#came to me in a vision (i randomly remembered the original)

[sapphlobtch]

[plutos-w0rkshop]

A Gunslinger & A Conman

Chapter 1: Arrival

TW: Memories of suicide, descriptions of gore/morbidity

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: if you (don’t/do) want to be tagged please tell me 😭 i restarted the story but i’m tired so i’m just using the old taglist

@echobeez @eg0m4n14c @roach-master @give-liife @zh4rkbyt3

Did Heaven and Hell really exist? Or was it simply something people made up to cause mass hysteria amongst society, thinking “oh no, if I do bad I’ll be tortured for the rest of my existence!” or “ok so I’ll do good and it’ll all be perfect! Rainbows and sunshine everywhere!!” Yeah. Bullshit like that. That’s really what it came across as to people who didn’t believe. Take Austin for example; he thought it was just some make believe thing that parents make up to scare their children, nothing more. Not like he would know what that felt like. He was scared of his parent in the first place! As ironic how that was, however.

Though he wasn’t sure if he really believed that right now, considering the location he just landed in. And yes, literally landed. Last thing he remembered was staring down at his trembling hands, his dark, cold to the touch gun laying on the snow next to where he was sitting, blood staining his pure white glove that he hadn’t even bothered to take off before he continued, which was barely distinguishable from the winter’s effect due to his blurred vision, the ground beneath him frozen solid. Nobody saw him of course, he was in the middle of a lonely forest, hardly any wildlife to accompany his site of self homicide. There was frostbite on the peak of his nose, his breath coming out as mild clouds of fog as the gunshot wound he formed in his chest spilling out dark, warm blood onto the pale ground beneath him as he slowly lost his vision.

But that was gone now. He felt perfectly fine. Well, aside from the pounding in his head. Unable to barely collect his own thoughts he clutched at his head, letting out a weak noise of pain as he forced himself to stand, using the armrest of a nearby bench to help him up. His eyes fluttered open, but he was quickly greeted by a completely new place. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t the middle of nowhere… Where was it? It looked like an abandoned city people always talked about in newspapers. Honestly he would’ve thought that if it weren’t for the fact people were actively walking about the torn streets. Speaking of, wow there were a lot of cracks on the ground, not even including the buildings. It was like there was a mass earthquake and nobody bothered to fix it after. It was a comparable replica of Brooklyn, in which… well, it’s 10 times worse.

A red shaded sky overhung the sky, which Austin assumed to be from some sort of air quality disfigurement, but no, nothing seemed off while breathing at all. There was also some sort of black ball that looked like it would be the “sun,” and yet it had some sort of red pentagram type shape over it. Next to that, it was that but white and smaller, surrounded by wings and a shape that appeared to be a type of halo. In short, it looked much more divine. Gaze lingering on the floating object and all of its pinioned glory for a moment longer, he eventually looked back away, mind filled with confusion. What is this place?

The town was full of noise; the sounds of people engaging in conversation, cars (that people were driving quite recklessly, as if they didn’t care,) and… screaming, all mixing into one big overwhelming noise, making Austin’s ears ring on top of the headache, which made him let out a weak whine of pain as he continued on, walking away from where he originally was. While entangling his fingers throughout his hair though, he noticed he was missing something. His hat. At the discovery, the man frowned, but didn’t want to think too hard on what happened to it. It was probably long gone by now.

When he was staring he suddenly noticed a large, neon sign that flickered randomly, signaling that it really wasn’t being taken care of, which caught his attention. WELCOME TO HELL. Oh, well that explains it. The views of the landscape, the fact everyone looks like absolute freaks… He was in Hell. Despite the fact he didn’t even believe in it, he was surprised he was even there. Why was he in this place!? He’s hot, he’s famous, and he’s nice! What did he possibly do that was so bad and landed him here? I mean yeah, he killed a few thousand people… and basically committed mass manipulation.. and— that’s not the point!!

He could definitely see how some other people got here, though. Fuck, they were murdering people right on the streets! Not to mention the cannibalism after… Who could loose so much dignity they do that in public! If anything do it where nobody’s gonna see you. He grimaced at people, though in all honesty he didn’t really give a shit. He’s seen it all before; their blood better not get on him, though. As if he jinxed it, while he was walking, he passed by a murder, the cause getting a tad bit of blood on Austin’s suit. He scowled, staring at them. "What the fuck? Do you not have any dignity!?" he yelled out, making the murderer then around and glance at him, a bloodied knife in hand, which also had small bits of gut on it. "How ‘bout you have some respect?" they scowled, until they saw what Austin actually looked like. Their attitude quickly changed and they got a stupid grin on their face, eyes narrowing. "Er.. Sorry ma’am. I swear I can make that up to you, if you know what I mean, doll," they commented on, voice dropping an octave as they got up in Austin’s personal space, who was glaring at them clearly pissed off. A few seconds into their silence, the singer glanced down, before looking back up. Yup, definitely a man. Surely he wouldn’t mind this, right?

With that, he forced a flattered smile, putting on a flustered little façade. "W-Who, me? Oh, I’d be delighted!" he spoke back. "Although, I sure hope you don’t mind if I do this first…" he muttered, before his face dropped and he brought his knee up, hitting him directly in the groin which made the stranger let out a yelp of pain, stumbling back. "What the- OW!!" he screamed out, his tone a mix of agony and frustration. The stranger fell onto the ground, curling up as he sucked air in between his teeth, arms clutched around his lower stomach as he writhes in pain. Austin reaches down and grabs onto the knife he had dropped down by his feet when he assaulted. "I’ll be using this," he said casually, before continuing on. "Oh, and it’s sir." He sunk the weapon into the side of their leg when he said that as to punctuate, causing a loud squelching noise as it sunk into their now exposed and bleeding flesh, mixing in with the stranger’s yelp of further pain, further penetrating the wound by sinking it in deeper using his foot, before giving one last remark as he steps back. "Bye, have a good day, baby! Love you," he smiled as if he hadn’t just done that, standing back up straight and going back on with his day.

Though, as he went on about his business, his smile fell. He still had no clue why he was where he was. Hell? Really??? This is shit. He didn’t deserve this. Ok, well if he seriously had to live here, he had to find a house, obviously. So where was there to start? Was he supposed to get an apartment? Yeah, hah. As if there was an actually decent place down here. If only people actually recognized him right now, everyone seemed to fall head over heels for him somehow, and now here he was, lost, covered in blood, and terribly sexy. Oh, the agony!

K. Actually, now. Think, Austin, think! Would he just suck it up and get an apartment? Would he wait until he wakes up from whatever fucked up dream this was? He didn’t know! Hopefully the latter though, this place was terrible. At least he felt okay. Physically. He stared back up at the red sky, the freedom of being able to stare up and not get blinded from the piercing sun being a surprising new sensation. He let out a sigh, running his gloved fingers through his soft hair, before going completely frozen as he felt something sensitive. The singer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, before poking where the feeling was, feeling an immediate shock go through his whole body, catching him off guard as he lets out a surprised squeak. What the hell??? Ow! Oh god, don’t tell me I’m one of these freaks walking around like it’s nobody’s business too. If I am, I better be hot.. he thought, going further on.

Austin still had no clue what to do, and he had been walking around for what felt like centuries by now, but it was only a small bit over 10 minutes. His legs were tired, and he wanted somewhere to rest. The upset expression on his face never went away, and in fact only got worse from when he started. Not even an hour into this, and he wanted out. There’s an entire list starting on what’s wrong right now. He’s hungry, he’s alone, he’s tired, he’s… Well, you get the idea. You know what I was going to say.

While moping around the town, he finally spotted something; an actually okay looking apartment building. Or so it looked. He walked over to it, grabbing onto the door knob on the see-through glass door and turning it gently, walking in. He was quickly greeted by the noise of people talking in the lobby; they must live here. "Hello, ma’am." Lost in his thoughts, he was startled as the person at the front desk spoke up, making Austin look over in confusion. "Yes, you. Are you here to get an apartment?"

"Uhm.." he mumbled, before spinning around to walk right back out. "No thanks. I’m good, I don’t need you or your shitty place." The person grimaced in confusion, before shrugging, watching him walk out. What an idiot, probably a crackhead.

Welp, he’ll just walk around. Hopefully he’ll find something… All this walking is getting annoying.

[the-sage-libriomancer]

Was randomly in the mood to read a Tadashi Lives/Hiro Dies au for BH6, but then I remembered that I was never able to find a good one bc all of the fics were just boring remixes or even outright retellings of the movie's plot with Tadashi in Hiro's role. So since I'm in the mood for outlining and also super bored here's my vision of what a good "Hiro dies instead of Tadashi AU" would look like:

(this is split into acts bc apparently Tumblr has a character limit and this got unspeakably long lol)

Act One

A little before the fire starts, Hiro runs back into the school for whatever reason and is in the building when it explodes. Obviously he doesn't make it and of course Tadashi is completely devastated.

Most fics I read showed Tadashi falling into a depressive funk the way Hiro did in canon. I actually think he would react the opposite way: Hiro was so brilliant that he lost motivation easily bc it was so hard to seriously challenge himself, but Tadashi strikes me as the sort of person who needs to Do Something when things go to shit. So in this AU he becomes a workaholic, working on a brand new project that requires a LOT of time and effort.

Tadashi's new project is an "emergency bot" (aka EB-1) that is basically a more proactive version of Baymax centered around search and rescue. EB-1 will be capable of saving people from car accidents, natural disasters, and yes, fires. Tadashi is obsessed with completing it and forgoes everything else.

Unfortunately Baymax is pushed to the wayside by Tadashi, as just looking at him brings up memories of Hiro that are currently painful. A small running gag is that Baymax keeps inflating when he senses Tadashi being self-destructive (ie every ten minutes) and Tadashi keeps shutting him down, until finally Tadashi brings him back to Cass's place and leaves him there.

Tadashi's friends are more heavily involved this time around since this is one of their best friends. They do everything in their power to make him take care of himself, but he's heavily resisting because he is Going Through It and refuses to relinquish his unhealthy coping mechanisms.

A couple of weeks after Hiro's death, Tadashi is snooping around town in search of a good place to field test the EB-1, and he happens upon the warehouse that's hosting Callighan's microbot making operation. Tadashi accidentally tips off Kabuki Man while getting some pictures and barely escapes Kabuki Man's clutches.

Furious that someone has apparently stolen his little brother's tech and is mass producing it, Tadashi gets his friends involved. They're initially skeptical even with the pictures (which are terrible quality lol), but Tadashi convinces them to come see the warehouse with him so he can prove himself. Since they get a jump start this time, they end up catching Kabuki Man red-handed as he's still moving the microbot-making equipment.

Obviously Kabuki Man chases Team Tadashi, and there's a brief chase scene. However, Tadashi came prepared: he brought EB-1 (hastily modified to have some fighting prowess) and unleashes it on Kabuki Man for its first "test run." EB-1 successfully fills all its initial parameters before Kabuki Man bails, which Tadashi is excited about - his invention works! His friends are considerably less excited about all this and vote to go somewhere to recuperate.

Safe at Fred's house (because we NEED that reveal), Tadashi and his friends put their heads together to figure out their options. One thing leads to another, and the five of them end up pinning Krei as a main suspect - not necessarily as Kabuki Man himself, but definitely as someone who might be involved.

One fic I read was such an unoriginal rehash that it literally repeated movie scenes verbatim with Tadashi speaking Hiro's lines (AU authors please don't do this) BUT the one place it did try to be original was by replacing Hiro's gadgets-making montage with Team Tadashi literally flying up to Krei's office on the top floor (using Baymax no less) and interrogating him, and I honestly can't think of a more ic way for the group to go about it. If you asked me "what would a bunch of tired and desperate STEM majors do when they need to talk to a rich businessman they can't contact" that would be it lmao.

Interrogating Krai goes about as well as you'd expect: he refuses to give them any information, but does make a compelling enough argument that Team Tadashi is forced to leave him alone. Tadashi still doesn't trust him but reluctantly rules him out as a Kabuki Man suspect. However, Krei accidentally drops a couple clues about Silent Sparrow that will become relevant later.

Team Tadashi dejectedly calls it quits, and the team tries to convince Tadashi to focus his energy elsewhere. But Tadashi isn't giving up just yet.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

One. Two. Three. Four. Five...Come On! (Henderson!Reader)

Words: 1332

Warnings: angst, near death experience, me have zero memory on how to do CPR so I had to look it up, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

Here is another fic based off of something I wrote for an OC

Reader is Dustin's older sister (older by 4-5 years)/is the same age as Steve.

This also lowkey can be read as a sequel to You Don't Love Me Anymore? and I Still Love You

So, since we don't know what is happening next, I have this as a sort of "What if?" thing. So obviously the only canon is everything that has happened up to the end of Vol. 2

This was originally longer, but I decided to cut off the second half of this (basically what happens after they get back to Hopper's cabin)

But yeah, just remember that this is NOT canon at all. Just something my little mind came up with randomly

I also had to look up how to do CPR and then found the BPM of Stayin' Alive and played a met going that speed in the background as I wrote the timing stuff

So spoilers for the ending of Vol 2 (wow if you haven't seen it yet)

Anywho, enjoy

It was all so sudden.

Y/N had been standing a few feet away from Robin and Steve. Steve was helping Robin back up after she had just fallen. Everyone had been more focused on making sure that Robin was in fact, okay. Perhaps if they hadn’t been, someone would have noticed the slimy, vine-like thing crawling towards Y/N and wrapping itself around her left ankle.

One moment she was upright, concerned about her friend. And then next, she was yanked to the ground and being pulled across the ground. She was screaming, trying to kick the vine off of her ankle while trying to grab on to literally anything so as to not get pulled away. She heard Steve, Nancy, and Robin yelling her name.

She felt another vine wrap around her other ankle and eventually two others came around her wrists. She tried to thrash around and free herself. She was screaming for Steve. That was until she felt one more vine wrap around her throat. And every time that she moved, the vine on her throat got tighter.

Her eyes had begun to water due to the vine being so tightly around her neck, cutting off her oxygen. She didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, her vision got splotchy and eventually became completely pitch black and she felt absolutely nothing.

But then there was Steve.

One moment he was helping Robin and making sure she was okay. And the next he heard his girlfriend screaming. The moment he heard her screams, his head snapped to where she had just been. All that he saw was her being dragged away. He quickly grabbed his bat and ran in the direction that Y/N had just been dragged.

He had known that Nancy or Robin would grab Y/N's crossbow and follow after him. He followed her screams up until the moment they suddenly cut off. He felt himself freeze for a moment. That exact moment that he heard the screams cut off. He knew he had to think. All that he could think was to just continue to head in the direction he was facing. Hoping and praying that it would eventually lead to her.

And it did. He saw her practically dangling there. Her head was hanging limply against her chest. He ran to her and began to continuously bash his bat against the vines. He barely heard Nancy tell him to move out of the way. But somewhere in his mind, it still registered and he moved back. Soon he heard the loud sound of gunshots and soon Y/N fell from, what he only assumed was Vecna's viney grasp. He quickly moved to catch her before she fell onto the ground. 

He got her on her back and began to freak even more as he saw her lips turning blue. And as his hands moved around to find a pulse, or any sign of life, he felt how cold she was. But the moment he was unable to find a pulse or even feel/see her breathing, he realized what he had to do. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. 30 seconds? A minute? Two? All that he knew is that he had to start CPR. Then and there.

His hands were shaking as he clasped them on top of one another. He kneeled next to her and moved so that his locked arms were over the center of her chest and over his hands. Once he knew for sure, he began to push down.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Two. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Three. “C’mon Henderson.” Three. Four. Five.

Four. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Six. Two. “Don’t leave me, darling.” Four. Five.

He leaned down and tilted her head back slightly to give her the two breaths. And then continued to pump down.

Seven. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“You gotta keep holding on.” Four. Five.

