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navybrat817 · 10 months ago

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Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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xamiipholia · 7 months ago

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Since it’s been a year since Burning Shores came out, some thoughts on Seyka:

TL;DR: Great character, really happy with her as a love interest for Aloy. They do some really interesting things with her that I never really see addressed so I wanted to talk about them.

She is tangibly shown to be much more of a match for Aloy through gameplay. Compared to other npcs, she solves things faster, does more damage, is a much more formidable melee combatant, faster climber - she even has a fucking Valor Surge using her Focus that does pretty significant tear damage to large machines like Slaughterspines. Environmental storytelling- Seyka’s skiff has at least 2-3 Tiderippers’ worth of parts, meaning she’s been out on her own killing the things to build boat motors, and she has some ambient dialogue that strongly suggests she’s fought and killed Slaugterspines before. Is some of this npc tech advancements in Burning Shores? Maybe, but it feels intentional.

Seyka has a natural probing curiosity about the old world that for the most part Aloy’s other companions didn’t have without some significant hand-holding from Aloy to get them started, and some of her close friend (but not base team) characters just don’t have at all. I don’t mean this as a moral judgement, everyone is different and has different strengths and priorities , but it’s absolutely critical that a partner for Aloy have that kind of curiosity - it’s such a big part of her character. While she lives in this new world, she’s never going to be entirely a part of it. Like she says, she finds belonging in individuals, and not really the tribes. I don’t really see Aloy settling down in Meridian or Mother’s Heart. She needs to have a life of exploration and discovery and Seyka seems cut from that cloth too, whether she was always that way or being marooned gave her a fresh perspective.

Seyka did risk death using the focus and decided to do it anyway- in Rheng’s notes he calls for capital punishment for her. The threat is never *too* present but honestly I think that’s a broader critique of the series and pretty consistent with the writing of conflicts in Horizon. I agree they could have played up the dramatic tension a bit, but this is a person who weighed the risk of a military execution by a totalitarian state and immediately decided it was worth it to save her sister and others. I think Aloy can intimately relate, given what she went through for Beta.

Even though it’s a DLC, she has a TON of screen time, probably comparable to Kotallo in HFW, and Horizon does SO much storytelling through gameplay and ambient dialogue. I think she’s given a LOT of narrative space to breathe. She’s also has her own musical cues and leitmotifs that do a ton of foreshadowing work through the DLC - in terms of musical cues and framing she’s very associated with the acoustic guitar, and the flute melody in ‘Her Sky, Her Sea’ has for Aloy and Seyka the same function that ‘It Can’t Last’ does for Ellie and Dina in TLOU2 - next time you play Burning Shores, listen for it. That and the guitar cues from ‘The Idea of Home’ and ‘For His Entertainment’ do a lot of emotional work. It’s great stuff.

Okay and lastly- YMMV on this one - I’ve def talked about it with friends before but I don’t think I’ve said it on Tumblr. I’m a firm believer that meta narratives and the way that stories are situated and created in our own world matter and that art deserves to be taken seriously and dissected. I love Horizon, but it, and Aloy as a protagonist, are absolutely drenched in white savior and colonial storytelling tropes. Every time I play Frozen Wilds, all I can think of is Jack Sparrow going “and then they made me their chief”. There’s a lot of iffy stuff in the games, as much as I absolutely love them. We’ll have to see how H3 goes, but Burning Shores is MUCH better about this and honestly Seyka is a huge part of it. The story centers itself on a queer woman of color who is pretty tangibly presented as Aloy’s equal with her own strengths and weaknesses throughout the story and takes the lead just as often if not more than Aloy does, which I find really refreshing. It doesn’t entirely fix Aloy’s white savior issues but I think it’s a really good move for the narrative that continues the themes found in HFW about community and connection.

Horizon Zero Dawn: The Frozen Wilds (2017)

#Seyka #horizon forbidden west #hfw #aloy #horizon #horizon zero dawn #guerrilla games #hzd #horizon burning shores #hfw seyka #horizon critical #The musical leitmotifs are gooooood shit #It was one of the things that really hooked me with the dlc because Horizon had never done that for a character relationship before #Also the last point is not a personal attack #I like lots of vaguely problematic things

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justanotherescapism · 4 months ago

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The Greatest

Jack Sparrow x Fem!Reader

Tags: Angst and light fluff

Word Count: 891

Note: This is based on The Greatest by Billie Eilish, so credit to her for some of the song lyrics.

Jack sat on the sand, he was here at last, in Davy Jones’ locker. He had been expecting this for a while, but he wasn’t expecting her to be here with him. She sat next to him, facing away, angry at him for this predicament. The shoreline wasn’t far and the gentle breeze was refreshing from the harsh sun that was setting now.

“Look, love, you knew this were gonna happen at some point.”

She just scoffed, this was the first time either had said a word since they realized where they were. She laid down, hoping he would leave her alone. Even now, he still couldn’t see. She was going to die with him here, and still he couldn’t accept the blame. She shut her eyes, hoping she could sleep but all she felt was the terror she felt when she was taken by the kraken. The tentacles wrapping around the ship, the deep fear of the water. Elizabeth kissing Jack, and him seemingly kissing back. She knew Jack was attracted to Elizabeth, she had eyes, and reasonable judgment but her fears all came true in that moment. She wasn’t his priority, not in the way she wanted to be.

In the morning, Jack was still asleep when she woke up. Watching him sleep, she still felt anger and sadness but also fear. How long would they survive? Hunger didn’t seem to change here, and she was glad because there was nothing on the Pearl and there was nothing but sand everywhere else. But then again, there was no-one else here, so they would have to die at some point. She began to cry silently.

Jack began to stir, finally waking. She turned back away from him but he caught her for a split second. He didn’t say anything, just sat up and looked at the sun, trying to gauge what time it was. He then shuffled across the sand to be by her side. She didn;t react at first, but then moved to stand up. She still didn’t look at him, she thought about going back to the Black Pearl but what would be the point, there was nothing there. She picked a direction, and started walking. Honestly, she’d rather be anywhere but with him now.

“Where are you going, love?”

“Don’t call me love.”

He ran after her. She was the only other person here and he sure as hell wasn’t dying alone.

“Where are you walking to? There’s nothing here.”

“Anywhere but with you.”

“That hurts.”

She turned around to him, now he could see that her eyes were red and sore, her cheeks flushed. She punched him straight in the face, her fist connected to his cheek. He fell down to the floor, shocked, he didn’t think she’d actually punch him.

“Do you want to know what hurt is? I spent my whole life looking past your mistakes, your arrogance and your pride and look where it’s got me.”

“Love I-”

“I’m not done. I wake up everyday hoping things will change but they never do. Do you even like me? Or am I just a lackey for you to have around?”

“It’s not-”

“Don’t.” She began to walk off again, but then stopped when he wasn’t following. “Do you have anything to say?”

“You were the greates-”

“You’ve taken everything from me. All my love and patience, all my admiration.”

“I swear, love-”

“All the times I waited for you to want me naked. I made it all look painless. Man, am I the greatest?” She started crying again but also laughing, rubbing the tears from her face so he wouldn’t see. She had silenced him. “I loved you, and somehow I still do. Just wanted you to stop blaming everyone else.”

She began walking again. Her feet digging into the sand, making it hard to walk fast. Anywhere but here, she kept repeating to herself. But then a hand grabbed her shoulder, turned her around. Before she could question what was going on, lips crashed on hers. It was soft at first, but as soon as she kissed back, Jack roughened it. Both of their lips were calloused and dry and scratched against each other. His hands wrapped around her waist and hers reached up to his face, pulling him closer. He pulled away, and looked at her, his hand raised to her cheek, cradling it in his hand. She softened against it.

“Love, I’m sorry you’re here and that we’ll die here.” She sunk into his arms. He cradled her head. She shuddered and he pulled her closer. But something was moving around her feet.

“What th-” Crabs were everywhere, scuttling along the ground. Thousands of crabs were racing towards the shoreline. Jack let go of her, and started looking behind them. The Pearl was moving towards them.

“Get on the ship!” There feet were struggling against the sand. She spotted a rope hanging by the side of the ship, it was enough for them to climb up. Jack grabbed it and began to climb, she followed quickly behind, grabbing his hand to help her up. Once they were on, they could see the crew from the Black Pearl on the beach, drenched from the sea. She grabbed Jack’s hand, and smiled at him. They weren’t going to die here after all.

#jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow imagine #captain jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow x y/n #jack sparrow x oc #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean at worlds end #pirates of the carribean: dead men tell no tales #pirates of the carribean x reader #pirates of the Caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 months ago

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okay so TENATIVE predictions for season 4: it looks like they're going to be playing into the mandela effect. half the universe remembers the umbrella timeline, half the universe remembers the sparrow timeline, and the ONLY thing both groups remember is Ben.

I've been praying since day one that Ben will have memories of both lives in his head, and judging by the fact he appears to be Going Through It in the trailer I assume that'll be the case.

since Ben is at the center of the conspiracy, I almost want to say he's who they're supposed to be rescuing? like, maybe instead of One Ben Two Lives, it's Two Bens One Cup. I don't think they'll do that, though. They're probably trying to rescue Jennifer. HOWEVER I do think it would be really sexy if Nick Offerman and Megahn Mullally weren't playing a couple but were instead playing the same person from different universes (hence being named Gene and Jean), and they somehow found each other and that's why they're leading this conspiracy.

Mystery Jennifer is stressing me out. obviously by the glowing she's got something going on. I'm thinking there's a possibility she was erased from the family's memories after Ben's death- the trailer makes it seem like Reginald made Allison rumor them after the fact. there's probably a decent chance they all knew her, she lost control of her powers, Ben died, Reginald locked her away and erased all traces of her. maybe in the sparrow timeline she died instead, or maybe she was always locked up there and Ben was drawing her from memories that were already starting to leak through from the og timeline, but either way probably in trying to uncover how Ben died they figure out they have to save her. idk!

also, six is like. a random number of years I'm sorry. why wouldn't they just say five years later? maybe another thing to do with Ben bc umbrella Ben was number six? I'm probably reading too much into that one.

I'm truly SO scared they're gonna reveal none of them have spoken during the time skip. Five doesn't deserve that 😭😭. in my perfect world him and Viktor have an apartment but the show writers 100% forgot they said those two were best friends when they were kids judging by the rest of the series rip. when the Gene and Jean characters were first announced I thought maybe Five got stuck in the foster system and they took him in, and that could still be the case (maybe that's how they noticed the universe is a lie in the first place, the boy loves to Yap) but I think it's less likely now idk

if Diego and Lila's daughter isn't named Gracie....what was this all for. what was this all building towards. what's the point. LMFAO I know the popular fanon one is Anita (personally in my head I've been calling her Poppy and I Don't Know Why) but like Gracie is the only name that makes sense, Diego is Too Much of a mama's boy to accept anything else.

this one isn't a prediction it's just a demand- I DEMAND a white violin icon moment set to extraordinary girl by green day. they can 100% get away with just doing an instrumental version since Viktor's not a girl lmfao, but it literally Haunts Me that they didn't do that at the end of season 1 (or at LEAST play the opening of letterbomb when Viktor was in the basement hallucinating) so they NEED to make up for that. it's the last season. play the fucking song oh my God.

there might be too much going on to bring the sparrows back in any meaningful way, but like! I liked them! I especially wanted more Marcus last season, he and Viktor had good chemistry. and Fei was an icon. Why Are We Hiding Sloane Tho. I considered maybe they were rescuing Sloane, but like, Luther just seems a little too happy for that to be the case? that's why I also think Diego and Lila's kid isn't the one being rescued like I saw some theories suggest- Diego is so excited and Lila's grinning in the car scene. can't imagine their 5 year old is missing.

Five is absolutely gonna die. like I'm sorry since episode 1 there's never been a believable outcome where everything's okay and he lives. HOWEVER I think there's a very strong chance the series could end with the timeline is finally saved and set right, and grandpa Five died- but then right at the end 2002 baby Five shows up and gets stuck in the safe timeline. Five has been a walking paradox the whole series. it'd be bittersweet to lose the Five we love, but know that he's still technically getting a happy ending because he doesn't have to live through the apocalypse and become an assassin. I think that's like the best outcome we can hope for.

I think it'd be EXTREMELY funny if Reginald is just super nice now that Abigail is back. like the entire excuse for 30 years of insane behavior was that he missed his wife. bestie there are better ways to cope than abusing superpowered kids </3 but lmao I'm intrigued by him and Viktor being together in both trailers! I've always gotten the feeling that Viktor is one of his 'favorites' (to the best of his ability anyway), and from the brief childhood flashbacks we see that he had baby V acting as an assistant for him, so I'd like to see their relationship expanded a little bit. honestly I just want a lot about Reginald cleared up- he does give off the distinct impression that he actually cares about his kids, even though he's abusive. I'm assuming the explanation will be something along the lines of 'well I always planned to bring you back and safe in the New Universe', that he was approaching it as a 'they have to suffer now to save the universe, and then they can be happy' mindset. that would be interesting. but I'm also a little worried they'll wave his behavior off with 'oh he's an alien he just can't understand how he affected them', which, would suck writing-wise.

I'm worried about Allison- I'm sure they're gonna want her to have a full redemption by the end of the series, but what she did to Viktor and Luther last season...like I just don't know that they'll pull off a meaningful redemption, to where it's believable that they forgive her (other than the fact they're both softies and push overs). not with the shorter season, anyway! I *think* the person Viktor was punching in the trailer was Allison. but I'm worried that instead of actually fixing the issue the writers will just have her do a sacrifice play. especially since, bless her, she's the least sacrificial person in the family, so I could see the argument that it'll be a meaningful character growth moment, but like...if they don't actually have her believably fix her mistakes it'll just feel like a lazy writing move. also, I love her and I don't want any of them to die. as I said, the only death I'm willing to accept is Five's WITH the promise of baby Five getting a happy ending.

I want the Handler to come back, even if it's only for one scene. sorry, I think her absence was one of the low points of season 3.

I think if Grace appears in this season at all it won't be the robot version we're used to, but an older version of her human self that Diego met in the 60s. could be very bittersweet. I just don't think the robot exists in this universe bc honestly if my husband revived me from the dead but then I found out he's been living without me just fine, but made a robot copy of a pretty young fling he had after my death and seemingly can't live without her. I'd be a little pissed! sorry! lmao that said I also have personally been headcannoning that Grace is actually a cyborg and not a robot this whole time, the kids just don't know because of all the insane protocols Reginald set up, so if they do something with that instead I'll be really excited.

Diego and Lila's daughter deserves powers<3

alright I think that's all I got for now. but I wanna hear more theories!!

#tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #tua season 4 #molly mumbles

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

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Enigma (Joel's Version)

A home tour and 400 word drabble celebrating Chapter 4 of Elks.

A/N: Doing this a little different because the reblogging a reblog game can be a little pestery for some. No playlist this week, to honor reader's long gone stereo. So, I've been playing The Sims longer than some of you have been ALIVE.) Please enjoy my Elks girl's home. I wish it was a little more run down, but I can only do so much without custom content. Also, peep the reader I designed in CAS. (If you have any PPCU inspired Sims creations PLEASE SHOW THEM TO ME.) So, just like Joel walked into her home in this chapter, now you can too.

“Sooooo,” Tommy looks at him from across the fire with the shit-eating grin that has always spelled trouble for him. “Maria couldn’t sleep last night, said she saw you comin’ home early Sunday morning.”

Shrugging, Joel doesn’t look up, keeping his attention on the knife in his hand as he works it against the wood. A little bird is slowly taking shape, it reminds him of the sparrow you painted on your cracked mirror.

“Oh, come on now. Ain’t nobody here but us. I think I know exactly where you were comin’ from," Tommy teases, dragging out your name with a smirk.

Joel shakes his head and shrugs, a bit of shyness rears its head. “It’s not–s’not like that.” He knows Tommy can sense his lie.

“Hey, even if it is,” Tommy’s big brown eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile, “I’m glad.”

He nods, too afraid to acknowledge to someone else the feelings for you that have planted inside of him.

He felt something for Tess–of course he did. All those years spent together he never allowed himself to truly feel for her, but the second he realized he’d lose her forever, regret entered his heart. Then, Bill’s letter let the regret take over his whole body.

I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving.

He couldn’t save Tess, but he could save Ellie.

And you? You didn’t need saving. You’re safe amongst the people he now calls neighbors, behind the walls he’s now guarding while on patrol. He wants to be the one to protect you, to care for you.

“Joel, look, it’s time for you to be happy,” Tommy comforts, sensing his inner turmoil. “I know you won’t listen to me, but–you’re allowed to be cared for.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Tommy–his little brother, the one person on this earth who used to know the old Joel Miller. He looks up from the little bird, remembering how serene he felt opening his eyes yesterday and looking around your beautiful home then looking down to watch your peaceful, pretty face in slumber. He wants to do it again.

