#do you think she frames it and hangs it on her wall in her cabin

[thattastefulbookwhore]

I just finished reading Realm Breaker and instead of the usual “I hope they end up together” or the “I just want to see that man get hit one time” hopes that people often find themselves anticipating for a sequel, I have but one hope.

I have one single wish for Blade Breaker.

That wish is that we get to see Hell Mel’s face when she sees the first wanted poster.

I want to see Mother Hell Mel’s face when she looks into the sweet, soft, inky likeness of the daughter she left cocooned on the docks back home.

Will it be pride? Fury? A bit of both?

I picture it happening in slow motion with that one classical song in the background while the crew members reactions vary between fear (of the captain) pride (for Corayne) and pure unadulterated joy (they think it’s funny the captain had a mini her despite their best efforts)

[san8ny]

Intermission

Ellie Williams <3

Synopsis: Ellie and you haven’t spoken since highschool, you two never really that close. One day, the all-star hits you up upon getting kicked out. You down to help her steal from her own childhood home or nah?

w.c: 4.1k / warnings include: Ellie is a bit rude in the beginning, some Joel slander, she’s just hella uptight, mutual pining, kissing, she makes out with your hooha, but it’s hot. ;-;

“Am I even doing this right?” you mutter down at the pocket knife you had angled, poorly sharpening it’s blade with the edge of the worn-down whetstone you and Ellie happened to find upon arrival to Joel’s cabins.

She gives you, and both the board, a once-over before turning back to the picture frames lined up on the wall, “Sure.” Rolling your eyes, you throw the knife onto the counter, “You know, I didn’t know he had such a swanky place.”

“Yeah. Reeaal swanky.” She huffs, scrunching her brows in annoyance when the clatter of the knife you’d just thrown doesn’t quiet down immediately, “You find the checkbook yet?”

Ah, the checkbook. You almost forgot she recruited you out here to practically rob her adoptive dad blind.

I mean, fuck, had you had the luck of being in her place— living so lavishly, you’d let the bastard yell at you all he wanted.

Dragging your finger tips across the wooden counter, careful to not splinter them, you push yourself off where you were leaning, and walk towards the stairs, “Doesn’t it make sense for him to like, I don’t know, have it upstairs?”

Ellie runs a hand down her tired face, letting out a huge sigh before turning towards when you stand near the railing, your foot already placed on the first step. Why didn’t she think of that before? She gives you the green light, following behind as you ascend up the stairs. She finds her breath hitched and her eyes closing in further irritation when you suddenly stop, her face parallel with your lower back due to the step-to-height difference.

“Is that you?” You say, a smile stretching on your face as you point towards the meek framed photo that hung above the handrail, depicting a pre-teen Ellie in a science museum tee, Joel slightly crouched behind her with two thumbs up. You almost would have missed the small smile she has in the snapshot had you had nor squinted, “Didn’t know you had a dimple. Do still have it?” You ask, turning down towards where she stood.

“No. Now move.” She huffs, bumping your shoulder as she takes lead, climbing up the rest of the stairs. Rude. Nonetheless, you follow her as you enter into the main hallway. How the hell was a cabin this big? you’re only in it for, like, less than a season— Right? Not like you would know, the fanciest thing you’d ever seen was the time you went to Dina’s Bat Mizvah down at the community center and got to see a chocolate fountain, granted it was years ago, it’s the closest thing you’d ever experienced comparisable to ‘upper echelon.’

She seemingly notices your distant stare, harshly bringing her palms together in a large clap thus pulling you out of your thoughts. Clearly taken aback, you meet her blank gaze, “You take the attic, i’ll take the main bedroom”

“Where—

“Down the hall, to your left. You’ll see the ladder cord hanging.” She cuts you off, already walking away and into one of the many doors you could only assume led to Joel’s bedroom. Okay! This should be easy!

It was not easy.

On your hands and knees, you cough uncontrollably from the dust that blocks insulation. It errupted when you pulled the damn ceiling ladder cord down. All this money and they couldn’t fucking dust it once in a while? Wait, when was the last time this place was even entered? That was the question you asked as you slowly tip-toed up with wide eyes. immediate, you’re met with U-haul boxes, plastic dinosaur figurines and some comics.

In that moment, you smile a bit as you kneel on the floor, grabbing the Stegosaurus and T-rex as you gently knock them against eachother, playing with them.

Though you swear you were being satirical when you began toying with them, you couldn’t help thoughts drift to a younger Ellie playing with these like you were. She’d probably always call dibs on the Carnivore, giving the other person an eyeroll when they cry at how unfair she was being for never giving them a turn at being the razor-bearing predator. ‘Skill issue’ she’s also snicker when the kids run back to their parents.

When you finally put them down after some time, you walk over to one of the several moving boxes. Some tattered, some dirty and some even still closed up. It was wrong for you to have been snooping around her childhood home, sure, but she’s also stealing from her own said home— so you can’t be that bad. Reaching into the closest one near you, you pull out a small velvet belt. One that stroke resemblance to the ones you’d see in the cheesy karate-cop movies your dad had been a fan of. Another, and another and shortly, you have a large array of belts, with at the very bottom of the box containing a small plaque of achievements, ‘Ellie Williams’ printed in fine, gold lettering, ‘Graduate from the Jackson institute of Martial Arts.’

Of course, she was a prodigy at everything. What wasn’t Ellie good at? She’d been your highschool’s valedictorian a couple years back when you both were about to graduate, given the golden chance to speak at the commencing, well, was. That was before passing the chance onto the second runner without a second thought; she claimed she wasn’t the talking type and just casually went about her day, like it wasnt the opportunity most students would have killed for. Students like you, who spent all night and day to even make a dent in the social stratosphere that was highschool.

Given now you both were in your early 20’s, you still hold admiration for Ellie. Maybe that’s why when she randomly called you to hangout after years, you didn’t question it, or even second guess yourself.

How long Ellie had been standing there watching you coo over her baby pictures was something you, and both she couldn’t answer. Originally wanting to smack you on the head or scare you, she couldn’t help but lean against the attic wall, eyeing the way you carefully place her achievements down like they were the most important thing to you.

You’d always been like that since Ellie can recall meeting you. Always so nice, so sensible, always the first one in the room to make light out of nothing. You definitely would have been burnt on the cross or something for just how smiley you were if you were alive back in that day. Ellie found you interesting in ways she couldn’t configure why.

She and Joel had a falling out a couple of weeks ago. He cut her off of all financial support, insisting she get a job or a higher education like her peers were. A few profanities and insults were thrown around, leading eventually to her getting kicked out. Funny. Though she never cared about being embarrassed or the opinions of others, she did feel some sort of seeping humiliation. So, with the money she had, she booked a hotel and called you up. She chuckles when she remembers the first time she sent the address, your hesitancy to type back as you get the wrong, but expected idea,

‘ .’.im not fucking u lol’

‘wth no I got kicked out’

‘OHHH srry!!! D: ‘

The chuckle that hears behind startles, your grip seemingly loosening on the picture frame you had in-hand meeting the floor in cruel shatters. Quiet consumes you both with your hands shaking erratically, “O-oh my god? i’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I did that. fuckfuckfuck!! It was an accident. I can pay for that! Like, i’m so so sorry—l” you frantically plead with her, your eyes alternating from her and the bloody gla—bloody?

“You’re bleeding.” Ellie sighs, softly reaching forward to grab your wrist, pulling you around the mess you caused. You didn’t even realize you were until you felt the blood drip from your ankles down to your shins, staining your bleach-white socks in scarlet droplets.

“I messed up, Ellie, i’m really sorry.”

“Can you like, stop apologizing? It’s fine. Didn’t even know when that picture was taken anyways.”

Somehow, her words worsen your hysteric state, you sinking down back onto your knees as you sob. Oh god, she didn’t even know when that picture was taken meaning it’s that long ago. Ellie stares at you clearly with a panicked look, not really knowing how to comfort you— or anyone for that matter. Again, you were more of the sensible one between them, even if you two hadn’t exactly been all that close growing up in the same town, school and similarly interconnected friend groups. ‘What would you do?’ So, Ellie slightly crouches down, her squeaky sneakers noising as she awkwardly encircles her arms around you. Clearly taken aback by this gesture, you peer up from where your head was buried inbetween your knees and instead, at Ellie, who’s usual laid-back expression is replaced with furrowed brows, her eyes not meeting yours and some reddening on her cheeks. “Y-you’ve seen the picture frames around, man, I see myself all the time. It’s fine.”

You sniffle abit before giving her a coherent answer that isn’t just hiccups, “Im sorry.” She sighs before slightly reaching up to pat your head, “Please stop crying, I think i’m more off-put by your ugly cries than you breaking shit.” That tugs a laugh out of you, pushing Ellie away as she matches your grin. “I mean look, you ruined my tee.” She wasn’t lying, you look down to her white tee and it was absolutely soaked with shed tears belonging to you. You gently run your thumbs over her chest in a bad attempt to wipe your embarassingly smeared mascara off, but it only recieves a small whine from Ellie, who backs away immediately. You’re left confused when she gets up, clearing her voice. “We should continue searching.” With that, she leaves the attic, leaving you up there and with multiple. How could ones demeanor change that often? You almost noticed the sensitivity in her chest.

“Pfft, softie.” You mutter, a smile on your lips as you follow her down. Eventually, Ellie is the one to find the book, it’s placed inbetween some folded jeans. ‘Fuck yeah..’ She bites her chapped lip as she flips through it. Enough pages for her, and a good forged signature she’d mastered when he’d be too lazy to sign her field trip permission slips— guess something did pay off. You stand there with crossed arms, feeling a bit squeamish all of a sudden, like the thought had hit you finally, Ellie is moving away. She notices you when she lifts her gaze up, puzzled with your stance, “I told you it’s okay, the picture frame can be replaced.”

“I don’t want you to move away.”

“What.”

“I won’t repeat myself.” You shake your head defiantly, standing your ground when she towers over you, all these years and when you two have somewhat of a bond, she wants to move away? And maybe yeah, you had it coming, being easily-attached to somehow who’d you’d only started recently hanging out with. “What makes you think I care?” She mocks, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head, she’s almost astonished with your stupidity, why would she have dragged you all the way here to just, stay? Something with the way she says those words churns humility deep in your gut, who were you to even admit that to her? You flail around your arms passively as you back away, a croak in your throat, “Just something I said. You’re a cool person.”

“Right, well, I got the checkbook meaning we can get the hell out. Seeing this place almost makes me want to not drain Joel’s pockets.” She yawns, throwing you the book before retreating into one of the previous rooms, though before, she asks, “Say, where’d we put the keys?”

..

Who had the keys?

Comically enough, sirens began to faintly hear in the back, and your gaze locks onto Ellie’s, “Fuck— find the keys.” She says, running back into the room. How petty was her dad to call the police on them? Well, petty enough to have alarms laying around incase his thieving daughter comes around. You, instantly begin to eye around for them, palms growing clammy at the aspect of being arrested now comes into plan as the sirens grow closer. Finding them, you call out to Ellie who seemingly was already on her way once she heard the jingles of them, “Out the back. You’re gonna run, and not turn back, ‘alright?” She whispers, grabbing you and running towards the kitchen door once the front door is knocked.

Once it’s kicked in, Ellie manages to get out with a groan, definitely a bruiser, but nonetheless, they make it out of the area without getting caught. While she hasn’t broken a sweat yet, you were coughing up a storm like you were earlier, eyes tearing up as you let them out in fits. She gently rubs your back, looking around for where their parked car was, it was a good idea they’d parked so far away- granted it was flawed in multiple ways, it came out in their good favor. Once you’d caught your breath, Ellie hums, “You know where we parked?” You nod, looking around, “Yeah. near the marked tree, you smeared my lipstick over it..” She scrunches her nose to prevent a loud laugh from coming out, your sadness over lipstick being funny to her, “Right. That way.”

