#i really like the toll we see following the path of the hunt takes on all the recent focus characters... boothill rappa feixiao yanqing....

[evercelle]

come with me, singing queen!

[sunrise-imagines]

I know this is a sad one, but could you write about the reader and Finn in their twenties, and they've been in a relationship for a long time. And as Jake is getting older, He knows that he's not gonna be there for finn. jake also knows that his death would be pretty hard on finn, so he pulls the reader aside on one of their adventures and asked her to always watch over fin when he is gone.

Asyrshhfv this is so sad but I love it! I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone with formatting so this will be written like a more traditional imagine instead of my usual bulleted style. Hope you like it!

TW: Mention of death, angst and comfort

Finn Mertens x Reader Jake’s Request

The three of you were walking through a dense forest. Princess Bubblegum had tasked you with hunting down a large beast that had been terrorizing villages around the area, and with Jake sense of smell you were able to follow it’s path through the woods.

Though in the past Jake would become big and simply carry you guys above the brush, using his powers started to take more of a toll on his body as he got older, so now he started limiting large amounts of stretching to combat only.

Finn sighs, “We’ve been walking for a while now. I think we should set up camp for the night and rest up.”

Jake tries to protest, “Nah man I’m good! We gotta follow the trail while it’s still ho-“ He’s cut off by a fit of coughs, concerning you and Finn, who goes over to put a hand on his brother’s back.

Once the coughing subsides, Jakes sighs and admits, “Yeah, you’re right. I could use a break.” He smiles at Finn, trying to reassure him, although Finn is clearly still worried.

You and Finn set up a campfire and a couple logs to sit on while Jake takes a minute to breathe.

“Hey Finn, why don’t you go get some more fire wood while Y/N and I start on dinner?” Jake suggests out of the blue. Finn gives him another worried look, about to protest, but Jake motions for him to go and he relents, leaving the two of you alone by the fire.

Rummaging through Finn’s pack, he hands you a small knife and some veggies in a bag, “Cut these up for me, will ya?” You nod and get to work, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Jake awkwardly clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood a little, “So uh, how’s living together been for ya?” He asks while he pours some canned soup into the pot.

You look up from your task of peeling potatoes, “O-Oh, it’s been good! To be honest I was a little nervous at first, but now that we’ve decorated and stuff the house really feels like our own, you know?”

Jake laughs, “Yeah I get it. I felt the same way movin’ in with Lady. I really missed the treehouse for a while but after that it was like I couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else.” He reaches into Finn’s bag and adds some spices he brought to the mix, stirring it around with a wooden spoon.

“I’m also glad I don’t have to hear you guys gettin’ it on anymore.” You feel the wind get knocked out of you at his words, gasping for air as Jake laughs at your expense. Warmth spreads across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze.

“You’re really good for him, you know? Like, I’ve seen him date tons of different people, but you’re the only one that he’s ever been like, REALLY happy with. Usually Finn keeps a little distance from people, even from me sometimes, but it seems like he trusts you.” Jakes muses as he brings out a few bowls, pouring some soup in before handing one to you. You thank him and blow on the hot liquid, bringing a spoonful to your lips and savoring the hearty flavor.

As you look up you notice the solemn expression on Jake’s face, stirring his bowl of soup absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He sighs before he starts to explain, “So…remember when I went to see Doctor Princess a few weeks ago? And I said I was just going cause my stomach hurt?”

You nod, putting down your bowl to listen more intently.

Jake scratches the back of his head as he continues, “Well, it turns out it was a little more serious than that. Like a lot more serious than that. I’m still doing okay for now, but from what she told me, I don’t think I’m gonna get better this time.”

Your eyes widen as you take in what Jake just said to you. Since you were a kid, he had always been a constant in your life, looking out for you and Finn no matter what. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but now you were faced with the very real situation that he wouldn’t be around anymore. “Jake, I…oh my Glob.” You struggle for words as you try to rationalize your scrambled thoughts.

Jake stretches his hand and puts it on your shoulder, “Listen, I know it’s a lot, and I don’t mean to make you sad, but…I wanted to ask you a favor.”

You nod and take his paw, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, “Anything.”

Jake continues, “When I’m gone…promise to look after Finn for me, okay? I love him, but…he can be real stubborn n’ stupid. Whatever happens, make sure he doesn’t end up beating himself up.” His voice wavers a bit towards the end, and it’s clear just how much he cares for his brother.

You smile at him sadly, simply replying with, “Of course.”

Jake smiles back, “Thanks kiddo. There isn’t anyone I’d rather ask.” He balls up his fist, and you bump it with your own. In a sudden motion, you jump up from your seat, running over and hugging him tightly.

Jake flinches in surprise, but after a second closes his eyes and hugs you back. In this moment, he feels peace in knowing that you and Finn have each other, and that even when he’s gone, you both will be okay.

-

AN: WE’RE SO BACK Y’ALL. I started this fic a while ago and finally got the inspiration to finish it. I hope you enjoy!

[marbleboa]

Hiii sorry but lately I've been hyperfixated on the 7th division and Takeuchi ended up being my fav... And I saw your art of him and I loved it, I wanted to know if you had any headcanons about him ;3

Absolutely delighted to see a Takeuchi guy here, take my hand op. I do indeed have Many Thoughts, a lot of these more character musings than straightforward headcanons but! I hope these rambles interest you!

-I made this post a bit ago talking about how his whole Battle Mode deal changes his body, and further building on that— I imagine the frequent use of this has taken its toll, similar to Shibata: issues with his back, joints, etc. Projecting my TMJ on him as well, though I think all of this does ease somewhat as he uses his powers less and starts taking better care of himself.

-The power of his energy blasts is somewhat dampened by comparatively long charge up times and the way he always announces his attacks to enemies. He’s very particular about making sure all of his battle moves have impressive names—often several-words long.

-He and Mob are on a similar wavelength to me. Something something Ishiguro talking about how hard to read Takeuchi is, the way he skirts on the edge of the rest of the Scars’ circle, the way his powers seemed to be the only part of him valued by others…it’s like a different, lonelier path Mob could’ve gone on. I think he has similar difficulties figuring out what he wants from his future, like we see from Mob at the start of season 3.

-I think he’s close with Tsuchiya. Granted this is an anime only thing, but I really liked the detail where when Tsuchiya tackles Shimazaki off a building she calls out for Takeuchi by name and he immediately moves to help. It feels like a maneuver they’ve done before, like they know each other well enough to know what the other needs in a fight. It makes sense that they’d train together with both their powers being classified as qigong too.

-Post-Claw I feel like a few of the Scars go through this phase but Takeuchi especially, he gets in this mindset of like. I must now use my powers against Evil™️ so I can make up for what I’ve done. Because…fighting with powers, black/white ideologies, that’s a lot more familiar to the Scars than writing resumes or apartment-hunting or dealing with other people. Once Claw falls he does this vigilante stuff aimlessly for a while(maybe even runs into Teru again doing the same thing, haha).

-Following from that, I think eventually he gets back in touch with Tsuchiya and stays with her and Mukai for a while as he figures out what he wants to do. (I’m. Not quite sure what that is myself. I’m working on it)

-After Claw, he, Muraki and Sakurai have a book club every other Saturday. Takeuchi enjoys mystery novels.

-There’s more I’d like to research on the particulars re: ethnicities especially so I can improve on how I draw his features, but thus far I’ve been imagining at least part of his ancestry being somewhere from southern India.

-I’ve dabbled with the idea that his name is actually a tsūshōmei, or legal alias, something long-term residents of Japan from other countries can get for various reasons. One thought I had was that Toichiro picked him up in his global search for espers, and he was given another name by Claw to cover up any connection to his family. Or, someone in his family made that change after they started living in Japan, and he was born there under that name. Not sure if I’ll commit to this though, more to look into there too.

-I definitely think he was kidnapped by the organization some way or another— his powers were likely very strong at a young age so they probably got to him under the guise of mentorship. I’d like to think he eventually tries to get back in touch with his family once Claw’s gone.

-Really likes birds. He and Muraki are in close competition for Pigeons of Seasoning City’s Favorite

-He’s ambidextrous!

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 10

Chosen One. 

Marianne Al Ghul. 

Mari. 

Pixie.

The Lily of the Desert. 

Marinette Dupain. 

Ladybug. 

The Great Guardian.

And now she would eventually become Marianne Wayne. 

She had had multiple names and lived for what felt like a hundred lives, all very different, but all of them with one thing in common. Damian. 

From the moment he was born until her first death, she lived for him. Always there to aid and protect him at all costs. At all costs. She lived for him. The only time she had something for herself, it was taken from her. So she wasn't good with owning things. Her whole life nothing was truly hers. Damian was the League’s. The Miraculous were the Order’s. She was divided between two organizations. Never truly belonging to one or the other. She ached to belong, so it was very important that she proved herself to her father. She knew she was never enough for her mother, she was indeed the second option. Useful enough to not be discarded, but not the heir she most desired.

So now. Standing in front of her Father, having imagined this moment her whole life, she had to admit, she was scared. Would he reject her too? Would she be enough?

“Father… This is Marianne, your daughter.” Damian presents her. She doesn't know how to act so she stays in place, awaiting instructions or directions, but still getting the time to analyze the man in front of her.

He was taller than she imagined, but intimidating with his Batman attire just as she had pictured. He looked at her in a cautious way, as if at any moment she would combust into flames. She kept her eye on him, looking for some sort of sign on how to act. It took some time but eventually, his expression turned to a mesmerized one. 

“You look like my mother…” He whispered, reaching to her with his right hand but never touching her. His face in awe. “How… I-”

He turned his head to Damian as if he could explain more. In his face a lost and anxious expression. She could see that her little brother wanted to comfort their father, but didn't know how. So he stayed at her side, hoping that his presence was enough. Clearly, it wasn’t.

“I need to think'' And with that he turns and walks out of the cave, never even sparing a glance back. The only thing that can be heard are his footsteps, and when those are gone, an awkward silence installs.

Only then does Marianne let go of the air she didn’t even know she was holding. With not even a nod of his head father had dismissed her. He was similar to Mother after all. Only ever interaction with her if needed, just to make sure she was still alive. She could deal with that, she knew what to expect. That actually calms her more than it should. The uncertainty was still there, but at least she knew that deep down he could care for her in the future as her mother did. 

“Daeh Washanuh” She tells her brother when she sees his indignant face. Her father needed time, she understood that, so for now she would let him be. 

She still felt a bit weak, having spent all her energy between fighting her brother and mending her injured body. Damian must have seen said exhaustion because he instantly went to her side, to support her. With her body pressed against his side, and a strong arm crossing her waist holding her she admired how much he had grown. He was taller than her now. Stronger too. Gone was the 10 year old that followed her around. In his place was a slight better version of that person. She gives him a reassuring smile, trying to transmit her gratitude and appreciation without words, the same way she would do before they were separated. She could only hope they still understood each other after years of no contact.

Damian chooses that instant to start introducing the others. The redhead in the wheelchair looks at her with interest, as if trying to solve a puzzle. She doesn't seem to be judging her like the guy in the red leather jacket with a shocked expression is, so she counted that as a win. The dark haired teen that she knocked out a few days ago looks like he’s seen better days, and by the dark spots under his eyes and the large cup of what she assumed to be coffee in his hand, he was an insomniac, like her. The two still wearing their full costumes start to remove their masks, the one in blue has a calm expression, but the other is still very much shocked.

“Habibti... This is Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Barbara Gordon, and Jason-”

“Todd.” She smiles. “Long time no see.” 

How could she ever forget those blue eyes that hunted her dreams. He was a big part of her past, and she would always be able to spot him in a crowd. 

She can almost remember the first time she met him. At only 13 she was tasked with training this overemotional 16-year-old. Let’s just say their relationship wasn’t good at the beginning. He carried too much anger inside of him to allow him to listen to what she was trying to teach him. He was hot-headed and stubborn, and most of the time she just wanted to throw her dagger at him to see him bleed. But after some time they got close. Closer than they should. 

At that time Grandfather had intensified Damian’s training so she wasn’t able to see him much, instead, she found herself around Jason a lot. They confided in each other. She gave pieces of herself to him that she never gave anyone else, only for him to be ripped from her life as punishment. 

Last she heard her mother had dealt with him. She assumed she had killed him. But seeing him in front of her, healthy and very much alive was a relief. She had mourned him for a long time, but the joy she feels in knowing he was alive was immense.

“Pixie!” Jason speaks for the first time, by now he already got up from his seat, and is now standing in front of her. Different from her Father's reaction, he seems to need to touch her, to guarantee that she is real and truly there. Confused about how she knew his older adopted sibling, Damian backs away from his sister, too stunned to properly comprehend what was happening. She now was using Jason as support, feeling the heat of his body next to her’s, just proving that he was really there.

Pixie was a nickname he gave her when they first met after he discovered she could do magic. At the time she did not understand the reference, not having grown up with fairytales, but after he patiently explained to her about fairies she could see where he was coming from. Small and Magic. That was enough to describe her. And secretly she was pleased to have a nickname especially made for her. “I told you we would see each other again…” He says with a smug smirk on his face. Caressing her cheek with his hand. Oh, how she missed that look on his face. 

“Am I the only one that’s freaking out with this scene in front of us?” The spell is broken by the voice of the blue hero. Richard. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. She knew a bit about him, when she was younger a part of her training was inspired by his stunts on the field. “How the hell do you know her, Jaybird? Bruce’s secret love child?” 

He still holds her, more for support than anything else. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together, but their friendship hopefully still remains. She takes him not letting her go, as a sign that she wasn’t the only one affected by this unexpected reunion. When she first arrived at Gotham she knew she would inevitably meet her extended family when she finally sought her brother. And yes, it came to no surprise that Jason Todd was once her father’s ward. But remember that she did believe him to be dead. And if that was truly the case she would carry her secrets to her grave. But apparently, it was time to come clean to her brother. Her relation with Jason was the one thing she ever kept from Damian. And she could see from the look on his face that he was very confused.

She detaches herself from Jason and tries to reach her little brother, but the day's activity finally takes a toll on her body and she trips and almost collapses on the floor if not for the two that come to her rescue. Jason being the one closer to her catches most of her weight, but Damian has both her hands into his own.

“I'm fine…” She tries, but by the look on both their faces, they don’t believe her one bit.

“Dick, why don't we leave the rest of the interrogation for tomorrow? When Bruce can participate.” Barbara speaks for the first time. She pushes herself away from the table and starts making her way out of the cave in her wheelchair. It seems that her words have power, because with only a grunt and a side glance and he leaves as well. Sometime between her father leaving and Jason making himself known Timothy fell asleep, face down on the table in what could only be described as an uncomfortable position.

If she wasn’t so exhausted she would have questioned how easily Damian’s family accepted to wait until tomorrow for answers. If it was her she would want them as soon as possible. No matter what.

“Come, I’ll show you to my room” Damian removes her from Jason’s arms and starts directing her through the same path all the others took out of the cave. Tomorrow she would come back and admire all the technology and weapons the Bat Cave provided, but for now, she was content in being almost carried to a comfy bed. After almost a month of chasing Gabriel Agreste around the globe and mostly sleeping when she could, wherever she could,  just the thought of sleeping in an actual mattress brought her immense joy. “I promise to not ask questions today, but I need an explanation for the display of affection you gave Todd downstairs.” His tone is stern and she knows he meant that. 

"Deal." He nods, accepting my answer.

We walk through a long corridor for quite some time, but eventually, we stop in front of a door. Damian opens it and carries me to the bed. He sits me in his bed and goes to his wardrobe. While he does that she admires the size of his room, which is big, just as it was in the League, but here she can see bits of his personality. Photos on the wall, drawings on the tables. She is happy that he gets to explore his part of himself. When he comes backs he hands a change of clothes to her, and without saying anything he makes his way to what Marianne assumes is an adjacent bathroom. Leaving her room to change alone. He gave her a black long-sleeved shirt and black pajama bottoms that were definitely too small to git him now, and she can only question as to why he has it still.

She removes her attire and changes into the offered clothes, but not before inspecting the place where there was supposed to be a wound. She was healed, as expected, but her dried blood still clings to her abdomen. By now Damian finally comes back, wearing an outfit similar to hers and carrying a damp towel.

“I thought you would want to clean yourself of the blood.” He hands her the towel. She in return gives him a sincere smile, accepting the offered object and immediately removing all traces of blood from her body. 

While she did that, he sat on the other side of the bed, removing some pillows and getting under the covers. Marianne leaves the towel on the floor beside the bed and carefully puts one knife on the bedside table and her dagger under her pillow. Old habits die hard after all.

Damian observes her with a nostalgic look on his face but otherwise remains silent. He turns the light off by the switch near his bed and the bedroom immediately gets dark, the only source of light coming through the closed windows. As she gets under the covers she feels his body getting closer to hers. And she can’t help but smile again, remembering how many times they did this exact same thing during their childhood without their mother knowing. Or at least they thought she didn't know, not knowing she merely allowed them this simple thing.

