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starwarsmum · 6 months ago

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So after I couldn't find that fic, I decided I was gonna write my own version of it, because the idea was wonderful and I, apparently, actually cannot live without this fic existing.

Lost in Paris

Summary:

Damian has had enough of being treated like a child, or worse, as a bomb waiting to explode and kill those closest. After a conversation with Bruce about doing some vigilante work solo goes south, he comes to the conclusion that he is better off leaving home.

Little do his family know, he doesn't intend to return.

* * *

HEAVILY inspired by a fic that was deleted recently. Obviously it has my own take and writing, but I can't add the fic as an inspiration as it's not here anymore. Rated teen for language

Notes:

Heyo, so after I wrote the one shot, I became consumed with writing my own take on the fic that got away. So here's the first chapter of that.

All six have been written, but I need to take some time to read it through, make any edits, and make sure it makes sense! There is limited French throughout the fic, I'll be providing translations in the end notes.

Hope you all enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Jason

“…as though you can stop me, Father.”

Red Hood paused as Demon Spawn’s clipped voice echoed from further in the batcave. The loudest silence Red Hood had heard in quite a while followed it and he slowed down to eavesdrop.

“Tt, when will you admit that it is time I set out alone, to attempt my own vigilantism? I am a child no longer and refuse to be treated as such.” Robin sounded haughty and angry, a not unusual combination.

“I didn't say you couldn't become your own vigilante, Robin. I merely said that you would need a new mantle. Robin is Batman's sidekick, he does not stand alone. If you are ready to pass it down, I’m sure someone else will take it up. Someone always does.”

Red Hood winced at Bruce's words. Sure, all of them had held the title of Robin at one point or other, but the Fourth Robin was the most adamant that it was rightfully his, as the only blood son of Batman. And that was saying something, given Red Hood's little nickname for Red Robin and the hatred he had harbored after he found out he had been replaced. He held still as Robin drew back his hood and removed the mask.

“Father, I am Robin, it is my identity and I do not have to discard it if I do not wish to - which I do not. But if you will not give me the freedom to work without you, then I will not stay. I understand that you did not choose me, that I was thrust upon you by Mother but I have been here for 8 years now. Why do you not trust me to wear the mantle with honour?”

“You know why, Robin,” Batman growled, and there was warning in his voice. Damian clearly heard it too as his shoulders began to tense, though he said nothing. After a moment's pause, Batman continued. “You are still too angry, and you need supervision to ensure you keep to our ideals.”

“Your ideals, Father,” Damian said, his voice soft. He sounded more weary than angry and he waved Batman off as the cowled man loosed a growl. “It is of little importance. We are clearly at an impasse and nothing shall be gained by having this argument with you again. I shall be gone by morning.”

The sharp clicks of Damian's shoes were the only sound in the batcave and Red Hood counted his blessings that he hadn't been part of that conversation. Sure, Demon Spawn wound him up, but he wouldn't have thought he'd regress to his League days. Hell, some days Hood thought that he was more likely to snap than the youngest in their crew.

He slid casually into the main cave at that point, not even pretending not to have overheard the entire thing. It seemed that Batman wasn't in the mood to chat so he made himself scarce, going up to see Alfred and maybe he could scrounge some food from the kitchen. He didn't realise that this was a point in time that he would wish he could turn back to, many times over the coming years.

_ _ _

3 weeks later, and the cave was a riot of noise, voices echoing harshly. Jason hadn't suited up yet, but that didn't stop him from dropping casually into one of the chairs around their planning table so he could work out what the problem was. When the noise just continued, even increasing if that were possible, Jason let loose a shrill whistle to get everyone's attention.

“Thank you, god you lot are ridiculously loud tonight. We having trouble deciding who we're supposed to take down? Oh, hey Dick, undercover mission over with already?” He nodded at his older brother but he only got a curt ‘hi’ back. That made him sit up straighter; Dick was sunshine incarnate, but when he got angry, he got angry. God help the soul he aimed his rage towards. “Oh, shit, do we have, like, an actual problem? Did a rogue escape or something?”

“No, Jay, we're missing a team member,” Tim said sharply from the batcomputer. Jason did a quick look around but there were several of the family absent so he turned around, concerned. Tim sighed, “Robin, Robin is missing, Jason. He's been gone for several weeks and we can't find him anywhere.”

“Wait, weeks?” Jason sat up straighter, glancing towards Bruce - a look that was caught by Dick and immediately acted upon.

“What did you do, Bruce? Wait, forget that, what did Bruce do, Jay-bird?” As Jason recounted what he'd heard, Dick grew angrier and angrier, until he was agitatedly bouncing on his toes and glaring at Bruce. “So your son tells you he's gonna leave and you, what, just pretend it's not happening? For 3 weeks?!”

“Damian can take care of himself, Dick. If it wasn't true, he wouldn't have taken himself out of the role. He said he wanted to spread his wings, which of you hasn't wanted that?”

“You accused him of being one bad day away from murdering his enemies!” Dick shouted, exasperated. “And when has any of us completely cut off the whole family? Even Alfred hasn't heard from him. Has Jon? And where are Titus, and Alfred the cat? If he was coming back, he wouldn't have disrupted them!”

“You are reading too much into this and it is a waste of time. He will come home when he realises he was wrong and that's the end of it. Can we now focus on patrol?” There were noises of dissent and Tim continued to type furiously but they began gearing up. Dick shot another glare at the Bat and declared that this would be his last patrol with them if Damian didn't get in touch before the next one.

_ _ _

Jason was sitting in Dick’s apartment, watching with concern as the man paced relentlessly. It had been a month since his last family patrol and he was no closer to finding out where Damian had gone. He had League training so when he wanted to vanish, he could make a damn good go of it. Unfortunately, that left them with nothing but dead ends.

“What did Jon say?” Dick growled into his phone, muttering what Jason was pretty sure were curses in Romani. “Well, where does he think he went? I don't know, Tim, that's why I've been coming to the computer geniuses! Babs says she hasn't had any luck with known aliases and I know you haven't either. I'm at a loss, Jay hasn't had any success with his contacts and he hasn't reached out to me.”

Jason listened in silence and Dick devolved into a rant about how Bruce didn't value Damian enough and treated them all relatively poorly. He heard a short reply from the Replacement and could almost imagine the little twerp with a hand wrapped around a jumbo mug of coffee as he hunched over the keyboards. He thought back to how tired Damian had sounded during the argument with Bruce and frowned. Surely Damian would pop up again one day soon, there wasn't far an 18 year old with none of the family money could go.

Tim had hacked the bank records for Damian's private account and there had been a withdrawal for a decent sum on that first day, but nothing since. And the idea of Demon Spawn getting a job with none of the references from Gotham was laughable. But after the first month had passed with no contact, they had to admit that there was less and less chance of him coming home.

5 years later

Jason stood in the watchtower, staring at the screen in front of him. He had been doing his usual rounds, checking for chatter in some of the less underground communities to see if any of Damian's aliases had surfaced. When that had hit its usual dead ends, he decided to review Robin's original profile, to see if there was something they had missed in their initial sweep for potential allies and safe zones.

Jason had never been particularly adept at navigating the system for files and didn't want to pull up the wrong Robin file so he typed in ‘Damian Wayne' and saw the file. But, curiously, there had been another, newer reference to the name. Had one of the other heroes done a search on him recently?

He clicked the link and was flooded with a metric shit-ton of information spanning the past 5 years. There were credit searches, a courthouse request, hospital records, all in French and linked to a couple of addresses in Paris. He hesitated another minute before deciding to download the information onto an external drive and then scrubbing evidence of his search. Whilst he wasn't Babs or Tim competent, anyone doing a cursory look would see nothing amiss. And there were very few people searching for Damian these days.

It was a few hours later that he made it back to his favourite safe house to finally review the information he had garnered. He was nervous as he connected the drive to a device, wondering if he finally had a lead that would give them back their brother. He scanned the most recent entry and saw an address linked to a recent credit card application. His brow furrowed but the ID used certainly looked like an older Damian.

He jumped up, too jittery to read through the entire pack of information. He'd always been more of a ��do now, think later’ kind of guy. He could catch a Zeta tube back up to the watchtower and then get into Paris immediately. He checked the route from the Paris tube to the address before grabbing his civilian leather jacket and a domino mask.

The time difference between New Jersey and Paris was distinct. What had been a brisk but clear December afternoon there was a wet and dreary evening here. The drizzle had started not long after he had arrived and looked to worsen in the near future. He was watching the tall apartment building, hoping to spot his brother before he made an approach but with no success.

After twenty minutes, the heavens opened, forcing his hand. He could either stay where he was, getting more and more drenched, and risk getting sick, or bite the bullet and knock on the door. With a steadying breath, he slouched across the street and raised his fist to the door.

“Attendez, s’il vous plait,” came a feminine voice, and Jason panicked. That definitely wasn't his brother’s voice, had he made a mistake? Perhaps someone else had the unfortunate luck of having his brother's name, his age. He hesitated a fraction longer and the door cracked open, a shorter French woman looking up at him quizzically. “Oui?”

“Uh, pardonnez-moi, I, uh, shit,” he fumbled for the words not knowing how to phrase it. Her brow furrowed further and he felt the panic mounting. “Is, uh, is Damian here? Damian Wayne?”

“Un moment, monsieur,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his features. The door snapped shut and he heard a muffled conversation, the light voice of the woman and a deep masculine voice that made Jason tense up in anticipation. The adrenaline thrummed in his veins as the door opened again and the small woman reappeared.

“Please, monsieur, come in,” she said politely, opening the door wide. Jason heard another door in the apartment close softly. The room was spacious and sparsely decorated, a three seater and two seater sofa selection which she gestured towards him to sit down on. “You speak English, non? I speak it too, so we can converse in that, if it is easier for you.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, mademoiselle.” Jason’s eyes darted around nervously, taking in as much as he could. “Listen, I'm sorry for just showing up here, I just- I've been looking for my brother for years and I found something that said he was living here and I-”

“Monsieur, please, moins vite, slower, I cannot comprend- understand if you speak that fast,” she said, in a soothing manner. She had leaned towards him, frowning but not so much that he worried about being thrown out. He took a deep breath and gave her a shaky smile in apology. “Merci, now, you said the word ‘brother’, that means frere, non? Why are you looking for him now?” After all this time was implied, but not said outright so he wasn't sure if that was what she meant.

“Sorry, my brother, Damian, left home several years ago, he got in a fight with our dad. We thought he was cooling off at first, maybe spending time with a friend,” Jason said, taking care not to speak too quickly. “He was 18, you know? He was allowed to have a little time to himself. We've all chafed against the old man at one point or another- I mean,” he corrected, seeing her confusion, “we've all fought with Bruce at different times. We thought he was gonna cool off and come home, but he never did. And we couldn't find him, we tried, we were so sure we would manage but then days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into yea-”

“I understand,” she cut in softly, placing a hand on the back of his. He took a shuddering breath and realised he was close to tears, rambling in his nerves. She was about to say something else when a door opened and a tall, familiar man stepped into view. He had filled out some, his limbs no longer holding the gangliness of youth but firm and solid. His hair was still jet black and ruffled looking and his eyes the same piercing green.

“Damian,” Jason choked out, shooting up and launching towards the man. He looked even more uncannily like Bruce, the same jawline, similar builds, but he had a softer edge. He caught hold of Jason, gripping the back of his jacket tightly as the larger man shook slightly. “God, I can't believe it's really you.”

“It is me, Todd,” Damian replied, releasing himself from the embrace. They looked each other in the eye, Jason's still with that edge of pit madness but Damian - Damian looked at peace. “I must admit, I did not anticipate you visiting so suddenly,” he added drily.

Jason let out a short bark, shrugging even though all he felt was overwhelmed. “None of us expected you to keep using your actual name, Demon Spawn. God, we searched so hard, Dick was furious with B. I don't think he's spoken to him properly in years.”

Damian frowned but then the woman stood up and spoke softly in French to him. He rumbled something back and she nodded, patting Jason's arm as she passed him to go to another room. Damian indicated the sofas again and they sat down, a tense silence settling in the room. Having another person in the room had helped to ease some of the tension - Jason and Damian had never been close. But they were still brothers and Jason had been so angry with Bruce when he realised that Damian was gone.

The sound of a kettle filled the silence and the woman poked her head back around the door. She smiled at them both, a sunny, bright expression. “Pardon, would you like un thé ou un café, Jason? Or jus? We have orange or apple.”

“Uh, coffee's fine,” Jason muttered, trying to let the tension in his shoulders dissipate. He turned back to Damian after she bobbed her head once and vanished back through the door. “She, uh, she seems nice.”

“Marinette is a great many things,” Damian said, clearly amused. “Nice is the least of them, but I appreciate you saying so. We have been through much together, and she is very strong.”

“So are you…” Jason trailed off, not sure how to say it without offending someone. He waved his hands helplessly, hoping it conveyed his sentiment and Damian snorted. He was saved from answering by Marinette coming back into the room with a tea tray.

“I have sugar, lait, some macarons and cheese with crackers,” Marinette said lightly, placing the tray onto the coffee table and perching next to Damian. He reached a hand for her knee and she placed hers on top of his. Jason spied matching rings on their fingers and his eyes widened. Marinette noticed the direction of his look and gave another laugh, squeezing Damian's hand lovingly. “Oui, Damian and I are married. We have been for nearly two years.”

“Congratulations. I gotta admit, I didn't think you were ever going to settle down Demo- Damian,” he corrected, seeing Marinette's eyebrow rise. Damian nodded, glancing at his wife with a slightly chagrined look on his face.

“To be honest, the Demon Spawn you knew would never have deserved to marry Marinette,” he admitted, waving away her sudden frown. “Ma cherie, you know I speak the truth. I was a mess of a man when we met, I lashed out at everything and everyone.”

“Mon coeur, you were nothing of the sort,” Marinette reprimanded firmly. It sounded as though this was a well worn argument and Jason was almost envious of the evident love he could hear in her voice. Not that he thought Damian didn't deserve it, but he had often yearned for the kind of love that was pouring out of this petite French pixie. “Heureusement, you did not lash out at me too harshly, and accepted that you could not do this all alone.”

Jason was shocked - Damian had settled down. The pair had clearly grown together, matching each other in their differences. And Damian had changed, even more than he had begun to during his time in Wayne manor. He seemed more sure of himself, confident in an easy way. Jason cleared his throat again, drawing their attention back to him. “So, uh, if you got married, how…how much have you talked about your past, D?”

“Ah, I wondered if you would be concerned about that, Monsieur Hood,” Marinette said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She waved her hand as he tensed again. “Damian and I have no secrets. It is difficult, making a life together, without sharing such things. I understand the importance of keeping these things to myself. We are, comment dire, birds of a feather?”

Jason raised an eyebrow himself now but they were interrupted by a soft cry, coming from an adjacent room. He tensed but Marinette sighed and made to get up, before Damian shooed her into her seat, standing himself. He came back moments later, carrying what looked like a bundle of blankets that he cooed to in a mix of French and Arabic. Jason went rigid with disbelief as Damian settled himself back into his seat. A shock of dark hair peeked out of the blankets and Jason sucked in a sharp breath.

“Her name is Penélope Robyn Dupain-Cheng. Penny for short,” Marinette said, her voice soft and full of love. Jason's head whipped towards her and Damian chuckled.

“It seemed fitting, I had no need for the mantle and it connects me to my past without shackling me. Marinette understood better than I did that I did not want to lose who I had been.” Jason was stunned. Damian was speaking so nonchalantly about a moniker that he had almost killed for - what he had considered a birthright. His voice softened as he looked back up at his brother. “I am truly at peace, Todd. I let go of my anger before I married as it would have been unfair to Marinette if I had allowed it to continue consuming me.”

“How-how old is she?” Jason croaked, transfixed with his niece - his second, after Kor’i had given birth. He couldn't remember how old Mar’i had been when she was this size and the Tamaranean in her could have changed things.

“8 months,” Damian said softly, turning his gaze back to his daughter. “I would do anything for her, Todd. She will want for nothing as long as I can control it. She is loved, in ways I didn't know were possible.”

A silence stretched between the three adults and Jason took a sip from his now tepid coffee. His mind was reeling; he felt as though everything he had ever known about Damian was wrong and now he was meeting what was essentially a stranger. Penny had clearly drifted back to sleep and Damian stood to take her back to her room. Marinette cleared her throat as he left, making Jason shoot her a questioning look.

“I must ask you, are you here as a lookout? When should I expect your father,” she clipped the word out, thinly veiled rage coating it, “to descend upon my home? I must warn you, I will not allow him to harm Damian again.”

“They aren't,” he answered flatly. She looked at him again, surprised. “I told no-one of my suspicions, I came alone. Like I said, we've all fallen out with Bruce at one point or another and when Damian left…well, let's just say the team isn't running quite so smoothly any more.”

“I thought you were all ‘the world's greatest detectives’,” she replied sardonically, dropping her voice as she heard Damian returning. “If you are lying to me, I will not be contente, comprennez?”

“My love, please tell me you are not threatening our guest?” Damian rumbled, laughter barely concealed in his voice. “I apologise, Todd, she is protective of those in her care, a trait from her younger years.”

“Je suis toujours jeune, Damian,” Marinette said, a light growl lacing her words. He nodded sagely and Jason snorted. It was just so…domestic. If someone had told him 5 years ago that Damian, the little brother who threatened anyone who breathed near him, would be married, with a kid, he would have had them committed to Arkham. And yet…

“They all miss you, lil D,” Jason said softly, imitating Dick for a moment. “Tim was frantic when he couldn't trace where you went, he still gets upset when he thinks about how he failed you. And Dick - I mean, he loves you, you know that. If he could have ripped B to pieces without ruining Gotham, he would have. He has a kid himself you know,” he added, setting his cup down.

“But I didn't come here to ask you to come back. I can see you have a life here Dames, a good life. Christ, I didn't think it was possible for anyone to give up our particular lifestyle and settle down but you clearly did and it's obviously been the best thing to happen to you. I'm proud of you, for whatever that's worth. I just…I would like to be part of your life again, I want to get to know the you now. Don't get me wrong, you were a little beast before you left, but you're still family. And I don't have a whole lot of that left.”

“Well, it's not like we can just leave,” Marinette said, with humour. “Merde, maman et papa, they would kill me if I just disappeared with their only grandbaby.”

“And- am I welcome back?”

“D’accord, but I will ask that you only share the information with your father if he specifically asks about Damian. It is a talk we had as soon as we were expecting Penélope, he is not welcome to my family without begging Damian for forgiveness.” The steely note in Marinette's voice brooked no argument, and Jason had none to voice. Bruce was the reason Damian had left all those years ago and he was the one who asked least often about any updates.

“What about Dick? You know he would love to see you, if he hadn't been undercover when you left, he would have at least known where you went.” Damian nodded slowly at this, making Jason grin with relief. “Awesome. Wow, okay, that's great. Thank you, Marinette. I'll take down a number and we can coordinate a visit sometime? I doubt you want to come to Gotham,” Damian's eyes narrowed and he shook his head tightly,” so I'll have to get Dick here himself.”

As he stood to leave, Marinette and Damian also stood, the slight woman stepping forward first and pulling him down for une bise, kissing his cheek with warmth and familiarity. She stepped back and carried the tea tray through to the kitchen, giving the brothers some space. Damian clapped a hand onto Jason's shoulder and received a light punch in return. They exchanged numbers before Jason promised he would text as soon as he was home again, and then when he had spoken to Dick about coming back to visit.

As Jason stepped into the Paris zeta tube, he glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. Trust Damian to move to the city of love and figure all his shit out.

Notes:

So let me know what you think! I'm going to try and update once a week-ish, but may post chapters sooner if I'm ready.

French used:

Attendez, s'il vous plaît = wait please

Pardonnez-moi = pardon me

Un moment = one moment

Monsieur = sir

Mademoiselle = miss

Moins vite = slower/less fast

Contente = happy

Comprennez = understand

Je suis toujours jeune = I am still young

Merci = thank you

Un thé ou un café = a tea or coffee

Jus = juice

Lait = milk

Mon chéri/ma chérie = my darling

Mon coeur = my heart

Heureusement = fortunately

Comment dire = how to say

Merde = shit

Maman et papa = mum and dad

D'accord = alright

Une bise = Literally, a kiss, usually how they refer to the kiss on the cheek they give to say hello/goodbye

Most of the French throughout this fic is what I've learned through Duo, so if I offend some native speakers, I'm really very sorry! I have double checked it in Google for the most part, but I'm not sure that's better.

