#fanfic rewrite (maybe?)

[peachdues]

Only thinking of this one, very specific scenario that my brain conjured up while in the shower and deciding what fic it should go in —

Sanemi, hovering over you in bed. Both of you are half-naked and panting, excited for what you both know is coming when he pulls back. He studies you until your cheeks heat, one hand braced by your head while the other brushes your hair from your face, his fingers dropping to trace your lips.

When you ask him what’s wrong, he only smirks.

“Nothin’. Just wanna be inside you.”

And those fingers slide beneath your chin tilting your face to meet his kiss —

help me I’ve had too much to drink probably

[danihow]

Stare

Jack Sparrow x Fem!Reader C. Is it so hard for you to believe I love you? 7. You are so so pretty I can’t help but stare and you caught me. Requested by anonnie.

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: In which the reader realizes she cares for captain Jack Sparrow (idk).

Warning: Angst, crack, fluff, rum, drinking, (?).

A/N: I didn't realize i was writing in fem reader until i revised it, and also, i loved the tropes but it got lost by the end, i'm so sorry i butchered it. LIKE IT DOESN'T EVEN HAS A SUMMARY OMG.+ I HATE ITTT.

Sailing on board of the Black Pearl was rather... peculiar, if you were to put it in words.

One of the sea's most infamous ships in the seas, captained by one of the most known pirates of the Caribbean; a captain that according to tales was either a hero or the devil himself but to you was just a man with a severe craving for rum and an insane amount of luck by his side.

Still, you would never trade your place in the Pearl's crew by anything else in the world, it was your safe place, your home. From the creaky black floors and the moldy walls to the welcoming crew and the surprisingly insanely smart captain who cared for his crew even if his mouth never expressed it.

"Jack, have you seen Marty?" You ask while you walk past him, the Pearl was anchored in Tortuga while replenishing of provisions and the guys of the crew relaxed for a while; it was less to say to say you were a bit surprised to see Jack on board and not in a bar. "Wait why are you still on deck?"

"To answer your multiple and incessantly questions, love, one, I haven't seen Marty, two, I... I just didn't feel like it." He said, the first answer you knew was sincere but the second one was not all that honest by the way his gaze diverted further to the floor and his hands made that little gesture he does when unsure.

"You know you don't have to lie to me, Jack." You say, a raised brow inquiring for a deeper answer while Jack walked away from you. "Actually, you've been acting quite strange these past days."

"Strange?" He reiterates, brows furrowing and lips pouting right before his hands flew around him discarding your words. "You are one to tell that lass." He says, walking around you going to the hold for some of the new rum bottles. "If anything-" He starts again, some rummaging interrupting him before a satisfied hum sounds again. "You be far more strange...er."

While walking back on deck he walks again past you to his cabin, stopping at the door. "Ye should go and have some fun love, you look rather distressed." He says before closing the door behind him, leaving you rather confused in your place.

Out of all the words you just said to the captain it appeared he understood none and replied with less. To anyone else it would appear normal from Sparrow but something in your gut said it just wasn't as right as it seemed.

With a huff you turn on your heels ready to walk off the Pearl, feeling sick due to the annoyingly fleeting butterflies that seemed to rise in your belly every time he called you love even though he called every woman he met that way.

"He's so stupid." You mutter, chugging down some rum mixed with some fruity juice Gibbs handed to you once you sat down beside him at the bar, bottles flying above your head and yelling perforing your eardrums.

"Who? Jack?" He says absentmindedly while eyeing who to take another rum bottle from, hand flying to grab a drunk man's one and exchanging for is water full one. Satisfied grin on his face.

"Why is he so... confusing?" You ask again, another gulp from the bottle before giving it back to Gibbs. "Like, what is the point of answering something you never inquired about?"

"Jack be kind of... a surprise box." He says, alternating from which bottle he drinks from. "He may not say what you want to hear but more of what you need to hear."

"Well, in that case there's nothing usable in his words." You huff, Gibbs shrugging your making you groan.

"Why do you care so much either way? Ye can just let'm be lass." He opines, face scrunching at the sight of someone falling down the second floor.

"I don't care!" You exclaim, slamming your hand down the table as you turn to him.

"Whatever let you sleep at night." He mutters, patting your back before standing up, leaving you a bottle of rum and your thoughts.

Some weeks after departing from Tortuga you came to the realization that, unfortunately, you do care.

And is driving you insane.

"Let's head north, Master Gibbs!" Jack exclaimed as hi pocketed his compass, however he seemed not too sure of the directions of course that had to be taken.

"Ye heard the captain!" Gibbs recalled loudly, everyone moving to occupy themselves as loud chattering filled the deck.

Jack, however, stood in place on deck by the helm, guiding the Pearl as he seemed to be deep in his mind and a few feet away from him, hands in her pockets, stood the only other women on board ever since Anamaria left the crew, you.

Ever since talking to Gibbs in Tortuga your mind has all but stopped thinking about the man that now stood in front of you; some time ago you could’ve sworn you had good taste in men but now, you weren't so sure as you could look at him per various minutes without growing bored of the way his eyes scanned everything around him and how he never failed to do smart remarks in the most serious moments.

You weren't sure at all but what you do know is there is something scarily charming about Jack Sparrow and you can't help but feel uneasy about it.

"Love, even though I may have to accord with you as in I be madly attractive to women, you do need to go and do... whatever it is that you do." Jack stated, turning to look at you with a small lopsided smirk, eyeing your face as it turned as red as a tomato, Jack himself thinking of it as it’s kind of cute, even if he despises tomatoes.

"Right." You nodded, diverting your eyes to wherever else and stepping down to the front deck, away from Jack whose gaze followed you, a sigh leaving him.

"Ye should act on it, Jack." Gibbs dares to say as he steps back on helm.

"Act on what Master Gibbs?" He asks back, Joshamee not letting slide the knowing tone Jack's voice held upon his clueless acting.

"If I know one thing about women it is that they change their mind over a man rather quickly if he doesn’t act on it." He mutters, receiving a hum and a nod from Jack.

However, that small chat from the morning prior left a bitter aftertaste in Jack's heart, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. It scared him.

They change their mind rather quickly. A voice in Jack's head spoke again, making him shake his head and step out of his cabin into the darkness of the Pearls at night, all of the crew sleeping, and the air silent enough Jack could hear his own breaths.

Squinting his eyes he spots a figure laying against the front deck's rail, eyes staring at the water that expanded endlessly around them. Slowly, he walked closer, his boots making a small creaky noise as he walked up the stairs.

"What are you doing awake Jack?" Your voice whispered to the air, making the captain stop in his tracks while staring at your figure in the night.

"Could ask you the same thing, love." Finally, after some seconds he walked to your side, standing firm with his back against the railing, opposing your posture.

"The sea at night is always beautiful and calming." You mutter, taking in the way the full moon reflected on the calm tides.

"Can't argue with you on that." He smirked, looking down to his compass, the little red arrow spinning for a while before staying still, pointing to his right.

"Now, why is the captain awake?" Your tone held up some diversion, Jack could hear the smile on your face and feel your eyes boring into the right side of his face.

"Couldn't sleep." He simply states. Compass away in his pocket and back drifting away from the railing, ready to walk back.

"You can stay for a while either way, I can leave if you don't want me near." You mutter, backing up to look at him, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in a few days of slipping away from you between tasks and calls.

"Now why wouldn't I want you near me, love?" He asks, sincerely confused as his eyes registered sadness and sorrow in your sweet gaze.

"I don't know, you seem to have been avoiding me these past weeks." you keep on talking as his eyes never falter upon yours. "At first I thought it was just you being weird but now I realized it's only when I’m around." You shrug your shoulders, trying to let it slip of you, but your Captain knew you even if he wanted not to, it was hard for him not to get keen on you.

"There's no need to lie about your feeling lass." He states, feeling almost sad of seeing you shrug your emotions away. "And I have not been avoiding you at all."

"You have"

"Have not."

"You have"

"Have not!" He reiterates, relaxing upon your chuckle reaching his ears.

"You know Jack..." Your voice interrupts the comfortable silence that settled. "When I first got into piracy a few years ago I swore to never care about any mates I had, knowing far well about how dishonored people were becoming as summers passed." To say Jack was intrigued about where you were headed to would be an understatement.

"The thing is, and I don't know why, is has become really hard for me not care about this crew, about the Pearl, and about you." Chuckling, you gaze falls to your hands, head moving almost in a denying demeanor. "I really tried not to care for you, Jack."

"Love..."

"Even Gibbs has come around asking what's up with me, what is it that keeps me looking for you everywhere, it's almost dumb you know..."

"What's dumb?" He had to ask, handheld together tightly to the point his nails clawed his palms.

After a few beats of silence, you force yourself to word it out, the sky shifting as the sunrise came. "How much I ended up loving you."

Jack's face became a poem, an angsty poem as guilt, surprise, shame, sadness, and something else passed behind his features. "I... Really?"

"Just forget it." you quickly recover, straightening yourself and walking away, sensing the betrayal oncoming.

"Is it so hard for you to believe I love you?" You have to ask, turning around in your heels to meet his gaze again, face stern and almost guilty as he stares back at you.

"You wouldn't even bare to imagine how hard it is, Y/N." He says, walking over to you, talking your wrist gently before you walk away on him. "I, meself, can't even come around to put in words how insane you would be if you did love me, darling."

"Why?" Your voice become small, eyes looking up to his as his hand entangled itself in a strand of your hair.

"Because, on which mind it would be correct for a woman like you to fall for a pirate like me, darling." He states, hand falling to his side, ready to let you go,

"Am I not a pirate too, Jack?" You mutter, pinky finger searching for his and tangling them together.

"You could choose not to, you're free to leave this life." Seriously enough his voice responded your question, warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"I would've done that many years ago if I wished for it, wouldn't I?"

"You won't change your mind after, right?" He asks, nose now brushing against yours, eyes searching for anything that tells him to walk away before he isn't able to.

"I will take no offense upon your words, Jack." Your smiling lips brushing against his was enough for him to shorten the distance between you two, the bittersweet taste of rum and herbs that came off Jack was making your knees weaken, hands snaking around your waist to pull you even closer if possible.

"So... this is why you stare so much?" Jack's voice is teasing, a playful smack landing in his chest as you chuckle, walking away from his embrace to wake up the crew as the sun has not risen enough.

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐔𝐁

summary: you're on a wild goose chase for some kids, including one with apparent superpowers, who could've guessed? steve is also realizing he has some shit he needs to fix, and his friends really suck. then, you wind up at hawkins middle school to make a fancy bath for a kid with telekinetic powers. here's to hoping she finds will and barb safe and sound!

Steve’s grip tightened around the Coke can, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. “I should’ve shoved that spray paint right down your throat.” Tommy’s jaw clenched at that, his expression hardening as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Carol scoffed, tossing her head in disbelief. “What the hell, Steve?”  Steve’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his patience rapidly wearing thin. “You know, neither of you ever gave a damn about Nancy. Not even Y/N. You didn’t like them, because they’re not miserable like the two of you.” His voice was sharp, filled with bitterness as Tommy and Carol exchanged a glance, acting as if Steve were the crazy one here.

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: mentions of a fight, bruises and blood, steve's idiot friends, (again, i know, i'm tired of them too) and cursing

word count: 7k

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Joyce's vehicle glided down the streets of Hawkins, bathed in the late afternoon golden glow. Hopper sat behind the wheel, his eyes focused on the road, while the golden light filtered through the trees. The vibrant fall leaves swirled around as the vehicle moved, painting the forest in hues of orange and yellow.

Inside the car, the group sat in tense silence, the weight of their mission heavy in the air. Joyce sat with a furrowed brow in the passenger seat, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh. Hopper's gaze was fixed ahead, his expression determined as he guided the car towards the Wheeler's house in an attempt to find Mike and his friends—along with the girl who has ‘superpowers.’

The teenagers sat in the back—Y/N fidgeted with her hands nervously, her eyes gazing out the car’s window as the vehicle’s engine hummed. Her friends, Nancy and Jonathan, exchanged worried glances, their faces etched with concern.

“Do you really think Mike is home?” Hopper broke the tense silence, his voice low, glancing in the rearview mirror at Nancy.

“I—I don’t know.” Nancy’s words were barely a whisper, her uncertainty clear as she fidgeted with her hands.

Hopper’s expression hardened. “Well, wherever your brother and his friends are, that girl is with them. And she might be able to help us find Will and Barb.” He hesitated, his tone softening. “This is gonna be hard to hear, but that body they buried for Will—it was fake. He’s alive, somewhere out there, and we’re going to find him.”

Nancy’s breath hitched. Her wide eyes met Y/N and Jonathan’s, the teenagers struck by disbelief. They were right after all…

As they neared their destination, turning on Maple Street, Hopper slowed the vehicle to a stop a distance away from the Wheeler’s house, the engine humming softly as it idled. The group examined the state of the house—government vehicles swarmed the driveway and street, with agents walking in and out of the house.

Nancy’s panic rose instantly, her heart pounding as she took in the sight. “Oh my god…” she breathed, her hands trembling. Without thinking, she threw the door open and scrambled out, with Hopper following close behind. Jonathan and Y/N exchanged a worried look before following their lead.

Hopper pulled out a pair of binoculars, peering at the agents as they moved in and out of the house. “Hold on, kid,” he muttered, but Nancy’s desperation broke through.

“I have to go home,” Nancy’s voice cracked, her face tight with concern.

“No, you don’t.” Hopper simply stated, focused on the sight in his binoculars. 

“My mom and dad are in there!” Nancy’s voice shot up, frantic now, her eyes wide with fear. Her hands shook as she gestured toward her house, her breath quickening.

“They’ll be okay.” Hopper sighed, putting his binoculars down, only to be met with the sight of Nancy storming off toward her house, while Jonathan and Y/N glanced at each other, giving a small, unsure shrug. 

Hopper was on the girl in seconds, grabbing her arm. “Let go!” Nancy screamed, struggling against his grip as she tried to yank away, desperate to free herself.

“Hey, hey, hey! Listen to me—just listen to me.” Hopper held the girl’s shoulders, his eyes locking with her blue ones in an attempt to get through her. “The last thing in the world we need right now is them knowing you’re mixed up in all of this,” He explained, gesturing toward the government vehicles with his binoculars in hand.

“Mike is over there! My brother is in there!” Nancy shook her head, her breathing ragged.

“No, he’s not. They haven’t found him,” Hopper insisted, his voice firm. He pointed toward the helicopters hovering in the distance, blades slicing through the air, suggesting they were searching for something—someone.

“For Mike?!” Nancy’s voice screeched, her voice breaking in disbelief. The thought of those helicopters hunting her little brother… it wasn’t real.

Hopper drug the girl back into the vehicle with the others following, the car doors slamming shut. But the tension was thick, the air becoming hard to breathe. Nancy sat between Y/N and Jonathan, her breath coming in heavy as her friends looked at her with concern. “Look, you gotta trust me on this, alright?” Hopper turned in his seat, glancing at Nancy. Joyce followed suit, both of them looking back at the teenagers. “We need to find them before they do, any idea where Mike and his friends might go?”

Nancy clenched her fists in frustration, her face tight with anxiety. “No, I don’t know!” she snapped, her voice cracking as it rose, filling the cramped car. Y/N winced at the outburst, her shoulders tensing under the weight of Nancy’s panic.

“You need to think.” Hopper’s voice was frustrated, watching the girl shake her head in complete disbelief.

Nancy’s thoughts spiraled. How had she missed the signs? Her brother and his friends had been acting strange for a while now—secretive, whispering, slipping away—but she’d been too overwhelmed with everything else, too distracted to see what was right in front of her.

“I don’t know!” Nancy shook her head, throwing her hands up in defeat. “We haven’t talked much lately.” Her voice wavered, regret pooling in her chest as her eyes darted toward her house overflowing with government agents.