“I know,” he nods, watching Tommy’s grin spread wide.

“Hell yeah brother.”

More home pics under the cut!

Taglist. Let me know if you’d like to be removed or added.

@ohheypedrito, @magpiepills, @secretelephanttattoo, @goodwithcheese, @copperhalfcent

@yopossum, @burntheedges, @noisynightmarepoetry, @moel-jiller, @tinytinymenace

@sawymredfox, @bardot49, @maggiemayhemnj, @jolapeno, @chrysochromulina

@vickie5446, @dancinglotusbud, @cozylittlepigeon, @chippedowlmug

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the headers!

Next Chapter

#elks #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the sims #the sims but make it pedro

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januaryembrs · 1 year ago

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader [4]

description: Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment covered in blood for the second time this week with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?

word count: 8.7k

trigger warnings: death of a baby bird (sorry little pigeon you got fridged for the plot), blood, lots of blood on her skin but it’s washed off, Marc is mean, angst ville, talks of a dead body very briefly, Marc thinks about his mother

main masterlist | series masterlist

Marc remembered being young, when he was just Marc, not Marc and Steven. Before his mother was cruel, though that part seemed tainted, as if he couldn’t quite remember a time when she wasn’t. But he remembered being a boy, before the world felt heavy, and his eyes felt tired. He remembered Randall. He missed the boy he was allowed to be when he had Randall.

The day he was no older than ten when they played in the back garden, knees muddy, trainers scuffed, sweat on their backs from the blazing July heat. School was starting soon, and he remembered him and RoRo had been trying cram in as much time together as possible before they’d go back to only seeing each other in the evening when the sun had long since set and they had homework to do.

Randall had pink on his cheeks, having quickly wiped off the sunscreen Wendy had smeared on their faces, Marc felt his own temple burning. But he didn’t care. They were on their greatest adventure yet.

Dr Grant and his faithful assistant, Rosser, were on track to discover a long since lost Aztec artefact, inscribed on it the map leading to a hoard of gold and jewels. To the everyday person the boys were jumping around their yard in search of the spool of kitchen roll Elias had drawn on that morning, and their mother’s intricate and full jewellery box they’d promised to return once they’d ‘found the treasure’.

“Look, Rosser! Another clue!” Dr Grant called out, his small arms already grabbing his brother and near dragging him to a tree hanging low enough for the two of them to climb, “We’re getting close, I can smell it!”

‘Rosser’ tended not to say much when they would play their games, but his giggle was enough to spur Marc on to continue their venture. Marc gave him a boost up for his tiny hands to grab onto the thick branch, ignoring the way the leaves brushed in his face and tickled his nose in the hopes he could spend more time with his brother. Marc followed suit, pulling himself up to stand carefully on the wooden limb, already reaching for the next one. He could still remember the way his hands scratched on the rough, dry bark; the season had been particularly hot and had taken its toll on the wildlife, stripping the wood of its moisture to the core.

“If my calculations are correct, the last clue should be at the top of this mountain!” Marc said, holding his hand out for Randall to grab onto as he pulled him up. He was sure to only go for the branches strong enough to hold the two of them, knowing his brother was afraid of heights. But Randall went along with everything he did, even scaling mountains was no chore too big for Rosser and Dr. Grant. The two of them had been about to reach for the next branch already when they both heard the tiny peeping sounds.

“Marc, what is that?” Six-year-old RoRo asked, his chest puffing in and out from exhaustion having pulled his small body now a good ten feet off the ground.

“No, Randall, it’s Dr Grant, remember?” Young Marc whined, though his ears seemed to catch onto the sound of the chirping too. The boys’ eyes widened as they got louder, Marc carefully stepping on his tip-toes to see a bundle of twigs the next branch up. Sure enough, in between a knot of sprigs and fluff lay three tiny bodies of Sparrow hatchlings.

“By jove, Rosser!” Marc’s imitation of the fake English accent was endearing, but he knew Randall loved it when he got completely into character, “The Rare Amazonian Spotted-Dove! Maybe that’s the next clue.”

It truly had been complete chance that the nest had been so close to their next escapade, but Marc was creative when it came to their games. Randall’s chubby little hands reached up to grab the nest, not completely understanding what the fuss was about, near ready to tip the delicate bundle of twigs over to see the new find.

“Let me see! We’re going to be on the news, Dr Grant!” Randall played along, his digits wrapping around the edge of the nest, causing the birds to squawk in freight.

Marc was quick to pull his brother’s hands off the roost, pulling them away from the flora, “Gentle, Rosser!” He said with a kind chide, watching his brother's excited face descend into a sad pout, “They’re still babies, RoRo. You can’t touch them,” Marc whispered, as if to hide his break in character from their invisible audience.

“Why not? I wouldn’t hurt them,” Randall asked in his sweet young voice, his eyes still pining over the nest that was too far for him to see inside even at this height.

“Because if the Mom bird sees you holding them she’ll abandon them and they’ll die,” Randall’s face was struck with fear, looking up at his brother with glassy, russet eyes, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Why?” He asked in the most horrified of tones. Marc couldn’t help the way he held onto his brother’s hand the moment he heard it, ushering him to start descaling the tree so they could finish their game and go in for dinner.

“Dad said it's their way of making sure they only look after their own babies. If you touch them, the mom and dad bird thinks you’re the new mom and they stop looking after them,” Marc explained the best he could, though even he didn’t fully understand it either, just what Elias had been able to tell him.

“But that's horrible! That’s their babies,” Randall exclaimed, his tiny legs dangling off the bottom branch until he hit the ground with an Oomph. “We’d look after them then, wouldn’t we, Marc?”

“Right you are, Rosser,” Marc perked up with his faux accent, eager to take his little brothers off the birds and the idea of anything bad happening to them, “Good voyagers always protect the vulnerable,” Marc dusted his shorts off, straightening RoRo’s backpack and picking the sprig of leaves out of his hair, “And when danger is near, Dr Grant has no fear!”

Her eyes cracked open at the sound of bread popping out of the toaster, the smell of burning meeting her nose in a tang that had her wincing.

It was then she caught onto the fact she was not in her house at all. Nor was she in a bed the same way she had been the last time she awoke with little recollection of what happened the night before. The pain in her neck was instant, a crick in her back from being sat upright, slumped over and arse numb from hardwood flooring. It was then she felt the collar around her neck, tight enough she knew she had marks where it bit into her skin.

The panic hit her like a freight train, her body jolting forward when she realised she was bound with her arms behind her back, tied to a post with a chain and cuff secured around her neck. Her breathing came out laboured, head whipping around to see who was the perpetrator that had bound her.

She was dragged back to the before. Before she’d escaped to London. Before she’d so much as turned twenty. Before. With him. The before, when she was nothing more than a girlfriend, a puppet on a string, his doll to control. The before she’d spent so long running from.

She missed who she was before. That girl was gone. Dead, like him. Maybe that's why she was so scared, how else does someone react to feeling a ghost draw near?

It wasn’t until her foot scraped loudly on the floor, an odd sort of grain crunching under her boot, that she was snapped out of her reminiscence.

Sand. There was sand on the floor. And beside her was a bed. She was secured to a wooden beam, thick and oaky, a woodsy smell ravaging the room that she would know like her own childhood home.

Steven’s apartment.

She had yet to relent squirming in her binds, her hands tugging at the thick leather, moving enough that she could tell there were another two sets of chains wrapped around her waist and legs, making them heavy to move, the clinks of the metal links meeting her ears much too loud.

The thing that made her stomach churn however, that wasn’t helped whatsoever by the smell of charred bread that overwhelmed her nose, was the smell of metal. A coppery edge that overpowered anything else the moment she took note of it.

Her clothes felt wet, clinging to her skin, the chains, the leather collar biting in her neck the more she squirmed, the whole room collapsing in on her.

She was tied up again. She was back in the house, back in the before. Her wings clipped, her strings tied. Her porcelain cracking.

Why was her top red? A dark red, a brown red, why was it wet? Why did the room smell of corpse, or was that her?

Blood. It was blood. More blood than she’d ever seen in her life. Except that night when-

“Hey! Hey!” She hadn’t realised she’d made a sound until she felt two hands grab her shoulders and she flinched, a bleat of utter terror echoing around the loft style apartment. She hadn’t realised the wood was cracking under her strength until the hands shook her slightly, their words going in one ear and out the other, “Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me-”

Her watery eyes snapped up to meet two hardened brown ones that stared at her in concern. Marc could tell the woman that looked back at him wasn’t fully there, as though she was surfacing from a dream, as if struggling to decipher a nightmare and reality.

“I know you’re confused, it’s okay-”

“Why is there blood- Marc, why is there blood- there’s so much blood, oh god,-” And he couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t wanted to change her clothes when she’d finally worn herself out, it had taken everything out of him to wrestle her to the ground after whatever that thing was inside her body last night took over. He still felt his thigh twinge at the thought of her teeth that were not at all her teeth, that had become long canines the moment she’s turned, the razor sharp kind that sunk into his flesh as Layla and Steven both gave him the signal to get her away from civilian people.

She had practically lunged at him spitting and hissing, yowling as he’d socked her in the jaw and tried knocking her out long enough to bind her. He hated himself for the way he hurt her, but one look into the abyss like eyes told him it wasn’t her. She would never want this, never want to hurt Steven.

He’d had no choice but to chain her up in Steven’s apartment until she came to her senses. He was worried she’d wreck the place, sure, but anything was better than her killing an innocent person who just so happened to cross her warpath.

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s mostly mine and yours,” He’d meant it as a piece of reassurance, but he was quick to realise it was not nearly as pleasant as he’d thought when her face dropped and her eyes widened.

“What?” She whispered, horrified, “What do you mean- what happened? Did the jackal come back? Am I dead- again?”

He watched her for any sign of realisation, that it was in fact her who had done this to them, but he only saw the fear in her wide eyes that implored him to say anything to make her feel okay again.

Marc said nothing for a moment, sighing to himself, his eyes lowering to where she gulped and pulled at the ankle collar Steven used to keep himself from sleepwalking. It had been the only thing he’d been able to use when he’d entered the apartment with her sleeping body in his arms for the second time that week, having to head to his storage locker for the rest of the chains.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll talk,”

She’d been scrubbing her hands for twenty minutes now and the damn blood refused to come from out of her nail beds. The shower had done her good, she’d used Steven’s shampoo and conditioner, and his shower gel that brought her some comfort as she felt he was with her with every breath she drew in. She smelled of him through and through. Missed him, yearned for him, wanted to hear nothing but her name from his lips, feel his arms wrap around her, hold her close.

Marc was not one for affection, she had noted. The two of them were more different than she could have imagined, the accent alone had yet to sink in, but the thing she missed most about Steven was his kind words. His gentle touches. The way he would always know how to make her feel better. Where he was soft, Marc was rough. A tough love kind of guy.

The closest they’d gotten to endearment was when he’d handed her a stack of Steven’s neatly pressed clothes for her to change into, even down to his boxers embarrassingly enough, and taken from her a sodden, blood soaked pile of her own to stick into the washer.

They both knew there was no amount of washing that would get the blood out. Marc put it in for her anyway.

It wasn’t until she was four bites into the toast he had made (burned) for her that she showed any sign of understanding as he talked her through what had happened.

Marc had purposely dodged the part where she had grabbed Steven and had been seconds from ripping his throat out, not wanting to upset her more than she already was. Things came back to her in ripples; fuzzy, distorted, vague. Like de je vu, as if she didn’t remember them until he said it, and even then it seemed almost like recalling a dream. The feeling of slashing and biting, animalistic noises coming from her throat, like she was seeing things through a stranger's eyes. That was not her.

Yet all she could think about was the fact the blood was still settled under her nail beds, no matter how hard she’d scrubbed it, no matter the fact her skin was raw around the keratin, probably bleeding again with where she had been so brutal. She struggled with picking at the site when she was nervous, her fingers were sore already from the assault.

Marc noticed how red they were, the butchered skin ugly and damaged, but said nothing. Said nothing about the blood that clung to her raw skin.

Possibly hers. But also the jackals. Marc’s- Steven’s blood from where she’d taken swipes at him.

She could tell Marc was downplaying the severity of her condition. She could tell by the way embers of guilt lingered in his eyes, concern clouding the corners of his coffee bean gaze, that he tried so desperately to hide with his natural cold stare, that it had been bad.

She could still see the way the shower water had dropped off her in waves of red, rolled over her tainted skin and had still yet to make her feel clean.

“Look, no one got hurt, we made sure of that.” Marc took another stab at reassuring her, the way her eyes glazed over as his spoke, detached from the usual spark of life they had and staring into nothing, “If anything, the way you took out those two jackals, you saved people last night,”

“That wasn’t me,” She mumbled, her gaze falling to her half eaten breakfast. She felt sick to her stomach, felt the barely chewed pieces of bread already churning and making their way back up with every breath. Every flicker of memory that came back to her, none of it making sense.

“Huh?” Marc’s voice was unnaturally soft, as he urged her to repeat herself, not quite catching her quiet words the first time.

“That thing wasn’t me- it wasn’t me that did that, it was Seth, he was in the room before- in the room where we got trapped- when Layla had left and- and Steven had been thrown through the window- and he- I don’t know what he did to me but everythings dark after he touched me- and-”

“Hey, look just breath, okay?” Marc grabbed her wrist, and she hadn’t even realised how fast she had been talking until his hand alone snapped her out of it, and she felt her eyes burning, her lungs crying out for air. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, head snapping to look at him in the eyes for the first time all day.

Marc noted how cold her skin was. He’d noticed the way her skin looked gaunt, sunken. Sickly. As if Seth festered under her skin within the single day he’d had her.

They looked at one another for a moment, his eye brows curving upwards being the only sign that he wasn’t outright glaring at her.

“It wasn’t me,” She said again once she’d finally caught herself, voice weak and childlike, petrified.

“I know,” He says calmly, letting go of her. She looked at him again as if to check her was telling the truth, that he believed her, and seemed to comfort herself somewhat when she found he did.

As if a switch had flicked in Marc’s expression, he looked back to his own clean hands, clearing his throat and ignoring the way Steven was yelling at him from inside the body to let him talk to her. Telling him to just hug her for Gods’ sakes. Ignoring the way Steven was begging him to comfort her in any way.

“Look, I understand this thing with Seth is rough on you right now, but Harrow got the scarab while we were all trying to fix your… problem,” Marc said simply, and Dove fought the urge to not cry at the way it sounded as though he blamed her. “I’ve got an informant working on getting us a place in Cairo, chances are Layla’s already on her way over there,”

“Cairo?” Her body straightened at the idea of leaving the country unplanned.

“Yeah, Egypt,” She rolled her eyes at his dumb statement, standing to clean her still full breakfast plate.

“I know where Cairo is. I’ll have to call in sick for me and Steven for a couple days,” She said, dumping the cold toast into the bin and turning the tall brass tap on.

“Not Steven. The museum cut him off after the jackal destroyed the toilets,” Marc said, his eyes flicking to the spoon he’d used to eat his cereal, where he saw Steven frowning and pointing at him in the reflection.

“After YOU destroyed the toilets. YOU!” Steven sassed, shaking his head at the way Marc glared back.

“Shit! I can’t believe I forgot!” Suds sprayed up her arms as she spun back to look at Marc, “Steven’s fired? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?” She rushed, knowing Steven would be crushed to lose that job.

Marc sighed, running a hand through his hair tensely, “Steven’s not gonna be around for a while, alright? It’s better for everyone if I deal with Harrow, Steven’s not exactly got the hang of fighting,”

“I could do if you gave me a chance,” Steven snipped, sulking from his perspective in the metal.

“So I can’t see him? For what, a week?” She asked, a frown settling onto her features at the thought of it, “That’s not fair, I want to speak with him, ask him if he’s okay,”

“Look, princess, you’re just going to have to learn how to share, alright? Haven’t you got other friends to talk to?” Her face dropped, and he didn’t realise she’d yet to say anything until it had gone quiet in the small kitchenette.

His nut brown eyes cast up to hers, the sadness he found there slowly steeping into a bitter anger. Surely she couldn’t be so upset over not seeing Steven for a couple of days when they had much more important things to worry about.

That is until it dropped in his head what had gotten her so forlorn.

She had no one else. Just Steven. And now, just him it seemed.

A flutter of guilt washed over Marc’s chest as she put the plate on the side to drip dry and avoided his gaze. Marc couldn’t help but scoff at the fact she seemed to have only him, the same way he had no one else really, no one except Layla and even that whole mess was a dead rose that he’d been meaning to cull when he got enough courage to stop running from her.

