#I had to saw open the wall to find the pipe (and see how much damage was in the wall)

[solardee]

So the pipe to the toilet just shattered

So that's neat. Also neat that Home Owner's Insurance won't cover anything under 4k

I was so close to having a good buffer in my savingsss *sobs*

[amoreva]

GHOST IN THE WIND

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pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: after a rough turnout of the quest assigned to you, you began to see your ex-boyfriend as the poison slowly kills you.

warnings: angst, post luke betrayal, poisoning, mentions of effects of poison

a/n: so sorry, was taking a slight break on requests for this fic and the fic series that is in the works. I promise i will answer the requests at some point.

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“Medic!” The door to the medical cabin slammed open. The door knob made a hole in wooden walls at Annabeth’s strength. “Will…”

She rasped out, carrying your dead weight. Your breath coming in short bursts as if your lungs couldn’t hold any more air. Veins darkened to the color of night, crawling up your flesh like a parasite itching to take over the host.

“Oh my gods…” Will Solace, head counselor of Apollo Cabin, gasped and helped you onto one of the uncomfortable cots.

You were mumbling nonsense as black liquid dribbled out of your mouth. Will called out your name, desperately trying to grab your attention. Annabeth was standing over you, concerned.

“Oh gods! Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” The other Apollo kid on duty piped up, scrambling to find the ambrosia. It was scary how you looked.

It was like something from the Underworld took hold of your body. There was a puncture wound on your abdomen, which was the probable entrance for the poison.

“Hey, hey—stay conscious for me, okay?” Will spoke as your vision began to get cloudy. He can see you withering away and demanded for information.

“Will…” You managed to croak out. Your friend looked at you with worry, to see the brightest camper succumb to an unknown illness was…bone-chilling.

“Don’t sleep—just don’t black out.” Will muttered as you tasted your favorite fruits as ambrosia slid down your throat easily. “Please…I don’t know if you’ll wake up—”

You were out like a light. The ambrosia combating the poison overwhelmed your body. It was too much for your mind to even find a sliver of energy to try and stay conscious.

Your name was shouted, but sleep pulled you away from the medical cabin and throwing you into a different scene.

It was dark, like you were walking in an empty void. “Judgement.”, you think. You must’ve died and was waiting to get judged on whether you can enter Elysium or not.

What a shitty death. Dying from poison, it wasn’t hero worthy nor significant to a war. Just death to some ghastly poison that you were careless to figuring out what it was.

But…it’s not Judgement. It’s not because you see him. He’s walking around in clothes you last remember him in. Orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, khaki pants and sneakers. The beads on his necklace moving each time he walked.

You know he isn’t dead. He Iris-messaged you yesterday to apologize for his betrayal. He can’t be dead. You wouldn’t have it.

“Luke!” You tried to call out, but no sound is made from your mouth. It terrified you. You tried to scream your lover’s (ex-lover’s) name again as you saw claws wrap around Luke from the ground and drag him in.

You tried to scream his name again, running to him, but your legs felt like sludge. He stared at you indifferently, accepting his reality—maybe…maybe just maybe you could save him if you run fast enough.

He slipped between your fingers. His chocolate curls disappearing into the floor of whatever abyss you’re in. You let out a silent, dry sob. If…if you had just noticed sooner…you could’ve saved him.

The same hands wrap around your limbs, tugging you down into the floor. Crying out for help, your heart tightened as if someone had a grip on it—squeezing ever last bit of life out. A sharp pull engulfed you into the void.

You gasped deeply. Body launching forward as you grabbed at your chest. You expected the familiar wood floors of the medical cabin or even Will’s warm smile, but…you were on Half-Blood Hill.

Soft, calloused hands were gently placed in your spine. It doesn’t take an Athena kid to figure out who it was.

“You alright?” His deep warm tone filled your head making yourself dizzy. For moment…you allowed yourself to believe he was here, truly.

“Yeah.” You spoke, surprised to hear your voice again. What happened before becoming less and less memorable as you turned to look at Luke.

“You can tell me, y’know? What’s bothering you.” Luke reassured and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

A familiar smile graces your lips, allowing yourself to relax, you lean up against his chest. “I know.” You mumbled as his toned arms wrap around you. “I just…miss you.”

“Miss me? I’m hardly ever away from you.” Luke playfully teased.

The breeze blew against the two of you causing Luke to squeeze you a little tighter. You always claimed he was a human body heater.

Everything dropped. Faded in an all too quick manner before you could even scream for Luke. He was ripped away from you—but you were supposed to be in his arms.

“Hey! She’s up!” Someone called out.

You mind felt fuzzy. Mumbles, moans and groans tumbled out of your lips. You felt like you were outta your own skin—you jerked. Uncomfortable with this sudden irritation.

Annabeth yelped. The sudden reaction from you almost hit her in the face. Another groan of discomfort and pain escaped. Accompanied by it was another struggle to get whatever was out of your body.

To you, it felt like you were shifting a little to get comfortable. In reality, your body was violently twitching and reacting you hit a few Apollo kids. The veins darker than before, your skin paler than usual. What did this poison do?

“Get her—restrain…I—” Will demanded, worried you’d end up hurting yourself.

You screamed as something grabbed you, someone grabbed you. Your brain could only register it as danger and hurt and agony and—

“Stop it—!” You begged. Your voice sounded demented, as if it was the poison talking.

Black liquid oozed out of your mouth as you begged for whatever to stop. Ambrosia was forced down your throat. Lights were too bright. The panic was defeating.

You fell.

But you felt no pain.

It was “Judgement” again. The endless void surrounding the distinct figure, you. “There you are…” Luke grinned once he spotted you. Your legs carrying you to the Hermes’ counselor before you could think of the action.

The void morphed into the familiar forest used to play Capture the Flag. Luke laced his hand with yours. “S’just up ahead.” He tugged you along.

Once more, you let yourself relax like this was the reality that fate has set and not one where Luke betrayed Camp, betrayed Percy, betrayed Annabeth, betrayed…you.

“Where are you taking me?” You laughed. A bright smile on your face as you maneuvered through the forest.

Slipping through the trees and branches, Luke brings you to the dock. The water washing up on the small beach.

A small cliche red and white checkered blanket laid out across the wooden dock, masking the potential splinters. There was chips and two soda cans on the blanket and six roses bunched up to make it look like a bouquet.

“Oh Luke…” Any confusion or anger evaporated when you saw the scene.

He smiled, smiled that charming grin and pulled you to sit down on the blanket. “Used up the rest of my money for the snacks and to bargain with a Demeter kid for these.”

He held up the six roses. The petals a delicate red, soft as a baby’s bum. They smelled nice. He went through all this effort for you?

“Luke…” You repeat in the same tone and took the roses from his hand. You noticed the thorns were cut off and a couple of band aids were around his fingers.

A show of his effort to rid the thorns so you didn’t prick your fingers.

“This…this is all wonderful.” You said, albeit a bit breathless. The roses, the snacks, the blanket—all the thought put into this date. It made you forget you were dreaming. You should’ve known…this was too good to be true.

But you stayed oblivious and in denial, tackling your (ex) boyfriend in a grateful hug. Luke laughed and wrapped your arm around your waist.

Yet, your subconscious pulled you from the happy moment. An uncomfortable feeling itching to tear your guts and organs to shreds. It was as if your own organs and nerves did not belong there—like they were in the wrong body. A warbled scream left your throat. Hands desperate to claw at your flesh.

You wanted it to stop—you would do anything to get this feeling to stop. Your heart breaking. To be ripped away from Luke again and again. In both subconscious and reality was cruel.

Your veins now tendrils crawling up your face, stopping just a little above your eyebrows.

“Hey, hey—breathe!” Someone comforted. You couldn’t recognize their face. It was like as if your sense of familiarity disappeared, triggering your fight or flight (mostly fight) response.

“Will—the antidote?!” A girl called out. Her voice somewhat familiar.

You struggled against binds. You wanted to run far, far away and stop this pain. The pain in your body, the pain in your mind…the agonizing ache in your heart.

“Luke—” The name left your lips desperate for any sort of answer to what was happening.

A small pinch.

Fire. White hot pain sprouting in your body. Burning your insides out. Another cry for help. Another scream of desperation. His name leaving your mouth. It hurt—it hurt all too much. Both the burning in your body and the reality of him being gone. Truly, gone.

“Luke! Please…please—help!”

Overwhelmed, you were sucked back into the dream. This time on a cabin bed. It was unclear on whose cabin you two were in. Luke had his arms around your waist, head on your stomach. The pain fleeting, but lingering.

The stars shined brights whilst the moonlight blessed you two. It was peaceful, almost…dare you say—normal. No gods, no goddesses, no prophecies, no quests, no betrayal, no hurt. Nothing.

You found yourself humming, running your fingers through his curls, and feeling your eyes close with fatigue.

“Falling asleep there, sweetheart?” You could feel his smile against your skin. He pressed a kiss to the flesh nearest to his lips.

“Mhm…” Your body flared up due to a burn—but there was no fire in the cabin. You stayed put. “I—I could spend all of eternity with you.”

“I could spend all of my time in Elysium with you.” Luke mumbled and turned his head to look up at you.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his hands, so he was close to you. Lips connected like hands clasping for prayer. It was soft, yet it spoke a lot of words that he could not get out.

“I love you. Never forget that, okay?” Luke whispered against your lips.

His beaded necklace hovering over you. You placed your arms around his neck slowly and kissed him again. Never wanting the moment to stop.

Even then, you never had the courage to say those three simple words to Luke. Realizing this might be the last time you see him, dream or not. It made you sad he never heard it from you.

Maybe this will make up for it?

“I love you—I love you. I love you.” You repeated. Your voice shaky, holding back tears. This wasn’t real and you know it’s not real—but…you missed Luke. You missed him so much that it hurts. You didn’t believe he would betray Camp Half-Blood and you without Kronos’ manipulation.

“Hey…” Luke cupped your face and kissed your forehead. He grabbed your arms to sit up. It wasn’t good to cry laying down. “Don’t tear up. Everything will be okay, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What are you—?”

“I’m sorry, but you have the wake up.” Luke sighed and pressed his forehead with yours.

“Wait—“

“You have to wake up.” Luke grasped your hands. He held you as if this was the last time.

“What?”

“I love you very much and—and I’m so sorry for leaving you there—“

“Luke—wait!”

Your eyes shot up to be met with wooden walls of the medical cabin. Will and Annabeth shot up, ready to take necessary precautions. A dry sob left your mouth.

“Hey…” Will spoke softly.

You sat up, tears cascading down your face. You started to helplessly wipe them. You could feel his touch lingering. His hands grasping yours. Will pulled you into a soft hug when he deducted the poison was out of your system.

The mind is cruel, the poison was cruel. Fate was cruel, life was cruel.

You missed him.

You buried into Will as if it was him. Will and Annabeth thought you were crying because of the overwhelming feelings of what happened when you were poisoned.

You missed him.

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[veintrry]

winter greetings and their departures.

wanderer x gn!reader, sweet & soft fluff, emotional angst, loss, memory loss.

warning! minor spoilers for wanderers backstory and major spoilers for 3.3 sumeru story quest. 4.3k words.

an: hi this is me b4 writing this and i feel like this is gonna ruin me.

edit: I'm ruined. I hate everything. part 2!

There was never much that Winter would bring to Snezhnaya, after all, it was always winter here. From the piping hot delicacies, the layers of clothing, the deep inches of snow. You practically didn't need to wait for Winter to come. However, what it does bring is gifts, and one day you received a puppet at your doorstep, unbeknownst to you that is.

A couple of weeks ago you had found a boy slumped up against the wall of your house. Seeing this as you hummed to yourself planning to spend the day shopping, you obviously were surprised at the figure that donned a large hat and light clothing sat unconscious against the wall. At first you had assumed that maybe it was a drunk who didn't know better, however, after feeling his temperature, you decided to leave the pondering for later.

After a tough struggle of getting him into your home, you laid him on your couch, draping him in multiple blankets. Immediately after doing so you put a hand to feel for his pulse but nothing came through and panic surged through your body. You tried feeling for his heart but nothing beat underneath your palm and there was no sign of his chest ever having been raising up and down, even back when you found him outside. Had he died out in front of your house that long ago? You felt guilty for not being there soon enough but you were wondering just for how long had he been out there? Why did no one help?

You didn't exactly know what to do till you saw him open his eyes, sending your body stumbling backwards as you yelped form the horrifying sight. He's dead. He's meant to be dead. "Who the hell are you?" This doesn't happen to dead people does it? God, please, what possession occurred within your home? "You're alive?" You inched near him. "Of course I'm alive, have you ever seen a dead person before or should I show you one?" Despite his threats you were relieved to know he was well, "Oh my god, you're alive." You say as the weight leaves your shoulders. "I couldn't feel your heartbeat so I thought you had died by now." You don't notice the way his face scrunched at your words.

"Who are you?" You know, he was awfully direct for someone who was drunk prior. "I'm the person who had to drag you out of the freezing cold." You tell him your name as you expect a form of thanks or emotional gratitude but it never comes. "Do you want me to get on my knees and pledge loyalty to you?" Maybe you should've left him to die.

—

But you didn't, that's why you were here now, eating dinner together like you do every day.

You came to find that the young man, who's name you came to find out is Scaramouche, was not as bad as you thought he was despite his horrible personality. In fact, he was good company once you adapted to his way of speaking. He clearly isn't as direct about his emotions as you thought he was.

You would say you two had become good friends since the incident that occurred, although, he's never really told you how he ended up there. You always thought he was too embarrassed to admit what occurred, after all he has a lot of pride, but you've come to realise he doesn't enjoy alcohol, not unless he seems to be in a bad mood. You never wished to pry onto what happened for him to end up in such a state so you let it be.

"It tastes good right?" The question leaves your mouth excitedly as you expect to be praised. It had been the first time you were the one who made dinner because ever since the first time he met you he decided you were too careless and 'might try to poison him' if he lets you do the cooking. But, after some haggling, you managed to persuade him. Most likely because he seems to have grown a soft spot for you. "It's fine."

Your spoon hitting the bottom of the bowl. A silence overcame the room. The dish before you two was goulash, but not just any goulash, no, it was Your Special Goulash recipe. You had mastered this recipe to perfection, no, more than perfection, it is a goulash so good the Archons would be astounded. "Liar." You bitterly said. "What, you seek more praise?" He spoke, his voice was somewhat laced sweetly with honey as though to further taunt you. "Yes. Yes, I do. This is years of work, it is more than fine, it is magnificent!" You take strong pride in your skills when it comes to cooking and it won't be undermined. "I think it's pretty average." "Average?!" You repeated with astoundment.

One could say you were almost this close to jumping over the table at this blasphemy. He was clearly taking much amusement in your behaviour. "Yeah, I bet I could make a better gou-" His sentence is cut short by a spoon being forced into his mouth and he feels the warm liquid seep into his mouth, the seasonings it carries covering his tongue. His gaze stays stuck to your hands and his eyes are wide. You could easily tell he was astounded and you began to smile happily, but his shock didn't come from what you thought it did. He raised his sights onto you, and your stupid face.

Scaramouche felt his face grow warmer, and it wasn't frustration at your actions but something else. You take note of this and your eyes seem to glimmer, at this he pulls your hand away from him, thereby removing the spoon as he swallows. "So you do like it!" You're so dumb. Such an idiot you are. His hand is raised to his face as he mumbles something but you don't hear him, and you ask him to repeat it, repeat what you know will be the praise you deserve. "I said...It's too hot."

"...What." You stand still, disappointed once more. "It's goulash, it's meant to be hot!" And to your surprise, he mimics the same volume as you. "Well, it's too hot!" "You just don't know genius when you see it!" Taking a seat back down harshly. "Ha! I see it in the mirror every day." Crossing his arms as he bites his bottom lip, as though trying to keep his own resistance against something, making himself appear frustrated despite the colour of his ears. "You wish. Just eat up." You huff, biting your own food.