Joyce leaned forward, her voice softer but no less urgent, eyes scanning the teens. “Is there any place your parents don’t know about? Somewhere he might feel safe?”

Nancy hesitated, her mind racing, but nothing came to her. Before she could respond, Jonathan, who had been quietly lost in thought, suddenly spoke up.

“I might not know exactly where he is, but—I think I know how to ask him,” The boy said, his voice cutting through the tension as the others turned to him, their attention sharpening.

Hopper’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

Jonathan leaned forward slightly, glancing at his mom, Joyce. “Their walkie-talkies. Will has one somewhere at home.”

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭

The sky was slightly overcast, with the sun peeking out of the clouds. Steve Harrington sat on the back of his burgundy BMW parked in front of a quick-mart, his usual perfect hair tousled and wild. His face was still bloody from the fight with Jonathan, and dark purple bruises had already begun to form around the cuts. His jaw throbbed every time he moved it.

“You owe me a dollar-twenty,” Tommy Hagan called out, stepping up behind Steve and tossing a bottle of painkillers his way. Steve caught them as they flew through the air, and Tommy handed him a Coke to wash the pills down. 

“Don’t worry, man,” Tommy continued, his grin widening as he leaned back, smug, “he’s gonna need a lot more than aspirin when we’re done with him.” 

“Yeah, if the cops ever let him out, that is,” Carol chimed in, her voice dripping with cruelty. “They should just lock him up forever. I mean, did you see the look on his face? Total psycho,” She mimicked the look of Jonathan mid-fight, throwing mock punches at Tommy’s chest as he chuckled.

“He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?” Tommy added with a snicker, giving Steve a light tap on the arm. But Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable—pressing the cold Coke can to the side of his face in an attempt to numb the aching.

Carol, never one to let something go, let alone read the room—continued their tangent. “Oh god, I just got this image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing. I wonder if Y/N has ever joined their party—gross!” She grimaced as she said it, but Tommy burst into laughter.

“Carol, just shut your goddamn mouth for once in your life!” Steve’s voice suddenly cut through their mockery, both Tommy and Carol flinching at the unexpected outburst.

Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Steve, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Hey, what’s your problem man?” 

Steve pulled the Coke can away from his face, deadpanning Tommy and Carol’s shocked gaze. “You two are the problem. You’re both complete assholes.”

The brown-haired boy pushed himself off his car, turning toward the driver’s door as he shoved through his friends. “Are you serious right now?” Tommy shot back, still baffled.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Steve spat, gripping the car door before pausing, meeting Tommy’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” Tommy’s voice oozed with fake innocence, as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

"You know what," Steve growled, stepping in closer to Tommy, his face tightening with anger.

Tommy’s smirk widened. “You mean calling Nancy out for what she really is? Oh-ho, that’s funny, ‘cause I don’t remember you asking me to stop.” 

Steve’s grip tightened around the Coke can, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. “I should’ve shoved that spray paint right down your throat.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched at that, his expression hardening as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Carol scoffed, tossing her head in disbelief. “What the hell, Steve?” 

Steve’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his patience rapidly wearing thin. “You know, neither of you ever gave a damn about Nancy. Not even Y/N. You didn’t like them, because they’re not miserable like the two of you.” His voice was sharp, filled with bitterness as Tommy and Carol exchanged a glance, acting as if Steve were the crazy one here.

“They actually care about people,” Steve added, before getting cut off by the red-haired girl.

“Oh, right. Nancy—the slut with a heart of gold!” Carol snapped back, the sound of her voice grating Steve’s nerves.

That was it.

“I told you to watch your goddamn mouth!” Steve shouted, pointing at Carol, his Coke can still gripped in his hand. The sudden outburst startled her, but before she could respond, Tommy shoved Steve hard against his car.

"Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, man, but you don’t talk to her that way,” Tommy shot back, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. 

Steve had enough. He shoved Tommy back, his frustration reaching its breaking point. “Get out of my face,” he warned, stepping closer, eyes locked with Tommy’s brown ones in an attempt to push him back with sheer will.

But Tommy wasn’t backing down. In an instant, he grabbed Steve by the collar of his jacket, yanking him forward and slamming him against the car again. Steve’s hands instinctively flew up, gripping Tommy’s shoulders tightly.

"Or what? You gonna fight me now, too?" Tommy taunted, shaking Steve by the collar—threatening him, his voice thick with arrogance. "Because you couldn’t take Jonathan Byers, so I wouldn’t suggest that.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, his friend’s mocking words echoing through his mind. Tommy gave him one final shove, releasing his grip and stepping back. Steve exhaled sharply, and with one last look at the pair, he turned, angrily opening his car door.

“Let me help you with that door there, buddy,” Tommy sneered, shoving Steve into his seat, and slamming the door on him with a harsh thud. The engine ignited, and Steve wasted no time backing out—the tires screeching against the parking lot asphalt.

Tommy, not content to let it all go just yet, took off running toward the retreating car. “Run away! Just like you always do! That Nancy’s turning you into a little pussy!” His breath hitched as he shoved the back of the car with both hands, watching it lurch forward.

"That’s right! Run away, Stevie boy!” Tommy continued, his voice echoing down the street as the BMW skidded out of the parking lot, tires screeching against the pavement.

“Now what?!” Carol scoffed, throwing her hands out in frustration, standing stranded in the parking lot beside Tommy.

Steve was pissed. 

His grip on the steering wheel began turning his knuckles white, barely paying attention to the road as his jaw clenched with frustration. The thought gnawed at his mind; what if he had tried to be good for Nancy? It was all wrong—all of it, and he finally realized. Y/N was right, he shouldn’t have been such a shitty person, and such a shitty boyfriend.

Y/N saw him. The real him. And the truth is—that scared the hell out of him.

He shouldn’t have let Tommy and Carol get to him, to let them spray paint those words on The Hawk about Nancy, and he shouldn’t have let his anger get the best of him. Hell, he couldn’t even blame Nancy for everything with Jonathan, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. But hey, maybe he deserved it—he hurt her too, he pushed her away like she was nothing.

He couldn’t change what he did, and he doubted he could fix it—but he knew he had to try and make it right for those he hurt. At the very least, he owed them that.

𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

As Joyce’s Ford screeched to a stop outside the Byers house, a cloud of dust billowed up around the group caught in the rush of their arrival. Hopper wasted no time killing the engine, opening the car door to rush inside the house with the others. The teens followed close behind, scrambling out of the backseats and racing up the creaky porch.

Joyce fumbled with the rusty doorknob as she unlocked it, her hands shaking as she finally pushed open the door, sending the group tumbling into the chaos of the Byers home, beginning their desperate search for Will’s walkie-talkie.

Y/N paused as she entered the home, her eyes wide as she took in the disaster before her. Furniture was torn up and overturned, with trash and discarded objects scattered across the wooden floor. The most abnormal part was the Christmas lights hanging overhead, with the alphabet painted onto the wall in the living room—almost like an organized mess.

“Woah,” Nancy muttered under her breath, her eyes glued to the lights as she took in the bizarre setup. Y/N scanned the room, trying to make sense of it all.

“What is all of this?” Y/N questioned, her voice a mixture of awe and confusion, staring at the chaos scattered across the room.

Jonathan, moving briskly down the hall, glanced back over his shoulder, his voice low and hurried. “My mom—she used the lights to talk to Will,”

Y/N and Nancy exchanged questioning looks, with the sound of more clutter echoing throughout the house—until Joyce’s voice broke through.

“I got it!” She shouted, and a small sense of relief coursed over the group. They gathered in what was left in the mess of the Byers living room, attempting to communicate with the younger kids through the walkie-talkie.

“This is an emergency, Mike, do you copy?” Nancy kept repeating, her voice echoing through the room only to be met with silence—the only sound on the other side being static. The quiet felt deafening—like a ticking reminder that they were running out of time. “We need you to answer. We need to know that you’re there, Mike!” Nancy’s voice rose in frustration, until Hopper suddenly stepped forward, pulling the walkie-talkie out of the girl’s grip. She and Y/N exchanged an unsure glance, while Joyce stood by the couch folding her arms tightly, with Jonathan leaning against the wall behind them in anticipation.

“Listen, kid, this is the chief—if you’re there, pick up. We know you’re in trouble, and we know about the girl.” Hopper’s voice commanded, the only response being radio silence as everyone sat quietly, hoping for something—anything on the other side of the radio.

Hopper’s brow furrowed as he pushed on, “We can help you, but you’ve got to pick up. Are you there, do you copy? Over!” He spoke sternly, to no avail. Nothing—again. He sighed, setting the walkie-talkie down in defeat. The man looked toward the rest of the group, rubbing the bridge of his nose, attempting to ground himself.

“Any other ideas?”

As the group exchanged unsure glances, trying to come up with something—a voice arose from the other side of the device, catching their attention. “Yes, I copy. It’s Mike, I’m here… We’re here.” 

In a flash, Hopper picked the walkie-talkie back up, a rush of relief running through everyone. “Where are you?” He asked urgently, to be met with a quick response. “The junkyard, we’re piled up in the abandoned bus,” the boy spoke from the other side.

“I’ll meet you there, kid.” Hopper then set the walkie-talkie back down, hurriedly walking toward the front door as he put his jacket back on. “I’ll go and get them, you all stay here,” The chief commanded, throwing his coat on before being stopped by Y/N—who rushed out of her seat on the couch, grabbing his arm.

“I’ll go with you.” She looked up to Hopper, her eyebrows knit together with determination.

Hopper barely glanced at her, shaking his head as he pulled open the door. “No, if it’s a setup, I need you safe. No questions,” He commanded as he walked out of the door, quickly shutting it behind him before anyone could protest.

“Great,” Y/N muttered, turning on her heel to look at the rest of the group. “Now what?”

Jonathan shrugged, leaning against the living room wall with his arms folded. “I guess we wait.”

Hours had passed, and as the night fell a heavy silence settled over the Byers house, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards and the distant hoot of an owl outside. The tension was thick in the air as the rest of the group waited anxiously for any sign of Hopper and the kids’ return. 

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of a lamplight while Joyce paced back and forth, her hands wringing together nervously. She couldn’t stop glancing out the window, searching the darkness for the one thing that could put her mind at ease. Every second felt like an eternity.

Y/N sat beside Nancy, her foot bouncing on the floor anxiously as she stared ahead. The weight of the unknown pressed down on her shoulders. Was Hopper okay? Were the kids safe? There were too many questions and not nearly enough answers, and all she could do was wait.

Suddenly—the sound of a car engine broke through the silence, growing louder and louder until it filled the room with a low rumble. Heads snapped toward the window as headlights pierced through the darkness. Joyce rushed to the window, her breath catching in her throat, fingers trembling as they gripped the sill. 

“Is that them?” Y/N’s voice broke the heavy silence in the room. “I hope so, sweetie.” Joyce barely whispered, her gaze still locked on the approaching car, biting her nails in nervous anticipation.

The vehicle pulled up to the house with a screech of tires, its headlights illuminating the front porch in a harsh glare. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the group held their breath—until Joyce rushed to the front door and opened it, the teens following close behind her.

The headlights turned off and Y/N recognized the vehicle—it was Hopper’s. The chief’s figure exited the driver’s seat, watching as the kids he rescued from the junkyard scrambled over each other out of the back seats.

“Oh my god, Mike?!” Nancy’s voice broke, cracking with relief as she sprinted toward her brother, pulling him into a fierce embrace. “I was so worried about you!” The girl pulled back, gripping her brother’s shoulders, scanning his face with relief.

“Yeah, uh… me too?” Mike spoke softly, taken back by his sister's concern. As Y/N watched the pair reunite, she caught sight of Dustin standing beside Lucas, his face lighting up with surprise when he spotted her.

“Y/N? You’re a part of this too?” The curly-haired boy questioned with wide eyes, disbelief coating his tone.

“Unfortunately,” Y/N gave a small shrug. “Guess we’re all in it now, huh?”

Truth is, she’d rather not be involved in any of it—but it was too late to back out now, for any of them. As Dustin nodded, Y/N’s eyes fell on an unfamiliar face. A girl, small and fragile-looking, stood quietly by the truck. Her head was shaved, and her expression guarded, wearing a pink dress that was covered in grime and dirt. 

Then it clicked.

It was the girl from the articles. They really did find her. Nancy’s gaze followed Y/N’s, her brows knitting in confusion. “Is that my dress?” She asked, gesturing at the dirt-covered pink dress the girl was wearing. 

Mike looked behind himself at the girl, then shot his sister an apologetic smile. “Uh, yeah, about that…”

Everyone had settled inside and sat in the living room. Mike knelt in front of the coffee table, drawing on a piece of paper, sketching out his explanation of what he’d discovered with his friends. The lamp shined with a yellow hue as Y/N sat on the couch next to Nancy, with Hopper standing beside them, his arms crossed.

“Okay—so, in this example, we’re the acrobat,” Mike began, his finger tracing his attempt at a straight line that held the acrobat upright. The others leaned in, listening intently despite their skepticism. His explanation felt as fragile as the world they were beginning to realize they knew nothing about.

“Will and Barbra, and that monster—the Demogorgan—they’re the flea,” he continued, pointing toward the drawing of a flea on the other side of the line underneath the stick figure as the group paid close attention.

“And this is the upside down, where Will is hiding.” He gestured at the space below the line where the flea was placed. The teens exchanged uncertain glances, trying to make sense of it all. 

“Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space,” Mike set the drawing down, looking back up at the rest of the group. 

“A gate,” Dustin chimed in, while Y/N furrowed her brows in thought.

“That we tracked to Hawkins’ lab,” Lucas added, drawing the others' attention. “With our compasses,” Dustin finished his sentence, eager to connect the dots—observing the confused expressions on the others, trying to figure out how to make this all make sense.

With a deep breath, the curly-haired boy continued. “Okay, so, the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field—and that can change the direction of a compass's needle.” He clarified.

Hopper, standing rigidly at the edge of the group, finally spoke. “Is this gate underground?” He questioned, his hand wiping his mustache in thought.

“Yes,” Came the soft reply, catching everyone’s attention as it came out of the mysterious girl’s mouth who had said just about nothing all evening.

“Near a large water tank?” Hopper asked again, his expression darkening as the girl confirmed his suspicions with a silent nod.

“How… how do you know all that?” Dustin glanced at Hopper, the man avoiding eye contact at the question, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“He’s seen it…” Mike thought out loud. “Holy shit!” Dustin shouted, his hands holding the top of his head in disbelief, earning a glare from Hopper—but the dots connected in Y/N’s mind. All the times Hopper had been late and came up with his lame excuses… he’d been investigating Hawkins lab for this girl? That man was absolutely terrible at keeping a secret.

“Is there any way that you could—you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this…” Joyce asked, slightly stuttering through her nerves, and the girl with the shaved head finished her sentence—her voice barely above a whisper.

“The upside down.”

“Down… yeah,” Joyce whispered, her eyes trailing off in thought.

“And our friend Barbra…” Nancy spoke up after some hesitation, her gaze landing on Y/N next to her, then to the small girl. “Can you find her too?”

The tension in the room weighed heavily upon the group’s shoulders as they surrounded the kitchen table. The girl with powers sat in the center, eyes closed—her face eerily calm as she concentrated. In front of her, the static from Will’s walkie-talkie crackled faintly, along with a sketch of Barb that Y/N had drawn. 

No one could fully understand what the girl was doing, but she’d explained enough—they knew she was trying to find Will and Barb, somewhere deep inside her mind.

The girl’s eyes twitched beneath her eyelids, rolling slightly as her focus deepened. As she concentrated—Y/N felt goosebumps forming on her arms, her hair standing straight in the air as if lightning was about to strike. She furrowed her eyebrows, her mouth open in silent shock until she noticed the lights above her flickering, the electricity in the house faltering as though the very energy was being altered.

There were so many unanswered questions, yet no one dared to speak.

Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, the girl’s eyes flew open. Her face was pale, heavy with the weight of something unspoken. The electricity above steadied, humming back to life as the static from the walkie-talkie faded into silence once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The girl couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, her expression guarded, almost hollow.

Y/N’s heart sank. The apology felt heavier than any answer could have been.

Joyce's voice trembled as she leaned across the table, her hands nervously gripping the edge. “What—what’s wrong? What did you see?” She stammered, her wide eyes darting between the girl and Hopper, who rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

“I can’t find them,” the girl’s voice broke, barely audible as she stood, her face pale and exhausted. “I need to use the bathroom,” she glanced at Joyce, and the brunette nodded as she stood from her seat, quickly showing her the way to their restroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the girl, Mike broke the heavy silence. “It’s like… every time she uses her powers, she gets weaker,” he explained, his voice quieter than usual. He exchanged a worried look with Dustin, who added, “The more energy she uses, the more it drains her. Kind of like how a battery runs out.”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her earlier,” Lucas chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief. “She literally flipped a van off the road with just her mind. It was insane.”

“But,” Mike sighed, slumping into his seat, “she’s totally wiped out now. Like, she can’t even think straight after something like that.”

Joyce re-entered the room, her voice shaky, eyes darting between everyone. “So… how do we help her? How do we make her better?” 

Mike shook his head, sighing with a shrug. “We don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

Nancy, pacing beside Y/N, threw her hands up in frustration. “Wait? How long is that supposed to take?”

“I don’t know.” Her brother simply said, while Y/N noticed a figure emerging from the hall behind him. The girl stood there, her exhaustion weighing heavy in her eyes, yet her face set in a determined line.

“The bath,” she spoke, and everyone’s focus shifted toward her. 

Joyce shook her head, trying to understand what the girl was saying. “The bath?”

“I can find them… in the bath.” She clarified, while everyone exchanged confused glances, trying to piece together what the girl meant.

Suddenly, Dustin's eyes lit up, a lightbulb going off in his head. “Sensory deprivation!” He exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as if everything had just clicked into place. “That’s what she’s talking about.” He snapped his fingers and looked around, excited. 

“You’re a genius, Dustin!” Lucas beamed, high-fiving the curly-haired boy who grinned proudly, his gummy smile lighting up the entire room.

“Ms. Byers, can I use your phone?” Dustin asked, and without waiting for an answer, he headed straight for the home phone mounted on the wall, dialing frantically.

“What, why?” Joyce's voice cut through, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion as she stared at the boy.

“My science teacher, Mr. Clarke," Dustin explained, the excitement in his voice building. "He knows all this stuff. He’ll know how to make a sensory deprivation tank, like a bath.”

Everyone stood in silence as they watched the boy ring his teacher, the sound of crickets chirping outside filling the cool air, with the occasional floorboard creaking. Y/N looked toward the clock on the wall, reading 10:07 PM, wondering if the teacher would even pick up the phone this late.

Dustin stood by the phone, the rhythmic ringing seeming to stretch on forever. Just as the silence became unbearable, his voice suddenly pierced the air. “Mr. Clarke? It’s Dustin!”

The boy then begged his teacher to explain sensory deprivation, and on the other end of the line, there was a long pause—Mr. Clarke clearly processing this strange late-night request—but with some persistent pleading from Dustin, he eventually started listing the steps. Joyce quickly handed him a notepad, and Dustin jotted down the instructions, nodding eagerly as he listened. “Yep, uh-huh. We’ll be careful, I promise,” Dustin reassured his teacher, shooting a glance at the others crowded around him, supporting the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Thanks for helping with this curiosity voyage so late! See you Monday, Mr. Clarke."

As he hung up the phone on the wall, Dustin turned to the rest of the group, pencil still in hand. “Do you still have that kiddie pool we used for bobbing apples, Ms. Byers?” He asked, pointing the pencil at her.

Joyce blinked, trying to recall. “Uh… I think so?” She looked to Jonathan, who nodded to confirm.

“Good, then we just need salt. Lots of it.” Dustin declared, raising his brows, his voice taking on a serious tone.

“How much is lots?” Hopper asked, his arms folded over his chest, watching the boy as he re-examined the notes he’d just written on the notepad.

“Fifteen hundred pounds.” Dustin didn’t even flinch, but the room collectively froze.

“And where the hell are we supposed to find that much salt?” Y/N questioned, leaning against the kitchen table with her hands.

Hopper scratched his chin, thinking for a moment before speaking. “I might know a place.”

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

The group arrived in the dead of night at Hawkins Middle School. Street lights dimly lit dark, empty roads, with moonlight reflecting off the pavement. Hopper recalled the middle school stores de-snowing salt in bulk, as well as the other supplies they needed. Everyone rushed out of their vehicles, splitting off into groups to grab supplies. Y/N, Dustin, and Lucas made their way inside the school to set up the kiddie pool, after Hopper broke the lock for them. The smell of old books and cleaning supplies lingered in the air, their quick footsteps echoing through the halls past rows of silent classrooms and bulletin boards filled with announcements and posters.

“Never thought I’d be trying to find my presumed-to-be-dead friend with Hawkins’ new girl, let alone a girl who can throw vans with her mind,” The curly-haired boy broke the silence as they walked, carrying the kiddie pool together, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“I'm not that new, jerk. I've been here for months,” Y/N shot back, sending the boy a sideways glance.

Dustin shrugged, not missing a beat. “In Hawkins terms, you're still new. We only get fresh faces once, maybe twice a year, tops. So yeah, you’re still in the 'new kid' category, sorry Y/N.”

The girl scoffed as Lucas shook his head, “Yeah, well the even weirder part here is the girl with telekinetic powers,” he chimed in, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the other two.

Dustin nodded, pretending to consider. “You’ve got a point. I guess you learn something new every day—like the fact that superpowers aren’t just comic book stuff.”

“Right,” Y/N muttered, half to herself. “Because everything else about this town is totally normal.”

The group found the gym, setting down the kiddie pool to open the doors. As they entered, the space was pitch dark—you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. Lucas ran his hand along the wall, finding a light switch and flipping it on as the gym became dimly lit by a light hanging in the center. Sponsor flags were hanging up, with the school’s theme colors painted on the walls.

“Alright, let's get this thing to the middle,” Y/N suggested, gesturing toward the kiddie pool. 

“Son of a bitch—why is this thing so heavy?” Dustin grumbled, his face scrunched with effort as they dragged the bulky pool, the plastic skidding as it slid across the slick floor.

“Because we’re doing this the hard way,” Y/N said dryly, helping the boys roll it into position. Once they reached the middle, they untied the rope holding the kiddie pool together and threw it aside. They began to pull it apart, but it quickly became clear they were in over their heads.

“Okay, um—it’s upside down,” Dustin muttered, fumbling uselessly with the sides.

“No, it’s not. Pull harder,” Lucas corrected the boy, earning an, “I am!” from Dustin, trying to make sense of the mess as Y/N tugged on one of the flaps, only to watch it flop back down, throwing her hands out in defeat. “How does this even work?”

“I don’t know—we need a strategy,” Lucas declared. “Let’s pull it back together… on three.” 

The group readied themselves, holding onto the edges. “One, two, three,” Lucas counted down, pulling it apart with everyone, but the walls of the kiddie pool stubbornly collapsed on the floor with a loud thud.

“Shit!” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This damn thing has a mind of its own.”

Y/N huffed, shaking her head as she put her hands on her hips. “Okay, we seriously need a new plan.”

“Yeah, before we end up in a wrestling match with a kiddie pool,” Lucas chimed in with a playful grin, before Dustin slapped his shoulder. “Hey, man! What was that for?”

After a bit of waiting, Nancy and Mike arrived in the gymnasium pushing a wheelbarrow full of hoses, rushing to connect it to a water source in the janitor's closet. As they connected all the hoses, Mike drug the hose to the kiddie pool, helping the others hold it up. Water began to flood in the pool, while Lucas shouted at Nancy whether to turn the water hotter or cooler to get the temperature just right.

Hopper and Jonathan arrived with their supplies and worked together to pour all fifteen hundred pounds of salt into the pool. They passed the sacks of salt to each other and slit them open with a knife, watching the white crystals spill into the water.

The boys tested how much salt they needed to use by dropping an egg into the water. If it floated, everything was exactly as it needed to be: salt amount, water amount, water temperature, etc. The egg kept sinking, so they added more and more salt until the egg finally floated on the surface, the boys giving each other a big high-five in victory.

The girl with the shaved head finally arrived at the gym with Joyce, bringing the whole group back together as they gathered around the kiddie pool. Mike grabbed his walkie-talkie, turning up the static on an empty channel. Y/N watched as the girl began to take off her socks to enter the pool, with Joyce handing her blacked-out science goggles.

“What’s her name again?” Nancy whispered as Y/N stood beside her, glancing at her brother, Mike. 

“Eleven—or El, for short.”

The girl took a deep breath and stepped into the pool, making her way to the center after Joyce and Hopper helped her, supporting her with their hands. The group sat around the kiddie pool, watching the girl lay back—her pink dress becoming soaked, flowing in the water.

Not even a few seconds in, the electricity in the gymnasium surged—flickering on and off. The same feeling Y/N had felt at the Byers washed over her, goosebumps forming on her skin as her hair stood like there was electricity. Everyone exchanged stunned looks with each other, until suddenly—the gym blacked out, leaving the emergency lights on, dimly lighting the room.

“That’s not creepy at all…” Dustin whispered under his breath, before getting cut off by Eleven’s voice.

“Barbra?” The girl’s soft voice echoed through the gym, while Y/N and Nancy tentatively leaned in to hear what the girl was saying—their concern for their lost friend rising. The girl began breathing heavily, and abruptly—the lights began flickering erratically once again.

“What’s going on?” Nancy questioned as she looked around with wide eyes.

“I don’t know,” Mike answered, exchanging a worried glance with the girl.

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?” Nancy asked desperately, gripping the rim of the kiddie pool—her voice quivering. Her expression was etched with fear, searching for any sign of her friend’s fate. Eleven remained silent for a few moments, then suddenly began repeating a single, devastating word.

“Gone.”

The word grew louder with each repetition, echoing through the gymnasium, sending waves of dread that crashed over Y/N—especially Nancy. Her hand reached to cover her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief. Y/N placed a hand on Nancy’s shoulder, watching as tears began to form in her eyes.

Joyce placed a comforting hand on Eleven, her voice soothing as she tried to calm the girl. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Joyce whispered. Eleven's breaths came fast and shallow, her small body trembling until she finally steadied herself. The gym lights flickered and went out again, the emergency lights casting a dim glow. “Castle Byers,” Eleven spoke through the oppressive silence, her voice clear and urgent. Joyce and Jonathan exchanged glances, hope sparking inside of them as they leaned in toward El.

“Will?” Eleven called out, her voice carrying through the stillness, earning a gasp from Joyce.

“You—you tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming.” Joyce stuttered, her hands trembling as she held Eleven’s shoulders, eyes wide with desperation. Everyone's attention suddenly snapped to the walkie-talkie as a boy's voice crackled through the static—breaking the silence with a single, urgent word.

“Hurry.” 

Everyone exchanged shocked glances, the gym filling with silence once again, until Eleven abruptly jerked up in the pool, water splashing—startling the group. She gasped, taking off the science goggles, and Joyce immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“I’ve got you,” Joyce repeated. “It’s okay sweetie, you did so good,” She spoke reassuringly, stroking the girl’s head as she comforted her.

Y/N sat frozen for a moment, then made a sudden beeline for the gymnasium doors, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silent space. She burst into the dimly lit hallway, clutching her mouth, attempting to piece together what happened in her mind. She was grateful for the hope for Will, but all she could think about was Barbra.

Did she die as soon as she got sucked up in my dream? Was there a chance I could’ve saved her if we would’ve figured this all out sooner?

She paced the hall frantically before being startled by the sight of Hopper in her frenzy—stopping dead in her tracks, his presence a sudden, grounding force. “Come here, kid,” the man opened his arms, watching as tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. She ran and clashed into his embrace, almost knocking him back.

“What if—” Y/N’s voice began to tremble, pausing momentarily as she took a deep, shaky breath. “What if I could’ve saved her?” She said, closing her eyes tight, wishing it all away—only to be met with Barb’s frightened expression, clutching onto Hopper even tighter.

“Listen, there’s nothing you could’ve done, Y/N. There’s nothing we could’ve done, it wasn’t your fault.” Hopper sighed, his voice thick with empathy, rubbing the girl's back, watching as she pulled away from the hug—meeting her teary-eyed expression.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Hopper raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got to go meet Joyce in my car, alright? We’re going to save Will. You stay here with the kids, we will be back.” The man put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, watching her nod tentatively.

“Okay…” she managed to speak, watching Hopper’s hands leave her shoulders as he walked past her toward the exit, leaving the girl in the empty, silent hallway. 

“Be safe, okay?” Y/N called out to Hopper before he left, watching him turn around to meet her gaze.

“Always, kid.”

As Hopper exited, Y/N was left alone in the middle school’s hallway, lost in thought. What now? She couldn’t just sit here and wait. Suddenly, the gym doors swung open, revealing the girl’s friends—Nancy and Jonathan.

“Y/N?” Nancy's voice called out, breaking through the stillness. Their worried gazes met Y/N’s, a moment of profound silence hanging in the air. The three stood there, united by their grief and determination. Nancy’s voice was low but resolute.

“Let’s kill that damn thing.”

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[myokk]

Eloise fucking Babbit.

Her name - her full name - kept replaying in his mind over and over as he practically ran through the castle in a furious haze. The other students parted around him with ease, clearly not wanting to get in his way. It was so obvious. How had he missed it?

Why did she have to be a Babbit? Why couldn't she just have had Hubert Abbot or...or Valerius Prince as a brother instead? He thought that he could deal with her having an absolutely boring Hufflepuff or even a Gryffindor as a sibling instead of Leo Babbit.

Yes, yes. Slytherins stick together, and all that. They were supposed to show a unified front against the rest of the houses. But some people were just so insufferable that he had a difficult time remembering that one specific unspoken rule.

(But he wouldn't think about last year, now, would he?)

Seeing her next to them, the family resemblance was clear. She looked just like her brother. The same unruly hair, hazel eyes. They could be twins. But...instead of seeing those hazel eyes filled with barely controlled hatred, today they had been looking at him warmly and mischievously and with trust. Maybe that's how she had tricked him into letting his guard down around her. How she had somehow hoodwinked him into not realizing who she was.

Sebastian had always prided himself on his astute observation skills, his intuition, his quick thinking. It wasn't pride - at least that's what he told himself. (If it was pride, it was well-earned.) He didn't think it was necessarily a bad thing to be aware of his own strengths and acknowledge them. Not like those stupid Gryffindors, for example, who were extremely prideful (the bad kind) and yet falsely humble at the same time. Who preached morality and good without even thinking of nuance, who thought of themselves as above the rest just because they weren't willing to push the limits of what magic was capable of.

It didn't matter that Eloise had frozen in her tracks as soon as she'd heard her mother's voice. Or that flash of fear he'd seen in her widening eyes when she looked up at him. Or the look that she'd given him as her mother had dragged her away from him. Or the twinging feeling he'd felt in his chest at that look.

Or or or.

It didn't matter. She was a fucking Babbit and he knew what that meant. He couldn't trust her. He had even told her about Anne. Anne. Maybe it was a good thing Eloise was a Babbit, after all. He had let himself forget about his sister's curse for a small while, back when he was talking to Eloise on their walk to Hogsmeade. Never mind that it actually felt kind of nice to just talk without those thoughts lingering in the background of his mind. He needed to stay focused.

Sebastian blinked and realized he'd ended up in the Undercroft. He hadn't entered it since last term and the emotions he had felt all of last year threatened to overwhelm him. That obsession. The fear and uncertainty and urgency that shadowed every moment. He let the feelings wash over him again, using them to his advantage to push all thoughts of Eloise to the back of his mind. Yes, it was much better that she turned out to be Babbit's sister. He had almost let himself get distracted today.

