#I'll never bow to hatred

[mimisempai]

Your mother and your loved ones would die if you don't delete that Mobius holding mjolnir shit. I am going to personally kill you. Mobius is a nobody

Hello dear anon, I thank you for your friendly advice and will delete this horrible post as soon as possible.

__________

As if I'd do that. First of all, so that everyone can see what you're talking about, here's the famous edit that you find horrendous.

I'm usually polite in my replies but I'm between my sixth and seventh night shift so forgive me if I'm a bit rude sometimes. I'll do my best.

Let's skip the death threats on my mother, my loved ones, on me. We all know it's a load of hot air. It's like Mc Cain's fries: it's those who talk the most who eat the least.

Let's get to the heart of the matter:

MOBIUS IS A NOBODY

Warning: any Mobius hater who feels obliged to react to this post will be blocked. "Blocked" yes, because dear anon, that's what you should have done. All you'd have had to do was block the tags, "MObius" "Mobius m mobius" etc… and we'd both be having a peaceful breakfast (on my part) enjoying more of what we love. Unfortunately for you, your message arrived before my first coffee.

Mobius is a nobody. Let me tell you, I'd like to meet this kind of nobody more often. Someone who sees beyond what the world sees in you. Someone who really questions your motives. Someone who sees what you're capable of and gives you the chance to do it. Someone with compassion.

But also someone who's not perfect, who's not afraid to question his own mistakes.

Because for me, that's what season 1 of Loki is all about. Mobius, who gives Loki his trust and, in so doing, enables him to find his true purpose. Loki returning that trust to Mobius and confronting him with the truth, allowing him to find his true purpose as well. They're not perfect. They're not flawless. And I'm fine with that. So I can recognize myself in them. They're both worthy of Mjolnir for that. I could add that you aren't, but that would contradict everything I've just said. So I address to you the words of Mobius, "You could be whoever you want to be, even someone good." Someone good doesn't pour out its hatred in anonymous messages. Someone good focuses on what he loves, what makes him happy, not on what fills him with hate. I'm sure you've got it in you. Look for it (and block me if it helps). In any case, thank you for once again allowing me to express my love for Mobius and Loki and their dynamic. I wish you a nice day (don't let MObius and Mjolnir spoil it) as for me, I'm going to write the fluffy fanfic I left hanging to answer you (I really need it).

PS: those who suggest I disable the Anon function, I won't do it because basically it's for shy people or those who don't dare and I want to give them the space to still express themselves here. I can bear the two or three who misuse it.

At last, much love to you all! Enjoy your Sunday!

[trulyumai]

touching upon ash

—pairing: Pre fallen! Messmer / Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Messmer was never good at dealing with jealousy. So how will he deal with such a situation at hand, led by his brother no less?

—Warnings: Show of anger, jealousy, protectiveness.

A/N: guess who's back, back again

Messmer was furious. 

Anger bit at the seams of his being, fueling the fire that sprawled across his fingers until it met with his forearm and made home on his skin.  

Seeing his wife there, gracing and upsetting the presence with that… filth.

Today, he caved into his little wife; brought her to the outskirts of town and to the city of the west. To the enclave of shops and people that littered the flower lands. She had begged him for weeks on end, saying how she missed the pretty mounds of plants, that she was out of plenty necessities for the excuse of an outing. 

Now he regrets permitting such an occasion. To see her mingle so freely with that man. He could set fire to the lands now, spit at the burning corpses below his feet and save her the trouble of talking to anyone again.

He had no idea Godwyn the Golden would visit such a place, so far from the capital. Today of all days.

A basket, wickered and hand made was placed at the hip of her dress. She laughed jovially at something the blonde had pointed at, to which she then nodded her head, enthusiastically responding in her own unaware manner. 

Not seeing the twitch of the flames fingers, nor of is now close proximity. 

She had to feel the touch of his warm digits, caressing the backside of her covered form to know of the man's presence. 

“Husband!” His wife greeted, already getting onto her tippy toes to place a little kiss to the mans cheek. Unconsciously Messmer bent down, ever used to her smaller form as a look of hate spewed from his features, towards the so-called, “Lord.” 

“Ah, brother,” Godwyn smiled, citizens around the group had taken notice of the lord's frame, stopping to stare at such a gift of grace, from Queen Marika herself.

“Enjoying the festivities I see.” 

Messmer shifted uncomfortably. To see the golden order placed upon his armor with such casualty. It made a hatred boil up, if only he could grab the man by his neck, lift him up pathetically until his skin burned and b-

“We were just sightseeing, my lord. The flowers are beautiful this time of year.” Godwyn’s eyes twinkled with a sense of understanding, the skin crinkled around his mouth as a warm smile broadened. 

“Of course, such an appropriate response for someone as… kindhearted as thou.”

Messmers hands cracked with pressure, his knuckles a deep red as the blood flow squeezed with a strength only the flame could emit. 

Godwyn ignored such tells, instead, he reached out into the pouch upon his side, taking out a white lily. It was gorgeous, from its delicate pale petals to the leaves that cascaded down the stock. He reached forward and did something Messmer would never be able to shake off. 

His hand brushed against her hair delicately, lightly slotting it between her ear and the cascading waves of brushed mane that fell upon his wife's back. It hung there loosely as her fingertips came up to greet the new addition of elegance. 

“Thank you, my lord that- was awfully kind of you.”

“Nonsense!” The man responded, cooly placing his hand back at his side. “Someone as enticing as you should always be gifted with any form of beauty. Now,” With a perfect stance the man bowed his head, already raising his gloved hands in dismissal. “I'll hope for a visit soon from the two of you. Take care, mh?” Turning fully around, Godwyn's armor clashed against the colors around. So golden, so pristine. Everything else lay so distasteful compared to such a maximalist sight. 

Finally craning her neck up, her head met with Messmers chest. Arms coiled around her body tightly, protectively trying to shield her from any more prying eyes. He tried to calm himself, he really did. 

But to see him touch her like that? 

Losing it, the knight snapped. Placing a hand upon the back of your neck, he quickly guided you both through the crowd, ignoring the startled cries erupting from his wife's lips. “Mess- what are you-” 

Moving at space that was deemed too slow for his liking, big hands came to nest there way under her thighs until they lifted her completely. Now she lay in his arms, bridal style as the red haired man moved carelessly. Pushing and shoving anyone out of his way, to return to their rightful spot. 

Their home. Where they would have been in the first place.

The basket wobbled in the girl's lap and with the added force, fruits had come loose, spilling from the wickered hold and dropping onto the ground. She tried to get the man's attention, pushed at his broad shoulders in defiance but he paid it no mind. 

He kept the fast pace, too clouded with rage to pay his adoring wife any mind. 

They arrived home much quicker than she thought was possible. Messmer had plopped her down just in front of the house, by the gardens she had tended to just that morning. 

Her hair now messy and undone (paired with the upset expression), held upon her delicate features. It made the man buckle with uneasy guilt. 

That was until he saw the lily flopped against the side of her cheek. Like it belonged there.

There was that burning rage again.

Veiny hands quickly snatched at the plant, making his wife flinch back in shock. The lily, now sagging against his palms, was covered almost instantly by his hands. 

She reached out, demanded the man return such a gift before a sizzling sounded out. Then, a smoke black and gray fell between the man's fingers as his flame swallowed the flower whole. 

She did nothing but watch as he cradled his palm, watched as the ash seeped between his fingers and stained his hands. 

Finally feeling free of such hostile emotions, the man could breathe once more. Looking away from his soot covered hand, his wife's lip jutted up in rebuttal. Already he could se a sadness gnawing at her orbs. He felt guilty, not for destroying such a gift, but for allowing such a negative emotion to take hold of his wife. 

He was never good at comforting her. With desperate eyes he moved away from her, quickly seizing a plant from its flowerbed and holding it out to her shakily. 

Licking his lips he waited- felt the brush of her fingers as they took the little plant from his grasp. 

An altus bloom stood firmly in her grasp. Its bright color lit up with a lovely hue and Messmer hoped such an action would replace the lilys existence. 

“I…” Not knowing what to say, he just stood there. Form now sagging with a tiredness. The end of his rage and adrenaline left him tired and weak. Weak from staring at the pretty, upset form in front of him. Those pouting lips and pinkened cheeks. 

Gods. How did he get so lucky? 

She cradled the flower to her chest, dirt had smudged on the cotton and Messmer went to brush it away with light and small drags of his nail. 

“It's okay.” She spoke. Voice so small the knight wanted to set himself ablaze. 

“Is it?” The man was insecure in his own actions; too afraid his show of dominance had pushed her way. 

“It is.” Relief flooded through his system as a smile was given to the man in reassurance. He couldn't help but let himself fall down to her height and drag his nose across her neck. Her sweet scent helped calm him down, it was always an efficient way to stop any troubling thoughts to merge its way across his mind. 

That's all that needed to be said, it seemed. For the girl had tugged on his forearm, leading him into their shack to start a well needed home meal. 

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me out for mixing Emperor Tim and Spider Tim. Spider Tim does not want any of the Bats to know about his spider form, but Young Justice knows all about it. It started because Greta asked him about the magic she could sense in him and Tim telling them that he had some "thread based magic" and took a few strands of his silk to wrap around Cassie. She had to genuinely try to break out of just 5 loops of this hair thin thread. They ask him why he doesn't use this all the time and Tim simply shrugs, "I can't make a lot of it. The older I get, the more I'll be able to make bur for now? I'm stuck with only a few dozen yards a day." This isn't quite true. He can currently make about 50 yards but it will grow with time.

Months later, they run into a magician who casts an anti magic barrier around them, canceling out Tim's Glamor and he immediately transforms into his spider form. He looks back at himself and then yells, "you rat fucking bastard! Do you have any idea how rude it is to out people as non human who aren't ready to come out yet?! I'm gunna fucking *eat* you!" To which, he does. They do a Q&A as Tim devours his meal in the saftey of Bart's space ship. Tim tells them about how dangerous poachers are to him and why, how his mom is the best ever and what normal spider demon parents do, why he's actually eating the guy, and when someone asks about his civilian ID, Tim says, "I still can't tell you but bow you've seen why. You know what I am. I just told you how much of a problem poachers are. If word gets out that I'm a Spider Demon and one of you guys slip up with my civilian name, it's not just me at stake. It's my mom and her siblings and my cousins and my siblings who I've never met. Our families don't meet up because of how dangerous the poachers are,how they could and would decimate our entire population at the drop of a hat. You think they don't use truth spells on us to try and pry who our family members are out of us? You think they won't use those same spells on you guys to force you to tell them who I am so that they can hunt down and exterminate my family? I can't risk that, even if I trust you guys with this form. But... I can tell you guys that you can call me Tim." Having such a good explanation for why he cant tell them beyond "Batman said I can't" should let up a ton of tension in the future and make when he does eventually tell them all the sweeter.

Tim decides that when he's visiting his planets, he doesn't have to worry about Earth Based Poachers so he uses his spider form. He has to admit that it feels *really* nice to stretch out his limbs for so long and also climb up and down walls. Plus! None of these people know to fear spiders! He doesn't have to worry about looks of disguste or hatred simply for what he is! His citizens still think he's adorable and sweet and small.

His spider form does *not* help with the problems with the GLC because the moment the humans see a picture of him, they are all reeling back. John will never admit that he has a phobia of spiders. Kyle freely says, "it looks like it's a spider demon. There was rumors of one running around back on Earth for a while. I never saw it but if it is, then it's extremely dangerous." And Hal pipes up, "I saw it once and that is definitely the spider demon that was running around. I didn't get to see it for very long, but I was hunting down a magician and saw it fighting that thing. It was horrifying, that thing chopped the guy up with its front, scythe like legs and after it killed the magician, it ate them! And then it vanished. But how did it get into space and become the leader of this empire?"

Hal did see Tim do that. What he didn't see is that fact that the magician was a poacher who was planning to also go after the other Bats thinking that they were definitely creatures too. Of course Tim wouldn't allow his family to be hunted like that by someone who would tell them his greatest secret. So he made sure they couldn't and had a nice snack in the process.

Tim deserves to snack on that magician. That was rude af of them to do that to him (although I doubt they cared and they can't care now that they are dead). Do magicians taste differently? Like static or something?

I'm also curious about how YJ treats Tim's OG form. I bet he oscillates between severely unbothered (it's who he is, why should he care?) to being self conscious (Bats and others have expressed their dislike of spiders and his form could cause him to be taken out by a poacher). He just flips between these two depending on various variables.

I'm also curious about Tim killing and the No Killing Rule. How will Bruce react to this?

I do like the addition you did for GLs. I wonder if they try to reach out to John Constantine about the spider demon taking over the universe. I love Tim and Constantine interactions, ngl

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer Pt 4

The story continues. I'm still enjoying this one, so we'll keep going!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 linked here. (If I get to 5+ parts I'll make a master post)

Enjoy!

___________________________

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Natalie! You’re here!”

Jack shouted with excitement when he saw me. Garrett and Rita trailed behind him, their expressions happy, if a bit mild and unenthused. I was still sitting on the ground, catching my breath after my first battle in this strange world. The corpses of the monster flowers had faded into the grass, leaving little evidence of my fight behind. I waved to them, feeling a strong sense of relief in seeing familiar faces.

The three of them had been my teammates in Fantasy Realm, even if they weren’t the kindest people I had ever known. While playing together they were often inpatient with me, unforgiving of mistakes, and constantly pushing me to spend more time and money improving my character when they knew I had very little of both. I had always given in, and disliked myself for doing so, hoping it would improve their opinion of me, knowing deep down it wouldn’t. I might call them friends… and I would be shocked if they called me the same.  But after waking up in this weird real world of the game, I was just happy to know anyone at all.

I was afraid to be alone.

The group reached me, and with a grin, Jack reached out and helped me to my feet. I brushed the dust off of myself and looked them over. They all looked like they had in our old world, the only difference was their clothing. Jack was dressed in leather armor, reinforced my metal along the chest and back. Garrett had a large sword strapped across his back, with scant coverings over the rest of his enormous frame. Rita had a simple cloth robe and a large wooden bow.

