#had a bit of a hard time with her character before

[notsodailycake]

Part 3 for the fitclet I did for @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

For those who missed it:

Part 1 || Part 2

This is probably the longest out of all the 3 parts, dear god, I went all in. It came out bigger than I ever expected it to be. I was not expecting it to go this far honestly, but the parasites in me, they begged for more. So here we are! :D

Again tho, idk how in character they will be here, but I tried my best ＼(*T▽T*)／. Also, kinda bullshitted my way through in worldbuilding bc idk how things work exactly- and I had to come up with stuff on my own, even tho I'm not that good in mecha world stuff, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies ^^;;

Now, to give credit to those who so desperately deserve it:

My sister @saltynsassy31 for helping me when I couldn't write out some of my ideas and doing it herself (so consider this as a bit of a frankenstein monster of both our writing styles, mainly during intense scenes. If there is any fancy words in this, it's cuz of her) and being my beta reader for this part. Seriously yall, this wouldn't have been as coherent and well written without her help!

Also huge thanks to my online sister @yayadrawsthingz for helping out when I hit a few road blocks during this!

And finally, a huge huge thanks to my honorary online uncle @hexyz09 for helping me finish off the final fight scene when I got stuck during some plot holes and road blocks, or generally just writing myself into a corner and having to help me leave it, despite not knowing jackshit about the au, let alone the ship and characters themselves, but was still willing to help me through in working on the plot, in this crazy obsession of mine XD

Yall have no idea how much help these guys were. Probably wouldn't be able to finish without either of their help ᕦ(òωóˇ)ᕤ

Oh and an honourable shoutout to the song "Headlock" by Imogen Heap! Kept listening to this on loop as it kept my drive up to write this.

Now onto the fic!

---

Prowl ignored Jazz's various attemps to push out his servo from the cockpit. Despite the mech being weak himself, the human was still no match against thousands of pounds of metal, especially in his own weakened state.

Which was a matter of its own at the moment. Prowl knew he had very little time to be able to run ahead before the other humans caught on to them, having noticed the alarm bells ringing through the facility.

So he ran towards the exit Jazz had initially pointed out, the only plan they had at the moment.

...

"Prowl! Prowler, hey! I know you can hear me! Prowl!" Jazz shouted as he slammed yet another fist in a failed attempt to nudge the bot's servo out of the way. He hasn't said a word since picking Jazz up, and he wasn't sure how long that was, maybe not that much, but it felt too long yet too little at the same time (what a headache).

Sliding down, he gently hit his forehead over the protective servo and let out a sigh of defeat. No way he could get him to move like this.

Why was he trying to anyways? Didn't he want to be with Prowl? He certainly did, but somehow, something in him made him feel like he shouldn't just be accepting this.

And maybe Prowl also knew this, which is why he took off and hasn’t said a word since. Both held conflicted feelings about the whole thing. If only things didn't feel so blurry right now!

Suddenly, a hard shift made Jazz stumble a bit, grasping at whatever he could so he didn't fall back, loud noises of metal scrapping metal could be heard as something got kicked open on the outside. Jazz scrambled over to the small crevice that opened between Prowl's digits, not enough for him to fit anything over other than his hand, but enough to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Prowl had kicked down the exit door to the lab ('not like he had the hands available to properly open the damn thing anyways' Jazz thought to himself). It was meant for mechas to exit the room after they finish off whatever it is they do in here, that Jazz knew, and if he was right, just down the hall there will be another exit leading to the backroom where they stockpiled the mech suits. No one but the technicians were usually supposed be there, it would be an easy fight to get to the big gate that lead to the outside training grounds, which is why Jazz had pointed for the mech to go down there in the first place.

There shouldn't have been a problem besides giving him time to leave unscathed. Which Jazz assumed would not be the case as he was currently inside Prowl and not buying him time to escape. But, to Jazz's surprise, nothing had come close to attacking them, yet.

The pilot did not have much time to contemplate it as suddenly he heard Prowl rumble an annoyed grunt.

"Don't move."

In shock, Jazz stumbled back as Prowl removed his hand and reached for the end of the overhead gate, seemingly alot harder to kick down than a two way door. The only thing it would really do would be to bend the metal a bit but it wouldn't give an open entrance. Jazz didn't dare leave, not like he could from this hight, but even if he could, Prowl would probably just pick him up again; it be a waste of energy really (just admit it, you don't want to leave him). But something about this felt wrong, so far they haven't had a single guard come down the hall, just this small pause would give them enough time to catch up to the two runaways, Jazz was sure that guards had been on his tail when he was under his rampage.

Unless...

Wait.

"Prowl! Wait don't open that gate!" But he was too late, the moment he uttered those words the mech had already been in motion and pushed the gate up with all his might and as quickly as he opened it a gun shot came through the otherside. They had been waiting for them, they knew where they were heading. The bastard he kicked down prior to this probably saw them and reported it, dammit.

Prowl let out a strangled cry of pain as the shot landed right on his left shoulder (like it wasn't damaged enough by the lack of arm), Jazz fell backwards with the harsh motions, hitting the back of the pilot's seat, the impact leaving his vision to go dark for a few seconds before he collected himself as quickly as he could. In an instant though, just as he tried to get back up to see what was outside, Prowl had put his hand back over the open cockpit.

No...he wouldn't be able to fight like this, protecting him as he is would only hinder the bot to more damage. And that's exactly what Jazz intended to express to the other. "Prowl! You won't be able to fight with your hand over me! Forget about holding me inside, I won't leave, I promise!"

"That's not the point!" Prowl growled, letting out another hiss of pain as more shots were loaded, someone shouting out for them to stand down.

Prowl couldn't risk leaving Jazz exposed. Unlike the human, Prowl could take a few shots, their weapons not being strong enough to inflict any serious damage to his plating (though perhaps a bit to his exposed protoform, though he could handle it for a little while longer). But it would take one lucky shot on Jazz to have him dead in an instant, and Prowl couldn't take that chance.

It seemed like Jazz got the message, not spitting back any sort of remark about Prowl's lack of explanation.

But the mech couldn't linger too much on those thoughts, he had to get out, and fast. He was losing too much energon, and his vision was starting to get blurry, which wasn't a good sign. It didn't help that his thoughts were a hazy mess, his usual ability to think logically overthrown by the panic of needing to get out of this place while ensuring Jazz's survival.

It's not like he had much to do, though. Any possible escape hindered by the fact he couldn't use his weapons unless he risks Jazz's life to one lucky shot. Perhaps he could make a run for it, knock through the mechas in front of him and let them tumble over as he reached the final exit; it wasn’t the best plan perhaps, with at least a 19% rate of success, given he isn't in the best physical state at the moment, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to knock them over. Added to the fact the exit wasn't shut by a gate he could simply knock over easily either, like the previous one. He'd have to push it open from the bottom, and there wasn’t enough time for him to act on it.

But he'd have his back turned to the shots, reassuring Jazz's own safety, so he could perhaps risk removing his servo to push the gate open once more.

With a quick warning from his HUD telling him his energon levels were getting dangerously low, Prowl decided to take the risk, with little time left, he took a step forward making a run for it.

The mechas seemed to ready themselves for his attack, quickly positioning their weapons to target him, closing any narrow space they had between each other.

What they didn't expect was for the mech to charge his whole body weight onto them. Despite not feeling any pain, they certainly could not fight against gravity itself. They all stumbled against each other as Prowl made a mad dash to the gate. He slid on his knees and made a quick reach for the bottom of the gate, anxiously removing his hand from over the cockpit, bending over protectively as to not have anything be able to aim inside.

He could feel his spark beating fast from anxiety, they were so close, they'll be able to leave soon enough. Jazz was most certainly having a good feel to Prowl's anxious beat, the loud thruming reaching the bot's own audials was most certainly deafening to the human sitting near it.

Then, a shot.

A pop.

A blinding light.

And the beat stops.

Jazz was curling in on himself as an instinct to protect himself from the sudden burst behind him. It only took a few seconds for him to realise what that was once he couldn't hear a single beat of a spark, or the burning sensation it left, feeling his own heart stop and drop to his gut.

It felt like the world around him suddenly stopped, everything going into slow motion, with no sounds to accompany the dread. Feeling as Prowl's body leaned foward to crash on the ground.

But just as quickly as the silance came, it left. Prowl catching himself from hitting the ground with a grunt, a slam could be heard as his arm and elbow made contact with the concrete floor. His spark beating, weakly, but beating nonetheless. What felt like hours of silance was only a quick few seconds of deafening dread.

"Prowl!" Jazz called out in desperation, reaching out to hold the edges of the cockpit, so not to fall out, but to also try and comfort his anxiousness as he tried to look up at the mech's face. The mech made a sound of acknowledgement, which came out more like broken static, but didn't make much effort to move, his face scrunched up in pain, optics shut. They shot him on his back, too close to where his spark would be, causing him to skip a beat, and busting a bit of his left doorwing, but it still seemed to function somewhat.

Suddenly, both of them picked up on the sound of something opening, giving no time for either to fully process what had just occurred. Prowl made a quick move to get his hand over the cockpit once more (with slight struggle as he stumbled and fell on his aft) as a thick metal slab emerged from above and beneath, right in front of the gate, shutting it close with a protective layer of metal. Guessing by the red alarm ringing around them, an emergency protocol to keep anyone from leaving. Slag.