“Aishtaqt lak ya 'akhi” She repeats the same words she said to him when they were on the rooftop earlier that night.

Her only answer is his hand finding hers and giving it a squeeze.

Final chapter of part one! Do you like the stoy so far? After a lot of messages from you guys I decided to continue with a part 2 of this story. Still haven’t decided how long it would be, probably about 10 more chapters but who nows. Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, its was finals week at my university and you know how it is. 

Let’s hope I get more time to write! Thank you all fot the support do far! You are all amazing!

It curently 3 am so sorry if there’s any mistakes!

Next

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[prince-of-elsinore]

On "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox" and "Carry On"

Or, The Tragedy of the Hunting Life

I'm rewatching Season 12 and was doing a little write-up of my thoughts so far, but this episode (12x06) really deserves a post of its own. It epitomizes a core theme of the show, the toll of the hunting life, and highlights the inherent contradictions of its premise in a way that sheds light on the finale, as well.

Just a few episodes prior, Mary once again reaffirmed that every hunter dies young. In this episode, we see that play out, gut-wrenchingly, over the course of a single montage. Mary Winchester (supposedly already retired herself) saves a young Asa Fox from werewolves, and he becomes obsessed. Mary inadvertently sets him down his path of becoming a hunter, and a skilled one. In so many ways, Asa parallels Dean, from his single-minded obsession with killing monsters, to his single-minded obsession with his "lucky" car, to his ever-rotating cast of one-night-stands. This man lives for the hunt, and then, quite suddenly, dies from it.

At the wake, Dean comments to Sam that dying on the job is the best way to go. This exchange follows:

Sam: You really believe that? Dean: Yeah. What, you don’t? I mean, come on, Sam, it's not like we're in the “live till you're 90, die in your sleep” business. This? This only ends one way.

Sam lets it drop, because he clearly disagrees, but it's not something they're really capable of talking about, at least not in this moment.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, after watching the finale, to know that Dean did die on the job, and Sam did "live till you're 90, die in your sleep"--in essence if not to the word--because he gave up hunting. Furthermore, Dean's death wasn't all that dissimilar to Asa's; as we learn at the end of the episode, Asa was in the wrong place at the wrong time, killed accidentally by an inconveniently placed rock. It's not always the evil thing itself that kills you, but in the violent life of a hunter, death comes one way or another. The show reminds us of this again and again.

This is indicative of the complex relationship the show has with its core premise, hunting. Hunting is simultaneously heroized and criticized by the show. A long time ago, a young Dean told his little brother that their dad was a superhero (3x08 A Very Supernatural Christmas) because he fought monsters. This is an attitude Dean never shed; saving people, hunting things, makes you a hero. And he's not wrong. At the start of the episode we get this exchange between Mary and the young Asa:

Mary: I’m retiring. Well, officially I’m already retired. I’m just tying up a few loose ends. Asa: But if you retire, who’s gonna save people like me?

Asa's not wrong. People will always need saving. The good hunters do is real. But every hunter who doesn't retire, and even some of the ones that do (prime example: Mary), dies. Usually young and bloody. Not to mention the other tolls the job takes, on family life and mental health. Asa at least had enough good friends to give him a celebratory send-off, and had a casual romance going with Jody. He even had kids (the witch twins), though it's not clear how much of a relationship they had. Asa is described by his mother, though, as obsessed, and it seems he was on the healthy end of the spectrum when it comes to hunters. So many of the hunters we meet over the course of the series are socially awkward at best and paranoid, revenge-driven psychopaths at worst. Some of that could be chalked up to whatever trauma pulled them into the life, but undoubtedly, some of it is the job itself. It's a self-perpetuating cycle. Obsession breeds obsession (as with Asa). A life of isolation from the comforts of society breeds self loathing, which drives a person further into isolation (as with Dean--a lot to unpack there, but I'll leave it for another day).

The question the show seems to be asking is, what do you do with the burden of knowledge of evil, of the things that go bump in the night? Do you live (and ultimately die) for others, or do you live for yourself? The hunting ethos, enabling as it is of selfish revenge and obsession, encourages the former. In the end, there is good and bad in either choice. The show does not offer up one right answer. Ultimately, Dean chooses the former (as he always has) and pays the price in the finale, saving two little boys in the process. Sam chooses the latter, leaving hunting and the untold numbers of nameless strangers he might have saved, but he lives for himself and for a son of his own.

The more I consider it, the more I believe there's no other way it could have gone. Sam is at peace with hunting, but only as long as it's with Dean, as he tells Charlie in 10x18 Book of the Damned:

Sam: I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t….

Dean, however, could never give up the life. Thankfully, in later seasons, he has reached an inner equilibrium with hunting, though. He derives meaning and identity from what he does, no longer driven by a conviction that his life is only worth whatever cause he can sacrifice it for. In 14x13 Lebanon, when Sam expresses his wish that they could send their father back to the past with knowledge that would change the courses of their lives, Dean has this to say:

Dean: I mean, look, we’ve been through some tough times. There’s no denying that. [...] And for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom, too, you know? I was angry. But say we could send Dad back knowing everything. Why stop there? Why not send him even further back and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But here’s the problem. Who does that make us? Would we be better off? Well, maybe. But I gotta be honest – I don’t know who that Dean Winchester is. And I’m good with who I am. I’m good with who you are. ‘Cause our lives – they’re ours. And maybe I’m just too damn old to want to change that.

In the end, Sam and Dean each give a different answer to the question the show poses, of what you do with knowledge and responsibility: live for others, or for yourself? Each answer is complex, though, and layered. Neither is better than the other. It's not a yes or no, good or bad question. The show has always been about choices and consequences. It was true to its premise till the very end, just as Sam and Dean made the choices that were true to themselves. It's bittersweet. It's heroic. It's tragic. It's right.

[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 1

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2429

Rating:  E

Warnings: None for chapter.  Smut, action, canon typical violence, pregnancy, and HYDRA trying to interfere with said pregnancy for the series.

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 1

“Okay, Geo, I think you’re either going to love this or hate it,” you said as you strolled through the gates of Cinderella’s Castle.

This holiday had taken a long time to get to.  It had been almost four years since Geo had first asked to go to Disney World.  You, Bucky, and Steve had been saying you would do it, and making plans and then something would come up and someone would get called out and the plans would have to be reduced to taking him to Coney Island or if he was really lucky a trip out to Westchester to the Legoland Discovery Center which was his favorite.

It was Geo’s seventh birthday and for once neither Steve nor Bucky had been called away on some mission that they absolutely needed for.  Tony and Sam had been told under threat of death that they were to only call Steve if it was the end of the world and he was the only possible person who could stop it, and the three of you had taken Geo to Disney World.

Four years was a long time in a world that was as chaotic as Bucky found it, and yet thanks to cleaning up HYDRA and removing all records of either yours or Geo’s existence things had been calm.

Yes, there had been the usual Avengers shit.  It was hard and it took a toll on him to keep going out there fighting.  It was something he hated, but he did it because it needed to be done.  Besides, he had a lot to make up for, so he’d fight until he couldn’t anymore.

The difference was, now at the end of the day, he went home to you, Steve, and Geo.  He had been noticing himself relaxing more as each year passed, and more than that, he was enjoying life again and not just existing in a weird limbo where the best he could say was ‘at least they weren’t torturing him anymore’.  He loved being a boyfriend and while he would never say the word out loud, he had been thinking of himself as Geo’s dad, and he loved that too.

There had been no further attacks from anyone.  No one had ever been spotted watching you or Geo.  You weren’t being followed anymore.  It seemed to be over.  So you had relaxed too.  Geo had started school, and he was thriving in it.  He was a smart little kid who had been starved for a group of peers, and now he finally had some he was the happiest little kid.  He still had some attachment issues, not that Bucky could blame him for that.  You don’t grow up with that and not freak-out when your family is gone too long.  Still, he was a sweet, excitable little boy, who was now getting a chance to be a normal little boy.

You had gone back to school to get a master’s and Pepper had found you some administrative work that mostly just involved data entry and filing.  You were enjoying your studies and the difference in your tension levels compared to the day Bucky had met you was palpable.

Geo held your hand as the four of you made your way around the large carousel in the middle of Fantasy Land.  Bucky had never been to a Disney Park.  They didn’t exist when he was a kid and even if they had, there was no way his family could have afforded to go.  It wasn’t until he was a teenager that Silly Symphonies really came onto his radar and then Snow White was released.  Certainly, it didn’t have the pull for a whole amusement park.

It was cute even if it was a little crowded.  Tony had suggested getting special VIP treatment so that the four of you would be led through the park in underground tunnels and avoid the crowds.  You had worried if that meant that he didn’t get the full experience with the stores, and the parade and shops and people selling balloons in giant bunches.  Steve had said they’d try the old fashioned way and try to blend into the crowds. So they were decked out in Disney wear.  Steve had bought a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it that he’d once again bought a size too small.  Not that Bucky was complaining.  It hugged the muscles in his shoulders and pulled tight on his arms.   On Steve’s head, he had a gray ball cap with Disney World written on it in fat cursive letters.  Bucky had a black hoodie with a D on the chest and a ballcap with Star Wars written in all caps.  You looked particularly radiant in a red A-line dress with white spots that looked like something women were wearing back when Bucky was in his twenties.  You had a black hat on with a big round brim hiding you from the sun and the prying eyes of any strangers.

It was a little overwhelming.  There were a lot of people here, and Mainstreet had been bustling.  No one had noticed them to the degree that they’d come over to talk, but Bucky had noticed a few glances of confused recognition.  The kind people gave him when they knew they recognized him but couldn’t figure out where from.

They’d already stopped quite a few times.  Mostly to browse stores, but Geo had stopped to meet Pluto, bought a balloon that had a large clear balloon on the outside, with a smaller green Mickey head shaped balloon inside, and gotten  Mickey Mouse shaped pretzel which he still held the remnants of in his free hand.

The aim was to get him to rides with animatronics.  He obviously had much more sophisticated technology at home, but he’d been talking about wanting to see the animatronics at Disney since he was three.

You, Bucky, Steve, and Geo each wore a different colored wristband that let you into your hotel room and the park as well as let you fast pass on different rides and charge things to the room.  Geo kept lifting his green band to his ear and listening to it, and on a few occasions, he’d put his hand on each of the others like he was talking to them.  Last night he’d held them all in his hands and sat quietly running his fingers over them until Steve had said it was time to go to dinner.

Right now they didn’t need the bands.  You had been leading the group in the direction of ‘It’s a small world’ and you had insisted that you didn’t need a fast pass for that.  Bucky approached the colorful castle facade that acted as the entrance for the ride.  You went to lead everyone into the normal line but Geo tugged on your hand.  “This one,” he said pointing to the fast pass line.

“We didn’t get fast pass on this one, bud,” Steve attempted to reason but as the words came out of his mouth he seemed to realize what was going on and he sighed.  “Geo, did you add fast pass?”

“No,” Geo said.  “It just gave it to us.  It wants us to have fun.”

Bucky could see Steve trying not to laugh.  “It’s not exactly fair that we get skipped ahead on every line.”

“Dad…” Geo whined and stopped, covering his mouth.  He’d never called either Bucky or Steve that before and whining in the line at ‘it’s a small world’ appeared not to be where he’d intended to first try it out.

“Geo it’s…”  Steve started, but Geo quickly hid behind you.

“We’ll fast pass,” you said quickly trying to defuse the situation.  “Then we’ll talk about the fair way to use your powers later.”

Bucky shook himself out of the shock he felt and quickly followed on as you and Geo swiped your wrists over the fast past check-in and went down to the dock.  The line was non-existent so you and Geo were guided to the front of the boat and Bucky and Steve to the seat behind.

The song was already getting to him as the ride started and Steve turned to him looking slightly panicked.  “He’s never called me that before,” he whispered.

“I know,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand.  Truthfully, Bucky was a little jealous of Steve getting to hear that first.

“Should I say something, let him know that’s okay?”  Steve asked.

“You’re asking me?”  Bucky said.  “I don’t know.  He’s obviously embarrassed he did it.  Maybe you should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Steve frowned and his hand tightened in Bucky’s hand.  Bucky wished he had the right thing to say.  That he could tell him they should all have a talk and Geo would be open to it and admit he wanted to call them both dad but he wasn’t sure that’s how it would play out.

In front of them, you were rubbing Geo’s back in soothing circles and whispering to him.  Bucky tried to hear what you were saying but the sound of the incessantly cheery song drowned out just about everything else.

Bucky really did not like this ride.

It felt like he’d been on it for half his life when Geo started looking agitated.  The boy suddenly banged his hand on the front of the boat.  “I hate it!”  He yelled and all at once the song stopped playing and the animatronic dolls all turned their attention to their boat.

“Geo,” you scolded.  “Cut it out.” 

“No!”  Geo shouted and the boat sped up, almost speeding along the tracks.  “I hate it in here!”

“Well, this ride just went from low level creepy to nightmare fuel,” Bucky muttered, making Steve smirk.

When the boat docked Geo scrambled out and you took after him as quickly as you could.  “Geo!”  You called.  “Don’t run off!”

Steve and Bucky followed and Bucky quickly caught up to the boy, picking him up even as he struggled and carrying him away from the ride and off to the side of the path away from people.  He put Geo on the ground in front of him and gestured to you and Steve to back off.

“G, what was that?  You know running off on your mom is not okay,” Bucky scolded.

Geo shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hand like he was trying not to cry.

“Buddy, it’s me.  Come on,” Bucky said.

“The park wanted me to skip the line,” Geo huffed.  “And then I got in trouble.  It’s not my fault!”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bucky assured him.  “Talk to me, pal.”

“I hated it in there!”  Geo said, and broke down into tears.  He flopped into Bucky’s arms and Bucky hugged him close.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed.  “I didn’t like it either.  Maybe we need to figure out ways you can make it through something you don’t like doing.”

“The robots were empty.  Tony said it would be cool, but they were empty,” Geo sobbed.  “And they freaked me out and the music was horrible.”

“I know,” Bucky agreed.  “There will be more fun ones.  You like Coney Island right?”

“Yeah…” Geo sniffed.

“Well, there are coasters here too.  We can find ones you like,” he said.  “I promise.”

Geo pulled back and looked up into Bucky’s eyes.  The boy looked so much like you, but he could see things in him that he assumed came from his dad too.  “I didn’t mean to call Steve dad,” he whispered.  “It just slipped out.  Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

“Oh no, Geo,” Bucky said.  “He won’t be mad.  You can call either of us dad if you want to.  But you don’t have to either.  It’s up to you.”

“I know I have a dad, but he died and I never knew him, but you and Steve are like my dads,” Geo reasoned.

“Yeah, we are,” Bucky agreed.  “We do all the normal dad things.”

“Like read me stories,” Geo said.

“And make you turn the TV off,” Bucky added.

“You don’t mind?”  Geo whispered.

Bucky smiled and shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “I promise.  It’d make me happy.  When I talk about you, I say ‘my kid’.”

“Do you?”  Geo asked, with a slightly disbelieving look in his eye.

“Yeah.  I do,” he said.  “And so does Steve.”

Geo seemed to mull this over for a little while and then looked over to where you were standing with Steve.  “How will you know who I’m talking to if I call you both dad?”

Bucky chuckled.  “Context probably,” Bucky said.  “But you could say Dad Steve or Dad Bucky if it’s unclear.  Or you could make up your own names for us.  Dad and Pop.  Papa.  Jeez … I dunno.  Whatever makes you feel good.”

Geo worried at his bottom lip and then nodded.  “Okay,” he said softly.  “... dad.”

“Do you want to talk to your mom and Steve about this too?”  Bucky said.  “Or do you want me to tell them I said no more messing with the rides or you're grounded and then you can just start calling Steve dad and not talk about it.”

“The second one,” Geo said.

“Okay,” Bucky said standing up and holding out his hand.  Geo linked his fingers with Bucky’s and they approached you and Steve together.

“I told Geo that if he messes with any more rides he’s grounded,” Bucky explained before either of you had a chance to say anything.  “He agreed that that was fair.”

“Okay,” you said, looking a little uncertain.  “G, there’s a ride around the corner that’s a haunted house.  It has more animatronics, but I think it’s supposed to be really cool.  Or we can go ride the teacups.  I bet Steve could make them spin super fast.”

“Teacups,” Geo said.  “And could I go on the carousel?”

“Yeah, bud, that will be fine,” you said.  “Then we’ll see about the time.  We have lunch booked.”

Geo held out his free hand to Steve.  “Come on, dad.”

Steve smiled and took Geo’s hand and you moved to Bucky’s other side and wrapped your arm around his waist.  Bucky slung his arm around your shoulder and the four of you set off in the direction of the carousel.  Steve looked at Bucky and grinned.  Bucky couldn’t help but smile either.  They were a family now, and even though they might not get the wedding, this somehow made it feel that little bit more official.