He took some calming breaths and then sat down and began to scour through the books he had piled up in the Undercroft, looking for any and all mentions of shrivelfigs and taking meticulous notes.

Shrivelfigs:

Native to Abyssinia - unclear when they were first discovered due to the traditions of passing down knowledge orally

Hardy plants that can thrive in virtually any condition, including subzero temperatures (note: research growing conditions in relation to healing)

Used in the Shrinking Solution, Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Thunderbrew…

(escorting Eloise to Hogsmeade had been the most fun he'd had in ages)

Egyptians have the first recorded use of the shrivelfig in their experiments (note: not the first uses…)

They recorded its medicinal properties, which include:

Removing pain - properties in the leaves (note: unclear if truly gets rid of pain, or just the perception of pain);

When its purple juice is combined with any part of the billywig, has the property to induce euphoria;

Cannot be mixed with powdered horn of a bicorn in any way (note: examine the arithmancy charts for these two ingredients to see just why they cannot be mixed)

Egyptians first introduced the shrivelfig to the Greeks

(he hadn't even minded being bested by her in the duel)

Alizon Pendragon (note: relation to Merlin?) cursed his children and used shrivelfig properties to cure them. Unclear what else he used in these cures…(this part underlined and starred and what else…what else…)

Sebastian stopped writing and stared at his notes. His handwriting was small and precise and neat: another thing he was proud of. His parents had impressed upon him and Anne the importance of education and his mother was very strict with how they wrote. But thinking about them made his insides twist up and his heart burn so he quickly put his quill back to the paper and worked on his notes.

He really did try to be engrossed in the research. He had taken out the shrivelfig and placed it on the desk before him as he worked, as a physical reminder of what he was doing. However, as he moved on to the arithmancy charts for the shrivelfig (quite interesting, really), he found he couldn't concentrate like he normally did.

His traitorous mind kept wandering back to her.

Last night, contrary to what he had said, he hadn't really paid attention when the new student rushed in and caused a stir among the students. As was becoming a more often occurrence, he was in a terribly awful mood.

Saying goodbye to Anne for another year was almost more than he could handle. It was just another mark against him, more proof that he was a failure. Even his twin was telling him to stop stop stop trying to find a cure. That she'd accepted her fate. He should, too.

Utter bullshit.

(But really, did she think those empty words were good enough? Hadn't she known him her whole life? Was it a lack of respect that made her think he would believe her? That she actually thought he didn't know she was trying to fool him? She had been poisoned by him. Giving up because of that man's words.)

Anne tried telling him that she'd accepted her fate. That she could see how his newest obsession was slowly ruining his life. And wasn't it horribly unfair that as she was slowly wasting away, that he, the perfectly healthy twin, was doing it to himself, too? Of his own volition?

Obsession. What a funny word. When Sebastian was younger, it was a word used fondly amongst his family. For his whole life, there had always been something. Something that would keep him occupied and have his interest. As a child, he remembered when it was the magical creatures living around their hamlet. One summer, when he and Anne were eight, they had spend days on end staking out a bowtruckle nest in the little copse next to their house.

Their parents had been charmed by their nightly updates, and had bought them books on magical creatures and empty notebooks to jot down their observations and draw. Every night, they would gather around the notebooks and he would watch in wonder as his father pulled out his wand to enchant the drawings to move and -

(No. He had already told himself that thoughts of them were off limits.)

He had truly noticed the new student when she was already sitting on the stool with the sorting hat on her head. Ominis would later tell him that she had caused quite the entrance. (He wouldn't know, stewing in his own fury and disgusting self-pity as he had been). The Great Hall was completely silent, everyone watching the spectacle that was a new fifth-year be sorted.

She sat there for five minutes.

Nobody sat there for five minutes.

When they hat finally shouted out "SLYTHERIN!" nobody clapped. Whispers everywhere. They all stared at her - had her name even been mentioned?

And Imelda, of course it was Imelda, had called her over because of course she couldn't sit with the first-years. Maybe in a different year at a different time, Sebastian would have been the one to notice and call her over. He had always been good at that sort of thing. Before. The girl was one of them now, after all. Slytherins stick together and whatnot.

The girl - Eloise - was quiet at the dinner table, seemingly more content to listen than to speak. Sebastian could just tell that she was hiding something.

Ominis had given him a look (how did he even do it?) and Sebastian had tried to make an effort. Although he couldn't have remembered what he said that night even if he were being threatened at the end of someone's wand. He did remember reminding her to eat, as lost as she was in her thoughts. What was making her so melancholy?

Ominis and Anne, working together to try and restore Sebastian back to the boy he had been before.

Everything was supposed to be normal.

Except, it wasn't.

Still, Sebastian was content to play the role assigned to him, content to try and make this a good year. He knew it was futile and when that bitch Victoria just had to go and mention Anne...well. Sebastian wasn't stupid. He could feel the limits of his patience beginning to crack and wasn't it better to just get up and leave rather than stay and curse her?

All in all, he thought he had done just fine for the first night of the second year without Anne.

Sebastian blinked blearily at his notes. He had been working on the shrivelfig arithmancy charts - maybe there would be useful information for him to be found in them. He was doing the advanced charts - that included more precise measurements and more complicated methodology. NEWT level. Sebastian had always had a head for numbers, though. He supposed that they were another of his obsessions.

Calm nights, crickets chirping, a floating candle behind them as Sebastian and his mother worked through arithmatic equations. The smell of bread baking, the click of knitting needles making sweaters. He was always very curious as a child, and his mother very patient with him and his endless questions. She would give him equations to work on while she was at school teaching, and every night they would work through the problems together.

(No. Focus on the arithmancy).

Numbers were comforting. As was dueling. With both, he had complete control and knew what the outcome would be. He wasn't the best duelist in their year without reason. Maybe he was strange (definitely), but he loved the comfort and rhythm of a good duel. It always followed a certain pattern, a code of conduct.

That was the second time he saw her and the first time he truly noticed her. Eloise.

For some unfathomable reason, Professor Hecat had put Sebastian against the new girl. He, the best duelist in their year, possibly the school, against a girl whose was gripping her second-hand wand so tightly her knuckles were white. She seemed nervous, but of course he said that he wanted to give her a proper Hogwarts welcome and god why had he even said that, but he had to stick to his word and so he sent out a hex towards her as soon as he heard Professor Hecat say they could start. Maybe it would be better the quicker she was defeated.

But she blocked his attack and gave as good as she got.

He hadn't felt so thrilled in a long time. Maybe not in over a year. Maybe not ever. As they fought, the rest of the students faded into the background and it was just the two of them. A brilliant game of cat and mouse...but who was which was the question that needed answering. Staring into her unfathomable hazel eyes (how had he not recognized them?) and answering and responding to every jinx and hex they hurled at each other. It was exhilarating.

In the end, Eloise beat him using an underhanded trick. Maybe if Sebastian had been a Gryffindor he would have called foul and demanded a rematch but he was a Slytherin and couldn't help but admire her for it. Truth be told, he almost wished that he was the one who had thought of it, but he had been enjoying their duel so much that even if he had thought of it he wouldn't have done it.

When she smirked up at him and said, "Slytherin," his stomach did a weird little flip and he felt his face flush. He needed to get to know this girl better. How had she learned to duel like that?

(Of course, now he knew the answer. With a family like that...it was a wonder she even knew how to smile. Or pretend warmth).

Like a stupid little puppy, he followed her after the class, desperate to keep talking to her. Even inviting her to be his guest at Crossed Wands. But every smile Eloise directed at him made him feel warm and she was like the sun and he thought that maybe if they fought together or even against each other again, maybe he could figure out what it was that was so mesmerizing to him.

In the library after that class, he had kept replaying their interactions with each other, not being able to help the stupid smile that grew on his face. Even letting his guard down, and not noticing when Madam Scribner started walking over. He supposed that he was being suspiciously quiet, and she did have good cause to be suspicious of him as he had forgotten to charm the cover of the book he had opened to something more innocuous.

But, miraculously, he had been saved by Eloise and yes, maybe he had been a little theatrical with his escape. Sebastian couldn't explain why, but just seeing her again and waiting for him and knowing that she had chosen him had made him smile despite himself, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to grab her hand as they escaped together.

She was more intriguing the longer they talked, not least because she could also see thestrals. When she opened up to him about the dragon attack (in hindsight just a tactic to get to him no doubt) he felt a surge of protection previously only felt towards Anne.

When she had fallen into the crates after being hit by the troll he couldn't help the emotions that were twisting up his insides and making his heart start beating at an insane pace. Had she been killed? Oh god please - He was worthless. He had failed her.

But then - faster than his mind could even comprehend - she had somehow gotten up and before he could reach her the troll had been completely and utterly destroyed. He couldn't help but be in awe of her power - this girl who didn't look intimidating and who seemed so unsure of herself until she was fighting - but then she was shaking and hunched over in pain and what could he do? Another reminder of his failure to protect Anne - no, Eloise - and those fucking aurors were nowhere in sight.

(Had she ended up going to the Hospital Wing? He hoped so.)

Ominis found him that night still in the Undercroft. The candle floating behind Sebastian had almost completely extinguished, and the long shadows flickering through the huge open space gave it an ominous feeling. He had started analyzing the meticulous notes he had taken to look for something, anything that could help his sister. His friend slowly made his way forward, guided by his wand, and put his hand on Sebastian's shoulder.

"Sebastian? I heard about the troll attack. Are you fine?"

Sebastian looked up to Ominis, relieved that his friend couldn't see the desperation in his face. He hated himself for not being able to keep it out of his voice, though. "Did you know?"

Ominis sighed. "I think there is more to her than meets the eye. I know -"

"Stop." Sebastian hated how strangled his voice sounded. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and cast a tempus charm to check the time. It was much later than he had thought, and Ominis had probably come to accompany him back to the Slytherin dungeons before he could get detention for breaking curfew.

He didn't bother tidying up the desk before getting up and following Ominis out of the Undercroft. Sebastian couldn't be mad at the other boy - he knew him too well, and knew that Ominis had kept the information to himself for some strange reason known only to him.

That night, Sebastian dreamt of chasing after something just out of his reach and the sound of crickets and the smell of baked bread and remembered nothing when he woke up.

He had always been an early riser. Even after many late-night forays into the restricted section of the library the year before, he had never had the ability to sleep in. Maybe he could head to the Great Hall early - eating breakfast alone was his favorite start to the day.

Walking up the stairs leading out of the boys' dormitories, he saw that the main fire in the common room had already been lit. And - she was sitting by the fire, curled up with a huge stack of books by her side. Sebastian froze - why did she have to be awake right now? Eloise was leaning against the arm of the sofa, her cheek resting in her hand as she read the huge tome in her lap. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. It was her pink lips that his eyes went to, though, her teeth biting the lower one as her eyes moved across the page.

He hated that he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

He told himself that it was just because he was curious about what she was reading, especially after their conversation the day before.

As Sebastian approached, she sighed dramatically and shoved the book in her lap to the side. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the next book from the stack next to her.

"I'm assuming that isn't one of the interesting books we talked about yesterday."

"Sebastian! What are you doing up already?"

"I could say the same to you," he replied, sitting down next to her and nonchalantly grabbing the book she had just discarded. He made a sound of disgust as he flipped through the pages, stopping at one in the middle. "'A good hostess is always aware of what is being said at her party; no topic of absorbing interest must be admitted to polite conversation.' What is this dribble?"

Eloise snatched the book away from him, a deep flush sweeping over her cheeks. (The flush was not bringing out the green in her eyes and he did not notice it). "For your information, that book was lying there because I found it completely and utterly boring and it's hard enough staying awake right now as it is. This one isn't much better, though." She sighed and threw the book she had just opened, A Wizarding Society's Guide to the Pureblood Customs, to the side. "My mother's making me read all of these so that I can have a smooth introduction to society."

"Ah yes, you're a Babbit," he said, sitting back and putting his hands behind his head. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth just as he couldn't stop the bitterness seeping into every word. (She deserved it, after all, for tricking him). "Ominis told me last night that he'd known all along." He shook his head. "Why he didn't think to tell me before we had our little adventure yesterday, I'll never know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Eloise angrily. Her hair was starting to escape her braid and puff up around her head. He vaguely thought about how she had obliterated the troll yesterday and maybe it wasn't a good idea to provoke her but instead of being silent he just had to keep speaking. Because he was angry. Because he felt betrayed. Which was completely ridiculous because he barely knew this girl.

"It means," he retorted, "that had I known, I wouldn't have let you get under my skin. I would never risk my life for a Babbit."

Eloise looked so shocked by his confession that she didn't say a single word in defense of herself. He saw her start blinking furiously and her breathing became shallow. (Was he wrong about the situation?)

(He couldn't stop talking.)

"And now," he continued, "I understand why you beat me yesterday in our duel. You've probably spent your whole life practicing."

Eloise stood up quickly and furiously and looked down at him. Her words came out in an angry hiss.

"For your information, I never wanted anything to do with my family. They thought I was a squib and until a few days ago, I was at a muggle finishing school, being prepared to be married off to the most advantageous buyer. I was burned off my family tree when I was eleven. The shameful secret that nobody outside of my family had ever heard of until now. And now, they come back, expecting me to fulfill their image of the perfect daughter." She spat out those last words. (Maybe he had been wrong). "So no, I never practiced dueling because I've spent the last five years living with muggles. I spent my whole life in shame because I never had magic. And now that I finally have everything I wished for my whole life, Ranrok is trying to murder me and has already almost been successful twice. I don't know what sort of problem you have with my family but I assure you that I have no part in it whatsoever. Haven't you learned yet that I'm not to be judged by your faulty assumptions, based on small pieces of the whole picture?"

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed up the spiral staircase, leaving the Slytherin common room and an awestruck Sebastian in her wake.

Sebastian really hates Eloise!!!!!!!

Chapter 7 of my fic, where you get to see his first impressions of her😇😇😇😇😇😇😇

[iamolympus]

apollo, pretending to be human: you look like a god hyacinthus, blushing: you have no idea what the gods look like apollo: well

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: merman! gojo x human f!reader, sadness, angst, people growing, signs of aging, topics of death, satoru calling reader his ‘star’ and reader referring to him as ‘moon’, reader has a house by the coast that was her grandmother’s, sad Satoru, I hc’d that in this au mermen can visit every seven years but due to Satoru’s cold features he can visit every year. readers daughter is named kairi (meaning: majestic sea, or song/melody in other cultures).

a/n: guys I don’t like this 😕

You tried to tell your daughter that true love exists. even if the marriage with her father no longer worked out, you swore to gift it through stories, paintings, and artifacts; all related to that white haired individual. the ‘man’ you’ve known for years.

“Every seven years, mermaids return to this coast,” you remember telling your child, now 7, “but some return sooner than most.”

You hold the small bundle of joy between your arms, a white blanket wrapped around her body with embroided seashells along the edges. “she’s three months old, Satoru.”

“she’s so small,” he marvels, in awe as his brows furrow. “they’re that small?”

“they’re smaller before they’re born,” you smile. “but they’re adorable nontheless.” at your side, your acquaintance slightly sighs, turning to you.

“you think ours would’ve looked like that?” there’s a small pang to your heart, feeling as if you’ve betrayed him.

“Satoru,”

“I wasn’t...” he exhales then turns to the sea, “you know what I mean, star.” your heart aches at the name, a bittersweet name he gifted you early on in your relationship.

“are you gonna...?”

“she’ll know about you, some bits when she’s young. But once she’s older... I’ll leave her to decide. I’ll write it all down for her.” at your words, Satoru lets a moment pass, hesitantly bringing up an item in his hands.

“I brought you something,” he says, “I didn’t know... even if it was the last time I’d see you,” there’s almost a pained expression to his voice, eyes avoiding yours as he looks down at your daughter. then, to the ring on your left.