“If not for me.” Four. Five.

“Then for Dustin.” Four. Five.

“Hold on for Dustin.” Four. Five.

“Could you do that for me baby?” Five.

He did the breaths again. He continued this for about a minute. He was a near sobbing mess when she still hadn’t started breathing again after about 100 compressions and it was just under a minute since he started. But he refused to give him. He refused to do it. At some point he had heard something crack and he had assumed it was a rib. He was nearing 120 at what would be 10 seconds after the minute mark.

Twenty-Four. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He gave the two breaths. He leaned his head down to try and hear or feel anything. Tears were falling from his eyes as he didn’t hear her heart beating from under her shirt as he had just a few nights previous. He let out a shaky breath and repositioned his body. And he began to start the compressions again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Two. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Three. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Please don’t do this, baby. Please don’t leave us. God, I can’t imagine living without you baby.”

Six. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Breath. Breath.

“We promised each other that we wouldn’t leave the other one again. No matter what. No matter how scared we got. No matter how tough it got. We promised to stick together...you promised me baby.”

Eleven. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Twelve. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Breath--

Just as he was about to give the second breath, Y/N began to cough. He stopped everything, even though he knew he shouldn’t have, and moved her to her left side. She continued to cough until eventually she looked at him, tears in her eyes. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled her into a hug. “Oh God baby. I thought you had died. I-I thought that I had lost you.” He heard a strained noise coming from her. He pulled away slightly and that was when he noticed the discoloration and marks on her neck from where the vine had been. “Oh baby, don’t speak. Don’t hurt yourself any more.”

“Steve?” His head turned to Nancy as she called out to him, “We need to go and get back to everyone.” She walked over to the two of them and kneeled in front of Y/N, “Can you walk?”

She was careful as she stood up, not letting go of Steve’s arms once. And she took a wobbly step forward. He was careful as he grabbed her arm from falling forward. “I’ll help her. You two go ahead and we’ll follow behind.” He motioned to Robin, “Toss me her bow.” He caught the crossbow as it was tossed and slung it over his right side. He then gingerly placed her right arm over his shoulders and he placed his right hand on her wrist and his left arm around her backside. Then the two followed after their two friends to meet with the other members of their party.

He was happy that she was alive. God knows that she wasn’t okay. But she was alive. And he wasn’t happy for himself. But for Dustin. The kid had just lost Eddie a few days ago. And Steve knew better than anyone that he wouldn’t be able to do any more without his sister. Sure. Steve was there for him whenever he needed him, but he hadn’t always been. Y/N had been there for her brother since day 1. No matter how many arguments they got into, she always would be. No matter how pissed she was at him, if he needed her, she would be there. And she knew that Dustin would do the same for her.

So Steve was happy that he was heading back with Y/N alive. He knew he wouldn't have been able to look Dustin in the eyes if it was any other way.

[tossawary]

I need to know more about “SVSSS - Baby Brother Liu Qingge” bc I love tiny and very deadly baby LQG

I have a 3k-ish Shang Qinghua POV that was supposed to be the introduction to this fic concept! So... ah... baby Liu Qingge does not appear in this, but you can see the setup for how an 8yo-ish Liu Qingge was supposed to be introduced. My hope is that this will someday become a "Shang Qinghua and Shen Jiu go on a mission with Baby Brother Liu Qingge" one shot.

-cut-

Shang Qinghua didn't really have the words to describe what it was like having Proud Immortal Demon Way's characters finally come into his second life.

He didn't have the words to describe a lot of his transmigration experience, honestly! His words had described a lot of this world already, haha, hadn't they? Sometimes a person just had to put up with it and keep going.

And then excuse himself later to go scream into a pillow! Many times!

At first, life was just him in a body that didn't fit and strange memories that slipped between his fingers like sand. His memories of a past life had settled eventually, the System finally came fully online, and his relationship with his second family was fully fucked forever. That was fine, though! That was fine! With some unsolicited prodding from his System, he left to go seek his fortune soon enough and he never had to talk to his character's birth parents or siblings again.

But Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had never said much of anything about Shang Qinghua’s family or home village, besides saying that the man had dreamed of more than his mediocre origins, so everything had been unfamiliar and original and real. Getting to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, which he had described in great detail, was a real headfuck. There were no words for the experience of recognizing things that he’d written in another life.

He saw the glistening rainbow bridge and the intimidating sect entrance and the majestic meeting hall on Qiong Ding, and he nearly screamed. He definitely squawked. His vision got really fuzzy for a minute there and he had to sit down on the ground before he fell over. What the fuck?! What the fuck?! He’d made a world! The System had really made a world out of his web-novel! He was really stuck in Proud Immortal Demon Way!

There were upsides and downsides to joining Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Downsides included: the hard training, the harder workload, the dangerous missions, the disrespect towards An Ding Peak, and being surrounded by arrogant and foolish teenagers looking to look down on someone. It was really something else to look some of them in the eye and think, "Bro, I don’t know your name, but you kind of owe your existence to me. Could you stop being such a fucking asshole about leaving your chores for me to do?! Respect your father!"

Upsides included: actually becoming a cultivator (pretty cool, even though the work of cultivation sucked more often than not), better living accommodations and food, and actually getting to see some of the cooler places, plants, monsters, and magic that were a part of his world. Sure, carting a monster corpse brought in by Bai Zhan Peak to Xi Jiao Peak for butchering was smelly and heavy and altogether miserable, but seeing an impossible animal was still kind of incredible. If this unwilling Shang Qinghua could stop being pushed around and stepped on long enough to appreciate the upsides, he’d really appreciate it!

It was interesting and infuriating to log the differences between what he’d imagined, what he’d written, and what the System had created. What sort of author described every single object in every single room? Who had time for that? Who wanted to read that? The System had filled in all the living details of An Ding Peak - the Leisure Houses, the training grounds, the storehouses, the warehouses, the kitchens, the lesson halls, the leisure gardens, the farming fields, the livestock fields, the stables, the cart lot, the water supply, the sewage systems, and so on - so that people could actually live here. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky as an author had done many things worthy of complaint and criticism, but wasting his readers’ time with sewage systems was not one of them!

The System had also filled in all the little details and decorations - the paintings on the walls of sect history, the detailing on the rooftops supposedly offering protections from dream demons, the chipped and faded paint of old storehouses that disciples would be tasked with replacing, the statues in the fields to scare off scavengers, the carvings on the doors meant to reduce resentful energy, the childish etchings of bored students the surface of the lesson hall desks, the old bench where the An Ding Peak Lord liked to sit and eat flatcakes - so that it really seemed like people had built this place and maintained it and added to it for generations.

Shang Qinghua had his quibbles here and there. Sometimes the System had made choices that he objected to! He would have done it differently if it had asked him, the author, to contribute. He really felt as though the System should have asked him to clarify the plot holes and the gaps in detail, instead of choosing precedence randomly or building off random implications taken way too literally.

Sometimes he found out that the System had built things out of throwaway lines that Shang Qinghua himself had completely forgotten about. It turned out that Ku Xing Peak made a lot of purification tools and containment vessels because Airplane had offhandedly mentioned that this was their specialty, and now Shang Qinghua had to cart around delicate ceramics to be sold to city merchants or other cultivation sects. He never would have dared to write that if he’d known that it would one day in another life be his job to do things like take inventory and chase down signatures for successful deliveries.

Places, items, and creatures were one thing, but logging the differences between the people he met and the characters he’d created was something else. At first it was okay, because he was surrounded by nameless An Ding Peak nobodies - his fellow disciples, their teachers, the hardworking managers and merchants, even the peak lord - none of them had ever mattered in Proud Immortal Demon Way. If Airplane had been the one to name any of them, he didn’t recognize the names or remember them.

Then he met Yue Qingyuan.

Wow, it was a worse headfuck than first arriving at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, when Shang Qinghua finally realized that this was the young version of one of his actual characters. It took him a minute. As a lowly outer disciple, Shang Qinghua hadn’t received “Qinghua” as a name yet (his name was Houhua, not that anyone ever used it) and the future Yue Qingyuan was still called Yue Qi.

Shang Qinghua was fourteen at the time. Yue Qingyuan must have been around the same age, so he didn’t strike the tall and handsome figure of the sect leader Airplane had described. The boy was broad, but actually a little short. He had freckles. He had acne.

But he also had a warm smile that seemed to go all the way to his eyes when he offered to give Shang Qinghua directions to the right office on Qiong Ding. He had a steady hand when he helped Shang Qinghua up, after the An Ding disciple had suddenly tripped over nothing upon being introduced. Yue Qingyuan - Yue Qi - walked him to the right office and did his best to make small talk, friendly and kind even though Shang Qinghua was having difficulty stringing more than a few words together in his shock.

Even then, it was obvious that the boy was developing the calm surety and the social charm that would make him a greatly admired sect leader someday! It was all Shang Qinghua could do not to blurt out: “Holy shit, you’re REAL?!” Which would be closely followed by: “Hey, is Shen Qingqiu really real too?!” And then maybe closely followed by: “FUCK!!!”

As the years went by, Shang Qinghua met more of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s characters, and it was weird every time. None of them were exactly like he was expecting. He kept expecting… well… he kept expecting them to look like the fanart, like flawless character models, more or less. Instead, he kept getting… people.

Wei Qingwei, head disciple of the sword-focused Wan Jian Peak, was also shorter than he was expecting, kind of stout, with a wide face and a wider smile. Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had apparently had the man crack a few jokes upon his rare appearances in the web-novel, usually during tense situations, as he was reminded by the System upon thinking to himself: “Why is this guy LIKE THIS?!” So, because of just a few lines, the real Wei Qingwei had a relentless sense of humor and loved telling jokes.

Upon their first meeting, when Shang Qinghua was fifteen and had been sent over to help renovate some Wan Jian dormitories, fifteen-year-old Wei Qingwei had pretended to fumble a sword and, using a packet of dye and a sleight of hand, made it look like he’d accidentally cut off his own hand at the wrist. Of course Shang Qinghua had screamed and panicked! Anyone would panic! But Wei Qingwei had laughed at him and said, “Got you! Shang-Shidi, the sword wasn’t even unsheathed!” Asshole!

Qi Qingqi, the head disciple of Xian Shu Peak, was much taller than he was expecting. Apparently Airplane had once described a group of some of the peak lords by saying something like: “Each one of them was like a giant to young Luo Binghe.” That group had included Qi Qingqi. The System apparently had taken that to mean that Qi Qingqi was of a height with the likes of Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua discovered this adaptational choice when he was almost sixteen, when this giraffe-like girl came to An Ding Peak to complain about an order someone along the pipeline had dropped completely, and he accidentally found himself (still waiting on a really good growth spurt) eye-level with Qi Qingqi’s chest.

Airplane had apparently once said in Proud Immortal Demon Way that Qian Cao Peak Lord Mu Qingfang appeared a little older than his colleagues, by which he’d probably meant that the man was just tired or something, but this head disciple Mu Qingfang appeared to have ten years on all the other head disciples. Which was good! Shang Qinghua approved of their future head healer not being a teenager and having more training!

On the bad side of things, Airplane had also once said in Proud Immortal Demon Way that the Zui Xian Peak Lord Zhang Qingyan liked his drink too much. This was the peak specializing in alcohol, so it had seemed to make sense! It was supposed to be funny, if anything! Well, at sixteen, Shang Qinghua found out that the System had focused too much on the “too much” part of that statement and now the head disciple of Zui Xian Peak was pretty clearly a budding alcoholic. (Sometimes a cultivator’s constitution and ability to “cure” themselves just… made a person drink more. A lot more.) Which was… not good.

At seventeen, Shang Qinghua met Mobei-Jun.

He didn’t know where to get started with Mobei-Jun.

Somehow he’d… forgotten that Mobei-Jun had been originally based on Airplane’s idea of “the perfect man” and not the super pretty, muscular but slim-waisted protagonist type? The real Mobei-Jun was… tall… and big… and thick. Mobei-Jun’s intimidating features were… more striking than pretty. The first time Shang Qinghua had come back to his Leisure House and found this spoiled brat of an ice demon napping shirtless on his bed, and gotten an eyeful of all that heavy muscle and chest hair, he’d nearly knocked himself out on the doorframe trying to turn away before he had a heart attack.

Mobei-Jun really was going to be the death of him, holy shit.

Especially because this ice demon really was a spoiled brat! Airplane had described this character as being arrogant and apathetic, so now Shang Qinghua had to deal with a Mobei-Jun who took long baths and then carelessly dripped water all over the floor and all over fresh sheets! Who ate all of Shang Qinghua’s cooking and ungratefully only demanded more food, sprawled over furniture not really fit for someone of his size, and then watched Shang Qinghua like a fat tiger! Ahhh, this demon really was lucky he was handsome!

Mobei-Jun was also kind of violent, and mean, which was… well, it sucked.

Back to the sect that Shang Qinghua was now actively betraying, however, as far as he could see, there was still one future peak lord missing.

It wasn’t Shen Qingqiu, who Shang Qinghua had thought would be the last one to show up. Shen Qingqiu had shown up and had been advancing through the ranks of Qing Jing Peak before Shang Qinghua had even met Mobei-Jun, which meant that Yue Qingyuan had finally stopped looking like someone had torn out his soul. (Shang Qinghua had been forced to grit his teeth every time that someone mentioned how privileged that Yue Qingyuan was to have been granted that year of secluded cultivation in the Lingxi Caves at such a young age.)

No, of all the peak lords, it was Liu Qingge who Shang Qinghua had yet to meet.

After meeting Mobei-Jun and becoming an inner disciple, the System had given Shang Qinghua three years to make it to head disciple, probably because the deadline for a new generation of peak lords to ascend was fast approaching. He was working hard to achieve that! Not only did he have to sabotage the current favorite, but he had to make sure all his own training, missions, work, and research were as close to flawless as he could get it! All while keeping an intruding ice demon happy! He wasn’t totally sure that he was going to make it at this rate, even though he’d been here for years.

So it was a little concerning that Liu Qingge hadn't shown up yet. There was so much left to do. A world-state that had yet to be established. Liu Qingge had work to do here!

Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu still had to develop a hatred for each other as disciples that would extend to everyone believing that Shen Qingqiu had murdered Liu Qingge as peak lords, after all. Granted, all Liu Qingge really had to do was beat everyone else on Bai Zhan Peak up to obtain the position, and it wasn’t exactly hard to get Shen Qingqiu to develop a lifelong grudge, but the guy was still cutting it pretty close.

It was possible that Liu Qingge was already on Bai Zhan Peak and making good progress, but that he was just so solitary and focused on searching out the next big battle that Shang Qinghua had just never had the opportunity to meet him. Shang Qinghua did his best to avoid Bai Zhan Peak most of the time, honestly! He was curious about where Liu Qingge was, about what the man looked like, but he didn’t let himself sweat at not seeing the future war god, when he already had so many things to sweat about. The System had taken care of bringing in everyone else, so Shang Qinghua was sure that Liu Qingge would follow sooner or later.

Shang Qinghua’s first sign that something was wrong was that, on the day that Liu Qingge finally announced his existence by beating up everyone on Bai Zhan Peak, everyone was saying things like, “I can’t believe some kid managed to topple all of Bai Zhan like that!”

He… may or may not have ignored this sign.

To be fair to this poor writer-turned-disciple, though, he’d been up all night finishing some paperwork catastrophe the An Ding Peak Lord had thrown at him to fix, as some kind of “test” of his logistics skills. Upon hearing the latest gossip, Shang Qinghua thought, “Oh, finally?” And then his overtired brain collapsed from the effort of thinking two words together in a sentence, and all he could manage from there was to feel the intense need to go to bed at a maximum, static-y volume. No words. No more thinky thoughts. Just the need for speedy sleep.

He stumbled through the rest of his day and then passed out for 18 hours straight. In hindsight, this would have been the time when the gossip was at its hottest. He missed all of it.

