the object off the table, Tommy headed back to the drawing room. Inside you were still petting your beloved dog, even though Finn had taken Charlie to get ready for bed. 

"Y/N, I went up to grab some of Cyril's things, but I think it may be better for you to spend the night here. It's getting late and I don't think either of us wants the dog getting hurt if you were to crash."

You laughed gently at his words, not caring to ask about the hand behind his back. Not thinking much about his words, you accepted his offer. You knew you should be mad at him, hate him, even what to kill him, but you couldn't. You were too tried to be mad at anyone right now. Besides, it wasn't like you knew where you were going anyway. You just wanted to see your...his dog again. Maybe if you had that little piece left, it would make it easier to move on. It would make it easier to pretend you weren't alone now.

"Alright. I'll stay. But only so Charlie can give Cyril a proper goodbye. I'd hate to tear them apart, it seems they've made close friends."

"They have," Tommy smiled, genuinely happy thinking of how closely his son had bonded with the dog. "Cyril's stuff is in Charlie's room now infact. They've taken such a liking, I can't keep them apart. We can get his stuff tomorrow, but I do have one thing I think you may want now."

You looked towards the Shelby man curious. "What is it?," you questioned.

Silently Tommy extended his hand to give you the object he'd snagged from the table.

It was a single rose... But something was different about it. The stem seemed to have grabbed something buried within the dirt to take along as it began to grow. Twisting and turning all the way out of the dirt, outwards towards the sun, as if offering the shiny object up. An ages old promise from the rose to the sun of an endless truth, never broken even in death...

The rose was offering his sun a ring.

And not just any ring. A wedding ring. Simple and worn, it had been stolen off a rich toff from a boxing match many years ago. It had survived work and war, seen blood and lust, and so many other things. And while the ring didn't define the marriage it represented a promise you thought you'd never see again. But here now, seeing how tightly the rose stem had grown around it, you knew you'd never have to worry about that again. Not even death could stop the love the rose proposed to his sun. Even in death he'd still offer her life.

You couldn't even take the rose from Tommy's hand before you finally broke. Laughing at the irony, Tears streamed down your face as you sunk to your knees, all the pain you'd been bottling up coming out. And thus you sobbed, hard. So hard in fact, it felt like you couldn't breathe. And you sobs were still mixed with laughter of disbelief as a million memories ran through your head, but none as loud as the one of that night and the morning after. 

Two years ago you'd lost that ring. Alfie promised that he'd look multiple times whenever he went back to the house, even if it meant having the meeting in the garden like "a bunch of prissy ladies at a fucking tea party" as he'd called it. And for two years he'd had no luck until now. But today, your rose had finally found the lost ring, even if you'd lost him months ago. 

Setting the rose gently on the table, Tommy sunk to his knees too. Letting you grab onto him, for a shoulder to mourn on. He knew you needed it. For so long you'd shut yourself away, denying the truth and trying to act like it didn't affect you. You wanted to pretend your world wasn't falling apart and now you couldn't any more. He'd been he same way, except he didn't have anyone to help him. He couldn't burden his one year old son with his grief and he knew most of his family still resented Grace to some degree. They hadn't been as destroyed by her passing as he had. He didn't want you to be alone like he had. For as many terrible thing as Tommy had done, he couldn't bring it upon himself to leave you alone now. And so he sat on the floor, holding you in his arms as the cracked dam finally broke. 

That night, until the early hours of the morning, Thomas Shelby sat comforting the wife of the man he'd killed. And he would until she'd fallen asleep, finally worn out from her grieving. In the morning he'd offer breakfast and they'd get to talking about the loves they lost. They were still both hurt and broken and mourning what they'd lost, but they weren't alone now. For two people so different they both knew what the other felt so deeply. Little snippets and stories about happier times, while watching a little boy play with a big dog, laughing as the pair rolled in the grass. And while both still grieved, there was a peace to be found in being with someone who knew how they felt. 

And while they talked, Y/N played with the ring on her finger. It was new and expensive and fit just right. This one was only two years old and didn't have many memories but she loved it just the same. And upstairs by her bed sat another ring, but this one was held tightly by a rose she'd placed in a vase. This was the ring that she loved more, and the one she really wanted to wear, but she couldn't bear to tear it from the rose just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to. Maybe she'd let the rose dry out and preserve it like she use to do someone's at the flower shop when she was young. But for now she's let it live as it was.

Holding on tightly to a promise that not even death could divide...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While all this happened a mailman was headed towards Birmingham with a letter from a dead man, asking about his dog and looking for his wife....

[aviationtothemax]

What are You Trying to Teach Them?

Just needed a thing where Ice puts Cyclone in his place. ..sorta, because Ice chooses to have self control.

But no one messes with Iceman's wingman.

"How long until the mission?" Ice asks, piercing eyes flicking between the two.

"Two weeks, sir." They both say.

Ice taps his hand against his thigh once, looking past their shoulders at the door. He needed to get these two to work together if this mission had even the slightest chance of succeeding. So he asked, "What are you teaching them?"

Maverick remains stock still- that was kind of concerning to Ice. Cyclone speaks before him, probably assuming it was for him to answer, as he outranked the Captain. "Currently, we're showing them the course, sir. Studying the layouts and twists. They'll be in the air tomorrow, sir."

Ice gives him a curt nod. He already knew that, Simpson. "And what are you trying to teach them?"

Cyclone looks confused for a moment. "Sir..?"

Ice stares at him expectantly and feels a rush of satisfaction when he shifts uncomfortably. Maverick still hasn't moved.

"How to run this course, sir. How to complete the mission." Cyclone says, confusion clear in his eyes. Ice hums quietly and turns his piercing gaze to Mav expectantly.

Maverick doesn't meet his eyes and instead stares past his left ear.

And so it was a matter of who would bend first, as it had been from the moment they met at Top Gun in '86. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be Ice this time because he had a point to get across. But he also knew this could last a while, so he pushed because they didn't have the time to butt heads.

"Maverick?"

"Sir."

Ice's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, knowing very well that Mav knew what he wanted and could read him better than just about anyone. And Mav never actually called him sir unless it was he was in front of a crowd.

"Mitchell."

Maverick kept staring past Ice's left ear at the wall. Stubborn son of a bitch.

"I assigned you to this mission for a reason."

Maverick nodded ever so slightly. So, he wasn't going to talk.

"What are you trying to teach these kids, Captain?"

Mav was silent for a few more seconds before he finally said, "Just as Admiral Simpson said, sir."

Ice felt his blood boil at the slightly smug look on Simpson's face. He hated how Mav's rep made every single CO above him so prejudiced. Maverick had so much to give, but no one to see it and Ice hated it. That was why he fought so hard for the little shit. Life was so unfair to him.

"No, Mav. Why did I assign you?" Ice asked him, letting the formalities slip a bit.

Maverick started slowly shaking his head, and that's when Ice saw it: the glassy look in his eyes. Shit, he should've checked in sooner. He'd known this assignment would hurt. "I don't know, sir."

Ice sighed. "Maverick."

"I don't know." He repeated.

Ice let him collect himself before speaking again. "You're the only pilot in the last thirty years to shoot down three MiGs."

"I know that." Mav said. "And it seems to be about the only justification for me being here. You just can't find anyone else because this mission is impossible. Ice, why are you making me send these kids to their death?" Send Bradley to his death?

Cyclone looked a little taken aback at how the captain talked back to the COMPACFLT, but neither of them took any notice.

"I am not making you send them to their deaths, Maverick, you're their only hope. I want you to teach them, increase their chances of coming home. You've pulled so many impossible, crazy stunts, brought back so many pilots that the Navy was ready to give up on. They need you, Mav."

Mav shook his head again, darting a hand up to wipe his cheek as a tear escaped. "I'm not enough, Ice."

"Yes you are. You're the only person who can make this happen."

"Why can't you?" Mav asked quietly. It wasn't meant to be defensive, it was a simple question that implied, 'you're better than me, how can I possibly be more qualified?'

"Because I wasn't the one that saved all those pilots, even if it was against orders, pulled off all of those crazy-ass, reckless stunts that give me gray hair and a few more stacks of paperwork. I wasn't the one that saved our asses in the Layton mission and then every mission we flew together after. I've always hated to say it out loud, and you know it, but we do need more pilots like you. Ones that care. You care about those kids, don't you?"

He didn't answer, but the way he cast his eyes down was plenty affirmation. Ice gripped his shoulder and ducked his head to try to meet his friend's eyes.

"Then teach them how to come home, Mav."

"Okay." Mav said. He finally looked up into his eyes and Ice offered him a small smile. Mav nodded curtly, once. "Okay."

"That's my wingman."

"Bullshit." Mav said with a small smile of his own.

Ice chuckled.

[strangersteddierthings]

Part Two of Class of '85.

-

June 6th, 1985

1. Make Sure Eddie Lives

Convince Wayne to move away? (how??)

Befriend Eddie sooner? (tried and failed)

Graduate Early?

2. Save Max

Stop Billy on Fourth July. Save Billy? Does he deserve it?

3. Help El With Powers. How?

Save Hopper? How to learn location of Russian prison if saved?

4. Convince Everyone To Move Out of Hawkins

That's all that's written on this slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Eddie hadn't even meant to read it; when he'd shaken out the grey sweatpants it had fluttered free, slowly falling to the ground, and when he picked it up to put it back in the drawer he caught his name. And he's always been far too curious.

Eddie knows as soon as he's read it that he absolutely shouldn't have. It's too late though. He's read it, he knows now, and he can't really unknow it.

This is the list of things Steve is trying to change in this timeline.

It knocks the air out of Eddie and his knees feel a little weak suddenly. He drops himself to the floor, one hand clutching the sweats, the other the note.

Make sure Eddie lives.

Eddie lives.

Which implies that Eddie died.

Eddie's not sure what that says about him, that he's never made the connection of Steve's soft I can't lose you confessions and that he might mean Eddie is dead, and not, like, having fled Hawkins before Steve could confess his lo-feelings or something.

He's never really taken the time to stew in what Steve meant because as far as Eddie was concerned, there was no losing him. Steve's already changed the way Eddie's life plays out; he's graduated a year sooner than he did in that other timeline. He's got a part time job at the local mechanics. And though he doesn't know details, he does know that still being in high school led him to the event Steve wanted to change.

Which was his death.

He takes several deep breaths. He's not going to die because Steve's already saved him so he can deal with this. It's not even an issue.

Moving past that. Save Max. There's no last name written, but both he and Steve know only one Max. Then the line below that. They both hate Billy, yes, but what's throwing Eddie off here is the written, then stricken out, does he deserve it? The use of save gives him pause, too. It says Make sure Eddie lives and save Max. So, Max doesn't die? What does she need saved from then?

This is when Steve finds him, entering the room with a, "Did you get lost, Eds? It's the top dra- oh," Steve is stopped two steps into the room when Eddie looks up at him.

"I didn't mean to read it but I saw my name and..." Eddie says, trailing off because he doesn't actually have anything to add. He's worried for a second that Steve will be mad at him but that thought goes as quickly as it appeared. Steve moves into the room, dropping to his knees before Eddie, hands coming to cup his face.

"Oh, babe," Steve's voice is gentle, his thumbs even more so as they swipe across his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Eddie should be the one apologizing. He's done the one thing he wasn't suppose to. He's read the list! He knows the future! (sorta) "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have read this."

Steve makes his I-want-to-argue face but it smooths over. The tone in Steve's voice when he speaks, sounding older than his years and so fucking tired, it break Eddie's heart. "I should have burned that. This isn't your burden to shoulder. I'll just take that and you can try and forget."

He's reaching for the paper and Eddie pulls his hand behind his back, away from Steve's grasp. "No."

"No?" Steve looks surprised. Honestly, Eddie's also surprised.

"You don't have to shoulder this alone," Eddie says, "I can help. We can fix this together."

It's strange to see hope mixed with sorrow in Steve's eyes. "I can't- there's so much I don't even understand, don't even know how to explain."

"Sweetheart, let me help," Eddie whispers, shifting to his knees to easily slide into Steve's space, press soft kisses to his face between his words," I (kiss) want to (kiss) help (kiss). Let me (kiss)."

On the last kiss Steve angles his face, capturing Eddie's lips with his own, his hands still on Eddie's face allowing him to hold Eddie steady as he presses in, deepens the kiss, runs his tongue along Eddie's lip and Eddie flicks his own tongue out in return. They kiss in an odd, calm-but-desperate, deep-but-lazy, soft-but-messy way. They end it panting, foreheads pressed together to feel grounded, Steve's hands still on Eddie's face, Eddie's hands braced on Steve's thighs as he leans into him.

"Once you know, you can't unknow. It's fucking terrible, Eds," Steve whispers, "I don't want to do that to you. I don't want you to hurt."

"But you hurt," Eddie counters, "and if you hurt, I hurt. Thems the rules."

Steve laughs and kisses him again, just a quick closed lip peck, "Dustin told me once, you die, I die. Mutual destruction really shouldn't be the first go-to for showing affection for the people I care about it."

"Says the man whose favorite way to show affection is stepping between someone and a fist, or claw, or whatever."

Steve rolls his eyes and pulls back. "Weren't you going to shower?"

"Plans change. We gotta finish arguing about you telling me about this," he waves the paper, now even more crumpled, between the two of them, "so that you can let me help."

"How about you take that shower, and meanwhile, I'll cook dinner and think about finishing this 'argument' you want to have," Steve says, and even though Steve doesn't physically make the air quotes motion, Eddie still hears it in his voice.

Eddie concedes on this, though, and after stealing a soft shirt from Steve's closet, does go shower. When he's done, he takes his time detangling his hair and towel drying it as much as he can before changing into the pilfered clothing and going down to dinner. Steve is washing up the dishes he used while cooking (because this fucker cleans as he goes, what kinda sicko does that?) so, Eddie gathers plates and utensils and sets the table (because they're the kinda sickos that eat at a dinner table) .

Dinner is pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It's delicious.

They just chat about the day under the silent agreement that serious conversations were for after dinner. Eddie packages up leftovers and wipes down the counters while Steve finishes dishes and Jesus Christ when did they become so normal and adult?

Well, Steve's been an adult for a while, technically, but also, he's still just barely 18 and that's just- Eddie tries not to think about it too much, the difference between Steve's age in relation to the amount of time it's been since he was born, but also since he was forced? chosen? made to? relive 3 years of his life again.

"Alright Stevie," Eddie says, crawling into his lap on the couch, his legs bracketing Steve's, pulling Steve into him, Steve's head on his chest and his head resting atop Steve's, a mirror of their first interaction, at that party that feels so long ago and also just like yesterday, "I do have a question about your list that I feel is safe to ask and for you to answer."

"Hmm?" Steve hums back, arms wrapping around Eddie as Steve nuzzles against him.

"Befriend me got crossed out, so getting me to graduate early was the option you seemed to be going with. Obviously, befriending me ended up working. So, how in the hell did you plan to make me graduate early if we weren't friends?"

Steve snorts a laugh and says, "you're gonna laugh at me."

"Of course, I am. Tell me anyway."

"I was going to attempt doing your homework and turning it in on your behalf. I even practiced making my handwriting look different."

Eddie does laugh at him, so much that his sides start to hurt, and he would have fallen off of the couch if Steve wasn't holding him so tightly.

Then Steve has the fucking nerve to say, without the slightest hint of embarrassment, "told ya you'd laugh at me."

Well, Eddie's got no choice but to take Steve's face in his hands and kiss him senseless after that.

"Can you tell me what you mean by save Max?" Eddie asks when the kissing is done and the mood changes to serious again.

"Eds-"

"No, listen. I was thinking in the shower and like, I'm not going to get all philosophical on you, but I do think you can tell me, and we can figure out things together, maybe, and I won't interfere or do anything to, like, jeopardize the timeline. Just listen and troubleshoot."

Steve pulls back from their cuddling to eye Eddie skeptically. "I don't believe any of that for a second."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs, sagging forward to rest against Steve as he leans back against the couch now, "I just- I want to save Max, too. Let me help."

"It should have been someone else."

Eddie hears the cut off sob, presses himself down like a weight blanket, "someone else?"

"To get the second chance, the do over," Steve says, voice wet and pained, "it should have been someone else. Someone who-who remembers shit, and actually knows things. Someone smarter. I'm so afraid that I'm going to fuck this up. But then I feel like shit for wishing this was someone else's problem instead of mine."

"But it wasn't someone else," Eddie says, "it was you." Then he waits for Steve to collect himself and speak.

"The Party, they think I shouldn't tell anyone," Steve presses a kiss to the top of Eddie's head that he hears more than feels, "if I change too much, I could end up fucking up a thing that has to happen for us to win. I shouldn't tell people, or warn them, because if they make decisions based on knowledge they shouldn't have? That could get someone killed."

"So tell someone not involved. Or someone who isn't involved yet. Someone not around during the events. Then none of you are making decisions you wouldn't have already been making, but someone behind the scenes can change things. Maybe even last minute?"

That seems to give Steve pause. Eddie wants to pull back to look at him, his thinking face is adorable, but instead he shoves his face into Steve's neck and just breathes him in.

"That- I hadn't even thought of..." Steve kisses Eddie's temple, "Eddie, baby, you're a fucking genius."

"I know but it's great to have it acknowledged."

"Alright, off, I've gotta make a phone call before it gets too late," Steve says, shoving at Eddie. Eddie goes willingly, rolling a full 360 off Steve's lap so he's kneeling on the couch, elbows resting on the back of it. His eyes stay on Steve, though, tracking him as he stands, adjusts his shirt as if anyone but Eddie can see him now, before moving to the phone. It's not mounted to the wall in the living room, just sat on its own table in a corner, chair nearby.