You both find the car and enter, ellie starting the car as she backs up and maneuvers around the various tall trees it was parked around before getting onto the main road. You don’t say anything for the majority of the one hour ride, those 60 minutes feeling like the longest ones to Ellie who’s gotten use to your talkitive habits. So when she asks you if you want aux, you shake your head— deflating her mood. She sighs, lighting up a cigarette at the light and rolling down the window. You just lean your head back and rest your eyes, emotions running through that you couldn’t even seem to process. Tiredness, embarrassment of her flat out saying she’d never stay for you, getting almost booked by the police, and just ones you didn’t want to acknowledge at all. You wanted to just, go to sleep.

Ellie, on the otherhand, feels nothing but anxiety gnawing at her. Why does she care so much whether you talk to her or not? She’s never even liked talking, and somehow, the thought of never speaking to you again after this makes her feel nauseous. Would you text her? Call her? Visit her if she left? Would you buy the nearest train ticket if she told you one day to come when she settles into her new place? Or would you just move on? Would you move onto some cooler girl in town to befriend? Some other girl you’d look up to, some other girl who would show you the hidden gems around town you’d been asking her to, Fuck— some other girl you’d give all your affection to. Ellie swerves the car, and had it not been your quick-wit to pull the steering back, she might have crashed the vehicle.

Pulling over, she places her head lightly on the leather wheel while you stare at her in bewilderment, “Are you crazy?! What was that?!” You say with a slight twitch in your eye at her loss of control.

“I don’t want to move away.”

“You literally have to, we’re on the side of the road and your emergency lights aren’t on so.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You can’t, that’s like, against the rules. I don’t know, my permit is expired.” First order of business, obtain a license.

“In Jackson. I’ll stay in Jackson.” She mumbles, lifting her head up to stare at you. This feels like a joke to you, like Ellie might just begin laughing at you when you show the tiniest bit of you of relief. So, you just match her stare, tiling your head. “Why?” Why? What do you mean why? Ellie wants to scream, why don’t you look happy? She’s staying for you.

“Just..wanted to.” She says after a beat or two, pulling the car back onto the road as she nears your house. Giving a curt nod, you look out the window, your knees feeling wobbly like a teenage girl all over again as you suppress asking questions to the clearly disoriented freckled girl. Once on arrival, Ellie expects you to leave and slam that door but instead, you sit there for a bit.

“My mom isn’t here.” You say, chewing your inner-cheek.

“You don’t have a spare key or ‘sum?”

“No no I do, it’s just— want to come in?” You ask her with big eyes, your hands folded on your lap like a child on their best behavior to get something.

“Did your mom bake that pie you got me last time?” She’s referring to the Cherry Pie your mom made last time you two hung out.

“Is the sky blue?” You say, with a smile, trying to lighten the mood that’ll need more than just that to recover.

“It’s grey but I see your point. I’ll go park, leave the front door open.” She smiles when you nod, skipping out of the car and into your home.

When she does so, and enters your door, she’s met with a warm wafting smell of baked goods. Ellie might gave been fairly thin, but she had a nose on her, leading her to the kitchen. You’ve changed out of your dirty clothes, she notices, you now wearing some small pajama shorts and a tanktop. You’re bent over the oven, grabbing the treats out of the pre-heated oven your mother had likely left them in to retain warmth.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” You mutter, almost dropping the tray of food while Ellie smirks

“Can’t really promise accepting an apology if you dropped those.” She says, walking on over to where you stood by the kitchen island. Something in the way she says that so..flirtatiously, makes you look back at her twice. “Whatever. Do me a favor, take the plates out while I cut the pieces.” Ellie nods, walking over to the several arrays of cabinets. Though, upon doing so, she notices your refrigerator, decorated in colorful magnets, children’s literature and most of all, a picture of you, and an older woman. You were younger, hair a bit longer than you had it now, and a wide grin with your front tooth missing. You couldn’t of been older than 6, Ellie thinks. Smiley.

“This your mom?” she asks, running her fingerpads alongst the smooth film while you hum, nodding. “Yeah, it’s my mom” You say, handing her a slice of piece when she gives you the plate, “You look alike.” Ellie concludes when you two begin walking upstairs to your room.

It was certainly your room, is what the auburnette thinks as she sits on your bed. Messy bedsheets you never got to make, clothes scattered near your closet and other things you never got to clean up when she’d called you up this morning at such an ungodly time to divulge you in on her scheme,

though now, upon her decision to stay in the town, it seemed a bit for nothing. It’d be a funny story to tell with you. With you, she thinks, watching as you chew the treat and sit on the rugged floor as you flip through TV channels. Eventually settling on some show Ellie never knew was still even airing. She quietly sinks from the bed, onto the floor herself, sitting close to you as your gaze stays glued to the blaring screen, flashes of color reflecting onto your face as each scene passes. Ellie finds herseld staring at you, a person she once found so inconspicuous now becoming the very reasoning she stays in a town she hates so much. Whatever you had the girl under needed to be looked at.

“Do you like me?” Is what she wants to ask, but “Do you have a boyfriend?” is what she settles for.

You turn to her, meekly shaking your head. Since when was she sat so close to you?

Ellie nods, looking back at the show to get you to, before asking another question, “Girlfriend?” You shrug, “I mean, I use to talk to this one girl..”You mutter, before Ellie finds herself furthering it, “What happened?”

You sigh, before pointing a finger, “Don’t laugh.” you glare. Ellie smiles, nodding. “She told me she was straight after like 2 days AND THEN, i saw her kissing on Judy.” Ellie snorts, “No fucking way, Judy the librarian?” You nod, burying your face in a nearby throw pillow.

“I need a drink.” You mutter, getting up and leaving the room with Ellie in it. You return shortly after with a bottle of wine and some glasses. The girl groans as she stretches, “Now you’re talking. Pour me some.”

Eventually, the topic heads in the way of relationships once more, with you two telling each other of your awful sex lives in the majority straight town Jackson was as you sip.

As Ellie tells one, you find your eyes feeling heavy, alternating between her green eyes down to her pale pink lips. You nod, poorly attempting to give the illusion you were following along with whatever she was saying. Ellie, herself, wasn’t all that there but she was better. She’d stopped talking long ago and was just moving her lips with no dialogue coming out whatsoever, seeing if you’d ask why she halted her story. She licks her lips, leaning back as she places her glass down on the nightstand near her— jean-clad thighs spread tantalizingly as your gaze drops to them.

Her years of martial arts and track did her well, you admit, hoping it wasn’t obvious you were ogling the girl.

“Were you mad at me earlier?” you whisper, fidgeting with the loose seam of her jeans as you notice the difference in how she was acting at the cabin, and how she is now. Ellie hums, matching your small voice. “I was more so mad at myself.” She answers you, her hand finding where yours toys with a string, “Not at you.”

You nod, not really having anything to say.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally utter, liquid courage taking over as Ellie thumbs your soft hips from where you sit so closely. She gives you a soft ‘yeah’, pulling you onto her lap. You begin by littering feathery pecks along her jaw, her sensitivity earlier when you touched her chest beginning to make sense when goosebumps begin to arise along her pale skin, her nipples hardening as the hair on her neck stands before kissing her deeply.

You two kiss slowly for a while, finding some rhythm as it slowly turns into something else. You gently gasp when Ellie rocks your hips onto her thigh, making you detach from her mouth and straddle it the way she wants you to. The rough texture against her jeans on your soft shorts makes you huff a bit, face burning up as you grip her shoulders.

“You’re my sweet girl, you can do it.” She murmurs lowly, watching you grind all over her, your slick slowly starting to seep onto her denim pants— all like she wanted. You nod, frustrated to the brim of tears when you can’t seem to fuck yourself on her thigh well. Ellie pushes you down, caging your legs in between her hips as she tilts her head back down, "Seems like you're not the only sweet girl wanting my attention.." She smiles as you moan, the heel of her palm placed directly on your touch-starved mound, giving it just enough pressure and angling to make you whine out a small 'Ellie..'

She gives you finally what you want, sliding your shorts to the side and sighs when she sees just what a mess has been waiting for her.

No underwear?

You attempt to leverage yourself by sitting up on your elbows but Ellie pushes you down, hiking your hips up even more with a singular grasp of your shins as she kisses directly on your puffy pussy, your messy sap smearing all over her lips before giving you a grin,

Oh, you'd pay her what she was worth alright. Maybe returning Joel's checkbook can wait after this.

[All credits to the owner of the picture above!! i got it from popipa on pinterest]

[theyjusthowl]

WIP Monday

I'm trying out a new thing to be more consistent with my writing, so maybe my beta won't have to wait a month for the next installment of this WIP from hell.

I'm currently working on a Sterek longfic that somehow got away from me and is now 50k of pure hurt/comfort, and this is one of my favorite scenes, so cue the angst.

---

Lydia says, “We could use a place of our own.”

Her gaze hungrily prowls around Derek’s loft like it’s Versailles, as sterile and empty as it looks. The cheap pieces of sparse furniture he bought to appease Stiles back when they were together remain the only clue that this space has been lived in.

She knows his bedroom is still presided by a bare mattress and a busted alarm system.

Peter hears, “Derek could use a place for himself.”

His mind helpfully supplies, one that’s not littered with phantoms.

Isaac broaches the subject with Derek, one morning, in the small office space of the warehouse, as Derek works on an invoice.

“All I’m saying, Derek, is that the pack could benefit from a bigger place,” he says, towering over the desk. “I could move back in if we had enough room for everyone. You don’t have to sell the loft, you’re still running your business from here so maybe turn it into a decent office space?” He moves his arm in a sweeping motion. “This is still a great headquarters. Keep a guest bedroom in case you end up working late.”

Derek nods. He thinks of the key he gave Stiles, two years ago, the last time he asked him to not to leave them behind.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to Peter, see if he can find a plot of land that’s to his liking.” He stacks a thin ream of papers on top of a folder, closes it and stands. He files it away in a cabinet behind him and looks at Isaac. “Are we done?”

Isaac leaves the warehouse triumphant.

Peter donates the Hale property to Beacon County to do as they please, on the condition that no private businesses are to be raised on the extensive terrains. They set up a few cabins for lost campers and a small wildlife shelter. Scott is more than happy to volunteer as often as college will allow; Isaac fixes a coyote’s paw after the animal stepped on a pine needle and tells the whole pack approximately twenty times before Derek snarls half-heartedly to stop, for fuck’s sake.

The Sheriff finds a parcel, just fifteen minutes from the western border of the preserve, and it’s not exactly Beacon Hills but it isn’t anywhere else either and still within the county limits, which is apparently relevant for werewolf politics. He makes sure to push forward the copious amounts of red tape and Jackson hooks them up with a magnificently expensive and completely booked contractor, probably under duress. He’s still hell bent on crawling back into Lydia’s good graces. They raise the pale, solid bones of the house in two weeks.

It’s still three more months of plaster and tiles and wood boards and hanging wires before the smooth walls wrap around the house. They’re bare, but the light shines through the windows and bathes the stark white rooms and the sandy floorboards in a warm glow. Cora stands in the middle of the foyer, right under the big skylight, and imagines the first full moon run starting and ending right there.

Lydia commandeers Derek’s soccer mom SUV a little too gleefully and Peter side eyes her, unsettled for the first time in many years. She chooses all the furniture, the decorations, the full works, and Derek pays, only mildly infuriated. Scott sends Lydia a few pictures he took during the house works. Isaac is in all of them, front and center. She chooses one of Derek and Isaac going over the blueprints on a makeshift table, with a few workers lifting the first panel off the floor; she wraps it and gives it to him as a housewarming gift and Derek smiles and runs his fingers over the silver carvings and the edge of the frame.

