#from the outside he seems like copy paste shadow but no one understands Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[peachiesnake]

they hate genesis’ swag so i have to be more annoying about him

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic

Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!

Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!

--

Twelve months.

Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.

The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.

He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.

The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.

He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.

Still asleep.

With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.

“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”

He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.

Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.

Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.

For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]

He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.

Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.

“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.

He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”

“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.

The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.

He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—

Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.

With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.

“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”

“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.

“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”

Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.

“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”

When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]

He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”

Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”

The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”

The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”

He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.

“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”

They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…

“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”

He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.

With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.

He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.

“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”

Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…

“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”

“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”

The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”

Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.

“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.

“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.

“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”

He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”

“You can stay.”

He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.

“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”

“Just tonight then.”

His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”

“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”

“I…to…water the plants?”

“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”

Well. What could he say to that?

Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”

“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”

“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.

The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”

A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”

Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...

Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.

“Sleep well, Crowley.”

[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season. [2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon. [3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel. [4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fact or Fiction

Warnings: non-consent (fingering, toys, anal, vaginal, somniphilia)

This is dark!Ransom and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your publisher has died and now you must deal with new management

Note: This came to me out of no where but it was a ride yall. I wanted to write some somniphilia so get ready for some sleep action. Remember to read the warnings my guys and enjoy yourselves. Another double dick fic day.

Sidenote: it is a bit odd to write smut when your bf is listening to barenaked ladies lol

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was funny how things could change in such a short time. More often, it was tragic. Deep in your gut, you had the feeling this change would be the latter. 

You stood in the elevator, counting the floors in dread. A month ago, you felt much differently on your ascent. That was a day full of hope. A young writer on your way to meet THE Harlan Thrombey, manuscript in hand. You’d left even more jubilant than you arrived. He loved it and hadn’t shied away from saying so.

Now he was dead and you feared so too were your hopes of a published book. This day you were to meet with another Thrombey. Ransom Drysdale, his grandson, had inherited the company to the surprise and chagrin of many, including his very own uncle. 

You couldn’t disagree with Walt. Everyone, especially him, expected him to take Harlan’s place. But he didn’t and he was gone now, buried in resent and jealousy. None had seen him since the funeral. Or so you heard. The publishing business could be almost as dramatic as its fictions.

Top floor, you stepped out and were surprised to find that Deb, the former grey-haired receptionist, had been replaced with another. Younger, blonder, and more concerned with her cellphone than the ding of the elevator. You walked up to her round desk and waited for her to look up. She didn’t.

You cleared your throat.

“Hello, I have a one o’clock with Mr. Drysdale,” You said. She nodded and giggled at her phone. “Excuse me…” You looked around and found a rose gold name placard. “...Selina.”

“Fine, go on,” She shrugged. “No one’s in there. Knock first.”

You sighed and glanced around. There were a few editors you recognized from before and they peered over at the receptionist with open detest. You passed her perch and wove between the desks. You assumed, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer from the oblivious blonde, that Ransom had claimed his grandfather’s former office. The letters printed across the clear glass door assured you. That was new too.

You knocked on the frame, afraid to shatter the door. Ransom was squinting at his monitor and didn’t even look over as he waved you on and called to you. 

“Come in.” He shook his head as he huffed at the screen. You entered nervously. “What is it this time?”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You greeted, “I’m here for our appointment.”

His brows drew together as he looked up. He hit a key and turned to you. He sat back in his leather chair as he leaned on the arm. 

“Uh, yeah,” He blinked as he lazily reached over and grabbed a manuscript from the pile atop his desk. “Laura?”

You corrected him and he fished out the proper print and sat up. He opened it but didn’t even pretend to read a single word on the page. He smiled as he shifted closer to his desk.

“Close the door,” He said. “Sit. This shouldn’t take long.”

That didn’t sound good. You did as he said and took the stiff seat across from him. The former cozy leather had been replaced with cold acrylic. He tapped his fingers on the pages and ran his tongue beneath his bottom lip.

“Well, seeing as we’re doing a bit of redecorating around here, we decided to do the same with our writers. Streamline, prioritize,” He began. “My grandfather was a smart man, talented author, but he valued ‘style’ too much over ‘marketability’.”

Your chest tightened and you tried not to show your discomfort.

“Of course,” You said. “It makes sense. New owner, new directions. I understand.”

“Oh, great,” He smirked. “Then you also understand that the contract my grandfather, god rest his soul, promised you, must be reviewed before we go through with the signing?”

“Review?” You frowned.

“It’s the same for all our new writers,” He assured you. “My editors are combing over every word of your manuscript before we throw the ledger across the table.”

“He already read my manuscript, your editors too. I don’t--”

“He’s dead and most of his editors are gone or have taken on new responsibilities,” He interjected. “As you said, new directions.”

“Alright.” You sighed. “And so when will I be informed of the results of this review?”

He tilted his head, amused by your tone as he leaned back once more. He grabbed a pen and tapped it on his lip as he thought.

“Couple weeks.” He said.

“A couple weeks? I’ve already waited over a month for a contract. Now I get the circumstances required it, as tragic as they were, but with all due respect, your offer isn’t the only one I have on this manuscript.” You argued.

“Lesser publishers, no doubt, but you understand that under our submissions guidelines, you cannot accept an exterior deal until we have made an official decision.” He countered. “So, you can wait the three weeks before you march down to Penguin or whatever lowbrow manufacturer you’ve been talking with.”

You stared at him. He was very much unlike his grandfather. Harlan, for all his accomplishments, had an air of humility. Ransom, for all he hadn’t achieved, was entirely arrogant.

“So, you’re holding my book hostage?” You asked.

“I’m allowing you an opportunity provided you have patience,” He returned. “I could say no right now and send you out without a hope of ever signing with us.”

The curve of his lips irked you, along with the loose weave of his sweater. He didn’t dress like the owner of a publishing house; he dressed like a spoiled frat boy. You were quiet as you thought about the much lower offer from Charter books. Modest but respectable. And there were many companies who you had yet to approach.

You stood suddenly and marched over to his desk. You reached over and slid your manuscript across the desk and closed it. You gathered it up and tucked it under your arm.

“I’ll take the no over your games, Mr. Drysdale.” You said as your heart beat wildly. This was either a moment you’d deeply regret or gloriously relive. “I hardly see how sitting on a stack of books will help your profitability.”

He blinked and his smirk fell. Then he scoffed and tossed his pen down.

“Well, you sure are saving me a lot of work,” He mused. “One less pile of kindling hanging around will save my editors hours.”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You said as you backed away from him “I may not have inherited an empire but I think I can see as clear as any that you are out of your depth behind that desk.”

A glimmer of anger broke through his facade and his jaw ticked. He was quick to reclaim his maddening smirk and he shrugged.

“You’re right,” He remarked. “You’re just a writer. Unpublished, at that.”

You nodded and swallowed the insult. You spun and swept back through the door, certain to leave it open. You strode past the reception as she watched some Insta story on a new eye shadow palette. Even Harlan’s name couldn’t atone for buffoonery.

🖊️

Charter Books wasn’t far from Blood Like Wine Publishing. For the second time that week, you were in the heart of the business district. You were tired of waiting. If Charter wanted to publish your work without fanfare, you would take it over waiting on a whim. 

Charles Halford was expecting you and as was your habit, you were early. The building didn’t bring you the same joy as Blood Like Wine had, though now that you thought of it, any such optimism had disappeared. You would settle and hope that this was a back road to a mighty second book. If your luck was to take an upturn, it might even be a sleeper hit.

You were directed to sit along the small line of chairs outside Halford’s office. You balanced your manuscript on your knee as you waited. You fidgeted impatiently and hoped the offer was still open. The email had seemed hopeful and that a meeting was scheduled on such short notice was heartening.

You looked up as the door finally opened. Your heart dropped at the man who stepped out. Ransom’s eyes caught yours as he turned back to Halford and tossed some quip at him. His forced laughter turned your stomach. The men were chummy; too chummy. Was this foreshadowing?

“Anyway, I should get back to it,” Ransom announced. “Figured I’d swing by. Get a few pointers.”

“I’m sure you’ll be back for more,” Charles boomed. “Remember, left to right.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and shook Halford’s hand. He turned and winked at you as he left, a cheery farewell to the receptionist. Halford perked up as he noticed you and distracted you from the unease that bubbled in your stomach.

“Early as always,” He said. “Come on in. We’ll get started.”

“Thanks,” You stood and he gestured you ahead of him. 

You entered his office and waited for him to sit before you did. He dug around for his copy of your manuscript and turned back to you. He didn’t open it as he plopped it on his desk.

“So, you’re still looking for a buyer, huh?” He asked.

“Well, you know there’s so many options,” You said. “I wanted to go somewhere my book fits.”

“Of course, and it’s a great concept,” He replied. “Really… but…”

“But…” You took a breath.

“Well, you know, we’ve had time to think too and we’re more akin to easy reads. Our clientele, they want something simple, straightforward. You have clever prose and intricate devices but… well, that’s not really who we’re selling to.”

“I don’t understand,” You said. “What changed? You made an offer and suddenly it’s just… gone?”

“Look, there’s lot of publishers out there who would be a better match I’m sure and in this era, self-publishing is growing.”

“A publishing house suggesting self-publishing?” You shook your head and stood. You were numb. “I can read between the lines as well as you can, Mr. Halford. Thank you for considering me. I won’t waste your time if you’ve made up your mind.”

“Hey,” He rose and reached across the desk. “There’s always the next book. Maybe one day, we’ll have a chance to work together.”

“I hope so,” You said as you swallowed the bitterness. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time,” He said.

“It’s… business.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

🖊️

Charter, Storey, Hackett. Every no made the prospect of a yes even less likely. Your future stared back at you with paid online articles and ridiculous blurbs. It was a living, a meagre one, but it wasn’t your dream. It was starting to seem like a nightmare.

Another rejection and you were ready to burn the damn manuscript. You marched into the lobby that fronted Lucian LLC. You just wanted to go home but if you did that, you’d just sit and sulk as you had for days before. So instead you followed the scent of roasted beans into the coffee shop along the east side of the lobby.

You ordered a skinny latte and found a table in the corner. You dropped the heavy print on the table before you set down your stemmed mug and flopped onto the chair. You leaned your elbows on the table and rubbed your forehead. A cup clinked across from yours and you sat up, startled by the figure before you.

“Long day?” Ransom asked.

You looked around confused.

“What?” You replied. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was walking by actually and I saw you through the window. Almost didn’t recognize you but… you look… tired.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. “And I saw that manuscript in front of you and thought maybe we could have another chat.”

“I don’t want to talk about you reviewing my book until you decide you don’t want it,” You hissed. 

“Okay, well, what if I told you we could have a yes or no by the end of our discussion, hmm?”

You squinted at him and ran your fingertips down the side of the hot mug. 

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated coyly.

“What changed your mind?”

“Look, can I help it that I feel a little bad about how it all turned out? Seeing you here, sulking, it really got to me.” He feigned pity.

“I wasn’t sulking,” You insisted. “I was taking a breather between all my meetings. There’s a lot of interest over my book.”

“Is there?” He pulled out the chair opposite you and sat. “Because I made a few calls and I’m pretty sure there isn’t.”

“You what?”

“A lot of people don’t wanna snatch a book out from under the Thrombey stamp,” He explained. “And as far as I’m concerned, we didn’t finish our negotiations.”

You chewed the inside of your lip and considered him. There was a twinkle in his eye. This man would make himself the bane of your existence until he could declare himself the victor. As it was, he might actually be the only prospect you had left.

“Fine. I guess I’m here already. If you want to talk, let’s talk,” You said. 

His eyes sparked as they had back in his office. 

“Alright,” He began tersely, “May I?”

He pointed to your manuscript and you slowly slid it over to him. He turned it and opened it. He bent over it dramatically as he read. You waited as he glossed over a few pages and sat up.

“Promising. I said so to the editors but you understand that it’s not all up to me.” He said. “It’s not that I don’t wanna publish you, I’m just being cautious. This company is my legacy.”

“It’s your grandfather’s legacy,” You affirmed. 

He bit his tongue and blinked. He took a breath before he continued.

“Whatever,” He said. “It is my company now and I have to keep it alive. That means making smart decisions. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m just a writer.” You shrugged.

He sighed and reached for his mug. He dribbled a little down his chin and onto his blazer. He swore as he looked down and set his cup back on the table.

“Could you grab some napkins?” He asked. “Shit.”

“Napkins?” You repeated. You knew he was the type to have help but you were not looking to be his nanny.

“Please,” He said sharply as he held up his wet hand. “If you don’t mind.”

You slid out of your chair and grumbled as you crossed the cafe. You pulled out a dozen serviettes from the dispenser and returned to him. You dropped them on the manuscript and he grabbed them impatiently. He wiped up the coffee and left the napkins crumpled beside his cup.

You lifted your own, the foam entirely flat now, and took a sip. The espresso was strong and your cheek twitched. You set it down as you tried not to cough. The caffeine further addled your nerves.

“So what exactly are you offering?” You asked.

“I went over my grandfather’s notes and spoke with my team. It wasn’t all impractical. We can honour the printing terms but may have to tinker with the numbers…” He began and you nodded.

You listened intently as he went over his points and referred to your manuscript several times, flipping pages back and forth. He suggested a sex scene to liven it up but that didn’t really fit the motif of a medieval mystery set in a monastery. That disagreement didn’t last long as he plowed through his terms.

As you listened, you sipped and your head began to ache from the excess of caffeine. Three coffees a day would do that to you. Your stomach flurried as well and you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. You left the dregs of your latte untouched and touched your stomach.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drysdale…”

“Ransom,” He corrected.

“Sorry but… uh, I don’t feel very well.” You said. “I think… I hate to do this but I think maybe we should reschedule.”

“Well, there’s not much else to say. I’m sure you could give me an answer before you race off.” He stood as you did. 

You leaned heavily on the table and grabbed your manuscript. You took your bag and groaned. 

“Really, I feel… sick.” You said. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait,” He followed as you stumbled past him. You weren’t sure what was happening. Maybe it was the leftovers you ate for dinner last night. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” You shook your head to ward off the haze at the edge of your vision. You checked your phone. “Look, I gotta catch the bus.”

“You sure you can handle that?” He was overly concerned for a man who had as good as laughed you out of your office. “I can drive you.”

“Why would you do that?” You stopped just outside the building.

“Because you’re sweating a lot and I think it’d be a lot quicker to drive than to wait around for transit,” He said. “But hey, your call.”

You stared at him and your head pulsed. You touched your forehead and nodded. “S-sure,” You accepted. “Thanks.”

“Hey, we’ll just take it out of your final offer,” He kidded.

🖊️

Ransom

She barely buckled her seat belt before she was out. She slumped in the seat and thumped against the door at the first corner. Ransom hadn’t expected it to take effect so soon but she had downed her latte quickly. 

When she got up to grab the napkins, he sprinkled the foam with the powder and quickly sat back. The idea hadn’t occurred to him until he spotted her through the glass. The drugging, that was. The thought of what he would do to her had played over in his mind since their first meeting. He couldn’t just let a writer walk all over him like that. He was in charge now.

He glanced over at her as he pulled up his long drive. She was still out like a light. He had to admit, she wasn’t a great beauty but she had a charm about her. And she was perfect to test out his toys on. 

He got out and rounded the car. He opened her door and undid her seatbelt. Her bag and manuscript flopped onto the floor as he lifted her. He closed the door with his foot and carried her up the short walk. She was entirely limp. Completely helpless. He smiled.

He took her to the basement. It had taken more than a year but it was finally ready. Oh and what timing. It was like she was sent to him, just asking for punishment. Her trite little mouth had earned her more than a place on the scholarly blacklist. He had to make sure she paid.

He set her down on the velvet couch and undressed her a piece at a time. He fondled her chest as he bared it and sucked on her nipples just a little. She didn’t move at all. He checked her breathing and carried on. 

When she was naked, he played with her cunt. Spread her legs and poked his fingers inside as he looked her over. She was so tight his cock throbbed at the thought of her walls around him.

He lifted her from the couch and carried her to the special contraption he’d designed himself. He laid her over it on her stomach. The angled board had her ass raised and her legs dangling off the end. He secured her wrists and ankles with the straps to keep her from slipping. He wasn’t worried about resistance.

He moved her hips just slightly and reached under her to spread her pussy. He positioned her clit against the little bump beneath the leather. He took the remote in hand and turned the vibe on. The buzz filled the room and he watched her cunt quiver. He dragged his fingers along it and felt her arousal. She came within minutes.

He walked around her as he thought of what to do to her next. He wheeled over the machine in the corner. He carefully lined up the dildo with her pussy. He pushed it inside of her an inch at a time. He made her take all of it; a whole eight inches of rubber. She didn’t flinch though her breath shuddered. 

He neared her side and lifted her eyelid. He only saw the white as she remained entirely unaware. He rubbed himself through his jeans and turned the vibe up and hit the button for the machine. The dildo moved in and out of her as the device whirred quietly. Her cunt made wet sounds as she was fucked helplessly. 

He went behind her and watched it go in and out. He dialed it up just a little, her body jolting a little from each thrust. He tucked the remote in his pocket and strolled close to her head. He undid his pants and pulled his throbbing dick out. He rubbed it against her lips and smeared his pre-cum around her mouth.

He delved inside as he glanced back to the dildo. He held her head in one hand as his other dove into his pocket and increased the speed yet again. He began to rock his hips and soon kept time with the rubber. He sank so deep into her throat that she choked and her body spasmed. Still she didn’t wake and he could barely stop himself from cumming.

He pulled his cock out of her mouth and a trail of spit dribbled from her lips. He went to the machine and removed it from her glistening cunt. The leather-bound board was soaked with her cum already. It sent a thrill through him and his cock twitched. He growled and turned away as he resisted the urge to fuck her right away.

He went to the chest of drawers and opened it. He pulled out a bottle of lube and clear glass plug. He should start small, he told himself, but he wanted to see her stretch for him. He wanted her to feel him tomorrow.

He crossed to her and squirted the lube between her cheeks. He massaged it over her hole and mixed it with her natural juices. She was so wet he wasn’t sure he even needed the lube. He dipped his fingers inside her pussy a few times before he returned his attention to her ass.

He poked his index finger inside of her. She definitely was unused. He played with her and added another finger and then a third. She quivered as the vibe had her cumming yet again. He peeked up at her to make sure once more that she was still asleep. He didn’t need to be so paranoid. The pills would even have him out for the count.

He pulled his fingers from her ass and positioned the plug against her tight ring. He began slowly, pressing it just until she began to open and then retreating. He paused as he reached to stroke himself. He was so hard it hurt. 

He kept on, each time her hole gaped just a little more around the plug. At its widest breadth, he heard a sleepy grumble escape her. He pushed it just a little more and it slipped in all the way. Her ring closed around its stem and he thought he would cum just at that sight.

He shuddered and calmed himself. He grabbed his cock and tapped the tip against the flat end of the plug. He guided it down along her folds and felt the vibration ripple through him as he brushed against the hidden vibe. He angled himself up to her entrance and held himself there.

He wiggled the plug and slammed into her as hard as he could. Her legs jolted and he thrust again with just as much force. He wanted her to feel it, even in her subconscious. He wanted her to suffer. He picked up a rhythm, violent and frantic as her cunt clung to him. She came and he grunted as he fought to restrain his own climax.

He gripped the plug and pulled it out slowly only to press it back in. He did it again and again as he fucked her. His heavy breaths swirled around him as he watched her asshole gape. He was on fire, desperate for release.

He stopped and removed the plug entirely. He held it by the stem and held it against her back as he slipped his cock out of her cunt. He eagerly entered her ass with a rumble. She was still so fucking tight. He lost it. He fucked her so hard, his special toy shook beneath her. 

His voice got louder and louder as he every thrust sent a ripple through him. He snarled and pulled out suddenly. He stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip along her ass and spilled himself down her thigh. He would have to wait to cum inside her.

He let out a shaky breath as he let go of his cock. He pushed the plug into her ass again and backed away. He left the vibe on as he paced around the room and cracked his neck. A couple minutes and he’d be ready for another go. Maybe he could cum in her mouth this time. That was easy enough to clean up.

🖊️

You awoke with a start. You sat up on your couch and looked around your empty apartment. You winced as you felt an ache in your ass; your cunt too. You hissed and touched yourself gingerly. You glanced down; you wore the same clothes and there was nothing amiss but the thrum in your core.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. You could barely remember leaving the cafe but how had you ended up back here? You only remembered the headache and the horrible stomach ache.

You reached for your phone and found several notifications across the lock screen. Foremost was the email from Blood Like Wine Publishing. You opened it and quickly read through it.

‘...I am excited to work with you on your first novel and the company is eager to see this through to its greatest potential.

Hope you feel better and look forward to our meeting next Wednesday,

Ransom Drysdale Editor-in-Chief Blood and Wine Publishing’

You stare at the email in confusion. Had you said yes? Ransom offered you a drive home… then it was all black but you must’ve come to some agreement. You must have found your way into your apartment and passed out on the couch. So why didn’t you remember any of that?