“We all chose our familiar classes.” Jack saw my studying look and informed me. “Seemed the safest thing to do given that we don’t know what happens if you die in here.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you guys are taking this seriously! This can’t be real. We're still in the game! It’s just some hoax, someone hacked the game. Eventually my dad will tear the VR company apart, sue them into oblivion and then we’ll be let out!”

I paused at that. “We weren’t playing the game when this happened though.”

“We just forgot.” She answered forcefully, her gaze annoyed as usual as she met my own.

Rita had always disliked me. Our parents knew each other, her father was a well-known lawyer who had pushed her to follow in his footsteps. As someone who had struggled with the weight of parents’ expectations, I sympathized. But she had quit law school after a week, turning to full time gaming instead. She didn’t do well enough to make any money, but fortunately her mother paid her bills.

Her father was disapproving to say the least. He apparently used me as an example to her of someone successfully “taking over the family business,” never mind that I hated the pressure, resented my parents’ strict expectations and escaped whenever possible. It didn’t matter. Rita despised me, and no attempts from myself or from Jack could smooth the rift between us.

Garrett looked me over from head to toe, confused. “You don’t have a weapon.”

I froze at his words. Garrett had a large sword, obviously a barbarian type class. Jack had a one-handed sword, a fighter or swordsman. Rita was an archer with her bow. But me…

There was only was class in the game that couldn’t use weapons.

“No…” Rita started laughing, so hard that tears were forming in her eyes. “No… you DIDN’T do something so STUPID….!”

Garrett was shaking his head, frowning disapprovingly. I ignored them, my entire attention was on Jack. We had been friends since freshman year of college. He had helped me find my first class, I tutored him in chemistry. We had supported each other through ups and downs, told each other about our fears and dreams…  

And he was looking at me with hatred in his eyes.

“You are a Healer.” His voice was quiet, but the lack of emotion in his tone made my hackles raise. I started to back away.

“Jack… I…”

His hand gripped my throat, and I was lifted off the ground. I gasped, unable to get air, and struggled against him, but with a strength stat of -10 I knew there wasn’t much hope. I wouldn’t be able to cast my healing spells either, without being able to speak the activation word.

I need to be able to cast without speaking. My brain focused on that, almost desperately avoiding dealing with the situation I was currently in: My friend was killing me.

**The Healer enters an early hypoxic state - 10 damage for each second that airway compression remains in place. **

**The Healer takes 10 damage. **

I had only seconds to live.

** The Healer takes 10 damage**

I grabbed his hand, focusing all my desperation into the need to cast my only spell: Small Incision.

** Through sheer force of will, The Healer has discovered Wordless Incantation**

**The Healer casts Small Incision. Jack the Hero takes 1 damage.**

As the messages floated across my vision, Jack yelped in pain, clutching his bleeding hand, dropping me to the ground. I laid still for a few moments, focusing on breathing, the pain of my neck and in my lungs a reminder of what had just occurred. I stared up at Jack, hoping to see remorse on his face.

There was nothing but rage.

“How DARE you pick a useless class like healer?” He snarled, holding pressure on his hand to stop the bleeding while staring down at me. “Our lives could depend on doing well in this game, and you seriously chose a class with minimal fighting potential, whose healing abilities are worse than any potion that can be purchased in a shop?”

He stepped closer, and I flinched back, my heart beating wildly. “You are so obsessed with your parents’ disapproval, that even in a life-or-death situation you had to pick being a doctor? Are you really so messed up?”

I opened my mouth to explain. I knew this class well, the strengths and weaknesses. I could use it to the team’s benefit. I had been a good teammate, one of the reasons we had placed so highly in the last tournament. I wanted to say all this and more.

But as I stared into the disappointment in his eyes, I felt myself slipping into old habits. Of staying quiet and nodding. Of keeping the peace and letting myself take the blame. I hated it, despised myself for it… but kept silent all the same.

“Should we just leave her behind?” Rita asked, giving no concern to me as I struggled to catch my breath after Jack’s strangling attempt. “She’s useless after all.”

“She used to provide good support.” Garrett spoke up. “We can keep her on the team until we find someone more useful…”

“I am not giving a spot on our team to a healer.” Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a moment, as if trying to calm himself down. Finally, he looked down at me coldly. “You can tag along with our team, without an official spot. You will do your best to be useful. Otherwise, we will leave you to die.”

Leave them! My heart screamed at me. Being alone is better than this! You didn’t commit some great sin by becoming a Healer! You just chose the best you could! Tell them!

Slowly, I nodded. “Fine.” My voice was still hoarse from the pressure he had placed on my throat. I adjusted my tone with the ease and familiarity of practice. “I’ll follow along.” I pushed the screaming voice in my head back, along with my pride. I knew I was worthless, a failure. I had been told that every day by the two people on the planet who were supposed to love me the most. Jack was only the latest person to say it out loud.

This was what I deserved.

The first month passed quickly. We went on multiple quests together, and settled into a comfortable rhythm. Jack would take the lead, with Garrett beside him to tank. Rita picked off far away opponents, and supported from the back. And I…

I did everything I could.

Outside of fights, I was cooking, keeping inventory, asking for quest information, and keeping the gear repaired and functional. Many nights I stayed up late, sharpening swords or repairing gear, only to have my hard work receive a nod and no other recognition.

In fights, I demanded even more of myself. Slipping in between enemies, causing damage. I delved down most of the “surgical” pathway of the healer ability, which allowed me to cause a diverse array of damage. I built up my MP until I could activate Wordless Incantation, as I found the group's irritation was a lot less if they couldn’t hear me. I immobilized enemies and allowed the others to finish them off. Because I had a hand in almost every single enemy’s death, I received a good amount of XP and fame from each fight, which angered Jack to no end.

“Stop stealing our experience!” He snapped after a fight, reading the notification that stated the rewards and experience given out.

“You asked me to immobilize them.” I answered quietly, feeling tired. “Do you want me to stop?”

“…” He glared at me silently for a few moments before answering. “Figure out a way to do it without taking my XP.”

“…sure.”

“I mean it, Healer.” From the moment he heard my class, he had never called me by my name. Our friendship, the time we had spent together… none of it meant anything next to the weight of the one undeniable fact:

I was a Healer. And therefore, in his eyes, I was a burden.

I kept my head down, trying to help out as much as possible. I learned not to ask for recognition. To not expect thanks. And I thought things would never change.

And then came the day we met Winter.

________________

PRESENT DAY

“Ouch!” Stephanie yelped as I carefully placed the needle through her skin, placing a simple suture across the wound on her calf. I didn’t hesitate with her cry of pain, tying the knot and moving on to the next stitch.

“The area has been numbed with magic, don’t pretend it hurts.”

“Yeah, I was just messing with you.” Stephanie laughed stuck her tongue out. “How did you know?”

“Because I know how it feels to sew my wounds shut without the local anesthesia spell.” I kept working without looking up. “You wouldn’t just be saying ‘ouch.’”  

“Uh…Well, thank you.”

I felt surprised at her words. After a year with the Hero’s party, I was so used to doing things without any gratitude or recognition. You’re not with them anymore. I let out a mental sigh of relief at the thought, and smiled at Stephanie. “You’re welcome.”

“YOU SMILED!” Stephanie tried to get up to hug me, but Alton reached over from where he was sewing cloth nearby and pushed her back down, shaking his head with a grin.

“Don’t interrupt her work.” Winter’s response was much colder, causing Stephanie to freeze in place.

“I’m on the last one anyways.” I squared off the last knot on the suture, cutting the tails and placing a clean bandage over my work. “Keep it dry for 48 hours, and then you can remove the outer covering and bathe.”

“Not to cheapen all the work you just put into repairing this cut for me…” Stephanie hesitated. “But wouldn’t a healing potion be easier?”

Alton shook his head, but before he could say anything Winter spoke up. “Stupid human.”

“HEY! I’m not stupid!” She glanced at me. “Right?”

“No, you’re not.” Raising an eyebrow at Winter, who settled down with a grunt, I continued. “Have you noticed that over time you’ve had to use more powerful healing potions?”

She thought that over. “Well, yeah, but… I’m higher level, and have more HP… Isn’t that normal?”

“Have you tried to use a basic potion recently?” I pulled one out, and tossed it to her. “Here.”

Stephanie caught it, clearly confused. “I’m only missing 5 HP… I don’t need something that heals 10…”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “If you insist…” She drank the potion quickly, and then flinched at the notification. “…It didn’t work? … Not even the cut healed.” 

Alton continued to sew, but spoke up. “The more you use healing potions, the less they work. Fortunately, this seems limited to healing potions… mana recovery and other types of potions such as detoxification seem to not develop the same resistance. It’s also a slow process, but it’s becoming a universal issue. If you check the world chat this is a heated topic of discussion. Most people believe the that it’s related to level… but that’s not the case.”

“How do you know that?”

“They still work on me.” I answered quietly. “That’s why I carry the basic ones around.”

“Foolish humans… these potions were meant for true lifesaving emergencies… a basic healing potion should be enough to recover up to 50% of your health… but you drink them like water until they are worthless to you.” Winter sighed, looking over at me with a small smile. “That is why the Healers are such a vital class. In a world of constant danger and battle, of destruction and pain, only they have the power to heal and preserve. They are a noble, selfless light that protects those around them… someone to be protected at all costs. There should be a Healer in every party… but instead Nat is the only one left.”

“You did save me before!” Stephanie did get up unobstructed and hugged me. “Thank you!”

“And me.” Winter added, staring at the ground. “She saved me as well.”

“Hey, I distinctly remember passing out in front of her and being saved too, guys!” Alton spoke up, tying up his thread and checking the repair on his cape before looking at me. “I guess we are all indebted to you.”

I stared at all of them, feeling disturbed in my heart. “You guys… I’m…”

I’m worthless. Weak. And my weakness was used to destroy countless lives.

“… Thank you.” I silenced the words in my heart, and spoke a simple thanks instead.

“…” Winter was staring. I always felt he could see more than I wanted him too, as if my hidden thoughts and feelings were on display in front of him. But instead of commenting, he simply bent down, plucking a blue flower from the ground, and handed it to me.

“That’s so cute!” Stephanie clapped her hands, before freezing. “Wait! Are you two…?”

Alton paused in packing up his things and stared in our direction.

I shook my head silently at her before turning back to Winter. “Thank you. The mountain wild flower’s petals have strong anti-inflammatory properties. I’ll dry it out and process it for medication at our next stop." I pressed the flower carefully in one of my books and packed it away.

Winter nodded at my words. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s for medicine?” Stephanie frowned, disappointed. “Well, that’s boring. Where’s my drama?!”

Alton smiled widely. “Oh, don’t worry, I got your drama! Look in the world chat!”

Pausing, all of us pulled up the chat, excluding Winter, who leaned on a tree nearby and watched the display over my shoulder. The top topic in the chat was skyrocketing with engagement… and seeing the title it wasn’t hard to understand why:

___________________________

“TROUBLE IN PARADISE? HERO’S PARTY SEEN ARGUING WITH NEW MEMBER REBECCA THE SORCERESS! IS THE USELESS HEALER MISSED?”

There was great discussion today among players as a loud disagreement broke out among the Hero’s Party after their last quest line. Although it is unknown the exact nature of it, it seems to be surrounding the recent addition to the party.  Rebecca the Sorceress is the newest member of the Hero’s Party after the departure of the much-despised Healer. Many had cheered her arrival, as well as supporting the apparent budding relationship between the Hero and his new magical lady.

___________________________

“And you guys ask why I think humans are stupid.” Winter muttered as he read along with me. I shushed him and continued on with the post.

___________________________

But is there a fracture in the once iron-strong team? Words such as “Useless,” “Hiding” and “Potion sponge” were heard shouted by Rita the Holy Archer, with the Hero defending and Garrett the Giant siding beside Rita. Rebecca appeared to be in tears. Is this bullying the newcomer? Is Rebecca actually dragging the team down? What does this mean for the plans to attack the forty second gate in a few days?

Discuss your thoughts below!

___________________________

I sighed and closed the chat, seeing that comments were mostly just going back and forth over the juicy gossip. “What a mess.”

“You don’t sound surprised.” Alton commented with a grin.

“No. I’m not. Rebecca… she’s…”

“Useless?” Stephanie interjected.

“Full of tears and excuses?” Was Alton’s contribution.

“A snake who poisons those foolish enough to trust it.” Winter quietly added.

I laughed. “… I was going to say she’s a lot of drama… but I like your answers better. They are used to a certain standard of having everything done for them, even if I backed off quite a bit towards the end, when things had gotten really bad. I don’t think Rebecca will see my role within the group as appealing, though.”

“Oh well, their loss is our gain!” Stephanie cheered, hugging me again. “Let’s go hunting! I want meat for dinner!” She pulled out her sword excitedly.

“Yes, Natalie should have some meat to help her recover from all the battles we’ve been through.” Winter nodded, checking his bow and following.

Alton stood up and looked over at me. “Meat for dinner doesn’t sound bad… what do you think, Ms. Healer? Do you want to go hunting?”

“I don’t want to ruin their fun…” I started to say, looking at the backs of the two already moving ahead.

Alton’s voice was serious. “No. I’m not asking about them. I’m asking what YOU want to do.”

I paused, and my gaze met his own. After a few moments, I smiled. “Meat sounds great for dinner.” And I meant it.

“Then let’s go hunting with them.”  Was his answer.

And hunting we went.

With only two days left before we would face the forty-second gate.

[nightlyrequiem]

The Canary Cage: Chapter 1. Inertia

Masterlist AO3 Next

w/c- 3,436

One meeting in a dingy bar on the cheap side of town. One sighting of you. The raw sadness in your eyes drew Valeria in. A parasite attracted to the taste of your tears. She'll chew you up and spit you out, but what she doesn't realise is you bite back.

A/N: Tags will be updated as chapters progress. Original plan was to outline each chapter but I think if I do that I'll never actually start writing the fic. So I'll just wing it. Also, I rewrote this like four times. Also also, listened to a bunch of Massive Attack - specifically songs from Mezzanine. Teardrop is my personal favourite. Also merry Christmas

Tags/Warnings: Tags Will Be Updated as Story Progresses, WLW, Mental Illness, Unhealthy Relationships, Angst, Violence, Referenced Self-Harm, A Healthy Amount of Self-Hatred

༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻

Manicured nails pick at the delicate, sensitive skin on your lips. Grabbing ahold of a small sliver of it and peeling it away to reveal the rawness beneath. The voice of a siren carries through the smokey bar. Tauntingly caressing your ear drums. In the shadows of the hall leading to the stage you stare up at the woman singing. Harlow. Unblinkingly and jealously. Low bass reverberates through the wood-paneled walls.