"Whatever." And he does the same as you, but with each bite he takes he stays more and more focused on what you did. You're so careless. Do you ever think prior to acting? He chuckles to himself, and you raise a brow but don't ask anything.

You both continue to eat peacefully.

—

Scaramouche had begun to act oddly. It's small things he does that have changed.

He used to cling onto you, he wouldn't directly ask for it but you'd give him it and he'd welcome it despite his complaints that you're too touchy, "You better not do this with anyone else." He'd say to you. And whenever you tried to leave his grip he'd pull you back in, asking you what you thought you were doing leaving him like that. He used to always keep you in his sights, he'd stay reading a book somewhere in the room just to make sure he can also keep an eye on you. But now, he seems too busy, too worried, with something, you aren't entirely sure what. You've asked him about his behaviour but he brushes it off, acting as though you're imagining things.

You question why he feels more distant nowadays, why even after having known each other for a long time now it feels like you're back to being strangers. Despite always being the more honest one out of the two you didn't want to admit to him that you missed having him there, with you. Yes, you two still lived together, but, although you don't want to admit it, you missed his touch.

It's an odd thing to say that you lost someone when they're always with you, it's kind of like having an anchor tied to you, yet the rope isn't tied around you, it is in you. You are one.

You wanted to figure out what's wrong, to sort things out. So you decided you'd try again, that you would do your best.

"Scara?" You called, peaking your head into his room. His answer was quick and to the point, not bothering to stare back at you. "What is it? I'm working on something." You pranched towards where he was sitting, attempting to peer over his shoulder, glimpsing at what he was working on before he abruptly hid it. You feel your brows furrow as you bite your tongue. Why was it that he suddenly began keeping things from you? You can recount exactly when it started. It wasn't like he shared everything with you, nor did you expect him to, but he didn't go out of his way like this.

You straightened your back. It was better to simply be straightforward with him. "What are you hiding?" Your voice was flat, there is no reason for there to be anything other than suspicion. "Nothing." Quick as always to cover up, but unlike other times he might have lied to you, this time his eyes didn't meet yours, they stayed focused on the ground.

You fisted your hands, annoyance surged through your body, but another part of you felt differently. You felt disappointed, not in him, but yourself. You somehow felt you had done something to cause this, to have him leave you behind. It felt slightly hollow. How can you blame him when you want to so badly just forgive him for whatever it is?

"Scara," You started, and the words threatened to never continue sounding out, to stay confined in your throat, suffocating you. But once he glanced up at you, anticipation in his orbs, you knew he was aware, aware that he had done something. If so, why hasn't he done anything regarding it? Regarding how he neglected you. You barely eat together anymore, he's too busy. "Please, just tell me, what's wrong?"

Truth is, he did wish to tell you, but then your idea of him would shatter. Everything you saw would fall apart. He can't have that, he doesn't want you to hate him, he can't take that. "Is it something I did?" No, no, no. God, no. He finds himself denying it repeatedly in his mind, the guilt seeping into his body, realising that you might have been blaming yourself the entire time. The last thing he'd want is for you to denounce yourself in his stead. He knows what he's doing. He knows what he has been doing to you and he knows it's cruel and awful, but he has to, he has to. He's done worse so why was this most bothersome for him?

"Did I ever say that?"

"No, you didn't. But, what else am I meant to think." You were the one who suffered the consequences of his actions. He expired a heavy breath, before admitting his thoughts, putting aside his usual act. "You're right. No, you didn't do anything. You never did. I'm simply caught up with some stuff."

"What stuff? You keep saying you're busy but you never tell me what. I'm… starting to get worried. I don't know what you're doing but if you have to go out of your way to hide it from me then it mustn't be good."

He didn't respond, only blankly blinking at you. It was hard to figure out what he was thinking till he stood up, his following words cut through not only the tension that had built up but you as well.

"I plan on leaving."

"What, where?! Why?!" You couldn't wrap your head around why he'd make such a plan, or why he would have to, nevertheless want to. "I have something I need to do. It's important to me." Important to him. Important to him? Why had he never mentioned it and why does he only bring it up now. He still continues to be discreet about his actions despite clueing you in with small tiny drops of information. But you didn't want the info, you wanted to know when it would end. "Then is it more important than you and I?"

It was as important on its own as he was. And since they were tied, if he were to say it is then he'd be saying he's worth more than you. He wouldn't want to put you down. No, you meant the world to him, you were so beautiful, you were wonderful and full of life but in a way he felt like he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve this warmth, your warmth. You were the world but his vision was much bigger, he was a god, this is his birthright. If you'd listen to him, if you could understand, if you could trust him. Trust him blindly without a second thought. That's what he wishes to ask of you, he doesn't want to cause you any more pain but this is necessary for him to achieve. "Yes. It is."

He didn't need to hear your words to know how you felt, every part of your face said it. The misery, the burning, aching misery that swirled within those orbs of yours. How your body tensed, your jaw clenched tighter, and your brows raising higher in astonishment. A laugh leaves your throat, a scratchy bitter chuckle, and he hates it. "I see. Okay, I get it." It was clear he had already decided to dispose of you, that whatever this other thing was is more valuable, it matters most, not you. You feel as though you've been shot, the emptiness filled with disappointment and shame at him and yourself for ever thinking he'd have chosen you. You step away, and move towards the door. He says your name, it sounds almost pitiful, and you are hesitant to glimpse at him. You're weak, at this point what do you have to lose. You both know the end.

So you turn, you face him once more. Now you are the one to observe him, watch the way his face scrunches at your expression, how his fists are clenched. His mouth agape as no words leave his mouth yet you see it in his eyes, how he pleads you to stay, begs you to forgive him. You wish to think it isn't how he said it was. Scaramouche always had a tongue that defied his thoughts. But you wanted to hear him say it was you. It never came. No words came. Nothing but silent mouthing, as though he was whispering to you, knowing that if he spoke his voice would break. 'I love you.' And you see the way his shoulders drop, his orbs following the slightest of movements you make. You can't find it in yourself to say the words back. You only gaze at him as though he was the worst man you had known, and he might've been. To your disdain, you didn't hate him at that moment, you pitied him, and you hated yourself for feeling sympathy for that man.

You left without a word said, but you both knew each other well enough to know what you both were thinking.

After that, everything was quiet. There was no more tension. You didn't bother asking the Archons or a deity for help. What good would it be to ask a higher being for help, does that not only prove how dire your situation is, how pathetic it is? You didn't need the Archons, you will adapt as you always do.

One day, everything became all the more quiet. And you realised how much comfort you took in his company. You were truly alone now. It's just you.

You stare blankly at his door. You sit against it like you have done a thousand times, and you pretend he is just working again.

—

Not once did you enter his room. You didn't want to know what he took, because you feel its empty space in your chest, and you didn't care for what he left because you felt it in the silence as you monitored the items he touched for any traces of him like an owl, never blinking.

You were once again at his door, knocking thrice and awaiting any sound to erupt from the room but you only had the peace of no noise return. And yet you hated it, you felt frustrated. To you it was never placid because you could hear your thoughts echoing throughout the rooms, his name tormenting you, following you. How could one forget him, with a face like that, a personality so annoying like that? And yet you loved it; you loved him.

The day he left the snow had already erased all footprints he might've left behind, you would think that maybe that's why you feel his ghost here constantly. But it's likely your delusions.

Today, you'd enter. You wanted to feel him. To remember what it was like to have him. You didn't wish to forget him. The numbing coldness of the metal on your palm became evermore permanent as your hand seemed to refuse to budge. What had he done to have put me in such a state? You think it's funny.

You turn the knob, and push the door open.

White. So much white. The glacial weather was near enough to numb you, but that was not why you stood paralysed. You felt tears twinkle in your vision, before departing and travelling down your cheeks.

Snow. It's all snow.

He had left the window open. God, he probably never left out the door.

You stayed still as you processed this. Your mouth agape as your eyes stayed glued onto the sight before you.

It always snows in Snezhnaya, so why was this so much more painful?

It's torturous. It's horrible. It's pure torment. Yet it is such a beautiful sight to you, it is home to you and you hate it.

Your eyes wander around to where all the snow particles have fled to: The bed he slept on, the cabinets, his desk. The desk he worked at.

You walk closer, you feel your feet dip into the snow. You study his table, only a match, a bottle of ink, and a letter. He left a doll next to it.

You spent the entire day there, cleaning the snow out, and you left everything else untouched as you shut yourself in there just as he had, reading the letter where he had written it and then, you cried. You cried till your weeps went mute. Your attempts to stop your tears continuously failed. You hate him. Every aspect of him. And you hated how well you knew him.

—

'My dear,

I know it's shameful of me to say goodbye like this. I don't want to see what face you make.

I'm going to Sumeru, I'm going to fulfil what I was meant to be. Then, I'll come for you.

I'll be stronger then, I'll protect you from everyone, so this time let me save you instead. Wait for me, I won't take long.

I love you. Next time I see you I'll seriously say it. Thank you and I'm sorry, for all that I caused you. I'll make sure to repent with the rest of my life.

(I hope you like the puppet. It was made for you.)

Yours Truly,

Scara.'

—

It seemed that the weather only grew colder day by day in Snezhnaya. You had developed a pretty steady routine which was unusual for your normal self and today was your special day, today you got to spend a day treating yourself to all things nice. You've worked hard this week after all.

So, you walked out to the hallway dressed and ready to go, hurrying past the guest room and putting your shoes on, wrapping yourself with a scarf as your gloves turned the knob of your door. You leaped out of the house excitedly, only to catch yourself on your foot as you found someone standing at the right of your door.

A beautiful face was what you were met with, you felt the air knock out of you as you stumbled back. You didn't spot how the man smirked at the sight of this, nor would you know the relief it gave him to see you still the same. "Did I frighten you?" He wanted to test the waters, just out of curiosity, just so maybe, maybe it's fine, maybe you're an exception.

"No- I mean, yes? You did. I'm sorry, who are you?" For a second his face dropped into a sour expression, but he returned himself to his previous composer. "You ought to be ashamed. To think you'd forget me after I told you to wait for me." His words were a whisper but despite their gentle tone their weight laid heavy on him.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you…"

He resented himself for what he was going to say and he was internally cringing and god he hates you for having him say something so dumb, but if this was a sick joke maybe he should appease you.

"I'm just a wanderer, that's all. Sorry, you wouldn't happen to know where I could find the best goulash?"

"The best goulash in Snezhnaya?! That's a hard thing to decide… Well, there's a diner down far by the town's heart. I'm heading there so you could join me if you'd like?"

Kind-hearted as always. An idiot to the core. But so was he for thinking that you'd offer him, a stranger, your secret recipe. Yeah, he should've cherished it when he had it. It was good, really good, and your face was pretty too, stupidly pretty.

He studied your outfit. Layered and thick as always, a contrast to his. You had yourself packed warm but that wasn't what he was focused on, you had a messenger bag strapped across your chest, and off it he saw the puppet he gave you. It was his.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked, pointing at it and ignoring your offer.

You found everything about this so-called wanderer odd. But when he asked about the puppet you had attached to your bag you couldn't quite recall when you got it. "I'm not sure… maybe it came with the bag? Sorry, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, nothing else. One thing though," You piped your head up, and he swallowed his pride. He didn't want to lie to you, even if you don't remember it now, he doesn't want to lie to you. But he never realised how much of a difficult thing to say it was, especially when you don't remember. Could he say he loves you, does he have the right anymore?

"Wanderer?"

"I… love you." He could feel that same heat that would always arise within him coming back once fourth. He tilted his ichimegasa down to hide his face, spitting out his next words quickly. "I'll be departing now!" This had been the first time that you knew that you saw him flustered, or that you've met him which made his words more absurd to you, but you felt almost flattered to be told that by someone so pretty. It was such a simplistic way of thinking. Then his words register once more, and you look at the chained puppet, unlocking it as you gaze at it. How alike they were.

How strange, how weird it was, the gaps in your memories, the guest room in your house, the puppet that looks like him, him acting so weird towards you, so casual.

You begin to wonder if this was really a mistake.

—

Despite the flustered emotions he first felt, he quickly let them pass, realising you'd simply think nothing more of him than him being some creep. Ha, to think he'd settle for such a thing so easily.

To think he'd settle for this so easily. What was he meant to do? What should he do? Tears welled within his eyes as he walked, and he hoped that even if the snow covers his trails it never erases what's already beneath.

He made a gigantic mistake. One he has to atone with the rest of his life. Unfortunately, it appears it isn't with you. He was ready to spend the next hundred years being pestered by you. But to be rid of that was an even worse punishment.

The wanderer won't tamper with your life. He wouldn't do such a thing to you. Despite his many wants to, his need to be with you, he won't. Because it is he himself who made himself land in such a position. Maybe rather than having shown up like that he should've recreated everything from the beginning, maybe then you would behave just as your stupid self normally would. Supplying him with warmth, dumb comments, annoyance, affection, care, humanity. Humanity. God, you had already made him a person long ago.

What should he do, what should a lost wanderer do when his home doesn't look at him the same. When those familiar eyes only return an unknowing look, a clueless, foreign stare?

How long does it take to rebuild a home, to rebuild the love you once carried for him?

The snow continues to seep into the room like sand filling up an hourglass. The doors knob has icicles on its insides and the inks long gone solid. All that remains is the opened envelope and the letter it contained, with stained tears. Another tightly sealed letter beside it.

[orphiceonian]

˗ˏˋSILVERV WEEK: HOME´ˎ˗

read on ao3

written for @silverv-week

“Megabuilding 10, eh?”

V let out a groan as his voice crackled through the confines of the rickety elevator. He could tell she was not in the mood for his idle chit chat—not when she had a pounding headache and a ringing in her ears that permeated every thought.

“Yeah it’s a shithole Johnny, I’m well—fuckin—aware.” She gritted as the elevator grate opened and she stepped out. 

“Someone is in a bad mood.” The rockerboy muttered, walking in stride with her as she weaved through the bustling lobby. Rarely was she in a good mood. It was always a grumpy one with a smattering of misery. He couldn’t blame her—dying wasn’t a matter many people were happy about. 

He felt the merc fight the urge to bite back at him—again—exhausted at the thought of using her precious mental energy to argue with him. 

V stepped inside the second elevator that would take them up to the higher levels of the building. She leant against the wall of the old metal cage and punched in the code for rooftop access. The gears and wheels of the elevator began to churn as it lifted them both higher into the building. 

“Remember seeing this place from The Atlantis. Big monolith breakin’ up the skyline with a big ole ten on the front. Didn’t think much of it then.” Johnny spoke, eyes fixed on the graffiti that decorated the interior of the lift as they whizzed by the residential levels. 

“Hell are you on about?” V spoke, eyes closed and jaw clenched. 

“Just find it interesting that without knowin’ it, saw where you’d end up livin’.” He hummed, looking over at her.

V frowned at him as the lift drew to a stop, “Clearly saka fucked with your memories then. These buildings weren’t built till after you blew up the tower.” She muttered and stepped out of the elevator and out onto the service corridor. 

He snapped to attention at her words, watching as she walked down the narrow corridor as if she hadn’t just thrown his worldview into question. 

The building had been there. He had seen it clear as anything when he pulled up to The Atlantis to ask Rogue for help getting Alt back from Arasaka. Its blocky form dominated the city skyline—a behemoth of concrete and steel that housed a thousand individual lives and stories. 

Johnny followed along behind her, thoughts ticking over in his head as they silently walked down the hallway. V pushed open a hatch and stepped out onto the windy rooftop of the megabuilding. She ducked under some exposed pipes until she found the spot where she usually sat. 