[sherrybaby14]

Blue Spiders - Chapter 2

Summary:  Fear pushes your relationship along.

Warnings:  Light horror, background alcohol, (I have not warned for everything possible, please read at your own risk)

Words: 2k

Pairing:  Therapist! Steve Rogers x female reader

Part One

She lived in an apartment.  That was problematic.  Houses were much easier to break in to undetected.  At least it wasn’t in a great neighborhood and the locks on her doors were pathetic.  All he needed was a credit card to break them. ��He accomplished that task this morning.

Steve in no way wanted her death tied to him or the New England Butcher. The kill would be a quick one.  Gunshot, he hoped for a mugging gone bad, but it appeared she never left her place after dark.  

Ten days he had been watching her, observing, waiting for the moment to strike.  But she was always home before sundown, never to retreat again.  He wouldn’t risk a daytime public murder.  Too many loose ends.  

It looked like the next option would be breaking and entering.  Doable, but not ideal.  Look like a robbery.  Bullet to the head and the world would have one less awful person in it.  

Under normal circumstances Steve felt nothing when preparing for a kill.  Sometimes a mild rush of glee during the act and then a bit of euphoria after, especially if it was a victim he intended Agent Barnes to tie to the New England Butcher.  

But this felt different. Personal.  The few times he spotted her during the day he felt betrayed.  How could she lie to him about her identity to get a profile for some dumb blog?  And why did he feel a connection.  

His watch beeped and he checked the time.  Three thirty in the morning.  She would be fast asleep.  It would be over soon.  Then the euphoria would come just as it had with the others.  He was certain of it.  

The sound of his car door slamming echoed across the empty street as he began his walk in the shadows, four blocks away from his destination.  

~~

   You didn’t believe in a sixth sense, or you didn’t want to, but something was off.  Wrong.  You were being followed.  Could it be him?

   You finally felt somewhat safe here.  Comfortable enough you followed your passion and started to make a name for yourself.  Sure Miranda’s Museum of the Macabre wasn’t a big deal yet, but you were growing a following and you loved that type of reporting.  

   The last few days you were cursing yourself for even starting the thing.  Today when you got home and saw the locks weren’t working your paranoia vanished.  

   Whoever broke them was subtle about it.  If you hadn’t been paranoid you wouldn’t have noticed, thought that the chain was shut tight when a light tap would drop it.  The deadbolt hole was splintered and pressed back into place.  Anyone with a driver’s license and a shoulder would be able to break the thing down.  

   The right thing would have been to run, or call the police.  Neither option was intriguing.  So you sat next to the thing, waiting in the darkness.  Every time footsteps sounded outside the hall you steadied the shotgun, blinking away the tears that you might have to blow someone’s head off.  

   Maybe you were going crazy.  The locks had always been broken and you only noticed now?  Maybe nobody was following you.  Just the ghosts of your past.  

   Then, at almost four in the morning after standing guard for eight hours footsteps stopped in front of your door.  

   Your adrenaline flared.  You cocked the gun right as your knob started to turn.  It froze.  Fuck! They heard the noise.  

   The handle fell back in place.  They were leaving.  All the shaking you were feeling came flooding back.

   You needed to open the door.  Find out who they were, what they wanted.  But instead you collapsed, hugging the shotgun as the footsteps retreated.   Would you ever be safe?

~~

   Loss of sleep was an understatement.  Tonight you would get a hotel room.  Then decide if you wanted to call the cops, fix the door, or flee.  Life was exhausting enough and it felt like you’d only just started living.  

   The door to the office opened and you rose to your feet, pinning on your best smile as Dr. Rogers walked a patient out.  

   His face looked cold, but his blue eyes widened with surprise.  

   “Hi.”  You gave a nervous wave.  “I have something for you.”  

   His patient waved goodbye as you stepped forward, article in hand.  

   “What is this?”  He grabbed the pages.  

   “The article.  I said I would send over a copy, but I thought with the way things ended I should drop one off in person.”  You fidgeted, thinking about your run in with Barnes the last time.  “As promised, a glowing puff piece.  It will be in the weekend edition.”  

   You watched as his eyes’ scanned the pages.  His brow furrowed in confusion.  

   “Is something wrong?”  You rocked on your feet, hoping to see what line he was at.  “I taped the interview, but if I messed up a fact or misspoke there is time to correct before it goes to print.”  

   “So the article was real?”  The Doctor looked up at you with wide eyes.  “It wasn’t a ruse for your blog?”

   “Ah.”  You bit your lip as you looked away.  “I am sure Agent Barnes gave you an earful.  Yes the story was real.  I write human interest pieces,  Miranda’s Museum doesn’t really pay the bills.”  

   “So this is your real name?”  Steve squinted.  “Rachelle Miller?”  

   “No.”  You blinked.  “I write under multiple pen names.”  

   “So what is your real name?”  Steve folded his arms.  

   “Friends call me Vee.”  You shrugged.  

   “That’s not what I asked.”  His eyes locked on to yours.  

   You hadn’t spoken your real name in years.  Legally it was changed, and with all the pseudonyms you used you hadn’t spoken it outloud in years.  

   “Well, um, I will get out of your hair.  I am sure you have a busy day.  E-mail me if there are problems with the article.”  Your blood ran hot and you regretted coming here.  

   “No.”  His hand reached out and grabbed your arm.  

   You glanced at his fingers and then turned to see his intensite eyes bearing into your own.  His fingers slipped away.  

   “I mean with all do respect, but you look a little rough.”  He nodded to his office.  “Come in and have a drink.  I owe you an apology.”  

   “Me?”  You blinked and shook your head.  “Did Bucky tell you I am just a gossip columnist and was lying to you?  Using you for Miranda’s nefarious purposes?”  

   “Doctor-patient confidentiality.”  He made a playful shrug.  

   “Yeah.  I bet he left out the part where he asked me out nonstop for over a year until I was forced to write something nasty about him on my blog.”  You thought about the person at your door last night,  could it have been Bucky?  He didn’t seem the most stable.  “I may have crossed a line, but what I wrote wasn’t wrong and he,  well I think anyone who has met the man isn’t afraid to use the word obsessive to describe him.”  

   “I cannot confirm, deny, or discuss Agent Barnes.”  Doctor Rogers walked over to a small liquor cabinet.  “What would you like?”  

   “Bourbon?  Scotch?”  You took a seat.  “I’ll settle for anything brown with a nice burn.”  

   “Multiple pen names?”  The doctor came back over and handed you a drink.  “How many?”

   “Three I use on the regular.  I do a lot of freelance writing and they each have their own specialty.  Then several one offs.  I have used them one or two times and let them die.”  You took a sip and let the liquid hit your tongue, wanting to swirl it around your mouth and wishing it would numb your mind in the same way.  

   “Care to share why?”  He sat down and crossed his legs.  “That seems like a lot of compartmentalism.”

“Not a patient.”  You laughed as you leaned back.  

“Let me guess, they are all as generic as Miranda Balfour, Rachelle Miller?”  Dr. Rogers leaned back in his chair.  “You want a legitimate digital footprint, but not one that can be traced back to you.  Why?”  

“You sound like Bucky.”  You tilted your glass toward him.  “Only he has decided Miranda must be my real name.  I would not try to do a deep dive on me Doctor.  I am not interested in opening up.”  

“I am not your Doctor.  Please, call me Steve.”  His eyes scanned you up and down.  “You look very tired.  Late night?  I hope it wasn’t on my behalf.”  

“It was and it wasn’t.  In that order.”  You let out a sigh.  “Since you’re not my doctor Steve, and you can’t think I’m crazy since there is no medical relationship. I think someone, no, I know someone tried to break into my apartment early this morning.”

“Did you call the police?” A look of horror crossed his face as he leaned forward.  “You should not wait on that.”  

“I am not a fan of cops and they are not my fan either.”  You gritted your teeth before taking another sip.  “I cocked my gun too early.  Someone had been following me, all week.  I felt it in my bones.  And then I noticed my locks had been messed with.  So I waited and I felt so paranoid, but then the clock hits 3:44 and the handle jiggles.  I should have let the door open, blown their brains out without asking a single question.  But they heard the noise.  Ran off before I had the chance.”  

“There is a lot to unpack there.”  Steve reached out and touched your knee.  “Are you safe?”

“No.”  You smiled at him.  “Never.  I’m going to get a hotel room tonight.  Figure things out from there.  Get some sleep, a clear head.”  

“If you think someone is targeting you, you shouldn’t stay alone.”  His hand dragged away.  “Friends or family you can stay with?”  

“What was the line you used?  My work doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships.  I’m either writing a freelance story of working on the Miranda project.  Hoping someday it takes off and I can do that full time.”  

“I apologize for being so forward, but I can be your friend, or else your colleague in the work horse force.”  Steve set his glass down.  “And I have plenty of extra bedrooms.”  

You didn’t mean to display the cringe, and tried to bury it down, but there was a pain on his face.

“That is a very kind offer.”  You slammed the rest of your drink.  “But you are not my doctor, or my friend, you’re a stranger right now and I wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing.”  

“I understand.”  Steve grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled as you stood up.  “I would like to take you to dinner, are you free Friday?”  

“Now you’re really going to think I’m crazy, but with the strange feeling I was being followed and the incident last night, I have been scared to leave my apartment after dark.”  The liquor had relaxed your tongue too much.  “Well, now hotel.”  

“I will pick you up at your door, we can go to my place and I’ll cook for you, and then I will drive you home.”  There was something in his voice, this was the first time he had made this request in some time.  “You will be safe the entire time.”

“Alright.”  You couldn’t explain it, but there was a feeling in your heart, like it was drawn to his.  Not mental, like a strange string was pulling you tigher.  “I am staying at the budget in on Wilcox.”  

He opened his mouth, but shut it right away and nodded.  You started to walk to the door and he followed.  Being in his office was the most relaxed you’d been in some time.  

“Friday then.”  He slipped you a piece of paper, you opened it up to see a phone number.  

“I can’t remember the last time someone didn’t just text me their number.”  You smiled eat him.  “You are old fashioned in all the right ways.”  

“Feel free to put that in your phone and use it.”  Steve looked serious.  “Any time, day or night.  I don’t approve of your distrust of law enforcement or wanting assistance, but I respect it.  Never hesitate to call if you need anything.”  

“Thank you.”  You looked at the ground, not wanting to face those blue eyes again, scared if you did you would end up being a roommate at the man's house.  “And thank you for believing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”  He was taken aback.  

“Sometimes I’m not even sure I believe myself.”  You blinked away tears and squared your shoulders looking him in the eyes.  “Anyone else would have told me it was late, I was tired, I almost killed a delivery man.”  

“I look forward to continuing this conversation on Friday.”  Steve gave a boyish grin.  “Or sooner, if you need anything at all.”  

“Friday then.”  You folded up the piece of paper and put it in your back pocket.  

It was odd to find something to look forward to and for a moment you wished you were crazy and not thinking about fleeing and starting over yet again.  

A/N:  Thanks for reading!  This is turning into a bit of a slow burn, but I think the next chapter will heat up! 

Tags:  @toozmanykids​

[flaggermousseart]

creator tag meme

@knifeears said anyone could snatch it up, so here I am, snatching

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

#1 The Kiss in the Shrieking Shack

It’s almost a year since I made this, but I’m still very satisfied with it. I managed to make a lot of background with several layers of shadows. This was a very simple idea: just make one change to the canon scene. I added the canon dialogue from the scene in the tumblr post, and I didn’t need to change a single word, and that still makes me grin. My favourite panel is one of the last ones, where they just stare at each other, I’m very satisfied with that picture in particular, especially Sirius’ expression. This comic exploded in popularity more than I could have imagined. I am thrilled so many people enjoy it.

#2 November 1st 1993

Sticking to the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, making a scene with just the teachers. I just like what I managed to show with the dialogue and the art here. In canon, Snape seems to think Remus Lupin isn’t trustworthy because of his past history with Sirius Black, as we can see from his talk with Dumbledore at Halloween, and the things he says in the Shrieking Shack. I just took that, and made it a romantic/sexual history. Snape’s not outing him as a werewolf, instead it’s another painful secret he pokes at.

Also satisfied with Minerva and Remus’ short conversation; he didn’t help his ex into Hogwarts, and she believes him, but at the same time … Remus IS hiding one BIG secret (the fact that Sirius became an Animagus to help Remus through hard times) that quite IS possibly at least part of how he got onto the school grounds. Ah. Guilt.

The last picture took me ages. I made the poster, and then copied and tweaked and drew tears and holes in them, piecing it all together in a ton of layers. I kept the file of the posters, and ended up reusing it in a different comic later.

#3 Nightmare

Still in the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, when everyone thought Sirius was a murderous traitor. Parts of this comic are a bit uneven. I spot some issues with the size of people’s eyes in certain frames. But it’s mostly about the atmosphere and emotions, and I think that worked well here.

I always like drawing Sirius’ ‘straight outta Azkaban’-look; dressed in rags and long messy hair. Here I had a lot of fun working on making him creepy, both with dialogue and the way he acts. As if he really was a loyal servant of Voldemort, not giving a damn about the deaths he’s responsible for … and any romantic tones are messed up and possessive, as if he had intended to keep Remus like a pet once Voldemort took over.

This is basically all about creepy atmosphere and how Remus never got the therapy he needed after the war.

#4 Picking up the Pieces

This was the year I started writing fanfiction. I love reading it, but never dared to write and put it out there before. I worried I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t understand characters well enough … but once I dipped back into my obsession with HP (this is one of the fandoms that is always in the back of my mind, even if others things take the front seat), I ended up trying. I feel comfortable with this world; I feel I know it well enough to try and make something within it, even without my art as a crutch.

Picking up the Pieces is an AU where Sirius gets a trial and ends up raising Harry together with Remus. I love this type of AU, because there’s the happiness of a better childhood for Harry, contrasted with the war they came out of, and the people they lost.

The Trial took a lot of work, but I wanted to try and do it justice. I love working in details of the world, and reread and reread the canon we know to try and piece it all together, and drag in just about all I could think of that could be used as proof for and against Sirius.

Both that part, and Wolfsbane are Outsider POV from minor canon characters, and I absolutely love Outsider POV. I liked fleshing out Damocles Belby, and make his research into the Wolfsbane potion more emotional.

We need to talk about the snakes is basically a slice of life episode focusing on Harry’s magical powers starting to appear, and with some special skills his godparents never suspected he had. I enjoyed peppering background about their life together into this, and it is one of those stories where the audience that knows canon understands what’s happening, but the characters don’t; and I enjoy that.

I still have ideas for Picking up the Pieces, so hopefully, there will be some more in this series.

#5 Rumours

Aaand right back to Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline! (yes it is my favourite HP-book, why are you asking?) This little fic has much in common with #1 and #2. It is basically a canon scene that I did a little bit of tweaking to. It deals with the rumours that have started to spread around the school about how professor Lupin used to date Sirius Black years back.

It’s short, but I liked writing Harry in this; his thoughts on those rumours, both at the beginning and end of the fic. It sticks to Harry’s POV like how the book canon is presented, and again there’s how we the readers know things the characters does not.

#bonus 

I just think this unicorn is rad.

I tag @kattlupin, @engie-ivy and anyone else that wants to do it. Show us what you’ve made this year!

[straynstay]

Astronaut theory

first of all, I am confusion lol

SKZ broke me in a way that my mind is overthinking so many things that now I believe that anything from their MVs might be a sign. And may I add that Chan's recent live only made me even more confused PLS BOY IF YOU SEE THIS DROP THE THEORY YOU SAID WAS QUITE CLOSE TO THE TRUTH cause I'm nearly losing my mind, I need answers!!!!

so here I am again trying to understand their concept and trust me, it's not easy or short and I don't even know if it's right which makes me even more frustrated... also, we may have lost some important pieces to connect the whole story bc we don't know what was taken from the original MV with ot9, so yeah…

anyways... let me put a guide for you guys cause I'm not gonna write the title of the songs all the time, so AS = Astronaut; DK = Double Knot; MH = Miroh; SE = Side Effects; VS = Victory Song; YW = Yellow Wood (teaser); D9 = District 9; IAY = I Am You

Alright, let’s go back to the beginning! In I Am Not teaser we see that each one has a specific function inside the system or is doing sth very particular, Felix is dancing in front of mirrors on a rooftop (where they always are on their MVs) with a building nearby that shows a sign with FAKE on it – clearly indicating that either Felix is fake or their reality is fake, or maybe both; Changbin is in a room full of TVs like MIA; Seungmin is drawing sth that looks like a map (but I guess it was supposed to be sth else?) but he’s also the one in charge of the maps in Double Knot; we have Hyunjin trying to control a VR system, he looks quite frustrated with it, and after Hyunjin removes the headset, we hear a sound similar to when a program is being interrupted on tv and his image is frozen, probably bc he was disconnected from the main system.

and the most intriguing part: we have Jeongin in a bus – also sth reoccurring in their MVs – and he sees another Jeongin sitting on the bus stop, as if waiting for him. We all know by now that it’s a double, a clone, or whatever you may call it (like I mentioned previously on my Side Effects analysis that clearly shows they have ‘shadows’ like other selves copying their moves).

we don’t see what happens afterwards, but I’m gonna assume he finds out something is not right in the system and probably tells Chan (their leader) about it. Why I think this? Because in MIA they both sing the following lines: “Something is different, carefully look around you” (which is exactly what Chan does in D9) and “Something is changing, even if you hide it so hard, I can see it all” (which is what Jeongin does on the bus and also in Miroh, cause he’s the one in the control room, right?). But the thing is… I believe that the fake Jeongin is the one with SKZ in District 9. The double took his place after he got off the bus and is acting like Jeongin would, helping SKZ and all, but his line “better watch out” shows sth different, it seems somehow too menacing, almost like a threat – at least to me. So SKZ better watch out now cause there’s a fake among them, but SKZ is unaware

moving on.. it’s also in MIA that we see SKZ being duplicated – it looks like it can’t be helped. We know for sure that there’s a double for Chan, Woojin and Felix. In the MV it seems like Hyunjin also has a double that is watching himself from the other side of the door while the one inside the room says “Why are you staring at me again?” and then we see a surveillance camera (they’re onto Hyunjin, but Hyunjin seems to notice it).

this may seem dumb, but Changbin is duplicated in Get Cool (and like I said, any evidence is evidence lol). I don’t remember seeing Jisung, Seungmin and Minho being duplicated in any MV, and isn’t it weird that they’re the ones we see on the cage in AS?

in My Pace we have seven numbers shown behind them when they’re dancing: 137, 163, 191, 223, 241, 271 and 307. I thought they wouldn’t put this randomly so I searched what these number might mean and I found that they’re prime numbers (as you know, prime numbers can only be divided by themselves), and that prime numbers are very useful for creating keys to decrypt data by hackers. So I thought… what if Jeongin and Chan were trying to decrypt the system in order to mess with it but they need a key and Hyunjin was the key? And after DK happened, they managed to create glitches even more powerful than before? (like I explained in my theory).

anyways… moving on to Astronaut. ASTRONAUT = a person who is trained to travel in a spacecraft. But what if in SKZ concept an Astronaut is someone trained to travel their realities? And as we can see in I Am Not, Hyunjin is the one being trained in the VR apparatus.

also, he’s the one with an airplane behind him in Victory Song (and by now I think every little thing in these MVs are clues, sorry)

so what I take from this is that Hyunjin is like the tester of the realities they’ll have to face in order to escape District 9, like he is on a trial mode, if that makes any sense…

in the Astronaut MV, as we all noticed, we have some references from past MVs such as I Am You (the spinning thing); Victory Song (the red flares Chan & Jeongin are holding); Miroh (the boxes); Side Effects (the cart) and Chronosaurus (the plastics)

it’s interesting that Jeongin and Chan are the ones together when the music begins and I think this might mean sth because they’re always referenced as one, like in IAY; and Chan in AS is probably talking to MH’s Jeongin, because if they know what’s happening in the system, they might be able to keep in touch with each other even from different realities – but this is just me speculating too much!

in the MV we see 3 orbs: the 1st one is blueish with a green center; the 2nd is dark blueish/purple with a yellow center, and the last one is transparent with a black center.

so I googled those orb colors and found out that the first one may signify communication, neutrality, healing – might be applied to a master/guide; the second one may signify caution, insight, notice; while the last one may signify insecurity, being trapped or tortured. I don’t know if this makes sense, but I put it in here bc I strongly believe that these orbs represent Chan, Hyunjin and Jeongin, since they’re the ones that seem to be the focus of this storyline (and the color scheme of the scenes the orbs appear reminded me of IAY, 19 and SE)

going back to the AS MV, we also see Felix glitching like he did in MH and I was able to see in the background glasses being smashed, lightening, buildings, a road and a bridge, storm, moon, etc., and these are all elements that are present in their MVs, like showing what they already faced so far.

the cage scene made me think of District 9. When we first see it, Jeongin is the only one inside, but then we also see Han, Minho, Seungmin with him – and they’re slightly glitching, btw.

some other things happen to Hyunjin, he keeps on running, and now he’s outside on a dark road with a storm coming up – which reminded me of SE a lot, especially because of the two moons -, but he seems quite peaceful facing all those terrifying elements

he runs towards the end of the road that he can’t even see what’s waiting for him there – but maybe it’s because he already knows what happens next.