In the dim yellow lights Harlow still manages to look angelic. Impossibly soft yellow hair brushed over her dainty shoulders. You tear your gaze away from her to survey the crowd tonight.  It's smaller than usual. Not by a lot, maybe five or so people less than usual. A majority of the patrons are men. Eyes flash in the corner and you meet them momentarily before quickly looking elsewhere. Those eyes aren't for you anymore.

On stage, Harlow bows and blows a kiss.

"Thanks for coming tonight." She calls out in her stupidly soft voice. It grates on your nerves. Subdued applause rings out as she turns heel and walks towards the hall - towards you. You don't look at her as she passes, bumping your shoulder as she does. You straighten out your dress and gloves and walk forward, stepping onto the stage and taking your place Infront of the microphone.

The Fireflower, like most of the older businesses in Las Almas, is old and in desperate need of a new coat of paint. It's had the same owner since you were a child. It's on the west side of town and it's frequented by people that live there too. People who lack much money and choose to spend what they do have on illegally homemade beer that is guaranteed to fry their livers faster than regular alcohol. It is cheaper to produce, however. And when you live in a 'protected' neighborhood where the cartel demands a 'security fee', you have to find ways to get creative with money.

You flash your teeth in a smile at the crowd. Pretending that they're more interested than they really are. One of them is. Peter. He's also been here since you were a child. Often seen slumped over in front of the doors next to a puddle of his own vomit. He whistles and raises his drink in support. Your smile is a little more genuine when it reaches him. You don't bother with introductions. None of the faces here are new anyway. Three songs. Get through three songs then you're free to leave. Go back to your dingy, one bedroom apartment and cry yourself to sleep under the obnoxiously loud AC unit.

It's not that you don't enjoy your job. You like to sing, like being on stage and admired. It's just doing it here sucks out any possible joy that could be found in it. The bar is grimy and falling apart and its loyal patrons match that. You glance over at the corner. Where the eyes were. They aren't on you anymore. Their owner, a tall dark-haired woman, are gazing deeply into Harlow's eyes. Your grip on the microphone tightens, your voice weakening at the sight so you look away. Object impermanence.

Halfway through your second song the doors open and a woman walks in. She's notable because there aren't many women in the bar as it is. She's also openly carrying. She looks around, eyes briefly settling on you before shifting to a man in a far corner. You don't pay much attention to her as she strides over to him. He and the woman begin to engage in what looks to be a very serious conversation. It's not one that lasts long, she jerks her head to the side and he reluctantly rises to a stand. One few too many beers making him unsteady on his feet. He walks out, leaving the woman alone.

She finally turns her attention on you. You're used to being stared at, that's just what happens when you sing on a stage. People have looked at you in all manner of ways. Lustful, indifferent, judgmental. Some people have really intense stares. Ones that you can feel like a hand firmly planted on your shoulder shaking you. Demanding your attention. Demanding that you stare back.

You finish your second song and begin your third and final of your set. You sing it with a little more conviction. More passion. Because a face comes to mind whenever you hear or sing it. Downturned eyes and arched brows. Your eyes shift to the corner where the tall woman is. You don't know how many times you've traced the slope of her nose or brushed her unruly mane of hair away from her face.

You finish the song. Glad to have it over and done with. You bid the audience a farewell before walking off stage. Into the dark hallway. One of the lightbulbs along the wall has burnt out, leaving a dark patch of vague ominousness. You walk back to the dressing rooms. Passing a few of the girls smoking. They don't speak to you, something you're fine with. In the group dressing room, you grab your coat and purse from your locker. Slipping your arms into the cheap, water damaged leather.

You walk back out into the bar.  Weaving around the tables.

"Hey!" A slurred voice calls out your name. A heavy hand claps you on the back and you grimace.

"Hi Peter, enjoy the show?" You ask.

He smiles at you, sun-damaged cheeks dimpling. "I did, come have a drink. Come." He ushers you towards the bar. Reluctantly, you follow. Peter doesn't have many friends.

He pulls out your stool for you and you take a seat. Having to shift to get comfortable. The padding has worn away over the years. Leaving barely any protection between your ass and the hard wood.

"What will you have?" He asks. Scratching his unkempt beard. "My treat."

"Um... just coke." You say. Smiling nervously.

"Coke? C'mon sweetheart this is a bar, you have to drink!"

You shake your head. "Not tonight." You say. You don't like drinking. It doesn't make you fun or sociable. Just angrier and more bitter than you already are.

Peter shakes his head back at you like a disappointed father.

"Alright." He concedes. "I remember when your father used to bring you around here." He sighs.

"Hm. Yeah." You nod. The Fireflower was your father's main haunt and maybe that's part of why you hate it so much.

"He was a good man." 

"He was." You reply. Good, if you weren't his daughter or his girlfriend. Peter claps you on the back again.

"He and your mother would be proud, you've grown into a fine young woman. Too good for this town."

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. Your mother couldn't find the time to be proud of anything you did, and your father was incapable of being proud of anyone but himself. Peter lifts his drink in a toast, you lift yours back although you aren't sure what you're toasting to. While drinking, your spine tingles with the feeling of eyes watching you. Discretely you turn to see who it is but can't notice anyone outwardly staring.

The bartender comes back around with a whiskey lemonade and sets it in front of you. He goes to leave but you stop him with a hand, concerned about being charged for a drink you didn't order.

"I didn't order this." You tell him. He nods understandingly. 

"I know, it's from the woman over there." He nods his chin over at the back corner. You tilt your head to see. It's the woman who walked in earlier. She's not looking at you, instead her eyes are on the stage, focused on the other girl singing.

Turning down drinks always makes you feel guilty but it's a necessary evil. Not only do you try not to drink, but you've come to learn that accepting them from strangers leads to expectations. The bartender leaves before you can give it back so you slide it over to Peter.

"If I were given free drinks, you best believe I'd never turn them down." He says, happily taking the glass.

You smile lightly. "They usually come with a price, Peter. Just not one that's monetary."

Peter replies with a low hum.

You stick around for a while longer. Keeping Peter company. You finish your coke and set down your empty glass on the counter.

"I should be getting home now, goodnight, Peter." You say. Your farewell is lost on him as he has already passed out. Head resting on the rough wooden counter. You get up and head towards the exit.

It's cold out. As cold as it can get in Las Almas. You walk to your bus stop and check the app, hoping you didn't just miss the bus. You didn't. A small win for you. You put your phone back in your pocket and wait. Watching a piece of litter drift by aimlessly in the wind. Something glass shatters in the alley across the street and a drunken yell rings out. Somewhere else a girl laughs at something. Down the street Dolly stands. Dark purple dress and extravagant fur coat on display. You watch discreetly as a truck pulls up to her. Watch her walk up to his window and chat. After a couple of seconds, she gets in and they drive off.

It gets to a point where you begin to shiver. Wishing you brought pants to wear over your dress when your bus finally pulls up. 'El Sin Nombre' has been spray painted over its side. Ominously red, the paint having dripped before it dried. You step on and pay the 13.95 peso fee. There aren't that many people on board. One of the few pros of working the night shift is not having to deal with crowded transport. You walk past a slumped over man and take a seat at the back.

It's only a five-minute drive, a fifteen-minute walk if you're fast, home. However, it's not safe to be out past dark. You had a colleague a few years ago, a sweet girl who lived in your building used to walk home. Her weathered missing person poster hangs up on the front of the worn brick apartment complex. You fish out your key and open the door, walking inside and slamming it shut because if you don't it won't close.

You almost trip over a little girl on your way up to your floor.

"Jesus. Maria, what are you doing pout here?" You ask, frowning. What is she still doing up is another question. Maria simply shrugs. As usual she doesn't speak or look you in the eye. You sigh and reach for her hand, which she promptly gives you. The two of you walk down the hall to her door. You brace yourself for what you're going to have to deal with next.

You knock on room 20 and one of the sickly green-blue lights flicker. There are a few seconds of cherished silence before muffled stomping draws closer. Maria tightens her hold on your hand. The door swings open, revealing a very short woman.

"What?" She barks. Glaring up at you.

"I found your kid." You reply, gently ushering Maria towards her mother. She scowls and pulls Maria inside. 

"¿Qué te conté sobre tocar en la sala?" She hisses. There's no idle chit-chat or thanks. The woman slams the door in your face.

When you finally make it back to your apartment, you're exhausted. You've done what you could with the place. Paintings you made yourself to hide the holes, cracks, and stains in the wall. Saved up to purchase fluffy pink rugs to cover the water-stained floors. Fake plants to decorate the counters and shelves because the real things seem to die regardless of how much care you provide them. Still, despite the pink and colorful nature of your living space, it somehow still seems sad and dull. 

You drop your bag down by the door, soon followed by your coat. You promise yourself that you're going to pick them up later, but you know you probably won't until you need them for tomorrow. Tomorrow. You shove the thought of tomorrow out of your head. Shove the fact that you're going to have to wake up, do your hair and makeup, put on a cute but uncomfortable outfit and go back to that sad little bar on 8th Street.

You wander into the kitchen and look around your cupboards for something easy to eat. You find a dubious bag of nuts that you forgot about. The milk has gone bad and you're out of eggs. Looks like grocery shopping is on your to-do list for tomorrow.

You peel off your dress and let it fall to the tiled floor. The water is cold as it sprays your nude form. You hurry your shower. Using up the last of your favourite body wash. You feel like you'll never get warm when you step out. Forcing yourself through your usual routine. Brush your teeth, wash your face, moisturize your body. Finally, you get to stumble into your room and crash into bed. Enveloped by soft pink pillows and sheets, watched over by your childhood stuffed animals. You reach into your nightstand for your pills. The bottle is almost empty. One refill left.

The cycle repeats. You stare out at the crowd blankly before over correcting yourself with a large smile.

"How's everyone's nights going?" You ask. "Good I hope, I know mine is." You broke down into tears ten minutes before this. "This next song is Valerie, one of my personal favourites, always a good time when I get to sing this." You begin the song. Voice far more enthusiastic than you feel. Each note burns your throat and the smell of smoke is worsening your headache. "Won't you come on over stop makin' a fool out of me. Why don't you come over Valerie? Valerie, Valerie, Valerie."

You're on closing shift. Helping the bartender wipe down sticky tables. There's a puddle of vomit in the corner. You pretend not to notice.

"Hey, can you go to the back and get a couple bottles of Smirnoff?" He asks. Lazily wiping glasses behind the bar.

"Sure, Tony." You reply. You set down your rag and walk past him into the back. You watch your step as you head down to the cellar. The wooden stairs are rotted.

Grabbing two bottles you go back upstairs, setting them on the counter for him. You turn away but he stops you.

"Oh, hey, someone left these for you." He says, placing down a vibrant bouquet of roses. You raise your brows. 

"For me? Are you sure?" You ask carefully. Even Harlow, with her angelic vocal cords and appearance to match doesn't receive flowers. Tony pushes them towards you. 

"No other girls here with your name." He replies.

You grab the bouquet with care. Inspecting it. The roses are real and look expensive. You gently trace your fingers over their petals, feeling the smooth velvety surface.

The bus is running late. You shift on your feet impatiently. You really need to get your license. However, you don't make enough to afford a car. Or the car insurance. The distinct tapping of heels approaches you and look over, seeing Dolly approaching you, diamonds glittering around her throat.

"Public transport is so unreliable." She rasps. She reaches into her bra and pulls out a cigarette carton, offering you one.

"No thanks, I'm trying to quit." You say. Dolly shrugs and lights her own. Taking a deep inhale and coughing roughly.

"That's a beautiful thing of roses you got, sweet girl." She says, eyeing the bouquet clutched in your hands.

You smile timidly.

"Thanks, got them from work." You reply, feeling a little proud.

"Wish my customers would give me flowers." She sighs, shaking her head. "Who're they from?"

You shrug. "Not sure. Tony said someone left them for me."

Dolly gives you a knowing smile. "Maybe Tony is the one who gave them to you. He's always been a shy boy."

"Ah, maybe." You say. Looking away. It wasn't Tony. He doesn't play for your team.

Dolly blows out smoke rings.

"Did you hear about the man found in the canal this morning?" She asks.

You frown, feeling heavy. "No. Cartel?"

"That's what the police think." Dolly says. "The man had twelve pounds of coke in his apartment, my guess is that he stole it from them."

An engine rumbles as the same truck from last night creeps towards the two of you. It stops and the window rolls down, revealing the man inside.

He's older than you, younger than Peter and Dolly.

"Thirty minutes with you and your friend." He says gruffly. Before you can even respond Dolly storms up to his window.

"Get the fuck out of here you good for nothing trout." She snaps. "Don't show your face around this corner again. Or I'll have my boys cut off your balls."

"Your boys?" He laughs.

"Eric and Thomas."

His laughter stops abruptly. He narrows his eyes at Dolly, expression dark and cruel. However, the threat that Eric and Thomas must pose seem to mean more than his pride. He rolls up his window and speeds off.

Dolly curls her lip in disgust.

"You have lipstick on your teeth." You murmur.

Dolly swipes a finger over her teeth. "He didn't pay me the agreed amount last time." She says angrily. "His excuse was that I'm old."

You frown. "What a pig."

Dolly sighs, turning to you. "My advice, Sweet girl," She says as your bus pulls up. "don't ever do this line of work."

The next night is the same. As it always it. As it always will be. Walking back to the dressing room you bump into someone.

"Oh, sorry." You mumble.

"Hey."

you look up, downturned eyes, arched brows. "... Erin." You greet stiffly. Erin's gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before she brushes her hand through her dark hair. She nods once and moves past you.

Something venomous coils around your heart as you put on your jacket and pull on some sweatpants. Speaking to Erin has ruined your night completely. Why was she even back here? Probably for Harlow. You scowl and storm out of the dressing room, purposefully knocking into another girl.

"Hey-" She exclaims angrily at you.