// NEXT

[eyesupmarksman]

Geraskier - The Dark and the Flame (Secret Santa Gift)

Happy Witcher Secret Santa @inikokoru! 🐺 

Geralt and Jaskier weather their winter in Kaer Morhen; featuring Soft!Boys and Geralt getting to finally rest and enjoy his time with his bard 🥰 Hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Thank you @thewitchersecretsanta for hosting such a wonderful festive event! Happy holidays 🎅🏻

Word Count: 2,499

Warnings: None

AO3 Link!

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

Kaer Morhen seems like a world away. Perched on top of a mountain peak, backed up against the stone and shrouded in a thick forest, curious eyes aren’t able to follow them up the steep sloping trails. The last humans Jaskier will see for the winter are in the village at the foot of the mountain; the last place where they can get provisions for the trails and the keep itself. Geralt picks up some dried beef and a loaf of bread, and Jaskier re-furs his cloak. It’s going to be a harsh winter, if he goes by how wonderful of a summer they had this year. An old peasant’s saying; a harsh summer, an equally harsh winter.

The paths aren’t terrible. Some of them are flooded, but Geralt nods for him to get on to Roach while the Witcher guides them through on foot. He’s been up and down this mountain ever since he first set off to be a Witcher; he knows where to step and where to avoid. Still, Jaskier bundles his cloak around himself and wishes that time would trudge by just that bit quicker. A storm will roll in soon enough. Blackened and heavy clouds slump over a nearby ridge.

They reach the walls of the keep just as the first drops of rain hit.

A winter at the keep means rest for everyone, including the horses. They stay in their stables and munch on stored hay and rolled oats, happy to be tackless for the season. With how much they’ve traveled throughout the year, and all of the monsters Geralt has hunted, Roach deserves her rest more than most.

Jaskier has been to the keep before. The first winter was spent stuck to Geralt’s side, shadowing him around as the Witcher showed him where to go for what. The keep sprawls out in every sort of direction, even delving deep into the mountain itself. A few sun-turns have passed. He knows where to go to get to Geralt’s room, the hot springs underneath the keep, Vesemir’s library, and the arena and stables outside. Other than that, he’s afraid of wandering off of his usual track because he’ll only get lost.

Vesemir allows his pups the first few days to rest. His sons have spent the last three seasons trudging through the Continent, wandering from contract to contract and collecting more injuries starts to take its toll. Jaskier can’t complain. The worst he’s dealt with this year is bartering with angry villagers not wanting to pay the Witcher for his service in clearing out a whole nekker nest. He still can’t remember what happened; just that someone with something knocked the back of his head, he fell to the ground, and woke up in a tavern bed almost ten hours later to a distraught, but furious, Witcher watching over him.

So he’s content to let Geralt relax into the keep, do whatever he needs to do to gain life back into his bones. Sleep evades him some nights, while others are spent working and then travelling the next day. He’s owed sleep. Within the first few minutes of being inside of the keep, Jaskier shepherds Geralt to his room. “Take off your armour and let me get you some clean clothes,” he says, letting the door click shut behind them.

Geralt arches an eyebrow at the command, but follows it anyway.

Jaskier listens to the tell-tale sounds of Geralt undoing the buckles and straps of his armour. Most of it is unceremoniously dumped into a corner of the room. He’s meticulously careful with caring for it and mending it whenever he can during the year. But here, safe behind high and study walls, there’s no need for it, and it will be put away until the day comes where the snow thaws and the sun returns. When he’s stripped down to nothing but an undershirt and breeches, Geralt perches at the foot of his bed and picks at the laces of his boots.

Vesemir won’t have anything ready for them to eat just yet. His stews and soups and roasts take up most of the day to prepare and simmer, and they’re good. Jaskier’s stomach growls at the thought of a warm bowl of stew or a few thick slices of roasted venison waiting for him down in the dining hall. But not yet. Now, he pads back over to Geralt, handing him some folded, fresh clothes and a handful of vials of lotions and soaps. “Go down to the baths and get the road off of you,” he instructs simply. “I’ll air the room and get the fire started.”

Geralt looks too exhausted to go down to the dining hall and try and hold air with Vesemir and the others. Though, Jaskier suspects that the elder might understand that he could be dining alone tonight, seeing how exhausted his sons were when they trudged one by one into the keep’s main hall, road-weary and worn.

Geralt hums, clambering on to his feet. Bare-foot, he pads down the halls towards the springs. Really, Jaskier could have had a tub sourced from somewhere; but he looks around the room and sees all the work he needs to do to get it ready. He starts with airing the room, cracking the lancet windows open just a little bit to let fresh, crisp air inside. It doesn’t take long for musky, dust-riddled air to be swept out. He closes them when the air turns just a small bit cold, nipping at his skin. The hearth next. A metal bucket of chopped wood sits by the hearth. Vesemir, Jaskier thinks. The sheets on the bed are new, and Geralt has some newly washed clothes already within his drawers. Even now, with his pups fully grown and waning in years, Vesemir will still look after them.

Jaskier makes quick work of sparking the fire to life. He feeds the fire with two small, dry logs before his ears twitch at a knock on the door. Eskel and Lambert will have already retired to their own rooms. Jaskier saw the shadows gaunting their faces. He strides over to the door, blinking when he sees Vesemir standing outside with a tray in his hands.

Two piping bowls of stew, a loaf of crusted bread, a small wedge of cheese, and a bottle of wine with tankards. Jaskier blinks.

“I thought that you might have wanted to relax on your first night here,” Vesemir explains, holding out the tray. It’s heavy and laden with everything they could love. His stomach trembles at the sight of the food. Full meals were few and far between out on the road; unless they were lucky enough to stumble on a contract from a kind enough lord or lady, then their banquet table was splayed open for them. And Vesemir’s meals always hold a special place in his heart. Jaskier catches the scent of roasted herbs and his mouth waters.

Vesemir offers him one of his barely-there smiles, nothing more than a lift of the corner of his lip. “Have a good night, bard.”

By the time Geralt pads back, Jaskier smiles. His Witcher is flushed red from the hot water, smelling of the oils and lotions Jaskier likes to bathe him in. In fresh clothes and bare feet, he struggles to find any reason why anyone in the Continent would ever be afraid of the Witcher. White, wet hair tumbles down on to his shoulders, slack and relaxed as he shuffles over to a small desk near Jaskier. He holds out a fine-toothed comb. And Jaskier’s smile only grows.

Geralt wordlessly sits on a chair in front of him, sighing contently at the first pass of Jaskier’s fingers through his hair. If he had to bathe alone, without Jaskier’s hands dusting over his skin, then he can get the bard to at least comb through his hair. It was a slow process, getting Geralt used to the perfumed lotions and oils and soaps Jaskier likes to use. He remembers when Geralt’s nose would wrinkle at the sharp scent of citrus fruits or the musk of desert flowers. But slowly, when they started lying in the same bed, entangled in each other, Jaskier woke up to the Witcher’s nose pressed into the groove of his neck, breathing in lungfuls of scent.

The hearth crackles to life, heat slowly blooming out into the room. Geralt hums. “Vesemir dropped that up, did he?” he nods to the tray sitting nearby.

Jaskier runs the comb through Geralt’s hair. “Hmm. We can eat after I’m finished.”

Geralt sits patiently, almost slumbering as he leans back against Jaskier and sinks against him.

The bard huffs a light laugh. With the last of Geralt’s hair combed through, he nudges the Witcher’s shoulder. “Eat,” he says, setting his comb on to the table, and bringing over a chair. The meal is everything he needed it to be and more. The first spoonful of thick stew has him swallowing down a moan. He’s missed this; familiar, good home-cooked food that has his toes curling in his boots. The fire crackles nearby and the storm threatening to spill over outside is long forgotten about.

Geralt keeps his tankard filled with wine. As soon as it slips beneath the half-way mark, the Witcher reaches over with the bottle and tops it up. Jaskier chuckles around a mouthful of bread. His Witcher will keep him warm and fed and on the right side of drunk, plied and smiling with wine. They don’t need to talk at all. Jaskier has done enough talking throughout the past three seasons for the both of them. He’s happy to let his voice rest throughout the winter, though his lute could still whisper to him. A merry Eskel and Lambert might ask a song or two from him, but that will be it. For now, though, Jaskier sits happily across from his Witcher, their knees touching as they scoff down as much food as they’re able to.

The wind howls outside. Harsh rain lashes against the keep’s battlements and walls, but Kaer Morhen has weathered its fair share of storms throughout the centuries. The hearth crackles and spits and warmth blooms throughout the room. Jaskier sighs up at the ceiling, letting his eyes flicker closed. He could slip away into the soft and plush mattress. The sheets are slung lowly over the both of them, not needed for the moment now that the hearth’s fire has picked up. But Geralt still dozes by his side, resting his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and curling an arm around the bard’s middle.

Jaskier skims a hand over the Witcher’s back. He’s shed his shirt, leaving it somewhere outside of their bed. He has Jaskier to keep him warm, so why would he need it? And with a shirt on, he wouldn’t have been able to feel and lounge in the bard’s touch dusting over him. Jaskier’s fingers trail up and down the Witcher’s back, running over the ridges of his spine and across his shoulders. He can feel how heavy Geralt is getting, slowly sinking into sleep.

There have been only a handful of times where Geralt has let himself lower his guard like this. Out on the path, Geralt’s shoulders were always tense and his eyes continuously scanning crowds and rooms. Even when they slept, either out on the road underneath the stars or in tavern rooms, Geralt never ventured too deeply down. A slight creak of a floorboard or a twig snapping, and Geralt would have his sword in his hand and ready to strike within seconds.

Both of them indulge in the winter; Geralt with letting his shoulders drop and his hackles lower, and Jaskier watching his Witcher finally relax. The Continent can survive on its own for the season. Or the other Witchers can deal with it. One of Geralt’s brothers told him that the other schools don’t act like they do; their cubs and fledglings can traverse through the countryside if they want, but only the wolves return to their mountain religiously for the winter. And even then, Eskel told him that sometimes, when they’re short on coin or if the year had been particularly riddled with contracts, they’ll stay.

Jaskier’s fingers dust the ridges of Geralt’s spine, gently running over patches of marred skin and the bumps of scars. Long-since healed and beginning to fade, but there nonetheless. He loosens a sigh, turning his head just enough to dust a kiss to the crown of Geralt’s head. It’s nothing major; merely a brush of lips. He lingers, smelling bathing salts and oils. Underneath it all is the familiar scent of Geralt.

The Witcher hums, curling further into Jaskier’s chest. Full-bellied and pliant from a bath, he’s slipping. He’s growing heavier and heavier in Jaskier’s arms. It won’t be long until sleep stops skirting the shadows of the room and comes slinking out to lull him under. Jaskier won’t be long after. His eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment.

They’ll have chores in the following week. The keep has gone three seasons with just Vesemir looking after it; and though he’s loathe to admit it, he’s getting on in years and cannot see to everything. Cracks have formed in the mortar keeping the outer walls together, and the stones need to be re-pointed. But that’s next week. Jaskier reaches up to card his fingers through Geralt’s hair. He’ll have nothing to do with the heavier work. Eskel and Lambert and Geralt can deal with clambering up the high stone walls and keeping them in check. He’ll find something to do. He’s sure Vesemir has constructed a list as long as his arm to keep him busy for the season.

Until then—

Jaskier catches the blankets over their hips and tugs them up to their chests. Geralt burrows into him; the arm around the bard’s waist tightening and possessive. The candles around the room have long since quenched themselves. The only light and heat come blooming out of the hearth. It crackles and flickers, but it’s what they both end up falling asleep to. Geralt slips away first, soft snores rumbling out of his chest and blowing against Jaskier’s chest.

Jaskier’s arms will stay around his Witcher. They don’t part when they sleep. Jaskier can’t count how many times they’ve woken up entangled in each other, not knowing where one began and the other ended.

The warmth of the room and the soft bed beneath him and the Witcher coiled against his side; it’s too much of a fight to stay awake. But he wants to. He wants to watch his Witcher loosen and relax, but it’s not enough. Sleep tugs at him, luring him under. Just before he slips off, when his eyes flutter closed and his breath starts to deepen, he hears the soft, constant rhythm of his Witcher’s heartbeat: a silent assurance that they’re together and safe.

[crashingmeteorz]

rich kid runaways (ft. yuexzukoxtoph friendship)

for my 100 Followers Celebration - credit to @aroacebitchboi for this amazing idea!

zuko faces his father in the agni kai, and when he is told what he must do in order to be welcome in his homeland again, he just says “fuck this” and runs away.

he’s not sure where he’s gonna go, just that he has to get out, and fast, because his dad’s gonna kill him. like. for real. so he stows away on a fire navy ship headed Literally Anywhere Else (and maybe the soldiers don’t care! because he’s 13 and hurting children is a disgrace! maybe they sneak him food and blankets idk!)

yue, meanwhile, in the north pole, has just been told she is going to enter an arranged marriage for the good of her people when she turns 16. respectfully, she asks her father what exactly this marriage will do, politically speaking. the north isn’t at war with itself, in fact they’re more united than ever. maybe if it were a southern water tribe boy, sure, but no, it’s going to be a northern boy.

her father just tells her it’s imperative to the stability of the tribe that they uphold tradition. yue, realizing this is bullshit, even at the tender age of 13, says “fuck this”, and runs away.

she is all but screwed without waterbending or any practical survival knowledge - except, she’s been chosen by the moon spirit. when she steals a boat and heads south, the moon takes pity on its ward and keeps her safe, at least on her waterbound journey. once she lands on the northern shores of the earth kingdom, yue depends on the kindness of strangers to survive.

zuko, meanwhile, is angry and mistrustful and afraid when he ends up on the western shores of the earth kingdom, and he depends entirely on his determination to survive. he learns to live off the land the hard way, and avoids major cities and towns for fear of being found out as a firebender. of course, if he’s ever spotted, he’s regarded with pity and empathy because of the festering burn on his face, but zuko doesn’t realize that.

yue never stays in one place too long, bouncing from family to family and learning more skills in a few months than she was ever taught in her whole life up north. she cooks and cleans and sews, yes, but she also farms and skins hunted animals and does house repairs. she is happily taken into homes because of her ability to heal - though never a waterbender, yue still learned basic healing with the other northern women, and can manage even bad wounds all on her own.

afraid she’ll be recognized by her vibrant hair, however, yue continues her journey south, considering running to the south pole for sanctuary. she wonders how their women are treated. zuko, meanwhile, lives alone in the wilderness most of the time, and moves very slowly up the west coast.

they’re 14 when their paths cross. three fire nation soldiers harass yue while she’s journeying along a rural road, asking her for a made-up toll. usually trading in work, yue has no money to speak of. the soldiers threaten violence, and, though he is afraid of being caught by his countrymen, zuko was never one to let bullies have power over the innocent.

he emerges from the forest, swords in hand, attacking the soldiers. at first it seems like he has the upper hand - and then he stumbles, and the soldiers laugh and pull him up to beat him. zuko panics and relies on instinct - firebending at the soldiers and burning them badly. they run away yelling, and zuko panics, certain that he’ll be caught out. he goes to run, but yue stops him.

“you’re hurt,” she says, pointing to where he’d been cut by the soldiers’ swords. “please, let me help you. it’s the least i can do.”

“you’re not scared of me?” zuko asks in confusion, looking around wildly, afraid his father will pop out of the trees and strike him down.

“you saved me,” yue says, just as confused, because between the rescue and the obvious burn mark, she doesn’t really think this boy would have any reason to hurt her. also he’s kinda shrimpy, and yue, who has built up some strength through hard work, is pretty sure she could take him. “come on, i have some herbs. is there clean water nearby?”

shocked that anyone in the earth kingdom wouldn’t call for zuko’s arrest on the spot, zuko leads yue to a stream in the forest. yue silently patches his wounds, and then eventually asks if she can get a look at his eye. apart from the initial work of the fire nation healers, zuko hadn’t really done much to treat his eye, and it’s so badly crusted he can barely see out of it. when yue reaches for him, he jerks away.

“i don’t need your help!” he snaps, standing and shaking himself off. “if it weren’t for you, i wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

“excuse me.” says yue, standing as well, because who is he to talk to her that way? “i didn’t ask you for help, you chose to do that. and you’re mad at those soldiers, not me, so why don’t you try being a little nicer?”

they stare at each other furiously for a moment. then yue sighs and says “i think i can help you with your eye, so that you can see. let me do that and i’ll leave you alone.”

it’s painful, and a very slow process, but with water warmed by zuko’s bending (”just heat up the water.” “someone could see!” “we’re in the middle of a literal forest! who’s spying! the frogs???”) and a few medicinal herbs, yue manages to clear away most of the crust and dead skin over zuko’s eye. when he finally opens it again, he’s shocked to find that he can see.

“well, i won’t bother you anymore,” yue says huffily, moving to leave the forest. as she does, she realizes she doesn’t know where the heck she is. zuko’s still marveling at how different the world looks with two eyes.