Chapter 2

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #daminette fanfic #damian x marinette #damianette #my writing #inspired by another fic #no possession this time!#6 chapters #1st chapter #no beta read #daminette

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juliapark13 · 2 years ago

Note

sending this ask because i want for all the tkkrs who lurk here to see me debunk all their previous and new narratives;

1) "taekook was real" no it wasn't. yall pretended that they were real for years and got slammed thrice, first when tae replied "you'd better get out of the imagination, it's not good in there" to a taekooker on weverse telling him to look at jk's photos whom he loves before going to sleep.

then it was in ITS1 when taekook admitted to having drifted apart when yall spent years making up excuses for why they aren't behaving like you wanted them to, saying that the company is forcing them to hide.

then yall spent every waking moment of 2023 repeatedly using the "taekook are finally free in this solo era and they're coming out to let everyone know that they're together. the company doesn't control them anymore." narrative. then BOOM, taennie got caught.

2) "taehyung is being punished for being loud about him and jungkook so he was forced to get into a fake PR fan service relationship"

a) nothing about taennie is fan service. their fans hate each other and blinks hate taehyung, armys hate jennie. which fans are they servicing?

b) this taennie thing has been going around since late 2021 when tae accidentally followed her on Instagram. it's not a recent thing that hybe chose as a coverup for TK.

c) i thought tkkrs took pride in taehyung never bowing to the company? i thought only jk was the helpless puppet forced into a fake relationship with jimin? i thought that's why hybe were easily able to make jk delete his IG account but couldn't force taehyung? now tae is a puppet too?

d) accusing tae of doing fan service? the same insulting crap you attached to jimin all these years? tkkrs are now tae antis as well?

3) "it's the lookalike" no it's not. he's in Seoul amidst of this controversy. and it was never him at all. other than the fact that he denied being the one in the pictures, and him having a girlfriend, all those pictures that were leaked last year that yall spent hours insulting every part of tae's body in vain effort to prove it isn't him backfired badly for you today. i saw tkkrs calling tae in today's pictures "musty, white, ugly, with a moustache, flat assed" and a whole bunch of other bullshit just for clear pictures to come out later proving it was indeed taehyung.

4) "it still doesn't prove that jikook is real" no one said that. we're here to talk about how yall spent years moving like a cult, twisting reality at every turn of events that didn't fit you little bubble, and dragged jimin for YEARSSS accusing him of all kind of shit but most importantly is how yall accused him of oppressing your precious taekook, yall accused him of trying to steal jungkook from taehyung when jk was never tae's in the first place. yall accused jimin of being a bad friend to tae for being all over his man when tae was dating a woman this whole time. THIS is why jikookers/pjms are gloating rn. because we've been waiting for jimin to be freed of your narratives for years. we've tried talking it out with you using logic MANY times, that your ship isn't real and taekook are just close friends, that you shouldn't drag an innocent man in the sake of theory that could very well turn out false at any day. but yall didn't listen, yall left no place for doubt in your minds and were so adamant that taekook is real and didn't matter to you what horrible shit you said about jimin, even jk in the process. yall accused jk of being a cheater, accused him of being toxic and riling tae up on purpose to make him jealous, accused of enjoying fan service with jimin too much, got mad at him for never doing things for tae that he did for jimin, etc. all of this shit can't and won't be erased in one day. now you have jjks, pjms, and jikookers all celebrating and they will make your lives HELL like you made ours and our idols’.

i'm just gonna end this with saying that this was a long time coming, and taekook were never going to scare me even if tae and jk kept their private lives private forever. even if taennie was never confirmed, taekook would still be as much as a lie as they've always been. no amount of theories, lies, manipulation, and gaslighting would've made that ship sail. and anyone with a half brain could see from a mile away that taekook are just great friends, nothing more. except for taekookers, yall st yourselves up long ago when you started shipping them based on aesthetic, potential and popularity, and now you're been bitch slapped by reality and your bubble finally burst. i can't say i told you so but I told you so.

They can’t get it and they can’t see it, because delusion is a mental disorder defined as:

false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly sustained despite what almost everybody else believes and despite what constitued incontrovertible and obvious proof for evidence to the contrary.

#jikook #kookmin

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just-jae · 1 year ago

Text

Hazbin Hoetl 5-6

Spoiler warning!

Not gonna lie, at first I was cringing a bit at Lucifer. I was expecting him the have, like, grace and baddie energy. but he's talking to himself pretending to show off rubber ducks to a crowd.

And of all the potential dynamics he and Al could have had, competing father figures was NOT on my mind at all dude. Al? Dad?

But, I watched these last two episodes a couple (okay maybe several) times over and, it's really growing on me. It was definitely the predeveloped impressions getting in the way of really enjoying these characters. Even the irks I had about Alastor aren't really irks anymore, especially with "Dad beat Dad having much better animation and a banger number for Al (seriously wtf he's horrific in this episode)--

"Could you butt out of my song?"

"Your song? I started this!"

"I'm singing it, I'll finish it!"

Before, I was seeing it as how well they pull off my (and arguably the long simmering fandom's) idea of these characters instead of how well the characters as they actually are are told. So many people thought this show would be a super serious deep dive on Christianity and commentary on religion itself. But at this point, it really feels like Heavan and Hell are metaphores. They focus a lot more on personal issues like relationships, coping mechanisms, flaws like nievety, displaced senses of self worth, etc.

Charlie's idea of what "gets people into heaven" is naive and brochure-like. Adam gave a literal list of three items that seemed overly simplistic (and turned out to be wrong).

But at least they had some idea about it. The higher angels themselves had no clue whatsoever, their only concern was preserving the status quo. And even when things are called to question they fall back to old ways just bc they're scared to change anything. Sera didn't have any malice toward Hell, she just doesn't want to make things worse, having Angels fall, have Hell attack Earth or Heaven, have more evil spread, by changing things.

Getting a better idea of what all of this is about makes it so much easier to appreciate things I initially was put off by. It just has a context that it fits into now.

Lucifer being this disillusioned depressed dork with "yeaaaah, No." energy fits into what we've seen of heavenly culture (uncanny innocence, annoying teen pop-culture energy, being perfectionist yet blind to their own flaws)

And The "Hell's Great Dad" song really broke the ice, especially when Mimzy busted in singing ITS MEEEEEEE-- like

Love her. I wasn't expecting to see Mimzy AT ALL since she was removed from the main cast. And after seeing people talk about her and how they were wondering about her, it definitely felt like popping in the way she did was a response to that. Even I was wondering bc you don't just drop a former love interest for a character like Alastor, but still have them show up in the pilot-- I wanted to see Mimzy lol.

like literally:

"It's MEEE, It's MEEE,

I know you were all waiting for MEEEE!

I'm Here, what a GAAAS,

Took a while but I'm here at LAAST"

Like, im sorry but I felt like she was pointing at me personally, not the other characters, and that was hilarious.

It's so random but doesn't feel out of place at all somehow. The tensions were already super high, so a random screaming woman busting in with even higher energy is like-- wtf?? :'D??

She was a blast the entire time tho, and actually tied into the reoccurring theme of only reaching out to someone so they can do something for you.

It also definitely pinched a side of Alastor, irritating that he does apparently NEED to be there, there's some obligation he actually has to the hotel, or at the very least some stakes to not holding things together, not bc he defended the hotel but bc he specifically says "I can't have that here" , he also doesn't refute the claims Mimzy makes about him. Al clearly adores her and isn't surprised by her antics at all yet still tells her to leave. With the mention of Alastor's "leash" in the same episode BC of Mimzy was just such a great way to use her character. A fun entrance, thematic relevance, and a great plot device to reveal more about Alastor's situation and motives.

Like I said, at first the food tasted cold. I was thinking to myself "Eh, nothing really that crazy ig" but the more I watch the episodes and get over whatever my expectations were, the more I enjoy what's there.

Like, at first I was thinking, "Oh no Lucy's another akward dork, a normie, a loooooserr" (not that being an akward dork or a normie is bad but those were the vibes I was giving off, I'm sorry)

But I keep watching "Hell's Greatest Dad" and NOW it's like

LOOK AT HIM< LOOK AT HIM GO

Like, he's fugghing adorable with the "WAP BAP BOOM"

the puppets and the circus imagery, and just the innocent unmalicious enthusiasm. He's stumbling around over barely knowing his daughter and is now sprinting to make up for being so absent-- and even that absence is implied to be due to chronic depression and pining, missing heaven and having to live in hell forever, not only being the one who supposedly created it by accident, but tried and failed to fix it, even having his own theme park ripped off by a deadly Sin. The show calls it out bluntly, but despite his cheery tone and, yeaaah, no, yeaaah, no" attitude, they did a great job showing that his depression manifested in detachment and disinterest. It sucks for the people it effects but it also sucks to be the one who dropped the ropes in your relationships.

So seeing him brjghtenup and glow over just helping his Charlie put her hotel together was great. He feels useful and wanted again. And imo it's a double edge sword as well if Lucy feels like he has to be useful to be a decent dad.

So, idk. I guess I do want to see how he handles trying to be in Charlie's life again, especially since, at this point Alastor knows and has supported her more than he ever has-- despite the rough beginning and the mockery. (Also Lilith's face being faded out was sus af)

I'm convinced that in Al's case it's definitely not from a genuine place, at least, we still have no reason to believe it is. He was glaring at Lucy as soon as he walked in, and the nearly every comment on how great his relationship with Charlie is was also a jab to piss off Lucy instead of a genuine expression.

A performance, in short.

Still, the fact that someone who's only just met Charlie has a better relationship with her than her father has got to suck to realize if you're the father.

Also-- the scene at the club-- I was pretty mixed about it, like, doing drugs, itself isn't bad-- it can be unhealthy and it can put others at risk if you're resigning your cognizance and self control for the sake of coping with stress-- so it can very easily enable bad things, especially if you become addicted, so,imo is pretty wreckless and definitely a vice. But it doesn't make you a bad person.

But then again angels also seem to think premarital sex and promiscuity is bad too. (Promiscuity puts you at risk for disease, and like drugs can be driven by vices, but, again, the thing itself isn't bad and can still be a healthy practice when it comes from a healthy place)

I'm genuinely proud of Angel for actually growing though, seeing him take care of Nifty and protect her from Val got me on the "Fuck em up" energy. It's always great to see a group of friends watching out for eachother when they know there's a danger to what they're doing-- ESPECIALLY when one of them is new to it all. That's why if you ARE going to do drugs or drink or whatever, definitely don't do it alone or without someone you trust with your safety.

And also never feel like you have to do those things to maintain relationships, some people feel like it would be an insult to imply they dont trust someone or just for being disinterested in their offer. And, frankly there are people who will prey on that.

That was just a great scene. It had some flaws, but was still great.

Also--

PENTIOUS

I HATE

BROTHERMAN MADE ALL THE MISTAKES.

"Bc I'M HAVING SEX WITH EVERY--"

THATS NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY YOU FUCK

Also, not gonna lie but Sera's got me like

Its been a while since I've been down bad for a femenine character.

She is beauty, she is grace~

#hazbin hotel #spoilers #commentary #sir pentious #alastor #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #seraphim #angel dust #sera #brownthoughts00

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spinningbuster98 · 1 year ago

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As bad as it may sound, it really seems to me that N!Isaac and N!Annette have both been written as Perfect Minorities™.

OG Isaac was the perpetual second one. Not incompetent by any means, but you know the deal, he was salty as hell that Hector was just a tiny bit better :P In the show, the dynamic is flipped: it's Isaac who is Dracula's special babyboy. But he is the special babyboy to such an exaggerated degree that he makes Hector's inclusion not only completely useless, but even detrimental: why would Dracula bother to hire an average Devil Forgemaster, without a shred of physical prowess, who he considers to be "a child in a man's body", and who he had to resort to lie to (Hector literally shouts in the war room that he doesn't enjoy the needless suffering Dracula is causing)... when Isaac by all means is strong, smart (allegedly), much more efficient in Forging, and 100% on board with Dracula's extermination plans to the point of being the only person Dracula can trust?

The story would improve if Hector, again, was the better Devil Forgemaster, even with his pesky morals. But we can't have that, can we? They were absolutely adamant, for whatever reason, that Isaac had to be black, despite him being probably the worst character to make black and Muslim. And black people can't be inferior, right? They can't need the help of a white person lesser POC, right? So Isaac in the show has become literally untouchable by the narrative. He gets everything he wants. He gets all the sympathy, because boohoo don't you feel bad that the guards are a bit mean to him, of course he should kill them all and turn them into monsters. He gets all the badass scenes, hell he literally gets wounded once in the whole show. He gets to be Enlightened.

And Annette... well, we talked about it plenty of times. Annette has Special God Powers. Annette gets coddled by total strangers. Annette has the right to hurt Richter where it stings the most without anyone calling her out. No one dares to point out Annette's genuine mistakes or bad behavior, even the most confrontational character after herself, Maria. Annette gets to make a Rousing Revolutionary Speech to the same French people she looks down upon. Annette gets to have the most prominent character arc, while Richter is left bumbling around and gets one (1) cool scene.

Representation in NFCV seems to be limited to three characters: 1) the narrative's darlingest babies who can do no wrong because they need to be popular on twitblr, 2) cardboard cutouts with barely a speaking line to pretend our world is more complex than it actually is, and 3) jesus christ please think more than three seconds next time.

Let's be perfectly real here:

both Isaac and Annette are the way that they are to appeal to a very specific,wide and vocal crowd on social media, the same crowd who cries for representation, by which they usually mean utterly perfect characters who can do no wrong and can easily vent their frustrations on other cast members because people, through these characters, can feel vindicated for their own frustrations. Frustrations that can be justified in a way, especially where racism is involved, but it essentially means that characters like Annette and Isaac are not really characters, but rather they are meant to be power fantasies of sorts. They're there to be black characters who are very strong and look down on the white oppressors etc. And you know what? There's nothing wrong with power fantasies, but only as long as they're written competently. Otherwise you don't really have a power fantasy. You have a weird amalgamations of Mary Sues mixed with social media discourse

This is especially blatant with Annette since, at least with Isaac, I don't think he ever uses the color of his skin as a justification for his attitude (he uses his religion but that's another can of worms).

I am almost certain that characters like these are inserted partly because it's a no-lose scenario, because you absolutely cannot criticize them without being accused of bigotry. This is made all the worse by many ACTUAL bigots chiming in and making any actual discourse impossible. I'm sure that big corpos like Netflix know this by now: create a character who's a minority who the US public cares about (I need to specify that last part because I get the feeling that people would not get nearly as uppity about, oh I dunno, Roma characters? Native American characters? Because social justice is only about those "cool" minorities that the public has been taught to think are worth it, anyone else barely even registers on the radar), write them in a way that satisfies the social media pseudo activist crowd, wait for the bigots to show up in order to easily paint any detractor as a racist, thus creating a very easy equation of "show has representation= good. Bigotry= Bad. Hate the show= You're a bigot"

I say "almost" because there's always the possibility that the guys behind the wheel genuinely think they're doing a great job

This may sound crazy, but look at all the praise they get, look at how much encouragement they get. And all this goes beyond NFCV, this sort of phenomenon is very widespread so it wouldn't surprise me if even the Deats brothers think they're masters of representation who can do no wrong because if enough people keep saying one thing without pause then you're bound to think it's the truth.

For instance I am pretty certain that Deats and the gang genuinely don't think that Alucard's threesome is not rape, or Lenore's treatment of Hector. Because they're not conventional depictions of rape and if you go ask most people on social media, hell even on the street across your own home, they'll most likely tell you the same.

I hate NFCV but what I think I hate more is the overall social climate that lead to its creation

#anti netflixvania #asks

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countessrivers · 1 year ago

Text

Author Interview

I was tagged by @myulalie and @polarnacht1. Thanks

1. How many works do you have on ao3:

50.

2. What's my total ao3 wc:

305,629.

3. What are my top 5 fics by kudos:

Likely influenced by time as 3 of these are Gotham fics which have been up for longer, but 2 of them are DW and they're (relatively) newer.

Tells Me "Worship in the Bedroom" - Bruce/Jeremiah, E

An encounter in a church, after Bruce gets left behind. Follows on from the end of 5x03 'Penguin, Our Hero'.

Deadly Fever, Please Don't Ever Break - Ten/Simm!Master, T+

The Master bares his teeth, free hand moving to press against the Doctor’s stomach.

“Don’t,” the Doctor says, tightening his grip on his arm.

“Make me.”

The Doctor feels a burn where the Master’s hand is pressing into him, even through his clothes, but he doesn’t flinch away, squeezes the Master’s arm even harder instead, and brings his other hand up to pin his shoulder.

“Don’t.”

The Master isn’t going to run again, the Doctor’s not going to let him.

The Doctor lands on Earth, and feels a familiar presence he'd thought lost.

Lacrymosa - Bruce/Jeremiah, M

"Lie, pretend, hide, change your name, put on a mask, lock yourself away in the centre of a labyrinth - it doesn’t matter. Nobody can run forever. "

Jeremiah between 4x18 and 4x20.

Sweet Blooded and I'm Stranded - Ten/Simm!Master, E

The Master isn’t doing anything as pathetic as avoiding the Doctor. Because that would be pathetic.

And he’s not.

(Not pathetic. Not avoiding the Doctor.)

*** The Master (who is doing fine, and doesn't need the Doctor anyway) stumbles back across his own timeline and runs into a Tenth Doctor who still believes he's dead.

One Hand on my Cheekbone, One Hand on the Rope - Bruce/Jeremiah, M

Bruce is not dealing well with a great many things.

Jeremiah just happens to be at the top of the list of things he's not dealing with.

Or maybe, he's just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Bruce, in the aftermath of 'Ace Chemicals'.

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do. I'm very, very behind (so sorry to everyone who has left a lovely comment on one of my fics) but I intend to catch up. To begin with I just like/thanking and acknowledging people who took the time to leave a comment, and then it sometimes will give me a chance to talk some more about the fic and my thoughts/ideas behind it.

5. What fic has the angstiest ending?

Roots in my Dreamland (Midam) maybe. It's not too bad, but Adam is still technically stuck in the cage and isn't having a great time. There were plans for a series that would follow through to the end of the show (with a happier ending) and maybe I'll come back to it one day.

Similarly, my To Sit in Hell With You (Bruce/Jeremiah) series, which I'll admit I didn't plan well because I would write the parts on a whim/when inspiration struck and not chronologically so while it all makes sense in my head, in hindsight I don't think it's the best experience for readers. Ultimately it had this stockholmed/broken Bruce story - with Arkham Kight vibes - that was fairly angsty, and the last entry in particular which focused on Jim and Bruce, was definitely that.

And One Hand on my Cheekbone... is basically just angst.

6. What fic has the happiest ending?

Devotion (Yassen/Alex, T+) is the only one that really stands out to me as having a proper happy ending.

A lot of my fic is smut, so does a happy ending count?

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not strict crossovers, but AUs based on another setting often enough. I have a Star Wars fic in the works that name drops Anakin and Obi-Wan if that counts?

8. Have you received hate on ao3?

Not strictly hate. I've had some very odd comments that have nitpicked (what I think are irrelevant) details while not even mentioning whether they finished the fic, much less enjoyed it, which I think is just entirely unnecessary. Or have requested that I write an idea they have, again without commenting on the fic they're posting on. But that's the worst of it.

9. Do you write smut?

Regularly.

10. Have you had a fic get stolen?

Not that I know of.

11. Have you had a fic get translated?

The only one I'm aware of is One Hand on my Cheekbone...

12. Have you co-written a fic?

No.

13. What's your fav ship?

It varies. Right now, Alex/Yassen, but if you go through my fics you'll see the range. Doctor/Master is a pretty eternal one.

14. What's a WIP you want to finish but never will?

I have a few in both the Gotham and Supernatural fandoms. There's a chance I could go back to them, the hyperfixation would just need to swing that way again. I've mentioned a few above, but also Talking While the Wolves Close In (Midam, AU post 'Point of No Return) though that is one I particularly *want* to finish.