The last screws are tightened into place the first week of June, and Peter brings in a landscaper to finish up the backyard. There’s one room though, and Derek won’t allow anyone in. Isaac thinks it’s a sanctuary, some sort of hideaway. It’s probably full of the stuff that survived the fire and what little he salvaged from Laura’s apartment in New York, and no one gives it further thought. If Derek wants to be left alone, they can only oblige.

The construction crew wraps up just in time for the summer of their third year. Isaac is unrelenting about a housewarming party. Derek acquiesces, on the condition that Cora and Peter tend to the barbeque.

Just about everyone Derek knows drops by: Lydia tells Allison, and she comes with Chris Argent and Melissa McCall, who somehow make it work, despite having the odds stacked against them. She’s been doing diplomatic work, restoring the Argents’ reputation as fair hunters, writing treaties for warring packs. Lydia fawns over the engagement ring on her finger and Scott hugs her warmly, the same old puppy eyes he used to put on for her, but it’s friendly and Derek knows that he’s sincere in his congratulations, genuinely happy that she’s happy. Isaac tackles her the moment he sees her, picks her up in the air and twirls her in a bone crushing hug. They catch up over a beer, Isaac casually leaning on Scott, with that unaffected demeanor of his. Scott’s hand wanders, subtly scenting Isaac. Isaac’s eyes go soft. Allison smiles and nods and hugs them both.

They’re all out back, milling around the yard. Derek watches on as he grabs two beers from the fridge. One for him, one for the Sheriff. Over the years, they’ve come to a quiet understanding, one reserved for family. Derek calls him Noah now. Noah is still convinced that they’re just one tiny hiccup away from being family. Derek’s not so sure. He entertains him, though, and more importantly, doesn’t pester him about his eating habits.

He leaves through the kitchen and finds Noah talking to Melissa, hands him his beer. They talk about the Mets’ performance, Derek nods along enthusiastically. Then they switch to cars; Melissa’s old sedan has finally given up and she’s looking to buy. Noah tells her he knows just the guy and claps Derek’s back, laughing.

When the initial bustle winds down a bit, Derek offers to do a house tour for Noah.

“They’ve all seen it, helped build and decorate,” he explains offhandedly. “Isaac’s moving in next week.”

He walks Noah through the kitchen, the living room, the study on the ground floor. He points to the basement door offhandedly. “It’s empty now, but we’ll find a use for it. Let’s show you upstairs.”

The upper floor consists of an open space that overlooks the foyer, and a corridor littered with doors. Derek points towards them. “Plenty of room for everyone up here. Peter insisted. Extended packs live together,” he explains.

Derek stays behind while the Sheriff ventures into the room to the far right end of the corridor. The room that’s off-limits to everyone else.

The walls are painted a soft shade of slate gray, with a white upper trim. To the left, a double door awaits, wide open, leading to the master bath. There is no back wall, just a continuum of floor to ceiling glass panels overlooking a deck that wraps around the corner of the building and continues behind the right-hand wall. In the distance, the woods get denser. The view is breath-taking and the sun shines high in the sky. It’s the perfect spot to watch the sunset over the forest.

There is just no furniture. Not a single piece in sight.

“It’s the master bedroom” Noah notes, words carefully measured. “It’s empty.”

Derek chuckles lowly and stares him back bemusedly. “I have no use for it. The architect insisted. He had a vision.”

“He might have been on to something,” Noah says.

He walks further into the room and waits for Derek to join him.

“It’s proofed, I assume.”

Derek nods. “Sound and scent.”

“Ah,” Noah sighs. “That explains that.”

Right there, on the right hand corner, the only clue that this room has a purpose lays in plain sight. There’s a wooden clothes rack. Neatly zipped on a hanger, Stiles’ lacrosse hoodie presides the room. It reads Stilinski, 23, and it looks well worn. The sun coming in through the back wall casts a long shadow on the floor.

(Just as Isaac had suspected, it is, in some ways, a sacred space.)

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room ��� at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Laertes waits outside the door to the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot, twisting at their hands and wishing they hadn't burned the loose threads off. They look like a petitioner gathering strength before approaching their sovereign, a little kid afraid to knock on his parent's door. And isn't that what they are?

Fae sighs, pushing through the door and into the room. They're not small anymore. This is their cabin. Their kids are sleeping in their rooms. And her dad isn't waiting on the other side anymore.

Sleep does help him. And the couch isn't very comfortable. They'd tried it, a few times. There's no sense leaving a room completely unoccupied, now that a new arrival has made need for another one. Even Marc's.

The room is dark, but not quite dusty. Laertes visits it too often for that. It's the one place in the house left untouched, the Stranger's influence seeping through the walls, but very little changed or added. Marc didn't have many possessions. Just a few pictures on the wall, some of his kids, a girl who looks uncannily like he used to, a woman fae presumes was his mother.

Laertes had only been in here once before Marc died, when he was looking for the gun. He hadn't noticed that one of the framed pictures was something they'd drawn for him. They'd cried all over again, when they first saw that.

A bench has been pulled up to the wall opposite his old bed, a little shrine put up. Nothing much, he wouldn't have liked anything fancy or complicated. Just a drawing fae'd done, using their own easel and oils, and a few unlit incense sticks. She could swear there's a track worn into the floorboards in front of it, from all the pacing fae's done.

He's burned the picture a few times, in a fit of anger. Had to remake it. Laertes isn't proud of that.

"There's a new one. His name's Luka. I think you would've liked him."

They're talking to empty air. Laertes unstrings their necklace, places it on the bench by their father's face. It makes faer chest feel lighter. It makes him unspeakably lonely.

"...He had a rifle. I wouldn't let him bring it into the house. We've had more than enough of those, haven't we?" They set themself down on the worn ground in front of it, crossing their legs and settling in.

"He didn't want to. He cried when I started burning it by mistake. Did I look that...small, to you?" Fae knows fae did. Because they were. Neither of them ever should have had those weapons. Laertes pinches their fingers and lights the incense.

"You didn't do a very good job, y'know. I'm trying to do better. Cassie started hanging out with Jack. She's working as a post boy in his office. I heard him talk about quitting soon, but I'm glad they're getting along. I used to worry I'd have to stop her from killing him." He chuckles. "God, you would've loved her."

Marc would've snapped her up as a daughter in a second, if he was still himself, the version they like to imagine is listening, somewhere. He always loved fighters.

Laertes forgets, sometimes, that they did know each other. What he did. It's not something he likes to remember. They grip their arms tighter, lapsing into silence.

"Why did you have to do it? Why couldn't you have been good to one of us?"

The favorite son of a monster, of a truly broken man. Their eyes reflect jagged light on dark wood. It's only right he'd break Laertes the same way he'd been broken.

Fae pushes himself to his feet, throwing open the curtains, letting the moonlight stream in for the first time in months. They don't think they'll change this room. Marc's scent hasn't quite faded from it. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

"You know, I can't decide whether to be sad or angry. I want to be angry. Hell, I am angry. But the love doesn't go away. I thought it would, when I accepted what you were. But it didn't."

That only makes faer angrier. His hands start to heat up. They play with old pieces of copper and metal.

"Why do I still love you? After everything?"

There's no answer. The silence fills up the empty room, like oxygen feeding the flames. She begins to pace again, a trapped animal. It always feels like he's trapped here. Trapped beneath all of their grief, all of their rage, all the closure they never received.

"Fucking- answer! You did it before, why can't you just- is it that hard to face me? Everything you fucked up? Is that all I am anymore?"

Laertes stops themself just short of throwing the half-formed hunk of metal at the drawing. That's something Marc would have done, and the kids are sleeping.

"...I hope wherever you are, you regret what you didn't do. I hope you wish you'd changed." He sits back down, righting the picture. It really does look like Marc. They've gotten better.

"Being your daughter was the worst mistake I ever made. I wish it wasn't still my favorite."

She dons her pendant. Enough talking with the dead. He should save his words for those who can still hear him. And yet...

"The owners of the camp are dead. By the way. I led the attack. I was going to tell you that Luka reminds me of you, but... I remind me of you."

One day, he'll make that a thing to be proud of. One day.

"...Until next time, Dad."

He puts out the incense before the fire can spread, and curls up under a dead man's covers.

[sankta-starkova]

THE OUTSIDERS

010 | take a zebra to vegas

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

wordcount: 2.1k

The camp was getting bad. She had never seen this level of fighting before.

Every day, someone else was clashing. There were cabins turning against one another and all because of Clarisse and her gang.

They were spreading these rumours throughout camp that the war was going to get worse between the Gods and that at some point, the campers were going to have to fight with them.

This had cause tension and Daisy and Luke knew that they had to get some sort of help.

They went into the Big House. Chiron was out dealing with a fight and they needed to see what Mr D could do about it or if he was even back from his war council with the other Olympians.

They split out. Luke went into Chirons office and Daisy searched upstairs - although she steered clear of the attic.

"Luke?" Someone asked and he turned around, confused as he saw a rainbow beam on the wall.

"Annabeth? Percy?" He questioned, looking at the kids through the iris connection, "Are you okay?"

He turned around and the kids watched as he searched around for someone else.

"Hey, Daisy, come in here!" He called out before turning back to the message.

Annabeth and Percy looked at one another, "We're okay, Where's Chiron?"

Daisy ran into the room, slightly out of breath. She gasped when she saw the two on the screen. She had been so nervous about the trio and it was good to know they were there.

"You're okay? We've been worried sick," She said, stepping into frame so she was shoulder to shoulder with Luke..

"We need to talk to Chiron," Percy repeated.

"Chiron is holding the Fort down. The campers think we're going to war so the cabins are taking sides," he explained.

It had been a difficult couple of days. Everyone had been arguing and fighting. Some cabins had stopped talking to one another, couples had broken up.

That's when she heard a yell outside. "I should go sort that, I'll be right back kiddos,"

Luke watched as she ran out of the big house and he could hear her commanding some of the kids around, a smile on his face.

"We think we know who stole the bolt," Percy stated with upmost certainty

Luke tensed up. He was nervous and it was obvious.

"How do you know?" He asked, a shocked look on his face.

"We ran into Ares and Grover got him talking and realised Ares knew who the thief was and is covering for them," Annabeth explained, "So who would Ares cover for other than-"

"His favourite daughter, Clarisse," Luke stated, shaking his head. He relaxed as he realised who they thought it was, "She is the lightning thief,"

"Chiron has to arrest her. Find out what she knows. There's more to this than just the bolt. Don't ask me how. You just have to trust me," Percy continued, an ominous tone to his voice.

"We trust you, keep yourselves safe out there," Luke said, smiling at them.

"Sorry, I'm back. They weren't trying to hang that kid," she said, running back into the room.

Luke grabbed her hand and pulled her into his side, he seemed really relaxed all of a sudden.

"So, you met Ares? What was that like?" Luke asked, the conversation sounding more civil.

Percy shrugged, "Compared to the Chimera on Monday and Medusa on Sunday, could've been a lot worse,"

"Medusa was Saturday," Annabeth said, giving him a look, "No monsters on Sunday. Monday you died in a river,"

Daisy's eyes went wide, they seemed to have just said that he died in a river. They glossed over it and she just stared at them in shock.

"Right. So Medusa on Saturday," the two preteens shared a look as they nodded at one another.

Her and Luke turned to one another. As they listened to Percy and Annabeth, it was like watching their past selves bicker.

"What is this?" Daisy asked, looking at the duo with an amused smile..

"What?" Annabeth questioned. She didn't know why the teenagers were looking at her like that.

"When did you turn into an old married couple?" She replied.

Luke chuckled to himself, "When did you turn into us?" He asked.

They had smiles on their faces but through the iris message, they could see the kids were not entertained and seemed almost embarrassed.

"Not to change the subject but, we could use your advise on something. We're heading to Las Vegas to talk to yo-" Percy started to say and it cut out

"You think they're okay?" She asked, turning to him.