And yet he couldn’t escape from the girl in his kitchen. Not when she made it so easy for Steven to stay, made it so easy for her to depend on him. He felt like shaking her silly and telling her to run as far away as she could, tell her he was an explosive waiting for a single wrong step to detonate and that he would take everyone out with him when he did. He wanted to tell her to stay away, leave him alone and never look back. And she knew it too. He could tell she knew he wanted her away, wanted her gone. That no matter how many brief soft glances she had caught, the slightest of kind touches, he wanted nothing more than for her to steer clear of him.

He was a rot, he was a virus and she was the forbidden fruit, young and vibrant and full of life that had already started wilting because of him. Because of his selfish mistakes, and his awful luck, and the disease that followed him long before Konshu and Harrow and any of this mess.

She was a delicate blossom, and he was nothing more than the weed that would choke her, kill her from the inside before she could realise she was in any danger. Because all of this, everything she’d been through the past two days that riddled her face with such malady was all his fault. It was all his fault, all of it.

“Look, just message me the flight details and I’ll meet you there,” She said with a huff, collecting her now red-brown stained clothes from the dryer and fighting the urge to cringe at the sight of the colour. Marc said nothing, what was there to say? He didn’t do comfort, and affection, getting her to take a deep breath was the extent of it. Wendy had taken everything soft out of him before it could bloom into knowing how to love, how to show someone you care.

So he didn’t. He let her leave in silence, staring at her with his cold gaze as she left. With not a single protest falling from his grimacing lips.

He waited until the door was shut before the plate went hurtling towards the wall, the delicate ceramic exploding on impact.

She had gotten all but ten minutes down the street before his (Steven’s) phone buzzed with an incoming call, a picture of the two of them in the museum stockroom lighting up the screen.

Marc huffed with effort, his fingers scratched from where he’d been cleaning up the porcelain chips with his bare hands, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart leapt when he saw her face, worry overcoming him. She was mad. She was angry at him, upset with how he’d spoken to her. And could he blame her? And yet she still called. That meant it was serious.

“Hello?” He accepted the call with an irate tone, just to make her sure how much of a bother to him the action was.

“Marc-c,” She hiccuped, and he could tell she was crying. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his pulse spike from fear. “Marc, I’ve killed it, it’s dead- oh my god, its neck-”

Fuck.

“What? Where are you?” He asked, already on his feet and heading for his jacket.

“Marc, it’s little neck- fuck what have I done?” Fuck, what had she done? He knew he shouldn't have let her out of his sight, he was supposed to protect civilians not set off a hellhound into the wild with no leash on her bloodthirst.

“Send me your location- it’s gonna be alright-”

“I’m outside,” She sobbed, cutting him off with a low mewl of sadness, “Can you buzz me in?”

Great. Steven’s apartment, which was already a hotbed for Harrow’s followers, was now about to become a crime scene. What the fuck was he about to let through those doors?

This was all on his hands. He had given her over, let a monster take over her soul and use her as he pleased. Killing and maiming included.

Yet he did as she asked, because who else would she go to? The phone cut off as soon as he did, telling him she was likely in the elevator. Sure enough, two minutes later and he heard a forlorn knock at his door.

Taking a deep breath in and preparing himself for whatever it was he was about to see. Gods above what if she’d killed a kid? The thought of it made his stomach churn.

He opened the door with a stoney expression, his eyes immediately finding two bloodshot eyes looking back at him sorrowfully, a small sniff coming from her wet nose before she gave a short mewl.

“Marc, I’m a fucking monster,”

Fuck. Fuck she’d killed someone, gone feral like she’d done last night and he hadn’t been there to stop her because of his stupid pride. This was all his faul-

It was then he realised she was clutching something in her hands. Her hand cupped in front of her, as if keeping a bug from escaping, latched together tightly with something inside.

He looked from her delicate hands to her face, still sniffing and whimpering, eyes huge with fat tears.

She opened her hands, seeing his confused eyes, to show him the damage, awaiting her trial from the man she’d been so angry at she hadn’t been watching where she was walking.

There, in her hands, a frail, near skeletal frame of a pigeon hatchling. It was barely a few days old, its beak too big for its face, its skin dark and ugly, fluff where feathers eventually would be covering its leathery undercoat in patches.

Its wings, if he could even call them that, were bent at awkward angles, its tiny neck snapped in two as if it had been mauled.

“Why are you showing me a dead bird?” Marc said with a cold stare, his voice just as biting. The word ‘dead’ had sent her into another sob by the time he dragged her back into the apartment.

“I was so mad at your stupid arse that I-” She seemed to choke herself with the thought, “I wasn’t watching where I was going- and I” She hiccupped again, “Heard a crunch and-”

She presented him with the tiny victim again, watery eyes never leaving the chick that was quite clearly since passed. Marc huffed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He couldn’t catch a break from this girl and her tears. He wished Steven hadn’t gotten so attached to her, that he would be able to just up and leave her in the dust, wished she hadn’t been such a good friend to his alter that she had never gotten so wrapped up in all of this and he could simply tell her to grow up and that shit happens, birds die all the time, that if it was on the sidewalk it was probably already abandoned and she put it out of its misery quickly. He wished he didn’t find it so difficult to be cold to her, that a cloud of guilt didn’t hang over him for the whole thing.

Perhaps that's why he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, or perhaps it was the way Steven was glaring at him from the kitchen sink, waiting for him to tend to the girl as he would if he would just let him have the body. And seeing as that wasn’t going to happen, it was down to Marc to do so.

He felt her semi freeze at the contact, unable to miss the way her skin was cold to touch as it had been all day. “Do you want me to have it?” Marc held out the other of his olive hand’s, his bruised knuckles seemingly fitting as she carefully dropped the bird in his palm. She sniffled under his muscled arm, her hands out infront of her as if to not know what to do now he had the creature.

“Be gentle with it,” She murmured.

Its dead you fucking idiot. I don’t need to be gentle; is what Marc would have snapped, had she been anyone else. Yet the emergence of the words in his sour brain only revolted him. She knew it was dead. She knew it. He didn’t need to tell her, to see her cry harder.

She looked up at him expectantly, and he gave her a barely there nod. ‘I will’ He seemed to say without words.

Letting go of her he went to find an empty shoe box to put the corpse in, knowing he would likely flush the thing as soon as she left.

He heard her run the sink to wash her hands, scrubbing at her already raw nail beds the same way she was when she’d seen the blood. He’d already noticed the way she’d pick at herself, pulling off flesh as if the pain of it was nothing compared to what it was she was feeling inside. He didn’t have the heart to comment on that either, he knew what it was like to have the demon come from within.

“You’ll give it a grave?” She asked, wiping her wet eyes with sore fingers, one of which bleeding once more from her washing. Her eyes looked at him guiltily, imploring him to fix it, fix it Marc. Depollute this awful body of mine that seems to ravage everything it touches, even innocent baby birds, no matter how ugly they were.

He nodded wordlessly again, and she seemed to quieten down for a moment, though she fidgeted in her place as if to not know where to put herself. Marc wasn’t dumb, he knew she was probably waiting for a hug, the fawning and pining that Steven would shower her in by now. He writhed internally, knowing what she expected of him, watching her pitiful frame cowering in on itself, waiting for him to give her something.

“You should probably get going, I’ll bury it later,” He said huskily, his eyes avoiding how she bit her lip to stop herself from crying again. Get out, he was saying nicely, go bother some other depressed man with enough on his plate already. She nodded quietly, turning on her heel to head back towards the door for a second time that day. She felt stupid for coming here, she felt instantly as if he was annoyed at her for bursting back into his apartment in floods of tears, but as he’d already established - she had no one else. No one except a man who hated the sight of her and shared a body with her only friend. She felt even more stupid for expecting anything else from him. Even more angry at herself for taking up so much of his space.

Slouching in his, Steven’s, clothes, she shuffled towards the door, face burning at the way she felt his cold eyes on her back, no doubt ready to lock the door the moment she left to ensure she stopped bothering him.

Maybe it was the way she looked so broken-hearted as she left, or the way she was still sniffling, or the way Steven had gone back to glaring at him through the surface of the bathroom mirror, shaking his head in utter fury that he’d let her go alone when she was so clearly distraught.

Marc sighed, a grunt of annoyance building in his throat as he reached over the back of the sofa for the soft blanket Steven kept for their movie nights. He said her name, her real name not Steven’s sweet nickname for her, and it had her whirling on the spot at the rough edge to his tone. Moving to her with an almost frustrated scowl, he threw the blanket to her stunned figure, heading towards the kitchen cabinet.

“What are you-” She uttered, catching the blanket fluidly and stammering, frozen in her place. Quickly wrapping the blanket around herself, of course she’d noticed how cold she felt, how her body had seemed to die and wither since Seth had taken her. She wouldn’t be surprised if her skin began to rot and discolour any minute now.

“I’m only doing this to get Steven to stop heckling me, understand?” He snipped, pulling out a medical box and producing a box of blue plasters. “You have no idea how infuriating it is to have someone telling you what to do inside your head all day,”

They both froze at his poor choice of words. Of course she knew. She’d spent all morning in a state of shock that Seth had so easily taken over her every movement, puppeteered her as if she was nothing more than a Barbie, and here Marc was complaining as if her being manipulated by the God wasn’t his idea in the first place.

His jaw went slack, the look on his face the guiltiest she’d seen yet. He seemed so caught off guard by his own mouth, bobbing open and closed as if looking for the words to say sorry, a concept clearly unnatural to him.

Maybe it was the way that for the first time he didn’t seem cold and distant, he seemed human in his expression, he seemed so shocked and unlike the stoic face he usually held. It was perhaps the slip of character, and she was sure she’d never see such a face again, but the sight of it made her burst out laughing through watery eyes.

She was sleep deprived, still moneyless from when her date had stolen her purse, likely to be kicked out of her apartment any day now seeing as her rent money was gone, had nothing to eat for the foreseeable future, had an ancient Egyptian God playing house in her body and going on killing sprees, had an entire cult of child murderers looking for the two of them, and yet this was what had made her crack.

“I’m-” Marc started, only to realise she was laughing, genuinely laughing though he pinned some of it was probably just sheer mania from the stress. “Stop laughing at me,” He growled, throwing the plasters into her free hands that peaked out from under the blanket.

“Sorry-I’m sorry-” She cackled again as he huffed and turned around, busying himself inside the fridge, looking for something for her to eat, “I’m sorry- just your face-”

“Shut up or I’m going to Cairo alone,” Marc snapped, though he tried to fight the slight smile that teased at his lips hearing her biting her tongue to hide the giggles, making herself at home on the sofa.

“Steven would never let you,” She muttered, knowing full well he could hear her. His eyes flicked over to her as she started peeling back the paper and applying the plasters to her raw digits, her face concentrated and much less miserable than she had been.

She was right. Steven would never let him. Nor did he think he could leave her with Seth alone if it came to it. She’d burrowed under his skin like a stray dog that had followed him home, wanting nothing more than a companion, someone to bathe in the horridness of reality with.

Marc only hoped she didn’t get too attached when he inevitably drove her away, made her feel as disgusted with him and he was. They were on borrowed time before she was all Steven’s again. And he hated the idea that she was never his, never his friend. That she’d never lust over him. That the only time she’d ever looked at him with such affection in her eyes was when she’d thought he was Steven.

She was not his to enjoy. Which only made him feel all the more selfish for feeling so grateful she’d stayed this time.

English people were simply not made for heat. No matter the amount of sun cream, cool packs or ice lollies they consumed, they were simply not adapted to hot weather.

Egypt was mind-blowingly gorgeous, she would give it that. Marc had let her have the window seat, pretending to not know why she’d made such a fuss about where they sat, but he couldn’t deny seeing her practically vibrating in her seat, nose pressed to the glass to get a better look of the country upon crossing the border, hot air puffing up the tiny glass with her close breath.

“Look, Marc, look!” She said, not drawing her face away, simply reaching out behind her to grab his arm, “The sea, it's so blue,” And it was. The royalest shades of cobalt lapped at the beachy shore surrounded by archaic buildings that seemed revamped for modern life. The entire city was a buzz of activity, only made more enticing to watch by the vibrant colours that ran through it as well. A pier plunged out from the beachfront, its canopy providing chunks of new hues among the lapis blue water; cloth of cardinal red, canary yellow, aubergine purple covering citizens from the harsh weather. The lush greenery that covered the earth where roads and buildings had yet to trample over it was a sight to behold in itself, the grass only getting darker and thicker the closer to Cairo they got.

“That’s Alexandria,” Marc said, as she drew back from the window to look at him with wide, excited eyes, “Named-”

“Named after Alexander the Great in 331BC after he liberated them from the Persians,” She cut him off, eyes guilty when she realised through her history fogged brain that he had been about to speak. She would have apologised had he not given her a small nod, and had she not seen the tiniest of amusement in his eyes, “Sorry. You don’t work at a museum and study Ancient Languages and not get excited by this stuff,”

“Ancient Languages?” Marc asked, for once not a tone of annoyance or disgruntled coldness. Since the incident with the bird (which Marc did in fact bury, only it was in the park near his house since he didn’t have the heart to remind her he didn’t have a garden) he seemed more patient with her. Less outright mean every time they spoke or so much as looked at one another. She pinned it down to being pitiful for her big, naive heart and tendency to get upset by the smallest things like dead birds. She pinned it down to sorrow, real women didn’t cry like a child over something like that. Birds fall out of their nests all the time, she was the only one immature enough to blubber over it. “I see why he likes you so much,”

Her ears perked at that. “Steven?” She asked, in a practised innocent voice as if she wasn’t desperate for more information immediately.

Marc laughed, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, “Yes, Steven. Who else?”

“He likes me?” She asked, secretly hoping the optimism wasn’t shining in her eyes like the sun reflecting off the waves below them. It was.

Marc caught the girlish, excitable glee in her face at the sound of his alter’s name. It was obvious how smitten she was with Steven. He had seen it even before he knew her, before he had messed up his alter’s life. Messed up hers. The two of them were skipping around the feelings they so undeniably had for one another. Even Layla had seen it the second she met her, the puppy dog look she got in her eyes when she saw Steven so happy to see her, the gentle touch his rough hands held her with, the way the two seemed to gravitate around one another as if moved by an orbit of their own, joined by atoms no one else seemed to have.

But Marc knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, knew Steven would be so angry beyond belief if he was the one to tell her how he felt. And besides, he was sure they would have time to figure it all out without him in the way when he handed the body over to Steven for good, when he could watch them be bumbling idiots once more from inside the body.

“You’re his best friend. Of course he likes you,” Marc recovered his slip up smoothly, only feeling half guilty when her face visibly dropped and her chest deflated.

“Oh, right.” She said, straightening herself back into her chair, the elation dissipating from her face. How could she have been so dumb to think otherwise?

Marc knew he should say something, knew he should try and comfort her in some way but he didn’t know how. Which was how he felt about her most of the time anyway, unable to escape even now the thought that she’d much prefer it if he were just Steven. Not Steven and Marc. Steven would have known what to say.

“You alri-”

“Where’s this friend of yours meeting us?” She cut him off for a second time, her attention back on the window, her eyes scanning over the Mediterranean sea as it blended into the land, Alexandria slowly becoming Cairo.

Marc could have laughed and yelled at the same time. The only time he’d bucked up the courage to extend a hand of friendship to her she cut him off unknowingly.

“He’s not, he’s booked us a car to use and a hotel room to share,”

Share would be an understatement. It had been two days since they had checked in, only to discover Marc’s friend had wildly gotten the wrong end of the stick when Marc had asked for a room for two. One queen sized bed, a fancy ensuite and a tiny balcony later, Marc had been pacing the room, pissed, as he hung up the phone with the hotel lobby.

“They said the double rooms are fully booked, and unless you got enough cash for two singles, we're sharing.” He huffed, throwing his phone onto the bed where she sat, eyes wide and looking up at him with an innocence that had his heart jump into his throat.

She had got to stop looking like that if he had any chance of leaving her for Steven to have entirely to himself.

She shrugged, looking behind her at the huge, luxurious bed, much bigger than the double she had at home and made with the softest Egyptian cotton sheets she’d ever felt. “I don’t mind sharing. I’ve slept at Steven’s before,”

“He took the sofa, remember? Sharing a bed is a whole other thing,” Marc dismissed, moving to grab one of the pillows and move it to the red loveseat in the corner of the room.

“You were there?” She asked, her face pulling into a shy smile as he tossed her a look over his shoulder.

“Huh?” The agitated frown was back, one that had been missing the entirety of the way there.

“You could see me, see what we were doing?” She asked again with a bashful pull at her lips. She found it odd the idea of an outsider watching in on the time she spent with Steven, as though she were entirely herself with Steven in a way she wasn’t with Marc. Yet from that spiralled another thought, she was herself with Marc in a way she wouldn’t allow in front of Steven; vulnerable, emotional, scared. She would never let Steven know any of those things, knowing how much he worried over her. She hadn’t even told him about getting robbed by her date yet, conscious of how much he would fret.