When he woke up, everyone was still dealing with the aftermath of what had happened on Bai Zhan Peak, but the conversation had shifted more towards replacing Qian Cao Peak’s depleted supplies and the repairs to Bai Zhan’s training grounds. Liu Qingge was the name on everyone’s lips, still, but everyone knew the basic information now. Now, everyone was just exclaiming over and over again how unbelievably young (and pretty) he was to have bested every other disciple on the sect battle-focused peak. This didn't seem too strange.

The System probably would have based the War God's appearance on his sister, Liu Mingyan, a strong contender for the most beautiful woman in all of Proud Immortal Demon Way. Liu Qingge apparently being a very pretty boy fell neatly into line with all the other character design surprises that Shang Qinghua had gotten smacked with so far.

If Airplane had known that he'd be transmigrating into his novel, maybe there would have been even more handsome men! And everyone would have lived happily ever after and nothing bad would have happened ever, probably, but also there might be more sexy guys too.

-

TBC

[ookami-tsun]

Could you do Tartaglia x Reader? Back when Tartaglia used to be Ajax, Ajax was completely smitten with the reade. However, he was too nervous to admit his love for her.

First love

Version 1.1

Hello~ this story is uneditted~ ( i didn't have time to read and edit this but i did have time to help refine tsun's original idea but she is the one who makes it come to life... im only gud at ideas :p -ookami )

"Y/N!"

I turned around hearing a familiar yet long gone voice... Belonging to someone who left this place long ago.

Seeing brownish hair at the lower area of my vision, I glanced down to find that this someone is kneeling down in a proposal style

"A-ajax?! Didn't you go off to train?"

"I am done with my training..." Ajax look at me while blushing as he brought a bouquet behind him and offered it to me. "I am here to fulfil our promise..."

"..Promise...?" I folded my arms and brought on hand up to support my chin as I search my memory "Do you mean the one where I told you that I will marry you when you grow taller than me?"

Thinking back... It was when Ajax was 12 years old and I was 15 years old. I have never ever thought that he would really remember a promise we made at such a young age.

This reminded me of how cute Ajax was when he was just a small cutie who was strangely attached to me, trying to understand and imitate whatever I am doing. I used to want to kidnap him every time he gave me that cute smile...

Cough...! Let's get back to the main point..

This promise was made after this incident when he tried to stand up against bullies even though he was half their size... A cute shy boy who was skinny and soft, with no muscles to fight. But his spirit was stronger than anyone that I have met...

Flashback

It happened during a regular normal afternoon in Snezhnaya, where cold wind blew from all direction and one has to constantly keep moving to keep themselves warm...

...

"Y/N!" someone called out to me while rushing towards me while holding some flowers in his hands

"Ajax! You are early today... And you bring flowers again? You brought so much that my house would soon overflow with flowers" I smiled at him as I softly knock my knuckles on his forehead and his cheeks turned slightly red, such a cute boy, blushing when others talk to him.

"B-but you said not to bring chocolates to you...So... A-anyways, what are you doing today?" Ajax asked me as he peek into my bucket as I stopped in front of him while carrying a bucket and fishing rod.

"Ah, Ajax..." I messed up his hair with my hand as he leaned into the bucket, which is filled up "Wanna come? I going to cook the fishes I caught"

"Fish...?! I want to eat!" he stared at the fishes as he started to look like a cat that is can't wait to have a bite.

Not wanting to wait any longer, he quickly grab the bucket claiming that "I want to help you" before pulling on my arm to rush to my house and as we walk, I decided to talk to Ajax as a caring older "sibling"

"Hey, how is your training? I heard that-"

Suddenly I felt a force that pushed me really hard towards Ajax and I tried to avoid falling towards him, which caused me to...

"Ouch!" I massaged my ankle as I turn towards the cause of my injury.

... It is the school bully who always managed to avoid getting into troubles, in one way or another

"Oh... Look at this, isn't this, stupid little kid who always acting like they are too high to talk to us peasants...? Someone that is not taught to understand simple respect... Y/N, didn't I tell you that you should give me, your master, whatever your caught when you go ice fishing..." he laughed and started to pull on my hair and patting my cheeks before slapping hard after squatting down. "Call me master and apologize for not listening to simple command!"

"..L-let go of Y/N!"

Ajax started to push the bully, trying to stop him from harming me any further, causing the bully to fall on the ground, bringing himself to the bully's attention.

"You shitty brat! Another idiot that yet to be taught! You will not get away with this!" he quickly stood up and grab Ajax collar, pulling him away from the ground and started punching him.

This caused Ajax to struggle moving vigorously which ended up with Ajax kicking the bully's family jewel by chance, causing the fall of the evil man.

"Fuck you, asshole!" the bully squat down in pain as he covered his jewels, hoping to relief the pain, yet unable to touch as it will make the pain more obvious. "How... How dare you!!"

As the bully roll around in pain, I pulled Ajax into my arms, trying to protect him if the bully managed to stand up and try to hit him.

Lucky for us, when Ajax managed to kick his balls and causing him to scream, it attracted the adults' attention and the bully was brought somewhere probably to get punishment while we were brought to my house to treat our injuries.

....

"Ah..Be more gentle! It hurts!" Ajax protest as I wipe the blood away from his face, he went silent before spitting something out onto his own palm... His tooth.

"Look! You lost your tooth over this... Next time, don't try to be brave if you meet someone that is stronger than you, or.." I brush the cotton over another cut on his face earning a whimper from him. "... become strong enough that you can protect you and your family..."

"Protect... my family..."

Ajax suddenly went quiet glancing on the floor before glancing up to look at me in the eyes, showing determination that I have never seen before, shining in his eyes.

"Y/N... Then, when I grow stronger, will you marry me?" he grabbed my hand in his smaller and softer hands, "I will protect you, so that no one will be able to harm you... Will you be my wife?"

I smiled at him as I secretly awed in my heart "Ajax... If you remember what you said after you grow up, I will marry you "

This is probably one of those talks that children... To think I get to hear this from Ajax... He is so cute!

... Present

"Well, I never imagine that you would ever remember this promise and came back to fulfil it"

I snicker as I use the back of my hand to cover my mouth.

"Y/N! Please take me seriously, I am really serious when I made the promise..." he said as he gave a pout

Ajax who is currently holding my hand in his, made me realize that Ajax who was shinny little cutie is now grown taller than me and matured into handsome and responsible young man. This shows me that he was not blabbering about the promise like a kid that was randomly talking their mouth off: he is determined to take me as a wife.

I cleared my throat as I turn back to face him, this movement of mine was noticed by him who repeated his proposal as he started to look more nervous than before with every second.

He hesitated for awhile before pulling me into a hug. As I feel his muscular body from where we are touching, he started talking and I could feel his tenseness "Now, I am taller and strong enough to protect my family... So will you give me the honor of becoming your family?"

I started feeling that my cheeks are getting warm and I buried my face into his chest... No one else that proposed to me before made my heart beat so fast.

"Will you marry me... Ojou?"

My heart beats for just one person... Ajax... My Ajax

"Sure... Please take care of me, dear husband"

I know that he will never mistreat me and will always treat me as his treasure... Just like a dragon that will fiercely protect their heirloom

[mediocre-writerr]

witchcraft [hope mikaelson]

Hope Mikaelson x fem reader

Requested: Hello!! I saw that you write for the Vampire Diaries and the Originals, but I didn’t see any for legacies. But if you’re willing I was wondering if you could write a Hope x fem reader where the reader is human and you can take it from there :)

Hello friend! I love the Legacies and just caught up with all of it so I am willing to write for them now! I hope you enjoy!

*not my gif*

It was another late night shift for you at the Mystic Grill. Your boss told you that you had to work later on school nights to make up for not being able to work morning shifts due to school. 

You didn’t mind, you had the whole afternoon to get homework done and study. But when it came to sleep, lets just say you had little to none. However, on most late nights a beautiful girl would walk in restless. 

She was brunette with the most piercing blue eyes you have ever seen. At first you were surprised how comfortable she was just walking around late into the hours, but as you got to know her you knew she could handle herself on her own. 

You came to learn that her name was Hope. And you were intrigued by her mysteriousness. She would always leave at the most random times and you never saw her outside of the grill. It’s like she randomly disappears. 

One night you went out to look for her, but she was gone as soon as she walked out the door. It was odd. 

You may rarely see her, but the times you two shared together is all you think about sometimes. Whether it’s in class listening to a boring history lesson or at work when no one is coming in. 

“Mystery girl! You’re back!” you exclaim as you see the brunette come and sit at the bar top in front of you. 

She has a small little smile on her face and when you mean small, it was small. You can’t recall seeing a full on smile from her since you met her and she’s been here quite often. 

“Do you want the usual?” you ask and she nods, “Got it. One peanut butter blast with whip cream at the bottom plus a side of fries coming right up!” 

The mystery girl finally speaks up, “You remember.” she says another small smile on her face and you nod. 

“Of course I do. You’re my favorite.” you say with a little wink before going back to washing the glasses with your handy dandy rag. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you hear the ding from the kitchen indicating that her food was ready. You put your rag away and grab her food from the kitchen window placing them neatly in front of her. But not before you steal a fry and plop it into your mouth. 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.” she says with a smile, but this time it was a little bigger. 

You place your finger up to her lips, “Keep it down I do it with every customer and I still haven’t gotten fired yet.” you say jokingly. 

Her smile is replaced with a smirk, “I’m not special then?” she asks teasingly. 

“Oh no. You’re very special, like I said you are my favorite.” you smile at the girl with your flirtatious demeanor, you take another fry from her plate.

You spend the rest of the night talking and hanging out with each other. It was a lot easier to do when no one else came into the restaurant. 

“Can I show you my favorite spot? My shift is just about over and the sun is about to rise, so I know you probably have to leave soon anyway.” you ask her tying your apron up before throwing it into the dirty apron bin. 

Mystery girl raises her eyebrows up, “You’re very observant.” she says and you nod.

“Like I’ve said you’re my favorite.” you say shrugging and she smirks at you again. You stick your hand out and smile at her, “So shall we?” you ask. 

She takes your hand and you guide her outside into the middle of the square. There was a nice little gazebo that was just built, ever since it was built you like to sit outside and drink coffee as the sun rises. 

You reach the gazebo and use your hand that’s in hers to spin her around. After she spins you pull her in towards you as you release her hand and place your hands on her hips. As if on instinct she places her hands on the side of your neck. 

Your faces were mere inches apart as you just stared into those beautiful blue eyes. She smiled at you the first big and genuine smile you’ve ever seen from her, “Well that was smooth.” 

“I try.” you say to her and you guys sway together even when there is no music. 

You begin to lean in closer to her, so close you can feel her hot breath on your lips. She looks into your eyes and back down at your lips. The mystery girl is about to attach her lips onto yours when all of a sudden her phone goes off. 

She rolls her eyes at the sound of her phone before stepping away to have a small conversation, “I’m sorry. I uh I have to go.” she says and you nod slightly disappointed, but you hide it with a smile. 

“Duty calls?” you ask and she nods sheepishly. 

Probably the first time you’ve ever seen her unsure. She’s always so confident, “Sadly.” 

“Ah well I’ll see you soon hopefully?” you say more as a question than an answer. 

She steps closer to you before planting a kiss to your cheek, “You will.” She begins to walk away when all of a sudden the realization hits you. 

“Wait!” you yell from where you’re standing, “What’s your name?” you ask. 

“I’m Hope!” she says showing me her genuine smile, “I’ll see you later Y/N.” Hope replies with a little wave and you smile to yourself. 

Hope. What a beautiful name. 

You’re snapped out of your beautiful memory when a customer smacks the bar top in front of you. 

“Oh I’m sorry sir.” you say shaking your head, “What can I get for you?” 

The grill was empty. The manager had to run home to a family emergency and assured him that you would be okay to close up. He was hesitant, but eventually left so the grill can be kept open. 

“I don’t want anything on the menu.” the man says and you look at him puzzled.

“I’m sorry about that sir, what would you-” you begin before he cuts you off. 

All of a sudden you feel yourself being pushed up against the wall in an instant. The man’s hands were on your neck. His eyes were darkened and his teeth turned into fangs. You tried to let out a little squeal, but his grip was so strong nothing could come out.

“Where is she?!” he yelled and you had no idea who he was talking about. You’re about to try and ask who, but his grip tightens and you can feel yourself losing breath, “Where is Hope Mikaelson?!” he asks again. 

“Right over here asshole!” she yells as the doors flip open. 

An older man with her this time, he was carrying what looked to be a crossbow. But your vision began to blur as your air was fading more and more. 

“Hope do the spell.” the older man says and she nods. 

Hope begins saying words that seemed to have been in Latin and the creature whatever the hell it was fell to the ground. 

But before you can even react to what happened the entire room went dark. 

You awoke on a comfortable bed, your eyes were still closed as you heard a soft conversation from the other side of the room. 

“So that’s the girl you keep sneaking out to see?” you heard an unfamiliar voice ask teasingly. 

You hear someone else sigh, “Yeah that’s the one.” Hope says, you know that voice anywhere, you dream of her voice.

“She’s pretty.” another voice chimes in.

“Yeah, but she’s normal. We’re not.” Hope says and she sounds disappointed. 

But you were confused. What does she mean that they’re not normal?

You finally sit up a little bit as your eyes flutter open. Hope is standing on the opposite side of the room with her arms crossed. There were two other girls standing there with her another brunette and a blonde. 

The three girls attention is caught when they notice you move. Hope immediately comes to your side and places herself onto the foot of your bed.

“Hey how are you feeling?” she asks.

“More confused than anything.” you respond and she chuckles softly.

“Yeah I bet you have loads of questions.” she says and you nod. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t wake up in a cell.” the blonde says with a giggle and your calm face immediately twists into fear.  Hope and the other brunette stare at her in disbelief, “That wasn’t the right time for a joke...got it.” she whispers. 

“I’m sorry about her, my sister can be a bit of an airhead sometimes.” the brunette says before getting closer to your bed and extending her hand out, “I’m Josie and this is my sister Lizzie.” 

You take your hand and shake it lightly, “Nice to meet you.” 

“And you. Hope talks about you all the time. That’s how we know you’re special.” Lizzie teases and you can see Hope blush, but she looks away before you can look her in the eye.

“We’ll leave you two to talk.” Josie says with a smile before waving. 

Hope places her hand on your cheek and she rubs your cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Her eyes scan your face making sure that you’re okay. You have more things to worry about though. 

“What was the thing that attacked me?” you asked whispering, “How aren’t you guys normal?” 

She lets out a sigh removing your hand from her face, “That was a vampire. We’re at The Salvatore Boarding School, a place for special gifted people. Witches, vampires, and werewolves.” she says.

Your eyes widen and they feel like they’re about to pop out of your head. It felt like a roller coaster in your mind, but all you can ask was another question, “Why was he looking for you? What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything, my dad was a bad guy he hurt a lot of people. They look for my dad and when they find out you know he’s dead. They go after me because I’m the closest thing they can get to hurting him.” Hope says and you can tell that took a lot of her to say.

I mean it took you many many nights of her visiting and conversations that the two of you had to just learn her name. Probably learning about her being a supernatural being and that her dad is dead was probably last on her list. 

“Tomorrow they’re gonna erase your memory. Of all of this mess.” she says gesturing to the room and then she brushes a stray piece of hair out of your face.

Her hand lingers on her face for a second.

You tilt your head puzzled, “Wait will I forget you too?” 

She lets out a deep breath and smiles at you sadly before nodding, “Yes, you’ll forget me too.” 

“Why? I don’t want to forget you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I really like you Hope. There’s not a moment in time where I don’t think about you.” you whisper taking a finger under chin and turning her to face you.