He knew how much she cared about them. It was that caring instinct in him that he loved.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "They're fine baby, we have to make sure the campers here don't kill themselves first,"

"Did i miss anything? Did they have any news?" She asked.

He was silent for a second before he put a smile on his face, "They didn't say much, just that they're doing good," he explained.

She grabbed his hand, "There's a big fight happening out there, the Ares cabin are getting mad," she explained.

He nodded. This was the last thing he wanted, they didn't need the entire camp to be fighting against one another.

They walked outside of the big house and that's when she saw the first semblance of a fight.

"What's going on Travis?" She yelled out after him as she saw him running towards the amphitheatre.

He turned around, stopping in the middle of the path and looking at the couple, "Clarisse just challenged Lily to a fight,"

Lily was one of her best friends and she had just been elected as the Head of the Aphrodite cabin.

To have the Ares Cabin and Aphrodite cabin at war with one another would cause the biggest rift within the camp.

She looked at Luke, both of them sharing a worried expression on their faces before they chased after his younger brother Travis to the amphitheatre.

When they got there, they saw the true extent to the problem. Clarisse was in full battle gear, the remaining half of her father's spear tucked into her belt.

She was with some of the other Ares kids and in front of her was Silena and Lily, both of them weaponless.

She saw Clarisse pull her sword out, ready to strike. Daisy didn't even hesitate before she ran in between the two of them.

She felt the sword brush against her cheek but there was no pain, she must have missed.

"Get out of my way!" She yelled out and Daisy held her hand out, pushing her back.

Luke rushed over as soon as he saw Clarisse swing. He had to hide the anger bubbling up in his chest, "Lets all calm down,"

"There's a war that's going to happen out there," Clarisse spat out, taking a few steps back.

"We don't know who stole the bolt, we can't choose sides," Luke said.

Luke had been told about who the kids thought was the lightning theif but he couldn't tell anyone, not yet.

"You're naive both of you. it matters," she spat out, being cheered on by the other Ares kids, "You need to pick your side because when this happens, we will fight,"

"Percy can find a way to stop this," Daisy said, her hand resting on the sheath where her dagger lie.

It was a matching one. Luke had given it to her two years ago before their quest. It was a paired one to his and it had all kind of features - like glowing when the other person got near and dimming completley if they died.

She didn't think she would need the weapon right now but she didnr know where this fight would go.

Clarisse scoffed at the idea, "Percy? I doubt he's even alive," she stated.

"Can't we all just stop this, its not fair on anyone," Silena said as she took a step forward to stand next to Daisy.

Before the couple had gotten there, Silena thought that her best friend was going to try to fight her.

"If there is a war between our parents, they will be expecting us to fight alongside them," Clarisse replied, her voice softening as soon as she saw Silena.

"Our mother does not believe in war," Lily interjected. Everyone seemed to have forgotten she was there.

There was a crowd gathering around them as all the campers wondered if this was the official declaration of who's side they were on.

Everyone was on edge with the idea of war and as Daisy looked around, she could see how scared everyone was. Nobody wanted to fight.

"Come on guys, no need to keep arguing. The younger campers don't need all the heads of cabins arguing right now," Daisy said.

She looked around. They were all looking to their leaders for some sort of guidance.

"You want me to give you another nick on that pretty face of yours?" She questioned.

Daisy reached a hand up and that's when she realised that the blade had cut her. It was a tiny cut and she didn't know how she hadn't felt it.

Luke looked at her, a a hand going to her jaw so that he could get a good look at the cut on the other side of her face. He was furious now.

"You better watch your mouth Clarisse," Luke said, a hand going down to his sword.

The camp was silent as they realised that two of the strongest sword fighters may be duelling.

She went to lunge at Luke but Chris grabbed onto her, pulling her back before she could attack him. She let out a guttural yell as he held her back, struggling in his grasp.

Daisy reached down and grabbed Lukes hand. He was tense. She could feel him calm down at her touch and he looked at her, shaking his head.

He couldn't deal with this fighting. This was not the plan, the campers should not be having to fight against one another.

"Break it up children," a voice said and they all recognised it quickly.

They turned to see Chiron walking towards them and everyone knew that they were in trouble.

The groups of younger campers started to disperse and Clarisse just gave Luke one final glare before rushing away with her cronies.

"What happened here?" Chiron asked.

"She's trying to get campers to pick sides, you know the drill," Daisy said, trying to make it lighthearted.

Her boyfriend scoffed, "This time she hit you. Chiron, do you mind if we discuss this later, I should get her a bit of salve for that wound?"

Chiron nodded. He had a suspicious look in his eyes as he watched the couple walk away.

"We forgot to tell him that Percy and Annabeth sent him an iris message," she said.

He led her towards the Hermes cabin and walked over to his bunk. The room was empty, everyone else doing activities and training.

Luke shook his head, "Worry about that later baby, you just sit there for a second," He said, gesturing for her to sit down.

She looked at his bunk, smiling to herself for a second. She traced her finger across the picture board at the head of his bed.

They were mostly pictures of her, one of her by the lake in a bikini, one of them before the quest (she could tell by the lack of his scar) of them laughing.

Her favourite one was the one that her and Annabeth both had a copy of. It was the two of them, her head leaning on Lukes shoulder. Annabeth was standing in front of them, looking up at them with a smile.

She felt the bed dip and looked to her side to see Luke. He had a ambrosia salve on his lap.

"I'm fine honey," she said and he shook his head.

"Let me help you," he said and she nodded.

He leaned up, swiping the salve across her cheek and she could feel it getting better already.

Luke leaned up and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Feel better?"

She hummed in response. She lay her head against his shoulder, "I don't want to go to war," she muttered.

He could feel her fear, her fear about what power the Gods hold. The whole point of this plan was that she would never feel that fear again. That she would be on control.

"We'll be fine," he mumbled, leaning his head down against hers.

Taglist:

@b3bybunny @inejghafawifesblog

[teambyler]

"Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time" - s5e1

Plot beats and scenes leading to a Byler endgame, one episode at a time, for Season 5 of Stranger Things. (This is just for fun! I have no insider knowledge!)

Also see Part 0, where I explain what I think a Byler Endgame has to address.

s5e1

Since we’re going back to s1 themes, a shadowy U.S. government organization is involved. It wants to contain and study the hellscape in Hawkins. People are ordered out of parts of Hawkins. The Byers don’t have a home in Hawkins. Joyce stays at Hopper’s, with Jonathan too probably (Ted wouldn’t let Nancy’s boyfriend sleep in the house. He’s perfectly fine with “Mike’s friend Will” though!)

When Will arrives, he asks to stay in Mike’s basement. Mike says it’s cold and uncomfortable and he doesn’t have to. Will says he’s fine, he prefers a quiet place to do art, he likes that it’s where they played D&D... “We get to play D&D again, yes?” “Of course!” Mike insists on putting a bed in there, etc. Will is fine with the couch. The whole time Will is trying to be cool, trying to get over loving his straight best friend.

Will walks into Mike’s room, to see that Mike has framed the D&D painting and is hanging it on the wall. Mike: “This is a really nice present you gave.” Will’s in shock… does he know? It becomes clear Mike just thinks Will and El talked about what to put in a gift they were both to give Mike, while things were still good between him and El. “It’s too bad things went south so quickly…” Mike shares that he and El aren’t seeing each other. Will looks at the painting, thoughts racing… Mike says he doesn’t know what’s going on with El because after the pizza shop he thought they were official again, but she’s still being cold toward him.

Will sleeps on the basement couch, remembering their "Crazy together" conversation. He cries quietly.

After coaxing Lucas who’s spending time at the hospital with Max, the Hellfire Club play D&D in Mike’s basement. Dustin is the dungeon master. It’s a very feel-good, “the party is back together” scene. Will’s so happy to be playing D&D with Mike and is sitting next to him. In the game, Will risks his life to cast prismatic spray and save the group. The spell fails. In the game, Mike risks his life to protect Will. Will is blushing and it feels kinda romantic.

“A PLOT” SHENANIGANS. Will is rubbing his neck a lot and this is a Will-focused season. (There’s a million ways the A plot can go down so I won’t even try!)

School was disrupted by the events of s4. Bullies with nothing better to do target the Hellfire Club members, blaming them for recent events. Bully #1 lost a loved one when the hellfire opened. The party has to split up to get away from them. Bully #1 corners Will and says he hopes he gets AIDS. Will is terrified and once he’s alone starts crying.

Jonathan senses Will is really down. He invites Robin over. She arrives and kisses Vickie goodbye in front of Will. Will is shocked. Jonathan leaves the room, and Robin and Will connect. Will asks what it’s like to come out. Robin says some people shunned her, but others like Steve and Jonathan didn’t. She found out who her real friends were: “I got to have friends who love me for being me.” Will cry-smiles and thinks about this. Robin says to tell the people you trust the most.

Joyce and El are at Hopper’s cabin. Will looks like he's ready to tell both of them. But he waits for El to step out. Will sits down next to mom and comes out to her. Will: “Do you still love me?” She goes into Mama Bear mode: “Of course I do!” She hugs him. She's heartbroken to think Will didn't know how she'd answer. “Look at me Will. I’ve GONE TO HELL AND BACK FOR YOU WILL. I’ll do it again! I will always, ALWAYS love you.” They have a big ugly-cry hug.

FOLLOW ME for the next part of “Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time”!

Part 0 (what a Byler endgame needs to address) Next episode

-teambyler

[robotstrategy]

Rediscover • Part 1 • 4 - Nero

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next

Nero follows one of the scrubbed nurses down the tiled hallways. From what she can tell every medical employee wears yellow, and there’s a lot of them, an absurd amount for a summer camp even. All the yellow scrubs make her antsy, or more specifically her legs, Roland seems to be trembling around like he hasn’t eaten in a long time.

The nurse opens a door into a different room, It looks more homey, like a nice renovated cabin. Nero first notices a Muslim girl dressed in all whites, mostly because she’s the brightest thing in the room. She then turns her head to the sound of elevated shoes hitting the floor. A woman comes towards her, wearing a white pantsuit with a sunshine yellow blouse. She had blonde curly hair that enveloped her face and a modern-looking necklace hanging from her neck. She was beautiful.

“Hello, you must be Nero?” She asks.

“Y-yes ma’am!” She shudders.

The woman lets out the most wholesome little giggle Nero has ever heard. “Oh no need to be afraid of me dear, I might be the camp director, but I’m still a very nice woman,” She ushers to her. “Come, I’ve got something for you.” 

She leads Nero over to the break room and into her office. Nero looks at all the things she can get her eyes on in the room. Binders full of paperwork, frames on the wall with… medical degrees??? and a frame on her desk with a little boy in it.

“Do you have a son?” Nero asks. 

The woman nods as she rummages through one of the desk drawers. “He’s about your age, He’ll be here with us over the two-week stay.” 

She then finally fishes out a small white veil and beaded flower clip, handing the clip to Nero she explains. “I give one to each nursing volunteer I get, I even gave one to Maha today, though I don't exactly think she could wear it.” She then goes around to the back of Nero with the veil. 

“May I take off your mask?”

“Are, are you allowed to?”

“This is private property, you’re allowed to take off your mask while under my care.” 

Nero nods, letting her gently remove the plastic ring holding the mask to her head from her forehead. Then, she replaces it with a veil made out of one-way translucent fabric. Stepping back, the woman puts a fist up to her mouth. “I suppose you’ve become a little eerie now, but I guess that's better than having the word hostile on your face.” 

Nero nods. “It is.” 

“We’ll start training you tonight, for now, you can go hang out with your friends or go sit with Maha and Fatima.” 

Nero excuses herself from the office and heads back to the room she found the Muslim girl in. She sees that only the little girl in white is present.

“Where’s the other one?” Nero asks, getting the girl’s attention.