You clench your fists as you leave the bar. You lean against the foreclosed building in front of your bus stop. Avoiding the trash littered along its side. You check the app, seeing that you just missed the bus. You feel like crying. You feel angry. You punch the brick building and immediately regret it. Hissing in pain and cradling your throbbing hand to your chest.

"I'd hate to be that building." A smooth voice says. Your head whips up. The woman it belongs to looks vaguely familiar. Dark hair cut into a layered bob, severe brows. She's wearing a dark turtleneck and coat, hands tucked into her pockets.

Your face heats with embarrassment.

"I was just, like, I slipped." You mutter.

Her lips twitch up in amusement. "I broke my hand once by punching a wall." She tells you, leaning beside you.

You flex your hand, worried that it may be broken. It's stiff and sore. "Oh."

"You have a lovely voice." She complements. "Shame you're wasting it on the Fireflower."

You feel slightly defensive at her jab. The Fireflower is rundown, and you hate working there but it's where you've made most of your childhood memories, good and bad.

"It's not that bad." You reply.

"Sure." Valeria nods. "But you're still only making 7,500 pesos, no?"

You don't reply to that. It's not like minimum wage is exclusive to the Fireflower.

"I didn't mean to be rude." The woman says. "Valeria." she raises her hand. You look at it. Tempted not to shake it. You grab it gently, surprised when she lifts it to her mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You stare, caught off guard. You're not sure if you're flattered or weirded out. You give her your name and she repeats it, then nods her approval.

"I'll be seeing you around, chula." 

Valeria walks off into the night. Disappearing into an alley. The interaction leaves you feeling disrupted. It was weird. She was weird. But that doesn't stop a butterfly from emerging from it's cocoon within your stomach. 

[swallowtail-lotus]

Hidden Anger {Hermes x Shinobu!Goddess!Reader}

A repost from my previous blog

I need to stop with writing ror stuff with kny I swear

There will be a part where I'll use a scene with Tanjiro and Shinobu (y'know, THAT scene) but I'll alter it

_______________

The Messager God watched you greet the other gods with your signature smile, feeling a sense of suspension the more he watched you.

He really didn't know why, but something about you seemed.. off.

You were always smiling no matter what. Don't get him wrong, he thought you have a pretty smile, but he felt like you were hiding something. Hermes frowned, deep in his thoughts. He felt someone nudge his shoulder and to no surprise, it was his brother Ares, who noticed his brother's staring.

"Never expected you to be staring at (Y/n)." Ares teased, his lips forming a smirk. Hermes never looked at his brother and averted his gaze elsewhere.

"I have no clue what you're saying." Hermes replied, his hands behind his back and his face tinted a slight red. Ares shrugged and moved away from his brother.

Nighttime~~

Hermes was on his way to return to his room when he picked up the sounds of someone softly singing. He stopped, listening to the song very carefully. As a God who loves music, anything related to that always grabbed his attention. Instead, he made his way to the source of the singing, quite surprised to see it was coming from you. Hermes went closer to you, his eyes widen when he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Why are you singing at this time of night?" He asked, watching you jump up in surprise.

"It's nothing. I do this every night. Now please go back." You urged the God, trying to shoo him away. Hermes refused to go until he got the answers he needed.

"Not until you answer my question." The God spoke, staring you down.

"There's nothing to answ-"

"Are you angry?" Hermes cut you off with the very question he wanted to ask since he met you. For the first time, your smile fell. Everything was silent for a while.

"I....." You started off, but your voice was quieter at the last few words.

"I guess you can say that." Your legs curled up to your chest, resting your head on one of your arms.

"I suspected as much. Now, may I ask why?" The God couldn't stop wondering, you thought to yourself. You should at least half expected him.

"Well, ever since my eldest sister was murdered, the anger in me just grew stronger. Deep inside me, there's hatred that I can't quiet." You confessed. Hermes cocked an eyebrow, slightly shocked to hear your confession. This was a surprise on his end...

"I see..." For the first time, he was speechless. He was never told about your past, nor did he even bother asking about it. Well, now he understood why you were visibly upset when you were asked.

"You're actually the first to hear this since I never let myself get too close with anyone." You added, standing up while looking at the dark haired God. Hermes gave you a smile and bow down slightly.

"Would you like me to keep you company?" He asked. You stared at his hand and took it in your hand. You nodded and let him guide you back to your room. Honestly, you could've done it yourself but with all the varying emotions inside you, you just let the god beside you take you back to your room.

"Thank you, Hermes." You whispered, your lips forming your signature smile. This time it was genuine. Hermes bowed his head and made his way to your door. Once the door was closed, you plopped down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You took your butterfly pin out of your hair, staring at it while brushing your thumbs along the wings.

You remembered the words your elder sister told you. Before she had to fight and minutes before she drew her last breath.

"We've only had each other for so long after our parents passed away, and we love each other dearly. But I think you should find someone to love. I've already found him, and you need to as well."

"Once you find him or her, Don't push them away. Let them in your heart."

You remember her soft hand holding your cheek while you held her in your arms.

"I'd hate to see the smile I love so much disappear..." Those were her last words before she died in your arms.

You remember sobbing so much you nearly ran out of tears. She was the only person you've truly loved in your life.

Or so you thought...

[tonhalszendvics]

An Inheritance Cycle story I'll probably never write, but this sucker doesn't want to leave me alone. Long story short under the cut.

Selena was said to be a super spy/assassin type of character, except that people knew about her. I mean, Jeod did, and Brom was a very secretive guy, I am pretty sure that Jeod didn't hear about her from him. And then Galbatorix named his secret service after her, because there was fear connected to the name 'Black Hand'. Thanks, Selena.

Okay, so the AU goes like this: Selena is a super spy/assassin. Nobody knows, who is she, what is she doing, who is she working for. Some people suspect the king, but then she shows up and asks someone else for a favour in a name of a lesser lord or something. She is changing like the weather, nobody knows what does she look like exactly. Want to hire her for a job? Good luck. You were able to get into contact with her? Consider the job as done and yourself as absolutely poor, because even her smallest service costs a fortune.

And then Brom meets her. They don't tell shit to each other, for sure, but the spark is there. So, things are going on their way, Eragon is born, but in this AU, there is no egg-race, Selena just hands the kid over to Brom and says that he'll be more safe with him. Their meetings are scarce, but Eragon gets to know his mama.

Until he's around six or seven years old. Because then something happens in Uru'baen, there is a big boom and a shitton of dead people in the castle. The king and Morzan are furious. A blue egg vanishes.

Mere days later – too soon, so Selena was already on her way when that shit went down – Selena comes to meet Brom and Eragon for the last time, with her eyes blindfolded, because then she'll be able to say that she didn't see them. She tells Brom that she has a husband in Uru'baen. Her and Brom's thing started on the ground that she was missing the night-time company, but she started to have feelings for him. But now, she has to go back to her lord, whom she had sworn to. She has to, because otherwise her other son will be hurt. She doesn't say names. Brom knows, that it's too dangerous.

It also dawns on him that most of the information he's got from her was via her husband. That guy must be a big shot in the Empire. They promise each other that if the Empire goes down by a miracle or something, they'll meet in the end, and if they still love each other, they'll find out what the hell to do.

Then time flies and war-wise most of the canon happens. There aren't much from Selena, but she still succeeds telling this and that to the Varden via secret letters and always changing ways. She was able to hand over some top-secret, very valuable information to the Varden. The communication is one-sided, though, they cannot reach her.

A bunch of victorious Varden are cheering in the occupied capital, when the news come that after the king's death, Morzan put down the sword without anything. He even kneeled on the ground and let himself be tied up, while Brom was trying to avoid having an aneurism. I mean, Brom wanted to kill the guy since forever. Their epic dramatic duel, however, was nowhere near to the end, when the king died. And it wouldn't be honourable to kill a surrendered soldier, especially if his son returned back from the palace right in the moment when he wanted to behead him. Nahh, he has to be the bigger guy.

If Brom is not able to kill Morzan in the battle, then he'd do that through a trial. Everybody is very happy to attend and throw in their two cents, Eragon understands all the hatred, but he still feels very uncomfortable because of all that combined hatred. And Morzan doesn't say anything, he takes it without a word, maybe corrects people here and there when they mess up listing his sins.

And boom, there is Selena. She comes, bows, smiles to Brom then says to Nasuada, that she was promised amnesty for her and her family for her services, and his son is in big trouble because of the occupation, so if they would be so kind to provide her the needed document, she is off already, she and her family won't mess with their schedule for the rest of the day.

Eragon is obviously overjoyed, that A) mama is alive; B) he gets to meet his big brother. So he obviously prods everybody to hurry up with that amnesty.

Document in her hand, the ink still wet, she turns on her heels and in front of everyone, she asks Morzan, that what does he know, where is their son. And Morzan answers. Then with a word, loosens the ties on him, stands up, and when people draw swords, he adds in a mocking tone, that pardon, I was granted amnesty just now via my wife, and as you've heard, my son is in grave danger, if you'd excuse us. Eragon, dear boyfriend-in-law, want to come?

It takes three seconds for Brom to realise, that Morzan meant him, and then he has to try very hard the second time that day to avoid an aneurism.

Anyway, they go, get Murtagh out of that dire situation, because it turns out that little children are actually pretty cute and able to melt a war criminal's ice-cold heart, so Morzan was a good dad this time, and he and Selena were blackmailed with him. That trouble thingy back then, that separated Selena from the other side of the family was when the king found out that his general's heart changed, and that Selena was also a double-spy, so boom, he took Murtagh away, and suddenly the parents were absolutely A-class thralls again. Idk if Murtagh was even out in the battlefield this time, or every stuff he did was handed over to Morzan, while he was in house arrest somewhere. (Does he even know how to fight or is he Orrin No. 2 with all the science?)

Anyway, Murtagh and Eragon bond over dragons in zero second and decide it's the best for them if they just leave their parents to be. Brom needs a bit of time and a bit more cajoling from Selena to loosen up, but in the end they are a traumatised and super messed up polycule. Morzan regrets that in the moment he says something and Brom answers with a mortifying secret from their childhood. They might end up in a fist fight. Selena doesn't say anything to them (too busy getting slate tablets), because in the end they kiss (and she has to make fairths).

That was the AU in a nutshell. I hope this one will leave me alone now. :') Thanks for coming to my story night, take care!

[the-kr8tor]

"Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through 12 axes cleanly..." Daily Hobie HC! The challenge (more epic the musical) Hobie had faced through countless monsters, gods, the death of his crew and the blood on his hands. And yet, as he tread on the lands of Ithaca to his palace, where you were, he had one more enemy. Suitors. Hobie managed to grab a cloak and disguise himself among the suitors, each sight of one pissing him off. He desperately wanted to throw off his cloak and kill them all, but his hatred for them could never compare to the love he had for you. He longed to see you once more, staying low in the crowd of lustful and eager suitors. He wanted to hold you, to feel the warmth of your body against his once more, to know whether you would fall in love with him again. You had procrastinated long, keeping the suitors waiting like a dog chained to a pole, eager for the juicy meat just a few inches too far away. You couldn't let your heart move on, seeing the odd storm occurring a few days earlier. You hoped this was a sign for change, that Hobie was back, but you could only hold the mob back for so long. You held a bow and string. Hobie's string and bow. The challenge was difficult, you had high hopes none of these weak men could string his bow like he does. Stringing a bow, and shoot through the 12 axes cleanly to hit the target, was something you had only seen Hobie do so effortlessly. You could feel your heart begin to ache for him once more, walking down the hall with the suitors watching hungrily. You announced the trial, eyes narrowing in disgust at how the other men only saw you as a prize to be one for the throne. Watching the arrows fly, you stood tall amidst the flurry of arrows curving and failing to fly through cleanly. However, one man stood up, concealed with a cloak. Hobie had to suppress a chuckle, his heart beating through his chest as he stepped up, picking up the bow. With precise fingers, he began to string the bow. His old bow, one he hadn't seen for years. The thread was strongly attached, ready to be pulled back. Hobie braced an arrow, seeing the tears well up in your eyes as you recognized him through his disguise. Almost effortlessly, the arrow flew through the 12 axes, landing square on the target. The other suitors looked flabbergasted at this mysterious figure manage to complete such a feat, while as yours and Hobie's eyes met, you couldn't help but tear up. You were frozen on the spot, letting him approach you slowly. Hobie missed you dearly, and you clearly missed him so much more. The warmth of his palm was comforting against your cheek as he cupped your face lovingly, a smile gracing his lips and tired eyes as you lean into his touch. -🐦‍⬛

Ngl I thought that this was a robin hood au!

Daily Hobie HC ‼️‼️‼️

Yeeess!!! I love this au!

Hobie's like "what's worse than fighting gods and sea monsters? Men who are after my wife." If he had a gun he'd be loading it 😂

Just the thought of those men touching you has his blood boiling! 😤

The challenge was so smart when I first read it in the myth

He showed them!! They had nothing on Hobie!

Lmaoo the scene from brave suddenly started playing in my head "I'll shoot for me own hand!"

They're together again 😭😭😭

[sweetvelaryon]

luena | lucerys x rhaena

warning | 18+, smut, hate sex

“I hate you!”

Rhaena waited for the words to hold meaning. To burn at her from the inside out and truly mean the words of hatred. She hates her father, sister, mother, and stepmother. But most importantly the hate for her stepbrother. stupid mafia business.

“I hate you!”

“No you don't,” Lucerys growled as he pulled her hair back and continued fucking her from behind. her cunt clenched around his cock like a vice as his hand found purchase on her countertop. She somehow always managed to find herself calling Luke when an issue arose with other mafia houses. Recently, the Greyjoys were messing with her. She had gotten out with her other brother's help. Lucerys was livid and angry with his brother Jace. Out of the business, she married a humble man, Garmund Hightower. Much to her family's disdain when they found out about her chosen husband. As always Luke hated her choice in leaving him. He didn't hate that she wanted a life without violence but that she chose a useless Hightower above all. Rhaena had a deep debt with Luke. She needed the extra security. Just because she was out of business didn't make her a target. Lucerys was her security. Her safety net. It came with a prince of course.

she tried to mumble out another I hate you but was met with Luke bending her further to meet his thrust.