“umm, which way is out?” yue asks him. zuko snaps back to reality and says “oh, um. i’ll show you.” because he is, admittedly, grateful.

of course, when they try to leave the forest, they run into bandits and barely escape. then yue reccomends they take a country road, and zuko reluctantly agrees, except they run into more bandits. after the fourth round of bandits in two weeks, they’re convinced they’ve been cursed with bad luck.

“can we just go to a town or a city?” yue asks, panting from their desperate escape. “we’re not having much luck living in the wild.”

“i was fine until you showed up!” zuko retorts, panting as well. “fine! then i’ll leave!” yue yells back.

“wait,” zuko says, and yue turns, tapping her foot impatiently. “i’m sorry,” zuko says, to yue’s shock, because if her few weeks with this kid who calls himself lee has taught her anything, it’s that he does not apologize. “i don’t really...understand, um, local people and-“

“let me do the talking,” yue says, gentle as always, reaching for zuko’s arm. he smiles at her, a real, happy smile, and they make their way to the nearest earth kingdom town.

after that, yue and zuko are inseparable. they argue a lot, naturally, but they become good friends, too. yue says she always wanted a sibling, zuko says he always wanted a different sibling, so it’s nice, to have each other. without going into too much detail, they bond over their shared experiences of pre-determined destinies and overbearing parental figures (“my father said i have to get married for the good of the people! what does that even mean?” “tell me about it, my father got mad that i talked out of turn, so he tried to kill me.” “...he what?” “hahaha just kidding that’s not a normal thing that happens.”) no matter how scary it gets, they agree, the earth kingdom makes them feel freer than they ever have before.

does the food they cook suck because they’ve never had to cook in their lives? yes. do they sometimes put all four feet in their mouths because of how they speak to the poor people of the earth kingdom? yes. have they ticked off a lot of fellow teenagers for acting bratty? yes. (“what, so, you don’t have palaces around here?” yue asks. “yeah, where are the royal gardens?” zuko asks. “leave before we rock your shit.” says Every Teenager They Meet.) but at the end of the day, they’re happy.

at 15 they reach a city called gaoling. by now they can both do enough odd jobs that they always have some pocket money on them, although yue still struggles to behave in a way that isn’t dainty and delicate, and zuko still struggles with basic social skills.

they’re getting ready to move along, when they’re stopped by a girl. she’s young, about 11, and entirely blind. she’s being chased by a loud crowd, who seem to be just around the corner.

“please!” the girl says. “help hide me! they’re after me! i think they’re going to kidnap me!” yue and zuko, who are the captains of the child-protection-squad, immediately move to protect the girl.

“this way!” zuko says, and the three of them run down narrow streets and alleyways, in and around shops, until they’re stopped at the city gate by the mob going after the girl.

“alright, kid,” the leader, a tall, buff man with long greasy hair says. “you’ve stolen from us for the last time.”

“how many time do i have to tell you?” the girl bellows, much different than her sweet and innocent pleas from before. “i won fair and square! you’re just mad because you got your butt kicked by a little girl!”

before zuko and yue can even react, the girl pummels the mob of men with an avalanche of rocks, and then launches the earth they’re standing on into the air, landing them far outside of the city limits in a dizzying display.

“woo! that was awesome!” the girl says gleefully pumping her arms. zuko and yue are both trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. “thanks for the help. not that i needed it, i just didn’t want my parents’ guards to see me bending...i wasn’t really planning on running away, but, i mean, i doubt they’ll even notice i’m gone-”

“just a second,” yue says, collecting herself. zuko’s jaw is still hanging open. “who are you?”

the girl grins smugly. “name’s toph. who are you?”

i cannot fully express how much i love this idea. top-notch. god-tier. thank you again!

[spinchip]

ooo if you're taking prompts maybe something with amara? i'd love to see her and zane talk about seer stuff and goof off together

A/N: This got out of hand. 2500 words, it’s some Zane and Amara bonding, then Zane gets a scary vision and Amara and Alma help him through it. Warning for Zanes vision: blood, gore, body horror. no main characters or ocs are hurt!

Amara hit the training mat with a grunt, rolling across the soft of it with the force of the throw, letting her arms flop uselessly as she splayed out on her back. She heaves out a breath, sweat slick on her forehead and frizzing the edges of her hair.

“I think i’m starting to get it!” She announces, breathless, and Zane grins behind his hand. Amara may have an affinity for things to do with psychics and visions, but martial arts was a bit out of her skill level.

Lloyd smiles apologetically, hands on his knees as he leans over her, “I’ll try coming in a little easier and give you a chance to practice the counter in slow motion.”

“You know, that sounds good and all, but i think i might sit this next little bit out. Gonna let the lesson sink in a little, you know? Sleep on it and all.” She nods to herself, folding her hands over her stomach as if she’s totally meant to be laying in the middle of the training ground.

“Sounds good.” Lloyd laughs and lets her off easy, offering his hand to pull her up.

After working together to get her off the ground, Amara presses a hand to the stitch in her side and hobbles her way over to the others, who’d been watching the impromptu training session with amused eyes, “That’s the last time I watch you train.” She mutters when she gets within hearing range, giving Zane a teasing stink eye.

Cole takes her spot, running a few drills with Lloyd in a much smoother and confident way than Amara had. She seems unbothered, stretching out her tense muscles.

“You did very well for your first time.” Zane offers, moving into a simple yoga pose that he motions for Amara to imitate.

“Thanks.” She sighs deeply, rolling her shoulders, “I try to keep myself in alright shape, but this was a bit more advanced than jogging or lifting weights.” She mutters, shifting into the tree pose, letting her body cool down from the heavy workout, “Grandma works out too. Keeping your body active helps keep your mind active, most seers try and hold a healthy routine.”

“Physical exercise helps with visions?”

Amara shrugs, “Exercise, eating right, meditation, all that. Your body is a temple or something. These abilities we have cost you, the toll they take can be rough if you’re not prepared, though I suppose you’d have an advantage on the physical effects. A heart attack wouldn’t affect you.” She hums, mulling that over as they break pose. They run through a few more together until Lloyd signals they should clean up. “Thanks for the yoga, hopefully that will help my sore muscles.”

“Would have worked better if you had not talked through most of it.” He jokes.

“Everything I had to say was very important.”

Lloyd claps his hands, “Alright, I think we can call it for today. Great work everybody.”

“Cool, I could use a shower.” Kai sighs dreamily at the thought of it as they all gather their water bottles and towels.

Nya wrinkles her nose, “You can say that again!”

It’s not really all that funny, but the others laugh anyway, and Zane smiles along with them. It’d been a good day, he’d made some great stride that morning with Geand Seer Mirai in getting more comfortable using his seer abilities, and Amara had come to watch them train- and even agreed, at his insistence, to do some defensive training as well. He was worried about her being caught up with the Ninja when she couldn’t properly defend himself. They’d gotten a lot done that day, and he felt good.

He sighs, feeling the cool breeze on his face for just a moment longer, and then he turns to follow his friends insi-

Water sloshes around his ankles and he stumbles at the thickness of it, kicking liquid everywhere as he tries to catch himself. he blinks, disoriented- the horizon yawns around him, red water stretching endlessly across the skyline- the monasteries courtyard has vanished, open sky swallowing everything he can see. The sky is a hellish orange, boundless and never ending, the sun a suffocating weight in the sky and spots dance in his eyes when he glances too close, the heat threatening to hold him too tightly, wringing the strength from his body with it’s burn. The air is heavy and thick and dragging across his shoulders, the smell of rot and decay sitting slick and cloying on his tongue, filling his head until he gags with it.

The liquid soaking into his pants is not water.

There’s so much blood it pulls at his ankles, so much gore it spills across even the farthest point in the horizon. There’s no sign of land, no point he can get to to save himself, his gi is turning crimson and tacky where it clings to metal. He can feel it inside his mechanics. He scrambles back, stumbling over unseen lumps below the surface. His shoes slide on something slippery and wet and he trips backwards, blood sloshing around him as he hits the surface, and it sinks and stains his clothes, his hair, his skin. He’s frantic, scrambling to his knees to try and push himself back to his feet when he realizes what he’d slid on.

Skin, hair, teeth, bone.

Bodies rise to the surface, all in different states of decay, all of their rib cages torn out- a bloody, gaping hole where their hearts should be, blood pouring from the wounds as if they were fresh. Mouths hang open, eyes roll back to expose the whites, hands curled and twisted in on themselves.

Confusion and panic paralyze him, where is he? Where are his friends? He’s alone. He’s alone! What is he supposed to do?

The blood ripples, Hands surge up and up, the bodies undulating and moving to grasp at him. Sightless eyes and broken jaws and torn flesh moving and searching and hunting. Their fingers dig into his clothes, lock around his wrists- The pool beneath him heaves, yanking him down and he sinks to his chin before his processor kickstarts back to life and he struggles against the pull. His head’s tipped back, gasping against the blood that threatens to fill his mouth, straining against their strength in panicked, wheezing breaths.

They yank again and raw pain flares up his joints as if they were attempting to pull his arms off with the force of it. The dead wail, and it’s an ugly, nails-on-chalkboard thing- a cacophony of noise, and endless screaming, until they all coordinate enough to say, “YOU HAVE TO COME IN.” a thousand voices overlapping in pain and anger and fear, the jaws of the dead moving lifelessly, “GO UNDER.” they scream and whisper all around him.

The next tug is too strong, and the blood floods his senses, swallowing him up beneath the horror of it all. Once they drag him under, the hands vanish and he kicks out with his legs and surges upwards- but the surface is gone, nothing but endless red that begins to move, a current, dragging at his clothes and his eyes and his hair. He doesn’t need to breathe but he holds his breath on instinct alone, swept alongside bodies that don’t grab at him until he spots a black hole opening up before them, swallowing down everything, consuming all in it’s path. Panic seizes him again, the hole is- it’s nothing, there is nothing there, there is nothing past there, and when he passes through it he’ll be nothing too. He cant fight it, it’s getting closer and closer- he’s dying he’s dying he’s so so hungry-

Hands on his face, bright light, he’s sitting on the ground- wasn’t he just floating? he’s trembling all over, someone is running soothing hands over his face, the sun is warm and familiar above him. Was he alive?

“Where am I?” his words run together so badly he’s not sure anyone understands him, the black hole is gone, the bodies are gone.

He grabs at his shirt frantically, yanking on it- white. No blood. The blood is gone. It felt so real. Is any of this real?

“Shhh,” hands on his face, not grasping, not forceful, not pulling him under, running over his cheek bones, his forehead, petting at him gently. Her voice is filtering through the unreality he’s stuck in, “Shhh…y… t… yo… hom… sty... Zane.”

“I am Zane.” He grasps that, he knows that, it’s real. He’s Zane. He’s a ninja. Shouldn’t the metal he’s made of be stained red? There was so much of it. He digs his fingers into the surface he’s sitting on, grit beneath his artificial nails.

“You had a vision,” Her voice breaks through as a whisper, his eyes obey and start to focus- the sky is blue, the sun is warm but not sharp, there’s dirt under his hands. He feels so far away from it all, like his head is full of cotton, like he’s looking at the girl in front of him from a set of eyes just behind his own. “You had a vision, it was scary. What you're seeing right now is real, Zane. You’re in the monastery courtyard. We were training, do you remember training with me?”

The memories are foggy and hard to grasp, “Amara.”

She leans forward and presses their foreheads together, the pink of her eyes something he can focus on, the contact bringing him back to earth, “You can get through this, Zane.” She presses closer, the comfort of the contact making the panic wane.

Grounding. he needs to ground. He focuses on the way the fabric of his clothes feel against his metal skin, bringing his hands back up to twist in the fabric of his gi. He traces the near imperceptible freckles on the bridge of her nose with his eyes, he lets her hands on his face draw the last dregs of panic from him.

He blinks, the world overexposed and bright, so much more comforting than the glaring orange from before. He’s in the monastery courtyard, Amara is here. He was just training with his friends, before he was in the river of blood. No- that was a vision? It wasn’t real. This is real.

“Come back. I’m right here.” She coaxes him gently, guiding the floating edges of his consciousness back home.

He unclenches his hands where they’ve twisted up his shirt and latches onto her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her. Sweat and vanilla floods his senses, not unpleasant only because of her arms around him. She caresses the back of his head soothingly, her fingernails catching in the short scruff at the base of his neck. He knows he’s crying, he can’t help it.

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but when the sobs subside and he finally pulls away, Grand Seer Mirai is crouched at his side. Amara sits back in his lap, smiling softly and running a hand in soothing circles over his shoulders, “Hey.” She whispers.

“Hey.” His voice modulator is rough, he doesn't bother correcting it.

“Glad to see you’re back with us, Honey.” Mirai says quietly. She takes his cheek gently and turns his head toward her, wiping at his face with a warm washcloth, thin layers of ice cracking and flaking off, “How are you feeling?”

Dread crawls up his throat and before he can think better of it he tells her, too honestly, “I’m really scared.”

Amara reaches out and holds his hand reassuringly, shuffling closer where she’s tangled up in his legs. Mirai keeps cleaning his face, “It’s okay to be afraid. Visions are disorienting, frightening things- they’re simpler when you sleep, the line between dreams and reality much easier to find- visions in broad daylight are harder. You are doing great, Honey.”

She sits back, “Why don’t we go inside? I can make you some tea, and we can talk about what happened. Your friends are worried about you.”

Zane nods, and Amara crawls out of his lap, lacing their fingers together so she can help him to his feet. He sways dangerously when they first stand and she presses close to his side, a long moment passes before he feels confident attempting to move and she’s with him every step of the way, “I’m here to help.” She says, her support at his side stabilizing him.

The cool of the monastery is welcome, the heat of the sun vanishing off his shoulders. Mirai guides them into the living room and Amara sits on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. Zane practically collapses onto it, and she throws her legs over his lap, leaning over to wrap her arms around him. Normally, the contact would be too much, but with the horror and disconnect from his vision still sticky on his skin, the touch helps. Time passes fuzzy and disorienting, he’s not sure how long he’s sitting there before Mirai hands him a cup of tea.

Amara accepts hers from her grandmother eagerly, wrapping her hands around the hot cup with a contented sigh. Zane realizes only after he tries to drink his why she’s huddling over her cup. His is frozen solid- she’s cold. He’s making her cold.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and squashing the swell of power that has been trapped in the bubble of terror still caught in his chest. Amara straightens up next to him in surprise, the chill she’d been dealing with vanishing from the air.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels more in control than before. He still feels awful and mixed up and a little disoriented, but he can control his powers again, and that gives him another anchor to focus on. Mirai smiles from where she’s sitting on the floor next to them, and reaches over to the coffee table to prepare him another cup of tea. The lights are off, sunlight from the far window enough to see by. There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders he doesn’t remember being given. The Grand Seer has a tea set prepared on a tray, tea, sugar, honey- everything you could need.

She hands him another cup, taking his previous, and he is quietly proud when he doesn't instantly freeze it.

“How are you feeling?” Amara asks once he’s taken his first sip.

“Better.” He admits, “Are you alright? My powers…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, losing his words.

She gets it anyway, “I’m fine,” She reassures him, “You never got cold enough to hurt me.”

“That took a lot of strength,” Mirai praises him quietly, “You were gone in a vision, yet you still had the power to control yourself.”

Amara hands her grandmother her empty cup, smiling at Zane, “We’re really proud of you.”

He smiles weakly and doesn’t feel strong at all.

[know-the-way]

I know it’s really stupid of me but I was kind of hoping for a redemption arc for Faustus. 😅😢

It’s not stupid, not at all! It’s natural to want to see the best in people, particularly when you believe they can be better than what they are now, so it’s completely understandable.

And, ya know, if the show gets picked up - he may have one yet still, we don’t know!

To me, this season really highlighted what the purpose of Faustus’ character is supposed to be, imo. Thinking of episode 4, we’re shown three different levels of corruption through three different characters.

The first is Harvey. Pure, sweet, golden boy Harvey is revealed to have some deep-seeded hatred of witches. Does he have any reason to hate witches? Well, let’s check - he lost a brother, got manipulated, controlled, and lied to by his first love, and has been in an endless cycle of extreme danger for the past year of his life. I think it’s fair to say we all understand that prejudice is not okay, but is it equally understandable why Harvey has some hang-ups about magic and witches? I personally think it is. (Not to the point of joining a literal witch hunt or angrily accusing your distressed best friend of killing your dad at her 17th birthday party 🙃, but understandable nonetheless.)

I personally think the intention with Harvey’s character being a cadet in Blackwood’s army was to demonstrate how, even when we believe someone to be morally good and just, they can become someone else when they endure pain and that pain is never properly addressed.