“Maha? She’s in the bathroom.” The girl tells her.

“So you must be Fatima?”

The girl nods.

“Y’know I understand you have to cover yourself, but why wear white, won’t you ruin your clothes easily out here?” Nero asks. 

“I’ll be inside most of the day, besides, it’s better if I don’t cook outside in black isn’t it?” 

Nero laughs. “I guess you’re right.” 

“I can’t wait to help people like you, it must have been scary losing all those parts.” Fatima’s eyebrows are very upturned so she’s still very expressive despite her nose and mouth being covered. 

“Umm, no, that’s, I’m a Rewind, not an accident victim,” Nero explained.

“Oh.” 

Nero shifts away from her as Maha comes out of the bathroom. “You’re Nero right?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ll be taking care of Fatima these two weeks.”

Confused, Nero asks. “Is she your understudy?”

“Well, I am her spiritual adviser and hand-holder nurse.”

“Right…” Nero walks off towards the door, and heads back towards the others, deeply confused by the situation she was just in.

[just2bubbly]

I know this can be a bit distressing but I want a story where Kai is older where he remembers his love what he still feels for Cinder, this is just a story please thanks for the answer

Masterlist

Thank you for sending in this ask, nonnie, it was a bit distressing since I couldn't find a new reason to make these two fall apart but not to worry about that, I used my big brain and was creative enough to make something up. Hoping it serves you well! :)

Old Roses on a Summer Breeze

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1.7k

Genre: Angst

A/N: SOSN isn't canon in this fic, Future fic

Kai's Perspective:

"Yes, Torin. Do make time on my schedule for this coming Saturday evening. There's an event at Tara's school." He informs, shuffling through the pages of the manuscript Torin had brought.

"Are you the guest?" 

"Ha, for once I'm not. They have some school performance, I'm going to see her," he says.

Torin smiles fondly, both the men thinking about the little kid that made Palace delightful. 

"Boo!" someone cheered loudly.

"Fu- oh my stars," he cuts his swear word as he sees Tara," we did talk about this, no coming here alone."

"But Da, I wanted to surprise you," she reasoned.

"I mentioned it multiple times, Da's office has important documents." 

"Well I came in to show you something," she said, trying to save herself from scoldings.

"And couldn't it wait till we sat down for dinner?"

"Maybe not," she goes, coming ahead to sit in the chair before him.

Kai nods at her antics, Torin eyeing him. 

Sighing he closes the document he was reading, "Then off it with, love."

"Can Torin-da give us a moment?" she asks politely.

"Tara, are you sure it can't wait till dinner, I have some work to complete."

"I'd take only 5 minutes," she begged, making puppy eyes at him.

"Kai, it's ok. I'd come back again in a while. Does that work fine for you Tara?" Torin chuckled, coming to rescue the child.

"You are the best, Torin-da!" she announced, giving him a cheeky smile.

Exasperated, Kai gave in to their schemes, signalling to his advisor that he would ring him once he was done with Tara. His daughter brought her precious thing to his table as soon as Torin was out of the room. 

"I drew us," she says with pride lacing her voice, "You, me and Mama."

"That's wonderful. Can I see it?" He requested.

"Obviously," Tara murmurs, her words carrying a trace of sarcasm, a trait she had inherited from him.

The picture she drew was wonderful and he wasn't biased towards his daughter. She had a certain level of artistic skills that was beyond her age. She drew pictures better than her parents, provided none of them were good artists themselves.

"You will be such a fantastic artist in the future. I have to admit you look very beautiful in this," he comments.

"You always say I look beautiful," she said accusingly.

"Because you always do," he chuckled.

"Would you like to hang it?" she questioned. 

"Maybe. We can put it in the drawing room or the living room."

"I mean in the office," she clarifies.

"Oh," he says," You think so?"

"Yes, you have a portrait of you and Mum and me when I was a kid. You don't have a family picture at your desk," she explains.

"That's quite thoughtful of you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are clever to notice I don't have a family photo at the desk."

She nods and remembering her manners she thanks him.

"I think my desk has too many pictures already, how about we hang it on the wall? So every time you come here you can see it."

"But you said not to come in here."

"And let's change that to when 'you come here accompanied'."

He cleared as they walked towards the gallery in his cabin, where he had hung images of significant events in his life. His parents and him, later his dad and him, Torin and his family, his wedding day, Tara's birth and so many uncountable events.

"We would have to remove something for this to fit in?" he said aloud.

"We could remove that one," she said pointing out to a frame in the top left corner.

"Let me see," he said looking towards the picture she pointed. It was the Rampion Crew on Scarlet and Wolf's wedding day, young people with dreams of immense happiness. 

"That has many of Da's friends. Maybe something else," he convinced, trying to not think much about the picture.

"I have never seen them. Why don't you invite them for New Year like we invite Mum's friends?"

"They live far away and are just too busy to come, Tara."

"Friends make time for each other, that's what Mum says," she countered. 

Having nothing to say to that, he changes the topic," Let's find some other picture."

"This one? " she suggested to the set of the same individuals in different places.

"Maybe we could take that one down," he concedes unwillingly.

They do remove it, much against his wish. Once they do, he smoothens the corner of his daughter's drawing to put in the frame. 

"Tada," she cheered when their work was done, both staring at the wall. 

"It does look nice," he admires.

"I'm born talented," she bragged, drawing a chuckle out of Kai. Tara is lost in her moment of glory and pride, her father holding himself from going down a path of nostalgia and grief. 

"Are you sad because we removed your friends from your gallery?"

"No darling, Da is so happy to see your drawing in his gallery."

"Then do you miss your friends?"

"Yes, Da is sad because he misses his friends," he says, trying to keep his sorrow from coming back to him. 

"Then you can call them and tell them you miss them," she suggests like a wise lady. He wishes he could find enough courage to do so.

"This New Year, we will invite them over. What do you say?" he asks, taking his child in his arms and carrying her to the couch. 

"Yes, I'm excited to meet all your friends," she cheered, her hands taking the old photo from the table and looking at it closely. 

"I know this lady. Teacher Yamin taught us about her. She is the Queen of Luna before forming a demo-mo something," she fumbles "--democratic government," Kai provides.

"Yes, she is the Queen Selene Blackburn of Luna, the last of her lineage," Kai explained, but to him, she was just Cinder, the mechanic, the revolutionary, one of his past mistakes- nothing that Tara needed to know. 

"I didn't know you were friends with the Queen, Da."

"I'm friends with the Queen, I'm friends with a lot of famous people. Even Queen Camilla."

"You don't have Queen Camilla's picture on the wall," she pointed. 

His daughter was a wise lady he thought.

"Queen Selene was better friends than Queen Camilla," he explained. 

"How is she?" she asked incredulously.

"Like all Queens are, Tara." He gave away nothing, Cinder had no place in his present especially not as a role model for his daughter. Daiyu was enough of a role model for her.

Before she could go on being a curious child, Kai decided to cut the conversation short. Glancing at the time and in relief said, "Your time's up, love. Torin must be waiting for me. I'd see you at dinner."

She said her goodbyes and walked out of the room, leaving Kai sitting behind on the couch. 

Going against his better judgment, he picked that photograph. It was years ago- when Kai's only worry was being able to follow in his father's footsteps. Cress had clicked it while Thorne and Cinder had teased him to no end about his first time eating street food. Those were some happy days, he remembered. 

He stood up, walked towards the wall and smiled proudly over his daughter's drawing. His eyes were drawn slowly to the other pictures on the wall, the ones he hadn't paid much attention to in the latter years.

Scarlet's wedding, Cinder's coronation, the first Lunar Ball, Kai's failed attempts at baking cakes- some scattered images of friendship and love all hung around on this very wall. 

With how slowly things fell apart, Kai didn't have much scope to pinpoint where things went wrong. One moment there were talks of forever and the other moment he had just never found time to know her, for her to know him. When visits became infrequent and talks always began with 'talk to you later', Kai knew it was a slow change but it had crept on them like dust being ladden on old clothes. And just like that he didn't feel so giddy about proposing and when they had opportunities to meet his excitement had a lingering feeling of impending doom. 

Kai was 18 when he fell in love with Cinder, 6 when he was fascinated with Selene and at 25 he had fallen out of love with both Cinder and Selene. Somewhere along the way she did too. No one to blame but themselves- not the distance or prejudice that separated them. Just not quite knowing each other after years of dating, "You were the best thing that happened to me, Kai." She had said the last time they had talked. 

From what he had learned, Cinder had moved on quickly too. Just because you find new people doesn't mean you stop loving old ones, Kai even after his marriage and children was still harbouring a soft spot for Cinder. No remorse over his situation now, he won't change his wife and daughter for anything in the world. He just felt sad over a possibility that could have happened if he was a simple man with basic needs. He had found his love in Cinder and his forever in Daiyu, his feelings for Cinder were just a recollection of the past like old roses on a summer breeze. Something pain strikingly beautiful but not meant for you. 

The phone rang and saved him from further getting carried down an old road he had memorised by heart. It was Torin.

"Yes, she went. You can come along. Also could you please arrange a box for me, I'd like to keep some things aside," he requested.

He collected all of the images of his friends and set them aside. If Tara continued her musings, he would need a bigger space to hang her paintings. Only one remained, Cinder's coronation with all of them smiling down at the camera thinking they had seen the worst of days.

_

A/N: This fic felt like writing about 'Sometimes Love Stays' from Kai's perspective and it's just better to accept things and move on than lament over it and I know it's easier said than done but it's the harsh truth, I hate it too.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @salt-warrior @slmkaider @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @cosmicnovaflare @fangirlforever0704 and lemme know if anyone wants to be tagged.

[dullahandyke]

Also I'm gonna try making one liveblog post again ‼ heres case 2 part 2

Was prompted to go into nikolina's cabin but I paused for a sec and sighed and panned to the right and there sholmes was hanging off of a desk bug like. It took several moments for me to gather the strength to engage with him

Sidenote I hate the new names for the Russian characters... pavlova? For real? What were their og names I'm gonna Google it

Ok borchevic isnt that much better but it's not fuckin pavlova!! So

Also I love the susato sprite where shes turned to look at something in the background with u... all the sprites of characters turning towards things of interest r so nice it rlly makes the space feel real. Adds on to the killer cinematography in here

Also also I need to get more like sholmes. This is a bad thing but at least he is not masking (I also dont do a lot of masking but I could do less of it)

DHHWJWJAK HIS FALLING ANIMATIOM IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY HIS BOXING ANIMATION.... he is so comical and animated I love it. Need that to be me

Hes so real for that tho. Singing is so fun if u keep me from singing I'll kill u dead

Also I love his little cap flip animation. A bit stupid but that's fine

(I already have plans to add a sholmes sticker to my laptop once I finish this game)

Everyone has headaches 🤨 I personally blame a gas leak. Those r always happening on old shit arent they

Nikolina has dresses n shit in her wardrobe she didnt before... what did she unpack or something ? Maybe the cat did it. So helpful

Also the bookshelf being in the cabin is so cool the way it's set into the wall like that... dream house feature. Fuck a pool I want a book hole

I like the solution to the locked room being the ship tilting that's nice and fun

'Isnt there anyone who can help me out of this mess' ryuu calls. Deep breath. Pan left. Sholmes is hanging off the coat rack

Love sholmes w the tiara... u just know iris has So much fun doing dress up w him and he is equally as delighted

IRELEVANT SNAKE???

Btw the logic and reason spectacular continues to fuck

Asougi on the floor during the spectacular.... :(

Also poor nikolina she seems so scared

Love how susato knows Facts and Knowledge... RIP girlie you would have loved pub quizzes

Ryunosuke naruhodou objectum ally... 'well if the teapot is her friend that's fine, we're all different' ryuu I trust u w my life

LOVE IT WHEN RYUU DOES THE SPECTACULARS hes getting in the facking groove!!!!!