Johnny glitched over the plastic chairs just as she sat down to run diagnostics on her cyberware. It had become a habit of hers since the relic. Vik had warned her to be extra vigilant about the status of her chrome and how it interacted with the relic. Now after every job she spent a full hour scanning her subsystems for any signs of abnormal degradation. 

V looked at him, tell-tale shimmer of orange light ghosting across her optics. She blinked the lights away, tilting her head as if waiting for him to speak. 

“There were there, swear it.” He pressed, watching as she connected her neural link to the deck. 

“Probably just the relic buggin’ then. Like with the graffiti I keep seeing.” She shrugged as she spoke. 

Johnny could tell she was hiding something from him. It felt like a thought lurking in the back of his mind—unable to be fully formed.

He studied her face for a moment, eyes dragging over the smooth contours and the glimmering EMP threading that marked her cheeks. Her eyes were back to their unsettling orange colour as she scrolled through the lines upon lines of diagnostic data that streamed through her deck. 

“Something you’re not letting me know.” He spoke, words coming out more bitter than he anticipated. Her bad mood was rubbing off on him, twisting his intrigue into something ugly. 

“There is a lot you don’t know, Johnny. Like to keep it that way.” She disconnected the link with a sigh, “It’s probably just a flaw in ‘saka’s code. When they built the environments around your memories, accidentally added in present day Night City ‘stead.” V leant back in her chair and propped her feet up on an overturned crate. 

“Always the logical explanation with you.” He muttered and sat down in the chair next to her. From this height he could see most of Night City and a fair amount of the expansive badlands that surrounded it. If he wasn’t so much of a cynic he would have called it beautiful. 

Johnny pulled his eyes off the horizon and over to the merc when he felt a prickly sensation dance through his. He watched as V took a drag of a cigarette, her eyes fixed on the view. 

He could feel her mind working—could feel it ticking away as her brow furrowed in thought.

She was quiet for a moment and then took a small breath, “Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing this city through your eyes. I see a building and I wonder ‘how long has that been there?’ only to realise it’s always been there.” 

Johnny raised a brow at her, “You sure Arasaka didn’t change your memories?” 

“Well technically they did. You in my head, overwriting my memories. Changing them. That’s what the relic does.” He noted the melancholic tone in her voice. The dread that came along with the relic and the fear she felt everyday as the prospect of slowly becoming someone else. 

He glanced over as she took another drag, “So me seein’ your megabuilding…?”

She goes silent again, brow knitted in thought as the ideas tick over in her mind, “Sometimes I see this house. It’s got yellow linoleum tiles in the kitchen and brown shag carpet in the lounge. Pictures on the wall and it’s got this…coldness to it despite looking warm.” V looked over at him then, eyes filled with an emotion he can’t quite read, “Your home?” 

He nodded and sucked in a sharp, artificial breath through his teeth, “It’s where I grew up in Texas. Never really felt like home though.”

V nodded and took a drag, eyes fixed on the horizon and the glimmering light of the city. He watched how the light danced over her face and the breeze moved her fading pink hair. 

He could feel her sour attitude dissipate into melancholy as her mind pulled long forgotten memories to the forefront and put them on repeat for both him and her to see. He caught a few glimpses of a small apartment, bloodied broken knuckles and an anger that burned hot in his chest.

“Tried to make a home in Atlanta…didn’t work out how I thought it would.” She mummed, his question answered before he even spoke it. They didn’t speak much about her time in Atlanta. It was a wound that was still healing and it was better for the both of them if he didn’t prod at it. 

“Used to think home was a place. Four walls and some windows. Then I realised it was people. So my home became gangs and criminals. Then for a while, Jackie was my home. Felt like the brother I never had and then I got him killed.” Her voice cracked at her mention of Jackie’s name–yet another wound that still hadn’t healed.

Johnny watched as her eyes shifted again from sadness to bitterness, “Makes sense that this shitty town full of shitty people feels like home to me.” She snarled at the skyline and took another drag of the smouldering cigarette. 

“You're not a shitty person V. Trust me. I’m an authority on the topic.” He sat back in the plastic chair and took in the sounds of the city around them. The hum of energy and the whirr of cooling fans that made up the frequency of Night City. 

He shared her sentiment. Night City was a cesspit of crime, corruption and cruelty. After the war it had felt like a reprieve from the patriotic propaganda he had been spoonfed all his life. He had seen enough of her memories to know that growing up in this city hadn’t been easy and all in all, she was well adjusted and empathetic for someone who had grown up surrounded by violence and gangs. 

“Do–do you think the reason why you saw the megabuilding and why I saw your home…think it goes beyond the relic?” She spoke, voice laced with that same nervous energy he heard he speak to Judy with. It’s like a kid admitting a crush or an awkward fan gathering up the courage to speak. 

Johnny pulled in another sharp breath. He didn't need to ask what she meant by her words–fuck he can feel it. He can feel it bubbling up in the back of his throat, realisation choking him. He knows how she felt because he felt that way about her–felt like their connection went beyond the relic. 

“I think…I think I’m changing cause of you. For the better.” He spoke and looked over at her. He felt his heart clench at the look on her face–it's somewhere between fear and admiration. 

It’s that look that sealed the deal for him. A deal he had been thinking about since the oil fields. 

Both of them were going to make it out of this nightmare–alive and together. 

His home was with V and he’d bring that tower down again to make sure it stayed that way. 

[defectivevillain]

tolerable

pairing: aizawa x professor!reader

reader’s pronouns are unspecified.

Aizawa has no idea what to do with you, and that much is incredibly obvious within your first few interactions. You try to be nice without being pushy, and it seems to be working out... sort of. You can’t quite tell what the pro-hero is thinking. He often raises his capture scarf over the lower half of his face when speaking to you. You idly wonder if he’s annoyed at your presence.

Regardless, your conversations with Eraserhead are often short. You exchange greetings in the halls and occasionally talk in the teachers’ lounge, but that’s about it. You think Aizawa is pretty damn cool, and you’d like to get to know him. You just don’t exactly know how to go about it. 

Your strategy of remaining present but not overly so seems to be paying off, though. As the days pass, you notice Aizawa’s responses to your greetings becoming less stiff and more relaxed. One time, you even think you see him wave. You quickly rid yourself of the notion, however. You’re likely just seeing things. 

At least, that’s what you think. You think you’re overanalyzing things. You’re thinking about Aizawa as you walk down the hallway and, in your distraction, someone sneaks up on you. 

“Heya, teach.” You exhale slowly and turn around, refusing to admit that your student’s sudden presence caught you off guard. Kaminari Denki stares at you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.  

“Hello, Kaminari,” you sigh, struggling to keep the suspicion from your face. Nothing good comes from Kaminari’s conniving smile, and that’s a lesson you had to learn a few weeks ago. 

“I was just wondering why Aizawa-sensei likes you so much.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds a bit strangled, but you can’t exactly control it. Kaminari’s eyes are burning into your skin and you’re beginning to feel as if this conversation is really an interrogation. You struggle to find something to say, other than the misguided stammering you’re currently doing. 

“Yeah, I even saw him smile when he was talking to you,” Mina pipes up, casually popping out from the hall around the corner. You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose, manifesting the patience for what is to come. 

“Alright, everyone else, come on out.” To your bewilderment, Kirishima, Jirou, Sero, and Hagakure are all listening in. They have a wide variety of expressions on their faces. Jirou, for one, looks strangely satisfied. Sero and Kirishima have guilty smiles on their faces. Hagakure... Well, you’re not sure what her expression is. “What is this?”

“We just wanted to ask you about Aizawa-sensei, promise!” Kirishima seems to be the person to take one for the team. Sero pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, before chiming in himself. 

“Aizawa-sensei seems to actually tolerate you,” he shrugs, fiddling with one of his elbows. The others exchange nods at this. Jirou doesn’t say anything, but the smirk on her face suggests that she knows something you don't. You take a moment to collect your thoughts, before shaking your head in disbelief.

“While I admire your enthusiasm, my relationship with Aizawa is none of your business,” you explain, crossing your arms over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at the smirk that grows on Kaminari’s face. You don't realize your blunder until it’s too late. 

“Relationship?” Kaminari is wearing the biggest, most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. You resist the very tempting urge to expel the entire group of students standing before you. 

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” you scramble to explain, but the students are too far gone to notice. They're all wearing assorted expressions of satisfaction and knowing. You take a deep breath. “Alright, that’s enough, everyone.” You shoo the students away, pretending not to hear the excited whispers and gasps that echo throughout the empty hallway. Once the group is gone, you lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment.

“Hey.” You open your eyes, shocked to find Aizawa himself standing before you. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his gaze is cast aside, but he’s standing in front of you nonetheless. You’re so surprised by the sudden greeting that it takes you a moment to respond. 

“Hi,” you eventually say. “What’s up?” Surely, the pro-hero must need something. That’s evidently the only reason he’s standing in front of you right now. Aizawa isn’t fond of small talk. 

“You seem troubled,” Aizawa squints at you and you just barely prevent yourself from withering under his gaze. It takes you a moment to process his statement, but when you do, you’re a bit shocked. In all honesty, you thought Aizawa disliked you. Apparently, you were wrong. 

 “Your students are very… persistent,” you answer, struggling to hide your coexistent amusement and humiliation. The pro-hero across from you, however, seems to settle for contemplating his life decisions. 

“What did they do now?” Aizawa grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. You resist a laugh at the dramatic gesture. You’re well aware that Aizawa cares for his students. He just pretends that he doesn’t. 

“They kept asking me about you,” you recall. You think about what to say for a moment, before deciding on simply telling the truth. “They seemed to think you find me tolerable. I told them that was ridiculous.”

Aizawa is uncharacteristically silent. You wait a few moments for his response, but it never comes. Chancing a glance at him, you find him to have a conflicted expression on his face. It’s perhaps the most emotion you’ve seen him express. “Is it ridiculous?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not true,” you choke out, avoiding eye contact. You’re feeling increasingly embarrassed throughout this interaction. Somehow, Aizawa doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he seems to be thinking about something as he frowns. 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say next. Maybe he’ll remain silent and simply walk away. You’re expecting a death threat, a punch in the face, anything. What you’re certainly not expecting is his next statement. “What if it were true?”

“What?” You’re sure your voice cracks as you speak, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. No, you’re focused on what the pro-hero just said. You could’ve sworn you heard him say-

“I tolerate you,” Aizawa clarifies, his hand coming up to his scarf habitually. You watch as his fingers twist in the fabric. He seems restless. His gaze, however, hasn’t strayed from your face. You’re beginning to feel intimidated. 

“Oh, ha, that’s good,” you eventually say awkwardly. You’re starting to feel secondhand embarrassment too- in addition to your own personal humiliation. 

“I more than tolerate you,” Aizawa says, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes a step closer. You instinctually back away, only for your back to hit the wall behind you. Aizawa doesn’t cage you in, but he does look at you with a smoldering intensity.

You’re not quite sure how it happens. The question falls from your lips and, before you can comprehend what the answer is, Aizawa is tugging you in and kissing you. You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer to you. His hands fall to your waist and you’re starting to feel robbed of breath when you’re rudely interrupted. 

“I win the bet!” You recognize that voice. Desperately hoping your thoughts are wrong, you look behind Aizawa’s shoulder and stiffen. Sure enough, Kaminari, Sero, Mina, Jirou and Hagakure are standing behind him. Aizawa’s hands fall from your waist and you swear you see his eyes glow red for a second as he turns around. 

The students don’t look the least bit embarrassed, instead grinning victoriously. You resist the very strong urge to curl up into a ball on the floor, instead glancing at your coworker. Aizawa is glaring at them with enough force to take out their Quirks, despite the fact that his eyes are a warm brown. 

“New assignment for you all, due tomorrow,” Aizawa orders. “Write two pages on the concept of privacy when it comes to pro-heroes.” The students scramble away, letting out assorted groans. 

“I don’t think that dissuaded them,” you huff out a laugh. You can’t help but find amusement in Aizawa’s students and their investment in your relationship. Clearly, the group cares for Aizawa.  

“Probably not,” Aizawa sighs, pulling his capture scarf up to cover his mouth. “I’m getting coffee. Care to join me?” You nod and fall in step next to him, smiling to yourself. 

snippet + endnotes after the cut :)

Aizawa, eyebrows furrowed: They’re so... tolerable. 

Present Mic, sitting next to him: WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY-

I wrote this in bullet format and then got rid of the bullets... lol. I think I write better without them.

Anyway. Love Aizawa. Sobs. The only man ever. 

[bomberqueen17]

encouraging

Last night I got very mildly high (a really great thing about being middle-aged in this new era of legal weed is that it's really easy to get very consistent and reliable gummies with very consistent and reliable doses of THC so you can get yourself very mildly stoned, not enough to freak out or like lose time or anything, just enough to be Altered and take a little mini-vacation from your own brainweasels, and wake up refreshed the next day instead of hung-over) and scrolled Tumblr until I saw that post about multi-vortex "dead man walking" tornadoes again, and that got me to go search up the one they mentioned by name and then go into a wikipedia spiral about destructive multi-vortex tornadoes. (The post, shockingly, isn't totally accurate, but isn't like. wrong-wrong. For the record though the dead man walking bit of the tornado wasn't as deadly as the just wall-of-black that came later.)

And actually while it was terrifying to see what kind of destruction the weather can wreak, it was kind of... encouraging. Reading the accounts of historical storms and more recent ones, there's this throughline of learning, of new regulations and guidelines, of science being done. The old historic tornadoes, not only were the casualties high, but the aftermath horrible, people missing, fires wiping out survivors, local economies irrevocably destroyed. The newer tornadoes, often the weather itself was more severe, but there are fewer and fewer casualties, better warnings and advice from meteorologists, better government response. I didn't track any of my sources on this and I've closed the window so I'd stop reading about it, but I read with interest about how in 1991 a news team sheltered under an overpass during a scary but relatively weak tornado, and broadcast footage of this, and then in a much stronger early-2000s tornado, a number of people were killed sheltering under highway overpasses, and then by the 2010s the advice to avoid highway overpasses had become common knowledge, and people are no longer being killed this way. (Also I finally had my question answered, having been on the Thruway during a tornado warning: why not shelter under an overpass? Well! Because of fluid dynamics. Just as water pressure intensifies when going through a sudden narrowing in a pipe, so too does wind going through a narrower space, so if you're hiding in that narrow space you are gonna get sucked out of it. So if you find yourself out in the open, do not shelter under a bridge or overpass! Shelter instead in a ditch if you can find one, or a hollow in the ground, something open to the sky so the wind will not intensify passing through it. Now You Know. ok fine I reopened the tab to cite this: NOAA's page on this topic)

Another one was a storm in the 20s where several of the casualties were farmers out in their fields, taken unawares. Normally farmers are weather-savvy, the article said, and would know to shelter from storms, but this tornado had an unusual appearance, and took them by surprise. Contrast that to later storms, where mobile radars were deployed, where meterologists and broadcasters had protocols already in place, where local inhabitants knew to listen and knew how to respond-- there are still instances of bad advice, like an Oklahoma TV weatherman telling people to get in their cars and evacuate which led to gridlock on the local highway which would have resulted in hundreds of casualties save for the tornado missing that area, but mostly people know now what to do. The casualties are much sparser, and many of them now are, instead of people making fatal mistakes, instead people doing the right thing but the storm just being too powerful. (No less tragic, but I suppose it's slightly less heartbreaking to know it was just bad luck and not also poor information.)

And you see examples like in 2011 the 12 oil rig workers, who sheltered in the change house, which due to new information about tornadoes had been built with tie-downs, which nearly failed but did not and all twelve souls were spared, and the company improved construction of future change houses as tornado shelters based on this information.