The mechas surrounded them, guns all aimed to shoot at the alien mech if he didn't comply.

It was silent for a brief moment, in exception to Prowl's anxious beating spark (which wasn't a problem for Jazz at the moment, the burning warmth being somewhat comforting) and Jazz's own heart beating over his ears. Both catching their breaths.

"There's no point in fighting. So make this easy for all of us and surrender yourselves." A nobody pilot finally spoke out, weapon leaning a tad closer than the others.

The atmosphere felt heavy, they were pinned down. Really, the only thing they could do was surrender, but Jazz would sure as hell be reprimanded for his actions and Prowl.....he didn’t want to think about that. No, he wouldn't even allow that thought to become any sort of reality.

"Prowl" he whispered, knowing only the mech would hear him, leaning a gentle souch to his servo as if to beg, "I know you might not have alot of trust 'n me, but this might be our best shot." There was a tense shift, not too noticeble unless you could see the mechanisms from the inside, Prowl knew what he was about to suggest. "You need to let me pilot you." He cringed as he felt the other's servo stiffen, he wasn't pleased with the idea, and neither was Jazz, but he knew this place alot better than Prowl did, and knew how to properly defeat the mechas, knowing their weak spots. And Prowl was all too aware of that too, Jazz knew it. They both were very aware of it all.

"Please," he begged, leaning his forehead on the mech's servo yet again, "I can't lose you again." There was slight shift, Jazz looked up, though he obviously couldn't see the mech's face, the sigh he let out was loud and clear. The controls on the pilot's seat shifted, Jazz got the message:

'Alright'

He couldn't help but let a small smirk creep over his face, making way to sit down and start piloting.

"Under one condition though," Prowl suddenly whispered to him, though it was alot louder to Jazz on the inside.

"And what would that be, partner?" The title flew out too fast for Jazz to stop himself, feeling so natural to call Prowl partner once more. The mech didn't seem against it though.

"No removing my hand."

Jazz was left stunned for a quick second, though it felt like a minute for Prowl as he waited for a reply eagerly.

"I can work with that." Prowl let out a sigh of relief at that, allowing the human, his partner, to take control of him again.

It took a moment for Jazz to adjust himself, in the meantime, the people waited outside anxiously for the other to make a move. When Prowl finally started to shift around to stand up with a small grunt, everyone raised their guns and loaded them up, but didn't shoot just yet. The mech looked up at them with a deadly glare, but made no move to attack, his remaining arm not leaving the open cockpit for a second, he simply stood up with a slight slump to his posture, doorwings drooping down slightly. In all possible ways, he looked weak and defeated, no signs of fighting back.

One of the mechas walked closer, gun still aiming at Prowl, but it was lowered slightly. They reached a hand out expectantly.

"The pilot, hand him over." They demanded, no sympathy whatsoever.

Prowl clutched his chasis, anger pooling over in his spark, doorwings twitching up slightly, but he made no move to attack. Not yet. He heard Jazz speak to him in a low tone so only he could hear it, with a sigh, he relaxed. He slowly, very slowly, drew out his hand from the cockpit, the action in itself having the other mecha have their body relax slightly as they approached the mech, weapon being put down slightly enough, and so did the others around them. Jackpot.

Before he fully removed his servo, the mech made move to crouch down and in a swift motion swung a peed over to the mechas own, catching them off balance and knocking them down. Jazz let out a small hiss to the action, forgetting his own injured leg, but pushed on regardless.

Using the thrusters of his doorwings, they were able to balance themselves back up, Prowl's servo going back into fully protecting it's pilot once more. With most weapons being aimed up and not down, it took a delayed second to aim correctly, but it was enough time for the human and cybertronian duo to twist themselves out of harms way.

Before the fallen pilot could attempt to get up, Jazz made move to aim over the weak spot of their mecha's knee and stepped hard enough to break its mechanisms so they couldn't stand back up easily. But the glory was short lived as more shots were fired their way.

Jazz's hand twitched to move and use its weapons, but he resisted the urge with a slight huff, "Man, 's hard to fight without an arm!"

"This is none negotiable, Jazz." Prowl hissed as they made move to avoid more shots.

"I know, I know! Don't mean it makes it easier!" Jazz tried to analyse their surroundings, though it was made difficult with the many HUD warnings from all the injuries (the pilot couldn't help but mutter a broken "I'm so sorry" to his partner, whether the mech heard him or not he wasn't sure), but pushing through it, he took note of a few key details. There was a metal catwalk grate near above the mechas' heads, running with a few on ground troops, the bastard of a boss being one of the few amongst them. Near a corner stood an elevator to go up and down the area.

How that could help, Jazz wasn't sure yet.

A shot hit Prowl's arm, pain flowed through the mech as he moved out of the way once more. Jazz looked around in a frenzy to find a place to shield themselves....the mechas! Making a run for to the lifeless husks, he swivelled around between them and hid behind the many rows of mechas knowing full well that they would not risk such precious resource and money just to reach them. At least he hoped not, because he just needed a little bit of time to figure something out.

Hearing the big man call out to hold their fire was good enough indication that his idea worked.

"Ok, now we just need somethin' to distract them long enough for us to make a jump to the ceiling." Jazz explained

"The ceiling?" Prowl inquired, not so certain about his partner's ability to properly think at the moment.

Jazz rolled his eyes, but didn't make mention of the mech's tone. "It's the weakest point here, plus" he made way for Prowl to look up to where he remembered the area to be at, "there's a trap door for flying mechas and emergencies. One quick press of a button will open it up, even under "safety protocols."" Prowl let out a hum in thought, seeming to analyse the situation.

"Possible, but where is this said button?"

"Behind the elevator, by the catwalk grating on top. There's a control panel, and one big red button, can't miss it."

"Would smashing it still get it to work?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't have any complaints."

"Good, now," Jazz went back to scanning the area, "how to cause a distraction?"

"Would that broken pipe be of any use?" Prowl made an effort to twitch his head over to the direction of what he wanted Jazz to see. And just as the mech stated, there, by the first floor of the elevator, stood a broken pipe, steam coming out of it.

Jazz smirked "it would actually. If we can get somethin' to shoot at it, we might cause an explosion, giving us time to jump up without being the target anymore."

"Sounds like a plan." Prowl shrugged.

"Don't have anything to add?" Jazz asked a bit surprised.

"No, I don't." The pilot didn't push.

"Okay. Well, let's get these bastards shootin." In quick motion, they made way to the elevator, already hearing the commands to shoot fire, 'but watch for the machines!' Weapons were loaded from above as well, shooting down at the two runaways once again.

Jazz made sure to move swiftly behind the mechas, making sure they were shielded properly. Any gaps they had to cross was a small risk they needed to take, scrapes and scratches being left in its wake, but tried not to do it too often, just enough that they could follow them. They eventually reached where the pipes were, Jazz took a deep breath.

"Ready, big guy?"

"Ready."

They stepped foward, making sure to call the attention towards where they were, but quickly retrieting back behind the mechas suits as they shot directly where they wanted to hit. "Bingo."

Quickly, activating Prowl's thrusters, they leaped over to the metal grates that stood above them as the pipes behind them burst, causing a huge commotion as empty mechas fell down and whatever machine near the crossfire tumbled down. Prowl let out a gasp as he felt the world around him spin, the grating beneath them not being of any help as it shook with his weight. Jazz was quick to hold on, helping the mech stablise himself before aiming with his left foot to kick the big red button with their ticket out of here, the motion causing his vision to flash in pain, but he bit his toung until he could taste iron and pushed forward.

Hearing the metal door above them open up, Jazz readied himself, but hesitated with the warning he'd received from Prowl's HUD from his low energon levels. He didn’t even get the chance to fully check on it though, Prowl quickly pushing them out of the way himself.

"I'll live, just one more push." The mech hastily reassured the human. Jazz wasn't inclined to belive it though, feeling the other's spark beat anxiously (and for some reason that made him feel slightly dizzy. Though he chalked it up to it being his possible concussion).

It took one shot to slip an inch away from Prowl's face for them to finally snap out of it and jump. One more push from his thrusters as they flew up through the trap door and landed on top of the roof with a grunt, the mech's left wing finally giving out.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Looking out, a wasteland of a forest awaited them, with dense trees at the bottom.

"We'll have to make a jump for it. If we're lucky enough the trees will be big enough to hide us." Jazz supplied.

"45% of that happening. But we don't have much of another option at the moment." Prowl added

With all that being said, Jazz moved into action. With so much at stake, he had to, he couldn't waste another second in debating. Hefting Prowl up, he used all remaining strength to jump where they needed to go, but as the training grounds began to get closer than anticipated, Prowl knew they didn’t make the jump and that made the mech almost freeze.

Though Jazz had other plans, because as their impending flat doom approached in rapid speed, Prowl's remaining thruster burst to life and gave that final impusle they needed to reach the slope. They both braced themselves as they were thrown up and over to their intended destination, Prowl having half a mind to tighten his hold over his chest so none of the debris and impact could reach the fragile human still in his care.