Did Sabrina apologize to Harvey for everything that happened between them? Yes. But did she repeat the same troublesome behaviors in different ways after that? Also yes. She didn’t demonstrate change in her actions, and a loootttt more happened with Harvey and the witch world in a negative way beyond his relationship with Sabrina, so the mistrust he feels isn’t entirely unjustified.

Then - “oh wow, oh my God, my second love has also hid being a witch from me, can I catch a fucking break here? Why should I ever trust another witch in my life?”

Answer: because they are humans, none being wholly good or bad, and they love you.

Roz talks to Harvey, tells him she believes he’s good, and demonstrably proves her own “goodness” by sacrificing herself to save others at Dr. C’s. Roz shows Harvey that she means what she says and her feelings for him are real - that she is a scared, broken human like him, just trying to do her best with what life has given her. Hence, when the moment of truth comes - Harvey remembers his humanity and proves his own “goodness” by saving her. But if Roz had never spoken to him, never acknowledged what he’d been through and that his feelings were valid... if no one had ever truly cared about his pain? It seems apparent that Harvey would have continued down a very dark path.

Which brings us to...

Mary. Mary has been literally murdered, had her identity hijacked by a demoness, her fiancé is dead, she doesn’t remember several months of her life, and her previous favorite student is a witch who has seemingly performed magic more than once on her.

Mary has every right to fear witches at this point. She has had zero trustworthy interactions with the witch world and from her perspective - her entire life has been stolen and no one cares. No one checks in on Mary, no one validates her pain, and as a result - no one in the witch world seems to have any compassion, humanity, or kindness in them. Enter the Pilgrims of the Night, who recognize her pain and fear without even knowing her, acknowledge it, and offer her solace in their congregation on the basis that her experience with witches is shared by the Reverend Lovecraft and his flock.

They prove themselves to her when the advice the Reverend/Faustus gives her (“let the dark in”) saves her life. My God, someone finally seems to care if she lives or dies!

People who care about others are good, so the church and the reverend’s mission must be good, too. Therefore, she is absolutely invested in whatever is asked of her and will blindly follow their lead in order to protect others from experiencing what she has. To me, Mary in the perverted universe represented the crossroads of corruption - where you truly believe what you’re doing is the right thing, even if it hurts others because those “others” have hurt you... and they will surely hurt again if you don’t stop them.

However, I think if Mary was finally told the truth - the full truth - and Lilith herself apologized for being the first piece in the puzzle... along with all the other witches... AND they showed that they actually cared about her well-being... Mary could find her way back through forgiveness. Or, at the very least, she could understand and process everything so that she could find a way to heal that doesn’t involve persecuting others.

And now, there’s Faustus. We aren’t entirely clear on Faustus’ history altogether, but we do know he’s had many experiences of being slighted by the churches of darkness (despite following the rules to a T).

He was rebuked by Edward for wanting to marry Zelda after mentoring him for who knows how many years, lost the office of high priest to him, and when he finally gets the title - here comes Edward’s self-righteous brat to fuck him over again. There he is trying to carry out the Dark Lord’s request to get Sabrina to sign her name in the Book of the Beast, even though she insults their doctrines and faith at every turn, and the coven and academy he’s had working like a well-oiled machine for the past 16 years is being slowly ripped apart. Why is the Dark Lord allowing this? Why is he having to endure a meddlesome child’s antics? Why is he not being rewarded for doing exactly as he’s been asked and returning the Church of Night to stability after Edward nearly destroyed it altogether? Like hello Dark Lord, can you throw me a fucking bone here?

Small victories - he finally secures Zelda’s hand in marriage and an audience with the anti-pope. This is what his life should’ve looked like two centuries ago, but no matter. He’s correcting it all now and by Satan, nothing is going to stop him this time.

But then...

Oh cool, Sabrina is here to intervene again and has presented the text of his old rival for consideration along with his (clearly superior) manifesto. What’s that, you say? Oh, she’s also gonna crash my wedding, accuse me of murder, and spread claims about my manifesto without having even read it? Wow, ahaha, sounds hilarious... except why am I not laughing?

He arrives in Rome and gets an inkling that the Dark Lord may finally be taking action about this heretical little monster because he’s offered the title of anti-pope by the unholy high council themselves. Finally, some appreciation! He just needs to hang on a little longer, eliminate these small meddlesome threats, and soon he will reside over a peaceful kingdom far removed from anymore mortal nonsense.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you mean Sabrina convinces the council he’s unfit to be anti-pope? This is bullshit, man! You know what? Fuck this place, I’m gonna make my own damn church and ensure no other headstrong witches like Sabrina Buzzkill Spellman can ruin it. That’ll finally return things to ord- MY WIFE KEPT MY OWN CHILD A SECRET FROM ME?! WHAT THE FUCK?! Alright, that’s it, The Spellmans are clearly here to poison others (ironic foreshadowing) - time to wash my hands of them completely, I am so over thi- what’s that? The Dark Lord’s here? GOOD. About time this asshole showed up to set people straight and remind them that the values of his unholy church, which Faustus has exemplified perfectly, must be respected.

You mean for me to bow down to whom now? The halfbreed brat who has been directly and willfully wreaking havoc on the congregation he’s patiently and painstakingly lead back to greatness? Are you fucking serious, m8? No. Absolutely not. No. I’m getting out of here, and since I won’t have the little twat poison anyone else, I will literally poison them instead. Be free, sheep!

It’s up until this point that I believe Faustus was still mostly at the crossroads stage, same as Mary. He believed everything he was doing was the right thing, based on the teachings from the religion he devoted his entire life to, and that he’d be rewarded for serving the Dark Lord so faithfully - until the Dark Lord proved several times in succession that his religion was all a lie. That three+ centuries worth of groveling and abiding and waiting has meant absolutely nothing.

So now we have the Eldritch terrors. Beings more powerful than the oldest gods. He spends 15 years isolated in a time bubble purifying himself, devoting everything to them, and won’t it be so glorious when they welcome him into his ranks? He’s set them free now, after all, they owe it to him.

But doing the same action over and over and expecting a different result is what? The definition of insanity, friends. Of course the Eldritch terrors reject him, too... of course Sabrina gains their attention and veneration instead... of course he should have tried to seize their power for himself a long time ago... so, fuck it all, he’ll do that now. There is no right and wrong, there is no observed justice - if there was, he would have been rightfully recognized for all the time, effort, and pain he’s endured only to receive nothing in return.* No one ever acknowledged his pain... no one ever even considered it. Over time, that takes its toll.

(*Clearly, I mean this to be from Faustus’ perspective and not my own.)

Of course, he has inflicted more than his fair share of pain himself and I am of the personal belief he needed to pay for that, but... equally imagine being hurt over and over and watching those who did it walk away, not only without reprimand, but with the belief that they were right and just to do it? Could it slowly drain on one’s soul to watch the rules apply to some and not others? Debatable, I suppose, but I personally think yes.

So... I say all of this only to point out that there is still potential to acknowledge his pain. And thus, there is imo still potential to understand, communicate properly (I am very interested in any conversations he and Sabrina may have had during their training - I know he said she took a vow of silence, but clearly some talking occurred for Sabrina to learn so much about the void from him), grow, and finally - for him to be given the chance to repair everything he had a hand in breaking. It wouldn’t be an easy or painless task to get to that point, and no one would be faulted for not trusting him to do so, but I think there is potential for it. If they get picked up and they want to finally allow the characters some time to reflect and process shit, they could include Faustus in that.

[makeyourdeanabi]

Finale Reaction- 2 months later

In the wee hours after the Supernatural Finale, after tossing and turning in my bed, I got up and wrote this... this was before I was actually active on Tumblr and I never thought I would share this because I was too self conscious.  I deleted it shortly after I wrote it because it brought me so much pain to relive it.  I have since watched the Finale again and have come to terms with it and I felt it was a good time to share my thoughts. I hope that my words may bring other people comfort who feel the same way.  Thanks for reading :)

Alisha

P.S. Sorry so long, I was feeling things and the words just kept coming and coming  ___________________________________________

I don’t blog.  Never in my life have I sat down to tell the world about my feelings in such a manner.  I may contribute on message boards and social media comments, but I never thought anything was worth my time to spill my guts into the ether when I am near certain that not a soul will read them.  But here I am.  I have to write because if I don’t get these thoughts out of my head, I am going to go full on insane.

That ending was bad. It was a disservice to the 15 years of an incredible show that was not only genre bending it was cultural norms bending.

I could mention the various tropes that this ending (and the previous episodes) invoked, but I am not well versed in them and would never want to do anyone a disservice with a comparison that wasn’t apt.

The buildup up of each character arc and then the glaring lack of conclusion for said character arc was laughable.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement.

To say I am heartbroken is an understatement.

I am destroyed.  

I am destroyed that the two men who have been with this franchise since day 1 wrote and directed an episode that they thought was the perfect ending. They thought this is what their devoted fandom wanted.  

I am destroyed that the lead actors signed off on this script and went so far as to call it their favorite.  I realize Jared was the only one calling it his favorite episode. Jensen admitted he had reservations about the episode and needed the wise words of creator Erik Kripke to accept it. I do have to say that taking the word of a man who left the show 10 seasons ago and hasn’t been involved in all the plot lines and inner workings since season 5 is probably not the best idea. I could be mistaken about the extent of Kripke’s involvement, but I am fairly certain that I am right in my assumptions.  

Dean spent 15 years (probably more) of his life feeling unloved, unworthy, self-conscious and convinced that his life had but one purpose and that purpose would ultimately be the death of him, and he had made peace with that.

He is given a best friend, potential love interest, who helps him to see that he is more than that, so much more than that.  He is selfless, he is caring, he is a lover, not a killer. His friend’s soulmate’s sacrifice is the catalyst for him believing that all these things are true. He even takes the step of admitting out loud that he knows he has changed.  He knows that his life is worth living to the fullest and appreciating what he has every day and honoring those they have “lost along the way.”  

To then kill him during a routine hunting trip in which the boys are up against a vampire nest they could take down in their sleep.  What could possibly have been the purpose for that?  To show that once they were no longer God’s little play toys their lives were expendable?  WHY?

Dean, arguably the greatest hunter in the SPN universe, was taken out by a fucking rusty piece of rebar, and instead of trying to call for help and get the man to a hospital (not sure it would have helped) he has his final monologue, the one he has been due for the latter half all of Season 15.  He died scared, in pain, and sad.

Dean goes to heaven, and its not the heaven we have been told of in the past where you are living in your memories.  Its truly life after death and its wonderful. He meets Bobby again and told that various people in Dean’s and Bobby’s life are close by.  His parents live down the road.  His father, who was never confirmed to be but was most likely an abusive bastard, lives just down the road with his mother.  Wonderful. (WTF?) He gets confirmation that Cas is out of the empty and he smiles, nothing more.  He sees baby and goes for a drive, not to find Cas and thank him for his ultimate sacrifice, but to just drive.  I like this part because we see a happy, content Dean, and we finally get to hear Kansas’s “Carry on Wayward Son” (DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE LACK OF THE ROAD SO FAR AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE). I just wish Dean’s path to heaven had been a little easier on him.

Dean deserved better.

Castiel, the selfless angel who just wanted to find purpose in his life and ultimately found it in death. He dies never being told that he is loved, after countless times of professing his love to his found family. The angel who sacrificed himself to the Empty, a horrible place of unspeakable torture, to protect the man he loves.  A man who, mere days later (in my mind anyway), arrives in heaven after being killed in a gruesome accident, rather than fulfilling his destiny that Cas fought so hard to protect.  Some sacrifice. It turns out that Cas is saved by the Empty from Jack, but we don’t get to see his joyful reunion with Dean, the man he loves.  

Cas deserved better.

Sam is left to live this life without his brother, and potentially the love of his life because the writers couldn’t be bothered to confirm Eileen’s re-existence after Chuck’s rapture.  He has a family, and he grows old (mind you with REALLY bad makeup in a show that is known for their incredible makeup/special effects departments).

He seems to be happy, but you can tell something is missing.  We come to see that he raised his son to be a hunter.  He raised his son in a life that, at the outset of this show, he was desperate to get out of and live a normal life.  Perhaps he no longer believes that anyone can live a normal life knowing what is out there. *EDIT* Looking back I don’t believe he raised his son to be a hunter, just gave him the tattoo in case.

He names his son Dean, because of course he does. He has a wife who we see from a distance and is never given the clarity if it is Eileen or not.  He finally dies after what looks like a slow and painful illness and is sent to heaven.

In heaven he meets up with Dean.  This was lovely.  The two of them meeting again after so long, for Sam, that is. Dean only had to seemingly wait for a few hours.

Sam deserved better.

For a show that had the potential to go out on a historically significant high, this is disappointing, to say the least.  The story had the potential to end with 2 brothers who have sacrificed so much and saved so many people, find a happy ending.  Not only that but find a happy ending with a deaf partner and a gay angel. If that isn’t breaking barriers and bending norms, I don’t know what is.  I really would like to know what prevented this from happening.  Be it the CW from restricting them or maybe the absolute lack of originality from the writers, I am curious as to their reasoning. Maybe it was COVID.  Maybe because they couldn’t have those two actors physically on set due to protocols, they didn’t want to shortchange them by having them appear otherwise: disembodied voice, phone call (DONT TOUCH ME) or even a flashback… hell STOCK FOOTAGE! I don’t know and I clearly can’t imagine the reason.

I realize that there is nothing that can be done about this episode now and that accepting it and moving on is really the only way forward.  But the legacy this show has left, and its lasting impact on me and my life, cannot be ignored.  I was looking forward to indulging in past episodes of this show for the rest of my life. It is going to be a long time before I can watch an episode without anger and resentment towards what I know to be their eventual end.  That, to me, is unforgiveable.  

I don’t expect anyone to actually read this because I do not have any followers. I have never blogged in my entire life and was only recently introduced to the online fandom, but I needed to write this.  I needed to share the impact that this episode had on me.  I do hope that it does reach those in the fandom that may have similar feelings and are able to use my words to help express how they are feeling.  We can move on, and we will move on, but we need to do it together.

I know that there are people who, if they read this, would shake their head in disbelief that I became so emotionally invested in this show that watching a bad ending would take such a toll on my mental health.  

To them I say, imagine this… The Pittsburgh Steelers (my favorite team, they can imagine their own) have an incredible season.  A season where they saw a myriad of highs and lows. Veteran players making incredible comebacks, rookie players coming in to their own.  Season ending injuries that lead to the next man stepping up and contributing in ways they weren’t sure possible.  Now imagine they make it to the Superbowl and after 3 tough quarters, in which they played their best, getting better with each quarter, they lose it in the final minutes.  All that blood, sweat, and tears for nothing.  Now imagine that was their last season and the Pittsburgh Steelers are no longer an NFL team.  They are done.  No “we’ll get ‘em next season.”  No “it’s just a game and there is always another one”.  Just done.  Their entire franchise, for a brief moment in time, reduced to those final minutes where they failed to win.  Devastating. Of course, in the long run that is not what they will be remembered for.  I mean, after all, they have won 6 Lombardi trophies, and no one is taking that away from them.  But the sting will remain for a while. *EDIT* This was as close to prophecy as I will ever get, the Steelers did all of the above until the playoffs, but THANK GOD, there will be another season.

If I can’t make you understand with a sports metaphor than I will never make you understand.  

I love this show and this loss is devastating.  I do hope that it is remembered for more than their last-minute loss.  I hope it is remembered for the joy and acceptance that their fandom felt with each episode, for the laugher on set and the gag reels. I hope it is remembered for the individual players who gave it their all. I know it will be, but for me personally, this sting is going to last for a while.  

[mamavalcalaw]

Welcome To the Wasteland chapter 01

The big head rested on a lump of old wood that once was a fallen tree. Valory was positioned to be not readily visible, her thick hide mottled to the environment to break up her outline. Half lounging, but more reclined on a rise, almost a large hill, she could keep a look out easily here

Her person was just down the slope working on butchering the wild dear Valory had taken down. Working without looking up and scanning every few minutes, having the rare luxury of knowing she was safe even out in the wasteland wilds.

It was a lot of trust that was placed in Valory's hands, and something that she would never dream of or consider not taking very seriously. So she laid there and watched for humans, of any variety, or some poor desperate predator that would risk crossing the scent line.

There were some nervous bleeting sounds from the doe's living calves. Valory's companion had used some rope around the base of their double necks and tied them to their own large pack animals. Creatures native to their mountain range, not here. Insisting with that soft heart of hers that they keep them as they were going to be setting up a base camp in the area.

The woman paused butchering, standing up to look around at the semi frosted area. The trees had been thinning out steadily the last few days of traveling. More scrubby underbrush just starting to get some new spring leaves. Patches of exposed grey rocks in the last couple days were also showing up with power lines.

The young woman took a break to stretch and look over at the other big creatures.

Taking the place of draft horses, were three relatively massive near horses. One bull and two cows that were sometimes seeming as wide as tall, being very close to the time they would give birth.