If Eddie's gaze drifts down to Steve's butt while his back is turned, dialing whoever he's calling, well, Eddie's got no shame in that. He's allowed to look.

"Hi Hopper, it's Steve. I need you to get Dr Owens to get a hold of me. I know you have a way. No- you've got to- ok. No. Yes, this is important. Something- there is something else coming. We're not in the clear yet. No! You know I cannot tell you that. We all agreed that I wouldn't tell you anything! Hop- Hop- HOPPER. I promise, I swear on my life, El will be fine. She'll be okay. I... I just need to talk to Dr Owens. Thank you. Have him call on a Tuesday, I'm always off on Tuesdays."

Eddie listens in on the whole conversation, because if it was meant to be private, Steve would have used the kitchen phone, or the one in his room. Rich people have more than one phone, Eddie's learned. Excessive. "Sounds like it went well?"

Steve wrinkles his face in a grimace. "It's still weird as fuck. They know I'm not lying about the future thing. Not when- ever since-"

Steve can't say it again, but Eddie knows what he's talking about.

Bob Newby.

Steve blames himself hard for him. With whatever happened before Steve's time travel shit -the thing that was so bad something answered Steve's prayers and wishes to change it- Steve hadn't even been thinking about Bob. It wasn't until Steve saw Bob at the Hawkins Lab that he remembered the outcome.

He'd tried to change it, to save Bob, but in doing so he'd just endangered himself more and then Bob's death, his sacrifice, had been in protecting Steve instead of the surprise attack that had apparently been what took him last time.

Steve still can't look Joyce in the face, much less meet her eye.

Eddie hates that there's nothing he can say to alleviate this guilt from Steve. He's tried but Steve... Eddie won't even forget how his voice cracked when he said 'I knew he was going to die! I knew it, should have remembered it, but instead of someone without several concussions and memory issues getting a second chance, it's me! The fuck up! I didn't remember Bob and now, this time, it's my fault he's dead.' And Eddie didn't have the words to make it better.

Still doesn't.

"So, he's going to have the Owens dude call?"

"He's going to try," Steve says, "but can't promise. So, we'll see."

-

June 24th, 1985

Steve is in the bathroom when it happens. The phone rings, and Eddie's in the kitchen, so he picks it up, and says, "Harrington residence."

"Is this Steve Harrington?"

"Uh, no, but if we just wait a moment he'll be available soon."

The voice on the other end hums, "I do have a time limit to this call."

What an odd thing to say- oh. Oh shit. "Dr Owens?"

There is silence on the other end and Eddie's afraid he's fucked this up for Steve until he hears, "and just what else has Steve Harrington told you?"

Eddie's got a choice to make now. He can lie, or he can tell the truth. Both options have consequences, he thinks, but Eddie knows what he wants to outcome to be, so he moves to get line of sight on the hallway Steve should soon be appearing from and says, "Just listen, please. I don't know nearly enough but I want to help. I can help. Listen to what Steve has to tell you, and fucking believe him. If you think I can help with anything after that, call again on Saturday. Between ten and two."

"I'll listen," is the only response he gets, and they sit on the line for what feels like an eternity before Steve comes into view. Eddie shouts his name into the receiver, feeling bad about that only after Steve's taken the phone and Eddie has retreated to the backyard, both to smoke and to give Steve privacy.

Steve is on the phone for almost four full hours. Thirty minutes into the call, Eddie suggests he take the call to his room, so he can at least sit down. Steve agrees and hands the phone to Eddie, who listens for the confirmation that Steve has picked up the upstairs phone before he hangs up the downstairs one.

As much as he wants to eavesdrop, he wants Steve's trust more. Steve is trusting Owens, and if Owens decides it, he'll get ahold of Eddie. If there's nothing Eddie can do to help, then he'll just have to be here for whatever the aftermath is.

-

June 29th, 1985

To say that Eddie is shocked that when he answers the phone on Saturday and it's actually Dr Owens on the other line would be an understatement. He knows he offered, and he hoped, but no amount of hope makes something happen.

"Your juvenile record leaves a lot to be desired, Edward Munson," Dr Owens says in leu of any other greeting when Eddie picks up with the usual 'Harrington residence'. Eddie doesn't like that the government wasted no time digging into him. He really doesn't like that Dr Owens know his name. "I am not one to hold someone to past mistakes. You wanted to help, and reluctant though I am to admit it, there is something you can do."

"Anything."

"Alright. What you need to do is be at the Fourth of July carnival, on the lookout for Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper. They'll get there later in the day, but I don't have an exact time for you. As soon as you've found them, tell them to go to Starcourt Mall because that's where the kids are. Then you go home."

Eddie wants to know why he can't come with them to the mall but knows better than to do that. "Okay, I can do that."

"I hate to be the one to remind you, but lives are at stake here. Do what I've told you and nothing else."

"I know."

"And..." Eddie can hear the hesitation in his voice, "and just know you might not see some people you are used to seeing in the days leading up to the Fourth. Don't go looking for them."

Jesus H Christ. How is Eddie supposed to not do that? How is he supposed to be okay with people being missing? He must take too long to confirm because Dr Owens speaks again.

"Edward. I promise you, they will all make it through this."

"Okay."

Hanging up with phone feels very final. He doesn't like that Dr Owens didn't assure him of their physical safety. Didn't say they'd be okay. Or that they'd be unscathed. It was basically the nicest way the guy could have said no one you care for dies this time.

-

July 4th, 1985

Eddie spends all day at the damn carnival. He posts up around noon, which is probably way too early but he's not going to fuck this up. He hasn't seen Steve in two days and he's trying not to freak out. Dr Owens said they'd all live but fuck, in what condition? Eddie doesn't know what's happening, what was supposed to have happened without Dr Owens involved, and hates that he doesn't know how these changes Dr Owens are making to the timeline will effect Steve.

In the other timeline he knows that Steve lives, at least. This time...

The sky starts to darken when a Cadillac pulls up hot and going much faster than it should be, flying past Eddie's van to find parking closer to the entrance of the carnival. It could just be some drunks excited to ride a Ferris Wheel but Eddie's going to investigate.

Eddie recognizes Hopper instantly, the unfortunate side effect of being with Steve. The Chief of Police has become a common occurrence, with Steve inviting everyone over for pool parties, or them being invited to the Byer's for Barbeques.

"Hopper! Joyce!" Eddie yells, getting their attention before they've made it past the last row of cars to the entrance.

"Eddie! Thank God!" Joyce rushes to him, Hopper hot on her heels, along with two people he doesn't recognize. "Where are the kids?"

"Starcourt Mall," Eddie says, "you have to get to Starcourt Mall as soon as you can."

Hopper looks back to the Cadillac, then to Eddie's van. "Everyone in the van."

"Oh, I'm not supposed to-"

"Van. Now."

Eddie scrambles into the driver's seat, buckling up as Hopper ushers the strangers and Joyce in before pulling the doors closed behind him. "Get a move on it, kid!"

Eddie starts the van and guns it. It'll be fine. He'll drop them off and then go home and wait. Like he's supposed to.

Except that doesn't happen. Hopper orders him to drop them off near the entrance, then park in a far back corner and wait. And how can Eddie argue with the Chief of Police?

It does give Eddie a view he never thought he'd see outside of horror movies. About an hour passes before another car pulls into the parking lot, stationing itself facing the mall, and the Wheeler's car still parked along the curb. The headlights on the car go out, and just as Eddie is leaning forward to try and get a better look at the car, something climbs atop the mall, pulling his attention from the car and holy shit what the fuck is that thing.

Eddie clamps both his hands over his mouth to stop from screaming. Then that thing drops into the mall and someone steps out of the car. The person makes it three steps from their car before what looks like the entire US military floods out the entrance of Starcourt, and several military vehicles come barreling around the mall, probably from the employee parking area.

Then there's a knock on Eddie's window and he's fairly certain he almost pisses himself in fear. He whips his head around to look and he just sees some older guy frowning at him.

"Edward," the man's voice is slightly raised but familar, "I believe I told you to go home."

"Holy shit!" Eddie unlocks his door and shoves it open, forcing Dr Owens to step back. Eddie goes to climb out but his seatbelt chokes him because he forgot he was still buckled in. He unbuckles but Dr Owens has moved back into his space, keeping him in his van.

"I'm Sam Owens," he finally, officially, introduces himself. "Care to explain?"

"Hopper made me do it."

Dr Owens doesn't even look surprised. He looks away from Eddie now, towards the flurry of movement happening around the mall. Eddie's eyes follow and he watches as Billy Hargrove, who he can now make out thanks to the spotlights from the fucking helicopters, gets tackled by two men twice his size.

"You're going to save him, right?" Eddie asks.

At that, Dr Owens does look surprised. "We're going to try."

He thinks of Steve's note. Save Max. Save Billy. "You better succeed."

Dr Owens looks like he agrees. He also lets Eddie stay. Make him sit in his car like he's in time out, and it feels like forever, but as soon as everyone Eddie's come to care about comes out the front door, Dr Owens tells Eddie to follow him, and they go join the group.

Steve looks beat to shit and Eddie runs to him, pulling himself back before he can fling himself at Steve and pull him into his arms.

"Jesus, Stevie!" Eddie says, taking in his puffy eye and split lip, and he can't stop the hand that reaches out to touch even though he absolutely should not be reaching for him in public- Steve slams into him, tucking his face into Eddie's neck. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Steve, starts whispering, "I've got you. I'm here and I've got you."

Steve finally pulls back when Joyce approaches, "Steve, let the paramedic look at you."

Steve steps back then but doesn't put distance between them. It reminds Eddie of what he said at graduation. 'I'm not afraid of a single person in this town'. Eddie wishes he wasn't afraid, either.

"Come with me?" Steve asks. Eddie nods, and follows.

They wait while Robin Buckley gets looked over, then it's Steve's turn. Robin takes Steve's place beside Eddie and they watch as Steve is examined. Eddie sees Robin giving him sideways glances, like she's afraid to fully look at Eddie, which is... something.

Once Steve is freed from the medic he steps up on Eddie's other side, the one Robin isn't stationed at, and says, "I need to talk to Owens before we can leave."

"Oh, uh, I'm kind of the Byers' and Hopper's ride. And the weird dudes they came with. They don't speak English."

Steve barks out a laugh at that. "Murray speaks English. And hooboy did we have to hear it from him. He doesn't trust the government."

Eddie doesn't know which of them was Murray, but he agrees. He gestures towards the mall, which some people seem to actively throwing gasoline on in an attempt to burn it faster? Eddie doesn't know. "Well, can't say I trust 'em either if this is the result."

"This is the Russian government's fault," Robin says.

"Oh, no, the Russians wouldn't be this kind of particular problem without our government," Steve says.

Robin just blinks at him. "Are we... still drugged?"

"You were drugged!?" Eddie whips around to Steve.

"Truth serum," Steve nods then seems to realize how quickly he said that and frowns. "It's taking longer to wear off. Or maybe this whole issue was resolved sooner than last time?"

"Shhhh!" Eddie shushes him with a hand on his mouth, looking frantically at Robin to see if she caught was Steve just said. "Stevie. Do not talk anymore tonight."

Steve licks his palm.

-

July 13th, 1985

It's an uncomfortable gathering around the table. Dr Owens, Chief Hopper, El, Joyce Byers, Steve, and Eddie are sitting at the Harrington dining table. They've all only just sat down, eyes on Steve.

"What do you mean you can't find me?" Steve asks as a whisper. With how silent it is, though, everyone hear.

El frowns. "You are gone. I cannot find you like I could Billy, or Dad, or Dr Owens. I do not know why."

After El had some rest and recovery, Steve had asked if she would look in his memories. Or be present while he remembered them. It was Dr Owens idea; maybe El could remember details that Steve himself did not pick up consciously, but heard to saw nonetheless. They'd attempted it last night to no success.

"Perhaps this has something to do with what... brought you back to this time," Dr Owens says, picking his words carefully with how slowly they left his mouth.

Steve nods before slumping in his chair, his brows furrowing as he thinks. Eddie thinks he's ridiculously cute when he makes that face. Joyce asks Dr Owens a question but Eddie's focus is on Steve. They're sitting next to each other, so he braves bumping his knee against Steve's. Steve responds by flashing him a smile and immediately hooking his ankle around Eddie's before falling back into his thoughts.

Eddie half listens to the conversation around him, half worries about Steve and what it means for him that El cannot find his mind. That being a by-product of the time travel thing seems logical. If Steve's consciousness was dropped into a younger body, the two minds couldn't exist at the same time. So perhaps, because El is searching for a Steve that, technically, no longer exists, she might not be able to find him?

"What about Project NINA?" Steve asks, bringing all conversation to a halt.

"How do you know-" Dr Owens cuts himself off. "No, I know how. Better question. What happened that we needed to actually use Project NINA?"

Steve looks haunted again, like he does when he remembers the timeline he destroyed. "Vecna happens. Spring break of '86. I- we can't talk about that here. I think- he can get inside people's head. Read their minds."

No one says it out loud, but everyone's eyes go to El for a moment and she looks uncomfortable.

"What if," Steve starts, like he's having a realization himself, "what if the reason I can't be found is for my protection? Vecna can read minds, get in there and make you think things- what if I'm being protected by whatever sent me back? Vecna doesn't know that I know what he's up to, 'cause he can't read my mind and know what happens in the future. Can't stop me from trying to stop him! Project NINA is like, a bring back memories thing, right? Take me there. Set it up away from Hawkins and take me there."

They discuss some more, trying to say a lot without saying anything incase Vecna was listening in right now. That's a thought that will keep Eddie up for months.

It's gets decided on that El will go with, to be able to try and reach Steve while he's trying to find his own memories. Hopper is going with because he's not letting El go alone, and that's when Eddie speaks up.

"Then I'm coming, too."

"Eds," Steve looks torn, like he wants to smile and frown at the same time.

"No. If Hopper's going for El's emotional support, than I'm coming for yours."

It's decided. Dr Owens will work on Project NINA, and arrange for them all to be picked up when it was ready.

"One last thing," Steve says, "once you're away from Hawkins, call me. There's someone I don't want involved in this. He's done enough damage. Oh, also, invest in some goddamn swim caps. If you think you can shave my head, or anyone else's, for your dunk tank, then you're going to get hit."

That night, Steve finally tells him what happened. What Dr Owens and he had planned. Steve only told Dr Owens about the Fourth of July, wanted to only change the last possible moment for worry of alerting Vecna to what was happening, worried about Vecna changing the plan if he knew.

He talks about Billy being possessed, how Will was, too, once. Dr Owens thinks they've managed to do that for Billy, but just to be safe, they're taking Billy somewhere. Steve didn't ask, but they're telling his dad that he got a scholarship to some college or other, full ride kind of thing. Max knows the truth, but she also knows he's alive. And knowing he's alive means Max isn't going to pull away from her friends.

Steve says he hopes that means Max is saved.

Eddie learns that Steve and Robin are going to become insufferable best friends, so Eddie had better make peace with that now.

Ha takes it all in, listens as Steve tries to downplay what he went through with humor. Like it was easier to endure just because he knew it was coming this time. It does end with Steve crying, just repeating they lived, this time, no one died, they're fine. And Eddie's smart to enough to know Steve isn't meaning all the people who did become a giant flesh monster; he's talking about they people he cares about. Hopper, who apparently died-but-didn't-die, and Billy.

He learns that last time El lost her powers, probably due to losing Hopper. But she didn't lose Hopper, or even have to fight the giant flesh monster. With the plans Dr Owens made, they'd already stormed and cleared the Russian base below Hawkins. It wasn't Dustin and Erica who freed Robin and Steve from their restraints, but some US military men. They'd waited until the Mind Flayer attacked the mall, dropped down inside it before torching it. They still needed the mall to burn down - there was a Russian base below it, after all.

Once Steve is finished, Eddie kisses his forehead and maneuvers them down in bed so he can spoon him. Steve melts into his touch, pulling Eddie's arms more firmly around him. Steve likes to be the little spoon, Eddie's happy to learn.

"I'm going to come out to everyone. Before we leave," Steve says, long after Eddie thought he's already fallen asleep. "You don't have to. We don't have to tell them we're together, but I want them to know."

The thought terrifies Eddie. He's been beaten up for the assumptions, it's hard to him to imagine what might happen if that words are made true by speaking them out loud. "Can I think on that?"

"Of course."

-

July 15th, 1985

Eddie does think about it. He thinks about coming out to this little family they've cultivated and it's hard. Coming out to Wayne had been rough, and he was one person! And he'd told Jeff. But Gareth and Brian had just kinda... put the pieces together and told Eddie they didn't care who he liked so long as he never picked his boytoy over Hellfire night (and so far, Eddie hasn't!). Eddie can't imagine telling up to fourteen people all at once.

Fourteen separate people who could hate him.

But Steve seems so sure they won't. That he won't lose anyone when(if) he comes out to them. And fuck, the scariest part if that he kind of wants to. If he and Steve do this together, if they know they're together, he could hold his hand when they're all together. Sit as close as he wants to without the fear of being found out because they'd already know.

But if they aren't okay with it. Or they aren't okay with Eddie.

These people, this group, was Steve's first, so they might be willing to forgive Steve for his temporary lapse in judgment, but Eddie hadn't done anything to earn their trust. Respect. Willingness to not beat him to death for being gay.

And also, a tiny part of him is afraid of losing Steve if he can't commit to coming out.