She stands up abruptly, “How do you think this will end Y/N? You almost died once because you were seen with me. I’m dangerous! I can hurt you! I can protect you all I want, but it’s not gonna be enough one day.” 

You can tell that she has been pondering this and fighting her herself with this for God knows how long. You slowly get out of bed a headache pounding from the night before. 

“It’s worth it Hope. You are worth it.” 

You crash your lips onto hers and she immediately kisses back. Like everything that she has been wanting, everything that she has been holding back from was finally coming out. It felt like fireworks, sparks flew in your head and you couldn’t help but feel a little dizzy because of it. 

She rested her forehead against yours, “I won't let them erase your memories. I’m going to try and protect you. I promise.” 

“I know you will Hope.”

You kiss her yet again and she smiles into the kiss widely. The door swings wide open. The two of you break apart as Josie and Lizzie walk in. 

“You know this is our room right? I don’t want you guys having sex on my bed!” Lizzie says and Hope laughs while you blush shyly. 

You hide your face into Hope’s neck and she plants a small kiss onto your forehead.

[lantur]

It's 2 am, it's my finals' week, I just finished 'delicate' and I'm crying in my bed.

Nice way to start this message.

It was a long and beautiful journey, I can't express how much I loved your story.

I read FMA when I was 16 (I'm 24 now), I was randomly looking for some Royai oneshots a week ago (because it doesn't matter how much time passes, I always come back to them) and I didn't expect to find THIS.

This rollercoaster of feelings, devastating and beautiful moments. I'm shattered.

I'd stay hours to talk with you about your work, but I'll try to resume my thoughts.

I loved for example that Riza and Roy didn't always agree, but that didn't stop them to love eachother. I love that she takes some time to build her trust in him again after the Promise day.

I didn't like some of your choices, but - you know what? - it didn't matter, because your Riza felt so real, so in-canon and at the same time so original.

The wonderful thing of this story is that she goes through a full journey, she becomes totally another person at the end and you suffer, you laugh (well, mostly you suffer) with her every step she takes.

I had other things in mind and now I can't remember anything else, great, but I wanted to say this: you made justice to the character and more. Riza and Roy are my favourites characters from FMA and it was a pleasure to read their full story now that I'm changed and grown up.

Your writing is beautiful.

Thank you for everything.

I cannot thank you enough for this!! Writing Riza's story consumed me during the months I was working on it - she felt so real to me in my heart and mind, and I was so attached to her. I'm so indescribably happy to hear that came through in the writing, and she and her journey felt real and compelling to you too. There's really nothing better for me to hear than that, because that's all I could have hoped for in writing delicate and telling my vision of her story.

I'm so touched that you, as a longtime fan of FMA and Riza and Roy, felt that this story did justice to them. Thank you SO much for taking the time to read and also to share your thoughts with me. I truly appreciate it. ❤️ I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week!

[they-dont-get-my-back]

A customer (Chapter 1 out of 2)

Protagonists: Jeno Lee, original character, NCT Dream members mentioned Genre: mystery, noir, self-knowledge “Jeno wanders to a mysterious bookstore where he encounters even more mysterious individual, but somewhere deep down Jeno knows that this story is actually only about him.” TW: none 

See other members’ stories here:

TBA

Author’s note: When I saw this particular moodboard, an idea sparked inside my mind. With a constant support from my friends, I finally finished the first half of the story that I am presenting to you now. Thank you for your love and kindness, this is for you, I hope you’ll like it :) Special thanks to Woo and Volpe for proofreading <3

Any feedback, reactions, comments, recommendations or ideas for other members’ stories are welcomed, I wouldn’t mind turning this into a series.

Tagging: @neocluefor , @your-local--trashcan​  Let me know if you want to be added!

A dark, dim evening, the sun had just set, bits of the dusky orange sky shone through the maze of power lines, chimneys, rooftops and posts. As Jeno was walking down an empty tucked away backstreet, he felt like he set foot on a hidden crossroad between two worlds. The feeling of the unknown and the unexplored sent shivers down his spine and he quickened his pace, as he did not wish to get held up at here any longer than necessary. He told his manager he just wanted to grab something warm to eat and stretch his legs a little, but the truth was… He wanted to be alone.

Not so long ago Jeno realised he has a very rare gift – a gift of invisibility. Wherever he’d go, no matter how many people surrounded him, he felt unseen and unnoticed. Jeno, we need you to voice over this ad. Jeno, we need you to shoot a dance video. Jeno, we need you to smile for the photos. No, no, do the thing with your eyes, yes. Oh, you’re still here? We don’t need anything now. Sorry, were you saying something? Listen I gotta go, talk to you later maybe? Everyone knows Jeno the idol, but how many people have heard of Jeno the person? How many people remember Jeno the friend from school, Jeno the boy next door? What’s the point of rushing back into dorms, if he’s going to feel all the same? At least at here I can hear my own thoughts for a change. Without having to fight to get a word in. Noone’s interested in what you have to say anyway, so be a man, Jeno, and go sulk somewhere where people don’t have to look at your sorry face. Hmm, jjamppong sounds nice.

He walked where his feet led him, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes staring blankly on the passing pavement tiles, red tiles, black tiles, grey tiles, shapes and figures, forms and contours. His mind unfocused, his thoughts scattered. Stop. Wait. Like in a dream, he saw himself standing in front of a narrow door, black paint flaking away, a few variously shaped and randomly placed yellow window panes, a big brass handle waiting to be pulled. He noticed a little oval plaque in his field of vision and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a bookshop. A minute passed, maybe ten, maybe an hour. Jeno glanced around, scratching his head. „Uh… good evening!“ He bowed his head a little, even though he didn’t see anyone at the counter. Nevertheless, he felt like he’s being watched, scrutinized, evaluated. Something was staring at him and Jeno suddenly wished that he was invisible again. He turned his head to where he felt the uncomfortable feeling coming from and there it was - behind the desk, on the left side of the wall, squished between large overflowing bookcases, right next to a tall wooden coat-stand shaped like an old tree - a red door with a big round opened eye painted on it. The door was opened, just a few centimetres, and a faint piano music was coming from inside. Come in, if you dare.

Jeno cleared his throat. Might as well look around properly, before they come back out. It’s no use of shouting or trying to make myself heard while that song is still playing. Listening to the melancholic but somewhat promising tune, Jeno inspected the surroundings. The shop looked messy and untidy. Chaos was the king of this castle, carelessness the lady of this household and together they ruled over their tiny land made of heaps of books, magazines and papers haphazardly placed on each other, shelves full of postcards and pictures, walls covered with ornaments and embellishments. Without a single tag or label in sight, Jeno wondered how could anyone find anything in here. He imagined the miscellaneous objects flowing into the shop and never leaving again. His gaze landed on a flashy pink paper packet filled with chewing gums in a no less showy wrapper on one of the shelves. Cool, a freebie! He reached for the gum, unpacked it and threw it into his mouth only to immediately pull a disgusted face as he chewed into the candy. It was like biting into a tasteless rubber. He spit it back out into the crumpled wrapper, put it next to the rest of the unused gums and set out to look for a trash can. He tripped on the thick dusty carpet and nearly stepped on something that looked rather expensive. This must be a bookshop with super rare prints and antiquities of some kind, this isn’t a place for me, I don’t fit in here, I should leave. And so, he stayed, bound in the place by a force of increasing curiosity he did not quite understand.

The piano stopped playing. Perfect, now’s my chance. „Hello? You, uh, have a customer! Heh…“ he stuttered awkwardly. Jeno wasn’t the type of a person who would enjoy excessive attention. If he ever tried to voice his opinion and was met with disregard or unconcern, he would simply think it was because his opinion on that matter was stupid and pointless. That’s why he was fairly used to this, not being heard. The only difference was that usually the rest of the members would fill the room with their chatter, so his lack of involvement in the group activities would normally go unnoticed. Unlike here, where the only sound was a deathly silence and Jeno’s thoughts humming in his head. He already spoke twice, what more does he need to do to be heard? Raise his voice? I just want to buy a book and get out of here. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak and right at that moment, the piano started playing again.

„Wha-, are you kidding me?“ he mumbled quietly under his breath. He looked around, confused, as if he was looking for understanding and sympathy from the other angry customers waiting for their turn to be served. He was the only one here and yet they’re making him wait. What is this, a private concert? Did they possibly saw him coming? Did they think that they’ll impress him with playing lowkey creepy piano melodies? This better not be a prank. He really wasn’t in the mood for fans and he didn’t think he could fake a smile at this hour. But he didn’t notice any hidden cameras, or any security cameras at all for that matter. He paced around the room nervously, scratching his neck. That’s it, I’m leaving. I don’t need that book anyway. I don’t need anything. If they don’t want me here, that’s okay, I’ll do just fine on my own.

He made a few strides towards the front door and then turned around again. „Hellooo! I came here to ask about books! Books that you happen to be selling!“ he raised his voice to the most pleading yet still polite level. The piano stopped again and Jeno gazed hopefully at the red door. He started walking back to the counter, slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare off the possibility of finally being served. He leaned on the desk, ready to place his order, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden surface. And just like that, as if it wanted to laugh directly into Jeno’s face, the piano started playing yet another tune, as impatient as Jeno himself. He pursed his lips and bent his head down. What the heck is this place, huh? A bookstore or a concert venue? At least serve some coffee and cake next time! He could just leave, never come back and forget about this place. But he really needed that book, he’s been looking for it so long, and he knew, he just knew, that this is the right place to look for it.

„Alright!“ Jeno raised his head and pointed his index finger to the door, from which the music was coming. „I’m going in there! And I’m going to knock real loud, so you better not be scared or surprised or angry!“ I doubt they can hear me, he thought, as the music only grew louder and louder. Okay, here we go… He approached the door behind the counter, cautiously, and with his finger still pointing forwards he tapped on the red wood with his nail a few times, gingerly, like he was expecting the door to bite his hand, after a while he shook his head and finally made a few feeble knocks. He put his head inside with a quiet: „Excuse me…“ and peeped into the backroom. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the music stopped playing and Jeno opened the door wide. The room was small and empty, safe for the piano by the wall. No other door, windows, cabinets, electrical appliances, boxes, merchandise, not even trash. Just four bare walls and the damn piano that he swore was playing just a mere second ago.

Jeno gulped, his hand on the doorknob, his feet midstep, his whole body ready to run in the even that something would go wrong. Now now, be brave. „Hello?“ his voice was dry, hoarse and small. Goosebumps covered his nape. „Oh! A customer!“ said a voice behind him. „JESUS CHRIST!“ Jeno nearly fell back onto the ground, as he made several hurried steps backwards, tripping over boxes, books and papers, knocking over the tree coat-stand which embraced him in its patulous grip, making him feel trapped. „Can I help you?“ said the voice and as Jeno’s ragged breath started to decelerate again and as the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, only now he saw a pale face hovering in the shadows of the dimly lit place. The initial shock was over and, gradually, the face grew hair, and connected with a torso, arms and legs. „I…“ Jeno stuttered as he finally untangled himself from the clasp of the coat-stand and stood straight, „came here to buy a book.“ He clutched his hand near his heart and blinked hard for a few times. Get a grip, man, get a grip. „Then you’re in the right place! After all, this is a bookstore and we store all kinds of books,“ smiled the face that no longer resembled a ghost, but a person. „I’ve been… waiting here for 15 minutes… at least.“ He tried to sound angry, but the truth was he wasn’t really sure of how much time he actually spent here. Oh my god. A thought just crossed his mind. What if they’re already closed and I didn’t notice and just practically barged in here demanding to be served?!?! He wiped his forehead and opened his mouth to apologize for his intrusion, but before he could say anything, the figure in front of him spoke again. „Gosh, but I didn’t hear or see you at all!“ said the person, covering their red coloured lips with their hand. Typical. „I… tried to…“ Jeno sighed. If they didn’t hear me, I should have made more effort I guess. „I apologize, I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.“ He bowed his head slightly. The person, dressed in a silky black dress that rustled with every step, fixed their dark eyes on Jeno’s apologetic face and shook their head disappointedly. They passed Jeno, who hurriedly backed out of their way, bumping into the red door, oh, I could have sworn the eye was open. huh, weird, and started to rummage through the bookshelves and bookcases, opening drawers and cabinets, dancing around all the clutter with their feet bare, without knocking over a single thing.

„So?“ asked the bookstore owner, combing through a particularly overflowing drawer. „Sorry?“ „Which book are you looking for?“ Jeno resisted the urge to facepalm himself and laughed nervously instead. „Ah, the book…“ Wait, the book? What book? „Umm… the book,“ he frowned. Why is he here again? He finished his schedule, yes, and then got out of the car sooner than the rest, because…? Because I wanted to buy a book? Uhh… I guess? „Um, yeah, I was hoping to get a book about the history of-“ „Hey!“ the character was now standing in the middle of the room, their arms crossed in an irritated manner, the long red painted nails tapping angrily. „Did you eat my chewing gum?“ You IDIOT! And you even left the wrapper and the actual gum right there on the shelf, ugh! „I’m really sorry,“ Jeno started apologizing at the double, „it was just sitting there, I thought-“ „How did it taste?“ asked the owner. „Um…“ Jeno blinked a few times and frowned. „Weird,“ he answered, looking down at his feet, like he was feeling guilty and disappointed at the same time. „I remember really liking this brand and it surprised me that is tasted so… stale,“ he answered truthfully. The woman sighed. „No wonder. It’s a special edition, a collectible. It’s been sitting here for five years. And now it’s ruined.“ She took the whole package in her hands and shook her head, discontented. Who the hell stores a pack of freaking chewing gums? „I guess I should have treated it better, maybe all the exposure made it tasteless and bland.“ She clicked her tongue. „What a shame. But at least the wrapping is still colourful and pretty to look at.“ „Uh… yeah. Sorry about that.“ She put the gums back in place and resumed with the thorough scouring of the area. „What book did you say you wanted?“ Oh, yeah, the book. The damn book again. „Ah, yeah, um… I was interested in the techniques of-“ „How about this one?“ The woman, currently kneeling down by one of the huge bookcases, proposed. Jeno stared at her, eyes wide. She reached under the furniture, scrabbled and felt around a bit, until she triumphantly retrieved a blue hardback tome. Just what is going on in here?  

Jeno watched the woman get up again, dust down her knees with a sigh, and then walk back behind the counter. She put the book on the desk and Jeno finally got a good look. The jacket was dusty, creased and torn in a few places. There were no pictures or details, it was just… blue. „Sound…” he read out loud. „Sound?“ Jeno raised an eyebrow. „That’s the title, yes.“ „It looks like a… heavy reading.“ He took the book in his hands to weigh it, it must be at least 500 pages long. „And pretty expensive.“ „It’s a poetry book, if you’re worried about the pages. And you don’t have to pay me for it.“ „Ah, I-… Wait, what? You don’t want me to pay you for it?“ „No, because I am not selling it to you. I’ll only let you borrow it. I‘ve always wanted to read it, because I am curious about the story, but… Do you sometimes get the feeling, be it a book, a movie, a photograph, or even a new pair of shoes, that it’s calling out to you? And when you finally get it, it’s like it’s your missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you need and it makes you complete?“ „I… guess, yeah.“ But not really, no. I can’t remember the last time I had this feeling. „Well, turns out, this book doesn’t complete me.“ She packed it in a plain paper bag and sealed it with a decorative tape. „But it might complete you,“ the owner said expectantly, sliding the wrapped book towards Jeno. He touched the paper and for a while, the room drowned in complete silence and time stopped, like a movie that froze and only showed a single frame. A frame with a book wrapped in a plain paper bag in the center, a woman’s hand with red fingernails touching it on the right, a man’s veined hand touching it on the left. Jeno’s hand.