Yet she had let Marc tend to her that first time they met in the museum, when she was bleeding out onto the beautifully polished marble. She had begged him to not leave her the day she’d woken up to find herself rather dead. She had let him console her when she’d arisen tied up in his apartment. Let him wash her clothes, make her breakfast. He’d been the first person she’d called when she’d found the bird.

She felt safe with both of them in entirely different ways. Safe knowing Steven was always there to cheer her up, to dote on her over every tiny thing she did. He was always bringing her little keepsakes that had made him think of her, bringing her the cinnamon rolls she liked from the bakery on his street on the days he knew she was running late and would have gone without food. Always walking her to her train stop even though it was entirely out of his way. Making sure she was having enough breaks at work, eating her full lunch. He remembered everything she ever told him, even the time she’d mentioned the anniversary date of her dog’s passing, he'd remembered it to the very day and given her a sympathy card and a bunch of flowers. Her favourites of course, that too had only been brought up once.

She felt loved by Steven, felt safe and cared for in a way she knew was beyond friendship. Yet she could only hope and imagine what anything more than being loved like this felt like. What kissing him, touching him in a way that went beyond what they had would feel like.

And to have such a raw feeling for someone spectated on turned her stomach oddly. She thought she’d feel more intruded on than anything, but she simply felt indifferent. It was only Marc afterall.

“It’s like I’m watching a movie, kind of. It’s more like I’m watching over his shoulder but I can’t do anything to stop him unless I really try to take the body,” He explained, though the way his shoulders tensed up had her guessing he didn’t like to talk too much about it. Marc seemed the anal type to want control over his life, and to have someone take the reins in front of him sounded torturous.

“Is he here now?” She asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought of seeing him again, “Can he hear me?”

Marc fought the urge to grunt in annoyance (that was entirely annoyance, and not at all jealousy) at her eagerness to see Steven. “Not right now,” She slumped for the second time that day, “From what I understand, we can either be co-conscious which is when he can hear and talk to me or he can just go away if he wants to. Go quiet, make it so I can’t feel if he’s watching me,”

“Huh,” She said with an intrigued look, “Well, it must be nice to never be lonely, I guess,”

Marc was ready to snark something back about how Steven was possibly the biggest pain in the ass when he was spouting off nonsense inside the headspace, how he had still yet to stop fawning over the way she looked, filling Marc’s head with a mix of his own thoughts as well as Steven’s running commentary about how her every movement made her “something out of the films, you know, like one of those actresses on the big screens, like MariIyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor, but entirely in her own way better, you know what I mean, Marc?”

It drove him insane, and he was glad Steven had taken a stand of silence for whatever reason, and left him to at least have a few days to himself.

Of course that hadn’t stopped Marc from noticing just how softly beautiful she was, but he was glad of the silence nonetheless.

And happy to have her to himself, but that was by the by.

He stopped himself from snapping at her that the reality of having someone in your head 24/7 talking to you and nagging your every move was a thousand percent more frustrating than being lonely, but then he guessed he’d felt lonely his whole life; grown used to feeling alone. Trying to protect Steven from the awful reality of what happened to him as a child, keep him from knowing what a failure he actually was, what a curse this body was, to know someone and never being seen in return. He realised it was lonely, and lonely was draining.

And he watched her eyes soften, a sadness shining through them, not intentionally but a glimpse of her soul Marc had never seen from her, as if she truly envied having someone there for him at all times. And Marc realised maybe having Steven wasn’t the worst thing to have. He could be entirely alone with his own mind, his own thoughts. He could have been entirely alone throughout his childhood, entirely alone with Wendy and her cruel hands.

Steven was annoying most days, but Steven was needed.

“I guess,” He muttered, turning back to setting up his bed on the plush sofa that he already knew would murder his back. Sighing, and fighting back his usual moody tone, he chanced a look at her, only to find she was already staring at him. It made his stomach turn to know she watched him when he didn’t know, “You know, you’re not alone, right?”

Her face hardened, eyes flicking away from his in a way that screamed she felt caught in an inner turmoil, surprised that Marc had seemed to almost read her mind, “I never said I was alone,”

Marc rolled his eyes at her pushback, wishing she wouldn’t make it so difficult for him to be kind for once, “I know that but,” He chewed over his words, “You’re not alone, you got that?” He sounded annoyed despite the fact he’d tried to rein in his demeanour, “You have Steven, and me,” Her expression faltered at that, and he was sure to turn back to rearranging the sofa cushions before she could give him anything more to admire about her. “And, you’know, Layla’s got your back through all this too, so you know. You’re all set really,” He cleared his throat, a few beats of silence. He thought that would be the end of it, that she would simply move onto something else.

He heard her stand off the bed, not thinking much of the movement other than the soft sound of her sock-feet crossing the hotel room. He froze when he felt two arms wrap around his middle from behind him, her face burying into his spine.

“What are you-”

“Don’t ruin it,” She said, her voice muffled by his body, her hands tightening around his toned waist as if worried he would pull away, “Just let me-” She nuzzled closer into his beefy back, taking a deep breath of his scent, “Thankyou,” The woman mumbled, but he still heard it.

Two large hands came to rest over her forearms that squoze his midriff, letting the girl soak into him, lean on him, take all of him in entirely in a way he’d craved from someone for so long.

Not hugging Steven. Hugging him. His friend. His Dove, too.

Marc said nothing, a small smile pulled at his lips that felt almost foreign on his permanently bitter face.

His Dove, too.

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furashuban · 1 month ago

Text

The Sparrow Scout, the Witch and the Wardrobe

My submission for @sketchbookweek Day 2: Past/Future or Hilda!

At last, the really, REALLY long overdue sequel fic in my Childhood AU series has finally been written! I highly encourage everyone to read the first story As High As The Moon Above before this new fic since it gets referenced quite a bit in this one (but it's okay if you want to immediately read this fic, too). I'm also very, very sorry for how long this story has been delayed for and kept everyone waiting it's literally been 3 years :')) But I'm just really happy that it's officially done and found the perfect opportunity to share it through this prompt of Sketchbook Ship Week <33 With that all said though, I seriously hope everyone enjoys reading this fic just as much as I did writing this!

Pairing: Sketchbook Ship (Kaisanna)

Words: 5.5k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59958178/chapters/152966584

Summary: When Kaisa gets the biggest surprise she could possibly ask for, the young witch-in-training shares what was given to her with her grounded best friend.

Kaisa kept her hands over her eyes like she was told to do before trans-locating. Nothing to behold but darkness as she held back the urge to take even the littlest peek of where she was. “When can I open my eyes again, Tildy?” the little girl asked.

“In just a moment, dear,” a woman’s kind, gentle voice answered back, “aaaand, yes, everything’s in order. Open your eyes now, Kaisa.”

She lowered her arms and opened her eyes at last; the young witch-in-training could have sworn she had heard something heavy being dragged in front of her. Barely a moment ago, Kaisa was at her mentor’s house for afternoon lessons, and now she was greeted by a wooden bookcase towering in front of her, turning her head left and right to find that she had in fact been brought to the Trolberg Library. She peered towards the light shining through the windows above; she could tell it was nearing sundown, though it had been much brighter barely a minute before—time did tend to get wobbly with a trans-location spell. Her mentor was standing right beside her; Arch-Sorceress as she was regarded, “Tildy” she preferred to be called, who in turn was looking back at Kaisa with an enthusiastic grin.

“What are we doing in the library?” Kaisa asked, puzzled.

“Why, for the surprise I promised you, of course,” Tildy answered blithely, but the young witch felt even more confused. She looked around some more, trying her hardest to spot anything out of place—she of all people would know if there was something peculiar in the library with just how often she visits. But the only thing of note was the mere lone bookshelf in front of Kaisa.

“But I do not see any—” before she could finish, finally there was something odd she began to notice…Violins? Music?

She leaned closer to the bookcase, realizing the faint music was coming from behind it. That was impossible, she thought, for the bookcase stood against a corner. Before long, there was more strangeness coming to Kaisa’s attention, much to Tildy’s growing excitement. She realized the angle of the whole bookshelf was only slightly misaligned from how it was meant to stand on (once again, only Kaisa would know).

“Should I…push it aside?” Kaisa looked to her mentor, thinking she had suggested something completely silly until her mentor tipped her head towards the shelf as to tell her to go along. There was only one thing the girl could do now.

Kaisa clung onto the side of the shelf and heaved it with all her might, which to her surprise was not even as heavy as she’d thought. There was only pitch black and what appeared to be stairs descending into this unfamiliar, enigmatic darkness behind the shelf. The little girl felt hesitant; there was more build-up to her surprise than she had expected. But not long after, Kaisa noticed a light switch to her side, swiftly yet inquisitively reaching for it and flicked it upwards. The glow of several lamps sputtered amidst the dark before completely giving light to a hidden room.

In that moment, her eyebrows shot up. She was so heavily drawn and bewondered at what she was seeing that she took a couple more steps inside. It was a whole room where the entire corners were fixed with bookshelves, the only other furniture as Kaisa looked down from the railing being a large red chair, a wooden desk adequate for studying and decorated with all sorts of ornaments, among them a turntable that’s been playing the music which admittedly livened the space now that Kaisa was inside.

“It’s a library…” she gasped, her voice in disbelief, turning to her mentor with an enormous grin etched on her face, “…it’s a secret library inside the library!”

“Just like what you’d fantasize to me about,” Tildy winked, “why don’t you explore more of the room now?”

And Kaisa followed, her heart racing as she carefully rushed down the staircase. She stood at the center of the room and slowly spun herself around, taking in the coziness of being surrounded by so many books in a space so snug and homelike, somewhere that made the library feel even more like a home to her. It then dawned upon her as she walked towards the desk, that she was so enthused about being in the secret library for the first time that she hadn’t noticed how she had walked by yet another peculiarly aligned bookcase among the others. The surprise wasn’t over—somehow her mentor had more for her. The bookcase was further slanted than the one upstairs this time, it must have been left like that on purpose for her, Kaisa thought. She rushed to the shelf and heaved it effortlessly like the first one.

Another secret library. All the lights were left on by Tildy, who walked down the staircase to see more of Kaisa’s reaction.

“Helt otroligt!” Kaisa whispered loudly. “A-A secret room inside of a secret…Wait…” she turned back to Tildy. “Are there even more secret rooms?”

“It wouldn’t be fun if I spoiled it now, would it?” the curly-haired woman giggled, she could not help but regard the eyes of her usually bashful student growing wider and wider.

And so, Kaisa hurried down the new staircases and reveled in the room of nothing but walls of books once more, she rushed to spot the next secret entrance which had been left completely wide open this time, as though Tildy knew the little girl wouldn’t be able to contain her excitement much longer. She ran through it and down the next steps—another room of books, then through it and down yet another stairs leading to another secret library. And so forth to the next, and onto the next secret library. This was something out of a dream, it had to have been one, Kaisa thought, but she knew and was happy to know that this was real life she was seeing.

“This is amaziiing!!!” Kaisa yelled before running down the seventh staircase by this point, followed by the sprightliest giggle Tildy had ever heard from her.

She tripped upon reaching the floor, but Tildy was vigilant and swift enough to draw out her wand and catch the girl in a magic aura. “Careful now, Kaisa,” she said kindly as she levitated her student to sit on the room’s own red chair. The young witch did not notice how tired she was running down all the steps, a little rest on the chair was what she needed before she could burst completely.

“There is just so many,” Kaisa breathed.

“More than you could possibly imagine,” Tildy smiled back.

“And you made all this just for me?”

“Mhm,” Tildy nodded, “it took a lot of convincing. They all said I was mad for even thinking about suggesting this, but I persisted long enough to make them think otherwise.”

“But why?” Kaisa continued, “it’s all so grand, I do not think I deserve this.” The little girl was so certain she would have to become the next keeper of the books one day to make her fantasy of hidden libraries a reality.

“Why wouldn’t you, dear?” Tildy’s voice was soft with affection, “you’ve been doing so well in your training, and oh how far you’ve come so far since I first took you in as my student.” The arch-sorceress levitated a stack of books off the shelf, swirling them in the air until they landed neatly on the shelf next to them. “One moment you’re caught up in endless reading day and night, and now you’re doing fully-fledged spells and incantations as it’s all been leading up to. Levitation is no easy feat, and you’ve showed me how well you’ve mastered it in practically record time, which is just a sign of brighter things to come.”

Kaisa smiled, it was hard not to. But her mentor made her endeavors seem so effortless, which was far from truthful. The young witch-in-training HAD struggled with her magic sometimes; she could hardly do the levitation spell without someone else getting caught in her incantation at first. Her smile quickly turned into more of a half-smile; Tildy was sweet with her words, but Kaisa could not bear the pressure of living up to whatever expectation or image she was likely holding of her compared to who she really was academically.

“Besides, I couldn’t help it, these used to be just boring old stairs to the Tower, but the moment you told me about secret libraries, it was too clever of an idea not to place them here,” Tildy jested, which fascinated Kaisa at the same time—did the rooms actually lead down to the Witch’s Tower? It was hard to know until she ventured into the other rooms, and she had never known about any secret stairs in the library to the Tower, for she always relied on magic doorways conjured (and accompanied) by Tildy if she had to go there.

“I know this surprise seems like a lot, but believe me, Kaisa, you’ve earned it,” Tildy gratified, “many students have come and gone, and all these years of mentoring them have made me wonder if I was even cut out for this,” she then patted her student’s shoulder “but you’ve made me believe otherwise, dear, and all your accomplishments as a witch-in-training have made me proud to call you my student.”

There were no more doubts in Kaisa’s mind, she was the luckiest witch-in-training to have a teacher as caring and sentimental as Tildy. She leaned forwards to wrap her arms around the arch-sorceress and felt her arms wrap back around the girl.

“Thank you, Tildy, this really is the best gift in the world,” Kaisa said before withdrawing her embrace. “If only Johanna was here to see this, too.”

Tildy noticed Kaisa’s expression had turned somber, sharing the same look upon observing. That name was familiar to arch-sorceress; Johanna was the only other person Kaisa would bring up and gush to her about. But just as importantly, she knew that Kaisa’s witch training was no longer a secret to Johanna—revealing herself on accident. And choosing to break protocol or any orthodox reaction as an arch-sorceress and as a witch in general, she was accepting of her student’s best friend knowing who she really was now, no need to send her down the Void of No Return or erase her memory and such. Tildy knew just how special Johanna was to Kaisa; not only did she not have the heart to break away their bond, but from all the things she’s heard about the Sparrow Scout, Johanna could be trusted, even a positive influence to Kaisa’s magic as she was already to her whole life.

“How is she now, love?” Tildy asked.

“Still grounded,” Kaisa lamented, “it’s all my fault she got in trouble, too.”

Tildy laid her palm on Kaisa’s shoulder. “You kept her safe, dear. It was a noble thing you did venturing out there and looking after her.” she reassured.

Kaisa carried on. “But now it has been two days now since her parents stopped us from meeting each other, and she is not supposed to leave for another week,” she brought her legs to her chest and wrapped herself in an embrace, feelings of guilt bogging her mind. “I don’t know what she must be thinking after our camping trip, and we’re not even allowed to talk over the phone.” She tightened her hug on herself. “I really miss her, Tildy.”

The arch-sorceress could not help but sigh despairingly with her apprentice. “I’ll tell you what, Kaisa,” with soft reassurance in her voice, she brought out one of the books on the shelves to Kaisa’s lap, “we still have room to learn one more incantation before the day ends. I promise it’s a very easy one for you, and all you need is somewhere you think would make a great doorway to somewhere.”

Kaisa was not sure what this was leading to, but her heart was cautiously optimistic after talking about Johanna. She looked up at the arch-sorceress who gave her a wink; it really was a trick to help her see Johanna. She eyed the room for a moment, noticing that strangely, among the many furniture Tildy adorned this layer of the secret libraries was a wardrobe next to the desk.

“Det duger…”

... ... ... ... ...

Johanna laid flat on her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling fan spinning on and on. Random drawings scribbled out of boredom were scattered around her bed, her floor and her desk. There were many reasons to hate being grounded (on a summer no less) but for Johanna, it meant missing out on badge activities she was dying to do for the week but now had to rush them to earn the badges she wanted. It meant not being allowed to leave her bedroom unless it was time for dinner where she had to endure uncomfortable silences from her foster parents before being sent back to room in unmerited shame. The coldness in their words before grounding her still stung in Johanna’s mind: This will show you for disobeying, one said. Something awful could have happened to you! What would your Aunt Astrid say to us?! She knew she had done wrong, that she would be in trouble for camping outside the city walls longer than she had promised. It didn’t mean she was not allowed to keep feeling upset for the way she was punished.

The most important thing of all for her, however, was that being grounded meant not seeing Kaisa, whom she yearned to talk to after their camping trip that got her grounded to begin with. Her best friend was a witch-in-training—she could not have been any luckier than that. She had only known about Kaisa’s secret for less than a handful of days, but that extra day she spent in the wilderness helping her get better at levitation made her feel like she had known for a lifetime, and thinking about all the ways they could spend time together with magic now involved was the only thing to make her smile while she was grounded, to make her smile right now.

