#I will just never stop being bothered by the ending of fools fate

[spectrum-color]

Hot RotE take: Fitz going straight back to Molly once Burrich died would not have happened if he hadn’t partially Forged himself.

Molly was Fitz’s first love, and I believe that Kettle was right that their relationship belonged to his youth. They were never going to work long term. It was a fundamentally childish romance primarily based on physical attraction; they were generally either having sex or fighting which is age appropriate for teenagers but not the foundation for a life partnership. He used her to hide from himself and the parts of his life that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Molly was a symbol of simplicity for him, one that I think he had outgrown by the end of Fools Fate. More than that, I think he would have gotten over it if he hadn’t put all of his pain over her marrying Burrich into Girl on a Dragon. By getting rid of those feelings, he made it impossible to process them in a healthy way, so when he gets them back suddenly it’s 17 years later and Molly is a widow approaching middle age with 7 children but he still thinks of her exactly the same way he did when they last saw each other. Add on Beloved leaving him just after he got over his fears of accepting the intensity of their bond and was ready to reciprocate love with no limits (the most traumatic possible thing that could happen to someone with attachment issues like Fitz,) and he’s regressing to who he was when he was a traumatized 20 year old. So while obviously his time as Holder Badgerlock isn’t necessarily bad, it makes me sad because it was so clearly a regression for his character.

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Lyney has a patience of a saint, but he's had enough of this game of cat and mouse. This time, he wants you, and no one will stop him for getting what he wants. (2nd POV) [ IDENTITYV AU ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking (he's chasing you), minor character death (other survivors died), emotional manipulation, Arle teaches him how to """metaphorically""" cut off someone's 'wings', ooc Lyney and Arle, gore, teeth, Lyney is unhinged

You couldn't remember what tipped him off. It could be from your actions, or it could be from what you said. Hell, it may as well be something that you unknowingly did that offended him— something that would normally not be a bother to him that became its own trigger.

Whatever it could be, you were in the other end of such a horrible fate. And alas, the last place you wished you didn't end up in had to be the one you loathed the most.

The eerie chimes of the bell echoing around the haunted town continued to plague your senses, followed by the faint meowing of the grin-malkin cats as you sprinted for your dear life.

You can hardly focus on what is there and isn't there, as all you had is to get the hell out of here and save this sinking match.

Your only task is to survive.

Survive the madness of the man that loved you in such a twisted, horrible way.

You were his rabbit, and Eversleeping Town was the location of his greatest show yet— a show that will capture not just your attention, but your own will.

Granted, the ever forgiving Illusionist made a simple deal— if you get out by any means necessary, be it the dungeon, exit gate, or, hell— even by completing the ciphers with your companions or saved by the Nightingale… He'll let you go.

However, should you go down, he would consider that as a win of his own, and that meant you cannot leave this forsaken match that you're under.

It's why you were prepared. You came with a companion or two that can assist you, even if it had its own drawbacks.

Alas, this did not stop the Knave from simply going after them first, leaving only 4 ciphers and the dungeon still hidden and closed from many prying eyes. You were clever to cover your tracks, but he is more so with removing the most trickiest companions yet.

…

Or, that's what many may think.

The Knave bas been taught from the best of the best— his "Father" has taught him of how to, in simpler terms, keep a bird from flying away in its cage.

Should Lyney need it, he needed to learn one crucial detail: he needed to learn just how to clip his beloved's wings first and keep them in his cage.

After all, if he had found a way to do such a thing… the outcome of the match will be nothing but predictable.

And the Knave thrives off of the uncertainty, and especially with being dubbed the Trickster of Eversleeping.

He'll let you off for now. He'll let you scurry around, trying and praying that he never catches wind of your antics.

After all, the moment he catches you, you will have to pray to whatever God you believed in that he feels nice enough to not take you down to his very grave.

"Now, Lyney," he could vaguely hear 'Father' speak as she handed him his cards. Gesturing right before them was the sight of someone bound in the chair. The magician stood as he saw the stranger shake and struggle, trying to say something under the gag.

"You must learn how to use your tricks to matters such as this. I'm sure it will be hard, but I have faith that you can do it."

He seemed rather hesitant to speak with how the fool was trying and failing to scream. To beg, even. It was a pathetic sight if Lyney didn't had morals... Which he had, much to 'Father's' chagrin.

Oh well. It wasn't as though having morals can be a bad thing. Maybe it was better, so she can use it to her advantage.

"Take this, Lyney."

She hands the young magician an item. One that can be used with just a bit of force.

"Now, let Father teach you how to clip a bird's wings. All you have to do is watch and follow my lead. You can do that, right?"

He turned his gaze to the taller woman, then to the item she handed to him. The sight of the iron and leather caught his attention, and especially with the ends of it's 'mouth' being bloodied.

Pliers.

He should've dropped it the moment he had it. He should have done that and not agree. It was brutal to harm another person, and he knew that.

... But his 'Father' would simply dangle the life of Lynette over his head. She could simply threaten to send Lynette off to a dangerous mission, especially one where dying is guaranteed.

Many have died, and Lyney was not a stranger to that.

However, his sister was special. She was the only one he had left, and she to him. Should she die, he didn't knew what he'd end up doing.

And so, with a deep breath, he nodded and faced his 'Father'.

"Yes, Father."

...

That day didn't end in a simple case of dental work.

But he learned how to 'clip' a person's wings in exchange.

Your chest began to heave as you traversed through the empty buildings of the town, fatigue catching up to you the more you spent running.

Although your legs ached and begged for a break, you continued running, feeling the rush from behind you— one from the grin-malkin cats.

Now, one can say that you thought covering your tracks was a skill you need to learn. And with that, you assumed it to be the case. However, you've yet to learn that it was better not to underestimate a hunter's skills.

A lesson that Lyney, a man whom you've helped when you were both survivors, would be more than happy to teach you.

As you vaulted over an open window, you felt the air grow harsh as it whipped you on your descent, your feet landing on the pavement. Feeling your muscles tighten, you grit your teeth and sprinted onwards.

Come on, I just need to get to the graveyard. I can lose him from there!

Alas, you were not gifted with the matter of stamina. Just as you've reached past the tracks of the tram, you could hear Lyney speak from behind you.

"Look at what we have here! Scurrying off, are we?"

And then, you felt it.

Pain.

The harsh hit from Rosseland, his cat, as you vaulted over the window leading to the land of tombstones sent you flying; your back soon collided with one of the worn headstones, making you groan in pain.

In the midst of your suffering, Lyney vaulted through the window, his purple eyes twinkling as he crouched down to look at you.

"My, my, my little rabbit," he tutted, chuckling as he watched you crawl away from him with no avail. "Haven't we made a deal? If you manage to escape this match, I'll let you go. But since you went down... I get to keep you. Do you remember that?"

... You kept your mouth shut.

"... [Name]," he said, his right hand reaching over to grab your neck. "Answer me. Do you remember what our agreement is?"

"... I do."

And yet it feels like it's stacked against me.

Coughing, you turned your head away from him. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was happy to hear your agreement to the matter.

"See? It isn't so hard to agree, now, is it?" he asked with a lit of his voice. "Now, my darling... Now that I have you, I'd like for you to answer a few questions for me."

Questions?

"... And if I refuse?"

Lyney laughed at that, but his voice was less composed. Perhaps it was more manic.

"Ahahahaha! What makes you think you're able to refuse, my little hare?" he asked, his eyes closed before reaching up to grab your chin. With an iron grip, he turned your head to him, his eyes open to face you with a chilling smile.

"I'd hate to have you toy with me like that. You know that, right?"

You wanted to say otherwise, but you were already incapacitated. If you ever decided to counter his claim, you knew that he would do worse than simply chairing you to one of the... Less than desirable chairs with rockets strapped onto them.

".. Fine," you breathed out. "I agree."

"Splendid," he said, pulling his gloved hand away to grab his hat. As he pulled it off of his head and turned it upside down, he reached his left to slip inside.

"Now, I don't want to you to force my hand. It's only a few questions that I want you to answer, and if you answer them truthfully... I may spare you by chairing you myself."

You didn't knew what that meant...

... Up until you saw a pair of pliers peek out from his hand, the dull gleam of iron greeting your horrified face.

"But if you lied, I'll have to resort to some more... Drastic measures."

The hours you two spent together was, in short, torture.

You couldn't count the amount of times that your teeth got yanked with those metal ones, the pain and blood gushing as you wailed.

You could count other ways that would be better than feeling metal graze and nick at them. You could've asked for simply to be drugged, to face death by his hands, to bleed onto the ground that he walked on.

However, death was not a fate worse than this. And Lyney— rather, the Lyney you see now, not the one you know of— was a man who had a manic streak hidden under that smile.

As he yanked the nineteenth tooth out of you, he turned his head down to see blood drip down and stain your clothes. He scowled and placed his pliers down with four teeth now on his right side, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe the blood away.

He knew it was pointless. You did, too.

Maybe it was a way to distract yourself from the pain, and for him to justify his actions in doing such a thing.

Alas, delusions can only take you so far, and pain is karma's many mistresses. One of many that everyone in the manor is familiar with, you and Lyney included.

"Shhh..."

He began to dab the cloth more as blood spilled and tainted the fabric, his smile empty of its sympathy for your decision to lie to him. All he could see before him was his darling, whose way, way too stubborn for his good.

And one that is good to make him lose his patience.

"I have warned you, haven't I?" he asked, his voice chilling yet sickeningly sweet while he pulled the handkerchief away. Tossing it to a direction he could care less to look, he grabbed another from his hat to continue his 'treatment'.

"If you had simply stayed truthful, you wouldn't have to loose your teeth! And yet, you didn't listen," he concluded, tutting as you sobbed and turned your head from him.

"I pity you, my dear hare. But it's the price to pay with how you didn't listen to my warnings."

When the blood stopped spilling, he placed the bloodied fabric and stared at his handiwork. From the answers he got from you, he was quite... Intrigued with what you told him.