They rolled down the slope, Prowl just barely being able to shift himself so that he was sliding on his back instead. The aggresive motion of going down a not so smooth path causing bigger cuts and slashes against his already damaged frame. But the only thing he could think of at the moment was that they made it.

Jazz was quick to let go of his control over Prowl, who in turn made an effort to sit properly. Though the sudden slamming to his servo made him look down worriedly, moving it slightly to see Jazz leaning on it desperately.

"Prowl-" he heaved, "Prowl put me down I'm feeling sick."

The mech panicked and quickly made move to help the human down, gently placing him on the grass below. Jazz made no effort in being graceful as he hurled over and puked his guts out, luckily avoiding Prowl in all of this.

Clutching his stomach in pain, his heaving and coughs agitating the injuries on his abdomen. Everything around him felt blurry and muffled as his body made sure to get everything he had eaten in the past day out of him.

What made him panic was the sudden taste of iron in his mouth as he coughed up whatever he had left inside. That's not good. And that definitely didn't escape the giant mech's notice, who kept a hovering servo near him.

"Jazz! Is that blood?!" His voice sounded so broken, static lacing over his words.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah it is." He wasn't sure how to deny that really, and he felt too light-headed to try. But his attention diverted to the sudden pink glow that landed at the side of his vision.

Energon.

Quickly looking up, he finally got a glance at his partner's battered condition. Energon leaked from many different parts of his body, but the main source being from his missing arm. Jazz couldn't help but cringe at that.

But what hurt him the most to see was the weak light from the mech's optics, which still held visible concern on them. Despite being close to going into offline, he still looked at Jazz as if he's about the crumble into dust and leave him. Which he honestly, maybe, felt like. But seeing Prowl's optics flicker as they fought to stay online, Jazz panicked

"What 'bout you?!" He called back, catching the bot off guard. "You're losing too much energon! You look like you're about to go offline!"

Prowl cringed a little, not having anything to counter that. "Well that's because I-"

"No! I'm only a little bit dizzy, but I'll live. We need to patch you up right now!"

"I can help with that."

The new voice catches the duo off guard, Prowl immediately reaching out to Jazz, hand shielding the human from whoever that might be. Jazz looked down from where he was looking at Prowl and turned to see who it was that the voice came from.

There standing in front of them was a human carrying a simple tool box and a huge backpack strapped over one shoulder, filled with questionable things.

---

BEFORE YOU LEAVE, a little something I would like to point out for the fic, that some of yall with either like or not, during the process of writing this, I've seen a few posts keferon made about the spark being radioactive and such, and it sorta made me think a bit while developing Jazz's condition. So well, take Jazz's health in this as you will with this info :)

But anyways, yippie!! That's all for today folks! I hope yall enjoyed this one bc I definitely had a heck of a time writing this one XD

It got alot bigger than I anticipated and took much longer to finish than I originally planned (was supposed to be done 2 days ago).

Now, I know I keep saying "not sure if I'll make another part to this" but then proceed to do so anyways. But I mainly do so because everytime I shared it someone said something that added to the story somehow and gave me ideas to continue foward.

So like, if yall liked this and wanna see more, don't be shy to suggest/add anything to this as it may help inspire me to add more onto this, cuz honestly idk what the fuck I'm doing rn, I'm just going with the flow ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, a bit of note for the doodle, holy shit I did not expect it to look this good!! Tho I suffered with Jazz's suit, plz ignore any inaccuracies tee-hee. Prowl's knee and hands were hell too, especially his knee, but i could like, hide most of it lmao. Actually mainly struggled to not have his hand cover Jazz too much bc it kept covering the parts I actually wanted to show off lmao.

Oh and the guy at the end? Yall can take a good guess as to who it is :)

But since he doesn't have any official design, I kinda went with whatever felt right lol.

I also really wanted to draw out more scenes to add to the fic, but then it would take me a lot more time to actually post the fic as I figure out how to draw robots :'). But maybe I can try and doodle them out another time if I can, no promises tho-

[littlebigmouse]

Same. I sincerely believe the introduction of their mother is the worst scene in season 2 so far, not only because the scene itself is pretty bad, it makes very little sense in context (in terms of the characters emotional states) and retrospectively harms S1Act1.

I fucking hate this, what do you MEAN it explains it, did Season 1 not already explain it?? Did Season 1 not make you understand it already?? Did Season 1 not focus on Vander's corpse and the emotions on Silco's face when Powder tells him Vi left her? Did you not get that Silco empathized with her because he knows how it feels to be abandoned by an older sibling? Did he not spend the entire season comparing Vi to Vander and his past to Jinx's? Were there not already multiple scenes depicting Silco and Jinx's bond and how he came to fiercely love her after years of taking care of her?? You stilI needed another hamfisted justification for his love for her?? He needed to be her godfather and friends with her dead mother for you to understand Season 1? I despise takes like this so muchhh

[hannieoftheyear]

Warning Signal (jww) TEASER

Two targets you need to figure out, alongside the one person you most despise, and zero mistakes allowed.

As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.

pairing: criminal!wonwoo x criminal!reader

w.c: 915 (for the teaser), full work will be over 20k

release date: tbd

genre: exes to partners in crime to lovers, violence, angst, smut (not in the teaser)

content warnings (for the full work): vague descriptions of what their "job" actually is, criminal acts, stalking, spying, invasion of privacy, use of fake names, fake identities, stealing (both reader and wonwoo do all of the above), mentions of guns, fight scenes, blood, murder, death (not the main characters) | the story will contain flashbacks written in cursive (such as this teaser)

note: this is very different from what i've been posting so far, but i had a dream about a similar story and couldn't get it out of my mind.

on that note, i'm not sure when i'll be able to finish this bc it's taking a lot of time to make sure everything makes sense and for the relationship to be fully fleshed out. it might be done by january (that sounds so weird to say omg)

if anyone wants to be on the taglist, comment this post!

“The bit is over Wonwoo, go home.”

“Let’s just work together, one last time.” His voice reaches closer and closer from behind you until you stop walking and force yourself to face him. 

“Not only do I not need your help, I especially don’t want it.” 

“Look, I’m not asking you to forgive me, just–” He appears to have regretted what he was about to say, and you don’t wait for him to gather his thoughts. 

“Just what? Understand it? We’re way past that don’t you think?” 

“We’re good together,” your brain glitches with astonishment before he corrects himself, “We always worked better when we did these jobs together, you know that.” 

“You have some serious nerve, after last time, the least I should do it rat you out right this second.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, it’s not your style.” 

“To fuck over my partners? No, that’s yours.” 

He's trying to charm his way into your life again, like the past few months could disappear at the flash of a smile, and you'll be damned if you let him.  

“Let’s just see it as a mere trade of information, nothing more.” Neither his voice nor his expression suggests that he’s trying to deceive you, and you hate that you're even considering his offer.  

“And I wouldn’t have to see your face ever again after?” 

“That would be your loss, but sure. One last job and we’d be done.” 

“Are you being serious?” 

It’s hard to trust him. No matter how much he insists it’s his only goal. But it’s true that whatever knowledge he collected on that dude would save you a lot of time and resources, and you have to do this job well to prove yourself to your boss. 

“Dead serious. I promise.” 

A year before… 

The waitress, with purple bags under her eyes and bleach blonde hair tied up in a bun on the edge of falling undone, sighed on the way to tell the same client, for the fourth time in two hours, that it was prohibited to smoke inside the establishment. You saw that man doing countless other illegal things while sitting on that same dark booth the entire night, but the bar drew the line at smoking indoors. 

He huffed at her but ultimately put the cigarette out against the wood table. There were fewer and fewer people the more the time passed, and soon enough, it was going to be too suspicious for you to still be there. You couldn’t be the only customer left in the bar when he left, but the person he was still waiting for was the key to all this, and you couldn’t leave without that information. 

An ‘80s country song started playing on the radio, and the man started tapping his fingers against the table, following the rhythm of the classic. It was almost serene, the way he relaxed at the sound of the familiar tune, but the night started to feel more and more like a waste of time. Whatever the deal was with the person who wasn’t showing up, it was clearly not happening. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” A familiar figure sat in front of you at the secluded booth you kidnapped for the whole night. But the smile that appeared on your face at him quickly dissipated. 

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too empty.” Besides the staff, you and the old man, there were only three people inside the dusty bar at that time, all alone, too drunk and on the brink of leaving. It was almost impossible not to stand out in that crowd. 

“Don’t worry, I called in a few favors.” Just as Wonwoo finished his sentence, a group of at least ten men, talking loudly and in the mood to celebrate something, walked into the tiny bar, disrupting the serenity but providing you with much needed cover. 

“You’re so... resourceful.” Your words mixed with a giggle as the atmosphere changed from calm and musty to a playful bachelor-esque party inside the bar. “How did you know I was here?” 

“I always know where you are, baby.” A chill climbed up your spine at his teasing smile. “And also, I was waiting for a guy to show up here. He’s supposed to be meeting someone.” 

The loud laugh that escaped you almost beat the drunk shouting of the bachelors in volume. It was easy to connect the dots, and it also wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. 

“You know something I don’t?” Wonwoo’s eyes didn’t stray away from the smile on your lips. 