"Steve," Eddie whispers as they sit on the couch, a movie playing but Eddie's not watching. "I'm scared."

"What?" Steve sounds so confused, and he quickly looks between Eddie and the movie. It's so enduring that Eddie must laugh about it, just a little.

"Not of Footloose. Of telling people. About us."

Steve's face softens and he looks so fond that Eddie aches. "That's okay, Eddie. You don't have to."

"But what if...."

"If?" Steve prompts.

"What if I'm never ready to come out? What if I- if we can't- What does it mean for us, if I never get there?"

"Oh," Steve says, like the thought that Eddie would never come out hadn't ever occurred to him. "Well, then I'll just be the bisexual who never dates again and lives with his best guy friend for the rest of his life."

That's like a gut punch in the best way. That Steve says it so easily, like he plans to stay with Eddie until he dies. Eddie can't fathom that. "Careful, Stevie. With words like that I might get ideas about you."

Steve looks serious now, but with a little upturn to his mouth. A small, secret smile. "Ideas, hmm. What sort?"

"That you might adore me."

"Well, I do adore you," Steve says simply, easily, "I love you, Eddie."

Eddie freezes because that's not- Steve couldn't possibly mean- that's. What. Eddie and he haven't even said the word boyfriend to each other yet and Steve's... Steve is looking at him with such fondness, adoration, love. Butterflies erupt in Eddie's stomach and as quickly as that little bit of dread had filled him, it's gone even faster. Eddie flings himself into Steve's lap, the need to kiss him until both of them are light headed is the only thing left inside Eddie.

Eddie doesn't say it back, can't really, but Steve must know because he keeps repeating it, with every breath Eddie allows him to take in between kisses.

The next morning, Steve wants to comes out to his found family at their Good Luck Project NINA BBQ, because Hopper, El, Steve, and he are going to be heading to Indianapolis that evening to be picked up by Dr Owens men tomorrow morning and everyone wanted a last get together.

Steve is fearless. Steve is fearless, and so strong, and he loves Eddie.

So, when he calls attention to everyone and starts the speech he rehearsed with Eddie, Eddie steps up. Slides his hand into Steve's, gripping it probably to the point of pain, but there. It doesn't matter how they'll react, because Steve loves him. And he loves Steve.

(And if he clocks Lucas and Max exchanging money about it, well, he can't even be mad about that.)

[guppybubbles]

oooo,, i really like your writing!!

if you’re still taking prompts- mayhaps something including.. dragons(i 👉👈 i really like dragons), or mers? as for with who, my personal preferences are peer pressure duo or alliumduo, but if you’re not up for writing either of those, feel free to do whatever!

apologies for not following the fake title format, i am- not good at titles of any kind,, dkdnkdndkdk. hope you have a good rest-of-your-day! — 🎲

GOLD FEVER [1/2]

Ranboo is an Enderman being hunted down by monster hunters. Unable to protect themselves, they offer tons of gold to The Blood Dragon.

Word Count: 2777 words

CONTENT WARNING!!! : mentions of scars and swords, general fear, fear of death, implies being eaten (but nothing happens)

( A/N: no need to apologize!! the fake titles prompts was just smth beckyu wanted to do! nothing wrong with not following the format <33 anyways, i hope you enjoy! teehee )

He's been standing here for an hour, maybe even two. Ranboo just can't bring themselves to enter. The entrance looked so intimidating, he can't even imagine what lies inside.

The mouth of the cave was huge, big enough to possibly fit every single tree in this forest. Every time he tries to hype himself up to go inside, his fear pulls him back to where he started.

But would he rather die by hunters who've been known to make their bounties deaths slow and merciless, or die by a dragon who would most likely just make their death as quick as possible?

Yeah, dragon. Dragon sounds better.

Ranboo took in one deep breath of air and stepped in once more, trying to ignore the strong urge to run away and return home. Even with their excellent night vision, the cave still looked dark. They could barely make out the claw marks scratched on the walls. It felt like something out of a horror book.

He knew he was nearing more into the dragon's den when he noticed thin stripes of light being hidden behind a thick layer of leaves. Ranboo felt like their heart was going to break out of their chest with how intense it’s been beating. As quietly as possible, they pushed through the foliage and held their breath.

Redstone ores were scattered around the den. Ranboo remembers they shine much brighter than other ores he’s mined, he’s not a rock expert but he assumes the reason why they shine so much is their energy source. It’s one of the main ores being used in many advanced communities, perhaps the shine is an indicator of how much energy just one ore has.

Redstone wasn’t the only thing sparkling in the dark cave, because right in the middle was a large pile of gems that could make a King seem poor in comparison. Ranboo swears they can see crystals they didn’t even know exist, and they mine as a hobby! They feel entitled to at least know a decent amount more than basic knowledge when it comes to ores.

Ranboo froze when he saw whose head lay on top of the gold pile. The Blood Dragon.

Staring right at him.

"It— it's not—" They stuttered, "It really isn't what it looks like." Ranboo fully emerged from the curtain of leaves, holding their hands up to emphasize their intentions.

The dragon growls, a rumble so loud that the Redstone's lights flicker with fear. Its large tail wraps around the mound of riches, assuming that the enderman was here to steal their possessions. Ranboo couldn't blame them, he was holding a suspiciously big brown sack that reminded him slightly of the material thieves used.

"I'm here to give you offerings—! Actually!" He quickly added, throwing the sack in between the both of them and gold spilled through its opening. The rumbling stopped and Ranboo released a breath of relief.

The Blood Dragon looked interested in his gold, to say the least, and Ranboo wasn't even sure if they could understand his words. There have been cases that stated most dragons have a consciousness and can understand simple phrases, and Ranboo was desperate for any sort of protection— so he'll keep trying until he was sure they could understand him.

Slowly, they picked up the sack of gold again and approached the dragon. The dragon's eyes squinted, skeptical of the enderman.

"I'm… I'm being hunted by monster hunters and I need your protection. Not forever! Just, just enough to… I don't know, scare them off to make them leave me alone?" Ranboo stopped right in front of the pile.

A gust of warm air washed over him, the dragon just huffed out a puff of smoke— almost looking tired and annoyed. It seemed less angry than it was when he first entered, so he'll take it as a good sign.

"… Okay. I'll take that as an… unsure response." Ranboo slowly placed his brown bag right next to the bundle of gems.

The dragon stared at him, then carefully inspected the bag with its snout. Seeing a dragon— not just a dragon, the BLOOD Dragon, up close is a surreal experience Ranboo did not know they would ever have. The tales spread across the SMP mentioned how the Blood Dragon would slaughter anything and anyone in its path, yet here it was now, pouring the bag's contents onto his pile, seemingly accepting the offer, but still wary of the enderman.

"It's not a lot of gold, I know— Compared to your treasures." Ranboo spoke, "But, I promise, I'll keep paying you until you accept to protect me from the hunters… Is- Do we have a deal?"

The dragon stared at him for a long period, and Ranboo starts to think he was insane for even trying to make a conversation with them. Then, the Blood Dragon slightly bows its head and closes its eyes, accepting the enderman's offer.

Ranboo lets out a sigh of relief.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Ranboo arrives the next day with another big brown bag of gold, mixed with bits of diamonds and iron. While there was still a bit of anxiety when he entered the mouth of the cave again, it didn't take him nearly two hours to even consider going inside, which isn't a big victory, but a victory nonetheless.

The dragon was there when he set foot in the den. He huffed out another puff of smoke through his nostrils but remained lying down next to his riches. He didn't seem aggressive today, though still looked wary of his presence— Ranboo regarded that as another small victory. "Hello, um, dragon."

The Blood Dragon softly grumbled in response. He decided to think of that as the dragon greeting him back. “Maybe you won’t like being called just dragon. Do you have a name? You probably do but you can’t tell me. Should I call you something else?” He rambled, “Should I just call you Blood, Gold, or I don’t know, Michael?”

The dragon stared at him silently, and Ranboo felt like he was being judged for his name choices. “What? I think Michael is a good name!” He defended, “Though, I guess it doesn’t suit you…” The suggestions may suck, but in his defense, he’s never been good with names. As he offered another addition of gems to the dragon, he took that time to examine the treasures he has from afar. Ranboo noticed a sharp sword encrusted with the shiniest diamonds and even bits of Netherite. “Oh! What about Dagger, or Blade?”

They laughed at themselves, Prime, what were they doing? They were trying to make conversation with a dragon and trying to give him a name. He felt stupid and pathetic. “What am I even doing?” They silently asked.

The dragon moved to examine Ranboo’s offering, and the enderman plopped himself on the ground. “I’m talking to a dragon.” This was unbelievable, “I can’t find anyone willing to protect me, so- so I have to turn to a dangerous dragon because, because what? The hunters find me dangerous since I’m half enderman, half—” Ranboo cut themselves off, opting to sigh instead.

He can’t ramble on about something the dragon wouldn’t care about. Mob hybrids aren’t usually treated with the greatest respect. He’s met Charlie, a slime hybrid, they acted with childish wonder yet had random times where they showed an infinite amount of wisdom. They’ve been on trips together and he’s seen how many villagers disregarded his existence. It felt unfair, Charlie has been nothing but kind yet still treated like an unredeemable criminal.

Fortunately, Charlie found a safe place for shelter from the hunters. They were taken in by one of the richest people on the SMP, a gambler who owns multiple casinos and owns a big portion of land dedicated to stealing money from the unsuspecting in a ‘legal’ way, Quackity from Las Nevadas. Ranboo did have his doubts meeting him, but he noticed the strong bond between him and the slime hybrid, and who was he to interfere with that?

Ranboo thought he could find safety in a person just like Charlie had with Quackity. It doesn’t even need to have a strong bond, just someone to shield him from harm. He attempted to pay experienced fighters for that reason, but he’s been accused of stealing something that was rightfully earned by hours and hours of mining.

“Do you accept my offer, Blood Dragon?” The dragon made a low growling sound, not as scary and hostile as before but it did make Ranboo tense up. It reminded him of exactly what he was dealing with, he shouldn’t let his guard down no matter what whenever he gets near this giant dragon. The dragon letting him enter and giving him mercy by not outright killing him shouldn’t be a reason for him to relax.

Ranboo scrambled to his feet and patted off the dust on his pants,

“Okay… Next time then.”

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Ranboo didn’t visit the day after that, nor the following days after that either. They decided to spend their time mining in ravines and mineshafts. Who knew giving most of your gems to a dragon would almost empty your supply of ores? They didn’t mind it though, they loved spending their time mining around and always get satisfied with how many resources they got from hours and hours of emptying various caves.

It wasn’t all that dangerous either. Because he was half-enderman, Mobs recognized him as just another mob and left him alone, giving him a safe space. He was hidden away from the judgments of villagers, the spying eyes of hunters, and the awful stares of other beings. In here, Ranboo felt safe.

Safe, but isolated.

It’s what he wanted, but did the price of safety mean taking away his company? Any sort of interaction would be void if it meant living in the caves forever. Mobs aren’t very responsive to his attempts at socialization. It didn’t help that he was an enderman hybrid either, one of the mobs most known for not being able to handle interaction with species that aren’t other endermen and hate eye contact.

He wanted to visit the dragon today, but he hesitated on that decision. Hours of mining led to him upgrading his items at his base using those materials, which left him with nearly the same amount of materials he had before he started mining. Most of what he had was a bunch of emeralds he didn’t have much use for. Trading them with villagers was great, they’d trade some decent stuff but the quality slowly declined over the years. The last time he tried to trade, they tried offering ten pieces of paper for 8 emerald gems, which he didn’t need when he had an entire library of books and journals back at home. It meant most of the emeralds he has and the emeralds he’s mined collect dust in chests.

He debated if he should give emeralds to a dragon who clearly prefers gold, but wouldn’t it be better to have something other than nothing? Ranboo didn’t have the energy to keep mining either. Don’t get him wrong, he loves mining but he loves rest as well.

Ranboo held a large bag of emeralds, and he had that deja vu of wavering fear when he reached the dragon’s den again. What if he didn’t accept his offer? Everyone knows emeralds aren’t of much use other than trading, they can’t be used to make armor or tools. They’re pretty much useless!

Just like the times before, the dragon was there next to their heap of jewels. “Hello, Blade.” Ranboo greeted softly, and he knew he heard him when he did his signature puff of smoke as a hello. “D’you get lonely without me? I know, I’m pretty good company.” He joked and Blade thumped his tail on the ground.

Ranboo chuckled. “Ah- I think I should just be honest here. I don’t… have gold, I just have emeralds and I—”

The Blood Dragon then suddenly popped up from where they were laying and stared at Ranboo. In instinct, the enderman immediately looked away. Oh Prime, Oh Prime, Oh Prime. Coins and metal shuffled around, Blade was moving. Fear struck in Ranboo, especially since they have never seen the dragon stand up or move away from their treasure before.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He was walking closer and they closed their eyes, trying to touch into their teleporting skill and get out of there. Ranboo could feel the particles surrounding him, and he attempted to imagine the forest outside to teleport to. They weren’t great with teleporting, in fact, it mostly only works when he’s scared and oh, he’s so scared. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” They screeched out ender apologies, only coming off to the dragon as warbles of sounds.

Blade pressed their snout against Ranboo’s chest, effectively trapping them between him and the wall of the cave. “Oh my Pr- please, please, don’t kill me!” Panicked clawed hands made an effort to push the dragon’s face away, to no avail. This is it, the exact scenario he was worried about. He should’ve just waited for more time and come back with the items the dragon had wanted, or maybe he shouldn’t have even come here at all. This deal was nothing but just the dragon milking out Ranboo’s resources until he was bone dry. Tears welled up in his eyes and they burned his eyesight. Wow, thanks for giving him every enderman trait except for great teleportation skills. Thanks a lot, Universe.

Ranboo didn’t know what he should feel in his last moments. Whether it was anger or sadness, he just wanted the dragon to get it all over with as swiftly as he could. He knew he was taller than the average human but the Blood Dragon was huge, so he could make quick work with him.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Blade made a sound, a small roar that sounded a lot like curiosity.. Or was it happiness?

Ranboo opened their eyes and felt their heart thump louder than they had before. The dragon was mere inches away from himself, though their attention was focused on the brown bag on the floor, or maybe what was inside it. They never noticed the dark pink scales scattered across his body before, and the scars of what were presumably sword scars were displayed at his neck. Not just on his neck, but scars displayed on his wings, tail, and even on his chest.

Blade sniffed at the bag and made soft sounds, gently poking the bag with his snout. Ranboo, still in a state of shock, tried to speak. “Oh. Oh- so you were- you like emeralds?” He questioned, and noted that the continuous thumping was just Blade’s tail excitedly hitting the floor.

Slowly, he picked up the bag full of emeralds again and watched as how Blade’s thin irises expanded, reminding him of a cat focusing on a red dot from a laser pointer. “Jeez, you-” Ranboo breathed deeply, unable to find the right words for their feelings. They approached the heap of treasures again, and Blade followed right behind them. Their massive shadow covered the entirety of the enderman and they made a delighted trill sound as the emeralds were added. “There. Happy?” Ranboo squeaked an ender curse as Blade pressed his snout against his body again, and the sound of thunder outside just made his nerves rise again.

Wait… Thunder?

He could barely hear it in this huge cave, but there were sounds of raindrops and the occasional thunder outside. That was strange, he could’ve sworn there weren’t any clouds in the sky when he had first entered- but to be completely fair, he wasn’t paying attention to the sky when he was contemplating about entering the cave earlier. He’s stuck. “Crap…” He mumbled.

Blade turned their head to the ceiling of the cave, aware of the thunderstorm happening outside. Ranboo walked up to the curtain of leaves to see just how bad the storm was, maybe they could set off back to their home. Sure, it may hurt but— “Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Blade’s tail wrapped around his waist and lifted him just a few inches off the ground and brought him closer.

Blade laid down and gently placed Ranboo by his neck. Was he asking him to stay here? “Thanks, but I got to get home, Blade.” He said, patting the dragon's neck. The dragon replied with a pleading rumble, eyes closed and cuddling their neck closer to him.

Ranboo smiled softly. He couldn’t say no.

[hawthornsword]

Today on Bad Batch! (2x11)

... Holy shit you guys went for straight up horror movie. Nice. I just hope it's not too cliche.

Oh wait, that's where we rescued Gregor from! Do we get more clone stuff today?! (No. We do not. Damn it.)

Huh. Nala Se is not cooperating. Good for her.

This Hemlock guy is creeeepy. Wait, where do I know his voice from? (Looks it up.) Oh. Lot's of things actually.

Wait, I thought they killed Lama Su??? They definitely implied it, right??? Was that just me who thought that?

Armored skin impervious to blasters? Waaait a second! That sounds like -

Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! Zillow Beast! YEAHHH!!!!!!

Finally!!! I think about the Zillow beast on like, a weekly basis. Not even joking. I had been annoyed like, "this seems important why would they just drop this plot point?!?!" But they didn't! We just had to wait (checks dates) 13 years!!!! (I didn't actually have to wait that long; I only started watching tcw last year. I feel for you, people who watched tcw as it aired.)

Very interesting that it's clones, not new empire soldiers, handling Zillow beast containment. But then again, since they are apparently rounding up civilian witnesses and disposing of them, that probably means the clones assigned to the zillow beast will eventually have the same fate so that there is no evidence of the project. Hopefully the boys figure that out and flee. They certainly looked uncomfortable with the situation.