“can I give it to her?” there’s a slow nod.

“of course. she’s a piece of you.”

He returns again when she’s three, awestruck at her growth. you let him carry her, of course you trust him with your life. he treats her with the upmost care as he swims, having her sit on the plain of his back. your daughter giggles. this time, he gifts her a shell shaped like a whistle that actually makes a noise while he gifts you a pair of pearlescent earrings.

On your daughter’s 7th birthday, you notice a scar upon his cheekbone. while your daughter plays along the shore, you turn to cup his cheek. An act of affection you’ve long missed. “you’re still the same as ever,” you whisper, not paying mind to his scar though he makes it well aware how much he hates it.

“you shouldn’t be touching another man,” he almost bitterly reminds you, “you have a husband. I don’t think he’d like you touching someone else.”

“ex-husband,” you correct softly, embarrassment in your cheeks. “we didn’t work out.” there’s a sadness and glimmer to his eyes as he turns to your daughter, watching and overlook so as she won’t slip from a nearby rock. the waves today are calmer than most days.

Your daughter stops visiting him after that. You don’t really know how it happens; if she either grew up too soon or she lost interest, but you write. you paint. for him or her, you mask it as a personal hobby (which it was), you suddenly feel the need to prove something.

Years pass and you’ve grown a few wrinkles along your eyes. body not quite as before, worried he might miss today.

you see satoru’s white head from the distance. It takes him far longer to approach you. you think he might consider you a stranger until he’s close enough for you to call, “moon!” a love name you’ve blessed him by; in honor of the pale skin of his features.

“you’ve grown,” there’s a slight sadness behind his eyes and voice, knowing well that this means another era for you. a reminder that you’re not forever, “but you’re still as beautiful as ever. come here, star.” his arms feel like home. they always have. you’d like to think this is what heaven should be like. the soft, tender kiss against your lips reminds you that maybe there is something to look forward to.

a few years later, you return. a headscarf adorning your top, loose clothing around your figure as this time, you lay low by the rocks. It’s too difficult to climb.

“the doctors think I’ll be okay,” you smile, bony hand clasped with his muscular one. you can tell he’s holding back a sob as he glances at every feature life has thrown at you, as subtle as he tries you can still feel it.

“you’re dying.” he points.

“I still have time,”

“but not enough.” a silence passes between the both of you. you tell him of your daughter.

“I told kairi about you.” you tell him, “I wrote everything down so she’ll know.”

“I don’t think she ever wants to see me.”

“Of course she does,” you gently squeeze his hand, “just give her time, she’s...” you struggle with your words, “grieving.”

“I can’t loose you,” his voice breaks, and you’re afraid to meet his eyes. “I’ve barely had you, it’s not fair.”

“Satoru,” your voice cracks, but remains soft, “I’ve been lucky to have known you...”

“No,” he grits his teeth, “don’t speak in past terms. you’re not dead, star.”

“I promise this won’t be the last time you see me.” you squeeze his hand with what strength you have left, “I’ve moved here, to the house by the coast.” you speak, “I’ll see you everyday if I have to, I won’t go, Satoru.” it takes a lot of reassurance that night for Satoru to be at peace, even though there is no complete peace in knowing the love of your life is dying and you can’t do anything about it, he’s with you every minute he can take. Satoru stays for months, expanding his visit along the waters as it’s nearing winter.

“You should go,” you tell him, “you’ll die if you stay in these cold waters. I’ll be fine.”

There is such reluctance in that conversation from him. His eyes and body betray him, unable to leave you. “No,”

“Satoru, you’ll die.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ve made it past the time doctors said I’d...” you nod, “I’ll be fine Satoru. It’s just 4 months. I’ll actually die if you don’t go though. Please, go. For your own health.” There’s hurt and hesitance in his eyes, longing and self betrayal in the way he kisses you, though he’s so in love with you by the way he holds you and whispers sweet nothings to your ear. the last thing he does is press a kiss to your forehead before he turns, leaving.

It rains for the first time in 20 years on the beach 26 days later. your daughter sobs that day, looking ahead from the hospital view as she stares out into the ocean.

she doesn’t have the guts to see him (satoru) that year. not daring to step a foot in the sand for a whole entire year. she reads your journals a few months after your death, learning of a man that saved you from another, saving your life. he’s become your rock, she can read. and you write about him in ways that you’ve never expressed about her father. it is then that she realizes that you loved him, or he loved you. likely both sides loved, but she still doesn’t visit the sea.

it is only when she turns 21 that she decides to finally meet the man again. fresh out of a heartbreak, she realizes how excruciatingly painful it is to lose someone you love, reflecting and opting that it is only fair she gives you the news. but she decides to do more.

Satoru recognizes her almost instantly, she looks so much like you in your youth. kairi is almost afraid, holding on to the bag tightly over her shoulder.

She didn’t think her soul could break ever the more when she tells him the news. In front of her, she sees a man who truly loved. who if given the chance to be human, would’ve kissed the ground you walked on, loved you more than her own father. her heart breaks, seeing how someone who held so much love for you had, resulting in the greatest tragedy she’s seen in her 21 years of life.

“She wanted me to give you this,” it’s a waterproof heart necklace with a picture of you on one side and the other is a picture the both of you took. Satoru holds the necklace as if it’s made of glass.

for the remainder of the day, she talks to you as if you would have wanted. showing him a photo album of your life, reflecting on her best memories of you. it is only then when Satoru cries when you pull up a video of you on your birthday.

your daughter learns that Satoru loves videos.

“I remember when you were barely born, you were this small.” he makes a motion with his hands, “you were... so beautiful, your mother loved you.” there’s a sense of sadness yet pride to his words.

“I know she loved you too,” kairi speaks, moments later as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “she always told me about you when I was little. always pained this beach, even you at times.” your daughter chuckles, “sometimes, even when I was little, I wondered what it’d be like to have you as my dad. the both of you really loved one another. more than my dad.”

and there, there is a piece inside your daughters heart and Satoru’s that slightly mends. the two of them bond their love over you, keeping your memory alive as they meet every year to remember you. both souls uniting, thinking of a life where things would have been possible.

[fever-project]

Very very short 363 words fic of Legend rejoining the chain after getting sent back to his time for the start of EoW. Thank you Echoes of Wisdom <3 I love you Echoes of Wisdom

It’s been 100 days since Legend had been separated from the group. They had all gone through the same portal-they all saw that Legend was the first to proudly walk through it. But on the other side, he wasn’t there, they couldn’t find him. No matter how hard they looked, no matter how hard they tried, it was all for nothing.

They had to move on. Those black blooded wouldn’t let up. They had to march forward, clutching onto their courage with all they had.

They always walked hand in hand through the portals after that. They had to stay connected throughout time, to stay linked throughout the universe. They may had mourned the presence of their missing Link, but mourning does nothing. All they could do was pray for him to be alright. To be in his own time, safe and sound.

Then he fell down right in front of them.

The chain were in an inn, debating on what their next course of action would be. The shadowy beast they were up against only got stronger and more difficult to deal with as time passed on. They needed to kill it now, or they could never even dream to strike it down.

A rip in time and space open up above them. They all scrambled for their swords, watching as a pair of feet emerged from the portal, running in place. Then the legs came, then the torso, then the arms with a bow in their hands. Finally, the head crossed through, and the figure fell onto the hard, wooden ground.

“Veteran!” Multiple shouts rang out. For everyone, from no one, all towards to figure. A beaten and tired Legend lay on the ground. Tears were streaming from his eyes. He could barely muster the energy to open his mouth, but he spoke anyways. He wanted to comfort his brothers, even though he was barely aware they were even there.

“Zelda,” his breath stuttered, soon turning into uneven laughter, “I saved her…I freed her in the end.”

Legend passed out in his brothers’ arms. All he dreamt of was of his Zelda, with her meeting his brothers. Everyone was happy.

[aloonaram]

Here’s an edited wip of my Birdflash oneshot.

Fair warning, this will probably change in the final product as I try to figure out at what point in the timeline I want this fic to take place.

“You look like shit, Dickie.”

“Gee, thanks, Walls. You’re such a loving boyfriend,” Dick retorted. He tried for a smile, but Wally watched sadly as it twitched and fell before it could become what it once was–what Dick’s smile used to be.

Dick opened his door wider in invitation and Wally rushed in and examined the place. Gotham wasn’t ever known for its beauty, but even with that in mind, Dick’s apartment looked pretty rough. Empty containers of takeout and miscellaneous trash littered the floor and countertops. His couch was sprinkled with brown spots that he almost assumed were polka dots before he realized they were most definitely patches of dried blood. Clothes were strewn across every surface, their musk permeating his senses. Dick brushed past his side and made his way to the kitchen, opening his rickety fridge to expose the meager amount of food he had. Wally would bet his life savings that each of the five items had gone bad too, based on the state of the place.

Dick turned to toss Wally a water, “So…what, uh, brings you here?” Dick’s awkward tone hangs heavy between the two. Now that Wally could get a good look, his lover was in rough shape. Even worse than his apartment; which was a feat, his mind whispered. His hair laid limp and greasy along his neck and his bags seemed to have bags of their own. A couple of dark bruises peeked through the collar of his shirt, some leading down to his left arm if the strange way he seemed to carry it was anything to go by. Dick clutched his own water bottle, doing his best to look anywhere but at him.

“You haven’t been responding to my messages,” Wally started, “I texted the other Robin, uh Tim, I think? But he never got back to me either, so I got worried, you know? Figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I don’t have super speed for nothing.” He waved his hands around, doing his best to lighten the mood. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to talk, let alone seen each other in person, but, you know, if this isn’t the best time, I can totally leave. I know this is kinda spur of the moment.” Wally wished he could slap himself the moment his lips stopped moving. Some of the younger heroes had started calling him a professional yapper and he wished it didn’t fit so damn well.

Wally watched as Dick took a breath and rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. He winced. Yeah, this probably wasn’t the best time to show up out of the blue.

“No, I…You don’t need to leave, “ Dick sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been responding, Walls. Everything’s just been… a lot, to put it simply. I’ve been so busy trying to balance my day job, Bludhaven, and…and being Batman. I just haven’t had much time to myself lately, if you can’t tell by the state of my apartment.” Dick laughed pitifully and winced when it shook his aching arm.

He couldn’t help moving forward into the kitchen and enveloping Dick in a hug, something he definitely should’ve done the moment he’d arrived. His partner sighed shakily and moved to wrap his arms around Wally’s middle. He felt Dick’s face pressed against his chest and hooked his chin to the top of his greasy head. Dick had always been one for physical comfort, a miracle considering who he’d grown up with and the environment he’d been forced into at the ripe age of nine. Wally would be lying if he didn’t say Dick’s need for physical affection didn’t bring him relief and make him feel needed. Sometimes, he felt powerless amidst his lover's strife–Batman’s rule against metas in Gotham limiting his ability to help. Providing Dick a simple hug; feeling the tense muscles in his shoulders loosen and his breath hit Wally’s neck as he sighed in relief, was Wally’s respite from his perpetual guilt.

Wally knew about Batman’s…death. He’d been there when Dick hosted Bruce’s funeral, letting Dick squeeze the life from his hand as he listened to the speech from Alfred. With Bruce gone, the natural order of Dick’s family had seemed to fall apart. Dick had taken the mantle of Batman, a title Wally knew he had never wanted–never felt right for him. He’d be lying if he said he fully understood the magnitude of such a change–that he knew how large the chasms carved by trauma had grown to separate Dick and his siblings. And yet despite that, he knew one thing for a fact. Dick, his lover and the man he’s known for well over a decade now was not the type of person to let others shoulder pain on their own. He took and took and took until he knew only he carried the weight of the sky on his shoulders, letting his muscles feel relief only when his family no longer felt pain. And he’d continue to carry that weight with a smile as long as he knew his family would smile back, unaware of the sky creeping in on Dick’s tense shoulders.

Wally squeezed his arms tighter around Dick’s back, supporting him as his breaths became ragged in their silent embrace. As Wally did so, a sick thought entered his mind, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for his partner; a small part of him–microscopic even–was glad Bruce wasn’t here. Not because he reveled in the effects his passing had on Dick, nor because he wanted Dick to be forced into the role of Batman, but because despite his struggles, Bruce had never been good for Dick. Yes, he played the parental figure Dick needed when he was younger and yes, he provided the necessities for Dick to survive, but he never provided what Wally knew Dick needed most.

“Do you wanna move to the couch, babe?” Wally whispered, cheek pressed against Dick’s head. He feels Dick nod silently and Wally zipped them to the couch in less than half a second. Wally sat and patted the spot next to him, watching as Dick laid his head on his lap, pressing his cheek to Wally’s stomach while letting his legs hang off the side of the couch.

Never one comfortable with silence, Wally broke it first. “If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t push. We can chill, watch the Office, eat popcorn–whatever you want. I just worry…you know? Not being able to be here to help and hearing on the news, Batman and Robin this and Joker and Two-Face that…I just wish I could do more for you.”

Wally looks down to meet Dick’s pained stare and internally winces as Dick opens and closes his mouth, struggling to respond.

“Me and the bats have it handled over here, okay?” Dick starts quietly, aimlessly running his hand over Wally’s knuckles. “You don’t need to worry about me, honey. I know you have more than enough to deal with back at Central and I don’t want to stress you out with problems I have handled.”

Wally lets his free hand run through Dick’s hair, quickly relishing in the way Dick warms to his touch. “I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t be stressed, you know me too well for that, but I’m here to support you, Dick. To be your listener when you’re stressed.” He paused for only a moment before speaking again, “I know you, Dick. I’ve known you for almost every era of your life as you have, mine. I knew you when you were my scrawny, baby leader-”

“Hey-” Dick tried to interject, but Wally kept going.

“I knew you when you wore that god awful blue and yellow disco Nightwing suit-”

“It really wasn’t that bad-”

“And I know what it looks like when you don’t have things handled. You don’t need to soften the blow for me Dickie and you don’t need to play the perfect soldier.” Wally paused. Let it be known even the Flash is out of breath from time to time. “You were always there for me during rough times, so please let me be there for you.”

[robinette-green]

Late Night Day Dreams Chapter 11:

The Day After

You’re a Parts and Service Technician who’s been out for a week due to illness. An early morning phone call has you coming in at 6 am on your first day back instead of 10 pm like you had been planning on.

You just want to clock in, get set up and then seen your robot boys in the daycare but things don’t go as planned.

2,941 words

Princess Quest ending

Sun and Moon are 100% your boyfriends and it’s a secret but everyone knows

Punching my code into the keypad, I yawned, covering my mouth and squinting as my eyes watered.

6am was much, MUCH too early to be awake.

A phone call had startled me from sleep about 15 minutes ago. It was one of management’s automated voice messages, pre-recorded and riddled with breaks from a robotic AI voice.

“Hello, Faz Bear employee, NUMBER 13357. We are calling to inform you that you are needed to work MORNING SHIFT PARTS AND SERVICE TECHNICIAN. We apologize for any inconvenience and appreciate your cooperation. Please arrive on time for your SIX AM shift. Thank you and have a good day.”

I’d been out sick for a week and today was my first day back. It was just starting much, MUCH earlier than I thought it would.

Jeff must have called out. He was the normal morning tech. It was odd though because usually he’d shoot me a text to give me a heads up if he knew he wouldn’t be able to come in.

Well if he was sick he’d probably be sleeping in so I’d text him later to make sure he was alright.

The keypad beeped, light glowing green for a moment before the large metal door that split the parking garage from the lobby started to lift.

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I took a long sip of coffee while I waited for the door to rise enough to walk under.

Neon lights reflected off the polished floors of the lobby, large LED screens played ads of the band on the pillars and walls, and staff bots mopped the floors and did security rounds. Everything as normal at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.

Well until I made it to the turn styles and noticed that the gates for the lower gift shop and the customer service counter were both raised.