Suddenly, she heard knocking.

Thud, Thud, Thud…

Johanna gasped and sat up; it sounded like it was coming from her wardrobe. She stared at it just in time to see a folded piece of paper slide out from the tiny gap between the covering, but the girl felt too frightened to walk closer. She grabbed her Woff plushie and held it stiffly in front of her to give her some feeling of security, slowly scooting out of bed as she inched towards the wardrobe.

She picked up the paper on the floor, unfolding it and reading what was written…

“Hi Johanna! Come into the wardrobe. It’s safe, I promise. Please be quick, the doorway only lasts a few minutes. -Kaisa”

Johanna’s heart soared upon seeing a familiar name. “Kaisa…?” she looked up towards the wardrobe. There were loads of questions now circling around her mind, but if her best friend had anything to do with this, knowing now that she was magic, there was surely nothing to fear. She took a deep breath and reached for the doors of the wardrobe, gently pulling them open to find her usual row of clothes hanging about, but just behind it was a bright purple glow that made her squint.

“Hellooo?!” she called out to the light, wondering if someone or something was there to answer back, but indeed there was nothing but the glow—it had to be the doorway as Kaisa’s note alluded to. A tug-of-war of uneasiness and eagerness brewed in Johanna’s mind, but in the end, she was drawn towards the mysterious light, slowly stepping into her wardrobe with her eyes closed as she ventured into its depths.

When she felt like she had passed through the light, she reopened her eyes to find herself still in a wardrobe, but she knew she was no longer in hers for all the clothes were gone. She pushed the doors open before cautiously stepping out, and the little girl was greeted to a room with walls of loaded bookshelves from top to bottom. Before she had time to fully comprehend where she was, there was another girl by the corner with a hopeful look on her face as she watched her step out, who looked like she had been waiting for her for ages.

“There you are!” Johanna beamed at Kaisa.

And soon her best friend came running towards her with open arms. “Johanna!” the young witch-in-training pulled her in for a tight embrace, and she felt Johanna’s own arms enveloped around her just as tightly. “Vad glad jag är att du är här nu. Jag vill inte släppa taget.”

Johanna chuckled warmly. “I’m really glad to see you, too…” even if she didn’t always understand her mother tongue, she always knew how to answer back. As they let their embrace linger, gently leaning the sides of their faces against the other, the brunette glanced around once more. “Wait, Kaisa,” she withdrew from their hug to face her, still holding each other’s arms, “where are we exactly?”

“Possibly the best place anyone could ever dream of being in,” Kaisa’s face lit up more than it already had, “we’re in one of the secret libraries inside of the library, and Tildy helped me bring you here so you can see it, too!”

Johanna’s jaw dropped, and Kaisa struggled to hold in her giggle as she watched the other girl getting as visibly excited as she was. “They’re actually real?!” the young Sparrow Scout gasped, the witch-in-training nodding briskly, “how did you find them?!”

“Well, I did not really find them per se, it’s kind of a long story.”

“You can tell me everything about it then,” Johanna’s own grin softened, “it’s just nice having my best friend to talk to finally.”

Feelings of regret came rushing back to Kaisa, reminded of just how long it had been since they spent time together. “Look, Johanna, I am so sorry I got you in trouble,” she lamented facing the other way, “I can’t stop feeling guilty about it, I feel like a bad friend for making you stay outside the walls for too long just to help me be good at levitation. Now you can’t even leave your house all because of me…”

Johanna then gave Kaisa yet another warm embrace. “We went over this, silly. During our camping trip, remember?” she calmed, “You’re worth getting in trouble for. Magic reason or non-magic, you’ll always deserve to have help.”

Naturally, Kaisa enfolded her own arms back around the Sparrow Scout. “Thanks, Johanna,” she whispered.

The brunette child looked back at the wardrobe she came out of. “If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t have to be anywhere else any time soon, do you?”

“Well, Tildy said we have all the time we want to be here,” Kaisa explained, “and I’m not in a rush to go home since my parents will be out all night again.”

“That’s good, ‘cause I just don’t think I can stay in my room much longer.” Johanna rubbed the back of her crossed arms gently. “I just want stay here, in this comfy place with you for as long as humanly possible…If you’re okay with me staying here, of course.”

“But won’t you get into even more trouble for disappearing?”

Johanna snorted. “My parents are gonna think I’ll still be there all night, they hardly check up on me at all,” she explained. “Don’t worry, they’re not gonna know I ran off.”

As much as Kaisa wanted to slam Johanna’s parents for being so negligent to her, she instead grasped both of Johanna’s hands, feeling her cheeks warm ‘til they were glowing a bright pink, “In that case…I’d like if you stayed here, too,”

... ... ... ... ...

Kaisa told Johanna everything now that they were settling in the secret library, about how the secret rooms were her gift for mastering levitation. The Sparrow Scout was stunned, speechless even; she could only listen and make awestricken noises the more Kaisa apprised. Discovering that she was a witch-in-training was its own chest of surprises, but how else were commonfolk like her supposed to react to witches getting whole libraires as gifts for passing magic? But one feeling was certain for Johanna; she couldn’t be any more proud of Kaisa. She was excelling in her magic and could technically call herself a librarian like she had always dreamed of, and she gave her best friend what felt like the hundredth embrace since she arrived.

Johanna had an idea: what if she and Kaisa built a tent in the corner of the secret library. Her urges as a Sparrow Scout were probably getting to her after being grounded for so long, but when she asked if it was a good or even sensible idea, even promising to take it down when it was time to go, and Kaisa said she’d love to make one just as much as she did (after all, the secret library was hers to decree fun decisions with), the pair went to work building their tent.

Johanna asked if another doorway to her bedroom could be opened, and luckily, Kaisa still remembered the spell to conjure one inside the wardrobe. The brunette’s eyes were aglow with thrill watching her best friend motion her wand against the inside of the wardrobe as she whispered an ominous chant, and with a burst of purple light illuminating inside, Johanna spent the next few minutes going back and forth between her house and the secret library, gathering sheets and rope and pillows and a coat rack needed for the tent. Kaisa watched as heaps of other materials like sleeping bags and art kits stacked by the corner; it was as if Johanna had moved her entire bedroom into the library.

Soon, after tying a rope between the coat rack and a floor lamp in the library, hanging an enormous yellow blanket over it and keeping it angled with stacks of books as weight on each side, they wasted no time decorating the inside of their tent with a lantern and even more beddings to nest themselves on. “It looks incredible, Johanna,” Kaisa clapped jubilantly. “It’s just like the one you made when we made camping.”

“Only ten times as cozy,” Johanna remarked, the two shared a giggle. “Come on, why don’t we try it out and rest inside.”

“Actually, Johanna…” Kaisa said, “I was hoping we can do one other thing, too.”

“Hm?”

“You see, I haven’t had the chance yet to browse through any of the books in this secret room yet, and I thought you and I could check them together?”

As Kaisa now thought to herself how boring and ridiculous of an idea it must have sounded to propose, Johanna replied, “Oh yeah, we should!” she then turned her head towards all the bookcases surrounding them. “Magic libraries must mean magic books after all.”

Kaisa chuckled softly. “Exactly! And I can do some spells for you too if we find any.”

The young Sparrow Scout placed both her palms on Kaisa’s shoulder and smiled brightly in excitement, the witch-in-training feeling her cheeks warm yet again. “You know absolutely well that I would love to see you do more magic, Kaisa, more than anything.”

And so, the pair stood side-by-side in front of a row of books, gently dragging their fingers against the spines of each and every copy as they read their titles.

“Do any of these books look like spell books to you, Kaisa?” asked Johanna.

“Actually, all of them seem to be judging from their titles.” Kaisa turned to her best friend.

“Well, that means one thing then,” Johanna faced the witch-in-training with another thrilled grin as though her expression had never changed throughout. “You get to perform magic with one of these!”

“Not quite, some of these books might have spells that are too advanced for me,” Kaisa took an extra moment to skim through the row of books. “Hmm, maybe this one. This author’s name is familiar since I remember Tildy making me borrow a spell book written by her before, so maybe the spells in this might be more doable?” she then pulled out the book in question; it was thin but had a decorated hardcover larger than her own face, almost akin to a picture book. “Let’s check this one out.” Kaisa took her turn to let out an excited grin whilst Johanna squealed and quite literally jumped for joy.

The girls retreated to their tent with spell book on hand, Kaisa opening it up and flipping through the pages while Johanna brought her lantern closer so her best friend could read better.

“This one sounds cool,” Johanna pointed out as she and Kaisa took a look at their first entry in the book. “How to transform objects into different artifacts at will.” She read aloud.

“Oh no, not that one,” Kaisa shook her head, “I tried practicing a transformation spell on Tildy’s tea cup one time, and rather than a tulip like I wanted, I turned it into a Woff that knocked over everything in her living room,” the two giggled before Kaisa could turn to the next page; there was something about how casually the witch-in-training recounted her spell mishap that mesmerized Johanna, she wished she could hear more about what training with magic was like for her.

“Oh, this one is perfect now that we have a tent,” Johanna pressed her finger against the title of the next page, “Incantations for manipulating the weather around you, and one of them is for making snow. We should definitely do that one, I feel.”

“I have actually done one of these before with no problem,” Kaisa said with a feeling of relief in her voice finding a spell she could perform, “but I’m still not sure about it, I don’t want to accidentally make a mess and ruin the books.”

“Maybe there’s a footnote somewhere that says it won’t be all that bad if you casted it?”

“Let’s see…” Kaisa then noticed the little asterisk on the title before looking below the page. “Oh yeah, let’s see…” she said. “Each incantation will only last for about an hour. Afterwards, it and all effects from the spell will completely disappear unless an additional spell is casted on top of this one for permanence…”

“Huh, it’s perfect then!” Kaisa exclaimed, “Ge mig en stund, tack,” she quickly got out of the tent and pulled out her wand from her cardigan, the same amethyst-pommeled stick from she and Johanna’s camping trip. At that point, Johanna could feel the fireworks in her heart setting off knowing she was about to witness her best friend perform yet another new spell.

“Wait, agh, how did that incantation go again…?”

“Right here, Kaisa,” Johanna raised up the book with the spell entry closer to Kaisa and held it in the air. It’s like I’m actually her familiar, Johanna thought to herself as she turned away slightly to hide her grin.

“Thanks, Johanna,” Kaisa said softly, she held her wand up to her face and kept her eyes on the book as she read the incantation aloud.

“Kallog Voksen Sne…Kallog Voksen Sne…KALLOG VOKSEN SNE!”

As the final chant was recited with vigor, Kaisa heaved her wand upwards as the tip suddenly lit up in a bright purple tinge. Johanna fully expected there to be a beam of light shooting towards the ceiling, but instead, the girls watched as a flurry of grey clouds swirled above them with snow already cascading to the floor of the secret library. The girls beamed brightly at each other.

“It worked, Johanna!” Kaisa giggled.

“I know!” Johanna squealed back.

The witch-in-training rushed back to the tent before her entire body from head-to-toe could be littered in sleets. It was snowing faster than she had thought, as patches of snow were already piled up around the floors and furniture of the secret library only a minute into returning to the tent with Johanna. The air had also gotten colder, compelling Kaisa to shiver and wrap herself in a purple blanket lying around among the sheets.

“You know, random thought, I think you’d look amazing with a cloak,” Johanna remarked seeing her friend concealed in one of her blankets, “

“I have thought about wearing one before,” Kaisa said, “but I’m kind of afraid I would look silly if I did.”

“Nonsense. You’re a witch, and a witch deserves a nice cloak,” Johanna asserted affectionately. “Now I’ve got to make you one soon, I did earn my sewing badge last year after all, and it’ll my own gift to you like how Tildy gave you the secret library!” little did the girl know how much it warmed Kaisa’s heart to hear, so much so that she could possibly melt the snow outside just by standing close.

The wintry air was getting to Johanna, too, causing her to bur and wrap her arms around herself. “Actually, would it be okay if you wrapped me in with you, Kaisa?” she asked, “I’m starting to feel cold, too,”

Kaisa grinned shyly and gave a little nod, opening up some space for Johanna to be encased with her, and sat so close that their shoulders brushed against the other’s. Johanna could have chosen any of the other sheets surrounding them, but would rather snuggle close to her friend for warmth. The pair then watched the magically conjured snow falling before them, piles of snow mounting ever more.

“You don’t think we are going to be snowed in, do you?” Kaisa asked.

“We’ll be fine” the Sparrow Scout promised, “it’s like the book said, the spell only lasts an hour.”

Johanna then leaned her head on her best friend’s shoulder. “Besides, I’d love being snowed in if it meant spending time with you this way, Kaisa.” Johanna then felt her cheeks flush. “Thanks for bringing me here, genuinely…”

The two sat in comfortable silence as they watched the snowfall in the library. All the while Kaisa was thinking to herself all throughout—I wish things can to stay like this forever…

... ... ... ... ...

There was no end to the secret doors and secret rooms Hilda and Frida were discovering minute after minute, going down what must have felt like a dozen, give or take. They pulled aside the next secret door disguised as a bookcase, turned on the lights, and were greeted with the most unusual door by far.

“Huh, this is…different…” Hilda remarked. At the corner of the room was a makeshift tent put together with rope and sheets. Fairy lights adorned a corner of bookcase, and all sorts of coloring pens and papers were scattered from the study desk trailing down to the tent. Frida took notice of the railings and a nearby row of books as she went down, realizing the cobwebs. It was as if no one had entered this room in decades, yet seemingly looked as if it had been occupied not too long ago at the same time.

“Why would the librarian leave this room unkempt?” Frida asked, “all the other secret rooms weren’t like this.”

Hilda walked over to the tent. She noticed the lantern at the center and turned it on to reveal the tent had even more drawings littered inside. The blue-haired girl picked on up, finding a child’s sketch of the secret library itself with two girls in middle. One girl looked very much like the librarian, donning a cloak and short black hair and a wand at hand, but there was another girl next to her, smiling as brightly as she was. She wore what looked like a Sparrow Scout’s uniform and had brown hair that spilled down her shoulders; it swerved in a shape that reminded Hilda of her mother’s. Adding to the coincidence further, just below the drawing was a dash and one initial: “-J”. The young adventurer smiled warmly, she knew there was so much about the librarian she had never known before, notwithstanding that she and Frida were in the middle of uncovering her secret rooms, but to see this side of her compelled her to imagine with great warmth what her past must have been like, who this brunette girl was and how special she must have been to her, wherever she was now.

“Found the next exit, Hilda, shall we get going?” Frida announced. Hilda gently placed down the drawing she was appreciating.

“Yeah, we should definitely go,” Hilda said, “something tells me the librarian really wanted to leave this place like this.” The girls ran through the new exit and down the next steps—another room of books, then through it and down yet another stairs leading to another secret library. And so forth to the next, and onto the next secret library.

#hilda the series #hilda #hilda netflix #my works #fanfiction #sketchbook ship #sketchbookweek2024 #kaisanna #johanna hilda #kaisa hilda #hilda the librarian

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watchingyoufromthestars · 8 months ago

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Finally cleaned this up so here’s my DnDads ultimate ship opinions list. I was waiting until after s2 ended to clean this up in case I had any final opinion changes with the last few episodes. Please don’t bash me for any of these. The DnDads fandom is generally very nice but shipping discourse is something that can get heated no matter the fandom.