15. What are my writing strengths?

I like to think my smut is pretty good at this point. In general I think my writing flows quite well too if that makes sense. I've been told something similar about my academic writing, so I think all that practice has meant my writing - content aside - looks/sounds/reads/flows well.

16. What are my writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue. A line here or there is fine, and I like to think I can make it in-character, but full conversations I struggle with, particularly then trying to match it with movement/the characters actually doing things. Or maybe I then overcompensate and include too much of that when a bunch of back and forth dialogue would be fine without the "interruptions". I guess the problem is I can't quiet tell what the right balance is.

Can't do long plotty fics either. Wish I could, but I always lose steam/motivation before I can finish it. And/or it feels like so much work to get to the bits and pieces I actually want to write within it.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages on ao3?

Fine when done right I guess, but I've never done it apart from maybe a word or two here and there (where I'm pretty certain I've got it right). I know a few languages but none fluently enough to be confident basically. I stuck some Russian in the note of my first AR fic that was the translation of a joke alluded to in the fic itself (taken from the Archer episode the fic was basically parodying - he finds the grenade "hanging from the lampshade") but otherwise I tend to cheat and just say they're speaking another language, potentially using italics.

18. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

DCEU as far as anyone checking my AO3 knows, but there was some earlier stuff for Star Trek '09 way back when I think (that will never see the light of day).

19. What fandom/ship have you not written but want to?

At the moment I don't really have a burning need to write for anything other than what I already have.

20. What's your fav fic you've written?

Lacrymosa is one I'm really happy with, but I also still really like Our Old Friends Are Now Our Enemies (Bruce/Jeremiah, post-series), Hold Me Down (Alex/Yassen, Alex/Julia vamp AU), Strange One... (Alex/Julius/Yassen), and My Doctor's Can't Explain (Alex/Yassen)/

And tagging @too-many-rooks and @pigandpepper if you’re interested.

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countlessrealities · 9 months ago

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Vaggie, would you kindly give Adam a genuine compliment? He seems like he's earned one by now.

Send ‘Would you kindly’ + a command and my muse has to obey || Accepting !

Seriously? Is this shit for real? Who the hell even came up with this stuff? If this is Alastor's latest attempt at messing with them all, she hopes that it will come and bite him in the ass. Hard.

And if it wasn't him, well...he's the one, aside from Charlie, who dabbles in sorcery among them, so hers is a valid suspicion.

"Do I really have to?" It's a rhetorical question, of course, she can already feel the words threatening to spill from here mouth. It's not like she has a choice. "Alright, fine."

She sucks in a deep, steadying breath and glances away, arms crossing over her chest defensively and mouth curling downwards slightly.

"Here I say it and here I deny it, but...You know the annoying asshole attitude he puts on all the time? That might be his default, but it's not...He can be a completely different person when he's alone with someone, away from praying eyes."

She doesn't know if he has shown that side of himself to someone else. Maybe with Lute, the two of them have always been tight. And they have seemed to grow even closer after Vaggie herself had been kicked out of the picture.

That makes her bitter and it makes her wonder if Lute has had it out of her since the start, because of what she and Adam used to have. But that's something she'll forever keep for herself.

"He...is a good friend. He can be supportive, even if at times he's a little obnoxious about it. He's the kind of person who'd beat the shit out of whoever has hurt you, and he'd invite you along to make it a bonding experience."

Don't get her wrong, now she has the kindest, most supportive person by her side. Charlie is amazing, she's the best being she's even met, in every life, in every realm, but she's too forgiving and just too...bright. Which is something Vaggie loves about her, it's part of what has made her fall so hard for the princess, but...at times she misses the brutality that some friends enjoy raining over whoever dares to cross one of them.

The kind of friendship she had with Adam.

"When you want to bitch about something or someone? He's the best one to turn to. He gets just as vicious as you do, if not more, and it's all so genuine that it makes you feel...seen and heard and validated. It's not a 'I get this but' kind of thing. It's a 'Yeah? Then let's fuck this shit / this bitch up together'. It's the best kind of camaraderie."

And she has missed it, she still does deep down. But pretending that she doesn't is easier. And it hurts less.

{ @creationtainted }

#[ ic :: anon asks ]#[ ic :: Vaggie ]#[ ʸᴼᵁ ᴮᴿᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ ᴹᴱ ᴰᴼᵂᴺ ; ᴴᴱᴸᴾ ᴹᴱ ᴿᴵˢᴱ ᴬᴳᴬᴵᴺ :: ᴠᴀɢɢɪᴇ & ᴀᴅᴀᴍ ]#creationtainted #[[ I was planning on making this funny but ]]#[[ it came out angsty instead ]]#[[ I stg these two give me so many FEELS ]]#[[ I hurt myself writing this GDI Sai ]]

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cainsign · 11 months ago

Note

detailed question asks! 47 and 48 for the gang, 11 and 16 for adam?

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

adam and willow come from a wealthy background (their parents were close friends, and incredibly wealthy) so they have a lot of experience in formal occasions, though they were young at the time. willow enjoys dressing up, adam doesn't, but neither of them like being around exclusively rich people.

river on the other hand comes from poverty and never had much opportunity to dress up or go to black tie events. if he did, though, he'd hate it. he's not good with people in general but any situation where he has to pretend to be someone he's not is hell for him.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

willow prefers smaller social gatherings with a purpose- book clubs, religious study groups, that sort of thing. she loves cooking and will often bring along something for everyone to snack on.

adam doesn't like going to parties, but you'd never know it from looking at him. at a party he's always socializing, making friends and blending into the crowd. he'd rather be at home or in his truck, but he'll never show it.

river actually went to a lot of parties when he was in high school/just graduated. he drank a lot then and made a lot of mistakes. people kept inviting him despite his violent tendencies because he was fun! scary, but fun! but now he's trying to get sober (not successfully) so he doesn't go to parties anymore.

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

adam isn't very particular about food, but he doesn't like to eat in front of people. doesn't like going out to restaurants with friends or anything. due to the paranoia.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

yes! adam collects cds, namely playlists from friends and loved ones. (should note this story is set in like 2005) he's always playing them in his truck on long drives.

#yay these are so fun!!#my ocs

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ungraceds · 6 months ago

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yes . " no . " fingers run through raven tresses distractedly as mind works in overtime . " just giving you a fair warning and testing the waters . some men are afraid of their own shadow , so . " but she's happy it isn't working : his persistence was flattering at first .. it was nice to feel wanted and desired , but is afraid that she's grown used to his presence . especially now that he's integrated into their friend group , there's no getting away from him and she doesn't want to . despite how she fights tooth and nail to prove otherwise . " you're cute when you blush . " purrs salaciously , ivories skimming lesser to hide her amusement at the flush that takes over his skin . again . he's so easily flustered that it's hard to keep herself from pushing just a little further , from annihilating the space between them and devouring what's left of his gentlemanly self control . he trips and stumbles over his own tongue , and she watches with a front row seat .. equal parts amused as she is infatuated . " you ... " drawls tauntingly , " me ... " stare falters down the sharp lines of his jaw where there's a subtle trail of stubble , to the bob of his adams apple as he swallows nervously . knows exactly what his mind is thinking , because hers is too , and suddenly she's a little too fixated on wondering what his lips tastes like . how they feel . but instead of acting on her impulses , they're exiting the club altogether and trading in the chaos for another chance to be alone . pauses on the curb beside the passenger door , fingers still clinging to his , and pretends to mull his question over . " a problem ? no . but we are making a habit out of this now , and you know what they say about those . " they're hard to break . expression softens at his admission and despises how it echoes in her head , even as she's climbing into the car and buckling herself in , and he's walking around to the drivers side . she likes spending time with him , too , and if she were more honest , maybe she'd be able to admit that aloud .

legs stretch out in front of her , mind briefly wondering how many girls had sat in this same seat and there's an itch to investigate .. check for hair ties , a stray eye lash , perhaps a broken nail . but reminds herself that they aren't even together , so why the hell would it matter ? head snaps to look at him , voice yanking her out of intrusive thoughts . " are you on the menu ? " queries innocently before a grin dimples her cheeks and that devilish glint alights irises again . shouldn't enjoy ruffling his feathers so much but she likes when he blushes , when his gaze darkens with something a little more desirable than just a crush . " i'm always down for pizza . " fingers lace with his absentmindedly , as if out of instinct and she's leaning closer to the console . closer to him . " but should we really eat that in here ? this car seems too nice to get greasy . "

“ are you trying to scare me away , reece ? ” words fell from his lips , biting back another smile . he visibly failed . “ just know it’s not working . ” how was it meant to ? he wants to know what made her laugh , her dreams and her fears , her strengths and her flaws , everything that made her her , everything that made her arielle reece . just like he wants her to know who julian finley was . “ see , i forgot about everyone else for a sec , didn’t even notice . ” emits a low breathy laugh as he admits an undeniable truth . he didn’t care if anyone else stared at him , was far too consumed by her . his laugh died down the second digits toyed with the collar of his shirt , mouth slightly agape . julian felt as if the racing heart would rip through his chest at any moment . “ but you’re right , ” he stops himself from saying it , how there wasn’t anything he enjoyed more than having her eyes on him and only him . the idea of her granting anyone else the same attention caused a surge of poison to momentarily pump through his being . he shook the thought however , far too distracted by soft timbre and the way words seemed to drip off rosy petals . and then , she dragged a single finger down his chest , his name falling from her lips . julian . homme felt strangely hot , time halting . it didn’t help that he kept replaying current moment in his head , looping the way she’d sighed his name . he’s addicted to the way it sounded coming from her , a sound he knows he’d never get enough of . “ you don’t think i'm worth remembering already ? ” julian desperately wants to be , wishes to be engraved in her mind just like she was in his . “ guess we’ll have to change that . ” he’s determined for that to happen tonight .

in truth , he’d surprised himself , own boldness one that took him back too , but he wants to play her game , entice her like she was enticing him . he wasn’t prepared to hear her next words however , breath fanning against the shell of his ear . she’d find other ways to keep his mouth busy . own mind betraying him as his mouth went dry . “ i – ” he dips his head slightly , doesn’t have enough time to orchestrate his revenge for what she’s putting him through , turning him into a flushed , nervous mess , his mind going blank . “ you – ” she pulled back , eyes still locked with his . he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her , found himself mesmerized as he studied the innocent expression which adorned her face , but he knew better than to believe she was , especially after what she’d just done to him . he wondered if she could tell the image she’d effortlessly painted in his mind . the things she's making him picture . his mouth put to good use as she cried out his name . it has him wondering how she tastes , the sweet sounds she emits . his heart leapt into his throat then , but he swallowed it down , could feel his cheeks reddening a darker shade as the silence grew longer . she’s going to drive him insane , no , she already was . he follows after her . digits sliding into the front pocket of his jeans to grasp for his keys . “ good , so have i . ” but that’s partially a lie , would’ve stayed longer if arielle had opposed to the idea of getting out of here . as soon as they were outside , his thumb pressed down against plastic , the familiar vehicle responding with a soft beep , lights momentarily flashing as he unlocked it . he opened the passenger door for her then , hand not letting go of hers yet . “ mmm maybe , i won’t confirm or deny . ” though the look on his face said it all . “ would it be a problem if i was attempting such a thing ? ” wants to know what’s on her mind . “ because i wouldn’t be opposed . i like spending time with you . ” which translated to one thing : julian liked her , more than he could put into words . he let go of her hand then , closing the door behind her , gently , the soft click echoing in the quiet night . he walked around the front of the jeep , until he reached the driver’s side , opening the door and sliding into the seat himself . “ what do you want right now ? ” he asked innocently as he glanced over at her . fingers reached for the ignition and he turned the key , the engine roaring to life . as soon as he’d adjusted his seatbelt , he gripped the steering wheel tightly , his free hand instinctively reaching for her own again , as he navigated out of the parking space . “ burgers , pizza , chinese , something else ? you pick . ”

#* discourse / arielle .#this is my pitiful attempt at shortening this #i need them married yesterday

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fockingnice · 4 years ago

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@franboos @to-enter-polaris @gucciboner and myself worked on a massive fic recommendation list with all our favourite sobbe fics classed by word count.. enjoy!

one-shots:

< 10k

- hold me close @sincerelysobbe (2,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969836

Robbe is stressed because of a test and Sander comforts him.

- You make me feel like I am whole again @nbrook (2,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937070

Robbe is having an awful day. But it ends in the best way possible.

- A Beautiful Night @Lwritings (3,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428594

Sander has been friends with the Broerrrs for half a year and Robbe has been desperately crushing on him. A game of Never Have I Ever changes everything.

- Love potion no.9 @thekardemomme (3,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923867

they’re best friends. and potions partners. or: it’s amortentia day.

- Croissants @bruisingknees (3,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186195

Robbe thinks that maybe the guy working at the bakery has been flirting with him.

- Paper rings @thekardemomme (4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953645

When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.

- You’re an angel in disguise (you’re an angel in my eyes) @thekardemomme (4,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570142

Robbe is Sander’s guardian angel.

- The sun came up and I was looking at you @allforyoumylove (4,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647095

Robbe and Sander waking up on a quiet Sunday morning in June. Sander is a tease, Robbe is awestruck, and both are hopelessly in love.

- I’ve always wanted a (boy)friend @thekardemomme (4,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496322

before sander, robbe never liked christmas. christmas is sander’s favorite holiday.

- Purple lips (underwater) @dottori (5,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371688

it’s a sunny, warm friday at the beginning of march, and sander wants them to go for a swim.

- Day Fifty @beejohnlocked (5,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987252

Robbe makes a plan to confess his feelings to Sander on Christmas.

- The blind date bomb @thekardemomme (5,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073711

”He thinks of the gorgeous man in the picture, and he thinks of how Sander said his YouTube is cute, and how Britt—who hardly even knows Robbe—thinks that he and Sander would be a good match.And he decides… Fuck it. One date can’t hurt, right?” or: robbe and sander go on a blind date

- Let's dance @msleviss (6,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092550

Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

- 12 things I love about you @nbrook (6,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636032

Sander can't spend the whole day with Robbe on their anniversary, but he still figures out a way to make him fall in love with him all over again.

- Love me while your wrists are bound @alsjeblieft (6,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031636

the cabin trip but with a twist.

- Sun shining from pure desire @skamtrash (6,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105727

Sander has been flirting with his student teacher, Robbe for months now who keeps reminding Sander that he's wasting his time but eventually the flirting and chasing wears Robbe down to where he cant deny his attraction to Sander. University TA/Student AU

- At ease with you @Skamtrash ( 7,7,k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423596

robbe tells his mom he and his best friend, sander are dating to get her off his back.

He doesn't expect his mom to congratulate them by getting them tickets to join her on a cruise vacation.

Cue a week of pretending to be a couple.

fake relationship to lovers au

- Besotted with your love @Skamtrash (7,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288000

sander has a photography project and decides to shoot at the skatepark where robbe is his subject. when he approaches robbe and needs him to fill out the release form, he's absolutely smitten from the start.

sander falling in love with robbe who's deaf.

- Taking pictures of you as the light came through @allforyoumylove (7,9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533866

Robbe photographs Sander in bed. Things take a steamy turn.

- My midsummer darling @robbesdriesen (8,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702017

Robbe goes on a summer week-long retreat to his aunt's quaint, little villa in Genoa. He doesn't know he has a neighbor close by, one that would capture his entire soul.

Robbe and Sander fall in love in a whirlwind summer romance. One that would change their lives forever.

- Afterglow @Skamtrash (9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032300

On vacation in a small winter village during the holidays, Robbe meets one of the hotel's employees, Sander.

All it takes is two weeks. 14 days for them to fall for each other.

- Christmas Dreams @sonderthroughthestreets (9,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272282

Robbe is stuck with his typical 9-5 job as an HR analyst until a conversation with Sander from IT on their company rooftop makes him reconsider his dreams. In the midst of it all, Adam from Accounting has a massive crush on Robbe and wants to ask him to the Christmas Party, so Sander offers to be his "date" to help him. Christmas fluff and flirting ensues.

> 10k

- Sander Driesen versus a mistletoe @dottori (10,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976461

it’s not a fair match.

(or, sobbe go on a christmas date, and sander really wants a kiss under the mistletoe.)

- This isn't our first time around @noobishere (10,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472953

One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they're in this strange but familiar room.

(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

- Our love story is my favorite @robbesdriesen (13k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459867

a wedding fic for robbe and sander

- It’s an unrequited love @eggsntoast (14,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854661

Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

- Agents Sliding Down The Chimney @berrevy (14,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428840

The smile that twitches at the corner of Sander's mouth is like the tiniest opening, and Robbe takes that as a challenge. He’s always been good at slipping through small spaces.

“You wanna see a trick?”

Sander sizes him up for a moment, then swivels on his heel to face him fully. “Ok then, magic boy. C’mon.”

(aka a late Christmas fic)

- Come lie with me @allforyoumylove (14,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089530

“When Robbe lifts the blanket and gently tugs on the leg of Sander’s sweatpants, silently inviting him in, Sander doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t hesitate, he just drowsily slips into Robbe’s embrace.”

(or the one where they both have a terrible relationship with sleep but find out that it gets a little better when nestled up against each other)

- Man on a mission @littleliefe (17k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820564

The agency is under attack but Sander is just thirsty for Robbe. On the other hand, the rest of the agency is more concerned about helping Sander ask Robbe out for dinner.

- life was a willow and it bent right to your wind @nbrook (18k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349892

Sander and Robbe became best friends before Sander made a move and then Robbe went and got himself another boyfriend, leaving him pining. And it’s fine, really, it is. Sander promised himself that he wouldn’t do anything about it for as long as Robbe was happy. But when Robbe’s boyfriend ridicules his love for everything Christmas, he decides to step in to give him the Christmas traditions he deserves himself.

- You're my stars...and everything in between @aurorawinds (19,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862950

A Star-Crossed Lovers, Romeo & Juliet inspired, AU where Robbe and Sander are the sons of Antwerp’s two most rivaling families of tech companies, head over heels in love with one another as they find it more and more difficult each day to hide their relationship from their families. To hide their love.

- Lovers never lose @dottori (24k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532636

twelve-ish kisses robbe and sander share at the trip to ardennes (and afterwards).

multi-chaptered:

5k - 20k

- In the middle of the night @Lwritings (complete | 9,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133477/chapters/58105945

The Broerrrs go on holiday for a week to London. Robbe is very excited for it until there is something wrong in the hotel and he has to share a room with Sander. And not just Sander, no the guy he has been crushing on for 3 months ever since he joined their group. And not just a room, no there is only one bed as well. When it's just the two of them in the night, anything can happen..

- If a June night could talk it would probably boast it invented romance @allforyoumylove (complete | 14,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264918/chapters/61250002?view_adult=true

Robbe and Sander are childhood best friends. They’re also secretly in love with each other. Confessions are made under a beech tree on a warm summer evening at the end of June.

- Drie @skamtrash (complete | 15,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547221/chapters/53878474

Robbe stands up and finds the voice calling the name and fucking hell, the guy's well fit. He's only dressed in a black t shirt, black jeans and boots but the tattoos that layer his arms immediately entice him. And that platinum hair, his actual face, who looks that good. He gets himself together quickly, "I think Bowie's here."

The au in which Robbe finds a toddler hiding in a clothing rack at a store and ends up falling for his dad

- The way we feel @toskyandbeyond (in the works | currently 17,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364451/chapters/64213597

It’s always been like that. Robbe and Sander, through thick and thin. There was not a thing they didn’t go through together. Moreover, they couldn’t even imagine living without each other’s presence.

The day they met it was almost like two old souls encountered once again. Like they were meant to find each other.

- The finest of the meadow @allforyoumylove (complete | 18,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009740/chapters/63239776

The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

20k - 40k

- Come closer I’ll give you all my love @sonderthroughthestreets (in the works | 22,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249196/chapters/66568180

Robbe’s ex is a pain and Sander helps get rid of him. The problem? They’ve been friends for as long as they can remember and some point between the blurred lines, they fall in love.