…

They should have been lowered last night and the night guard wouldn’t have needed to raise them.

…

Okay, well, whatever.

Maybe one of the animatronics opened them and forgot to close them again.

Ducking into one of the ticket booths, I booted up one of the computers and clocked in for my shift. The computer played a little fan fair with children cheering in the background as the punch went through and I rolled my eyes. I don’t know who programmed it to do that but I wanted to have a conversation with them. We were just going to talk.

Taking another sip of coffee, I adjusted my bag again and started through the lobby and up the stairs to the elevators.

The plan was to go down to parts and service first and get set up then I’d check on the main four before going to the daycare to see Sun and Moon. I needed to at least pretend to do my job before I could see my favorite boys and once we’d gotten through the hugs and catching up I’m sure they’d enjoy coming with me on my rounds of the -

…

The elevator doors had opened and I was distracted by the upper half of Monty clawing his way across the atrium floor. Not even sparing me a glance.

“… the fuck???”

It took another long moment before I could pull myself out of my surprise and shock.

“MONTY!” I shouted, trotting to catch up to the torso crawling across the floor.

“Dude! What the fuck?”

He didn’t respond, continuing on his merry way, a growl periodically coming from his voice box.

I dropped to a knee and set my coffee aside so I could rummage through my bag. Luckily, my Faz wrench, a large, orange, two-pronged tool, was near the top.

Faz wrench in hand, I ran to Monty and practically tackled him, placing a knee in his back to press him to the floor. As the bot growled and scrabbled at the floor, ripping up carpet and scooting us jerkily forward, I forced the service hatch on the upper part of his back open and slammed the prongs of the Faz wrench into the slot I’d uncovered. With a twist of the wrench, Monty slumped to the floor as he rebooted.

What the hell happened last night???

As Monty started to boot back on, I moved to sit next to him on the floor, closing his service hatch as I did.

Monty blinked a few times then groaned, clutching at his head with what was left of his hands. Now that I was really looking at him I could see that the shells of his hands were also gone.

Did someone break him for his upgrade?

Were the others okay??

“Wha?” Monty shifted to look down at himself and then at me.

“What, in the swampy bottom Faz fuck happened to my legs!?” He demanded in his gruff cajun accent.

“Language. If I knew, I’d tell you. I just got here. Walked through the doors and found you crawling your way through the plex. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“ Hypocrite. You spend too much time in that daycare” Monty grumbled.

“Is everyone else alright?”

“Again, just got here,” I repeated, ignoring his jab at my own use of cuss words, before getting to my knees and grabbing the gator under his arms.

“Come here you overgrown backpack. Let’s get moving and find out.”

With Monty’s help and a good bit of struggle, I managed to get Monty into my back and stood. Turns out that he was still extremely heavy when only part of an upper body.

“You’ll grumble but we’re going to the daycare first.”

Monty did grumble a little bit, tightening his grip on my shoulders.

“Na, I get it. Need to check on your boys.”

Lugging the large gator along, I went back to the elevator to go back to the lobby. This route would be faster than going through Kids Cove and I wouldn’t have to walk as far with a heavy passenger on my back.

“Hey kid, put me down. I’ll crawl” Monty could tell I was already flagging.

“No. This is faster and I can have Sun and Moon carry you once we find them.”

The music in the elevator cut out and the announcer told us a Faz fact that was very clearly untrue.

Bears aren't extinct yet and most certainly don't eat pizza in the wild.

Monty and I waited silently for it to finish and now that we weren’t talking I could really feel his weight pulling me down, compressing my body.

“…Though if I change my mind you’ll be the first to know.”

Monty chuckled and the elevator doors opened and we were able to continue on.

We made it to the daycare check-in before I had to set Monty down but we were close enough that it didn’t matter.

I practically fell down, getting Monty to the floor without dropping him and my body felt oddly light and floaty as I stumbled to the 'side into fun' slide that went down into the daycare proper.

“SUN!” I called down the colorful plastic tube.

I’d been out for a week, they should be anxious wrecks to see me again.

The sudden crashing of an animatronic scrambling up the slide startled me and when Sun shot out, his arms wrapping around me I fell over, his weight crushing me.

“OH DEWDROP! I’m so glad, glad, GLAD! You’re back! So many things have gone WRONG! They made us get an upgrade WITHOUT YOU! It was HORRIBLE! And, and now Moon won’t talk to me! And he’s HURT an EMPLOYEE!! And we’ve had complaints! I’m not allowed to turn the light OFF anymore!! and, and, and OH MY GOD WHAT’S HAPPENED TO MONTY!!!” Holding me tight to his chest, Sun scrambled away from the torso of the gator that was crawling towards us.

“Woah! Easy!” I took Sun’s face into my hands, trying to calm him some.

“It’s alright.”

The large sunny animatronic melted into my touch, curling further around me.

Next time I get sick I’m going to let Sun and Moon squirrel me away in their room and let them care for me like they wanted because clearly I couldn’t leave for a moment without things falling apart… literally.

Monty sighed, resting his head on his hands as he looked at us over his sunglasses.

“We don’t know what happened to 'em,” Monty grumbled.

“I woke up like this. Your little human says they found me crawling through the atrium like this and gave me a reboot.”

It took a little longer to calm Sun down and after some coaxing and more hugs, I finally got him to let me go.

We decided that the first thing we would do was get Monty down to parts and service. I didn’t know what condition the others would be in and I might need Sun and Moon to carry them. That would be easier if they weren’t also carrying the gator.

I also wanted to check on Moon. From what Sun had said I had a feeling that something had gone wrong with whatever upgrade they’d gotten and I needed to make sure Moon was okay.

Sun scooped Monty up and carried him with one arm then snagged my hand, squeezing for reassurance.

Giving him a smile, I squeezed back.

I was going to fix this.

It didn’t take long to get down to parts and service. We placed Monty on one of the work tables and let him go into rest mode then I gently talked Sun into the repair tube. He was nervously pulling at a ray, the rest pulled into his face plate with worry.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Y-you haven’t seen the state of our room. H-he’s been destroying staff bots! I don’t want you to get hurt! What if something’s really REALLY wrong and he- and he-!”

“It’ll be okay, Sunny bunny,” I murmured, patting Sun’s hand as he sat in the large dentist-looking chair.

“You and I both know that Moon would never do anything to hurt me. We’re going to find out what they did wrong during your upgrade and I’m going to fix it. Promise. It’ll be okay.”

The door closed, sealing us in as I sat on my rolling stool and hooked up my laptop to the port in the back of Sun’s head.

“I’ll do a check on you first, then we’ll turn out the lights,” I said, already distracted by code as I dug through Sun’s files, Sun giving me a nervous affirmative.

They’d given Sun and Moon a battery that could outlast any of the other animatronic’s batteries but when they’d done this they’d turned off Sun and Moon’s ability to enter rest mode.

I grumbled something unsavory to myself as I turned it back on. Not being able to rest for a week was probably part of the reason Sun was so high-strung right now. Not resting on top of everything else going on.

Luckily everything else seemed to be in order…

“We’re going to take a long nap once we get everything sorted. Looks like you both need a snuggle and some rest.”

Sun took one of my hands in his, tilting his head slightly so he could look up at me with his white eyes.

“Please?” He asked, his voice so small.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Absolutely.”

Now it was time to check on Moon.

Giving Sun’s hand a squeeze, I reached over and placed a finger on the light controls.

“Ready?” I asked softly and after a moment of hesitation, Sun nodded.

The lights in the repair tube went out and dimmed in the rest of Parts and Service. Sun’s body convulsed and he made a pained sound that had me lurching forward.

“SUN?!?” I called out but as soon as it had started, it stopped, Moon’s red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Are you alright!? That sounded like it hurt!” I ran my fingers along the edge of Moon’s face plate where Sun’s rays had retracted, looking to see if something was impeding the change there.

A hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed. Hard.

“Ahh,” I hissed, free hand instinctively going to Moon’s fingers to try and relieve some of the pressure as my eyes flew to Moon’s.

“Sssss-starlight?” Moon growled, voice glitching.

Suddenly, Moon jerked forward, gripping his face plate with a hand and crying out, his eyes flickering purple for a moment.

“Moon. Talk to me, buddy. What’s wrong?” I scrambled for my laptop, clicking away with my free hand through Moon’s coding, wincing as I tried to ignore the way my other wrist was being crushed.

“S-sommmmme-thing’ssss. Ii-t’sss in-n-n-n-n my head. Connn-t-trolling-” Moon managed to get out, doing his best to fight whatever was trying to rear its ugly head.

“Hold on honey, I got you,” I murmured, typing as fast as I could with one hand.

There was something in his code, probably the same thing that had been affecting Monty when I’d first found him. Moon needed a reboot, that should clear out the virus like it had with Monty.

Moon growled, the metal of his face plate creaking as his grip tightened down, the grip on my wrist just as tight.

“J-Just a little longer. Hold out for me if you can.” I managed to say through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the way my bones were creaking.

Grabbing my Faz wrench, I was just barely able to get the prongs into the slot on the back of Moon’s face plate. With a grunt, I turned the wrench and Moon suddenly went limp, eyes going dark.

I pulled my arm free from his grasp and cradled it to my chest. By some miracle, it was bruised but not broken.

Leaning closer, I tried to see what Moon’s optics were doing.

“Moon? How are you feeling sweetheart?”

Red eyes flickering back on, I had to sit back as their head did a spin and Sun’s rays joined Moon’s hat.

“Happy Birthday!” Eclipse gushed and I sighed, smiling down at the grinning robot.

If Eclipse was fronting then everything must be working smoothly. This part of the daycare attendant could only surface when Sun and Moon were working in harmony.

“Not my birthday, Eclipse. Did the reboot wipe the virus from your system?”

“Sure did! We’re in tip-top shape! And we’re able to communicate again just fine as you can see!” Eclipse gushed as he sat up, reaching out to pull me into a hug.

“Thank you, Star Shine!” He whispered into my hair. Then in a much smaller voice, he asked

“Is it… time for that cuddle?” He sounded so anxious and sad, I wanted to immediately agree but we still had work to do.

But then I would cuddle my poor boys for days and we’d have a week-long sleepover. They deserved it after what they’d been through.

After checking on Monty one more time, Sun, Moon, and I set out to find Roxy, Chica, and Freddy and check on DJ Music Man.

We found Roxy in her salon, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to hide her face. Her eyes had been ripped from her head, wires hanging loose from the empty sockets. Her hair had been thoroughly messed up and it looked like her snout had been bent giving her a permanent snarl.

The shock from losing her eyes had forced an auto reboot, purging the virus but it had left Roxy a wreck, sobbing and raging about the boy that had taken her eyes from her.

Sun and I promised over and over that she was still the most beautiful and that I would easily be able to fix her. I even told her that we could add whatever she wanted to her shell. New hairstyle, new colors, different earrings, whatever she wanted. We’d make a spa day of it.

This seemed to calm her down some and Sun and I were able to get her to parts and service, letting her sit in a chair near Monty’s table as she whimpered softly.

So this Gregory had taken Monty’s hands and Roxy’s eyes. I had a feeling I knew what would be missing when we found Chica.

And I was right but it was worse than I’d thought.

She’d been smashed by the trash compactor but was somehow still mindlessly wandering around and shoving food into what was left of her mouth. Someone had pulled her voice box out and taken her beak with it leaving Chica with a large hole in her face. Her shell was cracked in serval places and she reeked of trash.

I ended up having to have Moon hold Chica down so I could open the service panel in her back and force a reboot with my Faz wrench.

Even once she was rebooted, Chica seemed dazed and confused. Moon was able to converse with her via sign language but, just like Monty, she had no memory of what had happened.

DJ Music Man seemed alright, all things considered. He seemed to have the robot equivalent of a headache, holding his head, lying sprawled out on his stage. DJ had a vague memory of a boy running about the arcade but couldn’t tell us more.

No matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find any sign of Freddy. He appeared to have vanished along with the boy that had caused all this destruction.

If this is what happens when I leave for a week then I guess I can’t leave ever again.

Not that Sun or Moon would let me.

[happyk44]

Bianca lives. She follows them to Olympus. Percy notices the way Hermes seems to whip out his phone as soon as they walk in, busily texting someone. His eyes dart between them and his father. Percy scans the thrones as Grover clops over to them, happy but shaking with nerves.

Distantly, he wonders where Hades is - isn't his uncle supposed to attend Olympus during the winter solstice?

Artemis descends from her throne to save Percy and Thalia from being blasted to smithereens. She knights her dear sister to run alongside her in the hunt. Bessie's life is threatened. Percy pleas.

And Zeus summons his bolt when Poseidon suggests he keep Bessie beneath the waves.

Immediately the room goes cold. The scent of bitter ozone is displaced by the throaty taste of frozen dear and gagging misery. A nightmare batters through Percy's head - two children playing in the foyer of a hotel, a little girl trying to appease her brother, laughter, joy, content. Then lightning. Then death.

Then pain.

It crushes him - loss, grief, horror, a lazy river, and memories of a dozen ghostly voices whispering in the dead of night to fear the skies, fear the storm.

The underground is the only place safe for us, they say. They don't like when we breathe their air.

Air hits Percy's lungs as the nightmares snaps. Annabeth and Grover are keeled over, gagging viciously and breathing hard. Thalia looks just as shaken as Percy feels. Even the gods look displaced, fallen slightly on their thrones. Confusion has strung across their face in bewildered lines.

Zeus's bolt has fizzled to a less impressive crackle. Poseidon's watery trident looks more like an overgrown fork.

And behind Percy, Bianca steps forward. Her form is shaky, but she is the most sure-footed person in the room. She stares horrified up at Zeus, then her eyes turn to daggers.

It is the most enraged she has looked since Percy met her.

"You tried to kill me," she says. Zeus stares at her, baffled. "Me and my brother." She points at him. Wispy black vapour leaks from beneath her sleeves. "You wanted us to go e, but our father said no, so you tried to kill us." Her voice turns icy cold. "You murdered my mother."

It's not Zeus who speaks but Hermes. He laughs softly, like a teasing wind, but there's panic in his eyes. "Look, kid, I think you're confused-"

"I am not confused, Hermes," Bianca snaps.

She says his name with confidence. Like she knows him. Knows him well enough to belay the Lord title, to belay feigned politeness. Everything about her has shifted - she is no longer that shy girl Percy met days ago.

She's someone else.

Her head held high, she glowers up at the gods before them. "I am Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Hades, trained by Death and the very shadows themselves." A frightening chill bursts across the room. "I was there in the underground when you murdered my siblings, I heard Hermes deliver your threats for if he dared to retaliate, and I hope the Titans can't sever you from your pathetic throne, so that I can cut you down myself, like you deserve!"

The floors shook with every violent shout of her words. Beneath her feet, the decay of marble spread. The thrones crackled under the weight of her final scream. Shadows bled everywhere. Ghostly wails echoed all around the room.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN THREATEN MY BROTHER AND I WOULDN'T DESTROY YOU WHERE YOU STAND?"

Percy stumbled back. His head was throbbing. Nearby, Annabeth and Grover had fully collapsed to the floor, crushed into one another. Thalia was steadying herself against Artemis, who looked just as sick.

Bianca turned towards Percy. Her eyes were nothing but voids, dragging all the nightmares he'd ever had to forefront of his mind, all the near death experiences, all the reminders that he was mortal. The veins across her face were blackened and prominent.

"He destroyed your siblings as well," she said, softer. "Do not trust an Olympian, Percy. They don't care for those of us who love the depths."

Then she was gone. Like the snap of someone's fingers - instantaneous. All the encroaching darkness immediately dissipated, Percy panted, gripping his knees.

What the hell was she talking about?

Before he could even think to ask, Zeus was rounding on Hermes, who looked much different now. Not neatened up in a fancy business suit, but much younger and panicked, with a dark t-shirt and an obsidian wreath of laurels in his hair.