Dads

Henry Darryl: very neutral. I understand the ship I just never fully got on the boat

Henry Glenn: absolutely fucking feral about them do not get me started on Glennry

Darryl Glenn: feral in a different way that I don’t know how to describe other than toxic yaoi in the way that they’re damaged but refuse to talk about it so they kiss about it instead

Loveeeeeeee polydads but only as Henry/Glenn/Darryl. Not really a Ron shipper I love him and Samantha too much. Ron and Glenn’s friendship is very important to me though

In terms of Jodie, I don’t really ship him with any of the main dads, ESPECIALLY not Glenn. Even if Jimmy didn’t play Jodie I’d still never ship them. Wish Scamster was real and not completely a scam because they’re literally a crackship become real except it was never a crackship before canon. It’s surprising to me that they weren’t really shipped beforehand

Henry Mercedes: THE T4T OF ALL TIME BABEYYYYY. Absolutely iconic couple, fate was in their favor with how they met they were destined for each other

Darryl Carol: After hearing how Darryl talked about his family in Heaven, I was actually really happy they ended up not getting divorced. They clearly had a rough patch as seen in s1, but they genuinely love each other and I love how devoted to her Darryl is. The little finger puppet he made of her in the time out zone… :,)

Glenn Morgan: GLORGAN!!!!!!!!! Oh my god these two tear me apart. I am feral for Glorgan angst there’s too much to work with. More people need to start calling them Glorgan instead of Morglenn please please please please pretty please indulge me in my silly ship name

Ron Samantha: sobbing. They’re so sweet. The distinction that Samantha is also a little silly is very important to me. They love each other so fucking much

Kiddads

Nicky Sparrow: didn’t realize how much I love them for a good while but when I did oh god I love them so so much. T4T it’s so real to me that they’re both trans

Nicky Lark: used to like it but yall mischaracterize Nicky so much in fics. If yall want toxic yaoi just ship Grant and Lark I’m so serious

Nicky Terry: sobs. They were best friends. I don’t personally ship them but the fact that Terry said he was his best friend… that line rattles around in my brain so often

Nicky Grant: recently learned this might get shipped and has THE coolest ship name. Crossfire I love you but for the ship name alone

Sparrow Terry: I think I’ve seen this shipped a few times but only in the context of Terry/Nicky/Sparrow. Not my personal cup of tea though

Sparrow Grant: I don’t see this shipped too often but they have the worst ship name ever /aff. Wtf is a spant lol. Also I’m too much team transfem Sparrow to feel comfortable shipping this

Lark Terry: do not know the appeal of Gun Control but their ship name is fun

Lark Grant: toxic yaoi central. They both need intense therapy but them both being so fucked up is what makes them interesting not that that’s healthy though

Terry Grant: I see them more in a qpr place than anything romantic. I have one fic of them that’s bookmarked on Safari because I think about a part from it from time to time

Don’t have any poly ships for them

In terms of s2 spouses I so desperately wished we could’ve seen more of them. We barely get to see them

Nicky Cassandra: Telling Taylor his dad was a good man and that she misses him every day makes me think they parted on good terms. But then Nicky disappeared because of FBI shit. In another life maybe they could’ve worked.

Sparrow Rebecca: more ugly sobbing. I’m unsure on my sparroace thoughts if they’d end up getting divorced post-finale but I know they’re not fully separating or breaking up. They really are in love but it’s unconventional and messy.

Terry Veronica: I think the reveal that Terry is infertile is a nice touch to their relationship. It sounds weird to say and I feel like I might word this all weirdly. Him being unable to have bio kids but finding love in someone who wants to raise a kid with him anyways. Veronica finding new love again after a supposedly abusive relationship. Both of those combined is something I really love.

Grant Marco: Canon gays ftw. The Titanic episode was so generous in letting us get to see their dynamic. Obviously Grant still has a long way to go in finding self love but I’m so happy he found someone who can support him and loves him back like this.

Teens

Normal Scary: ugly sobbing over them I love them so much. Cradling my madomagi and tma aus with them as madohomu and jmart

Normal Taylor: yearning for the early s2 days like when they went to Sonic and made some devious plan off screen I wish they had more silly interactions together. Was truly fed with the kareoke intro and them bonding over costume making for a minute. Tayloak could be so interesting if there was more material to work with

Normal Link: Childhood BFFs to Lovers; I wish they could’ve hung out more as kids but all that happened

Normal Hermie: I get the hype but I have personal reasons for feeling neutral on them that I wish I could get over. Good soup though /ref

Scary Taylor: see them too much as a sibling dynamic to ever ship them

Scary Link: respect to all y’all shippers but I do not gothcleats and will leave it at that forever. I can only accept the finale with my transfem Link hc

Scary Hermie: I love Scene Partners. These stupid kids and reflecting each other /aff

Taylor Link: one that I can’t believe I didn’t ship sooner they’re so silly

Link Hermie: I think this one is very funny (/pos) but not my personal vibe

Love love LOVEEEEEEEE Marloakworthy AUGH. A giant triangle of everyone paralleling each other

Polywagon I love you; cannot believe you’re real and genuinely canon. This is just Homestuck again when Hussie said all ships are canon (DnDads never beating the Homestuck allegations from me)

Scary Erica: wish there were more interactions I love Erica so much but alas she’s a guest NPC. “You awaken a lightness in me” sapphic ass Scary I know what you are

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads s1 #dndads s2 #dndads season 2 #there’s no way I can tag everyone and every ship just pretend that I did #I could barely tag everyone when I did the stained glass art

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anonymousbeefriendfanfics · 2 years ago

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My Thoughts on Touchstarved

So, I've finished the demo! Let me start off by saying that I love the story! The concept is awesome, I adore that you can choose your own background, I love how immersive the setting is, everything is just... amazing. I can't wait for the full game to come out! Especially with all the special treats we're getting from the Kickstarter goals, it's going to be fantastic! And now, my friends, I shall share with you my thoughts & Headcannons for each of our lovely love interests, in order of appearance. If you'd like to see more, my requests are open!! I haven't gotten any for Touchstarved yet but I'm itching to write for them, I just... need some inspiration, so the more the merrier!

Kuras

First of all: pretty. I love his design, it's wonderful. He looks so ethereal! And very doctor-y, which was the point.

Can we talk about the hair, though???? How cool is that?? I love it. It looks very soft and fluffy. And so long... Could you imagine sleeping next to him? You wake up and you're drowning in floof.

He's very kind and gentle, but is obviously holding back. He distances himself from people, and like everybody else on this list, he needs to find someone he can really trust to open up and be himself with.

And he stays so busy, like... when does he ever take the time to relax? I know the city needs him and his clinic, but he deserves some time off, too.

To be honest Kuras gives me kinda like.... asexual vibes? Maybe demisexual? Idk, maybe I'm reading too much into him being reserved, but. I just feel like he either wouldn't be interested or he'd want to fall in love with someone before taking them to bed.

Leander

I love him, he's incredible. So talented, so kind!! I love the respect the Bloodhounds have for him, and how willing he is to go out of his way to help a stranger.

Also he blushes very easily and I love it, he's absolutely adorable

I am very very curious how he got so much skill with magic, because that doesn't seem to be normal. I bet it has something to do with his secret.

He very clearly has some serious trauma in his past, too. I wonder how he got that scar, if it has anything to do with his magic, if it is indeed the same scar running from his face to his arm....

Seems like he drowns his trauma in alcohol, his gang, and keeping himself very busy. Poor thing clearly doesn't get as much sleep as he should.

I think he just wants to be loved, but he's afraid to let himself be too vulnerable.

Vere

Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Fox-

Can I just say that I'm a little bit in love with his design. I mean I am with all of them but. Especially Vere. I love foxes and it's just. *Chef's kiss*

He's a cocky lil son of a biscuit tho. That tongue of his is quite sharp... as are his teeth~

I feel like he'd flirt with a Soulless to get what he wanted. In actuality he'd just murder it, but... you get my point. You're never sure if he's gonna seduce you or slit your neck.

Literally if Sage and Rime from Last Legacy had a child.

He's absolutely not trustworthy but I wanna get to the bottom of things and form that trust with him.

Romancing him would be very interesting. He's always three seconds away from eating you, but the question is... will he eat your soul, or your [redacted]?

Ais

He reminds me far too much of my friend's OC, and for that, I am the sliiiightest bit obsessed with him. At least that gives me a headstart on his characterization.

Would sell you to Satan for one cornchip, but fortunately MC interests him enough to keep them around

And Princess???? Oh my god. My heart. I adore her, I adore him, yes please

And he calls the MC "Sparrow"!!! That's absolutely precious. I love how he has nicknames for people, it's wonderful

Ais seems like the person who will tell you he doesn't care what happens to you and you can go get yourself killed for all he cares, then move heaven and earth to save you once you're even slightly in danger.

Mhin

Baby needs a hug. Enough said.

l absolutely adore them. They have stolen my heart.

And yes, maybe I do have the slightest bit of a savior complex, shut up. I'm just addicted to the hurt/comfort angst of it all, okay?

Literally hates everyone and everyone hates them (Except for, y'know, Kuras) because they're such a grumpy little loner and dear god just let me love you, let me teach you what love is.

They definitely fit into the whole "stronger than they appear" archetype because they're specifically mentioned to be pretty scrawny, but they have an impressive amount of strength and holy hells they're good with that dagger. That's incredible skill

I just. I want to break down those walls and earn their trust and teach them they have someone they can rely on who won't betray them, no matter what happens or how dark things get.

I just want to cuddle them and reassure them that everything's gonna be alright, is that a crime?

#beefriend-writes #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #kuras touchstarved #touchstarved leander #leander touchstarved #touchstarved vere #vere touchstarved #touchstarved ais #ais touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #mhin touchstarved #touchstarved demo

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super-unpredictable98 · 3 months ago

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The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 4

Chapter 3: Next Stop at The End of Time

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content, death, talk of addiction

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

Victoria was scared to walk inside. Partially because the place was condemned and could crumble on them just like when Viktor started having a fit back in the day, but also because she didn't know what to expect. Ben was there and Five said it was her Ben, but what if it wasn't? Last time she had any contact with him, they were fighting for their lives, right before he disappeared forever. It was hard to believe he would simply waltz back into their lives.

All of the doubt and the nerves disappeared the moment she laid eyes on him and realized that was her brother. It wasn't the same as looking at the knockoff Sparrow version, it was a bond that survived time, death, and several ends of the world.

"Ben!" She screamed when the door opened and she ran into his arms crying. "Bennie Boo, I missed you so much, oh my... where have you been?"

"Another timeline," he chuckled and hugged his sister. "Someone told me you married Klaus! How insane is that?"

"I know, I know... it's crazy, but you'll get used to it," she laughed, drying her tears. "You need to meet my daughter, her name is Fortune. We gave her the middle name Bennie."

"That's so sweet... ugh too sweet, you're gonna make me emotional! I didn't think you'd ever forgive me after I made Klaus kiss Jill," he sighed.

"Oh, that? That was a billion years ago, I swear I don't resent you at all for that. It was your chance and you took it, I would've done the same. You need to visit my bakery! The Ben special on my menu is your favorite, torta holandesa."

"With Calipso cookies on the rim?" he chuckled.

"Of course, it's not torta holandesa without Calipso cookies on the rim!" She squeezed him tighter and covered his cheek in kisses. "And when our youngest is born, you have to be there! We'll know very soon if it's a boy or a girl! I have so much to tell you, just... so much."

"Are they always so gross? Good thing she hates me," Sparrow Ben scoffed. "Helloooo, we're all in danger?"

"Oh fuck, yeah," Victoria swallowed nervously, trying to catch her breath. Okay, so what I know is that Abigail, Dad's wife, somehow disguised herself as Sy Grossman and gave us the marigold hoping we'd take it. You're very welcome for that, by the way, we'd be very screwed if I let you do that. Then her plan was that we'd look for Jennifer, who has some sort of anti-marigold in her called durango. Once those two substances interact, horrible things happen... the cleanse. Which from what she said is just killing everyone."

"If it's so dangerous for marigold and durango to interact, that's why Dad locked Jennifer away, which means he didn't know about his wife's plan," Five said.

"He didn't, she said she was doing that because she didn't ask to be brought back to life and blah blah blah," Victoria rolled her eyes. "She created these elements and she wants them to stop existing via the cleanse. In a way, Ben saved all of humanity when his tentacles killed Jennifer and himself that night, this reaction had already started. I remember the glowing rash on his arm, of course he couldn't just leave an innocent girl to be destroyed even though that's what Dad told us to do."

"Good thing I died that once then," Ben tilted his head, thinking. "So the cleanse would be like... a monster that carries the seeds of its own destruction? Kills everyone and then itself?"

"Exactly. Maybe if we got Jennifer to drink some marigold, the cleanse would happen in a contained environment and end this nightmare," Victoria suggested.

"I don't think there is containing the monster, don't you remember what happened the first time?" Luther murmured, giving Ben a look.

"I guess we should first figure out how to get the timelines to merge and leave us with one," Five pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely too old to be dealing with that sort of stress.

"Oh easy then," Lila joked.

"There are portals all over the place, we could go down there and try to decode the map. Find a way to shut down the train, anything," Ben said.

"He might be right, we should go down there and see who's in command of the train," Diego nodded. "Let's go."

"Hey guys... I sort of can't," Victoria murmured. "I need to look for Klaus, I think he might have relapsed. We had a big fight and... I need to get him back."

"Can't this wait?" Sparrow Ben grunted.

"No, it actually can't. My husband might be in danger and I don't care if he's a junkie or a germophobe, I love him. I should've never said that him getting clean was the worst thing that happened to me."

"That's harsh..." Allison mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm already very sad!"

"Alright, we'll go and meet here again ASAP, once we're all together, we fix this shit," Five walked to the door, but Vicky stopped him.

"I need your gun."

"What?"

"I need it, if Klaus is with some sort of dealer or gang member, I need the gun to protect myself and him."

"Unbelievable," he handed her the revolver. "Bring it back without a scratch, that's company property."

"I see a huge change in your future, it seems a few people who are holding you down will finally be out of your way... it'll hurt, but you need to let go to make way for your new and improved life," Klaus looked at the tarot cards.

"Should I start the new business then?" The lady in front of him asked.

"Definitely, I see hard times in the beginning, but look," he picked up one of the cards. "Prosperity in the future if you persist."

"Thank you so much," she gave him the payment for the session.

"No, thank you, my dear," he smiled, counting the money.

The lady left and Quinn came in followed by another woman, a beautiful woman in a skimpy outfit.

"Moneeeey!" Klaus cheered. "Here, now you know I intend on paying my debt, so please let me go home. My daughter is waiting, my wife must be worried sick..."

"Nice try, but you're not leaving until the 40k is paid," Quinn grabbed the money. "This is for food, rent, supplies, the stuff you took last night... now you choose, my little star."

He held up ten bucks or a little packet with a couple of pills.

Klaus sighed defeated and took the pills before looking at the woman by the door. "Come on in, let's start your reading, yeah?"

"She's not here for a reading," Quinn chuckled and tossed a strip of condoms at him. "She's here for your other services. Five hundred an hour."

"Wait no no no! I have a wife, I can't do this! I have a family! No offense to this beautiful lady, but..."

"You'll do your job until your debt is paid!"

"Don't worry, you'll like it," the woman placed her hand on Klaus' chest. "I love feminine men, you're so cute."

"So does my wife! I'm sorry, I can't! I can't!" Klaus pleaded while she tried to take his clothes off.

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it?" Quinn huffed while closing the door.

"Too damn bad indeed, too bad you can't take no for an answer," Victoria pointed the gun at him. She had seen that place before, she knew that's where Klaus came to get drugs.

"Who are you?" He raised his hands.

"The wife. Now you can let my husband go or you can go ahead and meet your maker."

"That's cute... do you even know how to shoot? You're some dumb housewife with her daddy's gun."

It had been a while since Victoria experienced that intoxicating feeling, being underestimated because she looked so delicate and docile when she knew she had the power to end that person's life.

"You wanna take the chance?" She smirked.

"You haven't killed a roach in your life, Freckles..."

"Yeah, I haven't," she faked defeat. "But I have killed dozens of people."

Without waiting, she shot him in the head and immediately reached into his pocket to get his gun so he wouldn't try to retaliate in his last moments.

"Piece of shit... girls! You can all go!" She screamed at the young ladies in tiny rooms, probably just as helpless as her husband.

She then opened the door with both guns ready to shoot. The woman, who was still trying to grind against Klaus, let out a yelp and backed away.

"Never touch my man again or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head too! Scram!"

"Victoria!" Klaus was crying tears of happiness, relief, and guilt. "Victoria, my Liebling, my baby! I'm so sorry..."

He ran into her arms and she embraced him too. He felt like a failure for relapsing, but she was ready to help.

"No, no I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that stuff, I should've helped you get over your fear, I should've been more empathetic."

"I should've tried harder, looked for therapy. I also said a bunch of shit I didn't mean, I'm sorry. I yelled at Fortune, I'm such a shit dad..."

"No you're not, you're the best dad ever, you just need help," she smiled sadly. "Tunnie is okay, she's with Claire and Ray."

"So you still love me?"

"Of course I do, I looked for you all night and just killed a man because I love you."

"Help me get clean again? Help me be a better Klaus that you can be attracted to again?"

"Of course," she kissed him softly. "We need to meet the others, there's a whole timeline bullshit going on, I'll explain on the way... but hey! Ben is back! Our Ben!"

"Really? Oh my..." Klaus grinned. "We'll go, we'll go. There's just a place I need to go first."

Victoria drove Klaus to the nearest AA meeting. He really wanted to do things right this time.

The moment he entered the room, there was nobody there except for the chairwoman, who was already gathering her things.

"The meeting is canceled," she said. "Nobody's here."

"I'm here," Klaus shrugged.

"Take a pamphlet..."

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie, listen, I've been to enough court-ordered rehab to know that if one person shows up, it's a meeting. You might make a motion to adjourn, but I'm not seconding and I've had one hell of a slip, and I'm not leaving until I get my one day chip."

"Fine... sit," Stephanie shook her head, pulling out a binder.