- Put your head on my shoulder @Aniloracat (in the works | currently 24,9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079126/chapters/5795296

Because of some past mistakes and communication issues, Robbe and Sander can't stand each other anymore, until they are "forced" to stay in quarantine alone and face their feelings.

📌 Or the enemies to lovers, roommates, quarantine fanfic nobody asked for 😅

📌 Title based on Paul Anka's song 'Put your head in my shoulder'

- Waiting down at the station @ivy_seas (in the works | currently 25,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995576/chapters/71160429

The world is winter, it’s the inconvenient snowfall on the walk to the six-thirty train, it’s falling for the stranger who happens to take the same train. When to take a risk becomes the same question of when to let go of something you’re not really sure you had in the first place. But maybe the world isn’t so cruel.

—strangers to lovers au

- Wings to Earn @to-enter-polaris (complete | 26,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432749/chapters/69672963

After playing volleyball abroad for two years, Sander comes back home to fix his mistake of leaving in the first place, but Robbe isn't ready to forgive him.

- time may change me, but i can't trace time @abittersweetsong (in the works | currently 30,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785878/chapters/68021533

“You’re my best friend and I love you.”

It’s a simple admission and it settles gently in Robbe’s soul.

Or Robbe and Sander find each other in every universe, but in this one they're best friends first.

- If You say Run, I'll Run with You @Aniloracat (complete | 32,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970479/chapters/63133504

Robbe is having a terrible day and a hot, but annoying white-haired photographer that won't stop appearing everywhere is not making it any better. That's it, until sparks fly, and Robbe decides he's found the perfect distraction from his terrible day.

One-night stand AU that's not meant to be a one-night stand.

- Vrijdag 21:37 @wasteourdaysdreaming (complete | 34,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002403/chapters/52504453

The same party one Friday night in February, told from different perspectives.

- You know i'm always at your shoulder (take your heart out of its holster) @wafflesofdoom (in the works (but can be read separate from each other) | currently 35,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979630/chapters/52448740

“I must have been really good, in another universe, to deserve you,” Sander whispered, thumb brushing the line of Robbe’s cheekbone, the pad of his thumb soft against Robbe’s skin.

Robbe simply kissed the inside of Sander’s wrist, shaking his head. “You are good in this universe, too,” he said. “You found me, when I needed you the most.”

learning how to be in a real, actual relationship isn't the easiest thing in the world, and robbe is very new to it all, and he's got a lot to figure out when it comes to being in actual, everyday love with sander. the first six months of a relationship are the best - and they're some of the hardest, too. these are the first six months of robbe and sander's relationship.

- this rough magic @aholynight (complete | 36,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760975/chapters/51919642

Though he’s a sixth-prefect and the newest member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Muggleborn Robbe can still hardly believe that he’s made of magic.

Sander is the seventh-year Gryffindor beater whose wild behavior and delinquent reputation precedes him.

Though Robbe desperately wants to believe in the angel-faced boy he sees in front of him—and ignore the rumors of Sander’s devilish behavior—he’s not sure his heart can afford the risk.

But when Sander and Robbe are left in a nearly-empty Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, avoiding Sander might no longer be an option.

40k - 60k

- The night we met @themoongirl (complete | 42,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189216/chapters/52975012

Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won't let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.

During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

AKA, a college AU.

- Visitations @lucidpantone (complete | 46,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537474/chapters/53855452

Does Robbe and Sander's relationship survive into adulthood.

This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.

The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.

This love story is a journey. So be prepared.

In the words of one of our Even's. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

- look into my eyes, ignore the rest @robbesdriesen (complete | 47,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230513/chapters/63842047

a story of how robbe and sander fall in love in front of the camera and behind it (which in their case, the camera isn't needed at all)

- rotten work @aholynight (complete | 50,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239544/chapters/53102809

Robbe is a college freshman whose reckless habits and excessive drinking are starting to look an awful lot like calculated self-destruction—though his loneliness might be the thing that kills him first.

Sander is a visual arts major a few years above Robbe, with a face nobody can forget and a fuck boy reputation he can't seem to shake.

Everybody warns Robbe to stay away from the Sander, unless he wants to get burned. But Robbe's the kind of boy who likes playing with fire.

- just friends @sincerelysobbe (complete | 51k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861626/chapters/68215882

Months ago, after a one-night stand that couldn't stay that way, Robbe and Sander made an agreement—the two of them, no strings attached. But, Sander's feelings for Robbe were strong, to begin with, and they're growing stronger with each passing day—and he knows that he is more in love with Robbe than he should be.

- run and score @robbesdriesen (complete | 59,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372407/chapters/56000917

Robbe Ijzermans is the star goalie of Antwerp U’s football team, naturally blocking shots as if it were his sixth sense. Sander Driesen is their star striker, having an eagle eye for the goal at all times.

Robbe always had a distaste for his bleached-blonde teammate and the annoying way he carried himself, but Robbe can never mask how much he admires him from a distance.

When they finally begin to learn more about each other, there is no going back for either.

With the looming playoffs in jeopardy for their entire team, will Robbe & Sander be able to manage it together? All while falling in love with each other at the same time?

> 60k

- Eastwood liberty @fockinglevendcliche (in the works | currently 69,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250837/chapters/58438588

Eastwood Liberty students had only one mission: to always be on top, at everything, no matter the cost.

It took Robbe just a day to realize that people there only cared about two things: money and power. But that was no surprise to him. What he didn't expect was to be confronted by this group of rich and spoiled boys, who used to always get what they wanted, especially their leader, Sander Driesen.

Sander made the rules, but unfortunately for him, Robbe had never been really good at sticking to them.

- Do i know you? @SrtaPepa (in the works | currently 88k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340514/chapters/55913782

Robbe has lost his memory from the last three years. He doesn’t remember finishing school and start college with Yasmina; he doesn’t remember going to live to the flatshare, or move out to a new place, or being friends with Milan, neither coming out as gay. And the worst of all of this is that Robbe doesn’t remember meeting Sander or that he is, in fact, truly, madly, deeply in love with him.

Hopefully, sometimes feelings are stronger than memories.

- jij verliest @sincerelysobbe (complete | 104,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445087/chapters/58986433

For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

- Remember my name @ijzermans (complete | 106,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215371/chapters/58335259

The past few weeks, Robbe has noticed a new guy has attended his high school.

Nobody really seems to care about the strange bleached kid, yet Robbe on the other hand, can't help but feel intrigued by him.

The new guy happens to be Sander, and he's not that easy to connect with. He's quiet, distant, and has a past he'd rather not share.

Or will Robbe make a difference?

- Paint me in trust @themoongirl (complete | 116,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235861/chapters/58395625

“What are you looking for, Robbe?” Sander tilted his head, moving closer.

“A rush.” Robbe whispered, his lips brushing Sander’s.

Robbe Ijzermans has spent the better part of two years chasing the need to feel real again. Though being an adrenaline junkie is hardly a healthy coping mechanism, it’s one of the only things he has left.

Sander Driesen is a vampire with an unspeakable, dreadful past that won't seem to leave him.

When Robbe gets roped into Sander’s life he finds the feeling he has been chasing all along. But Sander's world has a different kind of risk, and it forces them to come face to face with the greatest danger of all. Fear of a life without the other.

#wtfock #we tried our best to remember as many fic as possible #sobbe fic #ao3 fic #fic recommendation #multi chapter #one shot #my posts #fave #my recommendations #masterpost

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years ago

Note

Which Criminal Minds characters would you put in a Good Omens AU?

This took me far too long to answer because I had to think so hard. Because you said AU not Crossover so like... who would hold what role was the hardest parts. Because Good Omens is so tongue-in-cheek and silly and Criminal Minds is not... yeah I did a lot of mixing and matching characters thinking about this one lol.

So here's what I have for you:

Crowley = Emily; 100% I can't picture anyone else. She fits the swagger and sarcasm and always looking for the loophole. The whole thing with building a circular highway to sell more souls to hell because they get so angry in traffic? A thing of beauty. She'd be so proud of herself. And all the little character intricacies have cool parallels.

Aziraphale = Penelope; okay hear me out! I know JJ would work for this role, too, but the whole "insanely good moral compass but breaks the rules on the regular" does actually fall in line. She also just... enjoys life so much and adapts to situations very easily and so does Aziraphale so yes. Penny. My angel.

Sgt. Pulsifer = Reid, duh. He saves the world by breaking the computer because he's technologically inept. Reid.

Anathema = Hotch, HEAR ME OUT. I had to think hard about it (and I could make it work for Morgan, too, with a few tweaks. I'm focusing on ships sue me) Anathema is driven by duty and purpose and is studious in it and literally lives _by the book_ in the most literal way. It would be the best interaction and first meet and I'm pretending I'm not obsessed with 'Witch Hunter' Reid who doesn't necessarily believe in them and Buttoned-Up taking this very seriously 'But I Am a Witch and this is my Mission' Hotch. -obsessed-

Idk about anyone else, like Gideon or Rossi as Shadwell would be hysterical, but all the other characters are just so... silly xD Like I can't put Morgan anywhere. I take him too seriously. I'd like him to be Adam's human dad but that'd be the only route that could go.

Anyway, thank you for this ask because it was one I really had to think about! I'm sorry it took so long to reply, hopefully it was worth the wait. Much love to you, dear 💕

#anon asks #au asks #this was crazy to think about and I thoroughly enjoyed it #idek what to tag this one xD I'm scared to stick it in the Hotchreid or Penemily tags

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hyperray · 1 year ago

Text

-Now the other thing I really wanted to talk about is Adam and trying to justify the way he is. So we must all keep in mind that this show is supposed to be very different than the original theology in purpose, Viv even said so herself, so we must be open to such changes from the original sources. Through this context it now makes more sense why Adam looks like that, talks like that, and is in such a high position. Like he said "I never did anything wrong in my fucking life!" And from the story we are shown, this seems to be true! Adam didn't participate in eating the apple and thus wasn't part of the original sin, and after death for being the first of a kind made by Heaven and having done nothing wrong and staying pure, he got rewarded this position to make him punish Lilith personally. Nowdays he has become more complaicant with his job, he get's to eat a lot, fuck a lot, kill a lot, and have no consequences, so he made himself more deranged and prideful, especially since there is nobody to tell him that what he does is weird to everyone else. Him not having done a sin in life actually eliminates the problem I feared would contradict with his lore in the show! -It's honestly wholesome that Lilith's dream of making Hell and demons better and passing that on to Charlie, with Charlie also genuinely liking those ideas, gives more substance to Lilith even though she doesn't really appear! This is the reverse situation of Helluva's moms problem and I love it! I hope they keep it up. -Charlie is reading this from a book, which makes us all think that Lucifer and Lilith haven't shown the whole truth to the demons and Charlie to know, like a propaganda to make the demons more loyal to them, which implies that they are a lot more evil than we're let on. That's actually pretty clever! -I wonder what Lilith has been doing for the last 7 years since leaving Charlie be, this could be interesting. -Alastor making a TV commercial now isn't so weird anymore since he confirms Charlie and Vaggie forced him to do one, and so despite him hating it he made the best of it for himself. Says a lot about his pride and arrogance despite wanting to help the hotel for personal entertainment. -It also makes sense for Alastor not to be so active in Hell anymore, he is the demon of radios and now there are Overlords representing more modern and used up concepts with radio realistically having become more stagnant. -So about Angel Dust, his hypersexuality, and the SA thing. What if they purposefully made Angel that weird and making him casually say that himself getting exploitet is a good thing because they could be building up for him realising that this whole thing is fucked up. He has been a porn star under Val in Hell for decates, and him saying these things are speaking volume on how deeply manipulated he is, not to mention that he is enjoying sex and drugs makes Angel have a mindset to justify his life style. I so want to see his worldview getting broken down and realising that he needs help. -I really like the song and visuals, and also the character designs. When I first heard the "And touch my parts" part I cringed hard, but now seeing that a giant slug guy saying that and frowning from the rejection, somehow it makes me not cringe at that part, someone like this guy saying that line somehow feels more okay now. -I wonder why the guy getting shot at is smiling, even embracing it. I think due to being aware for respawning in Hell and being night immortal he get's a sick thrill out of this. Which I find cool. -Heaven's embacy building is kinda like a giant middle finger to remind demons of the horrible fate that awaits them from their celestial superiors. I also really like the outside and inside design of the building. -Adam pretending to be nice and inserting that rib meat to his face-mask is really funny to me.

Hazbin Hotel episode 1 Review

Now that the first two episodes have been released, I intend to make a review post pointing out what I find negative and positive about them. Now, truth be told, I'm kinda expecting the show to flip because of how Viv is mismaneging the whole thing with the prodution to her socials, but I don't want to be biased and have my perspective completely be compromised by my dissapointment and rage, so I hope this review will shine a new perspective on the episodes for critics like me to enjoy them more, and by the time of this writing I haven't watched episode two yet so to not base my judgement of future context, but I'll bring up context from past episodes to future ones, let's begin. Negatives: -Sooo, does God exist, or are there just these Elders who I'm assuming are the equivalent of archangels? Even if this is a book with left out parts Charlie might be reading, I don't see why discluding God from the story would change anything, though I have a theory on that later. -In the shot where the sad Lucifer looks at the angels surrounding Earth only Sera has her own stand out design. I think this implies that we won't be given focus on any other angels of her level besides Emily, so that's a bummer. -"Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Adam demanded control and Lilith refused to submit to his will" Okay so I'm getting this; If Lilith is fabricating a lot through this book, or maybe written by someone else who isn't including the 'whole' story, then Lilith might have been the victim of this situation and Adam is a typical male bigot and the female the hero against the male's tyranny and she did nothing wrong, which is tiring to accept. -If Lucifer did give Eve the apple of knowlege purely out of good will, then he and Lilith are dumb. Surely he must've forseen the consequences of what Heaven might do to him and Lilith for this rebellion as well the dangerous road humanity would take from that point, right? -Also, Lucifer isn't an angel the level of Michael here, he is just some random middling angel? Well that makes it all really dissapointing. He is supposed to be the peak of Hell's might, and if he is that weak by default then he and Hell shouldn't be that of a threat, logically, but also they'll likely be a threat which doesn't make much sense. He is much weaker than the higher up angels yet somehow accumilated power to rival them, through what? Aren't Heaven's and Hell's magic basically the only source of power anyone can siphon from in this universe, or is there another power system to draw from? -"Never allowed to see the good from humanity" okay that's highly unbelievable. Lower demons can access the human realm, so wouldn't he at least hear or see some recordings about what humanity has achieved? And it's extremely hypocritical since Hell and it's demons largely contribute to the human's pain and suffering, which fuels my willingness to believe this story isn't entirely written truthful.

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cosmiccandydreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Stability Chapter 5

Otis driftwood x Reader

( I do not own these gifs)

Masterlist is here.

"Did you know that the first artist we saw was Jean-Michel Basquiat?!" You were flipping through the pamphlet from the art show you both had attended with a big smile on your face. You were so happy that Otis had agreed to do something so domestic and innocent with you. " No I didn't little lady did you learn that in your fancy city college you went to?". " I did yup''. You adjusted in your seat a bit, " It says here that their next show is in San Diego California oh wow." " Isn't that where your kin is from?" Otis asked as you both pulled off the road onto a dirt path. " Oh yeah you remember?" You smiled up at him tucking your hair behind your ear. "Have you ever missed California?" He asked turning off the truck and looking at you. " I honestly don't remember it. I've spent so much of my life here in Texas that I barely have any memories of California. The weather was nice though and the beach.". Otis scratched his face and sighed "You know I was always worried that you were going to find some educated college city boy and head back to California one day, piff hell I sometimes worry about that now." His voice got a little quieter at the end as he pulled his gun from under the seat and set it into his pants.

You put the pamphlet down and looked toward him. "Are you serious? How could you say that!?" Your voice raised a little higher than you planned but you were surprised. " Now calm down mama I didn't mean nothing" he pushed open the truck door and after grabbing the large bag of guns from the small back seat. He didn't go any further into what he just said, he wasn't good with that emotional crap. But truth be told he was scared one day this wouldn't be enough for you and that you would want to leave. He wouldn't blame you either, as much as you were a part of this family he knew what kinda family this was, it was chaotic and dysfunctional and maybe you'd want someone educated, younger and more … stable than him. You hopped out the truck after him as he held the bag and shovel.

"Otis I said what do you mean by that '' you hurried behind him struggling to keep up with his long legs. He tossed the bag of guns on the ground and began to dig, you stood there arms crossed staring at him waiting for him to speak. " God damnit woman leave the fuck alone I said I ain't mean nothing by it". " Yeah, except you don't say things just to say it. Why are you thinking that I married you !!! Doesn't that show I'm happy here with you?". He didn't answer, he just dug faster and harder into the ground. Before he could grab the bag of guns you stood in front of them. " Otis stop please I'm trying to talk to you" " just go on and wait in the truck y/n '' he replied, still not looking at you.

You walked closer to him crossing your arms even tighter. " You know what I think this is? A ploy on YOUR END, ONE TO GET RID OF ME". That stopped him in his tracks. He looked up at you all covered in dirt and sweaty, his wife beater sticking to his chest. Dammit why was he so sexy.. you're mad at him, stay strong y/n. " THE FUCK WOMAN " He threw down the shovel and stepped out of the hole he was digging. You backed up still trying to look taller and more intimidating by holding your head up. " Yeah I said it, I think it's some stupid ploy to push me away. Why I don't know I don't know what more you could want from me. I do everything for you. I wash your bloody clothes, I bring you dinner to the art studio. I help you .. you know when I can't stomach it and I've opened my mind to your….. activities. Hell, I've even begun to enjoy them. I'm your sister's best friend, mama loves me. I'm like a daughter to her, she said and Spaulding's like the father I never had. I'm a part of this family, why are you trying to ruin this' '. He said nothing he just started at you, blank eyes and nothing on his face. You threw your hands up in the air in defeat. " I love you Otis ok but I don't deserve to feel insecure I don't I … you know fuck this fuck it whatever." You turned away from him stomping back to the truck in a hurry. You were so annoyed and frustrated how you were supposed to have a stable relationship with him making things so difficult.

He stared at you for a second before heading toward you "y/n Y/N HEY I'M TALKING TO YOU FUCK GET BACK HERE, I SAID HEY GET BACK HERE". You opened the truck door when he beat you to getting inside and slammed the door shut. " Look at me, " he demanded, towering over you. You refused, crossing your arms once again and looking away, you felt your eyes sting with the onset of tears approaching. You felt his large hands touch your face and turn it to face him. You shut your eyes to try and hold back the tears that were threatening to spring from your eyes. " I'm not saying anything like that mamas alright, I fuck sometimes can't believe that someone like you could be happy with someone like me. " You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you. " You know you were all I could think about when I was at college Otis" he continued to just stare at you but you could tell he was listening intently. " I was the one that was worried that you were going to find someone closer to your age and that you were just going to see me as a little girl, I was worried that my little silly crush on my best friend's brother was just that, a fantasy. But I couldn't help but remember all the times it was you and I alone. The things we would discuss the movies we would watch the books you would ask me to read out loud." " You know you're the only person I've ever asked to do that" he said lightly stroking your cheek now.. "a lot of the shit I do with you I've never done I just never thought about it, I never thought I could be this soft but you knew how to dig those claws deep and rip out this part of me I thought was dead and buried or maybe never existed."

You smiled and felt the tears starting to emerge. " You know I already knew about half that political shit I came to ask you for help for, I just wanted your point of view and to hear your voice and watch you rant and get all passionate." You chuckled and rested your hand on his. " I had a feeling I knew you were smart as hell but I'm glad you humored me." " I love you y/n there's no way I would ever push you away, if anything I'm afraid you'll try and leave." " Try?" You chuckled a bit " yeah try you think I would let this go? Hm?" He reached round and grabbed your ass hard with his whole hand. " This ass is mine mamas forever". You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. " Yes sir " he lifted you up and moved you to the hood of the truck laying you down on it he unbuckled your pants quickly ripping them down, you hurried to unbuckle his pants and stick your hand into his underwear grabbing him by his shaft. " And this is mine forever." He lowered the rest of his garments and pushed your farther up the hood. He stuck a finger into your wet center, " hmmmm always so ready for me", he removed his large long finger and locked it clean as he lined himself up with your center. You nodded " always ". He pushed into you as you wrapped your legs around his waist..