You just giggled as your eyes darted towards the sketchy old man, who was back to smoking, seeing that the staff’s attention was focused on the new customers. You could feel Wonwoo’s gaze stay on you for a second before following yours, and the realization hit him quickly, the years of working together serving their purpose. 

“Yours?” The amusement in his voice made you nod eagerly, sipping on the mocktail that had been sitting untouched on the table for over an hour. “It’s been a while.” 

This job, the thing that you do for a living, got lonely every now and then. Doing everything on your own, not being able to share it with the people closest to you, can take a toll on anyone, no matter how detached they're able to get. So, when you got a chance to work with the one you love, you were for sure gonna take it. 

“I know, it’s gonna be fun.”  

thank you for reading! i love this story and i cant wait to finish it so you all can finally read it!

remember! if you want to join the taglist, comment on this post ♡

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 07

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Richmond, Virginia, March 20, 2015

“Thank you so much for being here once again!” Gratitude seemed to pour from her voice and adorn her smile. Everyone at Pearl’s bar cheered whenever you stepped on stage and sighed in disappointment when you announced the last song.

It felt almost too surreal.

Gradually, a certain confidence began to settle, and the small stage of that bar—bathed in cozy, colorful lights, walls adorned with posters of '90s bands, and a warm audience—felt more and more like home. Maybe it was a bit arrogant to think you were born for this, but what if you were?

“Did I tell you how good you are today?” His voice reached you just as your hand slid over the zipper after storing the guitar away. You didn’t even need to turn around to recognize the presence that filled the space.

He’d been here. Every single day. For a month.

With the uncanny ability to make the blood vessels in your face dilate, painting your skin crimson, and sending chills up your arms just by hearing the timbre of his voice. Turning around and meeting his brown eyes, sparkling like a precious gem every time they met yours, sent your body into an involuntary reaction.

There was absolutely no way you could stop yourself from smiling when he was by your side, even if the swarm of butterflies nesting in your stomach caused a slight discomfort.

“You say that every time, Noah…” you muttered so softly you thought he hadn’t heard.

“That’s because I’m your biggest fan.”

After flashing a wavering smile and shaking your head to mask the flustered feeling creeping in, you went back to rolling up the sound cables. After every performance, it was your duty to tidy up the place and clean the empty bar before heading home.

Pearl had offered you a spot in the small house she shared with her son in the back of the bar. There weren’t separate bedrooms or many rooms to keep you from bumping into one another, but to you, it was perfect—a place to sleep, eat, and shower.

“Uh…” Noah seemed to rehearse his words, hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched as he followed you around the stage. “It’s not that late, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me?”

Your body froze in place for a few seconds, cables coiled around your fingers.

“I mean…” he rushed to correct himself. “Don’t get me wrong, please. It’s just an invitation to grab a drink or some food. I promise I’ll get you home before your parents notice you’re gone, or I can talk to them if you’d like, and…”

“I’ll go.”

Finally, he fell silent, his rapid string of words nearly robbing him of breath. Noah slumped his shoulders, and it was hard to tell whether he was surprised you’d agreed or just catching his breath after pulling an Eminem stunt.

“Cool!” was all he managed to say, still looking dazed.

“I just need to finish organizing the sound equipment and cleaning up the bar. If you don’t mind waiting.”

“No. No. No! Of course, I don’t mind waiting.” Noah assured, already glancing at the rest of the disorganized bar. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

It didn’t take long for the place to become a true mess, thanks to Noah’s enthusiasm and the old jukebox in the corner with the help of a coin. Chairs atop tables, soapy water covering the floor, while you both wielded brooms, belting out a metal version of Love Story by Taylor Swift that you’d created. Noah handled the growls, and you performed the melodic verses, sliding across the slippery floor.

For the second time, it struck you how your voices complemented each other, even if it was just a silly game while cleaning a bar that reeked of stale drinks and cigarettes. He seemed to enjoy himself so much that, while pushing water across the floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at his perfectly aligned smile—a masterpiece framed in laughter.

With unsteady steps dodging the puddles of soap, your body suddenly lost balance. Noah’s quick reflexes allowed him to drop his broom and catch you just in time before you hit the ground.

If there was music still playing, you couldn’t tell what it was anymore. A faint ringing buzzed in your ears as your eyes locked with his.

There wasn’t a single scientific explanation as to why his eyes gleamed so brightly in your presence, and even after seeing him every day for a month at the back of the audience, it still felt like the first time.

“Easy there, little storm!” His voice was soft, carrying a breath of mint as strands of his hair fell across his face. “A hospital date isn’t exactly on my agenda.”

Slowly, Noah helped you back to your feet, his laughter mingling with yours as you both steadied yourselves. Returning to your brooms, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

Pearl’s bar was finally back in order—chairs down, floor spotless, stage organized, dishes washed. The strong scent of disinfectant made Noah sneeze, drawing a laugh from you when you saw his reddened nose from the allergy. He kindly helped you gather your belongings, but as you were about to leave, heavy rain poured outside, making him groan in disappointment.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” he grumbled, gazing at the downpour with a less-than-pleased expression. Somehow, he looked adorable, pouting like that.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the rain?” you teased, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the floor by the door along with your bag and phone.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Noah asked, furrowing his brows in a mix of concern, trailing after your mischievous smile as you walked backward into the rain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get soaked for no reason. We could wait it out or reschedule, and…”

“Boy, you’re so…”

“Boring?” he offered.

“Methodical,” you corrected, raising a finger in the air for emphasis. “You’re afraid of making mistakes, turning it into a constant competition with yourself to make everything perfect. But I have a question for you: When was the last time you felt free?”

The words seemed to strike him, and for a moment, you hesitated, fearing you’d overstepped, noticing how he froze in place. Life had always been a sea of opportunities to you, no matter what they were. You’d always felt alone, even in a crowd, and nothing had stopped you from living.

Nothing had cared enough to cage you, and that made you free.

The trance broke. Noah shook his head, banishing his inner doubts. A smile formed on his lips as he shed his jacket, tossing his phone alongside your things, and sprinted into the rain, squinting against the droplets.

You instinctively began running down the long, empty road, your laughter tangling with his, filling the air. Noah made it a race; taller than you, his long strides were worth two of yours.

Rain clung to your skin, hair plastered to your face, strands obscuring your vision as you desperately glanced over your shoulder, afraid of being caught. With a playful grin, he bit his lip, struggling to see through the downpour.

His laughter was the best song you’d ever heard, and your heart longed to play it on repeat until it soothed the storm raging inside.

When your legs gave out, surrendering, Noah caught you in a surprise move, hoisting you over his shoulder. Your laughter spilled freely, your stomach aching from the joy. Spinning together in the rain, the cold seemed insignificant as adrenaline warmed your bodies.

A dance without music moved you both as Noah clasped your hand, twirling you, your toes barely touching the ground. Every time you lifted your face to the sky, feeling the raindrops and cool breeze, your lips and his curved upward simultaneously.

Attempting another spin, Noah’s foot slipped, sending you both tumbling to the ground. He softened your fall with his arm, and once again, your eyes locked, separated only by the strange-tasting water falling from the sky and dripping from your chins.

Every detail of his face was perfectly sculpted, a maze where you could easily lose yourself—his deep, hopeful, and fiercely brown eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, boy,” you whispered, almost breathless, as he propped himself up on one arm. “I’m still going to break your heart.”

“I dare you, little storm,” Noah said, his gaze fixed on you as though spellbound, his free hand brushing away a stray lock from your face to study it closely before claiming your lips in one swift motion.

Every ounce of turmoil that had knotted your insides over the past weeks washed away with the rain, as if a new sensation took over your body. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers threading through the damp hair at his nape. There was no other choice for him but to stay. You wanted him to stay.

Noah’s long fingers pressed into your back, gathering the soaked fabric of your shirt, pulling your bodies together with deliberate slowness. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss with an urgency that mirrored the moment he’d first crossed your path.

Noses brushing gently, you both smiled softly, his lips returning to yours. Tilting his head skyward, eyes closed as he murmured something unintelligible. Noah laughed softly, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and the curve of his nose.

"Please, little storm, tell me I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered, almost like a plea, as his lips brushed against your skin, refusing to open his eyes.

"Absolutely, yes," your voice confirmed as you slowly lifted his face, your fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair.

A second meeting in a dark basement isn’t exactly what you imagined.

Noah had come down with a terrible cold after last night’s adventure, and in an attempt to stop you from risking his life again, he suggested you come watch his band rehearse. His friends and bandmates were introduced as Folio, Jolly, and Ruffilo. The guys welcomed you with enthusiasm, and for a moment, you felt like you’d known them for years, so naturally did they make you feel part of their group.

“What’s with that face?” Ruffilo asked as soon as the first song ended, slinging his instrument off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me it’s that bad.”

“You have the privilege of seeing us play a private show, and that’s the face you make? Noah, your friend here is kind of rude!” The guy behind the drums joked in an easygoing tone, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, you nibbled on your lip while munching on a bag of chips. It wasn’t like you were a music expert, though you’d been breathing it in like air for as long as you could remember, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

“I think it was badass!” As soon as you spoke, everyone slumped their shoulders in relief.

“I take back everything I said about her.”

“But something’s missing…” you added, standing up from the couch and brushing your fingers together.

“I take back everything I just said about her.” The guy on the drums simply couldn’t stay quiet.