Also love how smooth all the sprites r... the mocap so awesome

We need to get ryuu and susato some kittens.... they would love Cute Kitten Video Compilation

Sidenote I love asougi's shin things. Cunt-tastic

I have to say this is rhe first aa game that I'm not watching a playthru of or cheesing with a walkthru and I'm having fun yippee!!!

I do wonder how long the case is gonna be tho

The percussion in all this music is so awesome

Wait hold on a sec. If ryuu was being framed then that means there was someone else who knew ryuu was stowing away

Sidenote but I've been wondering, what did ryuu tell his family about him going to London? Becauss it seems like literally only he and asougi knew if they weren't even letting susato in on it. Did he tell them he was going somewhere totally different? Did he just disappear? Is he now on the missing persons list? I mean I Guess he could be an orphan but theres that whole ryutarou thing and I'd imagine he would need at least one additional family member to pull that off

We need to get susato access to wikipedia I think she would love it

We also need to get sholmes access to a fidget cube

Ryuu? We can get him access to a nice hearty meal. He deserves it

Ryuu getting distracted by strogenov's beefy arms... 🤐🏳️‍🌈

Nikolina... she looks like a small sad kitten

Wahhhhhh asougiiiiii... so niceys to nikolina...

Whenverr they show asougi I get so sad.. . RIP gayboy I loved u

The final deduction of the wardrobe.... :(

:(

The music is fucking w me too...

I know she killed asougi but cant we let nikolina go.... everyone is being so hard on her she is 15

OH NOOOO SUSATO SAD.... :(((

SUSATO SMIIIIILE YAY :)

SUSATO SHOWING HER THROWS TO SHOLMES... :) friends

Case over.... AAAAAAA!!!! now I am hungry but bubbles is atop me so ig I'll just answer texts... if shes still not up by the time I'm done then we'll see about starting case 3 but doubtful

[more-than-a-princess]

@ultfan asked: ❛ You're not who I thought you were. ❜ (this is giving early post-tragedy vibes, but if you can think of another verse to set this in go for it!)

The Fall of the House of Usher starters - Still Accepting from Mutuals!

She wasn't sure what she detested more: the fact that she'd, with the hammer in her hands, managed to hit a hole in the drywall of the currently-convalescing Mahiru Koizumi's cabin wall, or the fact Nagito Komaeda had both witnessed it and found reason to comment upon it.

Dropping the hammer and offending nail (well, it offended her in the fact that she couldn't hit the head of it for the life of her) into the corresponding toolbox, Sonia sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. He seemed so unsure of everything: what to do, how to regard the rest of them, and now he apparently was dissatisfied with her. Or so Sonia thought, not that it would be much different from the Future Foundation representatives who took up residence on Jabberwock Island. In her paint and dirt-stained jeans, sneakers, and button-down shirt, Queen Sonia of Novoselic was the most spectacular example of failure.

"That rather seems like the theme to every member of the former Class 77-B," Sonia replied, turning to face him. A stack of framed photos leaned against the recently-painted wall, photos that Hajime had entrusted her to hang to welcome Mahiru back to her cabin once she was released from hospital. It was one of the few things he, and the members of the Future Foundation, could think for Sonia Nevermind to do that was both a necessity and didn't involve a catastrophe. It had taken two weeks for the newly-awakened survivors to realize that the former Ultimate Princess was useless at best in the kitchen, an outbreak of food poisoning at worst. Cleaning was also an exercise in frustration: she mixed up the cleaning products, overloaded washing machines, and could never figure out how to iron anything without deep, black iron marks in the fabric. She could perform basic first aid and assist Mikan, once she was awakened, in some hospital duties but she wasn't a qualified medical professional. Or a cook, or a cleaner, or a builder, or a fixer, or anything else they truly needed on Jabberwock Island.

She knew formal etiquette, how to carry on proper conversation, the right way to sit and stand and pour a cup of tea. How to dance a waltz and exactly which fork and knife and spoon to start with in a proper dinner service. She knew how to give speeches to an already-captive audience and organize charities with a team who did all of the hard work. Sonia Nevermind knew how to do all of that.

And yet, in a world after The Tragedy, it didn't matter. None of it mattered. The only negotiation she ever did now was with the Future Foundation, to extend her stay on Jabberwock Island in order to avoid returning to a recovering Novoselic, alone, where half the citizens believed she was brainwashed by Junko Enoshima and half wanted to bestow upon her Marie Antoinette's fate. In any case, the volatile state of the kingdom meant she'd be confined to Novoselic Castle, presumably for the rest of her life with the hope that her eventual heir would continue a once-admirable legacy, one she managed to fuck up all on her own. With her own two hands.

It's what they were good for it seemed: making a mess of things. Her country, Mahiru Koizumi's cabin.

"It is almost impressive, really," She continued, forcing a tight-lipped smile onto her face as she tried to ignore the hole in the wall behind her. To Sonia, it felt like it stared at the back of her head, another reminder of her lack of place in the new world. "I am quite adept at shooting a gun and applying first aid in the midst of any potential battle, but I cannot even seem to be a proper interior decorator. And I just wanted to do something kind for Mahiru-san when she is able to move in here: they did not trust me with the likes of fixing the porch or the plumbing, you see."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. It never did, not anymore: there were too many regrets, too many reconciliations that had yet to come, too many people she'd hurt. Sonia brushed some loose tendrils of blonde hair out of her eyes, strands that had escaped the loose braid they'd been confined in. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to, a friend. She used to be good at listening, allowing others to confide in her and advise where she could. She could try it again.

"May I help you with something, Nagito-san? If you feel the same as I do, I imagine you might be feeling like this is all rather...strange, to be on this island where our friends died. But that was all a dream: the reality of it is far more depressing."

[evntualities]

new ted lasso trailer... roy seeing the poster jamie has of him hanging in his childhood bedroom

anyways, this isn’t from ral’s pov, but rest assured that this means a lot to him / ral + li

“Sorry. It’s... kinda a mess. It’s mostly Iz who stays here, but she’s been busy—” in Montreal, the Norris winner at her side— “And sometimes a couple of the guys used to stay here, but I haven’t been back in a while, so, there’s a lot of work to do.” Leaning against the doorframe, Liam folds his arms over his chest, eyes scanning over the room, which is covered in clutter from his move to (and from) Toronto.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for letting me stay. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” Setting his bag on the bed, Raleigh looks at the desk across the room, and his eyes settle on the overflowing box on the top.

Liam shrugs, standing taller as he steps back from the doorway. “No, it’s no problem. You actually caught me just in time. I was thinking of heading home to visit my family, actually. Spending the summer there while I...” Rehab and get treatment and to try everything he can to fix his knee before training camp. “Just... y’know, a break from the city.” As much as he loves being here, Liam has learned how fast the noise can overwhelm you, pulling you under until it’s impossible to see, to hear, anything else. He won’t let it happen again.

“Sounds like it’ll be good for you,” Raleigh says, because he knows that feeling well enough, himself. It’s why he’s here instead of back in Boston for the summer. It’s why he hasn’t stepped foot in Nelson since he was a kid. “After all of this... you’re welcome back up to the cabin.” And after all these years, Liam is proud to say that he can call Raleigh Pierce a friend, but he may never understand how truly elusive that invitation is. Though, as Raleigh meets his eyes once again, the same fondness dictating his expression, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. There are few people in the world that Raleigh would do anything for, but Liam makes the list. “Doesn’t hurt to get away from home, either.” Not to mention that Raleigh has found that there isn’t much that can’t be fixed by a visit up north. 

“Oh, I may take you up on that,” Liam says, the beginnings of a smile drawing across his expression.

“I hope you do.” Looking back to his bag, Raleigh walks around to the other side of the bed and unfastens the zipper.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled. I have to meet a couple doctors at the rink, but I’ll be back later. I’ll bring dinner, if you want. I’ll let you know. Just text me what you want.” 

Shrugging his jacket off, Raleigh nods from where he stands at the foot of the bed, working to unpack what he’ll need for the next couple of days. 

His eyes travel to the wall above the bed, to the jersey that is carefully hanging in its frame. The deep green #9 is familiar, that of a guy who entered the league the same year he did. Raleigh can’t help laughing, which is enough to keep Liam from turning the corner. “I can’t be mad. Can’t say I’m not a little jealous.”

Following his gaze, Liam feels a blush rise across his cheeks, and this is another reason he chooses not to come into this room: it houses all of the memorabilia that has been collected over the years.

“Well, you shouldn’t feel too bad.” Stepping into the room, Liam pauses beside the desk, pushes the box aside, and pulls a folded jersey from the top. #71 Pierce. “It’s signed, too. I just never got around to framing it. My dad gave it to me... years ago. Before the draft and everything. I’ve had it a while.”

“You’re really making this worse, Wright.” Though Raleigh feels the same smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m—okay, okay! If it makes you feel better, I’ve got a few I have to frame. I just... once I put it here, I don’t really look at it again.” Not without reason. Especially as a young, developing player, it’s easy to associate the awards with success, when really, they lie independent of each other. When you start to take any of the awards too seriously, looking to that instead of the game, things stop working the way that they should. Liam had to learn that the hard way.

The box on the desk... these awards are from high school, championship rings from juniors, signed jerseys, Olympic medals, pucks for every milestone at every level, and all Liam can think when he looks at it is how he feels now: empty and worthless with a knee that won’t even let him don a pair of skates. What do all of the awards mean, then? If he can’t even skate?

“What’s that one?” Raleigh says, stepping closer, interrupting Liam’s frame of thought. nodding to the frame that sits underneath the box.

“Oh.” Humming, Liam carefully removes the boxes to reveal the frame that sits underneath. It’s covered in dust, edges a little worn from moves, but the jersey is good as new inside—Tartan Titans, signed by each member of the 2008-09 season, which was his last with the team. The last one before he was drafted by the USHL. “Titans. Varsity captain as a sophomore. They, uh, all signed it. Gave it to me the day before I left. Tartan usually feeds into Minnesota State, so it was good company.”

“Is that where you would’ve gone?”

“Probably,” Liam says, brushing his finger along the edge of the frame. “But what were you saying about getting away from home earlier?” Setting the box back atop the glass, he steps back. “Sometimes it’s good to get away.”

[romanoffsbish]

The Damned, and the Dame

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Wanda x Vision ; Natasha x F!R (☠️)

Prompts

“After everything you've done, I still love you. with all I am.”

Every muscle in her body ached, the adrenaline built up from the chase, and the immense power garnered from the dark hold having faded by now. All Wanda wanted to do was to curl up in her bed, close her eyes, and quite frankly—never awake again. There was nothing left for her here, Vision was gone for good, along with their kids, and if she allowed herself to think about her greatest loss, then she’d be able to acknowledge your absence as well, and just how much it still hurts to have lost you.

————————————

The first person she ever truly loved, who loved her back without a second thought, when in reality you would’ve been better to run like the world told you to. For years you two were happy, then one night she couldn’t look at you without feeling resentment. The smile never faded from your face, even though you’d lost just as much as she did, if not more really. It’d felt unfair to her, that happiness just came so easily to you, but had she been paying any attention she’d have known your never ending supply of joy was because of her, not in spite.

Pushing you away felt like the right thing to do; months of unwarranted silence left you in a fit of confusion, you racked your mind for any answers for the cold shoulder, only to find it when Wanda was hanging off the arm of the synthezoid. The glint in her eyes was enough to tell you she’d been cheating on you, at least in some capacity, and the heartbreaking sight of her kissing his cheek left you gasping for air. Stumbling back into the wall, a wave of nausea rolled through you, and you ran off to collect your things, planning to disappear for awhile for the betterment of all those around you.

You’d always thought your love, born in your youth, would stand the test of time, but fate never seemed to be willing to work in your favor, and you never were one to push back.