He moved his fingers the tiniest bit and with them, the book. His body was immediately hit with a wave of electricity, the time unfroze and Jeno sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, like he just ran a hurdle race. „Will that be all?“ asked the owner with a kind smile. „I… can’t just take it.“ „You already did.“ She pointed towards the book Jeno was hugging anxiously, like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. He looked down, sighed again and finally stood up straight again. „I can’t take it for free. Even though I’m just borrowing it. How do you know I won’t run off with it?“ „Are you a thief?“ „No, but… I could be!“ „Well, in that case… How about you leave something behind then, like a pledge? I quite like the ring of yours,“ she pointed on Jeno’s hand, which he quickly pulled away. „That’s… it’s not anything fancy, and it’s bent, twisted… it’s worthless.“ „I’ll lend you a thing that’s worthless to me and you’ll lend me a thing that’s worthless to you. That’s a fair deal I’d say.“ She held out her hand. Jeno hesitated. What will the others think when he comes back without his friendship ring? They probably won’t even notice. „Alright…“ he took off the ring and rolled it around for a bit in his hand. Then, with a guilty feeling, he placed it in the owner’s hand, immediately regretting his decision. „Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day and see you whenever!“ he heard the woman say with a smile, pocketing the ring quickly. Then the door behind him shut with a loud bang and he was staying outside, with a book he didn’t know he needed and without a ring he didn’t remember wearing.

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 7

:3c

I exchanged @biodad-bruce-month‘s Day 7: Fashion Show with Fight!

Chapter 7: Fight

-

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords

-

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Amira looked at the white board inside her walk-in closet, reviewing the new information she got last night. During last night’s patrol, Amira took a break halfway through, using the time to ask Tikki more questions regarding the miraculous. 

They were earrings, which thankfully, can shift in design but can’t change its original form: earrings. 

So here was Amira, sporting all black studs. Simple and hidden in plain sight. Amira also found out that the appearance of the earrings can always be changed as Tikki doesn’t have to use too much energy to do so. Therefore, Amira has been planning on changing its appearance after every akuma attack, an easy tactic to see exactly how much Hawkmoth himself knows about the Ladybug miraculous.

Next up, her yo-yo. Turns out that it’s more than just that. While it works as a tracker and phone, it only works when Amira is transformed. No yo-yo, no way to communicate with Chat. Because of this, Amira decided to get him a burner phone to make sure the two can communicate outside the suit. Will also help in case they have to communicate during an energy break while there is an akuma. 

Her costume. Thankfully, Tikki had told her that it morphs into whichever design the holder has in their head. With more concentration on the design, the more the costume will have what the holder would want. After patrol, Amira made it her mission to get the utility belt in her design and after plenty of trial and errors, Amira got it. 

Now she had smoke pellets, a taser, a small utility knife and a first aid kit at her disposal. Of course, the belt came with a price - her dagger.

Brushing out her hair, Amira looked at her reflection. She always hated having long hair. While Dick always told her that he liked her hair when it was long (because he liked braiding it for her), Amira never took a shine to having long hair. 

It was a hassle to brush out, to clean. During track (even though she was only on the team for two years), Amira hated seeing other girls have their lucky amulets in their hair. A special pin or hair tie from their fathers and sometimes from their-

“-to Marinette!” Tikki yelled, snapping Amira from her trip down memory hell.

“Tikki, I live across the school. I won’t be late.” Marinette stated, continuing to stare at her reflection.

“I know that, but your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Tikki said, showing her the multiple texts she was receiving.

Marinette took it, smiling when she saw they were from Wally and Dick, telling her to have a better day at school than yesterday’s disaster. “Are they from your friends?”

“You can say that.” Marinette said, tucking her phone into her pocket, looking at her reflection once again. “Tikki. Can you grab my fabric scissors on the table near my monitors?”

-

“It suits you.” Alya randomly told Marinette after the end of their first class. “Your hair, I mean. Don’t think I didn’t notice it.” Marinette simply blinked, wondering why people always said a compliment before bringing up their actual motives. “Name’s Alya-”

“-Cesaire. I know. Now if you excuse me, I have a class to get to.” Marinette filled in, getting up to leave, only for Alya to grab her wrist. “Let go.”

“Sorry!” Alya apologized, letting go of Marinette. “I just...I just wanted to tell you that you were a bit too harsh on Mlle Bustier yesterday. You should apologize.” Alya didn’t expect a scoff from Marinette.

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what I know is right.”

“Mlle Bustier-”

“-should’ve done her job correctly instead of enabling, especially now that Hawkmoth is a threat. But even with Hawkmoth out of the picture, Ms.Bustier shouldn’t have just assumed it was Ivan who instigated the argument. There’s always two sides of a story and we should always make it our job to figure out who is right. Sometimes, we even figure out why things happened the way they did. Sometimes, we find out we are wrong and when that happens, we have to accept it. If not, how else will we grow?”

With those words, Marinette gave Alya a little bow before going to her next class. Hopefully Marinette can find M. D'Argencourt during her break to try and convince him to let her join the fencing club...again.

 -

“Well, that went easier than I thought.” Marinette told herself, walking down the school steps. M. D'Argencour had happily accepted her into the team, proceeding to tell her the team’s schedule.

While it took a while to hunt the coach down, Marinette was about to find him towards the end of the day.

“Why exactly do you want to know fencing?” Tikki asked her from the pocket inside her sweater.

“I just found it...interesting.” Marinette lied, knowing she couldn’t tell Tikki that her father never let her take up the hobby. While Bruce had allowed Jason to learn how to use a sword, Jason quickly dropped it. Dick was also taught how to use a sword, but he complained how annoying it would be to carry it around, hence the reason why he carries escrima sticks.

While fencing wasn’t the same, fencing will help her gain more skills she can use during her fights. You never know after all.

After greeting Tom and Sabine and squishing Bridgette’s cheeks, Marinette made her way to her room, only to find him in there...again.

“If it’s about the Miraculous, I’m still not giving it to you.” Amira said, throwing her school bag to the floor. She whispered the renouncing spell before reaching into her jewelry box, where countless dupes rested. Oh how she wanted to cackle when she saw her father look at her with wide eyes. 

“Amira, hand them over.” Bruce ordered, stretching out his hand in hopes of Amira doing the correct thing.

“Why won’t you trust me?” Amira gritted, balling her fists. “Why don’t you trust me to do the right thing?”

“I do trust you.” Bruce said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I expect you-”

“I can’t just hand earrings over! The people need me! They need Ladybird to-”

“You don’t need to be running around Paris playing hero, Amira. Let Diana-”

“Must I remind you that I was given the earrings? It’s me who they want! Me! And no! I’m not playing hero! Hell, I’m not even a hero! I’m a vigilante! I’m doing what’s right by being Ladybird, by protecting the people the only way I can.” Amira reasoned, looking at her father. “And trust? Doesn’t that go both ways?” Amira set out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. “After all, when were you going to tell me about Batgirl? About...the new Robin?”

How Amira wanted to scream when Bruce remained silent. 

“How did you find out?” Amira scoffed.

“Find out? The whole internet was talking about it! My class was talking about just earlier today!”

It happened during break. Just as Marinette was leaving the class, she bumped into the second surprise of the day in the form of teen model Adrien Agreste. 

Adrien apologized for the accident when Chloe pulled him into the class and began to ‘teach’ him what it meant to be part of a school. The only reason Marinette even remained in class at that point was because she heard Adrien talk about this being his first time in a school...meaning that up until now, he had been homeschooled all his life.

Kinda how like she was up until she was around seven to eight years old. But to be homeschooled until 13? How lonely he must have been. Especially when she heard he was the only child at home.

You’re really ungrateful.

Marinette stiffened, feeling her heart pick up in pace upon remembering Jason’s words. She already knew that...she knew, but was it wrong of her to want something else? To want to have something different than what she currently had?

As Marinette was fighting off the beginnings of a breakdown, Alya’s sudden burst almost triggered it.

“Since when did Robin come back to Gotham?!” Alya yelled, rising from her seat. 

Marinette didn’t need to hear any more, running out of the classroom and locking herself into one of the girl’s bathroom stalls. While she hated having breakdowns, Amira was glad to have had one, as it helped her gained more insight on how Hawkmoth’s powers worked.

He can’t control you if you’re in the middle of an emotional breakdown and can’t register his words. In other words, he can’t control you if you’re already out of control. 

Guess it’s good to know that if Joker were to ever come to Paris, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to take over him. 

Amira looked at her father, awaiting for his response. “Under different circumstances, I would have forgiven you for replacing Jason with another guy. But it hasn’t been a year since he died and you’ve already replaced him. 

You know how Jason felt, you know he lived with the fear of doing a single thing that would give you a reason to kick him out of the manor. And while you always assured him you would never do that, here you are, doing just that.” Amira watched as her vision went blurry, wiping them away as she collected herself again. 

“I wasn’t replacing-“

“You were. You are. And not only have you replaced Jason, but it seems you’ve also replaced me.” Amira looked at herself. “Batgirl? Really? You know that was the name I wanted to use if you ever let me fight crime alongside you. Of course, that never happened.”

“Amira.”

“At this point, I don’t care what you do.” Amira gripped all the turmoil inside her. “Right now. I just want you to leave.”

“Amira.”

“Leave! I don’t want to see your face Bruce!” Amira yelled, shocking herself at her outburst. 

Bruce? Why did it feel so wrong, yet so right? She tried it again. “I don’t want you anywhere near me Bruce, so leave! Just leave!”

And he did.

As she watched Bruce leave her room with a heavy heart, she slumped to the floor, standing back up when she felt something approach her. “Tikki!” Tikki appeared before her. “Spots on!” A second later, an akuma appeared before her, Amira quickly capturing it. Before letting it go, Amira quickly searched for a glass jar and a box in her desk.

She let the now purified butterfly go into the jar, surprised to see that it didn’t phase through the jar. So it was just a normal butterfly after all. When coated in magic, the magic allowed it to phase through whatever it wanted to to ensure that it made it to its target.

Calling off her transformation, Amira quickly got to work, carefully placing a tracker on the butterfly’s wing. 

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Tikki asked, looking at her holder with worried eyes.

“I’m alright Tikki. I’m alright.”

-

No, she wasn’t alright.

The next day at school, Chloe tried to stick gum in her seat as a revenge plan for once again chewing out Mlle Bustier for allowing Chloe to interrupt the classroom with another one of her stupid excuses. Not to mention Chloe using her father’s position to get away with said excuse.

It didn’t help when Marinette was stuck with Alya trying to ask her about her past in Gotham and Alya claiming to be her friend.

They barely knew each other and this girl was already clinging to her like a newborn chick. 

While Marinette tried to avoid her at all costs, Alya always found her, Marinette hating it. Didn’t she know about personal space?

Her week got worse when Chat accepted the burner phone but refused to be trained by her. Something about him not needing it.

Thankfully, she was able to vent to Dick and Wally, although more to Wally since Dick was busy with university. 

Days went by and even then, Amira knew she was never going to adjust to life in Paris.

It’s only been four akumas and this city already thinks they saved the world. 

While technically they saved Paris, Ladybird and Chat have yet to fight off a Victim that can become a potential threat to the world. Bubbler and Mr.Pigeon weren’t exactly the worst to deal with, but they weren’t the easiest to take down either. As for Stormy Weather and Lady Wifi, Ladybird realized that it was Victims like them who posed a threat to France. Victims with intangible powers were a force to be reckoned with after all. 

But just because the duo saved Paris four times, it didn’t mean their work was done. They had yet to find out who Hawkmoth was.

Oh, did she mention the ridiculous statue they made in her and Chat’s honor because of the four Victims they took down so far? Long story short, she didn’t go to the ceremony and Chat must’ve told the artist something stupid because here they were. Fighting a Victim all thanks to Chat and his loud mouth.

“Chat! Stop trying to regain your honor and let me-” Ladybird yelled, only to get pushed back by his bo.

“No! This is my fight!” Chat hissed, attempting to land a hit on his copycat. Copycat grinned as he parried all of Chat’s hits, flinging Chat’s bo to the side when he saw an opening. 

“He’s good.” Chat said, landing next to Ladybug as he retreated. Ladybird scoffed, gaining an arched brow from her partner.

“He’s good? Got some pretty low standards there Chat. Have you ever seen Nightwing in combat? This guy is nothing compared to him.” With that, Ladybird charged into the fight, picking up Chat’s bo and using it against Copycat.

The two fought, Ladybird noticing Copycat starting to hit her with less force, more sloppily. He was starting to become more aggressive, half of his hits missing. 

“Chat! Switch!” Ladybird yelled, knocking Copycat’s staff from his hands and throwing Chat his own back to him.

With Chat distracting Copycat, Ladybird waited for the perfect- there!

Chat had launched Copycat into the air, Ladybird using this to wrap him with her yo-yo and slamming him down. Holding him down, Ladybird turned to Chat.

“Where’s his akuma?”

“Here!” Chat said, taking out a photo from Copycat’s pocket. Ripping it, it released the akuma, Ladybird unwrapping her yo-yo and capturing the akuma. Now purified and having the tracker implanted, Ladybird released the butterfly. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybird watched as everything was returned and fixed. Turning to Chat, she glared at him. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes. Meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

NEXT

[starstruckmyths]

AU where Steve who wander around the world after being thawed runs into Bucky who escaped hydra earlier and living a quiet life in some far away country. Maybe Bucky is carrying a stack of books or flowers and they collide, maybe he is a barista or maybe Bucky stops his car for a hitchhiker. Their reunion is no less surprising but a lot more beautiful.

All of these are absolutely amazing and I cannot--- Every single one of these is just great, and I could daydream about this all day I swear😭. 

Bucky stopping his car for a hitchhicker are you kidding me???? Imagine if it’s also raining and really cold and Steve is shivering and tired, curling up in the warmth of Bucky’s car, not realizing who the long-haired man beside him even is until later... gahhhh. I can just imagine so well Bucky being all worried for Steve because he’s cold and wet and sfsjdfhsjdkfhsjf. 

OR fsfsjjfsfs Bucky carrying a stack of books and they collide, and then they look up at each other and Bucky, having little memory, just goes to apologize while Steve is staring at him, jaw dropped because that’s Bucky, and gahhhhh

And then you say “flowers” and I go cri because FLOWER CROWNS sifhdkfjksfhsjkdfhskjdfhs. I love flowers and flower crowns they’re special to me.

I could not pick between these, so I jabbed my finger randomly at the screen and I got ✨barista✨. I made Steve the barista cus I needed Bucky to walk in, but let’s get this party started bby✨

|X|

There was something about the guy behind the bar.

Standing there behind the counter, tending to things so unimportant in the grand scheme of the universe, he had a certain youthfulness to him, as if he was just entering the peak of his life, and yet he looked many ages old, as if there was little that surprised him anymore, having seen many horrors and lived happy memories. He looked a little lost, a little unsure, and yet so determined. It was as if looking at a person who had no idea what to do, but they were determined to figure it out.

He had not meant to stop, really, had not meant to still in his steps and turn his head just so, throwing a second glance at the guy he had briefly glanced at a moment before. It had been nothing but his usual observation of all present in his vicinity, nothing but a remnant of his installed thoughts that everything and everything could be a danger, and he needed to have visual on all around him, but this guy caught his attention.

Truly, he had not meant to enter the coffee stop, wearing his cap low over his eyes but keeping his posture relaxed and open so he would not look like a robber, and he had not meant to actually sit down at one of the tables while he had other things to do. His backpack stood beside his leg, the heavy weight keeping him at least somewhat grounded, and he blinked a few times before looking back at the bar.

The guy was still there.

His hair was a mop of honey blond strands, framing his eyes that were blue like the water bottle caps in the fridge behind him. Even from a distance James could see his pink lips move as he spoke to the people around him, curling into a smile so gentle something in his chest just... clenched. Like a hand reaching into his rib-cage and seizing his heart, almost painfully so.

Did he know this man?