Anyway, it was a weird thing to fixate on for the evening but in the end it did leave me with a feeling of hopefulness. Like, this is a thing where science and good government actually can concretely improve outcomes.

Let's not extend our worry into climate change making all this worse, just yet, and leave it at this.

LOL this is so poorly cited I'm turning reblogs off, and hopefully I'm done obsessing about tornadoes for a lil bit now. Well, we'll see if that resolution sticks, I reopened tabs to put in at least minimal citations here and haven't closed them yet.

[happyprincesscycle]

Grump and Pupp series:

Butcher'ed Mission (see what I did there 😏 lol)

Characters: Billy Butcher, reader, M.M, Frenchie, Hughie

Summary: You and The Boys were on a mission, and despite your well intentions, you ended up causing trouble for them 🫠

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

The Boys were on a mission, involving dangerous people (as per usual), and a lot of things that could go wrong. So Butcher had one clear instruction for you: stay out of the way!

You tried, you really did. But with all the excitement, secrecy, and, let’s face it, a bit of impatience, staying out of the way was easier said than done.

The team had infiltrated a heavily guarded warehouse where Vought was rumored to be storing something very valuable. The plan was simple: get in, find the goods, and get out without drawing too much attention. Simple, that is, until you got involved.

The Boys were moving stealthily through the dark corridors, Butcher leading the way with Hughie, Frenchie, and M.M. close behind. You, however, were at the back, bouncing with barely contained energy.

"Oi, remember what I said, y/n," Butcher whispered over his shoulder, his voice low but laced with authority. "No messin’ about. We’re in and out, quiet as a mouse."You nodded vigorously.

“Got it. Quiet as a mouse.” you said as you mimed to zipping your lips shut.

That was the plan, really, but as the group crept closer to the main storage area, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to contribute. I mean, sure, you weren’t exactly a trained agent, but you had started training with Billy since he had figured if you were gonna stick to him like a gum under the shoe so he might’ve as well taught you a few things to protect yourself, you had learned a few tricks, you could be useful, right?

The moment came when the team reached a locked door. Frenchie was about to pull out his tools to pick the lock when you suddenly piped up.

“Hey, I bet I can open that!” you said, way too loud for Butcher’s liking.

Frenchie paused, tools in hand, and turned to you, one eyebrow raised. “You know how to pick locks?”

“Well, no… but I’ve seen it done in movies! How difficult can it be?”

Butcher’s patience snapped. “Just leave it to the professionals, eh?”

But before he could stop you, you pulled out a booby pin off your hair and shoved it into the lock. It didn’t go well.

The bobby pin got stuck, and you fumbled with it, making more noise than anyone on a secret mission should make.

“Bugger me sideways…” Butcher muttered under his breath as M.M. rubbed his temples in frustration.

Just then, an alarm blared through the warehouse, red lights flashing down the hallway.

“What the hell did you do?” M.M. shouted over the wailing siren.

“I don’t know!” you shouted back, panic setting in. “Maybe the bobby pin triggered something?”

“No time for this! We’ve got to move!” Butcher barked, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you along as the team sprinted down the corridor.

The Boys scattered, trying to find an alternate route to the goods while dodging security guards that were now flooding the warehouse.

You tried to keep up, but your nerves were all over the place.As the team took cover behind some crates, trying to regroup, you peeked out to see what was happening.

“Butcher, I think I saw a way out through—” you started, but Butcher cut you off.

“Enough with the bloody thinkin’! You’ve done more than enough!” Butcher snapped, his usual gruffness now tinged with real anger. “Do us all a favor and keep yer gob shut before you get us all killed!”

You winced, feeling guilty and a bit hurt, but you knew he was right. You’d messed up. Big time.

The Boys were in a tight spot now, with guards closing in. Butcher was trying to figure out a way to salvage the mission when you spotted something—a lever on the wall labeled "Emergency Ventilation Release." Without thinking, you bolted out from behind the crate and pulled it.

“No, wait—” Hughie tried to stop you, but it was too late.A massive gust of air blasted through the warehouse as huge vents in the ceiling opened, releasing a thick cloud of smoke. It filled the room in seconds, obscuring everyone’s vision.

You coughed, stumbling back as the smoke poured out, but then realized something: the smoke was actually giving them cover.

Butcher noticed it too. He grabbed your arm again, this time with a bit less anger. “Move! Now!”

Using the smoke as a distraction, the team dashed through the chaos, evading the guards who were now coughing and disoriented. They made it to the storage room, where they found the goods and got out, all thanks to your unintentional blunder.

Once outside, the team caught their breath, safe for now. Butcher turned to you, his face a mix of relief and annoyance.

“Bloody hell, y/n. You nearly cocked it all up… but you might’ve actually saved our arses.”

You grinned sheepishly. “So… does that mean I did good?”Butcher stared at you, then shook his head with a begrudging smirk. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. You’re still a pain in the arse.”

Frenchie chuckled, patting you on the back. “You have a certain… chaotic charm, mon ami. But next time, let’s stick to the plan, oui?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve had enough surprises for one night.” Hughie added, still catching his breath.

You beamed, feeling a little more confident now. “Got it. No more surprises… unless they’re the good kind!”

Butcher let out a tired sigh. "For fuck's sake, give me strength, will ya?" Butcher muttered defeated, looking up at the sky.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Skin Deep

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and the reader have been dating for a couple of months when he leaves for a long mission. While he's away the reader worries about him and the stress causes her psoriasis to flare up. By the time he comes home it's pretty bad and she's embarrassed to let him, or anyone, see her.

Notes: reader is female and above average height but I try to keep everything else vague.

She has Chronic Placque Psoriasis, which I was diagnosed with last year. My husband has been awesome but I hate this. Crusty, scaly, itchy "plaques" that are not responding well to treatment, thinning hair patches.

So I wrote my own comfort story. Lemme know what you think.

Warnings: swearing, angst with a happy ending

Y/N woke up early to go to the gym and keep up on the training Bucky insisted she start. Even though he had been gone on a mission for 2 months she had promised to stick with it. As she dressed in her tank top she noticed the red scaly patches on her neck and back. Upon further inspection it started on the crown of her head and was spreading. She had seen it starting a couple of days ago but ignored it, hoping it would calm itself but no such luck.

She shook her head and swore "Damnit, not this mess again. FRIDAY? Can you see if Helen Cho has any time to see me today?"

"Of course, Miss Y/N." After a moment she spoke again "Dr Cho can see you at 12:30. Is that alright for you?"

"Yea, FRIDAY. Thank you."

"Of course, Miss Y/N."

Y\N sighed in frustration at her condition, traded the tank top for long sleeves and her shorts for yoga pants, then put on a headband to cover her hairline. Satisfied that most of the plaques were out of sight she went to meet Nat.

When she opened the door to the gym she saw Natasha leaned up against a wall while Clint worked on the weights. When she saw Y/N enter she waved and started walking over to greet her.

Nat furrowed her brow before she spoke "What's with the long sleeves? I didn't bruise you up too much yesterday, did I?

Y/N chuckled "No, it wasn't you. The crunge is back."

Nat looked concerned "Oh no! Maybe the stress of missing your boy toy? Have you even heard from him?"

Y/N shook her head "No. They're on a total comms blackout. Nothing in or out but I'm sure we would have heard if something horrible happened." She smiled sadly "I just miss him. My bed is cold and I'm not sleeping well."

Nat put an arm around her shoulder "I know but he'll be back. How about a 3 martini lunch to distract you?"

Clint looked up "I'm down for a liquid lunch"

Y/N laughed "I have an appointment with Helen at 12:30 so it'll have to be a late lunch but sure as long as you order in. No one wants to see this mess." She pointed at herself.

Nat shook her head "I don't want to hear that talk. It's not like you have any control over it."

Y/N sighed "that doesn't matter. People see my skin and treat me like a leper. I'm not up for being a public service announcement for psoriasis."

"Alright kid. We'll meet in Tony's lounge at 2:00. That should give you plenty of time with Helen." Clint hugged her.

Nat pipes in "I'll tell Betty(Y/N's boss) I need you for the afternoon.'

After the gym, Y/N went to the common room kitchen to find something for breakfast. She settled on a couple of hard boiled eggs, a banana and some orange juice.

Then a long shower, not too hot so her skin isn't irritated, moisturizing her scalp and dressing in a pair of slacks and long sleeved blouse. It took a few minutes to style her hair to cover the rash to her satisfaction.

She went to work in the PR department on the other side of the compound. She was the only ops employee who had quarters near the Avengers, being friends with Tony and Nat was definitely helpful. Dating Bucky was her bonus for living next to the team.

Her boss, Betty, greeted her with a grim smile "Agent Romanoff has requested your help this afternoon so she will meet you in the Avengers common room after your lunch at 2." She looked Y/N up and down "It is convenient how the Avengers always need your help and never any other employees."

Betty was a control freak and didn't like how Y/N was assigned to her but always pulled away by the team. She wouldn't dare complain but it did rub her the wrong way.

Y/N smiled "We've built up a rapport since I'm over there all the time with Sargent Barnes."

Betty sneered "I cant imagine what anyone would see in-"

Y/N snapped "Don't tax yourself trying, some people can only see in one dimension so I'm sure it's beyond your abilities"

Betty scoffed "You might be their pet right now but they'll get bored, he'll get bored if he doesn't kill you first, and you'll be stuck with me"

"Yeah, sure Betty. Why don't you let me get some work done while I'm here." Y/N smiled and went to her office.

She spent 3 hours working on her paperwork and projects before her phone went off to remind her of her appointment. She cleaned up her desk and waved goodbye to Betty who shot her a dirty look.

Y/N went to the medical wing and saw Helen. This wasn't a new problem so Helen gave her a refill on her meds and a new moisturizing steroid cream with vitamin d. Y/N was grateful for Starks medical coverage since most insurance wouldn't cover such a new medicine.

After scheduling an appointment for 2 weeks to see how she was responding to the new meds Y/N went to her apartment to change into something more comfortable. She picked a long sleeve maxi dress and sandals.

When she arrived at Tony's lounge she saw Nat had already started drinking and Clint came in right after her with the food. They sat in the comfy leather chairs eating tacos and drinking margaritas until dinnertime when they decided to watch a movie. They were all half drunk and argued over what to watch but Y/N and Nat ganged up on Clint and they ended up watching Heathers.

Clint passed out before the movie ended so drunk Nat and Y/N made his face up and put ribbons all over his hair then left him there, giggling as they tip-toed away.

Y/N was a little unsteady so decided to go to her room and sleep it off. She tried to explain that to Nat but it came out sounding like gibberish in between her laughter. Nat decided to follow her to make sure she made it ok and they both ended up passed out in Y/N's room.

Over the next 2 weeks she took good care of her skin but the rash wouldn't back down. The meds kept it from growing but didn't help much beyond that.

It was Friday nite and Y/N was on the roof hitting a joint and tequila shots with Nat. "Where is Clint anyhow?"

Nat scoffed "Some shit about seeing his family. Lame."

After they finished the joint they each had a brownie and slowly made their way back to the residential floor.

Y/N passed out fully clothed but she did remember to take her shoes off.

"Miss Y/N?" She heard her name like it was coming from far away and grunted in reply. FRIDAY tried again "Miss Y/N?" She grumbled then shouted "What" instantly regretting it as her head pounded. "Sargeant Barnes tried to call but you were asleep. He left a message to let you know he will be home this evening"

Y/N sat up quickly to find Nat passed out next to her. "Oh my head!" She grumbled and shoved Nat. "Natasha! What did you do to me? My head is pounding"

Nat rolled off the bed onto the floor "I didn't do anything, you're the one who drank too much. You should know you can't keep up with me."

Nat stood up a little unstable but her eyes were clear and bright.

Y/N was thinking "FRIDAY? What did you just say?"

"Sargeant Barnes sent a message to let you know he will be home this evening."

Y/N looked at Nat "Tonite? But look at me? I can't let Bucky see me like this. He'll never want to touch me again." Her eyes teared up.

Nat put an arm around her "Come on, Barnes is crazy about you, he won't let this stupid rash stop him."

Y/N shook her head, then groaned "But, Nat, I haven't had a flare up since before we started dating. I haven't told him about it yet." She got up slowly and went to look in her bathroom mirror and squealed "No, no, no! It's worse than yesterday. All over my head and down my back." She sat down and looked closer "And look Nat, a bald spot. No two. I can't even cover them up, make up just makes it worse."

Y/N spent the whole day stressing even more than she had been, scared that Bucky would be disgusted by her condition. The itch was making her crazy and nothing was helping, all her usual tricks only seemed to exacerbate the problem.

Her phone rang and she saw it was Bucky "Hey Buck" she answered "You almost here? FRIDAY said tonite but it's not even lunch time."

Bucky chuckled and she felt her insides flutter. "Not yet, doll but I couldn't wait to hear your voice. Feels like forever. I can't wait to see you, hold you. We should land around 4"

She smiled, excited to see him too "Any injuries I should know about?"

"Not me this time, Sam is a little beat up but nothing serious"

"I'll make something for dinner. Any requests?"

Bucky growled lowly "What I want has nothing to do with food doll. I can't wait to show you how bad I've missed you."

Her stomach dropped "Oh well I missed you too. You should probably get a good meal and some rest before, you know, anything else."

Bucky sounded concerned "Is everything alright Doll? You sound stressed. Are you ok?"

She forced a small laugh "Of course, baby. I'm just excited to see you."

"Well, make sure you take a nap after lunch. You're gonna need your strength. Good thing tomorrow is Sunday so we can sleep late.

I'll see you soon, beautiful"

"Bye Bucky"

Y/N spent the day doing chores and trying not to worry too much about Bucky coming home. Even took a nap after lunch, she needed it more than he could know. When she woke up her head was clearer so she showered and then went to make dinner for the team. She picked spaghetti since it was easy to make for a large group. She left the sauce to simmer and had noodles and garlic bread ready to go when they landed.

She went to the hangar to meet the team after changing into a long sleeved shirt and long skirt with a headband covering the rash that had gone past her hairline.

She stood humming and bouncing with excitement and nerves. A little yelp slipped out when she first saw him. He looked tired and dirty but broke out in a huge grin as soon as he saw her.

Y/N ran and threw herself into his arms, he squeezed her tight and buried his head in her hair, breathing her in. "Damn I missed you doll. Felt like forever."

She pulled back so she could kiss him "Same sarge, this dump ain't the same without you"

Bucky smiled while Tony was offended "Dump? You got a lot of nerve there Y/L/N" and strode away grumbling.

Bucky set her down "Come on doll, let me go get a shower"

She kissed him again "Ok, I'll get dinner finished and meet you in the kitchen."

The entire team minus Clint sat at the table as Y/N brought all the food out. She looked at everyone "I hope I made enough pasta"

Bucky smiled "It smells delicious, doll."

She smiled back at him, his smile still gave her butterflies, she couldn't understand how someone like him was into her. She felt like he's way out of her league. Especially with her skin acting up.

After dinner she offered everyone brownies, special or plain. Bucky grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and grabbed a couple of brownies "Night all, I need some alone time with my girl."

When they got to his room he tossed her onto the bed and climbed on top of her "Do you have any idea how badly I missed you Y/N? Sam was getting tired of me talking in my sleep."

He gently grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in to kiss him. She tensed when his hand rubbed her neck and he pulled back, noting that the normally soft skin felt dry and crusty "Is everything ok baby? Am I hurting you?" He rubbed her neck gently.

Y/N felt her skin heat up "No Buck, you didn't hurt me. It's just this skin thing that I get. I know it's nasty, I understand if you dont want to touch me." She looked away.

Bucky sighed and gently turned her face to him. She could see the sadness and sincerity in his stormy blue eyes. "Y/N, I always want to touch you but not if it hurts. I never want to hurt you." He kissed her softly "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged "It's gross and embarrassing. People look at me like I have the plague. I haven't had a flare in over a year but stress can bring it on."