Wanda moved on first, but when you’d returned months later, in good spirits, and with your arm wrapped snuggly around the waist of the redhead the room began to spin, the entirety of her oxygen leaving her lungs, her heart stilled, and she was unfortunately vividly reminded of the night you left.

She’d returned to your shared room, a petty annoyance in her heart in preparation for seeing you, but when she found the room vacant of your existence, with a simple note on the bed reading: “I hope he makes you happy, I’m sorry that I no longer could…,” her heart had stopped then too, and even with her new beau it never seemed to beat the same again.

Wanda knew the world likely believed her to be dead, it was an agreed upon notion between her and the sorcerer that guided her back to sanity. Strange had nodded from the corpses frame when she looked to him, because if he didn’t agree then he’d have to send her to the raft, and he could see the despondence in her dull green eyes—she was no longer a threat.

Not only did the world think it, she herself wished it, but she promised you along time ago that she’d never give up. Even though she broke it by doing so with you, she reasoned it best to atone for such sins by forcing herself to continue going on; living was her repentance.

There had been only a few places she could go, she settled on a cabin in the woods of Norway, but as she approached it she saw a light on. Every hair on her body stood at attention, she had no intention to fight anyone else, she was exhausted, but this was her home now, the one she had once dreamed up with you in the peak of your relationship. There was no way she’d just let someone infiltrate it, and take away the only piece of you she had left, even if it meant drawing attention to herself after just agreeing with Strange that she would remain low.

The closer she got to the house though she found her body losing its fight, a deep calm began to settle in her heart at the familiar smell of your cologne, and the hum leaving through the kitchen window nearly had her tripping in an attempt to reach you. She knew it was a long shot, most of her believed this to be residual mind games from the dark magic, but on the off chance it wasn’t she wasn’t about to waste any more time standing outside.

Wanda froze in the doorway, it was you, there was just no mistaking that physique., “Y/N?,” you knew she was there, but it took you a minute to grow the confidence to face her. You’d come here the moment the news of her defeat made it to the headlines, and just as you expected—hoped—she was very much alive., “So you’re not dead then?,” you tried to sound indifferent, but the dinner on the stove for two and the relief in your eyes were enough to tell Wanda that some naive part of you still cared.

“Well, I’m making dinner, and I will go draw you up a bath, because you look kinda rough.,” Wanda’s heart fluttered in her chest at your soft smirk, and teasing chuckle, so much so that she was overwhelmed with a need to be close to you. Needing to feel you to know this moment was real, so even in her dirtied state she slammed her body into yours, tightly wrapping her arms around you, and only truly settling when you returned her gesture after the shock of her urgency wore off.

“Y/N, why are you here?,” she asked the question of the hour.,” you grimaced at the dark thoughts that had plagued you all day., “Because I needed to see you were alive.,” you felt a tightening in your chest, the words you omitted were stinging the tip of your tongue., “After everything you've done, I still love you. with all I am.,” you sighed, choosing messy honesty over beating around the bush any longer., “Why would you?”

“Because no matter what I know your heart Wanda, I’ve known you since we were little kids in a war torn country. When you don’t understand something you become defensive, you also tend to run, for all of that I forgive you, and my love for you will never waver.”

“It should,” she sniffled, but contrary to her sentiments she snuggles into your embrace further., “We’ve suffered enough apart Wanda, we’ve lost so much, why should we continue on this way when we could just let love heal us?”

“I-I’ve done a lot of bad things Y/N/N.,” she cries into your shirt, her hand clutching to the fabric tightly in fear of losing you after you see the monster she’s become., “I know Wanda, you got lost in your grief, it wasn’t right, but who on the team hasn’t?,” you reasoned., “Literally, Clint went on a killing spree, Tony and Bruce created Ultron without punishment, Steve put Bucky above every last one of us then left us all behind in a post Thanos world, truly the list could go on, and on Wanda. You did some bad things, yes, and it cost people their lives, you should feel guilty, but not to the point where you’d believe you’re a bad person.”

“I broke your heart.,” she reminds you, as if that was the worst of it all., “Yeah, you did, but for that I’m grateful.,” her eyebrows furrowed., “It gave us a chance to grow up, I was able to see love from a different lens. I felt free with Natasha, my love for her was true, as yours was for Vision, but it was never deep like ours was.”

“We’re soulmates Wands, Piet had always said it, and after all this time I know he was right.,” she pulled her head from your shoulder to gaze at you, her hands gently cupped your cheeks, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Tears began to befall both of your cheeks at the reacquainting of lips. Wanda sighed as she reluctantly pulled away from you, “Heart, Body, and Soul… Y/N, all of me belongs to you; please tell me, does this mean you’ll stay?”

“Wanda, if you will shower, I’d do anything.,” she pushed at your chest with a huff, but she couldn’t help but to chuckle along with you., “I’m holding you to that detka.,” she lowly whispered, winking and leaving you stunned. The witch smirked, grateful to know you’re still so easy to fluster, then she left with a kiss to your cheek, and a warmth in both your hearts.

————————————

1,490 Words

🥰 Kaitlyn 🥺

[loousir]

[Naga] Snake Bites

Naga Male x Bold (& kinda dense) Artist Male Reader

Syerca

Setting: Mostly a Naga's cave deep into a forest.

Warnings: Soft lime at the end (marking/mate), bad (was the first oneshot in the original book), slight mention of naga attacking reader

Masterlist

-----------------------

The fall breeze blew gently, tossing some fallen leaves around some worn shoes. The man who wore said shoes brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen into his face. He stared out into the woods, eyes following a gorgeous path until it disappeared.

"Hope you don't plan on goin' out there, " An older resident said. They were at the edge of a small cabin town. Some houses we're newer than others but that didn't seem to bother anyone. The houses were decently spaced and it was pretty active for being where most elders come to retire.

The man shrugged at the other's comment and adjusted the large hiking bag on his shoulders. "You shouldn't. Most don't make it back." The other male rolled his eyes and looked back to the elder. "I'm well aware of what lurks out there." He turned away from the other and set out on the path.

The path almost instantly secluded anyone who walked it from the chaotic world around it. He examined the terrain and all it had to offer, collecting some things along the way. His side bag was full of odd rocks and a book that had some pressed foliage, now had ones he hadn't collected before.

The walk was peaceful. Birds chirping as the wind rustled the leaves. The path was mostly covered but the leaves caused rays of light to shine through, giving him inspiration. He eventually found a spot to rest and decided to paint the path he was walking. Once his bag was set down, he pulled out a roll of canvas and laid it as flat as he could.

There were some paints and brushes in a holder in the middle of the roll and he smiled softly as he picked them up. He opened the bag and pulled out what he thought he needed as well as a small jar that held water to clean the brushes.

Close to 30 minutes had passed when he got a slight chill down his spine. He paused his painting and looked around. His eyes only saw the woods so he somewhat hesitantly went back to painting. After another 40-ish minutes passed, he finished his first of few paintings.

Luckily, the breeze dried his paints quicker than he had anticipated. He very carefully added a few layers of a sealant he had and let it dry. The same chill from earlier came around again but it was a bit more intense. He looked around as he finished cleaning and putting things away, noticing something in the distance.

Whatever he was looking at disappeared and he sighed as the now dry canvas was gently rolled and placed back onto the bag. He stood up, stretched, and continued his mostly peaceful walk, forgetting what he had seen earlier.

Some hours had passed, his periodic breaks allowing him to gain inspiration for future paintings. It was just after noon when he decided to make his own path. He pulled out a book and wrote directions so he could find his way back. In the process of creating his own path, he stumbled upon one of the most stunning places he'd ever seen.

It was a small, oasis-like area that had a magical feel to it. He stopped what he was doing and found the perfect spot to paint the scene in front of him.

While he painted, some birds had visited him and even a small snake had managed to befriend him and his paints. The snake had coiled gently around his wrist while he worked which made him smile.

The man had sat and painted the space for another 2 hours, finishing at around 2 o'clock. His (e/c) eyes looked up to the sky and he sighed, sealing his now finished work before packing everything away.

The snake was still on his wrist, not even bothering to leave so he just dealt with it. He continued on his own path for another hour. It was still fairly bright when he found himself at the entrance of a cave.

The small snake uncoiled itself and slid into a pocket on his cloak. The cave went deeper but he was cool with not going into it since he was going to leave soon anyway.

He stayed at the entrance and found a nice area to sit and relax, maybe get another painting done of what the cave looked like. It was gorgeous after all, nature framed the entrance perfectly, leaving some vines to hang down, moss covers rocks and small fungi scattered every so often.

He decided on just relaxing as he set his stuff down and leaned against a wall.

Soon enough, he had dozed off into his dreamland.

------

I ssswear I'll kill that woman...

Ssshe won't leave me alone...

The large, gorgeous albino Naga slithered through the leaves, carefully making his way to his home. He had noticed some newer prints, clearly from something with two legs, but he didn't pay too much mind to them.

He reached the cave and sighed as he entered. Bright blue eyes scanned the area and his heart sank to his stomach when he saw a (tall/short/avg) man with (h/l) (h/c) hair leaning against the wall.

Pleassse dear godsss tell me he iss alive...

He quickly made his way to the motionless body, not noticing said body's items not too far away.

If ssshe killed another human to try to pleasse me... I ssswear...

As he was lost in thought, the other stirred thanks to his intense staring and slightly heavy breathing. The human yawned and stretched his back slightly as he looked up to the Naga with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Is there something you need?"

The Naga jumped slightly and stared down at him with shock but also joy, happy he wasn't dead.

"I apologize... I wasss afraid you had passsed..."

The Naga paused for a moment while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Wait... You aren't... Afraid of me?"

The (h/c) shook his head and looked up to him again. "If you don't mind, I would like to take my leave." He said placing his hands on the ground in preparation to stand. The Naga stood speechless, staring at the smaller human sitting in front of him.

"Can you move please?"

With a nod and small apology, the Naga moved away from the male who carefully stood and stretched his limbs.

The white and yellow snake watched as the other took out a small pocket watch, that the small snake from earlier was now holding on to, and checked the time. "When the hell did I get so late..." The man mumbled to himself. The time read 8:11 and judging by the lack of light it was night time. He slipped the watch and snake back onto his pocket.

"Well, I better get going." He said grabbing his bag and putting over his shoulder. The Naga still stood, watching as the male walked to the mouth of the cave.

"W-wait!"

He looked back to see that the other had slithered closer and held a worried look on his face. "P-please don't leave! Y-you can't!"

"Oh yeah, and whys that?"

"I would rather not find sssuch a beautiful man ssslaughtered on my cave-step in the morning..."

Said beautiful man turned to look at him, slightly shocked at the statement.

"Pleassse just ssstay with me till the morning and I'll essscort you back to the village..." He looked frantic and genuinely seemed like he cared.

With a sigh, the other looked to the pleading blue eyes and said, "I don't bunk with strangers. I'll be fine." He turned and walked out of the cave, leaving the Naga shocked and frozen.

"Wait! I'm ssserious! Pleassse!" He followed after the human and froze once again when he saw him pinned by the she-devil herself. His bag had been tossed to the side, most of the contents falling out. She had him wrapped in her tail and smiled as he struggled to get free.

His shy demeanor had dissipated rather quickly. The small snake had gotten out of the other's pocket and hid in the nearly empty bag.

He suddenly lunged towards the woman he hated so much. She clearly hadn't noticed him before then and threw the human off to the side, his body slamming into a tree. The two of them fought as the one tossed aside slowly passed out, struggling to stay awake.

------

Soft hands gently rubbed his back as he awoke again. His (e/c) eyes looked around the best the could but they didn't see much other than a wall. His whole body was sore but those hands were working wonders. The room was warm and whatever he was laying on was extremely comfortable. He closed his eyes and let out a pleased groan.