He had met people before he was supposed to know somehow, usually family or friends of the victims he had caused. Some of them recognized him as they had crossed the Winter Soldier, or even locked eyes with him, but had never been the intended target. This man did not look like someone who might know one of the Soldier’s victims, but he could never know for sure. There were still many gaps in his head, and it was difficult to get a good grip on it most of the time.

One of the men behind the counter threw his head in his neck as he barked out a laugh. "Keep dreaming, Rogers!" he said, and he slapped a hand on the blond’s shoulder.

Rogers.

He knew that name.

It was certainly not an unpopular name in the US, so it could be anyone, really, but how many Rogers’ were there with blond hair like woven gold and eyes like the afternoon sky and deep sea made love to each other? Certainly not that much, right? He was short on data these days, with no one left to forcibly stomp it into his head. He did not miss the force, the hurt, the pain, but sometimes he did miss the simplicity.

Perhaps he had once met a target who looked like this man, or perhaps he had seen this man on a mission long ago, but could not remember because of the many wipes. Though that did seem unlikely because he had been free for around three years now, and this guy was only barely in his twenties. It had to be something else.

The vision of a scrawny blond with blood sticking to his noise and a feral shine to his blue eyes shoved itself to the front of his mind, demanding its place in his thoughts like it had done many times, but James pushed it away. He pushed away the laugh like bells, the attitude like nothing else, the thin hand brushing away a set of bangs that kept flopping into his eyes. He pushed it all away.

That was years ago.

Still, James got up from his chair, and approached the counter.

For a reason he could not explain, he reached his hand to his head and took off his cap. Perhaps it was not the best idea, as there was a camera hung up in the corner of the room, but he risked it. SHIELD had his back now, his name was being cleared, he was off the books and technically he did not exist.

When he moved into the frame, the blond soon noticed him and flashed a polite smile. "Hi! How can I help—"

Full stop.

It was not a look he got often—or, at all, actually. It was a look of disbelief, surprise, and raw, utter, unbridled shock all at once. As if he was staring directly into the face of a ghost. Rogers’ lips moved, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide like dinner plates, cheeks pale and jaw slack. James tilted up his head a little, gazing back curiously as a small frown formed between his brows. Not entirely the reaction he had been expecting.

Then, finally, the kid seemed to regain the ability to speak, and he whispered out a single thing. "Buck…"

He knew that name; he had read it in a museum.

"I go by James now, actually," he said, before he could stop his stupid mouth from running. He had spoken almost unnaturally slow for his doing, as if he could not quite find the words and hesitated before he said them. Perhaps he did. He had never really done that before, but perhaps this was a special case. A special case with a special person.

"Oh," the blond said, blinking a few times fast, as if unable to believe what he was seeing. He probably did, judging by this reaction.

"But," James said then, "After hearing it from you, I think I like Bucky better."

A short pause fell between them, the sound of humming machines and the faint murmur of people in the background the only thing to disrupt it. Perhaps they knew each other better than James originally thought, though he was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The color only slowly returned to Steve’s cheeks— Steve?

Steve Rogers.

He had read that name in a museum too.

Just as James – Bucky? – wanted to say something again, Rogers beat him to it with a harsh sigh of disbelief and a look of near desperation. "I thought you were dead. Are you… dead?"

"I don’t think so," James answered, "But my memory’s a little foggy. Do we know each other?"

Rogers nodded, lips still parted and eyes almost pleading, though James did not know what they were searching for. For him. The skinny blond tugged at his sleeve again, grinning widely with a gap between his front teeth. A woman called at them from across the street, an apron tied before her skirt, and they went running towards her. The blond coughed, a deep and scrapy sound, as if he was sick. He had a name.

"Steve."

It was only when Rogers said, "That’s right" that James realized he had said the name out loud. It was correct. Steve Rogers. Steven Rogers. Steven Grant Rogers. Why did that name ring so many bells and had his heart beat a notch faster?

Because it was the scrawny blond in his head.

"Wanna get a coffee later?" Bucky asked, "To talk and try making sense of this?"

Steve nodded once more, the shy hint of a smile curling around his lips. "I’d like that."

[ambersock]

On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

[scandeniall]

love in argentina

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary/warnings: you went to study abroad in argentina, he went there to play volleyball. you meet and your love story starts in argentina./ um yeah a ton of spoilers including 402. oh and just implied sex for 2 seconds

wc: 3.2k

notes: in honor of both oikawa’s birthday and the manga officially being over. its been a ride and i’m glad hes getting the ending he truly deserves. 

You're not sure when it happened. Growing up, you never really thought too much about love. You didn’t live in this fantasy that one day you’d get your happily ever after with your prince. You just lived as usual, focusing on your own dreams and goals. Being present and if love happened then it happened.

Oikawa isn’t quite sure when it happened. Growing up it had been a battle between volleyball and his own insecurities as he was determined to be the best. Sure he dated around, but it never amounted to much. There were so many people in the world to prove wrong and love had been pushed off the agenda.

But somehow it happened. Love had found its way into both of your lives and you found it within one another. It came without warning and despite every logical thought in your brains to run you didn’t. Now as you look at your fiance enter the arena your heart is filled with joy. You got your happily ever after all thanks to your last minute decision to study abroad in Argentina. 

----

Another clap of thunder caused another groan to rip through your throat. Looking around your vision was minimal due to the downpour. The occasional shiver ran through your spine whenever the wind would pick up. The covering of the protruding building could only do so much, afterall.  You eyed the directions on your phone for the nth time and still came up useless. When you decided to study in Argentina you looked at the frequency of rain, pleased at its limited occurrence. It was just your luck that your first weekend there you’d gotten caught. 

A hoard of footsteps pounding against the rain soaked pavement caused you to look up from the device, and before you knew it a group of 5 men stood under the buildings canopy out of breath, soaking wet and laughing. Out of instinct you found yourself moving away from the group of strangers as you listened to them talk and laugh. You heard one of them mention the next nearest building they could run over to get towards their destination. 

You eyed the phone again trying to make sense of the tiny map when three of them had run off. Right before the remaining ones could go you found yourself speaking up. Either be lost in San Juan for who knows how long or take your chance asking strangers for help. “Excuse me, could you guys point me in the direction of the university. I’m lost and I really need to get back to campus.”

The words came out rushed and you apologized for disturbing their day when the brunette in the group just laughed. “It's no problem. I’m Tōru. Tōru Oikawa.” 

That was how you met. He’d offered to show you the way back, claiming that he knew what it was like to be new and lost in the city. He’d waved his teammate off, before telling you to keep up. In between running from building covering to building you found out he was a player on the club team originally from Japan. 

“So you went across the world for volleyball? That's kind of cool.” You huffed out as the two of you ran under another canopy. After each one you'd allow yourselves to stop for a moment to not only catch your breath but to chat. “You went across the world to study.” “Yeah, but I’m only here for a semester. It seems you plan on staying. Not nearly as cool.”

Once the two of you arrived at the campus you offered to let him come in and dry off for a bit. “It's the least I could do.” You acknowledged that he didn’t have to show me all the way here and that surely he had better things to do. After a reluctant agreement the two of you found yourselves just talking. Oikawa had given you several food recommendations even ordering the “best empanadas ever” to your place. You two just seemed to have clicked. There was a sense of familiarity just like talking to an old friend that was instant. 

“I have to get going. But it was great to meet you.” As the two of you said goodbye you contemplated for a moment about to offer your own number when he does the same. “In case you get lost again,” he insisted, handing you his phone with a laugh. “My first friend in Argentina,” you joke back. After thanking him again he bids you farewell with a light smile. “I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you saw each other again and again. In between your classes and his practices the two of you found yourselves texting quite often. In between teaching eachother new phrases in Spanish, you shared food recommendations, stories of your own childhoods within your respective countries and went on several adventures. 

“You know, I haven't actually been here,” Oikawa hummed out from beside you. You had an assignment that required you to go to the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Franklin Rawson, the fine arts museum. It’d been nearly two months since you met Oikawa and when you'd asked him if he knew where it was located. Having no clue, he just decided to tag along with you. “Is that why you got us lost like 5 times on the way here,” you questioned before walking ahead to the next exhibit. “Hey!”

“Apparently there are 945 pieces here,” Oikawa read off as the two weaved throughout the other visitors, who were likely tourists. “Oh really? That's a lot,” you’d said mindlessly searching for a less crowded place to stand. You were vaguely aware of the hand resting on your upper back, his attempt at not allowing you two to become separated while also not pushing too far. You shot him a kind smile as he opened the door to the next exhibit. 

Throughout the museum the two of you took pictures with your favorite works, a few selfies here and there that Oikawa forced you to send to him before you’d go home and forget. He’d invited you to his next game, one you gladly accepted. You’d seen him play only twice before and were utterly mesmerized by his poise, control, and how he seemed to command the court. After the two of you left he insisted the two of you go out for a few drinks. It was a Saturday night afterall. 

You never quite made it to a bar. The two of you found yourselves just sitting on a bench downtown sipping your local drinks and just talking. “I love coming out at night, it's always so pretty,” you noted before taking another sip of your drink. The athlete only nodded in agreement. You didn’t know it then but that was the first time he’d wanted to kiss you. 

From the constant chatter of people walking he’d tuned in soleyl on your voice. The way the mixture of street and shop lights illuminated your face caught him off guard. However he pushed that feeling away just to enjoy the present. Eventually you’d go back home and he’d be wherever. Still playing and still working towards his goals. “Hey, are you ok?”

He was immediately pulled out of his thoughts, sending you a genuine smile. “Yeah, just a bit sore.” He noticed the way you frowned and immediately regretted using that lie. Especially once you questioned him about his knee, a fact he’d let slip randomly one night over a late night text session. “I’m fine, besides the club would pull me so fast if I slipped into those habits again.” He’d also told you about how his friend would always have to drag him out of late night gym sessions. “Iwa gave me the nastiest bruise one time because I was in too late. It was an accident though, he was kinda shocked at just how hard the ball hit me too,” he laughed when he told you the memory. Then proceeded how he got to guilt trip his friend everyday until it healed. You only nodded but not before scolding him that somehow you’d go all the way to California to bring his friend back to kick his ass if needed. 

-----

“Told you it would be worth it.” The scold you had ready for Oikawa didn't make its way out as your mouth dropped. The mountains completely took your breath away. When you’d first agreed to let Oikawa take you out to see nature you didn’t anticipate the lowered temperatures nor the annoying hiking trails. When you’d seen the first steep path you looked at him in complete disbelief. “You're not serious right now. I don’t even have on the right shoes Tōru,” you complained eying the worn sneakers with very little traction. “It’ll be fine, I’ll help you. The view is worth it.” With that you reached for his outstretched hand and went with it.

“It's beautiful up here,” you said slowly taking in the view. “El Leoncito. Blanco took me here the first month I got to Argentina. It was a rough week and he said I needed to get away. Camp out for a weekend and regain my focus.” You felt yourself nodding along as he spoke. “I remember how much you complained about your last test grades and figured you could use the break too.”

You’d known Oikawa for four months now. Your first semester in Argentina was coming to an end soon, and suddenly you were glad you didn’t let homesickness take over and decided to stay for the academic year. That gave you another few months with who turned out to be your dearest friend in the country. “Thank you,” you replied softly. While he had been looking at the view you managed to sneak a few looks at his profile. He didn’t know it then but that was the first time you’d wanted to kiss him. 

The nights cooled down more than you could have imagined and you found yourself shaking despite the campfire around you. You mentally cursed Oikawa again for not informing you to be better prepared. The sound of a zipper shifted your attention as he emerged from the tent the two of you had set up earlier. “Looking a little cold over there,” he teased sitting next to you. “You suck.”

His laugh filled the air as a sudden warmth came over you. You look over to see he’d placed a pare blanket over you. You were filled with the urge to kiss him for the second time that night. “I’m not such a shitty guy now am I?” You only shook your head in amusement. “Yeah, I guess not.” 

The months came and went. The two of you grew closer as the time for you to go home neared. Neither of you remember quite when it happened. It had been spring break for you and you had been hanging around Oikawa’s place for the most part. Even while he wasn’t there, the two of you had become that comfortable in less than a year. One night he came back unusually agitated and touchy, and you found yourself walking on eggshells until he just blurted out his feelings. “I fucking like you. More than a friend and it's annoying because I kept getting distracted tonight because one of the guys pointed out that you’d be going home soon.” 

Your eyes widened as you watched him down his first shot of the night. A drink he’d insisted he needed after the night he had. After you hadn’t said anything for a few moments it seemed like his words dawned on him and his eyes widened. Before he could apologize you’d crossed the short space from his couch to the kitchen to press your lips against his. 

“It's annoying, but I like you too.”

After that the two of you essentially began dating. You’d never officially declared a title but it was clear as day that you were together. When the year ended you decided to stay in Argentina at least for the summer, moving in with him for the time. In doing so the two of you put off the impending goodbye for at least 3 months. 

That summer had flown by before either of you knew it. In between having more time to watch him play and your Argentinian adventures, they were the best months of your night. You’d spend many nights laughing and making out on the side of bar buildings on nights out. When time permitted, taking random day trips outside of San Juan and exploring together. You’d accumulated enough pictures together to fill out an entire photo album in that time alone. 

One of your favorite memories came after you’d gotten home from said day trip. During which you guys brought three different jars of dulce de leche from different shops. You two had decided to try your hand at determining which shop had the best by putting them in various deserts. 

“Wait we have to try them plain first,” you exclaimed the second the two of you had made it back. Taking the bag you made your way to the kitchen pulling out the jars. “The one I picked is going to be the best,” Oikawa assured, taking a spoon from you. “What if we fed each other and I took pictures to send to Iwa to remind him that he’s single.” You laughed before responding. “Oh please, he’s kinda hot. I doubt he's that lonely.”

“(Y/N) you can’t call him hot. I’m supposed to be the hot one,” he jokingly complained, arms coming to lock around your waist. Leaning your lips towards his, you mumbled with a lazy smile. “You are the hottest. But you’re going down, Grand King.” You pulled away laughing as his distressed look at your use of the dumb nickname. “I should've never told you about that.”

“Too late now,” you hummed opening the jars to set them out. “You wanted to make your best friend jealous right,” you questioned as he made no move toward the treat. You smiled at the sparkle in his eyes. “Hell yes.” 

After you two couldn’t come to a consensus about whose pick was the best you two stared at the ingredients you'd also purchased to use the dulce de leche with. “Now what are we going to make,” he mused, tossing his arm around your shoulder. “Lets ask the internet.” You felt his lips press against your cheek before he agreed. 

By the end of the night you’d managed to make a successful pastry, some random cake where you had to substitute a few ingredients and hope for the best, and a sorry excuse for ice cream. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you laughed as you tried to keep mixing the failure. “It’s not thickening up at all.” You moved aside as your boyfriend took the bowl from you, muttering about letting the athlete stir before adding on. “Thick like me?”

“It's as flat as you,” you deadpan. 

“It’s a liquid!” 

-----

“Hey (Y/N). Are we going to make this work. You know when you go back home.” He’d asked you one night as you cuddled on the couch. Your time together was coming to an end and you were leaving in two days. It’d been something neither of you ever mentioned, even during the packing stage. You raised your head from his chest searching his eyes. “Do you want to?”

Another silence fell over you two as you both processed your question. Eventually he gave you a slow nod. “Yeah. I do. Do you?” At your nod Oikawa let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Good. So it's settled yeah,” he questioned. “Yeah it is.” You smiled as you maneuvered your way onto his lap. Settling your knees on each side of him, his hand your cheek pulling your lips towards his. “Good,” he repeated right before his tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands slid lower. 

That had been 5 years ago. In that time you'd gone back home to finish your degree and he stayed in Argentina. The following year his time in Brazil coincided with a school break of your own and you were able to meet him there. You’d gotten to meet the iconic Hinata and the two of you teased your boyfriend to death with Grand King. 