“You don't hate me,” he says.

“yes, oh! I do,” she moans as his cock scraps against her g-spot. a spot, unfortunately, Garmund had never hit.

Luke darkly chuckled as he wrapped a hand around her neck and bowed her back to look into his brown lust-filled eyes. “You can't hate me. You need me. I need you. You want and need this,” he groans as he continues to fuck her.

She shakes her head but feels lightheaded, her legs growing like jelly beneath her, the lewd squelching sound filling her ears. “I… I don't want this.”

“Why lie? huh? Why lie?” he pulls her hips back furthermore and starts hitting her cervix.

why? I have to! I have to lie! if I don't lie to you or to myself I will be stuck in an endless loop of danger. I'll be stuck between a gun to my head and your arms. forever caged with you. That's all I'll ever have. a family? you always said you didn't want kids.

she simply moans like a pornstar and takes the brutal fucking her stepbrother gives. Luke swipes his hand to her cunt and gives her clit to harsh strokes. That's her undoing. She screams and thrashes underneath his hold as she squirts onto him, and her mind goes fuzzy. never had she had such a powerful orgasm in the past months. Garmund doesn't have such a passion for hate sex like Lucerys. when he finishes inside her it catches her off guard. his cum filling her up quickly and to the brim. He usually wears a condom, but with both of them being so worked up, that became an afterthought. She would need a plan b soon. Luke pulls her back up, his hand still around her neck as her glossy orchid-pink eyes look up at him. He kisses her. sloppy, messy, and possessive.

Luke doesn't kiss. He doesn't like it. But you always do it with me and I hate it. You give me hope. And for what? Just to bring me back to you? manipulate me? What's your play, velaryon?

he lets go and slips out of her ruined cunt. She rests her forehead against the cool counter. she can faintly hear Luke zipping up his jeans. a soft gasp leaves her lips as she feels him carefully pull back up her black panties. Luke presses a kiss to the back of her thigh and stands up. She waits a moment to gather feelings back in her legs before she turns and faces him. When she does Luke lights a cigarette and leans back onto the wall.

“You should leave,” she manages to say.

He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out. “Worried Mr. Perfect, finding out about your dirty secret?”

Her eyes darted to the ground, “we've talked about this Luke.”

“No, you talk and I listen. we never speak of it. I'm still protecting you even out of our business. I can do it better with you at my side,” he says.

she exhales softly, “I can't.”

his eyes harden but he doesn't press on. He doesn't do anything else but stares at her.

“bye rhaena.”

“bye… Luke.”

she watches as he puts out his cigarette and leaves without sparring her another glance.

[astrowaffle]

Wow you guys really seemed to like the steampunk AU, that post got way more attention than I was expecting, so here's some more information and stuff:

-The world is still like a videogame that they got trapped in but now it’s a steampunk adventure-y type game with circus elements 

-The adventures are probably a bit different

-They’re probably more like, fantasy adventure video game style things with like puzzles and fighting? Idk I'm not a big gamer I've never actually played any steampunk video games. What are those like?

-Instead of circus tent, there is a big wagon thingy that I'll draw eventually

-there's still not much of a story and I'm not sure If there'll ever be

-I'd also kinda want to make some mini comics for this au but I suck at coming up with ideas :/

Pomni:  

-She likes to craft things

-friends with Gangle and Ragatha

-still very anxious but less anxious then normal Pomni?

-has a very logical mind and is good at puzzling things together but also doesn’t do well under pressure and typically panics in stressful moments where these skills might be useful

-She can play the flute because flutes are good, they are the best instrument. (I am totally not biased just because I play the flute in marching band)

-My headcanon for regular Pomni is that she’s less anxious than she initially is in the pilot after getting used to things, like, beyond the anxiety, her actual personality is very cheery and friendly, also very logical, because idk it just fits her somehow? So yea, that headcanon also applies to this au 

-but of course she is still an absolute nervous wreck because yes

-How else is she supposed to react in this situation

-also look at those fingerless gloves I want those

-the gears in her eyes turn when she is thinking

Gangle:

-Also likes crafting things

-friends with Pomni, Zooble, and Kinger

-she often borrows  sewing needles from Ragatha to sew her comedy mask back together when it’s torn, and also constantly tries to craft new ones

-She really likes her boots

-I don’t blame her those are some nice boots

-Ok wait a minute what if that little wing bow thingy on her head is actually a pen/quill that she can use to write stuff?

-ooooooh yes I like that

Caine: 

-✨monocle✨

-He can control the time of day with the clock that’s on his hat

-It’s a lot harder for him to heal injuries in this world, he can’t just instantly fix anything anymore it requires a bit more effort

-I’m doing this because I like when injury and pain and suffering

Bubble: um- idk it’s just bubble but now they’re a robot I guess

Kinger:

-ok but what if he had a collection of mechanical insects? Omg designing mechanical insects would be so fun-

-The clock that he wears is broken but he doesn’t notice. And Time is irrelevant anyways

-damn those gloves are fancy

-they probably feel really silky

-and his robe is also very silky because mmm good texture

Zooble:

-They are a robot now

-also a mechanic/inventor because nobody else is and somebody had to learn how to make new robot parts

-their right arm can go s t r e t c h

-bonds with Gangle over their hatred of Jax

-they’re also kinda protective over her

-I lowkey ship them (this ship is so underrated)

-No but seriously why do see zero art of this ship

- Zoob’s in denial about their feelings and still pretends not to care because they’ve had such a “I don’t give a shit about anything” attitude that suddenly developing feelings for someone has caught them off guard cause they suddenly are giving a shit about something and they don’t know how to handle it, But if Jax does anything to Gangle they will rush in to protect her in a heartbeat and just try to play it off as it just being because they don’t like Jax BUT WE ALL KNOW THE TRUTH ZOOBLE JUST CONFESS ALREADY-

-ok that got way too rambly let's just move on now

Jax:

-MY FAVORITE

-he likes shiny things

-He will collect those shiny things

-He also very fast because look at those LANKY RABBIT LEGS

-I mean technically that’s already cannon, did you see how fast he ran away after seeing abstracted kaufmo? He just z o o m e d outta there

-those keys on the chain are only a small portion of his collection

-his room is definitely full of weird steampunk knick knacks because yes

-He uses them to prank people

-the centipedes he has to scare/annoy Ragatha are mechanical

-I’m so excited to design mechanical centipedes I love bugs so much guys you have no idea I finally have an excuse to draw insects and maybe people will actually care because it’s fandom related now

-He does not like getting wet. At all. (this is also just a general headcanon for him but especially in this au)

-floofy

Ragatha:

-the seams of her fabric are prone to tearing so she always carries a needle and thread to sew herself back together. she's good at sewing

-My main headcannon for normal Ragatha is that her button eye is a parallel to an eye injury she had in real life before joining the circus, but in this AU she probably acquired the injury in this universe.

-she’s good at using tools and weapons but not in like, a mechanic sorta way like Zooble but in a defense sorta way

-like, she’s very kind and caring but also sorta tough and even though her body is good at falling apart, she knows how to use strategy to fight and um wait what would they even be fighting-

-idk I haven’t thought about that yet

-Gloinks?????

-do those exist in this au???

-wait it’s my au why am I asking this

-overall she is very, “tries to help everyone else and seems very tough on the outside but is prone to falling apart both physically and mentally but just gets good at quickly patching it up and ignoring it until it become too much for her to bear”

-pls help her she needs therapy

-they all need therapy

-I’m pretty sure we’ve all established that at this point

-but I’m just making sure you know that it’s still a consistent factor in this au

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

The story of how Mordred called Merlin mom and then proceeded to call Arthur dad and now he's adopted into the family

Author: Me aka @dalazygamerneko

Inspired by @tongjaitongjai merthur idea, check out it out here: 🐓x🐦=🐣

♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤•°•♡•°•♤

It was ordinary day. Birds were singing, training went well and the maids were busy but happily chatting.

Nothing could go wrong Mordred thought as he made his way to the afternoon roundtable meeting when he came across Merlin or Emrys as he is known amongst druids, quickly he hid into an alcove and gazed in envy at Lord Emrys, no, Merlin smiling and holding a little boy in his arms.

It's moments like these that he wished he knew his mother longer but he could barely remember her. He watched quietly at the soft look in Merlin's eyes and utter joy upon the little boy's face as they hugged each other, Mordred wondered if his mother would've looked at him the same way Merlin did.

He sighed, leaning back against the stone walls Mordred couldn't help but want to revert back into being a child again just so Merlin wouldn't gaze coldly at him, albeit he probably deserved it for the words of hatred he said in his youth. He knew now Merlin never meant to lead those knights towards his camp. That the warlock was only trying to help Morgana.

"What can I do to earn your trust?"

Mordred shook his head, he'd think of something maybe ask one of the knights for help? He's noticed that Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine are closer to Merlin than the other knights.

'They're also the most protective of him' Mordred thought dryly, a crease upon his brow as multiple ideas popped into his mind and many he shot down knowing it won't work.

"Well, I'll just have to hope the triple Goddess guides me." Mordred mumbled, he looked out into the hallway, Merlin was gone, most likely doing chores for the King.

Mordred chuckled as he continued walking, he would never understand the relationship Emrys and the once and future King had with each other. There were times they seem like close comrades begrudging in their respect for one another and then other times they would argue fondly like any old married couple.

Not surprising when plenty of townsfolk as well as even the nobles have speculated in the past if Merlin was being courted by Prince Arthur, to any outsider it certainly looked that way therefore Merlin was given the "mistress" treatment.

Now everyone are wondering(more like waiting impatiently) when will the King announce his engagement to Merlin.

"If I remember correctly, doesn't Sir Gwaine have a bet going on?"

Mordred pondered. 'Yeah, I'll definitely join in. There's no way they're NOT together. I mean, I've seen the lingering stares they give each other as if there is no one around them.'

Soon he was at the doors leading to the roundtable meeting, nodding at the vigilant guards they let him through. His eyes slowly moved over the knights, nobles and some commoners before landing on Merlin who was standing behind the King's chair.

An unassuming figure, most often underestimated but to those who know magic deeply or follow the old religion, Emrys entire being is a vast ocean of wild magic swirling in such a magnitude that no mere mortal could ever understand or harness the power Emrys wields.

Then he locked eyes with Merlin, there is no icy stare thankfully, yet he can still see a hint of wariness in his Lord's gaze.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement before finding a seat next to the gossiping pair Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine.

"I could be at a tavern right now, drinking and charming the barmaid Stella instead I'm stuck here." Gwaine said with a miffed face, his hand gripping the air imagining he was holding a mug of ale.

Elyan who sat across from Gwaine raised an eyebrow, "Isn't Stella old enough to be your grandmother?"

Gwaine smirked whilst shrugging. "Just like wine the older one gets the finer they become, besides she has experience, I'm sure there's a thing or two she could still teach mmph—"

Leon had reached over to clamp Gwaine's mouth shut.

The ginger haired knight had just about enough of hearing Gwaine's tavern tales of debauchery to which he thought was an inappropriate topic to be discussed or heard at the roundtable meeting.

"Sir Gwaine, leave your nightly talks at the tavern only, please."

Gwaine pulled Leon's hand away and smiled cheekily at the older knight.

"Oh, but wouldn't you like to know? Stella has mentioned she likes ginger haired men with beards and I bet she could show you—"

"I am going to strangle you—"

Gwaine leaned back avoiding Leon's hands from trying to keep him quiet again.

"Sir Leon I never knew you were this kinky, I think dear old Stella would like to feel your big strong hands—ack!"

Leon finally got him, unfortunately the meeting was starting, so Gwaine was safe from being throttled by him. However, tomorrow morning during training he'll get his chance.

Mordred along with the rest of the knights chuckled at Sir Gwaine's antics and Sir Leon's annoyed expression.

♤To be continued♤

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

10.

Summer had officially taken her last bow. I felt genuinely chilly standing outside the KLG house on Sunday morning. The mid-morning sun shone just barely through the large willow tree in the front yard, the branches preventing it from sharing its warmth with me. The dress, sheer tights, and cardigan I wore did nothing to insulate me, either. I checked the time on my phone. 10:27 am.

We agreed to meet at 10:30, but of course, I was early. I felt rather foolish for waiting the way I was, trying too hard not to stare at the house expectantly. In an attempt to look disinterested, I placed headphones in my ears, putting my playlist on shuffle. I turned to face the street, rather than the yard, and a Two Door Cinema Club song began to play.

"There's a spanner in the works, you know."

Boy, was that the truth. Hannah, the perpetual spanner in the works, standing in the way of herself. 

The hours leading up to the date, from Thursday night until Sunday at 10:27, well, now 10:28 am, I went back and forth with myself. Contemplating every damn aspect of the meetup. Was it a joke? Was he out to get me? I didn't actually develop feelings for a frat guy, did I? The part of myself that was obsessed with my own morals and hatred toward all things Greek life died a little when I thought too hard about it all.

The spanner in the works. Standing in the way of myself, preventing things from happening smoothly, ever. 

My ego wouldn't even let me tell Lily about this. My best friend. The girl I told everything. Part of me felt anti-woman for not gossiping, giggling, and kicking my feet with my friend over this. Instead, I internalized it all. I kept the dismay in. A burden shared is a burden halved, but I refused to look weak. 

Life has a way of falling into place. Things have a way of working out. For everyone. Everyone except me and the people around me. The events that are supposed to go off without a hitch like a well-oiled machine come sputtering to an awkward stop on account of me. The spanner in the works. Hannah the spanner.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped and spun around, tearing an earbud out of my ear, jostled free from the grip of my thoughts.

"Hey," Kyle breathed, smiling. He panted slightly, making clear that he had jogged to me from the door. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I laughed, grabbing his arm for stability, hinging at the hips slightly. "Christ, I was miles away," I managed. I started walking in the direction of Sleepwalker Coffee Co. (my choice, clearly), still holding onto Kyle. He followed suit.

"What were you thinking about?" he inquired, looking down and sideways at me with a smirk on his rosy face. The cherubic expression made my stomach turn.

"Do you want the honest answer?"

"Nothing but."

I let the silence drag on for a moment as we walked along, the sun finally peeking through the trees enough to warm my bones. I dropped my arm back down to my side, no longer holding on to Kyle. 