Hyunjin finds Chan in front of a door (maybe the exit?) and they all go through – to me it looks like Felix is the one about to close it, like he did with the gate in D9. Chan then shoots sth towards the sky like he did in VS (which caused a storm), but here it only makes a beam of light appear for them – as if they’re asking to go up? Like ‘beam me up Scotty’? you guys know this Star Trek reference, right? lol

and now we see the sky, but we don’t have two moons… I know it’s probably bc it’s morning, but in SE it was also morning and we saw two moons, so I’m assuming Hyunjin was able to find the finish line of the VR simulation (because I’m assuming that everything with the two moons is actually the VR)

at the end, we see Jeongin walking to the spinning thing like a glitch – like Chan also did when he went to the door, as if teleporting from here to there – and he’s alone, probably left behind. But why would SKZ leave him behind? Probably because they didn’t know he was there...

alright, so what does it all mean? I’m gonna try my best to comment everything and try to link the MVs with the lyrics to create a somewhat decent storyline.

on the released picture of the AS track list, this is what is written (it’s a rough translation, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong): “when we were happy together, we could do anything, where we chatted and laughed carelessly until dawn. Suddenly, I saw a bead… what is it? As soon as I got close, I heard a strange sound. At the end of the sound was a faint mixture of familiar voices calling my name. Without thinking, I started getting drawn by the sound”

To me, the first part means the I Am You setting. They were all happy after being free, they created their own world where they could do anything as long as they were together. In AS we see Hyunjin in this same environment and that’s also when the first orb appears. Hyunjin is attracted by the orb that could possibly be SKZ’s way to communicate with him inside the VR. Because remember, Hyunjin is there but what he’s seeing and experiencing is not real. He’s testing the ways out for SKZ. But he was so happy in that reality that he lost himself, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. And SKZ sent something to guide him out of this fake environment as we see in AS. He then started his journey back to where the real SKZ are, going through all the tokens from the realities he’s been through (like the boxes with the confusing mazes, but that are easily destroyed bc is not real; the cart from SE, the gate from D9, etc…). What also gives him hints is how the members start to act after he begins his running in AS. After he destroys the boxes, Felix is standing there like a heroic figure, glitching with Changbin, looking almost unapproachable or as if he can’t see him. we see Chan on the floor, so Chan is probably grounded like Hyunjin.

then he sees his friends trapped inside a cage. But the thing is that this cage is really ridiculous, any of them could climb or help the other to get out of there, so I think they’re trapped bc they’re not real, it’s all a simulation, – except for Jeongin, but I’ll get to this point later on, hold on!! – and this cage represents D9.

Hyunjin runs endlessly until he reaches the road I mentioned already, and he finds Chan, they all go through the door (how could they if four of them were trapped? unless nothing of that is real) and they are all dressed in white, like when they escaped D9, dancing happily on the rooftop.

to me, after Jeongin got off the bus he realized the system’s plan and told Chan (their leader), and they came up with ideas to escape, but they needed someone that could control the reality, and Hyunjin was being trained for it – although he was frustrated with it - so they asked him to go unlocking worlds (or roads, or whatever) and he did it, but as farther he went, he started getting lost in the system bc he didn’t know who he was anymore, was he a clone already? What he’s seeing is reality or virtual reality? What’s the truth, what’s the answer?

Chan and Jeongin were able to guide Hyunjin throughout the MVs to continue with their plan, but Hyunjin’s mind was starting to lose itself, although he had a feeling that something seemed off… And Astronaut is nothing more than a recap of all what they’ve been through and Hyunjin’s journey to the unknown in order to find SKZ again and help them escape.

so what about that last scene with Jeongin? Well, I think the Jeongin in white clothes with them at the end is not the real Jeongin, and the Jeongin we see sitting alone is in fact the real one that is trapped inside the VR. Chan was guiding Hyunjin but lost Jeongin in the meantime and didn’t realize it or Chan knows it and is also a clone anything is possible, because to me the Jeongin we see in their MVs isn’t the real Jeongin since D9, like I said in the beginning of this analysis. Maybe the reason Seungmin and Minho were found on DK by the drone is bc Jeongin was with them and he’s part of the system? The others weren’t seen except for these three. I also believe this hypothesis because the gate in AS represents D9 and Jeongin is the only one moving after Hyunjin leaves, probably showing that the real one was lost in D9, but since there can’t be two “Jeongins” in a same place, he needs to wait for them to realize that they’re dealing with a fake one and come back for him.

alright, to summarize this huge analysis...

EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED DIDN’T HAPPEN!! HYUNJIN WAS DECRYPTING AND TESTING THE REALITIES (IN THE VR THING) THEY HAVE TO FACE IN ORDER TO ESCAPE AND OVERTHROW THE SYSTEM AND NOW THAT HE’S FINISHED THE TRIALS HE’S BACK TO DISTRICT 9 AND CAN SHOW SKZ THE RIGHT PATHS TO FOLLOW BUT HE DIDN’T REALISE THAT THE REAL JEONGIN IS TRAPPED INSIDE THE VR AND HE LEFT HIM BEHIND AND NOW SKZ WILL HAVE TO GO BACK TO GET HIM OUT OMGGG I CANT ANYMORE

how else would we explain Hyunjin, Jeongin and Chan’s hairstyle looking almost the same as the one they had in D9?

some other thoughts I had: what if they’re duplicating themselves to leave the clones on the system so the real ones can escape?

ASTRONAUT also has 9 letters... this might mean something?

why is Chan singing all the time “I’m not me” in the background of Mirror? can he be trusted? I’m still not sure about Chan’s role in all of this bc he seems shady like Jeongin lol sorry Chan

from the Victory Song unveil track we have Chan saying this “we are Stray Kids, the owners of Clé. Roll the dice. Our beginning is District 9. We break the frame, escape from the system, and go beyond the fixed line towards STAY. We came to listen to Victory Song. So ring the 승전가”. Isn’t it weird that he says “break, escape, go” instead of “broke, escaped, went” ?? he only says “we came” bc the question is about their entrance in Miroh and Victory Song is after it, but if everything else also happens after D9, shouldn’t the other verbs be on the past tense too?

in Chronosaurus we see someone picking up three keys from the floor and I’m pretty sure it’s Jeongin.

one key for each – Chan, Hyunjin and him. But what can they do with the keys? I thought that maybe they could go spread themselves through the realities these keys unlock and place signs for them so they don’t get lost or forget about what they’re doing, like easter eggs? there are some black balloons on SE that reminded me of 19

in TMT there’s a billboard that Chan sees saying “do what you wanna do” (a message he left for himself there? and look at the background, it’s the space)

and what about Hyunjin? I’m not sure, but maybe the scene where we see him laying on the grass at the end of SE is actually because he just arrived in that reality and lost the key of that reality on that weird pond??? is the easter egg in SE himself??? I still think it’s weird the way Jeongin looks at him and smiles brightly in this scene lol

this is just what I was able to put together, but I still have a lot of questions and a lot of concerns, but unless Chan spills the tea I don’t care if it’s hot we’ll stay clueless about all of this lol

and he says we’re not clowns… right…

[patrickstargang]

To Heal (Shadow of Kyoshi fic)

Chapter 1: The Other Side of Peace

Chapter 2: Master and Student

Chapter 3: A Cause for Celebration

Chapter 4: Taking Off The Mask

Chapter 5: Call to Action

Epilogue

Kirima found herself bending the water coming out of the cracks of the ceiling, trying to add new drops to the shape she was precariously creating. It was a way to pass the time while everyone waited for Hei-ran to show up. Wong tried copying Kirima by collecting floating dust, which was plentiful at the estate’s entrance. It was one of the bigger rooms in the entire complex, which would be more lively with the usual maids doing their work but now appeared like dead space.

Kyoshi was off to the side of the room, her anxiousness stood out among the other bored members of the Flying Opera Company. Out of all of them, she was the one waiting for Hei-ran’s arrival with the most anticipation. Though it didn’t feel like anticipation, more like dread. Dread at having to talk to Hei-ran again but also dread for what Atuat’s diagnosis would be once she finally sat down with Rangi. Kyoshi already took her back to the infirmary since they would be showing up soon, but time kept making the tension of the wait more palpable. The thoughts came running back into her head, so she tried to create a distraction for herself.

Kyoshi saw a puddle created from the rain and tried to bend it. It began to move up in the air for a few moments but limply came back down to the ground. She attempted to move it again but it only yielded the same results. Her fingers began to strain. Something was wrong. She should have easily bent a puddle of this size like it was nothing. Why was it refusing to bend now?

Kirima continued to gather water droplets, oblivious to Kyoshi’s struggle. “So when is the old grouch showing up, we’ve been waiting for hours.”

Wong shrugged, his dust pile along with him. “Maybe they got caught in…..boat traffic?”

Kirima carelessly let the water formation out of the air, splashing into the ground. She pushed her hair back and let out an air of frustration. “Well, I guess its no harm waiting for another few hours,” she spoke sarcastically, more than what was usual for her. “Who knows, maybe she’ll show up busting through those doors right no-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the doors busted open. Everyone in the room flinched in surprise, Wong accidentally flinging his floating dust pile right into his face. At the open doorway stood an ominous silhouette, with a smaller less intimidating silhouette standing behind it. The silhouettes revealed themselves to be Hei-ran and Ataut, both drenched from the rain. Hei-ran looked like she was possessed by the spirit of fear and anger, revealed by her strained stance and a face that could instill terror into the strongest warrior. Atuat smiled and waved at everyone.

Hei-ran looked as though she were about to speak, a very terrifying concept for everyone in the room. Instead, she quickly got out her chalkboard and began writing furiously. After only a few seconds she turned the board around for everyone to see.

“WHERE IS SHE!?”

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

Kyoshi could hear part of the one-way argument outside the infirmary. It was hard to hear what was going on since Hei-ran’s scribbling sometimes got louder than Rangi. She barely heard any of what was said except for one key thing: “It wasn’t her fault.”

Her heart sinks. There could be a lot of implications to that, even with context. Kyoshi slumped down on one of the nearby benches, a feeling of defeat across her face. She knew she was done for. Kyoshi promised to protect her daughter with everything she had, and even then she slipped up. She anticipated the berating, being called a menace to her daughter that only puts her in danger.

As those thoughts began arising, she noticed another nearby puddle. She breathed in, reached her hand out, and tried again. The water wouldn’t even budge this time. It felt like hitting a liquid wall, it was impossible and yet it was happening. Her frustration got the better of her as she slammed her fist into the other side of the wooden bench, leaving a massive hole. It took a moment for her to realize what she did. She grimaced while trying to flatten the fragments of the wooden plank back into place. Then she heard the infirmary door open.

Hei-ran appeared from around the corner. She took a look at Kyoshi, then the other side of the bench. She decided standing was fine. They both sat (or in Hei-ran’s case, stood) in silence for many moments.

Kyoshi tried to speak before Hei-ran sped through an entire piece of chalk.

“Before you say anything, Rangi told me the whole story. Including the part where you saved her.”

Kyoshi slowly glanced down at the bottom of the chalkboard.

“And I’m sorry about Yun, you did the right thing.”

That name still opened up wounds for Kyoshi. Even now it was hard for her to accept everything that had happened, that it was now all in the past. Her friend was gone. He was gone a long time ago.

She felt a pat from Hei-ran on her shoulder. She seemed to understand the pain Kyoshi was feeling now, since Yun was also her student. Hei-ran wasn’t one for emotions so something like this meant she was serious. For the years that Kyoshi has known Rangi’s mother, this felt like the most sincere gesture she’s given to her.

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

Kyoshi decided to go back to her work as Atuat was starting her checkup on Rangi. When she returned to her workspace, she found Jinpa had left her a pile of letters. Most of them were from diplomats across the Four Nations inviting her to visit their towns and villages. Most of them she would have to decline since her main priority was the situation with Fire Lord Zoryu.

But her mind kept drifting back to Rangi. She was reading the notes but not processing them. Her focus was off, her mind was on other worrying things.

Jinpa came into the room, carrying another sack full of letters and invitations. Kyoshi broke her waning attention on her work, only to grimace at the approaching pile. “Where are all these letters coming from?”

“Well, most of these were from the hideout in Ba Sing Se. We’re just finally getting them sent back here. Sorry if it's a bit…..excessive.”

Kyoshi let out a long sigh as she put down the paper she was holding. “It’s probably for the best, I needed to get this all sorted out anyways. How much more is there?”

“Oh, only five.”

“Five more letters?”

“Oh, no…..five more crates of letters.”

Kyoshi gave Jinpa a piercing stare, one that showed little emotion except for slight annoyance. Jinpa awkwardly smiled tip-toeing backward out of the room.

“I-I’ll be back,” Jinpa pointed his thumb down the hall. “With more…..” He finally exited the doorway.

Kyoshi breathed through her nose and looked back down at the table. She noticed that it was covered in a blanket of documents and invitations. And this wasn’t all of what she had to look through today.

She decided to take a break. Kyoshi began walking down the halls of the estate, heading to the infirmary. While Zoryu was her top priority as the Avatar, Rangi’s health became her top personal priority.

Kyoshi passed by Hei-ran, who was sleeping on the bench that she put a hole through. She was sleeping, but in reality, it looked more like a stiffly adjusted power nap. It must have been the equivalent of sleeping for a military official. She quietly snuck her past the terrifying woman, making it to the infirmary doors before Atuat opened them up.

Kyoshi stopped in her tracks, moving out of the way so Atuat could get some space. She quietly closed the doors and wiped a bit of sweat from her brow.

Kyoshi slightly raised her hand. “So how is sh-”

Atuat put a finger against her lips, signaling for Kyoshi to lower her voice. Kyoshi hunched down and grimaced, not realizing how loud she said that.

“Sorry” she whispered.

“It’s alright kiddo. She's sleeping right now but should be back up in about an hour.”

“I’m surprised how quick it was.”

“Well, when ya know what your doing the process is pretty simple.” She grinned with the same kind of arrogant flair that Rangi would give off.

But that only reminded Kyoshi about the most pressing question. She struggled to come up with the words. She lowered her head, she couldn’t stand to see the sympathetic looks if her worst suspicions come true.

“....Sifu Atuat.” Her voice was shaking before she could even ask.

“Yes sweetie?”

“There's just one more question I have. About her injury. When I first healed her, I wasn’t sure if there was any permanent internal damage. Later on, I had a suspicion that it might be more serious than that, because of how deep the spear had gone in and the chance of infection. Sifu Atuat…..is she going to die?”

The brief period of silence made the wait worse. Kyoshi closed her eyes, her hands turning into fists waiting for the dreadful reply. She had to prepare herself for her worst nightmare to become her reality.

“Nope.”

Kyoshi’s eye shot open. She unbowed her head, her face frozen with confusion.

Atuat could read her confusion as clearly as Hei-ran’s chalkboard. “Oh believe me, I was shocked too. Considering how you described the injury, I thought it would be much more serious. But I made a thorough check and there wasn’t a single puncture to any of her vital organs, or any organs really. To be honest, it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

The wind was knocked out of Kyoshi. She had been expecting the worst for quite some time, so she didn’t really know how to react when something went right for once.

Atuat pointed at Kyoshi, her voice was quick and direct. “Did you do the extraction technique every day, like we talked about in training.”

Kyoshi’s face was still frozen, so she replied with a nod. Atuat stroked her chin, trying to assess the possibilities. The seriousness didn’t last long as she jokingly nudged Kyoshi on the side.

“Maybe the spirits blessed you with some kind of special healing powers.”

The tension broke from Kyoshi’s face, letting out a light chuckle. Atuat joined in.

“But seriously, I don’t know what you did, but it worked. She’s in good health now. The only thing she's got from it is a scar on her back.” Her eyes measured Kyoshi up and down, then she chuckled again. “You know, it looks like you’ve made a fine water healer of yourself.”

Kyoshi breathed a sigh of relief, a relief that was impossible to describe. She didn’t know it then, but she was smiling. It wasn’t like the fake smiles that she had to put on before. She bowed, her hand connecting to her fist. “Thank you, Sifu.”

Atuat ruffled Kyoshi’s hair while she was still bowed. “Oh come on, you don’t always have to call me Sifu.”

It was strange to her, having a Sifu who was more of a friend than a teacher. But at the same time, what she did teach Kyoshi became invaluable when the moment needed it.

She unbowed herself, letting her hair stay ruffled. Atuat darted her eyes at the infirmary doors.

“Come now, I know there's someone you want to see.”

[monstersandmaw]

Orctober #3 - male half-orc x male character (nsfw) ‘Bait’

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Orctober stories One and Two are up on Patreon (linked below), and this has been previewed on there too, and has had some truly wonderful comments that just made my day, so there might be a part two in the offing now. We’ll see.

Anyway, it’s a bit different in terms of format - it's not a reader insert, but I hope that doesn't matter.

It's a whopping 6914 words long, and I had an absolute blast writing it, so I really hope you enjoy reading it!! I know that 'Josslyn' is a female sounding name, but it's what this prince wanted to be called, so that's his name. :) I think it suits him anyway.

1. 'Ring' - male orc (Liam) x plus size female reader (very light nsfw) 2. 'Mindless’ - female orc (Khara) x male reader (nsfw)

---

A silver-trimmed banner caught and snagged in the night breeze as the crown prince strode along the battlements of his father’s castle. The old king’s words still rang in his ears and he ground his teeth, breathing hard and fighting the urge to shout, to yell, to cry. Where was the man who had raised him? The man who had played with him, taught him to ride his first pony, and helped him with his tutor’s tasks when he’d struggled? The man who had taught him the meaning of the ideals of justice and loyalty, of servitude to the people? How could old age ravage a man so much in the mind while taking so little from his body?

The king was in his seventies, having had Josslyn later in life than many had expected, after his first queen had died in childbirth, leaving no heir. The king had the body of a man ten years younger, but the mind of a man a decade older. Joss had tried to keep his father’s unpredictable nature hidden from the council and from the people, and so far all that they had suspected was that the long-running war with the orcish peoples in the neighbouring kingdom was taking its toll on him, forcing him to become harder, stricter in a time of strife.

A guard nodded his resepcts at him as he passed and muttered, “Highness,” to which the prince responded with a small smile and a bow of his head as he swept past, his long, night blue cloak swirling behind him, the wind lifting his long black hair off his face.

A shout and commotion from the courtyard below brought two guards hurrying to his side as he peered down from the wall, but he waved them away with a gentle gesture and watched as a tall, rather bedraggled figure was hauled out from the guards’ supply room in the outer bailey and dumped in the freezing mud beside the castle well. Spear-tips were poised at his throat immediately, and as the flickering light of a wrought-iron brazier illuminated his features, Josslyn saw that he looked orcish, though somewhat more delicate than the brutes who currently inhabited the castle dungeons and gladiatorial rings across the country.

Scuttling silently down one of the nearby stone staircases, the prince emerged in time to hear the guards demanding who the creature was and what the hell he was doing sneaking around the royal castle at midnight. Josslyn wanted to know how the hell he’d got into the castle to begin with.

“Please,” the captive choked, his eyes screwed almost shut as a spear point hovered above his Adam’s apple, “Please, I only came looking… for… for work… I thought…”

“You thought we’d hire something like you? The king doesn’t employ beasts, not even to clean the latrines!” one of the guards sneered.

The prince approached at a steady walk, partly cloaked by the shadows of the courtyard and partly by the thick fabric of his heavy robes. “Why did you come here of all places?” he demanded of the orc and the guards startled at his sudden appearance.

“Your Highness, please,” one of them warned, holding out a protective arm between the captive and the crown prince. “We caught this half-breed orc sniffing around our supplies.”

“He managed to find a way past the gates - outwitting all the guards - and he speaks intelligently,” the prince said, staring at him with hard, black eyes, “And yet you still treat him like a cornered granary rat.”

“They’re all vermin,” the guard said, cheeks flushed with humiliation, jabbing the half-orc in the sternum with the butt of his spear and driving the wind from his chest.

“Stop,” Josslyn said in a voice of quiet command that stilled them all instantly. “Take him to the upper cells, and see that he’s fed and given water and a blanket, and some clean, dry clothes. I want to know exactly what he was doing here, but he’s in no condition to be questioned at the moment. Look at him.”

The guards returned their attention to their miserable captive and saw the way he shivered, his clothes sodden - presumably from swimming the moat - with the fabric clinging to his relatively slim body. With orcish blood, he should have been built like a mythical hero from a maiden’s tale, but Josslyn suspected that he saw high elf in the half-breed’s slender ears and delicate bone-structure. No high elf could bulk up, no matter how much meat he ate or how many press-ups he did, and unfortunately for the orc, it seemed he had inherited that trait from his elven parent.