Bucky kissed her again and pulled her close "What are you stressed about? Has Betty been on your case again? I can talk to Tony about her if you want."

She giggled "No, that's not it even though she really is awful. Besides, Tony likes me better than you so I could talk to him myself if it was that bad."

"Then what doll?"

Y/N squeezed him and let herself drown in his presence. "I just missed you and was worried. Everything feels so empty without you here."

Bucky kissed her forehead "I know what you mean doll, Sam just isn't as good company as you are."

He held her for a few minutes before a thought crossed his mind. He kissed her on the lips then pulled back to look her in the eyes. "You know what I've heard is a great stress reliever?"

She shook her head "No, what?"

Buckys eyes darkened and he smirked "Orgasms"

[laalaaisqueen]

A new day (Where I write Guardian)

Guardian pressed the buttons repeatedly but for some reason he couldn't contact the satellite station for help. The beeping was becoming annoying on his ears but it wasn't like he could turn off a 'no signal'.

He stumbles off his seat and winced as he got onto his legs, his muscles almost constantly hurt from the chair for some reason. "It's dark outside, I'll need to go get my night vision camera, it's in the storage ever since I was caught 'playing' with it."

He heads off for the areas of underground he usually goes only to go. "Smith had locked it from the control room, so I guess that's how I can unlock it."

"I should probably also get some syringes so I can get some custard samples and then get to the satellite station for help."

He walks out of the room, he knows the control room is on his right. He side glances at a pipe lying against a box. "It might come in hand." He shoves it into his hoodie, it made a weird looking lump but whatever.

"…I actually don't really remember how to open the door."

Guardian glances at the value and turns it mindlessly.

"Nothing happened. Maybe I should check the pipeline."

He walks where he vaguely remembers the system of pipelines and sees something missing. He takes the lone pipe out of his hoodie and puts it back in place. And begins turning the values without thinking much about it.

Satisfied when he sees that the pressure is at maximum. The control room door should open now. Though he wished things could be easier, it was exhausting doing so much work like that.

After some more turning of that value and tapping on the buttons on the wall in the control room, he could finally get his night vision camera.

"Alright, let's go."

He switches on the camera, good thing it had full batteries, and started to walk out of the storage when the lights suddenly went out. "What's wrong with the lights?"

A slightly sniffling noise was the only unhelpful response.

Something small with barely any fur walked in front of his only exit.

"What is that thing?"

As soon as he spoke, its ears poked up making Guardian freeze, he had no idea how it could know where he is.

Then it walked away in the other direction.

Guardian slowly comes out, glancing at the crates. "I should maybe hide behind these crates-"

A sharp pitch scream rings out and the small thing is running at him, he almost didn't move out of the way. It tripped over his hair and hit its head on the box. Instead of heavily hurting its skull, the box broke easily. But it had fallen over and now just screams and wiggles as it tries to get up.

That's when he saw it had no arms.

He shakes his head and hurries ahead the best he can without tripping on his own hair. Even when he eventually got to the ladder, he could still hear it screaming.

He pulls up all his hair as quick as he can, luckily the rock didn't catch any of it as it lifted back down again.

"Tinky is still around, so I probably should be careful."

He sticks the syringe into the first custard he finds, which is behind a tall tree.

"I lost signal so let's go check the last known location of Po."

By the bowl of custard, Po's flashlight flicking on and off revealed her swinging body. Her rolled up wide eyes, her expression frozen into a look of surprise.

Guardian silently looks away to stick another syringe into this bowl.

He shakes his head. "Let's hope I don't run into Tinky Winky at the lake."

Luckily he didn't see him and poked another needle inside a bowl.

"Time to check the cave." He found a bowl at the opening of the cave, he's lost count on how many times he's had to call the White Coats every time Laa-Laa escaped through the cave.

"Only one more at the house."

He pauses inches away from the custard, Tinky Winky quietly stared at him with his nose scrunched.

"Can you stay right there? I need to take a sample of that custard and I don't need you killing me Tinky." His fingers barely touched the pocket of his hoodie.

Tinky's black scleras glare at him, something heavily sparks in his left hand until it resembled a weapon of some kind. Guardian tensed up as it started to rain unexpectedly.

Great.

He smacks this new weapon of his into the custard causing it to heat up then explode all over. Guardian luckily ducked in time. Tinky grimaces as he realizes how sticky he is now.

He suddenly braced both hands on the ground, hissing under his breath. Even as the water soaked him, Guardian didn't move.

Tinky's back arched as he shrieked, either it was the time of night or his clothes were starting to tear.

Guardian blinked, oh no, yeah Tinky's height was increasing so yeah his clothes were ripping.

How does custard make him get taller, Tinky didn't need to be taller.

Another bloodcurdling shriek tore Guardian out of his thoughts.

Okay yeah.

"I need to run!"

He didn't know if he would survive this though. He decided to peek a bit behind him as he ran towards the Mountains.

"Oh heck no!"

Tinky was running after him on all dang fours!

He heard another electric sparking noises and his stomach tightened. It hit something…but nothing hurt.

He desperately climbs up to the mountain, hoping it would be too much for Tinky to follow, or that despite being a monster Tinky still will be too scared to leave the Main Land.

When Guardian stepped onto the snow, he realized Tinky must have attacked his hair, since some of it was gone. Well it still was long so it wasn't a big deal.

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 17-20 (LIGHT ENDING): The Third Bang (第三声巨响) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 17-19

♡———♡

You: I never wanted to abandon you!

I shouted these words with all my might. Osborn sneered, then raised his hand and flung me to an empty space nearby.

He still held the gun in his other hand, the barrel slightly adjusted to point back at the people kneeling on the ground.

You: No!

Bang – a gunshot rang out. The water pipe on the wall burst, not hitting anyone, but the people on the ground screamed in terror.

Osborn seemed to find pleasure in this, tilting his head slightly to appreciate the scene.

You: Osborn, they are not all people who deserve to die. Even for your own sake, stop!

Osborn looked at me coldly. Hearing my words, the sadness in his expression deepened.

I saw Osborn's eyes, seeming to return to the ones I truly knew.

His usually determined gaze hadn't fully cleared yet, his eyes still mixed with a red hue... When the blood red reflected the wound on my neck, he pushed me away with all his strength.

Osborn: Go!

I knew I had no other choice. Instead of staying and becoming a burden, it was better to leave Osborn's sight.

My nose tingled, and I held back the tears that welled up, turning and running towards the exit.

Pushing open the door on the first floor, I saw a familiar figure... It was Lu Ting?! Why was he here?!

The figure approached, and I didn't have time to think. I dodged into the emergency exit.

-

The emergency exit sign, outlined in green fluorescence, was firmly attached to the wall as I descended into the darkness.

I cautiously walked down the stairs, the surroundings eerily quiet, only the sound of water dripping from the pipes onto the floor.

However, after a few steps, I became acutely aware of a pair of eyes following me, silently watching.

I stopped and turned around abruptly – yet the surroundings were empty, only my rapid breathing echoing in the vast space.

Was I just being paranoid... Just then, a clear sound of footsteps came from my side –

Before I could react, the escape door next to me was suddenly opened, and a large hand covered my mouth, dragging me inside.

-

You: Mmm –

My body instinctively struggled until I caught a whiff of absinthe –

I almost froze. The scent approached my ear, and the low voice was the same as before.

Evan: Someone is following you. Don't make a sound, don't move. It will be okay soon.

It was him... It was Evan.

In a protective gesture, he held me close, his movements gentle, his tone soft.

His familiar words brought me back to that night long ago, filled with the aroma of coffee.

From that day on, the time I spent with him felt like a dream.

And the same dream wouldn't happen again. No more sounds came from outside the door, but Evan still hadn't let go of me.

You: You can let go of me now.

Evan lowered his head and looked at me, his red eyes unreadable.

Evan: You don't want to see me that much?

I turned my head away, avoiding his gaze, my body trembling.

How could he be the one to ask that question? He was the one manipulating everything, and he knew the reasons behind it all.

You: Didn't we say goodbye? Why did you save me?

You: Why didn't you hand me over? You did it last time.

You: Or do you want me to be grateful to you?

You: Last time's gratitude, you used it for a lot of things. What do you want to use it for this time?

It wasn't just gratitude, it was definitely more than that, but I kept talking. Evan leaned slightly closer, making the already cramped stairwell feel even more oppressive.

Our breaths mingled as he slowly narrowed his eyes.

Evan: You seem to hate me a lot.

You: You seem to want me to.

Evan didn't answer, but just silently looked at me.

There it was again, that seemingly gentle yet probing gaze. That gaze that always made me feel like I had nowhere to hide.

But now, I didn't want to hide, and I didn't want him to hide either.

You: Don't you think you owe me an explanation?

You: Not more lies.

I didn't know what kind of answer he would give me, or even if he would answer at all, but I asked anyway.

After a long while, he took a step back and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear – a gesture he had done countless times.

Evan: I need the power within you. It can help me achieve things that I currently cannot.

The purpose that had always been hidden behind the curtain was revealed in those two sentences. The red in his eyes was like the blood that spilled when a heart was offered.

You: The power of God?

Evan: You saw the letter?

Did he guess, or was he watching again? I couldn't tell anymore which explanation was more comforting: that he understood me well, or that he cared about me.

Because he didn't understand me, and he didn't care about me. He cared about his goal, and the clearer his goal became, the more insignificant Y/N's existence seemed.

He was resolute, calm, and cruel, like a helmsman on a dark voyage, tearing through the wind and rain in the night, indifferent to any warmth, only fixated on the end of that dark path.

You: Let's make a deal.

Evan: Go on.

You: I'll be your weapon. You do for me what I currently cannot achieve.

There seemed to be a moment of hesitation, but soon, Evan slowly lowered his eyes.

The gaze wasn't pure, but it was straightforward. The hint of approval he showed was neither that of a CEO towards a subordinate, nor Evan towards Y/N, but that of a Blood Clan leader towards a new collaborator.

The dark clouds slowly moved away, and the cold moonlight finally filtered into the room, solemnly separating the two shadows.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

17-20 (NIGHT END) | Return to Masterlist

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[blackjackkent]

Rakha sees the name on a plaque outside the enormous building and comes to a halt.

"The Waning Moon," she says. "The corpse spoke of it. The one in the ritual circle." The strange pale man planning his trial for the woman's soul asked them to come here and find proof of her crimes. He said he would show Rakha the magic that could call a soul back from the dead. "It's a... distillery," she says, repeating the unfamiliar word carefully.

"Certainly stinks like one," Wyll says dryly. And indeed, the death-laden air of Reithwin has a new scent around this building - a scent of thick grain alcohol like some of the bottles of beer they have in their supply packs.

Inside, the building has the same ingrained corruption that they saw in the tollhouse. Blighted roots and rotten wood line the place. The stone floor is battered and scratched with a layer of dust an inch thick. The walls are lined with piping and great metal tanks which still burble almost imperceptibly with liquid.

There is more activity here than in the tollhouse, though. Several figures are prowling the shadowy corners of the place; they look like they might have once been human, but all of them have blank, staring eyes and dry, tight skin without flesh or pulse. They are all mumbling to themselves - nonsensical sentences, snatches of song. Some of them appear to be covered in blood.

Like everything else in Reithwin, they are already dead. But some power or other has them still up and walking around. If she had to guess... the source of that power might be the enormous figure at the center of the place.

(A/N: Yeesh, Thisobald is gross. XD I haven't been able to determine in my lore investigations exactly HOW Thisobald (and Gerringothe and Malus) got as fucked up as they are.)

A huge monstrosity, bloated and trembling, carrying an equally enormous keg on its back, to which it is bound with straps and pipes embedded directly through its swollen stomach. Its skin is grey, mottled with green and black corruption.

Rakha has never seen anything like it, and she wishes she hadn't seen this one. The stink is much stronger here - an overwhelming, nauseating smell of hops and sweat. With greater alacrity even than usual, she begins to picture slicing it open, bursting that straining pressure in its stomach to send its guts exploding along the walls.

She's almost on the point of lashing out with a burst of fire when the creature spots her. It leers unpleasantly at her through its tattered mask and then, astonishingly, gestures her forward towards the battered bar, indicating she should take a seat.

"What in the hells--" Wyll mutters.

Rakha is so surprised that for a moment she loses the thread of her attack completely. She takes a step forward, then another, and then sits as directed, almost before realizing that she is doing so. The barstool has long since lost any padding and it is hard and uncomfortable and too short for her height.

The enormous creature peers down at her and, with a horrible approximation of jovial greeting, roars, "DRINK. GULP IT DOWN. WET YOUR WHISTLE. TELL YOUR STORY."

As it speaks, the stink of the air pours over her like a waterfall, sticking in her hair and melding with the corrupted magic on her skin. She feels her stomach turn sharply.

This has really been a very, very bad series of days.

She shifts on the seat and squints as it places the mug in front of her. Uncomfortably green steam drifts up from the surface of the liquid.

"What is it that you're serving?" she asks faintly.

"ONLY THE BEST!" it crows. Its voice is deep and slurred, less like speech and more like an animal roar. "OBLIVION. AND BEYOND." Its beady eyes narrow knowingly behind the mask.

Oblivion. Rakha has to admit that the idea has some appeal. Oblivion sometimes seems preferable to the beast urges in her head and the corruption around her. Is it poison, then, in the mug? Or simply something very strong, designed to muddle the mind as their drinks in camp do?

"GO ON!" it insists. "CHEERS. BOTTOMS UP. DOWN THE HATCH."

The others have come up behind her now, taking in this surreal scene. "Hells," Rakha hears Lae'zel mutter, amplified through the tadpole connection between them. "The curse has twisted this man beyond measure."

Rakha contemplates the steaming mug for another moment. Then she shakes her head.

She does not want to drink. She did not want Jaheira's wine back at Last Light and she certainly does not want whatever brew this thing has concocted. Appealing as oblivion sounds, she does not like being drunk - the unsteadiness, the blurry perception, the loss of control.

Besides, if it tastes as bad as it smells, she might very well just be sick on the floor.

"No," she says flatly. "I will not drink."

(A/N: LOL. Sometimes i very much wonder how Minthara would have reacted to Hector if she had been around for his experiences.)

There is a long, unbearably tense moment of stillness. Behind her, Rakha hears Wyll take a sharp breath inward and a low chk from Lae'zel and - surprisingly enough - a low laugh from Minthara.

Then the creature draws itself back and up to its full, towering height.

"YOU. WILL. REGRET!!!!!" it bellows. It is suddenly like a scream, offended and petulant and full of deep, chaotic rage. It lifts a hand and strikes downward with incredible force, knocking the mugs off the bar and striking a deep crack through the wood.

Splattered with sizzling drink, Rakha goes flying backwards off her barstool with the impact. She hits the ground rolling and comes up with flame in the palm of her hands.

KILL IT! roars the beast in her head, and for once she is in complete agreement. END ITS MISERABLE LIFE.

[liminalpebble]

The Refugee: Chapter 8

Masterlist link

Lea awoke very disoriented, drenched in the frosty morning light from the huge window, in the nest of lavender sheets. She was so tired and achy the night before that she had fallen asleep in the piping hot bath, waking only when she sunk down enough that the fragrant water splashed into her face. She didn't even recall groggily throwing on the flannel nightdress and collapsing into bed. She heard a knock at the door, and thought for a moment that Bea must be coming to fetch her for the morning shift, before the realization of her situation came crashing back to her.

She quickly swaddled herself in the warm robe and gingerly opened the door.

“Good morning, Lea. Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to come and check your injuries.”

“No trouble at all. Thank you so much, Magnus.” She tried to sound coherent and awake, but after catching a glance of her bedhead and bleary eyes in the mirror, she knew that she wouldn't be fooling anyone. She asked, “Are you okay? You look very tired.”