Oooo we finally gonna get back to why Nala Se cares so much about Omega and helped her escape but also put a bounty to get her back and omg that must be one heck of a complicated relationship and I'm so eager to know if Nala Se thinks of Omega like a daughter or an experiment but either way she's her legacy and it's gonna be so painful! Yessss!

Awww, Omega looked so happy when Hunter said to send Echo and Rex the info! Baby is excited to hopefully see her other dad again!!!!

(Side note on Echo that should have gone after the episode he left, but I wasn't feeling wordy then. This is just my opinion of course, I'm not trying to argue with anyone, your headcanons are your own. But I've seen a bunch of posts saying Echo is the "mom" of the group and .... No. No, if I must make the comparison then Echo is definitely the dad. Tempted to get into a discussion about how weird it is that people feel the need to assign characters into the tiny boxes that are traditional binary heteronormative gender roles, and then get them wrong, especially when that's not even remotely the Batch's family structure nor the clones' culture as a whole, but. I'm also sure it was meant in good fun, and I'm lazy, so, not doing that.)

Anyway! Good episode, always happy to see a zillow beast, hope the baby gets to eat some villains and live its best life soon, will probably be writing some fic to that effect. Death by zillow is one of my favorite ways for Palpatine to die.

Thinking about that makes me so happy that I am almost distracted enough not to ask. Almost.

Where is Cody?! Is he safe?!

[onceinawhilemoon]

Absolutely loved reading these. One of the things I love most about CO is how I think it managed to touch something in all of us. I hope you guys don't mind me dropping my (many) pennies:

“I had to see with my own adult eyes that the place of my childhood had never been what I had known. It felt on one hand familiar and on one hand foreign.”

This is worded so beautifully. I totally get it, and it reminded me of something Sherlock said:

“It feels... wrong. Sad. Like they are the memories of another man.”

I think he's definitely feeling that dissonance here; what he remembers as a child clashing with what he's experiencing now as an adult, particularly about his mother–“Home sweet home” quickly turning into a place of gloom and uncertainty.

“I guess it’s easier to romanticise and try to find your way into your old life again when you aren’t happy with your current one?” & “Even if Sherlock felt a dissonance, Jon would have made it disappear by making him recall their sweetest, most innocent moments there.”

I think it's definitely a bit of both. It's Jon helping him see things through rose-tinted glasses and also the freedom and independence he felt in Cordona, which he craved and missed in London while being under Mycroft's wing. Mycroft tried to offer stability, but Sherlock was at an age where stability wasn't enough–he needed to get away. He needed stimulus, and adventure, and a change of scenery. I'm a total sucker for the theme of autonomy vs. authority that Frogwares touched on in their dynamic, especially in the way they both claimed the manor as “my house,” but I'll pull the brakes right here to avoid drifting into another ramble. But, I imagine the idea of claiming a space uniquely his, especially one abandoned and left in the past by Mycroft, where he can be himself and do whatever he wants without his older brother's expectations weighing on him, is very compelling. Which is why he gets so annoyed whenever Mycroft intervenes in his affairs in Cordona, or when he even follows him to the manor–Sherlock literally sees it as Mycroft “intruding” on his space.

And I like this, as heartbreaking as it is–this idea that despite Sherlock leaving for London willingly in the other endings because there was nothing left for him in Cordona anymore, despite everything Mycroft did to try and make London a safe and supportive environment to help him overcome his trauma, Sherlock’s heart still remained in Cordona, the place that both embraced and scarred him. And home is where the heart is, right?

But, I also think that after he left, that spark and affinity he felt towards the island diminished, because only a few years later in TA, he says his heart will always yearn for London, though New Orleans reminds him of Cordona in a nice way, implying all the other ways in which he remembers it that are… not so nice. (and also iirc Watson asks him if he ever plans on returning, and Sherlock says he isn't sure…)

Growing up sure works in interesting ways–how memories and feelings for certain places shift with time. And while Sherlock was technically already an adult in CO, I also always interpreted losing Jon to be another part of “growing up” for him. I don't know how to explain it properly, but it felt like Sherlock was stuck somewhere in time before the trauma, and as soon as he remembered it, time started flowing for him again–but too quickly, so he didn't even get the chance to process it all, or properly say goodbye to Cordona and Jon.

As for whether he actually intended to settle down there–if you asked me a few days ago I would have said Sherlock was doing all of this (repurchasing furniture, renovating/decorating, etc.) to savor his fleeting time in Cordona until he solved the mystery of his mother's death. It started as a short getaway for much-needed fresh air and closure, but then Things and Stuff and Happenings took place, so making his space feel homey and welcoming wasn't only to jog his memory, but also to offer some comfort against all this uncertainty. But this line in this ending totally convinced me that he did at least consider living there at some point–if not indefinitely, then at least for a little while longer, and if not for anything else, then just to spite Mycroft lmao. But now that he's left, I don't think he wants to go back, at least not without Jon.

Ever since he was a child, Cordona has always been a fucked up place (see: Matthias, Toby, Ector Jacobson, etc.), and now as an adult, memories like these grow even darker in one's mind. It was Jon who gave it that sparkly sense of wondrous and innocent fun, always interjecting with, “Let's have a pillow fight!” and “Let's build wigwams!” and “Let's take a photograph!” and “Let me draw you a picture!” to offset the dark and fucked up realities Sherlock was facing about Cordona and its people. He may sometimes think of that place as home, and it does hold some of his happiest memories, but I think, without Jon, it's just another place of murder, scandal, prejudice, injustice, and trauma for him. Not saying London is any better, but at least in London, he's got Watson.

And, as cliché as it sounds, maybe, after all, home for him was never about the where, but the who.

One final thing:

“You can even get bee hives which aren’t a small commitment.”

I can't tell you how quickly I shot up from bed screaming OH MY GOD THE BEES. SHERLOCK LEFT THE BEES!!!!!! I totally forgot you can put a goddamn apiary in your garden svdgebsjwdghhgdhbdbsbsb

so, uh... This absolutely did not shatter me whatsoever

"... I was exlied from Cordona. With no means, no home, and no purpose, I returned to London."

Sherlock considers Cordona to be his home. not London.

[dreamypqulson]

— pull me out of the train wreck

requested by lesliesBBY on wattpad: "Hey! So I was wondering if you could do a one shot for Cordelia....We are her wife and we found out that we are pregnant and she is super excited since she isn't able to...then like Marie (idk how to spell her last name; she is the voodoo queen) takes us when we are alone...and she wants revenge on Cordelia for something so she takes us and threatens us and our baby in from of Cordelia (or by message) and Cordelia like breaks down and stuff...She finally finds us but we were beaten pretty bad and taken to the hospital and they don't know if we're going to make it.... You can come up with the rest of you do it but yeah it's just a lil somethin! Love the book btw!!"

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 3900

warning: blood, violence, kidnapping, needles, drugging, implied miscarriage, mention of death. please read with caution because this can be very heavy.

a/n: i hope you don’t mind but i changed Marie to witch hunters :)

"I love you. Be back soon" you kissed your wife's cheek and we're about to step out the front door but her fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, restraining you from doing so.

You looked back at her and saw that worry was painted all over her face. It was clear to you and everyone else that she’s was extra cautious with you ever since you got pregnant. She was nervous. She always wanted this but could never actually have it. Now that she finally got it -even if it's her wife that's the pregnant one- she's going to do absolutely everything to make sure you and the baby is safe and healthy.

She looked down at your protruding stomach and then back up at your face. Her eyebrows were knitted together the entire time. She hadn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if it was just down the street, you had to have at least someone with you. You didn't see why you need that supervision though. You've had a pretty healthy pregnancy and it wasn't like you would go into labor while out and about; you still had another month to go.

"Delia, she's fine and i'm fine. I'm promise you. It's just down the street. I'll be no less than thirty minutes." Only two months ago had you both found out the gender of your baby. And god, you were both so excited to have a little girl. Not to mention how all the other girls were very excited about this.

"Okay. Call me if you need me and-" You cut the supreme off with a kiss on her lips. Otherwise, she would've been blabbering until the sun went down. "I will. Bye, I love you" you smiled at her and this time, successfully got away, hearing an 'I love you too' from behind you.

It was only a few groceries that you were going to get. Cordelia was always the one to do it but she had been busy and stressed and you wanted to get out of the house anyways. So, you offered to go.

But it took a lot of convincing because you haven't even been behind the wheel since you and Cordelia found out you were pregnant. As much as Cordelia's over protectiveness could be a lot at times, you knew it was out of love and it made you feel very safe and confident with this pregnancy.

                                        ____

You safely got to the store that was literally a ten minutes drive from the academy and you quickly got all the things that Cordelia had wrote on the sticky note. You couldn't help but giggle at the little smiley face that she drew in the corner.

It was after dinner time so sun was already beginning to set. You quickly made your way to your car and threw the bags in the backseat. You never liked being alone but for some reason, you felt as if you were being watched.

You stupidly blew it off, thinking that you were only in your head after not going out alone for months on end.

That was until everything went dark. But you were still conscious so only a mere second later when the air had grown warmer, that it dawned on you that a bat was tightly over your head.

You kicked and you screamed and tried to use your powers but it was hard. You barely had energy when there was little human in your stomach that was using half of it.

Cordelia always told you that your powers spike in a time of crisis right now, that seemed far from the truth. You were being dragged away but it was clear by the amount of strong hands and male voices that there was more than one.

You could hear a car start up, clearly a van by the way that you were thrown into a big empty space. You started to sob. All you could think about was Cordelia and the little family that you were both so close to having. She was right, you told yourself. If you had just listened to her then you would be safe in her arms right now. You and You're little girl would be safe in her arms.

You felt someone inject a needle into your arm. You cringed and started to scream louder. This was the end. Just like that.

You heard the hard laughter of men and a car beginning to thump on the rocky road. Then everything went dark.

____

"Cordelia?" You groaned, voice hoarse. You could hardly open your eyes because your head hurt too much. You had figured that you had already had the baby and just knocked out right after. But by the way your stomach felt heavy and a shooting pain ran though your back, you quickly realized that, that wasn't the case and something was seriously wrong.

Your head was pounding and your entire body was sore. The surface beneath was hard so you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up.

You tried to reach up to rub your eyes but there was something preventing you from doing so. That's when you shot your eyes open.

You almost got sick right there. You didn't know where you were or what happened but you knew you weren't safe.

Looking down at your hands, you noticed them tied behind your back. What. The. Fuck.

You were sat on a dirty, concrete floor and there was only one bright light illuminating you. The rest of the room was dark and empty, impossible to see ahead.

"Cordelia?" You tried to scream but you felt so weak. When you looked down at your stomach, it gave you enough energy to at least try. Try for the baby. Try for Cordelia.

"Someone help!" You strained to pull yourself free from the hand restraints but it hurt like hell. You were sure that your wrists were bleeding and your circulation was if not all then close to being cut off.

"It's no use" a deep, male voice said. You gasped when you saw a tall figure walk out from the darkness. He looked like any normal man but to do something like this, he was pure evil. No normal man would do this.

"What is this?" You cried "What do you want?"

He laughed at you like you were a circus act. And there were laughs coming from the darkness. He wasn't alone. And you had recognized those evil laughs. They were the last thing you heard before you had been put unconscious. You remember being forced in the van. You remember the needle being put into your arm. And you remember the fear.

He didn't answer. None of them did. They were treating you like a dog. "Please let me go. I- I won't tell anyone. Please. I just want my baby to be safe and-" you stopped to try and catch your breath. It wouldn't be in your best interest to pass out again.

He took this as an opportunity to walk towards you. He walked so carelessly like he hadn't just captured a pregnant woman. He even had a proud smile on his face.

"Oh you silly girl" he whispered in your ear. You could feel his stubbly beard against your cheek and the smell of bear filling your nostrils. "Now why would we take you, just to let you go?" He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ears, the rest sticking to your tear stained face. God, how you felt like you could be sick just from that.

You tilted your head further away from him and began to speak again. "Why do you want me? What could I have possibly done?" You we're speaking through gritted teeth. You're powers wouldn't even work. Who are these people?

"It's not what you've done. It's what your little lover girl has done. We're using you as bait. As a way to hurt Cordelia." His name so harshly rolled off his tongue. He didn't deserve to say her name. And just the thought of Cordelia having to go through even one ounce of this made your stomach churn worse than when you felt them throw that bag over your head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" You screamed, too loud for your own ears to handle. That got you a slap across your face. You winced at the stinging pain on your cheek and tasted that metallic taste that blood had in your mouth. You spit out a mouth full of spit or rather blood onto the floor.

You let out a loud groan because a shooting pain went throughout your stomach, one that you haven't felt before. Tears streamed hard down your face. You would not let them hurt your baby.

The man walked back into the darkness. He looked so happy with himself. You bet they all did.

Just then had you remembered your phone. Cordelia wanted you to call her when you were on your way home. That must've been hours ago so she had to be looking for you by now. You knew that she wouldn't forget about you that easy, even while being loaded and stressed with a ton of work.

You frantically checked around your pockets for your phone. You knew you were being watched but you hoped that they weren't actually paying attention.

You couldn't find it in any of your pockets. You knew you brought it with you. You never go anywhere without your phone.

"Do you think that we wouldn't have emptied your pockets?" A man that had that similar look to him; stubbly beard, dark eyes, evil smile, walked out now. You looked at his hand. He dangled your phone in it. He was taunting you.

"Should we give your precious Cordelia a call?" You started to pull aggressively on the restraints, looking as if you were a dog tied up and had just seen a squirrel. "No! No you disgusting pigs! Leave her alone!" You screamed again.

He walked closer to you, giving you a kick in your side. You let out an inhumanly sound. Any closer and he would've hit the baby.

But they didn't listen to your pleads. They began to search through your contacts on your phone. You didn't ask how they got into your phone without the password because that was the least of your problems right now.

It rang once. And then again. And then she picked up. She never missed one of your calls, always answering right as you dialed her.

"Y/n? Where are you? I've been worried sick. Are you okay?" You could hear her voice from across the room. She was loud and frantic. You could even tell that she'd been crying. You wanted to scream out for her but you were swallowed by your own words when one of the men began to talk.

"Oh don't worry, she's perfectly fine. Isn't that right, y/n?" His voice pierced right through your ears. His words were clear but he made himself sound so careless and dreamy like he was just one of your friends.

"No! Delia Help!" That was the last you could say because another one of the men came from behind your and placed an extremely thick piece of duct tape on your mouth, restricting you from talking.

They didn't care that Cordelia was on the other line because you still earned a few more brutal punches and kicks from them.

"Y/n? Who are you people? What are you doing with her?" You could tell that she was trying to stay strong but the lump in her throat betrayed her. "You know who we are. Don't you remember Hank? Or have you forgotten so quickly?" Both you and Cordelia paused at that. That's when you both realized who these people really were.

"Y/n has nothing to do with this. Let her go!" something had ignited in her because she started to sound so strong, so angry. "If you want her then come get her. But sweetheart, I promise we aren't letting her go that easy."

And then he hung up.

That had outraged you. And the fact that you couldn’t do anything made you feel so useless. But you still had to keep fighting.

You started to go crazy. Or you felt crazy. Screaming the best you could with the tape over your mouth, kicking, pulling and pulling and pulling at the restraints. You felt like an animal.

"Boys!" The one who you figured was the leader of them said. One of them grabbed your feet to stop you from moving. Another injected a needle into your arm again. You violently shook your head but your movements slowly slowed down until you were finally peaceful and everything was black.

                                         ____

"Come on, y/n! Wake up please. Come on" a wavering, unsteady voice pierced through your ears. You knew who it was immediately. And you knew you were in a dream. There was no possible way-

"Y/n please" her voice became high pitched because her own tears had overpowered her. She asked you many times to wake up -you figured- and you weren't going to make her ask again.

You fluttered your eyes open. The bright light hurt your head but you didn't want to deny Cordelia of what she was asking you to do.

"Y/n!" she said. You only groaned in response, it's the only thing that came out. "Delia" you croaked. All you could see was her blonde hair and the figure of her because for some reason, your vision still hasn't fully adjusted.

"Hi baby" she started to undo the restraints. They were bolted to the ground but that didn't seem to stop the supreme. Soon your hands were free. You were free. She starting rubbing your wrists to try and generate your circulation again.

"I can't" you cried. You knew they were using you as a punching bag while you were asleep because you felt far worse and had cuts, bruises, and blood where you didn't before. "I can't make it" you started to sob, not being able to wipe your tears because your energy was far too gone by now. But Cordelia went to cup your bloody cheek and wipe the tears away, just for new ones to replace it.

"Yes you can. Don't say that" you looked away, feeling a rush of shame course through you. Cordelia hooked her finger under you chin and gently guided your attention back to her. Your breathing was starting to get heavy and you didn't know how much longer you could last with this lack of oxygen.

"Look at me. You can do this." Her words held so much, they always lit something in you -even in your darkest moments- that made you say maybe I can do this.

But right now, it didn't feel the same.

You knew they didn't only beat you, but your baby too. She was a strong girl through these eight months but a person can only take so much.

Your glassy eyes flickered to your legs. Although you weren't surprised, you were still shocked to see blood pooling around your legs. That was it, all hope had been lost.

You didn't trust your voice enough to speak. That was if you had a voice left. You tightly gripped onto Cordelia's arm. That was enough to have Cordelia's eyes wonder to wear your afraid ones were. You dug your nails deep into her skin without even noticing. But she didn't notice either.

"Delia" you didn't even sound like yourself "Okay. It's okay. You have to relax." Cordelia said but didn't believe herself either. When she told you it's okay, she didn't actually mean it. Because it wasn't okay. You both knew that.