“Highness?” the guard with his spear at the half-orc’s throat whispered. “You… You cannot be serious…?”

Josslyn simply turned his polished jet eyes on the guard and the man nodded once.

“Of course. Forgive me. It will be done as you say.”

The crown prince watched them haul the mysterious half-breed to his feet and lead him away. He stumbled and staggered, shaking violently from the cold as the chill of the mid-autumn night sank into his sodden clothes and skin, but he risked a glance over his shoulder and smiled gratefully at Josslyn. In answer, the prince nodded once and let his eyes fall to the spot in the mud where he’d been lying, his mind working.

An hour later, fighting the prickling tiredness in his eyes as midnight became one in the morning, Joss headed down to the cells and as he peered through the barred opening in the heavy wooden door of the cell, he found that the prisoner had been housed exactly as he’d commanded. He’d wrapped himself in a moth-eaten blanket but beneath it Joss could see the royal blue of a guard’s uniform, and beside the low, rickety bed was an empty wooden plate and set neatly atop it was a wooden beaker.

The prince had the guards unlock it and then he knocked before stepping inside. A guard tried to follow him in, only obeying protocol, but Josslyn asked her to wait outside. Reluctantly, the woman obeyed, and left the crown prince, the sole heir of the entire kingdom alone in a cell with a strange half-orc.

“Are you warmer now?” the prince asked as the orc rose shakily, woken by the rattling key in the lock.

“Yes, thank you, Highness,” he said, bowing low.

“Rise,” he snapped. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“My name is Tamas,” he said in a croaky baritone. Everything about him spoke of submission; the slope of his hunched shoulders, the angle of his head, his down-turned gaze - it was as if he were perpetually awaiting a blow to the back of the head. His hair was a muddy brown, shaved above his pointed ear on the left side of his head and falling loose and long to his shoulder on the right. He had a small, pale scar on his left cheekbone, and his skin was a muddy green, not dissimilar to the colour of the moat in high summer.

“And what are you doing here?” the prince pressed patiently.

Tamas took a deep breath and said, “I… I ran away from… I’ve been travelling for months… I thought…”

“Sit down,” the prince commanded, and the orc dropped heavily onto the bed behind him, knees simply giving way. His exhaustion appeared to be more mental than physical. “You are not full orc, are you?” the prince asked and Tamas shook his head.

“No, Highness. My mother was a woodland elf. Her people left me to die in the way of all unwanted elven children; she set me adrift in a basket on the river and I was picked up by an orcish mother miles downstream. She had lost her own child and thought to raise me. But… orcs are not kind to those of ‘watered down blood’. I…” he turned his gaze up and the prince was surprised to note that his eyes were a dark sapphire blue. In a strange way, he was quite beautiful, he supposed; a thought which surprised him all over again. All this he kept carefully hidden behind his usual mask of calm control.

“So you finally ran away,” the prince supplied. “And you decided to come here? To the enemy of your father’s people? Hardly the safest choice for you, I’d wager…”

Tamas nodded. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“Alight,” the prince said, folding his arms across his chest. “What services could you offer the crown?”

The half-orc lowered his head again and stared at his hands. The index finger of his left hand was crooked, as though it had been badly broken in the past and poorly set. He sighed, rubbing the knuckle, and said, “I am good with horses and animals,” he said, “But I can read and write and do arithmetic. I could help wherever is needed.”

“I doubt my father will make you his personal valet,” the prince snorted, amused. “But I will think on where to place you. For now, rest. The guards have been instructed not to bother you, but you understand why I must keep you in here a little longer?”

Again, he nodded. “I do, Highness. And… thank you…”

“I haven’t made you any promises,” he warned him.

“Perhaps not, but you have given me a chance. You’re the first person to treat me… well… not like an animal, since the border.”

“I presume folks thought you were a runaway slave?”

“Yes,” he said and shuddered.

With a final nod, the prince left him and gratefully began to make his way up to his chambers. Undressing alone in the simple finery of his room, he thought about the half-orc and realised he had had no idea how orcs treated their own. For all that they had been at war for nearly six years now, he knew next to nothing about their culture. As he lay down beneath the soft sheets and let the deep pillows cushion his royal head, he mused that it might be wise to use this half-orc to learn about their enemy’s culture. Surely if he’d been treated so abominably that he’d run straight to their enemy’s stronghold for shelter, Tamas would be willing to help him?

Thus a hesitant relationship was forged between prince and captive. Tamas was housed in a room in the servants’ quarters - much to their distaste - and to begin with, for an hour every day, he was released and attended the prince in his own chambers to instruct him in the nature and traditions of the orcish nation.

Josslyn was surprised to learn that Tamas had a wicked sense of humour, and that he was also rather fond of reading. After that, the prince asked him to accompany him to the library, and in a relatively short couple of months, the two had become tentative friends. Josslyn encouraged Tamas to speak out truthfully with his opinions to the prince, though only in private, and the two frequently engaged in lengthy and in-depth discussions late into the night. Josslyn still carried a dagger with him at all times, but he soon forgot about it. In time, the half-orc became something of a legend in the castle - the ‘sentient beast’ and the ‘prince’s pet’ were two of the kinder titles he acquired, but he promised Josslyn that he didn’t mind.

“I’m happy to have a roof over my head and a purpose before me,” he said meekly one afternoon when the prince brought it up again as the two of them sat in comfortable chairs in a side room of the library. It was a rare day off for the prince, and having spent the last week in the infirmary visiting the soldiers who returned from the front with horrific injuries, dealt largely by orcish weapons, he was grateful for the quiet and peace of the ancient hall of learning.

Tamas had offered to accompany him, but the prince had suggested that his might not be a face to show to the recently-returned warriors, and the half-orc had accepted without question, apologising for his insensitivity.

The prince felt those sapphire blue eyes on him again and he glanced up from his book to find his new friend staring at him. “What?” he asked gently.

The half-orc smiled, the gesture stretching around the short, almost slender tusks which protruded from his lower jaw. “I haven’t seen you this relaxed in weeks, that’s all,” he said, a warmth to his tone that struck Joss deeply. “It’s nice.”

He snorted and then drew in a deep breath. “I’m tired, Tam. I’m tired of this war and I’m tired of the toll it’s taking on my people. I want an end to it, but I don’t know how. I don’t know - after all I’ve learned from you and from visiting the front myself - how we can make a bridge with them, make peace with a culture so different.”

Tamas’ face showed obvious surprise and a small amount of shock. He closed the book in his hands and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze met the prince’s directly. “You’ve visited the front?”

“Of course,” Joss said, a frown playing on his dark brows. “I wouldn’t  be much of a leader if I sat at home in my comfortable castle while my people threw themselves at the orcish lines like the sea against the cliffs, would I?”

“Forgive me,” Tam murmured. “I… I didn’t mean to question your integrity. I’m just surprised. I’m sorry.”

Josslyn laughed and set his book down on the table beside his chair. “Come, let’s get a glass of wine. The sun’s going down and we’ve been sat here for hours. I need to stretch my legs.”

Tam stood, still looking a little stunned, as though his every belief had been called into question.

He was slow to follow his friend and the prince paused. “You alight?” Josslyn asked, laying a hand on Tam’s elbow.

The orc swallowed visibly and turned his searing blue gaze to the point where the two of them touched. His eyes then darted up to meet the prince’s and he smiled, though his dark skin still looked a little pallid. “Yes,” he croaked. “I’m sorry. Yes.”

“Come then,” he said again and walked away, leaving Tamas to stare after him for a moment before hurrying to catch up.

One evening, after the Beltane feast that marked the start of summer, Josslyn left the feast early. His father was being truly obnoxious, though mercifully this time he was only trying to get the crown prince to flirt with some visiting duchess or other, but Josslyn was having none of it. Tamas had not been invited to the celebrations, for obvious reasons, and Josslyn found himself aching for the easy rapport the two of them had built over the seven months or so that they had now known each other.

Instead of going to the servants’ quarters and bothering them all like a fox in a chicken coop, the prince headed to the privacy of the royal courtyard garden at the rear of the castle. Only those who tended the plants and members of the royal family were allowed here, and yet, as he sat on a stone bench with his head in his hands, he heard footsteps approaching.

Glancing up, his hand twitching towards the dagger at his hip, he nearly shot to his feet before he realised who it was. “Tamas?” he breathed. “What are you doing in here? You know this place is off limits…”

“Invite me to stay and I won’t be trespassing,” he smiled playfully. “But seriously, I’ll go if you want to be alone.”

“No,” Joss sighed, his spine slackening as he slumped back down on his bench. “Don’t go. How did you know to come here?”

“I was on my way back from the library when I saw you leaving the great hall. You looked thoroughly miserable… May I sit?”

“Of course,” he said, gesturing at the bench beside him. “Did you find anything interesting to read?”

“Mmm,” he hummed quietly, the deep sound somehow going straight through Josslyn. The quiet warmth of Tam’s presence beside him comforted him beyond expressing, and he leaned sideways and rested his body against Tamas’ side, his head falling to lie on Tam’s shoulder.

The half-orc’s hand suddenly slid over his own where it lay in his lap and he squeezed the prince’s fingers gently in his large grip.

“Tam,” Josslyn rasped, tears filling his eyes. “I’m so tired…”

“I know,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes every day. You give so much of yourself to your people. You take no time for yourself.”

There was soft wonder in his tone and Josslyn barked a quiet laugh. “It’s my duty as crown prince, Tam. My father, before he began to change, made me learn my duties young.” He sighed again and added, “I learned the oath I’ll take when I ascend the throne when I was only five. I had no idea what it meant then, but I do now.”

Tam’s arm came round his shoulders then and he held him close. “My people were entirely wrong about you,” he said very quietly.

“How so?”

He didn’t speak immediately, but the silence told Josslyn he was considering his words carefully. Another stereotype shattered, he thought as he realised just how deeply this half-orc cared about the words he spoke and the meaning behind them. “The orcs say you are little more than a spoiled, selfish brat of a princeling who spends his days watching orcs fight in the pits or being tended to by a harem of naked elven women… They did get one thing right about you though,” he added with a wry smile.

“Oh?” Joss asked, too tired to respond to the first comments, ridiculous as they were.

Tam chuckled and said, “They say you’re as beautiful as one of the fae. Apparently because your previous queen died and the kingdom had no heir, your father made a pact with the fae for you.”

Josslyn’s laugh rang around the courtyard, echoing off the statuary. He sat up and regarded Tamas with glittering dark eyes. “And here I thought ‘beauty’ to an orc was brute strength and an unquenchable bloodlust…”

Tamas shrugged. “Good thing I’m not a full orc then.”

The chill evening air had gradually become charged during their conversation, and Josslyn felt his lips parting slightly as he stared up at Tamas. The half-orc wasn’t much taller than the crown prince, but he had a few inches on him; enough to make Josslyn tilt his head back so that his hair fell down to tickle the hand that Tamas still had pressed to his back, though now it rested at the base of his spine.

Slowly, hesitantly, as though he would be shot full of arrows from the rooftops if he dared go through with it, Tamas leaned down and the two brushed their lips together in the briefest of kisses. The fleeting touch sent the blood straight to Joss’ groin and his breath hitched in his chest. “Tam,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, wide-eyed, wrenching himself back and standing, staggering as he half turning to go. “I’m… I shouldn’t…”

“Wait,” Josslyn commanded, standing and drawing himself to his full height. “Wait,” he said again, more gently, stepping over to him. He took his hand and tightened his grip.

The kiss that followed was all fierce, pent-up emotion and passion, and Josslyn found himself backed against the huge marble plinth of a statue of a faun, with Tamas chasing kiss after kiss. The half-orc hooked one of Joss’ legs around his hips and then picked him up, pinning him against the masonry hard enough to knock the breath from him. The prince gasped as Tamas ground his solid length against his own hardening cock through their trousers, and his head rolled back. Tamas shot out a hand to cup the back of the prince’s head before he clonked it on the stonework behind him, and Joss smiled bashfully at him.

They paused then, frozen in place, both breathing hard. “You… You want…?” Tamas asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” the prince whispered.

Kissing him one last time, Tamas backed off, setting the prince back on his feet, and the two of them readjusted themselves sheepishly as best they could before making their way through back stairwells and corridors to his private chambers.

No sooner had the door closed and the latch locked than the two of them were entangled again. They shed their clothes between the door and the bed, and Josslyn ran his palms over Tamas’ slim, lean chest, marvelling at the wiry strength of the half-orc who shuddered and gasped beneath the explorative touches of the prince. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and as his chest heaved, Joss could see the muscles move beneath his green skin, his dark nipples hard and his cock dampening a spot in his underwear.

They fell backwards onto his huge bed in a tangle of limbs, and Joss tugged off the last of Tam’s clothes to free his impressive erection. Hard, the vein along its length full and prominent, his cock wept pre-come freely now, twitching as Josslyn stared openly at him.

“How… How do you want to do this?” the prince asked breathily.

In answer, Tamas parted his legs a little and the prince smiled, reaching across the orc’s prone body to his bedside drawers for a small vial of oil. Somehow he hadn’t expected Tamas to be the one wanting to take it, but he was too worked up to comment or mind.

When he slicked one finger with oil and slid it inside the orc, Tamas grunted and drove his head back into the bed, his legs falling wider apart, his cock bobbing eagerly as his hips bucked upwards into the intrusion. With his free hand, Joss dribbled more oil down the length of Tamas’ cock and then worked him with both hands until Tam was panting and grunting and cursing in orcish.

Josslyn knew only enough of the language to recognise it as orcish, and he leaned forwards, sliding his fingers out of Tam for a moment and earning a keening whine from him at the loss. In his sensitive ear he whispered, “You’re going to have to translate that for me, Tamas.”

“I said…” he gasped, struggling to speak as the prince returned his finger to him and caressed the bundle of sensitive nerves inside him, “I… I need to you fuck me… Highness.” His voice was beautifully unsteady and his eyes were screwed shut. His cock wept pre-come onto his hard abs, and he was squirming, desperate for more.

“You’re not quite ready yet,” Josslyn said, and this time he slid three fingers into the orc, stretching him, working him open until he was growling openly at him to fuck him.

Running his slick palm over his own cock and gasping at the sudden stimulation, Josslyn lined himself up and nudged into the ready heat. Already Tamas’ head lolled to one side. “Please?” he hissed, bucking weakly upwards, eyes opening a little as he half sat up in an attempt to guide Josslyn further inside him.

In one motion, Josslyn seated himself to the hilt inside Tam and the orc yelled with pleasure and immediately began to shake.

“Please, please, please,” he chanted until Joss began to move.

Slowly at first, he savoured the immense tightness of the orc around him, the heat, the shaking muscles desperate for release, but then he changed his angle slightly and Tamas let out another bellow of pleasure. Hitting him repeatedly in that sweet spot, the prince picked up his pace and lowered his head with the effort. His long hair fell forwards and started to stick to the sheen of sweat that had begun to form on Tam’s chest as he got more and more worked up.

The orc’s cock bounced between them, untouched and drooling as he clutched at the sheets beneath him and growled incoherently. “I’m…” he snarled. “Please!” Despite the pleasure of Joss’ cock repeatedly pounding into his prostate, it wasn’t quite enough.

“Are you going to come for me if I touch you?” Joss hissed, breathless and sweaty with exertion and pleasure.

“Yes!” he gasped.

“I’m close,” the prince admitted, the rhythm of his hips faltering.

“Don’t stop,” Tam demanded, but when Joss’ hand wrapped around Tamas’ cock and worked his shaft once, twice, he suddenly went rigid beneath him and spilled over his stomach with a barely stifled scream. His tusks bit deep into the back of his wrist as he fought to keep quiet as he clenched and twitched, and the combination of sound, sight, and sensation tipped the prince over the edge too. He came almost silently, a blinding heat ripping through him as he emptied himself into the half-orc.

Trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm, Josslyn fell forwards onto Tamas’ heaving chest and he whined as he landed on the mess of release smeared over his abs, but he was too tired and too blissed out to care just yet. Tamas’ heartbeat thundered in his ear as he laid his head on his chest and the orc lay there, lax and spent beneath him, breathing hard, eyes closed, one arm on Josslyn’s back, the other palm up and limp on the sheets beside him.

Eventually they grew chilly, and Joss disappeared to clean up in the adjacent bathroom. When he emerged, swathed in a rich black and gold, silk dressing gown, he found that Tamas had fallen asleep exactly where he’d left him, and the prince chuckled fondly. The half-orc was as large as most human warriors, with clearly defined muscles, but the green tone of his skin, the tusks - however small -, the heavy jaw and under-bite, and the tapering of his ears marked him as orcish as clearly as Josslyn’s crown announced his royal blood. The wiry slenderness to Tamas’ body, however, spoke of his elven lineage too. Always an outcast, never belonging, Tamas had nowhere to call home.

Leaning over him, Joss wiped the warm washcloth over the ridges of his abs and over his sharply-defined hips. With a jolt, Tamas woke and sat up and blinked at him for just a heartbeat before he laughed. “You shouldn’t be doing that for me,” he chided groggily, holding out his hand for the cloth.

The prince shook his head, his long hair in disarray.

“Gods, you look so beautiful like that,” Tamas hissed as he stared him up and down.

Josslyn blushed hard and threw the wash cloth at his chest, where it landed with a wet ‘flap’.

Things changed for them after that.

They kept the nature of their relationship a secret, and continued with life in the castle as best they could whilst maintaining their charade. They still held their discussions about orcish culture, though there wasn’t much more for Tamas to teach him by now, though the two had begun studying the language now too. Josslyn had been surprised to learn that it wasn’t the series of simplistic, guttural sounds that he’d always taken it for, and while his grasp of the vocabulary and grammar was solid, Tamas insisted that his accent was appalling.

“I promise not to speak it,” Josslyn murmured one evening as they sat in each other’s arms on the sofa in his private apartment in the castle.

Tamas ran his fingertip over the prince’s lips and whispered, “I wouldn’t want you to sully your beautiful mouth with the language of such brutes,” which earned him a smack on the chest and a playful kiss for his efforts at romance.

As high summer tipped towards autumn again and Tamas remarked that he’d been at the castle for nearly a year, the prince suggested that they go out hunting together. It was customary for there to be a royal hunt as the festival of Mabon approached, and the Royal Guard had just about come to terms with the fact that Tamas wasn’t going to assassinate their beloved prince if left unattended, so the pair of them mounted up amid the baying of hounds and the clatter of hooves on the flagstones of the upper bailey.

The king’s health was not strong enough for him to ride out, but he insisted on being hauled out in his wheeled throne to bless the hunters and wish them success because it was tradition.

The large party of nobles and courtiers and guards all rode out into the woods about a mile from the castle, and the whole thing soon became the usual chaos of bugles and barking, of horses stamping and men shouting.

Tamas guided his large mare expertly up to Josslyn’s side and murmured, “Is this what passes for a hunt amongst humans?”

The prince laughed, knowing it was the large silken tents and the army of servants standing in the field behind waiting to welcome then back to which he was referring. He shrugged. “A royal one, yes.”

“You want to get out of here?”

With a glint in his eye, the prince galloped away with his lover, following old game trails he knew well from adventures as a boy. The two of them soon left the chaos of the hunt well behind, and slowed their mounts to a trot and then an easy walk.

They headed north in companionable silence, enjoying the late summer light beneath the trees, but soon Joss began to notice that Tamas was tense. His horse skittered beneath him, shying at nothing, reacting to the tension and fear in her rider’s posture, snorting and sidestepping.

“Tam?” he asked, his heart rate picking up. “What is it?”

With his heavy jaw set and his eyes fixed on the path ahead, Tamas didn’t reply and Josslyn realised then just how far they had strayed.

“Tamas, we should go back,” he said with more confidence than he felt, reining his horse around. Everything felt wrong. His skin crawled and prickled, and Arrow danced nervously beneath him, the stallion snorting too.

The half-orc held his own mare in place and didn’t follow. He seemed to be warring with himself, his eyes darting back and forth. His chest heaved and his skin had gone deathly pale.

“Tam?” the prince insisted. “What -?”

“Go,” he finally hissed. “Ride. Gallop for home and don’t look back.”

“What?”

“GO!” he roared as the undergrowth erupted behind him and an orcish war horn sounded.

Terror flooded through the prince and he spurred his horse to a flat out gallop as arrows and bolts whistled around them. He heard a scream and a heavy crash from behind him and glanced back to see Tam’s mare go down, throwing him from the saddle.

“No!” he yelled, immediately wheeling Arrow round. The well-trained warhorse obeyed instantly, and as the prince leaned down out of his saddle like a child at a gymkhana, extending his hand to Tam who was sitting up, winded and with an arrow through his shoulder, Joss caught sight of the orcs barrelling towards them through the trees. “Take my hand!” he shouted.

“Go!” Tam gasped.

“I’m not leaving you.”

And with tremendous effort, the half-orc rose and swung himself onto Arrow’s back.