"Now... I'm going to ask you one more time."

Grabbing the now bloodied pliers, he positioned it to your twentieth tooth, ignoring the sobs you let out and your gaze full of fear.

"Do you prefer my dear sister, Lynette?"

He could hear your breath heave as the metal 'teeth' of the pliers began to tighten.

However, the answer you gave him was interesting... Especially when you whispered out 'yes' with your greatest efforts.

...

"Is that so?"

He couldn't help but laugh. So, you do prefer Lynette, his sister... Over him? What a farce!

He may care for his sister to death, but he would rather have you than her survive to be his lifelong assistant.

Especially now that his 'Father' gave him the role of Knave, and how his siblings have been punished for trying to go against him and save that sorry excuse of magician. Himself.

"Ah, I see how it is," he said, his voice merely a wheeze as his hand shook. However, it went still and firm once more, and he gave you a lopsided smile.

"Do you remember what I've told you before, hm? Back when we were simply 'survivors' in this forsaken manor?"

Your body shook.

"Magicians generally do not reveal the core secrets behind their tricks," he said, his smile widening. "And especially if it concerns their heart. However, I may just revoke that if you call me 'Master Lyney' and swear to be my only assistant— and only me."

He could see that you were shaking even more, and the fear was what drove him mad. Alas, he knew that he might nick at your gums if he got too rough.

Not that you mind, right?

"I'm curious how much of it you'd understand," he concluded, leaning over to continue in a whisper.

"And how long you'd last, hehe~"

And thus, he yanked your twentieth tooth, causing your screams to erupt all through the barren town and the Illusionist to shiver in glee. He always enjoyed the thought of performing, but maybe he has lost it while staying here for so long.

Putting the pliers away, he hushed you and began to rock your body, uncaring of the sobbing and your blood staining his attire.

"I just wish to make a point. And I hope you understand that, my assistant."

Alas, the day cannot last forever. Lyney knew that, and it's why he decided to do one last trick.

Covering your eyes, he grabbed a crimson red handkerchief— one tainted with your blood— and covered your face. With a whisper, he pulled it away, leaning back to see his handiwork.

"And... Voila!"

He seemed rather smug as he saw teeth were back in your mouth, each one untainted and straight like new. Still, the damage was done, as you continued to sob and wail, begging for him to not do it again.

...

That day didn't end in a simple denture fix, that he's certain of.

But he utilized what 'Father' taught him all those years ago.

And that was good enough.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[there-are-no-angels]

in honor of the trent post, here are some other total drama characters i think would age regress + some images i think fit the situation

recovered zeke au that still regresses into that feral state? shit, i think i’m kinda cooking here. probably sucks his thumb and has a rat plush he really likes. he hates tight spaces because they remind him of the tight spaces in the plane and the cage chris put him in, but he does like being under the covers.

EXPLOSIVO ONLY LOVES TWO THINGS. NAPS AND STUFFIES!!! in all seriousness, this is a bit of self projection, because my identity is also really unstable and weird. do not let her cute wide eyes and star shaped pacifier fool you, she is a feral little toddler who will bite you and play pretend by hitting you with a stick she taped to a knife.

surprise! :3 bet this one was unexpected. back on topic, i feel like he would hate himself for it. he never bothered to figure out why it happened or what it meant, just taking it at face value and thinking it was just another thing that made him worse. until [character of your choice] found him regressed, and he made a total fucking fool of himself trying to explain it to them. now [whoever you said before] takes care of him.

do i even like… have to explain this one? or is it just true? i’d like to think mal also regresses, and everyone else scrambles to stop them from doing anything stupid. but that never matters, because either way, mike ends up crying, and mal ends up being dragged off to the time out corner by vito. a fate worse than death, really.

i cannot explain this one. i just feel like he becomes a pathetic little creature sometimes. he probably eats even more dirt. i’d like to think he runs around outside and gets himself dirty climbing trees and digs in the ground like a dog. [whoever you want] can give him a bath after.

this can work for a recovered au, or one where she never mutated in the first place. will say she doesn’t need someone to take care of her, and then ask you to take care of her when the regression actually hits. likes taking naps and probably has a hello kitty pacifier. either speaks in broken english or prefers not to speak at all, she would rather communicate with small noises like growls.

[hum-suffer]

Hi!

Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella, for the prompt “hug”?

Hellos there, dearest! Thank you for the lovely prompt!!

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Jaime creeps along the hallway, the midnight silence being the loudest noise in the hallway.

Cersei had, once again, proven to be a lying little—

As much as he loved his twin, as much as he was enamoured and endeared and absolutely whipped for her, Jaime Lannister did not appreciate left hanging without cause. He could have been easily sleeping by this time, for fuck's sake.

He pushes up the sleeves of his tunic on habit. His thumb brushes against the burn mark that stayed on the underside of his elbow for years and his breath still hitched. He purses his lips and cursed the Targaryen Dynasty once more, more than euphoric over the fact that he had all but ended the bloody fools.

The Mad King should have died before he was out of his mother's womb.

Jaime hears a whisper and a sniffle and he's instantly on alert. The dagger at his waist is unsheathed within a moment and he walks towards the sound, only to realise it's coming from behind a pillar.

He rounds the pillar in a quick step and stops short abruptly. It's Myrcella and Tommen.

Myrcella, dressed in an unbelievably beautiful saffron dress that looks like the fabric is made of magic, holds a blood stained Tommen. Jaime instantly kneels down and sheathes his dagger back. "Your highness?"

It's the first time that the address has bothered him to speak. Obviously, these children are but a result of his and Cersei's bond and they're a result of only that— a copy of him and his twin, but. But. Myrcella looks up at him with big eyes that are tearing up and a nose that is turning red, like his does when he's crying. Tommen is sobbing, hiccuping in a way that is so similar to a child Tyrion that Jaime can't help but want to wrap the boy in his arms.

"Uncle Jaime!" Myrcella wails,"Please, uncle Jaime, please, help us!"

"What's wrong, my princess?" He blinks when he sees them both wince at his voice and he barely stops himself from toppling over. He's barking at them.

Like Robert does.

His softens his voice. "Hush, my children, I apologise for scaring you. Tell me what is wrong so I can get it fixed, please."

It's only after he's finished speaking that he realises he called them his children. It's the truth, but a truth that can get them all killed— burned alive. As all truths often are, it's a truth that can cause death.

"It's Joffrey!" Tommen hiccups. "He—He killed Ser Pounce today. Father slapped him and—"

"And now he's terrorizing Tom!" Myrcella says, looking so ferocious, Jaime wonders how the fuck did anyone even believe these children to be any sorts of fucking stags. They're his. "Please, Uncle, you have to help us! Mother will never speak against Joff, she just scolded us for caring for Ser Pounce more than we care for Joff!"

So that's where she was, he notes distantly. He's somehow even more disappointed.

He doesn't know how to help these children, though. Cersei has already proven to be idiotic and Robert will only care enough to notice that he has three children intact.

But Jaime has raised Tyrion, he thinks. He has raised his younger brother. Joffrey inherited his cruelty from someone, and Jaime has never been in the habit of murdering pets so his younger brother gets progressively more upset.

It's almost like the past is repeating itself. Only, Myrcella is filling the role that Jaime had taken. It makes Jaime's heart ache, somehow. Is his daughter, his darling, his sweet, the best thing he's ever laid eyes on— is she destined for a fate as horrible as his? Unloved, uncared for, humiliated and unwanted?

Jaime pushes the thought away.

She's Myrcella, she's better. She's always going to be wanted, always loved, always cherished. He will die making sure of it if it's the last thing he does.

His children may have inherited his traits, but they will never inherit his fate.

He opens his arms slowly, feeling ridiculous. "How about you come to me and let me hold you, for now? I will see Joffrey and his behaviour, I promise that to you."

Tommen's eyebrows go up and he takes a hesitant step towards Jaime. Myrcella bites her lip but nods and takes a step as well. It's a trigger, and soon, they've taken the measly steps that cross the boundaries of uncle—niece/nephew courtesy. Tommen all but barrels into him and Jaime barely stops himself from falling on his ass.

He wraps his arms around the little boy and falls on the floor anyway to sit with his legs criss-crossed. Tommen seems to squeeze Jaime's sides with all his efforts, the child unable to reach Jaime's back. Jaime holds Tommen's head with his hand tenderly, the way he did when Cersei first placed Tommen in his arms, less than an hour after he was born.

Jaime shifts, pulls Tommen at his side completely and extends his hand to Myrcella, who'd been only clinging to the cloth of his breeches. Myrcella's lips quiver again and she launches herself in his arms.

Jaime has always run away from crying women in general unless it's Cersei, but. It's his daughter that's crying in his arms, probably regretting the family she has been born into.

The feeling of holding them in his arms feels like a privilege.

Myrcella hugs Jaime just as hard and he has his arms supporting the two of them. He's never been too well read, but this feels poetic. They will have his support, they will have his heart as their hearth. He is wholly theirs.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @dwijbhagat

[annot8]

Ok, here are something thoughts about Assassin’s Fate :)

I have mixed feelings. Overall, this was a wonderful book with a lovely and devastating ending. But there were some things that bothered me. (It’s still a 5 star book to me but I’m a nitpick)

Things that bothered me first.

There were a lot of characters in this book, and Fitz’s perspective was too limited for them to earn their place in the story.

Kennitsson bothered me the most. His could have been a story of him rejecting the legacy of his father and trying to make things right. There was hints of him trying to be his own man but his character was not explored enough for me to really care when he eventually sacrifices himself for Paragon.

A lot of the other Liveship characters suffered from this as well. It was so nice to see Althea, Brashen, Wintrow, Etta and Clef again, but after the initial excitement, it kind of became a sort of… now what? Paragon’s return was the only one that really felt impactful because he actually has a purpose in the story.