The bull, affectionately named Buck for reasons was lifting his head to rip off the bark of the nearest tree. He had a double set of paddle like antlers, the main pair not unlike the classic antlers of moose. Just curved a little more and seemingly thicker. The rear set cresting back and then up to protect the moose's neck and make a headbut that much more painful.

He had two long packs along his sides, made of thick oiled leather and deceptively held more that it would seem. Not really the heaviest equipment but definitely the truly valuable stuff such as parts for the water purifier.

The two cows were nosing at the orphaned dear calves, quite interested in them, they had smaller thicker antlers that curved back and the points up. The older of the two had a thick leather bridle, braided reins and a clear saddle resting on her back along with smaller pack bags. While the younger cow had only packs with two small animal cages near her rump with sleeping fuzzy bundles. Though in a pinch she could carry a rider or two as well (it just would not be that comfortable).

These slightly mutated moose were as valuable as horses in far back times. If not more so, definitely better than cars being able to climb mountains. Not just valuable to Lana but Valory too. They could walk or trot all day for the long stretches, able to eat most every kind of flora, including wood to some degree if nothing else was available. Once the group had settled for a time, the cows could plow larger fields in a day, and the manure was just as valuable for that. So much good bacteria and such as well as the leftovers for fertilizing what was plowed.

And… well, Buck had already proven he could take on a 'wild' Deathclaw on his own. Making good use of his own sheer tonnage, so to say, and his sets of horns.

Lana resisted reaching up to rub her face, using the very edge of her glove to get the itch on her cheek. She regarded the carcass and the tarp that it was lying on. The discarded bits she was not sure if they were tumors or something else cut out and tossed aside.. Trying to save all the meat she could, Valory had made short work of the intestines as a snack earlier and skinning would be done once at a propper camp.

The woman sighed, hearing movement as she started to wrap the carcass up. Lana looked up as the Deathclaw started down the hill. "Ready?"

"Yess..." Valory dipped her head rather than nod, it was easier and also let her bump the flat of her head against the smaller human. "Finishing the butcher-ing later?"

Lana nodded, resisting the urge to wipe her hands, "I think I got the questionable bits all out, you had a snack with the innerads. It should be good to wrap up and finish later after we get to the place you found last night."

Hazel eyes scanned around, landing on the fawn that were tied to the moose cows. She smiled despite herself, Lana was fond of the deer-like creatures out here, they reminded her of the elk back home, and of course alike to the moose. Just with much smaller cute noses. "The girls should be able to produce milk for them… depending on how things go, we might be able to bring some home with us on the return trip if the deer bond to Luna and Grace."

The big deathclaw tilted her horn head, thinking about it but shrugged, "If they can keep up? Lots of work to keep a… big-big herd?"

"Bigger," Lana reflexively offered the right word as she chucked the questionable bits from the kill into the woods, then started to wrap the doe carcass up in the tarp.

"Bigger herd is harder to guard." Valory huffed, and once the new large bundle was wrapped she reached down. Careful and very mindful of her killing claws, Valory lifted the doe up. Three strides had her by the younger of the two female moose, and setting it over Luna's back.

"I think we can do it. They might be able to be trained." Lana said, following and reaching out to rub a small head and nose of the deer like baby. She should find someone and ask about local names. The fawn were frozen stiff, rightly afraid of Valory. But they might get desensitized to her over time. Her three moose for sure were, having grown up in the same complex both Lana and Valory had. Coexisting and making a new culture.

Though to them it was just normal.

Making sure the fawn were well secured as well as the carcass, Lana whistled for Buck's attention. The big bull huffed as he headed over, massive head lowering for a nose rub. "Good boy, I'm going to ride with you so not to get in the way of the kids."

Lana grinned, giving the command from the ground to get Buck into a bow like motion. Much easier to climb up him then trying to make a jump to get a saddle over six feet in the air.

"This way." Valory purred, the sound felt as much as heard as she motioned to the south east. Despite her mixed feelings about the fawn… it did make Valory happy to see her small pack sister happy. She started down the rest of the hill, leading the way.

The moose were already turning to follow even before Lana was fully settled in the saddle. Buck hesitated to let the cows and babies pass, taking up the rear guard. Lana was fussing, getting her riding gloves on instead of the butchering ones. Making sure her bow was in easy reach, and the quiver was attached to the saddle. Doing a quick count of the shafts and making a face. Lana needed to make more soon, maybe there was something she could use at this new place. Otherwise it was a few good days of hunting through the old trees or hoping for in an older hunting store.

Lana looked down, reaching to run her fingers through the thick, dark brown fur, it was a little more tan on Buck's neck and one should, where most was near black fur. She felt the bull rumble and did his version of a nicker, a low gutteral sound that helped calm the woman down.

It was hard going so far from home. Setting up a home base for a new area was not something new, but it was the first time Lana did not have her uncle here. Yes there was the sure protection with Her Pack sister, but Valory could not do everything.

There was still a lot of hard work to do, that involved smaller hands and time. Hard work that was worth it, being able to sleep well, have clean if not some hot water, lights and power for things. It was faster with two people and… and…

And comfortable with more family around. Her uncle was more experienced in the wastelands, where Lana was just used to the wildlands of the rockies, and the planes that were down south.

Lana yawned, squeaking a bit in surprise. The last two months of travel were starting to take a toll. Enough that once they secured this place Valory found, Lana was considering very much to just sleep for a few days.

Maybe find a way to get a warm, if not hot bath…

A snort had the woman's attention snapping back, hazel eyes scanning the brush and landscape where Buck was suddenly staring. Big ears tilted at the same spot.

Lana frowned, giving a soft whistle before nudging Buck to where his attention was. The bull huffed softer, lowering his head and tilting it so his antlers were going into his 'battle position.' It did not necessarily mean that what he picked up was a direct threat, but it was definitely something to check.

A semi distant gunshot had the woman crouching lower on the saddle and the moose's shoulder blades. Stream lining as she kicked her legs with an urging clicking sound. "Go Buck, someone might need help Val!"

The bull snorted and before launching into a lope. Buck was virtually a living tank in his own right so the underbrush did not hold up all that well- The moose however was able to see the trouble first. Head down, shifting his path and ran head first into the roughly dressed humans.

Or rather antlers first.

Three clusters of people, one was in the middle with a struggling brahmin. Two men that crouched behind things pulled off the brahmin, one scarred man in green fatigue and armor leaning over to cut the rope the other man on the ground was clutching. The other two groups were on either side, four or five on each side walking closer and yelling even as the two headed creature ran off in the gunfire.

Buck recognized the scents on a whole, bitter alcohol, old blood from several humans not belonging to the ones that wore it. Gunpowder and rusty metal. Buck swung his head, great paddles sweeping through the cluster of bad-humans. Shifting his weight the animal kicked out with a hind leg, off to a side to drive a hoove into the soft middle of one of the bad humans.

There was a soft tich sound of an arrow before he sank his hindquarters and launched into a jump out of this first group. Trusting his person to hold on as he got them out of the direct line of chaos. He was not afraid of weapons fire, not even from on his back as Lana shot her pistol.

Charging in like a strange battle demon, Buck was also out of the way and shaking his head to knock off the body stuck to his antlers. Hardly silent as the haunting cry of his kind bellowed out.

Confusion and panic was abound, giving Lana valuable moments to see the second group of raiders floundering on the other side of the roadway. See the dark form running in a hunch. See the injured brahmin limping away without its former berdenand a third cluster, lots of dead- Ambushed traders? Travelers?

There was at least one person still shooting, still alive, popping up and firing a rifle as Buck was wielding around on this side of the road.

There was a not so muffled, "Bloody fuck!" from the man crouched between the goods that had been knocked off the pack-animal. Furniture?

"Hold your fire!" Lana yelled at the man as Valory was looming over the second group of raiders.

Having held her silence other than loping, she pointedly timed it to roar when right behind the aggressors. Valory using the ingrained fear of her species to her advantage. She was not happy to always having to resort to it, but Valory swiped through the two humans closest. Thick muscles coiling to pounce on the third, the exposed chest making it easier to drive a killing claw into the heart.

Valory turned sharply around, using her longer tail to swipe where the other two humans were. Her tail connected with one of the humans, hearing more than feeling a crunch. Focusing on the one crawling away, reaching out to grab while glancing at the road and across it to where her pack sister was.

It seemed between Buck and a few careful shots the other four raiders were taken care of. Valory looked back to the survivor, aware of his rifle aimed at her and just grinned, "Stop that."

The rifle wavered.

[Continued on Ao3] [Continued on ff.net]

[swissmissficrecs]

My favorite fics of 2011

Continuing to sift through old bookmarks, here are my favorites from 2011 that are still up:

26 Pieces by Lanning (28K, E, Johnlock) Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (20K, E, Johnlock) ‘John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.’

A Love with No Name by aceofhearts (49K, M, Johnlock, Warstan, Mary/Irene) In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

A Thorough Examination / In Depth by emungere (15K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock watched John's mouth as that smile slid away too quickly. There had been something there, something he'd not had time to analyze. He was left with the unsettling impression of having witnessed an expression that didn't belong on John Watson's face at all. In its wake it left the equally unsettling thought that perhaps he didn't know John as entirely as he thought he did.

A Week in the Country by chainsaw_poet (20K, NR, Gen) Sherlock's lifestyle has taken its toll on his health and John is worried. With Mycroft's help, John coerces Sherlock into taking a holiday in the country to get some rest. Unfortunately, their trip doesn't quite turn out to be a relaxing as John had planned, when Sherlock's latest case decides to catch up with them.

Blind Man's Bluff by Rae666 (25K, T, Gen) "We are gods among mortals. But even gods must be tested." Sherlock loses his sight temporarily and must rely on his other senses and John in order to solve the case at hand. But as the killer draws closer, could the pair be in more danger than they first thought?

Contamination by LauraJV (16K, M, Gen) In which an artistic murder draws Irene Adler and her brother Nathan into the lives of Lestrade and Holmes, and Dr John Watson balances his morals against the happiness that is a warm gun.

Dehumanise Me by deuxexmycroft (26K, E, Johnlock) John is sent down for life after accidentally murdering someone, and gets snatched up to play prison wife for a strange man named Sherlock Holmes.

Disguise by kaalee (55K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's disguises are little more than a nuisance to John until one day he walks into the kitchen dressed as someone from John's past, someone John had tried to forget.

Evidence of Human Life by thesardine (16K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's sanity deteriorates while he and John are stranded on a deserted island.

Floriography by lbmisscharlie (21K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Florist!AU - Sherlock is a florist and he's doing the flowers at the wedding of John Watson and Mary Morstan. John's about to marry his best friend in the world. He's happy, in love, and content with Mary. So why can't he get tall, enigmatic man who did the flowers at his wedding out of his mind?

Getting Better by noxcandida (75K, T, Gen) Tristram Holmes dreads attending his new primary school, fearing he'll be teased and bullied as usual. Only, nothing goes exactly as he thinks it will when he finds himself with a seemingly unlikely friend in Emily Watson.

In My Master's House 'Verse by BrighteyedJill (185K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade) As a new slave in the Holmes household, John is having trouble finding his place. (This series began posting in 2011 and continued until 2014)

In The Land Of The Blind by entanglednow (12K, M, Johnlock) Apocalypse.

Indecorous by Basingstoke (55K, E, Johnlockary but it’s a different Mary than in the show) In which John learns to balance a kinky girlfriend, an asexual boyfriend, a ten-inch cock, his sister, the neighbours, his friends, and his blog. Some are more balanced than others.

Lacuna by coloredink (15K, E, Johnlock) God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (17K, M, Johnlock and Warstan) John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

Level 65 Paladin Looking for Group by etothepii (10K, T, Gen) "I think I met someone," John says at his next therapist's appointment. "A friend." "Really?" Ella asks. She sounds pleased, and also surprised. "What's his name?" John nods. "Really. His name's Sherlock. He -- he plays the same game as me, the online one. We party together."

Major Pieces by Lindentreeisle (31K, T, Gen) Sherlock knew that he could thoroughly rely upon John Watson's moral sense. And that's why he knew that Lestrade was wrong, wrong, wrong.

My Phone’s on Vibrate For You by misslucyjane (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock texts John all the time. Today’s different.

Never-Ending Cycle (orphaned) (17K, T, Johnlock) Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he's a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

On The Ice by berlynnwohl (35K, E, Johnlock) "Sherlock, I once saw you taste a vacuum cleaner attachment that had been used as a murder weapon, so can we please not pretend that Dungeons and Dragons is too weird for you?"

Parallel by brbsoulnomming (77K, M, Johnlock) There's a case at a secondary school/University, some series of threats or string of bizarre murders that has the entire campus shaken. In the course of the investigation, Sherlock and John meet two students. And, because they both want to help with the investigation, they get to watch them become friends and fall a little in love. And that makes them feel things about themselves that they've been working very hard to not feel, thank you.

Secondary Exposure by thesardine (18K, T, Gen) After twenty years, the killer who abducted John as a child has resurfaced.  Now John and Sherlock must track him down before he claims another victim, and at the same time navigate the shifting nature of their relationship.

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii (20K, M, Johnlock) "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc. It's the family motto." "What does it mean?" "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us." (Addams Family crossover)

The Art Of Seduction by flawedamythyst (97K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade, Sheriarty, John/OMC, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague. AU in which Sherlock treats sex like he does crime in canon.

The Baker Street Series by magicbunni (199K, T, Gen with background John/Sarah) Conspiracy and murder find Sherlock Holmes and John Watson surrounded by covert enemies in the heart of Scotland Yard. Together, they unearth clues that illuminate the scope, depth, and distorted psychology behind the crime. And, after a preemptive strike ordered by the mastermind they pursue, Holmes elects to continue the investigation under conditions that will force John Watson to fight for his friend's -- colleague's -- life.

The Penultimate Problem by Random_Nexus (18K, E, Johnlock) Angst, apocalypse-light, pseudo-hiatus, and other hijinx ensue.

The Love Song of Dr. John H. Watson by Kate_Lear (11K, E, Johnlock) John takes Sherlock out for the evening on Valentine's Day.

The Perfect Specimen by Cleo2010 (27K, E, Johnlock) After seeing John undressed for the first time and making certain observations, Sherlock quickly becomes obsessed with a certain body part belonging to his flatmate. This is the story of how that first sighting came to be and the following attempts to learn more. An unashamed masturbation-fest, first person and very detailed. It's rated explicit for a good reason!

The Poster Girl by stardust_made (67K, M, Gen) A seemingly straightforward case has Lestrade calling for Sherlock's help. Written from John's POV, this story takes place two months after the events in "The Great Game" and follows the investigation of the murder of Veronica Havisham: seventeen, popular—and murdered in Hainault Forrest on a Friday night in June.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (62K, E, Johnlock, Warstan) “I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

The Pull of One Magnet to Another by ellie_hell (46K, M, Johnlock) Mummy has arranged Mycroft’s marriage with an ex-army doctor. However, John meets Sherlock first, and sparks fly.

The Top-Secret Livejournal of Sherlock Holmes by malacophilous (23K, M, Johnlock, Sarah/John, Sherstrade) Sherlock has a Livejournal, which he updates constantly via his mobile phone and netbook. Everyone offline thinks that he's this stoic super-genius, when in reality he's a bonkers super-genius.

There's A First Time For Everything by Kate_Lear (21K, E, Johnlock) A series of 'firsts' in Sherlock's life.

Those Left Behind by nickelsandcoats (33K, E, Johnlock) After the events of The Great Game, Sherlock is on the hunt for revenge as John waits for Sherlock to join him. But deception abounds as both men struggle to come to terms with the paths their lives have taken.

What Makes Us Rich by flawedamythyst (31K, E, Johnlock) Agreeing on a compromise is one thing, living with it is quite another.