Slowed by the extra weight, the big stallion charged as best he could through the woods. It was a long, painful ride for Tamas, but by the time they erupted out into the meadow, the sounds of pursuit had faded and the orcs appeared to have given up for now. Evening lengthened the shadows as Tamas slumped against Josslyn’s back, breathing hard and holding tight with only one arm.

Once he was sure that they were alone, the prince slowed his sweat-foamed horse to a walk, letting him breathe and stretch out, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Slowly, in a voice laced with fear and trepidation, he asked, “Tamas, what was that?”

“An orcish outpost,” he said dully.

A horrible thought plunged through the prince’s mind and he forced himself to ask, “Did… Did you know it was there?”

Silence stretched between them before he felt Tamas nod. “Yes.”

“Why?” he gasped, fighting off tears as the world spun around him. “Was that the plan all along? You were going to betray me all along?”

Tam’s arm tightened briefly around the prince’s slim waist before it slackened a little and he pressed his cheek against the soft leather of his riding jerkin. His breath wheezed and rattled wetly as he answered, “I was the bait. I…” but before he could continue, a retinue of guards cantered over the nearest grassy rise towards them.

“My prince?” the captain called. “What… What happened?”

“Orc ambush,” the prince said, his tone hard as steel, miraculously revealing nothing of his emotions.

The captain snarled and signalled to his men. “Seize him,” he said, pointing at Tam. “Get him away from the prince.”

“No,” Josslyn said in that eerily calm voice. “No. He saved my life. Escort us to the palace. He needs medical treatment.”

Tamas had gone very still behind him, but the prince suspected that it wasn’t because he’d lost consciousness.

The events of the next few hours passed in a daze for the prince. The news of the attack on the crown prince weakened the king’s condition so severely that the physicians feared he was not long for this world, and Josslyn spent the next two hours at his father’s side, though he didn’t stir once. Still too numb and empty from the shock of Tamas’ actions to feel anything much for his father, he wandered the castle until he found himself in the infirmary.

Tamas was sleeping in a bed at the far end, his shoulder bandaged, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. No one was about, but there had been guards posted at the doors he noted.

Grabbing a chair and silently setting it down beside the bed, the prince stared at the person he’d thought was his friend. His lover. After all they’d shared, Tamas had just been… bait? He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

After perhaps five minutes, Tamas’ blue eyes fluttered open and he stared at Josslyn.

“Why?” The whispered question fell from the prince’s lips before he could stop himself. “Why didn’t you just stab me in my sleep while we lay together all those nights?” His fury mounted inside him and it was a miracle he kept it in check. “If you wanted me dead, why -” he faltered, choking up.

“I don’t,” Tam hissed back. “I mean… I did… That was why I was sent here, but I-”

“They sent you? So everything you told me about yourself was a lie? You manipulated me… Gods,” he said, lurching to his feet and turning away, fists clenched. “I was so stupid.”

The sheets rustled and Tamas sat up awkwardly, resting his back against the wooden headboard behind him as a wave of dizziness swept through him. He breathed hoarsely for a moment, the pain in his shoulder evident. “I was sent here,” he confirmed. “I was supposed to gather information on the castle and household, and then return. But when you took an interest in me… I couldn’t let that opportunity pass. I…” he paused, trying to catch his breath before going on. Josslyn stood there and glared at him. “I sent word of what had changed, and they told me to earn your trust and bring you to that outpost whenever I could.”

The prince’s vision swam and he bit the inside of his cheeks hard enough to taste the ferrous tang of blood. “Why didn't you go through with it then?” he finally whispered.

“Because… I…” Tamas’ blue eyes dropped to the sheets and he stared blankly at them. “Because I never imagined I’d fall in love with you.”

“No,” he snarled. “You don’t get to say something like that after what you did.”

“I know,” he said evenly. “But you asked me why I didn’t let them do it. I never should have led you away from the hunt, but once I had, I felt like there was no going back. My people were counting on me, but then I saw how afraid you were when… how… how what I had done would hurt you more than being taken by them, and…”

“‘Taken’…”

“They weren’t going to kill you,” Tamas said quietly. “They were going to hold you to ransom.”

“Then why the arrows?” he retorted bitterly as he recalled flashes of that dreadful flight through the trees. His eyes landed on the bandages. “They nearly killed you.”

“You didn’t hear what they were shouting after me. They’d kill me now, for sure. If you let me go, they’ll…”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” he growled, but somehow the words didn’t feel right, even as he spoke them aloud.

Tamas looked up at the prince with his eyes glistening. “May I ask you something?”

The prince made a non-committal shrug.

“Why did you your guards that I saved your life? Why am I not hanging from a gallows right now?”

“Because I loved you,” he said. “And because you did save my life. Admittedly, that was immediately after trying to get me killed…”

“‘Loved’?” Of course he’d fixated upon that word. That tense.

Josslyn’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes, head bowing. “Love,” he amended. “You hurt me, but… I think… as insane as it sounds, I think I understand why you did it.”

“What?”

“You remember when I told you that I’m a prince but I serve my people?”

Tamas nodded, looking stunned.

“You came here to do for your people what I would do for mine. It’s not my fault that we’re on opposite sides of a war, Tamas.”

Tamas let out the breath he’d been holding and said in a shaky voice, “Months ago, you said that you wanted to bring an end to this war, and you said that you wished you could talk with my people. You wished you could find a way to end it peacefully…”

“I still do,” he said, his hand gripping the back of the chair to keep himself upright. It was all too much to take in in one go.

Tam’s mind was clearly working well enough though. “Perhaps we can do it together?”

“How? The orcs will kill you on sight for betraying them like that.”

“I’ll find a way to explain it,” he said hopelessly.

“Alright, so I herald you as my saviour, the ‘orc with a conscience’… and then what? You think my father will merrily trot over there and ask to begin a peace conference? Don’t be absurd…”

Tamas laughed softly but cut off with a wince. “We would have to wait until you became king,” he said very quietly. “It would take time, but…” he looked up at him. “I hated humans before I met you. You made me fall in love with you despite everything I tried to tell myself. If anyone can win them round, it’s you.”

“You love me despite your better judgement? Is that it?” Josslyn laughed, feeling his chest lighten somehow. He sank down onto the bed beside Tamas and took up his hand, frowning at the way it trembled.

“I love you despite my former judgement,” he corrected. His eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. He was clearly fighting to stay awake. “There’s a difference. I know I’ve got a lot of work to do to rebuild your trust in me. I don’t know if you’ll ever trust me again, but… still I think we can make this work between our people…”

Josslyn smiled. “I saw the look on your face back there in the trees too,” he said. “You didn’t want to do it. I know regret when I see it, and the expression of fear I saw in you when they came for me was genuine. I understand.”

Tears tracked silently down Tamas’ face from his dark blue eyes.

“Rest,” Josslyn murmured, helping him to lie back down again and sweeping his hair back out of his eyes once he was supine again. “We’ll talk more when you’ve healed.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

The prince smiled softly and leaned down, pressing a kiss into his slackening lips. “I know. Now, get some sleep.”

“Yes, Highness,” he slurred with a smile and slipped into unconsciousness a moment later.

As Josslyn walked away from the infirmary he felt wrung out and weak-kneed, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel now. There was the potential to end the conflict that had ravaged his land for the best part of six years, and he was going to take it.

As if to confirm his new resolve, a low, mournful bell began to toll throughout the castle and his footsteps faltered, knowing it could only mean one thing.

In the morning, there would be a new king.

—

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[ghostlyb1tch]

Charlie Gillespie x Among Us

okay so this is isn’t a fan fic even thought the title makes it seem that way ahaha. this is actually just writing out the dream i had last night. but i suggest reading it, it’s honestly wicked cool. also title credits to @xplrreylo

warnings: mentions of death, death, fighting. weapons, and i think that’s it, also a little fluff but not much.

also sorry aboht the spacing of the story, since i wrote this in my notes and am copying it from there and  pasting it here the spacing is gonna get a little messed up. thanks for understand <3

it starts out with me at my aunt jill’s house. i was sitting on her sofa and then she starts telling the family something SUPER embarrassing about me. so before any of the family members can come confront me i grab my coat and sneakers and i run out of the house. it’s the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, in the middle of the woods. i was walking around when i found this bridge in front of a frozen lake so i sat on it. i should’ve been freezing but i just for some reason wasn’t cold. but i sat there for what felt like ages. when a mysterious black shadow approaches me. but instead of being scared i walked right up to it. it was a small blue car, and inside was my other aunt, kelsey. “what are you doing outside, get in!” she said and she opened the passenger door for me to hop in. we drove back to my house, and she began packing up her room. she was moving after all. it was (somehow) now probably beginning of summer. it was a nice temperature. not too hot, not cold, no wind, and no clouds.

i was walking around in my backyard when i came across a group of kids and they were playing a game. “hey! you should play too!” the girl with the brown hair suggested to me. they seemed seriously sus but i didn’t wanna be rude. so i accepted their offer. they then spun a bottle and it landed on this boy. he looked like he was about 25. was not wearing a shirt, and was EXTREMELY ripped. I was then handed a paper with different tasks on it. The brown haired girl spoke again, “the way the game works is you need to complete all those tasks without Max”(the boy without a shirt)”being able to find you, because if he does-“ Max interrupted only to say, “I’ll kill you.” I laughed assuming it was a joke. But my smile soon faded when Max pulled out a knife. i gulped and ran for my life. I could practically feel my heart beating out of my chest.”If you finish all your tasks and show us than you win and you live.” With that information I ran for my house, and when i was approaching the wide open door i noticed a tall boy with brown curly hair, he looked like he was waiting for something or someone. after a second of trying to see who he was i came to the realization that with the amount of adrenaline and momentum I had in my body, I wasn’t going to be able to stop. i yelled and tried to get him to move but it was too late. I ran through the door and immediately hit the floor with a bang. Well, I didn’t hit the floor. My fall was cushioned by the boy I had seen whilst I ran in. I sat there on top of him and I didn’t get up for a moment. I stared at him focusing on each feature of his face. He had hazel eyes and his nose was incredibly small. He had a freckle on his nose and a couple more near his jawline. His eyebrows were slightly bushy but were properly tamed and they shape was straight.After probably a minute of admiring him I had realized that I zoned out and was still just completely on top of him but I had also remembered that if I had tasks to do that if I was seen by Max i’d be killed. I quickly got up, helped up the boy, apologized and left. I looked back as I ran because i didn’t want to leave. His eyes met mine before i quickly turned my head and began on my first task. I ran up to the the rooftop balcony of my second highest floor of my house. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for up there but I guess I found it because the next thing I know i’m about to start looking for my last few tasks when my dad stopped by and gave me a pair of sunglasses. i wore them for a bit then put them in his car. he left and then came back and yelled at me because they were broken and then said i should take better care. i apologized and he left.

i was going to start completing the last 4 tasks when the boy i had practically tackled in my kitchen had came over to me and started speaking to me. “Hey! Remember me? I’m the one you tackled in your kitchen! ”

“Yea,Yea, Hi! I am so so sorry about that but i really really need to go.” I didn’t want to leave he sure was attractive but if I didn’t finish these last couple tasks i’d be done for.

“Well I’m Charlie, and where are you going? Maybe I can come?”

“Fun, I’m Dakota and that could be nice but I’m in some seriouslt dangerous stuff and I’d hate to get you involved.”

He fixated his eyes directly onto mine and said “First of all, I know who you are. Second of all, I’m coming. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“That sounded like a demand.” I said with a smirk. Not even questioning the fact that he knew who I was.

“That’s because it is.”

I honestly laughed. It was incredibly attractive the way he just said that and how else are you supposed to respond when people do attractive things.

“Okay then but if you die you can’t blame me.” I told him.

“Alright. My fault if i die.”

Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I thought as we began walking.

“So what exactly are we doing?”

“Oh yea. so basically we need to complete this list of tasks-“ i handed him the list. “and once we complete it we go to this group of people and we win. I already finished six of them so now we only have to complete four.” I explained.

“So how is it dangerous?” his eye brows furrowed with confusion.

“Well if we get caught by this guy, Max, while we’re competing these tasks he’s gonna try to kill us.”

He gulped. “okay then let’s finish these tasks.”

We finished the first 3 rather quickly. I mainly did the doing while he kept watch for Max. But the last task was rather difficult, I couldn’t compete it on my own so I asked Charlie to come help.

“Charlie, I need your help quick. I can’t lift this crate on my own.”

“coming.” He ran over and lifted the box so I could crawl underneath. My heart dropped as i heard a gunshot followed by a laugh. “CHARLIE!” i screamed.

“DAKOTA STAY WHERE YOU ARE DON’T COME OUT!” he sounded out of breath.

With a sudden bolt of adrenaline I pushed the box out of my way and crawled back to where I was before. I stood up with Charlie by my side and Max directly in front of me.

“Hey princess. I missed you.” the shirtless man before me said with a smile.

I began to open my mouth when i heard Charlie “princess?” He was interrupted by Max then saying “Look you’ve found you’re self a little boyfriend. Tragic that he’s gonna have to die too.” He then lifted his arm to throw his knife at Charlie when I lunged forward and attacked him. I grabbed his gun from his belt. I went to throw it to Charlie when I felt a sharp heavy object slice across my left cheekbone, which was followed by a hard uppercut leaving my lip and nose bleeding. Along with the blood still dripping from my cheek.I let out a loud cry and dropped the gun only a few feet from me. Charlie finished the last task snd ran over, ripped me away from Max and began fighting him with his fists. He got in a good couple licks but Max did better. Punched Charlie directly in his nose leaving it dripping with blood along with his lip. As I watch the fight go down I notice the black gun I had earlier dropped. I picked it up and fired. Both guys flew back in opposite directions. I wasn’t sure who I had hit. But when I looked to my right and saw blood trailing down the stomach of the shirtless man. I knew there was only one thing left to worry about, Charlie. I slid the gun into my belt and ran over to Charlie.

“Charlie. I am so so so sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have involved you I am so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and he grabbed my waist and held me close. “I’m okay. i’ve been in a fight before.” He let go of me and stood up. He grabbed the object we’d acquired from our final task. “now let’s go end this thing.” We ran to the middle of the backyard, covered head to to with bruises, dried blood, and honestly still some dripped blood. When the group of people I had scene before came out. “Great job. You win, and I’m pretty sure you killed Max.” the brunette from earlier stated.

“He was going to kill us there was no other choice!” I responded letting my temper take the best of me.

She laughed. “Well that’s the point. But nice playing with you!” she, and the rest of the group then disappeared into the woods. Charlie and I looked at each other. But no words came out. He cupped my cheeks into his hands and laid a passionate kiss on my lips. After what felt like ages he pulled away and rubbed his thumb over the cut from Max’s knife that stretched across my cheekbone. I wined. “Let’s get that fixed up.” he smiled.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Blood-3

Pairing: Brasa/Female OC

Words: ~2,000

Warnings: None

Part One

Part Two

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven Part Twelve

The bed was glorious.  Soft sheets, soft mattress, soft pillows.  Lilah stretched long, arms above her head and toes pointed. It burned in her muscles, pleasing and warm.  When she relaxed, she noted the very low light.  Had she slept with the lights on again?  She wouldn’t put it past her. Turning over, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled so, so good.  Like coffee and liquid caramel. She pressed her nose into it and groaned, burying deep.

When she was young and working her first job, she was accidentally gifted a man’s cologne at a dirty Santa party.  She’d liked it so much that she’d sprayed it over her bed sheets so that she could roll around in it. At that time, it was the closest human connection she could get.  A short time later, she’d taken more controversial work.  This smelled so much better.  She wanted to add it to her bath so that she could smell it on her skin for the rest of the day.  She wanted to pull the pillowcase in her mouth and taste it.

Body lax and pliable, it took far too long for her realize there were fingers running down the length of her spine, from neck to hips and back. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, continuously moving. Eyebrows coming together, she peeked outward to a form blocking what little light was in the room.  

“Who are you?” She grumbled, feeling cranky. Lilah was too comfortable to muster up much more than that, certainly to comfy to feel fear.

His breath fanned across her shoulder, “Someone who has waited a long time to meet you.”

“That,” she replied, as she buried her face further into the pillow, “Doesn’t answer my question.”

He leaned over and pressed his mouth to the place where her scapula met her spine, “No, it doesn’t.  But, it is true.”

Lilah frowned, though he couldn’t possibly see her face well enough to appreciate it, “Why are you following me?”

He tilted his head to the side and fixed her with a look that told her that her question was absurd, “It can’t be helped.”

It wasn’t until she started to flip over to face him fully that she realized she was naked under the silky slick of the sheets.  Embarrassed, she bunched it against her chest as she tried to slide away.  His expression turned disgruntled and he reached over to hold her by the forearm.  The grip was firm, stopping her with little more than the pressure of his fingertips.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

He repeated the question, this time slower, lower.  The timbre of his voice was laced with an undercurrent of something that vibrated over her skin.   She just barely managed to suppress a full body shiver.

She swallowed and looked around, “No idea.”

The room was unfamiliar to her, and too dark to give her any clues.  She couldn’t see beyond the obscenely comfortable bed and the man who lay within it.

With noticeable frustration, he rolled his eyes and lifted to rest his weight on the palm of his hand, looming over her.  Lilah had to force herself to keep her eyes on his face and not the flex of muscle over his chest and arms. His body completed blocked the light and most of his face was in shadow, but she could see the faint outline of his mouth, pressed thin in displeasure.  Lilah didn’t know what to do with the urge to catch the pouting lower lip with her teeth.

“Outside of here.  Where are you?”

She blinked, “A hotel.”

“Where?”

Things started to go fuzzy and she felt her body sink and fall.  She jerked away, the sheets tangled in her legs and the comforter kicked to the floor.  She was sweating. Taking deep breaths, she tried to steady her galloping heart.  

With a grunt, she pushed from the bed and made her way to the bathroom.  This hotel was lower rent than the last few she’d stayed at.  The bathroom barely had running water, let alone a working water heater.  She turned on the lights and twisted her body around to look at the damage.

The job had gone a little sideways and she’d gotten scraped up a bit.  Carefully, she pulled the bandage away from her skin.  It was healing really nicely.  She removed it and tossed it in the garbage can sitting below the sink.  

After showering, she dressed and checked out.  The car was already unbearably hot when she slid into the driver’s seat.  To combat the arid air, she rolled all four windows down about two inches and pulled out of the lot.  She had about four hours to make it to the next location and get set up. There would be no on-site work today, for which she was grateful. Just her, a computer, and the voices of the team filtering into her headphones.

The drive was short and she made it with plenty of time.  She entered the empty building and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.  Hauling her equipment up that many flights taxed her, despite the cardio she made sure to do several times a week.  It didn’t matter how many miles she ran, stairs were a fucking nuisance.

She set up and logged on.

“McNamara online.”

A round of call signs sounded in her ears.

“Cool.  Are we in place?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.  This is a smash and grab, guys.  Get the artifact, get the fuck out.  Don’t go off-script and we’ll be through this in less than an hour.”

“Copy.”

From her vantage point, she coordinated security feeds and worked to cut alarms and then reset them as the team moved through the museum across the street.  The objective was simple: A staff of some importance to a tribe in Mexico was on display.  Steal the staff, deliver to the buyer.

True to her word, the team had exited the museum in less than an hour, no alarms set off, no police on site.  She closed her computer and pulled the ear buds from her ears, wrapping the wire around her hot spot and shoving them in her bag.  

With as little ceremony as possible, she exited the building and got in her car.  The team would be waiting for her at a designated location where she would take the staff, pay them, and haul ass to her handler.

Everything went as planned, and Lilah had the staff in hand as she headed for the rental.  She looked at it, a long length of wood topped with a crudely carved snake. Turning it her hands, she wondered what its significance was and why someone would pay a total of half a million to get it out of the collection of the museum.

After folding it into roll of fabric for protection, Lilah slid it into the back seat of the car and closed the door.  She turned and ran her gaze over the parking lot, seeing no one, and opened the driver’s side door.  The engine turned over and she pulled out with little incident.  

Her body drove on automatic, her mind taking the time to parse the details of yet another dream.  What kept coming back to her was the heat from his hand as it held her still.  She could still feel it, if she focused on the skin of her arm.  It was unnatural, feverish.  

Her fingers twisted around the steering wheel.  She was stressed.  She was tired.  She would finish this job and take some time off.  Go up north and stay in a cabin until her brain worked out whatever this shit was. Jaw set, she nodded to herself, having made her decision.

Her handler’s name was Javier and she saw him a couple times a year.  Most of their communication was either over the phone or through a secure email server.  She liked him.  He was extremely professional and always paid up.  Any deal they made was written in stone, and he seemed to value what she brought to the team.  Well, team was, perhaps, too generous a word. Lilah rarely worked with the same people twice—her deal with Chewie notwithstanding. It kept people from getting too comfortable, and kept the inevitable vendettas from getting too out of hand.