"No!" you said and had began to do the opposite of relaxing and calming down. Because after carrying this baby for eight months, you grew a connection with her. Both you and Cordelia had grown a connection with her. The both of you had been looking forward to having this little family.

"I'm sorry. Oh my god, i'm so sorry. She's not going to make it, Delia. I'm not either." You started to hyperventilate which wasn't the best option considering that your chest had already felt heavy. But at this point, did it really matter when you felt like you were already halfway to the other side.

"No, please, y/n. You need to hold on, honey. You're strong. You both are" This wasn't in Cordelia's hands anymore. Cordelia wasn't god, she couldn't play the life or death game.

She pulled out her phone and frantically dialed an ambulance. They had told her to stay on the line but she couldn't bring herself to. She didn't know what would happen in these next few minutes so she wanted to give you her full attention.

"Cordelia" you said but really, you didn't know if you were actually speaking or this had all been in your head. It felt too unreal. She nodded, her tears spilling all over you. "What did you do to them?" She knew what you meant by them.

Moments of silence filled the room before she grabbed your face. She gave you the softest smile. "They're gone, baby. They won't hurt you or anyone else again." You weren't very confident that you would make it -death was wrapping around you like ivy on a tree- but you wanted to make sure Cordelia would be safe.

"I want you to keep on going, okay? For the girls and for me and for our daughter. Even if her and I won't be with you, physically" your sudden calmness had sent a shiver through Cordelia. "No no no, stop it. You're not going anywhere."

"I love you." You whispered and your eyes started to flutter shut. But Cordelia kept tapping your face because she was not going to lose her wife and daughter.

But this fight was too hard.

The last thing you heard was sirens and Cordelia sobs and pleads for you to stay with her.

                                         ____

Cordelia had been in the waiting room of the hospital for the rest of the night and the entire day after. She hadn't left, hadn't eaten, hadn't slept.

Zoe had offered to come by for support but Cordelia didn't want her or any of the girls to see her in the state she was in.

To put it in a simple way, she was a mess. She was getting very irritated that she hadn't got any updates on you. When she would ask, they would tell her that there was no new news. But it's been over twenty four hours so she tried to tell herself that it was a good thing; if you were...dead then they probably would've figured that out and told her by now.

It was eight at night now. A male doctor walked into the room and called for Cordelia Goode. She had never stood up so quickly in her life.

He gave her a polite smile and said nothing other than "follow me." She did. And with each step she took to your room, the faster her pulse got. She didn't know what was going to be on the other side of the door.

"She's a little out of it. But she's okay. She's going to be okay." The doctor said before opening the doors. And there you were. Well, you had bruises and cuts everywhere. You looked quite sickly too. But it was still you, that much Cordelia knew.

She wasted no time to walk to your side. Your eyes were closed but what Cordelia had noticed was that your breathing was peaceful and not at a concerning rate.

She grabbed your hand and rubbed her thumb over the top. She bit her lip to try and suppressed her tears.

"As for the baby, we don't know. I've talked it over with some of our other doctors and the best bet would be that she has the baby now. She's ready so we're not just jumping into this." With that, Cordelia looked up at the man with anger. After everything you've been through, she didn't think you would have enough energy to have this baby at the moment.

"She barely has enough energy to open her eyes and you think she'll be able to give birth right now? Is this some kind of joke?" Cordelia's voice had gradually got louder. The doctor sighed but kept patient. He's dealt with many people, worse people before.

"I understand, Mrs. Goode, I do. And we would never have one of our patients do something that we know they're incapable of or would be in danger doing. We believe it would be perfectly safe for the baby and y/n."

The tension in the room had grew. And all the chatter had made you wake up. You knew what the conversation had been about, the doctors already told you about this. And you knew Cordelia wouldn't be completely on board with it.

"Delia, it's okay, sweet love. I promise" To hear your voice again had shocked Cordelia and brought tears to your eyes. She really thought that she would never hear it again.

"Y/n, baby!" she leaned down to placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. You giggled. She didn't want to overwhelm you with a kiss on your lips. But lucky for her, that was exactly what you wanted. You grabbed her head and pulled it back down before pressing your lips up against hers for a kiss that lasted just over a few seconds.

"I can do it. Remember, 'you're strong, you can do this" you said. Of course you hadn't forgotten what Cordelia told you, it's probably what got you to survive. She smiled down at you. "It's the safest option for her" your voice sounded sure as you motioned towards your stomach.

"Alright...if you feel ready, sweetheart"

                                          ____

Eighteen painful hours later and you finally had the most adorable baby in your arms. "Isn't she just beautiful? She has your eyes, Delia." You whispered the last part, not sure how the doctors in the room would react to finding out that this baby was made with magic.

"She's the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s a little fighter...other than you, of course" leaning down, Cordelia placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You finally removed your gaze from the baby in your arms for probably the first time since she's been born, to look up at Cordelia. "I love you so much, Cordelia Goode. And I couldn't ask for a better woman to have a perfect little family with."

Taglist: @loverofallthingssarah @goodeday2u @lanawinters-ily @futuremilfcheck @talulahmae @sapphicforsarahh @ahsfan05 @tatelangdonprincess @stayevildarling

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[brightert0mb]

Idk if you had already planed to do this but would you make a second part to Those Wings Had Taken You Up So High where they find a way for him to fly again

I'll be honest I had no intention of continuing that story as it would be much farther into the canon, and with the lore that Phil hinted at.

But as it is what the masses want, who am I to refuse.

This takes place many many years in the future and after the hinted Phil lore. It is canon until future lore proves it not.

Warnings for: Implied/Past Character Death, Flying/Heights, Implied Depression, Aggression, Yelling

Edit: No longer Canon to DSMP

Race the Wind

Sequel to Part 1

Platonic!DSMP!Ph1lza x Glare!Reader

You sighed as you entered the old house you had long abandoned. Books and papers littered the floor. Anatomy of birds, notes sticking out of journals. You rubbed a hand against your face. You were older, everyone was, everyone not dead anyway. How many years had it actually been? You lost count around the middle of the Great SMP War as everyone called it now.

Regardless of the passage of time, you were now short two deaths and you had long abandoned the project you has promised your friend so long ago. The brace with half-finished prosthetic feathers lay on the table. You ghosted a hand over it. You'd almost perfected it when the war came busting everyone’s doors down.

You remembered the day you had shown Phil all your research and notes. It had taken at least four to five years to gather it all but the look on his face had been worth it. You knew he had been tempering his expectations until that point, unsure whether to support you or not. But seeing that initial sketch of the brace, hearing you explain it, you'd seen the change in him, the tears of hope and happiness he had tried to hide.

It was all for nothing now. You yanked your hand away from the unfinished mechanical limb. You contemplated why you even came and you rubbed your eyes, leaning on the table before you heard the door creak.

“This is a surprise.” A low gruff voice said. You looked back, greeted by the sad, hollow, memory of the Piglin who had once taken you in. “I... I'm sorry. I just-” “I know.” He walked up next to you, starting at the brace. “I miss him too.” The empty tone nearly made you crack. You inhaled deeply, looking to the side as you held back tears and a sob.

“The... Ahem- The islands are coming along well. Did you-” “No. I can't. I can't see him like that. It's not him.” You nodded, finally taking notice of the large backpack he held by the top strap at his side. “You’re leaving?” You looked up at him, almost feeling betrayed. “Tommy, Tubbo, Boo, and Micheal are coming too. I wanted to invite you too.” “Niki and Wilbur?” “Wilbur’s insane and you know it. As for Niki. I couldn't find her. Didn't find any note. There's no signal about her dying. I can only guess she left too.”

You looked down at the decaying wood floor. Did you want to leave? This was the only place you had ever known. You hadn't known many others but, everything you had, had been here. You grew up on these snowy grounds, walked the craters that were once paths and streets, watch life grow and die. Watch. That was the word that defined you, wasn't it? You were only ever able to watch. Watch people tear each other apart, watch the explosions and withers, watch others grow mad, forget themselves, die on the inside with the decay of everything, watch your friends die and betray.

“I want to see him first. One last time.” Techno held his breath before nodding. “We’ll... meet you at the nether roof.” You took your turn nodding before the Piglin turned and left. The cold air blew in through the still-open door. You didn't feel it.

You weren't sure when you left the decrepit cabin, when you traveled through the nether, or when you had arrived at the remains of the SMP. You looked up, seeing the floating piles of dirt connected by vines. “PHIL!” You shouted seeing a small dot jump from one of the floating masses. A gust of air hit you like a wall, causing you to fall on your back and squint your eyes.

“You know it's Phantomza now, right?” The greyed, semi-transparent figure loomed over you. Branchlike antlers tore through the bucket hat which now sported a veil covering the blank face of your past friend. You helped yourself up. “Habit.” You dusted yourself off, looking at the floating islands again. “They're coming along well.” He flowed your gaze, smiling lightly. “Yes, they are... Do you think she'll like them?” He turned to you, still serene despite the happy tone. “She’ll love them.” You patted his arm.

The both of you stood there in silence, taking in the sight before you looked down in guilt. “I'm leaving.” He turned to you, calm but a little shocked. “Me, Techno, Tommy, Boo, and his family.” He started before looking back up at his creation. “That’s sad.” He doesn't sound sad. “I hoped they would at least say goodbye.” Does he actually want anything? “I can't go until the islands are done.” Why does he only care about building? “It would make me happy t-” “YOU DON’T FEEL ANYTHING!” You yelled, catching the ghost off guard.

“You never feel anything! You're just apathetic! You've never felt happy to see me, sad Techno never visited you, worried about Niki or Boo! Nothing! Phil felt! He was happy! Hopeful! And then you took him! At least have the common decency to stop acting like you two are the same!” Tears streamed down your face as you screamed bloody murder at the white-winged ghost in front of you. Sobs were the only sound besides the whistling wind. “Phil had wants. Dreams. He wanted to see his friends safe and happy. Dreamed about seeing his wife again. He only ever hoped to fly again. And now you just parade around acting like him, when you're barely a parody. All you ever do is build your stupid islands! You use what was supposed to be his wings to do what he always wanted. You act so carefreely about it I wonder if you got anything from him.”

You sobbed again, turning away from the ghost as you sat on the ledge, crying into your knees. You heard movement next to you before a cold hand was placed on your head. “I remember a lot from him. I remember a lot of conversations with Techno, baking cookies with Niki, being introduced to Micheal, Wilbur introducing me to Fundy after he was born, Will after he was born, meeting Kristen. But things I remember most clearly are the times he was most content or happy. The best one I like to remember is your promise during tea and you showing him that sketch of the brace.” That had you freezing up. “He was so worried about you. Worried you'd waste away or end up like Will. But then you showed him that sketch. Everything seemed to fall into place for him... And then the war happened. And I see you and Techno again, crying as he looks at the sky and talks to you. It hurt like hell, but he was happy. Sad too, but happy. Happy Techno could see the world, happy he could see Kristen again, and happy you could live your life. Maybe travel without working yourself dead over him.” You bit your lip as you felt him crouch down and hug you from the side. “He’s sorry he never got to see the brace. And never got to take you flying.”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. You hiccuped before wailing. You held onto the phantom as you rubbed your back, holding you like a father comforting his child. If your tears burned, he said nothing. You weren't sure how long you cried for but by the time you were done, you were spent. Phantomza wiped your remaining tears with his sleeve before picking you up.

“I'm going to live how I think he would have wanted to, and do everything he couldn't.” You felt the wind streak past as he took off with you still in his arms. You held tight onto his shirt, closing your eyes so they wouldn't burn in the billowing winds. But when you felt the wind slow and Phantomza level out, you peaked an eye open. You looked around soon catching the setting sun on the horizon.

It was breathtaking, though that could have been the altitude. Almost like a painting. “I'm sorry, I'm not him. But I'm trying to live how I think he would have. Knowing his friends are strong and can care for themselves, not wanting to bother others too much, and building beautiful things. I fly so much because maybe, just maybe, if he can feel or see it too, I want to that much at least.” You felt yourself yawn, watching the sunset as your postmortem friend gave you the best he could.

“He was always happy when you were happy.”

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

The vague ending was on purpose, you decide whether you stayed with Phantomza or left with Techno in the end.

Also, I'm sorry if this was sadder than you expected. My dog died so I may have been projecting just a bit.

As for the specifics of how Phil died, I had an idea but I kept it vague to not make it too long and to leave it up to the reader as well.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!

[cuzimitaliano]

I Really Do Love You - T.R.

TW: Drinking + Smoking, Mental Illness, Death/Offing Urself, Implied OD, Graveyards, Bad Grammar/Not Proofread

A/N: This is my first Måneskin fic so I'm sorry if anything is wrong. Most of the Italian is translated because I'm not that good at it yet </3 If anything in the TW's trigger you, please don't read. I would rather lose a like or a read than make someone read something that will be harmful to them. I wrote this to make me feel better, so I don't want you to feel bad from reading it. Thank you.

Word Count: 3,800+

Thomas Raggi x Female Reader

✮✮✮✮

You run out of class right when the bell rings, making sure to leave first. You don't even care that the teacher is yelling, you just want to get out of that hell hole.

You keep running until your body can't take it. You just want to break down, but you can't. You have to hold it in until you get home. Just hold it in.

You're relieved to find that none of your friends were home. If they saw you like this, they would be so worried about you. You don't want to be a burden. They've done so much for you, and they're always busy with the band, so watching after you would put so much more on their plate.

You walk over to the armchair and just sit there, tears threatening to fall. You're trying not to cry, because your eyes always get puffy after crying and they'll obviously notice. Your phone interrupted you, though, and you reluctantly pick it up. It was your boyfriend, Thomas.

- Thomas The Train 🚂: did u get home from school yet tesoro

- You: just got home amore <3

- Thomas The Train 🚂: that's good, me and the gang are gonna be back in a bit

- Thomas The Train 🚂: just had to pick some stuff up

- You: I can't wait to see what you bring back. ti amo

- Thomas The Train 🚂: ti amo

You almost close your phone, but your fingers take you to the next page of your home screen and end up clicking on Instagram. You know you shouldn't look at it, but you can't help it.

The comments have gotten worse than before. Below a selfie you and Vic took together people are saying things like "Who is that ugly girl next to Vic?" or "Vic: ❤️❤️❤️ | Thomas's GF: 🤮🤮" There was some good comments, but most of them were just making fun of you. They were worse on pictures of just yourself.

You couldn't take it. You never asked Thomas to love you. You never asked to be friends with the band. You never asked for any of this. It's not like people were nicer before. People always made fun of you.

You didn't know how to stop them. You didn't know how. It's like your head was a yearbook without the fake happiness. You pick your phone up and click on Find My. They're 4 miles away. That's enough time. You grab a piece of paper, scribbling down a quick note.

You walk to the bathroom, not wanting to make a lot of noise. You don't even now why, you're alone. You keep staring at yourself, hating everything about it. You just want to escape. You just can't take it.

You bend down and open the cabinet. You eye the item you desire, quickly picking it up. You hope Victoria doesn't mind you're borrowing it. That little voice in your head won't shut up. It keeps beckoning you. Nothing seems right except listening to it.

✮✮✮✮

Thomas walked into the house, helping carry some of the bags the four of them got from the store. I can't wait to show Y/N. He thought. She'll love them.

"Ethan, where should I put these bags? I need to go to the bathroom." He asked.

"Ummm, just put it on the couch. We'll move them later." He replied.

"K. Brb."

He walks over to the bathroom. The door is closed, which is odd. He thought it was left open.

Maybe Y/N is in there. She wasn't in the living room like usual. He decided to knock.

"Y/N? You in here?" No response. "Y/N? Y/N? Y/N, you're worrying me. Come on, open the door. Please? Y/N? You know what, I'm coming in!"

He slowly opens the door, trying not to scare her if she was actually in there.

"Y/N?" Thomas started gasping for air. "Oh my god, oh my god. Fanculo, fanculo, fanculo. Why? Why?!" Tears started running down his face. He started looking around wildly, until his eyes landed upon a piece of paper. He bent down to pick it up and started to silently read it.

Thomas, i love you so much. I hope you know that. You're one of the best things that ever happened to me. But bambino, i couldn't take it any longer. You all are lying to yourselves when you call me beautiful. I never told you this, but everyone at school makes fun of me. i'm a laughing stock. I, well this is hard to say, but a lot of the fans don't like me. They call me many names, and say so many other mean things. i know i'll never be good enough. But, i believe you can get on without me. I want you to live your life, Thomas. Find someone you truly love, have a  family which i  know is going to be beautiful  just like you, and live out your dreams. you can do it without me. i know you can. ti amo, my little train. ti amo. - Y/N

"Oh god. Bambina..." Thomas's sobs grew louder. "No, no, it can't-"

"Thomas? You okay bud?" Thomas heard Damiano interrupt outside the door.

Thomas took a deep breath and said in the calmest voice he could manage, "I'm fine, Damiano. Perfectly fine."

"Are you sure? It sounds like you're crying."

"I-it's fine."

"Thomas."

"What?"

"I'm coming in, okay?"

"No Dami Please-"

"Oh my god." He mumbled, standing above Thomas and the limp body. "She-"

Thomas broke out into louder sobs, hugging his arms tightly. Victoria and Ethan heard and came running over, only to be shaken by the fact that their best friend's body was lying dead on the ground.

Ethan reached down his hand to hold Thomas shoulder. "Thomas, be honest. Are you okay?"

"I'm leaving." Thomas whimpered, brushing off Ethan's hand and pushing his way out the door.

"Thomas, wait!" Victoria yelled, but Thomas was already out the door.