“Folio, let the girl speak!” Jolly interrupted, and Folio quickly mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. “What exactly do you think is missing? I’ve had that same feeling and would love to know I’m not going crazy.”

You began pacing back and forth, your steps deliberate, your fingers curling inside your jeans pockets. Jolly’s question made you reflect on the current metal scene. All their references seemed focused on hardcore, where every song followed a single rhythm.

“How about taking advantage of the fact that the band doesn’t have a set direction yet and trying something different? Like metalcore—it allows for a mix of guttural and melodic vocals, low tunings, and fast riffs. It keeps the sound fresh and avoids the songs blending into each other when the tracks change.” You finished your thought, and the guys exchanged looks as though a divine light had suddenly shone upon them. “Did I say something dumb?”

“Actually, you said something interesting…” Jolly seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on a wooden surface.

“Noah said you sing rock and punk at the bar where you work,” the guy holding an energy drink offered you some, but you politely declined. “Why not try doing the melodic vocals on one of our songs? I promise it’s just a test, and we’ll leave you alone afterward. But seriously, look at our desperate faces!”

Ruffilo made a dramatic pout, clasping his hands together like a kid begging for a new pet. Your body tensed at the idea of meddling where you didn’t belong, and you regretted even opening your mouth. Your gaze met Noah’s, who simply winked and nodded, his lips silently mouthing, “You’re good” over and over.

Suddenly, his hand appeared next to yours, holding a microphone. As much as you wanted to refuse, the words stuck in your throat as Noah took your hand and placed the mic in it.

There was no turning back.

“THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!” Folio yelled as he struck the final cymbal.

“You were absolutely right! We needed to combine guttural and melodic vocals!” Jolly, almost talking to himself, continued tapping his fingers on a wooden surface. He gave what looked like the shadow of a smile, and that seemed like a good sign.

“So it seems my plan worked…”

Noah surprised you by wrapping his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on your temple and lingering as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

“Plan?” You turned abruptly to face him.

“I brought you here because ever since I first saw you at the bar and we sang together, I knew I wanted you to sing with me in my band—now our band—and I won’t take no for an answer!” he declared, pinching the tip of your nose. “You’re good. You’re really good!”

Your shocked gaze flicked from him to the other band members, who looked just as excited as he was.

“Welcome to Bad Omens, little storm.”

After saying goodbye to the boys, Noah promised to drive you home. While he finished grabbing his things from the garage, you decided to step outside for some air and take the opportunity to smoke a cigarette.

Becoming the vocalist of a band at this point in your life wasn’t exactly on your bingo card for the year, and you had no idea how you’d balance it with your job at the bar, especially since saving money was still your top priority. But everything had felt so simple down there. There was no trace of her voice in your head telling you that your voice was as cursed as the abomination you were. There was absolutely nothing capable of stealing the feeling that coursed through you every time your voice and Noah’s harmonized.

It was impossible to predict where this would lead in the future, but for the first time, you felt happy. You belonged to something where you could be yourself without it costing you your freedom.

You were finally you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the screech of tires on asphalt. Startled, you turned to see a car speeding toward you from the other side of the road, threatening to mount the sidewalk where you stood. In an impulsive move, you threw yourself to the side, landing hard on the rough, gravel-strewn ground, a gasp of pain escaping your lips.

When you looked at the car—one you knew all too well—your entire body tensed, frozen on the ground. For a moment, you forgot about the scrape on your arm as your eyes locked on the driver.

“Found you, little girl,” Seth announced, grinning beneath his scruffy beard.

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” Noah’s voice, muffled by his hurried footsteps, cut through the tension. As he approached, Seth rolled up the window and shifted into reverse, speeding away down the wrong side of the road.

When Noah got closer, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. He quickly crouched down, and you threw yourself into his arms. Without saying a single word, you clung to him so tightly that your fingers dug deep into his skin, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Shhh,” he whispered, wrapping his arms even tighter around you to hold you securely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But everything seemed to hit your mind all at once. In seconds, you weren’t in Noah’s arms anymore—you were somewhere else, a filthy place as vile as your skin felt and as repulsive as the stench surrounding you. Your arms and legs turned immobile, locking up like a cramp, as the sensation of him closing in grew stronger and stronger. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He had severed your vocal cords because he enjoyed watching you cry.

Seth had stolen everything from you. And no matter where you tried to rebuild yourself, their shadow would always be there.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @foliosgirl

[firadessa]

Mark Cote Info Reveal- Silvermist's Quest

(Long Post Warning)

Me and a few friends are doing our own searches for information on the elusive Tinker Bell draft. We were able to secure an interview with Mark Cote, who was on the film for both a 2d and 3d version. Unfortunately, we were not able to save many recordings in good quality and mine has no audio. I also failed to transcribe our meeting, but hopefully this will not be our only meeting.

Before the original movie was put into 3D, it had several character quests all linked to the narrative to save Neverland. I thought it would be like Disneytoon's failed Enchanted Tales series, but unlike Enchanted Tales or Cinderella 2 the segments wouldn't be so self contained. It was like the movie Fantasia, but connected through a larger plot. There would also be a ticking time bomb in the form of the worlds of the mainland and Neverland combining due to the theft of pixie dust by Tinker Bell and friends before they earned it messing up the natural order. He told us that all 5 character quests would have to be approved by management, so he experienced delays in production. Several quests were greenlit but they had a hard time when they got to Silvermist and Iridessa.

We asked in a riddle, what brings water life? It took a while to get an answer, but @princessquinnella was reminded of water fairies in the books. The thing is though, Silvermist was conceived pretty differently from Rani. Despite being a water fairy, she was a repressive and pragmatic character. If you had a Disney Fairies DVD that came with the toys, you might remember the line "Still waters run deep" in reference to Silvermist. The pond and lotus where she lived, is implied to be "Stillwater Springs" or Lilypad Pond from what we know. x Here is the description from the illusive "pitch book"

Firstly, Mark told us for this "epic story" Silvermist's quest would be next to last. None of the fairies can fly because of the magic has dissipated. The story starts in her home of Stillwater Springs/Lilypad Pond, she creates a magical cloud named Tempest to fly. Tempest is an opposite to SIlvermist, he's a joyful and free spirited cloud like a impish child. Like in the final cut, there are 4 seasonal areas? There would be 5 themed areas in Pixie Hollow where each fairy lived. Many inanimate things live here in this word inspired by Art Nouveau.

She needs to fly on Tempest to reach the "water of life", and she travels to Pixie Hollow in a harsh desert area. She has a small glass vile to collect the "water of life" and flies over the stretch of desert looking everywhere. There's a color script of this segment somewhere on AODF (dont know where to link), where it is blurry and you can see the desert.

Silvermist and Tempest even meet other clouds on their journey, but they are grumpy and stern adult clouds.

Here, on the color guide- we see things a bit different. There seems to be some sort of snowdrop-esque flower in place of Tempest- but also some clouds, so I'm not sure what it could be.

Silvermist has been in the sky for a while now in this desert, but cannot find the water of life. Suddenly! Tempest, the child cloud starts to die. Silvermist is scared, because her friend is dying and she hasn't found the water of life. She sits down defeated... and starts to cry.

He showed us a piece I am very familiar with:

It is then, when she is at her lowest- when she cries... Tempest is resurected, and she is able to save her friend and collect the Water of Life, the quest item she needs to save Pixie Hollow.

Lastly, I should say the desert like areas in Pixie Hollow remind me of the elusive art from the mysterious artbook "The Art of Judith Holmes Clarke" (excuse quality, its a short frame in an IG video)

Now it's time for the next quest to reveal information about, there should be 2 left with more info to share with you...

This one shall be fill in the blank:

"------ is the key that opens every door."

Fly with you later!

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 a female who has been through so much in the clutches of Amarantha. Finds herself being freed she finds herself changed. She's more powerful and was now very unique in her own way. Starting a new life she finds it's hard and feels somewhat lost. But it all changes for her when she finds she has a mate. She soon suddenly feels less lost and finds a home in his arms.

☆or☆

𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel finds himself lonely. He was lonelier than ever, even in a room filled with his found family. He couldn't seem to rid himself of such feelings. It was a feeling that was threatening to swallow him whole. That is until he meets her, his mate. Azriel soon finds himself feeling less lonely and happier than he's ever been. And it was all because of her.

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings - Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, Mentions of War, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Looking out of the window that was beside her was what she was doing at the moment. Her gaze on the flowers and nature outside. Taking in the sight before her. The view never grew old to her. She could sit and look at the view for hours, maybe even days and get lost in her own little world. But she knew it wasn’t possible for her. She couldn’t do such a thing. 

But she always took what time she had and made sure she took in the view and cherished it. It was moments like this when she would do such a thing. Looking outside her home at every little thing she could. The way the beautiful flowers drifted slightly as the wind blew. Taking in the trees and watching as the leaves rustled in the wind and so much more. It led her to smile at the sight. But her attention was soon taken away from the view outside by the voice of a female. 

“Annamarie, are you going to the Rainbow with Irina today?” 