One of his favorite places to meet her was at the base of a mountain in the desert.  With the sun setting, it had turned a bit cold and she threw on a hoodie before grabbing the staff out of the back and heading for a large, flat rock formation.  The air was dry, and her shoes crunched on the ground as she walked across it.

Reflexively, she checked her watch.  She was early.  Leaning the staff against the rock, she hopped up and let her legs dangle over the side.  Far outside the city, the light pollution was low enough that she could clearly see thousands of stars.  The moon was just rising over the horizon, a sliver of a crescent that cast a blue glow over the landscape.  

From far away, she could see the headlights heading towards her.  As she watched them grow bigger and brighter, she slipped her hand to the pistol in her waistband and waited until the car pulled up next to hers and Javier stepped out. He left his headlights on, but turned off the engine.  She let go of the gun and relaxed, resting her forearms on her knees.

Javier was short, clearing about five foot—barely.  He was also well dressed.  Crisp, three piece suits were his sartorial bread and butter.  Tonight’s color was a deep burgundy, pink shirt, and black tie.  Lilah thought he looked very smart.  

“Looking good, Javier,” she called out, giving a little wave.

He stopped and gave a curt bow, “Thank you.  You look as if you haven’t slept.”

“Gee, thank you,” she snorted, crossing one leg over the other, “And, here, I brought you what you asked for.”

Javier’s eyes glance at the staff and he approached it with something resembling reverence.  With careful hands, he unrolled it from the fabric and held it aloft for inspection.  Lilah didn’t think he was even breathing.

“What is it?” she asked lowly, afraid to break whatever spell seemed to hold him captive.

Javier’s dark eyes looked up at her, “A relic, used in blood rituals for hundreds of years.”

“Ew,” Lilah murmured, picking lint from her pants..

He chuckled a little, “I don’t expect you to understand.  But, a long time ago, when my people were young, they sacrificed one of their own to the gods to guarantee their favor.”

She shrugged, having heard the legends off hand here and there, “What does the staff have to do with it?”

Javier held up the bottom end, “If someone was discovered to have betrayed the group, they were executed.  The sharp end was shoved into their chest. True death.”

A shudder went through her, “Isn’t that a bit…” She trailed off.

“Barbaric?” He prompted with a smile as he rolled the staff into the fabric once more.

“Uh, yeah.”

Javier shrugged, “Only the greatest betrayal could warrant it. Its still done, even in modern society.”

She thought about it, “Good point.”

Tucking the staff beneath one arm, Javier changed the subject, “I have another job for you.”

Lilah was already shaking her head, “I can’t.  I need a break.”

“Its easy.  Just a visit to some old friends to pick up a package.”

She sighed and dropped her chin into her palm, “I need a break.”

Javier’s expression was soft, assuring, “After this, you take as much time as you need.  And when you come back, I want to bring you up a level.”

Blinking, Lilah leaned back and studied her handler.  She’d been working at this level for at least two years, and she had no ambition to move up in the hierarchy. She’d never once voiced the want to do more than what she was doing.  And yet, here the opportunity was.  Run the job.  Get the promotion.

Javier waited patiently while she decided, though she doubted he had any thought that she’d turn it down.  She’d never been the least bit shy about him knowing that she could be motivated by money.  A steady pay check was security, a home she could buy when she wanted to retire, protection from the enemies she’d made when she was a younger, brasher, woman.

“Where is this job?”

[doritopaw101]

Arc1, book 1: Chapter 11

It had been a moon since the camp had been attacked, and the two attacks from River Colony and Shadow Colony and things have been...tense, that was putting it mildly.

After the attack from River Colony, Bluestar made Gingerpaw and Nettlepaw warriors being named: Gingertuft and Nettlemist.

Any patrols that were near the Thunderpath were taunted and hissed at by both sides. It wasn't any better with River Colony. Cats defended Blackclaw saying he was defending territory and it was an accident but other cats from River Colony and Thunder Colony called bullshit or fox-dung in colony terms. Rosetail had to be held back by Patchpelt and Fuzzypelt so she didn't murder Blackclaw then and there. The River made it worse when he mocked her and her family openly.

Storm-moon said he would take care of it though that didn't seem to do much River Colony seemed eager to fight cause there had been 3 more fights but without deaths thank the stars.

Blackclaw had been sentenced into a temporary exile and had to hunt for Sweetheart's family for the next moon. Rosetail made him bring every last bit of that prey for her, Seedpaw, Cherrypaw, Chestnutpaw, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, Mossthorn, Burrclaw, Aspenbreeze, Honeypaw, Branchpaw, Dotpaw, Leopardstorm, and Nettlemist.

Shadow Colony has been quiet since their last attack, it didn't feel right.

After one more session, he helped Swanlight back to River Colony to her kits with being guarded by Mossthorn, he didn't know when their next session will be with this current situation but it will definitely be on neutral ground.

Icepaw had continued to spend his time in the nursery for this past half-moon. It was calming to him and the queens were grateful from him being there as well as Nettlemist and Embereyes who had been helping as well. The kits adored him and the queens were humored by him. Even more so when Rosetail joined them after long kitting of Lionheart and Fuzzypelt's kits: Thorn, Vole, Adder, Doe, and Dark and the promise of more when Miststrike had announced she was expecting.

Icepaw and Nettlemist had been helping the queens stretch their legs but even that couldn't be so simple. The royalty refused to go near River Colony territory after what happened to Sweetheart which is very understandable, it resulted in Icepaw and Nettlemist to bring soaked moss for them to drink.

Seedpaw while an apprentice seemed to imprint onto Nettlemist since her first word was papa making the tom cry of sadness and joy. Sweetheart had even encouraged it and Seedpaw needed any support at the moment.

It wasn't even the outside conflict that worried Icepaw, it was the chaos inside the clan as well. From just hanging around local gossip keeper Cherrypaw to just getting involved himself, it was obvious as day that cats were getting fed up with playing the waiting game.

Cats like Robinwing and Nightshade wanted bloodshed and didn't want to sit around like mice. Others like Nettlemist and Lionheart wanted to just distance and patrol the borders. The apprentice den was just as divided and Icepaw wanted no part of it when he had to make sure Sandpaw and Gingerpaw didn't kill each other.

He wanted to be somewhere less violent, the nursery.

He'd wanted to visit since Redtail's birth which he and Thymepaw helped deliver a half moon ago.

"Here's the borage for you Redtail"

"Thanks Icepaw" the tortie tom mewed "I'll need it with these two" two kits were obviously Leopardstorm's kits. One molly was a near copy of Leopardstorm, the tom was mostly white with some black and ginger markings and the last molly was more on the tortie side but it was clear Leopardstorm sired this kit.

"Birchstep is cool with this?" he asked

"Yes, we are an poly relationship as I'm learning it's called thanks to Bluestar. It's more or less closed from his and Brindleface's end, they were fine with each other and me.

"Are you cool with this?"

"I love them all and Leopardstorm and it's not like Leopardstorm doesn't have half the clan wrapped around his paw"

He wasn't wrong with that. The tom was quite popular in the clan from what he gathered.

Icepaw chuckled "I thought that was Spottedleaf since she had his kits too and I meant about having kits"

"Sandpaw was born through a surrogate process of me, Birchstep, and Spottedleaf. These kits weren't planned" he looked down at the bundles of fur "but I'm glad I have them and that's it's over with" he glanced back "Why? you thinking of having kits one day?"

"I doubt anyone in this clan wants to have kits with a pet or filthy rouge like me" 'they can't even pick between that' "I'm also not to sure if I want to go through the whole 'pregnant' thing"

"Understandable" Redtail mewed "Would you like to name one?"

Icepaw was slightly taken aback "Really? What about Birchstep, Leopardstorm, or Brindleface or fuck even Thymepaw or Sandpaw"

"It's my choice and I didn't forget how you helped my kitting until Thymepaw showed up, Spottedleaf said you did a great job as well as a nursery helper. I've waited enough time to name them as is tradition of a half-moon"

Icepaw chuckled "Thanks" he gazed down at the kits "The little Leopardstorm copy can be Light"

"The tom will be Pounce and this little one will be Amber after my mother Ambershine"

"What happened? if you don't mind me asking"

"The wolf attack" Redtail mewed grimly

"We talking bout wolf?" Frostbite asked to which Redtail nodded

"I'm surprised wolves live in this forest"

"Well something needs to kill the deer that live here" Redtail mewed "They came the night of the gathering, no healers stayed behind but that wasn't why they knew to come then"

"What?"

"One of our own warriors lead them to the camp"

Icepaw was taken aback "Why?"

Frostbite scoffed "To kill the weak, we lost many that night. Lightpaw, Rockfall, Ambershine, Torndust, Lighthawk, Sparrowpaw, Hollypelt, and Grasspaw"

"All of those cats, who was the warrior?"

"Dewflare, a rouge brought in the clan along side Robinwing" Redtail replied "She left behind death, her mate and her son Gingertuft. She was sentenced to death but escaped and we don't know where she is but she knows she isn't welcomed here"

Icepaw's eyes widen "No wonder they don't like me"

Frostbite licked his head "No they don't, just worried"

/

"Are we out of burdock root?" Spottedleaf asked, wrapping up the last of the poppy seeds. Flower and Deer were curled up asleep in a bed of moss close to their mother.

"You have five left" he replied "Unless you guys run out of marigold I think you'll be fine"

"Is is organized right?" Thymepaw asked as she padded in, carrying lavender and ragweed in her mouth

"As best it can be" Featherwhisker mewed "Though I'm sure you'll find something wrong and fix it"

Thymepaw huffed and set her herbs on the ground "Very funny" she padded over and looked around the store that Icepaw had just finished sorting "It's fine but-"

"Go crazy Thyme" Icepaw chuckled "We all know you'll do it"

Thymepaw began her sorting process, organizing at the color and types. Icepaw was chuckled as he watched her.

"Let's hope this marigold lasts" Featherwhisker muttered, his eyes dull "Shadow Colony seems to eager for something" the gray tom was barely with it since Thrushpelt's death and who could blame him honestly.

"Let's just hope we'll have enough to last, I know Palecloud has a store but I'm not going over there and risk my pelt" Spottedleaf added

"What about River Colony?" Thymepaw asked "We are seers after all and I know Mudfur has some to spare"

"I don't think some Rivers want a Thunder in their camp at the moment Thymepaw" Icepaw mewed "Tensions are high since Brokenmoon's demands"

"You're right about that, I'll see at the half-moon meeting if Mudfur could spare but that's all I'm doing" Spottedleaf stated "I'm not dying so some Rivers can fill their new blood lust, my kits need me"

"Damn right" Icepaw heard Nightshade hiss as she padded in "Rivers will fight over anything to make up for their coward of a leader"

Nightshade rolled her eyes "Icepaw come"

"Where're we going?" Icepaw asked "Where's Tiger-roar?"

"He's coming with us" Nightshade mewed "Sunningrocks, we are taking it back"

"Who's going?" Icepaw asked

"Me, you, along with Robinwing, Larkpaw, Darkstripe, Mossthorn, Palepaw, Ravenpaw, and Dappletail" Nightshade replied

"Bluestar gave the okay?" Icepaw asked

Nightshade flicked her tail "Just come on" she ordered. Icepaw had a bad feeling from the way she ignored his question.

"Better ready the marigold" Featherwhisker sighed as he left

"Bloodshed is near" a voice whispered. It was a gray speckled tom, he told him his name was Goosefeather. This tom had been following him around for a while but he didn't really see him because of his vision. Goosefeather stated simply "You're stuck with me now little fire"

They had got to Sunningrocks very quickly and it didn't take too long for River Colony to arrive when they had finished marking the rocks.

The River patrol was lead by Suneyes. Icepaw knew from experience from the last time that a fight would happen. "What is this?" she hissed

"Sunningrocks is ours" Darkstripe hissed, his tail bushing up

"Stand down now or fight" Nightshade stated, her tone calm and cold. The patrol by her side with the threat.

Suneyes laughed "Like what happened last time, Petalstream isn't here to save you now" The fur on Suneyes's spine rose "River Colony attack!"

Icepaw rushed forward, he collided with Otterpaw. He sliced through the heavy apprentice's shoulder, spitting in fury. Otterpaw hissed and bit into his leg. Icepaw swiped with his free paw and clawed the right side of Otterpaw's face. Otterpaw yowled and looked ready to rip him apart but Mossthorn grabbed him roughly dragging him away and tossing him to the side.

"Don't worry Palepaw's got him" they yowled and on cue the younger apprentice collied with Otterpaw and easily winning

Icepaw helped Larkpaw fend off Mudbelly, Larkpaw earning gaining a bad leg wound in the process. Icepaw turned his head and Leopardclaw go for Ravenpaw's throat. Icepaw and Larkpaw shared the same thoughts and rushed to defend Ravenpaw. Larkpaw jumped onto Leopardclaw's back and Icepaw pushed Ravenpaw out of the way which caused him to take Leopardclaw's blow to the chest. He wondered if it would scar but by the amount of blood that started pooling it probably would.

"River Colony retreat!" he heard Voleclaw yowl

"What!" Suneyes hissed, her face bore a large claw mark over it, Nightshade was pinned under her so Icepaw didn't have to guess who did it.

"I said retreat, look what's happened" he pointed with his paw

Icepaw saw the bodies of Beetlestrike and Dappletail, he almost included Palepaw but saw she was still breathing and struggling to stand.

Beetlestrike's throat had been slit open. He saw Darkstripe and Robinwing standing over Beetlestrike while no one was close to Dappletail.

It became a blur soon after that then the world became black.

/

Ravenpaw didn't even know why he was here, why he was letting this happen.

He had just battled River Colony, gaining scars as a result: one on his left shoulder and one behind his ear. Though he was better off than the others, Palepaw nearly lost too much blood and almost died on the way back to camp and Icepaw was unconscious at the moment, due to blood loss as well. Bluestar was furious beyond believe when she found out what happened.

He thought Robinwing didn't want much to do with him if at all but she still expected him to come here.

There was still a part of him who wanted to make her proud of him, make her call him her son.

Though he recently found out Robinwing was expecting her second litter. He figured who sired them, Patchpelt or Smallwhisker.

Ever since he was 3 moons old Robinwing would take them out and trained them til morning. Fuzzypelt nor Rosetail never knew this and still doesn't.

He clawed Chestnutpaw across the face. It shocked him and Robinwing. The brown and ginger molly had a very harsh wound where it started from her neck to her mid chest, it didn't kill her sadly.

Frostbite was off to the side, her eyes showed nothing but coldness.

Why Fogtail bothered to show up he did not know. With how him and Robinwing act, it seemed like he didn't want to be around her. He's closer to Bluestar than her and Bluestar likes to keep most cats at a paw's length.

Fogtail grabbed Chestnutpaw and flung him to the side. Ravenpaw felt Dustpaw slash his claws into his flank and Cherrypaw went for his front legs. He blocked her blow and bit into her scruff, shaking her while trying to get Dustpaw off. He managed to do so, both cats backing away as Robinwing raised her tail for silence. They all lined up and Robinwing walked in a line.

"Chestnutpaw, what have I told you? Your body mass can't always help you if you go in with a strategy, Fogtail stop hanging around and go for the proper kill or serious wound, Cherrypaw you too, stop dodging and go for the face, Dustpaw good job with the flank slice but you need to do both sides and try going for the spine or tail" she stated coldly.

Chestnutpaw scoffed as he licked the blood dripping down his face, Fogtail huffed, Dustpaw was silent and Cherrypaw only hummed while glancing at her claws.

"At least Bluestar didn't make a mistake in your mentors" She stopped at Ravenpaw "My my never thought my runt would have the balls but I guess even the weakest of cats can be useful" she sneered

Ravenpaw flicked his tail "Don't underestimate anyone"

Robinwing laughed, claws unsheathed "We'll see about that runt, my turn"

/

Icepaw woke up around sunhigh, his chest aching as he moved. He helped Thymepaw sorted herbs in the meantime of his recovery. There was so much more to herbs than he realized.

"Marigold up here right?"

"Yeah, not to close to the catmint though" Thymepaw replied, sorting some comfrey and coltsfoot with her tail "Don't need cats high from their wounds, Spottedleaf told about the last cat that happened to and we don't need a repeat of that"

"Who was the cat?"

"Bluestar or Blueflame at the time, from what Spottedleaf told me she spent the day laughing at the clouds" Thymepaw chuckled "She has since forbid anyone from mentioning it"

Icepaw snorted and winced in pain, the wound on his chest was sure to make his life 'fun'.

"Icepaw?" Ravenpaw mewed

Icepaw turned his head to see Ravenpaw at the entrance, looking sheepish.

"Hey Ra-" he was cut off when Ravenpaw rushed and nuzzled under his neck. He was still for a few moments before be curled his tail over the black tom's back.

"Can we cuddle?" Ravenpaw asked

"Um...?" he glanced at Thymepaw who waved him off

"Take him" Thymepaw said through alder bark as she tried to tie it

They went over to a shaded part of camp and settled there. Curling up against each other, purring softly.

"Well I was close to death" Icepaw mewed, closing his eyes because why bother when his vision acts up.

"As was I" Ravenpaw replied "Won't be the last"

Icepaw curled his tail around Ravenpaw. "Life eh" Icepaw mewed to him softly. Icepaw caught the scent of Bluestar and heard her padding over to them.

"Oh hello Bluestar" he mewed respectfully

"Greetings Icepaw, How are you?" the leader mewed

"I'm doing fine, these one is just shaken up"

"Make sure he rests" Bluestar advised "I'd like to speak to you"

Icepaw nodded, licking Ravenpaw's head fluff.

"Also" Icepaw snapped back to reality to gaze at Bluestar "Tomorrow Me, you, Leopardstorm, Tiger-roar, Graypaw and Ravenpaw will travel to the moonstone to share tongues with Star Colony, grab something to eat then meet me in my den" the molly padded away, her expression unreadable as she left.

[inazumine]

Sameness in Difference: EnKi Things

Okay, so like, hear me out for a second.

There’s one pairing in Inazuma Eleven that I think codifies the “enemy turned rival turned friend” dynamic, and was the first in the series to do so. From the start, these two have been defined by their similarities despite coming from vastly different worlds, and are equals that understand each other in a way no one else quite does, and grow to support each other on every front. That pairing, is EnKi (Endou x Kidou)

(WARNING: Another long ass post, even longer than the first one and straight trash.)

To begin an analysis of EnKi worth its salt, I feel as though we have to first understand who Kidou is, and the context through which he operates in the beginning of the series before the Teikoku v. Raimon match, then compare it to who Kidou becomes by the end of the series. Endou fundamentally changes Kidou’s world view and helps him reconcile the divide between his role as a soccer player and his feelings as a person.

Kidou begins the series as “Teikoku’s Commander” and “Kageyama’s Protégé”, our first taste of the level of soccer that Inazuma puts on full display, and a demonstration of the level of cruelty that can come out of the sport. Kidou only explicitly says it far later in season 3, but as viewers we see that his origin as a soccer player, at least through his eyes, begins with Kageyama and his teachings, and that’s something he struggles to separate himself from as the series continues. Kidou and Kageyama both see Kidou as someone who stands above others, with other weaker schools and even his Teikoku teammates on a level below him to be subjugated. Until a certain point, that worldview was never called in to question. That is, until the first game with Raimon.

God Hand shocked everyone on the field and in the audience, but it was Endou’s determination that broke expectations, and that’s what Kidou latched on to in his interest. It’s Endou’s tenacity and simple mindedness that breaks Kidou’s calculated expectations. Just the way Endou interacts with Kidou, with pure enthusiasm as an equal without formalities and without restraint, is why Kidou’s barriers start to come down and he starts calling the role of ”Kageyama’s Protégé” in to question: Rather than the Commander’s soccer, what is Kidou Yuuto’s soccer? Kidou is constantly in Kageyama’s shadow, and it’s Endou that starts to pull him out of it.

Initially, Kidou and Endou looked like completely opposite sides of the spectrum, but once Kidou starts to shed some of Kageyama’s influence, he returns to Kidou Yuuto’s values. Like Endou, Kidou loves to be challenged and he wants to play soccer giving everything he has on an equal playing field, because soccer is now again something fun, and not just something to win and dominate. And Endou knows this, he knows that despite how Kidou initially seemed, that Kidou is more than Kageyama’s copy and has his own way of doing things. Outside of Teikoku, Endou is the first person to truly trust in Kidou for what he is past “Teikoku’s Commander” and “Kageyama’s Protégé”.

After Teikoku’s defeat, Kidou seems to develop a strong amount of trust in Endou as a rival, and then as a friend. Kidou seems to continuously marvel at how Endou is able to answer to Kidou’s worldview with his simplicity, and after a while it’s something he’s able to confide in.