✮✮✮✮

He just sat there, sitting drenched in the rain, smoking and crying. He never thought she would actually do this. He thought she was fine. She never said anything. He hoped that she didn't feel like it was her fault. It wasn't her, it was the goddamn f-

"Potrei avere un autografo?" A girl said, staring at Thomas. "Aspetta, stai piangendo?"

"Uhhh, no. Devo andare." He replied, standing up.

"Nemmeno una foto?"

"No, no. Ciao."

"Awwwwww."

Thomas broke out running to the apartment. He didn't care if he pushed people. He wanted to get home.

He ran up the stairs of the building and quickly opened the door to the apartment. All three of his friends were waiting for him, but he just ran to his bedroom without a second thought.

✮✮✮✮

NEXT DAY

"Thomas, are you sure you want to wear these?" Damiano asked, pulling Thomas from his phone.

"Cosa? Oh, uh sì." Thomas replied, looking at back at his phone.

"You should really stop looking at the comments, Thomas." Damiano sighed, sitting next to him on the bed in the hotel room.

"All I do is make an appreciation post for my dead girlfriend and people hate on it."

"People are terrible, Thomas. You got to come to terms to that."

Thomas sighed. "I know, but, I never thought Y/N would die. I-I loved her." His voice cracked at the end.

Damiano wraps his arm around Thomas, letting Thomas's head lay on his shoulder. "Puoi piangere, Thomas. Sfogati."

"Some of the fucking fans, Damiano. They're just so mean!" Thomas said inbetween sobs. "They fucking killed her."

Damiano stroked Thomas's hair. "I know, Thomas. I know."

"It should be me, not her. They're my fans, not hers."

"They're not our fans if they make fun of someone we hold so dearly. They aren't real fans."

"I'd rather be dead than her." Thomas mumbled, looking away from Damiano.

"Thomas, oh god. I-" Damiano muttered, taking his hand out of Thomas's hair to cover his mouth.

"That's a joke, I'm joking," he replied, laughing.

"I-Thomas, are you okay? Be serious with me."

"I'm fine, Dami. You gotta relax a little." Thomas shook Damiano's shoulders. "It's just a joke."

"I know Y/N's, uh, passing is hard for all of us, but it's probably extremely hard on you, I mean-"

"You don't have to worry about it, dude." Thomas murmured, playing with one of his rings. More particularly, the matching one to Y/N's. "It's hard but, I can get over it. That's what she told me to do. I always listen to her."

"Thomas, I'm always here if you need to talk to someone. You're my best friend, I wouldn't be able to handle myself if you were gone too."

"I appreciate that. Thanks, bro."

"Welcome."

✮✮✮✮

"And that's it for my questions, so I'm gonna open the Q/A up for the audience! Okay, guys?" The interviewer asked.

"That would be great, ya." Victoria replied, receiving head nods from the others. They've been here for only 15 minutes, but it felt like hours to Thomas. At least it was close enough to go back home after.

"So, 31 asks 'Are you mad some people only know you for Beggin'? It's a cover, not an original.'"

"Yes, it's a cover," Damiano started, "but we really reinterpreted it, there's a lot of us in the song. We like our own songs better, though."

"Interesting, Interesting," the reporter said, tapping her pen against her tablet.

"And next up we have 75, they ask to Thomas, 'How do you feel after your girlfriend died?'"

Thomas smoothed back his hair quickly. "I-no comment."

"Okay then-" The reporter said, flipping to the next question. "Another one asks Thomas 'How much do you miss Y/N?'"

"No comment."

"Uhhh, 83 asks you again 'Did she use you for clout or something?'"

"No comment." He replied, more firmly.

"37 asks 'Did you even love her?'"

"Can you please s-" Damiano started.

"Just shut up, for fuck's sake, shut up!" Thomas yells, pushing the chair back to stand and face the audience. "Please, Stop! You fucking killed the love of my life! Siete tutti fottuti mostri! She did nothing to hurt you, nothing! I fucking hate you all!" He quickly turns around, and kicks the chair down onto the stage.  He runs off to the side, never lifting his head up.

"Thomas, wait!" Victoria yells, running after him.

"We're done, grazie per niente, davvero." Damiano said, throwing up two middle fingers to the cameras and the audience. Him and Ethan walk over the stage, leaving the reporter and the audience stunned.

"Thomas? Thomas?" Ethan asked, trying to find where Thomas might be hiding. He heard a distant crying, and tracked it down to a corner near the door. Victoria was sitting next to a sobbing Thomas, rubbing his back while he choked on tears.

"She's gone, she's gone, and it's all my fault. I killed her, I killed her, she's dead because of me-"

"Thomas, it's okay bud. Just breath." Ethan said, crouching in front of Thomas. "Andrà bene."

"I just can't take much more. I'm just gonna kill myself."

"Thomas, please." Damiano sobbed, sliding down next to Thomas. "We couldn't make it without you."

"Yeah," Victoria wailed. "We love you."

"Everything is my fault. I should have kept her a secret. She still would've been here. I could wake up next to her every morning and fall asleep next to her every night. But she's dead. All-all because of me." Thomas shoved his head into his lap.

"Thomas, it's not your fault." Ethan said compassionately.

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not."

"I'm not listening to lies."

"Thomas, we love you. Please stop."

"I doubt that."

"For fuck's sake, Thomas!" Damiano shouted. "For. Fuck's. Sake! Stop being such an ass! We love you, stop wailing about nothing! Grow some fucking balls, you self-centered prick!"

"Damiano!" Victoria yelled, looking at him with angry eyes.

"What? He-what the fuck!" Damiano yelped, grabbing his nose. "What did you do that for?!"

"You a hundred percent deserved that." Victoria said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, merda. Mi dispiace, Damiano. Non lo intendevo, lo giuro." Thomas shuddered, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Esso va bene, non preoccuparti. It's my fault anyway." Damiano reassured, pulling up his sleeve so he could wipe the blood off his nose without ruining the shirt.

Ethan held his hand down to Thomas, helping him up. He pulled the other boy into a hug. "Thomas, Ti vogliamo bene. Ci manca anche Y/N, ma per te è decisamente più difficile. Ti conosco, Thomas. So che puoi superare questo. Ci vorrà del tempo, sì, ma tu sei una delle persone più forti che conosco." ("Thomas, we love you. We also miss Y/N, but it's definitely more difficult for you. I know you, Thomas. I know you can get over this. It will take some time, yes, but you are one of the strongest people I know.")

"I-Grazie, Ethan."

"Welcome. Let's go home."

✮✮✮✮

They were scared to ask Thomas how he was doing. Scared he would yell or cry or run away. Scared he would actually go through with his threats. Scared of what he would do.

All four of them were sitting silently in the living room. They were too scared to say the first word. Scared of what would happen. And the silence was eating them alive.

"Why are you all so quiet? You usually never shut up." Thomas rolled his eyes.

"We-" Vic started.

"Whatever."

"Thomas-" Damiano started.

"What do you all want to tell me now, huh? What?"

"Well, we-"

"Just spit it out!"

"Thom, I'm trying t-"

"I'm done, I'm done." Thomas pushed himself off the chair and started to walk out of the living room. Damiano quickly got up and grabbed the former's wrist.

"What the fuck do you three want from me?!" Thomas ripped his wrist out from his friend's hand.

"We want to know you're okay! Seriously! Siamo tutti così fottutamente preoccupati per te!" Damiano said, tears threatening to fall.

"You don't need to protect me! Why don't you ever leave me alone!?"

"Oh, well it's always my fault, isn't it? I guess caring for you is a fucking sin!" The singer yelled, pushing Thomas so he stumbles backward.

The whole room fell into an awkward silence.  The only thing you could hear was Damiano's shaky breaths and sobbing.

"Damiano, I'm sorry." Thomas said after a few minutes.

"I know."

"I mean it, I promise."

"The thing is, Thomas," the singer cried, walking closer to the guitarist. "The thing is that you say you mean it, you say you're okay, but you're not. We're terrified that you're going to run into that bathroom and never come out alive, Thomas."

"I miss her."

"We do too, Thomas! But she said to move on. I know it's hard, but you have to! I-we can't lose you like we lost her."

"You're right." Thomas sighed, pulling Damiano into a hug. "I'm sorry I've caused you guys so much pain."

"Non preoccuparti, we're glad you're still here. Like I said, we couldn't make it without you."

"I'm so sorry, I mean it, I swear. I mean it this time."

Damiano broke the hug and held his friend's face in his hands. "We love you, Thomas. Never forget it."

"I won't."

"How about we do something fun to make you feel better? Maybe a board game?" Damiano asked, smiling.

"I VOTE ON MONOPOLY!" Victoria yells, jumping off the couch excitedly.

"The last time we played Monopoly you stole all my money." Ethan said sighing, sinking into the couch.

"YOU'RE JUST A BAD BANKER!"

"Vic, I'm literally about to eat all the metal pieces out off the box."

"NOT MY SUBMARINE!"

"Yes, your submarine."

"NO."

"Pick whatever game you want to, Thom." Damiano laughed, letting go of his friend's face.

"K."

Thomas walked out of the room, leaving the others by themselves.

"BITCH YOU WILL NOT EAT MY SUBMARINE!!" Victoria screeched at the top of her lungs.

"I'M GONNA EAT IT AND LIKE IT!" Ethan screamed back.

"SHUT THE DHGFDHJUHYGFHDJKHGBHNJSHGB UP!"

"What the fuck-"

Damiano jumped onto the couch, flopping his head on Ethan's lap. "I'm gonna eat both the submarine and the car."

"You eat the car, I eat your nose, Dami." Ethan said, lightly smacking him on the nose.

"Nose fetish," Damiano laughed.

"Ahhhh, remember that time we played Monopoly and Vic broke her thumb?"

"SHUT UR ASS UP ETHAN!" Vic screeched, rolling off the coach. "THAT WAS YOUR FAULT!"

"How was me getting the Boardwalk my fault?"

"It was," Vic huffed, crossing her arms.

"Ugh, whatever."

Damiano laughed at the two others. "Those were fun times."

"Ya, I miss them." Victoria said, sighing. "You know, I love all this fame, we've always wanted it. But some of these fans are toxic little assholes."

"Hai ragione. With Y/N and that kinda stuff. With Giorgia too, some of the fans don't like her."

"I don't even know why some of them do that," Ethan replied. "Giorgia is a sweetheart and Y/N was so kind."

"They have no life," Vic rolls her eyes.

"Mi manca Y/N. Lei stata meravigliosa. Sono preoccupato per Thom. Lei sua morte gli ha messo un tale peso. Ovviamente non lei intendeva, non sei affatto colpa sua." ("I miss Y/N. She was wonderful. I'm worried about Thom. Her death has put such a burden on him. Obviously she didn't mean it, it's not her fault at all.")

Damiano sighed, placing his arms behind his head. "We all are, Ethan. He's not doing good. Before the interview earlier, he threatened to, you know, off himself."

"What?!" Ethan's voice rose as he sat up, causing Damiano to almost fall off the couch.

"I, well, like Thomas was all like 'I'd rather be dead' and that 'it's all his fault.'"

"Why the fuck didn't you tell us that!?"

"I, well, I thought you knew! He said something like that after the interview!"

"Fucking hell, Damiano. Go check on him, please." Ethan said sighing, placing his face in his hands.

"Okay, I'm going."

Come on, Thomas. Come on, buddy. Damiano took the stairs two steps. His breath was quickening each jump he took. He couldn't lose two of his best friends in under a week.

"Thomas!" Damiano yelled, knocking on the door. "C'mon Thomas, open the door. Please."

"Dami..."

"Thomas, please open the door."

"I'm, I'm sorry, Damiano."

"Thomas, you don't have to do this."

"Tell Vic and Ethan I lo-love them, okay?"

"Open the fucking door! C'mon Thom!" Damiano began to bang on the door, not caring if it broke down.

"Y/N told me to get over it. Now I am."

"She didn't mean it like that, Thom. Please open the door. Please."

"Bye Damiano."

"C'mon Thomas." Damiano felt like he had cried a thousand tears already and felt like he was going to cry a thousand more. "Thomas, please."

Damiano hears Thomas take a deep breath, with a quiet sob escaping afterward.

"Sono fuori di testa." He said, falling silent afterward. Silence engulfed the floor, not a sound to be heard.

"Ma diverso da loro," Damiano sobbed, laying his head aganist the door. "Ma diverso da loro."

✮✮✮✮

Victoria dabbed her eyes with her jacket sleeve, with her other hand latching onto Ethan's. "We're going to be in the car, Dami. See you in a little bit."

"See you." He said, sinking down on the bench.

"Oh, Y/N. I-" Damiano started to run his ice cold hands along his tear-stained face.

"I fucking miss you. We all do. The day you died, it was a terrible day. We were all heartbroken, especially Thom. At, At least you two are reunited again." Tears started to form in his eyes.

"Things have been hard. Um, Vic was making breakfast yesterday and she, like, woke me up and then Ethan up and, well, she ran into you guys' room and she ran into it empty and she just broke down sobbing. It's been so damn hard.

"We always keep the door to your room closed now.

"She hasn't been taking it well. She put the picture frame you guys kept on your dresser next to her bed. She's trying so hard to try to move on, but it hasn't been working.

"Ethan barely shows any emotion toward the situation. I'm pretty sure he thinks that if he shows any sadness or regret or grief, Vic and I are gonna know how bad this really is.

"I miss you two so much. I missed the talks Y/N and I had, all the fun shit we got into. I miss it all.

"And the fans, that's a fun story. So remember that the Ronquières Festival we were going to go to? Ya, so we went to it. We didn't have you, Thom, of course. We got a backup for the day and you wanna know what the fans did. So after the Kiwi cover, the audience had the audacity to start chanting 'we want thom, we want thom.' You can't fucking come back and they know it.

"So I screamed at them. Ya. Um, I don't know if you like can hear or see things for heaven or hell or whatever you call the end, but here's the video from it."

Damiano pulled his phone out of his pocket. After scrolling around a bit, he turned the phone to the two gravestones and pressed play.

"Thomas is dead and you fucking know it. YOU are the ones who killed him. Not all of you guys, the absolute assholes who fucked with Y/N! You are the terrible ones! Not her! She was lovely. She was Thomas' joy. And now they are both dead. All because of you. Quindi, chiudi quella vera cazzata."

Damiano chuckled after the video, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "So yeah, that's the video. We've been everywhere. 'Måneskin Frontman Attacks Fans At The Ronquières Festival,' 'Damiano David Can't Deal With The Loss Of His Best Friend Thomas Raggi,' 'Rockstar Thomas Raggi's Death: The Real Truth.'

"The last one's all like 'He's hiding in the shadows, the youngster couldn't handle the fame!' No one knows the truth, the truth of you laying on the ground with two empty bottles. The truth that when I finally got in, you were laying face down on the floor, already dead. No one knows except me, Vic and Ethan. No one saw it except me.

"I miss you guys so much. You were so young. You had your life ahead of you. And some assholes took it away. I'm so so sorry. I'll always miss you. I really do love you guys.

"I have to go now. We have an interview with GMA. I know you always wanted to go, Thomas. You'll be there in spirit. See you tomorrow, loves. Vi amo entrambi con tutto il mio cuore."

Damiano got up off his bench and patted both headstones, kissing the tops of thems. "Ti amo davvero, ti amo davvero." He waved goodbye and slowly walked down the path.

"Dami sa che non possiamo fumare nell'aldilà? Perché è sui così stupido?" Thomas laughed, his hand passing through the pack Dami left by the gravestones.

"Tu lo ami," Y/N says, rolling her eyes.

"E ti amo davvero"

[yanderes-galore]

Wither

Yandere! Man in Red Origin/Scenario

A/N: This is based off the MiR discussions I've had with Anons. I wanted to show how I see him so it can make character interactions easier, possibly? I could've put more but let me know what you think.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Disgusting themes, I get graphic with descriptions, mentions of cult like atmosphere, mentioned sadism, unrequited love, implied death, mentions of sexual themes.

"It all started with you...."

Something about you made Naib warm inside. A nice temperate warmth that felt comfortable on the skin. A feeling you could crave.

Each conversation, interaction, and letter made Naib excited. A crush, if you will. The first time he met you at your job he felt you were truly something.

Each time he got one of your letters or heard your voice call his name, he was on a high. A normal feeling when you have feelings for someone.

He wanted to share these feelings with you. To let them flourish between you both! He wanted you both to bask in happiness as you enjoy each other's pleasant embrace.

Then, you stopped responding to him.

Through letters, conversation, everything. He felt as if he was talking to a wall.

Did he do something wrong? Was there something on your mind? You can share it with him!

Each time he saw you, you looked as if you wanted to say something. He tried to ask about it but you'd push him away.

It was around this time he noticed something caught in his throat.

Periodically, he'd cough.

Something in him felt odd....

Especially when he saw a small white flower in his hand, covered in his own spittle.....

"The dark abyss requires a vessel and fear to feed on...."

Not many paid attention when Naib isolated himself. The man grew paler, blue eyes growing fainter. His brown hair even starting to go grey.

His sickly feeling grew overtime and he was at a loss. Before everything got this bad he did manage to get an answer.

Days ago, perhaps closer to a week, Naib saw you again.

You were still has dismissive as always but Naib decided to be a bit persistent.

He needed answers, why did you cast him away?

"Was it something I did? Is someone bothering you?"

Then, you answered.

"Naib...Something came up, I'm sorry."

"Like what?"

You seem to grow shy again for just a moment, but Naib's worried blue gaze urged you to continue.