"Well, my name is Klaus-"

"Ah ah, no. If we're gonna stick to the rules, we'll stick to the rules," she started reading from the binder. "Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of people who share their experience, strengths..."

"It's very important, I know, and you've said it a thousand times. I've heard it a thousand times, can we get to the part where we share?"

"The floor is now open for sharing," she tried not to laugh. "You have two minutes! No more than that."

"Wonderful!" Klaus clapped and raised his hand.

"Alright, how about you?"

"Moi?" She faked surprise. "Thank you Steph, I can call you Steph, right?"

"No."

"Okay... powerlessness... it's all there on the first step, little words on the page, but I never knew what it really meant until I screamed at my pregnant wife, screamed at my child, and took her Barbie cash to only then be forcefully pimped out by a psycho who I owed money to..." He sat down. "Before that, I had three years clean, three whole years. The problem was I was trying to do it all by myself. Staying in my safe little bubble, scared of death, scared of life... scared of life and taking it out on the people who love me the most, one of whom is sitting outside by the way."

"Hey!" Victoria waved through the door. "You go, Babe!"

"That's my wife slash sister," he whispered.

"I'm not gonna ask," Stephanie breathed.

"So I'm saying it for the first time in my life without irony..." he took a deep breath. "That my name is Klaus and I'm an alcoholic. I'm also a complete drug addict. And while we're at it, I'm probably also addicted to love, and sex. Which has been tough cause I haven't gotten laid much since I went totally nuts and my wife stopped being attracted to me because I became insanely boring. I don't even know how I got her pregnant again..."

"Hey, I'm so sorry to interrupt," Victoria opened the door again. "Can he get his chip? We really need to go right now! Claire just said she just got visited by a woman claiming to be Grandma who took Fortune away when she wasn't looking. I already called Five, we're going to see Dad."

"Shit, my daughter!" Klaus took the one day chip and ran off. "Thanks for the help, Steph!"

Tag List: @jozstankovich @firstpersonnarrator @salvador-daley

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy klaus #umbrella academy fanfic #tua #tua au #tua fanfic #tua klaus #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x oc #fanfic #robert sheehan fanfic #robert sheehan character fic

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raspberryfingers · 2 years ago

Text

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 16)

WARNING: Gore, Ellaria Sand post Oberyn's death

—————

I was walking in the garden with Tywin, and it was a beautiful day out. For once, it seemed rather quiet in the gardens, which I attributed to people being so busy with Tommen and Margaery’s wedding.

But, after what Tywin and I had done last night, I assumed he felt it was only the gentlemanly thing to spend some time with me this morning.

And, chatting with him while I held his arm was never something I got tired of. It made me proud to walk on his arm, especially knowing that there were so few people he’d ever let touch him that way.

“I’ve gotten word of some group, called the sparrows. A bunch of religious fanatics, followers of the seven,” he told me, irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you think it’ll amount to anything?” I questioned, not sure whether or not we ought to be worried about them.

“No, not so long as I’m alive. If it does, it won’t for long,” he scoffed, looking around the garden. I only smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder.

We walked a bit more, finding ourselves in a more secluded area. When we were, Tywin stopped and kissed me. It was rather random, but there was a sense of fun in kissing somewhere so open.

“You shouldn’t do that,” I said with a smile, pulling away after a few moments.

“No, I shouldn’t,” he muttered, arm still around my waist. He looked at me for a moment longer and then offered his arm again, continuing to walk with me.

“Lady (Y/N)!”

I turned my head, finding Jaime coming up to the two of us. I was surprised to hear him call for me and not his father.

“Ser Jaime, is everything alright?” I asked, still holding his father’s arm as I turned around to face him. He approached us, swallowing and then sighing.

“Yes, I uh- well, I’m afraid I have a favor to ask,” he said awkwardly. I watched Tywin raise an eyebrow in the corner of my eye.

“Which is?”

“Perhaps we could speak in private?” Jaime requested, and I knew it would not go over well. I had a feeling Jaime knew that too, but took his chances.

“What requires discussion that your own father can’t hear?” Tywin asked snidely, a sharp edge to his voice. Jaime opened his mouth and sighed.

“Cersei has received what she believes is a threat. Myrcella’s necklace in the jaw of a metal snake,” Jaime said, hands clasped behind his back. My eyebrows lifted a bit, wondering how I came into this.

“And this is Lady (Y/N)’s concern, why?” Tywin inquired, rather tense beside me.

“Cersei wants Myrcella home, and I’ve… I’ve told her I would do it. But I obviously cannot do it alone,” Jaime said, raising up his golden hand.

“And you’re asking me to accompany you?” I asked, wondering if that was his meaning. Tywin looked furious.

“I’m asking Tyrion’s sellsword, Bronn, to accompany me as well. He’s a bit of a character, but ultimately a skilled fighter,” Jaime explained.

“No. You will not take her with you. If you’re stupid enough to desire taking on this ‘mission’ yourself, you most certainly will not put Lady (Y/N) at risk,” Tywin said, fire in his eyes as he looked at his son.

“She’s the best fighter in King's Landing! I’m in more danger than she is, really,” Jaime tried to reason, making Tywin chuckle and look away, face finally twisting with annoyance.

“Good.”

Jaime looked at Tywin with wide eyes, and I could sense deep down he was hurt. I placed my hand on Tywin’s shoulder and stepped forward.

“Jaime, if I were to say yes, you do realize I’d have to miss my sister's wedding, don’t you?” I said, pointing out something that was quite a matter of interest to me. The only Tyrell present at my sister's wedding would be my father, and that was not ideal.

“I understand that, yes. It’s what I thought would be your biggest problem. I know it’s unfair of to ask, but-“

I shook my head, already decided.

“I’ll talk to my sister first, but with her consent, I will go with you, Jaime. I’ve met Bronn before, he’s quite good. I’m sure the two of us plus you will do just fine,” I said, making Jaime nod.

“Thank you, I-“

“No. You are not going, (Y/N),” Tywin scowled, grabbing my arm. I gave him a look, sighing.

“I’m not going to get myself killed, Tywin. I told you after the fight and I’m going to tell you again, I’m not a slave here,” I whispered, and Jaime awkwardly looked away. There was a bird chirping somewhere, and he seemed intent on figuring out where.

“And what if you did get yourself killed? What then?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed with frustration. There was a slight twitch in his eye, and I knew he was afraid.

“I’m not going to. Trust me, two men need a woman to help them think. We’ll be safe, Tywin. I promise. You know I never break my promises,” I assured him, taking his hands in mine. He looked me over, face tense and body language nervous. He turned to Jaime then.

“If anything should happen to her, you’d better pray I never see your face again, let alone hear your name,” Tywin threatened, staring his son down. Jaime swallowed and nodded. After a few moments, I cleared my throat.

“When do we leave?”

“Ideally, this afternoon,” Jaime said, clearly dreading annoyance or anger. I merely nodded. I would talk to Margaery and all would be well.

“I’ll see you at the docks, Jaime,” I said, dismissing him. He quickly left the two of us alone, and Tywin sighed.

“Are you going to listen if your sister tells you she wants you here?” He asked me, knowing me quite well. I smiled and looked down.

“No, probably not. I’ve already been to her other two weddings, I’m certain she’ll get through this one without me. But… Tywin, if anything should go wrong, can I trust you to look after her? My father is not… the most competent man, and Margaery’s safety and well-being is of vital importance to me,” I said, wishing to make certain we were on the same page about this.

Tywin nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Despite his nerves and agitation, he would at the very least do what I’d asked of him.

And to me, that meant the world.

—————

Bronn had joined our group quite willingly, and I suspected a major factor—besides the money Jaime promised him—was me.

Normally that kind of flirtation would’ve bothered me, but Bronn was so damned funny I found I didn’t even mind it.

“Say, do you think your old man will cut my head off if I call ‘er pretty one too many times?” Bronn asked Jaime, looking over at me. I was leaning on the railing of the ship, and I suspected they didn’t realize the wind was blowing in my direction.

“I think you’d better hope he never finds out you’ve done it at all. You ought to be more careful flirting with ladies, you know,” Jaime warned, also taking the chance to reprimand him.

“I don’t think she minds, she’s been laughing at all my jokes. Your father might have all the money and all the brains a highborn girl requires, but I’ll bet you she doesn’t smile much with that sour prick.”

“Hey, he’s still my father. Watch your mouth.”

“Pardon me, my lord.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to their banter. It reminded me of my own men, if I was honest. Banter like that was something I’d long been familiar with and quite enjoyed. Though, Bronn truly had no clue how much I did smile and laugh around Tywin. There was no harm done in letting him think he was special, though.

Currently, the three of us were taking passage on a ship. Once it got close enough to Dorne, we’d row to the shore from there and make our way in from the coast. We expected we’d reach that point any minute now, thankfully.

I was getting awfully bored of being on such a dull ship. Not to mention, I did miss Tywin. Of course, it had only been a week or so, but knowing that it would likely be several more before I saw him again was difficult for me to bear.

“Lady (Y/N), it’s time.”

I turned around, finding Jaime right behind me. I nodded, following him as a smaller boat was lowered into the water. Carefully, he went down, followed by me and then by Bronn.

“You know, my lady, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I watched your fight at the tourney. It was quite impressive, I must say,” Bronn revealed as we got settled into the boat. It seemed I was going to row with him, as Jaime couldn’t with one hand.

“I’m glad you thought so, Ser. It’s probably the best fight I’ve ever had. Though, most of it was no competition at all,” I said, grinning at him. He laughed and nodded.

“Never thought I’d live to see a girl as pretty as you be so good at fighting,” he flirted, making me raise a playful eyebrow.

“I’m afraid I’m not as good at rowing,” I remarked, waves quite rough beneath us. I couldn’t recall a single time in my life I’d ever had to row a boat before. There was always room for self betterment, though.

“Well, that’s alright. Give me your oar, I don’t mind,” Bronn said, reaching out. Jaime merely groaned, clearly tired of watching his friend flirt with me. I didn’t mind though, it was at least entertaining if nothing else.

“I’ll do no such thing. I ought to learn how, after all. I’m not always going to have men like you around to do it for me,” I shot back, making him chuckle. The light flirtation didn’t mean anything to me, as I was quite certain Bronn knew nothing would come of it. Nevertheless, he was certainly a charmer.

“The two of you ought to quit that, I’m going to regret bringing you,” Jaime interrupted, disgust visible on his face.

“We’re just joking around, Lannister. The lady here is Lord Tywin’s, I know that. I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid,” Bronn scoffed, making me smile into my lap. It certainly was something to be having secret—well, they weren’t really that secret—relations with the most formidable man in Westeros.

“I’m not having any relations with Lord Tywin, you know. They’re merely rumors, and quite ridiculous if you ask me,” I said after a moment, making Bronn laugh and shake his head.

“You’re not fucking Lord Tywin and I hate brothels and money,” he said simply, leaning back as he rowed. Jaime looked vastly uncomfortable, and I merely sighed. I could see my own breath, oddly enough. The Starks were right.

Winter was coming.

“If you’d like to believe it, Ser Bronn.”

“Well you haven’t lifted your skirts for me, and I think that says enough. Most ladies grow up all proper and boring, and the second they’re around a man like me-“

“It’s worth noting, Ser Bronn, that I personally do not believe myself to be proper, or boring for that matter,” I interrupted, making him smile.

“No, I suppose not.”

Our boat reached the shore, and Jaime helped me step out onto the sand before pulling in the boat with Bronn. I looked around, trying to see if there was anywhere that might be good for us to sleep.

I made my way up one of the dunes, finding a nice little dip for us to stay without being seen.

“Boys, over here,” I called to them, watching their heads perk up in response. They both looked at each other, and then made their way over to me. I smiled as they struggled to make it up the dune.

“I figure we can stay here tonight, it’s not obvious,” I said, to which Bronn nodded.

“Aye, good find m’lady.”

We carefully stepped down into the small valley and set ourselves up there. The top I was wearing cropped above my stomach, but was thankfully long sleeved and hooded. There were also two leather straps across the front, providing a bit of extra support. I was also wearing rather light, baggy pants that went just above my hips, supporting my belt well. And for shoes of course, I had a nice set of leather boots which were worn down enough to be quite comfortable.

As far as weapons, I’d brought both of my daggers, but I’d opted for my old sword, as I feared a giant Valyrian steel sword might be distracting. The daggers were tucked away, and therefore not much of an issue.

“Lady (Y/N), if you get cold in the night, feel free to cuddle up next to me. I won’t complain,” Bronn said, grinning as I undid my belt and let it drop in the sand. I was going to make some snarky comment, but Jaime beat me to it.

“You know, Bronn, if you keep that up, House Lannister will start singing a song about you for the next hundred years,” Jaime joked, obviously referencing what had happened to the Reyne’s.

“They make it as good as the rains of castamere, and maybe I won’t mind,” Bronn shot back.

We all laughed, settling into the sand and getting comfortable. I pulled my hood up, of course, knowing the sand would never get out of my hair if I didn’t.

I fell asleep before the two men did, but it still felt odd to sleep on my own this way. I’d been getting used to sleeping in Tywin’s bed, to sharing his warmth and hearing his soft breathing.

I missed him so much.

—————

When I woke up, the sun was barely rising over the sea, and Jaime was still asleep. I found Bronn sitting at the top of the dune, watching the pink and orange rays fill the sky.

I smiled to myself, quietly rising and brushing myself off before joining him. He was surprised to see me, both eyebrows raising as his head turned.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I remarked, taking a seat beside him and smiling.

“Aye, it is. My mother used to get up before the sun to go work. I’d always pretend to be asleep, but I remember what the sky looked like every morning when she kissed my forehead and left for the day,” he reminisced, sighing and letting his hands hang between his bent knees.

“I used to get up early to go and train. For as long as I can remember, I’d wanted to be in the history books. I still do, if I’m honest. To a little girl, how else can you do that besides winning battles?” I admitted, thinking about my childhood. Every minute I didn’t spend studying I spent learning to use my sword properly.

“Well, you’ve certainly learned to use your sword. And your daggers, it’s quite impressive really,” he complimented. The breeze out was nice, and I couldn’t help but watch the birds on the shore enjoy their breakfast as the waves moved in and out.

“Thank you. We ought to fight each other sometime. I’ve been practicing with Lord Tywin, but the way you fight is entirely different. It’s clever, and I’d like to refine my instincts that way,” I admitted, knowing that while my traditional swordsmanship was excellent, I could use some more practice with tricks and such.

“Sure, why not. Lannister down there’s paying me to help him train his other hand, but I’ll give it to you for free since you’re so pretty. Not to mention, it might actually be a decent fight,” he said, making me laugh softly as we both turned to look at Jaime, who was sound asleep. I was beginning to wonder why he’d come with us at all.

“We should go wake him up, it’s going to get unbearably hot if we wait too much longer,” I reasoned, watching Bronn get up and stretch. He extended his hand after a moment, and I took it, standing before slowly making my way down the dune.

I was about to reach for Jaime when I felt Bronn’s hand on my arm, and he quickly pulled me back.

“Careful there, don’t want to mess with that fucker,” he whispered, and I noticed a snake coming straight towards Jaime. Bronn pulled out his blade, and the noise seemed to wake Jaime.

His eyes went wide, quickly moving as Bronn threw the dagger right at the striped creature. I would’ve been terrified to wake up that way too, in all fairness.

“Breakfast,” Bronn said, plucking his knife from the ground.

After that, we sat around the small fire as Bronn cooked it, and I had to admit I’d never eaten a snake before. Perhaps I’d let it serve as a metaphor.

“That would’ve been a shit way to die,” Bronn remarked as he turned it over, sniffling a bit to clear his nose. I assumed the sand in the wind didn’t bode well for any of us.

“As far as I’ve seen, they’re all shit ways to die,” Jaime replied, pulling on his glove with a sigh. The two men continued to discuss the subject, pointing out that at least Jaime’s death would make a good song. And, additionally discussing how we’d all like to go.

“What about you, Lady (Y/N)? How would you like to die?” Jaime questioned. I finished my bite, trying to ignore the texture of the snake in favor of protein.

“Riding straight into a thousand men or more, fighting to protect either my family or the realm. A bit dramatic, yes, but it’s what I’ve always wanted. Most women die surrounded by their sons and daughters, perhaps even their grandchildren. That idea has never satisfied me, I suppose it’s why I’ve always been so afraid of marriage. I’m afraid that’s what it would reduce me to,” I admitted, thinking about what would’ve happened to me if Tywin hadn’t interfered with my betrothal to Walder Frey’s son. I merely shook my head.

“Well, Lord Tywin let you be stupid and come here, didn’t he?” Bronn pointed out, to which Jaime looked away awkwardly. I felt bad for him, as it must’ve been odd to hear about your father loving some woman so much when he’d never said a kind word to you.

“He did, but I’m obviously not going to marry Tywin Lannister,” I said, setting aside the snake, as I’d already eaten at least half.