(Okay sidebar gonna talk about episode 17 now it’s liKE MY FAVORITE ONE IN THE WHOLE SHOW)

In episode 17, Kidou really puts on full display how much Endou affects him. I don’t know how many people have actually visited Kidou’s home, something’s telling me not many if any, and it’s telling that Kidou invites Endou on the spot without even having known him for what at that point must’ve been a few weeks maybe? He also divulges his family situation, which he says he explicitly hasn’t told anyone before. When Endou says that Kidou and he are the same, it’s a big moment because until that point Kidou had acknowledged that distance between himself and others, and had started to envy Endou and his soccer where there is no concept of it, just pure hearted feelings for the fun of the game. It brings Kidou to a point where he can start to engage with the world differently, and as he says later, begin looking for the soccer that fit him over the one Kageyama prescribed all this time. Endou continuously ignores the distance that Kidou seems to have put between himself, his soccer, and other people, and strips him of anything that isn’t explicitly Kidou Yuuto.  

Gouenji goes on to tell Kidou that he’s only ever looked at Endou from the front, which means as an enemy but also has the implied meaning of “at a distance”, and asks him to let Endou look after his back. Letting him look after his back means so much, because it means not just joining the team, but Kidou learning to let his walls down and be looked after. You can clearly see Teikoku is supportive and works together as a well-oiled unit, but at Raimon there’s an emphasis on covering for each other’s weaknesses, and it’s Kidou admitting to himself that he has weaknesses that’s a big step in learning how to play alongside others, and not just in front of them. Endou is a captain but he’s also a friend, and that’s what Kidou needs.

(LMAO Gouenji stop trying to be cool)

Fast forward a bit to season 2 where Endou and Raimon are up against a threat they can’t even conceive of. They’re getting battered and beat up left and right, teammates are starting to break down and leave, and Endou is beginning to grow weary and question himself and his decisions. Yet still, there’s one person who continues to hold fast and completely trust in him and his world view, who stays until the end and beyond and never once stops supporting Endou and his vision, and it’s not even Endou himself, it’s Kidou.

Throughout season 2, we see Kidou continue to change in this same way, where he stops distancing himself from others and grows closer to Endou and Raimon as a whole. There’s more moments of Kidou goofing off with everyone, loosening up and being dorky, and just smiling and acting like, y’know he’s 14 and not 30. Here more than ever is where Kidou and Endou truly seem like close friends and equals, when Endou starts getting down on himself and can’t really find anyone else to talk to, especially about Gouenji’s departure.

I really wish we saw more of Kidou and Teikoku interacting, especially him and Sakuma/Genda so I could have a little more to go off when trying to analyze how Kidou is with them vs how Kidou is with Raimon, but for now I can say I think it’s because it’s Endou that Kidou doesn’t have to posture or act like a commander, and this is even supported by Sakuma during the training for Death Zone 2: “You’re more yourself at Raimon.”

(He’s looking at Endou oh god WHAT A SOFT SMILE)

Speaking of Teikoku, we all remember the nightmare that was Shin Teikoku in season 2. At this point in the series, Kidou’s been removed from Kageyama and is given space to breathe, but it hasn’t even been close to long enough for the trauma to subside, which is why seeing Fudou, Sakuma, and Genda like this is such a big hit to his psyche.

Kageyama seeks control, and his obsession with Kidou leads him to hurting his friends as collateral damage, because people like Sakuma and Genda are expendable if it means getting Kidou to realize where he belongs. This is straight up emotional abuse and midst Kidou trying to fight against Kageyama’s grip, he in turn loses control of himself and is caught between trying to protect his friends from destroying their futures, win the game for Raimon’s sake, and beat Kageyama for his own sanity to reaffirm why he walked away in the first place. Alas, things don’t end cleanly, and Kidou is forced to push it all aside for the sake of beating Aliea… until season 3.

Season 3 is truly a test of Kidou’s and Endou’s mental strength, and moving forward to be better leaders for Inazuma Japan, and this is where we really see how parallel Endou and Kidou’s stories become. Endou has to deal with growing out of his his grandfather’s shadow, and Kidou has to deal with growing out of Kageyama’s shadow, seeing if Endou Daisuke’s grandson and Kageyama’s protégé live up to and can progress past their legacies.

Kidou thinks Kageyama is well and gone by this point, and even still just the thought of Fudou being a national team member sends Kidou back in to questioning if he’ll ever really be free of Kageyama and all the progress he’d thought he’d made in spite of his origins as Kageyama’s protégé. It only gets worse as we see that Kageyama is still alive and influencing the events of the FFI to get rid of Inazuma Japan and control soccer for good. Kidou plunges back right in to Kageyama’s clutches and goes forward futilely struggling against him with no direction, forgetting about how much of himself he’s become since he broke away from Kageyama all those months ago.

For Endou, if his reason was to take down Kageyama for his grandfather’s suffering, it would be understandable, but it isn’t. He knows how Kidou is struggling and what Kageyama does to him, and he wants to be there for him more than anything else. Endou moved past Kageyama’s hold over him way back in season 1, and whereas Endou is able to move on and focus on playing his soccer that lies ahead, Kidou is stuck in his past. It takes a kick in the face (metaphorically) from Fudou for Kidou to realize this, and it’s none other than Endou who’s literally next to him for Kidou to finally get the push he needs to reject Kageyama’s influence over him for good. It’s Endou’s influence that has pushed Kidou forward all this time, and he wants to keep going that way, with Endou and Inazuma Japan right next to him helping him walk his own path. Endou helps pull Kidou away from his past and focus on the present, what he can do for now over contemplating what he couldn’t do because of yesterday.

As always, I have to state that this isn’t a one-sided ship. Like I said earlier, Kidou is the first and longest-lasting rival (in terms of episodes anyway) that Endou has in the series, and Endou returns that trust and confidence in Kidou almost immediately and ten times over. Endou sees Kidou as a close friend that has stayed beside him since the beginning, and is beyond grateful for his support in leading Raimon and Inazuma Japan, especially in season 3. He may not be able to wax poetic like Kidou can, but there have been more than enough occasions where Endou has gone starry-eyed over how cool Kidou is, or explodes at the thought that Kidou is anything less than amazing.

(I’M NOT CRYING, YOU ARE)

As captains Endou and Kidou share a bond that not many in the series can lay claim to, and they understand each other in so many ways even though they have almost completely opposite personalities and upbringings. Both Endou and Kidou know the burden of being a captain, and Kidou knows exactly when Endou’s frustrated or troubled, and often for what reason (ie. Before and after the Kidokawa match, Aphrodi’s sudden visit, during like the entire second season.)

Kidou plays a support role to Endou’s captainship, being the brains behind Raimon’s success, and laying out plans of attack to supplement Endou’s motivational role. For someone like Kidou, who’s been so used to leading his entire life, I can’t imagine that wasn’t hard to get used to, but he does it wholeheartedly because he trusts Endou and is there to back him up, not usurp him. Endou in turn knows most intimately about what kind of things Kidou struggles with, and fights him whenever he starts to get self-deprecating because, in his words, Kidou is amazing. He sticks to Kidou’s side when he needs him and does his best as one of his closest friends.

For Endou, Kidou has been a friend and an amazing guy since the beginning, something that never changes, and for Kidou, Endou goes from Raimon’s idiot captain to his best friend, and his captain that he’ll follow no matter what.

That’s because he’s Endou Mamoru!

I think the best thing about EnKi is just how much Kidou adores Endou and how much he tries to be his support after he joins Raimon. I mean, Kidou legit says the sweetest things, like how “pure-hearted and straightforward” Endou is, and you can see how much he explicitly trusts Endou, not just his skills, but that because it’s Endou he’ll do everything in his power to help his friends and win with them all. There’s so many times where Endou’s capability and prowess as a goalkeeper and a captain get called in to question, especially in the second season where Endou goes through some of the toughest times in the series, and Kidou will usually be the first person to be like “nope, you’re wrong” and state his unwavering confidence in Endou. It’s almost like Endou’s modified Kidou’s internal logic: Endou’s drive and optimism have broken down Kidou’s calculated expectations so many times that as soon as you introduce Endou in to the equation, Kidou’s like “ah, of course” and knows Endou will move them toward the best case scenario.

(HE’S SMITTEN, LOOKING AT THE SUN)

ANYWAY, I think this has gotten long enough. Tl;dr, Endou and Kidou are almost two sides of the same coin even if they don’t seem like it in the very beginning. Endou and Kidou both think the other is the best thing since sliced bread, and they help and support each other through being captain’s and trying to handle more stress than I feel like middle schooler’s should ever have to. They mirror each other in a lot of ways, and through their differences make up for where the other can’t to help themselves and their teams move forward, going from enemies to best friends. 

As always, whether or not you ship them romantically or platonically or none at all, I feel like their relationship is important and I hope you guys do too! 

[isthisthingeven0n]

unexpected : s.s

had a request for some scotty loving and I was writing this at the time.  this is actually copied from my other blog, but rewritten obviously. (other blog is very different to this safe to say.) hope you enjoy. if you wanna request something feel free to drop me an ask or a message. or any questions to get to know me better 

Lying half asleep in the warmth of my thick duvet it serves as one of my few reminders of home. A time when life felt easier and my understanding of living was as big as my kitchen is.

 In the distance blaring sounds, but in my dazed state I roll over and reach for my phone hitting it repeatedly yet it continues. Shuffling my body about to cocoon myself further I allow my subconscious to delve deeper into the radiating comfort of the cotton as my imagination floats off into unknown realms.

A loud bang cuts me out of my daze, abruptly forcing me back into reality. Sitting upright I force my duvet from my exposed skin, wearing nothing but a vest and pj shorts. Rubbing my eyes I pick my phone up to use for light considering the dark that emits into the shadows still visible. Stumbling across my room and bumping into furniture I reach the front door, opening it with a loud yawn as someone stares at me, fully dressed with wide eyes.

“How are you still inside! We have to get you outside now! There has been a fire in the building.” The man yells in concern as he ushers me out of my own home, still half asleep all I process is the word fire and my bare feet pick up pace along the dust ridden corridors as the alarm continues to blare almost bursting my eardrums.

Reaching the ground floor I hear him yell for me to keep going, so with all of my energy being little I force myself through the main doors in a dramatic manner you’d see in films. To which I was greeted by every pair of eyes in our building, strangers focusing on the girl who was not prepared for the sudden occurrence.

Immediately my self conscious nature hugged at the few bits I was covered in, I wrapped my arms around myself and moved past the judgemental eyes of those who had time to grab a dressing gown or coat to cover their indecency whereas I remained exposed. Sitting down away from all of my neighbours I rested on the pavement curb as more officials arrived. I couldn’t help but grip onto my phone to stop my nerves getting the better of me, along with the cold.

Shaking profusely I couldn’t stop my teeth chattering as I held my knees against my chest, the goosebumps rising with each passing second. “Hey, you’re Y/n?” Lifting my head up a figure stood next to me, directly under a poorly lit streetlamp.

“Yeah, sorry do I know you?” I mumbled, still hugging my knees for some warmth and went back to resting my head against them as I tried to picture myself back in my bed with my feet protected by the extra blanket rather than being ridden with grit.

The figure groaned lightly as he sat next to me, “Oh no, I’m Scotty. I just heard them talking about someone still inside and your name popped up a lot. 

We sit still, focusing on everyone talking, discussing who it was who could’ve caused a fire. “So who did it?” I piped up, curious to know.

“They say it was someone on the fifth floor, the fire is out but it’s a safety procedure.” Nodding in response I couldn’t help but jitter, wanting to be back inside if the fire was out despite it being two floors above my own. “Here, you must be freezing.”

Turning to face him my eyes instantly noticed the large shaggy cotton material being wrapped around me. It felt like a giant towel that had just gotten out of the drier, the goosebumps rose with joy. Glancing back to the kind stranger I focused on his warm brown eyes laced with kindness followed by the light stubble around his face that he ran his hand over as he turned his head, looking back at the scene before us.

“So what floor are you on?” Wrapping his dressing gown tighter around myself the shivers were dying down, the tiredness kicking back in.

His eyes wandered about before he faced me in mid-yawn causing him to laugh lightly. “I’m on the fourth floor so I heard something going on moments before the alarm went off.” Unable to stop yawning he just chuckled again, a smile clear on his face as I resembled a lose one on my own. “So, you were the last one out.” Nudging me slightly he glanced me up and down in the dark blue fluff. “I can tell why.” Motioning to my incessant yawns.

Shrugging my shoulders I lifted my arms up, stretching out with exhaustion. “What can I say?” Turning to face him as I brought my arms down into my lap. “I like my sleep and I don’t expect to be awoken at 3 in the morning either.”

“Touche.” He muttered and we both returned to see some of our neighbours getting louder, more irritable in the cold. “See him?” Nodding to the bold man in the fisherman’s jacket. “He is having an affair with him.” Unsure where I am looking he lifts his hand, his cold fingers lightly holding my chin as he moves my head to see the man consoling a woman in hysterics.

“Your neighbour I assume?” Still keeping hold of my chin he makes me nod, smiling through his stubble as he does. The silence returns and my eyes wander past the stubble covering a considerable amount of his face, working past the few marks that lined his nose and around his tired eyes.

“It looks like it’ll be another half hour guys.” The man just walks off after that, not giving us a chance to ask a question but the stranger from the fifth-floor stands.

As he follows him I can’t help but notice his tattoos and his loose shirt showing them off. “Like what you see?” He raises his eyebrow to me, and I’m grateful for the rush of heat that spreads through my body. 

“Just curious.” I trace a few of the outlines, and he explains the meanings or lack of with each of them. 

An hour has passed by, and we talk about our neighbours. The ones who keep us awake, or the elderly who don’t quite understand what is going on as they observe the scene in front of us. 

“So, tell me something about yourself?” He turns to face me, his brown eyes boring into mine. 

“What do you want to know?” I whisper back, turning my body so it faces the stars. Locking my eyes with his I raise an eyebrow as he hangs his face directly above mine, I can smell warmth on his breath.

He glances away momentarily, zoning in on the others. “Tell me about what you’d miss if the building had gone up in flames.”

Pondering the thought I tried to search for an answer in his eyes, in the emotions that glazed the surface. “I’d miss the little things.” I began as I reflected over the trinkets that laced my mantel piece, “I have this little snowglobe that belonged to my Nan when she was young. Inside it has this little ballerina, and when you’d tip the globe upside down it would cover her in glitter and snow.” Laughing lightly I can imagine myself back to being 5 and so fascinated by the sight.

“Sentimental things.” He inputs and I nod.

“Everything means something to someone. Like those people on floor one had time to prepare.” Turning my head I glance at those with considerably more belongings on them than the others. “See her? She is carrying an album, that’s Nina.” Focusing on Nina she clutches the album, tears glazing her cheeks. “She lost her husband last year, he was a soldier. That album is their entire relationship.”

My eyes wander around to someone else, “And him.” The one holding a single teddy bear in his grip, refusing to let go. “That belongs to his daughter, he lives two doors down from me. He is divorced, rarely sees his daughter but keeps her teddy ready and waiting.” Facing him again he looks at me with a small smile on his face, his eyes radiating care. “Everyone has something that is sentimental, and to you, it may be your tattoos.” 

“You sure are something else.” He shakes his head and I just beam.

“Better to be unique.” I shrug my shoulders which looks weird considering the fabric swamps them. “Thank you.” Motioning to the thick dressing gown I’ve grown attached to he just chuckles in response.

“So what would you save?” I ask in response and he answers quickly as if he has planned this all out. 

“My SD card. With all my videos on that I never posted.” I can’t help but laugh. 

“So you make videos? What kind?” He nudges me lightly, a chuckle sounds from him. 

“Not that kind, you weirdo.” 

We fall silent, the conversations seem to be drowned out by the tension growing around the two of us as my eyes dart from his lips to his eyes, his following the same action. “Third floor, apartment C.” I whisper to him as someone begins to near us, breaking the rising tension.

Just before he had the opportunity to say anything we were both called, our attention shifting to the same man from earlier. “Everything has been cleared, we can all go back inside now.” He huffs and walks away back to his wife, hugging her tightly.

Sitting up I tuck my bed head behind my ear as Will stands up in front of me. “Well,” He held his hands out, helping me rise to my feet. As I went to take a step forward I stumbled over the length of his dressing gown, falling straight into his arms.

“Quite the gentleman aren’t you Scotty.” I joke as he straightens me up, his arm wrapped around my shoulder as we head back inside after everyone else.

The two of us opt for the stairs as the queues form for the lift. As we walk we make light conversation, his dressing down acting like a train to a dress as it drapes across the previous two steps I’d walked up.

Reaching my floor all of the doors have returned to being shut, silence resumes as if nothing had happened but we all know behind closed doors everyone is grumbling, swearing or complaining about the suspect in floor five. “Well, this is me.” Hitting my door frame I lean against it, still wrapped in his dressing gown. “Oh wait,” I slipped out of it, the warmth being removed along with it as he held it in his grip, his fingers brushing past my own.

“Sorry you got disturbed so early in the morning.” He apologises but I shake my head in mid yawn.

“Not your fault, like you said it was your neighbour.” I state and he slowly nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right Scotty?” Leaning my head down below his I could see a guilty smile forming even in this poor lighting.

He lifted his head up as did I and merely held up the end of one of the ties to the dressing gown. Unable to hold back the laugh he covers my mouth with his free hand. The entire end of the once navy material was singed black and felt crispy to the touch. “I was trying to cook as I couldn’t sleep.” He whispered and the lump was rising in my throat, my shoulders falling and rising as I laughed internally.

Slowly he took his hand away from my mouth, “Next time you think about baking whatever it was, let me know. I’ll help ensure you don’t burn the entire building down.” I tell him and he smiles, tilting his head to the side.

“Might make for a good video, the two of us.” Raising an eyebrow to him he realised his mistake, “Cooking that is.” I began to etch further into my apartment, remaining quiet until only a slither was left between us.

“Well, you know where to find me.” I mutter before closing the door, resting against it with a cocky smile on my face as I head back to bed like everyone else, as if nothing had happened.

[inthedrift]

Hansen Family Feels

So I have a lot of Hansen Family feels, mostly Chuck Hansen Feels, let's be honest, but I've made a load of notes on posts the past few weeks that I feel would benefit from being put into a longer thing and just analyse all these FEELS and try and form them into something resembling sanity.

I'm gonna use some pictures, some quotes and some gif sets/posts to help explain where either the thoughts came from or help highlight the example.

2 heads up if you do click on this

 I made myself cry writing this

 It’s 2.9K 

So Chuck is introduced as the cocky and competent young guy like he wants people to know he's fucking fantastic at what he does "That's a new record" you wouldn't say that if you didn't feel like you had something to prove.

Because Chuck grew up watching his father and the others during the highlights of the war, watching all the pilots being fawned over, they had interviews and parades and bloody sportswear contracts and people adored them and Chuck.

Chuck didn't get into a jaeger until after Knifehead, when the public and the government had become disillusioned with the pilots and the programme and Chuck who hadn't just wanted to get into a jaeger to avenge his mum, but because he wanted to be the best and here he is. Piloting the best jaeger ever made and no one seems to care.

So Chuck had more than likely idolised the Beckets - hell he has that jacket and Herc isn't exactly the sort of bloke that would wear one of those jackets so 100% its copying Becket boys. And then not only does Raleigh bail and go build a bloody wall for 5 years but it was their failure that was like a nail in the coffin and so I think Chuck's anger isn't just that Raleigh isn't good enough. It's that he holds Raleigh responsible for taking that opportunity away.

But I'm not saying that Chuck is fame hungry, no. I'm saying that he was brought up constantly in his father's shadow and their relationship is rocky and I'm guessing that Chuck didn't get a lot of praise or Herc being proud of him and that's what he wants he wants to feel that someone is proud of him, that someone appreciates him.

So queue Raleigh walking into the Shatterdome and Herc sees them and just shoots a stern "Wait here" at Chuck before going over and greeting Raleigh

And Herc obviously respects Raleigh and he's all smiles and friendly and discussing the "good ol' days" and is sincere in his apology to Raleigh about Yancy being dead and like we can probably assume that he has never either congratulated Chuck on a good run or talked about his mum as their both too emotionally constipated and its not really a shock that Chuck is pissed before they even start

And then you have the cafeteria scene, and Herc is all warm smiles and physical contact with Raleigh - and honestly except for holding Chuck back or shaking him off when do we actually see Herc and Chuck touch?

And Herc is then feeding Raleigh - with Chuck's food because like Chuck has nothing in front of him and Rals wasn't even in the mess when Herc obviously went and got the food and Chuck is understandably pissed. Because Herc is treating Raleigh like a son and that's Chuck's dad, it should be him that gets that attention and that affection.

He shouldn't have to share that and why doesn't Herc treat him like this and that will just open up all those wounds that have been there probably since before his mum died, are just being poked and prodded at.

Chuck wants that love from Herc but he has no clue how to get it and I think on a level that he maybe doesn't feel he deserves it, because obviously Herc is more than willing to give that sort of affection out to blokes who run away and hide for 5 years but he won't give it to his only son. I think Chuck maybe thinks he's too far gone to be worthy of that and that makes him hold the anger closer because that's something that Herc can't ignore or take away from him, can't give that away to someone else.