She heard the familiar voice of a female ask softly. Who had walked into the dining room where she was currently sitting. Turning, Anna saw the female. She had a welcoming smile upon her lips as she tilted her head in question. Her name was Amara. She was a beautiful female high fae. Who she was close with she was like a sister to Anna. Amara being very kind and caring toward anyone. She was quick to take Anna in when she had come into her life. 

Hearing her question Anna sent her a smile. She then nodded before looking down at her hands that were on the table fiddling with her cup. She soon looked back up at the female when she heard the shuffling of feet. She soon found Amara now smiling gently at her and was sitting in front of her on the other side of the table.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours that’s got you looking out the window in such a way?” Amara questioned gently with a smile. As she rested her chin on her hands. Looking at Anna with kindness. She had her gaze on the unique female. 

Taking in the soft spoken female that she thought of as a close friend. She thought Anna was gorgeous, but Anna had trouble seeing herself in such a way. So Amara made a point to compliment her on more than one occasion along with the rest of their little family. 

She smiled seeing Anna so open at the moment. Without a care. With her long dark curly mane that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her light brown skin that was glowing in the light that came from outside. Then there was her soft but curvy frame along with her being slightly shorter than most fae. Her black long sleeved dress that hugged all of her curves then flowed to the floor. She then saw her medium length curved nails that fiddled with her cup.

Then there were the unique things or attributes about her that she had been put upon her forcefully from her rough journey over the many years. That Anna wasn’t very fond of. But was still coming to terms with and accepting. 

There were her ears that were longer and pointed that flapped slightly if she moved her head too quickly. She unfortunately had a cut on the outside of one of her ears. A triangle-like shape of skin missing. They were very sensitive to touch and sound. Which led her to keep them covered most of the time with a scarf or cloth wrapped around her head or her long hair covering them. But they still seemed to peek out no matter what she did.     

Then there were her unique eyes. One was a very dark brown resembling a beautiful onyx gem. It was her natural eye color, the color she was born with. The color both her eyes used to be. Then there was the other that was a silver color. It shimmered and glistened with her magic. The color she had been forcefully given. They were unique and different but caused her to become overwhelmed at times. Sometimes having blurry vision or having vision that was clear as day. Well to clear at times and so bright. Leading her to have to wear glasses with silvered wired frames. That had magic infused within them to help moderate her vision. That she often pushed up onto the bridge of her button nose.

There were also the scars that littered Anna’s body. She had a few that littered her face. There were small ones. But then there were two that stood out. One on her soft cheek that was a large and thick line that was from her ear to the corner of her lip. Then one that started from the top of her brow then over her silver eye and ended just above her other chubby cheek. Those were the noticeable ones. There were others that littered her arms and back that no one has seen. Well no one who wasn’t her family. But Anna still tries to keep hidden from others.    

But Amara with their family still thought she was truly beautiful. And they made sure to make it known as often as they could. Though Anna thought differently. She always had trouble accepting the way she looked even before what had happened to her. Having insecurities about the way she looked. It had gotten worse at one point after everything that happened to her with her new attributes. But she seemed to be getting better as time passed and with the help of her little found family.  

“N - Nothing much Mara. Just taking i - in the view outside is all,” she smiled at Amara. After she gestured to the view outside. She couldn’t help but get lost in the view again. It was just so beautiful she couldn’t get enough of the nature around them. It led her to smile with excitement just thinking of going outside to feel the energy and wind on her skin. She wanted nothing more but to step outside without shoes and socks on to feel the ground beneath her feet. So she could connect with the environment around her. She was about to speak about her excitement but was cut off by Amara speaking. 

“Hmmm it is gorgeous isn’t it… just like you sweetheart,” Amara giggled with a grin. Hearing her caused Anna to stop for a moment taking in what she said. Before looking down bashfully. Shaking her head a light blush of pink traveled over her cheeks. Pushing her glasses on the bridge of her nose she sighed sending Amara a playful glare. Causing Amara to giggle with a wide smile, “what I’m just speaking the truth Anna! You are so pretty! Isn’t that right Killian?”

“Very true my love. She is so pretty my heart flutters everytime I see her. Just as it does when I see your gorgeous face,” Killian chimed in. Him having walked into the dining room just a moment ago. Having heard what Amara had said.  

Killian having entered the room with a wide smile. As he reached to place a kiss on top of Anna’s head and then kissed Amara’s lips gently. Making a loud kissing noise as he did so. Causing the two females to giggle and chuckle. Both watched as he took a seat by his mate Amara draping an arm lazily around her shoulder. Leading the female to lean into his side. Looking at Killian, Anna rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help but smile at the male. Killian always knew how to make Anna smile and laugh. It led her to sit and remember. 

Both having been by each other's sides for a long time now, for about fifty years. The two having been through a lot over the past years by each other’s side. The two had met in a horrible place… Under the Mountain. During Amarantha’s ruling. 

Killian having been kidnapped from his home Court, the Dawn Court. Him being a well known powerful healer. While Anna was sold off by her family so they could pay their debt to Amarantha. 

They soon found themselves as cellmates. As they were picked to go through experiments. Being experimented on with magic and so much more. Both being poked, prodded, cut, and beaten at for many years. It was truly a dark and cruel time for them. 

The only thing keeping them sane and keeping them from giving up during such a time were each other. They had grown a very close bond during that time. So close that they laughed about being platonic soulmates. They were there to hold each other. To encourage each other to keep going and not give up. To keep fighting no matter how much they wanted to just let the darkness consume them. 

It was during this time that their choice was taken from them. They had so many things taken from them. They had powerful and unknown magic forced upon them that they didn’t want. It was why they look the way they do now. 

Anna with her attributes like her eyes, ears, and scars. Then there was her magic. Having been put through many experiments to try and expand her magic and make her more powerful. So that Amarantha could bind Anna’s magic to her trying to make herself more powerful. Just as she did with the seven High Lords of Prythian. But Anna always kept her new growing magic hidden. No matter how hard it was she made sure no one knew of her new found chaotic magic. Well beside Killian he was the one to coach her teaching her ways to conceal and control her magic. Neither of them wanted anyone to know of Anna’s magic. Killian also wanted to keep Anna safe too.  

Then there was Killian with his enhanced healing and ability to heal others. He was able to heal anyone with just a touch from pretty much anything if he put his mind to it. It took time but it was possible for him. His healing magic had grown. Then his ability to heal. He could heal from anything. Whether it be him being amputated the limb would grow back. Being stabbed he could pull out the knife and the wound  would heal. Broken bone he could just reposition it correctly and it would heal. All good as new.

There were so many things he could heal from. Anna had witnessed everything and found it weird and gross but got used to it. But with such a power it came at a cost. It was an experiment that went wrong. It all stemmed from fire. The people experimenting on them wanted to test if he could heal from fire. It was before he was gifted with such healing. But ultimately gave him the ability to heal. His skin was scarred and burnt. There wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t burnt. 

That day it led Anna to have to hold him as he cried in her arms non-stop. And Anna held him every minute, never letting go. But after some time with Anna’s encouraging words he got back up and came back even stronger. He still had his bad days, both of them did. But they kept going with each other's help. 

It was when the end of Amarantha’s ruling came and she had died that they snuck out together from Under the Mountain. No one knowing of them, just rumors. Both were lucky that not many saw them. They made sure to stay in the dark and stayed hidden. They both felt lost at this point and didn’t know what to do. Until Anna argued with Killian to go to his wife, his mate. The one he spoke about so much. He put up a fight but agreed to go to her only if Anna promised to stay by his side. Which she agreed to hesitantly not wanting to intrude on his life. But he always stated they would be by each other’s side no matter what.  

But it seemed their lives got better when Amara Killian’s mate and her sister Irina came into their lives. The two found themselves traveling to the Court of Dreams or Velaris in the Night Court. A beautiful city that had been opened to the public after being hidden for so long. 

It was where Amara and Irina had traveled to and made a new home for themselves. But after a heartfelt reunion between Amara and Killian. Amara accepting him and smothering him with love. After the four of them soon became close. They were a family through and through. It led Anna to smile thinking of their little found family. 

“Oh shut up Mara, Killy. My goodness I’m not that -,” Anna giggled with a shake of her head feeling her ears move slightly against her head. As she pushed her glasses up upon her nose. Killian was about to cut her off and was going to object. But Irina, his sister in law Amara’s sister, already beat him to it after walking into the room. Having heard part of the conversation. 

“Anna don’t even finish that sentence. And I hate to cut this short and get right to it but all of you are beautiful, gorgeous even. But I have to steal Anna. That is if you still want to come with me to the Rainbow. I’m about to leave soon,” Irina chuckled. As she walked into the room still searching through her satchel for something. 

“I’m going with you Rina. What are you looking for anyways?” Anna questioned as she got up from her seat. Reaching for her black scarf that had silver stars on it. She then began to wrap it around her head over her long ears. Trying her best to cover them up. 

“I’m looking for a letter that was addressed to you. It was all fancy and what not oh here it is,” Irina exclaimed in victory before handing it to her. Anna was confused but shrugged it off thinking it was a new commission for an art piece. Taking the letter she saw it was indeed fancy. As she opened it she thanked Irina which she sent her a nod with a smile as a welcome. Before she started a conversation with Killian and Amara. But looking down at the letter she gasped after reading it. Catching the others' attention.   