Out of the youngsters that join Fitz and Beloved, Spark and Per were fun characters but can someone please tell me what Lant’s purpose in this story was? Spark and Per are fun little reflection of baby Fitz (an assassin’s apprentice and a stableboy) and they both did stuff, but I feel like I spent this entire story waiting for Lant to do something!!! I like him as a character but why was he there????

The one other thing that bothered me was the fake out death from Fitz in the tunnel. My guy had already been shot by the worm dart. He was dying either way. If anything, I think it would have been way more impactful for him to get back to Buck with Bee - all the while Nighteyes is trying to tell him somethings wrong. Fitz, who acts delusional as if he’s getting paid to do so, dismisses the worries and think he’s won, all for him to finally accept it once he sees Bee safe again in Buckkeep. Idk, I just always hate an unnecessary death fakeouts.

But let’s stop being so negative because this book had so much good in it!!!!

Fitz encountering the Paragon was a moment I’ve been waiting for since Amber carved his face and it did not disappoint!! I too would threaten anyone who tried to take Amber from me - Paragon, you’re a real one.

Paragon in general was a joy. Him turning into a dragon was a real bittersweet moment (because it left Althea and Brashen without their ship and took away their escape route from Clerres) but if anyone deserved to choose his own fate, it was him. The revelation of what wizardwood is was so haunting in Liveships, and to see them reclaim their proper form was incredible.

Also, we know Mercor was Maulkin, and I’m a firm believer of the Heeby/Shreever theory (cause if I accept she never made it I will simply die :)), and to know that Tarman (who was improved with Sessurea’s corpse) maybe decided to become a dragon as well, therefore reuniting the three main serpents from liveships, makes me so unbelievably happy.

Moving away from the Liveship characters, god I love Bee. I love Bee much. What a gal. She is so like her mother and three fathers (her parentage is completely insane). I loved her relationship with Wolf Father - who was a better father than Fitz or the Fool, and he is a dead wolf :).

Had it not been for Vindeliar, she fully would have escaped on her own. Dwalia was no where near a match for my girl. She out here biting people and running away and being cryptic. What I loved most, was that she manages to overcome the one thing that has always gotten the best of fitz - she was able to let go of the past. She got the real vengeance against clerres and the servants by burning the scrolls. Without her, Fitz would not have reminded the dragon’s of what the servants did to them, and they never would have come to finish what she started. She is the character ever. The destroyer.

Beloved was a character Ihad complicated feelings about in this book. I need to make it very clear, I love him. I love this character with all my heart. However, there were times in this that I didn’t like him very much. I know that’s because we’re seeing him through fitz’s perceptive (and fitz does not like Amber) and because he has gone through so much, but it still made me a little sad. Obviously, he’s not gonna be his old self when he’s heading back to the place where he was imprisoned and tortured for twenty years, and I can’t blame him for that.

He still had some incredible lines and moments though, and I’ll always be a sucker for Fitzloved.

That brings us to Fitz. Jeez man. He is my favourite character of all time. There is no question about it. No one else even comes close. He acts admirably in this book, and I really feel like he had grown so much since being the loner who lived in a cottage in the forest. He wasn’t always the best father, but in this quest, he did his very best. I’m proud of him.

To me, he will always be that little boy :’)

This story was always going to end with him dying - if that’s how you wanna view him going into the wolf. Fitz is incapable of staying out of the world of Buckkeep politics. He can’t run from a fight, or from the crown, or from who he is. He was never going to be able to settle down and have a simple life - as much as he deserves one.

And of course, we had to have one frustrating piece of miscommunication between fitz and the fool.

‘He hasn’t offered to come into the wolf with me so I won’t ask him.’ vs ‘He hasn’t asked me to go into the wolf with him so i won’t offer to.’

God these guys will put me into an early grave. I adore them.

Bee literally had to shout at Beloved to stop being stupid, he obviously loves you!!!! God.

And that final line… Fitz, Beloved, and Nighteyes, joined as one, watching over Bee from the shadows. And Kettricken smiling knowingly.

I think the mountain kingdom will be a better place for Bee than Buckkeep. It’s nice to see a Farseer finale sort of escape that pull. And I would trust Kettricken with my life so I hope she’s up to the task.

Yeah

[edogawa-division]

ヒプノシスマイク -Rhyme Anima- (Fatal Four Ver.)

In honor of Season 2 premiering soon here's this!

Bring the Beat!

[Wicked Requiem:]

Wicked Requiem!

[Yuriko:]

I'll only say this once to any enemies who appear 

Dare threaten my family, and the only thing left of you will be a bloody smear

[Kaoru:]

Think you can hide your secrets from me? 

Oh, please! Nothing can be hidden from my sight! 

[Kanra:]

With the face of an angel and the rage of a devil 

Try your luck, I’m just itching for a fight 

[Silent Tragedy:]

Silent Tragedy!

[Kanon:]

How amusing, scurrying around my lab like rats

You won't get very far, I can assure you of that 

[Reika:]

A girl can get used to this, you know? 

The feeling of having the world in the palm of your hands 

[Sakura:]

A blood-stained crown rests on my brow

Who are you to give me a command?

[Death Row Block:]

Death Row Block!

[Akihisa:]

Call it a desire for vengeance and strife 

But I still have more to do before heading to the afterlife 

[Touya:]

Think you can leave me all alone? 

Just for that, I’ll make sure to give your throat a slash 

[Rintaro:]

What a pretty picture-perfect life you live

Makes me want to burn it all to ash!

[Valor Guard:]

Valor Guard!

[Seiji:]

Tough as steel and stronger than any shield 

Even against the entire world, I will never yield! 

[Lyall:]

For those who commit the worst of crimes 

I’ll see you judged by Anubis the Jackal! 

[Ayumu:]

The life of a medic isn't for the faint of heart 

You’ll find that it's a constant uphill battle!

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Lyrics that kick away verses

Nautilus diving into your mind

Attacking by surprise, ignition!

Beyond this endless game

Even if the world ends

We'll continue to fight

At the Division Rap Battle!

[Wicked Requiem:]

Deadly song!

[Yuriko:]

I can see it in your eyes that you’re afraid 

Fear not I’ll sing your final serenade 

[Kaoru:]

Even if I pray to the Muses for guidance

It's to the goddess Athena whom I dedicate my win 

[Kanra:]

Inhumanly born from the deepest pits of hell 

The masses would call my existence a sin 

[Silent Tragedy:]

Fierce blade!

[Kanon:]

Begging for mercy from a maniac? 

Fool, my heart has long since turned pitch black

[Reika:]

How can you say I'm horrible for being evil? 

At least I do it with stone-cold style 

[Sakura:]

Locked and loaded with my finger on the trigger 

I'll gladly put a bullet in your head with a smile

[Death Row Block:]

Execution!

[Akihisa:]

Opposing us is the quickest way to die 

Perhaps you ought to say your final goodbyes 

[Touya:]

Just the sight of you gets me all hot and bothered 

Come on, let's go a few rounds

[Rintaro:]

Think you can run the fuck away?

I’m hot on your heels like a hellhound!

[Valor Guard:]

Duty bound!

[Seiji:]

A warning for all there is very little I fear 

Especially when dealing with threats to all I hold dear 

[Lyall:]

With eyes that see everything like an owl 

I’ll catch you even during the darkest nights 

[Ayumu:]

Even when everyone else has long given up 

I'll keep on going with all my might 

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Gimmicks that burn synapses

Nobody can stop this now

Ignition!

Now we invite you to catharsis

Rhyming all over the place

Carving into history

With this Division Rap Battle!

[Kaoru:]

Mind racing faster than you can comprehend 

Even now it's plotting your bitter end!

[Reika:]

Even decked out head to toe in jewels

I’ll destroy anyone who tries to overthrow my rule! 

[Touya:]

Seems like you’re someone no one will miss 

How about I seal your fate with a kiss? 

[Lyall:]

Hidden like the dark side of the moon 

Your doom approaches soon! 

[Kanra:]

I’m quick to anger and, with my strength enough said 

So careful, or else you’ll end up dead!

[Sakura:]

Don't even think about trying to be brave 

You'll only just dig your own grave! 

[Rintaro:]

A battle between divisions, call it a nuclear winter!

Leaving nothing but ash and cinder!

[Ayumu:]

I might be here to heal 

But that doesn't mean I'll kneel! 

[Yuriko:]

That's it I’m done playing nice 

It's time I leave you in agonizing pain! 

[Kanon:]

A verbal barrage rains upon the psyche 

Let's see you undo the damage to your brain!

[Akihisa:]

This is our reality now 

One where words have all the power! 

[Seiji:]

Opponents stand all around 

The Division Rap Battles are no place to cower! 

[Fatal Four:]

Hypnosis action ends corruption

Lyrics that kick away verses

The Nautilus dives, invading the brain

Ignition!

Even if what results from this endless game

Is the end of the world

We'll keep resisting

With this Division Rap Battle!

[yaminerua]

I don't expect to be able to keep this up, since it has been far, far too long since I have written anything. But @a-literal-toaster-wtf's Smegtober prompts gave me a little burst and I hope I can at least make something for some of them if not all of them.

So here's a belated something for Day 1: Earth.

Sometimes all you can do to pass the time in hopeless pursuit of a planet you may never see again is to drink the days away.

Words: 2975

****

Sometimes the reality of the situation was simply too much to bear, the absolute futility of it all an inescapable weight, crushing and merciless, pressing down until all that could really be done about it was to try to drink it away and forget.

Dave Lister sat miserably by himself at the little table in the sleeping quarters, a collection of empty lager cans and beer bottles laid out in front of him like some sort of cluttered miniature cityscape. He’d been drinking solidly for much of the day, interrupted only by intermittent bouts of drunken sleep and hunger pangs craving whatever quick bits of junk food he could clumsily coordinate himself to retrieve.

It was a pathetic sight, but not an altogether uncommon one to see these days, especially on a day like today.