So it's no wonder he wants to fight Raleigh, so would I. Chuck has always felt that if he just fought harder, fought better, was better then Herc would love him, but then Raleigh has come in a broken failure and Herc treats him so much better and Chuck can't cope with that because clearly its not about him not being a good enough ranger.

It's about him not being a good enough person, not being a good enough son, and Herc only cements that fact in the deleted scene. (x)

Because Herc tells him exactly that. That he's a great ranger but that means nothing because he isn't good. And the way Chuck leans back and the look he gives Herc, tells you so much. Because how dare he.

Chuck lost his mother at 10, and when he needed a parent the most Herc wasn't there and he was left to jaeger techs and machines for so long. Watching this idolised version of his dad on a tv and only experiencing the vague presence of a shell of that man.

And then he was shoved into a jaeger at 16, he never had a childhood and then not only did he have to grow up way quicker than he should have after scissure but then he had to again and this time he got to see himself through the funhouse mirror that is his dads memories in the drift. I'd put money on them being regret and pain and anguish and constantly associating Chuck with the loss of Angela and fuck that's gonna mess a kid up.

And Chuck takes those shots at Herc, says "you didn't raise me to be anything" and "we don't even need to speak at all" because he wants to hurt him, just like he's been hurt. Because Herc is just needling that wound, that Raleigh Becket is better than Chuck will ever be because he's 'good' and Chuck is just that 10 year old boy inside, full of hurt and anger.

And Herc knows all of this, because the drift goes both ways and he knows how hurt and angry Chuck is, but they're both so stubborn and don't know how to express these things that all they do is hurt each other more.

So now we come to the fight with Leatherback and Chuck is so quick to rush over to Herc and help him up and yeah sure he's saying "Get up Old Man" but it's not a dig at that point, it's a way to hide his fear, because Herc hit fucking hard. Like he could have died in that hit and Chuck is scared, he's stuck in a giant metal death trap with a giant monster outside and he nearly lost his dad.

So Chuck tries to help him up and Herc shakes him off (not a brilliant screenshot it's dark and happens hella quick so time stamp is 1:17:27 ish) and Chucks anger sores back to the surface because even when he's broken Herc doesn't want Chuck’s help.

We know that this isn't about Chuck, that it's about Herc not wanting to appear weak, can't appear weak but that's not how Chuck sees it, we know that from psychology that children can't see their parents reasoning in these circumstances and can only take it as a slight upon them, and again it hits at all of Chuck's insecurities.

And Herc does it AGAIN when they're climbing onto Striker's head and Chuck doesn't even react because this is obviously just what he expects and that's so awful that he just expects to be shoved away by his father, but still he follows this insane plan because he loves his dad and he trusts him with his life.

And that brings me to this post (x)

Because the tags are perfect here and highlight so many things. Because Chuck is 21, he's barely an adult and he's not a well-adjusted adult at that. He doesn't think he's gonna see his 22nd birthday hell he's probably astounded he made it this far, and here he is screaming at his worst nightmares come to life with only anger in his heart because that's all he knows.

And Herc, bless him because while all of this post has been about how much damage Herc has done to Chuck there isn't any Herc hate here let me be 100% clear about that. Because Herc will never win dad of the year but he loved Chuck with his whole being.

Imagine having to look at your son and every day wonder how disappointed Angela would be at what you'd done to her sweet boy. Because that's what he will see, he will see all the damage and pain he caused and brought on the kid and he will just hate himself for it, but again Chuck won't see that the regret will be about how Herc did as a parent. Chuck will see the regret as Herc regretting having him for a son.

But Herc loved Chuck wholeheartedly because he knew Chuck was a 1st Class arsehole, and he still adored him, not because he was the perfect son or the perfect ranger or because he listened to him. He loved him because he was CHUCK.

So Herc may have done bad things and made bad decisions but he never did them for the wrong reasons. He did them to protect Chuck, protect Chuck from the programme, from the kaiju, from his own grief and pain.

So I love Herc because yeah he made mistakes but he knows that and everything he did was deep down, from a place of love.

And this (x) gif set I feel lays out the feelings that these two men go through really well. It's times that Chuck walks away from Herc and there are 3 distinctly different things occurring each time.

We focus on Herc the first 2 times that Chuck walks away because Chuck's emotions in both of those scenes are plain to see, he's angry with hurt coming in a close second. Herc's emotions are a little more detailed.

The first time you see the anger - the ranger. Chuck knows better, he was in the wrong in this circumstance, he shouldn't have been brawling like a child and Herc is angry from not just a parental point of view but as a co-pilot and a senior ranger.

The second time you see the disappointment - the father. The fact that Chuck is like this because of Herc, because he didn't do a good enough job as a parent, and he worries what Angela would think of the two of them now. He thinks that she'd probably hate him for making their son into this man. And he honestly doesn't recognise the man in front of him, because he can't equate him to the boy he knew and he knows that's on him.

But the last time the focus shifts and it's on Chuck because his emotions are important here, they aren't anger this time. Far from it. He doesn't want to turn away this time.

The emotion here is regret - its the son. He regrets not having been a better son, not having a better relationship with his dad, he regrets it all. And he knows that he's leaving Herc alone and that he hasn't done enough to fix the damage that is between them. Sure he's helped begin that healing, but he's about to go to his death and he can only hope that he's done enough that Herc won't think of him badly.

And obviously, we now have to address THAT (x) scene. Because this is it. This is the goodbye that neither of them got to have with Angela, and yet they can't say it. Because they are who they are and so we don't get the words "I love you" or "goodbye" no we get something that to these two men means so much more.

Because Herc tells him exactly what he needs to hear, he tells him that he's always loved him by saying "all the things" and Chuck for all that he's stubborn and emotionally stunted can see the pain and the hurt in his father's eyes.

They're probably still ghosting and Chuck will be able to feel all of it because when they're in a jaeger they probably push it all away because addressing that much emotion and anger would cause major RABIT. But here, now Chuck can feel it all.

And Chuck tells him that he knows and confirms to Herc that he doesn't hate him. Yeah, of course, he hates the things he's done and the way he made him feel, but he doesn't hate Herc, how could he, because his whole life he's wanted to be like him.

That's why he wanted to be the best because he saw Herc as the best and he just wanted to emulate that in the only way he knew how. And Stacker telling him that he is his father's son, it just put a balm on all of that pain and all the angry wounds.

Because Chuck achieved what he wanted to and someone acknowledged that, because Chuck knew how good his dad was and wanted to be that good a person and thats why he was so hurt. Because he saw that funhouse mirror version of himself and knew that he could never be that and then here is Stacker saying that he did. That he is.

And then Herc claims him. Tells him that he loves him and is proud of him and that he would give anything to trade places with Chuck or to be the man beside him in that conn-pod because there is no-one he would trust more to fight against and there is no-one that he would rather stand his last stand with.

And the pride here, that you can see how proud he is of Chuck. That Chuck says even his last moments Chuck is showing how much he respects Herc. Because he wants to be his dad and wants to make him proud and that pride is so clear here and it breaks your heart, because Chuck probably knew how proud Herc was in that moment but he never got to see it.

Which brings me finally onto Max. Because we all know as Rob says that Max was a way for Chuck and Herc to talk, because they couldn't talk, so any affection or emotion they show that dog is often the emotions they are showing to each other or how they feel about each other in that moment.

So we're introduced to Max the first time we really see the Hansens and Herc takes Max over to meet Raleigh and the group and Chuck stands there and calls back Max almost as soon as he possibly can.

And look at how he holds him, because Chuck wants to make it clear that Max is his and Raleigh and Mako can't have him and honestly I think it does reflect that Chuck doesn't want to share his dad, because he is his dad. His isn't Mako's or Raleigh's and sometimes Herc is more fatherly to the two of them than Chuck and he doesn't want to share and that shows here and in the way he holds Max through the scene in the mess hall.

And then you have the goodbye (x), because while Chuck doesn't say goodbye to Herc directly he says it to Max and you know that he's not saying it just to Max, because even without the direction that Guillermo gave of "Imagine you are kneeling before your father asking for forgiveness" you can see it in the way Rob delivers the scene.

Because Chuck is telling Herc that he's gonna miss him just as much as he's telling Max and he shows Max the physical affection that he can't show his dad, he's saying goodbye.

And the "Look after him for me" isn't just asking Herc to look after Max, because of course, Herc will look after Max, because he adores Max and it's the only thing he will have left of Chuck. He's telling Herc to look after himself because Chuck won't be around to anymore and he needs to be sure that Herc is gonna be ok when he's gone. Because he knows how Herc dealt with the grief of losing his wife how the hell is he gonna cope losing his son.

And I think that's why Rob's conversation with me hurt so much and I had to try so hard not to cry in front of him. Because of course if Chuck could in any way stay around to keep an eye on Herc he would. So that's why he's still in the drift, that's why he's still there.

Because he's just had Herc confirm that he loves him and respects him and is so so proud of him and he's basically just been given all the validation in the world. So, of course, his idea of paradise would be piloting Striker for eternity with his father by his side, so why would he not still exist in the drift?

[keysmash]

MDZS Cupid System AU (Canon Divergence After the 1st Siege)

Once again I am here to deliver a very intriguing MDZS Headcanon on behalf of our wonderful Anon. Send praises their way please! I’m copy pasting the parts because I want to give it a proper title!

PART 1/14

What if after WWX cannon death he got hired by the cupid system where he has to make 2 designated people get together! No one can recognize him and after he leaves for his next mission there will only be a vague memory of him left. He also jumps in his own timeline around and always has the age appropriate appearance. WWX doesn’t have all of his memories and only knows that something horrible happened to him and he doesn’t actually want to return to the world. 

PART 2/14

But that is not his decision to make but he is told that he will get a reward when he finishes enough missions. As a beginner mission he has to bring the ghost of a woman that is bound to a hairpin to the man that she loves who lies in the burial mountains; as he goes there and searches for the grave or corpse he meets LWJ who seems really depressed.

PART 3/14

To cheer him up he makes him search with him. They find the ghost of a man over his own corpse standing. They make a grave for him and bury the hairpin with him. The couple thanks them and it comes out that they never got a chance to confess their love and the only thing left of when the woman was alive -the hairpin- was carried off the mountain. 

PART 4/14

The ghost pair can now move on after confessing to each other with smiling faces. As WWX begins to disappear he gets the feeling that he forgot something really important and he feels a pull. He takes LWJ hand and pulls him further into the mountain until they come to a tree but before he can reach it he disappears.

PART 5/14

Next mission he is a young child and meets JLY. She is worried that she will be in a loveless marriage because her mother arranged it for her and she is to meet her future husband today. JZX shows up and makes their first meeting go really smooth from the shadows. As JZX is leaving -the mission a success- WWX feels himself disappearing again he steps out to say goodbye to JYL, JZX turns around and sees his love with another boy smiling and becomes envious and bitter.

PART 6/14

One time he seems to be intangible and can only move small objects or whisper something into people’s ears, but he knows that he isn’t a ghost. He also never seems to be able to hear the names of the couple he has to get together. The woman seems to be a rogue cultivator and the man a servant of a prominent sect. 

PART 7/14

Another time he is a small child and turns up in a field full of white flowers with only one house there. This time he has to get a married couple together and they already have children???! Something is in the wrong order here… The woman is all alone in the small hut and so he keeps her company. He also plays pranks on the other people that live nearby so he has something funny to tell her, like the one time he shaved the beard of a really grumpy man off.

PART 8/14

But he has a real problem finding the destined partner of the woman. He also meets kid LWJ who seems to drill holes into him when he sees him with his mother. Together with his mother, they tease him endlessly until his ears turn all red. When WWX asks her about his husband he gets the whole story and WWX is like ‘Only one thing that helps now. I get him here and you slap him and scold him really hard.’ In the end, he finds QHJ in seclusion and gets him to the hut by throwing stones at him.

PART 9/14

While listening in from outside he doesn’t understand much but it seems like there was a really bad man and the woman had to kill him but because QHJ really respected the man she did not tell him about what he did because she didn’t want him to feel hurt over his bad deeds. It still takes them a few weeks in which the guy always seems to sneak into the house?

PART 10/14

LWJ also seems to tolerate him now and one time the mother said ‘LWJ you really have to take him as your wife, mother really likes him and wants him as a son!’ LWJ ’Hm.’ The woman seemed to get weaker but the romance sprouted and so his mission was a success.WWX goes on more missions and often meets LWJ during them.

PART 11/14

WWX goes on more missions and often meets LWJ during them. He meets a bunch of people that fell in love during, happy or hard time, as people that hated each other in the beginning or people that were separated due to circumstances that were outside of there control. WWX feels like he is about to have an important realization. And so one day he appears in the CR again.

PART 12/14

The moon is shining and LWJ sits in his room with a horrible burn wound on his chest and an empty jar of emperors smile beside him while he sits before his guqin. He plays his song and WWX only mission seems to be to answer to him. And suddenly he knows that he loves this man that he met during a hundred different times, which LWJ probably doesn’t even remember. 

PART 13/14

But he tells all his feelings to LWJ even though he doesn’t know who he is and seems to be too drunk to even understand what he is saying. But he still asks him to hold onto him tightly the next time they meet and not to let him go. He only hears a faint ‘Wei Ying?’ as he starts to disappear again and the system congratulates him because he finished enough missions.

PART 14/14

Funnily enough, it seems like his own love mission would have given him enough points to clear the system at any time. After getting his will to be reborn and live his life back (to meet LWJ) he gets rewarded with a second chance! He opens his eyes in the body of MXY and forgot everything about the system except for the strong feeling of a promise in his heart. 

OKAY ANON DEAREST YOU SAY HEADCANON BUT THIS IS BASICALLY A FULL-LENGTH FIC THAT JUST NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS. THESE CAPS IS ME GUSHING AT THIS HC~~~

[boglog]

HoC Onion !

[TW mention of sexual abuse/violence]

I’m foregoing the pros/cons format here but generally-speaking my negative points are still gathered at the top w the highlights near the end.

Obviously, between letting a sex offender have a platform in mass media and potholes, I’d choose the latter. My below crits absolutely are not a demand for Spacey to be brought back and he can die in a fire for all i care. I just wish his character’s absence was not the nº1 reason for this season not making any sense

as far as i can gather, this season’s primary arc is as much about Frank’s death (in lieu of Doug’s) as it is Claire’s emotional and political divorce from Frank while she undergoes your traditional postbreakup analysis of who she was pre Frank and post Frank and were Frank actually there this idea might have legs

...but instead we have Doug ://

the level of intensity that the plot demands cannot be carried by forcing Doug into being a deeper character than he was intended, all the way until the end, he truly just reads as either a pitiful sadist or a henchman. It’s disharmonious and dangerously close to bad. 

Frances Underwood makes more sense if Frank dies in episode 8!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She’s literally going to be his reincarnation!!!!!!!

literally...who cares if Doug gets stabbed by Frank’s letter opener? whomst?

Doug can’t be Frank’s proxy, but sans a certain pedoph*le, the plot will just have to suffer. 

Other side effects of Doug’s undeserved promotion include but are not limited to: 

forcing Doug to share the role of antagonist with the Shepards, yet another New Villain © that feels totally unnecessary and confusing (the Conways at least got two seasons)

Frank’s diary feels forced and out of character for someone decidedly so unsentimental  

How does Claire have a bun in the oven when she clearly didnt sleep with Frank for all of season 5 and locked herself in her room while he was being assassinated? How is a Dramatic paternity test not going to be insisted upon in the show’s universe?

fixation on Frank’s will as a McGuffin is really... I don't know boring considering no one cares for the guy? What property of his does claire stand to lose? I’m sure the rich people fandom can speculate but i honestly needed this manifested in the show via some examples instead of the grand abstraction that is The Will bc losing Frank’s assets would set Claire back but it would not directly threaten her presidency. Not to mention that i’m not entirely sure Frank’d have Doug of all people as his sole heir if it didn't serve as revenge against Claire, which just lowers Doug’s importantance even more

Frank never cared for Doug, a largely unlikeable character, which we already knew from the beginning, so Doug’s entire arc is pathetic at best as well as his tangential inclusion in the Cliare v Frank arc

My major problems with Doug’s character began as early as season 4. 

Did not understand why they didn't actually have Doug switch sides by joining the Dunbar campaign in earnest in season 4. Like... it’s such an obvious opportunity to Thicken The Plot © that it’s reached this gif levels of dropping the ball:

P much everything about Doug’s character since then is just so.... lacking, while for the last few seasons they give him depth when he magically has empathy for one (1) woman before she dies (possibly as a direct result of his actions). This entire plot about him evaluating why he was so loyal to Frank could've been unpacked whilst he avoids Dunbar finding out about the murders he did commit. I’d rather him having agency than be a flat, troubled underling.

Aright I'm going to stop complaining about Doug. In season 3 and 4, his insecurity over being replaced and his sacrifices for Frank (and subsequent guilt) came close to giving us a real Moment with him as we delve more into how colourless his life outside of work really is. But beyond that, when his character started getting repetitive, there’s very little to compensate for his alternating acts of extreme narcissism/violence versus his childish confusion / self pity when he doesn’t get what he wants.

Anyways I'm basically at a point where I’d be okay if Frank’s long-lost cousin replaced Doug replacing Frank 

I’m appreciating the writers’ distinct refrain from plot formats and that the seasons progressively move towards the Underwoods but what if just for circularity and added balance we return to having a full-on reporter B plot in s6? More emphasis on Janine and Tom’s sleuthing, culminating in Tom’s assassination and Janine publishing the tell-all expose against Frank---including a reference to Zoe---that becomes the magnum opus of her career (and Claire using that against Frank). I just think the season needed more balance that Doug, the Shepards and Tom were not offering 

The Shepards and Tom, meanwhile, are decidedly banal. First of all, I had a hard time even telling Bill and Tom apart esp given that they were introduced one after the other. All white guys are the same.

Bill just kind of sits around until he has a platform to reference his favourite action movies doesn't he?

Moreover what does Tom do!? he doesn't want power, he doesnt seem to want anything. He’s just kind of there?

Unlike the Conways, the Shepards don’t have a clear goal and are not often in direct conflict with Claire the way Frank and Conway were. They want to control the presidency for money and Claire is always bouncing back from reliving her girlhood to political rivalry w Anette, yes, but what does that mean? What are the consequences? The logistics are so indirect and complicated, what precisely does Anette want? And why does anyone care? The Shepards are extremely boring.

Frank’s asides were purple and long af so I appreciate Claire’s succinct style not to mention her fantastic screen presence. I’m left to wonder, though, if maybe hers and every other aside in HoC is a little too on the nose. Like, they didn't hafta spell it out that the bird in the wall was a representation of Frank’s shadow trapping her, I think we got that 

The artistic intercuts to Claire’s troubled childhood wherein a group of bullies coerce her into stripping naked through the forest, while visually stunning and clever for its self-explanatory nature, feel really passive. They don't visually show us any reason for her not to resist, the bullies even let her keep her clothes after cutting them off her so we’re left to wonder why she does nothing....

Claire was raised to be ~proper~ so her resistance (likely) comes in the form of biting, passive-aggressive poise which is hard to get across in a silent montage but it just feels.. weird

Frances Underwood is going to have a very sad childhood

nearly all the Claire flashbacks are cinematic masterpieces and as much i think Claire’s backstory deserves more attention, i also appreciate the minimalism and the choice humanising moments of her adolescence 

listen I'm sure we all agree Robin Wright is peak acting but the actor for young Claire, who has the arguably harder task of copying Wright is fantastic 

Of all the characters who crop up every season seemingly out of nowhere only to disappear once more once when the plot the Underwoods are done with them, Jane is one of my favourites and possibly one of the greyest characters alive. Smart, mysterious, worldly, a bit of a hippie despite her job, severe despite her sense of humour. Really loves her extremely pedestrian surname. We stan.

Secondary characters rarely get anything close to a backstory on this show, esp ones that were introduced so late. Still, her motivations seem more complicated then others (i.e. betraying Cathy, one of two people she cares about) and I wonder if they deserve a bit more of an explanation. Especially seeing as she has a relationship with every major character.

If anyone deserves a spin-off it might be Jane and her name-dropping career/social life

Cathy faking her own death with a terrible french accent? On stan !!!

Seth teasing Doug even while he’s completely undervalued by everyone around him is a power move

Impressed that they managed three characters named Tom, their distinctly different appearances and the fact that they're almost never in the same POV shots works to separate them.

Claire using the word “female” even facetiously is cringe

Whenever they use the cinema room, the movie they watch is always symbolic. Before the 2017 election, Frank and Claire imitate the characters in Double Indemnity, and this season a pregnant claire watches Rosemary’s Baby. Clever.

i liked the whitehouse tour guide’s inclusion and the cameo from _____ though this season was especially white without their usual token secondary character

So overall i liked season 6 as an exploration of Claire’s character even while it did v little justice to most of the other characters and unfortunately spacey’s absence did affect the storyline

and finally: that cinnamontography !

Not that the series should be pushed past its prime, but wouldn’t it be interesting to see Claire as a mother?