Whirlwind by rubyofkukundu (19K, E, Johnlock) You may be familiar with the following fanon ideas: 1. Sherlock was very sexually active at university. 2. It was while John was a student that he discovered he was bisexual. I decided to put the two together :D

[the-starsabove-you]

The Spotlight

Chapter 29 - Family Ties  A/N: Sorry for the long update! I have a special announcement soon! Hope I can share it in the following week. But reviews are welcomed! And thank you again for reading 

Michelle let out a deep breath as the plane touched down in Winnipeg. Michelle took a different plane than Mat and the Team. She just needed time to process that she was coming home to Winnipeg for the first time since her career took off. In all honesty, she wasn’t expecting to come back home unless it was for a funeral or a wedding. She wasn’t ready for her family to meet Mat, but she had to be. She made her way to the entrance and she saw her family there. Her mother was waving and her father was standing there and her brother Ty was running to her. Her mother was beautiful, light brown hair and green eyes with a soft smile. She worked as a detective since Michelle and Ty were so small. The job took a toll, her mother often missing a lot of important things in her children’s lives, but her children knew it was because their mother was out there solving crimes and saving lives. Her father had the same dark brown hair as Michelle. Instead of Michelle’s warm blue eyes, her father’s were cold. Some would compare Michelle and her father with looks but Michelle would brush it off, claiming she looked more like her mother. Her father was a lawyer. He was more home with his children, had his own office in the house and would work there while his children would be doing something else. It was basically Michelle and Ty’s childhood, sometimes their father would bring them to his office in a huge building near their house. Michelle’s father was cold, he had high expectations for his children, he wanted his family to be the perfect family with the white fence and everything. Although he was the one mostly present in the children’s lives, they inherited their kind hearts and empathy from their mother. It broke her father’s heart, along with him having bitter feelings towards her when she decided to leave Winnipeg and start a life that was the opposite of what he wanted. Ty, whose real name was Tyson, was graduating high school and going to college. Due to their mother being absent and their father working at home, it was Michelle who raised and looked out for Ty. She loved her brother and wanted to protect him from any bad thing in life. Ty was being forced to go to Law school by their father, Ty didn’t want to go to law school. He always dreamed about being a writer, writing stories and being a journalist. He wanted to make a difference with his writing, not do Law.. Ty ran and nearly crushed his sister as he brought her into a tight hug. Michelle laughed when her little brother picked her up and swung her around “Ty! You’re gonna drop me!” She said and Ty smiled and put her down “I haven’t seen my sister in forever! You can’t blame a little brother for missing his big sister” He said and Michelle grabbed his hand “I know.. I’m sorry, has everything been okay?” She whispered and Ty knew what she meant and he nodded “All is calm within the house.. But I know it will change with our father” Ty muttered and Michelle sighed. Michelle’s father, Thomas went towards his daughter and stopped in front of her. He nodded “Michelle, it’s been a while” He muttered. Michelle never expected hugs from her father, it was always rare to get a hug from him. Michelle nodded “Dad, it’s nice to see you” She said, she knew that her leaving to start a new life was still a sore topic for him, she rather not bring up his career in front of him. Michelle’s mother, Mary, went towards her daughter and brought her into a tight hug “Oh Sweetie, I’ve missed you” She whispered softly and Michelle kissed her mother’s cheek “I’ve missed you too mom, how’s work been?” “It’s been good, you know.. Your mom always brings the bad guys into jail and face justice” Mary smiled softly and Michelle grinned “That’s my mom! Kicking ass and taking names” She said. Thomas looked around, “Your suitcases come out yet?” He asked and Michelle shook her head “Mat took mine with him in the team plane since he’s getting to the hotel first” She said and Thomas nodded “Ok.” He muttered, Ty looking at his sister “You’re hungry?” “Nah, I would love to see what changed in the neighborhood, how’s Mrs Jones doing?” She asked and her father narrowed his eyes “Your mother made lunch at home and you’re not hungry?” He said dryly and Michelle was about to say something until her mother spoke “It’s fine Tom, I didn’t tell her I was cooking.” She said and her father glared at his wife and nodded “Well, let’s go look around.” He muttered and jammed his hands into his pocket and walked towards the car. Michelle and Ty were walking behind their parents and Michelle nudged her brother gently with her arm “You got into NYU?” She whispered and Ty nodded “I did, but also got accepted into Harvard. You can guess what dad wanted me to attend” Ty said and Michelle narrowed her eyes “Ty, you’re like the smartest kid I’ve known.. You’re smarter than me. I dropped out of college to become a model. Whatever makes you happy, you should do it” She said softly and Ty smiled but their father ruined the moment “Well Ty is attending Harvard. So drop the NYU act. You’re right about something, he’s smarter than you. If you didn’t drop out of college, you would have been closer to being a doctor now. But hey, we can’t have everything in life” Thomas muttered the last part and Michelle remained quiet, she was getting more annoyed by the second. But she knew that it was only going to get worse when Mat meets her family. 

The family got into the car and Mary looked back at her children as she was sitting at the passengers’ seat “Wanna stop by the house and get anything?” She asked and Michelle shook her head “It’s okay.. I’m fine, I have everything right now. I’ve been cleaning out things too since Emily stays at my house a lot” She said lying about the fact that it was Mat staying with her, she didn’t want her father to flip. Ty however, knew about her sister’s love life as he paid attention to his sister on social media. Michelle had told him about Mat living in her apartment and vice versa. Ty was really the only family member that she trusted to tell

“Wanna stop by the old park that your father took you guys when you were children?” She asked and Michelle smiled softly “I would love to” Thomas drove the family to the park, Michelle and Ty got out of the car. Michelle looked back and saw her parents were having an intense talk in the car before her father looked frustrated before getting out the car with his mother. Michelle and Ty walked ahead as they walked along the path. They were both nudging each other before Ty smiled “How are you and your boyfriend doing?” Ty asked and Michelle grinned “We’re doing great! We’re going house hunting soon, He wants to move to Long Island but I wanna find a house in Upstate New York. So that’s what we’re bickering about right now” She chuckled and Ty nodded “It’s reasonable for Long Island because of the arena being in Long Island and then you got the Brooklyn one too. Why do you wanna live Upstate?” “I love the nature scenery.. Plus I feel like it’s the most unexpected place.. Paps wouldn’t really know right away” She muttered and she sighed “But I know he would be happier if we moved to Long Island.. So” She chuckled and Ty grinned “Make sure to invite me to the housewarming party” “What are you two talking about?” Their mother called and Ty looked back “I’m just telling Mich my failed relationship..” He said and Mary shook her head “That girl was a fool for giving you up” Thomas called “You heard Alice got married right? The girl that grew up with you.. Expecting a kid” “Dorian is also engaged too, He sent an invite for the wedding too” Mary said and Thomas nodded “James is moving to Europe too with his girlfriend and their newborn son” Michelle in a way felt her heart sink at the feeling that people her age were already getting married and some having kids. Michelle knew that marriage and kids were off the tables right now, they were both too young and both were starting their careers. The family made their way to the Bell MTS Place. Mat managed to get seats near her family for Michelle. Michelle felt sick thinking about when her family finally met Mat. She hoped that her family approved of Mat, even if her father didn’t approve.. It meant the world if her brother and mother liked him. Michelle sat next to her brother and she was watching fans, both Islanders and Jets fans were walking around and interacting. Michelle was trying to keep a low profile with an Islanders sweater and one of Mat’s hats over her head. “This is so exciting!” Mary said as she was eating a hotdog. Her father grunted as he was drinking water. Ty was looking at the ice “This is so cool! You gotta tell me what’s happening in this game. I have no idea about hockey” “This was me when I first went to one of Mat’s game, I was lost too but it’s easy to catch up on” She said and Ty nodded. Soon the buzzer was heard around the arena and players from both teams were coming out. Michelle’s heart raced when she saw Mat coming out and he was skating alongside Tito. The Islanders were warming up and Matt Martin looked over at her and grinned, waving at her. Anders Lee shot her a wink while Josh Bailey grinned at her

Mat soon spotted Michelle and waved her over and she got up and went towards the glass and Mat with his stick tossed a puck over and he pointed at Michelle’s brother. Michelle smiled softly and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ before he winked at her and skated away. Michelle returned to her seat and handed the puck to Ty who was smiling “This is amazing!” He cheered. Michelle looked over and saw Mat was looking at her with a smile but he looked over at Michelle’s father who looked very unimpressed and Mat’s smile fell and he sighed before skating off Thomas huffed and shook his head “I hate show-offs” He grumbled and Mary nudged him and gave him a look before he sighed and went back to texting on his phone. Michelle bit back a response and went back to focusing on Mat. The game had started and it was a rough one, The Jets were leading and Mat and the boys did try to bounce back but it wasn’t enough as Jets took the game with a 5-4 lead. Ty was watching carefully, asking his sister questions and shouting when one of the Jets did something that would be a penalty. Michelle looked at her brother in amusement as she was also getting nervous, she didn’t want Mat to be in a foul mood if the Islanders lost because her family and him were going to have dinner after the game before Michelle leaves for New York in the morning and Mat goes to Toronto. Michelle let out a deep breath when she saw the final score was 6-4 and the Islanders skated back to the locker room. She took out her phone to text Mat that she would be waiting in the parking lot. Michelle’s mother got up and she smiled and looked at her daughter “I thought the game was fun, it kept me on my feet for sure” She said and Ty nodded “I thought it was cool! I need to go to an Islanders game more” Thomas just shrugged and he looked over at his family “Let’s go to the parking lot, Michelle I’m assuming you’re riding with your boyfriend?” He asked and she nodded and he narrowed his eyes “He better not be in a mood just because he lost” He mumbled before walking and Michelle narrowed her eyes “Mat can control his emotions, unlike other people” She mumbled the last part and Ty went to his sister “Mich..” Their father ignored her and everyone went to the parking lot. Thomas was leaning on his car while Mary was speaking to her kids about one of her latest cases and at the corner of her eye, Michelle spotted Mat coming towards him with his game-day suit. She broke out into a jog and ran towards him and he opened his arms and she crushed him into a hug “Hey…” He whispered and she looked up at him “You’re doing okay?” She asked and he nodded “Just a rough loss but I’ll get over it.. Excited I can eat finally” He said softly and she grinned and kissed him on the cheek before grabbing his hand and they stopped in front of her family “Mom, Dad, Ty.. This is Mat, my boyfriend” She said with a smile. Ty went over to Mat and they shook hands. Mary coming towards him and bringing him into a hug “I”ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to finally meet you” “I’ve heard a lot of you too.. Always love with Mich tells me about your stories in the field” Mat said warmly and Mary smiled at that. Thomas watched Mat carefully before making his way to Mat and stuck out his hand and Mat took it, but Thomas squeezed his hand as he shook it “Nice to meet you” Michelle watched as Mat wasn’t very impressed with her father trying to be tough as Mat watched with intense eyes and she sighed quietly. This was going to be a long night.

[snazzysickly]

Show Don’t Tell (Arthur Morgan x Reader) Part 1?

Summary: Keeping your secret is hard enough on your own, but joining a gang nearly blows your cover, especially when you fall for one of the members.

Warnings: Bit of blood, swearing, alcohol, crossdressing?

word count: 4,184

A/n: I made this a while ago, hoping to make it into a series, but I never got the motivation to make the other parts. There’s still a possibility it can become a series but we’ll see how things go. Thanks for reading!

A bounty hunter tackles you to the ground, and you start to wrestle with him. You try to reach for your knife, but you’re unable to find it. The bounty hunter cuts your shirt, exposing your chest. You fight harder trying to get him off, when you hear a gunshot and the bounty hunter falls dead atop of you. You push him off and stand up, looking at the Irish fellow that held your gun.

“Thank you.” You say exhausted, picking up your hat and knife.

“Why, you’re a woman!” The redhead says, looking at your chest.

You’re eyes go wide, and you put your knife against his throat. You glare at his shocked expression.

“If you dare tell anyone, I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth and kill you myself.” You hiss in his face.

“Trust me ma’am, I won’t tell a soul.” He raises his hands in surrender. “Names Sean.”

You don’t know why you did it, and why you even decided to help him in the first place, but you let go of your grip on him, putting your knife away.

You button up your coat despite the hot weather, trying to conceal your feminine features. Sean hands your gun back to you and you holster it.

Holding out your hand, Sean grabs it and you pull him up. He’s dusting himself off, when you hear the sound of horses. You turn in that direction and find more bounty hunters approaching with their guns out. You turn the other direction, only to find the same thing. You sigh and hold your hands up, easily outnumbered and surrounded.

Now here you are, upside down with the blood rushing to your head. Your arms and legs tied up, the Irish redhead in the same predicament. You remember his name to be something like Sean. He annoys the bounty hunters as they threaten the both of you, when you sudden hear the distinct sound of gunshots.

Sean laughs and taunts the bounty hunters as they run for cover. You’re calling yourself a fool for trusting him with your secret. He’s way too talkative. Sean seems to think that we’re saved, but you still think that these people could just cause more trouble.

You see three men rounding the hill, taking out the bounty hunters in the camp. Sean calls to them while you remain silent, observing them.

The last of the bounty hunters run away and the three men walk up to you and Sean. He barks at the men to cut him down, and one of them, who Sean calls “Arthur”, does. Another one of the men, with dark skin and a couple of scars on his face, cuts you down.

You fall to the hard ground with a thud, the four men surround you. The sound of a revolver click brings your attention to this Arthur fellow.

“Who are you?” The Hispanic looking man asks. You decide not to answer, remaining silent.

“If you don’t answer, you’ll end up like the bounty hunters.” Arthur says, bringing the revolver closer to your head.

“I wouldn’t do that Arthur. He saved my life, you see. Singlehandedly took down the whole lot of the bounty hunters.” Sean vouches for you. “Could be beneficial to the gang.”

“Just let Dutch decide, Arthur.” The man that cut you down says.

After a long while of thought, Arthur pulls his gun away from your face. He turns to the others, “Javier, you take Sean back to camp.” The Hispanic man nods, taking Sean to his horse. “Charles, you take, him.” Arthur points to you. The man with the scars, Charles, picks you up and calls for his horse, stowing you on it.

“Are you coming Arthur?” Charles asks.

“I’m going to look around, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Charles nods and kicks his horse’s sides, putting it into a trot. You watch as Sean rides with Javier, happily chatting away, while you lay on Charles’ horse, tied up and silent.

Charles takes a different path as Javier and Sean to avoid suspicion. He was looking out for any lawmen or bounty hunters that could recognize either of you. About half an hour in, Charles speaks up.

“What were you doing with Sean back there?” He asks in his low voice. He cranes his head to look at you for a second.

“I was trying to help him, but I got caught up in his mess.” You tell him honestly, “Must have thought I was in your gang.”

Charles hums, focused on the path ahead of him. He didn’t seem like the talkative type, unlike Sean.

“How’d you get that scar on your face?” You ask him.

“Hunting incident,” He then adds a second later, “cougar.”

As it turns out, Charles was relaxed, you didn’t mind talking to him. When he asked for your story, you told him the one you made up if you ever got into situations like this. Your story went as such, your parents died when you were young so you resorted to a life of crime. He believed your fake story.

Not long afterwards, Charles tells you that you’re here. The sun is setting, and your ribs were hurting from being on the back of his horse so long.

Charles hitches his horse and throws you over his shoulder. He carries you to someone’s tent and puts you on the ground. You look around the tent and find a man with black curly hair, a black hat atop his head, with a mustache upon his upper lip. This could only be Dutch Van der Linde. Charles very briefly talked about him.

“We found him tied up with Sean. Said that he saved his life” Charles explains while cutting the ropes off your legs.

“What’s your name, boy?” Dutch asks you.

“Louis Hall.” You answer with your fake name you gave yourself when you first started dressing as a man, when in fact, your name is Y/n L/n.

“Well Louis,” Dutch starts, “we don’t take just anybody into this gang of misfits, why should you be the exception?”

You’re about to answer with something sarcastic and rude, but you hold your tongue to weigh your options. For one, you could tell that this Dutch guy was on a high horse and needed to be knocked down a peg or two. But on the other side, you knew that you couldn’t keep running from the people that were looking for you. When they do find you, you’d rather not be alone.

“It seemed to me, Mr. Van der Linde, that after watching what Sean is incapable of doing, I decided my services would really benefit you.”

Dutch stares at you, his eyebrows furrowing until he unexpectedly laughs. He pats you on the back, making you stumble forward a bit. He motions to Charles to cut the rest of your ropes. You rub your sore wrists and take the bottle of whiskey from Dutch’s hands.

“We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, for now, enjoy the party!” He gestures to the camp around him, and then takes his exit.

For the first time now, you finally get a good look at the camp that you were taken to.

There where quite a few tents set up, Dutch obviously had the biggest one. Looking around the campfires, you found a large assortment of different people. You expected a whole lot of sweaty men, but you were surprised to find a number of women here too. It made you think that maybe you take down your disguise, but you decide against it.

You sit around the campfire, atop of one of the logs, listening to the song that Javier is playing and singing. Soon enough everyone around the fire starts singing as well. You don’t know what song they’re singing but you smile a bit awkwardly and enjoy the fire.

Sipping your whiskey, you realize it’s been awhile since you last had some company, and it has taken a toll on you. Trying not to raise attention, you get up from your seat and try to find someone familiar.

Although you quickly find Sean, you don’t feel like dealing with his seeming endless energy. You look for Charles, but find him around the campfire with Javier, who is playing a guitar. Instead, you pick up a few more bottles of whiskey and find a rock overlooking a small cliff. Close enough to the camp that you won’t seem like an enemy, but far enough to get some much needed solace after everything that happened.

On your second whiskey, you hear bottles clanking from behind you, meaning someone was getting a bottle out from the crate. You pay no mind to them until they spoke.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to still be here.” The unmistakable voice of Arthur fills your ears, the man that pointed a gun to your head.

You hum and take another sip from your whiskey, but say nothing else, expecting him to leave. Unfortunately, he didn’t. In fact, he got closer, he sat on the rock with you, taking a swig of his drink. You turn to him, annoyance written across your face.