His birthday was a complicated event for a whole host of increasingly smegged up reasons. The fact that he was simultaneously his own father and son was only part of that whole mess. The rest of his life was the other.

In all honesty Lister had stopped counting the years. He let Kryten privately keep track of that, preferring instead simply not to know. It didn’t matter what the number was anymore. All he knew was at this point he had spent more time on this creaking, groaning hunk of junk than he ever had back home on Earth (time spent in stasis aside) and he didn’t care to know the specifics of just how long that time had been.

Cracking open the top of yet another can of lager, he threw it back with reckless abandon and tossed it aside with all the others, willing his alcohol-soaked brain to sink back into the murky quiet of unconsciousness. He couldn't even register the taste anymore.

It would be laughable if it wasn’t so achingly depressing. His life had been effectively over the moment he’d turned 23 and he’d never even realised it. The moment he’d decided on a whim to go on that stupid pub crawl around London for his birthday all those years ago he’d sealed his fate, bringing about the events that led to him waking up stranded on Mimas with no way home and he had done it all with the carefree obliviousness of a fool who had no idea what was coming.

The worst part, he thought dimly, miserably reaching for another can and finding the nearest one empty, was that the last views he would have seen of Earth as he departed it for the last time were completely lost to him. He had been too drunk, too far gone to commit that final glimpse of home to memory and then it had been too late. 3 million years ago (plus an ice age or two) Dave Lister had looked out over the planet Earth for the last time, and he had been too smegging plastered to pay any attention.

He groaned, lowering his throbbing head down onto the table roughly, forehead colliding with the cool metal with a thud that he didn’t even register. He wasn’t really sure what he was still doing here, why he bothered waking up just to go through the motions over and over with no natural end to it in sight.

Oh, sure, the stated plan was still ‘Get back to Earth’ but it was a hollow aspiration with no realistic prospects of success, maintained only because it was nice to pretend to have some sort of goal to work towards in the otherwise monotonous purgatory that life on board Red Dwarf was these days. It kept you tethered, grounded, which was helpful when you were the last  of your kind in a floating rust bucket drifting through the emptiness of deep space. Anything to keep you from throwing yourself out an airlock and being done with it.

 The reality was that after all these years, Earth was surely no closer than it had been when he’d first awoken from stasis. In fact there was a deeply unpleasant possibility that it was even further away. God only knew which direction they were travelling in nowadays. Everywhere they went was uncharted territory, unmapped star system after unmapped star system, and Red Dwarf had been turned around so many times over the years that there was simply no way to reliably orient it towards Earth, no way of knowing which way Earth even was, if there was even still an Earth to speak of.

Even if, by some miracle, they were still somehow heading in the right direction, the fact of the matter was that they were simply too far away. 3 million years spent drifting had carried Red Dwarf so far away that without a faster-than-light drive to try to speed things up, Lister could very well spend the rest of his life never making it to a point where any part of the Solar System could become even distantly visible. The thought of that made Lister’s insides feel hollow and cold and he curled his arms in around his head, burying his face in the gap between them, utterly despondent.

Earth had become, in its own way, what Fuchal was to the Cat’s people – an unattainable nirvana, the promised land, a place you could spend your whole life trying to reach and never get any closer to.

He’d never meant to end up here. He should never have been in a situation where signing up with the JMC for a mining tour of the Solar System would have been his most reliable ticket home, but that had been what had happened. He’d signed up initially just to undo his mistake and then he’d decided to stay on to make a little extra money, tempted by a simple little dream that had got very out of hand. If he’d just hopped off first chance he’d got… If he hadn’t done this… If he hadn’t done that… If only, if only…

The doors to the sleeping quarters slid open and the swift, purposeful footfalls of Arnold Rimmer echoed off the metal floor but Lister didn’t hear them, didn’t register their sudden halting as Rimmer stilled at the sight of Lister slumped as he was over the desk and he definitely didn't register the loud reproachful 'tut' sound he made with his tongue.

Rimmer’s nose wrinkled in disgust, casting his disapproving gaze across the mess of discarded cans and bottles and bending down to pick up a few of those closest to him that had clattered to the floor. Straightening up, he regarded Lister with a long-suffering look of disdain and pursed his lips. “Another day well spent I see,” he said stonily, placing the cans down on whatever space was still available on the desk. “If you were going for the world record I think you probably passed it some time ago.”

Lister didn’t respond, didn’t make any attempt to acknowledge Rimmer’s presence at all. Rimmer sniffed disdainfully and went on. “I don’t know how you can maintain such a slobby existence this long. It’s beyond belief. How your body is even still functioning after all this is a medical mystery. I'd say you should leave your body to medical science but I'm not sure what good that would do.”

He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head, glancing down at Lister’s unresponsive form. He was awfully quiet, Rimmer noted as he watched him for a long moment. He didn’t even seem to be moving.

Fleetingly, a look of alarm flashed across the hazel of Rimmer’s eyes before he schooled his expression into something more controlled, though the crease in his brow that remained was still etched far more with concern than it was anything else.

“Lister?” he said, far more gently than he might have liked, quirking his head to the side, trying to get a better look at Lister’s face.

He reached out a hand, tentative, and placed it gingerly on Lister’s shoulder, giving it an experimental shake. “Lister,” he repeated, this time a little more firmly.

He wouldn’t put it past Lister to accidentally drink himself to death and certainly at the rate he drank these days that risk loomed larger and far more likely than Rimmer was comfortable to fully confront. The prospect of Lister dying had been easy enough to brush aside before, when he was younger and more full of life, but with the steady march of time and the ongoing hopelessness of their collective situation chipping away at him more and more that nagging little issue was pushing itself further and further into the forefront of Rimmer’s thoughts in a way that was becoming increasingly harder to run from.

He could only shake off the worry and concern to a certain extent, brushing it off as simply a means of self-preservation given that the continuation of his own existence was inextricably linked to the continuation of Lister’s, but you could only continue to give a smeg about someone else to save your own skin for so long before that naturally evolved into something a little more genuine, a little more sincere.

He shook Lister’s shoulder a little more firmly and all but shouted, “Lister, for pity’s sake wake up you stupid goit!” and if there was any hint of urgency, any sound of desperation in his tone he pointedly refused to acknowledge it.

Lister groaned in protest and a clumsy hand tried and failed to swat him away and if Rimmer had had an actual heart in his chest it surely would have leapt with relief at the confirmation that at least for now Lister was still in the land of the living.

He retracted his hand, clasping it tightly in the other behind his back and straightened up again. “We really have to do something about your drinking habits, Lister,” he said, eyeing the mountain of empty bottles with contempt. “Not least because you’re stinking up this room with the stench of alcohol.”

“Urgh, gimme a break, Rimmer…” Lister mumbled into the sleeve of his jacket, his words bleeding into each other as his mouth struggled to follow the input from his brain. “I’m just missing Earth. I’m missin’ home…”

“Well, at the rate you’re going you’ll turn Red Dwarf into Earth 2.0 with all the garbage you’re building up," Rimmer said dryly. “Either that or you’ll drink yourself to death before we even get there. I don’t get what you see in that cesspit of a planet. It’s hardly deserving of all this moping.”

“But it’s home, Rimmer,” Lister said in a quiet, faraway voice, the weight of all his longing heavy on every syllable. “My home. Where I never should’ve left...” He lifted his head with great difficulty to fix Rimmer with a wobbly, unfocused stare. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen and puffy as though at some point earlier in the day he might have been crying. “Don’t you know what that feels like?”

“No, I don’t,” was what Rimmer wanted to bitterly snap back but in truth it would have been a lie. He didn’t miss Io, not a jot, but he did know what it felt like to long to return to a place that felt impossible to reach, a place that had felt more like home than any other place he’d ever been, but that had been no planet or lunar colony. It had been right here; Red Dwarf, the place that had been his home for almost half of his life and most of his borrowed time afterwards, the place he had done everything in his power to return to.

He pulled his gaze away from Lister’s searching eyes and looked instead around at the bunk room, cluttered as it was and filled with paraphernalia of their collective history sharing it together, and his shoulders slackened a little, the hardened edges of his expression softening a fraction as he understood. “I suppose so,” is what he eventually said out loud, quietly and pensively.

Lister wasn’t paying attention anymore. His head was lowering again and he looked as though he was already beginning to slip back into unconsciousness, his eyelids drooping tiredly, unable to hold themselves open.

Rimmer regarded him sympathetically for a moment before huffing a somewhat defeated, exasperated sigh. “Lister,” he said sternly, though it was lacking any real sharpness or irritation. “You can’t fall asleep like that, you’ll do your back in.”

Lister mumbled something unintelligible but otherwise made no attempt to move. Rimmer rolled his eyes.

Before he could allow Lister to fully crumple back into his previous slumped position, Rimmer moved swiftly behind him, hooking his arms under Lister’s and hoisting him up with a strength that he could only thank his hard-light drive for. “Come on, Listy,” he said breathlessly, struggling a little to support the entirety of Lister’s dead weight. “Up you get. Use those slobby, lazy legs of yours for something.”

Lister whined in protest, flailing in Rimmer’s grip and his legs struggled to coordinate themselves to stand. Rimmer realised then that there was really nothing for it. There was no way Lister was making it up into the top bunk in this state. He was just going to have to offer up his own.

Staggering backwards, reluctant as he was to accept this decision, he clumsily led Lister away from the table, stumbling and tripping over a few more rogue cans that littered the floor, cursing as he went, until he felt the solid base of Lister’s top bunk press against his back, whereupon he turned and, as carefully as was possible when you were attempting to manoeuvre someone too inebriated to follow commands, he eased Lister’s heavy, exhausted body down onto the lower bunk.

Lister made a muffled appreciative sound as he felt the cushioned comfort of the mattress beneath him and he went instantly limp in Rimmer's grip, relaxing into the softness all around him. He made a poorly coordinated attempt to turn over into a better position, almost rolling himself right out of the bunk but Rimmer promptly stopped him and repositioned him again. Letting out a heavy, contented breath, he turned his head and buried his face in the warm softness of Rimmer’s pillow and settled down to sleep.