"Did you know about this?" Zeus seethed. "Did you know they lived?"

Like a child being scolded, Hermes pulled into himself. "I knew," he said quietly.

The acrid scent of electricity was back in the air. "And you did not tell me?"

Hermes didn't meet Zeus' eyes. "I was told-"

"I am your father!" Zeus bellowed.

Hermes closed his eyes. It was painfully silent. Percy's heart hammered in his chest as he helped pull Annabeth and Grover up to their knees.

Then, "They are my family too. And Bianca..." He looked up, catching Zeus in a clear stare. "Bianca is a good girl. She loves her father, and she loves her brother. She would not consider joining their army because Hades would not allow it. And she will not be the child of the prophecy because-" He turned to Percy and gestured quietly. "-it will be Percy. He's older than she is." He rolled his shoulders. "So relax, Father. Everything will be fine. As I've said before, there is nothing to worry about from them."

Zeus didn't look convinced. The other gods peered between the two, looking more bothered with Hermes, still dressed in dark clothing, than they were with Zeus. All except for Poseidon, who didn't seem to care about the fight that just broke out or Bianca's existence, and Dionysus, who tilted his head towards his older brother in a subtle nod.

Poseidon cleared his throat. The heavy mood broke ever so slightly. "Since you seemed so reticent to keeping the beast with me, Hephaestus - will you help build, uh, Bessie, was it?" Percy nodded. "Yes, will you help me build Bessie an aquarium here so he may be properly housed on Olympus?"

Hephaestus grunted in agreement.

When Zeus said nothing, still bitterly eying his son, Poseidon shrugged and held up his hand, "All in favour?"

Slowly a number of hands rose and for a moment Percy felt himself relax. At least, Bessie would have a happy ending.

The Council dispersed. Thalia and Percy shared a fervoured glance at one another as she was pulled away by Artemis. Annabeth was yanked off by her mother, who kept shooting Percy annoyed looks. Percy swallowed around his tongue as Grover nervously chewed on a tin can next to him.

"What do you think she meant?" Percy asked.

"The truth."

Grover jumped nearly a foot in the air. A panic bleat cut through his mouth, but it was drowned out by the loud music Apollo had thrown on. The two of them spun around. Hermes stood, still young, still darkly dressed. There was an almost somber air about him now.

"My father can be a difficult man, Percy," he said quietly before Percy could say anything. "I would not err him if I could help it, but... Bianca and Nico are very powerful children. They would be good allies to have on your side."

Percy chewed his lip. "I get the feeling Bianca won't really be interested."

Hermes shook his head. "She's heard the stories from the ones who came before her. And like her father, she was always more pessimistic. So she's wary of the people here. But she's always caved quickly for her brother and I doubt that's changed. And Nico..." A soft smile catches across his lips. "Nico's always been more helpful than he probably should be. It got him into a lot of scrapes as a kid." He laughs gently at whatever he remembered. "He'll be on your side. And as long as you keep him safe, she won't be interested in hurting you."

Percy stared at him. "How do you... know?"

"I am a god of the underworld," Hermes said. "And Hades has always been more capable of caring for his children than the rest of us. I think he sees the miseries that come from those that weren't and chooses to do better." He shrugged and waved his hand around. "All that really means is we under his wing sometimes get designated for babysitting duties. Or training." He grins widely. "I hope Nico still remembers how to pick locks."

Grover bleats in an awkward laugh and shoves another tin can into his mouth. Percy doesn't know how to react. Godly babysitters to keep them safe? And he had to get a shitty step-dad who beat his mom to the keep the monsters at bay? A small burst of jealousy and anger cuts through him. Grover nudges him.

"Now if the two of you don't mind, I should probably ensure Nico is safe with his sister before Father decides to finish what he started." Hermes steps away then stills. He glances at Percy over his shoulder. "Stay safe, Percy. And please keep Nico safe, if you can. He's got a big heart - he is our best chance at proving that the Underworld is a benefit to Olympus. Not something to be feared and reviled."

Then he turned and vanished into the crowd in a single step. Percy stared after him. And thought of chatty overactive Nico. Then Bianca, full of hate and despair. The voices of their ghostly siblings, worried for the ones who came after them, still angry with the gods above.

There was a pitiful pang that hit Percy at the thought Nico might become like that - change from the happy smiling kid who was too small for his armour and thought everything around them was the coolest thing ever, into a pissed off hateful overly powerful demigod who may not join Luke and his army but would be happy to destroy Olympus and everything associated with it.

And Zeus...

Would he go after Bianca again for what she said? She was also still technically a Huntress of Artemis, wasn't she? So she'd never turn sixteen. But Nico would. Tiny Nico laughing loudly as he was chased by his big sister. Tiny Nico who screamed bloody murdered when his mom...

Would Zeus...

Bile drew up to Percy's throat.

"Do you think he'll try to..." He trailed off but Grover yanked at the hem of his shirt, fully understanding.

"I don't know. I..." Grover falters, then twists the hem of his shirt over his thumb. "I hope not."

Percy swallowed back the bile burning his throat. "Me too."

[hopepetal]

ooof okay I am not proud of this but! the angst calls me.

Set in @applestruda's boatem knights au!

This is Part One | Part Two | Part Three

There was an addictive quality to the power that rose within Scar in times of need. A powerful weapon, a double edged sword that he wielded once for his own gain, but now to protect his friends. His family. 

And wield it he did, calling upon the vex magic inside him more and more often, the rush of power in his veins upon seeing the fear of his adversary’s faces becoming… appealing, almost. And frankly, that scared him quite a bit. He wasn’t afraid of his power, per se, but he was afraid of what he could do with it. 

But Scar was in control. He knew what he was doing. Besides, the knights were more than capable of protecting themselves should he go, as everyone liked to call it, “a little feral”.

(Okay, maybe he was the only one who liked to call it that. So what?)

Scar trained. He trained and he practiced and he made sure he was able to control himself. If not for his own peace of mind, then for the safety of the other knights. 

The other knights, who were staring at him in horror.

The other knights, who had drawn their weapons and pointed them at him. 

The other knights, who watched as the magic faded from Scar’s eyes, color seeping back into his hair as he stared at the blood painting his hands red. The blood that seeped from Grian’s chest and stomach. The blood that was streaked on his face and stained his armor. Scar’s gaze met Mumbo’s, the fear alight in his friend’s eyes a punch in the gut. The mustachioed man was practically cradling Grian, protecting him from… from Scar.

“Oh god,” he choked out, his hands shaking as his vision blurred with tears threatening to spill over. “No, no no no no…” Burning tears streamed down his face, collecting in salty drops at his chin before falling to the ground. “I didn’t-” Scar took a step forward, reaching out. “I didn’t mean-”

Impulse stepped in front of Grian and Mumbo, expression guarded as he raised his sword. “Stay back, Scar. Just… stay back.” 

A heaving sob rushed out of Scar with the last of his air, and he felt his knees hit the ground as he wept. 

A knight was strong. A knight was brave. A knight protected those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. 

Kneeling there, covered in the blood of his family, Scar doubted he could ever truly call himself a knight again. 

[broken-everlark]

Probably going to rewrite Black Cat. Idk. I just think I messed up a few things with the plot..

[maplemonarchy]

Just cause I've been thinking about Fallout and Fallout 4 again, I have an opinion on Diamond City. It should be so much bigger. Let it sprawl outside of the walls. Tower into the stands. Smugglers running under the bleachers. Make it feel alive. Have people live in Parkview Apartments. Smoosh the Lansdowne station against Diamond City, let people live in those subway tunnels. Hell, make one of the central conflicts of 4 a class conflict between those who live in the stands/inside the walls vs those who live in the subway/outside the walls. There is already some textual evidence for this conflict present in Diamond City.

Diamond City should be a sprawling metropolis, the most powerful city and trading hub in the Commonwealth after Bunker Hill. People should say their from Diamond City and still be in Hangman's Alley. I know the joke about Bethesda's Fallout is that "nothing can ever improve, everything must be Mad Max forever."

And like, yeah. But wouldn't it be cool if it did? Wouldn't it be so cool to wake up in Vault 111 and find out that your home from over 200 years ago is now a small town. With a doctor, a merchant, your robot butler, all under the protection of this fractured group who call themselves "the Minutemen." Maybe they want your help. People keep talking about "the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth." Your pip-boy picks up a radio station that is from that emerald city. And then you finally see it. Passing through its outer areas, a small outpost built in an alleyway to help protect traders coming from Sanctuary. And then finally reaching the gate of this city. Maybe you're still looking for your son, maybe this is for the Minutemen, but you still enter Diamond City. And it's full of shops and people. Neon lights flicker where they can, a diner that uses a traffic-light to try and pull people in. A casino, a theatre, and more! Once you spend enough time, maybe you get acquainted with the seedy under belly of Diamond City. Perhaps working with a synth detective to solve a murder most foul. Maybe this leads you to hunt down the mysterious Institute, maybe.

Diamond City should be a city, not a settlement. Let it be big and alive.

[legend-of-voltron-rewrite]

So, in my rewrite, Keith's name is Keith Kim, and I shall explain my decision to make it so.

In Legendary Defenders, Keith does not have a surname... I'm not joking. His surname is never confirmed, so the fandom just decided to call him 'Kogane', as was his name in the original series, 'Keith Kogane/Kogane Akira'.

In my rewrite, Keith is half-Korean, so I gave him a Korean surname.

(I'm not sure if many people recognised it, but I have implied that he is still Texan, when Hunk remembers him yelling 'revolving son of a bitch', which is a Texan curse. They get very creative.)

So! Onto why I chose 'Kim'. It's really simple - Kogane means 'gold', and Kim means 'gold'. I just decided to chose a surname with the exact same meaning.

It's also common for foreigners to have an 'English name', for the sake of convenience or pronounciation issues. A lot of my past classmates, particularly those from Africa, had either shortened versions of their names or a different name entirely due to people either struggling to pronounce it or just because.

As such, I just wanted to let y'all know that Keith does have a Korean name. I do plan to include it but you can guess for now :)

[withonly-sweetheart]

prompt 22 from this prompt list !!! AHH TYSM FOR REQUESTING IT @ekurie987 THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY 100K LEON KENNEDY FIC... NO SERIOUSLY I WROTE IT AS A BDAY GIFT FOR MY FRIEND

said friend if you see this... this year for your birthday it'll be fully edited trust!! im not writing another one.

fic under the cut! wc: 787

Leon and I catch our breath atop the steeple, watching the zombie horde below. But suddenly, the infected stop their mindless moaning. Heads tilted as if listening, the dead villagers stand motionless.

Then, on the faint breeze, a church bell begins to toll in the distance. As if summoned, the zombies shuffle off down the street, drawn towards the sound. Within moments, the village square is empty once more.

"Where's everyone going?" Leon scoffs, glancing around the barren streets. "Bingo?"

I roll my eyes but allow myself to admit that Leon's earned my trust, since we're both still alive, but I can tell by the suspicious look in his eyes that I haven't earned his, which is perfectly fine. I never liked cops anyway.

We shuffle past the rotting bodies and go the opposite way of the villagers, not wanting to confront them again. Leon looks strangely nervous, which is concerning, but I don't say anything about it. What really bothers me is that he's still following me, which won't end up being good for either of us.

"What's your endgame, huh?" I ask in desperation, wildly turning to confront him. "There's no bounty on my head, no treasure in my company!"

"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" Leon retorts flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in his eyes. "Am I some bothering you or something?"

"Those things, especially their leader," I frantically explain, words spilling out of my mouth like water from a broken dam. "They're all after me!"

"But you seem to be handling it well," Leon counters, his voice filled with an unfounded faith in my abilities, making me yearn for the simplicity of being an ordinary guide. But I'm far from that.

"Can't you see?!" I shriek, my voice bordering on the hysterical, praying the fear in my eyes will send him packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"

"How can you be so sure?" Leon asks, disbelief coating his words as if he thinks I'm weaving tales just to get him off my back.

"Because," I hiss, my voice a tight whisper. "I've seen it play out. Over and over again."

Leon looks at me, confusion etched on his face. "Not me. I won't die."

"But I can't promise that," I insist, desperation clawing at my words. "If you get hurt, I... I don't know if I can live with myself."

"What makes me different, huh?" Leon insists, hands on his hips, not waiting for an answer. "You knew from the get-go you were leading lambs to the slaughter, and yet you did it anyway. There's no reason for you to be attached to me either, it's barely been an hour since we met, so why should my well being concern you so much?"

"I..." Leon raises a hand, cutting me off, and my voice fades into nothing. Strange of him to use lambs to the slaughter. I've heard that somewhere before.

"I'm law enforcement," he says monotonously. "I can handle myself." His words echo someone from my past life, a life I thought I'd left behind, and all those years come rushing back to me within a matter of seconds. Before I can stop myself, I'm rushing towards him, crushing him in a desperate embrace, my sobs soaking his shoulder.

I want to stop, but at the same time, I can't. The way Leon's arms feel around me is strangely similar to that of... oh no. I left that past behind. Everything with it, too. I can't believe that I don't even remember the name of the boy that risked everything in his life to save me; naturally brown, close-cut hair, eyes that never stayed one color, sometimes a spectral navy, sometimes bronze.

And how did I repay him? I didn't. The regret still eats away at me to this day.

I expect Leon to push me away or something, but he's more like a wall supporting me, strong arms snaking around me and holding me tight, as if he'll regret letting me go. We stand like that for a while, my head in the crook of his neck, and soon enough I realize what an intimate position we're in. It must not seem like that to him, because he doesn't make any move.

I wait for him to pull away. It doesn't happen. Instead, my heavy breaths echo through the empty area. I'm surprised there isn't a horde of zombies stumbling towards us right about now.

"S-Sorry," I untangle myself from his embrace, feeling embarrassed as his intense gaze watches me, unwavering and resilient.

"Don't be," he murmurs, his voice sounding far away. "I'm sure you do this all the time."

[the-great-papyru]

Their Name is Chara.

It was a beautiful day for a picnic. Or at least, that was what Frisk had claimed right before making sandwiches, grabbing a cloth, snagging some silverware from the kitchen drawer, shoveling them all into a bag and dragging Flowey off to what they claimed to be “the coolest park in all of Ebott.”

Who had made them the Ebott expert anyway?

Granted, they had lived on the surface for much longer than any living monster, save Toriel, Asgore, Gerson, and some of the other Human-Monster War veterans. Even so, they weren’t exactly observant, much preferring to get wherever they were going as fast as they could with no regards to scenery until they reached their destination. Deep analysis and thorough observation, that was Flowey’s style. How could Frisk possibly learn anything the way they were rushing around? Flowey wondered where that straightforward, no-hesitation attitude had been back when they were in the Underground. Watching them stop to talk to every single monster they encountered then call Papyrus and Undyne in every single room had been nothing short of infuriating.

Not that he hadn’t been any worse once upon a time, but he had no reason to rush, no goal to strive towards. The barrier was an impenetrable blockade for him. That was some sort of excuse.

Now they were bringing that forceful spirit with them as they rushed through the streets of the small city monsterkind now called a home, hurrying along the fastest route as if the devil himself was hot on their trail. Flowey, of course, had been roped into joining them simply because they had no one else to go with. He was deeply regretting his decision to accept their offer of a ride as he looped his roots through the basket spokes, hanging on for his dear life—or whatever was left of it anyway.

The scenery flashed by, melting into a blur of gray on gray, punctuated only by the brief flashes of green from a tree on a street corner, trying in vain to add a bit of color to the dull city. The hum of chatter from people conversing on street corners and outside shops filled the air alongside the faint hum of car engines as the vehicles rushed by. Frisk dodged swiftly around monsters and humans alike, jolting Flowey at every sharp turn. 

As they ran towards the center of the city, trees—or rather the green smudges Flowey thought were trees—became more common. Frisk slowed to a stop, allowing Flowey to speak.

“What, did you get sick of running?”