“Ah. I often don't sleep so well, but I'm quite used to it.”

“I'm sure if anyone knows what to take for that, it's you. Does nothing help?”

“Ha. True.” Magnus chuckled. “Well, I've found a drink or two usually helps, but that's not my professional recommendation. And what about you? Did you sleep well?”

“I was out like a light, I guess for obvious reasons. But there's something about this suite as well. It's especially calming.”

“It was his childhood room. Did you know that?” Magnus said, gently rolling Lea's sleeves up and bandaging her wrists with a salve.

“How is that possible?”

“Well, a recreation of it, relocated with magic from Asgard. He loved this room when we were children.”

“So you've been close friends for some time then? It's hard to imagine you as children together, or even friends as adults. In fact, it's hard to imagine him ever being a child. You're just...you're so different from him.” Then she fumbled to amend, “I...I mean that in a good way.”

“Thank you,” he said with a bemused smirk. “That's a relief.” He tried to shrug it off as humorous, but she looked directly into his eyes, kind but serious, and saw the sorrow there. Her eyes were shiny, dark, and perceptive, like a crow. He found it distracting, the way she bore into him.

“What was he like, as a child, I mean? It's so hard imagine him young and innocent. Did your kindness or empathy manage to rub off on him in any way?”

“You find me empathetic?” he asked, moving carefully and gesturing for her to lift her feet so he could bandage her ankles.

“Of course. It takes a compassionate person to become a doctor, I think. And you have a deep gentleness about you. I seems like you were born to do this.”

He beamed at that. “I hope so. I have always wanted to do this. As for Loki...well...I think once he had some kindness, but ambition and loneliness got the better of him. He always loved to read...relentlessly curious...sometimes obnoxiously so. And of course he was just as mischievous. Back then, however, it was more playful and less...catastrophic,” he said glancing up to the walls of books, his mind meandering through memories he hadn't dusted off in some time.

She looked thoughtful and paused a few moments before speaking. “I know how painful loneliness can be. I feel very sorry for him if he suffers from it. It can do horrible things to a person to feel isolated.”

“Yes, but it obviously didn't make you horrible. You feel sorry for the man who did this to you?” Magnus said with quiet sadness as he moved her hair to salve and carefully wrap her wounded neck.

“Of course. I pity him...but I guess shouldn't pity him too much. He seems to have a very good friend in you. With a friend like you, I don't see how anyone could feel lonely.” She blushed and looked around a little, feeling as if she had said a bit too much.

Magnus gave her a sad little smile. “You're too kind, Lea. The man is my best friend, but he's also a bastard, and I promise you he doesn't deserve your pity or kindness. His loneliness is something he's brought upon himself. He's had plenty of opportunity for connection, and denied it.”

Lea nodded sadly, “I can't judge. I've probably done the same, now and then. Invited or not, it's still a terrible thing to feel alone. And I do pity him.”

Magnus shook his head. “Lea, you are a mystery. I mean that in a good way. ” He snapped out of his more philosophical thoughts to remember his job. “Right...can you please show me the wound on your stomach?” Her face turned red, unsure of how to do so modestly. Magnus smiled, quick to make her at ease. “Here, you can pull the sheets up and just lift your gown a bit. I'll be quick”. She did as he instructed, covered except for the patch of injured skin. “That's fine. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes. I'm fine.” she nodded quickly. She again felt the strange sensation of effervescent magic traveling from the touch of his fingertips into her knitting skin.

Anticipating her questions, Magnus said, “It's healing really well. This should be the last treatment. It's fine to move about again today. Try to eat as well as you can too. You need to get your strength back.”

She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Magnus. I think I owe you my life.”

“No, don't be silly. Just doing my job.”

Lea found his warm touch comforting and was a little sad that it stopped, but pushed the thought away before it went to a stranger place. She quickly readjusted her night dress to its previous modesty. Magnus, for his part, also missed the feeling and sight of his cream-white fingertips on the smooth olive skin under the soft dip of her rib cage. He furtively admired the pretty way her dark hair fell loose and messy around her sleepy face. He had the intrusive thought that this is how sweet she would look if he woke up next to her, then quickly pushed it away, secretly scolding himself for thinking so unprofessionally. He brought himself back, remembering to speak.

“When you're up and dressed, please join us for breakfast in the dining room.”

“Which one?”

“Ah...good point. I'll wait outside and walk with you.”

Lenora felt a bit overwhelmed staring at the array of fine clothing in the wardrobe. Although many of the gowns were gorgeous and elegant, she couldn't bring herself to wear them. Towards the back she found a simple dress of soft dove gray cashmere, and slipped it on. It felt exquisite and warm. She faced the mirror, brushing and gathering her hair hurriedly into a bun, when she saw the shock of white gauze around her neck clashing with the dress, she fumbled in the wardrobe again, finding a burgundy scarf to drape around it.

He wants to see it. I won't let him, she decided.

“Ah. You look very nice!”, Magnus said, taking her arm, and she thanked him with a self-conscious smile.

“I...ah...I'll have to get used to it. I only ever wore my work clothes or my dance costume most days. I feel like I'm playing dress up in some rich lady's closet.”

“Well, it's all yours, Lea. You're the gentlewoman now. Enjoy it,” he said as he lead her through the corridors.

“Ah...come in. Be seated please, and help yourselves,” Loki said, opening his arms in a grand welcoming gesture at the head of a large table of scrumptious looking breakfast food. The aromatic steam rolling up from the dishes in a glow of morning sunshine, made Lea's mouth water and she realized just how very hungry she was. She went to pull out her chair and seat herself, but Magnus beat her to it. She thanked him awkwardly, not realizing this was a piece of High Asgardian etiquette. She was on Loki's left, Magnus on his right. As she sat she noticed that Loki looked surprisingly normal. He was wearing an outfit of  soft black leather and green fabric rather than his armor and his hair was a soft tumble of free waves, rather than heavily oiled down. He even had dark circles under his eyes and yawned periodically as if he hadn't slept particularly well. The diabolical prodigal son of Asgard sat sleepily buttering his toast, holding an apple in his teeth, and running his fingers through his bedhead. The surreal scene shocked her and she caught herself staring. Loki was prattling on verbosely with large expressive gestures to both of them about nothing in particular when he noticed this.

“What is it Lenora?” he snipped.

“I just didn't realize gods yawned and had bedhead in the morning like the rest of us,” she said, gulping her juice.

“Indeed. You'll find we have many of the same traits that normal men have,” he said, half amused and half grumpy with sleeplessness.

Loki asked for Magnus' report about the medical ward, then asked, “And what of  this patient? Is she behaving herself and following instructions?”

“Absolutely. Lea, dear, how are you feeling?”

She almost choked on her bread both at being called “dear” and at the lethal glare it caused from Loki.

“Fine. Much better, thank you.”

“Very well,” said Loki, looking between them and wiping his lips on a napkin. “Magnus, if you're quite finished, please leave the two of us to discuss Lenora's duties from now on.”

“Of course,” he said pleasantly rising and kissing Lea's hand in a well-mannered farewell gesture . “Have a nice day, Lea....Sire.”

“Now, Lenora. Most days from now on you will go to the linguistics wing to assist the other specialists with translation and cryptography. Once you are no longer needed there for the day, your time will be your own to explore the keep or your own pursuits. Most of the resources and amenities of the castle will be open to you. The ones that aren't...well, you won't have any trouble knowing them when you see them. Of course the servants can help you should you have questions.”

“Don't you worry about me peaking around where I shouldn't?”

He smiled wickedly. “Oh I would love to see you try. Anywhere you shouldn't be is enchanted, so unless you are a glutton for punishment (which as you know from yesterday, would suit me just fine) I recommend not tempting fate. The same goes for if you try to escape.”

She nodded. The dark cloud of realization settled in; however luxurious and comfortable, she should never forgot that she is indeed in a cell, and her mad jailer may remove her comforts and dignity at any time for his own amusement, as he did just the day before. She was his property. She didn't want to think of that anymore. She suddenly wanted to be alone.

“May I be excused?”

“Not just yet.”

“Why?” she said warily.

“The court here hosts many banquets and balls, and I certainly hope I can convince you to do your luscious dances to entertain our guests.”

“I would need my swords,” she said with an intentional edge to her voice.

“I have them, safe and sound. Perhaps we can enchant them so you might use them for the display and nothing more defiant but we'll see how you behave otherwise. I want to be sure not to find myself with a blade at my throat in the middle of my own party. Besides you could do the rest of the performance, can you not?”

“Very well.”

“Do you still have your costume with you?”

“Yes.”

“Provide it to our tailors and they will make several for you derived from the original. I expect your entertainment will be in high demand and we want you looking presentable.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I don't want that costume in anyone else's hands. It's one of the last things I have from...from home.”

“Yes...how tragic,” he said flatly, “Well, you can either relinquish it temporarily to the careful hands of the royal tailors, who I might add, will probably even repair and restore it for you as well, or you can watch me gut it like a fish and then burn it before your very eyes.”

She sighed and shook her head with stifled anger. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He put those cold fingers under her chin to make her meet his gaze. “Good girl, little barmaid. See? We're getting along already, and I see no reason why we shouldn't continue to do so and forget that somewhat rocky start,” he said, sliding his hand from her chin to her throat, pulling down the scarf to run his fingertips along the gauze. He felt her swallow a flutter of pain, which gave him butterflies in his stomach. He leaned back again and she pointedly straightened the scarf once more the moment his hand left her skin.

“Oh in fact, there shall be a grand ball soon and you, my dear, are the guest of honor.”

“Will I be performing?”

“Not this time. Not at your own party. We'll find you a nice dress. Hopefully, one a good deal nicer than that bland thing you have on now. You just need to be there as the belle of the ball.”

“Don't you mean the exhibit?” she said bitterly.

He shrugged indifferently. “Perhaps also that. Many of the nobility have never seen a real live Morhari before so...”

“Am I excused?”. She cut him off with a bitter tone, not relishing being described like an endangered animal.

“No. When you are I will tell you,” he said with a ripple of irritation. “There is one last obligation.”

“Which is...?”

He looked nervous. She didn't expect that. “You will occasionally be summoned to my personal chambers for the evening,” he said quietly.

She felt hot disbelieving terror rise up in her. She wasn't expecting he would want to use her this way. His nervousness evaporated into a little thrill at having ruffled her feathers.

“Ah...so you don't fear death but you do fear that? I have to confess, that seems terribly irrational from someone generally sensible.”

“Fear can be either, ” she said, scooting her chair a bit away from him, primed to stand up and move away. She was calculating how she might reason with him, and decided to start with politeness. “Your Highness, I suspect because of my previous employer you might think that I did the sort of work that the other ladies do, but I didn't in fact, in any context, working or not.  I have no skills to provide for that service. I'm sure one of the other girls...”

“I'm aware, maiden.”

“Then why?” she pleaded, “Please reconsider this. I...”

He hadn't seen her plead like this since defending the old man. It was delectable, the innocent tangible fear.

“I have considered it, Lenora. I consider everything. I've made my decision.”

When I met you, sitting in your little throne of books behind the counter, I wanted you. When I saw you dance, I had to have you...had to be the first and only man to possess you. All of you. What a lucky little twist of fate that you ran up with your swords right into my arms. He thought to himself.

“As I said, Lenora, we gods aren't so different from normal men in some ways. This is one of them,” he said as he leaned towards her and began to unravel her hair from its twist, teasing the tresses out and stroking gently. It felt like heaven to touch her again, to stroke her hair and draw his hand down the side of her warm round face. She looked so sweet; sad and afraid but trying to be brave. She seemed so vulnerable with soft dark circles beneath her distant eyes, making her skin appear slightly bruised. He wanted to see that face transformed and animated by throes of ecstasy, flushed with blood and gasping his name beneath him. She stiffened at his touch pulling back in her chair and closing her eyes.

“There is nothing common about your needs,” she said, with a bit of venom in her voice.

He wove his hand into her hair, and gave a gentle but decisive tug to bring her closer again. Her eyes snapped open again in surprise. “I suppose you're right. I'm more of a connoisseur when it comes to my pleasures, and you are a rare specialty,” he mused, curling a strand around his fingers.

She trembled with fear, hate, and the intense effort of remaining as stoic as possible, until finally she stilled. She felt some pillar of her resolve crumble under the press of him. Lea took a deep breath, and asked with quietly devastated resignation,“Will...will it hurt?”

Something about how she said it made a hairline fracture in his stone heart. He expected to feel satisfied with her fear, but this made him want to comfort her, hold her, and tell her he just wants them both to not be alone anymore. To his own surprise, the truth spilled out of him. “I'm afraid it will...for a moment, but not nearly as badly as this,” he said holding her hands, nodding towards her damaged wrists. “But after that it will be transcendent, Lenora,” he found himself blurting excitedly. “We won't feel alone anymore, either of us. I...I will take such good care of you. You'll see.”

His eyes were guileless and pleading. He meant it. The lie-smith wasn't lying. She couldn't believe what she was hearing and seeing. The strangeness of the situation and every swift unbelievable thing that had happened because of this mercurial force of a man gave her a kind of vertigo. She was so weary and dazed, and of course he noticed, taking a soothing tone and holding her hands.

“I know all of this has been overwhelming and that I tend to be especially overwhelming, but I promise you in all seriousness that your life here will be a good one if you follow my lead. I want you to be happy. I would burn entire cities to the ground or bring kingdoms to their knees for you. I could make you a queen.”

She shook her head and thought for a moment before saying carefully, “but would you resist doing those things, for me? You would claim such things for a barmaid you've known a mere two days?”

“Lea,” he sighed, her nickname sneaking out. “You asked me before what I wanted. I want you.”

Now, to his great surprise she moved her hand to his face, her fear dissolving into a strangely brave compassion. Bringing his eyes to meet hers, she said, “you think you want me, Loki, but you barely know me. I think what you really want is something less concrete...something I am not.”

He twitched back with a blink as if he'd been slapped. He was angry, but deep down he had to admit she might be right.

“So now you've decided to speak in riddles?”

“I guess it's rubbing off on me already.” He gave a weak smile at that, but found himself glancing around, unable to meet her gaze.

“You...uh..you must be tired. You're excused. Please get some rest and we'll talk later, alright?”.

In a shocked haze at his abrupt friendliness, she thanked him and slowly took her leave. As he heard the door click shut after her, he sat with his forehead in his hand, gears turning furiously in his skull, and fingers toying delicately with her forgotten hairpin.

@goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtigger (thank you so much for your continued support!)

[dyrewrites]

Mr. Friendly - wherein I make it sad

Did I do it wrong? The shadow wondered, from the quiet darkness of the closet, it’s three little taps first, then again, then three more, and then quicker ones, right?…or was it slower ones? Was I not s’posed to tap the door after…

He had tried this before, many times in fact, more than he could count–maybe more than anyone could–and it always ended the same. No matter which way he did, no matter how many patterns he tried.

They ran away.

But the tapping was the right thing, he knew it was! Though…though he wasn’t sure how he knew. Something in his rippling dark just…knew.

It whispered, tap tap tap.

And so he tapped. On the walls, on the floors, even on the ceiling–when he could stretch up to reach it. He tapped on everything, every night. It was easier at night, you see. For him to move, to think, to be…shadows don’t do so well in the daylight, but his especially.

Not all light hurt, most of it only itched, but daylight–sunlight–that hurt. It burned his pale eyes and curled even his darkest shadows and, and he wasn’t sure what it would do if he stayed in it any longer than that. Would it burn him all up?

She was back.

The little girl came back!

…but she wasn’t alone.

And so he waited, and he watched, squeezing his dark through the thin crack beneath the closet.