The distance was never easy. There were times where you both questioned if it were worth it. Stress from both of your lives outside of one another would pile up and you had to learn to work through it. Learn to comfort despite being thousands of miles away. Reassuring you that you were indeed the smartest person he’d ever met. Reassuring him that he didn’t want to quit. He was amazing and he found volleyball fun. You’d even been the one to propose going to Brazil trying to find the fun in the game. 

When he told you he was considering the possibility of naturalising you even encouraged it. And then he proposed to you. He had a small break and had flown out to surprise you insisting that it was now or never. He wanted you forever and knew if he didn’t just do it he’d keep thinking about it forever. Of course you’d briefly discussed marriage, stating that you wouldn't mind an engagement, even if it lasted for a few years while you both got your career, living and citizenship situations settled. So when he did it you made the decision to permanently move back to Argentina. 

“Are you sure-” he’d asked you shortly after proposing. The high of you saying yes had worn off and now the realization of what this really meant settled. You’d discussed marriage prior to him starting the naturalization process. The two of you had been sitting in your yard hand in hand watching the stars. “Of course. I was looking into moving back anyways. Wanted to surprise you.”

His hand tightened in yours as he eyed your face for any semblance of a joke. “Really?” You only nodded pressing a kiss on his clothed shoulder. “Of course. It's where it all started. Besides, I have no doubt that you’ll make the olympic team. Gotta be there in person for moral support right?”

Suddenly you were tackled back onto the blanket your now fiance was hovering about you. “God, I love you.” Fingers playing with his hair you returned the sentiment. “I love you too.”

Neither of you are sure how it happened. You’d met at 19 and nearly a decade later at 27 you'd both accepted your fairytale ending. You found love in Argentina and your heart swells at the announcement of your Fiance at the Olympics. You can imagine his scowl at the mention of him never making it to high school nationals and find yourself laughing. Eying the ring on your finger you think back to the promise he made you two years ago on the night of the engagement.

“I want to marry you and I want to keep playing. So if you don’t mind, can the wedding be after the olympics.” There's not a single part of you that regretted agreeing to those terms. As you watched him continue to train your pride for him continued to grow. As he entered the arena ready to play against his home country you found yourself yelling. 

“Beat them all Oikawa!”

a/n: i hope u enjoyed this. I’ve been in a slump and on vacation past week but i am back (i think) and better than ever. I have a 10k atsumu piece coming within the next few days so i hope u stay tuned for that. Both of that and this are me tapping into my creativity and im very passionate about 10k words esp.

also; if you enjoyed this I think you’d really like my sakusa piece no limit to you. it has a similar feel and to date is my fav thing ive written (and 5k words)

lastly: did yall enjoy my google argentina research LMAO. ngl after um i kinda wanna go there tf

[cunningambitousdetermined]

ingenue (a random thing i wrote)

hi guys! so idk if anyone remembers but a long time ago i just kind of randomly posted this random little blurb and not long ago @rorybutnotgilmore reviewed it and im so so glad she liked it. i was messing around the other day and decided to rewrite it and make it longer with more background and... NAMES!! so here it is...

ingenue: an innocent or unsophisticated young woman

It wasn’t the first time he’d been her target. Katana hoped that it would be the last. The orchestra’s music cascaded through the doors of the great ballroom, like a tsunami ready to swallow her whole. As Katana slid her hand over the handle of the great oak, her mind sharpened to a point as sharp as the dagger strapped to her thigh. She let the door slide open and let herself get lost in the swarm of people.

“Prince Charles is our target for next week's mission” Katana had let a smile spread across her face. "He is attending a ball next week on Friday. We will be sending in one agent to take him out. As you all must know, we have been trying to take Charles out for quite some time. He seems to be smarter than we originally anticipated and has lots of luck on his side. But, despite that, I trust that this will be our last ‘attempt’ and rather a success.” The Director had clasped her hands together, eagle-like gaze cutting through the room of girls. Katana’s flutter of hope pattered out at the Director’s words. They seemed to be directed at her, though the Director’s cold eyes never found hers. The prince had slipped out of her grasp too many times to count and it infuriated her to no end. She would’ve liked another chance to put his arrogant, smirking face away for good. Sighing, she guessed it was probably for the best. At least this time she wouldn’t have a chance to screw it up. The girls all around her stood up at once, filing out of the room, whispers of who was to be assigned flitting from each of their delicate lips. Katana stood to go as well when she heard her name. “Katana,” She turned slowly, grimacing in apology. As predicted, the Director stood behind her, looking regal as always.

“Yes, ma’am?” Katana kept her eyes trained to the ground but she could feel the Directors stare burning a hole through her forehead.

“The mission is for you.” Katana’s head snapped forward in shock, meeting the eyes of her superior. “I want him out. I want a clean, perfectly executed extraction and lights out. I know what this mission means to you, but he is too important to the bigger picture to let him get away when we cannot guarantee his silence. This is your last chance.” Katana couldn’t find it in her to shut her mouth. She gaped, open-mouthed, as the Director swept from the room. As her footsteps faded from the hall, Katana had felt her mind begin to race. There was so much to do.

The ball was in full swing as Katana swept down the staircase. She was a vision in a stunning red ball gown, hair was done up in a sort of a braid crown. She looked every bit like a princess. But if anyone had paid attention to look closer you could see the glint of malice in her eye. A small hint of the black band that held her knife peeking out from the slit in her dress. People danced, girls spinning, the music rising and falling, but Katana’s eyes sought out just one figure. Her gaze locked onto him. Charles. He stood at the back of the room, his black suit cut perfectly to frame his toned body. He threw his head back in laughter, his eyes lighting up and a smile overtaking his sharp features. Katana shoved down the little flutter her heart did at the sight. This was not the time to lose sight of her mission. He was a target. A tap at her shoulder made her flinch, ready for battle. The man standing behind her jumped, startled by her reaction.

“So sorry, madam!” he apologized, reaching his hand to rub the back of his neck in a very boyish gesture. “I was only wondering if you would like to dance?” Katana affixed an easy grin to her face and took his outstretched hand. He led her to the floor, taking her waist as they started to dance. “I’m Michael,” he said, “and you?”

“Ka-” Katana’s mind raced, a name, she needed a new name. “Kourtney!” she nearly yelled, “My name is Kourtney,” she repeated, softer this time. He smiled and as he did, his eyes scrunched up just a bit. The music rose and his grip tightened on her hand as she spun. She played along with him, smiling and laughing, but she kept her eyes trained on how much closer they were getting to the prince. She glanced back to the prince’s corner once more, calculating the distance between them. She was lost in thought, plotting her escape from Michael when the prince’s gaze met hers. She watched in horror as his eyes widened in surprise. She wrenched her gaze away, quickly letting Michael spin her away and praying he didn’t recognize her.

“I’m so sorry, Michael,” Katana spread what she hoped was an apologetic look across her face, “I’m getting a bit thirsty, can we take a break?” She bats her eyelashes at him and he smiled even bigger.

“Of course! Silly me, I should’ve asked that first. I’ll go get us drinks.” He led her to a table and set off to find a waiter. She waiting until he had rounded the corner to turn away and quickly make her way toward Charles. His black tux came into view as he began to walk toward a table. Katana quickened her pace to catch him, nearly tripping over her heels. He was just an arms reach away now and she let herself fall forward, crashing into Prince Charles’s back. He whipped around, arms swooping Katana up and holding her by the waist.

“Your Highness! I’m so sorry, I- I must’ve tripped. Please forgive me, I am so sorry your Highness!” Katana didn’t have to fake her blush, she could feel the redness heating her cheeks at his large fingers gripping her sides.

His eyes widened for just a moment and her heart stopped. He knows, she thought, of course, he knows. But then, she blinked at it was gone. A charming smile spread across his face as he continued to help her up to standing. “No, no. It’s fine. You know what they say, the ladies all fall for me,” he smirked and chuckled at his joke. He looked up and started, confidence falling for just a moment. “Do I know you?”

Katana let her gaze drop bashfully, “No sir, I’m sure I would remember. But I am very sorry, your highness. Sir.” Katana felt her cheek flush darker as she faked the awkwardness that she hoped came off as charming. She knew it worked as the prince’s grin grew and his eyes scrunched up.

Charles cleared his throat, “Well, now that you’ve so elegantly fallen for me, I’m sure you would like a dance?” He let her waist go and extended a hand forward, gaze boring in on her.

Katana’s eyes pinned a corner on the other end of the room where you couldn’t be seen except for guests who would find themselves in the coat closet for the night and knew that that was where she had to end up. Ignoring the reflex to roll her eyes, she took a deep breath and put her hand in his. “It would be an honor,”

He led them onto the dance floor, hand tightening on her waist. The people swirled around them but Katana could feel his eyes trying to catch hers. Finally, as he twirled them around, she let her eyes meet his. The music seemed to slow, his eyes were so pretty, had they always been that way? He smirked at her in the cocky way that made Katana want to roll her eyes. The people around them had become blurs and Katana let her mind wander, get lost in the daze of the ball. The first time that she’d seen him was 10 years ago. He was in the royal portrait that was hung everywhere. She remembered thinking he looked very sad and that night she had prayed that he would be happy. The next time she heard about him was 3 years after that. His face was cut off on the side of the screen that displayed the king. The king had been the target that night but Katana didn’t know what that meant. She knew that the king was evil. He tore families apart. Families like hers. But when she found out they killed him, it didn’t seem fair to leave the boy all alone. This time, though, she didn’t pray for him. The first time she met him, he was her target. Her first assignment. It was just information gathering. She went on a date with him. Despite heavy makeup, a wig, and a fake name, she found herself forgetting that this was a mission. He was nice, gentlemanly, and funny. She liked him and that terrified her. But he was the enemy. It was easy to hate him when his council was still tearing families apart. It was easy to hate him when you saw him on tv with a smirk on his face and 3 girls on each arm. She watched as the charming boy she had met, put on a mask, and became what the people thought he was. And now, Katana liked to believe that the mask never came off.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Charles’s deep voice broke through her train of thought and as she met his gaze, she could see the wall of the secluded corner over his shoulder.

“Oh, nothing. Just admiring the ball,” she said hoping to add some wistfulness into her tone.

“It is very beautiful isn’t it?” he replied, following her gaze to the crowd. She at him questioningly. That wasn’t something that he would say normally. He should’ve said something like “Oh, well you must know, I’m so rich and I have many balls” but he didn’t. He caught her gaze and chuckled. “You must think I’m going soft in the head,” he looked almost embarrassed. It wasn’t a normal expression she saw from him. But then he looked back up and any softness had vanished. The corner was there, she just needed to seize the opportunity. She stepped forward but her foot slipped on the prince’s shining shoe and she fell again into the circle of his arms.

“Oh god, I’m sorry” This time Katana was very genuine about it, “you must think in such an ingenue!” Katana gathered herself quickly and led them toward her targeted spot. This was perfect. What she didn’t see, was the widening of the prince’s eyes.

“Oh- I- it’s fine- ingenue?-” Charles stumbled over his words and his feet but Katana already had him pinned against the walls. “What? Oh, hey…” The smirk returned. I get it, but let’s- ARGH” His voice was cut off with a choke.

“Oh princey, your the only ingenue around,” Katana smirked, letting her awkwardness slide off her and the adrenaline rush through her veins as she wrapped her fingers around his blue tie and yanked it. She let her other hand fall to the small bulge in her dress where her dagger rested on her thigh. Her fingers brushed the metal of the hilt and a small part of her ached to stop. She shouldn’t. She had to. But in her moment of hesitation, she felt the metal slip from her grasp.

“Oh, babe, my little ingenue” Katana’s heart stopped, his hands. They held her dagger.

“But- how?- I- how did you know?” Katana choked out. Ingenue. God, she was so dumb.

Prince Charles grabbed Katana by the waist and flipped her, pinning her to the wall. Her dagger in his hand went up, killing position. Aimed for the heart. Katana stopped breathing. Her blood ran cold, the pit in her stomach larger than life. She closed her eyes waiting for death’s cold fingers to take her away. A sickening crack resounded in her ear and her chest stilled, waiting for the pain. She let her eyes crack open and she found Charles’s eyes on hers. He turned his gaze to the side and she followed it to her dagger. It was embedded in the wall. He smirked, a Cheshire cat, His hands copper her cheeks, leaning in close, warm breath whispering against her ear and down her neck. “Darling, why must you always kill the mood?”

if you are reading this... thank you for reading this far!! i hope you liked it? tagging some people i hope don't mind even to i tag them a lot to see if they like this thing: @iamninaanna @voidmalfoy @pad-foots @le-weasley-simp @ravenclaw-reblogs

[cadence-talle]

Ink Blossoming Across Your Skin

Pairing: Keefe Sencen/Fitz Vacker

Wordcount: 2,295

Summary: “Have we even met the owner? How do we know they don’t, like, beat people up?”

“I think you’re reaching,” Biana says. “Besides, I’ve seen the owners.”

Fitz blinks, reaching up to move one of the soil bags over on the shelf. “You have? When?”

“They’re right behind you.”

Other notes: Based on the amazing au created by @queersofthelostcities​ and @enbies-and-felonies​! It’s not completely like the prompt, but I hope it lives up to your original vision. 

Fitz first notices the shop on a Monday morning, bright colors of the We Are Now OPEN! sign in the window catching his eye as he crosses the street. He frowns, unlocking the door of his flower shop and setting his bag down. 

“Do you know what that is?” He asks Biana, who’s come in a few minutes after him. She shrugs, leaning out the doorway to glance at the store. 

“Looks like a tattoo parlour,” she says. Fitz wrinkles his nose. 

“Ugh. That’ll drive away business.”

Biana hums noncommittally and moves into the back to grab ice cubes for the orchids as their first customer of the day comes in. Fitz forces himself to focus and not think about the tattoo shop. 

It doesn’t work very well. 

“Look, I’m just saying, a lot of our customers are old ladies or moms with kids. Having a tattoo shop next door, with an entirely different vibe and clientele, is going to mess with us.” Fitz angrily stabs the salad he brought for lunch. 

His sister raises an eyebrow, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Are you really talking about the ‘vibe’ of our flower shop?”

“Ugh. I just- who wants to get a tattoo anyway?”

Biana looks pointedly at him and then to her arm, which is covered in twisting vines and flowers. Fitz sighs. 

“Point taken.”

He leans back against the front desk a few hours later, mentally counting the bags of soil they have stacked on the shelves behind the counter. 

“Have we even met the owner? How do we know they don’t, like, beat people up?”

“I think you’re reaching,” Biana says. “Besides, I’ve seen the owners.”

Fitz blinks, reaching up to move one of the soil bags over on the shelf. “You have? When?”

“They’re right behind you.”

Fitz spins around, almost falling over, just in time to see two people enter the shop. One, a short, smiling woman with silver-tipped hair, immediately moves into the shelves of potted plants. Biana taps Fitz on the shoulder. 

“I’m gonna go, uh, see if she needs anything.”

Fitz snorts but nods, and Biana disappears. The other owner, a man only a few inches taller than Fitz, leans against the countertop. Fitz gives him a once-over. Blond hair, blue eyes, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth- he’s hot. 

Only if you pay attention to that sort of thing, of course, and Fitz most certainly does not. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he currently can’t talk that has nothing to do with the man in front of him. 

“I’m Keefe,” he says. “You own this store, right?”

Fitz nods hurriedly. “Uh. Yeah. It was my mom’s- that’s where the name came from, her name’s Della- but now she’s retired, so now it’s mine and my sister’s, and- I’m rambling. Sorry.”

Keefe laughs. “It’s fine. I think it’s sweet.”

Face burning, Fitz glances down at the register. “So, what are you here to buy?”