“Tired…” they managed, panting.

“Here’s a thought,” Flowey said snidely, “Maybe if you hadn’t sprinted the entire way, you wouldn’t be tired.”

“Maybe… but… we got here… sooner,” they said between gasps for breath.

“I don’t see why you have to rush everywhere. It’s bad enough that you dragged me out here without you zooming around like you're on one of Hotland’s conveyor belts. You get to live in an enormous world, and your entire city is half the size of the Underground. You could at least appreciate it.”

“Why are you… complaining? We’re… here, aren’t we?”

Flowey turned around. To his right was a bunch of trees—oak, fir, spruce, birch, all sorts—stretching at least two blocks in either direction. A small gap in the tree line marked the opening to a dirt path. What he could see inside the park mostly consisted of well-maintained green grass dotted with some kind of yellow flower. And beside the beginning of the path, a sign read “Georgina Abbott memorial park.”

Georgina Abbot. Flowey had no idea why, but somehow that name stuck out to him. It sounded familiar, like he’d heard it before. Maybe someone had told it to him? But where could he have heard the name of a human?

Before he could ponder it further, Frisk caught their breath and headed into the park, this time at a reasonable pace. Seemingly feeling talkative, they attempted to start a conversation.

“Have you ever been on a picnic before?”

“No. How could I? It’s not exactly easy to picnic when you’re trapped under a mountain. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t send you down there.”

“You didn’t help us get free for the last thousand years, either. If we had gotten the human souls faster, monsterkind wouldn’t be trapped underground for those thousands of years.”

“Sorry for not dying quicker,” they deadpanned. “Why is it that you always turn the subject to blame? I was just trying to make conversation.”

Flowey looked away, trying to think of a response. “Humans could have at least—” Flowey’s gaze drifted downwards toward the grass along either side of the path and he froze. His comeback died in his throat. He stared blankly at the yellow flowers covering the otherwise typical park grass. Any other thoughts faded out of his mind. The flowers were everywhere. Coating the ground. He couldn’t breathe.

He heard Frisk’s voice as if coming from the opposite end of a tunnel.

“Flowey? Flowey! Are you okay? What is it?”

Buttercups. Hundreds upon thousands, all over the entire park. Sprouting up throughout, little splotches of yellow, probably nothing more than a beautiful display to any human passing by. Coating the ground. He even caught the tiniest hint of an aroma drifting from them, filling the air. He felt sick. He’d never seen so many in one place before, not since—

“Flowey!”

Their voice jolted him from his numb stupor.

He didn’t need them worrying. He needed to act calm.

“Yeah?”

“What was that? You zoned out there for a second. More than zoned out, you looked… scared.”

Flowey didn’t respond. They followed his gaze to the buttercups on the ground.

“What got you so spooked? It’s just a bunch of flowers. You’re a flower, right? You should know these are nothing to be scared of. This sounds like something you should be telling me, if anything. What kind of flowers are these anyway? They look kind of like buttercu…” They trailed off. They must have remembered those tapes in Alphys’ old lab. Flowey ought to have hidden them. “Oh.”

Flowey remained silent.

“Hey, we don’t have to have our picnic here. Ebott has other parks, we can visit those ones. If you don’t want to stay here, I completely understand.”

So they thought he was a coward? He wasn’t weak. Sure, he didn’t want to go on a picnic, and this wasn’t exactly an enjoyable environment for him, but if Frisk thought he was going to admit that then they were an idiot. So he grit his teeth, looked up and said, as casually as he could, “This place is fine.” It still came out a little forced, and they didn’t look completely convinced, but they kept walking forward and Flowey counted that as a win.

He was no coward. And it was just a couple of flowers.

They turned off the path and onto the grass, trampling flowers beneath their feet. A small ways away from the path, they sat down the basket allowing Flowey to clamber off it and root himself in the grass-covered soil. Frisk pulled out the cloth and laid it out on the ground. They grabbed the sandwiches—magic, or course—that they’d made for the picnic.

“I made peanut butter and jelly,” they said, sliding a sandwich toward him. “Those are made from plants—that’s not cannibalism for you, is it?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, before realizing he didn’t actually know. In the end, he decided it probably wasn’t. It was monster food, after all, so it was made mostly of magic. He wouldn’t be able to eat it otherwise.

Fortunately, the plant life in the park was useful for one thing and Flowey could use the flowers’ roots as simple vines, acting as appendages so he could actually eat mostly normally.

Flowey tried to keep his vision away from the ground and consequently ended up fixing his gaze on Frisk. As far as humans went they were about average. Their plain, straight brown hair looked like they had cut it themself—they probably had, come to think of it. Their eyes were perpetually squinted to the effect that it looked like they were always staring at the sun. The very peculiar thing about them, however, was their skin, which was toned at an almost yellow color. When asked about it, they’d said it was some kind of genetic alteration, and that it was normal for humans. Flowey wasn’t sure about the former, but from just looking at humans he could tell that the latter was true.

Frisk attempted to make conversation. Yet another thing that had changed about them from when they were in the Underground; down there they had almost never spoken except after being asked a question or when they were ACTing.

Unfortunately, in grasping for a conversation topic they stumbled upon one Flowey would rather never talk about again.

“So, God of Hyperdeath. Back in the Underground. What was up with that?” They cut him off before he could answer. “And don’t try to change the topic either. Or lie! I’m curious.”

After running through multiple possible scenarios, Flowey deduced that answering honestly was the only option. Frisk seemed completely adamant on getting an honest answer.

“It was… Asriel’s creation.” Catching a glimpse of Frisk’s impatient face, Flowey could tell that answer would not suffice. So he sighed and continued. “He and Chara would make up these stories. There would always be a hero and a villain, and they’d battle. Asriel would pout unless he was the hero. Fortunately for him, Chara would always let him be the good guy. And they’d always play the villain.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Funny how the opposite turned out to be true, huh?” Seeing Frisk’s face, Flowey continued. “Anyway, Asriel eventually created this whole character. Apparently being just plain Asriel wasn’t enough for him. No, he had to be the God of Hyperdeath.”

A look of confusion shone clearly on Frisk’s face. “If you hate that creation so much, why did you choose to take that form? You had godlike power, right?”

Flowey hesitated. “I… wanted to show off to Chara. Or, no, you. I only thought you were Chara. But I… I thought it would be like old times, you know? I thought, maybe, if we played the same way we always had… they wouldn’t want to leave me again.” 

He bit his tongue. That was much more than he’d wanted to share. Flowey quickly tore a chunk out of his sandwich and swallowed, keeping his mouth occupied to avoid spilling any more rotten vulnerability. The healing magic flowed through him, but he didn’t have a soul anyway nor any wounds, so it didn’t actually affect him in any tangible way.

Something came to him. “Where did you even hear that name, anyway?”

“I must have heard you say it during the battle,” Frisk said a little too quickly.

Flowey let it slide. He couldn’t remember the battle perfectly; he might have mentioned the name and had just forgotten. In any case, he didn’t want to talk about it any more than he had to.

Flowey devoured his entire sandwich in a matter of seconds. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave, right? He didn’t want to talk with Frisk. He didn’t want to stay in this buttercup-covered park. He didn’t want to relive any more memories. He’d still have to wait for Frisk, though, wouldn’t he? Well, as long as they were eating they at least wouldn’t bother him.

He looked up and saw, to his amazement, that they had already finished their sandwich. They’d already packed up everything on the blanket, too. “Ready to go?” they asked him, either oblivious to their impressive consumption abilities or, more likely, just being obnoxious.

Flowey simply nodded, and they folded up the blanket. Flowey latched himself once again onto the basket. Despite the neck-breaking speed of Frisk’s running, Flowey didn’t know the city’s layout well enough to burrow safely, and he had no desire to be stepped on by some unaware human. So the basket it was.

Frisk immediately started walking along the path in the opposite direction of the tree line and the exit.

Flowey turned to them. “Frisk. Did you forget the way out or something? And you’re supposed to be the Ebott expert.”

“I have something I want to show you,” they replied simply.

Flowey’s curiosity grew somewhat, but he responded with a veneer of indifference. “It better not be more flowers.”

“It’s not,” Frisk said. “This park is named after a human girl, Georgina Abbott, who—well, I’m not sure exactly what the details are, but I think she went missing around 201X. Her parents must have been rich, or or something, because they made a huge statue of her right in the middle of the park. I think it was a sort of warning against heading to Mount Ebott. It’s a pretty good thing I didn’t listen, huh?”

Frisk kept talking, but Flowey ignored them. Georgina Abbott… that name was still so familiar to Flowey, and yet he still could not place it. But where could he possibly have heard a human name? Maybe in a book he’d found in the Waterfall garbage dump? A lot of human stuff fell from there, so it wasn’t out of the question. But that just didn’t seem right…

“Anyway,” Frisk continued, “I figure even if you don’t like parks, or nature, or people, or anything really,”—they shot him a pointed look—“maybe you can still appreciate art!”

Flowey considered it. Either way, they were going to take him, so there was no real point in argufying. And besides, he’d become curious. Maybe seeing this statue would help him figure out where he’d heard that name. After a few moments’ pause he responded “Okay.”

Frisk strolled onward with a smile. As they neared the center of the park, the flowers became more and more populous, eventually crowding the grass, clumping together in thick patches where no green was visible behind the bright yellow. Flowey looked straight forward. Just because he wasn’t scared of the flowers didn’t mean he had to look at them. The dirt path beneath Frisk’s feet gave way to chipped cobblestone, and Flowey spotted an iron fence they passed through. Frisk’s footsteps abruptly stopped. Flowey looked up, expecting to see some boring piece of metal idiotic humans probably speculated over.

He did not.

The plaza itself was ordinary. Just plain gray cobblestones, slowly crumbing, surrounded by a short iron fence. Nothing special. The kind of plaza you’d expect to see any old statue on. But there, in the center, stood a statue of a human child, maybe nine or ten at most, hair trimmed short with messy bangs and topped with a crown of fresh golden flowers, wearing a dress of all things and standing on a pedestal reading “Commemorating the life and death of Georgina Abbott, 200X-201X.”

It clicked.

“Your parents were not exactly creative namers, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“They just took half of each of their names and smashed them together.”

Asriel paused for a moment to work it out, then gasped.

“You’re right!”

“Of course I’m right. I am… your older sibling after all, correct? It’s my job to be right.”

…

“Where’d you get your name from, then?”

“My name?”

“You know, Chara! How’d your parents choose that name?”

They tensed, picking out their words carefully. “My… parents… did not choose that name.”

“Oh. Who chose it, then?”

“I did.”

He gasped again. “Really? You can do that?”

They merely shrugged in response.

“Maybe I should choose a new name! How about… Starslayer Moondragon?”

Chara brought their hand to their mouth, forcing back a laugh.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, is it?” He sighed. “…I-I like Asriel Dreemurr better anyways.”

“It suits you.”

Asriel smiled proudly. “It does. Still, it’s pretty cool your parents let you choose your own name!”

Their smile faded at the edges. They hesitated. “It was not… my original name.”

“What was?”

Chara paused, contemplative. “It was…”

“Flowey, it’s just a statue,” Frisk said, a tone of concern threaded through their voice. “You’re glaring at it like it killed your mother or something. Maybe calm down a bit? I get it, the statue’s kinda ugly and you don’t like it. Kinda figured that would be your reaction. But you look like you’re planning a murder. You’re scaring me a little.”

“You really don’t see it?” Frisk and Flowey were both caught off guard by the tremor in Flowey’s voice. He coughed to disguise it. “Either you’re acting oblivious, which is unlikely, or you’re just too plain stupid to recognize it.”

“I don’t under—”

“Of course you don’t. Even though you saw those memories—and you did see those memories, didn’t you?—you still can’t recognize them.”

“Recognize who? Come on, you’re not making any sense. It’s nothing to get this upset about.”

“Really? It’s nothing? Who are you to say it’s nothing? You don’t even recognize them. Even some monster who’s probably never seen them must have recognized them!” Flowey used a root to gesture with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary towards the flower crown adorning the statue’s scalp.

Frisk’s eyes widened as they seemed to finally come to a realization. “Asriel—”

“You’ve got to be joking. Are you going to call them Georgina now, too?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you?”

Frisk bit their tongue.

“I can’t believe you humans sometimes,” Flowey said, voice cold as ice.

“But—” Frisk said softly, “this was built to honor their memory, wasn’t it? Even if it’s a bit… inaccurate… isn’t it nice that their parents had this whole statue built for them?”

“Chara told me… a bit about their life before they met me. Not a lot, but enough to give me the picture that their ‘parents’ weren’t the kinds of people to spend money getting a statue built for anyone. Especially not Chara. No, I’ll bet they had no hand in the making of this statue. I’ll bet you this was no more than a fear tactic. You yourself said it was supposed to be a deterrent to anyone trying to climb Mt. Ebott. Now why do you think that was?” Flowey didn’t let Frisk answer. “Because a monster had come down from the mountain. Because they didn’t want any humans interacting with monsters. It was never about Chara in the first place.”

Frisk narrowed their eyes, seeming to regain their voice. “So you’re upset because the humans in Ebott wanted to keep people from falling down a mountain to their deaths.”

Flowey hesitated. He wanted to argue that Chara’s death hadn’t been the monsters’ fault, that the deaths of the humans that fell had been justified. Before Frisk, he would have immediately declared that any human deserved to die. But after knowing them and knowing Chara, it was hard to believe all humans were truly deserving of death. “Okay, maybe… maybe the humans were right in warning people away from the mountain. But they had no right to use Chara as a figurehead. You don’t know how much they loved monsterkind. They would have hated this statue. Painting monsters as villains… Warning people away from the only place Chara called home… It’s like spitting on their memory. And the statue itself, its pose, the dress—they absolutely abhorred dresses—the whole thing paints them as some kind of angel, a martyr for a cause they never believed in.

“And maybe I have no right to say this. It’s not like I haven’t done worse than this, I know I have. But Chara… for all their faults, they don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve to be used.”

Flowey didn’t realize how much he was shaking until he finished talking. He knew he couldn’t feel passion—being soulless tended to do that to you—but talking freely about Chara, he felt something like a righteous passion blazing in him where a soul might otherwise lie. He doubted Frisk would understand. Of course, they would defend humans.

After lengthy pause, Frisk spoke. “As—” They swallowed. “No. Flowey. I get it.”

Flowey waited for the but. It didn’t come.

“It’s really not fair for anyone to use someone, let alone a kid, to support something they would be against. You’re right.”

That was… unexpected.

“And they appreciate it—that is, I’m sure they would appreciate it if they were here.”

There was a long silence. A soft breeze twirled its way throughout the park, rustling the leaves on the trees and causing the grass to sway. It touched the bright yellow petals of the buttercups, lifting off holding their soft scent. It brushed Frisk’s hair and gently set Flowey’s petals dancing.

Frisk looked up at the sun. “Mom’ll have my hide if I’m not back soon.” They held out their basket. “Do you want to…”

Flowey shook his head.

“Right, then. …I’ll be seeing you.”

Flowey heard the sound of their footsteps grow fainter as their walk became a jog and then they were gone, leaving him alone with the statue.

He noted the flower crown still lying crooked on their head. Golden flowers… The story of Chara’s dying wish had spread far across the underground. Clearly a monster had recognized this statue for who it was depicting, and decided to pay Chara some kind of tribute.

The flowers were as false as the statue. Flowey felt a smile crawl onto his face despite himself. Slowly, through a crack in the pavement next to the statue’s base, a buttercup sprouted. It was followed by another and yet another, crowding and piling until the base and the name were entirely covered. Vines dotted with yellow flowers twined across the bronze of the statue, constricting it in some parts.

Greenery and buttercups coated the statue, making it unrecognizable. This would likely be considered an absolute defacement of public art. Even if the plants were removed, it would be destroyed underneath.

Flowey smirked. Now that was proper tribute.