~

“It was probably just the pipes, pumpkin,” Daddy told Maisy, in that stern but tired voice all parents have so late in the night.

But Maisy knew it wasn’t the pipes, “there’s something in there!”

“Alright, alright,” Daddy yawned, “you get safe and snuggly with Teddy and I’ll…look for monsters. In the closet.”

And he made a show of it, a show Maisy had grown accustomed to over many–many–nights of repeat performances. They may have been new to the house but all houses had closets, and all closets could have monsters.

“If you’re in there, monster,” Daddy sang, “you’d better get out because I’m tired and I’m grumpy and I’m comin’ in after you.”

Something flashed in the slats of the closet doors before Daddy swung them open, and Maisy saw it!

“Eyes,” She yelped, “eyes in the closet!”

“I’m in the closet, pumpkin,” Daddy assured, stepping into the slim space between toy boxes, blankets and winter clothes. He spun once around, arms wide and gave her a tired smile, “and there’s nothing here that doesn’t belong.”

But she saw it! She saw…something. Didn’t she?

“But, but,” she tried as Daddy returned to tuck her tighter into bed.

He kissed her forehead and pat Teddy, smiling at the cat’s gruff merp and yawned again, “There’s lots of cars outside, speeding by the window on their way to wherever their lives pull them. And, you know, headlights do look like eyes sometimes, if you squint.”

“Wasn’t squinting,” she pouted.

“Mmhm, well, was or wasn’t, there’s no monster in your closet. So how about you try to go to sleep and in the morning we can take a better look,” he smiled then, at the door, with his hand on the light switch and Maisy caught her favorite sparkle in his eyes, “Maybe we can even climb up into the attic…with some flashlights?”

Daddy knew her too well. The promise of adventure always worked and she nodded so hard she smashed Teddy’s little ears. He wriggled until she let him loose and Daddy’s chuckles lulled Maisy to sleep as the old cat followed the less excited human to bed.

~

He hid when the big one tried to find him, as he hid when any big ones did, but he hadn’t always. There was a time when he let them see him, let them touch him. But they screamed and screamed when he did, and then they tried to hurt him.

He hadn’t let any see him since, none except the little ones. They screamed too, but mostly they tried not to see him. It wasn’t much better–it was very lonely in fact–but it wasn’t as bad as being hurt.

But the new little girl wanted to see him, she even tried! And in the morning, she would be inside his closet, searching for him. He couldn’t say what would happen if she found him, but something about her, about the way she had stared at him through the slits, told him it wouldn’t be bad. It wouldn’t hurt.

He wanted her to find him.

Maybe it did work, he wondered, and his shadows rippled with a giggle. Maybe he tapped in the right order and finally found the one that would want him. But why the attic, he asked the moon-blue shadows of the room outside his hideaway.

He didn’t live in the attic. Nothing lived in the attic but spiders and a fat little mouse that never left them alone long enough for them to spin any pretty webs.

She would never find him there. But, if he were careful, and quiet, maybe he could lead her to where she would. He could even help her find him in a way that wouldn’t scare her away.

Not in the daytime though, not with that great big window in her room letting all that sun inside. Trying in the day would only get him hurt, again.

It was the same as it had been, as it always would be.

The humans out there were creatures of the light hours, when the sun was bright and warm. While he was a creature of deepest dark, one burned even in pale moonlight.

Even when it works…it doesn’t, if he could have sighed, could have puffed and whimpered then, he would have.

Instead he collapsed, draping his shadows over those of the boxes and clothes, melting until even the soft yellows of his eyes faded in the dark.

[dragonedged-if]

📝 - Your OC is handed a piece of paper and a pencil, and given nothing else to do in an empty room for an hour. Do they write? Draw? Ignore the paper and daydream?

for whoever you want<3

For this one let's do Luna :)

(Luna's POV)

As your consciousness returns, your eyes flutter open to darkness. You instinctively bolt upright, arms up and ready to defend yourself from an unknown threat. Your heart races as you wait for an attack that never comes. Gradually, you start to make out the details of the room you're in - an empty, windowless chamber with cool, smooth walls that seem to be made of concrete or stone.

Your eyes dart around the room, scanning for any signs of danger. The silence is oppressive, broken only by your own ragged breathing. Your mind races with questions - how did you get here? Who brought you here? And most importantly, why?

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you start to notice the small details of the room - a faint musty odor, a single rusted pipe protruding from the wall, and a thick layer of dust on the floor. But there's no sign of an exit, no clue as to where you are or how to get out.

Then you eyes caught something on the ground, is a piece of white paper with something written on it.

You quickly grab it and read it's contents.

Your OC is handed a piece of paper and a pencil, and given nothing else to do in an empty room for an hour. Do they write? Draw? Ignore the paper and daydream?

for whoever you want<3

"An ask paper!" you groaned out, knowing that Author is the one who put you here.

Your mind races with a sudden realization that hits you like a ton of bricks - you're trapped here, and it's no accident. The pieces start to fall into place as you remember the last thing you saw before everything went black - the face of Author, twisted into a sinister grin.

Your heart sinks as you realize that you've fallen right into their trap. The anger and frustration that boil up inside you are almost too much to bear. You grit your teeth and clench your fists, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"So basically they kidnap me so that they can do this ask." you say.

"Very well if that's what they want, then that's the one they will get!"

You take a deep breath and try to remain calm despite the anger and frustration simmering inside you. You know that your best chance of escaping this situation is to play along with Author's twisted game.

Grabbing a nearby pencil, you start to write down the names of the people who may have helped Author kidnap you. Elrick and Serena are the first names that come to mind, and you jot them down on the paper.

As you write, you start to brainstorm ideas for revenge. You know that you don't want to resort to violence, but you're determined to make Elrick and Serena regret ever crossing you. You start to jot down some possible methods of revenge, your mind racing with possibilities.

Public Humiliation: You'll find a way to expose their secrets and weaknesses to the world, leaving them vulnerable and exposed.

Ruining Their Reputation: You'll spread rumors and lies about them, tarnishing their good name and making them social pariahs.

Give Them A Dose Of Their Own Medicine: You could set up a fake scenario that would make them think they're in danger, just like you are now.

With a pencil in hand, you spent the next hour furiously jotting down possible plans for revenge. The sound of lead scratching against paper fills the otherwise silent room, as you pour all your anger and frustration into the page.

Finally, you hear a sound that snaps you back to reality - the creaking of a door opening. Your head snaps up, and you see Author standing in the doorway, their twisted grin sending a chill down your spine.

"Luna, I hope you had a wonderful time in there?" Author says in a gleeful tone.

"Very much," you say calmly, the words slipping out almost effortlessly.

You watch Author's face for any hint of what they're thinking, but their expression remains inscrutable. You feel a cold sweat starting to break out on your forehead as you wonder what they have in store for you next.

"Well then, you may go out now and I think the room is gonna be use for another one!" Author claps their hands.

You stand up and exited the room, hiding the paper and planning the day and time when you will exact your revenge.

[hirokiro]

prt 4 Princesses, Dragons and Elves oh my!

Gill awoke to a familiar scene, two faces peering anxiously down at him. What was different was the sun blazing into his eyes.

“Hey,” Lana waved, looking worried, Glen hanging over her shoulder “You doin’ alright?”

Gill closed his eyes again and sighed.

“Just give me a minute.”

He took his time gathering himself, but eventually sat up. He saw it was high noon at this point.

“What happened?” Lana asked, although he imagined Glen had already informed her.

Gill took in a deep breath, noticing for the first time that she was in a riding outfit. It had been too dark in the cave to take in such details. Must have been hunting or something, caught outside the walls by the dragon. 

“I am beyond terrified of flying. Not heights.” he clarified, pointing upwards, “Flying. I can’t do flying. I just can’t. And…” He glanced up at Glen, “I didn’t have the time to explain before we were already up. So… I had…” he looked down, feeling his ears burn again.

“I had a panic attack.”

Lana put a hand on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze, “That must have been awful.”

“I’m deeply sorry,” Glen apologized, “I know it can be scary, but I’ve never… seen a panic attack before. That was… a whole different kind of scary.”

“I was pretty freaked out, first time flying,” Lana commented comfortingly, “Of course,” She smirked up at the dragon, “Being kidnapped without much explanation didn’t help.”

Glen grumbled, but apologized again. “I did bring, ah, some meat,” he added.

“I brought your pack!” Lana piped up, “With your knife!”

Gill smiled weakly, “Ah, good. Certainly going to need that.

“Now,” he stood carefully, “Let’s not talk about what happened anymore. I don’t want to keep remaining in negative emotions. Show me the kill and I’ll make a meal, and we’ll go from there.”

The deer carcass wasn’t far off. Gill got to work, saying nothing more and not engaging in any kind of conversation, aside from asking Lana to gather firewood and Glenn to clear a patch of earth so as to avoid catching the field on fire.

The silence was awkward but Gill was too out of it to feel the vibes as the other two made some small talk with each other quietly.

But the meat was at last ready and cooking. Gill foraged, finding useful herbs to flavor the meat and even a root vegetable.

As the mouth watering scents drifted over them he noticed Lana watching with a hungry look in her eyes.

“Have you eaten recently, Lana?” he asked, “I think you mentioned being tired of someone else’s cooking, so you can have some.”

She grinned, “Please!”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the culinary arts.” Glen grumbled, looking elsewhere.

“It’s not for everyone,” Lana reassured him sympathetically. Glen continued to act sulky.

Gill chuckled a little, turning the meat over, “Alright then. As long as I’m here I’ll see to the little people’s cooking needs if the big guy doesn’t mind supplying.”

“It’s not a problem.”

There was again little conversation until the food was ready and they were eating.

Lana was ecstatic.

“Even this vegetable tastes good, oh my god thank you for being here!” she exclaimed, “I was so sick of Glen’s charred sorry excuse for food and only berries now and then.”

Gill smiled, “You’re welcome.” He himself felt a lot better after eating, and more able to tackle the rest of the day. He didn’t let himself think about how they were getting back to the dragon’s cave.

“Tell me about yourself,” Lana asked.

“Hm? Oh.” Gill contemplated, taking a bite of food to stave off a reply, “Well, there’s not much to talk about. I’m a wanderer, a rolling stone. I don’t stay in any one place too long. I love the open air.”

“I wish I could travel more,” Lana commented, pausing in her enthusiastic munching, “But, you know how it is, being a girl, being royalty, you got your duties.”

“It’s noble to stick to them,” Gill nodded, “I’m rather aimless myself with no real goals in life.” He took another bite, “I’ve had the wanderlust since forever, so that’s what I do. Roughing it in the wilds and on the road, never in one place for long. I sometimes want to settle,” he tilted his head as he thought, “But… well, “He smiled ruefully, “Sooner or later I get the itch and I have to follow more of that horizon, see where it leads.” Gill thought about how perhaps he was painting too rosy a picture and only making it more appealing to the princess. “But it’s incredibly tough.” he cautioned, “I trained for years to develop expert tracking and survival skills. It’s just me against the land. It’s a lonely existence if you’re used to the company of people.”

Lana still looked fascinated, “Could you teach me?” she asked.

Gill raised an eyebrow, “Well, no, there’s not really time. Which brings me back to what I keep wanting to 

discuss with the two of you.” as Glen and Lana pricked their ears to listen, he continued, “In a week or so I think, if people took up the call as quickly as I did, there’s going to be less friendly company finding this place soon if they’re decent at understanding how to track a dragon. So.” He steepled his fingers and looked from one to the other, “We have to stop the pleasantries and talk seriously about this.”

“I suppose…” Lana pouted a little. Glen gave a similarly displeased growl.

A little exasperated, Gill said more forcefully, “I’m serious. Lana, I’m not sugar-coating it but you’re just of 

marriageable age and your hand’s been promised to whoever rescues you.”

Lana started slightly, eyes widening, but then they narrowed and she looked at the elf suspiciously, “You’re here to rescue me.” she commented, almost accusingly.

Sighing in more exasperation, Gill replied, “I’ve got a very different relationship with you going forward and I’m not interested in marrying anybody, let alone a human too young for me,” He paused and decided to add for emphasis, “And even more let alone someone I just met.”

She still looked annoyed. Glenn snickered a little, knowing his and the elf’s first conversation.

Gill got up and walked around distractedly, not knowing how to even continue anymore, “I have to take you home, Lana.”

“No!” came the unified reply. Glen and Lana looked at each other and laughed. Gill covered his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face.

Glen snorted, “I need Lana.”

“I don’t want to go back.” The princess added on to the argument, “This is the most fun and freedom I’ve ever had in my life!”

“What did you just say about duties?” Gill shot back at Lana.

Annoyance was all over her face, “I said I had them, not that I wanted to do them. I hate living with all those rules. Out here I have a friend and get to do interesting things, with no responsibilities.”

“You have to return to those responsibilities sooner or later!” Gill replied with frustration.

“No she doesn’t!” Glen snapped.

“Yeah!”

“HHhrrrrrrrglmrffff…!” Came an undefined noise from the elf as he pivoted in a circle, looking for the best argument, for the general nature around him to lend its support. But his temper was getting the better of him, 

“How old are you two? Just think about things!” he threw up his hands at the two of them.

“Look,” Lana snapped back, also standing, wiping her slightly dirty fingers off on her dress, “I don’t need 

rescuing right? I’m safe and happy, and want to be here! Just go back and tell the others they can give up 

because I don’t need to be rescued, I’ll go back when I want to!”

The elf looked meaningfully up at the dragon, who didn’t immediately back the princess up. Both knew a 

dragon didn’t easily let go of the things they took.

“Are you sure about that?” Gill asked.

A warning rumble came from the dragon. Gill realized he was pushing Glen’s patience with him and he took a half step back, glaring up.

“What do you mean?” Lana’s confidence wavered.

Gill turned and walked away, giving himself a minute to cool off and maybe Glen a minute to decide of he 

would explain to Lana how dragons functioned and viewed people they happened to like.

He walked several yards, then ran a hand through his hair, making sure to breathe slow.

Alright, next argument. He thought out what he would say. But even giving a minute he could tell Glen had not opened communication with Lana about what the elf said.

He came back, steepled his fingers together, and looked from one to the other.

“Let’s be realistic,” he said, “I know a lot of healers and herbalists from my extensive travels, some of the best live rather remotely and may be able to make something. Glen,” He looked up, letting his hands open, “Whether you two like it or not, people aren’t going to care if Lana’s content to be here, she’s still a princess and everyone has their duties in life-.”

“What about yours?” Lana interjected, taking him off guard.

“That’s beside the point,” Gill tried to evade and continue.

“No it’s not,” she replied snippily, “If everyone has their duties, what are yours? Huh? Getting to wander where you want.”

Glen grinned nastily, “Yeah, Gill, what’s your duty?”

Gill snapped, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think twice, “I fucking told you, Asshole!” he shouted.

Glen blinked and Lana was shocked into silence by the language, hands going to her mouth, eyes wide.

Realizing he had let his temper boil over, Gill closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeping his fingers together again then dropping his head to touch his forehead to them. Maybe he just had to be open about all of it, right here, right now, break it to her first.

“I’m sorry.” he bowed slightly to Lana, “That was uncalled for in your presence. But… well… Let’s just sit down and I’ll tell you the whole reason I’m here and what my responsibilities are right now. I didn’t want to explain until you were safely home and with your family… but…”

He returned to his pack and took a knee, opening it.

Lana hesitantly sat herself down, a little pouty, but also curious.

Glen gave an uncomfortable rumble, “I should leave you two alone.”

Gill looked up, “If you would please give us a little space.” he said gratefully.

The dragon thumped off step by step to the opposite side of the field, but kept them in sight.

There was an awkward silence for a bit. Lana watching, eyes wide, still taken aback at Gill’s having lost his temper.