"Where are you taking us, where are we going?" Roy asked looking back at Otis as the van pressed on. "Man you are not a good listener Hoss I swear I went over all this". Otis looked over toward him while still pointing the gun at Adam "Well I guess it wouldn't do no harm to tell you ..again, let's see ah, we're going to go dig up some guns I buried out here a couple of years ago. " Then what? " Roy asked, his voice shaking. "Well there ain't no what, that's the end of the road." Otis replied. "What?... you're not gonna kill us are ya?" Roy looked over at Adam. Otis scoffed "Killing sounds so permanent."

They eventually arrived at the spot Otis instructed them too, the memory of him fucking you on the hood of the truck in this location flashed through his mind. Sorry this is taking so long darlin he thought to himself. Stopping the van Roy got out first and suddenly violently vomited all over the dirt in front of them. " Damn Hoss that is disgusting. Do you puke like that in front of your wife? Does she like it when you puke? I mean is that part of your deal?" "Fuck… you" Adam spat at Otis turning around to face him."That's what they all say "Fuck you", well it ain't gonna save you. It don't scare me none and it don't suddenly make you a fucking hero".

While approaching the dig site Adam and Roy attempted to wrestle the gun from Otis to no avail. "Well we'll do well!!! I was going to take it easy on you and make it fast, but then you had to go and play the fucking hero!" Otis punched Adam over and over busting his face open in the process." I want you to see what happens to heroes…" He walked over to Roy who was clinging to life on the ground, bleeding out from his wounds. " Now Hoss I want you to pray to your god. I want you to pray that he comes and saves you. I want lightning to come and crash down upon my fucking head!" He pointed to the sky then looked down at Roy. " I will pray... Jesus…" sputtered Roy " Louder!" "Bless the bunnies, bless the little birds, bless the… " yelled Roy"I don't feel anything!" Otis screamed "Bless the springtime morning…" Roy said his voice fading out. Otis began to pretend to be struck by an unknown force and look to the heavens " ooo aaah I feel it! Oh great god almighty I repent, I repent! Oh I feel the love of the god, god, god almighty! Oh the holy spirit is in my body."

Finally losing patience with the situation he stands above Roy pushing his long silver hair from his face. " You want to know who I am? I am the devil.. and I'm here to do the devil's work" he took out his large hunting knife and stabbed Roy in the heart.

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #otis driftwood x reader #otis firefly #thedevilsrejects #the devils rejects

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Note

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Could you please write furious Arthur headcanons? His s/o had been kidnapped by another gang ( your choice) and write him a ransom but he doesn't give them anything, except a killing spree. He's bloodthirsty.

Okay, I only wrote 13 pages and the second half I did while being extremely tired (my fault for having too much caffeine before going to sleep). I hope it isn’t total garbage.

Warnings: swearing, torture, mentions of attempted rape, blood

Breathe

It’s early morning, the sun’s just risen and you’re kneeling next to the fire. You and Arthur found this place to camp last night while heading back to Shady Belle. It’s not too far from Clemens Point, the campsite the gang deserted a few weeks back thanks to the Pinkertons finding it. Arthur approached you a few days ago, stating he needed to get away from the swamps and that godforsaken city Saint Denis, so you went with him.

You’re fairly certain Arthur’s sweet on you. Nothing conclusive, of course. It’s just a look here and there, a touch. The way he talks to you. The fact that you’re the only person he invites to come on these hunting trips. You know he has no qualms about going alone. He used to go out by himself for days on end, coming back with loads of pelts and herbs. That was when you first joined though. The past couple of months, he’s liked you to come along.

You’re sweet on Arthur too. He’s a complicated man, capable of great measures of violence and gentleness. You’ve seen him be kind one second and become scary as hell the next. However, it was his gentleness and his devotion to the gang that first captured your attention. He’d move mountains for most of the gang members, particularly Dutch, Hosea and the other girls. You hope he’d do the same for you, and something tells you he would. Once you got to know him a little better, it didn’t take long for you to develop feelings for him. It was then that you also noticed how handsome he was and there were many nights you went to sleep pretending to be nestled in his arms.

Arthur’s out now, probably hunting or gathering herbs. You like to sleep in later than he does, so you’re not worried. You straighten your shirt and run your fingers through your hair before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Once you’re a little more awake, you’ll get your bow and go find him.

The energy in the air shifts suddenly. Or perhaps it’s just the wind, but something feels wrong. You remember once in Big Valley being stalked by a cougar. This feeling is the same, but there are no large predators down this far south. Not that you know of, anyways. You look around the wide clearing and into the trees. There seems to be nothing. So why does it feel so strange?

Without warning, a lasso floats over your head and around your middle, binding your arms to your sides. The rope jerks, slamming you down onto the ground and you begin to panic. Three men, whooping and hollering, come running up. They’re wearing old soldiers’ uniforms.

Breathe

“You sure she’s the one, Curtis? Part of that gang that took Shady Belle?” the one holding the rope that binds you says.

A slightly fat man with a big white beard approaches you, grabbing your face hard and he peers at you. “She’s definitely with that gang. I seen her before. That big feller you with, he the gang leader?” he directs the question at you.

Lemoyne Raiders. No question about it. You knew you hadn’t seen the last of them after Dutch robbed them of their hideout.

“I ain’t runnin’ with no other feller,” you lie. “Just myself and my horse.”

“Then how you explain the two bedrolls? You also got enough supplies to take care of two people.”

You swallow. “I… I like to carry a lot of supplies. Sell them sometimes. You in the market?”

The man grabs your collar and swiftly punches you, causing starts to blink in your vision.

“Now tell the truth, girl!” the man hollers.

You glare up at him and spit blood in his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing.”

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like the alternative.” The man flips you onto your back, binding your hands and feet together. The man named Curtis hollers again back at the other two. “Come on, boys. We’ll take her to our new place. Make her hungry.”

“But what use is she gonna be to us?” the third man says. He has a rather stupid look to him and his eyes are too far apart.

“Easy. That feller she’s runnin’ with. I doubt he’s gone far,” Curtis points out. “We’ll leave him a little note. Adam, you know how to write, you’ll make it up. Put down that we want Shady Belle back and $1000 with it. Either that, or we’ll send them a gift made out of this pretty lady’s skin.”

The men chuckle darkly and you’re beginning to panic. You’re just about to scream for Arthur when Curtis kneels down, takes his pistol out, and slams the butt of it into your head, forcing you into a world of darkness.

***************************************

Arthur makes his way back to the little make-shift camp. It’s nearly noon; he’s surprised you haven’t caught up with him yet. You’ve never slept in this late. Maybe you’re not feeling well. His horse’s saddlebags are bursting with herbs, Grimshaw will be happy at least.

He hums softly to himself, excited that your face will be the first one he sees today. You have the brightest and warmest smile he’s ever seen. He’d pay an unimaginable amount to wake up to seeing that smile of yours everyday. He wants nothing more than to ask you out to dinner or some other date, but he’s terrified. No way could someone like you be interested in a dirty, violent outlaw like himself.

He sees the pillar of smoke that marks your camp and his humming changes to whistling. Maybe today he’ll finally find the courage to ask you out. Unlikely. All you have to do is smile and his legs turn to jelly. Still, he loves your company. The way you point out the beauty of the world where all he once saw was the ugliness of it. Your face litters many of the pages in his journal. If only you knew how many. Probably a good thing you didn’t, he thought, otherwise you’d go running for the hills.

He walks his horse slowly up the last small rise towards camp. When he sees it, he’s confused. You’re not there, but your horse is still tied to the small tree you hitched her to the previous night. Maybe you’ve gone to pick herbs not too far away or you’re fishing at the lake, which isn’t far either. However, when he gets closer and he sees the blood, he knows you’re in trouble. He hops off his horse and inspects the camp, looking for any clue to what happened. He finds the note. “Give us Shady Belle and $1000 or the girl dies. Deliver alone. LR.”

His breathing becomes suddenly rapid and his hands begin to shake. He crumples the letter in his hand, the edges of his vision turning red. How dare those bastards touch a single hair on your head? He was angry when he learned young Jack had been kidnapped. It’s nothing compared to the seething hatred he feels now. He quickly throws down camp, grabs your horse and then gallops back to Shady Belle. Dutch will surely help him.

**************************************

Breathe.

You’re being dragged by the rope binding your feet. Your head aches and you crack your eyes open. An old, boarded-up house looms above you and you’re flanked by over half a dozen men, all in Confederate uniforms. The man dragging you stops and you look to your left and see the burned skeleton of a barn.

“What the hell she doin’ here, Curtis?” a slightly fat, balding man demands. Based on his uniform, you’d guess he’s the boss of this group.

“She’s with that gang who took Shady Belle. We left a note for her companion to give it back and an extra $1000, otherwise we’d send her back in a condition they ain’t gonna like.”

“You damn fool, Curtis!” the man growls. “And when the entire gang comes up to get her, then what?”

“We wrote her friend a note to come alone when deliverin’ the money. He ain’t gonna be a problem, Richard.”

“He better not be. Still, I would enjoy seein’ at least one of those traitors who robbed us suffer. That was our goddamn home.” Richard looks to the house and then back to you. “Put her in the basement.”

Breathe.

The man holding your feet begins dragging you again towards the house. You grunt loudly as he hauls you up the front steps and they scratch against your back. You start struggling, trying to grab onto anything that might give you an edge. Curtis, who’s walking behind you, grabs your hands and picks you up so now you’re being carried between the two men.

They drop you in a room with a fireplace, a fire burning inside it. Richard enters the room, shooing most the other men out except for Curtis and the man still holding her feet. He orders them to strip you. You start fighting, but Richard and the other man pin you down as Curtis rips off your clothes, leaving you in your undergarments.

“You wanna go further?” he asks Richard, a hungry look in his eyes that leaves you feeling cold.

“Not yet. If they don’t show up with the money in a day or two, we’ll have some fun with her.”

Curtis looks disappointed, but he and the other man pick you up again and Richard opens up a door in the floor. They carry you down into a cellar. There are three pillars, chains attached to them. This house clearly used to keep slaves down here before the Civil War ended.

The men drop you onto the stone ground and then Richard pulls out two pairs of handcuffs. He binds your hands together and then your feet. Then he forces you to your feet and stretches your arms up, attaching the chain holding your hands together to an old hook hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It leaves you barely standing on your toes.

“Get out of here, you two,” Richard says to the other men. Again, they look disappointed but they comply. Richard turns back to you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me about this little gang of yours.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” you growl.

He chuckles and takes out a knife. “Maybe not yet, but you will.”

Breathe.

*********************************************

Arthur stomps into camp, still in a fury. He goes to Dutch and explains your predicament.

“We ain’t givin’ those animals money, Arthur,” Dutch says.

“No of course we ain’t. But we need to find her. Gather the men, let’s go hunt her down before those bastards have a chance to hurt her.”

Dutch stands up, glaring at Arthur. He’s never tried to boss Dutch around and he won’t accept it. “No, Arthur. I need them to do work and I know you’re sweet on Y/N, Arthur, but she ain’t exactly Jack.”

Arthur’s vision has remained red the entire time since he found your ransom note but it intensifies when he hears Dutch’s words. “What, because she ain’t a kid who represents the potentials of the future, she ain’t worth savin’?!”

“Arthur, that ain’t what I’m saying,” Dutch says quickly. Although he knows Arthur’s loyalty would never waver, he knows exactly what Arthur’s capable of. “We’ll get her before she can talk, but I just need a little more time.”

“She ain’t gonna talk, Dutch. She’s as loyal to you as any of us.”

“I don’t know that, Arthur. She’s only been with us for a few months and who knows what they’ll do to her. You’d be surprised how quickly people break when subjected to torture.”

Arthur clenches his fist and Dutch takes a step back. “I’m goin’ after her, Dutch, right now whether you like it or not. I’m gonna kill all them bastards. But if she’s dead, Dutch, I’m gonna tear everything-”

“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch says quickly, knowing how easily Arthur could hurt him if he really wanted to. “Take two men, go find her.”

Arthur stomps out of the house, still furious that no one else cares about you as much as he does. He grabs Charles and John and rides back to where your camp was in order to track you down.

*******************************************

Breathe.

The inside of your upper left arm burns something terrible. At least the bleeding has stopped. Richard tried getting information out of you, kicking and slapping you when you refused. After two hours of attempted interrogation, he lost his temper and carved the word “traitor” into your arm. The pain was indescribable. He left you alone to hang from your wrists after that, clearly needing a break.

It’s been at least half a day since you saw anyone. You’re thirsty and your wrists hurt like crazy from holding a good portion of your weight, the manacles digging into your skin.

The cellar door at the top of the stairs opens again and Richard walks down. He’s alone but he’s already pulled out his knife.

“You gonna talk, traitor?” he growls.

“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” you spit back.

He narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb across the blade. “You know, a few years ago, another gang came through here. Guess they wander a lot, don’t stick in one place for more than a few weeks. Called themselves the Skinners. I saw the things they did to the folk they caught. Even learned a thing or two. Trust me, girl, you wouldn’t like any of the ideas I got for you.”

He glares at you. Fear rips through your gut but you won’t give in so easily. Someone will come for you, you’re sure of it, and you’re more scared of what Dutch will do if you talk and he finds out.

“Do your worst,” you say, a tear sliding down your cheek.

Richard curls his lip and then slams his knife down into your thigh, making you scream. “Talk, girl,” he demands again. You quiet down, more tears falling. “Talk!” he hollers, twisting the knife which only makes you scream more. He twists, pulls and pushes the knife, trying to work anything out of you. Then, he yanks the knife out, blood spilling out of your thigh.

“You’re gonna say somethin’! I don’t care how much you’ve whored yourself to those men, you’re gonna break.”

You can do nothing but cry as your thigh bleeds freely. Richard reaches up and drags the tip of the knife from your neck to your collarbone, finally cutting into your chest. He draws a shallow line, making you scream again.

Finally, Richard seems to have enough after cutting you in multiple places across your arms and legs. He huffs insults at you and then marches up the stairs.

Breathe.

*********************************************

At the campsite, Charles picks up a trail of three horses, most likely your captors'. It’s an old trail but he manages to pick it up just fine. Arthur’s still furious and desperate to find you.

John tries to encourage him. “We got Jack back, Arthur. We won’t have any problems finding her.”

He couldn’t be more wrong, though. The men who captured you almost seemed to not know where they were going. The trail winds in several circles and sometimes even turns back to the way they’d come, almost like they were afraid of leaving a trail.

The hunt lasts for hours and the sun begins to set. Charles tells Arthur to rest, but he refuses, stating you certainly don’t have that luxury. He won’t either, not until you’re safe. Charles and John decide not to argue. They know how Arthur feels about you, and how afraid he is of losing you. They agree to go on.

The trail heads further east towards the swamps and then, after hours of following, it turns west again, back towards Scarlett Meadows. Arthur’s even more furious. What the hell were those animals trying to do when they captured you? Charles asks for the note they’d left him, wondering if it could give any clues to where you are. Arthur says there’s nothing but hands him the note anyways.

“LR,” Charles says.

“Lemoyne Raiders,” John explains. “We drove them out of Shady Belle.”

Charles nods and his face is deep in thought. “Where would a gang that large go after losing their main hideout?”

Arthur pulls out a map and inspects it. There’s few buildings that aren’t in a town or a city that are large enough to house a gang. Then he sees a place on the map in the direction the trail is leading. He recognizes it from when Uncle found a lead on a stage that was owned by Cornwall. They’d hid in the barn of the house and it got burned down. Shortly afterwards, he met the former owner, an ex slave catcher. He remembers the old cellar with chains on the pillars, ledgers of slaves and a slave’s old journal describing getting caught.

“There, Compston’s Stead. My money’s on there.”

John looks at the map and nods. “Seems big enough. Right in the middle of their territory.”

“Let’s go,” Charles says, but Arthur’s already riding off. The group gallops through the night, the horses snort and sweat from being pushed so hard. They enter the woods right outside Comspton’s Stead and finally pull to a stop. It’s nearly dawn, the eastern horizon turning light. Arthur dismounts and pulls out his shotgun.

“We need to come up with a plan,” John says. “What are we doin’, Arthur?”

“Kill ‘em all,” Arthur says and then starts walking towards the house. Charles and John call for him, stating the obvious flaws in this idea, but Arthur ignores them. All he knows is they’ve undoubtedly tortured you and done God knows what else and he’s going to rip them all to shreds.

He stops at the edge of the trees and, sure enough, there’s tents and wagons around the house and burnt barn. Hardly anyone’s awake, but two men are sitting around a campfire, sipping coffee. They’re clearly supposed to be on guard as they hold rifles, but they’re taking a break. Arthur aims his shotgun and fires, the slugs slamming into the chest of one of the men. The other hops up, only to be knocked back by another shot fired by Arthur.

The other men start getting out of their tents, but they’re disoriented from being asleep. Some are still pulling their pants or hats on, wielding pistols or rifles.

“Raiders!” Arthur screams, reloading his shotgun. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches! Where is she?”

**********************************

You’re dozing, somehow able to get a bit of rest despite the immense pain flowing constantly throughout your body. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you’re so tired you’re managing to fade out of consciousness to a point and sleep a little. That is until you hear the cellar door open. You look up and out the small window near the ceiling. The sky’s turning light. Richard walks down the stairs, his eyes dark and hungry. He closes the cellar door behind him.

Breathe.

“You gonna talk, whore?” he growls.

“Do your worst,” you say again, your voice no more than a soft grunt. You’re so thirsty and weak it’s all you can manage.

“Oh I plan too. You are a pretty thing. Shame you’re makin’ me carve you up like this.” He stands in front of you and raises his hand, dragging a finger from your shoulder and all the way down your body. The way he touches you is the absolute worst torture and you suddenly realize what he’s thinking of doing.

He grabs the top of your bloomers and begins to pull down. “Obviously knives ain’t workin’ on you. Maybe I can… squeeze your words out of you another way,” he whispers in your ear. You clench your legs together as hard as you can, but in your position you don’t have much power over what happens to you.

Richard reaches a hand up to lift your chemise when a sudden explosion echoes outside. It’s coming from the woods. Richard steps away quickly and looks out the window.

Another explosion and men begin shouting. You hear a man hollering a slew of insults. There’s anger in his voice, but it’s different than the anger in Richard’s voice. A kind of desperation lingers behind it.

“Son of a bitch,” Richard growls. He pulls out his pistol and stands close to you. “Don’t worry, whore. He ain’t gettin’ to you.”

Breathe.

You want to cry out. You recognize those explosions well enough to know they’re coming from a shotgun. Someone has come for you. You have to believe it.

“Help!” you try calling out, but your voice is so weak it’s hardly more than a whisper.

“Shut up,” Richard grunts. You call out again and he slams the butt of his pistol in your face, cutting your cheek.

The air outside echoes with more shots, more screaming. You don’t know how long it continues, but then it suddenly stops. Richard shuffles nervously, his thumb brushing against the hammer of his pistol. He stares up at the closed cellar door. You can see the sweat dripping down his face.

The cellar door swings open, light streaming in and blinding you. Richard hesitates and then points his pistol at your head.

“Come any closer, she dies,” he says.

The person at the top of the stairs darts down them. You gasp when you see Arthur and he’s wielding a rusty old sword. He’s too fast for Richard and he swings the sword down and into Richard’s shoulder, burying it deep. Richard drops the pistol and falls to the ground, Arthur on top of him.

Arthur pulls out his knife and slashes Richard’s throat, and he gurgles as the blood flows from his open neck. Arthur watches him for a second, his shirt speckled in Richard’s blood. Then he turns and looks at you, a fire raging in his eyes.

Breathe.

“Ar-Arthur,” you groan. He gets up and grabs your wrists, unhooking them from the rafters. You sigh when your weight finally goes to your feet but you’re so weak you fall against Arthur. He grabs you and holds you tight, kneeling down so you don’t have to stand. He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm tight around your back.

“I got ya, girl. You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle compared to the violence that he’d just committed.