"Music," I replied, simply. A small lie, but I was at least listening to music. That made it partly honest.

"Anything about music in particular?" Kyle pressed. "Or just the complex, vast theory of sound itself?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, which I'll admit, got a pretty hearty laugh out of me.

"I guess, but I can't remember," I lied again. We rounded the corner at the end of the street, turning onto the street the coffee shop was on. We had just a few more blocks to walk to get there.

"Well, okay," he sighed, redirecting. "What's your favorite song, then?"

"Oh, you can't ask that!" I exclaimed, pausing my stride to look him in the eyes. "How can I boil it down to just one song? That's cruel."

"I can tell you mine, it's easy." Kyle kicked a small rock and it skittered across the pavement, landing in the street. He definitely would have continued kicking it down the street had it not landed too far out of his way.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. "What is it, then?"

"Just tell me one song you like, and I'll tell you," he bargained.

"You're unreal," I chuckled, continuing to walk. "I like Sweet Jane. Velvet Underground. I don't know." My replies felt really flippant coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't help it. Part of me still disliked him, or maybe, wanted to seem cool.

"Ooh," he cooed, jogging slightly to catch up to me on the sidewalk. "Sweet Jaaaaane," he sang grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers with mine. 

"Ah, so you know it then," I laughed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Suddenly all too aware that the two of us were holding hands, I took stock. It was slightly rough but strong. His fingers were long and laced between mine like vines woven around themselves. 

"I know it well," he smiled. "I love Lonesome Cowboy Bill. The Velvet Underground are so good."

"I don't think I know that one," I said, noticing that we were coming upon the coffee shop. I stopped right next to the stairs leading up to the door, effectively blocking his path. "Now you have to tell me your favorite song. Of all time. Since you can pick one."

His expression brightened. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled slightly, eyes twinkling with precious delight. "Oh! You Pretty Things. David Bowie," he grinned. My stomach lurched. 

"You like David Bowie?" I asked, with a bit too much giddy excitement in my tone.

"Yes, he's only like, my favorite artist," he answered. 

"We have a LOT in common," I gushed, grabbing his arm. He looked down at the small touch for a beat, then snaked an arm around my shoulder to guide me inside the shop.

+

We spoke about everything under the sun over the course of a few hours and a couple of coffees. I was so entranced by him that I actually let my drink get cold, rendering it undrinkable when I finally remembered its existence. 

Not only did we have music tastes in common, but we also shared a lot of the same tastes in film and food. I, being less experienced in the realm of movie-watching, though, agreed to let him show me a few of his favorite films. In fact, we headed straight back to his house afterward to watch one of said movies. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but Kyle had proven himself trustworthy of not trying any funny business. Even still, I couldn't quiet the thoughts of him possibly thinking I was weird, or worse, that I might be falling for him.

All of those thoughts were silenced, though, when he closed the door to his room behind him. It felt different this time. I wasn't there out of pure obligation or drunken irresponsibility. This time, I wanted to be there.

"Which one did I say we were watching, again?" Kyle asked, crossing the room over to the TV, switching it on using the button on the side. He slid a small basket out of the stand and pulled out a disc binder full of movies. I flopped down onto the sofa, crossing my legs. 

"Wow, you're serious about film," I laughed, kicking myself for how stupid the sentence sounded as soon as it left my mouth. "You said Catch Me If You Can, I'm pretty sure."

"Right, right," he murmured, flipping the binder open, letting the left side land on the ground with a loud thump. He thumbed through the discs, the casings making a plasticky crinkling sound as they moved. "Wait, I totally forgot about this one."

"Which one?"

"The Lost Boys. You seen it?" he asked, an excited tone creeping in.

"Yes! But I will happily watch it again, Kyle," I exclaimed. "Tis the season, right? Vampires and fall go hand in hand."

He slid the disc out of the casing and threw it in the DVD player, then crossed the room to join me on the couch. He sat close, but not too close, and used the remote to start the film. The space between us felt like a canyon. In the silence waiting for the movie to start, it was so quiet, it was hard to tell if I was alive. 

The feeling came out of nowhere, knocking me in the stomach and making it hard to breathe. As if, all at once, smoke filled the room and replaced all the clean air with a stifling smog. I needed to come up for air, and the only way I figured I could was in the safety of Kyle's touch. It was a sudden and intense thirst.

I couldn't even focus on the movie. I couldn't focus on anything. I couldn't even breathe. The only movement I could rally was one of my eyes, letting them dart to the side to look at Kyle in my periphery. I had never known anything like it. Just complete paralysis at the hands of an indescribable need. A need for him and only him to simply touch me.

His hand twitched on his knee. I watched him shift out of the corner of my eye. I don't think I had taken a full breath since he sat down next to me. Then, he spoke.

"Hannah," he rasped. My name sounded so beautiful coming from his lips. I turned to face him and without delay his lips were on mine. I froze, unsure if it was real life. Unsure if he was actually kissing me. Unsure if I was actually enjoying it. But in an instant, I could breathe again. I could fill my lungs with fresh, new air that made me dizzy. I relaxed into him.

He stopped. "Wait, Hannah, is this oka-" he whispered, interrupted by my mouth reconnecting with his. My hand felt its way up to his hair, my fingers lacing tightly in his blonde curls. I slid closer to him and paused, looking him deeply in his eyes before continuing.

His breaths came out ragged and loud between kisses. Our foreheads rested together. My hand moved down from his hair to his chest. I could feel his heart positively racing beneath my palm. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, if that was even possible. I was practically sitting in his lap. I drank in the moment so furiously I felt I might drown. 

I felt like I was on fire. Like someone had set a slow and steady match beneath my center, deep in the pit of my stomach.

What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is happening? my brain screamed, but my heart wanted more, and I wouldn't let cerebral obstacles prevent me from continuing to be that close to him.

He reached up and cupped the side of my face in his palm, deepening the kisses to something more, his tongue creeping its way inside my mouth. The warmth of the contact spread throughout my entire body, rendering me almost drunk. Kyle consumed my senses. 

I pulled away. Both of us sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes. The movie played quietly in the background. My heart beat so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"Wow," he panted, placing a hand over mine, which was still resting on his chest. A flush crept across my cheeks. "Was that real?"

Previous Part | Next Part

[idwtransformers-vibe]

Sickly mornings and a story about the Oathbreaker:

TW: implied blood/death

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Laughed the bloodied Lord. "Kill me, and you'll break your oath, paladin. Do not forget that you swore loyalty to me... Under the oath of Crown." His lips curled into a smile.

The young man before him stood there with two swords crossed together with Sentinels throat between them. He held back tears. He wanted to cry and scream at him, yet he couldn't. He didn't want to show any sign of weakness. "I followed your orders..." He started. "I carried out your missions, your wars, your battles... I've arrested so many people who oppose you. Destroyed kingdoms, cities, and villages. All in your name." He gritted his teeth. Never would he have thought that he would be used as a puppet for someone else's schemes.

Hatred swelled in his heart. He wanted nothing more but to make his head role, to toss his body for the wolves to eat. He gripped the handle of the two swords tighter. "And you were a fool to follow-" Out of anger, Prowl raised one of his swords, quickly and harshly bringing it down.

There was the sound of two thuds hitting the ground. He stood over the body, looking at the bow dead king with disgust and hatred. "Sir?..." Trembled one of the maids' voices.

"Fetch a horse and leave this place. There will be no kingdom after everything. And tell the other's the same thing." Prowl ordered.

The maid didn't move. She stared at the body of the Lord she once served.

"Now." Prowl said more sternly. Causing the maid to snap out of her thoughts and hurry off to the others. Leaving him alone to deal with what he is about to become.

He could hear the sound of the guardsmen, actively trying to break down the door. Prowl stood there staring at the door. Waiting for them to come running in.

Prowl jolted awake and quickly sat up. He looked around at his surroundings. He rubbed his face, making sure if he was actually awake. With a sigh of relief. He looked at his spouse for a moment before feeling their forehead. They were still warm, a running fever.

They hadn't been feeling well yesterday. It seems they still weren't doing too well early this morning. He carefully gets up to go into the kitchen to make them some oatmeal, toast, and warm tea.

He thought back to the nightmare he had, or rather a memory. He just pushed the thought aside and continued to put together ingredients for the oatmeal over the fire stove. He could hear the sound of the wind blowing harshly outside. He noticed there were no stars or moon from the window. "Storm must be coming." He mumbled.

He would also hear footsteps coming to the kitchen. "Go back to bed, love." He said without facing them.

"I wanted to see what you're making." Their voice sounded weak and raspy.

"Oatmeal, now, you're taking some medicine and going back to bed." He walked away from the fire stove and pulled a small glass bottle out of the cabinet. "I went foraging yesterday and found some herbs Ratchet said that would help you. Lucky for us, these herbs are quite plentiful where we live." He grabs a spoon and pours some of it onto the spoon.

Prowl walks over to them and holds the spoon near their lips. "Now, take it, it'll help."

His spouse opened their mouth and took the medicine. After swallowing, they gagged. "Ugh... Gods, why is that so... BITTER? That's more bitter than what Ratchet makes. Did you make it?"

"It can't be that bitter." Prowl frowned.

"Then you try it."

They were met with hesitancy. Instead, Prowl closed the bottle and put it back. He went to go check on the oatmeal and stirred it around some. "Now, go back to bed. I'll bring you breakfast when it's ready." They nodded this time and left the kitchen.

In a short amount of time, breakfast was ready. He put some oatmeal in the bowl and toast on a small plate. He placed the two on a tray with a cup of warm tea.

He carried it back to his shared bedroom. His spouse was in a light sleeping state. He set the tray on the bedside table and leaned over them. "Darling." He said softly and gently nudged their shoulder. "Wake up, love. I have your breakfast ready."

They slowly wake up some. "Already?" They mumbled tiredly.

"Mhm. Now, let's sit up." He says. He helps them sit up and gives them the tray. Prowl pushes their hair from their forehead as he wanted to properly feel their temperature again. He clicked his tongue with a sigh. "You're going to be in bed for a few days."

"I can do basic tasks."

"Maybe, but you do not get a choice in this matter." He tone sounded rather authoritative. Moments where he spoke such a tone made his spouse wonder what he was like in his early years. They always hear constant whispers about him in cities and kingdoms. Spoke his name like it was a curse that'll summon him in the dead of night for simply uttering his name. They know his story but never experienced the worst fear he can bring. They only scratched the surface of feeling fear towards him that one evening, but they would never understand of all who opposed him felt.

When they didn't lift their spoon, only stared at him with a curious and tired look, Prowl gently took the spoon from their fingers and lifted it to their lips. "Please eat. This cold storm will get worse, and you need to eat what you can to help you feel better." They opened their mouth and ate the spoonful of oatmeal, then they took the spoon from him tenderly.

This is the side of Prowl that almost no one sees. Loving, caring, still tough with his words, but they aren't brutally harsh like they normally are towards others. He touch was gentle, and his eyes were softer.

His spouse slowly ate. They decided to strike a conversation. "I felt rapid movement from your side of the bed." They mentioned. "Are you alright?"

"Just a bad dream." He said vaguely.

"Was it about your Lord again?" They asked between coughs.

"Hm."

That meant yes, that's what his spouse learned over the years of knowing him, at least.

"You always seem to dream about him at the start of winter. Why is that?"

Prowl takes the spoon from their hand and replaces it with a cup of tea. He wanted them to eat as much as they could and drink as much as they needed. "Well, I dragged him down at the start of winter." He answered nonchalantly.

"You seem to have more to the answer."

"Well, overthrowing a Lord takes a bit of time. At the start of winter, I physically dethroned him." He responded with ease. It's like it didn't even bother him... Maybe because he was jaded at heart, but to his spouse, they thought it would be a sore memory.

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Of course not. I'd do it over again until I mopped his entire bloodline off the face of this world. The fool played games, I know my hands are not clean of the things I've done. But, he made a mistake, I noticed. I, for once, listened to the citizens, I saw what he had done. I saw how he used me, and I saw how my path was about entwine with his... So, I forced him to feel what the people felt under his rule. I forced him to face what the people faced every day. In front of the public." There was an eerie silence in the air, but he didn't seem uncomfortable. "I humiliated him. The people were too afraid to show any excitement as they were afraid of me too. I can't really blame them. My men pulled me away and to the Lord to his chambers to be patched up."

It was interesting... He never really went into depth about what he had done to the Lord that built up to his execution. To hear that was able to physically harm the Lord in public was really telling about either how much people feared Prowl and how the Lord getting a taste of his own medicine was long overdue. Respected isn't the word to use in this scenario.

"He tried to punish me, but no one wanted to carry the task. He wouldn't even do it himself." Prowl basically made his Lord's life a living hell up until the middle of winter. His Lord thought it would be a good idea to mock him, Prowl didn't even let him finish his last sentence.

Prowl took their free hand and held it. "Besides, had I not done what I done. I most likely wouldn't have met you." He pointed out.

At least he sees the silver lining in all that mess, his spouse being one of them. Even if he met them years later, it was better than nothing. He leans over and kisses their forehead. "I'm going to go get some chores done, shout if you need anything, okay?" He leans away and gets up to leave. He left their door open just so he could hear them. He had a strange way when trying to put certain things in a positive light, but he also wasn't wrong either.

[missmiseryguts]

Also PRETTY PLS WITH A FLIP TON OF WHIP CREAM ON TOM RAMBLE TO ME ABOUT EMPRESS IN UR AU she's of my favs in the og!!! (Along with the Movie Birds and MU lol)

Cackles maniacally. I HAVEN'T DONE MUCH ON EMPRESS HERSELF, PER SE, BUT THIS IS WHAT I HAVE!!!

She's pretty much identical to how she acts in normal a hat in time, really LOL. The difference is her battle which is.. Probably in her office? That was my plan, I think. The plan Hood and Mu made i haven't actually worked on, but it ends in Mu sneaking around Empress' office looking for the Timepiece, Empress catches her, monologues, shows that Hood has been caught, oh shit battle start. HA.