“I don’t normally swear, Lana,” he said quietly, “But I’ve been under an immense amount of pressure and 

stress. I thought I was going to die yesterday, or you would already be dead by the time I got here. And now you’re both united against me when I just…” he wavered a little, emotions rising, “Just need some sanity and understanding.

“So…” He fished into the pack and brought out the parcel and the letter, “I came all the way to your home to give you something. Even though we’ve never met, I had an obligation I put on myself when my dear friend was no longer able to have these sent to you himself. I chose to bring them personally.”

As he spoke he saw fear and wonder creep into the girl’s eyes. Silently she took the proffered items, realization dawning. She put the parcel aside, then began opening the letter.

She hesitated, glancing briefly to him, before opening it fully. Gill looked away as she scanned the lines. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands begin trembling.

When she finished she looked up. “He’s..?” she couldn’t finish. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice shook.

Gill met her gaze, “I wanted to break it to the whole family, all together.” He then dropped his eyes to his pack, “I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just didn’t know what to do and haven’t been able to organize my thoughts.”

“Did Glen know?” She asked, looking off to where the dragon sat, his tail waving.

“He pried it out of me,” Gill replied guiltily, “I was trying to convince him to let me trade places with you, I had to explain you weren’t just some random person to me, that… you needed to go home.”

Lana’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, “He’s really…? How did it happen?”

Gill clenched his fists. He couldn’t begin to explain to this girl how her brother died. “I… I don’t know how to answer that, so… well, take a look at what he gave you while I try to figure how to even begin.”

She bowed her head, slowly unwrapping the cloth. When she pulled it away she sat with a medium sized music box in her hands. There was glittering filigree and birds all over. She stared at the delicately painted 

wood before opening it. It began to play.

“It doesn’t need to be wound up,” Gill spoke up. The beautiful little tune calmed his emotions, and seemed to 

calm Lana’s as well, the tears drying a little. The two listened quietly.

“‘For my Little Bird’ he wrote,” Lana commented sorrowfully, “I was always his Little Bird.”

“Yes,” Gill smiled sadly, “He spoke so fondly of you, and how he couldn’t wait to return and see how you had grown. I myself didn’t realize how old you were at this point. He wasn’t the best at measuring time.”

Silence fell between them again for a time before Gill finally took a deep breath. He had to begin.

“We met, hunting a monster together. He, his friends, and I teamed up, and somehow I wound up becoming 

part of that group. He had a very magnetic personality, and I liked him a lot, when I normally don’t like people.”

“Everyone loved him,” Lana nodded.

“He was a good man.”

Gill took another breath, “We traveled a… I don’t know, several months together. Adventuring, seeking out evil to crush. I guided them in the wilds. But… well… there was-were-” he corrected, “Several villages being attacked by…”  he almost said “Something.” but… No… he had to be honest.

“...By a dragon.”

He heard Lana’s inhale, but he couldn’t look at her anymore, instead he stared at some undefined point in space, out across the grass.

“I couldn’t reason with this dragon. And… well. We fought and… it was formidable. Adam saved my life, gave me the opportunity to deal the killing blow, but… he… didn’t make it… none of them did…” He bit his lip, closing his eyes, “So… I knew he had just written you a letter, and bought a gift. He was very proud of the find and… so… here I am.”

In the quiet that followed he could hear Lana begin weeping over the music of the little box, and even though he wasn’t a touchy-feely person, Gill shifted over and wrapped her up in a close hug.

Lana wept into his chest for a long time. He didn’t know what to say so he let her cry herself out until eventually she quieted.

“I’m sorry.” he said at last, letting go as she pulled away and straightened. 

Lana took some deep inhales, sniffed loudly and rubbed a corner of her sleeve across her nose.

“I… I see now… why you… You were right.” she said quietly, regaining composure as a princess ought to, “I need to go home, at least… my family has to know. Thank you Gill... for coming all this way.”

Gill scratched his cheek, not sure how to respond, “Of course. Anything for my best friend and his little sister.”

The music box played on, and the two sat and listened. A breeze brushed across the grass, ruffling Gill’s hair and sending wisps of loose strands up from Lana’s braid, the dark hair lighting up in the sun’s rays.

She shifted and closed the box, wrapping it up along with the letter, “Hold onto this for me?”

“Yeah,” Gill put it carefully back in his pack.

With a sigh Lana added, “I was being selfish. I didn’t realize how hard you were having it. My obstinacy was childish. I have to go home and be with my family.” she paused, looking away guiltily, “They must be as worried as you were.” Gill nodded, “But this is going to be difficult. When dragons… If…” he sighed and started over, “When dragons grow attached to people they see them as possessions, little different from treasure, just even more cared for. If Glen’s got a strong attachment to you then it’s going to be difficult to make him understand that he can’t keep you like he keeps his treasure. You understand?”

Lana frowned, “You seem to think you know a lot about Glen.”

Gill blinked, “Fair, I don’t know him as a person. But I know dragons as a species. Extremely well, in fact.” he emphasized, “Maybe Glen will be more open to the idea, but this is also why I offered my life for yours. He still has someone who “belongs” to him so to speak, who is also, like you, wanting to help him with his current problem.”

Lana pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Unconsciously Gill did the same with only one, half-mirroring. But it was his side with the bad shoulder. As he tried to use it, it twinged badly, so he placed it in his lap. 

“I’m sure if we explain he’ll understand.” she said, but she didn’t sound completely convinced.

“I really hope so,” Gill replied, “But… we don’t have to talk to him about it right now. I know I just dropped some heavy information on you, and you need time to process. We’re lucky Glen’s a more reasonable dragon than some I’ve met.”

“You meet a lot of dragons?” Lana queried, looking up.

Gill shrugged, “I’m very widely traveled.” he said evasively, looking away.

Lana’s eyes narrowed, but she did not press. There was yet another long pause.

“I guess we should let him come back,” Lana said at last.

Gill looked towards the dragon, “If you’re ready to.”

Lana crooked an eyebrow, “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked curiously.

Gill started slightly and looked back, “Oh, uh… I dunno. I guess you wouldn’t have said that if you weren’t. My bad.”

The real reason he said that, he realized, was because he wasn’t ready for the dragon to come back. Having the story of Adam dragged out of him once today and then repeated… he didn’t want to deal with Glen.

My emotions aren’t ready for… he started thinking as Lana stood and headed a few yards towards the dragon, calling and waving. Shoot.

He wasn’t ready for this. Gill’s emotions rose and he turned his back to the pair, a hand covering his face for a 

moment, feeling tears of his own welling up. But he fought the emotions down as he heard the dragon drawing closer, and was dry-eyed again by the time they were all back together. Or at least he hoped he was.

“You told her everything?” Glen asked.

When Gill didn’t reply, Lana interjected, “He told me everything.”

Glen crouched down, head low, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lana. Truly. And, Gill?”

Reluctantly, Gill looked up, “Yes?”

The dragon shook his head a little, looking awkward, “I know it’s not like I planned it but I’m sorry about the coincidence. You have much courage and fortitude to come this far, and have been more than…” he reached for words, pausing before continuing, “You’ve really gone above and beyond trying to discuss things and putting your life in my power… rather than just pull a sword out and starting what I'm sure you little people would think was a justified fight.”

Taken aback by the compliment, Gill didn’t know how to respond. Praise from a dragon?

“Uh.. well. I… I’ve met more than one dragon in my life and have come to… well,” he scratched the back of his head and looked elsewhere, too uncomfortable to look anyone in the eye, “I just figured if Lana was alive and well then there was hope we could all talk rationally as adults ought to, and if not then I’d try to avenge her, that seemed the… if not logical… natural way to go about things.”

Glen chuckled as the elf colored a little, “You’re not a very natural person. And I mean that as a compliment. Dragons and little folks are natural… enemies…” He trailed off and Gill had a feeling realization was dawning. Was he figuring things out?

There followed a bit of awkward empty air before Lana piped up, “I think Glen put that well. You’ve come a long way and done so much. More than others would. I’m glad you chose to try for none-violence to deal with the situation.”

Gill felt more awkward than ever, not sure how to take the positive reinforcement, “Thank you both… It’s… I appreciate your words more than you can understand.” He pulled nervously at the grass, wanting this to stop but also happy to feel validated, “It… It’s… yeah. Means a lot. But…”

He took a breath. Where on earth did they go from here? Gill closed his eyes, feeling the mental fatigue pressing down. To have been burdened with heavy news to bring back to his friend’s family, only to find the most important one to him taken… the time getting here, the arguing with both of them against him. All of it.

“...But?’ Lana prompted.

Gill shook his head, “Um, just… I’m just, horribly, horribly burnt out. It’s been a wild time and I think I need to sit under a cold waterfall, drink more, eat more, and maybe not think about this whole mess for a few hours. I’m also all argued out.”

The ground trembled as Glen chuckled, “All worn out ‘eh?”

Gill glared up at him, “We’ll revisit the argument, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Glen replied flippantly, “But I agree, you need to take some time to unwind and put off the burden for a little. Just clarify for me, it took you how many weeks to get here?” Annoyed, Gill almost didn’t grace that with an answer. But then he replied, “I got to town in the morning two days after you took Lana and set out that afternoon after getting supplies.” “Mm.. so about two weeks… a couple days over or so. And.” the dragon went on, “What was the short-cut you took?”

Gill blinked a couple times. “Well, if… “ he looked to the ground near the fire where Glen had raked the grass away, upending it and revealing dirt.

Going over on his hands and knees, using his right side gingerly, Gill began drawing, “I’m well traveled as I’ve said a few times. I’ve been in this area before, years ago. I understand different terrain very well, enough to guess what I’m getting into anywhere I go. I…” he drew with the end of one burnt log, the ash helping to mark the large map, and explained, showing the safest routes, marking the marshy terrain he had delved into in order to make up time.

“Mm, yes..” Glen watched with interest. Lana watched with puzzlement, “And that’s honestly insanely well made up time. You expected to get here within two weeks on your horse taking the usual route?”

“No I was going to cut through a couple places. She’s extremely surefooted.” And there was a reason for his confidence in that. Gill showed the route he had planned to take, cutting into places normally hazardous for hooved beasts.

“Ah, yes.”

The “yes”s were feeling patronizing at this point. Was he missing something the dragon saw?

“Yes.” Gill confirmed with slight irritation, “So? Why did you want to know all this?”

“How many people could you confidently say could cut any distance enough to get close to say, getting here in three weeks? Most of those places… well, it is a risk for the average horse.”

“Hm.” Gill looked back down, tracing the full route, “I don’t follow this questioning of yours.” He glanced sidelong at the dragon, “What are you getting at?”

Glen shrugged, “You seem to think people can get here normally within a three week period, since you say people will be showing up around seven days from now.”

He had to blink at that, “Isn’t it a three week ride?”

“Even if you know how to track a dragon, not actually.” Glen said smugly, “Also, this area here.” he poked with his tail tip, “There was a rock slide last year which’ll slow people down more.”

His tired brain spun a few times trying to calculate, then gave up, “I’m sorry, what?” Gill felt he had hit a wall in 

his reasoning.

Lana came over and put a hand on Gill’s forehead, looking into his eyes, “I can’t do the math,” she said, peering searchingly, “But safe to say it’ll be more than a week before people start showing up.”

Gill peered back at her, not sure what she was doing, “Oh… ohhhh,” he got it a little, “Oh. I see... I see, I see.”

“So,” Glen ducked his head low to make eye-contact, “You have plenty of time to take a break and recover before we revisit the reason you’re here. For now, just take a few breaths and-”

“Gill, you feel really clammy.” Lana said suddenly.

Gill could read the alarm in her eyes, but didn’t quite see the issue.

“I…” He what? “Well. I certainly feel like I’m having a mental break.”

“And pale as a ghost. You should lie down.” Lana suggested, half helping, half pushing him onto his side, then his back, “Glen give us some shade, please.”

“Oh, oh my, what’s happening?” Glen did as told, spreading out a wing over them, “Is this like the panic attack?” he asked anxiously, “What’s a mental break?”

“I can rest…” Gill said faintly to no one in particular, “I can stop working and take a break.”

Lana brushed the hair off his forehead, “Yes Gill. You can take a break. It’s okay. We’re going to take care of you and let you rest. Do you want to sleep?”

“I feel sick.”

“Just close your eyes, Gill,” Lana watched anxiously even as she kept her voice calm, “Just let go, it’s going to be alright. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Gill reached up and took her hand, “I’m not okay, Lana. I’m unbelievably not okay.” the strain, stress and grief all squeezed to the surface. His eyes stung and his head hurt from trying to hold it in.

“Just rest, Gill,” Lana assured him, “Just rest. You’ve been wonderful, you’re better than any knight out there and you did so well, just… take a respite…”

She trailed off, then began to gently sing, a simple lullaby. Her voice enveloped Gill in warmth, and quietly he began to cry. The tears leaked out and he threw his arm over his eyes to hide it. Lana ran a comforting hand through his hair, continuing to sing until after he passed out.

[neonlav]

went to a mother mother concert tonight (great crowd, great venue, great frantic energy, always like that here) just bc my friend had a spare ticket. so we rolled up together, both preferring their older music and being nostalgic for middle school, hoping they don't just play their new album, and me telling her that they blew up on tiktok and were cringe for a while, which she did not know, and. the fucking energy of this place. ok. so

it's a bbq place. but historic outdoor venue, nice stage

it's like 80% teenagers. this shifts later, but it is mostly white teenagers in the most black leather and gay and ostentatious alt getups you've ever seen. me n my friend are dressed plain practical butch for the weather but we look like preps next to these kids

we find a good spot in the middle where we can sit on a railing so we are a head above the crowd and don't block anybody's view. a group of 4 obviously queer and young kids stands in front of us

at one point, one turns around and signs to me that they think I look cool, then repeat themself in spoken english when I don't know enough asl to read that

I compliment them back, it's a lull between the openers so we strike up a short conversation w them & their friends. they're 16 and drove straight from school from the next city over and are driving back tonight. they're almost all autistic, queer as fuck, one's taking asl and is teaching the others, which is useful for this loudass concert (they directly tell me all this)

at one point 3 leave to get drinks and leave this one tiny black kid who looks like they're not having a great time. crowd has shifted to 20s & 30s ppl vaping & smoking around them, pushing in on their group's space, so I hop down and start clearing space, striking up a conversation, keeping the spots and letting the kid know me n my friend are safe and helping them chill out. this is in a long lull between openers and mm

these kids. are JUST like me and my friends in highschool. I was internally deeply deeply cringing, I saw so much of myself in them but esp the one I was talking to. no self awareness, such shit lives, trying so hard to grab onto happiness. they're such sweethearts and I know they got p overstimulated so I hope they made it home ok. I watched over their group until they left a little bit early. shoutout to the group of queer kids behind us too who were also nice and piped up at a few moments

so both opener bands were BANGERS. absolutely got the crowd riled, great stage presence, amazing music

then mm plays song blending into song, starts with verbatim (playing to their audience lol), and their show is every big hit they've had which goes over super well. sort of harder rock remixes of everything, really really cool vibe, great lights, great movement around the stage

there's a quick interlude before they play it's alright abt mental health, dedicating the song to ppl who are going thru shit rn, reminding everyone they're human and interjecting that into the song, it's nice

another interlude, this time to speak abt how they think it's really cool to see a new, sharper generation using their music to talk abt important issues, very transparently pandering and abt tiktok and trans issues w/out saying those words. still very supportive of trans ppl and "the ability for everyone to show up as they are" and identify however

at one point someone near the front unfurls a big gay flag and starts waving it

they play hayloft and then have a smooth solo singing interlude then hayloft ii and the lights go fucking insane. everyone screaming at the top of their lungs. people are headbanging, jumping, tons are filming, shit's off the wall

good concert. good night. can't believe that was 30 bucks for 4 hours of straight bangers no misses