You take in a deep breath, his scent of pine and leather flooding your nostrils and then you begin to cry. You sob into his shirt and he just holds you, rubbing circles into your back. He releases you only for a moment to take out a lockpick and take the cuffs off your wrists. When your hands are free, you latch onto him as hard as you can.

“You’re safe, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt ya now.”

He sighs, his arms folding tightly around you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, wanting to shut out the world. You swear his lips brush your forehead.

“Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you out of here.”

He starts pulling away, but you latch onto him. You feel cold and you’re terrified from everything that’s happened. He’s warm and he represents safety, protection.

“Easy, girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just need to get these off your feet.”

He lays you down on your back as gently as he can and then unlocks the cuffs around your feet. He’s back near your head and he picks you up, cradling your head to his neck again as he carries you up the stairs. You’re blinded from having been down in that cellar for you don’t even know how long. He walks slowly as to not cause you more pain and your eyes adjust to the light.

Curtis and the man who dragged you lie dead in the living room, their bodies resting in pools of blood. Outside, you’re blinded again but you have an easier time adjusting to the light. There’s more corpses. Charles and John are looting the bodies and camp for anything they can use. They straighten up when they see Arthur carrying you.

“Is she…” Charles begins.

“She’s alive,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “She’s in bad shape though. We need to get her home.”

Arthur calls his horse and, with John’s and Charles’s help, lifts you onto the horse, which is extremely painful on your leg. You grunt and gasp in pain and Arthur says words of encouragement. He climbs up behind you and wraps a protective arm around you, grabbing the reins in his other hand. He says nothing to the other two and pushes his horse into an easy canter towards camp. The pain is too much as it rips through your body in fresh waves and sends you into a relieving world of darkness.

***********************

Arthur arrives back at camp, followed by Charles and John. You passed out within only a few moments of riding, to which he’s grateful for. It meant you would have to endure less pain. Once he stops his horse, John holds you up as he gets off his horse. John makes to slide you off, but Arthur pushes him away and pulls you into his arms.

Grimshaw’s making a huge fuss, ordering people around to get medical supplies. Dutch walks over to him and is about to say something when Arthur snaps at him. “I don’t wanna hear about it right now, Dutch. She ain’t outta the woods yet.”

Grimshaw tries to tell him to drop you off on your own bedroll, which is positioned by Karen’s and Mary-Beth’s on the ground, but Arthur says it would be best if you were on an elevated bed, somewhere secluded and warm. He hauls you up to his room and puts you onto his bed. Grimshaw abruptly shoves him out of the warm so she and the girls can change your clothes and begin working on you.

Most of your cuts and wounds are okay and don’t require stitches, including the carved word on your arm. Your leg is a different situation. The wound is deep and jagged and it’s still bleeding, though not profusely. Grimshaw says the best option would be to cauterize it instead of risk it getting infected. Karen brings her a candle and some gunpowder.

Arthur’s standing outside his door, pacing near it. He’s terrified to hear about your condition but prays he got to you in time. He’s still wearing his bloody clothes, but as he’s not allowed into his room to change, he doesn’t care. Dutch and Hosea are with him, telling him encouragements. They’re helping until he hears you scream.

Dutch grabs Arthur as he tries barging through the door to get to you. Arthur’s fighting hard though, so Dutch calls Bill and Charles. It takes all three men to prevent Arthur from going into his room to see you. He yells at them to let him go and after a few moments, Grimshaw comes out, looking furious.

“Mr. Morgan, she won’t ever be able to get some rest with you screeching this!”

“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” he demands.

“Fixin’ her leg. Think she’ll be fine and she’s asleep again.”

“Let me see her.”

“No,” Grimshaw says. “We’re almost done. Now how about you make yourself useful and get some fresh clothes for her. Bring up some food and water for when she wakes up.”

Arthur growls but he’s relieved to have something to do. The others let him go and he does what Grimshaw says. She snatches the clothes out of his hand and then slams the door in his face.

“Come on, son,” Hosea says, patting Arthur on the back. “Let’s get you calmed down. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. She couldn’t be in better hands.”

Arthur nods and lets Hosea and Dutch lead him into the sitting room where Dutch keeps the donation box. They get him some whiskey and some food, encouraging him to eat.

***********************************

You don’t know how long it’s been since Arthur saved you. The events leading up to it were terrifying and awful, but the feeling of his arms around you was one of the best things you’ve ever felt. You remember how his warmth seeped into you.

Breathe.

You notice you’re mostly on your stomach and right side in an upright position. There’s an odd mixture of warm and cool throughout your body and you’re propped against something that's almost hot. You breathe in and smell pine and leather, just like Arthur smelled when he saved you. As you dip again into that memory, the pain of your body begins coming back to you.

You stir a bit and something moves against your back, rubbing softly. That’s when you feel arms wrapped around you. Your eyes creak open and you look up to see Arthur staring down at you. He sighs as though in relief.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says. “Thank God you’re awake.”

Despite the pain, you smile a bit and open your mouth to say something, but your voice doesn’t want to work.

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. One of his arms unwinds around you, leaving you a little cold. Then he hands you a tin cup full of water and he helps you drink it slowly. When the water’s gone, you start to remember the things that happened to you.

“Arthur, I… I didn’t say anything to them,” you say, a sob working its way up your chest. He folds his arms around you again.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry about that, okay? Those bastards who hurt you are all dead, they can’t do that again.”

The shock of the last few days comes to you and you begin to shiver, despite the humidity and the heat from the swamps outside. Arthur grabs the blanket on the bed packed against the wall and drapes it over you.

“You’re okay, darlin’. I got ya, ain’t gonna let you go.” His words flow over you and the sob finally reaches your throat. He rubs your back as you cry into his chest again. You can’t understand why those men did such horrible things to you. It’s not like you had any hand in taking the manor from them.

“Why, Arthur?” you sob. “Why’d they do that?”

He sighs and brushes his lips against your forehead. “I don’t know, honey. They were evil men. You did nothing wrong and you didn’t deserve it, okay? Don’t ask yourself ‘why me’.”

You nod and nestle closer into him, your left hand clutching onto the collar of his shirt, noticing the bandage around your wrist. He’s wearing his blue shirt but removed his black scarf, leaving the top three buttons undone. He’s done this before and you always struggled to avert your eyes from his exposed chest. However, you press your cheek to his bare skin. The physical contact is soothing and calming. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.

That takes you by surprise. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Arthur?”

“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just… I was terrified I wouldn’t get to ya in time. That mornin’ they took you, I um, I was going to ask you somethin’ but they got you before I could.”

He’s terrified and surprised he’s even asking you in the first place. However, when you were kidnapped, he knew he wanted you in his daily life. He was in love with you, he couldn’t deny that. He pauses for a moment, pondering what to say. If you tell him you’ve no interest in being with him, that’s going to make things incredibly awkward.

“Arthur?” you say gently, your fingers delicately brushing his chest. “What were you going to ask?”

“I um,” he hesitates again. He can’t look you in the face, his cheeks burn hot. “I was gonna ask ya if… If I could take ya to dinner or see one of them silly plays in Saint Denise.”

Is he really asking you out on a date? Your stomach skips. You’ve no idea how many times you imagined him saying this, but you never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe you’re suffering hallucinations stemming from your condition, but you don’t care. You smile up at him and cup his cheek.

“Well, I would have said yes if you asked me then. My answer isn’t changing now.”

His lips stretch into a wide grin and then suddenly, they’re on yours. They’re slightly chapped and dry, but they’re warm. His lips move softly against yours, parting them just slightly as his tongue flicks over your lips. Your hand moves into his hair, tangling into them.

Before things can go further, he breaks away. “Thank ya, darlin’. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, not unless you want me to.”

You smile at him and lay your head on his chest. It feels like a miniature version of the sun has taken residence in your own chest, sending warmth to your limbs. You suddenly can’t wait to be in well enough condition to go out with Arthur, but for now, you’re happy to stay in the safety and heat of his arms. He draws soft patterns into your skin, sending you back into an easy slumber.

#arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #awkward asks #I'm awkward

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thelightoflebanon · 6 years ago

Text

SPN Characters and their Favorite (or least favorite) Social Media sites

Claire: Snapchat. It lets her family know that she's fine (thank you very much) and she only has to give them ten seconds of her time before they get the gist.

Jack: It is a toss up between Tumblr and Snapchat. On Tumblr, he finds some really cool posts and stories about his favorite shows (he didn't know other people were as passionate about Rae and Finn from My Mad Fat Diary as he was!) but with Snapchat he gets to be a disco cat.

Dean: Facebook groups are a decent way to talk with hunters but pass it off as LARPing should someone report a concerning comment, but Snapchat is one of the only ways Claire will actually talk to any of them so he gets on there the most. Also, disco cats are cool. He gets on Instagram but only follows Castiel on there.

Sam: Twitter has the best news sources and he can make sure his feed stays bipartisan. He avoids Facebook, but checks Facebook Messenger constantly.

Castiel: Definitely an Instagram man. He enjoys taking pictures of the burgers Dean insists on making him as well as the feral cat that hangs around outside of the bunker. Scruffy has become quite the internet sensation.

Mary: Facebook, partly because she can friend her old friends she had back before she died and pass herself off as her own niece. It's a good way to see a timeline of sorts regarding what she missed. She ends up unfriending the ones who are apparently quite racist now.

John: Why would he get on Social Media when he likes maybe 6 people max? He did find his mother on Facebook the short time he was on there though. Every time she posted on his timeline, she wrote it and signed off like a letter. John thought it was sweet, but mostly embarrassing so he disabled his account. When she called and asked why she couldn't find his page, he said he was hacked but then had to explain what hacking was.

Charlie: Tumblr. Enough said.

AU Charlie: Yeah, same.

Maggie: Still bummed that she missed out on Vine. Does YouTube count?

Lucifer: Twitter is definitely his least favorite. He wasn't surprised that a new president came into the White House after he infiltrated it but for someone who doesn't feel guilt, he does feel a little guilty about Trump. His tweets we're amusing at first, but COME ON. Even Lucifer knows when to shut up...eventually.

Bobby: He's one of the Hunter Facebook Group admins. John Winchester's request to join stayed in the pending queue until John deleted his account.

AU Bobby: Runs the rival Facebook group. Declined John Winchester's request to join every single time.

Garth: Snapchat, so he can make dog jokes with the puppy filter and pretend to be a scary werewolf. RAWR.

Crowley: Snapchat is definitely his least favorite. Why is he getting scary werewolf snaps from someone named Garth at 3 am?

Gabriel: Instagram, so that he can share pics of Monte Carlo and make people jealous over the fact that they don't have porn star friends.

Benny: Found a good Facebook support group for sober vampires. Thought about inviting Sam as a cruel joke but didn't want to make Dean mad.

Ketch: LiveJournal. Got to keep an eye on the Russians.

Kevin: YouTube has good conspiracy videos. Sometimes he finds himself believing them if he hasn't had enough sleep.

Rowena: Tumblr is an excellent way to connect with the wiccan community, as well as find orgies going on in her area!

Alex: Snapchat, if only for the fact that she can keep an eye for Claire check-ins, although Tumblr does have some medical nerds she can appreciate.

Patience: Social Media is distracting and her life is too filled with drama as it is. She's deleted her apps until further notice.

Kaia: Snaps disappear after a while so Kaia finds comfort in Snapchat. She also likes Claire's snaps...a lot. Especially the ones they send back and forth late at night.

Dark Kaia: The sound of her spear hitting against the bark of a tree is better than any status, tweet, or snap.

Jody: Snapchat because it embarrasses the girls.

Donna: Twitter seems to be the most useful way to let the citizens of Stillwater know what's afoot! But also Snapchat because it REALLY embarrasses the girls.

Eileen: Facebook, since it has video chat in messenger and sometimes she goes a while without seeing Sam in person.

Adam: There's no Wi-Fi in Hell.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural crack #crack/humor #spn headcanon #crack headcanon #saileen #destiel #social media #supernatural characters #dreamhunter #hopefully some garth/crowley if garth is persistent enough

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dong-hyucks · 7 years ago

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Hello, may I please request an imagine for nct dream Chenle with an evil-Peter Pan au if that makes sense? If it doesn't then just do a normal Peter Pan thing, after all I do want you to enjoy writing this. I don't mind if he's a lost boy or Pan himself. As for the gender I'm She/Her but it's fine if you don't want to use those. Thank you and take your time I'm patient and will happily wait until 2076 if that's the time you need. Lots of love a girl that loves your writing.❤️💘🥀

The Lost Boy ; Chenle

Characters: Chenle / Reader / ft. NCTGenre: Peter Pan!AU, adventure, suspense, fluff, angst (happy ending)Warning: implications of death and a rough home life, slight swearingA/N: dEDICATED TO THE SOFTEST CHOONLOO STAN TO EVER WALK THE EARTH; @chenlays HAPPY EARLY BDAY SAM ILY

Masterlists

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”- Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

1902, London

The streets were cold, empty. Dank cobblestone clip-clopped under your scuffed and water-ridden shoes. Your arms, uncovered and unprotected from the cold, were covered with goosebumps, little hairs standing up in response to the sheer coldness of the night. In the distance, you could see the large clock tower. The building was rundown, as was practically every other building in town. The clock chimed and chimed, you could almost see the rickety building tremble with each vibration, alerting you and the townspeople of the hour. You swallowed thickly. Hairs on the back of your neck stood rigid, not from the gelid air that surrounded you, imprisoned you in its freezing hands, taking you as it’s prisoner. No, the hairs that stood, your knees that shook, your breath that caught; they all did so out of fear.

You were late. Five minutes late, to be exact.

There was a sudden, muffled thud. You stopped, quickly moving to hide behind a nearby building. A man, a man you recognized as Mr Percy from two roads down, exited your home as he fixed the collar of his trenchcoat. He looked around as if to see if anyone had seen him, before quietly sneaking off into the darkness. It wasn’t long before his form disappeared into the dark fog that always followed London’s nightfall.

Your doorstep drew near, and you dreaded each step closer you took. You could practically hear your adoptive mother, Madam Iva, screaming– her voice raspy from yelling so vehemently. Her eyes were what scared you the most, the beady, coal black pairs of eyes that would stare you down as if you were prey. They’d narrow as she screeched, her irises almost disappearing under her wrinkled eyelids. She was always like that. A hawk compressed into human form. Watching. Always watching.

In fact, you could see her now, glaring down at you from her bedroom window. Chills ran up and down your spine as your hand clasped around the doorknob and twisted. You waited patiently, patiently yet with an immense amount of fear, at the door. As if on cue, her heavy footsteps came stomping down the creaky wooden staircase. You had to remind yourself to replace the wood tomorrow.

Soon enough, her face, red with anger and vexation, came into view. Her puffy cheeks and dropped eyelids obscured her eyes in an ever so familiar way. As she made her way down the stairs two at a time, loud thuds sounded within the household. With each step, the ruffles on her evening gown fluttered slightly due to the astounding strength she used with each step. The only thing on her body that remained still was the bun atop her head, her hair tightly twisted and tied in such a way that made her eyebrows arch upwards.

“You!” she sputtered, her eyebrows knit together as she jabbed a stout finger in your direction. “Do you know how late it is?” Her tone demanded answers, and you could tell she wouldn’t like yours.

“I was only–”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses coming from you! This is the fifth time this month you’ve come home late, you ungrateful brat.” With each sentence, she took another massive step toward you. “Who do you think you are? I work day and night working so you can have a good life and this is how you repay me? Staying out late when you have a reasonable curfew? I bet you were messing around with those disgusting groupies of yours.”

You frowned a frown that almost mirrored her own. “Madam, my friends aren’t groupies, but I really didn’t–”

She took a quick step toward you, raising her arm in a feinted swing. You flinched, backing into the door as you shut your eyes tightly. Eyeing your trembling form, Madam Iva scoffed. She relaxed her arm for a moment, crossing them as she looked down on you. “Insolent, weak child,” she spat, turning on her heel. “I should’ve left you to die on the streets when I had the chance.” And with that, she walked back up the stairs, this time her steps softer as she attempted to walk in a ladylike manner – though, to you she still looked as much of a cross elephant in a dress as she did before.

You stood in the foyer, waiting to hear the noise of Madam Iva’s door clicking as it locked. When you did, you made your way up the stairs as quietly as you could. Today, you were lucky. Madam Iva stuck to using words and didn’t go any further. Perhaps she was too tuckered out to do much, you had seen Mr Percy leave just before after all.

When you got to your room, Ms Lula was gathering her things. You quietly greeted the cleaning lady, ignoring her presence as she made her way out into the hallway. After she left, closing the door behind her, you collapsed onto your rock-hard mattress. “I hate this,” you mumbled tiredly into your pillow. Though you were used to Madam Iva’s discourteous behaviour, you absolutely detested being on the receiving end of it all. You always had to watch as she pretended to be the perfect mother in front of others, though she was everything but.

Turning onto your back, you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your room was always cold– there was a hole in the corner of your ceiling, one that let in all of the frigid air, rain, snow, and just about every mouse that required shelter in the winter. Madam Iva was always too cheap to pay for a repairman’s work.

As you stared, your eyes tracing each imperfection, you wondered. You wondered what you had done to deserve such a life. You always saw other kids your age getting along well with their mothers, their fathers, their sisters, their brothers. Though they still lived under the poverty that everyone in the area suffered through, their lives seemed perfect to you. You, on the other hand, were a reject sob story. You were left in the streets by your parents at birth, almost experiencing hypothermia in the coolness of the city. Madam Iva’s late husband, Mr Howard, was the one to suggest taking you in after finding your basket. After his death, your life spiralled into hell.

Hot tears burned your eyes, tears that you wiped away roughly. You weren’t one for tears. They didn’t fix anything. Shaking your head, you took out the pillow from beneath your head and covered your face, pressing it into your skin gently as to allow yourself to breathe.

“Poor, poor child. Living a life of such hostility.”

You jumped, throwing the pillow in the direction you thought you heard the voice from. You looked over, watching as the pillow thumped against the wall. “Too slow,” the voice whispered into your ear. Scrambling off of your bed, you held a hand against your mouth. If you screamed, you’d be in more trouble by Madam Iva– something you would rather not face. Once your eyes landed on the figure in your room, you let out a gasp.

A male, perhaps in his early 20s, was standing in your room. Rather– he was floating in your room. Your eyes quickly darted from the space between his dark gray slippers and your splintered wooden floor to his face, one with sharp features. He stared back in amusement, leaning back on some invisible surface as he raised a brow at you. You noticed something glittering, something glowing right above the fabric of his shirt, one that matched his slippers.

You shut your eyes, smacking your cheeks lightly. “Wake up, [Y/N]. You’re having too weird of a dream–”

“A dream? Is that what you think I am?”

You yelped, hastily grabbing the nearest object and holding it before you. The man snorted at the sight of your outstretched arm. You were tightly grasping onto a stuffed bear, it’s fur visible in the spaces between your clenched fingers. He raised his arms in mock defense, smirking over at you as he floated toward you. “I’m so scared,” he drawled, sarcasm heavily evident. You glared.

“Who are you and what’re you doing in my room?” You paused. “How are you floating?”

The man paused mere metres in front of you, floating about a foot off of the ground. “I am Pan,” he greeted nonchalantly. “You can call me Taeyong.” He tipped the front of his black cap, your eyes travelling to the red feather that came from it. His attire reminded you of some old fairytale you had heard before, one that told the tale of three siblings who travelled to a faraway land. “And you are?”

“[Y/F/N]. That doesn’t answer all of my questions, Taeyong.”

“Impatient little thing, you are.” He clicked his tongue before twirling in the air, quite literally, staring at you upside down. You noticed the glowing, glittering something once again, this time below his hat. Is that, you thought, what’s keeping his hat from falling? “I was bored, your window was unlocked, so here I am.” He glanced over to your window, “You should lock that, by the way. Wouldn’t want some weird stranger coming in during the night, now would you?”

“… Right.”

Taeyong moved forward, though he kept his feet pointing upward. “Your mother,” he began, “is very rude.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I was trying to sleep up here, and there she went running down the stairs as though she was racing for gold.” He rolled his eyes. “Her little toy was annoying too. Wouldn’t stay quiet while he was here.” Before he could continue, you quickly shushed the flying male, not wanting to hear any more. Pushing your hand away, Taeyong sent a smirk your way, turning in the air to land on his feet. “I have an offer you can’t possibly refuse,” he sang, clasping his hands together behind his back as he moved away.