For her attacks, I actually had the idea of her keeping her jewel gun thing.. And maybe it being powered by Mus Timepiece! It shoots out . Tttthings. I also wanted to use the environment like mafia boss fight does, with falling sandbags and stuff, so I was thinking since it's in her office, fucking file cabinets fall over and make the terrain harder to navigate and stuff??? Another attack is probably her trying to scratch Mu, like how Empress does to hat kid if you hit her in the main game, and perhaps an attack where she throws Nyakuza cats at Mu or something BAHAHAHA

Something I also did with the metro in general that relates to Empress is... Ok I can't remember if this is canon or not, but there's a lot of missing posters around the metro, and when you go missing in the metro??? You'll never be found again. Xoxo. Because Empress kills the fuckers. HAHAHA. I had an idea of Hood & Bows parents being 'missing'.. Gulp

Empress also HATES HOOD. WITH ALL HER HEART. Hood is the one sneaky little BRAT she can't seem to catch, like a game of cat and mouse, so during the boss fight when Hood is FINALLY CAPTURED I'd say Empress might actually put her in danger or something. Like in base game, Mu us just kinda dangling there HELP. Empress also might just keep Hood there to ' make her watch her friend die ' or something. God I love this wicked cruel bitch. She's probably got some hatred for Bow, too.. Hoods her main target though, since she's more open with her destruction and graffiti LMAO.

I also think I mentioned how Empress shows that Hood was captured before the battle, instead of how in the mafia boss fight Mu is just shown dangling halfway through, I thought this was cool... Like Hood panicking realizing Empress is gonna hurt Mu?!? Imagine her trying to convince Empress not to, saying it was her fault and her idea and telling her to leave Mu alone... Before being told to shut the fuck up by Empress LMFAO. POOR HOOD.

Her in the spaceship too.. She became the ball of blood yarn, courtesy of Hood, and stays around in the library! Yeah, I've been cooking. I've changed some of the areas of Mus spaceship around! Mechanical room has become the library, filled with storybooks, and other stuff. Mu will obviously still have a mechanical room. She probably shoved it in the basement. BAHAHAHS. The mechanics and workings of your ship??? Not important! FUNNY STORIES?!?! URRRAAAHHHHHHHHH

Anyways, she hangs out in the library and sells the guidebook badge! Which points Mu to nearby relics.. I thought that would be fun.. Anyways that's all I have of Empress for now, I'll definitely be adding more probably LOL, but her swap is different from the others so she stays relatively the same personality wise, and through her actions too LOL. She is feral <3

[xetlynn]

The Hunger Games: Protector; Chapter One, The Reaping

[Information] [One] [Two]

"No! No!!!" A scream emitted in the air, startling me awake. I jumped up but Katniss was already comforting her little sister, Primrose.

"Shh, shh." The older one hugs the girl, stroking her hair. "It's okay, it's okay. You were just dreaming, you were dreaming." She tells her, the blonde begins to sob. I go over to them, joining in comforting her.

"It was me." She cries. Prim has been having these nightmares ever since she turned 12.

Meaning she was now a part of the reaping. Something I never understood could be a thing but of course, it is.

"I know, I know. But it's not. It's your first year Prim, your name's only been in there once. They're not going to pick you. Try to go back to sleep." Katniss tells her, even though she doesn't know that it's kind of true, being picked in your first year is rare. "I can't." She looks up at me frowning.

I kiss her forehead. "Just try, flower." I whispered before glancing over to the brunette who sighs as I lay her back down. Both of us sat in the bed with her.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow," Katniss begins to sing, Prim joins in as I just listen. "A bed of grass, a soft green pillow."

"You remember that song. Okay, you finish it. We gotta go." Katniss kisses her temple just as I had done before her. "Where?" Her voice stops us. "We just have to go, flower." I smile softly. "But we'll be back, I love you."

We grab our jackets, Buttercup hisses at the girl beside me. "I'll still cook you." She threatens the cat. I open the door, trying not to chuckle at her hatred for the poor kitty.

"I will never understand your two's bond." I shake my head, speaking on the quieter side as the village is a little less noisy today. "It's not difficult to understand."

We glance around before going under the District boundary. An electric fence that's barely ever on due to not having much electricity in 12.

Getting deeper into the woods, having to fetch our hunting gear we have to leave out here. Katniss uses a bow and lately she's been teaching me how to use it. I'm better with the traps. Always have been. And with fishing if we ever go to the water it's easy to use an arrow as a spear.

Close contact hunting has always been a specialty of mine compared to a bow and arrow. She gives me the bow and I give her a look, trying to hand it back to her. She stops me with a low smirk on her lips.

"You need the practice, [Name]." Folding her arms, I let out a sigh, snatching the arrows from the ground as she scoffs out a snicker.

This is where we grow quieter than mice. Our footsteps barely crunching below us. Pointing when we hear the slightest noise. After some time we finally spotted a doe. I look over to her and she nods her head doing a motion to use the bow.

I aligned the arrow into the correct position, taking in a deep breath as I pulled it back. Using one eye to track the deer. It was unexpecting, I almost felt bad for wanting to kill her. I ready the shot.

"What are you two gonna do with that when you kill it?" A voice speaks, spooking the doe causing it to run away. Both Katniss and I goran. "Damn you, Gale!" Katniss calls out angrily. He chuckles at us.

"It's not funny." I point at him. "What're you two going to do with a 100 pound deer? It's Reaping Day, the place is crawling with Peacekeepers." He questions our antics.

"We were gonna sell it to some Peacekeepers." Katniss tells him. "Of course you were." He rolls his eyes. I put the bow and arrow into one hand, following beside the two. "Like you don't sell to Peacekeepers." I argue with him. "No! Not today."

"It was the first deer I've seen in a year. [Name] could've gotten it. Now we have nothing." She complains to the taller boy. "Okay." He picks up a rock, throwing it. Scaring off some birds and Katniss hurries me. I pull the bow and arrow out. Shooting one. The two cheer for me since I'm usually horrible at this.

Suddenly a plane flies above us, I grab onto my cousin pushing her to the ground. Gale in front of us.

Once it's out of view we get up, dusting ourselves off.

We went to find the bird I shot, then afterwards we sat on a large rock.

"What if they did? Just one year, what if everyone just stopped watching?" Gale asks us. I play with the grass as we talk. "They won't, Gale." Katniss disagrees.

"What if they did? What if we did?" He glances at me and I shake my head. "It won't happen." My little cousin speaks up once again.

"You root for your favorite, you cry when they get killed. It's sick." He rambles, something we know but understand why he vents about.

The games are sick but have been going for 74 years it's not going to just disappear. "Gale." Katniss and I say at the same time. "If no one watches, then they don't have a game. It's as simple as that." He gestures. Us two hold our amusement.

"What?" He questions us.

"Nothing." "Huh?" We replied to him. "Fine, laugh at me." He huffs out. "We're not laughing at you." She defends us but I shrug my shoulders.

"I kind of was." I chuckle, Gale playfully shoves my arm. "We could do it, you know? Take off. Live in the woods. It's what we do anyway." He grows serious, my face falls. "They'd catch us." Katniss says.

"Maybe not." He argues. "Cut out our tongues or worse. We wouldn't make it five miles."

"No, I'd get five miles. I'd go that way." He points off into the distance. "[Name] and I have Prim and Zay, you have your brothers." She reminds him, I think about putting the little ones in danger and my chest tightens. But the games, the chance of their names being read out loud…

"They can come too." Gale simply says. "Prim in the woods?" Katniss huffs, Gale and I laugh. "Maybe not." He hums.

"I'm never having kids." Katniss sighs, leaning backwards. "Same." I agree, staring up at the sky. "I might. If I didn't live here." Gale tells us.

"But you do live here." She prompts him. "I know but if I didn't. Oh, I forgot." He changes the subject, pulling out a piece of bread.

Splitting it in half for the both of us. "Oh my god! Is this real?" She asks excitedly. As I stare at it in disbelief, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"You're fucking amazing." I told him. "It better be, Cost me a squirrel. Happy Hunger Games."

"And may the odds-" Katniss bites into her bread "Be ever in your favor." I finish for her, taking a bite into mine as well.

"How many times has your names been entered?" She then asks us. I don't like talking about how many times I had to put my name in for the family. Lying about it to my dad and Kat many times.

"Fifty one." I take another bite of the bread. "Forty two, guess the odds aren't exactly in our favor." He nudges me as I frown deeply.

The three of us go back to the village, Katniss and I separating as I go back home to help Clare with prim and Zayden. Kat going to the trade building.

I entered the house, not expecting my father but there he stood, he was in cleaner clothes than usual. As well as Clare, she was already dressed and cleaned up for the Reaping. Primrose along with Zayden came into the front room, pulling me into a hug.

"Let's get you two ready, hm?" I ask them with a toothy smile. Prim was filled with anxiety so all she responds with is a nod. Zayden being only five and not understanding what he was getting ready for he cheers to do so.

He's going to stand with dad due to being younger. I'm glad I won't have to stress over him for more years. Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to volunteer for him if he ever was picked during the draw.

The thought freaking me out I have to physically shake my head for it to go away.

I get the first bath started, Prim getting cleaned up first. Clare picked her dress out, also letting me know that I have one on my bed.

"Thank you, Aunt Clare." I hug her, she only nods forcing a smile before walking away. My father picked up Zayden who was playing with a wooden plane I had carved when I was 12 right before he was born. I had a feeling he was going to be a boy. I argued with my parents all the time.

They believed it was a girl, or that might've been to mess with me. But I knew in my heart I was going to have a little brother and I was right. My mom taught me how to do wood carvings.

Making little animals and objects, she would sell them sometimes, just to earn a little bit more money. Then after she passed it was something to take my mind off the world around me.

"You’re home early." I speak up, picking up the off-white dress my Aunt had given to me. It had tiny flowers around it. It was gorgeous. "We all got sent home early due to the Games." He tells me as he bounces Zay on his hip.

I nod my head, staring at my little brother who was so focused on "flying" his little plane. "You don't have to worry about washing him, he got a bath last night. Hasn't been out much since." He lets me know, playing Zayden back down, grabbing his clothes off the tall dresser.

"Just worry about yourself and little Prim." He says, kneeling down. "Thank you." I give him a small hug. Prim was already out of the bath and dressed. I brush out her hair and then send her off to Clare before I enter the bath next.

The water was cold, so I didn't bother to boil some water. Just wanting to get it over with. My heart quickly beating in my chest practically forced me to be quicker.

I hated bodies of water. I don't know why, I just always had some weird phobia about it. The unknown. What could happen even if it's for a split second. I hated everything about it.

Getting done fast, I dried myself off. Throwing my undergarments on before the dress. I use a towel to hurriedly dry my hair off. I put my hair into two tight dutch braids, a few strands out of place but I didn't care enough to fix it as the pain in my arms was too annoying to continue dealing with.

I walked out of the bathroom, Clare went into the room and fixed up the bath for Katniss. I go to Primrose, grinning at how beautiful she looked.

"Pretty flower, come here." I take her hand, spinning her around. "You look gorgeous, my flower." I kiss her nose making her giggle, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, leaf." She lets out a long breath as she grips onto me. My nickname she gave me is because I started calling her flower, she thought it was dumb at first. So she gave me a "dumb" nickname too. I love it even though she didn't want me to.

I heard the front door open as Prim called out for her mom. But then hearing the door as well. "Aww. Look at you. You look beautiful. Better tuck in that tail, little duck." Katniss pulls her sister towards her, tucking in her shirt that poked out in the back.

"I laid something out for you, too." Clare speaks up to Kat. "Okay." She goes to the bathroom. Getting herself ready.

"Now you three look beautiful." Aunt Clare tells us. "Wish I looked like you." Prim tells her sister. "Aw, no. I wish I looked like you, little duck." Kat tells the little blonde who shyly smiles but the conversation was cut off by the whistle that blows. Time stamping that we need to get moving for the Reaping.

"Hey, you wanna see what I got you today? It's a Mockingjay pin. To protect you. And as long as you have it nothing bad will happen to you. Okay? I promise." Katniss pulls out a little gold pin, trying to calm down the girl.

Zayden gets a little antsy as well.

As we walk outside it's time for me to separate from my dad and Zayden. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.

Like if I didn't grip it, it was going to explode but I took a deep breath in, instead. It was like this every year. This was my second to last year of The Reaping. It wasn't any easier though. I give my last hug to my little brother, giving him back to my dad.

"[Name]." He reaches his arms out still and I kiss his cheek. "I'll see you after, okay?" I tell him, trying to be hopeful.

My dad's eyes were saddened, he observed my every move before I had the courage to actually look at him. "I love you, dad." I hug him, his embrace lingers for a little longer than it should. When another whistle blows and I hear Prim begin to panic, I let him go.

"I love you too, We'll see you after." He nods his head and I do the same, heading over to my younger cousins.

"Shh, shh, Prim. It's okay. It's time to sign in now. Okay, they're gonna prick your finger to take just a little bit of blood." Katniss explains what is about to happen.

"You didn't say-" "I know. It doesn't hurt much. Just a little, right [Name]?" She looks up to me and I nod my head. "Go sit down there with the little kids. I'll find you after, okay?" She assures the youngest girl who nods her head. The Peacemaker calls out to the next girl.

Prim goes up. Katniss and I move into our lines.

Unfortunately having to be away from one another.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games. And, may the odds be ever in your favor." Effie, the woman who has done this for years, her colorful get up almost being a mockery to the colorless aura of District 12. Her candy-like pink hair that's huge and puffy.

"Now, before we begin. We have a very special film. Brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" She grins, clapping her hands before showing off the screen to the right.

It's the same thing every year, I roll my eyes at the sight and the sound of President Snow's voice. "War. Terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained." I shifted in place, listening to this.

"And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. And the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future." The video finally ends, after what feels like an eternity.

"I just love that! Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first." The colorful woman moves over to the large glass bowl of names, drawing the first piece of paper. Moving back to the microphone and opening the paper.

"Primrose Everdeen!" And the world stopped.

My heart dropped and I saw the back of Kat's head. She looked frozen in place. "Where are you dear? Come on up. Well, come on up!"

I see the blonde reluctantly moving towards the stage.

"Prim! Prim!" I hear Katniss but in quickness, not even realizing what I'm doing I grab her.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!" I scream out loud, my voice breaking subtly. Primrose, comes to Katniss and I. They both grip onto me. "I believe we have a volunteer, Mr. Mayor." Effies says in shock, a smile on her face.