“Can you be candid with me, (Y/N)? Does my father love you?” Jaime suddenly asked, fidgeting with the strings on his glove. I raised my eyebrows, not expecting him to ask such a question. I stayed quiet, not sure how to reply. Tywin and I had agreed not to tell anyone, after all.

“I won’t tell Cersei, I promise. If he does- and- and if you love him, well I guess I’d just like to know. I’d like to know if my father is capable of it. Because well, I know he loved my mother, but everyone said the best part of him died with her… and since then, well, I don’t know,” Jaime rambled, eyes moving around as he glanced at the sand beneath his feet. I felt it was right to tell him.

“I cannot speak for your father, Jaime, but he’s told me that he does—that he loves me—many times. And you know your father isn’t fond of telling lies,” I revealed, watching Bronn chuckle to himself and shake his head as Jaime processed it.

“And you love him back?” He asked softly, looking up but not raising his head.

“I do.”

“What did I fucking say? Enough of this shit, it’s time we get a move on,” Bronn interrupted, standing up and covering the fire in sand. Jaime and I both did the same, awkwardly glancing at each other before grabbing all our stuff and getting ready to set out.

Although Jaime had wanted to take a more secretive approach to bringing Myrcella home, I knew it most assuredly wouldn’t end well, and that we ought to just try and be diplomatic.

Of course, on our way to Sunspear, it was important to be secretive. If people discovered that we’d arrived, there was a very real chance the Sand Snakes would reach Myrcella before we could.

—————

Reaching Sunspear had not gone as we’d planned. In short, it had included killing four guards, taking their horses, and trying to blend in with a group headed for the capital of Dorne.

And of course, I could not forget the wonderful duet Bronn and I had done of ‘The Dornishman’s wife.’

Now that we’d gotten here, we intended to find Prince Doran. However, as we made our way through the Water Gardens, we found Myrcella kissing a young man quite passionately.

“Well she’s made herself right at home,” Bronn remarked, making me laugh softly. Jaime completely ignored him, however, and the three of us approached them.

“Myrcella,” Jaime said softly, catching her attention as she broke away from the boy and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Uncle Jaime? I don’t understand, what are you doing here?” She questioned, gathering her yellow skirts and approaching us.

“Come, Myrcella, let’s get inside, we need to-“

“I am Trystane Martell,” the boy introduced, stepping forward.

“Trystane is my intended,” Myrcella explained with a smile. Bronn and I grinned at each other as Jaime got all awkward.

“Ah, excellent,” Jaime replied, awkwardly shaking his outreached hand with his left.

“We weren’t expecting you, Lord Jaime, and..?” He questioned, looking at Bronn and I.

“(Y/N) Tyrell. This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater,” I introduced, making Bronn bow his head.

“Your grace.”

Myrcella and Trystane looked at each other with clear confusion. It seemed things were becoming more suspicious to them, understandably so.

“Uncle Jaime, what’s going on?” Myrcella questioned warily, licking her lips and reaching for Trystane.

“I’ll explain but first let’s go inside, we need to go inside and-“

Just then, a whip was cast around Jaime’s hand and he was pulled back. In seemingly perfect timing, we were faced with the sand snakes.

Jaime managed to get free, and we all prepared to fight. There were three of them, and three of us. I felt an excitement somewhere deep down, but the two men beside me simply looked panicked and annoyed.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Bronn sighed as I looked back at the two kids. Well, not kids, but they were younger than me at least.

“Trystane, don’t let them near her!” I called, to which he nodded frantically and took out his own sword, getting closer to Myrcella and shielding her.

The fight began then, Jaime against the girl with a spear, Bronn against the one with a whip, and me against the girl with her daggers.

I left my sword sheathed, removing my own daggers instead. Yes, this would be a good fight.

The girl lunged toward me, blades like claws as she tried to jab at me. It was reassuring that I’d gotten quite good at dodging during my many years of fighting men whose strength I couldn’t match.

I advanced on her then, grinning as she snarled at me.

“There’s poison on your daggers, isn’t there?” I questioned, noticing the unusual gleam. Her eyes widened a bit, like she wouldn’t have expected me to know that.

“That’s alright, there’s some on mine as well,” I said, distracting her and motioning to slice at her stomach, causing her to try and block, just so I could cut her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, and I saw the fear enter her eyes for just a moment, then it was gone.

“I have the antidote, don’t worry. If you fight well enough to make me need the one in your necklace, perhaps we can trade,” I challenged, making her yell and charge at me. I smiled, managing to block her blows once more.

“Don’t fight with your anger, it makes you sloppy and weak. Take a deep breath and use your head, not just your limbs,” I suggested, pushing her back and watching as she regained her footing.

“You talk too much,” she scowled, standing me off. I knew she would charge first, though. Fighters like her always would.

“Do you think so? It often has this effect, it’s quite nice, really. And, I’m going to keep talking until I get tired of your failure and decide to kill you. So, come now, let’s see you try your hardest. Maybe if I’m intrigued enough I’ll let you live,” I said, watching the flame spark in her eyes. This girl had the potential to wound me, I knew that, but she was going to have to work a bit harder to do so.

She charged then, just like I knew she would, and I continued to block her. I saw her eyebrows furrow, like she was attempting to process my moves and what I would do next.

I watched the anger drain from her as she took a deep breath, and as I managed to add another cut to her shoulder, she only inhaled. Good, she was improving, slowly but surely.

Of course, I still managed to knock one of her blades away, and I thought she might get angry but, but no. I tricked her again, motioning somewhere else with my eyes so she would presume.

She raised up her only blade, and she was about to stab into my arm, so I decided to rely on a trick I’d only just recently begun to practice.

The gods were in my favor, though, because I managed to drop the blade in my left hand into my belt before grabbing her wrist, stopping her before she could touch me at all.

She struck at me then, though, dropping her blade into her other hand and stabbing into my right thigh. I hissed out, and quickly brought my right dagger into—or rather through—her forearm. I grabbed my left dagger from my belt again to press against her other wrist, which was still holding her own blade in my thigh.

She screamed out as I stabbed through her entire arm, and I presumed that I had just narrowly missed the bone. Her scream caused the other two snakes to look over, and Jaime and Bronn disarmed them rather quickly afterwards. All four of them watched us.

“Good girl, hm? You sank your fangs in, but at what cost?” I praised, though I slowly began to twist my knife inside her arm. Her screaming continued, and I smiled.

“I won’t kill you, dear girl. You earned the right to keep your life. Do you want me to stop doing that?” I asked after a moment, still letting my blade agitate the wound.

“Yes!” She screamed, tears rushing down her face.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, ignoring her pleas for another moment or two. She nodded, shaking slightly.

“Ask me, go on,” I whispered.

“Who- who are you?” she cried, gritting her teeth as she asked it.

I leaned in, trying my best to ignore the pain in my own thigh. She thankfully couldn’t twist her blade due to my own being right there, ready to cut her entire hand off should she dare to try it.

“Have you heard the name (Y/N) Tyrell? If not, then perhaps the Nightshade of the Garden?” I questioned, watching her eyes go wide.

“Y-You’re the Nightshade of the Garden?” She gasped, tears still flowing as she shook. I gave her a nod and a smile.

Just then, several of the Martell guards arrived, demanding that we drop our weapons. The girl and I looked at each other, wondering how this would work. Her blood was beginning to drip onto the floor.

“Bronn, put your weapon down and rip off a piece of your sleeve. A big one, please,” I said, not facing him. Everyone else had already yielded to the guards, but naturally we were not exactly in a position to just ‘put our weapons down.’

I heard Bronn step over, and I heard the cloth tear.

“Don’t remove your knife from my thigh, I’ll do it myself. Lift up your free hand, first,” I said, knowing I was in a position of power. Slowly, she did as I said, and I relaxed a little, putting my other blade away.

“Do you want me to take my dagger out or would you rather do it yourself?” I asked her, watching her swallow.

“Y-You do it.”

I nodded, pulling it out as fast and clean as I could. She screamed out again, falling to the floor, and I motioned for Bronn to help her wrap it.

I put the bloodied dagger away, and looked down at my own thigh. It was certainly not going to be fun to remove.

“Hey, look at me. You’re a pretty crier, you know. Plus, not even the best men in Westeros can land a hit on that one, and you did,” Bronn whispered, wrapping the cloth tight around her forearm. I would’ve smiled if the blade in my leg didn’t hurt so damn bad, because leave it to Bronn to comfort and compliment a woman that gladly would’ve killed him a few moments ago.

One of her sisters came over, helping her up and glaring at us. The girl looked at me through her tears.

“Trade… we need to trade,” she said quietly, reaching for her necklace with her undamaged hand.

I nodded, taking out the antidote for the poison I’d used and holding out my hand.

We traded, just like I’d said, and I watched her down the liquid. We looked at each other with a general, mutual respect, and I knew she understood I was going to take the antidote after removing the knife from my leg, preferably not in front of everyone.

It was in my thigh, after all.

“Come on, let’s move it!”

Bronn looked at me, raising his eyebrows and extending his arms. I nodded, and he picked me up. I winced, but allowed it nonetheless. It reminded me of Tywin, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about what he was going to say when we all returned to King's Landing. I was certain both Jaime and I had quite the lecture coming.

—————

Jaime and I were being escorted into the parlor, though I had to lean on him to walk, which made us quite slow.

The knife had been removed from my leg, the antidote taken, and the wound cleaned. It was nothing serious, but I expected I would be walking with difficulty for the next month or two.

I was dressed in a dark blue Dornish style dress, just as Jaime was in a set of orange robes. I liked the look.

“Prince Doran,” I greeted, Jaime still helping me in.

“Forgive us, we started without you. Lady Tyrell, please sit. I asked for you to be given one of my spare wheelchairs, I do not know why it wasn’t done,” Prince Doran said, to which I shook my head as Jaime helped me sit.

“I thank you for that offer, your grace, but I’m unfortunately restless. I’d rather walk with a bit of pain,” I explained, adjusting my skirts. He nodded.

“I understand quite well, my lady. If not impossible for me, I would share the sentiment,” he said, a soft smile on his face. Ellaria Sand was sitting on the other side of the sofa, however, and did not seem amused by any of this.

“It’s much to her detriment, really. The last time she was injured, she insisted on getting up and walking about anyway. Her stitches split and she had to be carried back to her room,” Jaime said, leaning forward onto his knees. I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. I hadn’t a clue how he knew that.

Doran and Trystane both laughed a bit, and Myrcella smiled. Though, Ellaria Sand did not let that last long.

“What are you doing in Dorne?”

We all looked at her, and Jaime swallowed.

“Looking after the safety of my niece, Princess Myrcella,” he replied. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“And rather than send a raven or speak to me directly, you sneak into my country in secret?” Prince Doran questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“We were intending to speak to you, your grace. We were looking for you when we stumbled upon the prince and princess. It was then that we were attacked,” I said pointedly, merely glancing at Ellaria but resisting the urge to scowl. Being hostile would help no one.

“And what was so crucial it had to be discussed so secretly?” He asked, trying to figure out the situation.

“We received a threatening message. Myrcella’s necklace in the jaws of a viper.”

I watched Myrcella’s face twist with realization, and she licked her lips before sitting up.

“That necklace was stolen from my room,” she said, making Doran look over at Ellaria. There was a tense atmosphere, despite the pleasant chirping of birds somewhere nearby.

A servant placed a plate before Jaime and I, and I gave the young man a nod. I certainly wished I’d eaten more of that snake now.

“There are many in Dorne who want war, but I’ve seen war. I’ve seen the bodies piled on the battlefield, and I don’t wish to lead my people into that hell,” Prince Doran remarked, watching Jaime and I eat as gracefully as starving people could.

“No, you want to break bread with the Lannisters,” Ellaria chided, venom lacing each word. I could tell she hated Doran just as much as she hated us.

“Yes, and that is precisely what we are doing. Let us drink to Tommen, first of his name, king of the andals and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms,” Doran toasted, raising his glass.

We all did, drinking and watching from over our cups as Ellaria Sand poured hers onto the floor. This was growing dull.

I set my glass down and planted my hands into the cushions beneath me, rising with significant difficulty and significant pain, but rising nonetheless. Jaime reached out to assist me, but I shook my head, standing and taking a step forward.

My teeth gritted, but I stood before Ellaria Sand despite that. Everyone watched us carefully.

“You grieve for Oberyn, I know that. You blame the Lannisters for his death, I know that too. But Oberyn was not innocent either. He poisoned the king, I saw him do it. He could’ve sat through a judged trial and asked for a trial by combat the second that things didn’t look good for him, but no,” I began, watching her process what I was saying with a distinct anger.

“He asked for a trial by combat before anyone could even speak, and you know why just as well as I do. He wanted to avenge his sister. Elia. He wanted to fight The Mountain. And I’m certain he wanted to win, too. But he didn’t, and that is his own fault,” I said, glaring down at her. It was not all Oberyn’s fault, and I felt guilt for that, but if he had truly wanted to win, he would’ve made less of a show out of it.

“You have no idea-“

“I wept for Oberyn! Do you think I enjoyed seeing how he died? Cersei may have smiled but no one else did! I wept for him, and I wept for you. I heard you scream, no woman should ever have to make such a noise for her lover. I understand the pain, I understand the anger. Revenge, it’s all we seem to want. Oberyn wanted it, and now you do too. Joffrey is dead, and the Mountain is dead too. Oberyn’s death was cruel but not in vain, so let things be,” I argued, watching tears well in her eyes. I doubted that she’d received much comfort after Oberyn’s death, and I understood that this anger was the only way she could let herself cope with it. Of course, while making those comments about the Mountain, I had not a clue that Qyburn was hard at work trying to undo that very state.

“It is not enough. Oberyn was slaughtered,” she said, shaking as she clenched her skirts. She was trying as hard as she could not to cry.

“And what is enough for you? Is it enough to harm and kill Cersei Lannister's daughter? Is that what would satisfy you? Myrcella is innocent, Oberyn’s children are innocent. Do not cause further conflict, it won’t solve anything. Because say what you will about Cersei, she would hunt you to the ends of the earth should you hurt a single hair on her children’s heads,” I said, leg throbbing as I made my point. I would not sit back down until she was convinced.

“And what do you propose I do? Go on living my life as if nothing happened? Go on smiling and enjoying the earth while Oberyn rots?” She questioned, a tear sliding down her face in her anger.

“Yes, that is exactly what I propose. You knew Oberyn, knew the way he lived. It is more than anything, what he would want. If you want to do him real justice, take care of the children that he can no longer care for himself. But if that is not enough, I will give you the Mountain’s head,” I offered, watching her eyes spark. Yes, she certainly did want that.

“You hurt my daughter, why would I trust you?”

“Because your daughter hurt me too. I could’ve taken her life with ease, and I didn’t. She earned her life, and she earned experience. It won’t kill her, and when she’s healed, it’ll make her even better,” I said, motioning to my thigh and watching Ellaria Sand retract. She contemplated for a moment, and then looked at me again.

“You’ll bring me the Mountain’s head? You swear it?”

“If you vow not to impede on the Crown’s relationship with Dorne, and don’t make any further efforts for ‘revenge,’ then yes, I will. But if you should do either of those things, our deal is broken,” I offered, extending my hand. She looked around before looking at me, another tear falling as she shook my hand.

As she did, I moved to sit back down, grateful it really hadn’t taken all that long to convince her. Prince Doran sighed. Meanwhile, we watched Ellaria leave the room. It seemed she was going to cry, and I felt a deep sympathy for her.

For the pain I had caused her.

“And King Tommen insists on his sister's return to King’s Landing?” He questioned, looking over at Jaime. Jaime nodded.

“I’m afraid he does.”

“I will not disobey my king's command. She will return with you, and my son Tyrstane will accompany you all. If our alliance is to continue, their marriage must stand,” Prince Doran noted. Jaime and I looked at each other and nodded. They were a suitable match, and quite obviously in love. There was no reason to deny that.

“I accept,” Jaime said.

Trystane and Myrcella gave each other an excited look, and after a moment Jaime opened his mouth again.

“May I inquire as to the fate of my man, Bronn?” Jaime questioned, and I raised an eyebrow at this too. I assumed Bronn had been put in a cell, but I also wasn’t certain.

“We will set him free, we merely wished to see what your intentions were first,” Prince Doran said, motioning to his guards.

I smiled, glad to hear nothing bad would happen to Bronn. I’d grown quite fond of the man, despite all his flirtation.

It seemed our return to King’s Landing would be peaceful, and rather successful at that. I knew Cersei would continue to hate me, but I was bringing her daughter home, and if that did not inspire a certain sense of gratitude, I did not know what else would.

And of course, knowing in merely a week or two I’d be able to return to Margaery and Tywin made me ecstatic. By then, it would have already been a month away, and I missed them very dearly. I prayed that in my absence, all had been well.

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