"I've been busy with a relationship. I've met someone and I just haven't been able to speak with you."

Naib couldn't bear to hear anymore, his throat growing tight again.

"Ah, I see...."

If people noticed Naib's condition deteriorating after that, nobody said a thing.

He looked...dead almost-

Like he was a dead man walking.

Hiding away in his green cloak on the outskirts of town, Naib hunches over once again.

More perfect white flowers fell from his lips, glistening in the moonlight.

"The roots of fear will flourish within a weak willed host...."

He felt as though he was losing his mind. The town felt so empty without the one he held dear. You had decided to leave to live out your own fantasy with another man he assumed.

Leaving him here to wither....

Illusions corrupted his vision and mind. Flowers pure as snow littered the people's faces. Roots black as the night grew along the streets and up their arms. White butterflies soared the air in front of his face.

The sky was crimson, the ground a deathly grey.

Hesitantly, as Naib walked through the town, he held out a pale arm to one of the bright butterflies.

It was pure and bright like a heavenly light. A shimmering insect of hope. He tries to grasp it...

But it flickers out of his grasp.

A tear falls from his dulling eyes...

Black as death.

"Death will flourish within the host's broken cracks, you will be the one to make them bow."

He wasn't even sure what he was anymore.

Skin pale as though he'd never seen the sun in decades and eyes white as though they never had a pupil. His brown hair now a pale silver like the rest of him.

Hands became claws and black tendrils began growing from his skin. Black tears of anguish stained his cheeks and pure white flowers grew....

Voices whispered in his mind and he felt as though he'd pass out. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? This was no mere heartbreak, this was something more.

The ground around him was littered in those damp white flowers. Roots black while a tar like substance spread through the grass like a plague.

Death was coming. That's what his mind had whispered. He wondered if it meant his death.....

Although it felt like an aching memory, he still thought of you. His beloved dear whom he fell for. He hoped you were doing well.

With another spew of gunk and flowers, Naib collapses into his own corruption.

His mind is fuzzy, eyes blank as he looks towards the direction of the village. He feels himself passing out but he tries to think of you.

"I wish to see you one last time...."

Just as the life he once knew cuts to black, he sees one last thing.

A butterfly, pure and glowing.

He weakly reaches out to touch it.

His clawed fingertips graze the insect before falling to the ground. The insect withering at the slight touch.

"The ritual will be complete, you are their ruler."

Flowers, roots, and butterflies became common themes to him. Along with death, sadism, and lechery.

A new life was given to him, the life of a leader.

A god to some, a devil to others.

He could no longer remember what brought him to this point or why. All he cared about now was having those below him bow to his will.

A small part of him was looking for something. Through the copious amounts of lustful acts and charismatic talks to his followers, he wanted to feel a certain feeling again.

A warm feeling that felt pleasant, not burning. One that massages his skin and heart, not scars it. Yet no matter what he does, he can't find it.

It's a feeling he had long ago. The demon can deduce that, at least. But he wasn't sure if he'd ever taste such luxury.

He had everything in this town now. A life full of both pleasure and pain. Now everyone listened to him, too.

He even had a musician who played him tunes. Sigil of the Abyss was his title. Everyone had a title here, he could care less what their actual names were.

He could barely remember his own.

His title was Man in Red, the most important one of all the titles here.

All he cared about was that the musician played him music to calm him. The demon leans against his chair, listening closely. The tune was another thing that sounded familiar but he didn't know from where.

Perhaps it was connected to that feeling he yearned for, too....

"Your craving will wane with his blood...."

Intrusion. He could feel it.

Like a fly vibrating in a spider's web, Man in Red felt a disturbance in his town.

New people. At least two new people were here. He'll make sure they get a warm welcome.

Then, he felt as though he was struck in the chest.

A man in blue with gold eyes wandered the town, a woman in his grasp.

"It's you......"

He knew that woman was important but he couldn't pin point why.

The demon chuckles, an excited feeling brimming in his chest.

Perhaps he'll have to play with them to find out?

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 9

You Love Him

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: bucky is consolingly, y/n feels shit

Warnings: implied NON CON, smut (the whole chapter is basically smut, you’re welcome), feelings and shit, blood, death of unnamed character, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

I flinched as the blood sprayed, splattering across my face sickeningly as the dagger plunged into his neck. The body fell limp, collapsing to the floor with a hollow thud, a sound that barred me from ever going to heaven.

Of course, I wasn't the one who was holding the knife. In fact, the whole scene could be seen as rather comical if a man hadn't lost his life. The melodic tune I'd hummed as he'd lifted the knife to his own neck, the fear in his features as the jagged point pressed to his skin. But it was the sight of the life leaving his eyes, the splattered blood that made the whole thing so...sinister.

I stopped humming the little tune, checking over my make-shift scene before swiftly exiting the building through a back window - making sure not to remove my gloves until I reached my bike.

That was the true beauty of my power, or at least in HYDRA's eyes it was. The fact that I could simply stand by, and make my victims - their victims - do all the dirty work for me, and when all is said and done to everyone around them it looks like they'd killed themselves.

Id made the man scrawl a quick little note first, as to try and convince his family and friends it was a suicide and someone didn't hold him at gun point or something.

I can't live like this anymore

That's all the note said. Not too short, but also not so long it instantly because unconvincing and obviously forced. I mean let's be honest, if you were to off yourself would you really drag it out or would you be so desperate to go already that you'd find the quickest way out? I know what I'd do. It's not like I'd thought about it since joining HYDRA...but let's just say the thought hasn't entirely avoided me.

...

It was almost like my ritual, every time someone died at my hands. I would arrive back at the compound - where two guards would search me (arguably much too thoroughly to the point that every time it happened I seemed to feel nauseous after) and I'd be sent straight off the the shower room.

From there, I'd let the cold water wash over me, usually spiking my skin into goose bumps before my eyes would become shellacked with tears and my mind would start to numb. That's when I'd slowly sink to the floor, head held in my hands as sobs wracked my frame.

If we're still being honest, I never actually new how long this lasted. It could be minutes, that only seemed to stretch for hours, or it could in truth be hours that were just as long as they felt.

There is one thing I know, though. It's always the soldier who brings me out of it. The warm touch of his flesh hand against my shoulder, the shivering cold brush of his metal one before he's pulling me to my feet and engulfing me in his beefy, yet welcoming, arms. Again, I have no idea how long this lasts, but I sure hope it lasts for hours.

When he'd pull away, my eyes would remain glued to his plump lips, my tongue trailing along my own as my eyes would burn with a hunger. If I'd looked up into his eyes too, I'd find a similar hunger blazing there.

He initiated the kiss, as he always did, lips desperate and hard against mine, almost bruising as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip to beg for entrance. And I always grants it to him, moaning at the feeling of his tongue curling over mine, his hands tangling in my hair, roaming my body, playing me like an instrument he'd been practicing for years.

The soldier pushed me against the wall, lips sucking and kissing along my neck - sure to leave a mark but neither of us cared. In fact, I'm sure he rather liked it, having me marked as his.

I let out a long moan as his fingers - the metal ones - found their way to my core, tracing over my slit and up to my clit to collect some of the wetness there before they were plunging into my heat.

"Fuck! Soldier!" I cried, heat thrown back against the old tiled wall as he worked his fingers at a punishing pace inside me, working me open so I could take him. He was curling his fingers just right, hitting that one spot inside of me that sent shivers down my spine and made white spots form over my vision when I came apart. The soldier smirked at me, detaching his lips from my neck and bringing his digits to his lips before sucking my juices off them right in front of me.

The sight was sinful, really, and all I could do was keep myself standing as my legs shook with arousal and the remnants of my previous orgasm.

"Delicious." Was all he said, before the soldier's lips were back on mine is a bruising kiss and him large hands were cupping my ass and pulling my legs up around his waist. I moaned against his mouth, tasting myself as his tongue swept its way into my own mouth before stroking over my tongue. There would surely be bruises decorating me whole body when this was done - not an unusual occurrence - from how hard the soldier was gripping me, but the pain only amounted to the pleasurable sparks setting my body alight at that very moment.

I reached down blindly, not wanting to break the searing kiss as I felt around for his aching cock. Of course, it wasn't very hard to find, and once I felt it I took ahold of it with a hand wrapped delicately around him. I pumped the soldier's length a few times, a long, low groan slipping into our kiss as I lined him up with my entrance. My head was once again thrown back when his tip nudged my clit, sending my eyes rolling back in my skull and forcing a scream from me when he plunged in in one thrust.

"S'tight." He grunted against my neck, pulling his hips back slowly before snapping them forwards with enough force to make me thick there could be cracks in the stone wall behind us. It was torturous, his pace, so slow yet so hard I felt as if the air was being punched from my lungs with every thrust.

"F-faster." I moaned, hands holding onto his muscly shoulders for dear life as he begun to fail into me. My cunt was stretched to its limit around the soldier's girth, yet the sinful burn just felt like more pleasure as the pace of his thrusts distracted me. My eyes were constantly rolled back into my skull, legs jelly around his waist and if it weren't for his hands holding me up my my ass I would be sprawled on the floor in that moment.

My brain turned to mush, and I could even remember my own name, let alone enough words to tell the soldier how good he was making me feel. So instead I opted for a long, drawn-out moan as his tip kissed my cervix with ever pump inside of me. The soldier looked down to see where our bodies were connected, his eyes glittering with lust at the slight of my wetness dripping from his cock and liger coating both our thighs and most probably the floor in my slick. What made him smirk even wider, though, was the bulge in my stomach every time he thrusted, his cock so deep in my you could see it.

The soldier pressed down on that point, a new wave of arousal flooding through me at the thought of taking something so big.

I could feel myself clenching down on him like a vice, my second realise so close I could almost feel it. From the way his hips faltered and his thrusts stuttered to the guttural, wanton string of moans that escaped his lips like a symphony, I could sense he was close too. I reached down, rubbing furious circles over my swollen clit, trying to push myself over the edge at the same time as the soldier.

I don't know who's orgasm triggered whose, but from the way they ripped through us, it was apparent that one caused the other.

...

I sat mindlessly in my cell, the only thing I was able to do was stare back into the blue eyes already trained on my own body. I didn't want to admit it. I couldn't admit it.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts creeping through my mind, clawing at me and begging me to accept them. But the idea made me feel slightly sick, I think. Well, it could be more that it should make me feel sick, but try as I might, it wouldn't.

I couldn't stop that little voice, the one literally screaming the words at me every time my eyes slid over him, every time the soldier was in my sight: you love him.

[aryshacore]

About Smiley and the Educational Institution (episode 6 spoilers)

(TW: r*pe, CSA)

I'm so mad. I had the faint hope that all the horrors we've seen in Dawn Fall until now were not here for a shock factor, but with the death of Smiley in episode 6, it seems I was somewhat wrong.

I still don't understand what was the point of bringing in a Black Rock Shooter media such antagonists. Even within the Dawn Fall anime, their design clash with everyone else. We didn't get to know a lot about Smiley's motivations, nor about him. We just know that he's not human, no more explanations given on this. And all it took to kill him was one blast from Empress, his death wasn't even satisfying because it felt too easy considering all the atrocities he did.

Why go on serious topics such as r*pe, kidnapping, s*xual abuse and death of children (which are not just implied, they're clearly depicted) for what seems to be a minor enemy ?! There was no need to go to such gruesome lengths. It just makes it seem like these are elements you can throw in your story to make your villain even more despicable, when they're serious matters that should be given more thought than this. Sure, Empress feels remorseful about not being able to save the girls, which makes their deaths seem serious and a terrible event. But after Norito finds back Miya (who has been r*ped, physically threatened, and obviously traumatized), she's all smiling and it's like nothing too severe happened. What the hell ?!

tl;dr: For a show powered by f*cking Disney, I wish they didn't put such serious topics in the anime rather than making them seem so light compared to the weight they actually have.

When Dawn Fall finishes airing I'm gonna write a fix-this-bullshit fic where I replace Smiley and the Educational Institution with better enemies and no terrible events here just for shock factor lmao.

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

Your cold dead heart - part 9

I am very behind on recent events on the smp, but I promise after these next few chapters we’ll start catching up to the present with all the shlatt stuff. Just bare with me okay :)

Masterlist

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

“Why do you wear them? The glasses?”

Eret shifts in the bed slightly, it’s not like he's never been asked the question before, he just never thought he would be so willing to tell anyone the answer, let alone a child.

“You don't uh, have to tell me if you don't want.”

Tommy says it so quietly, so full of concern, it's strange to Eret not hearing the boy be so loud and brash all the time. He sometimes forgets how young the boy really is.

“Shit hit the fan back at my old job, had to lay low for a while. Still kind have to.”

The two stay quiet for a while, Eret knows Tommy is curious, it’s what makes Tommy Tommy, but Erets not sure if he can tell the boy what he wants to know.

“What was it like, back in England? I don't remember much of it from before I moved.”

Tommys the one to shift now, they're both under the covers just staring up at the ceiling. Tommy had come in to seek Erets comfort after another nightmare, the teen usually came to Eret on nights like this and Wilbur on some occasions, but now the tears had stopped, neither one could find themselves particularly drowsy.

“It was nice, a lot nicer than here. You would have liked it, all the greenery, trees everywhere, weather wasn't great over there though. Rained a lot more.”

“That I remember.”

They both share a soft chuckle and the room goes silent again.

“I got involved in some really bad stuff when I was younger, much worse than any of this.”

Tommy doesn't respond, Erets almost thankful for it.

“I got offered a position at MI6 when we eventually got caught. I had a choice, either join the secret services and do whatever they say, or get beaten to death halfway through my life sentence in prison.”

“So I worked undercover at MI6, doing whatever the fuck they told me to, too scared of going to prison to ever question what I was doing. Until one day they asked me to do something and I just couldn't, so I ran. I had no money, no friends, nowhere to hide. They had my fingerprints and retina scans, that's how they keep track of all of their agents both in and out of the field, they're shitty people but they're smart. That's how I met Dream actually. I knew of George from the work I was doing, he was on MI6 radar, and well, George knew of me because he’s a good hacker. Knew everyone who was against him. They offered to help me out if I did a few clean up tasks here and there, offered me safety in the SMP, so I took it. And you know the rest.”

“I just thought you pissed off the queen or something.”

”Go to sleep Tommy.”

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

Eret is alive!

He is alive and breathing and standing in front of them with sunlight reflecting off his stupid black sunglasses and all Tubbo wants to do is run over to Eret and give him the biggest hug. But then he hears Tommy's breathing pick up next to him. Tubbo turns his head towards his friend and he doesn't know what to do. Tommy's body is rigid and there are tears streaming down his face, his eyes are fixed on Eret but he hasn't blinked in what feels like forever. Something is wrong, something is very wrong. He can't tell whether his friend is having a panic attack or if he’s just in shock, but he knows Tommy needs help. And it seems like sapnap’s noticed too. 

“What's up with the kid.”

Tubbo makes eye contact with Wilbur and he hopes the older man understands the panic stricken look he gives him, Tommy is not okay. Wilbur hurry's over to Tommy's side and cups his face with his warm hands, Wilbur hasn't seen Tommy this grief stricken in, well, ever. Sure he cried and sobbed when he thought his friend was dead, but it was nothing like this. This is terrifying.

“Tommy, hey Tommy it's me, it’s Wilbur. Can you hear me Toms, your safe alright. It's just me, your safe.”

Wilbur feels so scared, anything could be going through Tommy's brain right now. His limbs have locked into place and his eyes look so, empty. 

It feels like forever before Tommy finally gasps and breaks out of whatever flashback he was having. Wilbur feels a wave of relief wash over him and he holds Tommy's face in his hands. “Hey, it's okay, it's okay, It’s just me Tommy.”

“Wilbur, I, I don't know what's, what's happenin.”

Tommy sounds so broken and so scared, Wilbur doesn't know how to help the boy. Wilbur presses his forehead against Tommy's and he can feel Tommy grip on his shirts just below his body armor.

“Eret, is, is he”

“He’s alive Toms, he's okay.”

Tommy lets out a breath and the two separate for a short moment.

Tommy looks past Wilbur at the man in question, he sees the sunglasses on his face, and the gun in his hand, and suddenly the sadness is completely wiped from his face. Tommy softly moves past Wilbur and he sees sapnap raise his gun slightly.

“How are you alive?”

Nobody answers him for a second, even George is surprisingly quiet for once. The atmosphere changes around them and suddenly all Tommy can feel is anger.

“I said, how are you alive.”

“Answer me!”

“Tommy.”

“Shut up dream, let him speak.” Wilbur steps forward closer to Tommy, now catching on to what the boy is implying.

“I watched you drown! Tell my why you aren't fucking rotting at the bottom of the ocean Eret or I swear to god you're gonna wish you fucking were.”

“We were never going to win Tommy.”

“I don't give a shit Eret! Why are you not fucking dead!”

“There were oxygen tanks okay. An oxygen tank and a tunnel that takes you to the other side of town. The plan was-”

“The plan! You fucking planned this!”

“The plan was to swim out and get here and convince you to surrender.”

A chorus of disbelief erupts from the people of l’manburg and in the chaos Tommy lunges forwards and draws his pistol on Eret.

“I- We trusted you!”

“Tommy I-”

“We fucking trusted you!”

“Tommy put the gun down”

“He betrayed us Fundy!”

“It wasn't meant to be Tommy.”

“Shut the fuck up you bastard.”

Suddenly everything goes silent as Tommy feels the cold metal of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

“I suggest you lower that gun Tommy.”