Rimmer twitched a little watching this but could hardly do anything about it now. “Don’t you dare drool on that,” he warned, though he figured Lister probably already couldn’t hear him.

Straightening up and stretching out his own back after the exertion, he regarded Lister quietly for a few moments, watching the muscles in his face slacken with sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the beginning little sounds of a snore a comforting signal that the body on his bunk was still alive, still kicking even if Lister himself had all but lost most of the will to fight after all these years.

Rimmer himself had never been one to let futility and hopelessness get in his way, although arguably he probably could have stood to let it do so more often. He didn't really know how to give up on a goal. He’d pushed on, stubborn and unshakeable, with things that he probably ought to have given up on years ago but giving up meant admitting defeat, meant acknowledging that something was impossible. It meant accepting, for example, that there was no point wasting all of his life and most of his afterlife pursuing dreams of officership, even if some small part of him knew that by now it was a pointless endeavour. It meant letting go of something that had defined so much of every waking moment of his life.

In that sense, he supposed he could understand Lister’s stubborn desire to get back to Earth, as well as the crushing weight of realising it probably wasn’t possible. If holding onto that kept him going, just in the off-chance that a miracle could come their way, maybe there wasn’t so much wrong with continuing to entertain such a dream.

He grabbed the covers and carefully pulled them up and over Lister’s sleeping form, the backs of his fingers lightly brushing momentarily across the warmth of Lister’s cheek as he did so and the sensation startled him, causing him to flinch and immediately retract his hand, wringing it tensely in his grip as he willed the little surge of whatever it was that had quickened his heartbeat to subside.

He shook himself, deciding not for the first time and certainly not for the last time that he wasn’t going to pay it any mind. He’d been stuck with the stupid goit for so long after all. It was just care for his wellbeing. Nothing more. It was only natural given the circumstances. He could keep telling himself that a little longer.

Turning his attention away from the bunk, he set about gathering up the empty bottles and cans off the floor and placing them with the rest on the table. Kryten could take care of disposing of those properly later, and maybe while he was at it he’d be able to take his sure-to-be-drooled-on pillow for a wash when the time came too. His face crumpled at the very thought. "Lights," he called out quietly, the bunk room's ambient light dimming down to something less harsh on the eyes, something more appropriate for sleep.

Heading for the door, he shot a final glance back over his shoulder at Lister’s bundled up figure curled up snoring softly on the bottom bunk, looking suddenly so very young and fragile in spite of all his years, the last human holding on to a dream in a cold, hostile universe, and if his eyes softened a fraction watching him a few moments longer it was surely a trick of the light.

[delafiseaseses]

The Last Words of Robert Edwin House

Y'know, I go after Mr House a lot, but I do actually believe that Robert Edwin House thinks he's doing the right thing for the future.

I am a proponent of Yes Man/Independence, I think that that's the best option of them all and I'm more than willing to make a joke or two at Robert's expense, but I think that his words in that chamber are important to look at. Face the reality of it all.

Like his first last words, when you take him outta that pod and talk to him, they really show he did see himself as good "Why have you… done this?… centuries of preparation… so much good, undone…" he already knows its over now. He looks back on everything he has done and sees nothing but good. I can't say I know what he's thinkin' of in these words, but I'm guessing at least two of 'em are stopping the bombs from devastating the Mojave like they did so many other places and his saving of Vegas from immediate annexation by the NCR. Those actions were 'good', crucial to the entire game. We get, of course, 5 answers to his question of 'Why?'. Let's go down the tree in order.

'It's just business.' "If personal gain... what you sought... should've done... as asked..." House interprets this response as 'I'm acting in my own self-interest', which I find interestin'. I always read the expression 'It's just business' meant 'It's nothing personal' without a financial or gain-based reason. And if I use this line on House, that is true. He has to die for any non-House ending.

'I don't like you.' "Fool... to let... personalities... derail future... of mankind? ...Stupid!" Again, House really does think his actions are for all of 'mankind' however he defines it, but what I find most interestin' is that he thinks there's no reason one would dislike him beyond his personality. Like, I don't like House, but it's his actions that caused that. Concreting up a thriving society and leaving thousands destitute to start/continue his casino operations. Letting people like the Slither Kin/Omertas be major players because... he was nostalgic for the Mafia. His dreams for the future of mankind and mine are... quite incompatible.

Now we're on the faction-aligned ones 'The NCR asked me to get rid of you.' "Those snakes? ...for them? ...you sad, misguided... whore." well, House... I think you and Jules from North Vegas Square might get along with language like that for the NCR. I do agree that the NCR are 'snakes' in the way he's using the word. They freely and openly admit they'd love to take over the Mojave and syphon everything to New California. Sadly most of this is insult, so not much to say.

'By Caesar's command, you will die.' "Slavery... the future of... mankind? What... have you... done?" A very reasonable reaction of utter horror from House. Not much to say on it. He's got his flaws, but the idea of them winning the war is as disgusting to him as most people.

'Yes Man needs you out of the way.' "Your… vanity project… doomed to fail…" he's absolutely wrong about it being doomed to fail, of course. It's very funny of him to think it's a 'vanity project' considerin' he's so vain he thinks only he is capable of ruling humanity as a self-described 'autocrat'. But so's the fact that he thinks it has to be about ego.

And, of course, 'Time for you to die, Mr. House.' "May there be... a hell... for you... a Tartarus... bleak, unending..." Robert does have a way with words. You've always gotta give him credit for that. If I was dying and I wanted to get a dying curse in at the shit'ead before I go, I'd never be able t' come up with such a line.

I won't bother going over the 'leave you alive, but trapped unable to do things until you die of germs' dialogue, but I don't think ya should do that, obviously. Killing him is enough, he's already seen his dream of his version of Utopia destroyed. I dislike House, there's times I think about him and conclude I hate him, but nobody deserves such a fate.

Even if there is an irony to the man who's concreting of an entire civilisation lead to Doc Mitchell's wife dying from Wasteland Germs, Mitchell wouldn't want that and while we don't know anything about his wife, I doubt she would either.

I've never been too satisfied with the dialogue for the death of House, my actual reasons for killing him are unable to be expressed, but it's hardly like he'd listen if I 'ad the words anyway, I suppose. I never really feel 'good' about ending Robert Edwin House. In his roughly 261 years of life he did many things, a lot of the ones we know of I consider bad, but his intentions always were for 'mankind'... problem was, it was a general, loose idea of 'mankind'.

And isn't that what all the best Fallout villains act for? They act 'in the name of progress and healing' as Richard Grey once said in Los Angeles around 120 years before House, but even 120 years later the crimes he committed in the name of those ideas haunt the world. Not sayin' House ever did anything as bad as Grey's worst, House only destroyed a single Vault, for instance, and he never experimented on anybody, but if there ever was a game set post-New Vegas, House would haunt the world the same way (there shouldn't be such a game, of course, as makin' anythin' canon to the post-New Vegas Fallout world of the West Coast would be a crime against New Vegas).

[encantadiafan12]

Severus Snape x Reborn! Priestess! Ravenclaw! Reader (feat. Inuyasha and Kagome)

Reuniting with old friends⚔️ 🏹

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Mentions of attempted kidnapping, and Angst.

A/n: Y/n’s 21 years old mentally and psychologically but physically 11 years old.

2 weeks after that nightmare....

Y/n was called to the Headmaster’s office but that's oddly weird but it must be something related to her being in this world. However, while walking down the hallway she notices the Potions Master making the same direction as she was. The reborn Priestess then walk a bit faster so she could catch with Severus. “Were you also called by the Headmaster, Professor Snape?” she then asks carefully not to startle him. The Head of Slytherin then looks at her and just scoff but Y/n could feel he was also going to the Headmaster’s office.

When they reach there, Severus then mutters the password as both him and the Ravenclaw girl went up the stair case. The Potions Master then opens the door when he did. The sight made Severus’ raise an eyebrow while Y/n’s eyes widen in shock. No way it was one of her two closes friends she knew who were already married. It was Inuyasha and Kagome. The two were surprise to see her. “Inuyasha? Kagome?” she then asks in disbelief.

The Potions Master then closes the door behind him as they both entered the room. The Half-Demon then made his way towards Y/n to sniff if it's really her. His eyes widen in shock as he looks at his friend as the reborn Priestess then smiles. “It’s really me....” she then says making Inuyasha wrap his arms around her. “We thought you were dead but it turns out you've ended up in another world....” he then says. Y/n’s eyes widen. “Inuyasha....” she then mutters. The Ravenclaw girl then looks at Kagome as the reincarnation of Kikyo just gives her a sad smile. Seeing the Half-Demon hug her it is surprisingly enough to make Severus’ blood boil.

When they both look away Inuyasha then looks at his friend before he then frowns. “What happened to you and why do you look like that?” He then asks as Y/n sighs. “I woke up here in this castle after I was killed by a demon.... The last thing I did was....” she cuts herself while she frowns. “Calling out your brother's name....” she says in a monotone. The married couple look at her were surprised on how she speak of the Demon Lord. She was full of excitement and joy around him, but why is it like she was hurt? “Y/n, are you okay? I never even heard you never mentioning Sessho-” she cuts herself when her friend frowns. “I’m a fool to even fell in love with him when I was back in my world. I don't think I can wait for him anymore and fate made a mistake to link me to him....” she then says.

It really hurts the reborn Priestess whenever she hears his name. Why was did she even believe that she was destined to be with the Demon Lord as a child? She was really a fool, she never expect him to hurt her by ignoring and tolerating her presence.