“Nothing,” Keefe shrugs one shoulder. “Linh wanted to see if you guys had lilies, so we closed the shop and came over here.”

“You-” Fitz blinks at him- “You just… closed your store? Randomly?”

“I mean, what’s the point of owning a store if you can’t just close it at any moment?” 

“I…”

The shorter woman- Linh, Fitz remembers- appears behind Keefe with a pot of Canada lilies. She sets them on the counter and smiles at Biana. 

“Thanks for helping me find these,” she says. Biana flushes slightly. 

“No problem. Have a good day.”

“You too!” Linh picks up her flowers and turns toward the door. Keefe shoots Fitz a smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” he calls. “See you around.”

Fitz nods slightly before they’re gone. As soon as the door closes, tiny bell at the front chiming merrily, he lets out a long breath. Biana’s still staring at the doorway. 

“Uh.” She says. 

“Yeah,” Fitz agrees. “Yeah.”

-/-

To be quite honest, Fitz isn’t expecting to see Keefe (or Linh) the next day. He’s not sure he wants to. A nervous, bubbly feeling rises in his gut each time he thinks about it, and he needs to work. He should just focus on the flowers and not think about anything else.

Unfortunately, flowers are incredibly boring. Fitz loves them, but they’re not exactly the best distraction material; he waters the peonies, rearranges the daisies, and moves one vase of tulips over to the counter for better visibility. And then he has nothing to do. 

Not to mention that it’s Wednesday, which is always one of the lowest-traffic days in a week. Fitz has seen maybe three different customers by the time lunch rolls around, and he doesn’t even feel like moving into the back to eat. Might as well stay out here and watch people walk past the front window.

His head snaps up as someone opens the door. 

“Keefe!”

“Hey,” Keefe says, flopping down onto the stool in front of the counter. “Business slow over here too?”

“Yeah. What’d you need?”

“Well-” Keefe waves a sketchbook in the air- “I have to practice art, for stencils and all that, and I figured, flowers are fun to draw. It’ll be a change of pace, at least.” He grins at Fitz. “So, can I lurk in the corner of your shop and sketch?”

“Uh, sure?” Fitz blinks. “Just don’t interrupt customers.”

Keefe pumps his fist and moves his stool against the wall, leaning his sketchbook on his lap. Fitz does his best to ignore him and moves back up to the register to help the tiny blond woman who’s purchased a huge bouquet of marigolds. 

“Thank you,” she says as Fitz hands her back her credit card. “My girlfriend is going to love these.”

“No problem,” Fitz responds, smiling. “Have a nice day.”

He turns to look at Keefe after the woman’s gone, bent over his notebook furiously scribbling. Five minutes later, he slams the page down on the counter. 

“Eh?”

Fitz picks it up, marvelling at the accuracy; it’s the marigold buyer, the teasing light in her eyes somehow captured even in a black-and-white sketch. 

“Wow,” he says, handing the page back to Keefe. “This is amazing.”

“Psh.” Keefe waves a hand in the air. “It’s not that good.” Still, his cheeks have a definite tint to them as he snaps his sketchpad closed. “I should be getting back to the shop. My lunch break is definitely over.”

“All right,” Fitz says. He’s not sure why he feels so sad. “See you tomorrow?”

Keefe gives him a thumbs-up and ducks out of the store. 

-/-

It’s a week after the first time Keefe comes into the shop on his lunch break that Fitz finally says something about it. 

“Doesn’t Linh need you?”

Keefe looks up from his latest drawing- this one an inked recreation of the vase sitting in the front window. He’s been running his hand through his hair as he works, so it’s sticking up all over the place. Fitz chooses to ignore the warm feeling in his gut.

“Huh?”

“At the shop,” Fitz elaborates. “Don’t you two need to be doing, like tattoo stuff?”

“Nah. She’s on break right now too. Honestly, it’s just nice to get out of the store and away from her terrible attempts at flirting with Biana.”

“Wait, Biana’s over there?” Fitz blinks. “She usually goes to Starbucks for lunch. If she goes out at all.”

Keefe shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s been coming in to eat lunch with Linh for the past couple days now.” He cocks his head at Fitz. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me or something?” 

The question is teasing, but the underlying edge shows how much Keefe cares about the answer. Fitz hurries to backtrack. 

“No! I was just- wondering.”

Shrugging again in a way that says it’s fine and also can we end this conversation, Keefe glances towards the door. “Today’s pretty low-traffic, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fitz says. “Wednesdays usually are.”

“Huh.” Keefe drums his fingers on the table, seemingly bored of sketching, before his eyes light up. “Do you know how to play Spit?”

“Do I know how to play what?”

“Spit! It’s a card game.” Out of nowhere, Keefe produces a deck of cards. Fitz looks around the empty shop and sighs. 

“Sure, why not. Let’s play.”

Fifteen minutes later, Fitz slaps his hand down onto the smaller pile of cards, yelling triumphantly as he picks it up. Keefe groans. 

“I win,” Fitz grins at him. This is the first game he’s won since they started playing, and he is probably far too excited. He slips off their stool, heading over to one of the tulip displays and picking out a wilting flower that had been bothering him. Behind him, he can hear Keefe get to his feet. 

“I should probably be getting back,” he says. Fitz nods and turns around to face him, hand holding the tulip coming out almost automatically. Keefe looks at it quizzically. “Are you… giving me a flower?”

“Uh.” Fitz says, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can. “Yes? I mean, if you don’t want it, that’s okay, I wouldn’t be offended or anything- not that there’s anything to be offended by, it’s just a flower-”

Keefe plucks the tulip out of his hand, staring at it for a minute. “It’s pretty,” he says. “Thanks.”

Then he turns and leaves the shop. 

-/-

Fitz is a little worried that the impromptu flower-giving is going to make things awkward, but when Keefe comes back the next day, there’s no sign that anything has changed. He still sets up in the corner, still jokes with Fitz between customers. They’ve settled into a peaceful rhythm; it’s simple, easy in a way things haven’t been in a long time. 

 And when, a few days later, Fitz hands Keefe another tulip on his way out, the smile he gets is genuine. 

They start to hang out outside of work, just little trips; heading up to the Bronx Zoo to see the elephants (Keefe claims he’s not invested in them, but the way he gasps as soon as he sees one says otherwise), walking along the boardwalk at Coney Island with Biana and Linh. Fitz smiles and takes photos and tries to ignore the looks Biana sends his way- they’re friends, this is what friends do. It doesn’t mean anything. 

It means so little that, when Keefe suggests they get matching ‘bros’ tattoos, Fitz agrees. 

He’s pretty sure he’s drunk. No, scratch that; he’s definitely sure he’s drunk. It’s been a long week, and he’s drunk, and this is not a good idea.

But Keefe- drunker than him, that’s for sure- is holding tight to his hand, pulling him along the street. He turns back, grinning brightly under the soft light of a streetlamp, and Fitz feels warm all over. 

So. They get the tattoos, and now Fitz has proof of his totally-platonic feelings inked along his collarbone. 

This is fine. 

-/-

“What do you think, lilies or asters?” Biana slides the tattoo book over to him, and Fitz examines the carefully-drawn designs. 

“Asters,” he answers, thumbing through the pages. “Assuming you’re getting them in color. Purple looks nice on you.”

Biana nods, tracing patterns on her as-of-yet uninked arms. Fitz frowns. “You sure you want to get flowers on your other arm too?”

“Yes,” his sister says confidently. “I didn’t go for both arms the first time because I wasn’t sure how good they’d turn out, but Linh’s doing these, so I know they’ll be beautiful.”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. “Linh’s doing these, huh? So you two will be alone in a room together for hours?”

Biana glares at him and Fitz offers her an innocent smile. “Look, you should just get together already. Ask her out or something.”

Offering him her most you’re being an idiot look, Biana snorts. “Like you’re one to talk. How many not-dates have you been on with Keefe?”

“That-” Fitz sputters. “That’s completely different!”

“Is it? How?” Biana picks her bag up off the counter- it’s almost closing time. Fitz scowls, clenching his hands into fists. 

“Because you have a chance!”

The store is silent for a moment before Biana sighs softly, giving him a quick hug. “Oh, hon.” She looks him straight in the eye, smiling a little. “You’ll figure it out.”

Then she shoulders her bag- “Gotta run!”- and leaves Fitz standing in the middle of the shop, completely and utterly confused. 

-/-

He’s still confused the next day, trying to focus on customers and work. He completes his to-do list for the next week just in one morning, and is getting a head start on designing flower arrangements for a wedding- a wedding six months away- when Keefe walks in. 

“Hey, dude,” he says mildly, dropping down beside Fitz. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Fitz responds, harsher than he means to. Keefe blinks. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Fitz says, and then, “No.” To hell with it, he thinks, turning to face Keefe head-on. “I’m annoyed at myself because I can’t control my feelings.”

Keefe tilts his head, a glimmer of something that might be hope in his eyes. “Control what feelings?”

“All of them,” Fitz laughs hollowly, “but especially the ones for you.”

He looks down at his lap, afraid to look at the other man. “We keep doing all this ‘friend stuff’ that feels like it should be a date, but it’s not, and I’m just- I just. I’m sorry, I’m rambling again-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fitz chances a glance upward to see Keefe grinning at him. “I think it’s sweet.”

-/-

They can’t, unfortunately, remove the misbegotten ‘bros’ tattoos. Instead, Linh carefully inks two images next to each one; a heart, and a flower. 

[peaches-writes]

in other futures

member: felix wc: 1.4k genre: fluff, angst, time travel au warning: character death, abduction

[8:46 AM]

“Please! Don’t! No—!”

Before the distant voice could even finish, however, you suddenly wake up back in your bedroom with a jolt and a single tear rolling down your cheek that you only notice when you slowly sit up after. Looking around the familiar bedroom walls, eyes slowly having difficulty focusing, your heartbeat eventually calms down and the sinking feeling in your stomach disappears completely, almost as if it was never there in the first place. Like a dream, you think to yourself, except it wasn’t.

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!” Your mom calls from you faintly outside the closed door, just as you remembered from when you were still living in this very house.

You cover your mouth and hold back a sob. It has been a long while since you heard your mother’s voice. Because of the amount of mistakes that you corrected in your last time-travel and the new ones you made, you lasted in the previous timeline you just woke up om significantly longer than your previous 15 attempts.

Why do I always have to reset at this point? You sigh sadly, forcing yourself to get out of bed. Checking the calendar taped to your vanity mirror, the date April 26, 2018 confirms that you have, in fact, traveled back to the same day yet again.

Stick it out for him, you chant repeatedly to yourself as you then head out for breakfast. With this, the sinking feeling in your stomach slowly returns, growing heavier and heavier with each minute passing.

Because after a while, it just hurts more and more seeing Felix again.

[11:25 PM]

You met Felix on this very day in the original timeline (and, hence, the others too)—but in your first (and only natural) encounter, it was in the afternoon. You met at the local music shop while he was working the afternoon shift on his own and you happened to randomly enter his workplace of all the shops along the street. You asked him for any recommendations and he accidentally turned himself invisible. Because of your unique abilities, you decided on becoming friends.

But you learned, after your third trip, that meeting him even just hours earlier would make the biggest difference in your rather dark future. You had to learn the hard way that you were being watched by the people interested in your abilities even before you met. Because of this, you started learning about Felix’s daily routine, finding out that you can meet him the best at the old park in your shared neighbourhood where he often hung out before work. Barely anyone knows of this place since it’s hidden well with trees.

So here you are, walking to the park a few minutes later than you intended. careful of your surroundings. You see Felix ahead despite your blurring vision, lying down on the unkept grass with a bucket hat over his head to shield his face away from the sun, and your steps immediately become heavier at the sight.

Because no matter how many times you repeat this endless cycle, your heart still aches at seeing Felix again right after seeing him get hurt or even die in an abandoned timeline.

You walk slower when you near, your breath getting caught up in your throat once you’re kneeling directly beside Felix’s sleeping figure.

[11:28 PM]

“I’m a few minutes late but I’m glad that barely made a difference.” Felix removes his bucket hat from his face to an unfamiliar yet pretty sight. You sit next to him, a curious expression on your face as you look down on him.

“E-Excuse me, who are you?” Felix asks politely with an awkward cough while slowly sitting up but to your ears, they just sound rather rude and a bit heartbreaking.

Personally, you can never get used to this.

Nevertheless, you wrap your arms around his neck and engulf him in a bone-crushing hug even though it would seem weird even to you if you didn’t have all the knowledge of 15 timelines. You already know Felix too well that he’s too nice to pry your hands away from him—you just needed to do this for your own sake, especially after what you’ve just seen.

“Um...are you okay?” Felix asks, reluctantly rubbing his hand up and down your back comfortingly. Somehow, to him, the hug feels warm and familiar—as if it was a hazy distant memory. Where have I seen this person before?

“I’m so sorry, I just needed to do that first.” You hold back more tears than the amount you had this morning, different waves of emotions hitting you all at once.

“It’s...it’s okay.” Felix pats your back awkwardly. The situation is awkward enough as it is, his weird feelings of somehow recognizing you makes things even weirder.

[11:34 AM]

“Are you okay?” Even when you try to hide it, Felix noticed the tears you slyly wiped away as you sit next to him now.

You nod as convincingly as you can, even mustering up a smile.

“So, who are you, if I may ask?”

“Y/N.” You hold out your hand for him to shake out of courtesy and he takes it briefly. “It’s nice to meet you again, Lix.”

Felix’s eyes widen. “How did you know that nickname?”

“I just came from a shitty timeline.” You sigh, your grip on the grass below you tightening. “You...uh, died...there.”

All the gears in Felix’s head tell him to freak out and run but he’s somehow glued himself in place, not even able to turn himself invisible. “...Oh, wow, um....that’s...that’s um...”

Though it’s always different in every timeline, you can still count on Felix to not be weirded out easily every every time. “...It’s really long and really complicated in every version but basically I’m here to prevent us from getting kidnapped by an evil corporation who wants to exploit our powers for all the wrong intentions.”

...and also because I keep falling for you in every timeline, you continue the thought internally, afraid of scaring him away, and every time I never get to hear what you wanted to say about it.

“That’s...that’s a lot of information to process.” Felix chuckles nervously, gaining your attention once more. “How would I know that you’re telling the truth? What do you know about me that other people don’t?”

[11:38 PM]

A lot. “Well, for starters, you can turn invisible but only when you focus on certain people so that you’re invisible only to them. You unconsciously disappear when you’re flustered or when you’re extremely stressed over tangible things that’s why you find it hard to complete school work. Also, there’s the one time that you were playing soccer with your friends but end up disappearing because you were so nervous showing off your skill in front of everyone. Then—“

“Okay, alright, alright! I believe you!” Felix covers his ears, making you laugh for the first time since he saw you. “Not even my friends who saw me that day talks about it like that so casually.”

“You told me—well you from other futures—to tell you that in case you asks for proof.” You shrug. “You don’t usually ask.”

“How many times have you traveled back in time?”

“This is the 16th.”

“Have I always been your friend in all of them?” Felix asks with pure curiosity, his eyes full of genuine anticipation.

“Well, I always meet you on this day...” You trail off, leaving Felix unsatisfied with your answer. “First time, it was by accident, everything at first was an accident, then little by little, we started planning things out to see if they’ll change.”

“We? Then? Tell me more!” He casually takes your hands in his and shakes them, unconscious of the way the small gesture made your heartbeat quicken.

But as much as you wanted to tell him everything, you wanted the course of all the timelines to act naturally. “I can’t tell you, they might be spoilers...”

“Oh come on!”

You simply laugh at his pouty and defeated expression. Though it’s another long time of waiting for Felix to come around and doing your best to ward off people with malicious intentions, you’re always willing to go through them in order to save Felix.

I’m going to actually save you this time, Lix, you think to yourself as you watch the boy whine and complain, I have a good feeling about this trip.

m.list