“What? What’s wrong Anna?” Killian asked her, he was quick to get up and move to stand by her side. She didn’t know how she felt. It was a bit overwhelming for her. So all she did was hand the letter to him. As she sighed, raising her glasses slightly and rubbing her face before placing them back on the bride of her nose. Watching him as he read over the letter. He was soon looking up at her with worry. 

“You’re not going,” he declared. 

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious if I didn’t go, Killian?” Anna sighed with a question. Not meeting his eyes. As she looked at the ground shuffling on her feet. She didn’t know what to think of the letter but she knew she was screwed either way. 

“What does it say?” Amara asked moving to stand next to Killian to read the letter over his shoulder. Irina was quick to ask the same thing as she slowly placed a hand on Anna’s arm gently. To try and sooth her. Looking up Anna sent her a small smile that was filled with fear. 

“The High Lord and Lady want to see her because of her artwork. And because of the charity work she has been doing,” Amara gasped as well after reading the letter. Looking at Killian and Anna then to her sister with wide eyes. Who reacted the same hearing what she said. This caused all of them to be filled with fear and worry for Anna. It was quiet for a moment between the four as they began to think of what to do until Irina spoke.

“Okay… I am sorry to say this but she’s going to have to go. There’s no way out of this. As Anna said it would be too suspicious on her part if she didn’t go. They know of her now. It would be even more suspicious if she avoided them. If they find out who she really is. There's too many people who know Anna and adore her in this city. So maybe that’ll ease their minds on her,” Irina put forth. She was about to continue to try and ease the tension but was cut off by Killian.

“No, I told you Anna. You shouldn’t have started doing all this shit. I said it would draw attention to you. But no you didn’t listen to me!” Killian bellowed as he ran his hands over his scared head. Hearing him yell caused Anna to flinch because he did warn her this would happen. But she just wanted to help. Which she whispered as she hugged herself, “I just want to help. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”     

“Help Anna! This is going to lead to us being found out by the fucking Night Court’s inner circle. Not just you but me too. Who knows what they’ll do to us!” Killian exclaimed. Sending a glare her way. Looking at her caused him to sigh because he instantly regretted yelling at her. She looked close to tears now in Amara and Irina’s arms. Both females sending him a glare back.

“You need to calm the hell down Killian. You act like she did this on purpose all she’s done was to help people. And she’s done that. She’s helped so many people in this city. So calm down and keep your anger in check. Before I smack the shit out of you. You of all people should know better than to yell at her,” Amara scolded. As she held Anna close, being taller than her. While Irina ran her hand gently over her back trying to also soothe her.    

“I’m sorry Anna, I'm just scared. Because I know you’re going to have to go,” Killian sighed. Before he opened his arms inviting her into a hug. Moving her head she adjusted her glasses and looked at him. She sighed and moved to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  

“I - I don’t know what is going to happen… b - but I’ll make sure you guys stay safe. And you shouldn’t be scared because no matter what I’ll be there for you Killy,” she vowed. Tightening her hold around his waist to reassure him. A chuckle escaped his lips hearing what she said. 

“No matter what I’ll be there for you too Anna. No matter what,” Killian declared with a smile after kissing the top of her head. He was worried but knew that whatever happened that they would get through it together.  

Redamancy Taglist -

N/A

[half-dead-writer]

hello I am in fact not dead I've been sick and lacking the motivation to write but hopefully I'll get into the groove again, I got so many requests I'm itching to get done but no strength to do it at all grrrr at first I tried to write a drabble but it just wasn't coming out right so I settled for the short headcanons - as a bonus you can see what I wrote for it below

Kim Pine with a shy and nervous S/O

character: Kim Pine (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off) words: 261 reader: gender neutral warnings: none

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

she thinks your nervousness is cute, to an extent

Kim isn't nervous or shy herself, but she can understand where your worries come from

if you're visibly stressed during a social gathering, she won't make a fuss out of it, instead taking you somewhere where you can cool off

Kim having the patience of a saint plays a big role in your relationship

even if you ask her a lot of times whether you done something wrong (whether it's an issue in your relationship or during an event where you're stressed about something you did during interacting with others) she'll always calmly reassure you and chase away your worries

that doesn't mean she won't be blunt about it, though

she will point out whatever you did right (or wrong) in her usual flat fashion

she doesn't mind re-explaining to you her logical reasons, as much as your anxiety makes you doubt her words

at the end of the day, she loves you, even if your confidence is lacking at times

if your love language isn't as open and not easily perceived, little gestures like holding her hand, staying close, no matter how small it may be - she sees it and appreciates you

the type to come up to the McDonald's counter and ask for extra fries they forgot to pack into your happy meal when you're too shy to ask for them yourself

will argue for/defend you if you need it, but also makes an effort to slowly make you come out of your shell, one step at a time

Seeing the look of pure passion on the drummer's face was enough to keep you occupied throughout the whole session of the band playing. You didn't wanna be a creep, of course, so you kept your staring at a minimum. You couldn't deny Kim held you tight in her grasp, though. She just seemed so cool. Somehow, her sarcastic remarks did not push you away, even if they poked holes in your already weak confidence.

Since you started working at No-Account Video, you made it your goal to get to know her better. Learning Kim was in a band was your best chance at showing your eagerness, as awkward as it was from your side. Your attempts at being social at work usually fizzled out after a few minutes, right after you used all of your small-talk dialogue options. Interacting with people didn't come easy to you, but you had to learn somehow, right? Thankfully, Kim accepted your request of seeing her playing live. Perhaps she took pity on you, seeing how hard it was for you to even utter the question.

The girl lowered her drumsticks, wiping the gathered sweat on her forehead. She grabbed the leftover soda from the nearby table, taking a sip. Briefly acknowledging your presence, she glanced your way.

"So? Do you think we suck?" Stephen asked, furrowing his brows with anxiety and hope, trying to gauge your reaction before you could even respond. He assumed the worst, per usual.

"I think- I think that was awesome." You hoped your smile, even if a bit shy, conveyed your excitement clearly.

"You don't have to be nice just because you don't wanna hurt Stephen's feelings." Kim commented with her usual flat tone, not bothering to sugarcoat her words. She knew they most likely sucked.

"No, no, I- I really think you're cool. Um, all of you." You clarified quickly, obviously overthinking your simple words.

"That's a relief." Her tone was ambiguous, most likely sarcastic, but somehow you managed to pinpoint a bit of sincerity in her words. Perhaps she did care at least a little bit of the opinion of her co-worker.

[blu3-ja3]

Did I give O'Connor a phobia that I have... Yes do I care, no! Having perfect characters is so boring! I'm currently cleaning out my drafts I promise I'll start writing my story soon!

O'Connor has never liked riding in cars, very specifically cars. She can handle being on a boat going at top speed, she can handle being in a helicopter making evasion maneuvers, hell shes loved the few times she's driven a motorcycle or ATV. But for whatever reason she hates being in cars, a small part of her knows it is trauma from being in the car crash that killed her mother and crippled her father. But even before the accident she hated being in those vehicles.

Price learned early on into his deployment with Sergeant O'Connor not to put her behind the wheel or near the front. He sees how she clams up, trying her best not to shake like a leaf. She'll never admit it nor argue against driving when told too. Hell there's been a few times where her twitchiness behind the wheel has saved his and his team's asses. That doesn't mean he won't do his damnedest to keep her in the back away from the windows.

Ghost notices his new Captain is a bit nervous, it radiates off her in waves. She was fine up until they had to get into the dingy little pickup, he noticed her hesitation to drive like a deer ready to run at the faintest sound. She only calmed a little when Ghost got into the driver's seat, but her leg is bouncing so hard she might punch a hole through the rusty bottom of the truck. And when he asked if something was wrong, she was short and clipped. The polar opposite of how she interacted with him this entire mission, it's their first time on the field together. It's just them and yet she's never once steamed rolled over him like all his other captains have... Wel not Price but everyone else. No instead she asked for his opinion on every major decision and she actually listens to his suggestions adding to them or just going with them. He's worried but it soon disappears as they reach their stop, he watches her basically bolt out of the truck as soon as it stops. And only then does it dawn on him why the sudden change and he relaxes again.

Gaz is an excellent driver, he knows this, it's a point of pride for him. So he's a bit miffed when he notices the doctor gripping the oh-shit handle for dear life as he speeds through snowy hills of middle of nowhere Canada. He's used to seeing people smiling and enjoying themselves when he drives like this. There's no danger chasing after to warrant this kind of stress from O'Connor but it's there. He slows a bit much to the disappointment of himself and Roach who sat in the back. He watches as O'Connor calms a bit from the corner of his eye and he feels a little hurt. It isn't until he watches her when someone else is driving does it click, it's not just him... Though his speed didn't seem to help.

Roach finds it very odd that at every chance she gets O'Connor sits in the back seats, even though she would be far more comfortable in the front. It baffles him every time she gives the seat to someone else including himself but he's never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It isn't until Soap and Gaz spell it out to him does he notice the panic she holds in her body even in the back seats. He takes it upon himself to distract the doctor while in transit. He's had varying degrees of success but he's noticed a pattern. When O'Connor can't see the road she's calmer, prefers to not have a window to see outside. He does his best to help her on the more stressful drives, it's only fair she's helped him with a million of his own fears.