Y/n sighs. “Not only my thread of fate with him severed but I also rethink on why I ever fell in love with him in the first place. Sesshomaru does nothing but ignore and tolerate my presence for the past 3 years. I already lost my feelings towards him as he wouldn't even bother to look for me....” she then explains as her friends look at her in shock. Inuyasha blinks his in surprise. “What are you talking about? When my brother found your dead body-” he was cut off when she yell at him. “I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, INUYASHA!!!” She yells startling the Potions Master, the Dog Demon, and the reincarnated Priestess when she raise her voice.

The Head of Slytherin approach the now sobbing girl. “Please stop it! I don't want to hear any of your explanation....” She adds making Inuyasha frown. “Are you alright, Y/n?” Severus ask and Y/n gives him a slight nod. “Let's go...” She says making the Potions Master nods. “Of course...” He replies.

Kagome then stops her friend immediately. “Y/n, wait!!” she calls out before the two stop as the reborn Priestess then looks at her. She then took out something that made Y/n surprise. It was her bow and Sacred arrows. She never had them with her when she ended up being reborn to this world.

“You would never go out without this.....” The reincarnation of Kikyo then says as she then approaches her friend while she then hands her bow along with the arrows. The reborn Priestess then took it. She remembers that she forgot to bring when she went to find Sesshomaru months ago before coming to this world.

Y/n blinks a few times before she then sighs. “I remember I forgot to bring these with me that day.... I was really stupid....” she then says. The Half-Demon however was worried what cause his friend to react negatively. Inuyasha then gives Severus and Dumbledore a look that says. “Did something happen which cause her to act like this?” he decides not to ask out loud as it would make the Ravenclaw girl uncomfortable. The Potions Master just rolls his eyes at the Dog Demon.

Severus then turns to look at Y/n while he gives her, well,his usual unreadable expression but his eyes show softness. “Why don't you leave the office but wait for me, alright?” he says as the reborn Priestess nod before she then made her way towards the door and leave the room before she carefully close the door.

The Potions Master wandlessly put up the silencing charms so Y/n wouldn't hear Sesshomaru’s name and what they are discussing. Inuyasha then turns to look at Dumbledore. “Can both tell us what cause Y/n to act like this?” he then carefully asks making Kagome question next as she was confused as well. “And what did she meant that her thread of fate with Sesshomaru severed after she died before she ended up in this world?” she asks.

The Headmaster then gives him a sad smile. “To answer your question, Ms. Higurashi. It so happens when she was in your world her thread of fate was link to the Demon Lord himself. She originally was fated to be with him, however, when she died for the third time and it severed which caused her to ended up in this world not without linking her to another person.” he then explains making the married couple confused. “And who was it?” the Dog Demon then asks which makes the Potions Master scoff as the two look at him. “Don’t tell that person she was currently link to... was you?” Inuyasha then asks the Head of Slytherin.

However, Severus wasn't looking at him as that made the Dog Demon then grips his hands into fists. “Hey!! Are you even listening to me?!!” he then demands. “You’re really worse than Sesshomaru....” He then adds however that caught the Potions Master’s attention as he glares at him. “Do..... not.....compare me....to your dunderhead of a brother.....” He says in a low tone. They both glare at one another. Inuyasha then grits his teeth. “You basta-” he was cut off when he heard his wife say. “Sit!!” the Dog Demon then fell face flat on the floor. Kagome sighs. “Please excuse my husband....” she then says.

Severus lets out a sigh. “It’s fine, but please keep him in his place...” He says in a stern tone. The reincarnated Priestess then nods. “Is it true you were the person who is currently link to Y/n?” She repeats Inuyasha’s question but it was a very careful tone. This time the Potions Master then groans as he had no other choice but to reveal the truth. “Correct, Ms. Higurashi. I am unfortunately the one who's her thread of fate has been link to.” he then says in his usual monotone.

Kagome nods. “Then how about Sesshomaru? He was the one who has it before?” She asks as Severus then narrows his eyes at the mention of Y/n’s first love. “Speaking of him, which also bring us to your husband’s question. Well, like what the Headmaster said her thread of fate with her first love was severed after she died because fate made a mistake to choose him. Which sent her to this world. Which caused her to rethink why she even fell in love with him when she was back in her world. To the point she lost her feelings towards him and of course reacts negatively whenever she hears it. She has grown tired of waiting for him as he does nothing but ignore and tolerate her presence.” he then explains before turning to look at Inuyasha. “She also said that you were right. She was a fool to even have fallen in love with your brother....” he then adds.

The Half-Demon then stood up as he looks at him confused. “What do you mean?” he then asks making the Head of Slytherin then look to the side. “Your brother unintentionally hurt her when she was back in your world...” he then reveals as that made the married couple look at him shock. “What?” Inuyasha questions still in shock. “Sesshomaru unintentionally hurt her without him knowing that he was doing it?” Kagome asks not believing what she was hearing.

However, the Dog Demon then remembers the look on Sesshomaru’s face when he found Y/n’s dead body. He caught his brother kissing her lips and surprisingly; apologizing while he had his arms around her. But he decides not to say throw anything at the Demon Lord as it reminded him the second time Kikyo died.

Her death was a wake up call for Sesshomaru when he realized her feelings towards him and he felt the same way, but it was too late when he found out. The Great Dog Demon was aware that the Tensaiga would no longer give her another chance. He also killed the Demon who killed the reborn Priestess out of anger. What Inuyasha didn't know the Potions Master read his mind using Legilimency. However, when found out it made his blood boil, the Demon Lord was really a fool to realize his feelings towards the girl after she died.

They were snap out of their thoughts when the reincarnation of Kikyo then turns to look at the Headmaster. “Is there a possibility that the thread of fate can switch to someone from another world? We all know that she was from a world that the people we knew are fictional. I'm confused how this was even possible." She then says.

Dumbledore then gives a sad smile. “I have theory but fate brought her to this world just like how she was brought to your world. As she was aware of the future of this world.” he then says as the Potions Master then frowns. “However, the stammering fool tried to snatch her if she didn't scare him off with her Shikigami.” he then says in annoyance. “Unfortunately, the Dark Lord found out that she died three times but survive three times. He was after her but his original intention was to get the Philosopher’s stone.” The Headmaster then finishes.

Severus then crosses his arm. “Now, Quirrell is after her as the Dark Lord wants to use her body to return and have a body for himself.” he reveals as the married couple look at them in shock. “He will not stop until he gets her, but I'm not going to let that fool....do that...” he adds. The Potions Master hate to admit he cares for the girl even though she was actually an adult.

“Then what should I do?” He asks “Just keep an eye on her, but keep your distance. We don't want for the Dark Lord to know that you actually cared and protecting that girl...” Dumbledore says in a serious tone. “*nod* Well, I will keep that in mind...” Severus says.

The Half-Demon then remembers something. He took out a katana and hands it to the Potions Master making the other man raise an eyebrow at him. “Besides, using the Sacred Arrows, she uses this as well when she was in our world, I'm the one who gave it to her....” Inuyasha explains.

“And of course taught and trained her so she would learn how to defend herself.” he adds.

Kagome then nods. “However, we know that Y/n was not really a child but she was an adult in the body of one. When will return back to her original age before she was deage while she was in our world?” she asks.

That made Severus and the Dog Demon then look at the Headmaster before he then gives a smile. “She will but the years she was here will add up to her aging.” he then reveals.

Inuyasha then sighs. “Oh boy, our friend is going to face someone who's more worse than Naraku.” he then says while the reincarnated Priestess then sighs well before nodding in agreement. The Potions Master then took the katana from the Dog Demon so he could give it to the girl but it seems a bit wrong to call her that. Deep down she was an adult.

He then made his way towards the door to open it to see Y/n being patient while waiting for them to finish their conversation. She was holding her bow and had her arrows on a bag over her shoulder. “Y/n....” Severus mutters in a hush voice making the reborn Priestess look at he gives a look that she can head back inside the room. The Ravenclaw girl then does so when she entered the Potions Master then closes the door behind her.

Y/n then turns to look her friends as she was curious how they got here. “By the way, how did you both get here?” she asks as that their eyes widen in shock. Kagome then scratches the back of her neck. “Long story...... But we got here with Inuyasha using the Meido Zangestshu but as a gateway to this world.” she then explains as the Ravenclaw girl then looks down. "I see, but don't tell any of our friends back at home, Rin, and of course him.....” she then saw as she narrows her eyes as she thoughts of Sesshomaru.

The two were surprised but they no other choice but to do it for their friend's sake as she want to know she's alive but in another world especially if it meant lying to the Demon Lord. The married couple really think this is a new beginning for Y/n.

[dorimena]

☆(ゝω·)𝚟 🥁

𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 (๑꒦ິ ̼ ꒦ິ๑)

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍,

𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎

-🧸 ٩( ᐛ )و

Ohmygodifyouwould’veheardmyfuckingscreamofjoy-

Hi hello oh my god welcome back!!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

I missed you so much and I am now asdfghjk I had a troubling week, a group for a course decided not to cooperate until like… a few hours ago before the deadline so-

Onwards with your confession huhuhu~ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I think this came out rather silly, and Shoto might've come out a bit ooc. Most importantly, I hope I didn't end up offending someone. And if I did, I am so sorry! Please tell me!

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; slight sexist themes, implied multiple orgasms, overstimulation, drool, dumbification, slight unintentional possessive theme, kinda crazy ex-girlfriends, implied pegging but I tried my best to keep this gender-neutral, not proofread

Shoto’s a gentleman, or as much of a gentleman he’s learned to be growing up. One thing that’s always stuck to him, whether from how the media would show it, how the TV shows he managed to watch showed it, or how his classmates would talk about it, is that girls lean to be quite submissive.

At first he had denied this, not accepting it as a fact until he experienced it himself. And lo and behold, every single girlfriend before you easily submitted and spread their legs for him- okay that sounds really bad. But if he wanted to be blown, they would drop to their knees in a heartbeat.

And it’s unclear to this day whether it’s because of who he is or out of genuine love for him, but one thing that’s always usual with every breakup is how they would leave trying to victimize themselves, trying to make themselves feel better by bashing the new girlfriend after them, even if they’re the ones to end the relationship because of how Shoto fucks them.