You stayed quiet, still feeling incredibly distrustful of the seemingly magical man. You shook your head, the thought of this all being a dream still very liable. Taeyong, noticing your doubtfulness, chuckled. “Then, I guess you don’t want to escape from here.” You looked up at his words, your eyebrows coming together. You could feel your hands getting clammy, your interest piqued. You would give anything to leave, to escape. He chuckled, the noise as deep as his voice. “Would you be willing to fly away with me?”

As if on cue, he began to float up toward your ceiling. You backed into your dresser, your legs shaking. “I can’t fly,” you prompted. “Not sure how you think I can go about that.”

Taeyong laughed, bending over as he held his stomach,as if you had just said the greatest joke known to man. You glanced at your door, an image of Madam Iva bursting in, as red as a baboon’s behind, and you shuddered. Turning to Taeyong, you brought a finger to your mouth in your silent way of telling him to be quiet. “Of course you can’t fly,” he said with the wave of his hands. “You need a little something to assist you.” He then grabbed at the air. You frowned in confusion. Hovering over to you, Taeyong held his hand above your head before shaking it as if he were adding salt to a dish. “All you need is a little pixie dust,” he smiled.

“Now, fly!”

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from the madman. “Taeyong, whoever you are, I can’t fly.” You looked down at his floating feet. “I’m not sure how you’re doing it, but whatever it is, I can’t.”

Taeyong groaned, moving in front of you. “No, you can’t, not with that attitude. You need to believe! You need to want.” He looked at you as if he were urging you to try. You sighed. “Just close your eyes and wish to fly.”

This is just a dream, you told yourself, what’s the worse that can happen?

As if to just humour him, you closed his eyes. I wish to fly.

Nothing happened. You opened your eyes, deadpanning at Taeyong. He groaned yet again, flying over to shake your shoulders. “You aren’t trying enough! I can barely feel your energy and I’m just over here. Try again.” You leaned back. His tone no longer sounded kind nor boyish; but demanding. He must’ve noticed your sudden change in demeanour, because he smiled nervously, moving away. “Just,” he tried again, this time with a gentler tone, “try.”

Not wanting to anger him, you closed your eyes tightly. I wish to fly. I want to fly.

You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to open them to Taeyong’s annoyed expression. To your surprise, he started clapping. “You’re doing it!” Opening your eyes, you looked down. True to his word, you were no longer on the floor. Your legs shook as you got higher, your inexperience blatantly obvious.

“So,” Taeyong grinned boyishly as he turned to face you. He held out his hand as he jumped onto the sill of your window. “[Y/F/N], do you trust me?”

You looked down at his outstretched hand. You glanced at the door again, before your eyes darted to your floating legs. Slowly, you took his hand.

Taeyong’s grin widened to the point where it was almost devilish. “Then!” he exclaimed, taking an alarming step out your window. “Off to Foreverland we go!”

Foreverland? “Wait, Taeyong–”

Suddenly, he shot himself and, by extension, you into the night sky with the push of his leg. You almost forget that you were just floating, a scream ripping from your throat as you watched the ground get farther and farther away. Taeyong glanced over at you, “Come on, [Y/N], relax! Believe.” You glared up at him, your eyes watering from the wind. Believe– the word was starting to sound annoying coming from him.

Once you were very high off the ground, to the point where fog heavily obscured your view of the old buildings below, Taeyong stopped midair. To your luck, you didn’t plummet to the earth when he let go of your hands, but instead, you remained afloat. “What’re–”

Taeyong shushed you, his hand going moving to a small sack that was attached to his waist belt. You watched curiously as he took out something minute. It looked like a simple fountain pen, one like the ones you used regularly whenever Madam Iva had you create a list and go to the market. Suddenly, he began moving his arm in an oval, one almost as long as the length of his own body. “What are you doing?” you questioned, tilting your head in confusion. Before he could even answer, the oval he had drawn in the air became something else. It was as if he had cut a shape into the sky. You gazed through in astonishment, looking down at an island that was just as far as the city was.

Without warning, Taeyong pushed you in.

“Welcome to Foreverland!” You heard his voice bellow from above. You could barely stabilize yourself, nowhere near experienced in ‘flying’. Taeyong raced passed you, moving in a much more comfortable and smooth manner. Your heart raced as you looked down at the almost pitch black ocean down below. As you neared the island, Foreverland as Taeyong had called it, something struck you. A searing pain erupted from your shoulder, shooting down into the nerves of your arm and more. You let out a yell and suddenly you were falling. Whatever magic Taeyong had used on you seemed to leave you as you got closer and closer to the sea. You turned midair, looking up at the sky in hopes of finding Taeyong. You could barely see the fletching of an arrow within your quickly fading vision.

The last thing you saw before you hit the harsh surface of the freezing water was Taeyong as he watched you.

Was that a smile you saw etched onto his features?

A boy clad in ripped and dirty clothing smiled happily as he gathered fruit from the highest of the trees. Down below, he could hear his friends singing to themselves in harmony, their voices soothing to the ears. The boy hummed along to the familiar tune, his head bobbing slightly as he picked one last mango. Content with his pick, he slowly made his way down the tree trunk. He passed his youngest friend, the only friend younger than him, and jokingly pushed himself off of the trunk to nudge him gently. The vines he had tied to his waist kept him up as he manoeuvred around the tree. “Chenle,” his friend poked, softly throwing a small mango at him. “You picked them all up there?”

Chenle grinned with a nod, easily catching the thrown mango. “Slowpoke,” he teased, sticking out his tongue as he continued his descent. The voices got louder as he reached the ground, his bare feet landing upon the damp dirt. As they picked berries from bushes, Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck were singing the same song they always sang together – a song of loss and acceptance – the song of the Lost Boys. As he neared them, Chenle even joined in, dropping his mangoes into the large basket in which numerous other fruits were contained.

Jeno looked up from his bush, inspecting the basket. It was almost full, which meant they had to go back to the house soon. “Last batch,” he called loudly, loud enough for Jisung in the trees to hear.

It wasn’t long before the humongous basket was filled to the brim with a variety of fruit– mangoes, oranges, apples, strawberries, blueberries. Mark, the oldest of the six, came out from the thick vegetation with two wooden buckets, each filled with water. “Are we ready to head back?” he asked, carefully placing the buckets on the ground. When the five boys nodded, Mark moved to help the older of the few while Jisung took hold of the buckets.

Then, the six began their trek down the path to the house in the trees. The older members noticed how much harder it was to hold the basket with only five people, as it was big enough to hold each of them with extra space. Chenle glanced over at the gap between Donghyuck and Jeno, where another boy had once stood. Similarly, there was another space between Mark and himself.

They didn’t make it far before the familiar sound tinkling of bells invaded their ears. Jisung stopped and the boys put the basket down, happy to take a break. “Yuta?” Renjun called, looking around for the little faerie. Before long, they all spotted the tiny faerie, a faerie only visible to beings of Foreverland.

Yuta didn’t even bother greeting the group, instead heading straight to Chenle and landing on the set of arrows that hung across his back. “You need to shoot a predator,” he told the boy, his voice urgent despite being small. “A killer bird is after Taeyong, you need to shoot it once they get back.”

Chenle frowned, his hand involuntarily going to the bow at his waist. He didn’t like shooting at animals. Yuta knew this, but he also knew that the others couldn’t aim as well as he could even if their lives depended on it. “If you don’t do it,” Yuta started, narrowing his eyes, “you know how Taeyong will react if you let him get hurt.”

Chenle flinched. Nodding, he quietly agreed to shoot the killer bird. At his submission, Yuta grinned. “Good. I’m glad we don’t have any conflict here.” The faerie glanced down at the basket. “Now hurry up. He’ll be back within the hour, and he’ll want those fruits home by the time he is.” With that, he flitted away, the only sign of him being the trail of dark blue faerie dust he left behind.

Donghyuck lent the younger male a small smile, patting him on the shoulder gently as if he were saying it’s okay. Chenle merely returned the smile before moving to his position around the basket. Getting the hint, everyone aside from Jisung went to their past positions and heaved the basket up into their arms. They kept moving.

Luckily for them, the fruit trees weren’t too far from their treehouse. The only struggle was bringing them all up into Taeyong’s room. They had built a contraption using buckets and rope and despite the convenience, the operation was a strain on their muscles. “First batch ready,” Mark called to Chenle and Donghyuck, who stood at Taeyong’s window. They nodded, simultaneously reaching out to pull the rope that brought up the buckets of fruit. Below, the boys helped.

“This,” Donghyuck huffed, “is a lot harder without Jaemin and Hansol–”

“Chenle!”

The boys flinched at the sudden voice, almost letting go of the rope. Yuta impatiently jumped on Chenle’s shoulder, though to Chenle it felt like a mere tap. “Taeyong’s back and the bird is with him!”

After Donghyuck took hold of the rope, Chenle took out his bow and arrows. His eyes searched the darkening sky, looking for Taeyong and the killer bird. Soon, Donghyuck pointed toward the Treasure Cove. “There!” Chenle looked over, and sure enough, Taeyong was flying away from another flying figure, though whatever it was wasn’t clear.

Yuta tugged on Chenle’s ear, noticing the way his arms tensed in hesitation. “Shoot, Chenle!”

Feeling pressured, Chenle held up the bow and aimed. Within seconds, an arrow was fired.

Taeyong chuckled, watching as the water began to grow flat, the ripples that had followed your fall dispersing. He looked into the distance and saw the treehouse. He could just barely make an outline of two of the Lost Boys. He mentally commended them before heading toward them.

As he neared, he pulled a straight face. He gracefully landed on the balcony of the treehouse. Yuta came to him quickly, landing on his shoulder with ease. “Good job,” he whispered to the faerie. Yuta’s bells sounded quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

He walked into his own room, watching as Chenle and Donghyuck pulled up another bucket of fruit. “Thank you for shooting down that bird,” he acknowledged, though his town sounded anything but grateful. He looked down at the growing pile of fruit. “That’s enough,” he commanded. “Get out and bring the rest to your rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two scrambled out of the room, and climbed down the ladder to the rest of the Lost Boys. Mark quickly told the two to head up to the shared room, glancing up nervously at Taeyong’s room. They didn’t argue, climbing up without a word.

Night came quickly, the orange light of the sun soon disappearing as navy blue bled into its colourful hues and, eventually, taking over the sky completely. The Lost Boys lay in their beds, too afraid to make a noise. Yuta always flew around at night and if they were too loud he would most definitely tell Taeyong.

Chenle went to bed that night wearing a frown. He felt like a mere fish swimming in a sea full of bloodthirsty sharks. He always did. Shifting under his thin blanket, he stared across the room. The two empty beds made him feel uneasy.

The next time you awoke, you were warm. It was an almost unfamiliar feeling– you could barely remember the last time you felt so cozy. Light flooded into the area mercilessly, too bright for your dazed being. Once your eyes adjusted, you realized you have washed ashore, lying on a bed of dead grass. You were so far away from the sealine, however, that it was as if you had been placed there.

Upon further investigation, perhaps you were.

Barely a foot away from you, you found a silver ring. It hadn’t been affected by the water as it was still shining brightly without a single bit of rust, so you assumed it had been dropped recently. That wasn’t the only sign that someone had been near you, as there were footsteps all around you, each unique footprint stamped into the sand. However, not a person who could’ve left those behind was in sight.

You moved to get up, only to gasp out in pain. Your shoulder was still sensitive from your injury. Glancing at it, you notice how it was wrapped with ripped cloth, a poultice of seaweed just barely peeking out from beneath. Whoever had brought you to shore had taken care of you, delicately so.

Staying flat on the ground, you moved your head to look around. You had no idea what to do. Panic began to bubble from within your soul, making your breathing heavy as you realized how severe your situation was. It would sound insane to anyone else– saying you were taken to ‘Foreverland’ by a magical being and then shot by an arrow? No one would believe you if you lived to tell the tale.

That is, if you could even get back home.

This time, you moved slowly, picking yourself up off of the ground with such care it was as if you were holding a newborn. The entirety of your upper left body was sore, but you tried to ignore as you trodden slowly around the thick vegetation. You kept close enough to the trees that no one would be able to spot you if they were up above, like Taeyong, but far enough from the forest itself to see sunlight. Your eyes darted back and forth from one point to another, wary of your surroundings.

Your, now, bare feet felt odd against the soft sand and the damp feeling of your clothes was plain uncomfortable. In fact, everything about Foreverland was making you feel insatiably antsy. It was quiet– too quiet. You had only been near the sea once, but you could only remember noise, the loud rush of water as it pounded against the white sand, the whispers of the wind as it passed by, the lovely voices of birds as they flitted across the sky. But here, it was deadly silent. You could only hear a high pitched ringing in your ear, though that wasn’t unusual.

Without realizing, you stepped on a branch.

In a split second, there was shuffling. You could see the movement of bushes as something small ran past them, toward you. Your heart began to race, your feet subconsciously bringing you away from the treeline. Suddenly, something jumped out at you and landed on your chest, bringing you flat against the sand once again. The fall brought another shock of pain up and down your arm, making you cry out in agony. It took you a moment to realize what had jumped on you, but when it did you nearly screamed again.

Laying atop your chest, was a fuzzy, black and white creature. You had never seen one before, but you had heard stories and inspected drawings of the small beast.

“A panda?” you questioned, your voice cracking in pain. Sitting back up, letting out yet another set of groans, you took the panda in your hands and looked at it. “What odd place does this Foreverland have to be to have pandas of all animals?”

You barely had time to process the fact that a baby panda was in your arms before there was more shuffling from within the thick forest. Without thinking, you held the panda against your chest and scooted back toward the water. To your complete and utter surprise, a boy began to speak. “Who’s there?”

You stayed quiet, hugging the surprisingly calm panda to your chest. You were about to back right up, into the calm water, when a boy walked out from behind the trees. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. You had seen boys dressed similarly before, in dirty and ripped clothes, but this boy still managed to look clean somehow. He laid eyes on you and you watched as he tripped over his own feet. He landed on his knees, luckily on the sand.

There was a silence, as you weren’t willing to speak to the strange person and he was staring wide-eyed at the ground. Finally, you opened your mouth, though you inched away ever so slightly. “Are you okay?” you stuttered, your words slow and unsure. Your shoulder and arm were pulsing in pain, but you were still trying hard to ignore it.

The boy smiled up at you over his dark brown bangs and nodded. “Peachy,” he mumbled, although he was wincing. He shifted to look at his knees and there were bright red marks. The skin hadn’t broken but there was some irritation. “I’ll be fine in a few.” He looked back up at you. “I’m Chenle,” he paused. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

You raised a brow. “You aren’t sure?”

He shrugged. “I can’t remember much,” he confessed. “We were named by Taeyong after he–”

You droned out the rest of his words, your body going stiff. He must’ve noticed because he slowly stopped talking and looked at you with concern. “Hey, are you–”

Without a word, you got up as fast as you could, your shoulder burning in pain, and bolted. Your feet slipped beneath you constantly atop the sand, but that didn’t deter you. You could hear Chenle running after you, calling after you although he didn’t know your name. You held the small panda close to you as you ran; its claws digging into your shoulder and adding to the pain.

Suddenly, another boy, dressed similarly to Chenle, jumped out of the forest holding a spear. The sight of him and his weapon made you halt in movement, which gave Chenle enough time to catch up to you.

“What’s going on, why did you run?”

You tried to run in another direction, only to meet the eyes of yet another boy. Then, one by one, three more came out. Chenle looked at you with worry, stepping cautiously toward you. With each step he took forward, you took one back until your feet touched water. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he murmured, glancing at your, now bleeding, shoulder in worry. “We want to help.”

“You know Taeyong,” you grumbled, your voice shaking. “I can’t trust you.”

The six of them looked at each other with wide eyes. “How do you know him?” one of them asked. You could barely respond before Chenle shook his head.

“Guys, they’re injured. Let’s get their shoulder patched up before we start asking questions.” He turned to you, holding out his hands as a way of showing no harm. His posture reminded you of Taeyong, back in your room when he had asked you to trust him. Sensing your distrust, Chenle offered a small smile. “I promise you, we won’t take you anywhere Taeyong is.”

You looked down at your own arm, where blood was trailing down slowly. The panda looked up at you innocently, blissfully unaware to your distress. Your shoulder wasn’t in good condition, you could tell– heck, anyone within eyesight could tell. Swallowing thickly, you took a cautious step closer.

“Okay.”

The boys brought you into the forest and to a waterfall. You looked up at the open sky warily, scared that Taeyong would suddenly come out of nowhere. One of the boys, Donghyuck as he had introduced himself before, smiled warmly at you. “Don’t worry,” he said nonchalantly, “we’re safe here. We’ve hid here a lot since we got here and Taeyong has never noticed.”

You just nodded, petting the panda slowly. Another boy, Renjun, looked at the animal with affectionate eyes. “What’s it’s name?” he asked, cooing at the panda. You shrugged; you weren’t sure to be honest. Naming the panda hadn’t exactly crossed your mind since you stumbled upon it. Renjun hummed. “How about Wren?” He smiled down at the baby animal. “Do you like that?” The panda reacted in such a way that couldn’t be described as positive or negative, with the baby just yawning and resting its head against your collarbone.

You smiled at him, “Wren is good.”

Unbeknownst to you, Chenle had looked over just in time to see your smile. He coughed, looking away. Busying himself with grinding together a poultice, he tried to ignore the invisible strings that were pulling his lips up into a smile. Jisung, who had been helping him, noticed this and laughed quietly.

“Okay,” Chenle said, holding up the makeshift bowl (which, in reality, was just a large piece of bark that had been cleaned). You handed Wren to Renjun and sat on a rock across from Chenle. Slowly, he peeled away the cloth from your shoulder and used it to wipe away the old poultice. He gasped at how deep the wound was. The boys all gathered around and had similar reactions. Chenle began to frown, his suspicions ringing clearly in his head, though he kept them quiet. Using water from the waterfall, he cleaned the wound despite your flinches and wrapped it with care.

“How did this happen?” Jisung asked, gesturing to your wound.

“Actually,” Jeno cut in, “how did you even get here?” The boys seemed to all want an answer for the latter, each looking invested in words that had yet to be spoken.

You sighed, fiddling with Wren’s paw. “Well, to begin…” Then, you began to tell the story of how Taeyong appeared into your room, lead you to Foreverland– everything up to the moment you lost consciousness. One by one, each of the boys looked at Chenle with rounded eyes. You did as well, curious. Your eyes darted to the set of arrows on his back to the bow that hung from his waist. “You,” you mumbled, “you shot me, didn’t you?”

There was a pregnant pause, tension grew thick in the air as Chenle struggled to answer. “We were told,” he started, “that you were a killer bird going after Taeyong. If we didn’t comply with orders, he’d…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

“He’d what?”

Mark frowned. “If we disobey orders, given from him or his faerie, Yuta, we get taken away.” He looked down. “He’d take whoever went against his word and we’d never see them again.”

Sensing that you had hit a sensitive topic, you zipped your mouth closed.

Changing the subject, Jeno frowned. “How do you think you’re going to go back home?” he asked, leaning against the large boulder behind him. “You said Taeyong brought you here with a portal. We can’t exactly do the same.”

Your expression mirrored his. You hadn’t thought of a how and true to Jeno’s words, you had no means of creating a portal yourself. It’d be absolutely mad to try and take the pen away from Taeyong, suicide even. And after hearing about what he does to Lost Boys who don’t follow orders, you weren’t about to send them away for theft.

“Why don’t we eat first,” Mark suggested, taking out a mango from his sack. “You’re probably starving and our minds won’t work as well on an empty stomach.” When everyone agreed, Mark tossed you the mango, which you luckily caught.

While everyone idled and went away at their fruit, you wandered off. Nearing the waterfall, you fell back against the waterfall’s cliff, sighing in exhaustion. Beside you, Wren fell against your thighs, pawing up at the mango in your hands. Do pandas even eat mangoes? You glanced around. You hadn’t seen any bamboo anywhere and you weren’t sure which leaves a panda could eat.