"You both need to get out of here. Get out of here!" I tell them. "No!" Prim cries.

"[Name], no, don't do this!" Katniss cries but is separated by the Peacekeepers that grab onto me. "Go find your mom and my dad. Zayden as well!" I ordered them.

"No!" Prim shouts again. "[Name]!" Katniss screams. "Go find them!" I demand. They both scream, no, trying to fight against the peacekeepers.

"I'm sorry!" I tell them. Clare grabs them as I'm ushered to the stage.

"A dramatic turn of events here in District 12. Yes, well, District 12's very first volunteer. Bring her up!" Effie holds a card in her hand as I stand next to her. I force the tears back down. Except one that had already escaped but I didn't wipe it. Standing there in shock. Wanting to throw up the bread I had eaten with Katniss and gale earlier in the day.

"Come on dear. What's your name?" Effie asks me, putting the mic near my face. "[Name] Everdeen." Yes, my mother gave me her last name instead of my father's. She didn't know they were going to end up together as they weren't serious when she fell pregnant.

"Well, I bet my hat those were your sisters, wasn't it?" She proudly states but I shake my head. "Cousins." I sound like I'm out of breath. "Ohh," She sings out. "Let's have a big hand for our very first volunteer, [Name] Everdeen." She claps enthusiastically, but the crowd was quiet, only doing the three finger salute. She awkwardly moves on.

"And now, for the boys."

She pulls a name and comes back to the mic. "Peeta Mellark." She reads out. I spotted the blonde boy from the crowd, recognizing him from when we were children.

When he attempted to convince his father to trade one of my carvings for bread. Getting himself in trouble for insisting, I left the carving of the bear there even though I wasn't given anything. He ended up throwing a slightly burnt loaf towards me in the rain. I was leaned up a tree weak with Katniss in my arms.

I heard how his mother had yelled at him for burning that bread. His gesture was never forgotten. It was a horrible time for my family. My mother had passed and Katniss and Prim's father passed. My father working extra hours in the mines. We weren't even scraping enough to get by.

Just making sure that Prim and Zayden had food and formula. Clare was stuck in place with her depression, going mute and not even taking care of herself.

The same blond boy who saved my family that day walked up onto the stage to enter the Hunger Games with me and I was devastated that it had to be him.

"Here we are, our tributes from District 12. Well come on, you two shake hands." She instructs us. We shake hands, both of our faces drained of color.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

If you want to be in the Taglist for this let me know!!!

Maasterlist

P.M. ML

[usmsgutterson]

A Start- N.L x fem! reader

all right! This one was requested by @naushtheaspiringauthor! Naush, if you're reading this I am so sorry that this request took so long to write! I've been struggling with motivation as far as writing requests is concerned lately and today I had a bit of coffee to help me get started! I hope you like it and if you don't, feel free to reach out and I'll make the necessary changes.

The type of Grisha that was wanted for this fic was never specified so I went ahead and had her be a tidemaker, which I hope is all right!

Fic type-this is a bit of both angst and fluff

warnings- a lot of mentions of the war, a mention of throwing someone overboard, and this is not my best work as far as editing is concerned--I kind of rushed it a bit because I am running on motivative fumes right now and didn't want to lose motivation part of the way through the editing process.

You were standing at the bow of the Volkvolny, Alina Starkov not three feet to your left. She had her gaze to the sea just as you did, unblinking and unphased but relentless in her hatred for the Darkling, just as everyone else silently was on the boat.

You were one of the Tidemakers on Sturmhonds crew, having been brought on by Tamar and only on your second day aboard the Volkvolny. You hadn't officially met Sturmhond yet but you didn't doubt that you would in due time, if the hostage situation that the Darkling had brought onto the boat was to be of any indication.

Your gaze was on the sea as the Darkling approached and hauled Alina away, lost in your own thoughts of life when you got to land again--comfortable bed, decent food, everything you needed to be content in that moment.

You headed away from the bow of the ship, thanking Tamar as she passed you one of the rum rations she'd just won in a game of cards, trying not to listen in on the conversation between Alina, Sturmhond, and the Darkling that was happening barely three feet away from you. You nearly let your curiosity get the best of you but with a sip of your rum you found yourself tired and ready to do anything but eavesdrop.

You let Tamar drag you off to a game of rummy, laughing a bit as she led you away and your rum sloshed around a bit in the mug, ready to get drunker than words could describe and barely remember it all through the haze generated by your headache the following morning.

-

The weeks passed, and you found yourself assigned to Mals care. You didn't fight it because, while you were on Sturmhonds crew, you were stuck taking orders from the Darkling while Mal hunted for the Sea Whip and Alinas second amplifier. With the second amplifier, Alina would get stronger, and eventually she'd be able to kill him.

You planned to watch the Darkling meet the end he deserved, for all that he'd done to your country and for all that he'd done to the people you held closest, and if getting a step closer to witnessing his death meant looking after one of the people he took prisoner, so be it.

Mal noticed that you, for someone who he thought must've been on the Darklings staff, were much kinder than those he'd dealt with in the previous few days, and as you purposefully lead him past Alina so that their hands might graze for a moment, a fleeting look might have been exchanged, all you could do was shrug.

"He trusts me because I'm willing to wear a bit of black and because the bastard thinks of Sturmhonds crew as his bloody own," you said. "Enjoy your fresh air while it lasts, lover boy. I'll try to persuade Alinas guards into letting the two of you have a chat after dinner."

"Why are you being so kind to us?" Mal asked, ignoring the whip of the wind as it drove past the two of you. "You seem quite stoic."

"You're using stoic in the place of rude and I don't appreciate that--I am stoic but rude is not something that I am or ever will be," you said. "I am being kind to you because you've gone without it for too long. You go without kindness for more than a few weeks and you'll turn out exactly as I have--reluctant to let people in, keeping everyone at arms length. Nothing will happen to you if you go down that route, and if anything does happen to you, it will be as rare as a dandelion in winter."

"And I think it's because of Sturmhond," Mal said. "You've clearly started to fancy the bloke and maybe you think that getting in our good favor will get you in his?"

"I am a twenty-one year old woman," you said. "I do not need to ferry the favor of a couple of seventeen year olds, regardless of the fact that one of them is a saint, to gain the favor of my own bloody boss, Mr. Oretsev, but thank you for that. I totally appreciate your assumptions."

"It's not an assumption," Mal said. "It's an observation. I noticed the way that you watched him when he was with Alina the other day--you don't think you're the type he'll fall for, do you? That's why, even despite the fact that every time he grins at you flirtatiously you grin back like a sheep caught between the crossfire of two gun wielding idiots, you haven't made a move? You haven't offered him the rum ration you win from a game of rummy?"

"Another word of Sturmhond and I will throw the both of us overboard, Mr. Oretsev. Am I understood?"

"You are indeed," Mal said. "I would even say that I understand your words as well as I understand your lovesickness whenever you look at him--Alinas taken to calling him the clever fox because of his hair. You're falling for a ginger. You have a good time with that."

You scoffed, having no intention to make good on your threats to him.

It was true that you'd fallen for the handsome privateer and it was also true that, in direct relation to his treatment of Alina, you never thought he would fall for one of your sort. A privateer and a Grisha wouldn't work and you had no idea why, in the weeks since you were first brought onto the team by Tamar, you'd thought it probably could've.

They were your delusions, though, and because they were your delusions you would learn to live with them just as everyone else learned to live with their own.

--

Time passed. The civil war was ended in a burst of sun and star and the death of a saint. Nikolai returned to his palaces and found that they felt too empty for his liking.

He couldn't place why, nor what could've been done to fix it, until one day Tamar came into the guards break room smiling, a letter in hand.

"Got a pen pal, do you?" Nikolai asked. At that, Tamar scrunched her nose in his direction and gestured to the plate of biscuits on the center of the table at which they sat. Genya pushed back a curtain to let a bit of light into the room, and begrudgingly, Nikolai grabbed a biscuit.

"Tame your demons today," Tamar said. "We have a trip to make to Ketterdam and I have secured us a place to stay that's not the embassy but will indeed provide more than enough protection in it's place while renovations continue after the oil leak. Nikolai, you remember Y/N, don't you?"

The girl he'd fallen for during the civil war? How could he ever have forgotten.

He'd loved you in silence, in glances to you while you stood and chatted with Zoya and Genya, while you laughed with Tamar and stole pieces of bacon from Tolya in exchange for your rum rations while travelling. The way he'd felt about you had snuck up on him in the days of the civil war, and despite all of his trying, it hadn't gone away since.

"How can he forget her?" Zoya asked. "The amount of loving looks he thinks nobody saw him give her during the war is astounding. Why bring her up?"

"Well, as mentioned, there was an oil leak at the Ravkan Embassy. We needed a place to stay in Ketterdam while we're there on business so I figured I'd reach out to a rumored member of the Council of Tides and see what she could do."

"And what all has she done?" Nikolai asked.

"She lives in a mansion in the merchants district. Six bedrooms and a nice kitchen, good food for the duration of our stay. I asked if she wouldn't mind our company and she said to come whenever."

Zoya smirked and Genya clasped her hands together, a grin adorning her face almost instantly. Nikolais gaze drifted to David, who was watching his wife with a smile of his own.

"I've missed her," Genya said. "I know we'll be there on business but it'll be nice to see an old friend."

Zoya glanced at Nikolai. "Or perhaps reignite an old flame," she said as Tamar wiggled her eyebrows, a giggle befalling her lips as she did.

"A flame that was never ignited in the first place?" Nikolai asked. "Write back to Y/N thanking her for her ability to accommodate us. I will see to it that she is fairly compensated for allowing us to lodge with her if she finds taking time off of work a necessity."

Tamar nodded. "I already wrote a note and sent it along," she said. "Eat breakfast, Nikolai. Your stuff is packed and waiting on the ship. We leave today."

"Ring for tea, will you?" David asked. Nikolai laughed a bit but did Davids bidding, trying to mentally get himself ready to visit the woman he loved but had not seen in too much time to count.

--

Two weeks came to pass, and Nikolai had found himself approaching your garden, mug of tea in hand, as he couldn't sleep.

The demon took him over when he slept and most nights, while the demon had indeed taken a step back that trip, he didn't like the idea of closing his eyes and letting himself drift off. When Nikolais conscious faded, the demons conscious set in, and he didn't want to know what kind of damage the demon could do to you or the kind of damage you could do to it in the name of self defense.

He flinched when he saw you--you'd hardly interacted in the two days since he, the triumvirate, Tamar and Tolya had come. He was hoping you wouldn't notice him because who, exactly, wants to have their first conversation in several years at three in the morning?

"I heard you making your tea," you said. "Come on out. I've been meaning to talk to you since you first showed up, but I couldn't really find the words to do it."

Nikolai stepped out into the garden, came to sit next to you on a bench made of fabrikator altered obsidian--Nikolai had heard you and Tamar discussing it, and you'd said it was infused with Grisha steel to make sure it lasted as long as possible.

"You work for the Council of Tides, yeah?"

"We're supposed to remain anonymous," you said. "I can't tell you that."

"You worked from eight this morning to midnight. That's sixteen hours."

"And in thanks for covering my coworkers shift, they're covering mine tomorrow. I will be stuck in this house all day long," you said. "I do work for the Council of Tides, for the record, but if you say as much to anyone, I will risk the treason charge and have you hanged. It was an opportunity and I took it because it was that or worry about everything in Ravka. I chose the one less likely to kill me."

"They clearly pay you well enough," he said. "Seven figures, I'd imagine."

"The money I make in a year is enough to have Ravka debt free and the treasury restored within four of them," you said. "It's ridiculous, but I either make good money and live in this mansion and pinch my pennies so that I can make sure I have a good foot to stand on when I sell this place and go somewhere new, or I don't make good money and end up living in the crime districts. I had enough of fighting, of open wounds and of shouting in the streets during the war."

Nikolai nodded. "I don't blame you," he said. "However, if making a donation to Ravka is ever in your cards..."

You laughed. "You are so lucky I find your face kissable rather than punchable. Had I found it punchable I would've done it just then."

Nikolai laughed in turn. "You've been missed around the palaces," he said. "I mean--your absence has been disdained by lots of us."

"Who?" You asked. "I write with the lot of them rather frequently--went to see Alina and Mal just last week with a couple of loaves of bread made by Kerch born bakers! Who's disdained my absence, Mr. Lantsov? Everyone seems to be getting on just fine without me."

"Your absence has been disdain by one person," he said. "Me. I couldn't figure it out for a while but then it clicked and now I just--fuck, I feel stupid."

You laughed. "You could've just said you missed me," you said. "I was barely a presence at the palaces beforehand, but I can indeed understand why you would miss seeing me browsing the books in the library you never went into."

"I was busy!" Nikolai shouted, laughing a bit and startling himself with the volume of his words. "I was busy, Y/N, trying to win a war, and when I wasn't I was indeed watching you look at the books. You always got so focused in the libraries--I've spent my time in your absence reminiscing on it."

You laughed. Nikolai set his cup of tea on the ground.

"I loved you during that time," you said. "I really loved you, Nikolai. Didn't think you'd feel the same."

"I did," Nikolai said. "--I still do, Y/N. I haven't stopped for all of my trying."

You blinked. You'd been trying to move on from the war, all that you felt during it and everything that happened. You'd told yourself you'd only hold onto friendships, onto the good memories that came of the war because those good memories were amazing and they were few and far between, so holding onto them could only make sense rather than letting them go.

You supposed that Nikolai was one of those memories. He was a good memory in spite of all of the yearning, a good memory despite the fact that you'd spent so much of your time drowning in the idea that he could never love you like you loved him.

"Do you love me still?" Nikolai asked. "You said that you loved me then. Do you love me now?"

It had been something you were trying to forget. You didn't want to forget it anymore.

"I do," you said. "I don't think I ever stopped, despite how much I wanted to leave everything behind me."

Nikolai grinned. "May I kiss you?"

And you nodded, and then his lips were on yours and it almost felt as though a piece of your life that had been missing since the end of the war had slid back into it's place.

You loved Nikolai, and Nikolai loved you, and while it wasn't much, it was certainly a start.