Yeah… it confused you.

So when you came along, you kind of met the same fate as every other ex-girlfriend: get found by the ex, harassed on DMs and then bashed by the way you look with how they manage to find you publicly.

But instead of you breaking up with Shoto or trying to force him to prove to you, through sex, how much he loves you, you simply figured a way out to have them stop bothering you, and watching one of the ex-girlfriends be escorted by the police out of the restaurant seemed to be the red flag for the others to basically stop.

Shows how pathetic they kind of are, thinking that pulling you down would help raise their ego up just because they can’t accept Shoto didn’t like them anymore.

But then we have a new problem: Shoto thinking you’d still submit to him and wondering if the reason why he can’t keep a relationship is because of his ‘lack of experience’.

When you guys were going to finally get intimate beyond the occasional oral sex or sensual touching, you guys had a conversation about how it would go, considering it took a while for you to tell Shoto you’re dominant in bed and for him to voice out how amazing you were in putting his ex girlfriends ‘in their place’ so easily. No, not in a sexist way, more in a ‘karma got back at you, bitch’ sort of way.

Shoto might’ve laughed a bit when you asked him if he’d like to be pegged, dismissing the idea at first until he decided that maybe he’ll see if you’re truly dominant like you said.

And boy was he in for a ride.

He’s always done the prepping, the consoling, the praising, the fucking, the thrusting, the groaning.

But to finally be the one prepped, consoled, praised, fucked, thrusted into and hear someone else groaning into his ear had him cum not even a few minutes since you began.

It had him feel like a complete virgin again, and he was dying of embarrassment, face red as he stared wide-eyed at you, mouth opened in surprise while his orgasm rode out.

You giggled and told him this isn’t over until you say it is, reminding him about the safe word and safe cues before slowly picking up speed with your thrusts.

With each and every single one of them, he squeaks out a little, body still on overdrive as he’s trying to process this feeling, the tingly sensation starting from his ass that spreads all around his body down to his toes, making his thighs shake on either side of your body.

Your moaning is enough encouragement to let himself let out all of his cute noises, from small, squeaky whines to airy, high-pitched moans of your name, repeating itself like a broken record.

You guys do it missionary at first before you flip him onto his hands and knees. Doggy style somehow managed to turn Shoto more into a cockwhore than what you expected, as it allowed him to pick up leverage to fuck back and meet your hips.

If the skin slapping from before was loud enough to echo around the room as the bass to your fucking, than the way it sounds now must’ve alarmed the neighbours about what you guys are doing on a random Wednesday night.

His teeth are biting and tugging at the bedsheets, a puddle of drool reaching his squished cheek as he tries warning you how he’s about to cum, his hips suddenly controlling the tempo. You somehow angle your hips a certain way so you aren’t teasing his prostate into overstimulation, driving him to his orgasm as he mewls anything coherent that his mind can come up with.

And even if you guys aren’t done yet, not with how he’s dumbly chasing for more friction while grinding onto the bedsheets, he finally, somehow, came to realize that he was never incompetent or a lazy lover.

He just… isn’t a dom like he thought he was.

He loves fucking the person he loves, but now, he very much loves being fucked by the person he loves.

Good job, you did it. You’ve ruined anyone else’s shot at fucking Shoto Todoroki. But you’d be a fool to break up with him, because this baby boy won’t let you go.

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[prose-for-hire]

Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger. 

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

To Die For (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! It is with great joy and a little bit of sadness that I present you all with the final part of “Love Goes”. This part in particular is inspired by Sam Smith’s “To Die For”. Pieces from Endgame are used but very little. 

Summary: The aftermath of Endgame, how will Wanda navigate and what will happen to Y/n. 

“I long for you, just a touch of your hand. You don't leave my mind. Lonely days I'm feeling like a fool for dreaming… Sunshine living on a perfect day while my world's crashing down.”

Hope. That was all Wanda had left. She knew that she couldn’t let it waver for even a moment. Allowing the hope within her to waver would be the same as accepting defeat. Accepting that you weren’t coming back. That was something she would never allow herself to believe. 

Like you told her, you and her were a happy ending. It’s the only ending she could ever envision for herself. The only life she wanted. The only life she’d accept. You and her. Together. Happily.

It had only been a week since the fateful battle and you had been transferred to a S.W.O.R.D. facility since. What worried Wanda most was that you still hadn’t woken up and hadn’t shown much progression since arriving. 

She could still feel you though. 

Wanda would allow herself glimpses into your mind and could see the vibrancy that still existed within. Your heart was still beating, and your mind was still your own. Even if you weren’t awake, you were still you.

The thought brought comfort to Wanda despite the circumstances. It kept hope alive in her heart.

It was only a matter of time until you were awake and in her arms again. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. 

The situation could have been worse though and she knew that. Shortly after you were transferred to the facility she learned the full details of how exactly Thanos was defeated. How Tony and Natasha had given their lives in exchange for the outcome. As much as the news saddened her, she couldn’t help but feel a selfish sense of relief that you hadn’t been dealt the same fate. 

Her life – her heart - felt as though it was hanging in the balance. You were all she had. All she wanted. If she lost you she knew there would be no recovery for her. She’d drown. Sink to the bottom with no chance of resurfacing if you weren’t there to pull her back up. 

The warmth of your hand in her own anchored her. It always did, but not as much as being in your arms, or hearing your voice. “I’m drowning.” She whispered against your hand. “I’m drowning, Y/n. I need to hear your voice, see you open your eyes, and have you hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I’m drowning, and you can’t save me until you wake up.” Her lips trembled slightly against your hand as a single tear fell down her cheek.

The days and nights had blurred together for her. Both of which were spent unwaveringly at your side. The only disruptions often came in the form of varying people in the facility checking your vitals or injecting new medications into your IV that they informed her should wake you up soon. 

Besides the worry and fear she constantly felt, there was a sense of bitterness that the only one who had come to see you or her during your time in the facility was Fury. That was only when you were still at S.H.I.E.L.D’s location. It was upsetting to her that Steve had yet to visit you considering the history you two shared and how close you two had always been. Considering how you had been willing to risk your life for him on multiple occasions. 

Today was Tony’s funeral and she was reluctantly leaving your side to pay her respects for a short while. Also, to give Rogers a piece of her mind.

When the funeral concluded she wandered over to the lake to collect her thoughts and emotions. Taking in the beautiful day around her, a stark contrast to how she felt internally. The perfect day felt wrong when it still felt like her world was crashing down within her. 

As she was staring out the lake, preparing herself for what she wanted to tell Steve, Clint walked up to her. “Hey, kid.” 

Wanda kept a neutral face and merely nodded at him. “Hello.”

There was hesitation in the way Clint stopped at her side. “You have every right to not want to talk to me right now.” He began seriously, his head ducked shamefully. “I wanted to go visit Y/n… Check on you. I did. I just-… It’s been hard accepting that Nat’s gone, you know? It’s not an excuse for not being there. It’s just where my head was. I’m sorry, Wanda.” 

As much as Wanda wanted to ignore him, she knew she couldn’t. “I understand.” She replied softly, her gaze still on the lake before her. 

“I wish there was a way that I could let her know that we won. That we did it.” Clint admitted quietly to her.

Wanda shifted her gaze to him. “She knows.” There was a small pause. “They both do.” Despite not being awake, she liked to believe that you knew.

Clint wrapped a comforting arm around her and she leaned into the embrace. 

“Wanda.” A somber voice caught her attention as she turned to find Steve standing there with his hands folded behind his back. “A word?”

Clearly not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, Clint stepped back. “I think that’s my cue to go.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. “I’ll do better, okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be by to visit Y/n soon.” Wanda nodded slightly at his words as he walked away. 

When Clint was out of the vicinity, Steve stepped into his place. Wanda’s jaw clenched. She was more upset at him than anyone. She knew if roles were reversed you would have been uncompromisingly by his side.

“What do you want?” She asked, her tone cold.

Steve’s face remained neutral despite her tone. “How is she?”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips at his question. “How is she?” she shook her head in disbelief. “You have a lot of nerve asking that when you’ve had a whole week to go see for yourself.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Look, Wanda, I understand you’re upset with me but I-“

Wanda rounded on him, her eyes livid. “Upset? I am far passed upset, Rogers. I’m furious. Y/n needed you and you abandon her. She would have done anything for you! She idolized you!”

Each of Wanda’s words impacted Steve, she could see that, but she didn’t stop. He took it. “She thought you were her family and you couldn’t even be bothered to go see for yourself if she’s okay! You don’t even care-“

“Enough! That’s not true!” Steve roared. The accusation that he didn’t care seemingly being the final straw. Wanda recoiled in surprise. “I feel guilty, okay? I feel like the only reason that she’s in there in the first place is because of me. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t deserve to.” His volume didn’t lower as the emotions he was holding in finally boiled over. 

“You know she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Wanda eventually replied, her tone still clipped.

Steve rubbed a hand down his face. “I know, but I do. I blame myself. She was trying to protect me, and she only felt like she had to protect me because I couldn’t stop him the first time. She got hurt because I couldn’t get to her fast enough. She’s my family too.” 

As much as she wanted to be angry with him, she found it much more difficult when she learned of the guilt that seemed to be weighing heavily on him. “You know Y/n would have done that either way.” She confessed quietly. “She would have tried to stop him regardless of who she was defending. That’s who she is.”

A weak nod was his only response. Wanda wasn’t sure if he believed her. “How has she been?” Steve repeated, hoping for a genuine answer this time.

“She still hasn’t woken up.” Wanda began unsteadily. “They keep injecting her with new serums everyday saying that each one will wake her up, but it never does.”

Steve closed his eyes at the information, his expression distressed for just a moment until he schooled his features and put on a brave face for Wanda. “She’s going to wake up. I know she will.” 