Soap is a smart man, he's also observant, despite what people think. So he picks up on O'Connor's tension when she's riding with himself, Ghost, Alejandro, and Rudy through Las Almas. At first he thought it was due to being in a car full of men but he quickly wrote that off as soon as they met the rest of Alejandro's team. Her tension was slow to creep in when they're driving and it's only when they're in the cars. He thought it was interesting how well she handled everything else but as soon as they started driving it was tension. He also knows she calms a bit when they speak gaelic, much to the chagrin of their traveling companions. But if it helped his friend calm down then he'll deal with the confused stares.

The boys all agree behind O'Connor's back that if given the option they won't drive, if they have to she gets the middle seat and either Roach or Soap are to sit next to her. Price feels a bit of fatherly pride when they bring it up to him, knowing they're willing to help O'Connor the best they can without being told outright to do so.

[hexlenx]

I'D PICK HER OVER ME — james fleamont potter

note: I do not own any of the characters in harry Potter except for the plot in this small fic. This is purely made for entertainment purposes as well as cuz I am craving for some angst.

warnings!: mentions of death, angst

__________________

James was tired, he really was.

Being a single father was hard, plus being an auror for the ministry. His schedule from his work as well as being a father at the same time was harder than the war that had just ended four years ago.

James sighed in exhaustion as he covered his eyes with his arm while laying on his bed. He had just came back from a meeting in the ministry that ended two hours ago. The meeting ended very late and he hadn't had the time to rest until earlier before waking up in cold sweat.

James had nightmares. It was always the same.

Getting paralyzed by a spell, watching his wife get killed by a dark curse, his son almost dying but some miracle happened and the curse thrown at him was rebounded towards the killer, and repeat. All the same thing, every night.

So James did the only thing that helped him everytime it happened. Sitting up as he groaned, he began to stand up to walk towards downstairs and to the kitchen. Arriving at the location, he began to brew tea. Normally when he was still in his adolescence, he would drink firewhiskey to cope with the war, but now he settled for tea that he added a teaspoon of honey to cope with his loss.

It was what his wife always had whenever she was stressed, tea with a bit of honey. Something he never understood why that preference until now.

"Papa?" A timid voice of a young boy called out to James making him snap out of his daze.

"Yes, Harry?" James said to his son. Harry was a four year old boy, unruly brown hair like his father, circular black glasses on his face because of the poor eyesight he gained from his father. He was practically the carbon copy of James Potter but the only thing different is his son's eyes. It was his mother's, the only woman James had ever loved.

"Where's Mama?" Harry questioned. The air stilled but the small child was oblivious of it. It was a very sensitive topic but it is not a taboo. With sharp intake of breath, James knelt down to his son's height, putting his hand on his shoulder as he fixed his gaze on Harry's.

"Your mother." James started as he paused for a moment to think of a sentence to explain why his mother is gone. "Is in a far away land, at the moment."

"But why so far?"

"Because, Harry, she is trying to protect us from something and she needs to go away for a while." That's it, James. The father encouraged himself. He's still young, tell him when he is old enough. He continued these thoughts as he looked at his son's thoughtful expression.

"Will she come back?"

Silence. There was no answer to that question as James embraced his son in his arms, brows furrowed as tears were threatening to fall from its sockets. The truth was, his mother was not gonna come back but how could he tell that to his four year old son?

Finally having set his son to bed, James took one last glance to Harry before going downstairs to sit on the couch of the living room. The honey-tea has long gone cold as he sat in front of the fire that was slowly dwindling. James stared blankly at it as his thoughts were loud but at the same time quiet.

If only you were here.

"If I could pick on who would survive that day, I would've picked you." James muttered to himself out loud, quietly sniffling his tears that slowly fell on his cheeks to his hands.

"Because you would've known what to do.."

The crying of a baby echoed through the house in Godric's Hollow. The scene showed a master bedroom, two bumps could be seen under sheets of the bed. As the cry continued, one of the figures moved.

"Fuck.."

A deep male's voice cursed out as he sat up, not being able to fall asleep now because of the noise. Another voice moaned out from being awaken from the movement of the man.

"I'll take care of him, love. Just continue sleeping." The man coaxed to his wife beside him who blinked at him to ask if he's sure.

"You sure?"

"Yea, you sleep and I'll tend, yea?" With that, the woman went back to her dreams as the man carefully unravels himself from the sheets before walking out the bedroom to the nursery.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. I got you, bud." He said the moment he took Harry from the crib and coaxed him in his arms. The man was James Potter, the leader of the band of misfits, Marauders is now a father. The one thing he never knew he would be with the war going on.

Harry, the baby, now stopped his fussing and opened his eyes that he got from his mother to stare at his father. Smiling widely, he giggled and tried to reach for James' hair.

"Hey now, not the hair you little twit."

"Do not curse at our child, James Fleamont Potter." A stern melodic voice spoke out from behind the father who flinched as James chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm not...." James trailed off as he looked everywhere but his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"I swear, I can't leave you alone for one second with Harry." You scolded your husband with a slight slap on his arm making him grin at you.

"You love me!" James teased to which you rolled your eyes again.

"Unfortunately." You said while grabbing Harry out of his hands and propping him up on your hip.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

James leaned against the door frame of the kitchen as he wore a pink apron with a giant cute teddy bear printed on its front, courtesy of Sirius saying it was to look husband material and James agreeing to it because he was told it was husband material, he was listening to you humming a small song to Harry as you kept him occupied by holding up a toy on your son's face.

James was cooking up lunch because he wanted you to rest and let him handle household chores while you occupy your son. It was the least he could do for you as the war lead both of you into hiding your son from the Dark Lord because of a prophecy. He knew you wanted to spend more time with Harry before the worse happens, so he did all the chores while you spend your time with your child, even after so many of your refusals.

James smiled in content as well as fondness as he watched the both of you. How could he have such a wonderful family with how arrogant and stupid he was when he was a teen. He didn't think he deserved such thing after being such a prejudice prick towards Slytherins.

"Take Harry and run!" James yelled out to you as he tried to push the Dark Lord back even if it was just for a delay. He couldn't let him get to both of you, you're all that he had left.

Successfully stunning the Dark Lord, James then ran upstairs to be with you and Harry. It was the only thing he could do to help you run away before the Dark Lord catches up. Unfortunately, James underestimated the Dark Lord's recovery from a stunning hex. The moment James arrived at the doorframe of the nursery of where you were, he fell paralyzed by the spell the Dark Lord had thrown at him.

"No.." James mumbled as his eyes went wide in horror. He kept chanting the word like a mantra as he helplessly watched the scene in front of him. His mumbles becoming screams as he sobbed heavily. Sweat dripped his forehead as his face turned red, eyes squinting, brows furrowing hard as tears kept flowing down like a waterfall from his reddening eyes.

No...not my family..

Not the one I just built..

Please don't do this to me..

A green light blinded the whole room as a loud thump echoed the room. Silence overlapped as the Dark Lord grinned viciously. James' brown eyes stilled as he watched the limped lifeless body of the woman he was proud to say was his, the love of his life, the mother of his son, his wife, you.

James was not spared from tragedy as he now watched his son getting cursed by the Dark Lord before he stared in disbelief as the curse rebounded and hit the one who casted it. Watching as a lightning bolt of a cut appeared on his son's forehead.

But the moment he was free from his trap, he screamed in agony, not from his wounds, but from the death of his love.

"Now, Harry. If I could choose on who would've lived between me and your mother." James said to his son who was now in his teen, sixteen, as they stood in front of a gravestone. A familiar name etched in the stone.

[ Your Name ] Potter

[ Birthdate ] — October 31st, 1981

"In loving memory of a great friend, sister, mother, and wife."

"I'd pick her over me."

"Why?"

"Because, she would've known what to do."

[hoofpeet]

I'd probably have to read the printed version and web version back to back at some point to note all the differences but... ough

[silentsockfeet]

with the obvious addendum that act 3 isn’t out yet and we can’t form true opinions until the show’s officially done, i’m still really feeling like it could have maybe benefited from a third season. they’re hitting all the right plot points and those moments are full of really intense emotion, but everything in the middle feels so underwhelming in comparison and so much of it still feels rushed to me. idk

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[yurki-posts]

The Nopony

(I made the eye wrong on the upper right aaaghhhhh)

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[jasontoddstherapist]

PSA |

Yes this is a Jason Peter Todd centric blog, but it's also 100% supportive of Talia al Ghul. There will be no slander here. No perpetuating of the racist, misogynistic bullshit that drove the narrative divebomb of her character.

[ghostlyheart]

I feel like the secret to making fun ttrpg characters if you're not an actor, writer, creative, etc. (speaking from personal experience) is honestly to just shamelessly crib from the world around you. Which can be the fiction that inspires you but also just like, look outside. Pick a random name from a gravestone and imagine what their life might have been like based on the limited context clues of their birthplace and time period. Or find a real historical figure that interests you and do that but a bit to the left. I personally find it much easier to start with the bones of a character's upbringing and occupation and imagine what "kind of person" might result from that situation than to come up with a completely new personality that I need to find a way to fit into the established world. Tweak and transplant into the 1920s/Middle Earth/the year 2352 as needed. I guarantee a 100% success rate 50% of the time