The hands froze and pulled away quickly, making him turn his head the other way. A set of bright blue eyes were staring with surprise that the male was awake. "H-hello there..." The human smirked and slowly blinked, "Hey sexy, why'd ya stop?"

The blonde blushed and looked away. "I dessspissse that remedy ssso much..." He mumbled as his hands carefully went back to massaging. "Mmm... I'm soooo tired... Will you cuddle with me?"

"No... Just go back to sssleep human..."

"Mm... Oh-kay."

------

A soft warm light lit the room, if you could really call it a room. A rather noisy yawn resonated from a still fairly sore male. He carefully stretched and sat up, almost instantly laying back down.

"Fuuck me..."

His hand fell from what he now knows as a large hammock. Soft locks brushed against his fingers and without thinking he gently combed them, enjoying the soft and cool feeling on his slightly rough hands. The owner of said locks leaned into the hand, clearly not realizing whose hand it was.

The two enjoyed each other for a moment before the blonde realized the situation. He pulled away and sat up, looking at the still sleepy human in his bed. "Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?" He asked leaning in slightly.

"Something to drink, and maybe a name?" The Naga nodded and got a cup of water first. He sat up in the hammock carefully and crossed his legs slightly. Looking around, the room was neat yet cluttered with various items. He spot his stuff and cautiously, yet somewhat reluctantly, left the hammock to inspect them.

He sat on the large plush rug and rummaged through his own things, glad to see that everything he had was still there. Other than his canvas. He panicked slightly and looked around, immediately regretting the sudden movement.

Laying back, he closed his eyes and sighed. Mr. Naga came back and looked at the other on the ground. He hovered over him slightly till he opened his eyes. "Here, it'sss fresh ssspring water."

"Thank you." He said carefully sitting up and drinking what he was given.

"My name is Sssyerca." The other nodded. "(Y/n). Do you happen to know where my canvas is at Sssyerca?" He asked mimicking the way the other said it. Syerca blushed and nodded, moving over to a small table to grab it. (Y/n) stood up carefully from the floor and followed him to said table.

There was a large couch, clearly made for the naga, that (Y/n) sat on. Syerca sat next to him, and (Y/n) leaned on him, closing his eyes as he took in the snakes, surprising, warmth. Said snake blushed and looked down to the (h/c). He gently took the cup from (Y/n)'s hand and set it on the table.

"I hope you don't mind that I may have looked at your paintingsss..." (Y/n) shrugged and looked up to Syerca, one eye pressed against his side. "Are they ok? Physically?"

"Ah, yesss! They're fine. And quite beautiful if I might sssay..." Syerca said with a soft tone. (Y/n) smiled and looked down to the rolled canvas. He stood up and Syerca watched as he stood on the opposite side of the table. "Lie on the couch and get comfortable. Let me grab something real quick." He said walking over to his bag and rummaging around for a moment.

Syerca hesitantly did as the painter asked and made himself comfortable on the couch. (Y/n) found all of the supplies he needed and set them on the floor next to the table before sitting on his knees. "May I make a request?" He asked looking up to Syerca. The Naga nodded as he watched (Y/n) unroll the canvas. "Look cute and don't move till I say you can." Syerca blushed and adjusted slightly so that he was looking at the other.

(Y/n) started to put blobs of color onto the canvas. Syerca watched as the soft yellows and whites turned into his tail, then tans to his chest, and so on till it had gotten to his head, his face still not painted.

It had been close to 2 hours by that point but neither had seemed to notice the time go by due to being entranced by the painting. "Syerca. Could you look at me? Don't look at the painting." (Y/n) said, starting at the other's eyes. He blushed softly and looked into (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes.

Syerca took this opportunity to examine the human closely. His (e/c) eyes we're soft yet focused, while his (h/style) (h/c) hair moved slightly with his gentle head movements. He blushed and bit his lip slightly as he looked at his lips. They were a soft pink color and we're parted slightly as he worked, the occasional blep happening due to his focus.

Many minutes had passed before (Y/n) looked up and said. "Alright. You can move again." Syerca snapped out of his trance and looked down to the canvas. (Y/n) cleaned up as Syerca turned the canvas to look at properly. His eyes shined as he looked at it closer. "The amount of detail iss amazing..." (Y/n) looked up and smiled. "You can have it if you want it. I'll put it on a frame and sign it if you do." He said with a small laugh.

Syerca looked up as his eyes widened slightly. "Really? That would be lovely..." (Y/n) nodded and said, "I'll have to head back to my home though. If you'd be willing to come with me I could do it today." He went to get his pocket watch to check the time when he heard Syerca get off the couch. (Y/n) though nothing of it but tensed when he was hugged from behind.

He turned his head slightly to look at Syerca who buried his face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck. "Uh... What are you doing that for?" The other stayed silent for a moment before responding. "I know thisss is extremely sssudden... But... Would you be willing to become my mate?"

"... What would be in it for me?" (Y/n) asked looking to Syerca who pulled away. "Protection from any other Naga, free-range of my territory... It will finally let me rid thisss world of that vile woman that attacked you..." He said mumbling the last part. His eyes looked to (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes and the other said,

"So you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Syerca was quiet before he broke out in laughter, his eyes closing as he did. "Yesss... I-if that'sss what humansss call... Call matesss." (Y/n) looked up and shrugged. "Ok. I'm single anyway." Syerca smiled and hugged him, gently pressing their foreheads together. "Would it be ok for me to mark you?" He asked quietly, looking into (Y/n)'s eyes.

"I-I don't know what that entails but um... Sure..." (Y/n) gently wrapped his arms around Syerca's bare torso. He gently rubbed the others back. It was smooth but the occasional line like bump came up, telling there was a scar there. Syerca leaned down to (Y/n)'s neck and placed soft kisses under his jaw. (Y/n) gasped and shivered, slightly tightening his grip on the male, not expecting what he did.

Syerca continued to kiss before mumbling, "Sssorry... But thisss might hurt..." (Y/n) was about to speak up but Syerca bit down on his neck, his canines sinking in. (Y/n) gasped and let out a small moan of pain as he hugged him. Syerca pulled away slightly and licked the spot where he bit. It left a tingling sensation behind and (Y/n) felt a bit weak after.

"Are you ok..? The mark will tell that your claimed... My ssscent will remain and only be picked up by other naga..." He gently brushed (Y/n)'s hair back. "I wish you told me that's what you were going to do..." Syerca looked away and sighed, "I didn't think you would allow me if I told you."

(Y/n) looked up to him and moved his hands from the others back to his cheeks. He gently rubbed them with his thumbs. Syerca smiled and (Y/n) smiled too. His thumbs gently rubbed over Syerca's lips, they were thin but still nice. Syerca smiled more and stuck his tongue out, showing it's slit. "I don't know what's in that... Saliva of yours but it made me feel pretty good."

Syerca moved (Y/n)'s hands from his face and interlocked their fingers. "Also what's with you and making me feel good?" He asked, resting his face on Syercas chest. "I apologize... But... Thank you for letting me... M-mark you." (Y/n) pulled away and looked up to the others eyes. "Let's get to know each other before we call it official though." Syerca nodded and rested his forehead against (Y/n)'s.

"I'll take you back to your village a little later. For now, let'sss get to know each other... Like you sssuggested..."

----

3066

Definitely not my fav but hey

[dannyboy-writes]

Murders of murderers

Camp Nightwing.

More like Camp Nightmare.

The worst part of it was a tie between the Sunnyvale pricks and the fact that you were now on clean duty.

Probably it was the Sunnyvale pricks, though.

The only nice thing from it was Ziggy, but even she passed on cleaning the toilets with you.

You didn’t blame her.

Scrubs here, there, over the side. Blah, blah, blah.

You almost missed Ziggy heading to nurse Lane’s cabin, but you rushed to her side.

“Hey,” you smiled, cleaning your hands in some rag over a chair nearby.

“Oh, hey, didn’t know you were finished. I would’ve gone with you instead of being chased by Sheila and her goons,” she grunted.

“Well you missed nothing from my cleaning journey, and- Holy shit, what happened on your arm, Z?”

“Sheila.”

She didn’t seem to want any more questions, so you just followed her inside, looking for nurse Lane.

“Hey, Ziggs,” you called. “Check this out.”

You showed her a book - presumably from nurse Lane, but you didn't know - and read over the pages.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You and Ziggy jumped and turned around to see nurse Lane standing by the door of her office, her face stoic.

“I need some medical attendance,” Ziggy said, pointing at her arm.

As nurse Lane took care of Ziggy’s arm, you left to the main room.

You picked at one of the table’s dry wood when you heard a whisper, a chill running through you.

“What?” You said.

“Hey, you good,” Ziggy asked.

“Yeah, what did you need?”

“Nothing… Why?”

“You- I thought you called me. Must’ve heard wrong.”

She shrugged. “You do know the arm wasn’t bleeding, right,” she grinned at you.

“You know I’m not good with blood. Or injuries at all, really.”

She slid her arm on your waist as you positioned yours on her shoulders, heading out.

-

You were walking around the camp as Joan gave red and blue t-shirts to everyone, grabbing a blue one from her.

Walking past the kids getting their faces painted you stopped at Tommy and Cindy, a question on your lips.

“Have any of you seen Ziggy?”

“You tried her cabin? I heard Sheila say something about her stuff,” Cindy suggested with a hint of sadness for her sister.

You thanked her and left for cabin 5 when you heard the voice again, and the same chills as before climbed up your spine.

Y/n…

Everything else seemed to stop at the voice, dizziness forming at the pit of your stomach. All the voices and the laughter, they were all…

Gone.

And then Kurt’s whistle interrupted you, as he went on gushing about Sunnyside’s victories in the color war.

You blocked him out of your ears as you headed to find Ziggy.

You knocked twice on the wooden frame before coming in. And when you did, oh boy.

A rage unbeknownst to you found your body, your hands clenched into tight fists.

All the graffitied walls and insults in the room. Clothes thrown over places, bags hanging from the beds.

And there was Ziggy, angry as hell, in the middle of it all, with a bucket of… Paint?

“What are you doing?”

She finally looked at you, “I didn’t have any pigs.”

“Who did this?”

You kinda already knew the answer. Who had been giving Ziggy hell since day one? Sheila.

“Colonel Mustard,” she retorted, as if she had read your mind.

You finally cracked a smile and went by her side.

“Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be fine. Sheila though, she’s going to need to scrub her clothes for some time.”

You left her to her vendetta and made your way back to your cabin.

Y/n…

“Okay, that’s not funny. Whoever that is, you’ve been doing that all day. It’s getting old,” you shouted into the empty prairie.

Y/n…

The grass seemed to slow you down and you had to hold onto a tree to stop the dizziness in you. A wave of anger and terror went through you as you listened to what the voice said.

“Hey, y/n,” some kid said. “I don’t remember my post in tonight‘s game. Do you know it?”

Your back was facing him as your grip tightened on the axe.

“Y/n?”

You turned around gaining momentum and slashed his chest.

You were another Shadysider, now.

----

I might do a part two of this... who knows...

[marvelhero-fics]

Snowman

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip. 

A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)

Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.

Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”

“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.

Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,

“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.

“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.

“Tell me more about when you met her.”

“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.

“Where was (Y/N) trained?”

“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,

“What happened on the mission?”

“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”

“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”

“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.

Moscow

2011

The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.

“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”

That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.

You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.

“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.  

“I always do.”

~

Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.

The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.

The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.

There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.

Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.

You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.

Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.

“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.

“Khochesh' vypit'? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.

He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.

“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?

“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.

You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.

“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.

“No.”

“What about truth or dare?”

“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.

“How old are you?” You shot back,

“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”

He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”

“What?”

“I’m 93. How old are you.”

“93?! You were born in 1917?”

“Mhm. How old are you.”

“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.

“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.

“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“C’mon old man,  I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.

You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”

“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.

“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.

“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.

“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”

Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.

You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.