“Why don't you take that gun and shove it up your-”

“Tommy! I am ordering you to stand down!”

Tommy stares at Eret for a second longer while the silence suffocates him, before swatting sapnaps gun away from his head and walking back towards Wilbur.

George puffs and turns to dream like a nagging child.

“I’m bored, are we fighting or not.”

Tommy is raging, he wants to scream and shout at Eret and punch him until his knuckles break. But he’s not here to fight for himself, he’s here to fight for L’manburg. He’s here for his friends, and most importantly, for independence. So with his anger boiling, and his head held high, TommyInnit goes to war.

“You wanna fight, lets fucking fight.”

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Fundy is the first to fall. He’s hit with a bullet in his right shoulder that sends red hot pain scorching though his body. He feels paralyzed and Tubbo has to help him back behind cover to tend to his wounds. “I’ll be fine, I just need to keep pressure on it, go and help the others.”

“Are you sure, this is a lot of blood?”

“Yes Tubbo, I’m sure. Now go.”

Tubbo is reluctant to leave his friend, but he can hear his team mates shouting at one another, they were running low on ammo, whereas the dream smp seemed to produce the bullets out of thin air. It was barely a fair fight to begin with, they certainly didn't need two of their team members away from the fight. Tubbo runs back out towards where Tommy is firing and sets his gun back into position.

“How many rounds you got.”

Tommy ducks for a moment to check.

“I've got one clip left.” He takes a deep breath and peaks over the edge at the opposing team. “Cover me.”

“Tommy what are you, Tommy!”

Tommy runs out across the barrage of bullets, straight into enemy territory. Tubbo does as he says and fires straight back at the people who have spotted the blonde, Tommy needs to move, and fast. He spots Eret across the war strip and heads out of cover towards them. He’s almost within punching distance when a sudden weight pushes him to the ground.

“Look who we've got here.” Tommy tries to get up but Sapnap just pushes him back down onto the floor again, face first. “Well if it isn't the little cry baby.”

Sapnap presses his heel into Tommy's back and the familiar feel of Sapnaps gun forces Tommys face into the dirt.

“Get off me dickead.”

The other man chuckles and makes Tommys blood boil, he never really did understand why Dream was friends with him. Maybe it was fear, or maybe this was who Dream really was, a ruthless, merciless killer. (Tommy sometimes wondered whether the persona was just another lie.)

“Move sapnap, this one's mine.”

George? What does George want with Tommy?

Sapnap grabs Tommy by the back of his shirt and forces him to his feet, pushing him in George's direction .

Tommy feels the pain before he registers what's happening. Gorge punches hard. Warmth blooms in his nose and he can feel his head spinning, when he’s finally able to look at George properly, he thinks he sees two of them.

“I never understood why Dream took you in, you were dirty and poor and fucking useless at almost everything.”

Oh, so this is why George wanted him.

Tommy raises his arms in defense, he knew how to fight, techno taught him that, he just had to block George until everything stopped spinning.

“I never understood why he spoke to such a pathetic kid like you, why he trusted you. But then he told me what his plan was, and it finally clicked. Dream doesn't give a shit about you Tommy.”

George swings again, Tommy blocks.

“You're just another pawn for him to mess with, another character for the cameras.”

Swing

Block

“You're just a dead weight to him, a burden for him to find purpose for.”

Swing

“Did you really think he cared about you?.”

Block

“You're not loved, you're not special.”

Swing

“When you die here today, nobody will remember you, no one will even-”

Hit

George holds a hand to his jaw and smirks at Tommy.

“You can't kill me, no one can.”

“Oh I won't kill you.”

Tommy lowers his hands for a moment, confusion set on his face.

“Dream will.”

[hamliet]

Hello! I love reading your bnha meta, and I've found your stuff on Hawks particularly interesting. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the role Tokoyami might play in his arc? I was talking with my brother about Hawks' arc being a tragedy, and he said that he wasn't convinced because he's sure Tokoyami is going to have something to say about it. I personally think it would be weird for him not to be involved somehow, given the prominence he had with Hawks in the last arc.

Good question! Again, I’m bad with specific plot points, but I’ll give this a shot. 

So on the one hand, Tokoyami is cool but he is not a very important character. He does not really have an arc to speak of. It is a little late in the game to give Tokoyami an arc, and without an arc, it’s kinda odd to have him play a prominent role. Plus, if he saves Hawks, there’s not an arc there: Tokoyami saved Hawks already, and thinks he’s a good person, so unlike Ochaco-Himiko, Shouto-Touya, and Deku-Shigaraki, Tokoyami saving Hawks doesn’t challenge Tokoyami to grow in any way. So, this runs the risk of feeling a bit cheap. 

However, one way I could see this working though (and am gonna hope for it) is that Hawks might be inspired to repent from attempting to go after Dabi (which I do think he’s going to do) in part by Tokoyami. For example, if Tokoyami reveals that his quirk went out of control back in the Forest Training Arc to the point where Dark Shadow hurt Tokoyami’s friends, Hawks could draw a parallel to Touya and his quirk. 

I also do think that even if Hawks’s arc is fundamentally tragic, it’ll be redemptively tragic, not nihilistically or cynically so! So Tokoyami playing a redemptive symbolic role for Hawks isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive with tragedy. I also think Hawks will be a hero in the end, even if he dies and has a tragic spiral (the latter pretty likely, the former who knows, I think so but I’m again a character survival pessimist). Meaning, regardless of whether he lives or dies, even if he has a very tragic fall and tries to kill Dabi and ends up hurting Enji instead, I think his final moment in the manga--final moment living or dying--will be heroic. Hence why I’m currently expecting redemptive death but am fine with being wrong. 

I guess because--though this isn’t directly part of your ask--there seem to be so misconceptions about what I mean by tragedy, I’ll drag out Arthur Miller’s “Tragedy and the Common Man” again:

Tragedy, then, is the consequence of a man's total compulsion to evaluate himself justly. In the sense of having been initiated by the hero himself, the tale always reveals what has been called his tragic flaw," a failing that is not peculiar to grand or elevated characters. Nor is it necessarily a weakness. The flaw, or crack in the character, is really nothing--and need be nothing, but his inherent unwillingness to remain passive in the face of what he conceives to be a challenge to his dignity, his image of his rightful status.

There is a misconception of tragedy with which I have been struck in review after review, and in many conversations with writers and readers alike. It is the idea that tragedy is of necessity allied to pessimism. Even the dictionary says nothing more about the word than that it means a story with a sad or unhappy ending. This impression is so firmly fixed that I almost hesitate to claim that in truth tragedy implies more optimism in its author than does comedy, and that its final result ought to be the reinforcement of the onlooker’s brightest opinions of the human animal.

 For, if it is true to say that in essence the tragic hero is intent upon claiming his whole due as a personality, and if this struggle must be total and without reservation, then it automatically demonstrates the indestructible will of man to achieve his humanity.

The possibility of victory must be there in tragedy. Where pathos rules, where pathos is finally derived, a character has fought a battle he could not possibly have won. The pathetic is achieved when the protagonist is, by virtue of his witlessness, his insensitivity, or the very air he gives off, incapable of grappling with a much superior force.

Pathos truly is the mode for the pessimist. But tragedy requires a nicer balance between what is possible and what is impossible. And it is curious, although edifying, that the plays we revere, century after century, are the tragedies. In them, and in them alone, lies the belief-optimistic, if you will, in the perfectibility of man.

(I don’t necessarily agree tragedy is more optimistic than comedies nor that they are inherently better stories, but I do agree with the sentiment that the best tragedies, the ones that actually leave an impression and last through centuries if not millennia--like Icarus, Romeo and Juliet, etc--are tragic because they did not have to be that way. It’s not life sucks and then you die. It’s chances to grow that make it tragic, it’s circumstances that are cruel but that can change (like how, despite the fact that they died and should not have had to, Romeo and Juliet’s love saves Verona). Good tragedy redeems even the darkest of times through glimmers of hope. Even King Lear, one of the bleakest tragedies I can think of, ends with the “good” side winning the war, so there’s hope of a new beginning. 

Even if Hawks doesn’t survive his tragedy, we see through others that he could have. (Again because I think I’ll get an ask if I don’t clarify: the reason I am pessimistic for Hawks but not for the Villain Trio is not because Hawks somehow is worse or deserves tragedy, but because the narrative set up is different, see other posts for details about what I mean by that). But even if his tragedy takes him, I think he will die a hero and specifically in an act of redemption after a low fall. 

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of July 31st, 2019

Best of this Week: Batman: Last Knight on Earth #2 - Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, Jonathan Glapion, FCO Plascencia and Tom Napolitano

The last case Batman will ever solve, might just be his most terrifying.

Beginning with Batman confronting an older Joe Chill in the past over the dead child in Crime Alley that looks eerily similar to Bruce. Our hero kind of surprises and disarms him by removing all of the weapons he’s hidden around his apartment. Chill seems to have been expecting him, preparing what he calls an “end of an era feast” for Bruce, implying he knows his identity. To make matters even more interesting, he insinuates that he didn’t even kill the Waynes for Marth pearls and makes it seem like there was an even larger plan afoot than anyone realized.

Cutting back to the Nightmare future, Batman and Joker’s Head are taken by surprise as a Speed Force Storm tears through the desert. Never let it be said that Greg Capullo hasn’t been improving his skills at body horror because the tornado is terrifying. Consisting of the constantly shifting, twisting and stretched bodies of Barry Allen, Bart Allen, Jay Garrick and possibly others, the faces scream and cry for Bruce to help them. It’s a shocking and unsettling sight as one can almost hear the deafening cries of atom splitting agony that they’re going through. The deep red of the storm doesn’t help as it just makes things FAR more threatening than they need to be. Bruce and Joker sit in a cave for safety while Bruce laments that there is absolutely nothing that he can do to save them.

The pair continue on, hang gliding through the air, crossing over a base named Fort Waller. Joker tells Batman that originally it was the last bastion of hope, where Mr. Terrific, Dr. Sivana, Ivo and others could combine their knowledge with the powers of the new avatars of the Green and Red to repel those incensed by Luthor. Batman asks him what happens and Joker’s narration ends as they watch the battle. Unknown Soldiers fighting abominations of the Red in a hellish battle of blood and fire until a Swamp Thing appears from the crimson dust of their fight, no longer appearing to have any faculties or emotion other than: KILL.

The tone shifts as they reach an area known as the Plains of Solitude, seeming a mass of crystalline structures similar to Superman’s secret base. The cool blues of this area offer something of a safety in a book that has otherwise been overbearingly tense since it began. It doesn’t help that Joker’s been doing variations of “can I be Robin, are we there yet, and knock knock jokes the entire time. Bruce snaps that he could never be Robin because Robin was a good guy and who in this world was still like that? Pods shaped like Superman’s baby rocket start landing close to Bruce and Joker before the pair are saved by… Superman?

Or so we think, this “very talkative” (end sarcasm) Superman leads the pair to a farmhouse in the middle of the plains where a surprisingly alive and potentially insane Lex Luthor greets them. Batman, furious at the state of this world demands to know what happened, what did Luthor do? Luthor answers that he had a debate with Superman. What makes this so interesting is that, Luthor says that he knows that he should have lost. The stakes were such that, the loser would be impaled by spike of Kryptonite and Luthor, having almost crapped himself a speech mostly using platitudes from others in his own words, didn’t hold a candle to Ka-El… but in the end, Superman ends up skewered and the world goes to hell with him.

It begs the question of, what happened? Did all of the people just side with Luthor on impulse? Did something happen to sway them or was someone else manipulating things? Everything is speculation. Things are cut short, however as Bane and Scarecrow show up to punish Luthor and bring Batman to their new God, Omega. Bane appears to be absolutely rotting with venom as his veins are green and his skin is pale. Scarecrow looks absolutely scraggly with long, gnarled fingers with syringes at the end of his fingers. Scarecrow has poisoned the Superman clone and forces him to try and break the Bat.

Suddenly, as Superman lifts Batman above his head, a sword pierces his chest as it’s revealed that Wonder Woman has returned to save the Caped Crusader. The two are told to run away by Luthor, to save the world as he opens a portal for them and is summarily torn apart by other infected Superman Clones. 

We see the full extent of the utter destruction Luthor’s actions have caused as they land on the cloak of The Spectre. Wonder Woman tells Batman that the fighting eventually spilled over and destroyed both Heaven and Hell. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? The forces of magic are very powerful in the DC Universe. How much trouble would it take for a Mordru or Neron to tangle with Doctor Fate or Zatanna, culminating in the ruination of the afterlife, damning everyone to a non-existence at the end of everything?

They enter the cloak and take a ride down the River Styx. Diana tells Bruce that the voices of the dead will be calling out to him for sending them there. Capullo stuns with a double page spread of many of DCs biggest heroes, showing Batman the sheer weight of what his as-of-yet unknown role in Luthor’s scheme was. There are far too many to name, but I will say that I appreciate Capullo putting Kyle Rayner among those in the front. His deaths in many alt-stories will always irk me, but I do like seeing him recognized and put higher than Hal Jordan or even John Stewart.

Things take an even darker turn as Alfred shows up among the dead and Batman almost climbs out of the little boat, knowing that he just saw Alfred not too long ago and he and Wonder Woman make it to the real Gotham City with a cliffhanger and a surprising reveal at the end.

Last Knight on Earth pulls no punches when it comes to depicting a desolate world where Doom wins. I want to say that it’s almost dour to the point of being almost being hopeless and that’s exactly what I love. I adore how much is being packed into this story, how many references to the greater DC universe we’re getting. Capullo’s art is probably the best it has been in years and the quality of the writing is right on part with Dark Knights: Metal. It’s a righteous trip as Batman lugs the annoying head of the Joker around like a planet hopping adventure. It’s really fun and very dark.

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

The world needs more Swamp Thing stories.

Runner Up: Justice League Dark Annual #1 - James Tynion IV, Ram V, Guillem March, Arif Prianto and Rob Leigh

This annual was dark, far darker than most of the Justice League Dark tales so far because of how self contained it was and the sheer weight of the situation therein. Sure, it wasn't a world ending cataclysm like the one they just stopped, but that doesn't make it any less horrible. I'd never heard of Ram V before, but their storytelling, combined with Guillem March's art makes me feel like I've been pulled back into the old days of Vertigo.

Magic is broken. After Wonder Woman and Zatanna used the Ruby of Life to repair the damage they did to magic after defeating the Lords of Order, magic itself is repairing itself, but in a manner that throws the old rules out of the window.

Consequently, the Parliament of Trees has been destroyed and now Swamp Thing has no one to answer to as the new Parliament of Flowers is seeking a new champion. After confronting Constantine about coming on as a consultant for the League, the con-man convinces Swamp Thing to go on the search for the new Avatar before he loses his humanity like Swampy did. Swamp thing tries to act like he doesn't care, but goes off to find the man.

The story descends into something of a tragedy as we're introduced to Oleander Sorrel, a flower botanist, and his wife Natasha. 

What makes this story so great is that, like the best Swamp Thing stories, it focuses on other characters and their own personal situations. The pair suffer in a broken marriage after the death of their son which causes Natasha to leave Oleander and himself delving deeper into his work, later resulting in his death. He becomes the Avatar of Flowers, but refuses to let go of his humanity after Swamp Thing tries to convince him that he is no longer a man.

He seeks out his wife and watches over her until Jason Woodrue, a very old DC villain that really hasn't been seen since the early days of The New 52, whispers in Oleanders ear. Oleander listens and suddenly a boy that looks very close to their son appears at the door. Natasha is happy, then another child appears and another until Natasha is absolutely blind with love for her new kids.

But not all gifts are good. There's no way that Woodrue doesn't get something out of this himself. There's always an underlying plot and Swamp Thing manages to uncover what really happened to Oleander. The fire that killed him was actually a pool of caustic that he laid in his flower bed and kills himself in. Oleander did die in the pool, but his memory lived on in the flowers that he planted. This revelation stuns Oleander and the children he created out of flowers begin to dissipate. He grows weary, knowing that Swamp Thing was right and Woodrue manages to convince him to rest for a while before feasting upon his flower flesh, regaining his own connection to The Green.

This annual definitely fit the title. It was Dark, not only from a storytelling standpoint, but also visually. Natasha’s post crying face was heart wrenching to see and Gullem March squeezed every bit of emotion out of it that he could. Her lips quivered, her eye makeup ran just a bit and there was a hopelessness that could be felt. Oleander’s transformation was a beautiful kind of macabre with his appearance, composed entirely of flowers, looking very sinewy and skeletal at the same time. Colors are very warm, juxtaposed against an ever growing sense of dread that culminated in the most haunting scene of Oleander growing more and more flower children. The shot is perfect as Oleander is shown to be a hapless man whose only intent is to make his wife happy, but his methods are horrifying almost wrong.

When the children begin to disappear following the revelation, light is shown on them while the background remains dark. Their petals waft away with the night winds as Natasha has to watch in horror, likely to be absolutely broken by the experience of losing her kids. Woodrue eating Oleander afterwards, however, is brutal. The color shifts to a deep red and Woodrue furiously munches on the flowers, gnawing and tearing his way into Oleander’s body and emerging as a new creature unto himself.

I haven’t been able to find anything about this Ram V person, but I want to read more of their work. This book was absolutely stunning and I hope that it does well enough to warrant another Swamp Thing mini-series or full run. Amidst the cancellation of the show after just one season, it’s definitely something the world needs more of. This story was chilling, well paced and had a great focus on someone else while keeping it’s main star tangential as he should be in things like these. This is a definite high recommend from me.