“Hey,” Chenle said as he made his way over to sit beside you. The rushing noise of the waterfall almost drowned him out. “Are you not hungry?” he asked, eyeing the way the panda began to gnaw on the mango.

“Not really.”

Chenle suddenly looked like he had just remembered something of significant importance as he looked over at you. “What’s your name, by the way? You know ours, but yours remains a mystery to us.”

“[Y/N].”

He repeated your name once, twice, then thrice, the syllable(s) rolling off his tongue easily. Something about the way he said it made you feel giddy. You couldn’t place your finger on why– after all, people had been calling you [Y/N] since birth, so why were you feeling like this now?

He paused. “What’s it like? Living in a real home with a real family.” You looked over at him as he stared wistfully up at the sky. It couldn’t be more than an hour past noon, based on the sun’s position.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

“No, not completely. None of us do, actually. The lot of us, we only remember random snippets of anything. Donghyuck, he remembers his mother and how she wanted a cheque book, whatever that is. He wants to buy her one,” he smiled sadly, “if we can ever leave this place. And Jeno, he says he can remember lots. Like how everyone lives in these big houses and how it only ever rains once in a ‘blue moon.’” You raised a brow at the fibs, curious as how he came to even think of those.

“Mark remembers,” he stopped, trying to remember what exactly Mark remembered. “He remembers painting! Yes, painting.” Chenle started to laugh, the noise sounding like heavenly bells to your ears. Something about the boy next to you was calming, soothing even. “We tried painting once. It didn’t look to good and I don’t think we were supposed to run berries against stone tablets, but it was great fun.”

“Jisung, he remembers writing. He’s not sure where or why, but he can remember bringing pen to parchment and just letting ink flow.” He chuckled, “That’s what he always says. ‘The ink just flows from the pen, just like that!’” A smile came to your lips at how fond Chenle seemed of the others. “Respectively, Renjun remembers reading. He can faintly recall the tale of a dragon, a knight, and a royal stuck high up in the sky.”

Turning to you, Chenle hummed. “Do you think that’s what we are? People stuck in the sky?” After hearing himself talk out loud, a light pink hue took over his otherwise light skin. “Ah,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in an embarrassed laugh. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it? Never mind.”

You smiled, petting Wren gently as she began to fall asleep, a half eaten mango laying on the ground next to your leg. “No, no. It makes sense. In a way, we really are just people trapped up in the sky. After all, I had to fly to get here.” You glanced over at him curiously, your gaze catching his eye almost instantly. “What about you, Chenle? What do you remember?”

A frown took place of his easy smile. “I’m– I don’t remember a thing about the past.” Your expression dropped. Chenle had sounded so dejected, so miserable over the fact that he couldn’t remember anything. “I don’t get it; the others remember things. Why don’t I?” His voice cracked, as though the topic of his memory wasn’t something he liked talking about.

Slowly, you moved in front of Chenle, gently placing Wren on the ground. He watched you curiously as you shifted. Leaning forward, you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. Chenle stared over your back in shock– he could’ve sworn his heartbeat was loud enough for you to hear in such proximity. Then, inch by inch, Chenle raised his own arms before hanging them over the small of your back. Soon enough, he was bring you closer, reciprocating the hug happily.

The feeling was so unknown to the both of you. You never received hugs, at least, not since Mr Howard’s death. Chenle, on the other hand, couldn’t remember if he had ever been hugged. The warmth, the contact, all of it was so odd to the two of you and yet neither of you wanted to move. Chenle buried his face into the crook of your neck, something that felt oh-so natural to him. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice sending slight shivers down your spine. You pulled away slightly, smiling at him.

Before another word could be uttered, Donghyuck started yelling, effectively gaining your attention. “Come here,” he called, “no– not you, Chenle–”

You chuckled, standing up. Brushing your pants off, you looked down at Chenle, who had gone to play with Wren. “I’ll be right back,” you said. Then, out of habit, “goodbye.”

You could barely take a simple step before Chenle was moving to grab your wrist. You let in a sudden breath, not expecting the sudden movement, nor his hand that was now clasped around your wrist. Chenle looked somewhat embarrassed as his eyes travelled to your wrist. He coughed, fumbling with himself as he cleared his throat. “Sorry about that but,” he looked away for a moment before looking you in the eyes, “don’t say goodbye, okay? At least not to m– not to us. Goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.” He frowned, “I don’t want you to forget us.”

You smiled, moving your hand so that it lay in his. “Don’t worry, Chenle. I won’t forget you guys– I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

When you walked off, Chenle watched. Your words rang in his head, echoing effortlessly.

You reminded him of something, though he didn’t know what.

“Did you need anything?” you asked once you reached the group. At first, they said nothing and just laughed amongst themselves. You waited patiently, hoops of confusion swirling around your head.

Eventually, Renjun spoke up. “You and Chenle are getting cozy over there,” he commented, faking nonchalance. Your cheeks burned. Only then did you realize that all five of them could easily see the small exchange you just had with the aforementioned Lost Boy.

“I bet he knows your name too,” Jeno sang with a chuckle.

Mark and Donghyuck laughed in unison, glancing over at Jeno. “You say that like knowing a name is scandalous,” said Mark. Donghyuck looked to you.

“Speaking of, what is your name?”

You barely had time to introduce yourself before all of you hear a familiar noise.

Bells.

The boys’ eyes widened, each of them standing stiffly. You froze, unaware of what consequences the boys feared. The hairs on the back of your neck stood stiffly straight as the rest of your body shook. A familiar glow, a shimmer even, appeared right above Mark. It was the same glow you had seen back in your room.

“… his faerie, Yuta…”

You’ve been found.

Suddenly, Yuta’s faerie dust began to fall, fluttering over Mark’s head. Before any of you could reach out and grab him, he began to rise, and he rose much faster than you had before. “Mark–!”

It was too late, Yuta’s glow disappeared and Mark was flying seemingly out of control to sea. Chenle came running, Wren hanging off of his shoulder. “Yuta?” he asked urgently, his eyes not leaving the screaming form of Mark. Jeno merely nodded, looking incredibly distraught.

Jisung let out a shaky breath, tears lining his eyes. “Do you think Taeyong’s going to,” he stopped himself short, shaking his head fervently. Jeno brought the younger male into a hug to mask his own tears. The boys had experience this three times now and none of them were mentally prepared.

“We have to get him before Taeyong can do anything,” Donghyuck stammered, staring down at his own shaking hands in fear. He turned to you and only then did you see his glossy eyes. Looking around, you could see that all of them were on the verge of tears in their panic. “Please, [Y/N], help us. We’ve already lost two Lost Boys– none of us can handle a third.”

You nodded, shaken up yourself after witnessing the absolute terror in Mark’s expression as he realized what was happening. “Of course,” you stuttered, “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll try to be as helpful as possible.”

Without another word, the six of you began your trek through the thick vegetation of the forest. The only noise being the sound of branches and leaves crinkling beneath your running feet and the breathing of each and every one of you. Once again, Foreverland seemed eerily quiet to you. It’s lack of audibility disturbed you to no end. It gave the, otherwise beautiful, island a creepy vibe and you did not like it. Not one bit.

No one spoke as you each ran, too focused on their thoughts. You knew even without them telling you what they were all thinking. Though you didn’t know the details about their friends, you knew they hall thought Mark would have a similar fate.

You looked up, looking at the backs of each of the Lost Boys– at least, the boys that remained. You had only met them that day yet you felt emotionally attached. They were so kind, far kinder than anyone else whom you’ve ever met– from both Foreverland and London.

Your eyes fell upon the first Lost Boy you had met. Chenle’s face of determination pushed you. It pushed you to keep going even though all you wanted to do was give up and weep. It surprised you, how much influence the boy had over you without even trying.

You thought back to the conversation you had at the waterfall, then to the pen Taeyong had used to create a portal.

Yes, you decided. I’ll do it. I’ll make sure these Lost Boys are finally found. You swallowed thickly. If anything bad happened to them solely because of you, you don’t know how you’d live with the guilt.

Soon enough, daylight began to break through the gaps in between the trees thick branches until the six of you reached the beach. The sky was turning orange, tendrils of warm colours galore painting themselves over the soft, baby blue of the sky. Clouds cast shadows here and there, leaving their temporary mark on the world. To you, the world’s beauty was unfair.

How could the sun set, the sky turn and the wind blow like usual when someone could meet an undesirable fate?

“Look!” Renjun pointed outward, out to sea. Your gaze followed his finger out above the cool water, until it struck upon the side of a ship. You had looked just in time to see Mark drop onto the deck. “That’s Captain Johnny’s ship!”

Chenle narrowed his eyes, focusing on the ship. Then, he let out a gasp. “On the stern, that’s–”

Suddenly, you could no longer hear Chenle, or any of the other Lost Boys. All you could hear was bells. A dark blue dust fell upon you and without realizing, you started getting closer and closer to the ship. The Lost Boys, they called after you, desperately calling your name, but you had no control of your body– not your head, not your mouth, nothing. You felt as though you were in a daze.

“[Y/N]!”

You blinked. From the corner of your eye, you could see a blue glow flitting back and forth. Yuta. You tried to move your arm, but it felt as though they were tied to your body with the strongest, most durable rope in existence.

Straining every muscle in your arm, you willed yourself to break those invisible ropes. Moving as quickly as your injury would allow you, you hastily grabbed at Yuta. You felt him struggle against your curled fingers as you pressed him into the skin of your palm. However without Yuta controlling the faerie dust, you quickly began to plummet. You let out a scream, screwing your eyes shut. Despite everything that had happened, you found yourself repeating Taeyong’s words like a mantra.

Just close your eyes and wish to fly.

You opened your eyes just barely. A sigh of relief left you once you realized you were hovering mere inches above the water.

“You’ve mastered flying in such a short time. I’m impressed,” a condescending voice said from above. You looked up and saw Taeyong floating, hovering as though he were lying down on a chesterfield bored out of his mind.

“Pan,” you muttered disdainfully. You glowered as he came closer, to which you flew back a few metres. You could practically feel Yuta trying to shove his way passed your fingers, but you weren’t willing to let him go whilst under his faerie dust’s control.

Taeyong chuckled, though you could tell he was anything but amused. “Pan? Why, [Y/N], you sound so distant with little ol’ Taeyong. I’m hurt.”

“Stop acting as if you’ve done nothing.”

“Oh, but [Y/N]. You see, the thing is– I haven’t done as much as lifting a finger since you’ve arrived in Foreverland.”

“Bull. You had Yuta tell Chenle to shoot me and you watched as I fell to what could’ve been my death. You’ve taken Mark onto that bloody boat to do who knows what.”

Taeyong grinned down at you, his constant look of amusement infuriated you to no end.

Before you could say much else, Taeyong looked back onto the boat. Up on the starboard appeared a pirate, one with a hook as a hand and an eyepatch over his right eye. “John,” Taeyong started, “get them.” ‘John,’ who you assumed was Captain Johnny, nodded and disappeared for but a moment. Not too long after, men of all sizes and ages appeared onboard, each clambering into row boats that were then ejected to sea. You turned around in your spot with wide eyes, watching as they rowed toward shore.

The Lost Boys!

You moved to stop the boats from getting any further, but Taeyong was quick to grab your arm, pulling you flush against his chest. “You get to watch,” he murmured into your ear, “as they bring your little friends onboard.” He chuckled. “Though you may not want to see what happens next,” he clicked his tongue, as he dragged a finger over your throat. “Not that you’ll have a choice.”

“Bastard,” you spat, “why’re you doing this? They’re just boys!”

Taeyong chuckled, flying back onto the ship and bring you with him. “Why?” he repeated, roughly forcing your hand open. Within seconds, Yuta clumsily fluttered up onto Taeyong’s shoulder, gasping for air as he clutched his bent wing. “Why. What an interesting question.” With the single wave of a hand, Taeyong managed to push you against a wooden post, trapping you against it. Only then did you notice the blue shimmering on his hand that only shone against the fleeting rays of light.

“I can’t think of any reasons why I should grow old, shrivel up, and die. If I do, what were my accomplishments for? My memories?” He rambled, talking as though what he spoke was common sense. “Even after being twenty-two for ten years, I will never grow sick of not growing. I hated growing up, and now I don’t have to.”

You furrowed your brows together in confusion. Your mind tried to grasp onto frayed ends of his speech to no avail. Upon laying eyes on your confused expression, Taeyong threw his head back in a deep, bellowing laugh. He sounded completely insane. “You still don’t get it, do you sweets?” Beside him, Yuta’s bells tinkled as he quietly mocked you. “Here, in Foreverland, each day that passes takes a year off of your lifespan. But I, the oh-so wonderful, the ever so amazing Pan– have found a way to keep myself young. To live for years upon years.”

Two boys walked out from the room under the stern. Their eyes were hazy, their skin pale as crisp, new parchment paper. They looked soulless. One of the boys, the shorter one, had a ripped sleeve. The cloth, you noted, had a familiar pattern. “All I have to do, is take.” With his final word, Taeyong reached into the same sack that he had taken out before. Instead of taking on a pen, he took out a clear flask containing an almost murky gray liquid. Within the liquid were strange, black blobs. The longer you stared at them, the clearer an image came.

Screaming souls.

In that moment, your heart dropped. Your eyes darted to the sea, where five rowboats were on their way back to the ship. In that single moment, you realized what Taeyong had done to the two Lost Boys and what he was going to do to the rest of them.

You screamed, yelled for the Lost Boys to escape. To swim away, to hide deep within the forest of Foreverland. Taeyong grew more and more irritated with every sound that came from your throat, muffling your voice with the palm of his hand.

Why hadn’t they listened?

As the pirates began to flood the deck of the ship, you realized why. One by one, burly pirates climbed up the ship’s edge, each heaving an unconscious body over their shoulders. You struggled against Taeyong’s magic and his hand, but with no luck.

Then, everything went black as Taeyong forcefully hit your head against the post.

“… -joy the show, boys.”

When you came to, you were tied to the post. You gasped at what you saw before you.

The Lost Boys, all six of them stood in a line. Behind them were the same burly pirates who had carried them onboard. Each pirate had their hand to the hilt of their swords. You could tell the boys had been crying, their eyes red and puffy. Crying. As you glanced at each of them, that’s all you wanted to do. You felt weak under the scrutinizing glare of the pirates.

You struggled to breath. Fear encased you like a prison trapping its prisoner. But, with the touch of a familiar paw, your vision cleared. Your breathing steadied.

Taeyong came into view, tossing the flask back and forth between his hands. Both you and the boys watched him warily as he stepped in front of you. You noticed the boys turning away, but it didn’t take long for the pirates to redirect their gaze, forcefully keeping their heads pointing toward you.

Taeyong brought the flask up to your lips. Immediately, you clamped your mouth shut and turned your head. He tried again. You did the same. The more you moved and refused to drink from the flask, Taeyong grew annoyed. “Drink it, dammit,” he spat, his strident voice making you flinch.

“I’ll never drink it,” you glowered, “not while they’re still in Foreverland.”

The boys’ eyes widened. Chenle moved forward, only to be held back by the pirate behind him. “[Y/N], what are you doing–”

Ignoring Chenle, you looked Taeyong in the eye. “You want to live longer right? You already have their lives,” you nodded your head toward the two lifeless Lost Boys. “That’s plenty already.” You sounded desperate. “I’ve only been in Foreverland for a day. Them? Weeks. My lifespan is definitely longer than theirs, maybe even combined. You want my soul? Let them go. Bring them back to earth– let them be found.”

Now, the Lost Boys struggled more and more against the pirates, their voices muffled. Taeyong, too obsessed with the concept of a longer life to think properly, looked as though he were weighing his options. Without hesitation, he took the pen from his sack and drew a portal. “Free them,” he ordered the pirates. The group looked at each other, unsure of whether or not they wanted to follow his orders. “Free them!” he repeated, seeing red.

You gulped. Taeyong wasn’t in the right state of mind, that was obvious enough. You looked up at the Lost Boys, almost immediately meeting the teary eyes of Chenle. Your lips moved, mouthing a goodbye, but he beat you to it.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, smiling painfully.

“Don’t say goodbye, okay? At least not to m– not to us. Goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.” He frowned, “I don’t want you to forget us.”

You smiled, moving your hand so that it lay in his. “Don’t worry, Chenle. I won’t forget you guys– I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

With that, the last you saw of him was one last fleeting smile before he was pushed through the portal, back to earth.

Then, you met eyes with Taeyong, who was in the midst of turning back to you. He held the flask to your mouth again, only to wheeze in pain once your foot came in contact with his stomach. He dropped the vial, the murky liquid spilling everywhere. The sounds of the screaming souls almost deafened every being on the ship, momentarily distracting them. You tugged hard at the almost broken down ropes that trapped you, covering your ears as you ran away from the post. You glanced back, finding Wren scampering toward you. Picking her up in your arms, your eyes darted from left to right in search of Taeyong’s pen. The portal the Lost Boys had gone through had disappeared into thin air mere seconds after Chenle entered. Finally, you saw it. It had rolled near the foot of the tallest pirate– Captain Johnny.

He must’ve noticed your gaze, because he was quick to reach for it. However, not fast enough. A force sent him backwards, one that you weren’t expecting. One of the soulless Lost Boys had tackled him before kicking the pen in your direction. The other Lost Boy fended off pirates that neared you. The flask. Their souls, they must’ve returned to their original hosts!

Wasting no time, you took hold of the pen and drew an oval just as you had seen Taeyong do. Without thinking, you jumped in, taking the pen with you.

2017, Seoul

Chenle awoke with a start. He bolted upright, panting. He had broken out into a cold sweat, something Renjun noticed right away upon entering the bedroom. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, playing with the strings of the hoodie he wore. Chenle merely shook his head. “We couldn’t wake you up earlier. We’re going soon, so I suggest you get changed.”

“Going? Going where?”

Renjun chuckled at the boy’s memory– “To the zoo, Lele. You know, the one you’ve been rearing to visit since our manager said we could go?”

Chenle made a noise of recognition, smiling at Renjun sheepishly. “Right, right. I remember,” he laughed as he spoke, ruffling his messy chestnut brown hair. “I’ll be ready soon.” Renjun nodded. He took one more worried glance at the still frazzled Chenle before leaving the room to let him change.

Chenle ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Weird dream,” he mumbled to himself before kicking off the covers. His mind conjured up an image of the stranger, [Y/N]. He couldn’t remember even meeting a [Y/N] and that left him with questions.

Shaking his head, he bounced off of bed and got ready.

At the zoo, Chenle grinned up at all of the enclosures. The rest of NCT Dream could barely keep up with his bubbly attitude and his rush to see the next exhibit. In truth, Chenle hadn’t been able to visit a zoo in a long while, and he always liked seeing the animals. “Wait up, Chenle,” called their manager as he trudged after the energetic group. Jaemin, who walked alongside the man, laughed. He himself looked on, watching with keen interest as his members rushed from one cage to another in an attempt in catching up with Chenle.

Finally, Chenle had stumbled across the one exhibit he was most excited for. The others hadn’t yet caught up with him, still two or three enclosures down. After his odd dream, he hoped there would be an exhibit for pandas. To his luck, there were three pandas left– a small family that had grown within the enclosure.

He stared at them, passed the glass with rounded eyes. He watched as they interacted with one another, their actions reminding him of the numerous families he had seen along the way. Then, one of the pandas, the mother he assumed, seemed to look at him. He blinked, small, quiet noises of awe escaping his mouth as the panda drew near. He laughed in astonishment when the panda sat down in front of the glass, placing her large paws on the smooth surface.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Chenle jumped, having not heard anyone walk down the hallway. He turned and saw a person wearing a cap and a mask standing a little ways away from him. Slowly, he nodded. “Very,” he agreed.

The stranger smiled from beneath their mask. “Her name’s Wren. She was found outside the zoo a few years ago. Odd, considering we’re in the city.”

Chenle frowned, turning to look at the giant panda. Her paws still pressed against the glass, as if she suddenly longed for freedom.

Wren?

He looked back at the stranger, only to stop short. The stranger had taken off their mask to reveal their smile.

“[Y/N]?”

sO fOrCeD– i hope!! you all enjoyed this 10.2k worth of messy trash :) (esp u chenle’s wife ily i hope ur bday goes great !!!!)

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