Hearing the words she had been telling herself from someone else brought Wanda a small sense of comfort. “I know she will too.” She turned to him. “I’m going to get back to her now, she needs me. Go see her.” 

“I will.” He nodded firmly, his words definitive. “I have to return the stones in an hour and try and see if I can undo something. As soon as I do that I’ll be immovably by her side. I’ll stay with you until she wakes up. You have my word. She has my word.” There was purpose in his voice. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly at him and nodded without a word. She knew he meant what he said. She walked off to her car to begin the drive back to S.W.O.R.D’s medical branch of the facility. ___________________ Her heart dropped when she entered your room, only to be met with an empty bed. On numb legs, she ran out and stopped the first worker she saw. “Y/n Y/ln. Where is she? She was here just an hour ago.” 

The employee looked around nervously. “She’s been moved. I believe it would be in your best interest to speak to the director.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The director? Why?”

“His office is located on the second floor, third door on the left.” The employee informed her meekly before scurrying away. 

Practically running, Wanda reached the office in minutes, throwing the door open. “Ms. Maximoff.” The man who she presumed to be the director greeted her, an unnerving smile on his face.

“Where is she?” Wanda demanded, not caring about anything other than being reunited with you. “Is-is she okay?” Anxiety began to build within her and press against her chest making it harder for her to breath. Her nails dug into her palms.

The man gestured for her to sit in an empty chair, she ignored the request. “My name is Tyler Hayward. I am the director of S.W.O.R.D.”

Wanda merely stared blankly back at him, her jaw clenched tightly. “Where. Is. Y/n?” She enunciated sharply, her patience fading. 

The unnerving smile never faltered on Hayward’s face. “That is the unfortunate part, Ms. Maximoff. You see, while you were gone Ms. Y/ln suffered from some brain hemorrhaging. We were able to stop it, but it seems her brain has suffered an extensive amount of damage. We ran some tests and it appears she has lost all cognitive function. She is just a shell now. She only has another day or two at best. I’m sorry.”

Wanda’s world stopped at his words. She immediately shook her head. “That’s not true.” She said shakily as tears began streaming down her cheeks, the weight on her chest getting heavier, forcing her under. She couldn’t breathe. “That’s not true. Let me see her.” 

Hayward gestured forward to the large window in his office. “They’re running some tests on her now, but so far the data has remained conclusive. There is no longer brain function.” Numbly Wanda walked up to the large window and glanced down, feeling the life drain from her at the sight of you. Pale and on what looked like an experimentation table, surrounded by several S.W.O.R.D. scientists.  “I’m afraid it’s time to start talking about letting her go.”

Wanda spun around to face him angrily. “Let her go?” she cried, her voice cracking. “She’s all I have.”

Hayward held his hands up slightly. “It’s only a matter of days before she’s unable to breathe on her own and her heart stops being.”

Empty. That’s what she felt at his words. She wanted to scream. Her powers reacted to the emotion she was feeling before her mind did as the glass she was leaning on shattered. Without hesitation she floated down to where you were. Her heart hammering in her chest the closer she got. 

The world around her went dark and the only sight she was able to take in was the way your chest weakly rose and fell with each breath. With shaking hands, she raised them to your temple as feeble wisps of red floated from her fingertips and disappeared into your mind. 

All she saw was darkness. 

“I can’t feel you.” She whispered brokenly, the pain in her chest overcoming her. The sensation composing her entire being as everything within her collapsed. She was alone, and she knew she wouldn’t recover. Then everything went dark around her. ________________________________

“Darling, have you seen my notebook? I’m running late for my meeting with my editor and I can’t seem to find it anywhere.” You questioned hastily as you rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in the entry way. Looking around the area with a frazzled expression on your face.

Wanda looked over from her place by the stove and waved her hand, the notebook floating from under your arm to directly in front of your face. “You mean this one, dear?” She asked with an amused smile. 

Sheepishly you plucked the notebook out of the air as you made your way over to her. “What would I do without you?” You leaned forward so your lips rested gently against her own.

“Mmm,” Wanda mumbled with a smile as she spoke against your lips. Her arms resting comfortably over your shoulders. “I believe your mind would fail you, sweetheart.”

Your hands fell to her waist as you pulled her closer. “That’s for certain.” You replied easily with a loving smile. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

A small blush spread over her cheeks. “You have not but thank you. You look beautiful as well, darling. I’m beginning to get jealous that your editor gets to spend the day in your presence. Speaking of…” she trailed off and glanced pointedly at the clock.

“My meeting!” Your eyes widened as you pressed one last loving kiss to her lips. “I’ll be going now. I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon!” You shouted as you began running out. 

Wanda shook her head at you, the smile on her face never faltering. “I love you, too, dear!” She called after you, pretending to catch the kiss you blew to her as you rushed out the door. She sighed happily and leaned against the wall of the kitchen. 

The end.

 . . . . . .

“Glad you were able to make it, Rogers.” Fury said seriously as he shook Steve’s hand. “And Ms. Romanoff. Welcome back.” He shook her hand as well. 

Steve nodded easily in response. “Of course. You know that I’d be here in a heartbeat for Y/n. Wanda as well.” Both followed Fury into a large make-shift tent located in the woods. 

“What exactly are we dealing with?” Natasha asked, confusion lacing her words.

For a moment Fury seemed to ponder her question. “We’re not entirely sure.”

“Does Wanda even know that she saved Y/n? That she was never gone?” Steve questioned seriously, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen before him. 

Fury shook his head. “No. It seems Hayward convinced Wanda that Y/n was gone, no brain function. What Wanda didn’t know was he had gone rogue. Every serum they injected in Y/n kept her in her comatose state rather than attempt to wake her up like they were telling Wanda. I’ve looked at the files that my inside contacts gave me, and it seems Y/n should have been up in the first day or two to recover from minor brain swelling.”

“Why are they doing this though?” Natasha questioned as she looked over the chart. Steve’s jaw was clenched as he listened to each detail.

Taking the chart from Natasha, Fury turned the pages until he found what he was looking for and handed it back to Natasha. “Right there. It seems that Y/n carries a rare mutant gene that they could extract and essentially build an army with. They believed that if they removed Wanda from the picture they could continue the experiments and eventually wipe Y/n’s memory to use her as a weapon. Turn her into a super solider… but much worse because of her powers.” There was an edge to his tone. “They are very interested in her ability to manipulate earth and metal. They had considered Wanda briefly as well, but the perfect opportunity presented itself with Y/n. That’s why they insisted on her transfer to their facility.” 

“How do we get them back before Hayward gets to them?” Steve questioned quietly, a dangerous tone to his voice.

Instead of answering Fury gestured to the woman who had been sitting and listening to the conversation. “Wanda isn’t letting anyone with ties to your past in. Fury already tried. She won’t let you or Natasha in.” They both stared at her. “I didn’t introduce myself. Sorry, my name is Darcy Lewis. Astrophysics. Big fan.” The bespectacled woman rambled. 

Natasha smirked, an amused glint in her eye. “Okay, Darcy Lewis, what’s our next step?”

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” Steve finished powerfully as they all watched you and Wanda share a sweet kiss before the credits began to roll on the screen before them.

Well, that’s all folks! 13 parts completed! It’s been a journey writing this and it is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. This story has become my baby and it always brings me so much joy to read your comments and seeing others enjoy it. I had a plan for this chapter since the moment I began writing this story but it was so hard when it came down to writing because of the most recent episode of Wandavision, so I tweaked it a little. Was it a sadder or happier ending? You may never know. Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed. 

As always, thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

p.s. I brought back Steve and Nat but I couldn’t figure out how to make Tony surviving make sense or fit the story, sorry. Still love Tony. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

i.

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

[fayesdiary]

Top 5 characters from Shadows of Valentia!

Sure! Since you haven't played Echoes I'm gonna be a bit more vague than usual!

Rudolf) I don't know what's going on anymore. I hate this man. I ironically love this man. He's one of the characters I think about most. He genuinely inspired a lot of my most interesting discussions about this game. He's a shitty character, a shittier ruler and the shittiest parent. I made an April Fools where I pretended to stan him. Dunking on him brings me joy.

5) Python. This man, I swear. Ever since I started working he's been the biggest mood. Why bother putting effort into something that barely matters to you for someone who only cares about how much you can make them earn, after all? He even criticized the monarchy straight to Clive's face! This man is as "lazy" as he is clever, and he's in the Deliverance just so he can support his boyfriend and see him achieve his dream of becoming a knight.

Also he supports aro rights in a series that can get very obsessed with romance, seriously this man is based

4) Sonya! This is a woman who knows she's hot shit and relishes it, she never stops being confident, has a personal beef with the main antagonist, and despite very much being a self-interested mercenary with her own agenda, it turns out said agenda is to help women who met her same fate as her sisters. It's a wonderful example of giving a character an engaging personality and just enough information to get you interested, while still keeping an air of mystery around it, which is why I'll always choose her over Deen.

3) Clive! Honestly, if Echoes wasn't a remake, I think he would have made a wonderful protagonist. I adore how the game makes painfully clear in both the main story and his DLC supports that while he does mean well and wants to improve the life of the common people, he knows next to nothing about the problems they actually face, and he's still unconciously valuing the nobles as superior to commoners and that's something he has to work on if he wants to make any meaningful change.

He's one of the best written characters of Fire Emblem, honestly.

2) Celica! I've talked so much about her, she's one of my favorite characters of the entire series, honestly, while I wish she didn't get shafted near the end of the game she's still so good!

1) Faye! I mean come on, this blog is themed after her! She's definitely not the most popular or the best written by far, but at the same time there's so much about her that I dig. I love that her obsession with Alm has both a reasonable explanation and is treated as genuinely unhealthy for once (she's the one character in the entire series that has one of her stats drop if she's supporting Alm and is next to him, specifically her Avoid), I love how despite this she's still overjoyed to see Celica, and I have a soft spot for socially awkward characters because honestly, same.