“What do you want?” You demand.

He has the audacity to smile at you, and you’ve just about had it with him, so you turn to stomp away but he answers you, stopping you in your place.

“First time I heard you speak, lot more feminine than I had imagined.”

His words made you stiffen, you were much too annoyed to conceal your voice like normally. Without answering him, you walk further into camp, away from Arthur.

“Mister Hall?”

You turn to see an older woman with heavy makeup, tied up hair, and a red blouse talking to you. She looked assertive with her hands on her hips. “I prepared you a tent to sleep in. This way.” She weaves through camp, avoiding all the drunken. You follow her blindly, and soon she stops at a small tent with a bedroll next to a larger one with a sleeping child and who you presume is the kid’s mother.

“Here you are.” She motions to the small tent and you crawl inside. You pat the bedroll then look to her.

“Thank you ma’am.” You say politely, not expecting to have a tent so early on. It wasn’t much, and you’ve rather have the tent that was on your horse, but your horse wasn’t here, as it fled while you were saving Sean, although you weren’t going to complain.

“Susan Grimshaw.” She tells you, and you nod.

“Thank you Ms. Grimshaw.” You say again. She firmly nods and walks away.

Wanting privacy, you close the flap to the tent and finally unbutton your coat, exposing your ripped and bloody shirt from the bounty hunter Sean killed. You take off the useless shirt and your satchel, that luckily didn’t get taken by the bounty hunters, and toss them both into a corner of your tent. You really would have like a change of clothes, but your clothes were on your horse. Luckily, your undergarments didn’t get ripped or bloody, so you put your coat back on, and button it again. You get under the uncomfortable bedroll and try your best to fall asleep.

You wake up to a voice from outside your tent, you blink yourself awake and focus on the voice. Your eyes squint, trying to figure out who is talking, until it hits you.

“Louis, mind if I come in?” Sean asks. It takes a second to realize that he’s talking to you.

You lift open the tent flap a bit, signaling to him that it’s okay to come inside. He crawls inside, barely enough room for the both of you.

“How you doing lass- I mean-” He stumbles over his words and you stop him.

“I’m okay Sean, thank you for asking.”

He nods and stares at you long enough to get awkward, your eyebrows raise, looking at him, wondering what he wants.

“Is that all? Or?” You question, confused.

“Oh! I got you a new shirt because I remembered what happened to your other one,” He says, looking at the torn shirt lying not to far from you.

You grab the shirt from his outstretched hand and look at it, bringing the shirt to your nose. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell bad at all.

“Thank you Sean, I’ll come out after I change.” You slightly smile at him and he nods, exiting your small tent.

The shirt was a dark seaweed green color, with white buttons. Fitting for an Irishmen. You chuckle as you slip it on. Slightly baggy, just how you like it. You tuck the rest of the shirt into your pants. Reaching for your hat, you rest it on your head, and exit your tent, the bright light blinding your eyes.

You were honestly surprised with the hospitality that everyone has given you. Even though you haven’t been here for more than 24 hours, everyone you walked by said good morning or some form of greeting. You only knew a couple of names yet you were welcomed. You’ve never been in a gang that had welcomed you so quickly.

You sit at a table, talking to a young boy named Lenny while eating a loaf of bread from your satchel, Ms. Grimshaw walks up to you. She tells you that Dutch wants to see you at his tent, so you get up and head in the direction of his tent. The camp in the daytime is much different than at night. Today, just about everyone looks ready to work, or are already working.

The little boy you saw sleeping in the tent next to yours last night, races in front of you, off to play somewhere, you figure. Who knew why there was a child amongst a gang of outlaws, but you weren’t one to ask.

At Dutch’s tent you see Dutch with an old man with a clean-shaven face. The man introduces himself as Hosea when you walk into the tent.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask the man with a cigar between his fingers.

Dutch takes a drag from his cigar then answers, “Yes, Hosea here recently received a tip about a banking stagecoach coming into Valentine today. I want you to rob it. The coach will be guarded so I would go armed.”

“Try to be quiet about it, don’t want the law finding out. Use guns as a last resort.” Hosea says. You can’t help but notice the difference between the two. Hosea rather you be more discrete about this, while Dutch just wants it over and done with.

“I would love to rob this stagecoach, but as you can see, my gun holsters are completely empty.” You curse the bounty hunters for taking your all your weapons, you’d rather them take your money instead. They even took your grandfather’s knife that you stole when running away.

Just then, Arthur walks passed Dutch’s tent. Dutch notices and calls the man over. You groan inwardly, you were hoping to avoid Arthur as much as possible.

“Bring Mister Hall to Valentine and get him a new gun and a horse. You have a stagecoach to catch. Louis will fill you in.” Dutch explains. Arthur looks at you, hesitating, then nods.

You want to groan, but hold back. Why’d did it have to be the person that you’ve haven’t gotten along with? You could’ve easily gotten the job done on your own. Though you should’ve expected it, they weren’t going to let you go alone on your very first mission in the gang.

Arthur leads you to his horse. It was a beautiful light brown American paint with white spots. He gets onto the saddle, and you pull yourself onto the horse’s rump.

He takes the path to a town called Valentine while you tell him what Dutch told you about the stagecoach. He doesn’t say much unless it’s to give a sarcastic remark.

It doesn’t take long until you’re in front of the gun store in Valentine. Arthur hitches his horse, and you slide off the horse. “I have some money, I can buy what I need.” You tell him.

“Sure.” He says shortly, you roll your eyes.

Despite this, Arthur still follows you into the store. You quickly find that he’s looking around the store as well. You pick up a new cattleman revolver and a carbine repeater, both simple guns, but also cheap. You take a long look at the double-barreled shotguns, but you wouldn’t be able to get your guns ammunition if you were to buy it.

You place your guns on the counter, buying a couple boxes of ammunition for each gun. After you pay, you sling the repeater over your shoulder and holster your revolver. Walking out of the store, you find Arthur leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Once he notices you, he puts out the cigarette and pushes himself off the wall.

“Ready to get a new horse?” Arthur asks you, already walking towards the stables. You jog up next to him and match his pace.

“About that…” You start, looking at your feet. “I spend the rest of my money on the guns.”

“Are you really that poor?” He snarks.

“Hey its not my fault the damn bounty hunters took most of my money.” You shoot back at him.

Arthur lets out a sigh, “I’ll buy it for you, just don’t get the most expensive horse.”

You nod. Great, now he’s going to think you owe him something.

Inside the stables, you look at all the different horses. None of the horses click with you until you come across a beautiful dapple-grey Hungarian half bred. It wasn’t the most expensive horse, but it wasn’t the cheapest either. You still ask Arthur, he begrudgingly buys the stallion for you, along with a saddle.

As much as you dislike Arthur, you still were very thankful for him. After how your relationship started, you would’ve thought him to be the last person to buy you something.

You lead your new horse over to Arthur’s, enjoying the lively town. While walking pass the saloon, you see two men pushing another man outside, they threaten the man, he tries to defuse the situation, but the two men start punching him. You hear Arthur scoff from next to you.

“Damn O'Driscolls.” Venom laced his tone.

“O'Driscolls?” You ask, looking at Arthur.

“Yeah, slimy bastards.” He spits harshly. You can sense the tension, but you and Arthur keep walking, but now you notice Arthur is using his hat to cover his face.

O'Driscolls. Oddly that name sounded familiar. You racked your brain, trying to remember where you’ve heard it before. While pulling your leg over your saddle, it hits you like a fright train.

Before you started dressing as a man, you had joined a gang that had a plan to steal some information from another rival gang called the O'Driscoll Boys. Still new to that gang and the outlaw life, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. The plan went sour quickly, but you didn’t realize that your gang had retreated. You narrowly escaped with your life, barely making your escape. Needless to say, you left that gang shortly after.

“You alright there?” You hear Arthur’s voice from in front of you. You didn’t realize you’ve fallen behind until your horse stopped. Arthur watches you kick your horse back into a trot, matching his pace.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about somethin’.” You reply, hoping he doesn’t ask about it.

“Well, you better be done thinking about it, we’re almost to the spot.”

A little further down the path, Arthur reins his horse to a stop, and you follow his movements. While loading your guns, making sure they have ammo, Arthur asks how you should rob them.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be more intimidating if we both follow a bank coach, so you distract them, while I knock out the guards and rob them blind. If things go bad, we have guns.” You explain, putting your bandana over your mouth.

Before he can reply, you kick your spurs into your horse’s side, taking off into the woods to hide until Arthur distracts the coach.

Speaking of which, the stagecoach rounds the corner, Arthur acts like he’s turning onto the path the coach is taking. He starts small talk with the driver and you slowly come out off the woods, trying to be quiet. Arthur then says something about their front wheel being loose. The driver stops the coach asking the passenger next to him to check it out. There where only four guards riding next to the coach, but you realize that there are probably more inside the coach.

While the coach is stopped, you knock out the two guards in the back with the blunt end of your revolver. You try to keep the guards out of sight from Arthur and the man checking the wheel.

Silently, you pick the lock on the back of the coach containing the money. You’re almost done picking the lock until you hear, “The wheel isn’t loose.” Then a gunshot.

The coach suddenly lurches forward, the driver taking off, realizing what was happening. You call for you horse, He gallops towards you, and you jump on, racing after the coach. Arthur shoots the two guards up front, when the four men inside the coach peak out the windows. They shoot at you and Arthur. You shoot one and kick your horse to go faster to get closer to the driver. You jump onto the coach, the driver tries to shoot you, but you kick him off, pulling the stagecoach to a stop.

By now Arthur has shot two men inside the coach, leaving only one left. He gets out, shooting at Arthur. You see your opportunity and put one clean bullet into the man’s head. He falls to the ground, and you move towards the chest in the back. This time, you shoot the lock, it brakes easily and you loot the chest. Two hundred dollars, not bad. You hand Arthur his share, along with the gangs share, trusting he will give it to Dutch.  

“Not what we planned, but it worked out.” Arthur says, counting his money.

You start cutting the horses reins off the coach and hitting their rump, making them take off. “Yeah, didn’t think it was going to work at all.” You whistle for your horse.

“Way to have faith in your plans.” Arthur says, getting on his own horse. You just shrug.

“Ride back to camp with me? I don’t know the way very well.” You mutter the last part, but you can tell he heard you from his expression.

“I was tied to the back of a horse the last time!”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but leads the way back to camp. You follow behind him, you notice that he avoided major roads as to stay away from anybody that could find out the crime you committed not far away.

“Nice shooting back there.” You attempted small talk.

“You too.” He responds shortly. You sigh, I guess he’s back to hating you. Doesn’t matter, I guess. You were still pretty mad at him for pointing a gun at your head when you tried to help someone in his gang.

The rest of the ride back is mostly quiet, apart from whenever Arthur gives directions. You now regret asking him to take you back to camp, the awkward silence is worst than getting lost. Although the ride was awkward, you distracted yourself by looking at the lovely scenery.

Thankfully, the ride wasn’t too long, and you made it back to Horseshoe Overlook, as Arthur called it. He called to Javier who was guarding the camp’s entrance. You hitch your horse at the hitching post and slid off the saddle. You can see Dutch making his way over to you and Arthur.  

“There you are! Any longer and I would’ve sent someone to find you.” Dutch holds his arms out in a way you would to hug someone, but you doubt he wanted a hug.

Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out the gangs share of the money, he hands it over to Dutch.

Dutch looks at the money in his hand counting it, then to the both of you. “I’m guessing it when well?”

“You could say that.” Arthur says gruffly, he then walks away from you and Dutch, going to his tent.

“What happened?” Dutch says, turning to you, his cheery tone now gone.

“I think he just hates me.” You say bluntly.

“Arthur’s just a hard one to crack, my boy. Just have some faith.” Dutch encourages, he pats you on the back, walking to his tent.

You look at Arthur, sitting on his bed, he’s writing something in a brown book he’s holding. You really hate to admit it, but you and him work well together.

[gardenofevenlight]

Memento

[ original ]

Eldarra’s mind had been a storm for two nights and it had begun to take its toll. A paleness had reached across her face and tugged at her eyes, just as a strange weight did the same to her shoulders. She could not fathom what had brought this on as the last month had been relatively uneventful for her. The injured were less numerous with less travelers on the roads, the interim between seasons granting a much needed reprieve.

But still something cast her mind in shadow, lurking over her without seemingly any reason or form. All she could do was hope her morning prayer and meditation would provide an insight, to show some beam of light through the specter over her mind.

A sharp ringing followed by a crash told her that would not happen this morning, however. Running her hands through her hair, pushing the short strands that had fallen into her face back, she sighed, hoping to expel her worries long enough to handle whatever her sister had gotten herself into this time.

Before she had even stepped out of her own room, the voice she was looking for called from the door.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry about it!”

“It is my job to worry.” Eldarra called back, her voice flat as she turned the corner to see her younger sister trying to shuffle a sword behind a screen. After taking a moment to look her up and down to be sure it actually was fine, her voice softened despite the new dent in the wooden walls of their home. “Practicing again?”

Haeleth didn’t answer, instead muttering back “A storm is rolling in, so I can’t really do much outside.”

Eldarra shook her head as she carefully looked at the walls, searching for any other possible accidents. “You’ve still not told me why you have taken up a sudden interest in the sword.” She said, almost absently as she walked towards the screen.

Haeleth stepped forward, as if to stop her sister, but did not keep her from reaching for the simple weapon that she had put there moments before. “It’s not sudden.”

“Shall I rephrase?” Eldarra said, inspecting the sword’s edge almost out of habit. “I know you’ve been practicing for about two years now. You never told me why.”

“I said family tradition-”

“Which you and I both know is false.” She cut in, tilting the sword at her sister with a stern glare. “You have never cared one bit for tradition, especially in this family.” Her voice grew quiet as memories flashed before her with the strike of lightning outside. “Neither of us have.”

“You’ve cared for traditions, just ones very different from our family’s.” Haeleth corrected.

“So why… this?” Eldarra asked, carefully turning the sword around in her hands to hand it back. “We walked away from our family traditions, away from this. Are you having second thoughts?”

The rain poured outside as Haeleth stared at the polished blade before her. She did not reach for it as she finally answered with her own question.

“Do you remember whose that is?”

Eldarra could only blink. “I can’t remember if you ever told me.”

“This sword…” Haeleth finally grasped the handle and took the blade, raising just high enough to catch another flash of lightning. “…is why I followed you to The Evenlight.”

The sound of the rain seemed deafening as Eldarra thought back to when they joined the order, when they both sought out the priesthood. Memories rushed back to her, but none held answers.

“When our family split in petty squabbles and competitions about their hunting prowess, when their sisterhood failed because their concerns became about who was the better fighter, we looked to the past. Beyond when our mother’s mothers vied to be called Sentinels or Wardens.”

A disgusted look crept across Haeleth’s face, finally making Eldarra realized just how dishevelled she was. How long had she been practicing? How long had she been awake?

With a deep sigh, her sister continued. “You had always been the true rebel in the family. Respectful, but no one was the wiser when you so effortlessly slipped away and found your true calling to Elune. I… didn’t have that. I just had you. I knew I didn’t fit in with them either, but my path wasn’t the same as yours. I never knew what to do with myself… until you brought me to Kistra.”

The picture in her mind finally came into focus. The day before they had made their final decision to leave, there in the Temple of Elune when they met her, when they learned of The Evenlight.

“You were always meant to be a priestess.” Haeleth sighed and stepped backward, peering down at the sword in her hands. “But I always felt more complete with a weapon. I felt lost, torn between you and the rest of our family. Until Kistra said her name.”

Eldarra remembered all at once and spoke without thinking. “Eisuna.”

“She saved our family. And barely anyone even remembers anymore.” Haeleth could look at the blade no longer, placing it on the table beside her.

“Grandfather’s sword…” Eldarra remembered the stories, about the knights in the family who fought Azshara’s traitorous guard. Only a few managed to survive as the rest of the family escaped.

Haeleth’s hand began to shake. “She blessed this blade as the simplest gesture, to help our grandfather when he asked to simply protect his family. He asked for nothing else but a chance to fight. And now all ‘fight’ means in this family is to bicker or have a pissing match.” She closed her eyes, her voice beginning to fail her. “I just feel like I should be doing more. That I should be like that. That somebody should remember what this sword means.”

The thunder roared once more, drowning out a sob as Haeleth could say no more.

“You are doing exactly what you were meant to.” Eldarra stepped towards her little sister and took her in her arms. “You remember what this family was meant to do. Your instinct has always been to protect. As long as you follow that, that is enough.” She felt her sister crumple forward against her shoulder and just held her.

It pained her to remember Haeleth ever feeling so small to her, the rare sight of doubt in her headstrong little sister bringing her back to holding her when she was a child. She shushed her as the rain continued to pour.

“You remember. That is going to lead you where you were always meant to go.” She said, brightness creeping into her voice. “And whatever your path may be, I just hope mine doesn’t stray very far from it.”